Vladimira woke with a start as the sun’s rays poked their way through her goggles. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her mind of the last vestiges of sleep. No nightmares this time. Strange. She glanced around her, eyeing the walls and sunlight streaming through a broken window and door. Where am I this time? Pushing herself to her feet, she gave her rucksack and then herself a cursory examination to make sure everything was where it should be. She shrugged, shouldering the rucksack and making for the rather perforated looking door. Why did I even sleep in here? Anybody could’ve just walked in here and done as they wished. Some things would just remain a mystery. Sighing as she made for the door, she jumped back in surprise momentarily as something crunched underfoot. Just seemed like a bit of glass, though it was a bit oddly shaped and rather thing to just be from a beer bottle or something. A small bit of plaster fell from the roof and bounced off her head, prompting her to look up and notice the burst lightbulb. She glanced down, again, connecting the two. Weird. She thought back to the previous night with the body in the streets, and the strangely dark block of buildings. All the other lights had been on except for one block, which for some reason she’d chosen a building in to sleep. She’d wondered what’d caused it, but the mutilated corpse in the streets and her exhaustion had pushed it to the back of her mind. Now her curiosity burned at her, were all the light bulbs burned out like this or had this part of the grid simply failed? Come to think of it, there didn’t seem to be many if any people here either. She fumbled with the straps of her mask, undoing the top ones and letting the mask swing free and hang by the back of her neck, the fresh air didn’t hurt anyway. There was of course the risk of someone seeing her eyes, but well… _________________ It seemed all the bulbs had burst; every single one she’d found had exploded, covering the rooms with glass shards. She hadn’t found anybody though, which was odd. The buildings themselves were perfectly habitable for the most part, aside from the exploded lights. She’d found a second corpse too, charred this time. Walking into another building, Vladimira called out again, “Hello? Anybody here?” The maw of the beast hung before her, suspended in mid air. Its lips curled back into an amused sneer, hungry, wet with anticipation. But everything had frozen, something had intruded, echoeing across the blighted grounds of this place... Alex awoke with a start, momentarily blinded by the incandescent rays dancing across her face. She rubbed her eyes fitfully, ignoring the heated tingles of pain exploding through her stiff muscles. She sat up slowly, in a slightly dazed state. The memories of the previous night came back to her slowly, mimicking the progress of the sweat beading down her face. She shuddered, picking herself up from her prostrate position on the dusty, plaster littered floor. She hadn't made it home, choosing instead the safety of four walls, cracked and barely holding. Luckily she hadn't fallen unconscious in the pile of broken glass in the middle of the room, the remains of a once functioning light fixture. The heat of the quickly coming morning sun had already turned the room into a makeshift oven, and swathed in layers of clothing wasn't helping her any. She tied her long sleeved jacket around her waist, adding another fluttering layer to lower attire. She pushed her goggles back down into place over her eyes, running the other hand through her shortly cropped hair to push her bangs from her eyes. Alex straightened the white tanktop covering the upper portion of her body, it was shoishowing a bit more of her moderate bust than she would have cared for. But the lower cuts were a bit cooler to wear. She poked her head from the doorway, out into the hall, remembering the voice from her dream. "Uhm.. Hello?" She asked the dim hallway, still shaken up from the night before, a timid unease draping itself over her conscience. Vladimira wiped her brow with a gloved hand. The desert sun was turning the building into an oven that lacked any electricity or gas burners, but certainly didn't seem to suffer for it. Her mask was off at least, she'd almost forgotten how nice fresh air was. I should clean it soon. It's going to get moldy. She thought glumly, aimlessly walking through the building. Just as she was about to leave, she heard a voice call out, seemingly in response to her. "Uhm.. Hello?" Starting slightly, she whirled around towards the direction of the voice; her cloak, holsters, and rifle flying out slightly, the butt of Comrade hitting the wall. She glanced through the dusty air, noticing a platinum haired girl leaning out of a doorway. She raised an eyebrow, giving a small wave, "Hi." She wished she hadn't taken off her gas mask, her eyes were plainly visible without the welding goggles she'd fused to it. If the girl pulled a weapon on her for being an Immortal though, it wouldn't really be too much trouble to deal with her though... A pange of andrenaline coated fear burst through Alex's heart for a split second, causing her to step into the cooridor with her hands on her knives. Another, more terrylifying feeling swept through her, all too familiar. She forced herself to take a breath, trying to calm down while still staying way of the person before her. The hall was dim, and filled with slowly spinning motes of dust mingling in a lethargic dance with partially vaproized plaster and molding. The person standing before her was fully geared, and armed. As Alex's eyes adjusted to the paltry levels of light, she faintly made out that the rogueish looking figure before her was a woman. A looter maybe? Further I inspection caused her to gasp, taking in a breath of polluted air sharply. "Those eyes.." she began, a bit absentmindely. It was a wonder she missed them at all, glowing with the red fervor of hot embers, pulsing slowly. Her hands tightened on the grips of her blades as she tried to fight the sickly feeling spreading through her, unfurling beneath her skin. 'Please.. not again' she pleaded in her mind, begging her inner turmoil to avoid recreating the events of the previous nights. She blinked, taking another breath and turning towards the Immortal just a few feet from her, "Immortal then?" She asked rhetorically, "That would make two of us." She took one hand from her weapon to push up her goggles to reveal her own changed eyes, propelled by her withering will to fight, Deathly afraid of the feeling that was slowly subsiding within herself. At the very least, it was a warning that this would not be an easy fight. At the worst, it would happen again, whatever it was would try to tear her apart. Vladimira relaxed slightly when the other woman pushed her goggles up, revealing solid white eyes. So she probably wouldn't have to make a mess then, that was good. "How very astute of you." She replied, lowering her hands from the grips of her pistols, though she noticed the other woman still had her own hands on her weapons. "If you're wondering, I'm not here for a fight." Glancing at a shaft of light entering the hallway from the open door of the room the woman had just left, she looked back to her. "Actually I was just investigating the lights here. They've all exploded for some reason. I normally would've slept elsewhere, but I wanted to get off the streets with whatever had happened." She jerked her head in the direction of the streets, "You know anything about that?" Alex relaxed slightly, her arms handlhanding loosely as she twiddled her thumbs, like a child that had been caught doing something wrong. "I.. ah," She began, pausing momentarily as the memories bubbled up once more,"...I kind of did that. B-but I didn't mean to." She added the last bit hastily, with no plausible reason that she should explain herself. Other than the realization that her world was upside down. Was she passively reaching out for somebody, anybody, to help her? To comfort her, to help her reestablish control of her own life? "I can, uh," she stopped, her hand partially raised in the air, memories of her power flucating wildly out of control. A small current ran between her fingertips, a sizzling stream of blue energy writhing between her extended fingers. "I.. haha, lost control." She explained a bit pathetically, again faintly wondering why she was saying so much. Trusting this complete stranger. It was a dangerous world, but the twinge of that hot, sickly feeling reminded her to fear. To fear it, to fear herself. She shuddered as the display of energy faded. Vladimira's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "You're the one who did... whatever it was to that body?" She paused for a moment, mentally facepalming. She'd been referring to the body, but apparently this woman had thought she meant the lights. "Actually I meant whatever happened out on the streets last night." She glanced at the woman's hands, electricity, interesting. There was the explanation for the lights even without the stranger actually bothering to explain it. "Not as though I was throwing blame around. I was mainly curious. It's a bit of an odd thing to see an entire block without light but the surrounding buildings perfectly fine, that's all." She paused again, "For the record, I think everybody loses control of things at some point. The forces of nature are a little much to bend to your will without the occasional mishap." Why was she so cheerfully talking with this person? In all her years living in Arclight she'd never been this talkative with anybody, even her own family. Perhaps she was lonely. What was that saying again, something about not knowing what you had until it was gone? She scoffed to herself, that was preposterous. Leaning against a wall, she dismissed the thoughts with a puff of air aimed at an irritating lock of hair that had fallen into her face. "To be honest I wasn't actually expecting to find anyone here, or anywhere around here. I'm guessing you didn't see whatever it was that was responsible for that hunk of meat that used to be a body outside?" Alex closed her eyes hesitantly, the image of Cassie's face contorted in agony as Alex's uncontrolled power washed over her. She wiped at her eyes, preventing the gathering moisture from escalating any further. "I..." She hesitated, a new pain smothering her heart, "I... could really use a drink." Can't we all? Vladimira thought wryly, fumbling with the canteen strapped to her side. She pulled it over her head, offering it to the woman, "I'd think you'd need a bucket with what they did to him, but if you'd like, here." Alex shook her head apologetically towards the woman, "I meant something A bit... stronger. There's a new bar not far from here... The Bitch's Brew, uhm, care to join me?" She asked, feeling that reoccuring theme of reaching out once more. Honestly she was afraid to be alone, she wanted to obscure the problems that tore at her sanity. "And... it was a woman I'd like to forget about." She replied remorsefully, sadness tugging at her heart. Vladimira's mind flashed back to the charred corpse she'd found earlier; she nodded in silent acknowledgement. "I wouldn't know anything else to do anyway. Sure, I'll come." She looped the canteen back over her head and closed the flaps on her holsters, seemed she wouldn't need the guns inside them anyway. "Bitch's Brew? Interesting name." She gestured in the general direction of exit, "Lead the way, I suppose." A handful of minutes later, and a quick pace, brought Alex hland her newly found companion to the smokey entranceway of the slum's newest club, and, more importantly, bar. She crossed the threshold into the dim, yet well lit interior, composed of brightly hued colors of gold, with subtler undertones of black and brown. Though the latter belonged to the black floors, zigzaged with gold, and the well lacquered brown tables and seats. She took a second to marvel at the place. To one side of the room a small group of performers were playing a slow jazz bumber, accompanied by what must have been one of the most beautiful, half naked dancers Alex had ever seen. Albeit the dancer's more sexual parts were covered, in what else; flashy, gold material that seemed to reflect the light. Alex nodded towards a dimmer corner of the room, with a good view of the stage. The soothing sounds of music drowned out the quieter undertones of chatter. Apparently more than just this new friend and herself followed the principle of, 'It's five o'clock somewhere.' Alex seated herself on a high backed chair with plush velvet padding, "Fancy.." she remarked, something quite uncanny in the slums. A waiter, also considerably easy on the eyes, promplty came by, quiet as a whisper carried on the wind. Alex ordered the house special before turning to the womanly companion that had accompanied her, "I'm Alexandria, or just Alex." She paused for a moment before speaking again,"What ah.. brings you to Dust?" She asked, taking her mind away from its depressive, tormenting thoughts. At least until the alcohol arrived. Vladimira for her part was both highly impressed with the bar, and underwhelmed. The prodigious amount of gold and nice furniture certainly appealed to her. That. Is a lot of fucking gold. Arclight hadn't exactly been an overly hard life, but it was an industrial town, not a luxury resort. This though... she tried to picture the amount this must have cost, then decided against it. It'd probably cause her physical pain to think of all the money she didn't have. The dancers and waiters didn't do a whole lot for her at the moment, though. Perhaps it was because they were so overtly flashing their bodies in the air, but at that point it lost the sexy mystique for her. The gold, though... She shook her head in a small abrupt movement to clear it, turning back to Alex as she told her her name. "Vladimira Kovalik. Not sure if you can find a short version of that that isn't physically painful to listen to." She replied, pausing as Alex asked her what brought her to Dust, a mildly puzzled expression on her face. "Unless we're counting fun times between two people who loved each other very much, and nine months, nothing brought me to Dust." She smirked, taking a swig from her canteen- she made a habit of not drinking anything from anywhere until she knew she could trust it. "If you were wondering what brought me to Russel, well, I've got to eat somehow, and it's easier to sell scrap than hunt down whatever mutated beast strikes my fancy as looking good to eat." A sudden thought struck her, and she glanced around in concern, before visibly relaxing- though she was still tensed. She whispered as nonchalantly as she could, "Eyes. They're not covered. I don't believe they simply haven't noticed. Something's a bit off about this place." Alex gasped slightly, realizing that she, indeed, had not bothered to cover her eyes. "Y-you're right..." Alex trailed off as the promiscuous waitress returned with two mugs, seeming to look Alex directly in the eyes with a smile on her face. "Castilia House Special." She said, promptly returning to her duties. Alex cleared her throat, "Castilia huh.." She pondered, taking a sip. The liquid burned pleasantly as it slipped down her throat. Another gracious drink left a warm feeling gathering through her body. "I don't think that's of concern..." She said, pausing for another generous gulp. Vladimira too noticed the complete lack of reaction the waitress had shown to Alex's eyes, and actually relaxed, though she still kept her guard up slightly. "So I notice. So I notice." "And yes.. I did mean Russel Town.. sorry. There's just a lot on my mind, ah.." Another pause, and another sip, a pink flush developing on Alex's warming face, "Vladimira.. Kovalik?" She said, almost questioningly. "Last I checked that's what my name was, anyway." Vladimira smirked. "I remember once someone told me, a scholar I think, that my name descended from Old Earth Russian. I don't really know what significance that holds, but your name is said kind of like mine. Alexandria Svet-Yulia, Yulia is hyphenated and translates into 'young', one of my parents, this scholar said, was from a different descent, probably my mother." She said, looking a bit happier as her flushed faced stared into the mug of strong alcohol. She hadn't even had the thought that it could be laced, or poisoned, And at this very moment she didn't mind either way. Though that could have been due to the amount of alcohol she had consumed. Vladimira sat in silence as Alex drank the booze, leaving the second mug -presumably meant for herself- untouched. "Alexandria Svet-Yulia... interesting. As far as I know that's definitely Russian, same as my own name." She paused, taking another swig from her canteen. "Vladimira Kovalik. Assuming my oh-so-slightly-proud-of-his-heritage father knew his stuff, my name has something to do with a great rule, like I'm an empress or something." She smirked wryly at that, "The other bit is something to do with being a smith, which makes sense I suppose." What was with her? She barely knew this, "Alex" and yet here she was, chatting amiably like she'd known this person for years! Normally she'd have simply shrugged and walked off after finding her, yet somehow she'd been lured into a conversation, and was now in a bar conversing about their respective names! How long had it been since she'd left? Not a year, but several months at least. And I've barely said a word to anybody in that entire time. She groused to herself, And now here's this person who's not shooting at me, not shouting at me, and not calling the guards on me. This is too weird... Alex nodded absentmindedly, listening to Vladimira while watching the scantily clad dancer prance about the stage, when she wasn't doing impressive acrobatics with a rather shiny pole. She giggled , despite her earlier mood, replaced now with a fiery alcohol induced mirth. "A woman I had... erhm.. once been close too, told me Alexandria meant flower. Though really it means, defender of man." She stated, a facade of triumph presenting itself as she lifted her mug, another giggle escaping her. Vladmira glanced towards the mug, giving her head another short sharp jerk to clear it, "How's that taste, by the way?" She asked innocently. Maybe she could distract herself with some booze. "It tastes.."Alex began, taking another sip and letting it sit in her mouth a moment, "Like motor oil set on fire in your mouth." She lifted the cool, polished container to her lips, and a moment later found herself staring at the bottom of the glass. 'That's no good, I can still think' she thought, catching the attention of the beautiful muse waiting upon a gathering of patrons for more, the group looking much higher class than Alex in her dirty clothes in various states of wear, added with her rather low cut tanktop, which no longer bothered her as much. "I'm hardly a defender, let alone of man," She scoffed, "I scavenge mostly, when I'm not busy killing people in blind rage." The alcohol spurred her words before she even grasped what she was saying, albeit she hardly had the capacity to care. She wasn't much of a drinker, and she had poured the stiff brew down her throat with reckless abandon. It's full effect was quickly washing over her in pleasant tides of increasingly drunken stupor. Vladimira nodded at her words, cautiously sniffing the drink. She tentatively lifted it and gave it a sip, her face clenching in displeasure at the acrid taste. "That's..." she coughed, "Certainly something." Setting the mug down, she glanced over at Alexandria, "Killing people in blind rage tends to happen, in my experience. Usually after they start shooting at me." She chuckled softly, "Poor bastards, never knew what hit them." She was unaffected by the sip she'd taken, and was somewhat amused to see the effects it appeared to be having on Alex. "Besides," she scoffed, "It's not like the vast majority of them deserve a defender regardless, what with their need to shoot at us. I mean, you'd think glowing eyes wouldn't be cause to shoot somebody, but apparently it is." She took another drink from the mug, "And hey, best defense is a good offense! Or something like that." "Yea?" Alex countered, "Tell that to the woman I had tied to a chair, that corpse laying in the street. All for bad information that was hardly any skin off my back." "Thank you gorgeous," Alex spoke, carefree, as the waitress returned with an identical mug, except this one was full. The waitress smiled politely as Alex fished in her pockets for something to pay with. Finding them empty she held up one intoxicated finger as she drew her gun. The hostess took an involuntary step back as Alex took the 9mm pistol and unloaded the clip. Ten dirty rounds thudded across the table, which the waitress graciously accepted. Vladimira frowned at Alex's sudden about face in demeanor as the waitress approached. Her frown deepened after she unloaded her gun to pay for the drink, "You might not want to spend everything you have on booze. It'll all be gone tomorrow and then you'll have nothing else to buy, oh I don't know, food?" She decided not to comment on the corpse. Some things shouldn't be discussed around drunk people. "Drinks are on me Vlaa-," Alex's tongue fumbled the name, which she followed up with a garbled mess of sounds, finshed with a cresendo of giggles. "Excuse me, forgot how to speak for a moment... ah, what if I called you Vira? Or even Miri, I think that's cute," Alex pronounced, or rather rambled, embarassment spreading across her cheeks as she buried her eyes into the mug pressed against her petite lips. Vladimira's frown changed to back to an upturned eyebrow as Alex 'forgot how to speak', "Those don't even make sense." She grumbled, "What, are we cutting and pasting bits of my name around now?" She sighed, taking a slightly larger sip of the alcohol in front of her. "You know, I want to try smoking," Alex stated after a moment, out of nowhere, her attention span waning. "You don't. All it does is char your lungs. Spent enough time around heavy equipment to know that." Vladimira grumbled again at the mention of smoking. She failed to see the difference in smoke from dried plants carrying narcotics, and diesel smoke. "By the way, did you know anything about that man's body in the street? You never actually told me, and something gives me the feeling I might not want to mention that here." "Mm.." Alex began, sombering up a bit at what she grasped as irritation from the woman across her, "No actually.. I was.. preoccupied leaving my own corpses. Actually, I haven't seen many guardians around.. I was quite surprised to find you instead of an armed battalion dragging me out of there... which means somebody is stirring up some big trouble." She pondered what she had said for a moment, nearly forming a coherent grasp on current events, before the memories played back in her head. Another drink of alcohol let her mind wander away, and another let her become bemused with something else entirely, for a moment anyways. She turned back to Vladimira, "Perhaps someone is giving those tainted wings a run for their money... things they can't catch get them all up in a huff." She said, speaking from amused experience. "Maybe... just maybe, they're planning something big," She speculated, setting the mug down and pushing it away as a nasueated lump formed in her stomach. Vladimira nodded, "Big trouble can be either good or bad. Depends on who it's trouble for." She paused, "Now that is the question." She glanced back down at the drink- contemplating just draining the thing. "Can't say I'd be sad to see the Wings running, for their money or otherwise. Be interesting to see what they do when their guns don't fire." She grinned maliciously at that, "Maybe I'll have to find whoever's planning this big thing... see if I can help them out." She muttered to herself, though she didn't make too much of an effort to keep it quiet. Worst case scenario someone was a Wing and she simply nailed him to the wall with his own gun. "Fuck it." She sighed, grabbing the mug and downing its contents. The alcohol burned its way down her throat like a stream of liquid fire. She looked at it unimpressed, "Eh, I've had stronger. Not that bad though." She glanced over at Alex's unfinished mug, "You going to finish that?" Alex grimaced at the mug before her, "Ugh.. no.. I'm a lightweight." Her stomach grumbled in response, reminding her that a belly full of booze and lacking food since later afternoon the previous day was a bad mix. "Help them you said?" Alex asked, backtracking to what Vladimira had said. "I don't have mush love for the wings either, but I'm not big on using corpses to send messages... it stirs up the people too." Alex leaned with her elbows against the table as her state continued deteriorating. "I'd mush rather things shtay quieter... I like quiet..." Alex said, trailing off as she noticed the throbbing onset of a headache coming on. The soft music seemed to alter into the peircing wails of tortured instruments, the chatter becoming a dull drone. "Stupid concrete coulda been shofter," She mumbled quietly, a tiny hiccup escaping her. "Whoever it is.. I don't think they understand the full force of the wings. They have a lot of reshources, alotta firepower." "Ah but you shee," Vladimira replied, pulling Alex's mug over to herself and downing the contents, "Their firepower isn't much good if the barrels are fused shut." She snickered, "Jusht imagine it! They're getting ready with the artillery or something and boom! Their guns explode!" She leaned against the bar, "You can't deny though, corpses are a very efficient means of conveying a poignant message of discontent with the status quo at a targeted audience!" She eyed the bottoms of the mugs for more alcohol, "Quiet is boring." She shrugged, "Somehow I doubt any fight would devolve into a war of attrition. The Wings are big fuckin' cowards, shoot enough of them and they start running, and then they die even faster." "Thank you by the way," she began, "for the booze." She gave Alex a tight hug, and a peck on the cheek, then drew away. "Booze." She chirped happily. All it took was a little alcohol to loosen her up and then she'd start hanging off of people, she realized; just like that time with her father's vodka. "Ah, but you shee-" Alex cut off, startled by Vladamira's sudden display of affection. She blushed deeply, feeling long supressed emotions bloom from within her. She choked off a nervous giggle, "Does this mean I can call you Miri now?" She giggled, "... oh.. and uh.. you're welcome, for the booze ...hic!" She looked at Vladimira, absorbing what she saw. Heavily dressed in travel gear, and captivating steel gray hair like fine wires. And her eyes, Alex stared at them for a moment, watching them pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat, like glowing coals formed of molten metal. Alex coughed lamely, a bright blush rising on her face, "You contwol metals then? Can you make my knives dansh?" She asked impusively, smiling widely at the foreign thought, unaware of the actual danger this woman could posses. Vladimira smirked at the blush on Alex's face. It'd been a long time since she'd hugged somebody, she realized. It had just been some spur of the moment impulse- though where the peck on the cheek had come from she had no idea. She raised an eyebrow in amusement, "Perhaps you can." She chortled, "Shtill got no idea where you got that from." Her face flushed slightly in turn as she noticed Alex studying her features. She's not bad looking... Nice hair, nice eyes... Vladimira gave herself a mental slap. That was just the... whatever it was, talking. She feigned insult, clutching her chest in mock injury. "Dance? Is that all you want?" She scoffed, "You just want to see them dance?" She brought her head slowly and melodramatically to the table, "T'would be a grave washte of my talent! Like choosing a pocketknife to shlay a monster when you could have a heavy machine gun!" She leaned over, giving Alex a side hug as she gestured figuratively to the world at large. "Jusht think! I could make those knives do anything you want! You can't want them to just dance!" Alex leaned into Vladimira's partial embrace as the room seemed to tilt, giggling at her companion's melodramatic gestures. "But my pocket knivesh are shpeeecial!" She retorted, putting a long drawn emphasis on the final word. "I dooo want to see them dance!" She pouted playfully. As if on cue, the band to one side of the room changed from the soft jazz number they had been playing to a livelier tempo, enticing a few of the patrons to actually dance. "Oh, Shee! The band agrees, les dance!" Alex blurted rather rapidly, attempting to push herself back from the table. Instead she succeeded in tipping herself over backwards, knocking the air and a few strained giggles from her lungs. "Ack!" she declared, quite amused with herself, "Maybe not then! The floor and I are not friendsh at thish very moment!" Vladimira frowned, "And what makesh them shpecial?" She asked curiously, eyeing Alex lying on the floor. That fall hadn't exactly looked pleasant. She pushed herself off the seat, bending down and looking at Alex in amusement. "And no, the floor and you don't look like you get along very well." She smirked, "Maybe it's grumpy at you for falling on it?" She grabbed Alex's hand and dragged her upright, "I'd shtay upright pershonally. Don't wanna think about what that floor's sheen." She eyed the band, deciding that it didn't seem too inviting. "Let'sh sit somewhere you're not gonna fall as much.... like over there or shomething." She pointed at a booth seat looking thing in the corner of the bar. "Looks shofter too." She wrapped her arm around Alex's shoulder and started walking for the booth seat. Alex smiled as she was led in her drunken state towards the booth. Finally hitting the peak of her alcohol consumption, and wrapped in the warm blanket of the Castilia House Special. Things like death, tragedy, and the monster inside of her no longer troubled her, filled only with amusing and obscure thoughts. "So.. missh.. ah.. hm.. Mira," Alex began, grasping at the fuzzy thoughts that seemed to be pulling away from her, "Where are you staying?"For most, such a bold question would have further implications. Alex however, was currently busy fondling the golden velvet curtain, as Vladimira helped her into the booth. "So shoft.." She purred, a bit distracted. Vladimira eyed Alex in amusement as she fondled the curtain. She must not drink much, if at all. Her eyebrow raised as Alex asked her where she was staying, and her gaze wandered to the ceiling as she thought to herself. To be honest with herself, she didn't know. Normally she'd just find a building with reasonably intact walls, scare out any squatters, and hunker down there for a couple days while she sold off her salvage. She didn't really have anywhere to stay. Hell, the place she currently called "home" was a hole in the sand! She looked back to Alex, "I don't know, actually. That's a good queshtion." She lowered herself into the booth, gloved fingers tapping out the rhythm to some old pre-Fall song. "Why do you ashk?" "Well," Alex started, "A hot shower, for shtarts." She smiled at Vladimira, leaning in closely to whisper a hair away from her companion's ear,"And a lonely gutter can't be a nishe as a warm bed." She smiled coyly, overwhelmed by a new feeling igniting her blood, stemming straight from her loins. "But.." She pondered the thought for a moment, pressing her finger to her lips in mock concern, "It's kind of a small bed, we'd have to.. share." She whispered the last word, as if it were some taboo secret being shared by a seductive minx, who hoped her intentions were very clear. It had been a long time, and the fire starting in her loins seemed ready to consume her. Vladimira flushed hotly, "We-well, I don't generally sleep in gutters!" She stammered, trying to avoid eye contact if possible. She'd never done anything of this nature, if only out of mere lack of interest. Damnit. She wasn't drunk enough for this. She signaled a waitress over and took a drink, fumbling in her pockets for some of the 9mm rounds she'd scavenged earlier. She took the mug and downed the contents without pausing for breath, waiting for a moment until the effects of the drink seemed to reinforce those previous. Taking a deep breath, she flashed a grin at Alex. "I'd... love to share." She purred.

Lucania hadn’t been able to sleep. Okay. Perhaps that wasn’t being completely candid, she certainly could have slept, but in point of fact, she had chosen not to. The atmosphere of the darkened room was a soothing one, and as she lay, occasionally shifting underneath her sheets, she could unquestionably feel the lull of sleep tugging at her. But her mind, admittedly under the influence, fought, if only to purchase a few more seconds of cognizance. She knew she was drunk, she didn’t care. Even in the low-light of the golden room, Evelina’s sleeping form was… pleasing. ’Dio... Lucy was right, you are creepy...’ N-no! It wasn’t like that! Not entirely, at least. She found the ‘up and down’ of Evelina’s resting form pleasant. A relaxing, natural metronome came in the form of her breathing, carrying a melody that was like something pure and… ‘Hmmm?’ She had fangs? Lucania, with willpower she wasn’t aware she possessed, forced herself out of her own bed to move to the edge of Evelina’s. It wasn’t intoxication that pushed her to lean over Evelina’s sleeping form, nor was it purely sexual. It was just as much a natural curiosity, and perhaps even moreso a certain… desire, to be closer to this virgin woman whom she knew nothing about. The red head rolled away from her, facing toward the ceiling of the room. Lucania adapted to the change, positioning herself precariously over Evelina’s body, she was practically all on the bed, arched awkwardly over the healer by that point. She couldn’t pretend that positioning wasn’t… romantic? That was irrelevant, though, she had come with a purpose! Lucania looked at Evelina’s mouth, they way it curved ever so slightly, the beautiful contrast of the red against her freckled skin in the dark… Stop it. Just look at her canines! A slight parting in the lips exposed teeth that were, if she had ever seen any, fangs! Probably something to do with her being an Immortal. How had she not noticed them before? A drunk though came forth, You didn’t use any tongue! She flushed at her own thoughts. She wasn’t entirely wrong… but… should she? Lucania couldn’t shake the thought from her head, a head that was subject to the influence of the intoxication... Her lips were right there, right? She shouldn’t go back to bed without stealing just one more kiss, the two may part ways forever in the morning! It’d be criminal not to kiss her again. Lucania leaned in, her heart rate increased, blood left certain areas to travel to… others, her arms became weak at the thoughts-- too weak. One moment, she was balanced over her chest, the next, she had fallen face first into the... ample bosom of Miss Quinn, the space in between the fall and the landing was perhaps one of the fastest shifts Lucania’s eyes went from embarassed cyan to deep purple. She couldn’t pretend like, on some level, she hadn’t wanted just this. She hadn’t ever… ever... seen breasts this big before! Lucania wasn’t the most subtle person in Dust, she couldn’t be, her eyes were the ultimate tell. But typically, she’d have shown much greater restraint than this, than to openly relish the opportunity... ’So soft...’ Unfortunately, the alcohol still lingering in her system was more than enough to override any commands from her superego. For the now, she was completely content in throwing caution to the wind and falling asleep as she nuzzled against Evelina’s bust. Darkness. A Darkness that could not be penetrated no matter what she did. Her powers didn’t work, nor did any fire she started work. The sun was extinguished, the stars snuffed out like a tiny candle. “Who are you?” She asked. Her own voice was almost unrecognizable; a hollow quality to it like an echo. “What do you want?” The darkness didn’t reply. It was silent, absolute, and all-consuming. But it did take shape. A part of the Darkness solidified, gathering together in a hole in the very fabric of space. What had before been dark now seemed like a mid-day compared to the nothingness in front of her. “What are you?” The Dark Figure didn’t reply. It moved, then dissolved. Light returned. And Evelina woke up. She lay on her back, feeling well rested and oddly happy. The dream had been strange, but not frightening. Just… odd. Shifting her gaze to the side she noted the red-ish light peeking through the drapes, indicating an early morning. She yawned, and stretched her arms above her head, a motion which brought something else to her attention: The action of stretching her arms caused her bust to move slightly, and, as a direct result, reminded her brain of something touching her bare flesh. She looked down, a blush quickly forming on her cheeks. Lucania was lying halfway on top of her, head on her right breast, and one hand snaked up under her shirt and gently holding her left in the palm of her hand. For some reason it didn’t surprise her all that much that Lucania had snuggled up against her during the night, and it was this lack of surprise that—she told herself—was the reason why she didn’t immediately push her away out of shame. Instead she brought her left hand—the one not pinned underneath the Sleeping Beauty—to Lucania’s hair, running her fingers through it for a short while, then her cheek; nails dragging lightly across her skin. “Mmm… amă…” Lucania muttered something incoherent as the life returned to her. She had a pleasant dream, and despite the headache, she remembered having a pleasant night before it. Something was brushing against her cheek, something else very soft was cupped in her left hand. She remembered her drunken midnight excursion. Her awareness returned to her, and with it, Lucania recalled where she had fallen asleep the night before. Groggily, filled with equal parts fear, embarrassment, and shame, Lucania risked opening her eyes. Morning light blurred everything, the only thing that was clear to her, as she adjusted from where she had passed out, were those emerald cat eyes, and attached to them a face that seemed bashful, but still smiled. “Umm…” Lucania brought her hand from under Evelina’s shirt, but otherwise didn’t move. Lucania shuddered, she couldn’t even tell what exactly it was she felt, she just knew she needed to break that silence, “G-good morning...!” “Morning,” Evelina replied, her gentle smile growing into a teasing smirk. “Couldn’t keep your hands away after all?” She blushed a little deeper at her own comment, but kept at it. “Did you sleep well? Was the pillow soft enough?” She moved a stray lock of hair out of Lucania’s eyes, soon returning to caressing her cheek. Lucania’s face was probably a brighter red than Evelina’s hair. “I-I didn’t,” the stroke to her cheek made Lucania shudder further, “I-I mean, initially I was just…” The woman closed her eyes. She was babbling, and close to the point of hyperventilating. Taking in a deep breath, she took a second’s reprieve to regain her composure. With a sigh, she began again, “It was lovely, both the sleep and the pillow,” she returned Evelina’s smirk with one of her own, she shook her head, “I suppose this kind of thing is to be expected... you do have me hexxed, after all.” A small giggle was all the response Lucania got at first, though Evelina did wrap her right hand around her waist, holding her just a tiny bit closer. She was beginning to think that, maybe, Lucania wasn’t as brash as she sometimes seemed to pretend to be, and just being near someone whose company she enjoyed in a more-than-platonic manner, was sometimes enough to elicit reactions or various kinds. “Hexed... So you say. I can’t help but wonder if it was perhaps your own decision to come here and fondle me in my sleep, use my breasts as a pillow, and snuggle up against me? I don’t know about you, but I don’t really think I quite possess the powers to make you come into my bed while sleeping.” “No… you’re right.” Lucania sighed, savoring the warm fluttering that erupted in her chest as a result of Evelina, “I’m just very…” she searched her mind for the right word, finding herself still muddled with the ghosts of the drink of the night before, “...bold.” That wasn’t quite wrong, but it wasn’t entirely right, either. “I just…” Perhaps she could better articulate her thoughts once the hangover had passed? She doubted it. Typically, she could always rely on her eyes to tell the world how she felt, whether she liked it or not…The problem was, they didn’t always make it obvious to her how she felt. There was something she wasn’t addressing. Something she had missed last night. What was it? Lucania ran a hand along Evelina’s skin, shifting her position slightly to nuzzle against her neck. “Please, don’t hesitate to tell me if I’ve been too forward…” she gave single laugh and a slight smile, “I understand it’s very odd to find yourself in the bed of a woman who kissed you under… less than ideal conditions.” Evelina sighed, shifting a little to get more comfortable, though she still let Lucania lie where she did. It was, after all, very comfortable to have someone snuggled up against her like that, even if she wasn’t going to openly admit it. “I won’t lie, Lucania. I think you are being quite forward, and perhaps a little too fast, but… I wouldn’t say that I regret anything from yesterday.” She let out a dry chuckle. “If anything, it actually answers a very old question of mine. See, I never knew what my sexuality was before yesterday, or today even. I had spent too little time with people in my teenage years to ever realise.” It was true, she told herself, that she hadn’t really known if she was straight, gay, or bisexual until yesterday. One thing was for certain, she wasn’t straight. Bi, perhaps? She shifted again, turning so that she lay on her side, and face to face with Lucania, green and yellow peering at each other. “I wouldn’t mind if we take it slow, if there is to be anything that is, but I still have to ask… is there anything you regret? Or want?” At that, a teasing glint entered her eyes. “Except for a certain somethings underneath my shirt, that is.” “A pony.” Lucania answered, she hadn’t even completely registered the question, but her mind was ready to supply an answer. It wasn’t wrong, either, she supposed she did rather want an infant equine. “That isn’t very possible though, is it?” Lucania said, “I don’t regret it so much as I… lament the fact that I may have tried to use you as a release for all of the...” She tilted her head upward, observing the golden zig-zagging design on the ceiling, “Stress…” “I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and I think I just wanted to get lost in another person…” She sighed, “That’s unfair to you though, for that I would like to apologize.” Her eyes fell back into Evelina’s, cerulean irises became complemented by a clement smile. “A… pony?” Evelina’s brows bunched together in thought, nose scrunching up as well. “I suppose it isn’t,” she conceded at the end. What’s a pony? She was silent for a while herself, idly watching Lucania’s near-perfect features, as she looked at the ceiling. Her face took on a hurt look, however, when the reason for the kiss and affection yesterday was brought to the light of day. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she sat up, perhaps a bit too abruptly. “I… get that you’ve been under stress,” she said, looking down at the other woman. She wasn’t angry, nor did she look like it. She looked more disappointed than anything. “And I know what it’s like to just want to get rid of it all, but…” She shook her head. “You’re right, it’s been very unfair of you, and yet.” She paused, stopping herself before she said anything she would regret. She continued after a short while, saying, “I won’t pretend to not be hurt that it was all because you wanted to let some steam out, and at the same time I won’t pretend that I honestly hoped—and still hopes—for something. You’re kind, beautiful, intelligent, and the first person I’ve met that hasn’t wanted me only for my body, I feel. Clingy as it may sound, I don’t want to just let you go.” “You’re sweet.” Lucania followed Evelina in sitting up, and listened to her response, feeling a wave of different emotions as she spoke. She felt, rightfully so, shame, but also hope, the word ‘kind’ had made her slightly downcast, but as Evelina finished speaking, Lucania felt a tinge of excitement. She hung on Evelina’s final words, ‘I don’t want to just let you go,’ and felt her response slip from her mind to her lips in perfect clarity, “I don’t want to let you go either.” Her accent perhaps gave the words a tinge of melodrama, the Castalias had a flair for dramatics, but they were also utterly sincere. Lucania didn’t want their correspondence to end, plain and simple. She wanted to know more about the seemingly endless altruistic kindness she possesed. She was a drifter, and a doctor of sorts, she offered psychiatric help to distraught strangers in bars and she had the eyes of a cat! She was utterly unique and, quite frankly, dreamy. Was it possible to be handsome and beautiful at the same time? Yes. Lucania decided, apparently she had already found it in a person. “I am sorry,” Lucania placed a hand atop Evelina’s, “I… Umm, I’m not very good at this, so I apologize if it comes out as garbled,” her heart was fluttering, “this hangover certainly isn’t helping…” she muttered, “Regardless! You seem… wondrous, Miss Quinn, and I would like nothing more than to be honored with the chance to further connect with you… and… to make this all up to you… somehow?” So she realised her mistake, Evelina thought, fighting to not smile yet. That’s good. It was a losing battle. A sentence made its way to the forefront of her mind, spoken just scant few moments ago: ‘I don’t want to let you go either’. Such a simple sentence, but a reply to her own statement which, at this point, had utterly defeated any attempt at not smiling. She kept her hand where it was, only turning it to grasp Lucania’s hand in a gentle grip. “My name is Evelina, you know. Not Miss anything. I’m only twenty six, and far too young to be called Miss. That aside… If you want to make it up to me,” she leaned closer, almost too little as to go unnoticed. Almost. “Then close your eyes.” “My…” Where there had once been only the electric sensation of Lucania’s skin laid atop Evelina, there was a grip. Fear? No, merely registering the new sensation. Evelina made it known she wasn’t a ‘Miss,’ in a manner that was playful, but also… forceful. Lucania’s heart palpitations only increased, she felt blood rush hot across her body. She knew Evelina could see it, that it was probably her whole intent; this was turning her on. Alright, Evelina. Lucania wordlessly did as ordered, closing her eyes, transforming the vermillion dawn light into a self-imposed darkness. About a shade darker and Lucania’s cheeks would be the same shade as Evelina’s hair. Her smile widened and she leaned forward, bringing her unoccupied hand to the other woman’s cheek, and gently caressed it with her thumb. Her eyes fell on the lips now only a few centimetres from her own, pink and full. Perfect for kissing. The distance continued to lessen until, finally, their lips met, Evelina pushing forward in a gentle but firm kiss. For an obsidian flicker, Lucania was faced with the void. She shuddered at the sensation that brushed its way across her cheek. For some reason, Lucania considered her appearance in the infinitesimal expanse of time that bridged the ecstasy between merely having her face touched and the vapor inducing experience that came next. The early light gleamed off messy brown hair, her closed eyes were framed with messy eyeliner, a black sleeping gown hung loosely off one shoulder, she didn’t actually remember when she put it on, her complexion, typically olive, was as crimson as the fire in-- Evelina, with a press as light as a feather, locked lips with Lucania. The soft press of skin against her own sent a shock through her being, her heart didn’t just stop-- it melted. Was this how heaven felt? All the time? It had been so long since a sensation filled her with this much giddiness. Salem would be sad to hear that. Lucania’s mood softened. Why did that have to come up now? She wanted to ignore the thought, like swatting away a fly. But she couldn’t stop once she had started, she felt guilt pour in-- as if spending a decade hunting down her killer hadn’t been enough. That feeling of being watched wouldn’t go away over night, no matter how much she drank. She was moving too fast. Lucania pulled away from the kiss, not abruptly, she was still beaming, her eyes were still golden, but there was a slight withdrawal painted across her, a whisper escaped her still parted lips, “...slow.” Evelina nodded, easily seeing the slight pain on Lucania’s face. For all her bravery and brashness, she was still just a small girl, even if she were more than old enough to be considered adult. The kiss had been just as she imagined it: Soft, warm, and thoroughly pleasant. “I know. I want to take it slow myself, but… I wanted to be selfish just this once.” A wry smirk pulled at her lips. “You don’t get to be that often when you’re a healer.” Her arms wrapped around Lucania and drew her into a comforting embrace, holding her in silence as one hand stroked her back. “You okay?” “Yes,” Lucania breathed deeply, taking in Evelina’s scent, she sighed. “I’m just a little haunted, I think,” she closed her eyes and gave herself fully into the embrace. She let her statement rest, and simply existed in the silence with her companion, eventually adding an addendum to her statement, “And perhaps a little hungry...”

