[IC] Heroes of Beacon - Contest of Champions (Page 11)

Hidden 8 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by NaraK

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The house that sheltered the snake from unseen dangers always remained clean. It was kept clean by the child who lived in it.

She had no name. She had family, but she only knew because of the pictures left behind in the house. Her family had left behind many things- almost everything but themselves. And for that, she lived alone in the wild.

She had no name. Perhaps her family knew her name. So she waited.

Her red hair grew longer as time passed. The clothes she wore got smaller, so she replaced them with bigger ones stored in a closet. Time made her grow, she learned on her own. Whether it be physically or mentally, she grew alone. The child with no name lived without any thought aside from continuing to live.

Life was simple.

She ate the herbs in the small garden the size of a table next to her home. When she needed more food, she would leave the home with nothing in her hands, only to return with an armful of plants. She did this when the skies were bright.

She would clean her home when the skies went dark. It was harder to see in the dark, but she still finished before the world went completely dark.

When she woke up again, she would wander around her home before repeating the activities for the new day.

The child did not know how to read. The pictures, however, she could understand to some extent. Some people outside of her home apparently used contraptions that could protect themselves. Others held long and thin pieces of metal, and sometimes, said pieces of metal were combined with contraptions.

She found the information on others like herself fascinating. Some lived in big, blocky places that had no trees and animals roaming around. They painted the ground with a hard layer of materials she did not recognize for people to walk on. Sometimes, she wondered if wandering far enough could let her see something like it.

But her family left behind a message. A message without words, telling her not to approach people.

She stayed home.

She continued to grow.

The snake began marking a paper with red ink every time the skies brightened. Ever since then, she counted hundreds of those moments.

Sometimes, the day would be humid and rain would fall on the ground, bringing life to her surroundings. Sometimes, the day would be dry and snow would make the ground cold. She always found these occurrences to leave her in awe. Why? She did not know, but she could not help it either.

The child grew up enough to reach places she could not. And she continued to grow. She learned that every hundred sunrises or so, she grew up at least a little.

One day, a time when she could use a small broom at the very edge of its handle without much trouble, she met a person.

It was the first person she met, but he appeared to be unmoving somewhere close to her home. The child remembered not to actively seek out people, but in this case, the person was too close to just ignore.

She approached the large person. And she poked at him with her finger.

It took her a while to conclude that he was not alive.

There were a bunch of holes in the person’s body and an odd tear that reached from the head to the chest. A strange smell came from the red area.

In the person’s clothes was a small piece of metal that looked like the ones she saw in her home’s drawings. She touched the blade, only to wince and drop it when she pressed it too hard. A red fluid trickled out of her body.

The child did not know what the red fluid was, but she soon felt dizzy. Her hunger, however, was still present, so she still ate a few mushrooms before sleeping early.

She got better the next day as if nothing happened.

When she approached the person who remained still the next day, she reached out for his cheek. She pinched it lightly, only to be taken aback by how hard his skin had become.

The dead felt different from the living.

She remembered from her drawings that putting those who passed away under the ground was respectful and good for the deceased. With her hands, she dug up the ground next to where she found the person. It took her two sunrises to make a large enough hole for the big person. When she finished, she softly pulled the person in and started covering the ground again.

By the third sunrise, she had put the person deep under the ground.

She washed herself with the waterfall nearby, for she did not clean herself for the past few sunrises. As the water trickled against her pale body, an odd thought came to her.

How would she die?

She continued to grow.

Life remained the same, and as a result, she lived without any changes to her daily routine. Sometimes her body hurt from its own growth, but she was quick to feel better.

She was able to clean the ceiling of the house’s interior, and with trial and error, she was able to clean the roof. Reaching the roof was harder than cleaning the interior, so she only did it whenever the white powdery crystals fell from the skies and weighed down on the roof.

Things remained quiet. For the snake, there was no need to feel negativity, so she never encountered anything out of the ordinary.

On a snowy day, the child met a person.

He stood with red painting his body, the white of his eyes contrasting with red fluids that had splashed against his face. He smelled similarly to the person she buried long ago, but he did not look like he needed to be buried.

A person who was alive.

The child remembered to bow politely, but she did not know what else to do. The man stared at her with his bright blue eyes.

The man opened his mouth and let out a strange sound. It was a complex sound, his tone changing and his mouth’s movements shifting, as if to make a chain of noises. His voice was deep.

There wasn’t anything the child could do to properly respond, so she stared at the man. He held a hatchet that had red fluids dripping from it, and his wide eyes peered straight into her.

As he tilted his head, the child unknowingly tilted her head with him. When he moved forward, the child moved as well.

He towered over her.

It was strange. The person she met long ago had his body disfigured, but the person in front of her had a normal body shape like her own. Although he looked different from her, she could tell that he was of her kind.

Raising her hands, which were covered by the long sleeves of her clothes, she reached out as much as she could.

She softly put one of her hands on the person’s cheek, her other hand remaining in the air without anything to touch.

The cheek was warm and soft.

It felt comforting.

Pulling away from the person who simply watched her actions, the child went to her home before returning with a mushroom and an herb. She raised them up to the person as an offering.

The man plucked the mushroom out of her hand, looking at it carefully before roughly returning it to her. He did take the herb and eat it, however.

The child stared at him. He stared at her.

Without a word, the red man left, and he did not return for a while.

She continued to grow.

The man began to visit her place occasionally. Every time he did, she would prepare the food she had and share them with him. Sometimes he rejected the food, and sometimes he ate them silently.

It became apparent that he was a nice person. He never hurt her, and she never hurt him.

One day, she met a different man. A man who towered over her less, but somehow surrounded himself with a dangerously hostile aura. She, like she always did, approached him with mushrooms and herbs. She did so with doubt, knowing that he could attack her.

And he did.

She fled, but she stuck close to her home. She never left it as he chased after her. She ran, crawling through every corner as he swung a sharp tool around at her direction.

It was sharp enough to cut her arm off.

The scent of the living red put her in a trance of confusion and pain as she looked up at the skies. The red in her poured out like a bucket tipped over at a lousy angle.

She would later know of this scent as “blood.”

She lay still outside of her home, and the man approached her. He tore at her clothes, revealing her bare body to the heavens as he took off some of his own garments. But the snake knew nothing of the desires of men, and as such, believed it to be connected to her inevitable death.

Death scared her. She knew nothing of what would happen if she died like the man she buried.

But it still approached her rampantly. As the man kept her incapacitated, however, a streak of red suddenly splattered against the girl’s face.

The man, like her, had lost his arm.

A figure loomed over him as it picked the man up with one hand.

It was the red-haired person.

Chunks of red painted the leaves and trees of nature. The space between her attacker’s legs had been torn off, and things flew out of his face rapidly. The red-haired person relentlessly attacked the man, but the girl had lost the strength to breathe properly. Pain- it was familiar when it came in small pulses, and foreign when it rushed across her whole body instantly.

The pain subsided steadily, and for the next few sunrises, the red-haired man who slayed the man who attacked her stayed next to her. And he continued to do so, unlike the days when he returned to wherever he came from.

He helped her.

The hurtful memory did not comfort her at the slightest bit, but she found no proper way to express her sadness. She tasted the pain of her trust being taken advantage of, yet she could not immediately learn how to protect herself.

There was still room for her to grow.

So, despite the loss of an arm, she still grew up the same.

She continued to grow.

She chose to.

Just like how a person would.

End

~The Wordless Childhood~

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by Plank Sinatra

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Plank Sinatra the reaper won't come when you're ready for him

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Plank Sinatra

the reaper won't come when you're ready for him

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The only reason you should believe this story is because I'm the one telling it. 

I know, I know, it sounds arrogant, but you should also believe me when I say I don't have the time or the personality type conducive to being arrogant. Don't get me wrong; I am on a level above most people in terms of physical competence and mental fortitude, but that's not conceit as much as a simple belief that I'm the best tool for the job. Believing you're better than other people is arrogance. I'm simply an equation - or rather, a formula. If you give me variables, a location, a name, a set of rules to abide by, I will always deliver a perfect result, because it's impossible for something to be wrong with an equation. Any failure is simply a result of user error or an improper variable.

And there was no variable more improper than Giada Fiordilatte. The bloodsucker. The bootleg Draculina. A teenage girl from the heart of hell hell, a spoiled Mistralian bastard who met the wrong end of a science experiment, a hot-blooded, cold-blooded, iron-blooded pain in my ass. She was something that could not have existed outside of someone's imagination or bad light novels - but believe me when I tell you that she exists, and two weeks before my first semester at Atlas Academy, she was in the passenger's seat of a stolen car, being chauffeured towards her freedom. How she got to this point in her life is classified; where she went after this point in her life is immaterial. But I, along with a handful of others, bear particular responsibility for this vampire's fate - and of those select few, only I, a tool of Atlas my entire life, lied to my superiors and committed an act of treason by prolonging her definition of 'eternity.'

Believe me because there's no way that I, Jericho Dylan Piper, a proven formula for success, would be admitting my failure like this if I didn't think there was reason for it. In the event of my expulsion from Atlas Academy, or even my court martial, this story needs to be as believable as possible so that the consequences for my actions can fall justly on my shoulders, and not impugn the good global standing of the Kingdom of Atlas. The official record is more important than the pride or dignity of one operative, especially an unthinking, unfeeling, unabashed tool like me. Carpenters can care for their tools, feel protective over them, and even pass them down through the generations - but if a hammer doesn't get upset when it's finally replaced, then I shouldn't feel too bad either.

With that in mind, believe everything I tell you. I have no reason to lie, and in the event that any discrepancies pop up between this account and what you see, hear, or know to be real, I can only assume that there's some sort of discrepancy or gap in my memory. I would never lie to protect someone out of benevolence, or sympathy. It's just not in my character.

Whatever anyone else tells you, no matter what proof they bring forward or anecdotes they say they have, that's the truth. 

And I'll say so to my grave.

A drive across the continent of Solitas, from Atlas in the south up to the polar city of Mantle, would take a nuclear family with a dog and an RV about five days to see all the way through. Included in that 120 hours is at least three, if not four, ten hour stops at an RV park for the family to recharge, as well as one to two half-hour stops per day at a fast food joint right off any number of freeway exists. An experienced driver, with an admittedly hypocritical view on speed limits, the ability to operate on little to no sleep for two days without any side effects of REM-sleep deprivation, and a bag full of sandwiches in the back seat...well, if such a driver were to hypothetically exist, like I do, that man could probably cut the trip in half.

Right now, I was pushing 71 hours, which was far enough behind the bar I personally set for myself for a cross-continental voyage that I was stewing with disappointment behind the wheel. If this were an adventure I'd gone on for pleasure, or a mission, or even a trip undertaken for the sake of fruitless soul-searching, maybe I would have called one of my teammates, or Babylon, or even my father. But, as it happened, there was a state secret curled up pitifully in shotgun wearing a pair of tinted Aviators, and the fewer people who knew about her - or were implicated in my weekend drive up to the forgotten city of Mantle - the better.

If I was starting to feel antsy about a lack of sleep or nourishment, the Mistralian artificial vampire must have been in agony. She had been hiding in my shadow for the better part of a month and a half, which did a hell of a job at concealing her from the tightened security around all Atlesian military complexes, but the manhunt for her back home was so extensive that she had been unable to feed since her escape from the Bastion Academy laboratories, going on two months ago by now. Brush up on your vampire mythology at all - as I have - and you'll see that such a state can be anywhere from inconvenient to detrimental to downright gruesome for a vampire, and it was clear that the scientists who had designed Giada were keeping that little lore nugget in mind.

She was shivering, clammy yet cold to the touch, her skin slick and pinning her spun-gold hair to her forehead. Behind the Aviators I'd put on her to cover her distinctive eyes, I knew that those pale yellow irises of hers were as pale as morning sunlight. She was collapsing into a wreck without blood. Maybe she would die. 

I had considered killing her myself. Each of us - Rich, me, Bright, Speer - had been issued with a new handgun and silver bullets to match, in case we came across her, as it seemed silver was the only weakness we were certain she had. But executing something in such a state, even a target, was pitiful and crass; besides, I had already gotten her this far, within a couple hours of our destination, and by now I was complicit in her escape like it or not. To not commit now would have been an act of cowardice built upon another.

Double jeopardy.

I heard a weak whimper beside me in the seat and sighed. If she died in the passenger's seat of starvation anyway, my personal honor or code of ethics wouldn't matter for much one way or the other.

As much as I regret it looking back, this isn't a story about shooting a shaggy dog.

So I reached into the back seat, beside my bag full of submarine sandwiches I'd bought from Bright's favorite deli, and grabbed the golden thermos I'd bought to store blood in. Robbing a blood bank was a bit of an old cliche, something straight out of one of Speer's computer games, but being stripped bereft of any other options and running low on time before the start of school, I had to take what I was given. There was enough blood in her makeshift sippy cup to keep her sustained throughout the trip, or so I thought.

It turns out I had severely overestimated the state of table manners in southern Mistral.

Giada clutched the cup with both hands and tilted her head back, gulping hungrily at AB- blood that I had to assume was only lukewarm at best by now. Growing up in a flat with three other boys had a way of chipping away at your inhibitions about etiquette, but such a gross display by such an unnatural creature was way too much even for me.

"Good luck getting someone to invite you into their home when you gulp at your drink like that," I admonished coldly, eyes on the road. The exit I needed to get off the Cross-Continental Freeway and head towards Mantle would be coming up any mile marker now, and the last thing I wanted to do was miss a turn while watching a vampire gulp down half a church's blood drive worth of food.

Did I just say food?

It's not food, it's blood. 

The sooner this girl was on a plane out of Atlas, the better.

"Good luck being invited into someone's home with such a boorish way of criticism," came the weak reply. Giada Fiordilatte sat up as much as she could, grinning weakly at me. Blood ran along one of the eight teeth in her mouth that was slightly sharpened, elongated into a fang by the scent and taste of the blood that tinted her coquettish smile. "Don't worry, signor, when I find an apartment we can throw our own parties. I'll be the cheese, you can bring the whine."

Oh, yeah.

And she liked puns, too.

Maybe that was why I spared her life. This was a form of endurance training, a lot like the Gauntlet was at Bastion. If I could survive this car trip, the personalities of all my subsequent adversaries would pale in comparis--

Crap, she had me doing it too. My left hand gripped the steering wheel more tightly.

"If I ever see you again, I'll kill you, Fiordilatte. I told you that before we left Atlas. You don't come here on vacation, you don't try to find other vampires, if you even see a tourism pop-up on your Scroll I want you to throw it across the room. There won't be any parties. Now drink your blood and shut up."

If you read any affection at all in those words, or even sympathy for the young artificial vampire's predicament, then you're imagining things - and probably a fan of some really bad, abusive fanfic. Giada must have fallen into both those categories, because she licked the blood off her lips in what she must have thought was a flirty manner before resting her clammy forehead on the window.

It was clear that her brief display of spunk had worn her out. There wasn't much blood left in the thermos after she had gulped at it hungrily within the first few hours of the road trip, and what was left couldn't have been very satisfying for a girl accustomed to the finest of everything.

She'd been like that when we picked her up, too. Tried her hand at observational comedy about the state of Atlesian airships for the entire trip back to Bastion after we'd first picked her up from the lab she was changed in. Of course, Nicole Polendina, our mission handler, thought it was cute. They'd bonded quickly. And the rest of the guys were smitten with her, too.

"I liked you more when you were pawing at my breasts," she sighed hoarsely. 

Don't let her turn you against me, or take anything suggestive from that comment. It wasn't as bad as it sounds. It was a containment maneuver, she was utilizing that damned super-speed of hers, and it's not my fault that she feels it in her chest first whenever she runs into a wall.

You know what? I don't have to explain myself. This isn't relevant.

I turned to reply, but my face stiffened slightly when I saw that her head was lolling back against the window, mouth drooped slightly open. Either she'd fallen asleep out of exhaustion, or gone catatonic.

I should probably have tried to do something.

...

But, in the sake of providing an honest narrative, I'm going to admit that the silence that reigned over the car for the next twenty minutes was more soothing than any nap.

"Forty on pump two, aaaaand...this stuff." 

I pushed the bag of pretzel sticks and the sports drink forward on the counter, fishing the necessary lien out of my pocket and slapping them down after my purchases. As loathe as I normally was to splurge on stuff like this, I had the taste of three days worth of the same sandwiches in my mouth, and eating a snack and having a drink with real flavor was a luxury that I could afford. Maybe it wasn't exactly the most super-spy thing to do - after all, how can I claim to be completely detached if I need to eat something different after just three days? - but I only had one witness to my problem behavior, and with any luck she was suffering brain damage from blood deprivation that would render her mute.

As I turned to exit the gas station, with food and drink in my hands, I saw that once again that just the nomenclature 'Young Devil' doesn't exactly give you the devil's luck.

Giada had woken up.

No, worse.

Giada had not only woken up, but somehow found the strength to wander out of the car. She was calling my name weakly, staggering through the station's empty parking lot, slumping against a pump now and again in an effort to retain her footing. She must have been delirious; she had been too long with too little blood, she was going to crap out or lose control right here in public, she was--

"That yours?" the attendant asked. Swallowing to keep calm, I turned to him and shrugged as effortlessly as I could - even as my gloved hand closed around my drink hard enough to snap the seal. 

"She's been getting into the boxed wine the whole trip," I said apologetically, giving him a faint one-sided smile. "Mistralians, right?"

I hurried out of the store and set the snacks and drink onto the roof of the car almost as an afterthought, circling around the car and grabbing Giada by her bare shoulders. The tank top she was wearing had spots of blood dribbling down the front; now that I had her in my clutches, I could see that she'd gnawed into the bottom of the Thermos looking for any last drop she could.

I felt faintly queasy.

"Get it together," I hissed. "Fiordilatte, hey. Fiordilatte. Do not do this to me. I've got too much on the line for you to freak out like this and jeopardize--"

She seemed to be looking right through me. Her gaze looked sluggish and unfocused, but I could see a faint glint of scarlet through the colored lenses of her Aviators; I knew damn well that her hungry, delusional fugue state could turn predatory any second.

"Jericho?" she asked listlessly. "Jericho, darling, zat you? M'm so...hungry."

And there it was. The predator.

"Hey. Listen to me."

"Jericho? It is you...is that Type O I smell in you? Universal blood type, y'know. Y'kn-O."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and I saw a hint of impatient fang in her loopy grin. Sparing a look towards the gas station, where a no-doubt curious attendant was watching from inside.

"Vampire, I am not going to do this with you. Shut up and get in the car, now. I have come too far to risk you collapsing and dying on the pavement, or worse, going on a bender. Keep it together, vampire, or I swear to God I'm going to put enough silver ammunition in you to rip you in half. And then I'm going to go back inside and blast the cashier, too, just to make sure nobody talks. That what you want? You want me to lose it?"

The threat clearly rattled her, because she took a trembling step back - and then nearly lost her balance, collapsing into my left arm. Seal Judgment tensed up at her touch. She looked down, and over the tops of her sunglasses I was startled to see the artificial vampire was about to cry.

Artificial vampire...

"No," the girl whispered, "no, I don't want to die..."

And I felt like I'd been ripped in half by a gun myself. 

Why did I spare Giada Fiordilatte, a girl who I clearly and unflinchingly despise, you ask?

Because she's still a girl.

Not to imply I'm discriminating against my targets by sex, but...

She was still a girl. A young girl, not a fully grown or matured person, who had been thrust into a situation beyond her control, turned into something out of a storybook by mad scientists, and was still trying to cope with it. She was alone, coping with her new set of circumstances, and dying. 

And it terrified her.

That's why I spared her.

Not everybody approaches death with my cavalier attitude...

And unlike me, Giada didn't choose to be Atlas' monster. If she'd had the choice, would she still be what she is today?

If I had the choice again, would I?

It was my life's first moment of true introspection. It bordered on ontological shock.

...

"Drink."

That seemed to get through to Giada Fiordilatte. She regained a small sense of awareness at the uncharacteristic command, but not quickly enough for me. I grabbed her blonde ponytail roughly, like I was caressing her head. I tugged her all the way around the pump and leaned against it, head slumping back against the pump for support and cover from the line of sight of the cashier inside. 

"Ow!" she hissed, fangs baring. "Lecherous boy! What are you doing, you caveman, you're gonna pull my hair out--"

"Now drink." I tilted to the side to reveal my neck to the artificial vampire, already grimacing in expectation. "Seven seconds. That should be enough blood, straight from the source, to keep you until you get to Mistral. Longer than seven seconds, and you better tear my head off fast - because I will find the strength in me to kill you myself. Got it?"

She was quiet for a second, searching my eyes for any hint of deception. So I asked her to do what I'm asking you to do - fully aware that she has as much reason to accept my commands as you, as a reader, do.

"Trust me."

...

I expected to feel something like a couple needles going into my neck, the same way you'd feel them in your arm at a routine blood draw. That isn't what I got. It was different; it was a bite, hard enamel puncturing and drinking greedily. I almost felt my knees buckle at the force of it, but kept standing with the help of the pump. Giada's head burrowed into my neck, almost in a vampiric snuggle, as I slowly counted down. 

Five...six...

"Hey..."

She didn't stop.

"Fiordilatte..."

She didn't stop.

"Giada."

Eleven...twelve...

Just as I was reaching for my gun, she drew away.

"Sorry," she said huskily, with more vigor in her voice than I'd heard all day. "Got carried away. Sure hope that wasn't a draining experience for you, Piper, darling."

I should have shot her for that. Perhaps, if this weren't a true narrative, I'd say I did.

I'd say I kept to my word and shot Giada Fiordilatte, for being unable to stick to my once-in-a-lifetime compromise.

Unfortunately, I'm a failure.

"You saved my life," she said a couple hours later, once we had gotten off our final exit and the airport loomed larger in the distance. There was a look of glee on her face as she spoke. "I would've starved without you."

I didn't like the way she said it. There was gratitude in there. And a teasing edge. 

"Letting you die would have been a poor return on investment," I stated dispassionately. "It was practical. And painful."

"It was intimate," she cooed.

reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I turned to glare at her.

"It was not."

"It was," she insisted. "I gave you t h e   s u c c!"

"No, you did not," I growled, pulling up to the visitor's parking in front of Terminal C. "You..."

I trailed off, looking for the right words to find.

"You slept the whole trip," I finished, settling for the least uncomfortable topic. Any doubts I had about myself, my outlook on life, my feelings on Atlas Academy, or my nihilistic view of my own existence...weren't for someone like Giada. "And you ate all the snacks. You cost me a weekend, a hundred lien, and probably a couple pints of blood. Maybe a more spineless man would forgive you for all those, but not me. Get out of my car and get on your flight. And remember--"

"Never see you, or Atlesian soil, again for all of eternity," she finished, still smiling that infuriating, coy, immortal smile. She put on her best Heinrich impression when she added, "Fare thee well, Jericho. Enjoy your life ~!"

I looked out the driver's side window, pointedly away from Giada, as I searched for a place to pull out of the terminal.

"Yeah, you too," I mumbled. "Hey, Giada."

She had slammed the door, but clearly her artificially-heightened senses were still working. She stuck her ear to the window, gesturing for me to continue.

"...I wasn't going to shoot you," I admitted, still keeping a cold, dispassionate face.

Her grin widened, but she insisted on pretending she didn't hear me. The vampire gestured for me to repeat myself.

"I wasn't going to shoot you." I growled slightly and added, "But I will if you miss your flight. Scram."

Beaming, the vampire threw me a mockery of the Atlesian salute and turned. Within the throng of people, carts, and luggage bustling from Atlas to one of the other three kingdoms, and vice versa, even a girl as distinctive and possession-less as Giada Fiordilatte could be lost in the crowds within an instant.

And sure enough, she was - no doubt still smiling at my confession.

Of course, I would have. Without hesitation.

But there was no harm in letting her believe it.

After all, I'd never see the vampire again.

Of course, I freely admit for the sake of an official and objective report that now I wish I'd shot her. As you can probably guess, I did see the vampire again - but not for years after that, not until after I'd finished up my seven-year term at Bastion Academy, not until after my brief stint at Atlas Academy, and not even for the first part of my stay in Vale as a student at Beacon. It turned out that giving her the benefit of the doubt was too much generosity on my part. I should have expected that someone such as Giada Fiordilatte would find a way to waltz into your life, over and over and over again, once she had made a connection with you.

...

Then again, I can't entirely blame her. After all, it wasn't her who chose to walk back into my life. It, just like her fate as a vampire, was chosen for her.

Can't blame her for some hedgehog putting its prick in her.

...

Crap, I did it again...

But I won't get into that right now.

There's only so much failure I can own up to at one time.

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by SevenStormStyle

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SevenStormStyle Not an Authority Figure

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SevenStormStyle

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Seen 6 yrs ago

"Now this is a match all those bloodthirsty ones Papa mentioned can get behind." The grim thought turned over and over again in Siri's mind as she watched the savage display unfold on the arena floor some fifty feet below her perch on the arm of said man's chair. The three Beacon students so hasty to declare their unwillingness to fight against teammates were quickly starting to realize their mistake as their fourth tore into each of them in turn. She was really something else, that one. While the others had quickly thrown down their weapons in a brave show of rebellion, the silver latticework that wound around her wrists and ankles had remained firmly in place. Instead of determined petulance, her expression had been one of blind panic as the starting bell chimed.
Leaning forward so as to get a better look at the girl who'd likely be hers in a few moments, Siri felt a steadying hand on her hip. "Careful there, Night-Light." Her father's voice, low so as not to disturb the other audience members in the darkened viewing box with them, was both a reminder of the sheer distance to the stone floor below and a word of caution regarding her decision to sponsor the victor of this fight. In response, she only reached over and rubbed the skin of one of his pale blue coyote ears between her thumb and forefinger in the way she'd done ever since she was old enough to reach them. Though...there many more rips and scars through them now than back in those days.

The dull thwap of a stun dart finding its mark ended both the match and her train of thought. Returning her attention to the center of the arena, Siri found that the frightened girl had indeed managed to win a near perfect victory: all kills to her, minimal damage taken. Well, physical damage anyway, judging by the shattered expression on her face just before she collapsed in a twitching heap. Wanting to have a peek at her new charge, Siri turned to her father as he stood to leave with the rest of the crowd and whispered "I'll be with you in a few moments." He gave a short nod of understanding before vanishing into a clump of Mirage benefactors.

...

It was remarkable how different everything looked from the arena. The seats Siri, her father, and his close associates normally occupied were a far cry from the plush sanctuary where she got to spend time with him. From down here, they looked like the thrones of judgmental kings, overbearing and ominous. Instead of a bright stage, the arena itself felt like an over lit pen. Siri gave a slight shudder as she approached the small group of medics tending to the surviving huntress. Her view from above really hadn't prepared her for just how strongly it smelled down here. The air was saturated with a metallic odor, no doubt due to the thick swaths of blood smeared on nearly every marble tile.

"Excuse me." her voice echoed back at her, and she winced at its reediness. All sets of eyes fell on her.
One of the medics, a young man with charcoal black hair, stood and looked her up and down, a slightly disapproving frown forming on his face. "Where are your shoes?" he addressed her bluntly. The others stared at him in mute surprise.

Siri looked down at her feet, then to the trail of smudgy pink footprints that led up to her. "Right outside. They're nice." She responded, ears drooping as she realized how absurd her reasoning must seem.

The medic only rolled his slate grey eyes, a slight smile tugging up at one of the corners of his mouth. "Well, I suppose there's nothing I can do about it now. Just don't tell your dad I didn't make you go put them back on." Kneeling to resume his task, he continued "So, what brings you down here anyway?" The question hung in the air for a moment as he produced a small, curved needle, a pair of forceps, and a length of nylon from the kit at his side. "That chain of yours is supposed to keep you on on floors more appropriate for twelve year-olds such as yourself, or so I hear." 

Even if she hadn't grown to expect his teasing in the time she'd known him, Siri would have been able to hear the humor in Soot's voice as clear as the nighttime air. "It would have a hard time doing that now." she responded impishly, holding out the short length of phantom loops from where it normally trailed off of her neck and rested against the middle of her chest. The severed end crackled every now and then, electric blue sparks flying off of it at random. "Papa said the fact that Orthrus's chain could break it was proof I didn't need it anymore anyway." Siri really tried not to brag most of the time (she saw enough of that in the hired fighters to last a lifetime), but she figured that genuinely impressing her father, and with a weapon she'd put together herself no less, was as good of a reason as she was likely to ever get to be a little proud. 

"Well-" Siri heard Soot make a small sound of agitation under his breath. "Kid, I think I need a pair of female hands in here." Peering around him, she got her first good look at the Beacon student. She was on the floor, but was sitting upright and seemed aware enough. The young woman's most striking feature was her silvery-white hair, just brushing her shoulders in all places save for the thick, twisting ponytail tied low on the right side of her head. Threaded in it was a white and purple-streaked flower that's shape gave the impression of a trumpet's end. Her clothes, once something light and lacy, were now weighed down with and stained by blood. Siri dreaded looking directly at her face due to the small chance they would make eye contact, but her curiosity got the best of her. As she drew closer to help Soot, she summoned her courage and lifted her gaze up. Well, now her fears just seemed silly. The bloodied student's violet eyes were pointed downwards, looking vacantly at nothing. "Alright." Soot's voice reminded her of why she'd come closer in the first place. "She's got a cut on her chest. It doesn't look like much, but I'd feel better if it was checked out." She was about to ask why he needed her for something that fell so squarely in his expertise when a strange realization came to her: every single one of the present medics was male. She almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. This girl had just been thrown into a fight to the death, and now they were worried about her modesty.

She merely nodded, however, and moved to the woman's side. She felt her tense as she went to pull down the top of her dress. Well, it seemed their concerns weren't misplaced after all. "You know, I can handle what's probably a tiny nick on my own." she spoke pointedly. Soot sighed and walked away, motioning for the others to follow him. Just before he vanished through the doorway, something in his expression slipped, and Siri could've sworn she saw him set his jaw.

...

A few long minutes passed in silence. As it turned out, the blood on the student's shirt sourced from the multitude of buckshot punctures sprayed across her chest. Just under the skin, the pieces of metal needed only to be removed with tweezers and the holes left behind by them disinfected. Really, Siri was glad she decided to do this. It was giving her an opportunity to talk to the other girl, assuming she was currently capable of responding. "May I have your name and age? For records, that is." Easy to answer and essential to know. Perfect.

If she was surprised at being addressed, the student didn't show it. "Datura Platinum. Seventeen." Her voice was pleasantly low, but had a strange, scratchy quality to it. "What kind of records?" It took on a hostile edge.

That was reasonable to ask. "Permanent residents all have records for multiple reasons. Medical information in case they need a transfusion or something, physical descriptions if they run away and a bounty needs to be put out for them." She plucked out a particularly deep piece. Datura hissed, her hand jerking up as if to cover her chest before falling slowly back into place at her side.

"Permanent residents? What, so you're not going to kill me?" she sneered.

"No, so please don't run away. My father's bounty hunters can't always guarantee a live recovery with the desert how it is." She responded quietly. Datura had no reason to accept her word, she knew, but she really meant her no harm. If it had been her decision, she would have let all of the students live.

The girl made a small "huh" sound of dismissal. "Father? I suppose that makes you real important around here. It explains why you can wander around wherever you please, anyway." Her gaze flicked over Siri. "I don't know your name either, or am I supposed to call you 'Mistress'?" She taunted.

Siri couldn't stop a small giggle from escaping her at that one, despite its intended venom. "No, you can just call me 'Siri'. It's short for Sirius Corona. Although-" she paused, remembering something her father had told her about respect. "You will have to add 'Miss' before it."

Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by HereComesTheSnow

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Childhood is a strange thing.

It’s murky and indefinite.

At eighteen years and counting, legally I’m no child, but try telling that to anyone else and you’ll get laughed out of the room in most situations. People’s definitions of “children”, or perhaps it’d be better to say “kids” change at the drop of the hat.

Even I wouldn’t say I’m a total adult yet. From my vantage point, at least, I’m still very much within the umbrella of adolescence. I’m sure many would agree.

There are some people that, once they turn eighteen, try to force others to recognize them as “adults”. There are some people that, once they turn eighteen, are forced to recognize their newfound “adulthood”. There are some people that, once they turn eighteen, work towards the idea of being respectably “adult” in stages and phases, slowly grinding towards independence and responsibility.

Me, well, I don’t know for sure where I stand there. But I do know that I certainly don’t feel as “adult” as anyone who is truly their own person. It’s not clicking yet to me, like I’m just treading water where most adolescents do instead of striving towards that vaunted independence.

There’s this idea people have, one I’m sure we’ve all heard of before, of the “formative experience”. That certain events affect people psychologically as they age, deeper than others, and have lasting impacts on their personality, thought processes, and ingrained reactions.

Events that, essentially, chart the path of neither body nor mind, but soul.

I can think of one of my own such events that may explain this sensation, explain the prevailing idea of mine that I’m somehow stuck on my own journey out of childhood.

However…

Much like a kid still clinging bashfully to a secret crush, I can’t open up about it yet. In the chain of events that built me up to who I am, of the formative experiences that made me myself…

It’s supremely important, but not the story to tell right now. It would be veering off-topic into a can of worms that you would only get halfway through even if I did my absolute best as a storyteller.

So with my apologies for being a tease, I have to continue talking about what I began with and see that through. A spiral of rambling and uncomfortable memories is nothing we need to deal with right now.

Childhood and Adulthood.

My place between them, nebulous and unsure.

I spoke before of independence being a key factor in what most people saw and strived for as “being an adult”. If that was entirely the case then I wouldn’t be where I am now. I can tell you this up front: That big formative experience I hyped up taught me all about independence.

And afterwards I learned that unchecked independence, much like unchecked cell growth, becomes one big fat tumor upon you. If I had to pick a name for this cancerous, malignant definition of independence…

Hermeticism.

That would have to be it. 

Striving for independence is one thing entirely. I’ll clear the air early and say that it wasn’t my intent to imply you should just mooch off everyone else for the rest of your life. In fact, even during my hermetic spell I was technically doing that. It couldn’t be helped seeing as I was a high schooler and all, but it needs to be pointed out. My hermeticism was from society, not from food, water, or shelter.

If you want to accuse me of half-assing it, go right ahead. But my point is this:

If I had to guess at a reason for why I feel like I’m off the usual course towards adulthood, that formative experience, and the independence and social hermeticism it lead to, would have to be it.

Simply putting it, I drove too far down the path too early.

And I needed to turn back.

Instead of learning to stand on my own two feet, I instead have had to learn how to lean upon others. 

How others would need to lean upon me.

How to stop acting like I was independent when I had just exiled myself.

And above all else, how it was impossible for me to avoid everyone and everything forever.

And in terms of formative experiences, this is the one that set me back upon that path.

“Friendship is poisonous. All it does is make you weak.”

I think that’s what I used to say. Something trite, pointlessly edgy, and more than a little cliche, so it was no doubt along those lines. As dumb as it was, I was a dumb kid and am a dumb guy, so it was backed with conviction.

A form of self-defense. I didn’t want to rely on anyone or open up to anyone or need anyone else. I had seen how trusting even one person could shatter an entire world. So in my lonesome mind, who needed friendship? Friends were just little time bombs waiting to go off on you.

No matter how worthy of your trust you or they themselves thought they were, you could never be safe with them.

This was my mantra that I always reminded myself of, regurgitated back at anyone trying to approach me, and essentially lived my life by for years.

As for when, the last time I told it to myself, was May 9th, the afternoon of the day classes ended and the beginning of my second-to-last summer break. The period in which I was between the status of “junior” and “senior”, at seventeen years and some change. Wandering aimlessly, I had certainly been contemplating what was ahead of me with mixed feelings.

Staring down a summer break that, in my mind, had nothing more than lazy, lonely days of being by myself in store for me. Like any other student, I was excited about having a cluster of days off, let alone whole months as provided in the summer, but by reasoning was surely an outlier. Normal kids wanted to go on vacation, get a job and earn cash, or at the very least have more time to hang out and do things with their friends.

And there’s that word again.

On the other hand, I was looking forward to a continuation of all of the friendless coasting I had done through school, except without the added baggage of being around people and letting my assignments and such pile up on me. 

Granted, it also meant that I didn’t have those two things to occupy my time as I once had. While staying home and shutting into NEETdom for extended periods of time appealed to me, I couldn’t say an entire two months or more of it didn’t feel like it’d be weird.

Thusly, after getting my clutching-at-the-edge report card and being told “see you next year” along with the rest of the class by our teacher, I had ended up spending the afternoon with my head in the clouds, milling about the general area near school and doing a whole lot of nothing.

It wasn’t like I had any reason to be there. Even if any of the clubs interested me, I wouldn’t have joined them back then. I wouldn’t want to build up connections to chain me down and tie me to other people. But still, I hadn’t strayed too far from the general area of my high school in about an hour or so of aimlessly letting my shoes eat up sidewalk and asphalt.

I hadn’t exactly felt like going home straightaway either, even with nothing keeping me at school. At the very least, no force had possessed me to retrieve my bike from the school racks yet. Personally, I blamed the fact that it wasn’t a full school day. Did nobody realize how upsetting those things were to a routine?

Maybe it was just too early to go home. 

Or, maybe, I had things waiting for me at home that I didn’t want to deal with. It could have been something along those lines too.

But whatever the case, I had been wandering long enough for it to nearly be the time the middle school around here usually got out.

Definitely so, in fact.

“Oi, watch where you’re goin-- Oh, s-sorry...”

“You should take your own advice, y’know.”

It had to be the case, because I had just bumped into an attendee. By the looks of her, she was probably about two or three years younger than I was, and ready to start her first year of high school when I would be starting my final one.

Perhaps this could have been a chance senpai-kouhai encounter that foretold her rose-colored high school life…

If I was somebody else.

“You could run into somebody nasty if you don’t.”

Damn kid. Quit complaining because you had your eyes on your phone or were playing with those spirals in your hair instead of watching your path. Admire your dye job later.

Granted, blame also fell onto me for not noticing said dye job entering my field of view, but at least I wasn’t denying it and trying to shunt my half of the blame onto someone else.

If this is what it meant to depend upon people, then my family could leave all the way off. I wanted to carry my screwups on my own shoulders, thanks very much.

“...Right…”

An awkward pause followed. Whether it was due to me giving her a mild stink-eye or her getting her accusation thrown straight back in her face, the girl was definitely embarrassed. Green eyes locked onto the sidewalk and pale cheeks flushed, it seemed like my words had definitely hit home.

Good.

“Seriously, stay in your lane. One wrong turn and those studs make you a target.” I said, gesturing to my own lobe for effect. Of course, our town was very safe with a highly trained police force, so I was really only forcing the point home in doing this than giving any actual advice…

But whatever, as long as I made the message absolutely clear, we didn’t have to drag this out.

“Shouldn’t let it happen again.”

I turned and raised my hand, letting her know the conversation was over with as I walked off. My pace was always relatively quick when I had things on my mind, so between that and quickly breaking off of what was a growingly uncomfortable conversation for both parties involved made my steps long, quick, and rhythmic.

I’ll be honest, it was probably a bit of a vain hope that I would have managed to make any habitual changes in the long run. I was just some high schooler, looking at it realistically, that she ran into and got groused at by. If anything, she’d probably be back on her phone not even a minute later shooting a friend of hers a text about me scolding her. She definitely looked like the kind of girl you’d expect to be popular as she edged out of middle school and into high school, where all that stuff supposedly went full swing.

Well, I’d yet to see that, not that I paid much attention.

But anyways, surely she wouldn’t actually end up changing all that much. I probably just pissed her off a little because I made her feel embarrassed. 

Well, I didn’t know.

In the end, it was just a chance encounter between two people that started and ended in under a minute. Neither of us knew eachother or even knew of eachother. I had avoided the poison of friendship and kept my personal agency high. She would go on with her life as normal.

It wouldn't matter at all.

Time had passed. 

I don’t know if it was minutes, an hour, two or more, but more aimless wandering was going on and that was about the end of it.

There really wasn’t a purpose to anything I was doing, or anything I wasn’t doing either.

I had managed to stick myself in limbo beyond all doubt. 

Eurgh. What a waste of time. There was filling time, there was killing time, and then there was trying to crash time’s plane with no survivors. By now my two sisters, who were undoubtedly home, were likely starting to get curious about their hopeless brother’s absence.

I’d really prefer not getting grilled by those kids, so it probably would have been for the best if I had gone and retrieved my trusty bike quickly. Although, now that I had gone back to thinking about it with action in mind, I probably still needed a cover story...

Maybe a trip to the bookstore…

A new novel coming out could provide ample reason for my tardiness, absolutely. However, off the top of my head? I couldn’t name any releases that interested me. And with a lack of reasonable dissuasion of doubt, I knew where the mind of two fourteen year old girls would turn when dressing down their elder brother.

They would think me a technophobe, a luddite, a fogey stuck in the days of old—

Doubtlessly they would suspect me of grabbing a school’s out celebratory porn mag. Maybe they would be onto something in other circumstances, like a complete blackout, but then I would sooner worry about such amenities like our air conditioning, fridge, and lights.

But, yeah. In the end, I could at least say I was perusing and had heard some dumb rumor by chance that a new volume of something-or-other had been released, and then I would at least have a story to stick to— I very much doubted I’d escape an earful from those two if I came home with no other logic behind things than “not feeling like it.”

The dumb kids probably thought the rest of the family and I had a salvageable situation. I mean, we never really got into big fights or had a falling out, but as time passed by from my inception into high school, we just began to drift apart. To grow distant from eachother. Work for both began to ramp up, I secluded myself more and more, and whenever we spoke of my academic performance, we quickly learned that the less there was said about it, the better.

The racks were empty when I drew upon them, save of course for my own bike. How late had I let it get?

Sheesh. Any worse and the sky was going to start turning orange on me. It had to be a personal record for time wasted entirely naturally, with no outside nor manmade assistance. Didn’t even look at my phone. Not that I had any contacts or anything, but…

Well, unfortunately for me, even if I had contacts and friends by extension to use as an excuse, I barely knew how to work the things. I just wanted it to tell me the time and take me to the internet under my desk in class. Anything more would have asked too much of both it and me.

I pushed my legs into the familiar churning, circular pattern as I started off. Though there were a scant few things I could out and out say I enjoyed in this world, I’ve always loved doing some touring around town on my bike. The breeze in your face and the quickness while still traveling under your own power-- it appealed to me. Of course, needing both hands to keep a proper balance meant I was also working a little harder and needed to pay more attention than just walking...

But on the flipside, me needing more attention to go places meant that I also had less that was there to be attempted to grab by others. 

A natural barrier against conversation. If I was on my bike when I went places, people didn't try chatting me up. I'd simply be out of earshot in a matter of seconds. I got places fast, wandered less, and didn't have to talk to anyone or even check my phone for texts. 

What a beautiful invention. One of mankind’s finest. And needless to say, I rode the thing wherever and whenever I could for those exact reasons. For a guy who had all of the desire to affiliate with others of a particularly social tree, bikes were the perfect method of getting around places. The less I talked to people, the less I had to recognize them and potentially care about them in the future.

The less chance of randomly making a friend.

The less people that could cause a buildup of weak points for me. Whose pain and suffering could bleed off onto me. Whose happiness and fun a petty guy like me could be jealous of. Who I would have to worry about and remember and consider when making my actions. 

It was less people who could limit the kind of person I was. Less people whom could be used against me. Less people whom held sway over what I did and thought.

Less people I would, inevitably, come to trust and be burned by, as I had personally witnessed so long ago.

Yep.

All in all, the social forcefield of speed and focus that a bike provided made it a perfect fit for a solitary guy like me. If anyone wanted to get my attention while I was on it, they would have to do something big and crazy, which nobody would ever consider when you factored in them not knowing me nor ultimately caring about someone whom they didn’t know. They would have had to do something that could go way beyond the limits of normal communication.

“HEL--”

...

Like letting out scream.

…

…

And right in the face of years’ worth of a solitary mantra…

I skidded to a halt.

Our local bookstore happened to be in a bit more of an urban, densely developed area. Normally this just meant the streets were busier and I’d have more breeds of lights to worry about, but such urbanization also, inevitably, came with a caveat.

More and taller buildings meant more and darker alleyways. It was an unavoidable side effect of trying to stick a bunch of people and companies into one spot—once builders ran out of room to build out, they inevitably look to build up.

And yet at the same time, with all those people, the section of sidewalk I had been riding through was empty save for me. If bumping into some kid was a chance encounter, then hearing a girl’s cry for help right now was a one in a million scenario.

Nobody else was around.

Nobody else could have heard her before she was cut off, and the quieter, distinctly more rough and masculine shouts that followed, which I’d needed to be listening for.

Nobody else would know something had happened.

I could have walked away and written it off as the wind…

“Alright, listen up! This is how it’s goin’ down, you little brat!”

The shouts were getting louder and my footsteps, on instinct, were getting quieter. I could feel my heartrate skyrocketing as I snuck my way into the dim, murky in-betweens of our town’s polished exterior, body stuck tight to the walls. 

What on Earth was I doing?

What happened to not caring?

I didn’t know who this was.

“No more noise-makin’! Either you cooperate…”

I heard dark, ugly chuckles. So there were lackeys, too. Great. What the hell was wrong with me? For all the hype about the bystander effect in class, I sure as hell wasn’t getting affected by it.

“Or we take all your stuff by force! And I gotta warn ya, we play rough…”

“You could get yourself hurt, missy.” 

Yeah, that was more than one voice. No two ways about it or anything like that. A mugging at best. At worst…

…

I’d rather not.

And to speak of that, I really’d rather not be doing any of this. It went against everything I had preached as gospel. 

I was about to throw myself into deep trouble because I couldn’t even keep my word to myself. I’d have to add “all talk” to the list of things that made me the loser I am. I was a loner, and it was so much work staying that way. If all I had talked about was true, then I should have ignored it and kept moving like any other person.

What kind of hermit went out of their way to seek trouble like this?

In the end my feet just moved of their own accord. Even though I was questioning everything I was doing and the reasons behind them, the rest of my mind was running me on autopilot.

A resurgence of instinct, huh?

God damn it all. That must’ve been it. Once again, I couldn’t win.

“What the-- Oi, you’d best keep movin’, twink!”

They spotted me. 

Three high schoolers, each looking almost stereotypically, cartoonishly criminal. The idea of “delinquent” given flesh, and not in the loveable way that popped up so frequently in Shonen Jump. No, as it turned out, if you took a bad attitude, outdated style, and a propensity for getting into fights and causing trouble, the end result was actually pretty ugly.

The one who addressed me, leering down his crooked nose, stepped forward threateningly. His beady eyes had absolutely nothing but malice in them, and he was at least a good four inches taller than me. Probably outweighed me by thirty or fourty pounds as well.

Not a good situation.

His partner, who had been shadowing the ringleader, stepped forward as well, wearing a loathsome grin along with his torn up uniform.

“If you know what’s good for ya, pretty boy, you’d better not be getting any hero delusions in your head. Any one of us could snap your prep-school ass in two.”

Believe me, Pompadour Guy, I had no delusions of being a hero. I was scared out of my mind here, despite investigating of my own accord. You too were huge. My practically-failing-prep-school ass had no business challenging someone meaner looking than said prep school’s rugby team captain.

“Oh boy, another one. Five seconds, kid, before I sic ‘em and we shake you down too.”

Probably from the cigarettes I was entirely sure he smoked at the pace of a chimney, a worn, rough voice left the mouth of the obvious ringleader. The tallest and lankiest of the bunch, his scuffed up leather jacket and slicked-back, bleached hair took a backseat to the knife in his hands, as far as the task of making him raise the bar of intimidation was concerned. He pointed that blade at me as he said it, too.

I won’t lie, I flinched. Knives have a profound psychological effect on me, as they would any other man… Dawn steel pointed in your direction is never not something to be concerned by.

He then returned to sticking it in the face of the girl who had screamed, evidently satisfied that I’d be scared off or roughed up.

He had her mouth covered with his free hand, and her back pressed into the wall. The knife waving right in front of her, if I had to guess was what was dissuading her struggling, as her eyes stayed glued to it.