The mention of being haunted caused Evelina to tighten the hug just a little. She had a good idea of what it was that haunted Lucania, and why it was in this moment that the memories of it returned. But even those gloomy thoughts couldn’t keep her from chuckling at the completely out-of-place mention of her hunger. Evelina chuckled, her entire body rocked by her laughter. “I suppose we should go down and get something to eat, then? Or would you prefer to just stay here, take a shower, perhaps? Alone, that is.” She smells nice. Of Lilies. “Hmm…” Lucania tapped a finger against her chin, “Well I certainly need to wash up,” she looked down, “I need to change too…” she scooted off the bed, as she stood, she tilted her head. Apparently her companion had slept in her clothes, “And what of you, my drifter friend? Would you like a... fresh outfit?” It was with some regret that Evelina let go of Lucania, having enjoyed the embrace more than she might have let on. She yawned once and stretched again—arms above her head—then stood up as well. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a new set of clothes,” she admitted. “Most of what I have is with my bike, including a few sets of clothes that I’ve gotten over the years… but nothing that’s actually, well, well maintained or new. Most has holes in it.” She grinned bashfully. “I can’t say clothes have been my top priority.” “A bike?” Lucania posed, scanning the illuminated room with a new days clarity. Where was her purse? “And you travel alone?” Found it. It peeked out from under the ruffled golden silk sheets of her long abandoned bed, she went to retrieve it, “I do imagine keeping a full wardrobe must be difficult…” She mused, “Well, feel free to take whatever you’d like from the armoire--” She crossed the room, heading to the restroom, “Although,” she paused in the doorframe, turning with a coy gleam in her eyes, “Do you consider yourself a fan of dresses?” “Dresses?” She looked slightly perplexed by the suggestion, even the word itself. Her lips pursed, and she idly brushed her hair out with her fingers, though with limited success. “I have nothing against them, and I wouldn’t mind wearing one, so long as—” she poked her chest “—these can stay hidden. That means no exposed back, cleavage or sides. I don’t mind people knowing of them, but I’m not much a fan of displaying them like that.” She smiled wrily. “So if you have anything that’s modest and similar to what I described, then I would like to wear one.” “Modest…” She tapped her chin in thought again, while she leaned against the doorframe, she was completely oblivious to the nightgown progressively sliding lower and lower down her chest, “I’m sure you’ve already inferred this Evelina, but my profession doesn’t necessitate much modesty…” Evelina pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, shaking her head theatrically. “Modesty is for people who aren’t millionaires, Lucania. Not to mention that I don’t want everyone and their mother to stare at my breasts. I attract enough attention because of my figure, and being Immortal as it is. I don’t need another reason for people to oggle me.” She let her hand fall to her side again, her gaze travelling up Lucania as she did. A very faint smirk tugged at her lips at the sight of the dress gliding down, but she didn’t say anything nor pointed it out. Let’s see how she reacts when it falls down completely. “Millionaire!” Lucania gasped, she quickly brought up a hand that hovered lightly over her open mouth, as if she had just said some forbidden word, “I’d like to think my net-worth exceeds one billion, with a b, at an absolute minimum, Evelina!” The dress slipped far enough down to expose a single breast to the air of the room, in the middle of her dramatic pose, Lucania didn’t notice, “To only have several million bullets to one’s name!” She cried, “How the heart reels!” She stood in the middle of the doorway, one hand grasping the side of the door for support, the other with it’s back to Lucania’s forehead, when gravity decided to have it’s way with the nightgown, and it promptly fell to the ground, leaving her completely bare. Lucania yelped, “Cazzo!” She didn’t give Evelina time to see the bright blue in her eyes, or the red of her blush. She shot behind the door, but didn’t slam herself in the restroom, instead she peaked out. Although the kneejerk reaction was embarrassment, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was being a tad unfair with her body… she had fondled Evelina in her sleep after all, albeit under the influence. Still, the feeling pervaded, if Evelina wanted to see her, then she would let her. She owed that to her. Clearing her mind, she poked her head out from behind the door further, a playful smile slowly appearing, “Dio... I am not taking this very slow at all, am I?” Aaany time now, Evelina thought, not really paying attention to Lucania’s theatrics, more focused on the dress steadily gliding down. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about what she said, but more the fact that she preferred to make sure that she caught the inevitable reaction when the dress finally fell. And then it happened. The dress fell, revealing a pair of perky breasts that, in Evelina’s opinion, were much prettier than her own. What followed was a rush of movement as Lucania rushed behind the door to the bathroom, though it was left ajar and not slammed shut. Perfect. Evelina grinned and, with a thought, dissolved into tiny motes of light, invisible during day time, and rushed through the door, materializing behind the naked woman before she got as far as to look out of the room. ”I’m not taking this very slow at all, am I?” “I suppose not,” Evelina said from behind her, wrapping both arms around her shoulders and leaned forward, hugging her from behind. “But then again, I don’t think I am, either, even if I want to.” Lucania’s heart practically leaped right out of her ribcage. In all honesty, it might have, if not for Evelina’s hands finding their ways to rest over it first. She didn't have time to scream, the shocked gasp could barely escaped her lips. She was scared, but only for an impossibly small flash of an instant, a flash Evelina somehow managed to shoot behind her in. Was that something else she could do? All panic subsided in the instant she recognized Evelina’s voice behind her, whispering suggestively. Lucania instead felt comforted with the taller woman wrapping arms around her, it was horrifying, but also slightly… romantic? Perhaps that was the adrenaline that pumped it’s way through her now fidgeting body? “You are dreadfully lucky I have such good self control,” Lucania sighed, “I could have deafened you just now...” “You could?” Evelina asked, somewhat perplexed. “I take it your powers are something to do with sound, then?” She let go of Lucania, grabbing her shoulders to turn her around. She didn’t try to hide the cursory glance she gave her, her eyes moving down, then up again with a smile steadily growing on her lips. “You don’t have to be ashamed, you know. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And if it helps… you’re not just a pretty face. A pretty body, too: Healthy, if a bit unfit.” She looked up, a serious look on her face. “You don’t exercise much, do you?” She let go of Lucania and took a step back, her gaze still fixed on the other. “You should.” “I-I’ve been busy…” Lucania stammered, “You’re intelligent enough to recognize that establishments like this don’t just spring up overnight.” She began to list things off with her fingers, “There’s resource management, and acquisitions, financing, raw product, muscle… so many people to pay off…” Her blush deepened as she realized she was standing there, stark naked, talking about finer nuances of financing a club. She snatched a towel from a rack, covering her more indecent bits as she held it to her chest, “I’ve just been very busy lately, that’s all...” “You are right in that my powers are…” She paused, visibly focusing before speaking again, mirroring Evelina’s voice back at her, “...something to do with sound…” She smirked, “大约, my Doctor.” Flabbergasted. A word as good as any to describe the thoughts currently racing through Evelina’s mind. Just being able to produce loud sounds wouldn’t have surprised her, but hearing her own voice when she wasn’t talking was… surreal, for lack of better words. She had to fight not to let her jaw drop at hearing it. “Alright. So… Imitation. That’s… freaky.” She gulped, though not quite as one who felt threatened or frightened would. “That is both a neat power, and potentially very abusive.” The surprised look in her eyes shifted to one of scrutiny. She clucked her tongue as she thought over the excuses given. “Be that as it may, you still should have had time for half an hour of jogging, a brisk walk, something like that.” She sighed, smiling. “At any rate, you’re still healthy so it’s not a problem yet. Onto another matter, though,” she clapped her hands, “about those dresses? And something that doesn’t display my chest to the world, please.” “十分に公平。” [Fair enough] Lucania shot back, “しかし。。。あなたが服を脱ぎ場合。その後二つはヌードになる。” [However… If you undress. Then Two will be nude.] Lucania whispered, coyly looking down at her body barely hidden by the towel, “セクシー~” [S-sexy~] She spoke the word just barely above a breath, she was clearly enjoying the fact the Evelina probably didn’t understand anything that was coming out of her mouth. “そうでないかもしれないあなた。しかし、あなたはいつでも私の胸を表示することができます。” [You who may not be so. However, you will be able to display my chest at any time.] A scowl—if a playful one—spread across her features, pulling her lips down. She had understood just about nothing of what Lucania had said, and decided that now was the time for payback. “Okay. That’s it.” She drew in a deep breath, readying herself. “Phalange, metacarpus, distal phalange, proximal phalange, middle phalange, metacarpal, trapezoid, trapezium, hamate, triquetral, carpus, capitate, scaphold, lunate, radius, ulna, and pisiform.” She glared at Lucania playfully. “Right back at you.” “Wh--” Lucania tilted her head at the barrage of medical and anatomical terms both obscure and others. To her, they were like French, well, not entirely, Lucania knew some French, what she didn’t know was this Doctor speak. What she did gather was that, for reasons of avoiding another Latin word salad, she should probably keep her Aqueon to a minimum. “Okay!” Lucania held up a single hand in mock defeat, “I could never find the patience to learn even a little Latin… I’m impressed.” She sighed, “Most of my wardrobe remains in Serenity, but I’m confident I’ve already got something of a selection for me here,” wrapping the towel around her form, she brushed past Evelina, “I’m not sure how practical they are on a bike, but if you do decide you’d like to take one, mind that you don’t cut yourself on the sleeves,” She bent down to turn a dial, water sprang miraculously from a ceiling mounted showerhead, “the blouses too! The ones with frilly longer sleeves… I don’t keep favorites, so take whichever… but I don’t want you to get hurt...” Evelina grinned victoriously, her face lit up in a childish joy. “You speak some other language, and I barrage you with medical terms. And if you ever get out of hand, I’ll just start to communicate with you. In writing.” The last bit was added as a threat, made entirely unconvincing by the all-too-obvious glint of mirth in Evelina’s cat-like eyes. “But for the record, I listed the names of the bones in the human hand, wrist, and the two bones from which your lower arm consist of. I hope I didn’t scare you off.” She turned around when Lucania brushed past her, eyes trained on the back of her head—Mostly. “Why would I cut myself on your sleeves?” She asked out loud, partly to herself and partly to Lucania. “Also, I think I’d prefer a dress over a blouse. If only to borrow during my stay here.” She really doesn’t know who I am… Interesting. “Hmmm,” Lucania sat on the edge of the tub, crossing her legs as pondered on how to go about answering the question. Outright lying would show in her eyes, and Evelina seemed like a perceptive enough woman that she doubted she could get away with a fib even with Standard eyes. The pitter patter of the shower water filled the silence between words, and slowly, the restroom became steamier, Lucania spoke. “Well, I commission my own private line of personal attire, as well as those of the people who work for my family, a staple of my line of clothing is having razor blades sewn into the sleeves.” “I suppose you saw the effectiveness of such hidden blades yesterday.” Her smile hadn’t faded, but she bit her lower lip, her eyes were… probing, as if attempting to gauge a reaction, “You know, I find it interesting, you conceded a last name the moment I asked, yet you never asked for mine.” “It’s true, I did see that,” she mused, pursing her lips in thought. “And I guess it makes sense that the sleeves would be able to cut me if I wore them. But you say it’s a line you commissioned yourself?” As I thought. If she has enough money for that, then she’s definitely not your average young woman. She shook her head, crossing her arms underneath her bust. “No, I never did. But I have a feeling that it’s a name I know.” She gave a half-smile. “There are too many things pointing towards you not being your average girl. ‘Practically owning’ this bar, being able to enter a suite such as this without asking anyone, and having your own line of clothes commissioned. That, and the fact that they are so open towards Immortals here, adds up to quite a bit more than an average girl.” Her half-smile became a full one in the end, if only to show that she didn’t think any less of her for holding secrets, or for not being ‘normal’. “But let me ask then: What is your last name, Lucania?” “Believe it or not, I actually would like to take a shower at some point,” Lucania chided. There had been an amusement on her face though, that didn’t fade with the comment, if anything, her mirth increased with the coy dodge. The woman sighed theatrically, tossing her head back, almost into the streaming water. While one hand was used for balance, the other pulled down on the towel just slightly, enough to tease from where she sat, but only a shade more skin than she’d been showing a moment before. Lucania pouted, “Have I gone and ruined my own allure?” “You’re the one who keeps talking,” Evelina pointed out. “So if you want that shower, you could just ask me to leave.” She tactfully ignored the teasing display, acting as if she either hadn’t noticed, or didn’t faze her. “And no, you haven’t lost your allure. You’re just as pretty as when I met you. Although that doesn’t mean that I’ll shower with you, if that’s what you’re asking.” She smiled somewhat apologetically. “Regardless of what we think of each other, we’ve only just met last night.” She turned on her heel and went for the door, heading back into the bedroom part of the apartment, or room. She wasn’t quite sure what to call it, given its size. Before she fully exited, however, she looked back. “Also, where do I find the dresses? A wardrobe or something?” And nice dodge, Lucania. But you’re not getting away with it. Something’s fishy, and I can’t help but feel that she’s deliberately teasing me. Lucania held a hand to her heart, in mock injury, “Shower together?” she gasped, “Goodness! You’ve already seen my unmentionables! If we showered together you’d have an intimate knowledge of my rituals—there would be nothing left to show!” She giggled, “Well…” She thought out loud, “I suppose there’s always intimate discussion of Old World literature…” Yes, The Odyssey, The Secret Doctrine, Ulysses, and each salvaged copy of ‘Horse Mag Monthly’ “A haha...ha…” Lucania rolled her eyes at the absurdity of her own thoughts, “I suppose that wouldn’t do for the now though, would it?” She said to Evelina, leaning toward the door, “It should be a walk in closet, through the door that we didn’t come in last night.” “You’re incorrigible,” Evelina muttered, suppressing a chuckle. “Anyway, thanks, I’ll go see about finding something to put on.” She closed the door behind her, already looking for said walk-in closet before it had even clicked shut. Reminds me… what even is a walk-in closet? It was a question she repeated a number of times as she walked towards a pair of wooden double doors. She’d only ever had a normal closet with shelves and coat hangers, so perhaps a walk-in closet was something big enough that you could stand in it? It’d make sense, she thought, reaching out for the handles. I mean, it’s only a closet, it can’t be that b— She stopped, mouth agape at the sight before her. She had opened the closet and, having expected nothing more than something perhaps twice as big as her own back in Parkland, felt a shock of awe rush over her. “Yes. Yes it can be that big,” she muttered, walking into what could only be described as an entire room filled with coat hangers; dresses, skirts, blouses, and a multitude of other articles. It might not have been bigger than a small bathroom, but it was still gigantic compared to what a closet usually was. “I don’t even want to think how much all of this costs.” She gulped and, carefully, stepped in and started perusing the lines upon lines of clothing, looking for something that was relatively modest while not being overly prudent; there was a reason she usually wore tight clothes, after all. For even if she didn’t want to show off, she was not afraid or ashamed of her own appearance. It took upwards of twenty minutes before she finally found something that would fit her, both in size and taste. Much better than that blue one… How does she even hide her breasts in that thing! The chest was hardly covered at all. She stepped out of the closet and held up a long, red dress. It’s nice. It seemed thin enough to hug someone’s upper body, while staying loose from the hips down, but even then never coming to the point where it was like a second skin. Another few minutes passed of her shrugging off her jeans and T-shirt, replacing them with the dress. Like she had been instructed she was careful not to cut herself on the sleeves, using a thin barrier to prevent any damage to her hands or wrists. Once done she turned to the mirror situated on the inside of the door to the closet, looking herself over. All I need, she thought, is to get my hair brushed, and I… would actually look very good. Although. Her eyes lowered from her reflection’s face to her chest, grimacing slightly. It was the highest cut she had. Everything else was lower, except for the blouses. And with my… size, it looks even bigger. The thought of changing into a blouse crossed her mind but she drowned it out. She did prefer dresses over blouses, and it wasn’t as if she was that annoyed or embarrassed over herself. She could live with it. Lucania sighed. She’d finished any washing she needed to devote muscular energy toward several minutes ago, nearly 20 minutes ago, in fact. For the better part of the last half hour, she had just let the warm water pour over her, simply streaming down her body at this juncture, as if it was an endless commodity and not some desperately needed luxury. The comfort Lucania felt here was never one of a physical cleansing, she wasn’t like Evelina. She showered daily-- only several times in her life had she ever let the filth of Dust accumulate on her physical form. Vain as it may have been, yesterday was the only notable instance in recent memory where Lucania could recall being unpresentable due to filth and gore, and that had been remedied almost immediately after. The thing Lucania gained from showers wasn’t physical cleansing. It was this… gestalt spiritual and mental cleansing. Each droplet started its journey when propelled from the faucet, with it’s brethren, like the meteors that had once ended the world. They joined at her head, made their way past closed eyes, hair laced in daisies, and absorbed the stresses that seemed to lay just underneath the surface of where they rolled toward the drain. The light drumming of the artificial rain drowned out the sounds of the world, warmth felt as though it was transferred directly into her soul with each tap of the world’s clear ichor against her skin, the fog would often become so thick that she would be left with no choice but to close her eyes and be faced with her thoughts, alone in a welcoming void. She rather enjoyed the opportunity. She knew, of course, that she couldn’t stay in the shower forever. But it was a valuable reflection time. It was self reflection and assessment, as well as time to allow her mind to wonder poetically, to ponder spirituality and philosophy and simply review her plans for the future. Lucania supposed it could be considered kin of a kind of meditation, where the emphasis was on going to the places in one’s mind where the world normally barred them from going. Today, she had spent a good amount of time thinking of her dream from the night prior. It hadn’t been the one she had become accustomed to, there were no horses. No, she’d simply held a conversation with mother… Rita. She couldn’t remember the full conversation… but naturally, she had come to the interpretation that this oneirological shift represented some change. Listen: The dreams that had persisted for the last few years were unpleasant ordeals, not quite nightmares, but unpleasant. They all had this in common, this, and thematic similarities, they were always always, the observation of some biblical apocalypse, with myself taking part in some way, typically through becoming an avatar of death. But that brings up a third similarity, one very specific and striking commonality-- I had never started the dreams as death, ever. No, without fail, Rita always rode in on the Pale Horse. That sick, chlorine hued horse. In Christian Mythos, the rider of the Pale Horse was death personified, and death for all followed. I’m not death, not in these dreams, I was merely the daughter of death inheriting a role. At least, that’s how I interpreted it. Death was mother. In Old World Tarot, the card ‘Death,’ above all else, represented change. Change... be it positive or negative… Like yesterday! The death of Adam Worth, the first romantic connection I’ve made since… That’s what Rita was talking about last night. I know it. She was reaching out to me. Something snapped yesterday, an unseen catalyst is bringing about change to all of Dust… ...Or, peradventure I’m reading too deep into all of this. Peradventure. Still, it was something to keep eyes open for, even if her mother’s spirit wasn’t reaching out to her with messages from the ether. Lucania sighed again. She was beginning to prune, she needed to leave the shower soon. Reaching down, she turned the dial, and couldn’t help but feel a tinge of regret as the water slowly became nothing for than a trickle. The next Jean-Paul Marat… Lucania chuckled to herself as she began to dry off. If she was Marat… Oh dear, was Evelina her assassin Charlotte de Corday? Well, Lucania supposed if she was, she’d missed her opportunity to create the ‘Death of Castalia,’ complete with her blood flowing down the drain as the showerhead continued to bathe her corpse… Manache! She’d completely forgotten-- The Aqueons! She needed to get to Tas later today, she’d been enlisted to ‘negotiate’ with the River Dragon Triad. She hadn’t even thought of it since yesterday morning. Lucania mentally scolded herself, she made an effort to dry herself off faster, hiding her hair in one towel she wrapped her body in another. There was still so much she needed to do here! There were bound to be reactions from the Winged Guardians that she needed to deal with AND there was the matter of finding an Immortal willing to champion a duel for her AND-- Her stomach growled. Right, health first. Lucania tip toed over to the restroom door, cracking it open slightly she found herself taken aback at the sight of Evelina in the carmine gown. Lucania’s lips parted in a dazed smile, “I-I thought you didn’t want anything that… Umm... low cut?” Evelina found herself blushing, hand shooting up to cover her chest before she even realised the futility of the action. Sighing, she let her arms fall to her side, a slightly perturbed expression on her face. “This was the one with the highest cut you had. On a normal person it wouldn’t be so bad, but on me… it’s a different story. And I’m not really a fan of blouses. A dress is far prettier, I think.” Despite her bashfulness, she twirled around, arms spread wide, and asked. “So, what do you think? Aside from having to brush my hair, that is. Does it look good, or should I pick something else?” “Good?” Lucania threw open the door, moving to circle around Evelina in wide-eyed abandon, towelhead and all, “You look like… what Old World royalty must have looked like,” Lucania’s eyes tinged with a slight green, “when they weren’t getting beheaded, that is…” She muttered to herself. “Still,” Her eyes shifted to match the golden glow of the sun, “you look fantastic… far too fantastic for this locale,” She scowled at the thought, “Are there even any establishments built for such a purpose as an early brunch around here?” Now who’s a shameless flirt. “Thanks,” Evelina said earnestly, cheeks tinted red and eyes glowing with a mixture of pride and glee. She doubted Lucania knew just how much a compliment like that meant to her. “It’s nice to know that someone thinks I look good.” She didn’t even register the mention of royalty getting beheaded, her subconsciousness deciding that such a phrase could go unheard without any lasting repercussions. “Truth be told, I do think it’s a really nice dress, and even if it’s a bit tight in some places, it’s a comfortable wear, too. But… still doesn’t mean you’re not overdoing it. I don’t look that good, as to be ‘far too fantastic for this locale.’” She stopped then to consider the question posed. Was it really possible to get an early brunch here? She didn’t know, having never been here before. “I don’t really know. I—” There was a knock on the door. Three crisp knocks echoing off the wooden surface.

“I’ll get that,” Evelina announced, already striding towards the door. She opened the door, her eyes first getting caught by the penetrating stare originating from a dark skinned woman with short, curly hair. Her scrutinizing glare was aimed at an even more peculiarly looking woman. If there was one word that would aptly describe this woman, it was Purple. Her hair, falling down to her middle back, was a dark purple, with her eyes being coloured a lighter shade. Her lips were also adorned by the same purple colour as her hair, as were her nails; long and well maintained. She wore a black, knee-long skirt and a white shirt which was neither loose nor tight. In her hands were a large silver platter filled with various kinds of fruit, waffles, pancakes, and an assortment of other breakfast products. None of what she wore or held was what Evelina was focused on, however. Instead she simply held the gaze of the newcomer, lips parted and eyes wide in surprise. “Octavia?!” She exclaimed in an excited voice. “What’re you doing here?” The purple haired woman—Octavia, as was her name—grinned where Evelina stood dumbfounded. “Hi Evelina! I see you’ve finally gotten brave enough to show ‘em off to the world? Anyway, I was supposed to give this to Miss Castalia. I was told she’d be staying here with a guest. Imagine my surprise when I found it was you!” She giggled, taking a step forward in a silent request for entry, one which Evelina complied with and stepped back. She was about to just call for Lucania when she had an idea. Octavia had said “Castalia,” and while she wasn’t much interested in politics or the great companies in Dust, she had heard of one infamous family: The Castalias. Said to be the largest mafia organization in the entire continent, an accomplishment that was nothing to sneeze at. She smiled faintly and, looking over her shoulder, called. “It’s breakfast, Miss Castalia.” The casual way with which she just called for Lucania earned her a dissatisfied glare from the dark woman, but she didn’t notice. “I haven’t requested any…” Lucania had ducked into the closet, taking the opportunity to change out of the towels into a more proper outfit. The Blue Velvet dress she had thrown on contrasted the mature red gown Evelina had chosen, it was one of the few dresses Lucania owned that didn’t reach to the ground, it spoke of a certain youth in it’s design with a color that carried with it sophistication. Lucania peeked out of the closet the same second Evelina finished her statement with ‘Miss Castalia.’ A development! “Yeeeessss?” Lucania sang, practically floating across the room. Her grin could only be described as ‘coquettish’, her eyes were focused completely on Evelina, perhaps reading her face for emotion, and she moved with the gaiety of a ballerina. She came to a stop with a slight bounce at Evelina’s side by the door. She gushed at the smell of the meal, her eyes flicked from Evelina to the very… purple… woman, undeniably attractive, with which she was conversing, “And whom does Miss Castalia have to thank for such a generous delivery?” “Princess,” Octavia said sweetly, curtseying as best she could still with the tray on her hands. “The meal was sent by the chef himself as soon as he heard of your presence. There was no ordering necessary, and it is on the house.” Evelina took the tray from Octavia and carried it inside and onto a table, returning shortly thereafter, a time during which Octavia had said nothing. “How come you’re here, Tavi?” Evelina asked when she returned. “I work for the Castalia Family in this establishment. Bar maid, waitress, dancing, and the occasional singing… I’m still practicing on that. I’m not that good yet.” She looked exasperated for all but a single second. “What about you? I didn’t expect your to be in the same room with the Heiress?” Heiress? Emerald eyes flicked to Lucania, searching. She was met with a coquettish expression and a pair of golden eyes looking back at her. She’s the Bloody Sleeves? ...Can’t say I expected that. “Anyway, it’s good to see you again. I need to go. Oh, and Princess?” Her purple gaze shot to the blue-dressed woman, an impish smile on her face. “Take good care of Tits McGee here, she’s a nice girl. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She curtseyed again and backed out the door, closing it after her. “I still hate that nickname…” “Hmmm…” Lucania leaned against Evelina’s shoulder from where they stood in the doorway, further increasing their height difference, “neither do I, if we’re being completely transparent.” A hand traced its way up Evelina’s back, rubbing red fabric, getting tangled in wild red hair, “How about this; I can promise I won’t use yours if you don’t use mine?” She tilted her head upwards, looking simultaneously cutesy and pleading into Evelina’s eyes. Evelina chuckled, well aware of the hand on her back and in her hair.She didn’t mind the proximity, but despite the pleasantness of it all she couldn’t push away the doubt nagging at her: Was it really okay? Lucania had expressed clear concerns about going too fast, for reasons as of yet unknown to Evelina. The pleading, and just plain adorable, expression on Lucania’s youthful face elicited a giggle from the taller woman, who then wrapped her arm around her waist. “Speaking of nicknames,” she said, leading them into where she had set the tray of food. “I know you’re the Bloody Sleeves.” She looked down at Lucania. “I’m not going to say anything about it, lecture you, or make demands. I just want you to know that I’m aware of it, so you don’t have to hide it.” Letting go of Lucania, she started pouring a couple glasses of juice for them, handing one of them to the other. “And don’t worry, I don’t think any less of you for it.” She smiled sweetly at that, as if saying that it didn’t change what she thought of her. “Really?” Lucania tilted her head as she followed Evelina’s lead, she didn’t make any attempt to hide the skepticism in her voice, “The altruistic wayward healer has no moral qualms with practically being tricked into the bedroom of bloodiest mafia enforcer in the history of Dust? It’s quite alright, if we’re to continue our correspondence then I’d like to get everything in the open now, I don’t want you to have any regrets...” “Dio…” Lucania crossed her legs when she took her seat, a mild look of disgust crossed her face as she swirled the juice around in the ornate glass, “He knows I prefer my Italian roast… Perhaps I’ll take an eye for this absolutely horrid indiscretion…?” After letting the comment hang in the air, she cast an amused glance at Eveline, “Joking!” “Bad joke,” Evelina said, an amused sort of exasperation in her voice. “But if I am to be honest? Let’s just say that… Looks can be deceiving.” She let that hand in the air for a while, sipping at her own juice. It had been far too long since she’d actually had any. Her twentythird birthday, was it? That’s a long time ago. Forcing her mind away from the topic of juice, she returned to the more important one: Whether or not she actually did have qualms about Lucania being the Bloody Sleeves. If she just looked at her, with the morning sun peeking in through the windows and surrounding her head in a halo of light, all she saw was a beautiful young woman who had seen both sides of life: The good and the bad. When first she’d met her she was close to breaking, and at a point where she desperately needed help before she did something she truly would regret. That that help had only needed to be someone who would listen was just a happy coincidence. Evelina had, for better or worse, just seen someone who needed a friend to talk to, and had found in her a new friend—and perhaps more. If one didn’t know of her alias, or what her name was, she was simply a kind soul who had been wounded, and had taken that hurt out on others. But now that it was over, now that the debt had been paid… She sighed, setting the glass back onto the table and folding her hands in her lap. “I can’t pretend that I’m not a little… uncertain. I wasn’t tricked into this room, mind you. While I was under the influence I have a bit higher tolerance than you, and had had less, so I was still in full control of myself. I had begun to like you so I didn’t mind sharing a room with you for the night. That you’re the ‘bloodiest mafia enforcer in Dust’ isn’t true. At least, that’s not all you are, is what I mean. You’re also, as I said earlier today, both kind and intelligent. You’re no simple grunt who obeys the commands blindly without ever making decisions of your own.” She leaned back in her chair, feline eyes giving Lucania a hard look, as if daring her to disagree. “I’ve only known you for a short while, but I refuse to believe that you’re just a common murderer. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with taking lives, but it’s not something you’ve done simply for the sake of doing it.” “Father would certainly prefer if I did,” Lucania scoffed, raising the glass to her lips, she opted to try the juice before continuing—certainly fresh—she set down the glass. With its clink on the table, Lucania was forced to process Evelina’s comments, the observations, and the, in her own opinion, astute compliments. “I…” Lucania’s voice cracked, she lost her voice in the prodding and slightly hypnotic gaze across from her, “I appreciate it.” Her own gaze became downcast. She was ashamed, of what, though? The word ‘grunt’ continued to ring in her ear. “Your words are very kind, and I do appreciate them. I recognize that there is even some truth in them,” pained azure flickered into her irises, “that doesn’t mean the contrary is untrue, however.” A sigh followed, “I’m not some simple grunt or a common murderer,” bringing her eyes back to Evelina’s, she managed to summon a small, defeated smile, “I’m my father’s grunt, my family’s murderer… I apologize if this sounds pseudo-intellectual, but at least a common killer has agency, I’m nothing more than a puppet aware of it’s strings.” A grimace swept across Evelina’s face, staying there for far longer than she liked. This wasn’t what she had wanted to hear, at all. Turns out I can’t fix everything just because I’m a healer. She shut her eyes, hiding the piercing gaze from the world, her hand rising to rub her temple. She sat like that for several minutes, silent, and with eyes closed the entire time. When she opened them again they were both defeated, but also determined. The look in her eyes spoke of a sheer stubbornness that was unknown even to herself. “I am… powerless to do anything, for once,” she said. “My hands are tied and, as much as I would like the opposite, I can’t change it.” She sighed, her gaze fixated on Lucania’s now; a look that demanded her full attention. “But, you can still do something. I’m not able to do anything to change your position, but nor can you change yours. I want you to promise me two things. One: The victims are not innocent. I doubt that anyone who really gets in the way of the Mafia are innocent, but I want to be certain nonetheless. Two: Whoever they are, it’s as quick and painless as possible. I can’t stop them dying, but perhaps their death can be as painless as possible.” She let out another sign, which preceded a snarling face of anger; lips pulled back to reveal her fangs. “I hate murder!” She exclaimed loudly, turning her head towards the windows. She was silent for a while, saying nothing. In the end, however, she was the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you, but the circumstances. You didn’t ask to be who you were, so I can’t blame you for what you’ve been forced to do. Just… Please don’t think I’m angry with you.” Lucania remained calm through the response, even Evelina’s outburst, and found that as she finished, she wasn’t feeling the sadness she had felt earlier. Instead she felt sympathy, perhaps even a little anger at the situation she found herself needing to sneak around in to influence even slightly. “‘Go out of your way to make a friend instead of an enemy.’” Lucania quoted to Evelina, contemplation spread across her face, “Do you know who once said that?” “Can’t say I do. Who?” “Murray Humphreys.” Lucania said, reaching to pile the assorted pastries on her plate, “He wasn’t some Old World saint, if you can believe that. He and I actually share a profession! He’s perhaps my favorite figure in organized crime from the twentieth century,” Lucania cast something of a sidelong glance, “I know that isn’t exactly the biggest honor to hold… But none-the-less! How he operated inspires me.” “I won’t say that I hate murder, Evelina. I just spent the last 10 years of my life hunting for an Immortal raping degenerate, I will never regret it, he gave up his humanity and I put him down. Some will call that murder, and that’s fair. The point is, I don’t see it as something so simple to despise…” She took a bite of an apple, “However…” Evelina held up a hand to stall Lucania for a moment, saying. “In the case of this Adam, I have to agree with you. That is one death I don’t hate.” She waved her hand, motioning for her to continue. Lucania swallowed, “I’m pleased you agree…” She let the comment hang for a moment before continuing, “You should know that I orchestrated it all in secret. That my family didn’t approve the risk involved. My father least of all…” Lucania sighed, “I hope, dearly, that history will remember me as someone like Humphreys, as someone whose strength was through shrewd thinking and diplomacy as opposed to… Machiavellian fear. But my family is full of hedonists who don’t see the value in that road, they approve pointless death so long as they can feast on steak for dinner and whores for dessert…” Lucania leaned on an arm, her gaze went to the sunny window. Her voice took on a jovial and masculine Italian tone, “‘Why pay off someone when you can just kill them, princess?’” Lucania turned away from Evelina hard, hiding the scowl across her lips, “Legacy, father!” Lucania closed her eyes in frustration. “I apologize for that…” Lucania was still visibly shaking, resentment was unmistakably present in her eyes, “Rest assured, Evelina, I am not a supporter of the Castalia attitudes toward murder.” A faint smile pulled at Evelina’s lips, a mixture of sadness and joy. “I’m glad to hear that. Really. It makes… a lot of things a lot easier. It gives me hope that, when you take the lead, you’ll employ more humane methods. I do not condone crime, but from what I know of the Castalia family it’s more of a business than a crime, so I guess I can let it slide.” Despite the severity of the situation, she couldn’t help but add in a little joke there in the end, a tiny bit of mirth twinkling in her eyes as she said it. Truth be told I’d rather she wasn’t involved at all, but her staying with the family is the best chance it has for becoming something better than a simple crime organization. I trust that she’ll be able to lead it onto a better track. She reached out and grabbed an apple from the tray, using her fangs to rip out a large chunk of it. “Nine-tenths legal for over 50 years!” Lucania declared, a sarcastic smile matching her tone. Her attention turned to eating for a moment, when, out of her subconscious, a question occurred to her. Lucania cleared her throat, “Soo… Why a travelling doctor?” A delicate eyebrow rose at the question, followed by an expression of surprise. “Hadn’t expected that question.” She tore another chunk off the apple, chewed and swallowed. “An easy question to answer, really. It all started in my early to mid teens or so, when my mom and dad started talking about what I should be when I grew up. My mom suggested I be a cook like her, but despite being only a bit above average it wasn’t really possible. That, and I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about it. Cooking was fun and all, but I didn’t want to do it for a living.” “My dad, however, was a Wing—and don’t say he’s like the others. He kept another Wing from shooting me after I became an Immortal. He’s the only reason I’m alive, and he doesn’t fear nor think any less of any Immortals.” Her normally gentle eyes turned hard for only a second, a warning look, telling her not to say anything untowards or judgemental about her father. It then disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. “He gave me my gun, ammo, the bike, and my sword.” She motioned towards the bedroom door where her bag could only just be spotted, the holster for her gun and the scabbard with her sword as well. ”He was the one who made sure I had enough to survive on my own before he let me go. He knew I wouldn’t be allowed back into the city. But that’s beside the point. I admired the way he protected people and kept order. I don’t think he ever took a life, only ever immobilizing with a shot to the leg or something similar.” An expression best described as nostalgic swept onto her face. “He protected people, and I wanted to do the same. But… I’m not exactly big, and not strong enough to become a Wing myself. So I thought to myself, why not help the people who had already gotten hurt when I couldn’t stop them from getting hurt?” “So I buried myself in books. Everything from how to set a bone or perform CPR, to advanced surgeries. I learned everything I could on my own until I reached an age where I could get a formal education. It took some four years, would’ve probably taken more if I hadn’t read all those books beforehand, and then I just… worked. I remember one time a young boy and girl had come in with a broken hand and shin respectively.” She chuckled. “Their cheeks were redder than my hair when I asked them to tell me what happened. Turns out a new ‘position’ wasn’t the best idea after all.” Another sigh, this one nostalgic. “But then I became an Immortal, two years after I finished my education. That’s two years ago, by the way. As I mentioned, he gave me the bike, my gun, and some supplies, and like that I just… drove away. I’ve sent them letters every one or two weeks ever since then, so they know I’m fine.” She fell silent, the last bit hanging in the air as she debated with herself if she should—Sure. Why the heck not. “There is also another reason. I want… the world to see that we Immortals aren’t all to be feared. It’s true that we have the power to bend the world to our will, but even then we are still humans and not someone to be feared. The only thing that’s changed about me since then is that I look different.” “Is that truly fair to say, though?” Lucania shot back, “I’m confident that you’ll remain this optimistic about the Immortal condition, but how does the average Motum Diversum citizen? You have a professional knowledge of human anatomy, theoretically you can give yourself a practical immunity to bullets with those walls you can create, and you can teleport behind someone faster than they can see. Sure, today you want to be a doctor, but what if tomorrow you decide you’ve really wanted to be an assassin your whole life?” Lucania leaned back, “I think you have a good heart, Evelina. You’ve demonstrated that to me. Immortal or not, you are very clearly a good person...” Lucania sighed, “But that isn’t something everyone can reasonably assume… Not today, not ever in history, really. See, I don’t think it’s the power that they fear. People have been dealing with both things and other people more powerful than them for millennia. People have a tendency to respect power, and the Edenites show us they’ll even go so far as to worship it.” Lucania laughed to herself, “While you were reading all those practical medical books I was wasting my time on Old World journals and historical tomes…” She leaned back in, continuing with her point, “People don’t fear you because of those adorable eyes of yours, they fear what the eyes represent. They fear you because you are different, if only slightly, you represent an unknown. Now, Immortals aren’t a united front--” Thank Dio “So each individual isn’t part of some larger group with power. People become scared when they see that you have the eyes and the fangs, and they don’t know what else changed. You’re an unpredictable individual, with fantastical powers unknown, part of a disparate group of people whom are all easy to stereotype.” Lucania shrugged, “Aaaand historically, people tend to really like having groups to discriminate against...” Their eyes met, “I’m not being cynical. I think Dust needs people like you if attitudes are ever going to change… But you have to understand, people don’t avoid your medical services and call you mutie because they think you have power, they do it because they fear you, they do it because, to them, you aren’t a person. There is an encouraged view to see Immortals as this unchained dog that needs to be put in its place.” Lucania’s smile widened as she gave the perfect ‘barking’ sound. The words stung. Like a wasp’s sting or, better yet, a sword through her gut, they pierced through her doing damage wherever they could. Her head hung low, casting her face in a shadow. Her teeth gritted and her hands clenched so hard that her nails dug painfully into her palms, almost piercing the skin. It never ends, does it? Different. Discriminate. Thing. Who had she been trying to fool? ‘The universe repeats itself.’ That is what they all say, so why should she be any different? She was bound to be ostracized, it was her lot in life after all, was it not? What made me think that this was any different? She raised one hand up to her chest, forcing herself to make the movement seem composed. She placed the hand against her chest, the difference in size between hand and breast becoming immediately evident. “Why did I ever try to fool myself,” she said, her voice being that of someone who had just given up. Hot tears started leaking from her eyes. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? Always discriminated, always different, always looked upon as something to be mocked, hunted, or beaten.” She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Is a normal life really too much to hope for?” “No, I don’t suppose it is,” resting her elbows on the table, Lucania locked her fingers, creating something of an organic mask to hide any expressions her mouth might betray. All she allowed Evelina to see were her eyes, their critical gaze was almost appraising, as if she were in the middle of some negotiation. Lucania spoke slowly, “But I don’t believe for a second that you want what’s normal, Evelina.” Lucania clasped her hands together, “You only half answered my question before; Why are you a wandering doctor?” She let the saddened woman process what she meant before continuing, “You told me why you were a doctor, but you didn’t tell me why you wander. Not entirely, at least.” Lucania preempted a counter-statement, “You could have led a peaceful existence in Isolone as a nurse, you could have had the teeth removed, or relocated to Serenity…” Lucania’s words were calculated, she wasn’t just talking to Evelina anymore, her next words were a test, “Where are you from? We hold influence with the Gaens, Aqueons, and every Motum Diversum city. All it would take is calling in one favor, one, and you could have a quiet, peaceful, normal life, but only if that’s what you really want. Is it?” Anger, a sort of betrayal, rose in Evelina. Who was she, this spoiled child who had been given almost everything she asked for, to judge her? To make such assumptions as to say she didn’t actually want a normal life? Of course she did, who wouldn’t? A life of solitude, of ostracization, wasn’t something anyone wanted. She opened her mouth to reply, to say that a normal life was all she had ever really dreamt of but stopped herself. Was it? Is it? As Lucania had said she should have had her teeth removed, but even then that wouldn’t have done anything about her eyes. Isolone, too, was just a random city without anything to it, at least not as far as she knew. It was, to her knowledge, as discriminating towards Immortals as every other place. She looked up, meeting that calculating, judging gaze of Lucania’s. “Did I want a normal life when I was all but kicked out of my home? Yes. Do I want a normal life now? The answer to that question is also yes. I am a woman who was bullied and mocked for the majority of my teen years, all because my breasts grew a little too quickly, a little too big. For the past two years now I’ve been a drifter, a person who wanders Dust because I have no other place to go, and because I want to show people that just because I’m different it doesn’t mean that I’m something to be afraid of, or to be ridiculed.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, the green orbs becoming steely. “There is, however, one question you didn’t ask. Do I want to give up my current life? The answer to that is no. I have spent too much time, too much effort, and fought far too much to get through all the shit the world put me through, and I’m not about to let all of that effort go to waste. I do want a normal life, but it’s not something I can get. So why do I drift? Because that is what my life is.” She sighed. “Although… perhaps you’re right. I don’t want a normal life, I just want a life where I’m not feared. If I’m thought of as a person instead of a monster or a target, then that’s all I really want.” “I apologize if I’ve come off as… cruel,” concern became intertwined as Lucania said the words, she wanted to reach out and brush away the tears, instead, she restrained herself, “There is a reason I prodded you to say that, that you didn’t want a normal life, Evelina.” Lucania sighed. The breakfast was getting cold, it was hardly a major concern, but the thought crossed Lucania’s mind nonetheless, “You said it yourself before, really, that you want something better than normal. That you don’t just want a life free of fear for yourself, you want that for all Immortals. You want that for the world, and you’ve worked for it! I have no doubt you’ve changed the minds of a few bigots with your kind demeanor and dedication to non-violence…” History repeats itself… “...indeed it does…” Lucania muttered to herself, she tapped the table with a finger, eyes lost in thought, clearly sculpting an idea, “Sorry. I just mean to say, that, I’m not trying to discourage you Evelina… Quite the contrary, actually!” Lucania tilted her head slightly, a delicate smile forming as she spoke, “You’ve traveled and seen harsh realities, but you still want to fight to make things better, much better than whatever ‘normal’ may be.” Lucania’s demeanor was calm, she let the silence hang after the statement, instead devoting a few second to gauge Evelina’s mood. Lucania took the gamble. “Evelina, have you ever considered running for public office?”