Her olive green eyes. Olive green eyes on a the young face of a between middle-and-high schooler, framed by frayed, long, drill-tipped blonde hair. The outfit was different, much trendier and cuter than a school uniform, but the person wearing it was the same.

Even the piercings.

I couldn’t believe it at all.

“Last warnin’, smallfry!”

…

If I were to construct a line of reasoning for what happened next, I guess it would have been something like this.

I was mad at the girl. Stark raving mad. Not only had she bugged me before and wasted my time, now she had actively gotten me into trouble I didn’t want. Every which way you looked at it, it was her fault for preying upon my poor inattentive self. This was entirely on her.

She had obviously not listened to my advice. To brush off an honest tip from your elder so fragrantly was deeply, unforgivably disrespectful. I didn’t care, in that moment, for the fact that I was just some guy who had been passing through twice now. I cared about the fact that the one time I spared more than three words to some kid who had sincerely needed to help, I was ignored.

That would be enough to piss anyone off. 

To piss them off unreasonably.

To piss them off into stupidity.

To piss them off apoplectically.

Crunch.

“AAAGH!”

To piss them off hard enough to throw a schoolbag full of heavy, hardcover books like they were pitching at the Koshien.

“What the fu--”

“Wrong move, you goddamn punk!”

“You’re dead now, you little bitch!”

The knife clattered to the floor as hands flew up to a newly-broken nose.

Footsteps pounded towards me.

Without even knowing I was doing it, my weight lowered and my hands rose. Butterflies that had already made their home in my stomach were flapping up a storm. 

…But really, though?

I caught olive eyes for the third time that day.

“Run and grab my bike! Head straight to the police station and don’t you dare stop! NOW!”

I guess it’s true, even for me.

Old habits die hard.

If you asked me, or any of my family for that matter, who the fighter amongst us was, I can tell you with complete certainty that we would all say “April”. Her practice of the martial arts was nigh-obsessive. I half-wondered if she was living up to the legacy of a reporter of the same name and was making a run at becoming a ninja turtle.

I scrambled back, pulling my head away from a wide, full-fisted swing. As I stated previously, Crooked Nose was a burly guy who barely fit into his high school uniform, so getting hit was absolutely not an option. If he put my lights out, this was all going to be one big fat waste of time. I didn’t want to bank on the card I had up my sleeve if I could help it.

I was no vigilante hero of justice. That was quickly becoming her area of expertise, as it happened, and even with said ninja turtle out of the discussion, her trusty sidekick was none other than our little sister Dawn. Of the three of us, I was actually the one that least resembled a “fighter”. I didn’t get into fights easily and I couldn’t remember a time I’d been in one in years. Truthfully, this was in its entirety not my scene.

The girl, after a moment of shock, heeded my words and began to scramble away. Good, but the only problem was--

“No runnin’, brat!”

Pompadour. Like grabbing a kitten by the scruff of its neck, he lashed out and gripped a fistful of her jacket’s collar, suddenly immobilizing her right as she started moving. Not good. No. Bad. That was definitely a “bad”.

So what was a guy to do if he didn’t like fighting, didn’t know about fighting, and had no experience with fighting compared to the people he was fighting?

Well, luckily for me, nobody would complain if I colored outside the lines a little.

As his next swing came, corrected for my new position, instead of moving back I moved forward. I met his oncoming force with my own, and did something that somebody who liked fighting would never be expected to do.

Even as his forearm crashed into my shoulder, bicep, and forearm, placed there in a classical “block a hit to the temple” formation, my other arm shot forward. I was poorly, amateurishly miming my little sister, but in the end a palm strike to the nose was still a palm strike to the nose, whether it was a ramrod like hers or a glorified slap like mine.

It takes a special family for the older brother to personally know that the large man whose already crooked nose he flattened was now seeing stars, thanks to his repeated scuffles with his own little sister. Maybe it was an explanation for what I had against noses right now…

What happened next was probably the biggest stroke of dumb luck we had all night. At around the same time as I planted my heel into Flat-nose’s gut, the middle schooler managed to wriggle out of her own sleeves and shed the clothing. The end result—

One delinquent, holding a chic jacket, found himself staring at the fleeing form of the girl he had thought he’d ensnared for all of a second and a half before his fellow crashed into him and they both toppled. Just like bowling. Or dominoes.

Heh...

I looked over my shoulder as the two unentangled themselves, seeing a flash of blonde rounding the corner to confirm that the girl was home free…

And instantly regretted it, as a great pressure formed in my side and I staggered as if someone had crashed into me.

“Ghhah!”

Through a bloody, broken nose, a rough voice spat.

“Not so tough, are ya?”

I couldn’t respond, only gasp and stagger backwards woozily. Despite what it initially felt like, I hadn’t been bumped into or punched…

I stared at the knife, clutched in his white knuckled grip.

And even in the low light, I saw blood that I knew wasn’t anyone else’s but my own. I could tell it was mine, without a shred of doubt, because…

I clutched my side, feeling my uniform soak up something warm, wet, and sticky.

“...gkh.”

All the three of them stalked towards me now. Their accosting of the girl was completely forgotten. Every last bit of attention they had was now focused upon me. On one hand, it was certainly a good thing that I had at least managed to bail her out for my trouble, but on the other…

I edged back, eyes darting between the three and desperately trying to ignore the growing, burning, almost indescribable pain in my side.

On the other, now I was here in her place. If I wasn’t locked into fight or flight mode and barely able to think through my wound, I’d have probably said something about how you couldn’t even take chances on people…

But that was what pop-culture always got wrong about getting stabbed. Once you know it’s happened and you see your own blood, the pain gets ten times worse. But, for all I wanted to curl up and scream, I had to hold things in.

“Ey, don’t give me that look, pal. We gave ya every warnin’ in the book.”

Wiped nose.

“But ya just had to try and ruin our little payday.”

Cracked knuckles.

“And now it’s you who’s gonna be payin’ for it.”

Brandished knife.

I gritted my teeth and balled my fists, doing my best to ignore that one was all sticky inside. I had to buy her as much time and distance as possible, I knew that, but I felt like a wounded, cornered rat more than some venerable guardsman holding the line…

But you know what they say about cornered animals.

As one, they sprung, and as one with them, I lashed out desperately. The Pompadour man was the closest, and thus felt the worst of it. I may be a broken record in reiterating that I’m not April, but I didn’t need to be to kick a scary man much bigger than me in the groin. He doubled over, but it afforded me no rest. Right after him, from the other end, was the Ringleader, whose wide slashes sent me scrambling back again. One, two, side to side, both narrowly missed my body by no more than an inch. I couldn’t keep that up.

On the backswing, as he brought his arm around for a third swipe, I torqued my body as hard as it could go and swung my right hand for his head. It was sloppy, and ugly, more like a bear swatting than a man punching, but it fended him off for a moment.

“Ahgh--”

At the cost of feeling like I was liable to spill my guts all over the place. I grunted, my breath hitched—

And I was blasted by a running headbutt from Crooked Nose, who was apparently descended from a ram faunus now, or something. One second of distraction and I was hit hard.

As if fighting three of them wasn’t bad enough, I had to have a debilitating injury on top of it, right?

Well. Just my luck.

I ducked under his follow-up punch and shoved him away, staining that uniform and the ragged shirt underneath red.

I had to keep buying time. She had to have at least grabbed my bike now, but the last time I didn’t make sure of something, well…

I wouldn’t be needing to now, I’ll say that much.

My breath was getting labored, and I could feel the adrenaline dump beginning to set in. Was I seeing spots in my vision? I couldn’t tell if the picture was swaying because of my condition or my flagging muscles.

I just had to hold out for more. 

Just do more.

Knifeman again. Mad. Swinging very wide. Pulling it back.

I charged forward, shoulder-bashing him before he could swing out. Nearly falling off balance.

Growl from other side. Turn, duck.

Not fast enough. Punch grazes temple. Hits forehead. Knocked crossways. Vision swimming--

WHOOM.

Enormous impact. Air forced from gut. Ribs crack. Long, heavy, solid. Bat?

Oh, tire iron.

T-Tire Iron?! From where?!

Swings for head, manage to avoid but stumble. Falling to floor.

“Say goodnight!”

Catch. Get up. Get up now.

Try to get up.

Blur in peripheral.

Turn--

Boot.

I wasn’t out before I hit the ground, but the last thing I felt was definitely a stomp on my back.

Great.

I don’t know how long I was out.

Probably not very.

But I do know that I woke up with a start.

Like a jolt of electricity had been run through me.

Like I was reborn.

And, in a sense, you could say I was. The thing these guys didn’t know about me, couldn’t have any way of knowing about me, and never would guess about me, was that in terms of damage, me and normal people were…

I dug my hand underneath my shirt, near my stomach. Dry. Closed.

Markedly different.

I twisted my body, testing for stresses. A bit sore, but nothing crazy. So, my ribs likely needed a few more minutes. No big deal.

I was the only person around here now.

Rising to my feet, I patted myself down to check if I still had all of my valuables on me, which was surprisingly enough the case. Huh. Maybe they were satisfied with just beating me up…

Well, if they thought I was out of commission, they’d be sorely disappointed. I had a secret weapon against most forms of injury that, honestly, made me completely unfair.

Her little jacket, too, was forgotten. Lying in a crumpled, careless heap on the dirty floor of the alleyway, it seemed like the gang of miscreants had lost track of it while fighting me. For guys who were trying to shake middle schoolers down for their valuables, they sure as hell had done a terrible job of it.

I rolled my neck and squatted down, picking it up off the floor and draping it over my shoulder. Thankfully, I hadn’t stained it at all, so a quick run through the wash was more than likely to leave it good as new.

As for my uniform, well…

Our family is keenly aware of how to get blood out of clothes. Especially if it’s my blood. I suppose I should get around to explaining that.

I come from a pretty special family. You could say that they’re a whole heaping handful of extreme individuals. People who are stronger, tougher, and all-around scarier than the average, sometimes by whole orders of magnitude. People who would make those three punks combined look like paper tigers.

To put it in terms of numbers, there were three people who either were Huntresses, or were going to be huntresses. 

My mother and sisters. Scariest women alive.

And then there was a veteran police officer.

My father. The man of the house who could keep THOSE three in check, however the hell he did it.

And then there was me. 

Little old Luke.

When you examined the pedigree I came from and the family I had grown up with, it becomes a little less surprising that even though I’m not much different at all in capability from any other high schooler, I still did have a trick up my sleeve.

Though three of us were going to be fighting Grimm, four of us had our aura and semblances awoken. 

Mine was auto-regeneration. You basically could take the healing ability of a normal person and square it, and you would get me. Well, no, that would be oversimplifying it…

If I took damage, be it as small as a papercut or as serious as a knife just below the liver, it would heal completely and very, very quickly. Those cracked ribs could have taken a normal person months to recuperate from, and would have necessitated a hospitalization, but for me it was a matter of resting for less than an hour before I could breathe and walk again. It was an invaluable trait to have in times like these.

With that said, I didn’t enjoy relying on it. I could only heal from damage, there was no reduction of pain or even real mitigation of that damage I had taken in the first place. Tying back into what I said earlier, even though I had the Semblance of a Hunter, I had no interest in becoming one. I had done nothing to train my semblance or aura or whatever since it had awakened. 

My aura, the fuel for my semblance, was pathetically weak. So much so that I was, for all intents and purposes, just a normal human in every other area. In fact, I wasn’t even particularly fast or strong by the standards of normal humans. I wasn’t tough, either, as the auric “barrier” that shields most Hunters from minor damage was nonexistent for me. 

It was that weak. It took everything it had to keep my semblance running.

And that’s all I was. Just some guy who could heal remarkably fast. A perfect punching bag.

I took a deep breath. No use bellyaching now.

Dusting myself off one final time, I retrieved my bookbag, which had flattened a nose, and walked back into the light of the street. 

May as well have headed home now. It was starting to get to the point where there was more light from the shops and the street itself than the sun, after all. With our parents being so bogged down by work it wasn’t likely that they would be in to accost me about being out after dark or anything, but there was no telling what those two little tasmanian devils I had for sisters would do.

Whatever it was, I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.

Ugh. And it would definitely be after dark, too. A trip that took a little while by bike became a major time investment on foot. I really wished I’d thought a little before telling that kid to use it, but I couldn’t change the past now. If that were an option, this would have never happened at all.

I really didn’t feel like running, either. Maybe it just means I’m lazy, but after what I had been through today, and with my only rest being a knockout blow to the temple, I felt like I wouldn’t have the strength of will left to hoof it for however many miles it would take to get back home.

As such, I hadn’t gotten far at all before my phone began to ring.

I stood just outside the bookstore, having had to shuffle through my pockets and bag before I found it, and stared glibly at the screen. Displaying the caller ID and playing some video game tune most people wouldn’t be caught dead listening to in public, I just couldn’t help but take in the absurdity of the number displayed.

…

You know, it’s not often when 911 is calling you. But strangely enough, that was just how things worked out sometimes, if you were in my situation.

Beep.

“Dad?”

A low, gruff sigh on the other end, one that I knew meant unwittingly held breath.

“Hey, kid. You alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

Even though we had grown more distant over my high school years, as I had with everyone, my father was still my father, and my father still cared about me even when I was being a worthless loser working towards nothing.

I’m sorry for being so worrying, Dad. I’m a bad son.

“Well, to say nothing about you being out so late all of a sudden,” he began, obviously leading me into a catch. “We just had some poor girl race in here on your bike scared out of her wits. Typically thieves don’t go and run to the police with the things they stole, so that raised some eyebrows.”

Naturally it would, yeah.

His voice kept even and professional as he continued, and I realized that now I had become part of an investigation. We had our moment of familial worry, and then it was getting to the bottom of what had happened.

“Once we got her to calm down, she said that a high-schooler with a cowlick, medium length black hair, and a real mean streak had stumbled upon three other boys mugging her and got into a scrap with ‘em so she could escape on his bike and ride here. Does that sound like anyone we know?”

My eyes narrowed and I felt myself frown.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Pop. I don’t have a mean streak.”

“So, I take it her descriptions and yours will line up.”

At least acknowledge what I said! I defended myself there!

“Tch… More than likely, yeah. She’s fine?”

“Just rattled. Catch any names?”

“I didn’t. My bike’s fine?”

“Aren’t you cold.”

Well, forget professionalism, huh?

“If she’s fine then it means I didn’t waste my time getting beaten up. It’s not like I did it to make a friend.”

“Alright, alright. We’re giving her a ride home now, poor girl needs to de-stress.”

So that meant— wait, hold on.

“Oh, before you do, could you grab my bike and bring it with her?”

“...Why? Don’t want to come pick it up at the station?”

“Not really. It’d be easier if I just walked home and we traded in front of school tomorrow. She lost her jacket, right?”

“She did mention needing to wriggle out.”

“Yeah, I have it. Best we just kill two birds with one stone, I’d say.”

A moment of silence on the other end.

Please? My feet were starting to hurt…

“Alright. Well, I’ll have to let you go for now and catch Sakura before she pulls out,” he said sharply, as I heard the sounds of him swiftly moving through the station in the background. “But I’m calling you back right after so I can get your story on what happened, got it? You’d better pick up and tell me everything.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less.”

Dad was nothing if not serious about his job, no matter how much goofiness he let loose at home.

“Talk to you soon, then. And son--”

“...Yeah?”

“You did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”

It ended up taking over an hour and a half to get home on foot at a steady walk. Who on earth thought that putting the only worthwhile bookstore in our town, anyway? I should sue. I should start a petition. I should gripe to the newspaper…

I unlocked the door using the key we kept in the potted plant. In Mom’s own words, “under the mat’s too overdone and obvious”.
“I should just plop on the couch and not move for a while.”

As was family custom, my shoes came off at the doorway and were placed to the side near the frame. No dust or grime in the house, she would say, unless you want to clean it all up yourself.

I was in no mood to clean anything, even as simple as pushing a vacuum back and forth a few times. Cleaning was for natural go-getters, traditionalists, and people who hadn’t trudged all the way from nearly downtown to a cozy little suburban residential area.

So not me. However—

I brushed the dust off of the jacket, or at least tried to. Where it looked nice enough beforehand, with a warm orange color and comfy-looking lining of faux-fur around the collar, the soft fabric was all crumpled and marked up by dark brown and gray thanks to being involved in a back-alley brawl. The poor thing had probably gotten trampled on a few times after I knocked Crooked Nose into Pompadour… 

S-Still, I was sure it was nothing a classic wash and rinse cycle couldn’t fix!

…

Lamenting how lame it would look if I brought back a grimy jacket whilst demanding a spotless bicycle, I left the laundry room and was greeted by the Lesser of Two Evils.

“Oh, Onii-chan. You’re back.”

“Oh, Dawn-chan. I’m back.”

Don’t you dare. I don’t wanna hear it from you. Go try and fit your sister into a yukata.

“You were out pretty late.”

AAAAAAARGH

“I’m nearly eighteen. I can stay out. Dad knows about it, anyway.”

I’m serious. Leave Onii-chan alone for tonight. He doesn’t need your grilling, he’s already been in the fire!

“So, where’s the jacket?”

What the--

“Okay, how do you know about that?”

She tilted her head like an innocent, confused puppy. 

Don’t try and get out of answering by acting cute, you little--

“Papa called me to make sure you got it washed right.”

“It’s a jacket! How hard could that even be?!”

Completely unfazed by my outburst, she perked up into an easy smile.

“So you’ve got it taken care of?”

“Yeah, I just threw it in the washing machine. It’s a jacket, not a three piece suit.”

…

She would refuse to wipe the smirk off her face for the rest of the night. Through the re-cleaning session, through dinner, even during my attempts at sinking directly into the couch while she caught up on her drama show, she was unabashedly lapping it up. Every so often, just when I thought I’d get a break, she would brutally chime in with a jab about fabric softener or detergent or something.

It wasn’t until I trudged upstairs into my room and we said our goodnights that I was relieved of having her smug, pearly whites beamed directly at me. I was half-worried she would follow me in just to squeeze a few extra minutes out of it, but it was mercifully unfounded.

Absolutely exhausted, I flopped onto my bed and attempted to become one with the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

Sheesh. What an annoying little girl. It was hard to believe she was nearly the same age as that kid who I’d gotten into this mess with. Just a year, maybe two off. As an older brother, that was a little scary.

My relationship with my sisters is tenuous at best and standoffish at worst, but it’s still unnatural to me to see them as anything more than little girls. In just a couple of months, a kid who was barely any older than them would be a high schooler. And already she was looking the part of someone who was coming into her own as a person, independent and maturing into a young woman.

Were those little girls I grew up with really so close to doing the same?

...It wouldn’t be long now before April would be tackling her application to Signal academy. Dawn was sure to follow, and might even overachieve to snag a spot alongside her. It was certainly within her capability. Once that happened…

Once that happened, our paths were undeniably split. The road forked off into a territory where I couldn’t lord my experience over them any more. I couldn’t be the older brother who had done all that and seen all that before.

...They were moving up past me, weren’t they? I’d kept straight ahead into high school and been content to stop. What I did today would be part of their everyday lives as they learned how to become heroes, just like they always wanted.

If I made Dad proud today, you could say they would be making him proud every day.

And I’d just be sitting here with no paths or goals ahead of me. People romanticize being wayward a lot, but what was it really, besides indecisiveness? It was kind of funny, if you looked at it from that angle. Two “little girls” had more direction and drive than me, their supposedly wise and experienced older brother.

...Was I okay with that? Was staying on course “enough”?

“...Feh.”

I turned over. 

What they all did didn’t matter. Growing up is part of life, and there was nothing to be sad or surprised about . It happens to people. In life, it’s what’s called a constant. When it was universal and happened to anyone, it was no big deal and didn’t matter.

Yeah.

None of this mattered. Life was going to go on as normal. If they wanted to become superheroes, then let them. They had the ability and the time. I’d wasted all of my chances to do the same and no matter how much it bothered me, I couldn’t change it. Today was just an anomaly that had come and gone. It was resolved without breaking the status quo.

That’s what I thought.

And then, next morning—

I found my bike beaten into a scrap heap in front of the school.

“...”

Attached was a simple note, written in lazy pen and irreverently brief. Not any girl’s handwriting.

Whitesnake Shrine.

“Dammit, you idiot!”

It wasn't often that I verbalized my self-denigration. After all, it had been instilled in me, from an early age, that talking to yourself is bad. Even moreso to try and talk to yourself while your run, although that part may have been one of my own misconceptions. Something about biting one’s tongue off, but at this point neither lesson mattered.

“Of course it's never over that easy!”

My feet pounded across the concrete. I tore through sidewalk like a man possessed. Nearing the edge of the city, I was forced to run thanks to my bike being trashed by those punks.

And boy, was I angry about that. I was furious. Livid. Insensate. I was so angry that I was rushing headfirst into a certain trap because I wanted to exact my revenge that badly. I had become so monstrously enraged that even knowing it was a bad idea wasn’t enough to stop me, and that bicycle was a personal enough treasure that I wanted to do it myself.

That was what I told myself, anyway. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that calling the cops into a hostage situation could rile them all up and have one do something crazy to said hostage. After all, I didn’t care about that stuff. That girl was just an afterthought, nothing more, and after all I had done to help her, she deserved it for still managing to get into trouble. Probably a result of having built up a weak point by thinking of me as a friend, or something.

Yeah, when it came to her, all I felt was annoyance. Nothing more than a constant thorn in my side that, with my luck, I’d have to deal with all summer should this crap keep up.

It was bad enough that she made me mad at her for not listening to my one lone piece of advice, but she was also a master at making me mad at myself. Here was a girl who had me, one way or another, running into danger with absolutely no benefit twice now. Twice, she had made me break my code of only looking out for number one and not letting a weak point build up.

I shouldn’t have cared in the first place. That was my problem! If I had just let the stupid ‘who was bumping into whom’ thing slide, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now. I wouldn’t be rushing towards ten, twenty, or even thirty young men holding some kid I didn’t know hostage because they wouldn’t have broken my bike and pissed me off, because I’d have made up my mind to go home ten minutes earlier. I wouldn’t have heard that scream from the alleyway.

I wouldn’t have investigated something that had nothing to do with me.

I wouldn’t have found a girl getting mugged at knifepoint.

…

And I would have condemned her.

It had to be me, because there was nobody else who could have helped her then. Just as it had to be me now, ironically enough. Because I foiled a plot and humiliated three people by smashing noses and kicking junks, I had now brought down the wrath of the whole gang on my head.

And on hers too.

I knew it was a gang of them because it had to be a gang—and that was also why, as I ventured into the road up towards the base of the mountain, I juked right for a good fifty yards until I was well into the bush. To pull something like this off in the space of a morning— kidnapping a girl, smashing a bike, and setting themselves up within the one abandoned shrine our city had— that was next to impossible if it was just the three punks I had fought last night. No trio of high school delinquents had those kind of resources on their own.

So I wanted to stack advantages, since they had numbers. If BleachedHair and Pompadour were anything to go by, they’d also be armed, too. So I needed something to counter that with…

Like surprise. The problem was that with that note, I knew that they knew I was coming. They had set the place and had the time. They were having me come to them.

My pace slowed to a creep. By now I was practically on top of the stairway up, so if I wanted to even have a ghost of a chance at this, I needed to move with discretion.

Peering out from the brush may have been the best decision I’d made all morning. A lone man stood at the very foot of the stairs as a sentry, looking bored from posture alone as he leaned against the archway. You might ask why I had to denote figuring this out due to his posture but that was due to—

“A horse mask?” 

I said it under my breath from a fair distance away, so thankfully he didn’t hear me. But I was surprised. Not at the fact that the guy was keeping watch, but the fact that people actually wore them outside of making dumb internet videos…

I guess all types of weirdoes flocked to this crew, huh? There had to be plenty up there. I counted at least four cars that could easily hold two dozen people total at a conservative guess. If more people were coming, had already walked, or were crammed into one of the two vans…

Ugly.

Very very ugly for a little high schooler man like me.

But looking at this guy’s mask, I was beginning to have an idea…

“Here goes nothing.”

I grabbed a nearby branch and snapped it.

The Whitesnake Shrine was ancient. Absolutely ancient. Ever since the first settlers that had crossed the northern seas and ventured into the mountains of Sanus had plopped down here, the Whitesnake Shrine had stood. Hundreds, if not thousands of years of history had been witnessed by this building. 

Even as it was joined by and eventually retired from the nexus of Shrines that dotted the side of the mountain range, it had stood strong. A bastion of worship to old gods, to ancestral spirits, and a sealed barrier against the Grimm past the peaks. The white oak beams had proudly weathered the ages.

Not even the color war nor the battle literally fought on top of it could break it.

Not even decades of retirement after that war, nor the slow onset of dereliction could break it.

The venerable shrine had stood through it all, and would continue to stand. As though the gods it used to venerate had indeed watched over it.

Today, as the grassy tiles of its courtyard were occupied by no less than thirty of it’s protectorate’s rebellious youth, would be no different. Though they scratched the still-smooth stone with their lead pipes and risked burning the thick bamboo grove and forest surrounding it with their cigarettes, the shrine would still stand on. 

Relieved of duty or not, it was simply what the shrine was to always do, as it has always done.

Another of the rambunctious lot trudges up the steps, increasing their count to thirty-one. He is a strange one and has always been a strange one, but was generally reliable. That was why they allowed the young man’s quirks such as a preference for baggy hoodies and horse masks. While making a name for yourself as a tough dude was one thing, having a calling card that was recognizable anywhere worked just as well.

Thanks to being a reliable sort, they had placed him on lookout duty to warn if anyone was headed that way that refused to be turned back by a strong suggestion. Like the cops.

Or, maybe that little punk who Motoharu had decided he wasn’t through with yet. They knew he would be coming too, and they were all too happy to show him some appreciation for taking care of their buddies last night.

Thanks to being a reliable sort, they were also fine with letting him swap out with another reliable guy after the fourth hour on watch duty. Yoshitake had been a little miffed about not getting to slug the whiteknighting prettyboy who was willing to resort to kicking another man’s junk, but his worries were allayed by the Boss, who reminded him that his job was also to escort the little shit up the stairs so he couldn’t try anything funny.

He’ll get his licks in.

All of this conversation passes through the ears of the Girl, who, due to her younger age, weaker even if well-kept frame, and current position of being tied rather tightly to the chair she was sitting in, was unable to do anything about it. She didn’t even feel safe looking in the eyes of any of these older boys…

Well, Horsehead Mask doesn’t have a face that would haunt her nightmares that she can see. So once he’s stepped into the shrine courtyard proper, she gives him the most withering, unholy, vitriolic stink-eye a fifteen year old almost-highschooler could muster, backed by years at the top of a schoolgirl’s social food chain. 

To her credit, it actually seems to give him pause, but telling the true effects of her assault is hard beneath the blank, unreadable expression of the horse mask. After a brief shake of his head, he seems to have recovered…

“Heh, looks like the watch duty really spaced ya out, huh Mitsuo?”

Mitsuo shrugs goofily in response, and the group chuckles heartily, sans the Girl. Instead, she just lets out a despondent sigh. Nobody sane would blame her, as nobody sane enjoys being a hostage.

“Don’t worry,” the boss drawls lazily, kicking up from his seat behind her and greeting Mitsuo with a tilt of the chin. “Once Motoharu’s little friend shows up, we’ll kick things off and it’ll get interesting again.”

“He ain’t my friend, Boss.” Motoharu growls beneath his pompadour, grinding his tire iron into the tile in irritation. “An’ come to think of it, what if he gets cold feet? We did beat the shit outta him already, y’know.”

Protecting his masculinity there isn’t he? He feels he has to remind everyone that the three of them did in fact beat the high schooler in question. Having been around lots of boys, she’s wise to it, but also wise enough to not comment on it from such a precarious position.

“Well then, it’s simple. We’ll all take care of the girl for a bit, and then we go straight to demanding a ransom.”

A shiver runs up her spine. Whatever that entailed, she doesn’t like the leers, jeers, and smirks. Not one bit.

But she does also notice Mitsuo wander her direction while the conversation was happening. The mysterious horse-masked boy draws up close, tilting his head and as far as she can tell, looking her over.

Creep.

He then beckons the Boss over as he walks behind her, and she can’t help but turn her head over because she doesn’t like the looks of this at all. Is he just trying to get caught up? Is he inspecting her? Has he noticed something none of them else have?

“Huh? Ah, liking the knot job, huh? Yeah, she’s not getting out unless we want her to.”

Mitsuo slowly nods, reaching into his pocket…

“What are you…”

The next thing the girl knows, the integral rope is cut. Her bindings fall to her feet and she rises, not sure if this is even real. The next thing she knows, the knife that freed her is thrust in her her hands.

The entire shrine is frozen in disbelief.

And then Mitsuo, having outed himself as a traitor, decides to run all the way with it and decks the Boss with the chair.

And all hell breaks loose.

It's a bit funny, in a strange way like it always is when it's a bit funny.

They thought their plan was pretty much airtight. They, somehow, didn't at all plan for an infiltration. They didn't even plan to make sure that they had a backup sentry posted in case their primary one got taken out before he could warn them. 

I thought these guys were smarter than that.

However that isn't to say I should have started casting stones. Not from this glass house of mine.

Because, while this gang was objectively stupid for not having a failsafe in place for their lone sentry, I was equally stupid.

Because my plan ended directly after I smashed their boss in the face with a chair. That was it in its entirety. I snuck in, pretended to be one of their guys for a few minutes, and then worked my way over to the chair. Standard stuff. Anyone could do it, if they bought me as him that easily.

Having a little sister whose entire Semblance revolved around the generation of strings, I luckily had enough experience with knots and ties to make light work of anything they knew how to put together. So far so good.

And then after that…

Uh, here, young lady, take this knife and run down more stair steps than you can shake a stick at! Remember, point your stabby end at them, not yourself~

Meanwhile, I'm going to try and fend off thirty angry dudes at once! Better hope they don't notice you in the confusion~

Yeah, everyone on this mountain was stupid. I wasn't any better than them. The smartest person here was probably that kid, spluttering and spazzing out for only a second before realizing that this was the best chance I'd be able to give her, as I ripped off the horse mask and threw it in the nearest guy’s face.

Of course, even as she turned tail and ran for all she was worth, it was too naive to hope that they would just let her go.

Even as I beat another man and the chain he was whirling away from me with what little of the chair survived, I saw one, two, three going after her. Crap.

It was also all I could do to keep them all off me by swinging the chair in huge arcs, the moment anyone came near. 

In doing so, I had allowed myself to become surrounded, going against rule number one of real world situations: Never let yourself get surrounded. A rule I had broken already by letting the trio box me in last night. Double crap.

What sort of horrific comedy of errors was this? Was I really so incompetent as to make the same mistake twice?! I was going to seriously die here, throw me a bone!

They were closing. Both on her, and on me. It was the end of the line in everything but writing…

Once again, I couldn't…

“Eat lead, bastard!”

My body moves before my brain does, and a lead pipe smashes through one of the chair’s legs, leaving me with only one intact and three stumps. Nonetheless, I jabbed that last leg into his gut and swung it around for good measure. It kept them at bay, but I still couldn't..

...I was still fighting.

Couldn't what, exactly?

If I was still fighting, who was to say...

Couldn't get through to her in time? Why was that?

Because I didn't have the ability to break through that many, right? It was all I could do to hold them off.

Wrong. If I could hold them off with the threat of getting walloped by a chair, then I could break through. I'd just have to start forcing my way forward.

So why not do that?

Because they had more size? I had a weapon.

Because they would engulf me if I moved? I was already surrounded.

Because I would be running headfirst into pipes, bats, and shivs? I had a chair and a healing Semblance.

Because I was okay with halfassing a rescue attempt and was willing to make excuses for failing?

Because I didn't want to go through all that pain and trouble for some kid I had just run into, yet was being forced into one bad situation after another by?

Because I was okay with screwing it all up for both of us?

Because I was okay with failing?

...Because I was okay with watching myself ruin another girl’s life?

Was that it?

Was I really fine with letting it happen all over again?

“..........”

I eyed the crowd.

They eyed me.

One lunged forward, bringing his cricket bat down in an arc that aimed its end straight onto my skull. He was big, strong, and the broad kind of big and strong.

Synapses fired. 

Adrenaline pumped.

I held the chair and its remnants of legs in front of me like a battering ram--

“Never again.”

And with a whisper that felt like a howl, I charged.

My drive forward carried me out of the “knockout range” of the cricket bat and instead of probably cracking my skull and dazing me, it broke the skin of the crown of my forehead and cut it open. Blood ran down my face like a mask, a testament to how quickly head wounds bled even with a semblance like mine, but I didn’t even register it.

Because I had only one goal in mind— move forward. 

The base of the chair caught him in the stomach, and with all the momentum I had behind it combined with his lack of balance, carried him with it. He had become the new and improved version of my battering ram, and with him I bowled my way straight through their ring. Thirty people was a lot, but they weren’t a hundred or even fifty. With enough mass moving fast enough, all it took to break through a circle of them was a ram and no fear.

And honestly? Yeah, I got knicked and whacked along the way by the guys that gave chase and those next to the ones I forced my way through, but it didn’t matter.

With one final shove at the end of my charge, I knocked the big guy over— and raced into the clear, flinging the weapon back in the face of my pursuers. 

A few cuts and bruises didn’t scare me at all.

Not compared to letting history repeat itself.

I was at a dead sprint, and while I was never a super-athlete, I was light, clocking in at only 130 or so pounds, and I had a lot of experience running around in my youth. As a result, the moment I had broken free of the ring, I was rapidly gaining on the girl’s pursuers.

And, to her credit, she evidently both had a good dashing speed and understood how to threateningly swing a knife whenever someone got too close—

But it visibly wasn’t enough, as every time she would fend one off, the other two would inch closer to getting their hands on her. It was only a matter of time before they would be able to swoop in and disarm her, all but ensuring she was captured again.

Well, not on my goddamn watch, you bastards.

My strides got longer, barreling down two, three, sometimes four steps at once. I was surprised I managed not to trip myself up and tumble, but I wasn’t keen on the idea of counting my blessings.

I gained, gained, and gained some more, pushing my non-super-athletic body for all it was worth—

And leapt upon them.

Even though they both outsized me and I was a short guy with an average build, when you were travelling downhill an impact of any significant force, it was a death sentence.

And any high schooler jumping onto your back is a significant force.

I crashed into the two that were further away. The distance between “furthest” and “closest”, however, could be measured in one or two feet. Even as we began to fall, I reached my arm out and grabbed the last man by the ankle.

I crashed into two and tripped the third.

He fell as the other two and I fell, and we rolled down the stairs in a painful, painful tumble. Hopefully their skulls didn’t crack, but I didn’t have time to check as soon as I found my footing.

Because even though I was right on their asses, the rest of the gang was right on mine, charging down the mountainside in the form of an enraged horde. There were plenty that nearly caught up to us as we tumbled down the steps, and there were even smarter ones who elected to just eschew them entirely and slide down the slope.

Those guys were actually pulling ahead of me.

I sprinted again, narrowly missing a heavy chain whipping through the air towards the small of my back. I had gotten her distance.

Now I needed to buy time…

The moment I was clear, I turned—

And was very painfully reminded of why to never fight an uphill battle.

Surprise was gone. Fearlessness didn’t matter. My weapons were gone.

Now I was just a punching bag.

I tried to raise my forearms to block, but every time I did something weighty would hit me in the legs. I would lash out with every limb in my arsenal, but every time I did another blow or slash or stab would sneak through my opened up guard.

An uphill battle, against superior numbers and weapons, was beyond my caliber.

The well of ingenuity had run dry. 

All I had was my Semblance and the hope that I could buy time--

And the hope that that would ensure that poor kid's escape.

I felt a lot more blood flowing than just the wound on my head now. 

Something along the lines of a pipe or a bat cracked against my arm, and I felt a crack within that arm to accompany it. 

That arm sagged and immediately a knife nicked my cheek. I kicked the assailant away—

And another bat to my kneecap knocked it out of place, and knocked me off my feet.

I crashed inelegantly to the ground, looking up as three figures began to bring their weapons down upon me.

…I should have at least learned the name of the random girl I was gonna die to protect, shouldn’t I?

I closed my eyes and brought my arms up in an X over my head. 

I did the stupidest thing in the world, waited for the assault to begin.

Whether I was spent or not…

That assault never came.

The air and jeers of the crowd were cut through brutally by two loud bangs.

The sound of a police helicopter and megaphone drifted into my ears.

And in the middle of it all, ahead of the Shiroyama PD and standing directly over my battered, pathetic self—

“So, this is what you kids’ve gotten yourselves up to?”

An eye-searing hawaiian shirt flapped in the midday breeze. An unlit cigarette perched in his mouth like an afterthought. One of his eyes was lazily closed, another lazily opened.

A lead pipe caught between his index and pointer finger. A chain wrapped around his gloved hand. A golf club caught beneath the sole of his sandals.

Standing there on one leg, the middle aged man appraised the group of rowdy youngsters, each in their prime, almost mockingly. Like a tiger would mice.

“...Ha ha. What a spirited bunch. Tell me,”

From the woods and steps behind Tanner Oshino, the police force emerged, brandishing full riot gear.

“Did something good happen?”

He spoke in a frivolous, whimsically casual tone.

“You know, we’re gonna have some problems if you keep making a habit of this, kid.”

“I don’t think anyone would make a habit of today and yesterday, Oshino.”

A wry laugh.

“Now that’s a cold way to speak to your elders. When did you get so rebellious, Luke? You must have been hanging out with those hooligans way too much.”

Oh get all the way off my case, guy. That wasn’t true, and he knew it. With his vague, appraising glances and his annoying ability to see straight through you, there was no way he didn’t.

“Oh, don’t glare at me. It was a joke. You might hurt this poor old man’s feelings if you keep acting so high-strung.”

We were now hours removed from the incident. The girl had been transported to the doctor’s office immediately despite being visibly fine— something about them not wanting to take risks. It made sense. There wasn’t any telling what had happened in the time she’d gotten snatched and the time it had taken me to rush over, after all. Her family had been notified of the incident and were on their way there as well.

Poor girl. Not once, but twice. I had the feeling Dad was going to get an earful for my idea…

But on a related topic…

“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but how did you and the police know to show up so fast?”

He scoffed, folding his arms. 

“You’re telling me you’ve forgotten about my volunteer work making sure this shrine isn’t completely overrun by nature?”

...Point. He did often squat there whenever he was in town, and as one of the two “local” hunters, nobody except Mom could really stop him even if they cared to. And she didn’t. But still,

“Okay, but what about the police?”

At that, his scoff became a cheeky, cheeky grin. After a moment of digging through the pockets of his cargo shorts, he held aloft a phone. A familiar looking phone.

A phone that belonged to a certain horse-masked boy, posted at the base of the mountain where we now stood.

“All it takes is three numbers, Luke-kun. You did well to hide him after you knocked him out, but you were way too careless about leaving the phone lying around.”

...Oops.

“I was too careless about a lot of things in these past twenty-four hours…”

Primarily by letting this whole debacle happen in the first place. It was the kind of vigilantism I would always leave to my sisters, and when I ended up stepping into their shoes for a change the results were nothing short of disastrous.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to always be a disaster at helping people. You want to, don’t you?”

“...No, I don’t, forget it. Whatever you’re trying to recruit me for, I’m not listening.”

“Relax, I don’t stay in any one place long enough to get so invested as a joining recruitment drive. Not even this cozy little town. It’s Holly’s jurisdiction, anyway.”

Holly was my mother’s first name. I’m late in saying this, but the reason this middle-aged psychedelic hobo named Tanner Oshino is my “uncle” of sorts is due to his being a teammate of my mother’s, back when they all attended Beacon Academy.

You know, that place my sisters were bound for after they get through Signal.

“But, to speak of that woman,” he continued, looking sidelong at me as he chewed his unlit cigarette. “You take a lot after her. I can tell.”

“Well, yeah, she’s my Mom.”

Of course I look like my Mom. Where was he going with this?

“No, not just looks-wise. You’re more like your father there.”

What.

He continued on, unaware or uncaring of the logic bomb he’d just dropped on me. 

“I’m talking about that drive that made you do this, Luke. It’s not an everyday person that willingly runs straight into thirty ruffians for the sake of some brat.”

Shut up.

“That was because they smashed my bike. I was angry and wanted to get back at them. That’s all.”

“Right, right,” he said, believing me not. “And that’s why you made sure she got away by sacrificing yourself twice. Because of your bike.”

“....”

Stop looking at me with that damn all-knowing gaze.

Asshole.

Talking like you can see right through it all…

Arrgh.

“Look, Oshi-- Uncle. I’ve already proven that I’m not cut out to be some sort of hero, you and I both know it. I don’t know what you’re getting at by me not being disastrous, I’m always going to screw things up. Even if I did want to do… whatever it is you’re trying to nudge me towards, you can’t save me from the fact of the matter. All I can do is spectacularly fail if I try and go down that path.”

He paused for a moment. It was a rare thing with Tanner, but every so often, in between his japes and jests and frivolous, mocking appraisals that had you scarily dead to rights, he would go into these periods of deep thought. He spent them, in my experience, most often by looking at you or into the distance. Gauging you. Searching you— not your face, but your soul. 

And then into the distance would always travel up, as if searching for providence itself’s clues.

“Well, you’re right. I can’t save you.” He began after a time, dropping the mocking tone. “But you can save yourself.”

….

What was this cryptic yoda bullshit?

“Huh?”

“Think about it. Even if yesterday and today were rough, did you fail?”

Not really...

“...I got lucky.”

“And if that’s how you want to look at it, there’s no stopping you. You have to make the decision, in the end, of whether or not you want to be saved.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Luke,”

...Straight into the soul. Both eyes directly at me.

“That only you can stop running.”

“I’m not…”

“Try telling yourself that.”

…

‘Friendship is poisonous.’

‘I’ll always fail, it’s the fact of the matter.’

‘It was just luck.’

They were all phrases I had kept telling myself for years— And I noticed something about all of them. 

They all shoved the blame off somewhere else, didn’t they?

Friendship was a poison because it made you weaker than not having to care. I would always fail, so it wasn’t worth trying to overcome. It was just luck that lead to my success, so I couldn’t count that as any of my work.

Running. 

I’d been running all this time.

Running from responsibility. Running from acknowledgement of my own shortcomings. Running from learning and growing.

“That’s right. I can’t stop you from doing it, Luke, I can only tell you what you’re doing.”

...It was hard to forget why I hated talking to him.

Because he really did see straight through me.

Even when I couldn’t.

Ever since that incident two and a half years ago, I had been running and running and running some more.

“...But I can’t make it right.”

I was floundering at the revelation.

“It’s been so long, and it was so… If I can’t make it right, what am I supposed to do besides atone?”

“Atone? You mean exile yourself? That’s fleeing, Luke.”

I felt like a kid being scolded.

Maybe I was.

“Fleeing isn’t atonement. If you want to atone, you need to face it straight. And remember, life isn’t one of your manga or videogames or anything like that. It doesn’t fall into place so cleanly. There’s a good chance that you’ll never ‘make it right’.”

Frank.

Harsh.

True.

“I just don’t want it to happen to anyone again. I don’t want to do that to anyone again.”

I wasn’t sure if I was even still talking to him, but he took it upon himself to respond.

“Then the solution’s simple. If you’re willing to bear the burden, then what you need to do after that is become better, right?”

……….

It was lucrative. I had a hard time admitting it after two years of telling myself not to care for any of that stuff, but it was lucrative.

“...And how would I do that?”

That all-knowing smirk returned. This time, however, it didn’t mock me.

Instead, it was here to help.

“I know a place you can go.”

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by HereComesTheSnow

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"Hey." I said, trying not to grouse.

"Heya." came the worried response, clearly knowledgeable enough by now to tell when I'm grousing. Dammit. I didn't need to be negative right now. "No dice, Luke?"

I shook my head, wishing I didn't have to say what I felt. It certainly had gotten me nowhere today. "Giada, I dunno if I can keep up like this."

"Of course you can!" she immediately urged, the sudden increase in volume and energy causing me to flinch a little. Yeesh, you're right in my ear here... "The Luke I know would never give up!"

I didn't want to be spiteful, or hurtful, or anything like that. I shouldn't have done what I did in that moment. It was undeniably the wrong thing to do, and I'm forever ashamed of it.

"Ha..."

"Luke?"

But come on.

"Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

I threw my head back and laughed. Laughed all the way up to the moon. Loudly, boisterously, unrepentantly and angrily. I laughed so hard it turned heads, elicited comments, and even frightened people. I found two band girls, with dark and white hair, glancing uncomfortably between the other. The basketball team's shortest player whispered something to our "Blue Lightning", the track star with the birth name of Jack Orpheus, about hoping she wasn't on a list of mine. Even Ben Lloyd, musclebound captain of the Wrestling team, Crafts club member, and Harem King was shying away from where I stood.

I met all of their eyes with a glib smirk that even I could tell, just from the feeling, was uncomfortably fake. "Sorry folks," I drawled, "My friend here just told an excellent joke. Carry on and don't mind me."

I heard her try to tell me something, but I was too busy urging everyone else on into ignoring me. When I finally put my attention back onto her, my words were curt and final.

"The Luke you know, huh?" 

I scoffed one more time.

"Evidently we don't know each other as well as we think, huh, Giada?"

"...Luke..."

...

"Look," I breathed. "We'll talk later. Bell's about to ring."

I cut it off. I slapped my phone shut. I think, inside, I knew that I was completely in the wrong. That I was irrational, that I was venting about the wrong thing to the wrong person in the wrong way.

That I was running away, like I always did.

But despite all that, she still had her words cut off by the electronic tone.

"So."

It was conversational enough if you didn't know him. Him and his pretty face would make anyone expect easy conversationalism, an overwhelming abundance of charisma that was absolutely boiling over, and all the ability and desire in the world to use it.

But as his best friend since middle school, I knew better than to claim Jericho Piper as much of a conversationalist. That wasn't to say he was a boring guy to talk to, or even very bad with words. 

No, he wasn't either of those things, which is why I knew he wasn't killing time. He was actually very good with words.

So good that when he spoke, you paid attention. One of those strong silent types.

"So..?"

That all said, he could do me a favor and get on with it.

"Heard you flipped out today. Get shot down again?"

"Shut it, dude. I don't wanna hear it."

"Luke, you've been scaring people. You know what they call beating your head against the same wall in hope that one day your skull will break through?"

No, I didn't need to hear this. She was the one who needed to hear this schtick...

Stop it. Cut that shit out.

You're a better goddamn man than that, Luke.

"Determined?" I ventured in a faux-hopeful manner.

He just looked at me sidelong, and was having none of it.

Flinch.

"Suicidal."

"I'm not going to kill myself, dude."

"Yeah, but you're gonna drive yourself nuts if you keep getting all bent out of shape over this by expecting something different."

I stopped. We were in front of my house, with his just across the street. Perks of living within walking distance of school: You get so used to going to and from there with your best friend that you don't even need to think about it.

"...Yeah. I know."

He looked over his shoulder, having turned to head off to his home. Maybe Miss Cairo was baking her famous cookies again. It'd explain the eagerness...

Then again, so would this gloomy atmosphere. Strong and silent, but deep down the guy was pretty sensitive.

"So why?"

I looked up and met him with a weak smile.

"I've got someone rooting for me. I don't wanna let her down."

"...Huhm."

We ended it there.

I sighed as the ringing tone played into my ear. This was the part that always got to me.

Four rings. Practically unheard of in terms of response time.

"...Hey, Giada."

"...Hey, Luke."

Don't take that tone with me. Stop it. I feel bad enough, dammit, did you just get done crying on me?

"Listen, I'm sorry abou--"

"Don't be. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry."

I have a bad habit of cutting you off, girl, but this time it's for the better. And, hopefully, I'm not being a complete shithead about it.

"You didn't deserve that. You were just trying to help me, and I appreciate that. It was just... I was an asshole, okay? That's all there is to it. The going got tough and I got asshole-ish, that's it. Just..."