You have been cruel. You took everything I had ever thought about myself and turned it ón its head, is what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. Lucania had very much turned her view on herself upside down, but she had also made her realise that she wasn’t comfortable with living a life given to her when she had already done so much to carve out an existence in a world where her kind were feared at best, attacked on sight at worst. She couldn’t very well say that Lucania had truly been cruel when she had really just helped her despite how painful it had been. But even as it hurt, she was also gladdened by the reassurances that her efforts hadn’t all been in vain, and that some people had been convinced that people such as she weren’t as bad as some thought. And she’s right. I’m not only doing what I do for myself, but for all Immortals. If my efforts can help others live a life without fear, then— The question caught her off guard. Had she ever thought of running for public office? She wiped the tears from her eyes, a thoroughly perplexed look coming onto her face as she looked up. “Public office? I haven’t, no. I’ve only ever wanted to be a healer. I don’t have a lot of interest in politics. Why… Why do you ask?” "Because I think you can help make everything better." Lucania considered how uncouth it was of her to ask such a thing. She was essentially asking a person she barely knew to consider completely altering their path in life. Could she really just do that? Lucania closed her eyes for a breath. Well, she could certainly present the idea, "Could you imagine what it would mean? If an Immortal woman was able to achieve even some low ranking position in the biased Motum Diversum government? You travel, you've seen the problems of the world, and as an Immortal you'd hold actual influence in making things better for everyone. Why search for some mythical Immortal society when we could make a better place for ourselves here?" Lucania sighed, shook her head and shrugged, "I apologize. I understand that it's a lot to process... and of me to ask. I only bring it up because I think, even with how little I know you, you could really bring about some change. And I would like to assist you... in whatever way I can." Evelina shook her head almost as soon as Lucania had finished speaking. It wasn’t just a flat no, but more of a way of saying that, while she could see the merits of it, it was not for her. “I can see where you’re coming from,” she said slowly, hesitantly. “But… I’m not a political person, and far from shrewd enough to be able to play the Game, as it were. I can see how having an Immortal in the ruling party would benefit us as a whole, but it presents another problem.” At this she looked Lucania dead in the eyes, not as a way of challenging her, but to ensure that she wasn’t just grasping at straws, and were serious. “Due to the superstitions surrounding our kind, and how people fear us, a lot of people would see something like that as a grab for power to, I don’t know, overthrow them? People who are afraid are easily manipulated, and just one voice expressing doubt could very well cause an uproar.” She leaned back in her chair, hands resting in her lap. “It might be an idea to remember in a few years, but as it is we are still too widely feared, and still remain an unknown. I agree that making a home for us here,” she motioned at everything around them, indicating Russell Town, and the entirety of Dust itself, “would be ideal, but we have to start small. Attempting to get a position in the government would stir up a lot of rumours, so until we can say that we have enough goodwill among the people, I would rather stick to just doing what I do; showing people that although I am an Immortal, I’m still a human and someone who wants to help.” Lucania couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t disappointed to hear what was more or less a ‘thank you, but no thank you’ to her proposition. Albeit... she had only just come up with the idea. If anything, she should still be thanking Evelina for planting the seeds. Not only that, but she did raise several good points, chief among them being that an immortal couldn’t possibly gain popular support as a politician today. However, a Standard under her own influence may be a different story. If she could pull that off, the Castalias could operate with impunity, she could avoid war with the Wings, and contribute significantly to the Immortal cause. Lucania’s eyes wandered about the room, taking in the faint glow of the golden design, the excessive breakfast laid before them. Ideas hadn’t gotten her to this point. Action had. She took another sip of the juice, lamenting the lack of coffee, and sighed. She’d need to think more on this. “Rumors….” Lucania reached into her purse to pull out a cigarette and lighter, she held them up to Evelina as if to say ‘Do you mind?’ to her doctor-friend, “I believe the saying is that, ‘they always have some element of truth to them?’ is it not? Or perhaps that too is just rumor designed to make other rumors more believable?” Cigarette between parted lips, the woman chuckled, “My, my… perhaps I’ve stumbled upon a real conspiracy?” She blew out a thin stream of smoke, “Regardless, you’re right. More thought and planning would need to be put into something like this… Still, forgetting that for now, I want to help you however I can.” “Hmmm…” Lucania stood, “Something you said bothered me,” almost as if she were calculating each step, she made her way around the table, “You were mocked for your breast size?” She wore an empathetic, if controlled smile as she asked the question, trying to hide her amusement in the change of subject to something so… blush inducing, “They must have all been idiots or jealous. As a woman coming from a family of gamblers, I’d wager both.” Evelina smiled ruefully, a slight twitch of the corner of her lips. The way she shook her head seemed almost melancholic, if not for the fact that she chuckled all the while, even with how dry it was. “You… could say that, and yes, I was bullied because of my breast size.” She pointed at Lucania, or more specifically, her chest. “Things started to get real bad when I reached your size at around… I think it was thirteen years old. The girls were, obviously, jealous since we had just reached the age where such a thing became important: Who had them, and who did not? And since I was literally sizes larger the others I became some sort of a… target. The boys were as perverted as you can expect boys that age to be.” She sighed, a grimace on her face. “‘Cow’ was a name I heard all too often, and cat calls and requests to lift my shirt weren’t uncommon either.” Another sigh, and her expression loosened somewhat, becoming less pained. “Jealousy and degenerating comments was what made me start hiding them with bandages. It was also around that time that I started reading medical books.” “What a group of mountebanks…” Lucania muttered, “I…” She grunted, struggling to pull open a window, “I’m honestly surprised those children even knew what the word ‘Cow’ meant…” She gasped, falling a bit backward as her grip on the window failed. She crossed her arms, feeling a mixture of defeat and anger at the thousand pound pane of glass. She turned back to Evelina, “You’ve probably heard this before… but letting what they say get to you only means those ignorant children win, then and now.” “I never said that it still gets to me,” she replied with a faint smile. “Although… Yes. I shattered a guy’s nose and broke his jaw yesterday because he called me cow.” Her smile turned into a grimace, lips pressed together into a thin line. Upon realising what she had said she quickly rectified. “But that’s not the only reason! He… and two others sorta tried to kill me and rob me of my things. It’s their guns and bullets I have in my bag, the one on the bed. I treated their injuries and left, taking only their guns with me.” She smiled almost apologetically, waving a hand which caused the window to open. “I do think it’s fair to take a little reparations for feeling me up and trying to blow my brains out, and take my things.” She grabbed a now luke-warm waffle and took a bite of it. “Smoking isn’t good for you, by the way.” She said, trying to change the topic. “Not healthy.” “With all due respect intended, Doctor Quinn, I’ve never been inclined to smoke because of any perceived health benefits…” Lucania sat on the edge of the newly opened window, both amused at Evelina’s subtle display of power and finding herself impressed. This was a woman, a virgin who was educated, kind, apparently formidable in combat, and gifted with the ability to manipulate light with her will. She blew a thin stream of silver to mix with the rotten air of the groggily waking neighborhood, letting the ash find it’s way into the warm, lazy breeze that wafted through the alleys. Lucania pivoted delicately, tilting her head as she faced Evelina from where she sat, “Although…” Lucania’s eyes shot back to the cigarette, slowly shortening in her hand, a steady ribbon of platinum wafting erratically from the shortening end. She let the burning tobacco fall to the ground below, making some poor schmucks morning, one way or another. She flicked her focus back to the fabulously red woman, winking a single golden eye. “You’ve piqued my interest over and over. I... find myself inclined to take your advice, it appears as though you’ve certainly figured out something that a wretch like me hasn’t.” Evelina returned Lucania’s gaze with a gentle one of her own, head tilted slightly to the side. She couldn’t help but think that the woman in the window was looking at her as more than just another person at the moment. Perhaps even… Dare she entertain the possibility that Lucania was appreciating her sitting there? Then she winked, and Evelina was sure. Almost. The golden eyes which, if she recalled correctly, did seem to look at her with some sort of admiration, perhaps… affection? She didn’t know, but she felt that the look was somehow different. The wink certainly confirmed it. “Yes,” she said, giving an uneven grin. “Although I won’t call you a wretch, smoking really isn’t healthy. So if you’d stop… Well, I’d be happy. If anything it’s one more person who doesn’t ruin their health.” “Old habits are seldom the easiest to break,” Lucania sighed, “But it’s not as if smoking ever really--” Lucania was interrupted mid sentence by a knock. Well, something of a knock, sonically, it was more the sound of someone throwing their full weight against a door.Lucania only had the chance to turn her head from Evelina before the noise came again, this time in it’s wake the door slammed open and the hangover ball of excess that was Lucy castalia trailed in after it. Oh, cazzo. “HAAAYYY GURRRLLL!!!” Lucy made a point of screaming as she sauntered about the room. The volume often made Lucania wonder why it was her who was gifted with the vocal powers, and that somehow Lucy might’ve gotten some of them. She tripped over her mismatched heels on her way to Lucania. Honestly, that may have been her substance use the night prior, or the simple fact that it appeared she couldn’t see. Her hair was wild and frazzled in some places and slicked with some mystery substance and matted down in others. Most of it was hidden by an oversized sunhat, but what Lucania could see almost made her wish she hadn’t had as little breakfast as she did. Somehow, she had managed to get through her first night in Russel without having her purse or pearl stolen from her. Although, she didn’t appear to have any clothes, aside from a grimy gray button down clearly intended for a man twice her size. Lucania couldn’t even tell if the teen had anything on under the stolen shirt. She supposed she didn’t particularly care, at any rate, she was just glad Diane had done her job and kept her sister alive, no matter how disgusting post-party Lucy may have been. “WHAAARR WERE YEW BITCH?? AH MISSED YEW ALL NIGHT!!” Lucy wrapped Lucania in a bear hug strong enough to break the spine of someone not accustomed to its intensity. “I just…” Lucania couldn’t breath. Both from her diaphragm being crushed and from the fact that Lucy smelled like the love child of Dead End Dysentery and Whore’s foot, “I can not even…” Of course, Lucy wouldn’t. Instead, summoning the strength of a sailor, she shifted the decade older woman under her arm and proceeded to lift and carry Lucania about the room like a rolled up rug. The only struggle that remained in Lucania were her teal eyes and the preemptive moan that came as Lucy turned to face Evelina. “OHHH MYYY GAAAWD! YEW FUCKIN’ BISSSH!!!” Lucy dropped her sister face first on the ground, like a discount bag of flour. She rushed over to Evelina, “YEW FINALLY GOT LAID!!!!!” The banging on the door, and the subsequent crash as it was forced upon with the force of a second class Hollow, had Evelina jumping out of her chair in surprise. She turned to face the door and reached for her sword almost instinctively, only to find empty air. Of course. Dress, not wearing any weapons. The… whoever it was, crashed into the room, rushing over to Lucania and promptly started shouting. Evelina eyed her warily, not moving aside from turning to keep her in her line of sight. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, but judging by the fact that Lucania didn’t immediately ask for help—and how she seemed to be higher than a kite on a windy day—she could safely assume that she wasn’t any danger. Hardly more than two seconds had passed before the illusion of this woman being ‘safe’ was thrown out the window, as proven by gravity taking effect as soon as she had let go of Lucania—having lifted her like how one would a bride. She tried, and failed, to soften the blow, but wasn’t quite quick enough to do much of anything before the floor shook with the impact. And that was when it got dangerous, to Evelina at least. The newcomer rushed over to her, arms extended as if to hug—or strangle—her, a grin so close to manic that it all but scared her. Eyes wide, and with a drunken doom incoming, a single word was uttered that contained every nuance of every emotion coursing through her at this moment. “Nope!” She threw out her hands, a bright flash of light erupting from them, and from that flash materialized several white ropes of a indiscernible material, all of them attached to some part of Lucy’s body, as well as the floor, halting her in her tracks only centimetres from Evelina. Now that she had the chance to not be crushed to death she took her time to study the newcomer. Her pupils dilated to at least twice their previous size, allowing her to take in far more detail than usual. Blood veins visible in the sclera, putrid breath like some compost snack three months past expiration date, extremely dilated pupils, and nosebleed. He pupils reduced to their normal size and shape, eyes narrowing. Drugs at least, and I bet there’s alcohol too. She stepped away and over to Lucania, reaching out a hand to help her up. “Who is she?” She asked, throwing cautious glances at the newcomer. Brushing hair out of her face, Lucania graciously accepted Evelina’s hand. She stood with a grunt, the simple interaction had left her sorer than she liked. Regaining some poise, Lucania busied her hands with flattening any creases in her manhandled dress. Her mind, to contrast, felt a cocktail of happiness at seeing her sister, disgust at her current state, shame for considering herself to blame, and embarrassment that Evelina was witness to it all. Lucania allowed herself a tranquil, if tired smile, “Evelina, this is my sister, Lucina Castalia. Lucy.” Lucania faced her sister, “Lucy, this is Evelina Quinn. We didn--” “DUUUUUDE!” Lucy tried turning from where she was, to no avail, “Your mutie has WAAAAAAAYYYYY better powers than mine!” “Lucy, that’s--” “WHAAAAATT? WHAAA, Ah can’t say YOUR WORD?? Is THAT IT???” Lucy’s head hung loosely in the restraints as she slurred, “AH’LLL HAVE YEW KNOW SOME OF MAI BEEEEESSSTTT FRIENDS ARE MUTIES!” Lucania gripped the bridge of her nose, “Lucy. As far as I know, I might be your only actual friend. What concerns me isn’t your vernacular. It’s you claiming possession of someone Immortal... Where’s Diane?” Lucy blew a raspberry, “Awwwww, she’s out!” Smacking her lips, she continued, “Ah forgot what Ah laced it with... but it was SOMETHIN’ ALRIGHT! Then Ah fucked this guy who could move trash around or somethin’, Ah think, at least! Ah invited him here! But I sure wish he had her powers!” Lucy swilled her head to face Evelina, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “YEW KNOW LUCIA IS REALLY INTO BONDAGE SHIT LIKE THIS? SHE LIKES WHIPS TOO--” Evelina had heard enough. She scowled and, with a snap of her fingers, produced a rectangle plate of light which promptly surged towards Lucy and attached itself across her mouth, keeping her from talking. She looked apologetically at Lucania. “Sorry, but that was getting a bit out of hand,” she said, cheeks flushed a deep red. “Mmpf!” Was Lucy’s immediate response. Lucania, to contrast, was left speechless. Her blush and widened eyes told of embarrassment, but the shifting colors in her irises told of a full gamut of emotions this encounter had left her to process. Lucy could have gotten killed last night. She felt anger at Diane, but even more at herself. It would have been her fault for trusting someone so incompetent if anything had happened. Then there was the fact that apparently Lucy had invited another Immortal here… something that inspired more confusion than anything. It fit right in with the personal shame and guilt and residual pain from her fall. There was concern that filled her, sisterly love, all the complicated emotions that came with basically being the only mother figure to your 17 year old sibling, and very clearly being a failure at it… Then there was what came with Evelina seeing and… hearing… all of that… “I… apologize for that display.” Lucania forced a smile as she lifted her downcast eyes, “Thank you… for restraining her in such a… creative way.” Evelina raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile coming unbidden to her lips despite her blush. “So by creative you mean… you sound like you might actually find what I did to her,” she pointed at Lucy, “interesting?” Her smile widened. “Could it be that you might actually be interested in that?” Teasing though as she might be, it was an honest question, born of curiosity. “Mphh-Hmpf!” “Shut up, Lucy!” Lucania’s cheeks burned like a fire, all composure had gone to the wind with ashes with Evelina’s question. “Ummm no? Well…” She caught herself. She was put on the spot with the question, but she didn’t want to lie about her interest necessarily, she was still able to recognize her curiosity, despite the shakiness in her voice, “Well, no, that’s wrong. No… you’re right I am perhaps intrigued, I just… I don’t know…” Lucania’s eyes shot to the ground, “I-I’m not some freak, okay?” Evelina chuckled, loud and heartily, placing a hand on Lucania’s back in reassurance. “You’re not,” she said, giving her a gentle rub. “I once met a guy who got aroused by the pain he felt when I set his bone after it had been broken. That was weird. You being interested in something similar to your sister over there is experiencing isn’t bad, and doesn’t make you a freak.” The teasing smile from before became more reassuring as she looked down at the smaller woman. “Now… What to do with her? She’s obviously been on drugs, and I bet there’s alcohol too, and,” she quickly glanced at Lucy again, taking special note of the shirt. “And she probably had some funtime with a guy, if what she said earlier, and the shirt, is of any indication.” The touch was simple, a comforting hand, but it was Lucania needed to regain her sangfroid. She tried not to let Evelina feel her shaking form beneath her touch, beneath the blue fabric, she needed to be calm. Her voice, variegated with nerves, fought to return to the tone it held before the interloping of Lucy. With Evelina’s question, the attention in room turned to the drugged and restrained girl. Right. You must remain tempered. Focus. The dream said change. But it has to come from you. “Probably,” Lucania sighed, “She definitely drank like a… one of those Aqueon water animals. I wouldn’t put it past her to have taken a ‘sample’ of every narcotic we’ve got…” She grimaced at Lucy. Noticing the needle marks, the nose running with blood, the various bruises… Replacing the expression of discontent, a mischievous grin grew on Lucania’s face in conjunction with an idea, “Would it be cruel to suggest we just leave her here? To allow her time to ahh… sleep it off?” “Mmpf mpmpf hmrf!! mphhf!!” was the immediate onomatopoeia to come from a nervous looking Lucy. The idea seemed almost preposterous to Evelina, knowing what certain substances did to the body. She gave Lucania a wary look as if gauging just how serious she was. At the far too obvious mischievous look on her face, she pursed her lips, turning to look at a very nervous looking Lucy. The thoughtful expression stayed on her face for several long moments as she thought it over, her hand drifting from Lucania’s back to rest on her hip, in a loose grip around her waist. “It wouldn’t be that good of an idea, I don’t think,” she admitted after a while. “She needs plenty of water to help wash out the alcohol, but the whole drug thing… certainly should keep her where we can have an eye on her at all times. Or we could just tie her up, but I’m not sure how much I like that idea.” The thought expression morphed into a grimace. “I’m afraid we can’t just tie her up. But even then I’m not letting her go before she has at least gotten some water and brushed her teeth.” “MMMMMMmmmmpfhhh…” groaned Lucy in a clearly frustrated reply. “She’s never been keen on remaining supervised…” Lucania commented in a thoughtful tone. She could recognize that something needed to change, her attention was all on the tied up Lucy… At least, she was making conscious attempts to keep her attention on Lucy, she was losing that battle. A hand slipped its way further down the small of her back than it’d been mere seconds before. It wasn’t a horribly intimate touch, nor was it anything remotely sexual, it was a something as simple as an arm around the waist. Funny, how distracting such simple displays can be… Especially considering Evelina’s apparent inexperience with it all. Lucania leaned in closer to Evelina, hair brushing against shoulder, before continuing, “The only liquid I’ve known her to brush her teeth with is Jack Daniels, and I’m not sure she’s ever finished a cup of water in her life. But I’m willing to try anything if it will help her feel better… and perhaps get her to cease commenting on my sex life…” Unbidden though it was, she did not fight the blush that came to her cheeks, despite having only just fought down the one from earlier. She tightened her grip around Lucania unconsciously, her heart beating a little faster, which she blamed on having used her powers more in the past few hours than she normally did in three days. Lucy’s muffled complaints, however, reminded her that there were more important matters to attend—Namely, a hangover and probably still high girl. She groaned inwardly, knowing that this kind of person—or patient—were the worst. She let go of Lucania and headed for the bathroom, stopping only to take an empty glass from the breakfast tray. She returned with a glass full of water which she held up to Lucy’s mouth. A thought removed the binding over her mouth, allowing her to finally speak. “Drink,” Evelina commanded. “GAWD LUCIA, WHERE DID YOU PICK UP A SQUARE LIKE THIS?!?!? LEMME THE FUCK GO!” “Lucy, calm down.” “NO!!! IF GOD WANTED US TO DRINK WATER WHY’D HE MAKE IT TASTE LIKE SHIT?” “It is either drink the water, or you will experience a heavy hangover. Headache, sick, etc. You need to get hydrated again.” She held the glass up, close to her lips, and said again. “Drink. I’m not letting you go until you do.” “Ugh… Fine, MOM,” was Lucy’s spiteful reply. Consequently they were the only words she could get out before the water found its way into her mouth. She gulped the liquid down with a zeal, she wouldn't admit it to herself, but she was thirstier than she realized. The alcohol had dehydrated her… as well as whatever it was she’d been doing a few hours ago, and, she guess, all night. She’d expended quite a bit of energy and the coke had just kept her going. Her heart was still beating faster than she’d have liked, and as the liquid cooled her dried throat, she couldn’t help but feel thankful to Eve… whatever her name was. Lucy gasped as she finished the cup, “There, done, see! Now let me the hell go!” Of course, she didn’t need to let her know she was thankful. “A smidgen of gratitude would be nice, Lucy,” Lucania chastised, voice equal parts ‘strict guardian’ and ‘concerned mother.’ “Evelina is a trained doctor, and she’s taking care of you on her…” and my own… “time. Really, a simple thanks would suffice.” Evelina waited patiently while Lucania spoke, eyes still trained on Lucy but with a gentle smile on her face now. Once Lucania was done and Lucy had finished grumbling, she headed into the bathroom again, returning with a refilled glass. The bindings holding Lucy tethered to the floor disappeared, and just as the last faded away Evelina held the glass out to her. “Drink this as well. I don’t imagine you’ve had a lot of water during the night, so you need as much as you can get, otherwise you’ll only get a headache worse than what I bet you are already starting to have.” She took a step back, watching the other silently. “Man, this is fucking lame,” Lucy mumbled, snatching the cup from Evelina. She turned to her sister, “You guys probably had the lamest sex on the planet.” Lucania barely suppressed a blush of emotion at the mention of the act, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Lucina. Nothing like that happened between us, and it won’t do to go about claiming otherwise.” Her serious tone gave way to something kinder, if filled with a palpable hesitation, “She and I are…” Lucania cast a glance to Evelina, “... friends.” Lucy almost spat out the water as she drank, “Wow, Lucia.” Her tone was completely level, her expression was flat, “You are literally the only person I know that is so lame that you somehow manage to have a one night stand where all that happens is you make a friend.” Lucy finished the cup and slinked into a chair at the table, “Christ almighty, you found the perf fucking geek waifu, you nerd.” She cast something of a smile to the two, placing a hand against her forehead to alleviate the migraine Evelina had already predicted, “Anyway, whatchu losers eating for brekky? I’m like, starved.” “You are treading on very thin ice here, Lucy,” Evelina said. It seemed as if everything had gone quiet; the sound from down the club retreating to the background. The gentle smile and expression had disappeared, replaced by a carefully neutral mask. “You barge in here, shouting and screaming. You all but throw your sisters on the ground and then charge at me for whatever unknown reason, and now you’re even throwing around insults and mocking comments; making assumptions based on just about nothing.” She took a step forward, her entire body forced to relax. “I’ve only known Lucania for a short while, but I can already tell that she’s not someone who just takes a random person to bed. You are her sister, you should know that. Making demeaning comments such as those is not something I condone, Miss Lucy Castalia. Everyone is free to make choices of their own, and shouldn’t be pressured into things which they are not comfortable with.” The two sisters displayed opposing emotions as Evelina spoke. Lucania permitted herself to display a controlled joy. To contrast, Lucy, only barely registering what was said to her, had the scowl of a bored child ready to throw a tantrum. She didn’t, though, instead, she simply shifted her attention from the doctor to the elder Castalia, a sarcastic smirk on her tilted face. “Wow. She talks way more’n Salem, don’t she?” The smirk became a full blown grin. If one thing could be said about Lucy with a hangover, it’s that she knew exactly where it hurt the most. And again, their emotions contrasted, as Lucania immediately became downcast and reserved as the remark made it to her ears. She allowed the silence to speak for her as it stretched to fill the moment, fittingly, before replying, “Doesn’t she.” “Ehh?” Lucy grimaced as the confusion gave strength to the hangover’s intensity. “Grammar is important, Lucy.” Lucania said, with eyes of gold, she spoke with the same condescension a mother has to a child, “It’d be ‘doesn’t she,’ not ‘don’t she.’” Lucania walked over to where Lucy sat, bent down, and poked her nose with a gentle finger, “Be nice.” She ordered with a hum, she turned to look at Evelina, “She’s got your best interests at heart.” Leaning in to Lucy’s ear, she whispered something else, “Besides, I believe I’ve taken quite a liking to her… Let’s keep that our secret for now, though...” Lucania stood back up, leaving Lucy sitting in a daze. “For reals?” Lucy’s eyes shot to Evelina, bemused and surprised, “Huh, well, la-di-da for y’all bitches!” Evelina wasn’t quite sure how to react. For one, she had expected the words to wound Lucania, which they, at some point, did. However it wasn’t for much longer than a scant few moments, the gold in her eyes showing a clear happiness. From what she had gathered the change in eye colour wasn’t voluntary, or so Lucania had insinuated at least. So having this Salem—her previous lover?—rubbed in her face seemed to not affect her as much as she had expected it would. I wonder why. She kept silent, however, not voicing her question out loud. She instead met the surprised look of Lucy’s, wondering just what it was Lucania said that had so surprised her. Lucania, as if gliding on air, moved from Lucy to Evelina. Both women were blessed with a picturesque height. But in talking to Lucy, that height never felt so... distinguished. Perhaps it was something as simple as a difference in posture. Evelina carried herself with an almost casual confidence, when Lucania had to tilt her head upward slightly to see Evelina’s feline eyes, she felt a certain grace in doing so. The cynic in her, proposed that it could simply be the novelty associated with addressing a tall woman with silted jade eyes. Perhaps... “Please try to be patient with her,” Lucania had to stand on her toes to whisper into Evelina’s ear, “That’s just her nature, she doesn’t mean… most of it… she is still a child after all.” Lucania allowed herself to linger there, her lips less than a breath away from Evelina’s, she could very easily have nibbled on her earlobe, or moved down slightly to kiss on her neck. She could have done a lot of things, Evelina was probably aware of this as well. Meaning they were both aware of how that course of action wouldn’t have been the most… apropos. Lucania stood back, “You mentioned watching her all day, so I must ask, did you have plans for the day? I would hate if either of us were to intrude on your plans...“ I’ll try to keep that in mind, she noted to herself, avoiding to speak aloud for fear of Lucy hearing her. Although, she had to make a conscious effort not to ask if Lucy truly was a child. She looked far older than that, and not only because of the slightly smeared make-up she wore. She had to wonder if perhaps the drugs were to blame. She’d never been among drug addicts, or even users before, so she couldn’t quite tell what effects it had on them. She only knew the physical identifiers of drugs being used, but little more than that. She smiled down at Lucania, playfully patting her on the head before she glanced at Lucy. “I only really need to go pick up my bike and supplies from where I left them. I had only really planned for a quick stop here in the city, but I have a feeling I’ll stay for longer, so I should get my stuff. That, and I’ll have to deliver a letter. Aside from that I don’t really have any plans. As for your sister, I didn’t mean literally being with her the entire day, just make sure she’s in a nearby room or something so that she can be checked on every now and then.” She chewed her tongue a bit, thinking it over. “So long as she’s in this building it should be okay. A place to sleep, get some food, and,” she looked at Lucy now, her gaze serious,” plenty of water to drink. You want that alcohol washed out of your body.”

A tender hand softly stroked a muscled shoulder. A weary head rested on his bare chest. His arms wrapped around a slender frame, hidden beneath a thin white sheet. ”Promise you won’t leave me…” The figure whispered.

He stood at the edge of a dusty cliff, looking out over the abyss. Thin fingers traced the lattice of scars across his back. “Tell me that you love me.”

"I love you."

Tears rolled down from blue eyes, falling from a pale face, wracked with pain. He ran calloused fingers through long blonde hair. Lips trembled as broken cries escaped from the depths of a tormented heart; he could not hear a sound. Wet droplets fell against hardened skin. A tired fist beat weakly against a strong shoulder. “Please don’t leave me… Please don’t leave…”

Bodies lay dead on the ground strewn out all around the camp, peppered with bullet holes. Loose sand was scattered about by a gentle breeze. A woman looked up, watching as armed men shuffled around, tending to the liberated slaves. A rough, bearded man appeared in front of her, extending a bloodstained hand towards her. In that moment she knew she was finally safe.

A windswept man looked back at the slender frame, wrapped up in a white sheet. She was still crying, her head buried in a pillow meant for two. The man turned and reached for the door, a single tear falling from Immortal eyes.

He stood alone atop a tall pillar of red, desert stone, surrounded on all sides by empty space. Fog blanketed the bottomless pit which stretched out below. He pulled a golden watch from the pocket of his worn, dirty vest. He brought a finger to the latch, and opened the watch, looking down its empty face. There were no numbers or hands, just the face of beautiful young blonde. “Don’t leave me…” The phantom whispered.

The man stepped forward, his feet hanging over the edge, “I’m sorry.” Bento answered. He leaned forward and dropped down into the endless void.

“I love you.”



Bento reluctantly opened his eyes, taking in the dimly lit room as he tried to piece together where he was. A disturbance had brought him back into consciousness he noted, watching briefly as a tall, slender figure clothed herself before shutting his eyes again. He fell in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes as his body struggled to detoxify the various poisons he had consumed the night before. Through the haze he gained a vague picture of the scene unfolding; he was definitely the bedroom of his little apartment in the slums he realized. But how had he gotten there? Why did he feel like he’d been hit by a truck? What was this girl doing? She seemed to be getting ready to leave, a course of action that Bento was not entirely unfond of. It would give him less to worry about at least. He heard her walk outside and let out a sigh of release, giving up on his efforts to maintain any sense of awareness before passing out again.

When he finally awoke again, Bento groaned as he sat upright, clutching at his aching head. Sloppily climbing out of bed, the Immortal staggered into the bathroom and propped himself up on the sink. He turned on the faucet, and greedily sucked down as much water as he could drink, the first step to beating his hangover... Bento slowly sunk to the floor and sat back against the wall, resting for a moment before attempting the short crawl to the shower. Once at the edge of the tub, he removed his briefs and pulled himself up and into the shower.

Bracing himself for the stream of cold water, Bento leaned against the wall and turned the knob. An apartment in the slums afforded few luxuries, and water heaters were few and far between. It wasn’t like he was used to luxury, though. Bento welcomed the cold, as it tore through the hangover and forced him back to his senses. Dear God, what had happened last night? Had he dreamt last night? He muttered something under his breath as the cold water soaked his head. What was the meaning of this curse? He wondered, letting the water fall down his back and envelope his body. What was the meaning of this gift?

Why does it hurt to be alive?



Bento stepped out into the main room of the apartment, his bare feet carefully navigating around the shattered glass that still lay strewn about sections of the floor. There was a note on the table, tucked under the bottom half of what had once been a bottle of moonshine. The whole place smelled of alcohol and death. There was a dress lying on the ground and his shirt appeared to be missing, though his pants and boots were still safe in the other room. Bento picked up the note and read it aloud, “Bitchez Breww! –Lucy” There was a winky-face drawn next to her name. What the hell had he gone and done, he wondered? I just hope I didn’t finish in the wrong place…

He was ready to leave in just over twenty minutes, most of that time being dedicated to cleaning his gun. He had also taken time to pack up a black leather knapsack with all of the things he might need should he end up working with the Castalias. As he prepared to head over to the bar, Bento pulled on his vest and noticed an unexpected weight in one of the pockets and reached down to pull out his flask. Thank God it was miraculously full; he must have filled it up at the bar last night. They always said the best cure for a hangover was hair of the dog, he mused, tossing back about a shot’s worth. Before heading towards the door Bento quickly grabbed a handful of dried jerky from a container and put some in his pocket, holding on to the rest for immediate consumption. Throwing his pack over his shoulder and grabbing his rifle, the windcaller stepped outside.

It wasn’t long before Bento arrived at the Bitches Brew, immediately noticing how different the place looked during the daytime than it had at night. “A drink.” He said, approaching the bar and dropping his stuff at his feet and propping his rifle against the bar. “And not that rotgut shit you were serving last night…”

The last remark earned him a harsh glare from the bartender, but Bento got his drink just the same. It wasn’t so bad he thought, taking a sip of whatever liquid it was that constituted the Castalia’s higher-grade booze. “Where can I find Lucania?” Bento added, tossing Lucy’s note of invitation on the bar.

“I’ll take a look upstairs, sir.” The bartender replied, suddenly feeling a lot more cooperative.

“Mm.” Bento grunted, signaling for the man to go ahead. As the bartender walked off the Immortal took a look around the bar again, his eyes anchoring on a man who appeared to be some sort of low-level Castalia goon. Bento approached the goon’s table, taking in the man’s features and sizing him up. His nose had certainly been broken before, but he didn’t have the roughened look of a man who had lost very many fights. In Bento’s experience that generally meant someone hadn’t really been in many fair ones. “You’re wearing my sunglasses.” The windcaller said, now standing over the goon, interrupting whatever lame joke he had been telling his friend across the table.

“Oh yeah? Wells seein’ as weze Castalyas own dis place, way I see it is deeze sunglasses is mine, so how boutcha fuck off, buddy?” The goon retorted, clearly feeling proud of himself, as he looked over for approval from his friend across the table.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“Why da fuck is that, cazzo?” The goons stood up in unison, forcing Bento to take a step back.

“Because I’m about to count down from ten, and if I don’t have those sunglasses in my hands by the time I hit one, then I’m going to kill you…”

“10…” The goons looked at each other.

“9.”

“8.” Goon 1 signals for goon 2 to attack.

“7.” The second goon threw a sloppy right hook towards Bento’s face, a move that was easily ducked. On the up swing, Bento used the lift to place a powerful knee to the goon’s stomach, doubling the man over.

“6.” Bento grunted, grabbing the back of his attacker’s head and pushed him to the ground.

“5.” Bento stared back at the man still wearing his sunglasses, daring him to make a move.

“4…” The Castalia idiot drew a knife and thrust low, trying to drive it into Bento’s gut. The Immortal caught the goon’s wrist and twisted it behind the man’s back, driving him forward and bending him over a nearby table.

“3.” The man screamed in pain, slamming a hand down on the table to prevent himself from being doubled over. Bento saw his opportunity and swept the knife from the man’s hand and pinned the poor bastard’s hand to the table with it.

“2…” With both of the goon’s hands incapacitated, Bento reached around and grabbed the glasses of his face, dropping the man’s free hand as he did so.

“What the fuck!!” The goon shouted. “Ya fucking dead, you hear me, cazzo? Ya fuckin’ dead!” Bento walked back towards the bar, putting his sunglasses back on his face, and ignored the foolish man’s cries of pain.

Evelina stretched, arms above her head and back straight. She stood outside the door to Lucania's room, wearing her T-shirt and jeans once again, bandages covering her chest underneath her shirt. She hadn't been very enthusiastic about changing out of the dress, but she found it necessary. A red dress was not something you wore when you were to go out into the plains.

She patted the hilt of her sword, strapped horizontally across her waist, then her gun currently in its holster. Both were there, secure and easy to reach. Her goggles were also covering her eyes again, much to her displeasure. She had liked being able to walk around without covering the most obvious proof of her being an Immortal. It had made her feel normal again, if only a little. At the very least she felt secure when she hadn't had to. A faint smile touched her lips, being with Lucania wasn't a bad thing. It was actually nice; she made her relaxed and allowed her to not hide anything.

She sighed. But not all people were like Lucania. She was, after all, also an Immortal, and was feared by the vast majority of Standards for that very reason. As was Evelina. She grimaced slightly as she made her way down the hallway, towards the stairs down. The idea of being feared simply because she was different didn't sit well with her, but Lucania had been right earlier. Even if she was feared now, she didn't want to change that. She had fought too many fights, worked too hard, and spent too much effort in trying to carve out an existence in this miserable world. She wasn't going to just give that up, and being feared because she was different? That wasn't going to stop her. Rather, it made her want to fight more. If she could make just a tiny difference for future Immortals, then that was all worth it. Persevere, continue forward--Show whatever god was out there the power of human stubbornness.

Yes. A short giggle escaped her. We humans are stubborn, aren't we? Her smile widened just a tad more at that.

On her way down the stairs she heard the unmistakeable sound of struggle. Upon entering the bar downstairs it became clear that it wasn't so much a struggle as one guy clearly dominating the other. Men, she thought, sniffing haughtily. Always have to show off: Who has the biggest dick? Who can drink the most? Who is the strongest? I swear, they're worse than my classmates back when I was 14. The need to be better than others is suffocating. She grunted and shook her head, ignoring the two men as she headed for the door. She did, however, take note of the guy who had a knife stabbed through his hand, deciding that she'd do what she could for him once she had gotten her stuff back from her bike. For now, however, she couldn't do much but give the guy who stabbed him a sullen glare. Men.

------

The trip through the slums was uneventful, with not a single pick pocket trying to take her gun or sword. No beggar tried to ask for coin, and only a few wolf whistles followed her as she passed through, and even then no one acted upon those whistles. It was only admiration made vocal from afar.

She slipped past the guards without much of a fuss, too, having to only erase herself from sight three times when a sudden guard made his--or her--appearance. Soon she had made it far enough away that she wouldn't be accosted or questioned on sight, and started heading towards where her bike was hidden at a steady pace. It took her a good half an hour to make it there, the sand and uneven ground making fast travel difficult and annoying.

She stood on top of a hill, the sun battering her relentlessly, and fruitlessly. Her eyes were fixed on the place where her bike would be hidden. And it was. She could just barely see the handle poking out of its hiding place, thanks to her sharp eyes, but that was not why she had stopped. While her bike itself seemed safe, and everything appeared in order, there was one thing which stood out. It was black, and the size of a truck. Four arms, two ending in a set of pincers with wicked fang-like protrusions within, and the other two being a pair of torso-sized fists. It looked human enough if one ignored that, the jet black chitin and its inhuman size. A strangely human sized head sat atop its torso, a beady eyes peering forward.

Hollow!

She had encountered a few before, but those were only the man-sized ones and easy to defeat. A truck sized one was a whole different matter: Bigger, badder, and probably a whole lot more powerful. She cast a look back over her shoulder, Russell Town visible in the distance. It was only a matter of time before this thing noticed the city, and by then it would attack mindlessly and, probably, take down a fair amount of civilians and soldiers alike. She knew Octavia was there, and she was confident that the Standards could take care of one this size, but even then it wasn't a chance she was willing to take.

She cursed herself as she charged down the hill, screaming in her mind how much of an idiot she was for doing this. Sometimes I hate myself for wanting to help all those idiots! She silently cursed, channeling the spirit of her father when he got annoyed with the recklessness of some of the people.

The hollow apparently saw her, as it turned her way and charged, pincers and fists extended forward.

Evelina grabbed her gun, turned off the safety and fired, darting to the side as she fired another two shots. The creature just screamed, seemingly caring very little about the bullets embedded in its chest and side, not that they had penetrated far. It barrelled forward, taking several seconds to turn thanks to its oversized body.

Very different from a small one, Evelina registered, pointing the gun at the beast to fire again, this time aiming for its legs. Four more shots rang out, two meeting their target but doing very little, hardly even making it hesitate. She gritted her teeth and holstered her gun. It wasn't going to do her much good against this thing, its armour was just too thick. She instead called upon her powers, one hand raised as if to stop a blow, as the other began to glow faintly; a small orb of light gathering in her palm.

The beast came upon her like a steam train, its screeching roar piercing the air like some mad god's symphony. She darted to the side and skipped away, watching it slowly turn and come in for another charge. This time she was ready. She raised her right hand and the air shimmered. The Hollow impacted with her barriers, stopping it in its track. Infuriated, it started pounding it, booms echoing across the plains.

Lines started to appear across the surface, small veins of light all gathering at a small point in the centre.

Punch after punch after punch. It didn't stop, continuing its attempts at breaching the invisible wall in front of it.

Evelina grinned. The centre of the wall flared bright and a shockwave issued forth. A boom echoed across the plains, a powerful blow of kinetic force hitting the hollow point-blank. It was thrown back, landing head over heels with its chitin cracked several places, black goo oozing out. A few seconds passed before it got on its feet again, seconds during which Evelina focused her efforts on the light in her left palm. It was slowly growing; becoming the size of a tennis ball and steadily becoming brighter. Not long now.

The Hollow charged, and so did Evelina. She dissolved into light, propelling herself forward. She appeared again a second later, too close for it to react. She had her right hand curled into a fist, a shimmer surrounding it. The punch sent the hollow sprawling onto its back, its chitin cracked further.

Evelina found herself on her back within seconds, however, one of its feet having whipped at her in an unnatural angle, sending her flying. She spat out sand, cursing herself for not having noticed the digitigrade legs. She was bruised, but nothing beyond that. She stood up in time to see the thing charge again, a mindless form of attack. She stood her ground, eyes narrowed and air around her shimmering. One pincer reached out and around her, closing in a crushing death grip. The fangs stopped an arm's length away from her, kept back by some invisible force. She raised a hand, first open then closing it like a fist. The pincer started opening as if pushed by the barrier around Evelina. Her teeth bared, she yanked hard with her powers, a violent crack tearing through the air, accompanied by the Hollow's screeching wail of pain as half of its pincer was town off. The torso sized hands, made a grab for her but found the barrier to still be in place.

Its frustration rose. It was unable to find purchase anywhere and screeched and roared as it continuously tried to get at her. Again, lines appeared across the barrier, coalescing into a single point. A flash, a boom, and the Hollow was staggering backwards, disoriented by the blow. It shook its head and readied itself for another charge, but found its target gone.

Evelina had dissolved into light and propelled herself up into the air, behind the beast. She grinned wickedly, canines glinting in the air. A stray thought came to her, a memory of an old comic book she had read. It was about a young boy with wild hair and a staff on his back. She didn't remember the specifics: Not his name, nor what story it was. She remembered only one thing: A word, a single word with no meaning whatsoever. But even then, something followed it.

Her lips parted, and the word came out. Like a child playing pretend would, she extended her left hand, the orb of light now shining bright. A bright beam erupted from it, screaming straight for the beast.



The beam tore right through it, the force of her concentrated light burning its chitin to cinders, and reducing what remained of its blackened heart to ash. It slumped forward and fell to the ground, a pool of black spreading out beneath it. Evelina landed on the ground, legs buckling beneath her, falling heavily on her back. She groaned, cursing herself for having let herself materialize in two metres height.

She placed a hand on her chest, breathing deeply in an effort to calm down her racing heart. She had taken a few more hits to her barriers than she would have liked, something which she could only blame herself for. The Hollow was slow, so dodging had been easier. But I had to weaken its shell first, or my beam wouldn't work! True enough, she conceded to herself, standing up with a little effort. Her legs hurt, as did her hip where she had been hit, but a quick inspection showed only a bruise forming. There wouldn't be any meaningful damage, luckily.

A few minutes later and she had found her bike again. It was out of its hiding place and was currently under a quick inspection. By the looks of it everything was still there, so no one had found it and stolen her things. Good.

She spent another fifteen minutes just resting, making sure her heart had calmed down before she started the trek back to the city. It was only a half hour walk, so she didn't want to waste fuel on that.

She sniffed at herself. She needed a bath again. That Hollow had smelled something fierce, and now she did too. Her nose scrunched up in disgust. Just great.

"I don't like her, boss"

Lucania let out a dry chuckle, "Do you like anyone, Carmela?" A slight smile had creeped onto her face. Not one of genuine happiness, but one of emotional protection. It was the type of passive smile one wore when they didn't want others asking about they felt-- because they themselves weren't entirely sure how thy felt. Evelina stepping out had hit her a bit harder than anticipated, apparently. Even in the short span of time she'd spent with her, the companionship had really begun to sink in.

Italiano inguaribile romantico!

Lucania's smile became more genuine at the thought. At the edge of the bed, she pulled up the dark stocking with a certain trepidation at acknowledging the realization. The light in the room was brighter than ever as the sun approached afternoon height, reflecting all the fools gold against itself into an infinite glow of hopeful, luxurious light. Lucania and Lucy had taken the opportunity to finish off the remains of the breakfast the instant Evelina had left, like two unobserved carnivores in the wild. Lucania had even needed to apply her makeup. Lucy, had taken to rolling around lazily in what was Evelina's bed-- she was like a small kitten... or a child, caught in the dilemma of experiencing an extreme sugar rush, while simultaneously being tired.

Carmela, Lucania's silent, Ebony... quite possibly British, protector had only just let herself in. Words in regards to Evelina and Carmela's nature found themselves exchanged. Carmela. In a rare display. Showcased what the emotion 'sadness' or perhaps 'disillusionment?' Her normally intense eyes softened exactly half a shade, and her permanent deadpan saw both corners of her mouth turning downwards exactly 5 degrees.

"You really think I don't like you, boss?" Carmela sounded hurt, the most hurt she'd ever sounded, actually-- and this was a woman who'd taken bullets for her.

"N-no," Lucania pulled on the other obsidian stocking, her eyes dropped to an empathetic azure shade. "It wasn--"

"SHE'S FUCKING WITH YOU CARMELA," Lucy yelled, a burrito wrapped in sandy sheets, she hummed as she continued, yelling in an off-key, but sing-song voice, "YOOOOUUUUU KNOOOWWWW LUCIIIIIIIAA LUUUUUHHHHSSSSS YOOOOOOUUUUUUU!" She slammed her head into a pillow as she finished, "God, my fucking head hurts..."

"Well..." Carmela reverted to her neutral, gruff tone easily, ignoring Lucy, her attention turned towards the eldest Castalia, "I want you to know, there should be no question of loyalty, boss--"

Lucania raised a hand. Standing up, she moved from the bed to the door with a quick grace, and gently laid her hand on the taller, muscular woman's shoulder. "Carmela-- there will never be a question of your loyalty to me or this family. You've been my only guardian since I was wearing diapers! I trust you with my life and I care for your well-being." Lucania became quizzical, "Is everything alright? Have you even slept?"

Carmela's eyes were at least 2 shades wider. "No, boss..." She gave something of a bow, before quickly opening the door, preparing for her exit. Was that... happiness? Happiness verging on tears? "Everything's fine."































"Well, not just today." Lucania tilted her head, already mid conversation with her sister, "I suppose I've been thinking along these lines for quite a while. Years, even. I believe it came to something of a climax after yesterday's... more unsavory events."

"AhahaHAHAHAHA!!" Lucy belted, "I bet you came to a real good climax last night, din'cha?"

Lucania's face flushed a bright red, her eyes contrasted by dying themselves sky blue, "W-well I!" she gasped, "I-I didn't..." She stopped herself again, finding it rather odd how flustered she was becoming at things that, several weeks ago, wouldn't have even broken her exterior. "Honestly, little Lucina," Lucania said, a condescending smile plastered on her face, "I had no idea you were so... interested in my sex life, you've displayed an almost eerie fixation with it ever since you came in this morning. Tell me dear... Are you... curious? About women?"

"Ew," Lucy wretched in disgust, "No, dude, that's fucking gross! I can barely fuckin' deal with how gross my own vag is. Sorry I ever even fuckin' brought it up with you or your new girlfriend doc square fangs. I'm just sayin' it's about time is all, sis."

"I've already told you it's alright, dear sister." Lucania strapped on a pair of blue heels as she changed the subject, "Today, I've decided it's time for my thought to fuel action."

Lucy's stare was one of intense strained confusion, "What?"

"Achilles--" Lucania began, standing to accommodate to the new height the shoes gave her, "For years, I've allowed myself to wage a bloody conquest with little regard for my own life," Crossing the gap between them, Lucania gripped Lucy's hands into her own, "or those of others."

Lucy blushed almost immediately, "Y-yeah? So what about it? I-idiot!" she snatcher hand away and jumped back onto the bed.

"I've been like Achilles. Fighting for Helen, bloodily, without strategy, using only the obvious, most base of tools at my disposal. Relying on money and my Id. That we haven't already felt the brunt of what the Winged Guardian's have at their disposal is amazing. I've committed nothing short of an act of war..." Lucania's voice faltered, "Because of a childish inability to let go... my own ego..."

The younger Castalia, scooting to the edge of the bed, wordlessly hugged her sister. And for a moment, the pair stayed perfectly still like that.

Lucy was the first to break the embrace, jerking back fast, "Alright, but nothing gay."

A laugh escaped Lucania's lips, "Right... even after the shower you still smell like liquid distilled in a septic tank..." They'd fallen back on the bed. Lucania stood, finishing her sniffling before continuing her address, "Things are changing, Lucy. And I'm going to need your help.

Lucy gave a lazy scratch to the back of her head, further strengthening her bedhead. She smacked her lips and looked through lazy eyes. "What'cha need?"

"You. In Serenity."

"WHAT!?"

"Lucy, calm down."

"NOO!!!" Lucy stood, pacing the length of the room, she held a hand to her head as the hangover increased the strength of her migraine, she lowered her voice, "You want me to go back there? With the cazzo ti cazzo fat bastardo?"

Lucania sighed, "It's not ideal. But Russel is about to become too dangerous. If everything goes well, I should be in Tas by tonight, I need someone to keep an eye on things back home for me."

"You got fuckin' people!" Lucy scowled.

"I need someone I can trust."

Lucy stared at the ceiling, thinking of alternatives, "Why don't you send fuckin' Diane?"

"I am." Lucania shot back, "She's going with you..." Lucania eyes shot to the side as she murmured, "Although, I do hope she'll prove herself a better guard for you than last night..."

"I don't need a fuckin' guard!"

Lucania grinned, "So you'll go?"

A bitter, exasperated sigh was Lucy's comeback. She knew she couldn't get out of this. With Lucania, you could never get out of deals like this. She always needed her pawns in certain places at certain times. Even if those pawns were drunken failures. "I'll fuckin' go..." Lucy whispered, "But I don't need no fuckin' Diane!"

"Ohhhh, I know, sweetie. Don't think of her as a guard... just think of her as... a traveling companion! Two heads are better than one, after all." Lucania hummed, eyes gold with the glow of victory.

That didn't last long

Carmela burst into the room, a slight glint of alarm in her eyes. The type of alarm that spoke 'Boss, we got a bit of a situation,' or something like that. But deadpan and Briton. Out of the corner of her eyes, Lucania caught Lucy's slowly growing devious grin.

"He's here..." Lucy said, her voice imitating one of those evil mastermind villains from an Old World midnight science-fiction double-feature.

Lucania tilted her head in response, confusion painted all over her face.

Lucy smirked, "Just think of him as... a traveling companion..." She failed at imitating Lucania's voice through her slight slur, "Two heads are better than one, after all..."





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I'll fore(&T&^FGOUIGHYGUIver love you
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Lucania made her way down the backstage staircase, seeking whatever commotion was occurring in the golden room. She could hear screams, and as her heels clacked against the concrete staircase, she could feel the tension as she approached whatever the problem was. Had the winged Guardians sent a direct retaliation? No... Lucy seemed fairly certain of what was happening here. Whatever it was, it wasn't as big as war against the pigs. Not yet. The jeers and Italian curses seemed directed at a single troublemaker. Whatever the man had done, it would--

Walking into wide view of everything going on in the main view, the first thing that caught her attention, instead of the cries, was the embrace of two women sitting off of their own. Lucania could feel her eyes becoming just the slightest hint of lavender, and more than a hint of jealous jade, before she tore them away. Walking slowly into the group of lowly Castalia mooks raising something of a ruckus at what appeared to be one man. Wearing sunglasses.

Priorities!

A suited man with overly slicked hair and a big, bent nose approached her out of the commotion, he sported a rather bloody hand with a fresh and nasty looking hole in it.

Lovely.

Lucania sighed internally, she recognized the man. 'Man' was a term she used loosely to refer to the skinny and frail Tommy "Big Devil" Castalia. Her cousin, technically. He had inherited absolutely nothing from Leoluca, except his odd blue eyes. Except, even in that aspect, Leoluca's held a cold, distant air to them, that commanded respect.

Big Devil just looked like he was about to start crying. All the time.

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyy, it's mah fookin' cousins ova here!" He said, in between gasps of the pain brought to him by his new found orifice.

Lucania's eyes filled with disinterest, she crossed her arms, addressing 'Big Devil' in proper Italian, "Quello che è successo, Tommy?"

"Fookin' cazzo bum-faced fuck stabbed mes!" He looked down at his sleeve, "Eyyy! Cuz, we's both fookin' bloody sleeves now, ahh?"

"Destra." Lucania sighed, bile rising in her throat, "Perché?"

"Eyyy, I don't fookin' know! He comes over alls jabronis an just fookin' steals mys sunglasses, see!"

"E tu lo lasci?"

"Wells... I means... you's wasn't there! Yous don't know how it went down, see!"

"Egli si avvicinò. Manifestatisi. Tu lamentò... Ora sei stato pugnalato. Ma invece di lui accoltellato indietro... Mi chiedi di coinvolgere me stesso. No?"

Tommy's eyes went straight for the ground, "W-wells, yeas, I guess that's how it played out b-but..."

"Tu sei un fottuto bambino!" Lucania threw her hands in the air. He really was like a fucking baby. Who lets themselves get stabbed, and then does nothing about it, while the man who stabbed you literally sits several feet away, brandishing your stolen property. Lucania summoned rage in her voice as she yelled at the jeering associates and made men. Not one of them with enough gumption to challenge someone who spilled the blood of family and stole on their own turf. With red eyes, Lucania shouted, "Siete tutti cazzo bambini!!"

The room fell silent. Taking a glass off of a passing barmaids tray, Lucania poured the alcohol on Tommy's injured hand. Soliciting a scream to break the silencio.

Lucania sighed, addressing Tommy in his peasant tongue once he quieted down once more, "I'll handle it." She said, already walking towards the bar, followed by Carmela and her Tommy gun, "Go upstairs, Tom. I've got a doctor friend who should be back soon, go keep an eye on Lucy for a while..."

The coward excitedly turned tail and practically ran upstairs, "Youse got it, lady boss!"

Lucania calmly strolled to the 'bum-faced' man's location. He seemed to be waiting for her. He was certainly rough in appearance. No doubt years melded by Dust doing... whatever it was he did. Lucy seemed to think him some private guard, but he looked more... storied than that. Most private guards looking to get hired didn't typically impale the hand of their employer's cousin. As she neared, she considered the possibilities. He could simply be a drifter like Evelina, or a Motum spy, or perhaps an assassin? His power was... moving trash?

Perhaps he's simply an old Dustlands Immortal who wants to break bad?

Lucania sat adjacent to the man. She didn't look at him, not directly, and she didn't care if he was looking at her. Lucania merely let the silence build between them, touched only by a distant jazz in this dark corner of the bar. Breathing in the vaguely oaky smoke in the air, Lucania sighed.

She spoke first.

"So... Lucy sent me a thief?"

"..Alex.."

A voice whispered across windswept plains, dark and blackened like the veil of night that hung heavily upon it.

"..Alex.." It whispered again. Its voice was but a whisper, carried upon the tender arms of a breeze blowing softly through the tall, dying grass. Ruffling the barren branches of the scattered tress around the clearing. It was always the clearing. The beast stood, rather, it seemed to materialize from the earth itself. A roiling wave of dark smoke, travelling upwards, and slowly forming the shape of a person. Just the general, smokey silhouette, a mirrored reflection of the woman standing before it. It walked towards her slowly, so smoothly as if to appear it wasn't moving at all.

"..Alex.." It called, reaching out the wispy image of its arm. So close.. so very close-

---

Alex took a sharp breath, oxygen flooding into her lungs as she woke with a start from her uneasy sleep. She sat up abruptly, feeling as if her face had slammed into a wall. Her small fists worked at her eyes as she rubbed out the sleep, memories of the morning slowly coming back to her in uncoordinated segments. 'Oh yea..' she thought to herself. She confirmed her suspicions by looking over at the sleeping body next to her. Alex's face quickly turned red as the more sensual images filled her mind.

'Oh.. yea..' she thought once more. Simply staring at the woman before her. Vladimira, she recalled. Her mind became a whirlwind of emotion as she failed to draw a proper feeling to actually... feel. Confusion, Embarrassment, Intrigue, and others battled for dominance within her mind. Her pulse quickened as she sat there, watching the sleeping body, as her chest rose and fell with each breath. The state of her own body finally registered in Alex's mind, and she turned an even deeper shade of crimson. She looked around, desperate to locate something to cover her nakedness without actually disturbing the woman currently sharing the vibrant blue blanket. She opted to grab one of her jet black pillows and try to somehow cover herself modestly, before feeling like an idiot.

Her bed companion was still sleeping.

Alex slithered out of the bed as gently as she could muster. Freezing at every audible sound the other woman made. Alex's eyes wandered back to the body in the bed, following the curves beneath the blanket, absorbing the sight before her. Until her embarrassment took over once more. She tiptoed across the room, silently picking up her garments, which were mixed with what would obviously be the other woman's closed. She tried to ignore the fact that the line of clothes led to the shower, or the fact that she was clean. Images of Vladimira came back into Alex's mind, though she did her best to push such things out, trying to keep herself focused on the task at hand. Which wasn't entirely easy, as a raging headache pounded against her skull, even though she'd never once experienced a hangover.

She slipped on her clothes quickly, sighing softly as her bare flesh became confined within clothes once more. She didn't feel particularly in the clear yet however. She turned back to the form in the bed, still sleeping. Her gaze wandered again, and an inkling of lust formed within her, smothered by sheer discomfort and humiliation. She had made a fool of herself, acted inappropriately. Albeit she was drunk, presumably, at this very moment she wasn't entirely sure. She sighed heavily as the turmoil raged on inside her. She didn't know how to feel, and other memories, or thoughts kept plaguing her mind. The dream, Cassie.

"Oh god.." She whispered to herself, tears welling up under her eyes. She had tried so hard to forget, to bury it, to drown it in alcohol. She shuddered, a cold feeling washing over her. She was a monster, a murderer. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her mind suddenly feeling it appropriate to show her every face of every person she had killed, murdered. She didn't bother closing the door as she ran from the bedroom. She navigated the labyrinth of precariously positioned junk piles, some even viable to be considered towers. A moment later she was standing outside, her front door clicking softly behind her.

On her way out she had grabbed her overcoat, which she slipped on over a white shirt she had swapped out for the one she had found on the floor. The latter was in no condition to be worn. She had also snatched her backpack, which she fished out a set of keys from. She needed to get away, she felt panicked, out of control. She really wasn't in control of her own life, she had murdered those she once loved or respected. For what? A rumor?

A rumor..



She was halfway down the stairs but she felt frozen, unable to move. "The rumor.." She spoke, trying to confirm it to herself. But for the life of her, she couldn't recall where she had heard it. It had been so long ago, and she had so completely given herself to it. It was the only ray of hope in her bleak existence.

"The rumor.." She whispered desperately. The rumor that Immortals were gathering, no, the desire. The need to not feel alone. She remember now, that soul crushing loneliness. She was alone, she had nobody, nothing. She felt just as she did when she was..

When she was a slave.

Her body shook as she cried. An emptiness gathered itself inside of her, growing, consuming her. She stumbled from the steps, the keys to her truck clutched fervently in her hand. She had to leave, to get out. Claustrophobia tore at her. Anxiety overwhelmed her, and all the while that persistent pain in her head, that relentless pounding. She squeezed her eyes shut as she climbed behind the wheel of her truck. Her hands shook as she brought them up to her face. Throb.. Throb... Throb.., she whimpered, trying to breath, trying to coax the pain to go away.

The truck roared to life as she turned the key in the ignition. The tires spun, sending a spray of dirt outwards in cone behind it. Distantly somebody shouted angrily, hollow sounds ringing against Alex's ears. Shutout by the tornado of emotion wracking her body. The realization had been too much for her. She felt broken, no.. She had always been broken. The rumor gave her hope, so she didn't have to live with herself. She had convinced herself that she wasn't the only one. Albeit, the information brokers did sell her information. But deep inside, even as she followed the leads, it had never been what she wanted. It had never been enough.

The earth crunched as Alex flew around a corner turn, nearly hitting several pedestrians. The engine whined even higher as she accelerated. She could hardly see through the amount of tears on her face. Her eyes burned as she rubbed at them again. Another angry yell sounded out as she swerved, narrowly avoiding another vehicle traveling along the road.

She finally understood what her dreams had been about. Subconsciously, she known she was a monster. She had murdered in cold blood, all so she could forget herself. "..Alex.." A familiar voice whispered. A recurring demon.

"I'M NOT YOURS ANYMORE," She screamed.

" ..Alex!" A second, older voice yelled.

"I'm so sorry.." She wailed. The voice of Edgar laughed mercilessly, in union with the voice of Greya, as they were overshadowed by yet another voice.

"..A-alex..?" The soft hearted voice of Cassie asked.

"I'm .. I'm so sorry.." Alex whispered hoarsely. She couldn't do this anymore. The weight of it all was too heavy. Even Cassie was replaced by other voices, those innocent and those not. Wings, Bandits, Regular People. They all whispered her name, they all laughed at her.

"..Alex.." Something whispered, like two rocks grating together.

Her eyes went wide, her mouth worked but nothing came out. She didn't know this voice, but, she did. A feeling washed over her, a feeling she knew. A feeling she was afraid of. A hot rage boiled up beneath her.

"NO!" She screamed, the truck swerving as she tried to maintain control of herself. The voices kept laughing. Hauntingly mocking her as the sensation grew stronger. Another swerve, her vision faltering. She blinked, and saw nothing but blackness, another blink, and the world returned to her. She screamed, slamming her foot onto the brake. She was about to hit somebody, about to take another life.

---

Vladimira gasped awake to the fading sound of the angry hiss of steam. She glanced about bewilderedly as her heart thudded in her chest like a power hammer, jarred by the change from hellish death to… a rather pleasant place, actually.

She glanced about as her breathing and heart rate slowed to healthier levels, so she wasn’t dying horribly, presumably wasn’t a prisoner, what was she doing h-

Her eyes widened and she fell back with a groan as the recollection of what had precluded her arrival here played in her mind. Did I really…? That quickly…? In public…? Her face flushed red as she thought of what might’ve happened, and then turned even darker as she remembered what had actually happened. Instinctively she grabbed for the blanket she lay under to hide herself, but stopped as she realized nobody was there to see her. Not like there’s anything she hasn’t seen anyway…

She pushed herself up from the bed, eyeing the room’s relative emptiness compared to the rest of the apartment. The place was actually rather nice to be honest, much nicer than the hole in the ground she called home.

She picked up up her clothes from the floor, slipping into them with an audible clinking noise. Her clothes are gone, she in the main part of the building? She needed to talk with Alex, last time she’d been given alcohol it’d turned out disastrously. She was hoping for just not making a new mortal enemy, but ideally the other girl would actually be willing to speak with her.

“Alex? You here?” She called out to the apartment, picking her way through the piles of miscellaneous items. She’d have to ask her about some of this stuff, if Alex was still willing to speak with her, a few of the random weapons visible in the piles piqued her interest.

She reached the front door, looking around in growing agitation. “She’s not here.” she mumbled to herself, “She’s not here.”

She looked back and saw the location she remembered Alex leaving her overcoat, only now it was empty.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed, “No no no no no no no no…” she muttered to herself, rushing back to the bedroom and grabbing her own gear, hastily forcing the mask up and over her face.

She rushed down the stairs and onto the streets, looking frantically back and forwards before she noticed the deep ruts in the ground, and the missing truck. She took off sprinting along the direction of the tracks, before tripping over her feet and lying sprawled in the dust after not even ten meters.“Fuck.” she swore to herself as she lurched upright, fingering her mask to make sure it was intact. She sighed, this wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Her pockets and pouches flew open as thin rectangles of metal shot out and coalesced at her feet, seemingly melting together into a smooth sheet hovering in the air, with curious raised sections.

Vladimira stepped onto the board, which swayed slightly at her weight, but stayed afloat. She flexed her hand and little bands of metal shot out from the sheet, wrapping around her feet. Another flex of her hand, and she shot off like a rocket, following the tracks.
_________________

She zipped straight past the gate guard and out into Dust, still following the tracks. Nothing showed itself until she heard a screeching crash from somewhere. She poured on the speed, zipping towards the source of the sound as fast as she could.

---

Evelina had stopped to take a drink of water from her canteen. The water was subpar at best, having probably been cooked thoroughly in its metal casing, amidst her medical supplies, during yesterday and what had already passed of today. If she had to choose one word to describe the taste of the water, she would probably choose ‘Foul’. One thing was for certain, it wasn’t any clear spring water, not that such a luxury was easy to come by. Heck, if anything springs were probably the rarest thing in the entirety of Dust. Except, perhaps, for Edenites without their coats and cowls.

She kicked the break into place, allowing her bike to stand up without support, and started rummaging through her bags. What little fruit and waffles she had gotten to eat with Lucania and Lucy had been enough for a short while, but her fight with the hollow had made her hungry again, not to mention that fruit could only do so much. Dried meat, however, did far more to her.

She pulled out a piece of dried meat from within, tearing a piece off of it almost before it was out of the bag. It wasn’t that she had anything against fruits, vegetables, and the like, but she far preferred her meat, be it roadkill or whatever else some random guy shot. If it didn’t kill her, it was usually something she would eat. She took another bite, fangs tearing through the tough piece of dried something. I think the guy I bought it from said it was a Desert Wolf. Murderous things, but tasty.