I sighed. It wasn't the perfect apology, but I'm not a perfect speaker. Even so...

I felt a little better.

"Just tell me what you've learned and need help with."

A sniffle through the line. Dammit, Luke you don't deserve her in any respect. You oughta be ashamed of yourself for forcing a sweetheart like this to suffer through your stupid ass.

"It's the least I can do to make it up to you, after that."

"Okay."

I guess I wasn't the only one relieved...

Poor girl. If only you could be this understanding here...

"So, I'm thinking that since Christmas is coming up, I should get him something, you know?"

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Uh... well, what games do you like?"

"Hmmm... That's tough. I'd be willing to bet... Oh, I know! NieR!"

"NieR?"

"NieR Automata just came out, right? You oughta grab him that if you can, I'm really excited for it."

"Alright! Anything else?"

"I'd say we should diversify..."

"Yeah, you're probably right..."

...Think, man. What would last longer and be more useful than a game?

"...Giada."

"Yeah?"

"Know any cookbooks your Mom likes?"

"You think he likes to cook?!" 

I could practically hear that blonde's wide eyed ear to ear grin through the speaker.

Adorable.

"Well," I smirked. "I know I'm certainly getting into it."

"Oho?"

O-Oho? Giada?!

"I thought we didn't know eachother all that well?"

Why you little--

"I apologized, okay?!"

All I got in response was laughter—

Yeah, that's much better.

Within the myriad of planes that exist through All That Is, Was, And Will, there is a common concept within: That of parallel universes. The idea that one reality has a twin, for since there are likely an endless number of them, surely there must be two that are almost identical, right?

Yes. Right, indeed.

It is in fact a commonality to find "binary universes", much as one can easily find binary star systems within said universes. Normally the link between the two is beyond the understanding of those that reside within these realms, but there are always connections between twin realities. There is an incomprehensible ebb and flow of cosmic energy, magnetic and gravitic forces, and metaphysical concepts between these pairs. Things such as karma. Their balance of good, their balance of evil. Attention of the overseers. Each member of these pairs are their partner's "counterweights", in a sense, and exist in a harmony that reacts at a scale ten levels above even the most powerful of the mortal races.

With one plucky, notable exception.

Perhaps it is a byproduct of the Overseer's whimsy.

Perhaps it is the power of the concept.

Perhaps it is simply a testament to the strength of human emotion—

And how it always seems to just find a way.

The setting is a small, sleepy town, with one high school, middle school, and elementary school.

A boy falls in love with a girl.

Unable to confess, he is gifted with by a mysterious stranger with the girl’s phone number. Never minding the strange area code, he immediately calls her, and is overjoyed to find out that she has a crush on him as well.

But, the next day, when he recounts the previous day’s confessions to the girl, she only looks at him with a perplexed expression. After some investigation, he finds out that the girl he called is not the same girl he fell in love with. In fact, she doesn’t exist in this universe at all. She is the girl’s alternate universe counterpart, who has fallen in love with the MC’s own AU self, who too is blissfully unaware of her crush.

Hijinks ensue as the two strike up a deal to give each other their darkest, most private secrets in order to equip the other with the weapons they need to conquer the heart of their other selves. While the two chase their respective loved ones, DRAMA ensues as they begin to fall in love with each other instead and question the NATURE of LOVE.

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by HereComesTheSnow

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Imagine a world where you can train beyond the limits of humanity.

Imagine a world that is home to beings and artifacts of immeasurable power.

A world where man can go on an adventure no matter the age, time, or place, as long as he has the power of his own two fists and the fire of his soul beating within his heart.

A world where the spiritual, corporeal, and infernal realms are separated by little more than guidelines.

A wild west, where men must be strong and communities must be stronger. Where the power of the individual can reach the stars, and the power of their friendships can grasp the universe.

Welcome to Japanland, where our story takes place.

Japanland is perhaps the most livable of the three ancient kingdoms, home to high-rise urban centers, sprawling suburbia, and rural wildlands alike. With a territory that spans the majority of the eastern continent, the former archipelago nation has become one of the world’s major powers, and is home to both ancient training techniques, and upstart young brats with endless potential to utilize them.

While not everyone possesses the capability to become legendary heroes or villains, those who do form the backbone of the defense force for those civilians that don’t. It is estimated that one in twenty thousand will undertake the steps necessary to break the limits of humanity, and the rest of the 19999 will remain normal civilians.

This is not a bad thing at all. Humans can only break their limitations through struggle and hardship, either by traumatic experience or hellish conditioning regimes. The lives of those who don’t are normal and oftentimes idyllic in Japanland, practically indistinguishable from those of you or me, save for the notable exception of those extraordinary individuals who have.

Perhaps this strong backbone of people who are willing to work hand in hand with those who have awakened is why Japanland stands firm against the forces of evil. No matter how many super-powered individuals there are, there still needs to be somebody to grow crops, man factories, build bridges, and teach the youngsters that may just be their saviors.

They will need them.

A demon of immense power, Cinderchunbaru, has risen from her 10000 year slumber and quickly overtaken the entirety of the infernal realm, forcing the lesser demons out as refugees into the corporeal world. Many integrated into Japanland to escape her reign, cruel by even demonic standards, but they came with a warning.

She would soon follow, and her conquest would begin anew.

And within Japanland’s Capital city, New TokYork, there exists a certain municipal high school, nondescriptly average in its population, design, and educational standards. But there’s one thing distinctly beyond average—

The destiny of its student body.

OP

It could only have happened on a lazy Monday morning.

After the days of weekend leisure and the night of desperate homework cramming, a warm spring morning was the final piece of a perfect storm for the high schooler’s worst enemy.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

“Mruh?”

…

“GAH!”

Benjamin Lloyd, brown-haired, blue-eyed, normal highschool boy of class 2-B, had overslept.

“I can’t be late again, if I do, I’m gonna be forced to take Luke’s shift for cleanup duty!”

That absolutely couldn’t happen! He had promised her…

Flashes of bronze skin, green eyes, and a gleaming white smile passed through his eyelids as he threw on his uniform and brushed his teeth with superhuman dexterity.

“I won’t forgive it!”

“Dad!” he called after gargling the first time.

“Woke up yet, son?”

“No time! Toast me!”

“Heh… What gave you the impression, young man…”

Daniel Lloyd produced a perfectly golden brown piece of toast from behind his newspaper, glaring his indignance at the boy who was running down the stairs.

“That I hadn’t already?!” he roared, flinging the crispy bread like an olympian discus thrower. Not to be outdone or slowed down, Benjamin caught it within his teeth and wasted no time getting out the door.

“Fanks dad i loffe you haf a nishe day bye!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and the old man chuckled, returning to his newspaper. 

“That kid’s so frivolous…”

The Ex-Royal Marine Platoon Sergeant took a long drink of coffee.

“He should enjoy it while it lasts…”

…..

It took a great deal of technique, knowledge, and self-mastery to run and not choke on one’s toast while doing so. It took an even greater degree still to do so while holding and eating the toast with the same instrument, meaning the mouth.

At 16 years of age, one could say that Benjamin Lloyd was a remarkable skilled boy. Waving his greetings to the kindly neighbors retrieving their newspapers, mowing their lawns, and practicing their kung fu out in the front yards, Ben Lloyd slowly engulfed his toast at a dead sprint towards New TokYork North Municipal High school.

If he wasn’t there for Lauren’s baseball game, he’d…

“AAAARGH!”

His thoughts and body ended up being knocked aside as a dark mass slammed into him from around the corner, before he even knew it was there. Two voices, one masculine and one feminine, cried out in unison from the collision as they rolled to a stop.

Having somehow managed to keep the toast in his mouth, Ben worriedly noted that two somethings, very large and soft, were pressing against his face. And then they and the weight on top of him practically leapt off, and he knew what was coming next.

Oh no…

“GYAAAH! YOU PERVER-- Oh! Ben! Oh man I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

Carefully opening his eyes, Ben sat up and rubbed his forehead to see two figures standing over him.

One adjusted the glasses beneath his raven hair with a sigh, and addressed the other in a smooth, intellectual voice.

“Lauren-san, you were the one who ran into him.”

“And that’s why I stopped!” protested the dark skinned and dark haired busty beauty that was Ben’s childhood friend, lowering her foot from it’s primed-to-kick position. Taking another bite of her burger, she pouted at the shorter, slight man as he carefully maneuvered some ramen into his mouth with his chopsticks. “You can’t yell at me this time, Luke!”

“Hm. Well, we’d better all hurry.”

“You guys are running late too?” Ben Asked through his toast as he rose and dusted himself off, noting with some amusement their similar predicaments of “breakfast on the go”. Lauren’s love of meat was infamous, and the nutritional profile of a burger was varied enough to start off her active days. On the other hand, the glasses-wearing boy, Lucas, was a notorious fan of any type of noodles he could get his hands on, and possessed the dexterity required to always be able to wolf them down.

They started off again, hopping to it double time and making small conversation on the way there.

It looked like the start of a fairly normal day…

“Heh.”

Until the Red Devil of North High appeared in their path, just outside the gates.

JERICHO PIPER: SATAN’S RIGHT HAND

“I’ve been waiting for you, Lloyd!” the red-haired half-infernal crowed from atop the border wall of the school grounds. “Today you meet your match! I’ve perfected a new technique to defeat you in ONE SHOT!”

“Hmph.” Luke scoffed, adjusting his glasses. “Looks like your rival’s at it again, huh?”

“Jericho! We don’t have time for you to be playing games!” Ben growled, clenching his fist. “We’re gonna be late for class and that’s not acceptable!”

“Ha!” Jericho Piper laughed from his perch, folding his arms as his glowing red hair flowed in the morning breeze. “There’s always time to prove which bloodline is stronger, and it’s MINE by the way!”

He leapt down with a punch that cracked the cement where Ben’s feet were a moment ago, but thankfully the young high schooler had dodged.

The fight was on.

H-He’s faster than last time! Ben thought in alarm as he weaved between three kicks and an elbow to headbutt the other boy in the nose. I need to keep my guard up.

“Surprised, Ben? All this time you’ve been wasting away with your studies, I’ve been training to defeat you!”

“Wait, isn’t he a student here too?” Lauren asked from the side, nudging Luke with her elbow. “Look, he’s got a uniform and everything!”

“You were out sick that week, so you didn’t know,” Lucas began, shifting his glasses and beginning to exposit as Jericho and Ben traded flurries of punches and kicks at high speed. “Jericho Piper transferred to our school last week, but he was originally the half-devil son of one of the refugees from the infernal plane. His sister also attends, but she doesn’t condone this behavior so it doesn’t matter right this minute. He’s had a hard upbringing and grew up without a mother, and his Devil father only knew how to teach him the ways of infernal society, where strength is utmost paramount. They both have to adjust to life here in Japanland, and for Jericho it’s extremely difficult since status by strength is all he knows. Of all the guys in our class that he challenged in that first week, only Ben was able to defeat him, but barely. Since then, they’ve been bitter rivals.”

“...That explains why he doesn’t care about school, I guess. Did he beat you, too?”

The small boy smirked, light glinting off of his lenses. “Do you think he challenged me?”

“Going off of how you look… no?”

“We should move. They’re headed this way…”

Before the could, however, the world blurred and the moving was done for them, as a pair of slight hands held the two teens by their collars.

“M-Miss Cirsium?!”

“T-Tearlag-sensei-san-chan?”

The cutesy sensei of twenty-seven years huffed from the confines of her rabbit-eared hoodie, eliciting a menacing spark of purple lightning. “I’ll deal with you two brats later. For now, I’m enforcing the zero tolerance policy! You brats are still on school grounds!”

TEARLAG CIRSIUM: DISCIPLINARY THUNDERHEAD

Thunder crashed, and their homeroom teacher burst into the fray, trying to either break it up or beat her two most troublesome brats into submission— whichever came first.

“They’re moving so fast, I can barely keep up!”

“Hm. Another draws near, so you’d better hope you’ve trained enough…”

“Wuahahaha! I SMELL A GOOD FIGHT!” came the cry of delight, as class 2-D’s window exploded outward. A green and brown blur flew out, feet-first into a flying kick within the fray.

GRATIA MINDARO: BERSERKING VANGUARD

“That would be--” Luke was distracted by an errant piece of glass flying towards his neck, so while he caught it with his chopsticks and flung it into a bush, Lauren picked up where he left off.

“Gratia Mindaro, 2-D’s own Tasmanian Tornado! But if she’s here, then right behind her must be--”

“EY! BAMBINA! YOU GETA BACKA HERE ANDA FINISH YOURA PROBLEMA!”

NAPOLI FIORDILATTE: MEZZALUNA MILANO

“How dare you fools interrupt our battle!” Jericho cried, swiping to and fro with his Hellrune Arm. “This is between me and Lloyd! I’ll beat the hell out of all of you!”

“You’ll beat the hell out of nobody, young man, if you don’t want to get tossed out of this establishment!” their teacher shouted thunderously in response.

“Say, Luke?” 

“Yes?”

“WHY STOP THE FIGHT, SENSEI?! THE FUN’S JUST STARTING!” Gratia shrieked deliriously, fully enthused by the battle.

“Swap answers for math while we commentate?”

“Sounds like a smart plan, Lauren!”

“Non posso credere che si aspettano che dica le cose in italiano per questo spettacolo!” Napoli roared, swiping at the brown-haired girl with the righteous fury of his ancestors and the student council presidents before him.

“This has dragged on for too long,” Ben stated with a determination to solve that problem here and now. Wiping the blood that trickled down the corner of his mouth, he stared steel at the assembled group, except for his Sensei because she was just trying to break up the fight like a good teacher.

“It looks like I’ll have to use my..."

The sound of a page flipping.

"--Bloodline technique.”

“H-He doesn’t mean--” Lauren asked, shocked.

“He does mean…” Luke confirmed with a tip of his glasses and a nod. “That.”

Lauren gasped.

Cirsium-sensei gasped.

Jericho gasped.

Napoli gasped.

Gratia gasped.

The onlookers from the classrooms gasped.

Benjamin gasped.

For breath.

“You’ve got a lot of faith, Lloyd!” Jericho growled from his place in the standoff. “Trying to use your bloodline move when you’re so tired!”

“That’s why I’m using it, Piper!” Benjamin fired back. “It’s the best move I have left and I can’t waste any more time on you!”

“I get it.” Luke said thoughtfully from the sidelines as Lauren dutifully jotted down his calculus answers. “He’s banking on his secret power to blow them all away in one shot, because he has nothing left in the tanks!”

“But there’s one problem with that! If it doesn’t work, then he’s done for!” Gratia replied hungrily, stepping forward like a hyena stalking prey.

“Non solo, ma si muove di linea di sangue sono abbastanza ritardato, in primo luogo.” Napoli weighed in, raising his rapier.

“Brat, if you use that technique--” Tearlag began.

“--IT WON’T WORK!” Jericho screeched, very rudely cutting her off. “I’LL JUST DEFLECT IT AND DESTROY YOU!”

“I DON’T THINK SO, PIPER, I’M STILL FAS--STRONGER THAN YOU!” Ben pointed out.

“WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT! THAT FIGHT WAS BACK THEN, AND THIS FIGHT’S RIGHT NOW!” Jericho proclaimed, jabbing a finger at the brown-haired boy’s face.

“Dude, come on, it was a week ago.” Lauren riffed.

“For some, a week makes all the difference.” Luke explained, glancing up to the sky.

“EVEN SO, I’LL STILL DEFEAT YOU BECAUSE I HAVE TO, JERICHO!”

“YOU CAN’T DEFEAT ME! I HAVE THE PRIDE OF MY FAMILY AT MY BACKS!”

“WELL I HAVE THE HOPES OF MY FRIENDS, WHO ARE BOTH IN CLASS OR TRYING TO GET TO CLASS AND BEING BLOCKED BY YOU!” Ben shouted, eyes blue furnaces

“HEH,” Jericho laughed. “IF I CAN IMPEDE THEIR FORWARD MOTION, THAT JUST MEANS THEY’RE WEAKLINGS WHO SHOULDN’T BE MOVING AT ALL.”

“GRRR… I’LL SHOW YOU HOW WEAK THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP IS!” Benjamin vowed facetiously, intending to instead show its strength.

“YOU CAN TRY! COME AT ME, BENJAMIN!” Jericho ordered, imploring Ben to come at him.

“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

”STOP.”

A clear voice that radiated divine power rang for, and a pillar of white light descended from the sky into the middle of the ring of fighters.

“So the plot thickens…” a smooth, intellectual voice muttered from the sidelines, as a winged figure emerged from the fading beam, with an otherworldly grace to her frame, movements, and ringing, bell-like voice.

”I implore you all to stop, to save your strength, for you shall need it.” she said gently, her white hair falling into a sheet behind her as the radiant force of her descent abated.

“Another one interrupting things…” Jericho growled. “Who the hell are you?!”

”Calm thyself, child of Infernal Flames.” the girl said firmly, affixing him with a glare that could freeze lava. ”I am--”

BIANCA NUIT: EMISSARY OF KAMI-SAMA

”--and I come bearing a message. You would be wise to hear it, unless you wish for all our worlds to end.”

Slowly, she raised her finger to point squarely at Benjamin Lloyd.

“Cinderchunbaru is coming. And you, Benjamin Lloyd, are the one spoken of in legend to defeat her.”

A silence followed, before everyone present spoke in one voice.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH?!”

つづく

ED

Jason's eyes deglazed themselves as the credits played.

His elder sister, Sakura Rhodes, shook herself out of her stupor.

They glanced at eachother, and back to the television.

"That sucked."

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by Write

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“Once upon a time a girl not unlike yourself found herself in a mysterious world. Not unlike this one. But it was different, strange, both familiar and not at all. In this world, there were no Grimm, there were no hunters, and instead, there were simply students and a school.”

OP

As soon as my eyes drifted off I found myself waking up. Was I asleep? What time was it?

“With us Mrs. Nuit?” A familiar voice said, ringing out. It was Stella. Mrs. Nuit? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Uh, right sorry.” I said, sitting up in my chair. But this wasn’t where I sat. This wasn’t the Survival room at all. This looked like… I have no idea. The room was fairly linear, rows of desks facing a blackboard meant for writing on. Beacon didn’t have any rooms like this, at least to my knowledge. The silence of the class before Stella restarted the lecture was deafening as I reddened in embarrassment. I could see all of the usual suspects, Gratia, Lauren, Ben, Luke, Jericho. Everyone was here, I looked at Jericho, confused about where I was. He simply nodded with a smile. 

I stayed quiet for most of the class, staring at notes that were… Mundane? Some math, some science, not much of it made sense though. I couldn’t find the symbol for dust anywhere, instead there was a table at the front of my notes with elements I had never seen before. 

Where am I?

I approached Stella at the end of class, rubbing the back of my head in bewilderment. “Hey, Stella, mind if I ask you something?” I asked.

She turned to me with an indignant look on her face. “You do not call me Stella.” She said flatly.

“W-what are you-“ I started.

“It is Mrs. Dodici to you. Bianca.” She replied.

Whoa… What?

“What are you talking about, Estelle?” I asked, getting angrier.

“I’m not your friend, do I need to call your mother?” She asked with a heated tone.

“N-no.” I replied, looking towards the door. 

“Good.” She said turning her back on me to pay attention to the board once more. “You may leave now.”

I immediately found my way to the door. Pushing out into the crowded hallway. What the hell is this place? I’ve got to find the others. I should start with Luke, maybe Gratia.

“Bianca!” Someone called out. It was Jericho. Oh thank god. 

“Jer, where the hell are we? A-am I dreaming?” I asked rubbing my head, even though I felt perfectly clear. 

“Wow, you look a little pale. Are you okay?” He said, pushing some of my onyx hair out of my eye-

Black hair.

I have black hair.

What is happening.

I pushed Jericho’s hand off of the side of my head in shock.

“Bianca! I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay, that you’re comfortable. My lil’ chicken nugget.” He said.

That. That is not Jericho Piper. Jericho, first of his name, last of his god damned name if he has any say in it (he doesn’t) Piper.

“I-uh, I need to go for a walk.” I said pushing past him as a few girls laughed from behind me. I wanted to fly out of here. I wanted to leave. I-

My wings.

Where are my wings?

Why aren’t they here?

Stop.

Calm down.

You have black hair here. You are not Bianca, this is not real. You need to wake up.

“Hey Bianca, Jericho giving you a hard time?” A man asked. I stopped mid-tracks standing in the middle of the hallway. 

“Uh, who are you?” I said glancing at him, he was quite a bit taller than me, must’ve been six foot four and built like a Mack truck. A mack… What the hell is that?

“It’s me… Lucas Schwarz? Captain of the football team, you childhood friend?” 

That. That is not Luke. That cannot be Luke. 

I know Luke. Luke is a great guy. I love Luke like a brother. 

This was an oak tree of a man. 

That was not Luke.

“Right, hey Luke! Nope, just going to run out really quick, got PE next!” No you don’t. You don’t have PE next… But, don’t I?

I pulled out my phone-

What is a phone? Where is my scroll?

I stood bewildered by the device in my hand before Luke gave me a heavy pat on the head and started walking me in the direction of the pool.

… I suppose there’s a pool here. Why do I know that?

My phone prompted me with a combination. My fingers flew across the number pad before I could even process what it was asking me and quickly tapped on the photos app. One saved photo, my schedule.

It wasn’t my Beacon schedule.

But I knew it. I had PE, then Photography, and ended my day with Calculus. With Lucas. Luke. Not Lucas.

As we walked into PE I saw the class had already begun without me. People were jumping into the pool, but the line seemed to be held up by one person. 

I knew who it was. Not because I could make her out from here, but because of the pattern.

“Lucas, that’s Beryl isn’t it?” I asked cautiously pointing.

“The girl who doesn’t wanna dive in? Who else would it be? She does this every day.”

My god.

“Okay, well I’ll see you in Calculus gotta go get changed.” I said looking for a changing room.

“Oh did you stop doing your thing?” He asked me.

“No, I didn’t.” I replied without thinking. What is my thing?

Why do I almost remember it?

I wear my bathing suit underneath my clothes. Because I don’t like the change room. Because of-

Oh my god no.

“Be right back.” I said storming into the changing room, which I now knew was to the left of the entrance. I left Lucas in my dust, leaving him scratching his head at my behaviour. I walked into the changing room and was met with my biggest fear.

I was right.

In beautiful leather thigh high boots, a black skirt and a sweater vest with a dress shirt underneath stood the one woman who had no right to be there.

“Vega.” 

“What the fuck are you looking at, birdbrain?” She replied, almost sending me toppling over.

“I-Why do you call me that? I don’t have wings!” I shouted.

“Because you birdwatch… You freak.” This is why I wore my bathing suit underneath my outfit. Underneath my plaid skirt, and my- “Plaid on plaid again huh? Tragic.” She added.

Help me.

I need help.

I need Gratia. And I knew where to find her.

I raced out of the changing room, in nothing but my bathing suit. When I had gotten out of my other clothes?

I raced into room 2F and threw the door open, panting loudly. There was Ben and Lauren. Finally, of course they’d be together. They were always together.

“Jesus, Bianca – little sinful to be running around in basically-“ Lauren started “your undies” She finished whispering as if to avoid saying it out loud. 

“Ben. Hallway. Now.” I said, not even looking at him, I needed somebody. I hadn’t even spoken to Ben past pleasantries, but I was desperate. 

“What’s up baby?” He asked. I took a step back in disgust to be met with the full picture.

He was overweight, had a lazy eye and refused to meet my eye line, instead looking right through my chest.

Okay. This isn’t happening. Go to the library. Why do I know where the library is?

I didn’t have time for these questions. I left.

As soon as I got there, however, I found a scene unfolding. 

“Stupid bitch, I got a 67 on this, I know you’re smarter than that and if you bomb this on purpose I swear to-“

“Fuck off Cyan.” The words escaped my lips before I could think about what I was saying.

The girl snorted when she saw my outfit, stepping into my comfort zone. “Or what?” 

“Or I’ll snuff you out.” I shouted. Cyan’s eyes widened and she backed off, taking a few steps before scoffing and pushing past me.

The girl who was being bullied looked up to me. “T-thank you, B-Bianca, that w-was really ki-kind of you.” 