Another few bites and the meat was gone, fangs clean and stomach satisfied. She let out a satisfied sigh, preparing to resume her trek towards Russell Town when a rumbling caught her attention. It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed it before, as it was already close enough for her to see the driver. It was heading straight for her at breakneck speed, too fast for any normal person to run, but she wasn’t normal.

She was about to dissolve into light and dash out of the way when she reminded herself of her bike. She registered the fact that were she to dash away, her bike and everything in it would be mowed down by the truck. It was a split second decision, taking place over no more than a fraction of a second.

The truck was closing in.

Evelina raised a hand.

CRASH!

The front end of the truck became a crumpled up block of steel compared to what it was before as it impacted with… nothing. The truck had come to a stop a scant two metres from Evelina, impacting against what seemed like thin air. The dust around them settled and Evelina lowered her hand, the truck having stopped as the engine had been damaged enough upon impact that it no longer worked.

Alex’s panicked heart froze the moment gravity took over, seemingly in slow motion. Metal screeched as her face ricocheted off of the steering wheel, her goggles flying off and a large gash opening on her forehead. Her vision wavered again, the world around her becoming dark and black momentarily. She coughed, a splattering of blood hitting the steering wheel. The driver door, bent as it was, gave way with little effort. Actually falling from it’s heavily damaged hinges. Alex rolled from the cab, which was filling with a deep black smoke, as was the partially smashed engine block. She hit the ground with a thud, knocking the breath from her body, which had been shaky and filled with smoke anyways. She coughed out the toxic residue from her lungs, thankful there was no blood this time. Coherent thoughts starting forming within her rattled mind, ’What?..’ She looked around, catching the lower end of a woman in front of her smashed vehicle.

”What did you..?” She started, cutting off as she tried to stand.

“I should ask you the same thing,” Evelina muttered, eyes wide and face set in an expression of worry. Large gash in the forehead, several smaller cuts and bruises. She approached quickly, kneeling down to inspect her more carefully. Her trained eyes searched every inch of her body for signs of additional injuries. There were more than a few, however no broken bones and cut arteries, it looked like. But she couldn’t be sure quite yet, however.

“I’ll have to turn you onto your side to see where you’re hurt,” she said, hands still firmly planted on the ground. No quick movements, she reminded herself. People in shock tended to act unpredictably. And this is most definitely a case where going into shock would be possible. “Is that okay?” She asked, keeping her voice level and calm, and forcing her expression to become gentler, kinder, and rid of worry.

Alex only felt pain of the crash for a few moments, her adrenaline washing it away, replacing it with a feeling that was becoming harder and harder to fight. She was losing control, that much was apparent. She took a breath, feeling strength return back to her body, feeling her lungs expand widely against her bruised ribs. ”No, It’s not,” She replied, pushing herself to her feet. She staggered once, catching herself on the side of the truck. Alex looked down at herself, her overcoat was hanging open revealing a multitude of small scratches on her. Other than smashing her face, she felt relatively fine.

”I don’t need your help,” She seethed. A small spark of anger building up inside of her. She tried to remind herself that this wasn’t herself, this wasn’t how she was supposed to feel. The other side of her didn’t care, the other side of her was angry. All the pain she had felt was being redirected into a boiling rage that took everything Alex had to fight it. She grit her teeth, looking at the woman before her. This person who had somehow stopped her vehicle, then turned to offer assistance. Was she an.. Immortal? her mind questioned, though the woman’s tinted goggles prohibited her from finding any indicator that she was right.

“Are you sure?” Evelina asked, standing up as well. Every instinct screamed at her to help the other woman, but she forced herself to remain exactly where she was. No matter how much she wanted to alleviate her pain she could not do it if she were not allowed. “I’m a healer, I can help. It won’t cost you if that’s what you’re concerned with.” She put on a small, friendly smile, hoping that it would help. She was fairly certain that she hadn’t yet opened her mouth enough to reveal her canines, nor could she see through her goggles, so unless she was capable of putting two and two together, she was fairly certain that her nature as an Immortal had been discovered. At least, given the nature and suddenness of the crash she found it hard to believe that how she had crashed was the most important thing. But if she has, that explains why she doesn’t want any help… And if not, then why?

Vladimira sped over the ground at a disorienting speed, sand kicking up in her wake. She didn’t know why she’d panicked like she had and bolted straight for the street, but it seemed to be a good thing she had, judging by the depth of the tracks and the sound of a crash. Hope she’s not dead, or something worse. The heat of the desert was baking her, she usually traveled in the darker hours of the day to avoid heat stroke, but she didn’t have that luxury at the moment.

She crested a small hill, her momentum sending her rocketing forward as she did so. With a quick hand movement she “grabbed” the metal sheet she was riding and held it -and herself by extension- in place.

Dropping back down, Vladimira righted herself and glanced about to find the tracks. She was sure she’d be getting close now, that crash hadn’t sounded too far off…

Oh, there it was. The truck was clearly evident against the relatively flat landscape. What did it hit though? I don’t see anything big enough...

She shot off like a rocket towards the vehicle, surroundings blurring into indistinguishable smears of dull color with her speed. There was someone who looked unmistakably like Alex, and another person who stood near her.

She burst into the scene in a stumbling fall, pushing herself to her feet as the sheet of metal seemed to melt and hover about her head in small, wickedly sharp looking spikes. “What happened here?” She demanded.

Alex looked behind herself bewilderedly as Vladimira arrived, a flood of new emotions arriving with her. Shame and regret burned upon her cheeks, but something else distracted her from that...Who is that with her?.. Alex thought, wiping the blood from her eyes. A second later the man’s smiling face came into clarity, contorted with laughter. Then they were everywhere, the ghosts of everyone she had killed; Edgar, Cassie, Bandits, Slaves, Mothers, Fathers..; They crowded around her, each of their expressions seeming to ask ’Why?’. Their haunted eyes seemed to tear away at her, until they pierced her soul.

”GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!” Alex screamed, a torrent of lightning flying from her blood covered hand, smashing into the ground with enough force to send bits of earth and rock smoldering through the air.

Evelina kept her distance from the white haired woman, although her eyes never left her. She had had difficult patients before, but none like this. There were those who were reluctant to be helped by an immortal, of course, but there weren’t yet any who had so flatly denied any offer of help. Let alone sounded borderline hostile while telling her.

“Is something the matter?” She asked carefully. “Look, I’m no—” A sudden appearance and demanding question interrupted her, followed by a decidedly lethal looking metallic spikes pointed at her. She turned slowly to look at the second stranger she had met today, making sure to keep her hands straight down her sides, and nowhere near her gun or the handle of her sword to show that she was no threat.

“She crashed,” she said, warily eyeing the large metal shards. “I’m a healer so I offered to help her, but she refused.” She trailed off then, waiting either for a response, or thinking of what else to say to diffuse the steadily more volatile situation. She opened her mouth, about to say something, but a scream and an explosion of sand and rick interrupted her.

”GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!”

Evelina reacted more on instinct than anything else, throwing out her consciousness to the area around her, solidifying the light around her and the iron-wielding woman to the point where the sand and lightning was kept at a safe distance.

“Calm down!” She urged, voice level although she was starting to get nervous on the inside. Immortal, and lightning it looks like. I’m not sure if I could defend against that for long. “We’re not going to hurt you—” she shot the ironclad woman a meaningful look “—so please, don’t act rashly!”

Vladimira scrambled back from the lightning, eyes wide. “Чё за галима?!” She hadn’t been expecting Alex to lash out like that, let alone shoot lightning.

Though… something had stopped the sand and lightning, an invisible barrier or something. She put it out of her mind for the moment, she could search for whatever the source of magical walls was later.

“I wasn’t planning on hurting her, actually I was looking for her… seems she might not share that sentiment though.” She grumbled to the other woman, glancing at her. She let the spikes orbiting her head ‘melt’ down and flow into her various pockets. “What happened? More detail.”

The world was a blur to Alex as her focus shattered. There was a deep, emotional pain deep within her heart, so much so that she finally just let go. She gave up. Almost immediately the feeling of anger, of pure rage consumed her, overwhelming her personality. Her vision darkened as she lost concentration, instead, pulling inside herself mentally. She couldn’t fight it anymore, she had lost the strength, the will, to continue on. A tear rolled down her cheek as she let go.

The electricity picked up around her, arcs of blue lightning warping around her body in a volatile spin. It snaked out of her, coiling around her arms. It fluctuated through her hair, which rose from the sheer force of the static her energy was given off. Her eyes changed from their pure white state, to completely black orbs. And as her new self regained proper footing and control, blackened veins began to spread along her arms and face, spider webbing from her eyes. She was beyond speech at this point, beyond control.

Her hand shot out suddenly, tearing from her hand in a crackling torrent of hot energy. The arc parted through the dust, smashing into the invisible barrier Evelina had put up to protect Vladimira. Alex sneered, firing another arc, a quick flash of light, and another hollow boom as it smashed into the barrier once more.

Vladimira backpedaled further as the lightning struck whatever invisible wall was in front of her. Her pockets flew open again, along with her rucksack, to form a crude Faraday Suit around herself. She glanced to her side, noting the other woman had no protection.

She made a motion towards the ruined truck, the steel parts losing their form and flowing towards her. With another few deft motions she forced the metal into another cage in front of the stranger. “It’s a Faraday cage! It’ll keep you from being electrocuted!” She shouted over the noise. “Just stay behind it!”

Evelina grimaced, lips pressed thin and eyes wide. She hadn’t expected to be attacked, let alone with such viciousness or bloodthirst. Something’s not right. She put more effort into her barrier, strengthening it further. It mustn’t break, could not break. If it did she’d die instantly. Just when the strain was becoming more than she was comfortable with a cage of iron touched down in front of her, the metal-wielding Immortal shouting at her that it’d keep her from getting roasted.

She gave her a shallow nod and relaxed her barrier, letting it fade in strength until the lightning bolt broke through it and hit the cage. The cage held firm, leading the electricity into the ground.

“She looks like the third stage of the Sickness!” She said loudly to the other. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Is she becoming a hollow?” She didn’t know. By gods, she didn’t know, and for someone who usually knew the answer to every question asked of her it was terrifying.

“I have no idea!” Vladimira shouted back, keeping her eyes on… Alex, just in case she made a lunge at them. “What happened?! She yelled, “Surely something happened to make her this angry or… whatever caused this!” She ran over to the woman so they could hear each other, “I wouldn’t think she could become a Hollow, or any Immortal could for that matter!” She looked uneasily at Alex, “I’d advise a tactical advance in the opposite direction right about now, personally.”

Alex’s head rolled back as she let out a primal howl of rage, the energy whirling around her seeming to pick up in intensity. Arcs of electricity, albeit smaller, fired off from her body haphazardly, smashing into the remains of the truck and the earth around her, throwing up small columns of dust and dirt. She turned as the blackened veins continued to spread across her body, sneering towards the two woman behind their metal barriers. Alex’s hands rose, their proximity close enough for the two streams of lightning to merge together into a large, continuous blast. The energy smashed into the metal barriers, dispersing and spreading around the quickly heating metal. All caution was thrown to the wind as her heart rate increased, it was of little concern to her. She was nothing more than the manifested vessel of wrath.

Incandescent light created a soft luminous glow throughout the long stretch of halls, tiled in white linoleum and encompassed by sleek metallic walls. Silence hung heavily here, only off put by the sounds of footsteps reverberating softly off of the walls. Not even the soft hum of electricity was present, It felt as if this space hung between the balance of reality, and warped space, as if it were peculiar to exist at all. Jon straightened his uniform nervously, feeling hot even though precise intervals of vents kept him cool with gentle breezes, too soft to even ruffle his meticulously combed hair. He adjusting his clothing again, fretting over his appearance. Though, admittedly, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to look on a morning such as this. That hadn't kept him from ironing his clothes however, twice, or polishing his boots, also twice. In fact, he had spent most of his night free with his owns thoughts, finding purpose in preparing himself for a summons that may not come as soon as he had wished.

Thankfully, it had. A messenger had arrived in the early gray of the coming dawn, sweat laden upon his brow with the urgency of the information he held. A tightly sealed envelope, pressed with a wax seal and wrapped in red string was thrust into his hands. The messenger, dressed in the maroon robes of the Motum Messengers, was quick to leave. The emblem pressed onto the shoulder of his clothes took only a moment to fade as the man hurried onto his next delivery. Jon held the letter in his hands, the smooth vanilla paper felt like a lead weight in his hands. The potential for everything he had ever wanted rested with whatever was inside this envelope. His hopes, his dreams, his yearning to be a better soldier, to change the corruption and greed. In a way, his life rested between the perfectly creased folds of this tiny, insignificant thing, his fate resting within the ink pressed into its pages.

He had barely taken a third breath before his hands tore away the wrapping, leaving him only with the folded paper hidden within. He wasted no time, flipping open it's pages, the blank wax seal laying on the ground, the string slowly drifting away upon a phantom breeze. A wide smile spread on Jon's face as he read the two lines repeatedly, standing on his porch in nothing but a t-shirt and briefs. A time, and a set of coordinates. Nothing else. There was no way to confirm this was the message he was supposed to receive, but on the other hand, he didn't need to have it confirmed.

It took him a handful of minutes to throw on his normal uniform and lock his apartment. He walked briskly, avoiding running only because the heat was already setting upon the land and he didn't want to arrive disheveled. He found resisting the urge to run towards his destination difficult. His mind was racing, and the deep breathes he forced himself to take did little to soothe him.

Now, after racing across the desert in a pristine Humvee colored to blend with the sand, Jon found himself deep within a facility set against the base of Mount Nike. A scientist walked beside him, a rather pretty one at that. Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked, at a pace that could match any soldier's. She was the walking stereotype of science; constantly adjusting her glasses, a clipboard thick with papers clutched to her chest, a pen in her ear, and her hair in a tight, midnight black bun. Jon found all of that rather attractive, probably due to his upbringing. But he wasn't about to try any moves on her, he probably didn't even have high enough clearance to date her.

”Stop fussing, we're almost there.” She said sternly, looking up at Jon. She was quite a bit shorter than he was, but the glare focusing on him through her glasses more than made up for it. She had that very obvious no-nonsense demeanor about her. Jon chose not to reply to her, instead he nodded, firmly letting his hands rest at his sides as the progressed further into the complex. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever as he passed door after door, like metal guardians silently watching him progress down the gleaming path of fate. He was excited, yet, he was also incredibly nervous. Not just because of the presence of such prestigious military personnel, or a location he had not the slightest clue existed. He was more worried about life, and death. It was very possible that he could die tonight, even though he has no desire to do so. But to live, would mean an incredible step for science, and for the wings.

Truth be told, this wasn't all originally his idea. He had heard something about the White Coats doing experiments on Immortals, all under the book of course. He had taken a great risk talking to the general, but you can't win if you don't play. He had put two and two together after hearing the rumors, that and with the report he had read on the A.R.K Terminals, well, you can't win if you don't play. And Jon loved winning.

His thoughts were interrupted as he and the scientist stopped before a pair of large metal doors. Above them a camera hummed as it dropped it's mechanical gaze downwards, until it was pointed at them. A moment later and a loud buzz and the doors opened. Jon noticed a plate off to the side as he was walking in; “Observation Deck C”. 'This place must be huge,' he thought to himself as he crossed the threshold.

”Ah, Jonathan, come sit,” General Paxton Bradley announced as he settled down into a leather chair with thick cushions. A column of thick smoke drifted upwards from his darkened silhouette, and the glint of a ornate glass filled with amber liquid made it evident he was drinking.

”General, Sir,” Jonathan saluted briefly, before joining the General in an adjacent chair. A second glass sat near him, already filled. Next to the glass sat an open package of cigarettes, accompanied by a lighter. Jon smiled to himself, his worries melting away some, as he picked up the glass and took a sip.

”You're in for a real treat Jon, The Brains have been working on this for some time,” The General spoke through a thick cloud of smoke, settling back into his chair. Before the two of them a large section was replaced with what looked to be extremely thick glass, covered from the other side by linked metal plates. Other than the two chairs, and the small table between them, nothing else existed within the room than a terminal stand set off towards the right.

”I believe I can explain that better.” A voice spoke from behind Jon, causing him to pause from lightning the cigarette in his mouth to turn and look at the newcomer. A tall man, with a pointed nose and a sharp look about him walked across the room towards the terminal. The man brushed a hand through his chaotic, raven black hair, glancing towards Jon.

”You should first see what we're about to put into you,” The man stated, quite pointedly without any real emotion in his voice.

His fingers flashed across the terminal's keyboard, entering a series of commands and passwords. Jon sat back, awaiting the show as he took a long drag of calming, nicotine laced smoke into his lungs. He exhaled, turning towards the General.

”Excuse me General Bradley Sir, yesterday you mentioned something about my brother?” Jon asked, just remembering the thought himself. Though now, he was quite curious what his brother had to do with all of this.

”I think I may be of help here,” A familiar voice spoke as the doors buzzed open once again. The squeaking wheels of a metal gurney also accompanied the newest arrival. Jon didn't need to get up to identify him, however, he did anyways. A wide smile spread across his face, and a warmth filled his heart, ”Grayson... it has been some time,” Jon said, forcing himself to maintain a neutral composure.

”Don't be such a Stiff Jon, I promise not to look.” Paxton chimed in, chuckling to himself.

At that Jon let his wall down, emotion taking over. He ran over and swept his little brother up in a large hug. The squealing, laughing teen fought back playfully.

”Hey! Put me down you brute!” Grayson teased as he laughed mirthfully. Jon did set him down, but his hands remained on his shoulders as he looked Grayson in the eyes, studying him.

”Look how you've grown! You're starting to look just like Dad,” He said, laughing and ruffling his younger brother's hair.

”If I live to get that old, please, just kill me,” Grayson responded, sending them both into fits of laughter.

The tall, dark haired scientists cleared his throat, obviously impatient for things to move along.

”I believe Doctor Nevvo would like to move things along,” The woman who had accompanied Jon into the room said.

”Thank you Doctor Adison. Grayson? If you don't mind.” Nevvo said, quirking an eyebrow as he gestured to the metal gurney Grayson had wheeled in. Jon took his first good look at the metal cart, composed of four wheels, a push bar, and two shelves. On either shelf similar black cases rested, made from thickened metal and secured by a keypad lock.

Grayson cleared his throat, adjusting his lab coat before beginning, “In Accordance to project Kyrios, my team and I have developed the equipment you'll be using upon successful completion of the symbioses process.” Jon barely had time to actually process the words before Grayson continued.

”The developed armor has already been tested, and will be displayed later. However, here I have two examples of the weaponry that will be provided.” Grayson said, sounding very formal as he punched in the code to unlock the first case. He flipped the lid back, revealing a padded interior housing an array of gadgetry. Among them an assortment of metallic canisters, each with a pull pin.

”Here we have, Incendiary, Concussive, and Fragmentation Grenades,” He gestured to each one in turn, ”This here however, is an explosive putty.”

Grayson opened a protective satchel casing, revealing a cream colored putty. He scooped some of it up, rolling it into a ball. ”This is C-5 explosive putty, it needs a spark or an open flame to ignite, no amount of kinetic force can set it off,” He proved his last statement by throwing the ball at the wall behind him. It made a loud 'SPLCH” as it stuck to the wall, losing its round shape. Jon stuck a finger in the putty curiously. It had a consistency like firm toothpaste.
”These are the ignition devices, you have timed;” He gestured to a black cylinder, with chrome colored claw feet and a dial on the top,”These timers can be set up to one hour.” He gesture to the next set of cylinders, only slightly different, ”These have an antenna instead of a dial. They ignite when the signal from your armor's wrist piece is received. These metal claws here, are designed to bind with the putty after a few seconds, to ensure firm placement. Also remember, if all else fails, an open spark or flame will also ignite the putty, as I stated earlier.” Grayson took a breath, his cheeks slightly flushed. Jon smiled and nodded towards him comfortingly, trying to make it obvious that he felt Grayson was doing a good job.

Doctor Nevvo however, seemed less pleased as he cleared his throat once more. Grayson snapped the first case closed, and swapped it with the second case from the undercarriage. ”This,” He began, punching in a different code to open this case, ”Is a modified Scar-H combat rifle. It comes equipped with variable zoom and optic range finder, burst and single shot, laser dot, mounted flashlight, and features low recoil with high precision. It utilizes forty-five round magazines, firing standard 7.62x51mm rounds.”

Jon eyed the rifle longingly. It was beautiful. It was perhaps, the most beautiful gun he had ever laid his eyes upon. ”Fancy Gun, and a vigilante revolver?” He queried, motioning towards the long barreled revolver also set within the case.

”Yes, a present from Mom and Dad.” Grayson replied.

”Yes, yes, that's all very sweet, but there is a lot to do. Your seat, Jon.” Doctor Nevvo spoke, irritation heavy in his voice. Apparently he was used to the fast paced lifestyle of science and intrigue, something Jon had been familiar with in his earlier years as a child. He winked at Grayson, shaking his hand, ”Thank you, Doctor Grayson,” causing the teen to go red in his face as Jon turned to take his seat once more.

A puff of air let out as Jon planted himself once more in his seat. The cigarette he had been holding had burned out without him noticing. That was of no matter, as Jon simply took another.

”Doctor Nevvo and I,” Doctor Adison began,”Have been leading the team in Hollow research. More specifically, we've finally been able to find out what makes the Immortals so.. unique. They're not gifted warriors, or magicians. They have a symbiotic relationship with a variant strain of the Sickness. It attaches to the heart, and replicates itself onto the red blood cells, unlike the sickness, which doesn't even go near the red blood cells until the very end stage.

Doctor Adison walked towards the glass, still covered by the protective metal screen, ”An Immortal does not use the power, rather he thinks about using it and the Spark creates the phenomena in accordance with the neural patterns that the host is emitting. Prolonged use increases the heart rate, which increases the blood flow, which increases the need for the Spark to replicate itself on the higher rate of cells passing through the heart. Blood circulates throughout the body in about one minute, so from this we concur that the Spark's replications only survive that long. Or, there are speculations that use of the power actually kills the replications, which would result in the need for a faster circulation and replication, putting more strain on the heart. Prolonged use results in heart failure, killing both the host and the spark, normally.”

She motions towards Doctor Nevvo, who inputs the final command into the terminal. The metal screen squeals loudly as it is pulled back into the ceiling, revealing a room practically glowing fluorescent white. Nothing exists but a stretcher, bolted to the floor, and a door. On the stretcher a man fights his restraints, cursing and yelling excessively. Doctor Adison nods towards Doctor Nevvo once more, this time muting the noise coming from within the chamber.

”We've learned that the Spark is contracted by the host, but really develops dependently based on extreme conditions. A host with the spark who finds themselves drowning, may develop an affinity for water, adapting to it as the Spark allows. Here, we have the test subject, and here,” She paused. Doctor Nevvo, taking the cue, inputs another series of commands.

From the ceiling a thick glass barrier descends around the patient, his eyes wide with fear. ”What is that?” Jon asks, leaning forward in his chair, peering through a recently formed cloud of smoke.

”That is a protective barrier, much like the one separating us from the other room,” Doctor Adison held up a hand, cutting off Jon before he could even ask his half formed question, ”Just watch.”

Another series of taps from the terminal, resulting in the farthest wall of the containment room to shift. A sliver of a line parts down the direct center of it, pulling the two halves apart slowly. The revealed room is pitch black, so dark that the luminescent white lights of the patient's room barely penetrates the darkness. A loud whir resounds throughout the observation deck. Jon leans a little closer curiously, watching the back end of the hidden room come closer.

”Is that wall moving closer?” Jon asks, ashing his cigarette on the floor, as the General had been doing.

”Mmn, Yes. It's pushing the spark out of it's hiding place. It really prefers the darkness.” Nevvo confirmed.

”The spark?..” Jon let the question hang, his curiosity firmly grabbed as the wall moved closer. It almost seemed as if there was a darker patch of.. well, darkness. He squinted, trying to make out the shape. He leaned a little closer, his breath frozen as he stared at the slightly wiggling mass.

An ear shattering screech tore through the room, causing its occupants to cry out in pain, excluding Doctor Adison and Doctor Nevvo, who seemed prepared for such a thing, merely grimacing as the horrible sound echoed through the rooms. The wall came flush and the wiggling black mass flashed across the room, smashing into the viewing window violently with an audible bang. Jon stared at it open mouthed, it's wispy form seemed almost ethereal. In fact, it looked almost, human.

”What you're looking at, is the mature form of the Spark, without its symbiotic state,” Doctor Nevvo said, walking up towards the glass. The smokey black creature pounded relentlessly on the glass, as if focused on Doctor Nevvo himself. Each strike was accompanied by a loud bang, and every time Jon's heart jumped a little bit.

”My God Nevvo, you said progress, but this is astounding,” General Bradley exclaimed, breaking his silence.

”Quite,” Nevvo replied. ”The Spark needs a symbiotic relationship with us to grow and mature, but once achieved, is unable to separate itself. However, we achieved this using a thermonuclear gene splicer.”

The Spark flashed across the containment room once more, throwing itself against the glass barrier between those watching it, and itself, or rather, the barrier separating it and Nevvo. It stopped suddenly, it's form shifting in the blink of an eye as it noticed the patient, who had all but been silent with fear. It screamed once more, crossing the distance faster than Jon's eyes could follow.

”The Spark has a need, an attraction, to rejoin with its host. This desire is atomic, and cannot be resisted by either party should they come into close proximity. Without another host the Spark will die, it's image becoming less clear, like an unstable video signal, until it fades away entirely. We have removed the original host, which is why the Spark has such a violent nature, all it wants is to rejoin, to live. However, it can bond with a new host, but only under extreme conditions. These conditions do not need to be met for it to rejoin with its previous host, and the phenomena associated between them will be... rekindled.”

Doctor Adison let her fingers trail across the glass, an almost motherly look upon her face. ”We're unable to discern what the phenomena has to do with the symbiotic relationship. But, apart, neither the Spark nor the prior Host can utilize the phenomena. If a new host, and the Spark, are both placed under an extreme condition in close proximity, they will bond, and form a new phenomena. Watch.”

Jon's eyes widened as the glass barrier rose once more into the ceiling, leaving the restrained man vulnerable. The Spark stopped, its body seeming to quiver at the new state of affairs. It waited. ”This Spark has been split, and bonded three times previous. We have no inclinations that this should not yield the same result. However, the Spark is almost ethereal, it has the consistency of smoke, and the room must remain air tight.”

The observation deck was silent as everybody watched. The only audible noises were that of their breath, and the loud tap of Nevvo entering a command into the terminal. A second later and the containment room filled with roiling waves of fire. The speakers were obviously muted as the man screamed in pain. Jon watched as the fire burned away the man's skin, watched as the man clawed at his own eyes. The restraints burnt away and the man fell to the floor, rolling in agony. The Spark however, seemed entirely unaffected, as it walked closer to the man. It sighed loudly, its airy voice transmitting through the soundless speakers, as it dissolved into trails of smoke which entered into the burning man's body.

”How can we hear it?” Jon asked, only slightly disturbed by the sight before him. Watching a man burnt alive wasn't so different from watching one being torn to pieces by a hollow.

”We're not sure, it's.. voice.. transmits across electrical frequencies, even if the speaker is broken,” Doctor Adison revealed, utterly fascinated by the scene before her.

Eventually the man stopped spasming, at which point Jon presumed he had died. He sat back in his chair, taking a long drag from a freshly lit cigarette. He shot a quick glance towards Grayson, who seemed to be doing his best to steel himself from his emotions. Though, the teen still looked sick to his stomach. ”Excuse me,” Grayson murmured, wheeling the cart away as he exited the room, sparking a chuckle from the General.

”He’s still young, I bet you’re proud of him,” Paxton commented through a slate gray cloud forming around his head.

”I am,” Jon agreed, watching the scene with a quiet resolve. The man had finally stopped moving. That, however, only lasted a moment. Jon felt himself compelled to lean closer once more as the body began moving.

”Hm,” The General added, a finger tapping against his chin as he curiously watched the scene unfold.

”As you can see,” Doctor Nevvo started, explaining what was happening,”We’ve put the Spark in an extreme environment, with an available host. Though not preferable to the Spark, from what we’ve observed, its intelligence allows it to comprehend the situation its in. We’re not sure how intelligent these things actually are.”

As Nevvo spoke, the man stood up. His skin was cracked like hot, molten earth, and his eyes actually admitted small flames. He laughed hysterically, obviously the trauma of what had just happened still left him in a state of shock. Nevvo tapped his fingers across the terminal, killing the inferno filling the observation room. Despite that, the test subject still remained ablaze. He seemed to realize what was happening as he stuck a blackened palm towards the viewing windown. A jet of fire expelled from his hand, blasting against the clear glass surface of the window, though it left no visible marks.

”Don’t worry,” Doctor Adison said through a smile as she replaced Nevvo at the terminal,”We’re perfectly safe”

Nevvo crossed the cold white floor to the window, a pattern of intrigue working across his face. ”It’s definitely learning..” He murmured, his chin resting in his hand, the adjacent elbow held in a relaxed posture by the opposite hand.

”What was that?” Jon asked, unable to make out clearly what Nevvo was mumbling.

Doctor Nevvo looked up, a twitch of irritation pulling at his eyes as Jon pulled him from his thoughts,”What? Oh, No, Nothing.”

Jon’s curiosity was turned away from Nevvo as a metal fence rose up from the very edges of the floor. He also noted that the medical gurney the subject had been strapped to was gone. The man stopped what he was doing, watching the fence as it came closed to him. The subject threw his head back, howling with ferocity as he attacked the fence will all he had.

”It seems this subject is rejecting the Spark..” Nevvo mused quietly to himself. Jon didn’t bother asking him what this meant, his attention was focused on the metal fence that was now pressed tightly against the man to the point where he could no longer move his limbs without touching it.

”Now, using a combination of electromagnetic pulses to trigger a key sequence of neural events, and our thermonuclear splicer..” Addison commented, letting the last end of her sentence trail off as she focused on the terminal. The door leading into the room opened, and a figure in a white hazmat suit entered. The subject snarled, a wave of firing smashing against the fence.

”An electrostatic barrier, clever,” The General mused. Jon had no idea General Bradley had any scientific inclination whatsoever, but he was thankful for the explanation. Even if he didn’t truly understand it. The hazmat person pressed a small, metallic looking through the fence. Jon’s trained eye noticed the dart it fired into the subject, if only briefly. It took mere seconds for the subject to slump against the fence, unconscious. The hazmat scientist produced a set of diodes, sticking them to the unconscious subject’s cranium. Both of the diodes had long wires, with the hazmat scientist clipped to the fence.

”Using electricity channeled through the fence we can stimulate the subject with a high powered current. The diodes will allow us to direct bursts of electricity to mimic a neural pattern needed for separation,” Doctor Addison said. She pressed a key and the fence lit up with a fizzle of blue energy. The subject didn’t stay unconscious for long as his eyes flew open, his body frozen with the current passing throughout his body.

”There’s something more to this Spark we’ve been unable to figure out. It responds to a neural pattern that is closely associated with those one exhibits while sleeping, or meditating. When the conscious is in a relaxed, or dormant state,” Nevvo said. Jon wasn’t quite sure if he was explaining for his sake, or if Nevvo was simply talking to himself.

Before Jon had a chance to look away from Nevvo and impossibly bright flash blinded his sight.

”Splice complete,” Addison reported.

Jon blinked rapidly, willing away the black spots dancing about in his vision. As focused back on the observation room, which looked once more as it did when he had first arrived, but without the restraints and gurney. Which no longer seemed to be needed, as the subject’s corpse was currently sprawled out on the floor. Huddled against one side of the room was the Spark, once more in it’s ghostly form. The back wall cracked open, revealing the dark room. Jon barely saw the Spark moved as it flashed across the distance and into the reclusive darkness.

”I am highly impressed, and as soon as we are done here you’re funding is going to be approved for the next year,” General Bradley said, clapping a very soft and slow rhythm.

”Thank you General Bradley, Sir, You don’t know what this means to us,” Doctor Adison said breathlessly, showing the first real emotion Jon had seen since meeting her.

”That may be true. but I know what this means to me,” The General said, wearing a sly grin.

”Of course sir, we’re already working on a way for the process to be less fatal,” Adison admitted, excitement evident in her voice. Apparently funding was a big deal to her.

”Nevermind that. I want you to devote more focus on replicating different phenomena. I understand at the moment you have this fire and ice theme going on?” He asked.

”Mmnh, Yes. We can create the same environment using cryofreeze. It’s danger is exponentially more than that of the fire, as the latter is a much slower process. Though, with careful calculation-”

”And a stroke of luck?” Jon interrupted.

Doctor Nevvo shot him a glare that could possibly kill a small mammal, ”We’re scientists Jon, we don’t believe in luck,” He spat venomously.

”Good. Sign the Wraiths up for Cryo, the application of such a thing is of far higher value,” The General ordered.

”Yes sir.”
”As you wish.”

The two scientists spoke almost in unison as they nodded. A second later they exited the room with urgency in their strides. Jon figured there was some preparation to be done, he doubted they were going to use a room like the one he had spent the last few hours observing. A cold feeling was set in his stomach, but he had learned to ignore his fear a long time ago, especially when excitement and adrenaline were pouring through his veins.

”Scared Jon?” The General asked, looking at him.

”No Sir. Excited,” Jon replied.

”Good, that’s what I like to hear soldier.”

"Do you fear death, Arcus?"

The question lingered in the air, tapering on the edge of Arcus' brow and dripping like the beads of sweat off his nose. His arms were shaking, extended like this at odd angles and holding the quarterstaff across his body, holding the other boys' weapon at bay. They were both pressing as hard as they could, but both seemed to lack the strength to break the other's guard.

"Do you fear death?"

The tow-headed boy repeated the question. Their faces were very close, nearly pressed up against each other like their weapons. Regardless, the blood rushing in Arcus' ears made it difficult for him to hear his opponent. That, and the gathering crowd continued to emit hoops and hollars.

"No- I do not fear death." Arcus offered in response, a bit gasped for air. He thought it was odd a boy equal his age would ask such a question and he began to wonder his fate should he lose this battle. He felt his feet begin to slide against the sand beneath him and he summoned what little strength he had left to push back against the other boy. They were once again in a stalemate.

Neither boy spoke another word as teeth were grit for the next several moments- but Arcus saw it. It was subtle, but Arcus looked in the right place at the right time and saw the other boy shift weight from his back leg to his front- he was getting tired.

Arcus' next move was risky- pushing with his right leg he leaped to the left- not far enough. He felt the harsh and heavy blow of a weighted quarterstaff strike his knee. Arcus fought through the pain- this was his chance to win. Landing with his left leg he swept his staff at his opponents back thigh. He heard a satisfying crack as his blow connected; his platinum-haired opponent fell to the ground and yelped in pain, dropping his staff. Arcus, thrilled with the idea of total victory, continued the assault and swung at the other thigh, as well- several hits that one took, to hear the crack. The boy continued to yelp and cry out in pain, but Arcus continued his flurry of blows, moving from striking the thighs, to the shins, to the feet...

A white flash.

"Do you fear death?"

This time the voice behind the question was Arcus'- a mans voice, not a boys. He glared down at the man beneath him, battered and bruised, hands grasping the boot that was placed on his throat. The victim's brown eyes met Arcus' teal ones and for a moment they glared hard at him.

"I do not fear death." A voice rasped from beneath the rag that this man wore as a mask. Arcus lowered his own- an old welder's mask- and, stepping back, raised his hammer, who his fellow Legion comrades had named Brute; Arcus brought the hammer down...

A white flash.

He lay and stare up at the sky, sore muscles pulsing and convulsing and the dirt and sand offering no comfort for the warrior. His breathing was becoming raspy and struggled, and each wispy exhale led to less feeling in his limbs. He was growing cold, but the sun was shining above. He felt a sense of peace slowly creeping from his extremities as his vision began to fade at his peripherals.

"Do you fear death?"

He didn't know where the voice came from, or whose it was. But it sounded like peace. It sounded like safety. It sounded like warmth. He continued to stare into the sky, he dare not move a muscle, but when one last shot of pain from the wound near his left hip gave him one last breath, he replied in a ghostly whisper:

"I do fear death; but I wholly accept him."

--

Teal eyes flickered open to a dusty ceiling lit by a pale sun.

"Ah, there ye'are. You were thrashin' again." the mustachioed face next to him beamed with a smile. He stood from the chair he had apparently been sitting in and tossed Arcus' large satchel at him, who sat up with a start to catch it. Strange, it felt heavier than normal. Had he stolen his belongings?

"Wanted ta' say thanks again for savin' my life yesterday- left a couple'a things in there for ya'."

He apparently caught wind of Arcus' angry gaze for he started to slowly back towards the door of the small room, his thick boots clunking loudly with each gradual step.

"Uh, enjoy yourself. In Fairbury, I mean. Don't get too used to the green."

The man tipped his wide brimmed hat and flashed the smile Arcus had seen enough of; earned another scowl from the burly dark-skinned man when he slammed the door. Arcus clawed at his scraggly beard and leathery face- it was nice to sleep in a bed after so long, but the sheets on this glorified plank of plywood made his skin crawl and itch. He tiredly retrieved a flask- one of many- from his satchel that had water in it and splashed his face- in all his years as a warrior, a gladiator, a slayer of many, Arcus could never fight morning grogginess. His eyelids still felt like they were sandbags as he turned to hang his legs over the side of the bed- his body emitting more creaks and moans than the floor did as he placed his dirt-caked feet on them. His mind drifted to the events of his dream- moments of his life, of course. A recurring theme of his dreams recently. This one seemed to deal with death- he'd write it down later, as he had gotten used to doing as he traveled. Normally his dreams weren't themed, but when they were Arcus liked to think they were thought provoking. His "journal" was full of little blurbs describing his dreams or his thoughts on them, or the topics thereof.

Arcus' knees popped as he stood and stretched his aching back. He glanced around his simple temporary abode, which was about as simple as it could get, consisting of only a single bed, a small table, a chair, and one window overlooking the main dirt-packed road of Fairbury. There weren't even any curtains. Arcus' stretches continued to his legs and hips, which he was extra careful of, with the wound on his lower left abdomen. But he had overextended a stretch and a jolt of pain fired from the ugly cleft. Arcus cussed and stopped his stretches- it was going to be a long day.

--

Stepping outside onto the streets of Fairbury was a welcome change of scenery from the past months- with everything so green and full of life. Not just the scenery, but the people, too. Many wore white coats and carried clipboards, though there was equally as many dressed in rather fine drapery, better looking than anything Arcus had seen, at least. His presence was a bit of a shock to both parties, Arcus wasn't used to such niceties and the denizens of Fairbury certainly weren't used to a dying ex-Forsaken Warlord carrying a sawbladed sledgehammer in their midst; though, that wasn't the story Arcus had told them. No, to the citizens of Fairbury Arcus wasn't Arcus at all, but rather a caravan guard named Evans. Regardless, he still got looks as people passed him by, he was a fairly intimidating figure to behold. Arcus started down the main smoothed-dirt road with no real idea where he was going. His mind wandered back to the events that had happened yesterday; He had just wandered into the outskirts of the outer Fairbury ruins when a caravan driver drove up next to him. Apparently, the man was so goodhearted that be'd offer Arcus a spot in the caravan so long as he put his hammer to good use, should they need it. Arcus had accepted, not entirely sure what he'd be getting himself into.

And the ensuing hour was some of the most high-intensity combat Arcus had come across in recent months. The truck the caravan had couldn't be driven due to the roots and tangled vines, so it had to be pushed into the city limits through the outer ruins, which meant the contingent of armed guards, Arcus among them, had their work cut out for them. Lashvines, Fleshmaws, Mortroot- these were just some of the green and colorful horrors that awaited them. Arcus had begun to believe that the foodstuffs in his satchel would suddenly spring to life and try to kill him. It was in these moments that Arcus was thankful for both Sam and the sawblade end of Brute.

Someone bumping into Arcus brought him out of his memory stupor- a white-coated man. One of several that now surrounded his immediate area, it seemed that Arcus had wandered near the entrance tunnel to the much talked about Atlantis and was now walking against a stream of diligent-looking white coated men and women.

Once again out of his dream-like state Arcus was a bit unsure of what to do with himself. He was entirely out of his element, surrounded by people who work to create life rather than take life. Deep down he wished he shared their passion- he wished to help create life to offset all those that he had taken, but he lacked the skill or knowledge required. To Arcus, it seemed that all he was good at was taking life; he had heard somewhere that there were two kinds of people- people who take lives and people who save lives. Well, Arcus wanted to create a third type of person- someone who could save lives by taking lives. But who was Arcus to decide what life was worth taking and which was worth saving?

Arcus snapped back into reality once more, having wandered back down the way he came. The people around him didn't glance at him much anymore, they must think him a city guard patrolling the streets.

He found a relatively nice looking spot along the street and slowly sat down, being careful not to agitate his covered and infected wound. Retrieving his small journal and a pen from his satchel, he began to write:

A warrior is not a man who does not fear death. A warrior is someone who accepts death, for such is their duty.

Arcus thought about the words he had written and reflected upon them- he related, that was for sure. In fact, Arcus sometimes wondered if he had died out on the field that day, only to be brought back by some otherworldly force. Brought back to complete some task- some atonement, perhaps- before the infection took him again.

No, Arcus did not fear death. He embraced it with open arms.

This is bad, Evelina thought, wincing at the high pitched scream—more like an animalistic screech. Really, really bad.

Her mind raced, working to find a way out of this situation. Had she been alone it would have been a piece of cake to get away, but with the metal-wielding woman there it was another matter entirely. She couldn’t leave her alone, after all. Not with this… woman—monster. "I’m not sure we have any choice but to fight.” She gulped, glancing at the cage warily. She wasn’t sure how long it would hold, but she wasn’t going to gamble on it staying up forever.

Resigning herself to how things were going to be, she brought both her hands up to chest level, palms facing each other. “On three, close your eyes,” she told the immortal beside her.

“One.” A spark of light ignited between her palms, growing from a needle head’s size to a tennis ball within the first second.

“Two.” The orb of light shone brighter, but seemed more compact than before. It stayed the same size but it started getting more intense. Evelina glanced to her side, hoping that the other was ready to close her eyes. She tensed her muscles and looked forward, looking their attacker dead in the eyes.

“THREE!” She clapped her hands together, crushing the ball of light and creating a flash of light bright enough that one could feel the heat from the light itself.

Alex screeched once more as the blinding flash tore across her eyes, as if a fragment of the sun had just exploded in front of her. Her attacks ceased for a moment as she stumbled back, huddling away from the explosion like a wounded animal. Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny voice cried out as Alex’s hands met the earth, marred by blackened veins. Her breath came in hot ragged gasps as her heart caught up to the unwarranted use of her power. Slowly, her vision returned to her, blurred and spotty.

Vladimira didn’t bother too much with covering her eyes, simply turning up the attenuation on her welding goggles. She still averted her eyes though, to be safe.

“What’re you going t- Чё за галима?! Совкуоплятьшому му дак!” She winced as the light seared her eyes, not blinding her, but she hadn’t set her goggles to handle the light. “What was that?! How did you- oh, nevermind.” She made the connection and cut herself off in mid sentence. Turning back to Alex, she kept an eye on her while dialing down the attenuation on her goggles. “So we have a blinded, angry, lightning shooting Immortal, who appears to be turning into a Hollow or something.” She shrugged, “Okay, I really don’t know what to do. I could try and bind her, let her drain off all that electricity into the ground, but I don’t want to kill her, and she seems like she wouldn’t stop trying to shoot lightning. The other option is running, which seems like a really good idea right now.”

If we run she'll just go attack someone else. We need to stop her! Evelina parted her hands again, another orb of light materializing between them. This time, however, she gave no warning, nor did she even repeat the blinding flash. From within the orb shot out several bands of light, each of them attaching themselves to the limbs of the blinded Immortal, tethering her to the ground; one rope around each wrist, another around her ankles, and a final one wrapping itself around her torso and arms. “I don’t know for how long these will hold her,” she said, “so do whatever you can to cage her, or hold her down. Knock her out of you need to!”

Alex’s mind raged with a flurry of activity, as if she were host to the thoughts of two beings, but both of them were herself. She expected another flare of light, and was mildly surprised when the light shot out and wrapped itself around her wrists and ankles, each separate tether connected to the ground somehow. She fought the restraints as yet another wrapped itself around her chest and biceps, pinning the upper portion of her arms to her sides.

She grit her teeth, moving one feet forward with great effort, A small puff of dust swirling around her tethered leg as she did so. The force of the restraints was great, but the change happening within Alex fueled her. She struggled with another step as she pushed against the bind around her torso, snarling as she did so.

Vladimira's eyes widened at the ropes of light, "How the... what?" She muttered. Shaking her head, she put it out of her mind for now.

With a motion of her hands, the metal forming her impromptu suit flowed off of her, more metal from the truck's chassis joining it as it streamed towards Alex. The metal coiled into thick cables, wrapping themselves around Alex's wrists and ankles, before plunging the other ends deep into the ground. With a flick of her wrists, the underground ends of the cable opened up, anchoring them firmly.

"That should drain that electricity off if she tries more lightning!" She shouted over at her impromptu ally, "I don't know if I could knock her out without killing her, it's not like I carry sedatives on me!"
The metal restraints halted Alex’s movements completely, yet she she struggled against them. Her energy flared, electricity once more swirling around her arms, only to draw towards the metal ties and disperse into the ground. Her heart pounded as she tried harder, the surge of energy increasing twice over, all of which drained into the earth. Tiny filaments of metal were drawn towards the sheer electrical attraction of the energy Alex was putting off, only to have it waste away. Anger boiled beneath her veins as the blackness spread throughout her, now encompassing her entire body. Her heart smashed against her chest as she relentlessly tried to attack the two women in front of her in a blind fury. She ignored the pain spreading through her chest, screaming in desperation at the women, at her restraints, at everything. Her toes dug into the earth as she tried to move. It was futile. Her vision grew hazy, a coldness sweeping through her body until her sight became fully black. For that single moment, Alex felt truly afraid, truly helpless. She fell to the ground as her consciousness receded into the back of her own mind.

”That’s right Alexia, don’t fight them.” A coy male voice whispered to his new pet, currently restrained against two “x” crossed beams in the middle of the camp. ”Ssh,” He whispered sweetly, brushing a hand across the naked flesh of his pet’s back,”That’s a good girl.”

”It always hurts the first time,” He chuckled sarcastically, reaching for the coiled whip at his waist.

Crack!

The world snapped back into clarity as her body trembled. Hot blood rushed through her veins, coursing through her body like fire. A jet black steam permeated her flesh as the heat in her body rose, alongside the fluctuations of her electrical phenomena. Her body shook, will rage, with power. Her skin became mottled as the blackness spread across her, like a veiling of bubbling smoke it caressed her skin, her clothes, until it covered her completely. Lightning arced through the cloud in abstract patterns, lighting up sections of the midnight veil covering her like dark storm clouds.

The metal coils around her wrists and ankles vibrated with a hum of energy as the opaque mass quivered into a rough human outline, blue sparks jumping wildly around the figure. The coils let off a loud, resonating hum as the energy coursing through them surpassed the metal’s conductivity, bright flashes of electricity manifesting outside the exterior of the coil and plunging haphazardly towards the earth, throwing up small motes of dust. The dust cloud thickened as Alex pulled energy towards herself. The battery from the malformed truck exploded in a shower of sparks as Alex ripped away everything left inside of it. Nearly a mile away a powerline tore from its tomb buried within the earth, a cable as thick as a person, exploded from the dirt, each end emitting a thick arc of electricity that surged towards Alex. The two winding streams of energy snaked towards the heavily obscured form of Alex. The cloud of dust swirling around her body dispelled outwards as the energy smashed into her body. For a moment, time hung frozen as the dust settled. The twisting snakes of energy pouring into her body ceased, but the static was heavy in the air.

A column of energy exploded from Alex, piercing high into the sky as she let out a bestial screech. The rest of the dust hanging in the air swirled around her and outwards, the area gaining rapid clarity. The column of energy dispelled leaving something new in Alex’s place. A hard, chitin like carapace covered her body. Vibrant teal eyes stared at the to women before the creature. It’s maw split into a wide, hungry grin, and its long claws flexed in anticipation. Its body quivered as energy flowed through it. The atoms in the air around it so heavily charged that small arcs of lightning burst through the open air around it audibly, crackling with a high pitched sharpness. It uttered a deep, guttural growl as it raked its electrically charged claws through the bindings, slicing through the metal coils and ropes of light with little effort.

”Freedom…” It hissed softly, lowering itself to the ground on all fours, practically shaking with anticipation.

Evelina winced, not because of any sort of pain but more because she had seen how easily that… thing… had sliced through her bindings.

She took a step back, clenching her hands at her side.

One thing was for certain, that right there was no longer the woman they had been faced with before, nor even an Immortal. Nor even human. She prepared herself, breathing deeply to calm her beating heart. She had used her powers, true, but not so much as to make it beat like this. It was this… thing who did it. Loathe as she was to admit it she was scared; scared of death like she hadn’t been before.

But, she thought to herself, steeling herself for what was to come, I have to stop her. No matter what. If she stays like this she’ll just attack Russell Town! She grit her teeth, lips pulling back in a defiant expression. I won’t let that happen. Far too many innocents will be killed. The area around her seemed to distort, as if Space itself was warping around her. Even without her conscious effort, the light around her twisted and turned, creating the strange phenomena. She paid it no mind, her eyes narrowed and focused on the Beast facing them.

“Be ready for anything,” she said, her voice just loud enough for the metal wielder to hear. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to protect the both of us from this thing.”

Vladimira's mouth hung open in shock at the transformation. She opened and closed it a few times, but no words came out. What the hell was this thing in front of her? She’d run across the occasional Hollow, but they were Hollows, no dramatic transformation with Immortal powers thrown in.

What was more concerning was how easily the… thing, had severed solid steel. It’s one thing when she’s throwing lightning. I can just hide behind a Faraday Cage in that case. How do you fight something that can cut through solid steel cables like a hot knife through butter? She halfway wondered if it’d be possible to stun Alex again and make a run for it, with the other woman. Though she probably has something else up her sleeves…

She pulled the steel cables out of the ground, the metal coiling in front of her in a heap. “I can’t say I’m ready for anything…” she replied warily, watching the creature for any sudden movements. “But I think it’s safe to say this got a whole lot harder.”

A dry laugh passed through the creature’s maw, it’s inky tongue flicking across its teeth briefly. Its claws dug into the earth as it studiously watched the two women and their exchange. It understood what they were saying, but more than that, it could smell their terror. The scent made its bloodboil, made its muscles quiver until finally, the creature could take it no longer. Its maw split wide as it howled at its prey. A cloud of dust erupted into the air as it launched forward towards the metal manipulating Immortal. It crossed the short distance in but a breath, in an instant it was nearly upon her. It coiled back on its haunches, keeping its momentum as it sprang forward, its right hand curled into a tight fist as it cocked its arm back.

Fast! She didn’t have time to think much more than that before the thing was already upon her companion. She barely had time to register the thought that she had to protect the other, or she’d likely die from just that one attack.

Quick as her mind allowed her, she threw out her thoughts with a single command: Protect. The light in front of Vladimira solidified, forming into an invisible shield between her and the hollowfied Immortal. She wasn’t sure if it would hold. She could only hope.

“Дерьмо!” Vladimira swore as the thing leapt at her, slashing with murderous fury. She tried to push herself away, use the steel cables to accelerate a jump perhaps, but she stumbled over her own foot at the last second and went sprawling.

She scrambled to her feet and stared amazed as the creature that used to be Alex slashed at some invisible barrier. She looked at it incredulously, and then in fear as she saw a spiderweb of cracks run along what looked almost like air.

She began slowly backpedaling again, shooting a panicked look over at the other woman -not that she’d notice through the gas mask- “I’m seriously thinking a tactical advance in the opposite direction sounds really good righ-” She was cut off as the monster burst through the barrier in a shower of all but invisible glasslike shards, lunging for her with the claw outstretched.

“Дерьмо!” She screeched again, almost dodging the creature’s claw as it slashed through her mask and goggles- and face. Blood streamed into her eyes, nose, mouth. It was everywhere, hot and thick and suffocating. She clutched her face in a gloved hand, trying to wipe it clean.

She succeeded in doing so temporarily, only to see the fist of the monster impacting her in the gut with a horrific screech of steel on whatever this thing’s carapace was made of. She went flying backwards into a rock, howling as her metal plated back smashed into the stone.

Slumping forward, her vision clouded. She saw whatever Alex had become doing… something, at least it didn’t seem to be attacking her anymore. She blinked as blood began to seep into her eyes again, gritting her teeth she choked out through a mouthful of blood, “Wa-watch o-out!” She gagged as the blood ran down her throat, coughing it out over her clothing. She watched through eyes that seemed covered in wax paper until the blood ran into her eyes again and she slumped over unconscious.

The barrier had worked. It had definitely worked, of that Evelina was sure. But even if it had worked it didn’t change the fact that it required little more than a few punches for that monster to break through something that even high caliber rifles barely managed to dent.

She watched in almost horrified stillness as her ally was thrown back and impacted with a large rock. Hard. It was more reflex than anything when she acted, drawing as much light she could as possible into a single focal point in the palm of her hand; the midday sun lending itself to her.

She flung her hand forward, a solid beam of searing light screaming forward, and… doing very little. Her lips parted and eyes widened in surprise. Her beam had done little but scratch the armour of that thing. That was enough to cause third degree burns…! Her legs moved on their own, taking a step back in obvious fear. How am I going to stop that thing?

The creature gave another dry laugh, a twisted smile set upon his face. It had been crouched, the scent of blood filling its nostrils, ready to end this woman’s life. Now, it stood slowly, letting its muscles stretch as it reached its full seven foot height. It’s attention turned away from the woman bleeding profusely, towards the other one now. This one was not masked like the other, this other woman wore only goggles and a look of terror. The creature’s smile widened, pulling the corners of its maw into a toothy grin.

It’s claws flexed as the static charged air began pulling towards its hand. The frequency of energetic bursts through the air increased around him as the molecules became more charged. A small swirl of dust started around its feet as the gathering energy formed into a swirling sphere in its hand. ”Two can play this game,” It laughed, its voice like a throaty growl.

Tendrils of electric energy fired from the ground, attracted towards the pull of the sphere in its hand. It’s fist clenched around the energy as its stretched its arm back as far as it would go, the other hovered in front and across from its chest, palm out. The entire process took it only a handful of seconds, and in another, its body trembled with the force of the throw. The projectile screamed through the air, closing in rapidly towards the light wielder.

Despite her own fear, Evelina steeled herself, preparing herself for whatever might come. She highly doubted that she’d be able to do much to this thing, but damned if she didn’t intend to try. Even if it claimed her life she would still consider it a success if she took it down with her. She dug her toes into the ground and bent her knees, jaw clenched in an attempt to keep herself in check.

She was fully prepared for another lightning fast attack, so it was with some surprise that she noted the monster—or whatever it was—raise its hand and start to charge up a blast of what she assumed would be electricity. She waited patiently, taking the time granted her to prepare herself. She knew an attack was coming, and she was prepared for it.

And then it came.

A static filled the air, and she knew to act. Instantly she dispersed into light, the same second that the lightning struck. But even then, she wasn’t fast enough. A fraction of a fraction of a second faster and she could have avoided it entirely, but she was just a tiny bit too slow and felt a shock of electricity course through her as she dispersed. It was far from life threatening, or even enough to paralyze her, but it was felt.

Invisible in the daylight, and faster than any human could run, she rushed forward, behind the creature. When she materialized again—at least ten metres away—she was already building up another orb of light, staring defiantly at the monster. She waited for a few short moments, then shouted. “You’re not going to catch me that easily!”

The crawl of the sun's rays took roughly an hour to reach James' eyes. He stirred on a ratty old couch as light filtered through the shemagh he had draped over his face. His eyes groggily opened under the cloth, which he promptly removed with one hand and replaced with the other. The building he had decided to take shelter in, while half destroyed, was also the only one within sight to have a couch, or really anything comfortable to sleep on, and although James wanted to make it to Russel City before nightfall tonight, he definitely didn't feel like moving for a while.

After some time, he eventually gave in to reason and removed his hand from his face, revealing to him a relatively clear sky, which is to say as clear as it can possibly get in Dust, which isn't saying much. No matter how far The Gaens come in rebuilding the biosphere and restoring some of the lost graces of the old world, it'll probably take a long time before the skies were truly clear again. James let out a grunt as he swung his legs over the side of the couch, his backpack and trusty AK sitting next to him, leaning against the arm of the couch. He picked up the Russian workhorse, examining it for what must have been the thousandth time, at least. To him, it was simply a beautiful machine. It always worked, all the time, at least since he beefed it up. It was something he took pride in, but even better was taking it apart and putting it back together.

Of course, that had lost it's fun about the tenth time he did it, simply because there was nothing more to learn about the rifle. At this point, James knew practically every rivet, pin, and trunnion of the rifle. Still, it was always satisfying to him the simplicity of the rifle, from the way it strips down to it's very design characteristics. While it certainly wasn't any high-powered sniper rifle with state of the art optics and modifications, it was an extremely rugged design with very forgiving build tolerances, and even more importantly, it went bang every time. That's not to say anything about the accuracy which, admittedly, isn't great, but for a rifle of it's type, it didn't need to reach too far. This was the true everyman's rifle; at least, that's how James saw it.

He continued to muse over the characteristics of the rifle whilst nearly absentmindedly field stripping it again, only to put it back together the moment he was done. The sound it made when he pushed the bolt carrier into battery was music to his ears, and just as he latched the dust cover back into place, he gave it a rack, generating a meaty krrrrack-chack as he did so. He gave the rifle another look before setting it on the couch next to him. He opened his rucksack and began digging through it, searching for a bottle of water he'd had. It was half-empty at this point, but he figured he could use a swig or two before packing up and getting back on the road. He opened the bottle and brought it to his lips, draining it to roughly 1/4 capacity before placing it back in the bag.

Somewhere, quite far away, he heard a cacophony of gunshots. Wherever they were, they were far enough away that they wouldn't be a problem for James. He pulled his compass out from his pack and got his bearings, making a mental note of which direction he would be heading before putting his compass away and throwing his bags onto his shoulders. He then picked up his AK by the sling and threw it over his left shoulder. Russel City shouldn't have been more than five hours away at this point. James figured if he didn't make any stops, he could be there by midday, easily.



Somewhere along the way James began to contemplate his powers as an immortal. "Heh, 'immortal'," he said aloud, chuckling at the word. "What part of me makes me 'immortal'? My powers are freaking lame compared to some of the others I've heard of. Jeez, I seriously got the short end of the stick. I mean yeah, I can dodge a pissed off bandit's punches all day, but I can't pick up a freaking car with my mind and throw it at someone." He groaned at the thought. "Whatever, what can you do?" His musings continued as he walked through the sands, which, while annoying to think about, helped him to pass the time.

His thoughts eventually drifted to the fact that travelling around Dust was a toss-up between getting cooked alive in your own clothes, or risking a wicked case of sunburn. At the thought of that, he took a quick pause to get his jacket off and stow it in his rucksack. It helped with the heat a little bit, but there was still a dark, long-sleeved shirt underneath, which he didn't take off for exactly the aforementioned reason. "Hooray for fresh-baked human," he said, adjusting his goggles. He didn't really care who saw him as an immortal, thus his goggles were simply a dark tint to help block out sunlight. He figures, "the hell with stupid people who can't get it through their heads that we didn't ask for this. If they don't like it, they can take a hike through Forsaken territory."

For the most part, James had been lucky in that regard so far. His scavenging team back when he lived in Russel City before welcomed his powers of observation; it resulted in more valuable finds. He was equally lucky in Aspin, The Gaens being as open minded and welcoming as they were. Most of his fellow students at the university he went to were also pretty accepting, but of course there were those who didn't feel the same. They never tried anything, but he would get looks, verbal abuse, and at one point, a threat in the form of a poorly written letter. He never let it get to him though, but he also hasn't nearly seen the worst of the possible forms of discrimination against his kind either, so there was that too.

"My kind," he repeated out loud. "That sounds just like something they would say." He'd heard rumors of The Wings' treatment of immortals. Of course, not all of them were the same, but most of them seemed to be rather poorly predisposed towards immortals. It was a mystery to him, how people could so blindly ignore critical details; blame the effect, not the cause. James himself was hardly even a threat, his powers were almost purely defensive in nature. Still, he had no doubt some would direct their attacks on him simply because he was a symptom of a disease.

Now wasn't that a thought. He himself being a symptom of a disease. In some ways, it wasn't even untrue. In the grand scheme of things, The Sickness being what it was in the eyes of the people, he was exactly that; a symptom. The Sickness seemed to act in strange ways, killing most, empowering the rest. Still, James supposed it was better to be hated by some than, well, dead, and then a bloodthirsty monster. He dwelled on the thought briefly before sidelining it, along with his other vaguely philosophical conceptions.

After roughly three hours of walking, James could finally see the outskirts of Russel City. He picked up the pace slightly, ready to be out of this heat, and maybe settling into an inn or something. He saw a truck out of the corner of his eye. He found it odd that it wouldn't be on the road, or at least the vestigial semblance of a road, but stranger things have happened. Like the fact that he saw it crash into... thin air?

"The hell?" He turned towards the commotion and noticed a figure standing in front of the truck, holding it's... her, arms out. The distance was only just close enough for James' eyesight to pick up on details most would only see from 50 meters or less, which allowed him to identify gender from this distance, but not much else. Another figure emerged from the truck, hitting the ground as... she fell out. A third approached on... some sort of... hovercraft?

It didn't take long for him to put two and two together; those two were immortals. Possibly they were about to rob this person. Dammit, Jason thought. He knew if that were the case, there was no way he would get there in time to intervene. Still, he could possibly help the person in the truck after the fact. He decided to take a little detour, heading towards the truck.

After a couple of moments, James learned that not everything was as it seemed. The girl in the truck, as it turned out, was also an immortal, as he learned when she began to unleash electrical arcs all around her. He was about to make another sarcastic remark about his "shitty" powers when he noticed that this girl was out of control. Something was very obviously wrong with her, the electricity sparking from her body arcing in haphazard patterns, seemingly without direction or intent. The two who were there with her put up defenses against the barrage of lightning before restraining her and grounding her, thereby alleviating the problem somewhat. Still, this girl was a live wire. Even from this distance, James could see her rage, but also something else. Fear? Sadness? The unbridled contempt was masking something, and her uncontrollable release of energy was the result of her cognitive dissonance.

Soon enough the situation went from potentially bad to definitely worse. Shortly after the two others restrained the girl from the truck he saw her... transform. Into some sort of creature. He stopped in his tracks as his mind registered exactly what just happened. "Did she...? No fucking way," he muttered in disbelief. He took the AK off of his shoulder and accelerated his pace into nearly a sprint. That's a goddamn hollow. But, how? How did she transform that quickly? he thought.

He was still well over a kilometer off when the transformation finished and the black creature began it's rampage against the two who were there. Blows were traded, on both sides, but of course the hollow brushed them off like they hardly ever happened. "Shit, shit, shit." This was far from normal, even for immortals. There was no way, in his mind, this should have happened. No one turns into a hollow that damn quickly. Immortals aren't supposed to become hollows at all... right?

The one who had come from Russel City got hit hard by the beast, and James was still several minutes away. He swore under his breath, knowing that the two immortals were likely outmatched. Wait, scratch that, one immortal. "Shit, it knocked her unconscious." A normal hollow shouldn't have been an issue for those two, but this didn't seem like any ordinary hollow. Whatever it was, the implications of such an event could only be worse, and all James could do was watch, still far too distant to do anything about it, not like he could do much if he were there anyways. If that thing was as tough as it seemed, bullets wouldn't do nearly enough damage to bring it down. Still, he had to do something. He picked up the pace, putting a magazine into the assault rifle and giving the bolt a quick yank. If nothing else, he could probably hold his own against this thing and distract it long enough for someone with a big enough gun to arrive.

Out in the wastelands was the only place Ivan felt somewhat normal, the only thing there was to see being sand, dust, and dirt stretching on for miles. If it weren't for the absence of a sky, he could have believed for a moment his eyes had returned to the way they'd been long ago. With a grin underneath the plain hood over his face, Ivan smiled as a short fit of coughing overtook him, temporarily ruining the stillness of the figure sitting at the edge of The Big Empty.

Soon as he recovered, Ivan straightened his back again and looked out into the vast desert before him, trying to remember for a moment what a sunset looked like. The day was close to ending, as it had been long enough now that Ivan could feel the temperature beginning to drop and he knew it had been daylight out when he fled Isolone. For a moment, he could feel the creeping loneliness that always made itself known after leaving a settlement, like a looming shadow that worked into the back of his mind.

Wishing to keep such thoughts away for now, Ivan reached behind him and removed his backpack from his shoulders, dirt falling from the space on his back that now felt naked and exposed. The discomfort distracted Ivan from what loneliness he felt, and from one of the side pouches he pulled a small bundle of cloth which was gently placed on the ground before him, only a foot from the sheer drop off of the mesa. Quickly he put his pack back on, shrugging uncomfortably as he tried returning it to exactly how he'd worn it a moment ago.

With his bag back on and his cape covering it once more, the man brought his attention to the little bundle of cloth he had placed before him. Carefully, he unwrapped the bundle to reveal a plain glass pipe and rusted lighter, both objects covered in grime, ash, and dirt. Faintly, Ivan could see where the small pile of substance he'd acquired in the town rested on the cloth which was now like a place-mat for some fine meal. It was an odd substance; apparently some kind of fungus that had recently been discovered by those living in Isolone. Where it grew must have been somewhat unpleasant, as the mycelium was visible to Ivan meaning it was dirty. The texture reminded him of sponge as he began pulling apart the odd toadstool and placing it in his pipe, and as he finished preparing to light up the idea that he had been sold a lie crossed his mind.

"Guess I'll find out," he murmured, his voice hardly a whisper as he raised the pipe to the slit in his hood meant for his mouth. With the flick of his thumb the heat of the lighter told him it had caught, and he quickly brought the flame to his pipe to avoid wasting fuel. The smoke entered his lungs as he inhaled deeply, the substance burning up at an alarming rate which result in him burning his thumb on the rising flame. He wanted to curse, but held it in so the smoke could stay in his lungs for longer.

After about thirty seconds Ivan let go, smoke pouring out of his hood first from just the mouth slit but eventually from his eye holes too. Happily he grinned, unable to see the vapors but feeling their warmth against his face and their scent in his nose. He would have taken another hit but all that was left in the pipe was burnt grime, so somewhat disappointed he did his best to smoke what was left before putting away his things and returning to the still pose he had been in before.

He could feel it was close to dark now, the temperature having dropped dramatically, and while he waited for whatever he'd just smoked to take effect Ivan opened one of the pockets at the side of his vest for his flute. The metal felt cool in his hands as he pulled out the two pieces and screwed them together, the instrument barely fitting one of the pouches even while in half. He was glad he could make it work though, as the instrument being easy to access brought him comfort that he had become so used to and was now sure he couldn't live without.

His mind beginning to drift he licked his lips before placing them upon the instrument, still without taking his hood off as the mouth slit was just large enough to let him play through it. To start he just blew, a shrill note echoing out into the emptiness around him which Ivan silently blessed before continuing. His song of choice tonight was one he remembered his people used to play, often after a long week of work when men and woman returned home from Ironhold. Though he didn't sing, the lyrics passed in his mind like a choir of distant echos; voices that had once belonged to people he knew.

"The sand, she burns. The wind, she turns. The storm- it soon shall pass. And we alone, will live on through song. Long forgotten, our souls at last..."

"Let me tell you, a story, that happened long ago. It's a tale as old as time itself, from a place few men dare to go. The young kings, the rulers, of times long gone by. They held the key life- but their greed would swallow the good, and soon their people would die," Ivan sung, his head swimming in the lyrics of yet another story that he'd come to know by heart. His skull boiled and flesh stung underneath his wrappings, the lone man marching across a flat sheet of shattered earth.

The clay ground beneath his feet crumbled lightly with each step, sunlight roasting the almost white earth to try and blind anyone looking out on it too long. All Ivan could see was the ground though; unaware of the light overhead as his only indication that it was day was the sizzling he could feel on his head. Still he marched though, his song diluting reality as thought retracted from the pain of the real world. Dust began to pick up around his feet, trailing behind him and clinging to his clothing like Ivan possessed a static cling.

It had been at least two days since leaving Forbes, and Ivan wasn't sure how far he'd gone any longer, his only solid knowledge being that he was heading Northeast. Depending on his luck he'd reach Laguna or Russel City in about a day's time, with the worst case scenario being he hit Mount Nike and had to trek around it to get to Dresden. Whatever happened though, in at least about a day there'd be enough loose material for Ivan to utilize and move faster through the desert as he had learned the terrain maps quite well since they affected how he moved from place to place. Desert flats were preferably avoided though he'd made an exception this time, as it had been more than a year since he'd visited the North of Dust and wanted to head that way again. So he kept marching, stopping only once to drink from one of the many plastic water bottles he kept in his bag.



The terrain had changed some time last night, and with renewed energy Ivan was rolling through the desert on a mound of dirt and pebbles. The hot material worked it's way into every space between his clothing, a cloud of dust kicking up behind him as Ivan willed the little hill to move faster. The terrain change had told him he'd missed Laguna, though he could care less as it was more out of the way than any of his other rest stops. Most of his food was gone at this point, and water was running low but Ivan reassured himself he'd reach a city soon. He had about enough currency to buy himself a drink or two at a bar depending on how much they charged, and that thought alone pushed him to keep going.

Then the usual silence of the desert broke, and like jumping off a skateboard Ivan quickly brought his legs up to speed while the dust around his legs dispersed. It was an engine, and not too far off at that, which prompted Ivan to quickly find higher ground and figure out where they were in order to avoid them. Bandits roved the wastelands, and wouldn't think twice about trying to rob him, so with defense in mind Ivan loaded his rocket launcher but kept it on his back. Quickly he climbed the nearest ridge and looked around, low to the ground in hopes of avoiding being seen by anyone. The colour of his clothing often helped Ivan blend with the environment, plus it helped that the dirt in the area clung to him like lint on a sock.

Hooded eyes scanning the expanse of desert, Ivan quickly identified the source of the noise and watched as the dirty outline of a vehicle roared across the earth. Whoever was inside had a great sense of urgency, and it's sudden crash frightened him to no end. There had been nothing to stop the vehicle that Ivan could see, but after trying to make out more detail he believed he could see what must have been a bike. This is none of my business, he thought as the aftermath of the crash made things easier to see. Whatever had happened was their own problem, and Ivan was preparing to slide back down the ridge and alter his course to head towards where the truck had come from. Chances were it got out of the city, meaning perhaps Ivan was closer than he'd hoped for, but before he left the sound of shouting drew him back to the scene.

Something was happening, and it didn't seem to be very pleasant, though Ivan could only guess what was going on since whoever was there wasn't dirty enough to be seen from a distance. He couldn't hear their words either, recognizing only distressed shouts, and somewhat fearfully the man slunk down the hill a little more to avoid being seen. There was a conflict of some sort, the truck was ripped apart and it's pieces hung in the air, and it was then he realized that whatever was happening must be immortal related. It had been too long since he'd met another like him, and perhaps, he pondered, it's with good reason. So all he could do, much to his dismay, was watch and hope things settled down enough that he could get closer to inspect. If it turned out they were all dead when he got down there so be it, but it was better than risking being noticed by trying to see better.

This was proving to be far more amusing than the creature had first anticipated. This new prey, was much faster than the other. Perhaps it would actually enjoy this hunt. It’s body tensed as the woman spoke, all of its senses focusing on her. It readied itself, but refrained from turning towards her just yet. Energy arced in thick lines across its body, gathering once more, into both of its hands this time. The swirling spheres of energy gathered quickly, gathering energy from the heavily charged air.

As the creature gathered energy for the second time, a strange thing began to happen. Above the combatants a thin, lightish brown haze was gathering. The creature paid this no mind, as it was aware of what was happening. Instead, with its back still to her, it taunted its female prey.

“Some of us enjoy playing with our food,” It growled, rather amused. Suddenly It spun around, twisting on one foot. One of the spheres of energy screamed through the air as the creature turned, aiming the ball just in front of the woman. Simultaneously it took the second sphere, its hand arcing high over its head as it smashed the ball into the ground. The packed energy dispersed into the ground violently, becoming volatile in nature. The impacted ground erupted, as if hit by a large explosion; leaving a thick screen of dust in its wake.

The creature hunched over, once more down on all four of its limbs. It was effectively blinded by the dust screen, but it was a hunter. It ignored its eyes and let its other sense take over as it stalked forward quietly. It could still smell her, she was determined–she was afraid.

Lying forgotten, slumped against a rock, Vladimira stirred, blinking through a red haze as she struggled to open her eyes. They seemed to be crusted shut with someth- >Ah, finally waking up, good. I was getting bored without company.<

She started at the voice, trying to jump up and look- around only to fail and fall back, aching all over. >Don’t know why you’re doing that, just going to break bones. Painful, in case you weren’t aware. <

She still tried looking around, vision obscured by blood encrusted eyes, “Th-the Ад are you?” She managed to croak, fumbling for her canteen to rinse her throat.

The voice returned, >I believe the term is Spark. Unless they’ve changed it recently… have they? Really, you guys need to have a better naming scheme. How about, ‘Source of power that lets the individuals known as Immortals conduct fantastic feats of forcing matter itself to do their bidding’? No? True, it is a bit long, but still, something nicer sounding than just plain old ‘Spark’ would be appreciated. How about Crucib-<

Vladimira interrupted the… voice, by thumping her head against the rock. “Now that you’ve stopped talking for a second, I don’t know what a Spark is, sorry. Could we possibly have this conversation when I’m not in mortal peril from a girl who’s turned into a Hollow or… whatever it is?”

Indignantly, the voice replied >Not at all what it is you uncivilized barbarian. Well, I take that back, you’re either a rather civilized barbarian, or an uncivilized… civilized… person… thing. Look, it’s been awhile since you looked at a thesaurus -I’m being generous there for the record, you never have, you loveable ignorant savage you- so cut me some slack on the synonyms. Also, to fuel your gun fetish, check the back of that truck, think I saw something you’ll like.< To say she was confused would be a gross understatement, her confusion decreased slightly as the Spark returned to matters in the present day, >And for the record Ms. Entitlement, I’m just as mortally imperiled as you are, so I’d appreciate it if you could be so kind as to not get me -and yourself- killed. I’m Pandora for the record, Pandora the Curious if you really want to know. The big spiky guy attacking your new friend is Aeshma ‘the Hunter’, oooh, scary, I’m quaking in my metaphorical boots. He gets angry easily, in case you hadn’t noticed. And you’re Vladimira, I’ve lived here long enough to know that, so no wasting time with introductions, only I’m allowed to do that.<

She blinked, opening her mouth to speak only to hear the same voice, this time exasperated. >My god woman, must you use your mouth to speak to me? It’s almost like you’re talking to a voice in your head or something. Just think it at me, I’ll ‘hear’.<

Vladimira blinked rapidly again, she knew she’d hit her head when she went airborne, but had she really hit it this hard?