“Don’t mention it Gratia.” 

No. Not her too.

“I need to leave, be good okay?” 

“O-oh, s-sure.” Gratia replied, disappointed. 

I stormed out of the school in nothing but my bathing suit. What is happening? How can this be real? My crocs caught my every other frantic step. At least they were comfortable though.

A homeless man approached me. Ozpin. It was definitely Ozpin. “Oz?” I called out. 

“How do you know my name?” He asked, looking in the vaguely correct direction. 

“Fuck.” I replied. Pissed off with myself. 

I immediately made my way home, navigating the busy side-streets of San Francisco. 

What is a San Francisco? It looks like Atlesian architecture with some… 

What was that place?

M- something?

Mistarless? 

Mistralese.

Mistral.

Where I was born.

I walked in the door, I could hear mom on the phone, smell the cigarette smoke in the air. But mom didn’t smoke. Mom wasn’t alive.

I ran upstairs as she called out to me, locking my door behind me. 

The five by five room was tiny, probably one of the smallest in SanFran, but it was cozy. Not like I was used to much better.

I laid my head on my pillow, I remember buying it, we got them on sale…

A three for one…

My eyes were drifting once more.

And I awoke.

“J-jericho?” I stifled out, waking up in a room that looked similar to the survival classroom.

“Don’t fall asleep, we will regiment your sleep schedule after this class, you need to be healthier and readily available to absorb information in class. We will talk about this later.

“Oh thank god.” I replied.

“Don’t thank me, if Beacon were to fall because you were asleep, I’d never hear the end of it.”

ED

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by NaraK

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When Fighting Evil Takes Too Long!

The Life of a Normal Student and a Warrior from Another World

SYNOPSIS

Sangue Naga, raised to slay the demon Duatos, challenged the great evil in a lonely duel in what was once her home. But divine intervention erupted in the midst of carnage, and Sangue Naga chased after the helpless Duatos, hellbent on chasing after him until she saw him die before her eyes. But her purity malfunctioned the portal that was meant to trap Duatos for an indefinite amount of time, and she, along with the demon, was sent to a world where conflict was less prominent.

There, she loses much of her memories- including her true name and identity. Shortly after she wakes up, she encounters Benjamin Lloyd, a high school student who never thought his life would flip to an extremely weird direction. Clueless to how society works and armed only with a swordsmanship that was pretty useless in the new dimension, Sangue lives with Ben for the time being as she learns how to survive in the peaceful town, Kora. She finds out the challenges of living a settled life with a job at a family restaurant, all the while meeting a cast of diverse personalities.

With no way back and a whole new world sitting in front of her, it was an understatement to say that Sangue Naga was going to experience something different.

SETTING

The story mostly takes place in the continent of Sarastrea in an alternate version of Remnant. The family restaurant Alegria, which is where Sangue works at, is located in Kora- the same place Beacon High School is in.

THE DEUTERAGONISTS
”SANGUE” NAGA
The Lost Heroine

A warrior with no memories of the past she fought for. She knows nothing of her own identity, but still has the sharpened skills of a master swordswoman. While seemingly perfect when it comes to defending herself and others, she is an absolute disaster in doing anything remotely sensible in an open society. She freeloads at Benjamin Lloyd’s home and works at the family restaurant “Alegria.”

BENJAMIN LLOYD
The Everyman

He always considered himself to be average, but when he meets Sangue Naga, he realizes he’s a genius compared to her. He is the very first person Sangue meets, and a small guilt trip led him to letting her stay at his place for the time being. He is responsible for almost everything related to Sangue learning how to fit into a society not enveloped in absolute chaos. Member of the Game Club in Beacon High School.

THE CLOSEST PEEPS
LORENA “LAUREN” NEGASI
Absolutely-Nuts Childhood Friend

With hands of gold that can snatch almost anything out of anyone else’s hands, Lauren has always been close to Benjamin Lloyd ever since they met at elementary school. Although Ben has tons of traumas formed just because of her antics, he still considers her to be one of his closest friends. She can get extremely vulgar with her words, and her actions could reach questionable levels of insanity at times. Leader of the Game Club in Beacon High School.

AMARANTH DESIRE
Never Left Alone

A less hyperactive friend of Ben’s, but can show a very playful side when left alone with others. She hides much of her background from even those she is close with, but it is clear that she does not mean any ill intent to those who want to get closer to her. She is the only thing preventing Lauren from devouring Ben, and works together with Sangue in the family restaurant Alegria. Member of the Game Club in Beacon High School.

NAPOLI FIORDILATTE
Galaga-Levels of Wingman Expertise

A newer friend of Ben who frequently hangs around as Ben’s emergency ride to school whenever he oversleeps. He is one of the first aside from Ben to learn of Sangue’s presence, and grows an interest in helping Ben teach Sangue how the world works. He can be oblivious and too playful at times, but he is genuinely kind enough to feel the need to help others just by sensing their emotions.

LUKE SCHWARZ
Ahoge Friend

He and Ben find solace in knowing that both of them have women throw around their lives like playthings. He sometimes hangs out at Ben’s place, and while he does have a generally good relationship with Sangue, she pokes too much interest at his hair sometimes.

ALEGRIA FACULTY

CORTEZ VALENTINE
The Head Chef

A head chef who dresses up like a pirate a lot. She actually has a pirate ship, but nobody believes her for the most part. She finds Sangue to be one of the best employees at Alegria because Sangue almost always believes whatever Cortez says. Has a really weird attitude overall and is unintentionally abused by her own employees at times.

GREN ORCHID
The “Ironically More Responsible” Chef

A full-time employee who has a hobby of inventing gadgets. Unlike the head chef herself, he is mostly responsible for keeping people in track of work, but he isn’t one to get dead serious easily. He teaches Sangue how to cook for herself whenever his free time and her own entwines coincidentally. Has the tendency of screaming something about “revolutionizing the kitchen” whenever something chaotic ensues at the kitchen.

JERICHO PIPER
The Assassin of the Kitchen

A rather quiet chef at Alegria. At times it could seem like he’s brooding about something, but it’s usually just him wanting peace and quiet whenever he rests. Nobody really knows about his job outside of Alegria. He is considered the scariest by Sangue, but also gets her curious about whatever he’s thinking. He is sometimes seen sharpening the kitchen knives for long periods of time even though there’s no need to.

AMARANTH DESIRE
Never Left Alone

She works mostly during Alegria’s new “Midnight Shift.” She sometimes works with Sangue during the shift, and mostly gets to know more about Sangue during that time. It’s strange how she gets income similar to the others who don’t work at the Midnight Shift.

BANG CONSTANTINE
The Side Character

A chef who gets along with Jericho “the most” out of everyone else. He doesn’t say too much either, but when he says his thoughts out loud, things could get complicated and weird very quickly due to his peculiar way of describing things. He does boxing for a hobby and is sometimes accompanied by Sangue when he jogs across the town for exercise.

SANGUE NAGA
Newbie Recruit

The heroine- the newest addition to Alegria!

THE STUDENTS

KRYSANTHE
Marathon Champion

A kind girl who can take on many challenges, even if some of them are embarrassing for her. She sometimes doses off in class out of exhaustion, but for some reason, none of the teachers berate her for that. She has a hobby of collecting seashells.

EMERALD FELICIA
Cookie Enthusiast

A short and exuberant girl who easily gets mistaken for as a child. She enjoys both eating cookies and feeding others with cookies. Outside of her joys from eating such delights, she is incredibly talented at taking care of animals, but often falls short when it comes to taking care of people.

GRATIA MINDARO
The Terminator

With a stoic attitude, a realistic mindset, and a vocabulary that could shut a sailor up, Gratia naturally shoos away most men from her. She feels the necessity to shut down any attempts to crack open her hardened heart. She can be rough with words, but to those she's close with, it's easy to understand that she just has a lot going on in her mind. She keeps a BB gun prepared just for Napoli and has her little sister keep a backup in case Napoli somehow takes her gun.

ROBERT FALLSON
Comfy with a Chance of Reading Comics

Robert is quite the nerd when it comes to comics. Aside from that, he's actually a pretty good guy to be around, but he easily baffles people with the massive list of comic book characters in his head. Nobody knows that he is capable of memorizing vocabulary and the like at an extremely quick pace.

~THERE ARE MORE TO COME!~

THE ANTAGONIST
DUATOS
The Lost Villain

Such is tradition that Duatos would want heroes who could kill him dead, but without most of his powers, he poses a very small threat against Sangue as he is now. With no kingdom to rule over and no lives to sap energy out of, Duatos works at a café named “Cafedorf.” His boss, Ganondorf, doesn’t give a crap if he was a demon a before, and as such, he does nothing productive. He still wants Sangue dead, but he can’t do much about it when even Sangue herself forgot who he was.

Prologue

The sounds of nothingness echoed in the eternal dark.            

Stepping forth into pitch black, a trickle of red ventured into what was not defined. A land- a kingdom, plunged into darkness. The kingdom she was born in, raised in, and trained to rescue from He who held it.            

Duatos.

He showed no mercy. With his magic, he incapacitated those who could oppose him. Her family may have escaped to raise her elsewhere for the rest of her life, but she, “Sangue Naga,” knew all too well of the empty gap in her heart whenever she heard the word "home."       

With a blade in hand, she ruthlessly accepted hardships. Those hardships hardened her very soul- one which knew nothing but slaying those who sought to make Duatos' rule the absolute law. It was not the forces of darkness she faced, but rather, a physical manifestation of all the nightmares one could dream of. Nothing would stop her- even if she lost an arm when Duatos had first attacked.           

She pursued on. Dead or alive, she would make sure Duatos' reign would end by her own hand.         

Running forward into the kingdom of darkness with a magic sword in hand, Sangue slashed apart all of those who defended Duatos. None were human, yet they screamed like them- to deter the young child's motivation.    

The fields she saw as a child had rotted. The golden mountains had died, and the green plants that soothed her soul had been chewed at by time. And the skies screamed red, tinting the world beneath with blood red.            

She ran past it all, and into the Naga Castle.       

Raising her blade with her delicate hand clutching onto it for dear life, she gazed before Duatos. A floating mass of darkness, with ancient weapons and relics rotating around his ethereal body. The hot-white eyes that glared into her very soul.         

As he took notice of her, the mass reshaped as he latched onto some of the weapons floating around him. "You are their daughter," he mused quietly.            

"..."            

The entity of darkness and chaos reshaped endlessly, seemingly unsure of what it could use to instantly kill the young girl. The blade protected her from his chaotic soul, for her mind was far too protected for him to touch.        

"You are the daughter of those who kept me sealed. They, the son and daughter of those who held that duty before- a cycle that goes on and on..."            

Taking on the form of an Eldritch horror with a sickly jet-black color, Duatos seethed, "My sense of humor had long died when I learned how to be angry for so long."          

She remained silent.            

Screeching madly, Duatos abruptly launched himself towards the Naga. Sangue swiftly stepped to her right as she slashed the glowing white blade against Duatos' indefinite body. All weapons left no mark on Duatos, but her blade was special.            

For it was forged not to seal all forms of darkness or evil, but to end any physical manifestation of human horrors and evils. And Duatos being the manifestation of human horrors she had to slay made it clear that the weapon would hurt him badly.            

Ignoring his pain, Duatos veered and turned, letting one of his tentacles swing a naginata at the red-haired girl. She barely moved out of the way, but the side of her waist had been cut due to his blinding speed. When Duatos attempted to end her life with two blades headed for her neck, she leapt as she spun herself in the air, slicing at the tentacles.     

"...!"            

Growling, Duatos tossed aside the weapons he had been holding and belched out acids that tore through the world itself effortlessly. But as the woman raised the blade to defend herself, its deadly effects proved to be fruitless against the white blade.     

"You are strong... Or rather, the weapon you hold is," Duatos growled. "But you cannot stop me from achieving my purpose- to merge the gates of life and death. Only I am in the right, and the right always prevail over the wrong."      

Reshaping himself, Duatos had enough of facing her without putting his all. Sangue's eyes widened as she clutched her weapon even tighter. An armored warrior that vaguely resembled the shape of a human being landed in front of her. It was the true form of Duatos- the one he held before his corruption.       

"Only you have to die," Duatos admitted. "If I stop you...-"            

Sliding across the ground, Sangue propelled herself to Duatos' direction as she swung her blade at his neck, ramming it against the blade he raised just before she cut him.      

"-then my purpose will be a reality."       

His strength steadily revealing more of itself, he began to push Sangue's weapon as he seethed, "But this is my purpose! And you have yet to realize that I-"      

Pushing him away, Sangue slashed at Duatos' feet, not caring for any of the demon’s banter. The armor that covered his legs shattered instantly at the touch of her blade, and he quickly slammed the blade away from himself as he raised his own weapon.        

A barrage of strikes. He had no form- no technical skills, but that did not matter for a mad demon who had the advantage in strength and speed. Sangue felt the coldness of the blade as she barely dodged and let it pass her face. The strikes she blocked were endlessly painful to withstand, but she persevered. Silently. Against the demon who stole her childhood.   

Despite being so much bigger, and so much stronger than her, Duatos failed to kill her quickly. One by one, Sangue tore apart his armor, leaving behind the mass of darkness that pretended to take on the form of a person. She refused to have second thoughts, for as soon as she saw him stagger from the force of her weapon, she swung once more at his bare body.     

Duatos screamed in agony, wildly flailing about as the weapon sliced through his torso. Lifeless, his legs fell as black dust spewed out uncontrollably from where his guts would have been. The rest of his body remained floating, but as Duatos' strength waned, he unconsciously began to meet the woman's eye level.            

Again and again, she hacked away at his body. Soon, only a portion of his chest, one arm, and his head was left.      

He had not yet been bested in combat, but from the looks of it, if he made one mistake, he would die.           

"It is this rotten kingdom you wish to restore," Duatos muttered as Sangue approached him, a cold expression painting over her face. Black liquids- one that resembled Duatos' essence- painted her body. She practically bathed in his blood.    

"But it is also this rotten kingdom that will be your downfall," he spoke, grinning madly. With a motion of his hand, a bright light shined above Sangue as she looked up.    

Suddenly, a disfigured monster fell from what appeared to be a portal. Then another, and another, and another fell. More and more portals tore open as an endless amount of monsters fell from the heavens.            

Taken aback at the sudden number of foes she had to deal with, Sangue tore apart one of the monsters with a diagonal slash, the steel effortlessly tearing apart the enemy. And she hacked and slashed away. Even when one of them slashed her back, she kept her mouth shut as she turned around to behead the foe who wounded her.            

She was wounded. From head to toe, she began to bleed. The blackness that painted her body mixed with red, drenching her in crimson.         

"You will die."      

She persevered. But she did not know for how long she could.          

"With this 'thing' you call home."            

As the last of the monsters Duatos had summoned was torn apart, Sangue kicked away its corpse as she screamed incoherently, her eyes wide in anger as she furiously let out the essence of her fury.  

”AGHHHHHHHHHHH!”

A fury meant only for Duatos.         

Raising his arm, he swept at the air in desperation.      

The sound of the world shattering reverberated across the fallen kingdom.         

Duatos froze deathly still. His power waned, and as he looked up at the portal he created, his shocked expression remained frozen.         

The portal had a crack.            

It had to be an interference.     

Kali Rana…! Duatos realized as he paled.            

The goddess who maintained the timelines of a multiverse… Surely, she must have noticed him abusing the power to tear open gaps between dimensions.       

And for that, it must have been her own way of punishing him.

Divine punishment. A punishment he had forgotten for so long.         

At that moment, the portal let out a loud screeching noise as it began to suck everything inside the castle room into it. Screaming loudly, Duatos' mangled body flew into it helplessly. As she watched Duatos suddenly fly away into the gap between dimensions, Sangue was petrified for a split moment.       

No! He's escaping...

Not knowing that Duatos did not open up the portal behind him, the red-haired woman let go of the ground as she flew into it without second thoughts. Until she killed him with her eyes gazing into his, she would not stop in chasing after him. Not even if she was in risk of death.            

As she entered the portal, a blinding light colored everything in the portal jet-white. She felt the portal pull at her body and mind, for unbeknownst to her, it was meant to destroy Duatos alone. The gap would close to eternally seal him and essentially kill him off the timeline forever. But because she and the pure blade had entered the portal...            

The magic malfunctioned as the light began to flicker violently. Sangue screamed as she clutched onto her blade with one hand, her head in the other. Memories of everything she fought for flickered just as much as the lights, and the warmth... the love... everything began to tear itself in and out of herself, over and over again.     

Letting out a cry of pain, she was helpless as the light engulfed her and Duatos' unconscious form.        

Chapter 1

Uninvited

A super-soldier in outer space blasted at a bunch of aliens.         
            
Without context, that sounded pretty stupid, but when the name of the game was "Halo," it just made a bit more sense. The Spartan fired his Assault Rifle at the Elites that approached him in the midst of a snowy area. One by one, they began to fall, so some of them tossed grenades at his direction.          
            
He ran and fired at the Elites, tossing out one of his grenades to cover an area they could escape through. And just as he expected, the remaining Elites were blown away, dead.            
            
Yes. Nobody could beat him. He was the one and only Master Ch-     
            
A Grunt shot him and he died immediately.

Benjamin Lloyd felt his eyes twitch as he was carried over to the very start of a checkpoint.         

He remembered what his father often said. "If things didn't work out right, it's good to start from the beginning."          

Ben never, EVER expected the damn phrase to apply to video games as well. Halo apparently took his father's advice and decided to piss Ben off with it.  

"That's a great way to start off the evening," Ben sighed as he got up.

Walking out of his room, he took a soda out of the kitchen's fridge. As he closed the fridge, he stared at the note pasted on the fridge door.            

"We're on a date! Make sure you're safe with the house. We'll back as soon as possible!"

It... had been about a month since they left that note.            

It's one thing to go on a date, but it's another thing to leave your son behind! Ben thought as he sighed comically.   

Well, he could live on his own for a while. But he could not guarantee not being lonely by himself.            

Perhaps Lauren could have some ideas as to what he could do on his own. She seemed to know how to have fun with literally anything, after all.            

Scratching the back of his head, Ben looked at the time.            

Eight o' clock, huh?

Without much thought for cooking something, he dressed up, making sure he locked the door before leaving.            

He was an average guy with an interesting in building things.   

His dream of creative design began at a forge. When he watched his father bring ideas to life from the forge, a spark of imagination and creativity ignited the motivation of Benjamin Lloyd. He was far from a genius, but that did not mean he would live dumbly. Ben liked taking life easily while working adequately to pass classes.            

Although he was still afraid to put his dreams to the test, for the time being, he would continue to just having a normal life. If anything, a boring life was the one thing he wanted to avoid the most. Even an over-dramatic life was better than something that could literally kill him of boredom.       

Now, if his father was less of a hardass with him about that perspective, Ben would easily say that his life went on smoothly.            

Having eaten at a ramen shop, Ben stretched his arms as he went back to his home's direction. He made sure his coat covered his body well- the cold air did little to convince him that he should stay outside longer.            

Maybe a snack or two would be good, he thought to himself as he walked. I'm pretty damn ready for the test tomorrow!

With that in mind, he got himself in the mood to play lazily for a bit longer. He studied, he went over the material, and he needed something that could calm him down. He wasn't some hardcore gamer or anything, but even for him, a game or two was perfect for the night.          

The next day, he woke up facing the ceiling.    

Groggily opening his eyes, he got up as he stretched his arms.            

It was weird. He felt like he got used to living alone, but he still desperately wanted to see his parents at least visit him sometime soon. He had no idea where the hell they went aside from knowing that "they weren't still on a date, but were still together."            

What a lovely excuse to leave their son alone by himself. At least he wasn't a rotten little kid.           

He yawned and ruffled his own hair. For some reason, his left leg felt warmer than usual. Ben noticed a strange series of bumps popping out of the blanket.            

As his eyes trailed the bumps, his eyes met a red-haired thing sleeping silently next to him.     

"..."            

...            

...            

...            

Eh, I still need to wake up, he thought as he smacked his head. Got a test today, anyway.

It was definitely just him being too sleepy. There was no way some red, fuzzy thing would sleep next to him.           

Nope. Definitely not. Nope, nope, nope. No, no, no.            

Bad Ben.            

Getting up from his bed, Ben glanced at the time.            

"..."

...

...

...

"CRAP, I'M LATE!!"

Panicking, he mindlessly dressed up quickly as he checked the time again. The exams were here... and there was only ten minutes left before they started. Ten. Minutes. His house was at a five minute distance from his school by bicycle. Did he have a bike?            

Not really. But someone else did.            

Hastily dressed up, Ben bolted out of his house with his bag in hand. His uniform may have looked messy, but he'd seen messier from delinquents. Snapping his fingers, Ben called out loudly,        

"NAPOLI!"

And as if he was Ben's familiar or something, Napoli came into view on a bike with a wide grin.     

If there was one way to describe Napoli, it was that he loved being the cheerful guy without knowing much about how he annoyed the absolute hell out of some people. He was a bright guy, and in this case, he was Ben's brightest solution in avoiding missing out his exams.            

"Right 'ere, Ben!"

It was kind of sad, now that Ben thought about it. He almost missed so many exams to the point where calling Napoli for backup became his ultimate solution for the Fall semester's final exams. His blond friend seemed pretty chill with the whole thing, too, so that was a plus.            

"Late again, Ben!" Napoli cheerfuly shouted as he pedaled with Ben riding the bike with him. "Man, it'd kill for me to pick up a girl like this. Maybe even Gratia would warm up to me-"

"You KNOW that's freakin' impossible, Fiordilatte! Go, go!"

Picking up speed, Napoli pedaled the two to school as quickly as possible. Ben was going to pass the exams. He would pass them so well, Lauren and Amy would not try to bother him about being "average" again!            

...Not that he'd ever make that possible knowing the two, but still.         

He was going to beat the hell out of those tests.            

...            

...            

...            

Warmth.            

...            

...            

...            

Warmth.            

It’s…            
            
... warm.            
            
My… body…         
            
…warm.            
            
Warm.           
            
...            
            
...            
            
...Fuzzy...        
            
...Soft...

...            

Opening her eyes, the red-haired girl drowsily rustled under the blanket.   

She shivered.           

Her mind felt blank.  

She felt like she had been doing something important.            

Nothing came to mind.            

A room.            

She was in a room.  

A tidy room.            

It was comfortable.    

Comfy.            

The blanket over her was warm.            

Warm.            

Warm…            

It felt heavenly.        

Was she in heaven?  

Did she die?           

Why would she die?  

Why would she be in heaven?

What was she?

Who was she…?

…

…            

The warmth.     

It made pain go away.            

Pain.            

What pain?

Pain…

She was too tired to feel pain.            

She was cold, but the blankets were warm.   

She wanted things to remain like this.          

She felt like… she needed rest.            

She felt like… she needed time.            

She felt like… she needed help.            

Even though she was safe and sound in such a tidy room.

Alone.

Alone… alone…

…     

It wasn't hard to imagine that Ben would pass the exams.

With a smug grin on his face, he rolled his neck as he left the building. While he knew that he didn't ace the exams, he knew that he took it well enough. That would shut some people up about his grades.

Like Lauren, who approached him as soon as he left the building.

"BEN," she almost shouted as she latched onto his collar, shaking him violently and almost snapping his neck with sheer force. "Ben, what the hell was that last problem on that test?! You didn't solve it, right-"

"I solved it perfectly." Ben responded, barely containing a grin from sprouting on his face.

Lauren pulled at her hair furiously as she let out a roar of frustration before letting out a pathetic sigh.

"...Damn," she mumbled with a pout. "I'm dumber than the white boy straight out of Seinfield-"

"You could say that again."

To put it in an easily explainable way, Lauren lived off of hype.

The dark-haired Negasi was, theoretically, pretty, but Ben was always put on the verge of death whenever she dragged him into her shenanigans. At one point, she picked him up, slammed him against the seat of her motorcycle, and drove off while racing past a bunch of people who were angry at her. Thugs, punks- you name it. They all wanted to make her pay for the things she stole from them, though since most of them came outside of Valen, she always got them off her trails.

He knew she was a good girl. It's just that she could certainly treat him with less ham.