<Alright, ‘Pandora’, what do you expect me to do against ‘Aeshma’? Throw more steel at him for him to cut through?> She “thought at” Pandora, <I mean, I could probably bludgeon him a bit, but he seems to have gotten more than a bit of an upgrade, and I seem to be stuck with the baseline model.>

Pandora’s response was unexpectedly brief, >Have you looked at your hands?<

She groaned, lifting a hand in front of her eyes, which had somehow cleared during the conversation, her eyes widening at the appearance it now sported. She lifted the other arm, which mirrored the black chitinous material she saw on ‘Aeshma’, gunmetal highlights ran along any edges, of which there were many. On the whole her arms looked like they’d been encased in thick armor plating, not unlike a plate gauntlet, though they didn’t seem that much bigger than her regular arms. <So, care to explain? Last I checked I didn’t have these ten minutes ago.>

Pandora responded rather hurriedly, >I’ll give you a full explanation later, boring info dumps, charts, the whole shebang- but right now, don’t you feel like hitting something? Like, really hard? I feel like hitting something, don’t you? Oh wait, that is you. Okay. Alright. Go hit something girl!<

She was going crazy. No doubt about it.

But… she couldn’t deny she really wanted to hit something right now.

She jumped to her feet, taking a moment to mutter a “Whoa.” at her sudden energy. Looking around, she absorbed what she could from the environment. Ozone. Giant dust cloud. Giant figure hunched on all fours in said dust cloud. >Punch him! Yeah! That one! Slam the ground first though, for dramatic effect, just don’t go overboard.

She smirked at her head-voice’s commentary, <You do realize I’m not convinced you actually exist beyond being a figment of my imagination, right?> Pausing for a moment, she raised her arms above her head, <But I’m inclined to agree with you on that point.>

She brought her fists down to the ground with a primal yell, mixing in some of the worst curses she could think of at the moment, hurled in Aeshma’s general direction. The ground shook as though someone had just dropped a loaded shipping crate on the spot, small cracks running out from the impact points of her fists. “Hey you!” She shouted at Aeshma in case she’d failed to get his attention yet, “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!” She shouted the words without even knowing where they came from, blinking in surprise the moment after. “Did I just say that?”

Pandora chimed in, >You’re welcome. Figured your insult repertoire could do with some expansion beyond yelling obscenities. I’m serious about the thesaurus you know, you should find one. I think you got his attention, by the way.<

Evelina had her teeth grit, trying to calm her beating heart. Even as she continued to gather more and more light into that small orb of hers she could feel the beating of her heart to steadily become more from the strain of using her powers than the fear she felt, now mixed with a stubborn determination.

It was all a matter of time before whatever Alex had become turned around, allowing her to sear its retinas for good. But when Alex turned around, a pair of orbs of electricity pulsating in each of her palms, her hopes of that were broken. One of said orbs were thrown even before she could react to her turning around, and the other smashed into the ground almost immediately after. She simply didn’t have enough time to blind her before it was thrown at her, but she did have time for something else.

The light between her palms flew out, creating a small shield right in the path of the attack. Smaller size means more energy to put into the strength, is what she told herself. The ball hit, sending sparks everything, and it would have stopped it entirely if not for the fact that she had miscalculated its trajectory.

Stone and lightning flew everywhere from where it impacted the ground a few metres beside her, her shield having hit its edge and sent it careening off to the side rather than directly against her. Evelina herself was also thrown back, small shocks wracking her body from where stray bolts of electricity struck her body.

She was coughing and, brushing the hair out of her face, struggled to stand up again, the bolts of electricity having caused some few cramps. It hurt to stand, but she had to regardless. She couldn’t let that thing go, not without putting a permanent stopper to it. She let out a breath, her fear abating replaced instead by a small ember of anger. It was yet small, but it was enough.

:So you can finally hear me.

Aeshma’s claws dug into the earth as the ground shook. It wasn’t a very powerful shockwave, but familiarity tingled across his spine. Today is rather amusing… he thought as he turned, his perpetual grin still splitting his maw into a twisted smile. His cold blue eyes stared through the rising haze of dust. It seemed the woman from earlier had come back to play some more, and she brought a friend.

“Pandora the Curious…” Aeshma mused, noticing the woman’s hands, “I had a feeling that was you, Feeling timid are we?” What an appropriate time for Pandora to manifest, although, it was only partially. Aeshma was delighted at the new and slightly improved prey. But his delight lasted only a second as anger flared up from within him, Does she not think me worthy of her full form? A sneer replaced his grin, and an angry growl escaped from his throat. He ran at her, like an animal on all fours, seething on the inside.

Vladimira lifted a hand, feeling the truck and the assortment of junk in the back of it, Oh, definitely something interesting there. She floated the junk in the rear off, or at least the bits with steel. She secured a ‘grip’ on the truck, grinning maliciously as she bellowed at Aeshma, “I HAVE THE POWER OF MOTHER RUSSIA, BITCH!” she jerked her hand, sending the truck hurtling at Aeshma at a blistering speed.

Aeshma howled in blind frustration as the wreckage smashed into his side. The twisted metal whined as it piled ontop of him, igniting the fuel line. It took only seconds for the entire hunk of metal to burst into a raging inferno, fueled by leaking gasoline cans in the back of the truck. The flaming wreckage shifted as Aeshma worked his claws through it, slicing through the structurally compromised metals. He shook with rage as he walked from the blazing inferno, his body live with electricity.

”Now, we dance,” He growled, kicking up a cloud of dust as he sprinted towards her.

“Don’t like dancing,” Vladimira grumbled. She pulled a piece of metal towards her, pushing off of it as Aeshma neared her, gripping the same metal and swinging a 180 on it to propel herself at his back with her arm cocked to deliver a punch.

Aeshma dug his heels into the ground, violently stopping is momentum. Simultaneously he turned counter to his prey’s spin, his left leg arcing through the air as he pivoted on his opposite foot. They hit each other at the same time, the force of her punch connecting with his chest sent him reeling backwards. Vladimira had the breath knocked out of her as the kick connected with her armored chest, she braced as she went flying backwards, managing to slow her fall with another piece of scrap lying about, Aeshma scattered this stuff all over the place. Idiot.

Aeshma slid to a stop, his momentum leaving a narrow gouge in the ground. He laughed, suddenly jerking his hand out, electricity running down his arm to fire towards Vladimira in a thick bolt. Vladimira lept out of the way, throwing one of the larger chunks of the wreckage of the truck at Aeshma. >Oooh, I love how he telegraphs the attack like that. Think we could get him a neon sign that lights up and says, “I’m going to shoot lightning at you!”?< The hunk of metal screeched as Aeshma’s claws flashed through it with inhuman speed, giving the metal the appearance of breaking apart into smaller chunks as it collided with him.

Vladimira circled warily, keeping an eye on Aeshma as she pulled the various scraps of steel from the truck’s chassis, forming them into wickedly sharp rotating blades of steel that orbited her head. With a flick of her hand, they shot towards Aeshma like a swarm of oversized shuriken. She grabbed another scrap of metal and propelled herself to Aeshma’s side, launching the water bottle sized bar as fast as she could, following up with another arm cocked back to deliver a brutal punch to Aeshma’s face.

Aeshma’s claws flashed through the air as he sliced through the metal discs, shredding them into fragments. He caught the metal bar from his peripheral vision and altered its course with the back of his hand, narrowly avoiding it. The woman followed up with another punch, but Aeshma was not inclined to receive another one of those; he stepped to the side, grabbing her by the back of her clothes and using her momentum to throw her off balance and into the ground.

Vladimira swore as she went flying into the sand again. “Y’know. I’m really starting to dislike you.” She grumbled at Aeshma, dusting herself off before hurling herself at him again. “Just. Die. Already!” She shouted as she aimed a punch directly at Aeshma’s face. Aeshma stepped aside slightly, just enough to knock her punch out of the way; following up his deflection with a quick strike from his knee. Vladimira grunted as his knee connected with her gut, sending her flying again, but up this time. She grinned, grabbing one of the ridges on his head with her left hand to stop herself and smashing him in the face with her right. >Grabbing the bull by his horns! We need to get you a red cape. Maybe just a Darwin award though.<

Aeshma stumbled backwards, actually falling to the ground and catching himself in a crouched position. Soreness radiated from the side of his face, he had definately felt that. He was sloppy, overcome by her sheer need for survival. But he knew he was faster, stronger. She was only partially awakened, there’s no way she could match him. ”I grow tired of playing with you, whelp,” He seethed, irritation heavy in his voice.

Aeshma’s body suddenly lit up with streams of electricity, flowing along his body in sporadic bursts. The air too, became even more heavily charged as electricity streaked through it, jumping from molecule to molecule. Skywards, the dusty haze slowly gathered into a grayish mass, spread across the sky. ”No mores games,” He said, a blast of forked lightning flashing from his hand, branching out in a wide, but focused manner–Focused on Vladimira.
Well. Fuck. She pushed against Aeshma, trying to avoid the bolt of lightning. The bolt of electricity hit her dead center, charring her clothes and igniting them, and heating her armor to red hot. She fell to the ground spasming as her clothes burned. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. The bolt had been brief and she scrambled to her feet, putting as much distance between herself an Aeshma as she could.

She scrambled with the straps, dropping the red hot plate as the clothes that had been beneath and around it burned. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Tearing off her cloak, shirt, and ammunition pouches, she dropped her weapons and kicked sand over them to extinguish the flames. The lightning hadn’t charred her own flesh like she’d have thought it would’ve. Wonder why that is… She glanced down, noting her lack of clothing with alarm, then anger, “I really, really hate you right now.” She growled. All the scrap steel from her clothes and the truck flew to her, surrounding her in a swirling mass of wickedly sharp metal. >Oooh, flying blender that blends outwards! Very nice! Maybe you can just seduce him into not killing you though.<

Aeshma laughed, feeling the power surge through his body. ”You mortals… always concerned with appearances” He laughed, another bolt flashing from his hands and colliding with the metal scrap whirling around his topless opponent. Before the energy could fully disperse he sent another, fueling the myriad of electricity arcing through the metal, jumping from bit to bit. ”Come now, have we resorted to hiding? He mused, feeling once more in control of the situation.

“What? Who are you?” Evelina looked left and right, her head turning left and right in search of the voice.

:You need not speak aloud. I can hear you if you think your answer to me.

Evelina blinked, a hand rising to her head unwittingly, almost as if trying to feel for an alien precense. “Wha—” :Who are you?

:I believe I am what your people call a Spark. That which gives you your powers as an Immortal. As to who I actually am, I call myself Fianna. I would say it was nice to meet you, but we have been together for quite a while already, so I will settle for: Pleased to finally talk to you.

:You are what made me Immortal? Does that mean you are a human?

A sound like that of bells echoed in her mind, Evelina suspecting that it was this Fianna laughing. :No. I am not, nor will I ever be. I am, in fact, more akin to a sapient parasite, if I am to be honest.

:A virus? Like the Sickness? She received an impression of a figure nodding. :But you’re what allows me to control light? Another nod.

[i]:I am. When I… emerged, you were dying in the desert. The light of the sun affected both you and I, giving you the ability to bend light to your—and my—will. But Evelina, there are more important matters than the origin of our union and your powers. Look up.[i]

Evelina did as asked, looking up. The metal wielding woman was currently engaged in battle with that beast, the former of the two having something black covering her hands and lower arms. :How did she get up again? She was knocked out cold before.

:The black, beastly thing is called Aeshma, and is an Awakened form of us Sparks. He is the embodiment of rage and fury. Whoever is within no longer seems to be in control. The other woman, however, is only half awakened, it seems. I do not know how only her arms are affected, but it has happened. She paused for a few moments, during which Evelina quietly watched the fight progress. It was violent, to say the least, and she doubted she’d be able to defend against some of those attacks.

Fianna spoke again. The Immortal woman is half awakened, as I said, and Aeshma is fully awakened. That happens when a Spark, such as I, extends our influence to the outside of our Host’s body. It also increases said Immortal’s power substantially, in some cases even giving them new powers, although what they already have is empowered.

Her eyes widened, her heart skipped a beat. That was it, a chance, however small. :So… can you do the same? To me? Can you help me beat that… thing? Aeshma? Can you make me strong enough to beat him?

:Yes, and no. The tone of Fianna’s voice was strange, it was sad with a mix of something else that Evelina couldn’t quite put her finger on.

:Why no?

:I can do it, but it requires one of two things. Either I take over completely by force, taking your body for my own, even if only for a short while— Evelina shuddered involuntarily. That must have been what happened to that girl within Aeshma. —or I am to be allowed to do it by you. I can’t know your mind entirely, so it is up to you if you will allow me. I understand that it is a risk to take, given what is in front of you, bu—

:I’ll do it! Evelina grit her teeth, baring her fangs as she pulled her lips back in a snarl. :If I can just become strong enough to beat him, then I am willing to trust you, even despite… whatever.

Like she had gotten the impression of a nod before, now she got the impression of a smile. :Thank you, and I will also apologize in advance.

: What? Why?

Yet again that bell-like laughter rang out in her mind, only this time it sounded somewhat hollow, and saddened. Your mind was in a state of desperation when I first spoke to you, and you had already been… accepting of my presence, ever since I first made myself known to you through that dream. So I have been… extending my influence to outside of you ever since we started speaking. Forgive me. Look at yourself.

Evelina blinked yet again, a confused look on her face. She looked down at herself and was… shocked. Black chitin covered the entirety of her body, interlocking plates covering her torso, back, and sides, as well as single-piece plates covering most other places of her body. She looked, for all intents and purposes, humanoid. She had retained the wide hips of her human form, although a modest chest seemed to be sculpted into the chitin as well.

She continued the survey of herself, finding her feet to look like a pair of boots; flat footed, and like boots. Her hands were covered like everything else, although jointed at her knuckles and finger joints. At the tip of each finger extended a long, nail-like protrusion, thick and sharp like claws. The bigger surprise, however, was the horns extending from her temples, curving backwards following her scalp, a curving upwards again and narrowing into a needle-like tip, but even that paled in comparison to… something on her back. Craning turning her head enough that she could look behind her, she saw a pair of immense, appendages in the shape of leathery wings attached to the lower part of her back, but only with the skeletal structure of said wings, the joint turning upwards was tipped with a wicked looking point, thick and sharp and looking murderous to say the least, as were the ends of each ‘finger’ tipped with a wicked point, almost as murderous looking as the primary one.

: What is this? Evelina asked, wonder in her voice.

:My form, surrounding you.

Why… She looked at her own chitin, then at Aeshma’s. :Why is my… chitin? Different than his?

:Like you, I do not like violence, and prefer defense to whittle down my enemy. The chitin on your torso, back, lower arms and hands, legs and feet, and your ‘wings’ are reinforced, making you far more durable than anyone else. However, your wings are incredibly powerful and more than capable of being used as weapons, so do not be afraid of using them in a fight: They can take it. She chuckled, more light hearted this time. :I hope you like the hair, too. It’s your length, but like silver threads of light instead. I prefer that colour over red, to be honest.

Evelina shook her head, bringing a few of the silver strands into view. They were pretty, she had to admit, but that was far from important at the moment. Stopping Aeshma was. :Can I beat him now?

:You can, if you fight well. Your chitin is strong, but it will not hold forever. But remember this…

Evelina stood up fully, her fingers flexing and wings spread. The words of Fianna rang true in her mind, like a clarion call it rid her mind of fear and filled it with a determination unlike anything she had ever felt. She bent in her knees, wings spreading out behind her.

There are three things that a wise man will always fear. The storm on the sea, the moon in the night, and the anger of a gentle soul. Evelina’s eyes narrowed, the green light coming out from the eye holes in her chitin mask dimming.

:Let us be that soul.

Her body disappeared, dissolving into light at a moment’s notice. She rushed forward faster than even sound itself, invisible in the noon light. However, barely a split second before she was on Aeshma, she materialized, clawed hand extended towards his face as she rapidly closed the last remaining distance between them, a shimmering barrier surrounding it.

The sudden appearance of this new foe came as a great surprise to Aeshma, who was currently focused on his partially awakened opponent. The attack came so fast he didn’t have time to react as a fist suddenly materialized with the being, connecting with his face. The strike was far stronger than he would have anticipated, but he hardly had a thought other than pain as he was sent tumbling towards the ground.

He skid to a stop in the dirt. He stood, sneering with amusement. ”Ah.. Fianna..” He started, working his jaw from side to side to ensure it was still correctly in place. ”It’s still a mystery why you’re called ’The Gentle’.. that was one hell of a punch,” He complimented, laughing as he moved a little closer, still leaving some distance between them.

A slight glow radiated from every nook and crevice on his body as it filled with energy. The crackling torrents gathered around his body in swirls and sporadic bursts, bolting through the air and dissipating just as fast. Tiny arcs of lightning jumped between the tips of his claws as he concentrated his energy. ”Shall we?” He taunted.

Bento calmly rolled up a cigarette and watched as the woman he’d seen spilling Winged blood the other day appear from backstage. The various goons were in a bit of an uproar, but men who fought with intimidation often found themselves terrified by a man without fear. They wouldn’t dare to approach. The windcaller placed his freshly rolled cigarette between his lips and reached for the box of matches on the bar. He struck the match against the box and raised the flame to the end of his cigarette, igniting the loose tobacco and pulling in to form a nice coal. A cloud of smoke passed gently from his lips and hung in the air for a moment. As the swirling grey tendrils dispersed Bento’s eyes caught the red glare of a woman’s scorn; a sight he was not altogether unfamiliar with. She sat down next to him, letting the silence hang in the short distance between them. Bento took an easy drink, perfectly content to wait it out. If this bloody-sleeved girl was any judge of character then they both knew she would speak first.

A theif? Now that was amusing. “Lucy sent you a killer.” Bento replied, staring out at the scene around him, emotionless as ever. He took a long drag of his cigarette before continuing, “Poor bastard should count himself lucky. Any other day of the week and he’d have been as dead as he is stupid… Very.” Pouring the rest of his drink down his throat, Bento signaled for another. “You should invest in a lost and found. I don’t know how they do things in Serenity, but here in Russell City, you come between an Immortal, and the sunglasses he left at your bar… Well… I guess you’ve already seen what happens.”

"And what is a killer, but a thief of lives?" Lucania mused in reply, finally submitting to eye contact with the man. Lucy's killer was... not quite cadaverous, but he exuded an air of apathy. He was a large man, sculpted roughly by the harness of the Dust he reflected back at the world. In another life he could have been a leader, in this it appeared he had all but given up. He was senior to her-- although not buy as many years as he'd believe. He was a dirty man, a mangy man, and he seemed impartial to drink.

"In Serenity..." She began, following the man's gaze outward, "In Serenity, most Immortals have evolved past the fashion faux pas of wearing sunglasses indoors..." Gently un-clasping her purse, she fished out her own cigarette and lighter, unhealthy as it may have been, she was already breathing in enough second hand smoke to suffocate a small child, "Although, I suppose you already knew that," She set the tobacco alight, "And certainly, if you knew that, you know my of family, our reputation, myself..." She stole a short puff of smoke in the pause, "You must also know, then, that this establishment abides by that norm we've set in Serenity." Another silver stream of smoke added to a room already polluted with gray.

"You needed those sunglasses in the same way a flower needs bright petals..." Breathing out a weak cloud, she ran a hand through her own hair, feeling the daisies laced throughout, "Attention." She stated unflinchingly, "You wanted my undivided attention. Now you've got it." Curiosity filled her voice, "So tell me; for what purpose did Lucy send me a killer?"

Bento received his second drink, sipping at it more slowly than the last. “It must be nice living in a world where all things revolve around a single, fixed point.” He replied, letting the insult hang in the air as he took a long drag of his cigarette. “Let me tell you a story… It begins with a man, captured by the Forsaken. They torture this man in ways you can hardly imagine. The beasts in those dungeons are by far the most creative sadists in the known world, and are given free reign upon the flesh of their enemies…” The Immortal paused, allowing Lucania to linger on the thought.

Bento took a drag at his cigarette and a drink from his glass before continuing, telling the story as if it were a folk tale, rather than an autobiographical one. “One of their favorite things to do was starve a prisoner for about a week or two, and then throw them in a cell with another starved prisoner. The first time it happens, a man tries to resist. He holds out as long as he can, continuing to starve himself. You don’t sleep. You watch your partner, vigilant at all times until one man finally breaks. The second time, you don’t wait. You know that nobody is coming for you. You know that this man will die. Dragging it on for another week will only make it harder…”

“Well, eventually they throw this man in the mines, opening up the dungeons for new victims… And for the next six years this man sleeps underground, works underground, and by all expectations will die underground. Except he convinces his masters that he is trustworthy; he bares before them a broken soul and they bring him outside. The winds pick up around him, his Immortal powers returning. He slaughters them all, and from the bloody scar that he has carved into the earth, the man retrieves a gun, a vest, and a pair of sunglasses…” At this, Bento paused again, filling his lungs again with the sweet taste of death. She could connect the dots from there.

Bento tipped his drink back and drained it before finally turning to look Lucania in the face. “Russell City ain’t gonna play by your rules just cause you threw up a couple walls in it. So you want to ask why Lucy send you a killer? Because this sure as shit isn’t Serenity, kid, and when the Wings come busting through that door over there? Well... You’d better have a fucking pair of sunglasses…”

A slave.

On some level, that made sense to Lucania. The man seemed to have that look unique to the Forsaken about him. The Castalia's interactions with those black flag waving brutes had been all but non-existent, how she came to understand it, the small amount of dark-hearted marauders that might have posed a threat to Castalia territory came to understand that starting a battle of 'brain versus brawn' would be fruitless endeavor. Still, Lucania had seen the caravan, and that dreadful, empty look that slaves had about them.

In another lifetime, back when the Castalia family was just a group of razor blade, penny grabbing hoodlum in the territory that would become Serenity. She may not have shown, or even felt, that tinge of pathos she felt as he talked of his experiences with torture.

Interesting.

Yes, interesting indeed, that all it took was 30 years in bunkers to completely erase all strides humanity had taken in the Old World to eradicate the institution of human enslavement. Less interesting, more tragic, that her stock, the Castalia's, were not exempt from such barbarism.

Lucania sighed, cigarette hovering near lips just slightly agape.

Take it all with a grain of salt.

"Hmmm..." Lucania shifted her weight under the man's intense glare, "Compelling." She didn't break his gaze, and with a calm drag, she calculated each word that followed, "Bravado, too." She blew out a plume of smoke, "You enter my establishment, with the recommendation of my dear sister, I might add, spill the blood of my cousin and openly taunt those who might retaliate," A smirk appeared on her face, a playful golden gleam entered her eyes, "And you appear completely unphased, by the way!" The smirk remained, while her eyes dimmed to a thoughtful, critical brown, "Based on that alone, I'd say you were after my heart, sir!"

"Of course, I can even understand why you might resent me. Perhaps you feel the need to highlight the differences between yourself and I? Remind me of my privileged with a story to pluck at the strings of the heart you're after for employ? I can understand that." Her eyes narrowed slightly, a thin stream of smoke was blown out of her mouth as she leaned in, "What I hope you can understand, is that I prefer you to keep your personal affairs separate from business... And from this moment forward, we will be discussing business."

As she extinguished the still burning cigarette butt, levity returned to her eyes, "It just so happens that I might be in the market for a killer." Her grin became coy, "Although, I do sincerely hope you realize that an important part of the position would be my protection from those who might... otherwise persuade me to wear said sunglasses. I will not hide who I am, be it in Serenity or Russel, Mr...?"

Of course, she had somehow managed to turn it all back on herself. She even constructed a narrative where all his actions were in some way orchestrated with some grand plan in mind. If that was the case she must have thought very highly of him, despite having known him for but a few minutes. Perhaps she was falling for him like her sister had? If there was one thing Bento didn’t need, it was any more Castalia women crawling into his bed…

“Cullen. The Windcaller.” Bento replied, maintaining his lie. “Do not misunderstand me, I do not hold your birth against you, nor do I desire pity. I share my story with you to show you that I have no interest in bravado. Your cousin has bravado; it is a hollow confidence, and it will get him nowhere. You wonder if I am willing to protect you? I’d walk into a den of thieves and murderers, and kill a man over a pair of sunglasses. I’d insult the bloodiest mafia enforcer in the Dust just to speak my mind. What do you think I’d do for the kind of life someone like you could give?”

"I should hope you'd do whatever I may ask of you!" She said, laughing at her own joke for an instant. Her composure became more temperate as it became apparent that the Windcaller didn't share her enthusiasm, "I think you'll take the calculated risks." Lucania concluded.

"Call me an optimist-- for perhaps I'm overestimating a stranger's abilities. But I don't think you knew he wouldn't fight back, or that I wouldn't take deadly offense-- I don't think you knew you could display your strengths to me. I think you were comfortable wagering your own life for the risk of displaying that strength. I appreciate that quality..." She glared at the empty glass near Cullen, "Or, you could be drunk?" Shrugging, she continued, "Though, I doubt someone with zero inhibitions would be so critical of those displaying bravado..."

"So," She clasped her hands together, "A killer, a thief, a Windcaller, and a risk-taker! Seeking not the bravado and hubris that lies in public adoration, but content in his own silent satisfaction... You know, in another life, men like you were the greatest enforcers,"

And, coincidentally, the greatest detectives...

"Let's say I were to seek your service in this very moment, Cullen. I want you to tell me-- what do you get out of the arrangement?"

Bento took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled to the side as Lucania told her joke. He allowed her the moment to laugh at her own joke. It was fortunate she did in fact; God knew the windcaller wouldn’t have. “I assure you, I am not drunk, and I am indeed confident that you have not overestimated my abilities. And I am equally as confident that in time you will find that I am even more dangerous than you might have initially observed, Ms. Castalia.” Taking a final drag of his cigarette, the Immortal put out the burning ember in the ashtray. “As for my terms… I will protect you and your interests, and in exchange you will provide for my needs. Food, drink, shelter, and whatever other things I might need to fulfill my job. I will take any life you ask me to in exchange for an agreed upon price, dependent upon the difficulty of the assignment. In addition, I ask for one high grade rifle round for each extra life I take under your employ.” Bento paused for a moment, contemplating all the things he could ask of the Dust’s most powerful criminal organization. Drugs, women, power…

“Also, I want the idiot to admit the sunglasses were mine. I’m not a fucking thief…”

Smoke hung still in the air between the two, Cullen let his terms known, Lucania, ignoring the unsure glare Carmela gave the man, let him say his piece. The clank of glass hitting the wood, the unsure steps of waitresses and alcoholics, and the swaggering beat the band played... they all fell behind the man's words, his demands. He was certainly sure of himself, and that quality is what piqued Lucania's interest in the man the most. She couldn't be sure it wasn't all bravado, but frankly, unlike the man, who probably only had the strength of his character to call his own-- she didn't care.

'In addition, I ask for one high grade rifle round for each extra life I take under your employ'

Lucania broke her stoic business face with a bit of mirth. A negotiator! "And what's to stop you from going on a rampage under my employ? What if my cousin bleeds out? Do you think his life would be worth one high grade round?" Lucania paused, letting the question sink in, "He's my blood, and I hesitate to say he's even worth an arrowhead..." The clank of glass filled the smokey gray air, "I'll pay high grade for any immediate threats neutralized-- I can agree on negotiation for assigned commissions-- extra lives can also be negotiated."

Lucania stood, already envisioning the best way to curve her voice around the room in her mind's eye. She yelled, "Tommy!"

Bento watched as Tommy began to eagerly make his way over to the bar, and how the man’s smug grin and confident swagger gradually shifted towards a more puzzled expression. Before him, the outsider that had spilt the blood of the family sat next to it’s most brutal enforcer, looking calm and collected. Far from shaking in his boots as he would have expected, Bento stared back, eyes still concealed behind those damned sunglasses. “Very well, I can agree to those terms.” He said, signaling for another drink from the bartender.

“Wen weze finished wit you, y-ai’nt gonna look so bored n all, ya stupid fuck.” Tommy said, mustering up what little courage he had left under a strong façade. "Wat gives cuz? Why ain’t dis cazzo piece a shit face down in da dirt, eh?” He continued, his true insecurities beginning to surface.

"Tommy," Lucania placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "This man-- our esteemed guest, our new... no, my new employee would like you to apologize for--" She turned to Cullen, "Just the sunglasses, right?"

“Just the sunglasses.” Bento confirmed, simultaneously reaching over to retrieve his drink from the bartender.

“No ways Bawss! Youze really gonna work wit dis jabroni fuck? I ain’t bout ta ‘pologize to no pazzo goner!” Tommy exclaimed, pausing to spit in Bento’s drink, turning to speak directly to his former assailant. “I gots a reputation ‘round he-ah, an weze Castalyaz gots honor fa da family, ya hear me? Youze ain’t gettin’ aways wit dis!” As he spoke, Tommy raised his bloody and roughly bandaged hand, displaying it in testament to the crimes Bento had committed against the family. In response the Immortal grabbed him by the wrist, as he shot a quick look over to the lady with the tommy gun, warning her not to interfere.

“You really want to try your luck with me another time? Pull a gun, motherfucker, I dare you.” The windcaller shot back, a trace of disdain creeping into his usual wooden demeanor. Tommy took the challenge and reached for the back of his waistband, and wrapped his fingers around a 9mm pistol, pulling it from his pants. In the interest of fairness, Bento had given him a head start, waiting until the gun was exposed before making his move. Drawing his right leg across his body, Bento then swept it back, hard. The motion took Tommy right off his feet, causing him to fall towards the ground, let down by Bento, who had maintained his hold on the other man’s wrist, rising to his feet as Tommy sank.

Tommy cried out in pain as the Immortal poured his drink out on the man’s wound. Pushing through the pain, Tommy raised his other arm, trying to point his gun at Bento’s head. Dropping the empty glass to the floor, he shot out a foot, knocking the gun out of Tommy’s hand, and sending it skidding across the floor. In a flash, Bento dropped a hand to his side, cocking and drawing his own weapon before Tommy could scream out the words, “I’m sorry!” Bento released the man’s wounded hand and stood up straight. “I don’ wanna die! Cuz?! Help! Please! I ain’t know deyz was yer glasses, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!” Tommy sniveled, his true nature finally revealed. He was nothing more than a coward, hiding behind the protection his name had afforded him his entire life.

“Learn to shut your mouth. You’ll live longer.” Bento eased the hammer down and holstered his weapon. Tommy was astounded by what had just happened. There was no trace of anger in his assailant’s voice, and his attack had been preformed without fear, or even the passionate rage one might have expected. Far more terrifying in fact, it appeared Bento had fought with cold indifference. “I apologize for the scene, Miss Castalia.” Bento said sincerely, “There will be no further incidents. With these terms met, I am now under your employ. From this point on, my hand is yours."

"Scene?" Lucania giggled, "He looked as if he might wet himself-- honestly, he still might!" The mirth on her face only served to further Tommy's shame. As he walked away, tail-between-legs, Lucania's laughter continued, un-stifled. If only she could have hired someone to torment that entitled brat before... "No, no Cullen-- you're getting a bonus for that, that was golden..." Gently unclasping her purse, she pulled out an excessively polished .308 bullet-- a sniper round. Snipers were few and far between in The Dust-- allowing for the usage of ornate golden bullets such as those to shine more as currency than as tools of long-range death.

No, Lucania tossing the bullet the short distance from where she sat to where Cullen was, was quite the opposite of a 'long range death.'

The ever present woman off to the side, Carmela, gave the worlds most silent scoff to signal her disapproval.

"What?" Lucania said with some effort, residual laughter still managing to surface from within. "You've never made him run off like that."

The woman shrugged in response.

"Threatening to castrate him isn't the same thing, Carmela!" Lucania sighed, a sigh filled with a repeated exasperation, "Not only do La Cosa Nostra tennants forbid it, but honestly, I think it's starting to become a little bit tacky for us. Don't you think?"

Carmela crossed her arms.

And it became Lucania's turn to shrug in response, "Cullen's my associate-- he isn't blood, same rules don't apply to him." She waved as if the topic was as physical as the smoke that hung in the air, something she could dissipate with a wave of her hand, "And technically, he wasn't even my associate then, you know..." As her giggles returned to her, that signified the death of that conversation, and the birth of another, "He probably needed to stop using that hand so much anyway," She looked to Cullen, "If anything, you did him a favor. Maybe now he won't go blind!"

As she said the word 'blind' a sax player struck a discordant note causing momentary lapse in Lucania's joy, causing her to look to the stage. Observing the band, her mind still on business, even as she laughed at her own jokes.

Perhaps we should hire a few comedians for the bar...?

How very girlish Lucania was acting. Was it an act? She actually couldn't be sure. She certainly hadn't been this... expressive... in quite a while. Either way-- It was certainly in heavy contrast, or perhaps in direct opposition, to her surroundings and company. Despite being open to the public for less than 24 hours, the golden gleam of the bar was already becoming a smokey, subdued brass. Carmela the stoic stood to her left, and sitting to her left was a man, who despite being capable, was very clearly not cashing in on any talents he may posses.

They sat, as equals in immortality and employee and employer; like some socially conscious 20th century painting they contrasted each other. 'The rich aristocrat and her dour companions' would be titled, water colored, most likely. Perhaps the rich aristocrat could even be sitting, giggling, showering in her excess unconsciously, while planted firmly on horse. To further highlight differences in class.

"So, Mr. Cullen..." She began, a few drinks later, a few songs later, "Are you at all familiar with Aqueon crime?"

Bento swung his leg over Tommy’s flattened body, allowing him to hobble off in peace. Lucania’s pleasure was unexpected, but certainly spared the windcaller any sort of verbal concessions and apologies he might have been compelled to make himself. The question remained however, was she a true sadist, or merely unaware of the brutal realities of violence and pain. Wealth has long proved an effective shield. “I aim to please.” Bento joked dryly, easily raising a hand and capturing the valuable currency tossed his way. The Immortal remained standing for a moment, watching the interaction between Lucania and her silent guardian, Carmela. Their exchange was interesting in both its one-sidedness, and the familiarity and ease with which Lucania spoke. The subtext within the wordless communication between employer and employee suggested a closeness and depth to their relationship uncommon in others of a similar dynamic.

Bento locked eyes with the solemn protector. Between the stoic bodyguard and the stone-faced champion an understanding passed unspoken. Bento’s had no intention to step on anyone’s toes. He understood that he was an outsider, and as Lucania so expertly noted, his greatest value hinged upon his remaining that way.

The bartender begrudgingly came over with a dustpan to clean up the broken glass on the floor. “I apologize for the mess.” Bento said. As casually as it had been passed to him, Bento discarded the golden bullet into pile of glass in the dustpan as the bartender stood to take it away. “And if you could bring a bottle over, that would be appreciated.” The poor man probably deserved it far more than Bento did. Besides, wealth was of no object to a man like him.

“Thank you, sir!” The bartender replied, picking out the bullet and moving on to take care of his duties. Bento returned to his seat by Lucania and enjoyed a few more quality drinks as they sat in silence listening to the band on stage. Lucania broke the silence with her question, introducing a new topic to be discussed, presumably in regards to their future business.

Bento pulled out a rolled cigarette from the case in his vest, “Aqueon crime?” He repeated? Placing the cigarette between his lips. Striking a match from the bar, the Immortal lit the tobacco, “Territory split between the Yakuza holed up in the main city centers, and the Traids controling the periphery. Both bound by their silly criminal honor code? I used to work for the Yakuza part time up in Gate’s Pass. Feels like another life, but it’s barely been a month since I left. Mostly just bounced for one of their brothels, their code is very particular about outsiders, but it wasn’t too hard to pick up enough of what was going on.” Bento paused and took a drag, “But I’m sure you don’t need a lesson on the subject, I’ve no doubt you’ve already done your homework… The question is: what is it that the Castalias are after in Aqeuon territory? Taking on the Triads, or betraying the Yakuza?”

Lucania's lips parted as the spoke, the experience with which the man spoke was impressive, and useful, knowledge, even bare bones of the constantly changing complexities of Aqueous traditions. Most Motum Diversum citizens seemed too content with the relative comforts of the Wing patrolled streets to ever acquire any knowledge of Aqueon culture beyond 'they give us water, they have a weird honor religion!?!?!?' It was always a pleasant surprise to find people who were more than just a trigger finger and a gun-- even moreso when those people came to her, an even better bonus when the man stabs the sniveling cousin she'd wanted to do the same too for years. A fitting parting gesture from Lucy to somehow find the man. He was very clearly no ordinary citizen-- if his Immortality wasn't proof, his combat prowess and knowledge were ample evidence.

The dream she had last night came to mind, again. She had held a conversation with her mother, where they spoke, in esoteric terms, about change, about surprise.

It was almost as if she knew...

"Honestly..." Lucania leaned back in her chair, contemplating the question. A question she had been avoiding, a question the Immortal Windcaller didn't even hesitate to ask. "I don't know yet." She answered honestly, her eyes aimlessly surveyed the room, wandering thoughts laced her voice, "I suppose I'm still looking for other options." Shaking her head, she continued, "The Yakuza, honorbound by an agreement with the Triads, have enlisted our family to do what they want, but can't. Neutralize the threat. All with the promise of discounted water, greater profits and swaths of Southern Aqueon land." Signaling for a waiter, Lucania requested a cup of coffee, two sugars... and a Bloody Mary, "My father, a very likely candidate for the most incompetent Sottocapo in the history of the Cosa Nostra, obliviously relayed the news to yesterday. It comes from his father--" She raised her hand, waving away both smoke and the details of her family's... complicated situation, "I'm sure you already know the situation. Our Capo parrots the orders of a dreadful snake of a man, who himself isn't even of Castalia blood," Lucania looked at the drying bloodstains Tommy had left on Cullen, "Not to imply that that's worth much..." She gave a heaving sigh, "It's just..."

“Here you are, ma'am.” A bartender, the same as before, returned from the kitchen with Lucania's interesting beverages. Her attention never shifted from her conversation with Cullen, but she did pause she mumble a 'thanks Scotty' and obliviously toss the man a shiny bullet of some caliber or another. “Thanks Miss Castalia!”

At least he was having a good morning.

"Mmm.." Lucania's body shuddered from the first sip of the coffee, "Damn fine..." She whispered, the steam of the cup wafted around her face, melding with the smokey atmosphere. A warmth traveled through her body as she drank of the dark garmanbozic nectar, speeding her thoughts, life, an awareness of her heart's beat-- NOW she was awake.. She continued, now with caffeine fueled vigor, "You might not care about any of this-- but it's context for what we'll be doing over the next few days. I think context is important to keep in mind when you consider doing a job, and doing that job right." She took another slow, appreciative sip, "You're right, in that Aqueous honor traditions can be silly. Needlessly silly. And so is my family-- I could give you a million anecdotes about the inefficiency of my family following the traditional mafia rules, to this day and age. It was something to provide a sense of identity in the beginning, sure. But now it's being exploited by a rat to kill us off and take control for himself." She blew on the cup, "Paolo the rat..." She muttered between sips, "That can work for us though. All of it. I just need to keep it in mind when I consider our options..."

"I'm not sure the game he's play in having me sent alone to conduct his underhanded diplomacy, but I know there's a way to play the cards to my favor..." Another type of shudder shook her body as she exchanged the coffee for the Bloody Mary, "That's where you come in. The River Dragon Triad of Tas is strong, 30,000 strong, last I checked, full of Immortals, known for their collective strength, unique battle techniques, and connections to Old World Hong Kong. Honestly, the Castalia's couldn't take them head on if we wanted-- you've seen the states of most of our members, men like Tommy, my Father-- if we had 1,000 truly competent men like Leo, then maybe..." She clenched the bridge of her nose, the Bloody Mary hitting her system, "It can't be helped..." She muttered, switching back to her coffee, "What does matter is that the Yakuza knows we couldn't take them directly, WE know we can't. Our specialty has always been our sneakiness... our scheming, certainly not our strength. Buying our enemies. You already know this."

"So then, why send easily identified Bloody Sleeves, polylingual heiress, known publicly throughout Aqueous, with no instructions besides..." Her voice became an amalgamation between he father's and Paolo's, "'Figure it out, Princess!'" A sip of coffee, followed by Bloody Mary, followed by another stutter, "Alone, into potentially hostile territory, to broker... something?" She exhaled, her tendency to be needlessly wordy was beginning to show, "Either the Yakuza wants the Castalias to fail, Paolo wants me to fail, perhaps both, or... something more... sinister is going on."

Bloody Mary. How appropriate, Bento mused. He would probably do well to switch to something lighter than straight whiskey himself, as he had started to feel a little more than loose. Signaling for a coffee as well, the Immortal continued to listen to Lucania explain the situation she found herself in. The situation he had been hired to fix. Bento took a long drag of his cigarette, tapping off the end into the ashtray as he released a thick plume of smoke from his lips. When the coffee quickly arrived Bento kept quiet, watching the potent, physical response spreading through Lucania’s face as she drank. A brief pang of subdued envy struck the Immortal; it had been a long time since he had felt something that way. The windcaller raised the dark liquid to his lips and drank deeply. He felt nothing. It was the simple things that hung heaviest in a weary heart. Bento poured the rest of his whiskey into the coffee.

Casting aside the few remnants of emotion he had left, Bento returned to the issue at hand. Lucania had been right, the former special operator indeed knew far more about the Castalia family than he let on. He had no personal interactions with them, but he’d read the files once upon a time. Much had changed in the past six years however, and with his newly updated perspective, Bento began to run the options in his head. Exchanging the hard coffee for his cigarette, he continued to listen intently. Another plume escaped his lips, “The Yakuza are bloodthirsty and brutal… It doesn’t surprise me that they would try to break their agreement with the Triads.” Bento stopped a moment, not wanting to push against his new boundaries, but he found himself determined to be more than just another gun. Cautiously he proceeded, “Forgive me if I speak out of place, but according to your own estimations, this rat of yours does not have the necessary power to hold the Yakuza in check, should they take over the Aqueous territory. A pack of bloodhounds is only useful so long as they remain on their leashes, and I fear that this is not their intention. I do not mean to overstep my bounds in saying so, but I suggest you broker a deal with the Triads instead. By informing them of the Yakuza’s treachery, you free them from their agreement, and allow them to assault the Yakuza a full strength. From there, I can easily take care of your little rat problem. Unless of course, you’d prefer to do it yourself, in which case I can easily drag him before you for judgment…”

As Cullen spoke, Lucanaia alternated between partaking the spicy kick of the Bloody Mary and the unenervating liquid silk that was the coffee, she found that she consumed the latter with far more gumption than the former. Lucanaia watched the plume of smoke leave his lips, her own obscured by a slowly draining glass of red liquid. He spoke from experience, but something else... regret? contemplation? He knew the Triads and Yakuza-- more intimately than he let on-- but she couldn't tell where it all comae from. His tells were either well hidden, or completely worn away. Both...? It was moments like this that she wished everyone, or at least other immortals, shared her ocular condition... or that they were playing poker.

Christ, that's strong.

Back to the coffee; As she finished the mug, Cullen too, finished with a piece of advice. He was right, about a lot of it-- but not all. The sweet aroma of freshly roasted beans was already beginning to be replaced with the dull smoke again. She clicked her tongue, an annoyance expressed less at Cullen-- he proposed a very likely scenario-- and more at the situation.

"If only this were a rat we could snuff with an exterminator..." With a shrug, she broke into an easy smile, "Is it ever that simple though? Traditionally, a man in his role serves as an advisory figure to the Capo, otherwise detached from the Mafia... But our rat..." She cast an amused glare to Cullen, "Paolo Rivera? Senator, Serenity's power mogul? You partied with his wife last night?" She took a giggling swig of the drink, "He's done a good job keeping his relationship to us quiet publicly... But he's fostered a relationship with our men, shown them a lazy excess our ancestors fought to change."

The same ancestors whose traditions made all this silly infighting and corruption possible.

"Were I to oust him so simply, I'd wager we'd loose half the manpower he's won over in a about a week." She found her gaze wandering back to the band, "He's cultivated for us a gang of hedonists-- For over 200 years, the Castalias maintained a comfortable control of Serenity. That man begins advising my grandfather around the time I'm born, and we expand from Parkland to Wolfwater to Russel. Most of it was needless expansion, what wasn't was overseen personally by me. Now, we're going to be facing a full assault from the Wings, and we've nowhere left to expand-- it's suicide to approach Aqueon and Forsaken cities. In-fighting is going to be inevitable, soon, and he knows it. I want to avoid that for as long as possible."

"Don't mistake that as making exceptions," She added quickly, an edge to her voice, "I have every intention of killing him. I'd just like to minimize the inevitable fallout. He's got a materialistic love among some in the family-- killing him out in the open would make him some kind of martyr-- whereas killing 'Bloody Sleeves' would be like... putting down an emotionally rabid dog..." She sighed, letting a particularly soulful bass solo play out before she continued, "We need to be smart about it."

"Right now, though-- that's neither here nor there!" She clasped her hands together, a golden mirth returning to her irises, "I agree completely with your assessment of the situation at hand. Allying with the Triads could put us in a position of power against the Yakuza and serve as a powerful ally against the rat." She stood, "Of course, they'd see Bloody Sleeves coming from a thousand miles away atop their Kowloon skyscrapers, and I imagine the Wings are frothing at their mouths about now..." With a chuckle, she gave another shrug, "I suppose it's time to re-brand." Pausing after the statement, she stared into space, as if processing the contents of an entire library.

When she spoke again, it was in a different, smokier voice.

"And you, Windcaller? I mean no offense, but your outfit is... Umm... rather threadbare.."

Bento drank his dirty coffee and reflected on the situation Lucania had laid out before him. She was right, of course. Bento had little taste for politics, but even he had to admit the situation warranted a little more finesse than his usual bull-in-the-china-shop routine. It should have been obvious of course, that in his attempts at navigating the criminal underworld, the Immortal would be a playing a very different game than before. His entire life Bento had been working to destroy empires; it would be interesting to be a part of building one. He had to admit he was a little surprised to hear that Lucy was married. Guilt played no part in it, she just really didn’t really seem like the type thinking about settling down. Perhaps it was more politics. Poor girl.

By the time Lucania finished explaining the situation and their path forward, Bento had finished his coffee. The comment about his clothes provoked little more than an amused grunt as the windcaller finished his cigarette and discarded the butt into his empty cup on the bar. “That’s sounds like a rather fair assessment. Not only of the present situation, but-” He began, pausing for a look down at ragged shirt and dusty vest. The whole ensemble had been greyed significantly since he came into possession of it, not to mention the numerous bloodstains, both new and old. “The slums certainly can take hold of a man…”

Whatever was happening, it had begun to kick up a lot of dust, and Ivan was thankful as he could begin to properly see the silhouettes moving through the airborne particles, watching as the earth clung to people and their things which allowed him to begin seeing shapes. Shapes like claws, and eerily natural looking armor that moved with inhuman swiftness. Energy arced through the air, creating strings of invisible light and now clutched by fear Ivan understood what was happening.

"Hollow," he breathed, slinking further down the hill and trying to analyze his options. His instinct told him to run, and just leave the other two people down there to meet whatever fate would befall them. They were immortals, one could bend some sort of energy- electricity maybe, and the other could shift metal, surely they would be alri-

Ivan's train of thought was silenced by the dry, inhuman laughter he heard. Nobody deserves to die to a hollow, he thought, worming back up the hill and shouldering his rocket launcher. His plan was simple: Shoot at the hollow and create a distraction, maybe even hurt it. Should the thing give chase Ivan had outrun them before. So he steadied the weapon and looked along the barrel, aiming for the hollow as his better judgement told him to run. He hadn't fired though, no. Before he could pull the trigger something happened that could have made his hair go white. It hadn't been one of the people that was wielding the arcs of energy, it was the monster, and Ivan watched as the dust in the air became further disturbed before the hollow slammed the ground and sent an explosive cloud erupting into the air.

"Nope," he breathed, pushing his weapon into the sleeve on his backpack and letting the dust beneath him slide away. He was behind the hill moving quickly, crouched low to the ground as a mound of dirt rolled him away at a rather impressive speed. I'm not a coward- just smart, he told himself, thinking briefly about which direction the truck had come from and altering his course slightly. New plan: find where the truck came from, find the people there that would have guns, tell them to get the fucking lead out and hunt down whatever that thing is.

---------------------------------------------------------------

There came a point that James realized he was in over his head. He slowed his pace from a run, to a jog, and then came to a full stop just less than a kilometer away from where the fight was taking place. Something told him he was completely misreading this situation. What it was that perturbed him, he didn’t quite know, but there was something about the hollow, something different. Well, that much was obvious; immortals don’t turn into hollows. Even still, it wasn’t that exactly that got to him, it was the hollow itself. Was it even a hollow?

As the dust around them grew thick, James had to focus to keep track of what was happening. Even for him, the cloud of sand was proving a challenge to see through. Still, he could make out a few details, like that the woman who got knocked out came to. James would have said that was a good thing if her hands didn’t seem to grow a sort of black armor. Out of nothing. Almost like that of the hollow.

It was at this moment James knew that getting involved would be futile at best and fatal at worst. It crossed his mind that he should probably run, but at the same time he was curious. That and it would probably prove advantageous for him to know more about what exactly was happening and what these things were.

He heard a shifting in the sands to his left. He turned and saw another figure not too far off, moving opposite the direction James had been going but parallel to his own path. The person was clad completely in padding and dirty rags, no flesh exposed as even their head was hidden by a cloth bag. Poking out over their back was a loaded rocket launcher, and they kept one gloved fist over the handle in preparation of drawing the weapon.

Ivan's legs didn’t move as he rushed over a small dune, gliding over the dirt on a small pile of rolling dust. In a fluid motion he spun on his heels while keeping his momentum in the same direction, looking back the way he’d just come. As Ivan spun to face forward again, chance would have it that it would be as he passed where James stood, and Ivan’s hooded face became locked in his direction. The mound of dust he had been riding melted away, and his heels ground into the earth to stop at what was about thirty meters from this other person who he currently only saw as a dusty pair of pants and boots. Unsure what to do, Ivan just stood there, watching behind a cloth mask with one fist still over the rocket launcher’s handle.

“Another one?” James couldn’t help but say aloud. This man, at least he assumed it was a man, had a fairly imposing stature, one which his attire of ratty-looking scraps of cloth helped to accentuate. It seemed rather peculiar to him that for the first time he’d ever seen other immortals he’d happened upon four of them. Given the way he held the rocket launcher, it wouldn’t at all surprise him if he were about to put it to use.

“I wouldn’t use that thing, personally,” James said. He looked back towards the fight, just in time to see the third woman begin to transform as well. “Shiiiiit. I definitely wouldn’t use it now,” he added. This fight was getting out of hand, but what good would that rocket launcher do? Given the way the fight was going on, it definitely seemed as though the hollows, or immortal hollows, or whatever they were still retained their powers. At this point, any conventional weaponry would likely prove to be inefficacious. At that thought, James let out a defeated sigh and unloaded his AK. “Dammit. What can we do at this point other than watch?” He chuckled a bit. “I mean, I guess we could get help, but how much good do you think that’ll be?”

For a short while Ivan had only stood in silence, almost drawing his weapon after hearing what sounded like a gun but keeping his head about him as he listened to what James had to say. At the mention of a fight, Ivan turned his head for a moment to look back the way he had come and could see the cloud of dust was already a fair ways away but still close enough to hear some of the sounds of battle.

“You saw that shit too then!?” Ivan croaked, having raised his voice at all for the first time in a while. To avoid half shouting anymore to speak, Ivan let his fist drop from his weapon’s handle and began approaching the man at a steady pace, stopping again only when they were a few feet apart. “What’s going on back there,” he stated, pointing back to the static cloud of dirt floating in the air, “it isn’t right. The ‘ell are you doing out here anyways?” he then accused, noticing a breeze come by and taking advantage of it to wave some dirt onto this man’s upper body hopefully without notice. Ivan believed his identity as ‘immortal’ had yet to be realized, his abilities having been mistaken before for simply slipping down the sides of dunes. Gusts of wind always kicked up dust as well, sometimes it just needed a push in the right direction.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Immortals don’t turn into hollows, and no one turns into a hollow that goddamned quickly,” James replied. His eyes instinctively moved towards the man’s hand as he seemed to motion for the sand to flow with it. His timing was good, but James could still see the difference between the sand that was naturally kicked up in the wind and the sand this man seemed to manipulate. “Your subtlety may fool some, but not much gets by me,” he said, turning his gaze to the man’s face. “I’m not sure what you were trying to accomplish just then, but I can tell you’re an immortal. Don’t worry, you’re in good company,” he said, turning and lifting his goggles briefly to give the man a good look at his eyes.

Even from here, James could hear the punch the winged one inflicted on the first… thing, sending it tumbling back and kicking up a fair amount of dust with it. James turned back towards the fight, lowering himself to a crouch and sticking the stock of his AK into the sand to use it as a support. “As for what I’m doing here, that’s not really your business but I’ll tell you anyways. I was on my way to Russell City, saw the commotion and had to see what was happening. At this point I almost wish I had just ignored it. Either way, it would seem prudent to observe, lest something like this happens again,” James said, very matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” was the only response Ivan could muster, surprised by the casual and collected tone James spoke with. He took a moment to absorb what had just been said, mostly piecing together what he’d spoke of after so casually mentioning that he knew of Ivan’s immortal status. “Good company,” he mused briefly, looking down as James crouched, “I like good company.”

In a fluent motion Ivan crossed his legs and sat on the ground beside where James sat, turning his attention to the brawl and placing his hands on his knees. “I’m assuming ‘good company’ means ‘fellow immortal’, am I correct?” he then asked, having been unable to see James’ eyes when they were shown to him. In fact Ivan was unable to really see any of James’ head as it was, with his legs and boots being most visible and his upper body very faintly dusted. “I’m Ivan by the way,” he then added, for a moment forgetting why he had been fleeing not long ago. The very prospect of someone to speak with entertained him, and at being shown no hostility it further intrigued the rag covered man.

“Well, if we’re using the colloquial term, then yes I am an immortal. You can call me James,” James replied as the man sat down. The telltale details of Ivan not realizing James was immortal, even after he plainly showed his eyes, took a moment to catch up with him. James hadn’t gotten a good look at Ivan’s eyes but he could see them well enough, and while there weren’t any visible pupils to speak of, he figured that was simply a part of his mutation. Was he blind? It wasn’t impossible. Maybe him being able to see through some sort of medium was how he had been able to detect James. It was something he would have to ask the man later, but for now James’ focus was on the fight at hand.

Ivan nodded with the mention of James’ name, smiling slightly under his hood but quickly returning his attention to the electrified cloud of dust the two were now observing. While he still intended to go tell someone in the city, he saw it as beneficial to stay here for the time being. While he was unable to properly observe the fight from here like James seemed to want, this had been the first time for a few years Ivan had spoken with another, for now supposed, immortal. His curiosity currently winning over his sense, Ivan shifted his crossed legs slightly to be more comfortable as he decided to wait things out.

Vladimira’s eyes likely resembled dinner plates, she couldn’t tell. Had that woman just… >Ah, Fianna “the Gentle”. Great punch, though I think we might need to update the dictionary. Oh also, he’s not paying attention to you right now. Try hitting him or something. That might be fun. Wonder what’d happen if you… nevermind, stupid question. Try punching him in the face again though, seemed to work pretty well, good asshole repellant. Anyway, shouting about Mother Russia is optional, though if you say it enough it could become your catchphrase!< Vladimira shut out Pandora, the Spark’s mumblings were distracting, and distracting was a bad thing at the moment.

She coalesced the metal around herself, part of it reforming at her feet into another sheet for her to step onto, the remainder clouded into a wickedly sharp cloud that churned and sliced at the air in front of her. Levitating herself up, she hurtled forward silently, her right arm cocked back for another punch as her left manipulated her metallic tornado into several wicked looking spikes. She neared him, noting with satisfaction that he appeared to be distracted with Fianna/whoever the other woman was… or had been.

She didn’t scream, shout, or yell, hoping to keep the element of surprise until she was right in his face.

To say that Evelina was surprised at her speed would be a gross understatement. She had thought to be fast before, but the speed she now possessed was in an entirely different league. She didn’t know if it was to be credited to Fianna or not, but she no longer felt fear from Aeshma. In fact, he felt like little more than just another hollow to be defeated.

She flexed her fingers, watching the long, claw-like nails extended past their tip, each thick and sharp enough to be considered a weapon. She further studied her new body, noting the small rivulets running along her armour, like tiny veins engraved in it with equally small points of light dotting those veins.

She looked up again, her gaze falling upon Aeshma, electricity jumping across his body. With just the tiniest flex of her will, she summoned a small, spherical orb in the palm of one hand shining with a gentle light. She didn’t do anything with it quite yet, resorting to simply observing—watching as the metal-wielding woman went in for another attack. Not a good idea, not a good idea! Her entire body tensed, prepared to react to anything.

Aeshma watched his quarry warily, his body tense and ready to react to anything she would throw at him. He was entirely focused on the fight, everything else was of unimportance, though something kept pulling at the back of his thoughts. He was powerful, he was in control, but his host was still fighting him internally. He grit his teeth in irritation, refusing to split his attention away from his prey. He would not entertain the weak minded woman’s consciousness, not yet, she could not take control away from him.

He had let himself become distracted, and now the second woman was nearly on top of him. He had let her get far too close, but it was no matter. She was only partially awakened, and he was prepared. Metal spikes hurtled towards him, and for a split second he did nothing but let them come closer. Just before they reached him, he dispersed.

His body became a torrent made up of thousands of little energy particles. The spikes crackled as they passed through him, though Aeshma held his form easily against the pull of the conductive surfaces of the metal. He moved forward, a flash of electricity passing through the metal manipulator’s body like a lightning strike. He smashed into the ground in a flash of light, and an expulsion of energy as his body reformed. Without wasting a second, a ball of lightning hurtled towards Evelina, crackling with explosive energy.

Vladimira spasmed again as Aeshma turned into lightning, flashing through her. >Your talent for self destruction has not been hindered, it seems. Please don’t get me killed.< She fell to the ground, muscles tight and not responding to her willing them to move.

A moment later and the paralysis had passed. Aeshma was throwing lightning at Evelina, apparently not paying any more attention to her. With as subtle a movement as she could manage she launched the metal spikes at Aeshma again, scrambling for her own metal sheet to get her to a safe distance again.

She grasped it and didn’t even bother molding it to her hands, holding on as tightly as she could as she launched the piece of steel forwards, anywhere but right below Aeshma.

I’m starting to get tired, Evelina noted, feeling the beat of her heart getting faster. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up before it becomes dangerous. She glanced down at the orb in her palm, noting the power she could feel emanating from it.

Soon I should be able to—

:Reflect!

Evelina looked up at the mental shout, seeing Aeshma’s hand extended towards her and the subsequent blast of lightning coming from it. She didn’t even thinking twice before obeying, knowing that any time she used replying or thinking would take too long. The lightning bolt came closer and closer as she raised her arm as quickly as she could, a barrier forming in front of her shaped out of the light orb in her palm. The bolt hit in a wild shower of sparks, and the bolt reflected back at Aeshma almost immediately, screaming towards him in a deadly arc.

Without wasting even a second more she took off, launching herself towards Aeshma as a collection of invisible light particles. Much like she had done before she materialized just as she was about to him him, only this time she had changed direction to come from behind. Right arm extended, palm pointed at him, she rushed to close the remaining few centimetres between them.

Aeshma grinned, watching the other awakened dissolve into the same trick of the eye once again, but this time he was ready for her. She was slower, the effort of her little hat trick was obviously draining, and it would cost her. He grabbed her extended arm, whipping her towards the ground violently. A cloud of dust exploded into the air from the force of the impact. Aeshma's fist swirled with electricity as he brought it down on her back, the resounding crack was audible and loud. He smiled in satisfaction as he hit her again with the opposite hand, equally fueled by his electricity. Tiny webs of lightning exploded into the air as he hit her again, with another loud crack.

The metal woman had seemed to of had enough, Aeshma noted, as she was currently fleeing away from him on a piece of metal. He dropped the metal projectile from his talons, letting it hit the earth harmlessly. He would track her down as soon as he was finished here, the thought crossed his mind as he stood above Fianna's form. A dry laugh escaped his twisted maw.

Above the clouds of dust swirled, forming a fully fledged dark tempest above. The clouds crackled with the energy they had gathered from the charged air. A bolt of lightning skittered across the underbelly of the clouds, followed by the hollow boom of thunder. A single drop of water departed from the clouds, on a collision course for the earth. This made Aeshma pause, as he noticed the sprinkle of water starting to fall around him. He cursed silently, taking a step back from the woman lying on the ground. A droplet hit him and immediately became engulfed in sparks. Aeshma flinched as an arc of electricity was coerced out of his body, towards the droplets of water. The arc snaked its way through the falling drops, before dissipating.

He began to run. He knew very well his weakness, and another crack of thunder spurred him on. But the coming storm was faster than he was, and covered an expansive area. He howled in pain and rage as the torrential downpour of water collided with his body, sucking the energy from it. A hum filled the area as his energy released out into the open air, like the drone of machinery with a high current. The wild arcs of electricity skipped from droplet to droplet, draining him dry. His blackened feet pounded into the quickly moistening earth, but he could feel his strength waning. Another large burst of lightning exploded from his body as the rain continued to short circuit him.

It seems his fun was over for now, he could feel himself receding, being drawn back into his host. His form flecked away like pieces of shed skin, drifting into the air and becoming nothing but dust in the wind. Aeshma's control was ripped away as Alex fervently clawed her way back into the forefront of her mind. 'THIS IS MINE' She screamed mentally. The thought of a hostile growl answered her, but the other being did not resist. Suddenly she felt in control again, torn away from the blissful nothingness that was the back of her mind. She had watched the entire fight through her own eyes, she had felt the fury and the rage. The pleasure of it. She felt sick.

The last bits of blackened form drifted away as Alex fell to her knees, her stomach emptying out bile and acid onto the damp earth. The rain felt cool against her skin. Alex knew what it was, but it had never rained on Dust. It didn't make sense to her, but nothing made sense to her as of late. The humor may have been lost on her, but she let out a chuckle. That chuckle quickly turned into a crazed laughter, the kind of laugh only someone with a deteriorated mental state could emit. For a time she kneeled there, hovering over her bile on all fours, laughing as her soaked hair hung wildly around her face. All things considered, she looked quite insane.

---

About 3:00pm.

Alex looked up at the storm clouds, it had been raining for over an hour straight. The streets of Russel City were quickly turning into tiny rivers of water. People milled about, half of them still standing in awe staring at the clouds, hued in dark grays and black. Some held up buckets, or items of that likeness, to collect it. Some simply stuck their tongues out, letting the moisture gather, trying to taste it. One side of Alex's mouth turned down into a half frown, "Goddamn Standards.. stand around and ignore your lives.. it's all going to change soon."

She found herself standing in front of her housing complex, the key to her small home dangling from a metal circle, currently looped around her finger. She watched it idly, as a woman came striding towards her. "Listen.. Alex.. I haven't heard-" Alex held up a hand, mustering the biggest most flattering smile she could manage.

"I'm about to change your life Missand," She said, showing her the key. This caught the other woman's interest, and with a hand on her hip, she quirked an eyebrow to acknowledge that she was interested.

"I solved the mystery. Tell everybody you know, the Immortals are gathering at Isolone," Alex smiled, in fact, considering everything she felt relaxed. She felt more at whole. On the inside she was she shaken, still terrified, still confused. Yet, some part of her felt reborn, at terms with this strange, new life, and determined to see it through to the end. She wasn't going to find a better life, she was going to make it. She was going to make a difference. No, she was going to be the difference.

"Seriously?" Missand asked, though it hardly seemed like a question as the tall dark haired woman strode forward and took the key from Alex's hand. She crossed her arms over her ample bussim, momentarily covering the visible cleavage from the low cut shirt. "You sure about this Alex?"

"As sure as I have ever been," She said honestly, "Go, take a look. You can have it all, I've already got what I need," Alex finished, gesturing towards the backpack she was wearing and the two large duffel bags at her feet. "Oh, one more thing. I'm going to need a water truck, and another one carrying nonperishables," Alex smiled once more as she said this, as if the request was easily manageable.

"You have gold in there? That's some request you're making, I hope that leaves me a hefty cut," Missand said, doubt heavy in her voice.

A moment later and Missand's mouth hung agape, standing at the threshold of the apartment. "My god woman, do you throw anything away? Oh my god! Look at this dress! Oh!" Missand scurried around the apartment, picking up articles of clothing, checking out ancient knick-knacks, and other eye catching items prominent in Alex's treasure trove. "There is a lot here.. I've never been one to lie to you Alex, this stuff is worth a lot more than what you're asking.

Alex chuckled, "Fine, throw in a new truck, you remember my old one?"

"Hell, I could probably get you two," Missand replied. They broke down into a fit of giggles at that, though Missand was still possessively clutching a dress to her side.

"You can have the place too, I'm leaving, I've got a ride set up. There should be enough left over to carry you for about a month, which is a damn good deal for just playing the middleman,"

"Aye aye captain!" Missand half shouted, playfully saluting, "Must be some operation going on there, if asked, who should I send these other Immortals too?"

Alex turned, pausing at the doorway melodramatically, "Tell them I sent out the call."

Without another word Alex turned and left, feeling confident Missand would uphold her end of the bargain. Afterall, the woman had been good friends with Cassie.

On the road again.

--

Arcus' focus was on the page before him, the dry paper being held down by his thick fingers so it wouldn't flap in the wind. The truck hit another bump in the road and Arcus- in the passenger seat- scrambled to keep his journal from being sent out the open window.

A warrior is not a man who does not fear death. A warrior is someone who accepts death, for such is their duty. A warrior is not simply a man who fights; could a child merely pick up a sword and rightfully be called a warrior? Is a warrior made only through his armor or weapons? No- a warrior is one who sacrifices himself for the good of others.

Arcus was reading what he had written earlier, trying to forget the events that had transpired that had led him to his current position. Why had he shown up in Faribury? That was no small trek, even for the conditioned athleticism for Forsaken goons. His teal eyes left the page and glanced out the open window as the terrain flew by- the truck hit yet another bump and Arcus' journal was sent sprawling on the floorboard under his feet. He left it- it did not concern him right now. He couldn't reach his back in the backseat to lock it away, anyway.

The driver glanced over and tapped on a perplexed Arcus' shoulder. Either this man had a good sense of empathy or Arcus wore an obvious mask of discomfort.

"You alright?" he probed.

Arcus nodded but did not turn from his window.

--
That morning-

The center of Fairbury was bustling and Arcus had begun to lose track of time when he finally opened his eyes. Spending too much time in deep thought did that to you, it was almost like sleeping. His journal lay open in his lap and his pen was to the page, ready to write, but no more words came to his old mind. With a sigh the old warrior deposited his journal and pen back into his satchel in exchange for a strip of jerky. In towns Arcus usually offered physical labor in exchange for a meal, so as not to diminish his "backup" supply of dried jerky, but the factors of soreness and non-familiarity with the town led him think otherwise. Around here it seemed mental strength was more prized than physical, unless you were one devoted to guarding the city, in which case people seemed to only judge you on physical strength. Arcus would treasure a job such as that, but after what he had witnessed on his way in he wasn't so sure. He was too old, at least for anything that tough to fight. Perhaps he could settle here, then, and offer his services as a trainer of sorts? With his experience and prowess he could at least offer himself as a mentor for young talent looking to guard the city..

These thoughts streamed through Arcus' mind as he chewed on the tough ration and wandered back towards his apartment. Well, it wasn't his apartment, per se, but as far as he knew the merchant who had offered to him had either died or left for Arcus hadn't heard or seen of him since he woke him up. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure where one who actually do business here is Fairbury. It felt like every building contained the white-coated thinkers pertinent of the city.

He pushed open the heavy door and and dropped his satchel on the floor, sending a few empty canteens clattering. A figure stood before him, one who looked as old as Arcus but in much healthier shape. Though he faced away looking out the window, Arcus could recognize the scarred face and bald head anywhere.

"Ursa," grunted Arcus.

The scarred and hulking mass of muscle turned to him and smiled, folding his hands behind his back.

"Arcus. Was beginning to think that infection finally got to ya'." He chuckled to himself- with his raspy voice, it sounded like to sheets of paper rubbing against each other.

"What are you doing here?"

Ursa's step forward was met with a step backward from Arcus.

"Was in town; chatted with one of the local businessmen. Had a nasty scar but said he had been saved by a big fella' with a rather..unique set of weaponry." Ursa glanced at Brute who was still propped up in the corner.

"Figured two deserters like us could do some..catching up."

"You, a deserter? Go fuck yourself, Ursa, you take me for a fool."

The bald man's face contorted in his attempt to hold back a scowl. His arms tightened and veins visibly shown across his bulging muscles and head.

"Arcus, or should I call you Evans? How about Warlord- You among anyone should know well that my loyalties lie where I choose to place them. Your..disappearance simply spurred me to make a similar choice. The life of a Forsaken no longer suited me."

"You followed me here, you-"

"Mere coincidence," Ursa rose a hand, "that our paths have crossed."

"Right," Arcus quickly reached and grabbed Brute, holding it out, positioning himself to strike.

"Get out of here, Ursa, else Brute starts negotiating."

Ursa looked flabbergasted and stood motionless and silent for several moments. With a sigh, he finally replied:

"So be it, Arcus. But you would do well to find a new purpose."

Arcus didn't loosen his grip on Brute until Ursa's heavy footsteps could no longer be heard.
---

the Present-

Ursa and Arcus had quite a history together- they had both served a substantial amount of years in the Legion together, and were a lethal pairing on the battlefield. Ursa had always been a better fighter, but Arcus had the quick wits to keep them alive. He'd never known a more devoted man to the Legion's cause; it was as if the man existed to kill others for some vague "cause" he had little understanding of. He was the type of man to take and execute orders without further thought or questions- a good soldier, perhaps, but a bad human being. Arcus wasn't about to believe his story of desertion, or that their meeting in Fairbury was chance. He was of the notion he was sent there, but by who or for why, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like the Forsaken to send assassins, they very much had a "kill on sight" dogma that was more dependent on raw gruntwork and fear than anything as precise and fine as assassinations.

After their meeting Arcus was quick to find a way out of town, a task that wasn't easy for Fairbury residents. Luckily, Arcus caught another caravan on its departure- different from the one he helped escort in- that seemed to have a few other additions to their crew as well. This caravan seemed much more prepared and well equipped than the previous, they must've made this trip several times and had an idea of what to expect. Luckily, the trip out went much more smoothly than the trip in. Afterwards, the other man that wasn't part of the caravan went separate ways, and Arcus, not wanting to be slowed by a large caravan, politely asked if he could join him on his ride to Russel City. Being only a moderately short ride away, the man had accepted.

And now here Arcus was- his mind swimming and questions constantly gnawing at the outskirts of his mind as he tried to keep his queasy insides from being sludgy outsides as the bumpy road to Russel City nearly took another victim. He would probably need a new cover identity here, in Motum Diversum territory. At least, last he checked, it was Motum Diversum. He shook the worries and thoughts from his head- he'd wing it. Right now he had too much on his mind to add to the pile, and all he wanted to do was rest a moment and sort it all out.

--
About 4:00 p.m.-

Next thing Arcus knew, he was being shook awake from the kind traveler in the driver's seat.

"Hey. Hey! We're here. You don't look so good, bud. Take a lil' somethin' and get a room or get looked at. It's rainin', bud!"

In his grogginess he felt the man shove something into his hand- a bit of money, no doubt. This man he traveled with was surely an angel, even though he half-shoved Arcus out of his truck before leaping out, himself. His grogginess was quickly subdued when he felt droplets of water hit his head.

He stared up at the dark clouds, occasionally blinking to get a rogue droplet out of his eyes.

So this was rain. He apparently had experienced it before- based on stories his mother had told him- but he was very young. All said and done, it was a bit of an underwhelming experience, in Arcus' mind. Water falling from the sky- sure, it could be collected, but then again the same could be said about most discovered sources of drink. If anything, this inconvenience Arcus more, as he knew well the effect of water and cold on infections.

He did his best to cover himself by holding his large satchel over his head with both hands as he stumbled through the muddy streets of Russel City. The amount of people in his line of sight was almost mesmerizing. He had gotten used to large crowds having practically grown up in the arena, but to have so many people walking around you or towards you? It was easy to get lost and mind numbed.

Arcus dove into the first place that served alcohol he saw- he had no plans to stay here, and the money the traveler had given him wouldn't be enough for a night's stay, anyway. The drink he ordered was cheap and tasted awful, but at the very least it put his mind at ease. He took a few moments to force himself to relax and not think about anything. Perhaps the meeting with Ursa was coincidence and the man simply wished to reestablish contact with an old friend. But what a place to simply happen upon, Fairbury. True, Arcus sort of happened upon it, but he had been drawn to it initially by the caravan that needed another escort. Arcus realized he never even asked just how Ursa had even made it into the city.

Regardless, he had surely lost him now. If Ursa really was spying on him for the Forsaken he wouldn't dare follow him into Russel City- it was risky, even for Arcus. He pondered the thought that if it hadn't been raining he wouldn't have seamlessly made it in, himself.

Another drink was enough to shove these thoughts away for the time being.

"'Parently thems Immortals is meetin' in Isolone." A straggled sentence caught Arcus' attention.

"Who told ya' that?"

"Heard it 'round town. Guess that pretty lil' Missand's been spewin' the rumor all over."

The conversation between the two men quickly progressed to a different topic and Arcus stopped listening after a while. Immortals were gathering? From all over? And in Isolone, no less, the Big Empty?

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Arcus subconsciously felt he needed to believe in something, but he felt the rumor held some weight. He didn't know who this Missand was nor her credibility with such information, but the fact it was specifically Immortals gathering as well as his feelings of needing to stay on the move thanks to Ursa, Arcus decided it was a worthy goal to at least look into. If they turned out to be false, then perhaps Arcus could offer some sort of helpful service in a smaller town- here in Russel City, the trade capital of Dust, he felt overwhelmed just sitting in a bar drinking.

Isolone. What a place to stage a meeting, Arcus thought as he slumped out of the bar, shifting the weight of Brute on his back. Quite a walk, too.

But perhaps Arcus could find more roadside angels.