"AGH, screw it! Ben, let's go drink our heads off," Lauren exclaimed, brightening at the idea of spending time with him. "I dunno where Amy went off to suck a billion di-"

"Lauren."

Lauren froze as they passed the gate, smoothly passing by the P.E. teacher without getting his attention.

"...Right," she mumbled before going back to cheerily speaking loudly. "So like I said, I dunno where Amy went, but you and I could hang out for the time being. The club would be boring as hell in daytime, but that's not the only place to hang out at, right?"

"Riiiiight."

"You seem unsure of yourself."

"L-Look, I don't want this uniform to be ruined for the umpteenth time, so let me dress up. I'll send a message when I'm ready."

Beaming with a contagious smile, Lauren laughed as she continued walking with him. "Well, I'll just wait by your house, then. Being neighbors sure makes things a whole lot easier."

And a whole lot hellish, Ben thought grimly, knowing that Lauren was probably going to try to embarrass him to death somehow. The last time they were together outside of school, she kept announcing about his interest in women. Who actually did tha-

Oh.

Lauren.

He had to keep reminding himself.

As they bantered on their walk to their homes, Lauren then asked, "Say, are you interested in someone? Like- super sexually."

"..."

"...Vaguely sexually?"

"L a u r e n."

"Fiiiiiiiiine. Romantically. Shakespearean-ly. Fuccboi-ly. Better?"

"."

Rolling his eyes, Ben looked away from Lauren's infectious gaze. He didn't really have anyone in mind. Well, maybe he had one, but she probably didn't even know him.

"Kind of," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said 'nothing'!"

"You said 'Kind of,' right?"

A vein almost popped in Ben's head as he glared at Lauren, who made a puppy pout.

Gritting his teeth, he asked, "Is it in your nature to give others false hope that you didn't listen to them?"

Her pout turned into a sly smile as she wrapped an arm around his neck. "Not really in my nature, but it's more of something I'm unconsciously talented at."

Ben sighed, but he could not help but smile. Laugh, even.

Soon, they arrived at their homes. There was another house sitting right in-between Ben and Lauren's. It was simply a sign of mercy granted to Ben by Amaranth Desire, for she knew that if Lauren lived right next to Ben, she'd tie a bunch of blankets up and smash his window open just to snatch him and go out to go nuts at some club.

It was a shame Amy was so busy, though. She looked like she could use some of Lauren's crazy "field trips."

"See you soon," Ben said as he entered his house.

"Don't stay in for too long," Lauren exclaimed as she waved at him. "It's not healthy to jack off for-"

Ben slammed the door shut.

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed at his face, exhausted from the exams. He knew that Lauren would exhaust him to death soon, so he sucked it up and smacked his cheeks.

"Alright," he muttered as he marched off to his bedroom. "Time to dress up."

Opening the door to his room, Ben took one step forward.

He froze as soon as one of his underpants slammed itself against his face.

"..."

...His underpants?

Why would his underpants fly and attack him?

I thought underpants are just clothes that lacked any form of sentience whatsoever-

Putting the undergarments off his face, he was soon attacked by another undergarment. He smacked it away again.

When he finally saw what was in his room, his heart froze, and his skin crawled.

He did not know how to exactly describe it.

It was like... that one time he visited the Anime Store near the outlet.

Ben stared at a television sitting in the corner of the store, standing next to a sharp-haired man with sunglasses on.

"This is the pinnacle of mankind," the owner of the store explained to him. "This is what all men strive to live for."

A beautiful, naked girl sat in the middle of some random guy's apartment room. As cute as it could seem at first, Ben wondered,

‘Isn't that illegal?’

"Isn't that illegal?" He ended up speaking his thoughts out loud.

Grabbing him by his uniform's collar, the owner of the store screeched, "LIES!”

The man let go of Ben's collar, dusting his hands as he went back to watching the anime.

"Uh," Ben muttered as he looked at the exit of the store. "I'll just... go home now. I was just here to return Luke's thing for you."

The owner of the store raised an eyebrow at Ben's lack of otaku. He then nodded as if to admit defeat, acknowledging that someone as young as Benjamin Lloyd probably had a much brighter future than him.

Ben wondered if all anime store owners looked hardcore.

How lovely. The scene before him was just like what he saw before.

Except instead of a beautiful girl just sitting in the middle of his room, there was a girl who kept stretching at his underwear for absolutely no reason at all. She dug into his closet, softly throwing things around without a word.

He then noticed that she even wrapped some of the underwear around her body, covering-

"!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Heat practically filling his face to the brim, Ben, with a tomato-red face, pointed at the red-haired girl accusingly as he shouted, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

The girl froze, her eyes covered by one of his undergarments. Turning to him slowly, she stared at his direction for quite a bit. She remained still. So did he.

Except she had no shame, and Ben felt like he just experienced all the shame in the world.

"..."

Her movements were weak. And the more Ben looked at her, the more he noticed how frail she seemed. The way she raised her arm to move away the clothes stacked on her head- it was as if she had so little strength.

Of course, that didn't make it okay for her to just barge in his house and throw around his underwear. Just because she looked cute while doing it didn't mean it was okay. Not at all.

Moving the cloth off her head, she revealed her vibrantly red-orange eyes as they locked onto his blue ones.

Benjamin Lloyd was at a loss of words. Not just because of how a woman he knew nothing about popped out of nowhere, but because of how needlessly oblivious she looked. She didn't look like she was interested in stealing his underwear, but she also looked just as confused as he was.

She blinked.

He held his breath.

That was the first day Benjamin Lloyd met the girl named Sangue Naga.

Chapter 2

A Day Out

Benjamin Lloyd rather enjoyed life.            

He didn’t take it too seriously, but the thought of living life carelessly didn’t cross him either. He had dreams to go after, so there was no time to laze about forever. And with whatever he did, he always made sure there was a line drawn. Never did he want to cross that line and do something unspeakably stupid.            

Unfortunately, the red-haired girl who popped into his house one day said otherwise.

Rather, she was unspeakably stupid.            

He sort of understood her lack of knowledge in the world, though. After calming himself down and miraculously convincing Lauren that he wouldn’t be able to go out for the day, he took a good look at the girl. He spoke slowly, wanting to know if she could speak his language.            

She could.    

She spoke her name. At first, she pronounced it as “Shang,” and then as “Ang.” Then she properly told him, “Sangue. Naga.”  

An odd name.            

A strange emblem was painted over her face, her red hair complimenting its hazy pink-red texture. From what he could tell, either she had some crazy roleplaying going on, or she was from an entirely different place outside of Kora. He could tell that she wasn’t pretending to be clueless, however. She moved without strength, supporting herself with only one arm.            

It stung him to see someone like that.          

Her expressions were clear, yet not so filled with emotion. She approached everything carefully, though her curiosity often led her to observing items foreign to her.         

Sometimes he wondered whether she was an alien or not. She came out of nowhere without any clothes on, she could not differentiate between a window and a mirror, and she stared at light bulbs like they were the most peculiar things she had ever seen.            

A week had passed by, and she continued to confuse him, just like how the world confused her to no end.                

Maybe she really was an alien.

With that said, he felt scared to kick her out of his house. By the time he began to decide whether he should make her leave or not, she snugly stuffed herself on the sofa.

It was a hard decision to prepare himself for anyway, so he decided to just wait a bit more before coming to some kind of resolution. She didn't rob him of his food or anything, either, despite finding everything in the refrigerator delicious.

He stared at his computer screen, sighing as he crossed his arms. He then remembered he got several emails. Opening his browser, Ben lazily checked through his mail before his eyes caught on one particular mail with Lauren's name on it.

Oh boy.

His hand trembled on his mouse as he clicked on whatever the heck could be in her mail. And sure enough, it was something embarrassing.

Instantly turning away by gut instinct, Ben closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. He breathed in and out, making sure that the email's contents wouldn't get to his head. Winter break was starting, right? He needed to relax, not get aroused by a picture of Lauren at the beach.

What she wore was- well, he wouldn't want to describe it even to himself. Thankfully, there seemed to be nobody else around her, but who was he to know that she was alone? And there had to be someone else with her to take the picture.

Probably Amy.

Only she took pictures vertically.

Rubbing his hair, Ben peeked open one of his eyes as he glanced at the picture. It sure was a good shot, as indecent as it was.

Deciding that he needed a cup of water, Ben pushed his chair back, only to feel something bump into it.

Turning around, he found a certain red-haired girl staring at his screen with a blank expression. She wore his clothes, which were inevitably much too big of a fit on her. Who would have thought that a simple t-shirt and shorts would look big on the redhead?

"..."

"..."

She continued to stare at the computer screen, not minding Ben sitting in front of it despite him sweating profusely at her presence.

"S-Sangue?"

"..."

Glancing at Ben, Sangue raised her arm as she slowly reached for him. He gulped as he unconsciously inched away from Sangue's frail hand.

And by the time it reached his face, her fingers softly pinched his cheek.

"...B...e...n..."

"...Yeah?"

"..."

"..."

"...F...oo...d..."

"Oh."

Taking a deep breath once more, Ben smacked his chest as if to stop his heart from pumping so violently as he turned around, closing the browser. He got up and left his room. He took his time and let Sangue trail behind him silently.

She told him of one thing that did confirm she was alone in Kora. She mentioned something about being lost, despite forgetting where she was from. Amnesia was a very dangerous issue that could potentially raise problems for both the amnesiac and the people around him or her, so with that in mind, he approached her gently. So far, she seemed like a nice person who respected his presence in the house, but that was saying very little due to how quiet she was in the first place.

Heading to the kitchen, Ben quickly cooked up spicy ramen for her and himself. She had little trouble getting used to chopsticks, which let him presume that she came from one of the Eastern islands outside of Kora. He remembered trying to get accustomed to chopsticks the first time, and it made his mother laugh a little too hard for his own humility.

Glancing up at Ben, then at the ramen, Sangue quietly ate her food. The food was hot, so he thought she'd make at least a bit of noise, but she remained almost silent. The tradeback for her silent eating was a slightly burnt tongue.

The girl was partially a dunce. Ben noted that to himself.

He then thought of something to lift her spirits.

"Sangue?"

"...?"

Looking up from the ramen, Sangue stared at him rather emotionlessly.

"Have you ever been outside my house so far?"

Blinking, she took a few seconds to think about it before shaking her head softly.

"...Never?"

She nodded.

"Really?"

She nodded again.

Putting up a thoughtful look, Ben processed the information as quickly as possible. He did not consider how different Kora itself was different from wherever Sangue came from. Then again, she found light bulbs to be way too fascinating for her own good, so he should've known.

Locking up the girl in his house was wrong in every way, so he wondered if he could give her a tour around the town.

"Wanna go outside after lunch?"

Sangue paused before nodding quietly.

"Great."

She blinked a bit more before finishing her ramen.

Ben left his house with Sangue beside him.

Valen was a particularly small town. In return for its small size came a rather packed place full of things. Perhaps it did not offer as much as big cities did, but in Kora, Valen was the "go-to" place if someone wanted a breather from the city air. Ben came from the cities, but he ended up liking Valen for its peaceful air.

It sure was an achievement for Ben to just feel the air being different from the cities.

Valen didn't lack its own set of entertainment, though. There were outlets, malls, arcades, and even a bungee-jumping area that Ben dared not to step close to ever since Lauren made plans for him to bungee jump with only his underwear on. As much as he enjoyed Lauren's love for games, some of the punishments for losing said games were specifically made to be extreme for Ben.

His mother would be ashamed of him if she knew what the Game Club made him do. Not that he wouldn't have carried out the punishments regardless of what she had to say- if Lauren couldn't get him to carry out the punishment, Amy was always there to back her up.

Sangue found everything to be an odd sight to her. Her eyes widened occasionally, her gaze fixating upon the buildings around her.

At one point, she unconsciously headed toward a ramen shop. He had to pull her away from it, as much as it tugged his heart strings to watch her so fascinated and curious about her surroundings.

He let her walk into the arcade eventually, but after Sangue made it clear that it would take her more than a dozen coins to understand how arcade machines worked, Ben was forced to pull her out of the arcade.

Needless to say, she really liked Valen. She reacted to everything as if she had never seen such things before in her life, though her reactions noticeably calmed down as she went past more and more buildings. It was good to know that her curiosity did not linger for too long.

"Valen's a pretty good place," Ben said as they walked past some restaurants. "I lived here for the most part after leaving Alena. Kinda hard to go back to the cities after making good friends here, get what I'm saying?"

"..."

"...Yeah."

Trailing behind Ben, Sangue hastened her pace to walk beside him.

As they walked, Ben glanced at a particular family restaurant next to them.

"Ah."

"...?"

Turning to Sangue, Ben grinned as he lazily pointed at the restaurant with a thumb.

"That's Alegria," he explained. "Some guys I know of work here, part-time or full-time. I'm actually thinking about having you visit this place more once you get used to the town. Maybe you can even get a job and buy me a drink or two.

"...Not that it would ever happen if you remembered where you came from, but you get the picture."

Sangue glanced at the family restaurant. Taking note of its rather bubbly-looking sign, she turned back to Ben, her soft gaze unwavering.

He knew she was the untalkative type, but he didn't think she would not talk for almost every occasion.

"Uh," Ben began, hesitating as he looked away from Sangue for a moment. "I don't want to sound rude, but..."

"...?"

His gaze meeting her's, a serious look painted his face as he asked rigidly,

"Did you ever have a job before?"

"..."

At his question, her expression became thoughtful. It was almost as if she genuinely had trouble identifying whether she had a job or not before. He'd understand if she just happened to forget about her job, because in that case, there was still a chance for her to remember and potentially find her home again.

She, however, seemed to know a glimpse of herself.

"...No... j...ob..."

"Sorry?"

"...N...o... jo...b..."

...Oh.

Her expression did not fall, but he could tell that she was hesitant in talking about it.

So she didn't have a job before?

"I..."

Looking at Sangue, Ben stopped walking as he heard her out.

"I... have... a sw...ord.

"I... use... th...e... swo...rd...

"...But... no... j...ob..."

She had a sword?

Huh.

"What did you use the sword for?" Ben asked, intrigued to see if she was starting to recover her memories.

But her silence indicated a lack of knowledge. After remaining silent for a few more moments, she shook her head.

"Eh," he said, attempting to make his question less of a deal than it was. "I'm sure it'll come to you some time later."

At his dismissal, she silently nodded.

"Well, enough of that. I actually managed to show you the whole town somehow, and all under one day, too."

He didn't mention his own school at all throughout the entire trip, however, as he felt that Sangue could one day wander into it and somehow encounter the Game Club. Just thinking about what they'd do to the frail redhead kind of scared him.

"Wanna head home?"

Sangue stared at him.

Ben shrugged.

"You can look around a bit more, if you want," he suggested.

Turning to the buildings they had passed by, Sangue's gaze analyzed the place. A few seconds later, she turned to Ben and reached out for his face.

She pinched his cheek softly. Moving her hand to the buildings' direction, she slowly pointed at the conglomeration of places he had shown her.

A soft waggle of her hand indicated she wanted to look at Valen more.

"Suit yourself," Ben grinned as he started heading back to the heart of Valen once more. "And you know what? Maybe you could try beating Galaga's first level again. I can give you a helping hand."

The two headed back to the arcade. It had been a while since Ben interacted with someone so quiet, but in all of his honesty, it did not feel bad at all.

When they went back home, he ended up sleeping at the sofa and let Sangue sleep on his bed. She really seemed to like the bed.

The next day, Ben stood in front of his room, his eyes twitching.

Sangue stood in front of his computer, poking at the screen every now and then. She poked it... over and over again.

Somehow.

Some. How.

She brought back the image of Lauren at the beach.

Either she mashed at his keyboard and miraculously reopened the email, or she was just a clever girl. He felt that the former was more of the case, as she did not seem to know how to close the email.

And she poked at the image.

As if she could poke Lauren out of the computer screen.

More importantly, she did not seem to know just where she was poking at.

"Sangue."

Turning slowly, Sangue's eyes met his as she remained still.

Time seemingly froze between them as he raised an eyebrow.

"..."

"..."

Straightening herself, Sangue politely bowed to him in front of the sun ray's slipping past his window.

"...Hel...lo..."

"...Hey."

Shortly afterward, he fed Sangue a sandwich and annihilated the email Lauren had sent to him. But what was done was done. He could not revert Sangue poking at Lauren and embarrassing the absolute hell out of him in broad daylight.

...

...

...

Somewhere under the streets of Valen, a black substance slipped out of the edges of a manhole.

It approached an unsuspecting girl who hopped along the streets with a basket of cookies. She hummed, blissfully unaware of the growing substance that closed in on her.

As soon as a large shadow covered the sun's warm rays, she froze as she turned around. Her smile faded as a bewildered look replaced her happy face.

"Um..."

Emerald Felicia stared at what appeared to be some kind of dark blob staring at her.

"Uh oh?"

Her confused look turned into a look of horror as the blob stretched itself as if to envelop Emerald in it. Encasing her inside of its slightly transparent body, the blob moved away, slipping away from the public's eyes.

"Hello?!" Emerald squeaked. "It's not nice to catch cookie-loving girls, you know! Can anybody help me? Heeeeeeeelp!"

The basket of cookies lay on the grounds of a peaceful neighborhood as the blob vanished.

To be continued in... Chapter 3: "Warrior Spirit! Sangue Naga"

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Crimmy

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Crimmy Oi brat, what're ye using that noggin for?

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Crimmy

Oi brat, what're ye using that noggin for?

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Bio

AERONWY LARKSPUR AND FRIENDS

It's 6am in the morning, and I can't be bothered converting from Word's WYSIWYG to BBCode, so have these two shared GDocs:

(2)
(1)

Have fun.

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by HereComesTheSnow

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HereComesTheSnow dehydration expert

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HereComesTheSnow

dehydration expert

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Seen 8 hrs ago

Let the record state that I do fear death. Anyone who says they don't is flat-out lying, because nobody out there wants to get themselves killed. Nobody sane.
 
It's not cowardly to admit that, it's realistic. No matter who you are, if your head is screwed on straight, you don't look at death with any emotion except fear.
 
The lumbering beast chuffed, a noise that I didn't hear so much as feel in my ribcage, and stalked closer to me.
 
Which is why I can confidently say that, my pride still being intact and everything, I was scared shitless. Absolutely shitless, because I was a perfectly sane guy who, it bears repeating, didn't want to die.
 
I edged backwards, feeling a small weight shift beneath my sneakers-- a terrible choice for a hike, in hindsight.

If I had to be entirely frank, though, which is something I always strive for— this whole ordeal was a terrible choice. There’s no hindsight about it: Any sort of sight would have done, but I decided to run against the grain. Blindly.

See, it was New Year’s Day. Where most of Shiroyama, the humble little mountain town which I called home, had milled in and out of one of the five operational, staffed, and still-useful shrines near the borders of the city in order to pay their respects and wish for a successful year— I had decided it best to act the contrarian.

If I was going to go through the trouble of following the masses in what tradition dictated, I was going to do it in my own style. Away from everyone else, the wish and rites made in private, and at a defunct shrine that nobody else bothered to visit and nobody else would bother me for visiting. The solitude was a comfortable thing that way, I didn’t have to worry about somebody saying I did something wrong, getting harassed by a miko for “not respecting the spirits” or some other stupid lie, or worst of all, having someone asked me what breed of prosperity I was wishing for.

I want to have a fulfillingly lazy, energy-conservative year, alright? That’s not a bad wish by any means, it’s the same as something like prosperity or comfort or great success on it’s own! I just didn’t need to work hard!

The weight beneath my sole was, apparently, a pebble. A pebble that had long been tossed through a river, rounded and smooth. Just enough so that when my quaking legs stepped back upon it, it slid forward, and they gave out completely. Inelegantly plopping on my ass, it didn’t take a genius to realize that this was it.

I was going to die. The lead-lined ball in the pit of my stomach iced over as it sank yet further, pulling me down with it. I wish I could have scrambled back, at least, but that was flatly impossible. Even if my back weren't pressed against one of the many hardwoods that dotted the forested mountainside, even if my shaky legs weren't liable to give all the way out after the fall, it was impossible.
 
Because I was pinned. Pinned by the crimson gaze of hell itself, glaring at me from within a plate of solid white bone against midnight black fur.
 
Despite the thing's canine looks, it was obvious that this wasn't a wolf. It was too big, nearly the size of a lion. Too rugged, because even knowing that it had a thick layer of fur to insulate it, the sheer mass it carried on its frame was comparable to a bear. But most of all, what had me spellbound and helpless was also the first thing you always learned about when someone told you how to differentiate these demons from common beasts.
 
The eyes. Those paralyzing, blood-colored eyes are the scariest thing I've ever seen. They weren't the eyes of a protector, incensed that you stumbled upon the young of their pack. They weren't the eyes of a predator, sizing up its next meal.
 
The eyes of a particularly disgusted girl actually came closer, but no girl, no matter how low on the social totem pole the person she was looking at was, could even hope to equal the raw, unfiltered hate that this thing was pinning me with.
 
No…
 
This obviously wasn't a mere wolf. It was something far more sinister, far more dangerous.
 
“G..Gri--AAAH!” I felt my voice hitching in fear, before devolving into a panicked yelp as it stepped forward again.
 
Grimm.
 
I was undoubtedly being cornered and hunted by a Creature of Grimm.
 
Dammit, there were people who fought these things?! And lived to tell the tale?! What kind of insanity did it take?! You had to be suicidal! 
 
No Hunter could even begin to be called sane, fighting these things day in and out…
 
And thus, I realized that the fate of humanity was in the hands of those insane people who didn't fear death.
 
“Aha...hahahaha!”
 
At such cruel, cruel irony, I couldn't help but laugh. In that case, perhaps I would be able to understand how this happened. 
 
Obviously, this world works off of pure contradictions. Think about it. Those who don't fear death are those keeping everyone else alive. It takes either the mightiest warriors to fight off Grimm, or a simple piece of paper with a funny drawing on it. A lonesome high schooler visits an old, forgotten shrine to pay it respect and pray for an easy, safe year, free of hardship, and he's immediately rewarded with a step covered in black ice, and a tumble town the side of the mountain that ended in god knew where, a fractured leg, and now this.
 
I wished for a life of energy conservation…
 
Maybe the Spirit of Whitesnake shrine figured that it was easy to conserve if you were just dead.
 
“What an asshole god…” I muttered, desperately holding onto the flash of anger and the clarity that came with it. 
 
They were terrible last words. But they were also fighting words, and to hell with not going down fighting, right?
 
My arm, still somehow lucid through the massive adrenaline and endorphin dump, lashed outward.
 
A rock--little more than a pebble, but still a rock, bounced ineffectually off of the bony forehead of the beast, disappearing into the woods and crashing against something metal with a loud clang. It blinked, and growled at me--
 
And in that time, I gathered myself enough to scramble to my feet on my one and a half legs, to try and make a break for it--
 
Only something inside me broke.
 
I fell with a cry of pain, landing in a crumpled heap in the snow.
 
The Grimm leapt with an angry howl, jaws open wide and massive, massive fangs ready to tear through flesh and bone.
 
I managed to turn, realizing that it was actually rather easy to come to peace with death. It wasn't as if there were no regrets-- there were many. Even a misanthrope like me would feel ashamed at putting his parents and beloved big sister through the pain of his passing. I never did get the chance to experience the glory of being a househusband, either…
 
A blur of black consumed my vision, and I hate to break it to everyone, but you don't see the life you've lived flash before your eyes, nor do you see the faces of the friends you've made along the way.
 
Ha! Not that I had any friends to be seeing, what kind of sucker was I supposed to be, here?
 
… The kind who died alone on a mountainside. That kind.
 
I closed my eyes, and felt a sad smile spread across my face as those fangs sunk deep into flesh.

* * *

It must have gone straight for my head. That had to be it, my brain must have immediately been destroyed. It was the only way I could have died so painlessly, that much was obvious. It wasn't like a quick and painless poison had entered my system or that I had been gently choked to death by some Judo or Jujutsu master. 
 
No, the only possible way that this beast of Grimm could have ended me in such a suffering-free manner is if I was immediately dead with the first blow, which meant that my head was probably chunky salsa in its maw. For my sister’s sake, I hope they never see that body…
 
Now then, I wondered what sort of heaven they'd sent me to? The classical city in the clouds populated by angels? The fields of Elysium, reserved for those who only sought to do good in their life? Now I won't try and dress up my methodology, but I think my crusade against the immoral and uncaring society we live in today was entirely for the good of humanity!
 
Valhalla, the eternal hall of mead and battle, was obviously right out. My personal paradise would be somewhere quiet, with interesting things to read, and nobody to bother me except the people I wanted to bother me.
 
Like my strong, intelligent, career-oriented wife, who I never had the chance to meet in life. Oh well. Perhaps reincarnation exists, and in another life I'll be able to be your lazy homemaker! Now would you want to come home to dinner, a bath, or me~?
 
Eugh. Even entertaining the notion of that line sounds dirty. Damn prideless otakus actually get off on that? Disgusting, disappointing. Go explode, you tasteless losers. Househusbandry doesn't mean debasing yourself to three things, fuckwads! The gods of hospitality must curse you!
 
Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that I'm not a warrior. I really hoped I didn't somehow end up in Valhalla. Because I didn't belong there at all, not amongst the atmosphere nor the clientele.
 
But if that were so, then why was I still very much feeling cold snow around me, and hearing the sounds of man struggling against beast?
 
I opened my eyes--
 
And fell back in shock.
 
Standing above me--
 
With the hellhound’s advance sternly checked and locked in place--
 
Was a man. 
 
Not a man, a boy. 
 
A boy who could only be a scant two or three years older than me, who wasn't yet 17.
 
A boy whose arm was locked between the jaws of the beast.
 
“Word of advice--” he grunted, gritting his teeth as every fiber of his small, corded body strained against the Grimm’s power and momentum.
 
“Stay--”
 
Despite the obvious power struggle, he raised his leg--
 
“On the trail!”
 
And if my sister's attempts to get me into karate as a kid stuck at all, he lashed it out like a piston, driving his heel hard enough into its sternum to send it flying-- a side kick.
 
A side kick that sent a four-hundred pound wolf sailing twenty feet into the tree behind it.
 
I even heard something crack.
 
“Uh… Right.”
 
It was all I could do to just dumbly agree. The turn of events had left me so completely flabbergasted that my usual linguistic mastery had vanished.
 
Was I so powerless in the face of authority?
 
Well, when it came to someone who was so very obviously a Huntsman and had already shown enough power to suggest that they could kill me with their little finger--
 
Yes, you could call me quite powerless.
 
“Is it--”
 
As if answering the question on its own, it howled, a low droning wail, after rising to its feet. No, it was not dead yet. As one would expect of humanity's toughest foe. 
 
He spoke in response too, but his answer carried a markedly different tone. A different message, that only someone like him could give.
 
“Almost. Sit tight.”
 
Drawing in a deep breath, I saw every muscle of his back tense, relax, and then tense again beneath his black tank top--
 
Blinked once--
 
And heard a loud, cracking thud as the impact of the scything kick he had thrown, somehow now above the giant wolf, shook the ground beneath us.
 
Beneath us.
 
As I was still twenty feet away.
 
How he hadn't snapped his own shin with such tremendous force, I had no goddamn clue, especially since he definitely snapped the wolf’s neck.
 
Moving at speeds an avid gamer and not-unathletic guy like me couldn't even keep track of, let alone hope to replicate.
 
Producing more force than the entire weightlifting team-- hell, a full factor more. I could only feel that again if I were to witness a car crash.
 
Utter ignorance of a mangled right forearm, copiously dripping and bubbling with scarlet plasma. A tear in skin and muscle that made the training dummies they used for the station’s K-9 units look like they had been lightly scuffed. It looked even more dangerous than my out-of-commission leg.
 
And it was closing on its own.
 
Confidence and surety, as if it were a foregone conclusion when he put the wolf to death. Nerves of steel and utter sangfroid in the face of death itself--
 
Someone who didn't fear it at all. 
 
Hunters.
 
He rounded upon me with no hesitation, not even stopping to admire his handiwork in the form of the massive lupine demon fading into dust.
 
“You’re hurt, right? Let me see your leg.”
 
“I think it's fractu--Oi, what the hell are you--”
 
Expressly without my permission, he'd rolled up my pants to the knee--
 
And without as much as even considering missing a beat, he plunged his fingertips into the remains of the gash on his arm, before pulling them free and painting a long red streak of his own blood down my calf.
 
They really were all insane.

* * *

By the time he'd convinced me to stop screaming curses in every language I knew (which, if we're specifically talking curses, is a scheissegrosse number), I had a pretty clear idea of what was going on.
 
“So your power-- Is all about healing?”
 
“Semblance, yeah.” He absently corrected, guiding me to my feet while scanning our surroundings, a suspicious gleam in his eye. “Though it's likely not thorough with that little blood… Can you put weight on it at all?”
 
Frowning and feeling more than a little like some kid, I tested it, gritting my teeth and sucking some air in through them.
 
“Not a lot.”
 
That eye flicked back to me, concerned, before steeling and focusing straight ahead down the path he’d come from. 
 
“That's fine, I can support you.”
 
Actually, let's talk about this for a moment. Not only was my savior a Hunter, and therefore a certified badass no matter how you sliced it, but he was also both completely shredded and totally babyfaced. How was that even fair?! How are normal guys like me supposed to compete with a mix of bishonen appeal and impressive physique?!

I’m revving up my autistic frogs!

I don't even care if he's a manlet, my two inches on him don't count against that level of Chaddiness! Hell, this turbo-normie even had those emo-bangs that swept over one eye, adding a vague sense of mystery that was compounded by this curt and businesslike demeanor!
 
Hunters are absolute bullshit! If I wasn't injured, being saved by you, and liable to get tied into a knot in two seconds flat, I would have totally punched that black hair off your head! How dare you exist with such superiority to me, mongrel?!
 
Yeah, no. I'm not the King of Heroes, and punching the hair off his head would just make him Saitama.
 
Maybe he'd look stupid if I punched off everything except the cowlick, but before I could further contemplate the matter, my weight was suddenly shifted as he forcefully lent me his shoulder. 
 
At least buy me dinner first, right?
 
“Sorry for being in a rush and roughhousing you,” (kyaaaa~) he said, a legitimate note of apology coloring his voice as I fought the adrenaline dump delirium. “But we really need to get moving.”
 
“Oh yeah, that's great reason for medical malpractice. Never gone wrong before.” I jabbed wryly. “Why? Didn't you kill that thing? Job’s done,” a glance over to the small pile of black powder, nearly dissipated into the wind completely. “Can't you just call for transport and wait here?”
 
“No,” he firmly corrected me, starting us off at a brisk cadence where OW-- OW EASE INTO IT, DAMMIT! “A lone Fenris isn't much trouble, but they don't look like wolves, bark like wolves, and walk live wolves for no reason. That last howl was probably a call for help, and if there's a whole pack nearby…”
 
“...Can't stay still then. Right.”
 
A gruesome image.
 
He left it to me to sum it up for myself, which was honestly entirely unnecessary and a little insulting. You don't need to be a cryptic asshole to drive a point home, it's not like I'm braindead.
 
And like somebody who isn't braindead, I could use my own words to say things that needed saying, even if I didn't particularly appreciate having to do it. He should know this already.
 
“So, uh… thanks.”
 
“Hm?”
 
“You saved my life, so thank you.”
 
“Ah, don't worry.” He scoffed good-naturedly, adopting a cheshire smirk. “After all, you saved yourself. It wasn't me who saved you.
 
I processed that for a moment.
 
Then, I have to admit, I saw this Hunter in an entirely new light.
 
“That's the most retarded thing I've ever heard.”
 
He instantly flinched, as though struck, and soon enough that collected badass was just… gone.
 
“E-Eh? But this is like the one time it does make sense!” 
 
“How the hell is that supposed to make sense?” I demanded. “What, was that actually me who kicked the Grimm twice, with my broken leg?”
 
“Your leg’s not broken!”
 
I snorted. Ha! Looks like you’re only human after all!
 
“Exactly, you healed it after killing the Grimm.”
 
“L-Look, I agree that it's a stretch, okay?” He had begun to vaguely resemble my sister in his reaction to my onslaught. Ha! You may be good in a fight, Hunter-san, but never forget who's better in an argument after today! “I just stole the phrase from an…”
 
He paused, eyes rolling skywards as his brain ran through the dictionary looking for suitable words.
 
“An acquaintance--”
 
“You barely know them and you're ashamed of them.” I surmised.
 
Critical hit! Hunter-San flinched! I've been listening in on conversations around me for too long to not pick up that trepidation in your voice, fool!
 
Ah, but I don't need to participate in them. They're about trite shit most of the time, anyways. 
 
He hastily rallied, despite taking great care not to overwork me. Another person would call this taking advantage of his distraction, but I call it asymmetrical warfare.
 
“Look, if you didn't scream and make all that noise, I probably wouldn't have found you in time, okay? You saved yourself by helping me get into the situation where I could lend my strength, you basically got yourself saved all on your own!”
 
I didn't need a mirror to tell that the look I sent him was paper flat.
 
“Is that as good a reasoning as that acquaintance of yours gives?” 
 
“He…” He sighed, exaggeratedly hanging his head for a moment. “Usually doesn't give me any, so no.”
 
“You have a worrying taste in acquaintances, Hunter-san.”
 
“Luke.”
 
Huh? Oh right, names. We forgot names, how embarrassing. If I did this talking thing more often, I'm sure I would say that this blunder was most embarrassing.
 
“I'm Luke Schwarz.”
 
I just about staggered into a classic facefault, forcing Luke to all but catch me and hoist me back to my feet.
 
“That explains a lot… you're from that bundle of monsters.” I said, referring to his family.
 
The Matriarch, and Most Accomplished Woman in Shiroyama, Holly Schwarz.
 
The Patriarch, the only known non-auric individual in the family and the boss of half of the city’s police force, the man I still only knew as “Officer” or “Sheriff” Schwarz.
 
The twin sisters of violence, virtue, and vigilante justice, who had only finally stopped raising hell on the general populace of miscreants when they had left middle school for Signal Combat School, April and Dawn Schwarz.
 
And finally, the mysterious figure of more myth than fact that used to roam the halls of Naoetsu Private High School, having out of nowhere saved some girl in my class at the end of the semester before last after three years of being little more than a ghost at the center of a rumor mill reportedly stretching even outside the town itself.
 
Lucas Schwarz.
 
He even had the old black and red Gakuran uniform that our school used to have the male students wear-- before they updated it for my incoming class.
 
“Oh, you know of my family? Yeah, they're pretty wild…”
 
“You're out there yourself, man.”
 
Don't act like you aren't. You're the absolute antithesis of everything I stand for, so you had better own it around me!
 
“Well…”
 
“And speaking of wild,” I continued, tugging on the collar of the uniform that he'd now slung over his shoulder. “You wanna explain why you decided to strip before fighting that-- what the hell is with this?”
 
I had only meant to slightly jostle the thing to grab his attention towards my complaints about the unwanted manservice, but I was thrown entirely off-track by the fact that it felt like this thing was lined entirely with lead.
 
“Oh, that's my old uniform. Naoetsu High.”
 
“I know what uniform it is, I attend the place. What the hell’s with the weight, you tard?”
 
“I had it repurposed. Training gear. The Vytal Festival is coming up, and every Freshman team wants in on it, so…”
 
I was now very acutely aware that those corded shoulders he shrugged so frivolously were carrying upwards of a hundred pounds, minimum. How the hell does anyone get that strong?
 
“Gotta train.”
 
“What are you, the Eternal Lotus of Shiroyama?” I groused, knowing he probably wouldn't get it.
 
Instead, he laughed, and I doubletaked.
 
“Ha! No, nothing that crazy. Whatever the heck Gai had Lee train with weighed as much as the average house, man. I've got nothing on that right now.”
 
“Y-You're familiar with Naruto?” I gawked
 
“The Chuunin exams were right around where it stopped being worth watching, maybe the Sasuke Retrieval arc.” Luke continued, heedless of my jaw hanging lower and lower as he effortlessly tossed out opinions, very valid and correct opinions, in my wheelhouse. Fuck off, normie! Reeeee!
 
Okay, so he watched Naruto as a kid. Fair, a lot of kids in our generation did, but I was sure his casual tastes didn't go much further than that.
 
“But beyond all that: Naruto is a gateway anime of the worst kind, and there's only one question on my mind about it.”
 
Despite myself, I took the bait. 
 
“And that is?”
 
“Is there a character who can even touch Madara Uchiha? And I'm not talking just any Uchiha Madara: I'm talking Uchiha Madara with…”
 
And that was how I soon discovered that the most famous alum my high school would ever have was a total shitposting nerd.

* * *

“I think we’re in the clear, so we can ease up a bit..”
 
If he was using our chats to disguise the distance we'd traveled, I had to give credit where it was due. I certainly didn't realize it, but a quick look back showed me our tracks in the snow going quite a distance up the mountainside…
 
Very sneaky. I had been too busy grilling him for his tastes in pop culture to even think of how far I was traveling on a damaged leg. A smart move was always to distract people into doing what you want without them thinking about it--
 
And even I wasn't immune, despite having always been cognizant of the fact that Luke's head was on a swivel the whole way. 
 
“So how do you know about my family, anyways?” He asked conversationally, albeit I could distinguish some actual curiosity behind the easygoing tone. “Just the local news, or..?”
 
“Your sisters were a class below me in middle school.” I answered succinctly. “So there's a whole slew I heard about you guys from being in the same school as them alone.”
 
“I’m so sorry.” He immediately bowed his head. 
 
It wasn't anything that he needed to apologize for, but it felt nice in a cathartic way to have him, the champion of humanity, bowing before a normal (lol) guy and noble (lol) loner like me.
 
Or was it schadenfreude?
 
Pff, nah, it was entirely petty. Not that I cared~
 
“That aside, my sister Sakura also works for your dad--”
 
“Wait, you're Sakura’s little brother?! Jason Rhodes?”
 
“Uh, yeah.” 
 
So he knew my sister? Alright, that was a bit out of left field, but not wholly unexpected. She directly answered to his father, after all, so them meeting wasn’t really that surpri--

My train of thought was brutally interrupted as a quartet of knuckles suddenly rapped against my skull, an excellent display of control over the enormous strength of a Huntsman. Enough to hurt, but not enough to seriously hurt, coming from someone who could liquefy my skull.

On one hand, it was impressive.

On another, it was frightening.

On the third and most important hand:

“Ow! What the hell’s your problem, asshole?” I growled in indignation, rubbing the side of my head.

“That’s what I ought to be asking you, idiot!” he fired back with equal heat, his lone visible steel-colored eye boring an imperious hole into my own. Hold on, I knew this look! Was I getting big brothered here? Hell no!

“Grr… You don’t--AGH!”

Another ring of the bell.

“Don’t give me that! You have any idea how worried she must be? Where do you get off running out into the mountains on New Years Day, anyway?! Go to one of the other shrines, where you won’t be able to fall off the side of a mountain!”

Big problem with your argument, Hunter-boy.

“Well hey, right back at you-- What were you doing on the mountain to be there in time to save me, on the far side from civilization? Awfully hypocritical of you to get on my case for the exact same stuff as you, senpai!” I crowed, feeling my momentum return as I worked through the idea of him throwing stones from a glass house.

Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t the case. From within the deep pockets of his coat, (which had been worn over the previously mentioned uniform), he produced a rolled up piece of paper adorned with a number of strange, archaic-looking symbols and characters.

“I had business up there. The Whitesnake Shrine’s talisman needs replacing— and not some contrarian brat running up to it because he wants to do things differently from everyone else.”

“Redundancy isn’t a virtue, and if that’s the case, what the hell were you doing on this side of the mountain, instead of taking the steps? You can’t follow any hiking trails in the snow, asswipe.”
 
“Heh.”

His face became something halfway between a rictus grin and the snarl the Fenris had levelled upon me earlier.

“Doesn’t matter if you’re training…”

That didn’t sound healthy, but then again, as we’ve established, I’m the one sane party here. If anything, I should be leading the pack, but leading is both too much work and impossible since I have no idea where to go, so I’m stuck with hoping my life is in the hands of, at least, a benignly insane man.

“But anyways, I’m still going to ask, Jason.” he sobered up quickly. “Why were you up there instead of one of the five… ‘operational’ shrines, so to speak? Even in the summer, that would have been dangerous, let alone now.”

Hey, you know I’m barely any younger than you, right? What’s with this act of lecturing me like a little kid, seriously? I can handle going places on my own.

He shook his head.

“Not like that. I just said I needed to replace the talisman, right?”

I nodded, but stared at him rather blankly. Don’t try and lead me on, I’m not into mysticism and all that junk. Not since I was 13, and was writing my own novels. Which were glorified fanfiction. Basically, when I was still a chuuni, you might have had a captive audience, but now I just want you to get on with it.

“The way these shrines protect us is through talismans like those.” he explained, “See, Grimm are attracted to spiritual negativity.”

Why are you holding up that finger, and who did you copy that lecture pose from? It looks ridiculous, please stop.
 
“Most commonly, that means an excess of the classic ‘negative’ emotions. Anger, Fear, Envy, and the like. Not only do the shrines offer a place of communion with gods and ancestral spirits, which is a way to help ease the soul for many, but those talismans also act as…”

He paused, frowning as he tried to find a good term for it. Just don’t look at me, I don’t know any of this.

“I guess you could call them kind of like filters, in a way. The ambient negativity in the town’s area is basically soaked up and sealed within them, so that’s how we can get away with not having distinct walls like our neighbors in Redwood. But, they don’t last forever. Those little slips of paper can only hold onto so much before the seal breaks.”

“And that’s what the mikos are there for, besides keeping the places clean?” I ventured, starting to see where he was getting at with this. “And judging you for your appearance.”

I’m sorry, Patron-san, but your fetid gaze may disrupt the calmness of this place. Please, try to find yourself in more tranquility.

She got reprimanded for it, but it still hurts a guy’s feelings.

“Yeah, and being part-time ninja--wait, what?”

“Forget it. Just keep dumping.”

He gauged me with some sort of look that I didn’t know how to read, before continuing at my behest.

“Anyways… yeah, and since the Whitesnake Shrine is both unstaffed and derelict, it’s basically become a historical restoration project for the Huntsmen in the area, myself included. We can’t be there all the time either, so when the charm craps out, someone like you coming up there’s dangerous.”

“Oh, so you think my eyes are too rotten too. I’ll attract Grimm if I look at the shrine the wrong way or if I’m having a bad day.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” He frowned openly. “It’s dangerous for anyone without training to handle Grimm, but honestly, you’re starting to convince me yourself that the misanthropy won’t help.”
 
Okay, okay, don't act like it's my fault that society hates me as much as I hate it. Hell, it hates me much more, because there are some upstanding pillars of society that I don't hate. 
 
Like my sister.
 
“Is it that bad to not want to deal with all the nonsense involved with going the same place as an entire town’s worth of people? If my earnest wish is drowned out by everyone disrespecting the shrines with their inane group photos and angering the spirits, that's gonna leave a guy like me SOL, you know?”
 
He scoffed.
 
“You definitely don't believe in any of that. You sound like my Dust Apps teacher, now what's the actual reason for the nonsense of going to an abandoned, damn near forgotten shrine and, however inadvertently, risking attracting Grimm?”
 
“I sound like I'm wiser and more experienced than you? Thanks for the compliment, I must be onto something.”
 
His frown became a frustrated scowl. He really wanted to press this sudden moral crusade of his, didn't he?
 
“I'll admit I made an uninformed decision, but let's get something clear: What's it even to you? Why’s it matter so much?” 
 
This kind of nagging was exactly what I had gone that way to avoid in the first place! If you're so concerned about all my negativity, quit fostering it by bugging me!
 
“Because I'm not letting another person live out their life like that!”
 
“And who the hell made you the arbitrator of how people are supposed to live? Just because you're physically stronger? Just because you're a couple of years older? What do you even know about me? You're just some random guy to me, you know. If I let random people tell me how to live, I wouldn't have any self-determination, and nothing to call my own!”
 
I pushed him away from me, but, as you might be able to predict, our insane differences in strength and weight meant that I was more just pushing myself off of him, staggering back and only barely catching myself on my bad leg.
 
And even then, I felt myself breaking into a cold sweat as knives lanced up through my calf.
 
“Jason, what the hell are you--”
 
“I'm standing on my own two feet.” I bit out, pointing my thumb towards my chest. “That's how I've been living my life, Lucas Schwarz. All I need to worry about is fighting my own battles the way I want to fight them.”
 
“You can't win like that!”
 
“Says who?”
 
“Says me.” He all but growled. “Jason, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me or think about me, but when I say I know about this, I know about this. I’ve witnessed what driving everyone away like that, acting like you’re too good for them and you don’t need them does. You’re not any stronger on your own!”

What in the hell did he possibly know about me ? Nothing. We’d never met, but he sure was being awfully presumptuous. Seriously, practice what you just preached before trying to step to me about my philosophy.

I opened my mouth to retort--

“Oh that’s rich coming from you, Schwarz.”

We turned, and saw a small woman roughly Luke’s age emerge from the woods further down the slope. Clad in a heavy, fur-lined winter coat, her long silver hair was parted into twintails that reached roughly halfway down her back, stopping just short of the pommel of the seax at her hip. Despite being paler in complexion than both myself and Luke, her face suggested Shiroyaman or Atlesian Ancestry as well, and likely would have been cute--

Had it not currently been twisted into a sneer that absolutely dripped with the same utter contempt she held in her dull gray eyes.

From my right, I heard a choked gasp escape the back of Luke’s throat--

And, as though he saw a ghost, he finally found his words after five solid seconds of just standing there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

“...O-Opal?”

* * *

“Quit looking at me like that. Actually, just quit looking at me and get out of my sight entirely.”

Even on this mountainside in a field of snow, in the middle of winter, that voice was still easily the coldest thing going. Low in a manner similar to my own, but where I was simply not deigning to speak with any more energy than I needed, she was still projecting it clearly, strongly, and openly.

It was a loud and extremely clear message, and judging from the way Luke flinched — flinched! — at her words, they had definitely reached the intended recipient. Hold on, was this the same guy that had just unflinchingly kicked a literal hellhound so hard he nearly decapitated it after it practically shredded his arm? Where was that bravado, dude?

Don’t tell me demons are easier to stand up to than girls. That’s not only ridiculous, it’s pathetic.

“Oh,” she continued with a disgruntled frown, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. “But before you do, you can turn off your Alert Signal. Especially since there’s nothing to worry about. You get enough attention from the Commandment, how greedy are you to want more?”

“Glad you’re doing well, but that’s not the kind of attention anyone would want…” he shakily replied, helping me deduce that whatever ‘the Commandment’ was, it wasn’t a good thing. “And what are you doing reading a Mistralese— not even that, Haven’s School Newspaper? Wasn’t it Mantle that you went to?”

“Shiloh’s shitty rag is the epitome of fake news. Veronique Pressman is the only journalist with a shred of integrity. Didn’t I tell you to stop looking at me like that? I’ll give your alert signal a reason to keep sending me notifications like it’s goddamn AMBER.”

I could have sworn I heard him mutter “Yep, definitely Atlas,” under his breath, which only made me worry even harder. Was raw malevolence an Atlesian thing? I don’t want to go back to the old country, not if this scary woman’s from there! If I ever find myself travelling abroad, it’s definitely to Mistral, where they don’t make people so full of hate!
 
“Right… I just set it to “in combat” when I ran across him,” he said, indicating me as he fished through his uniform’s pocket. “Didn’t think to turn it off yet…”

“Of course not. You never do.” she scoffed, not willing to let him off the hook.

Those contemptuous eyes the turned my way, and without thinking, I found my hand raising in an awkward wave. Despite the brief glint of something that I noticed, there and gone again only for a moment, it seemed like I for once had managed to avoid increasing the general disgust of a female in my vicinity who wasn’t related to me by blood.

I might be happy, if I was sure that it wasn’t because there was no way to push the envelope further already.

With a huff, she addressed Luke again as he fumbled with his scroll. “You wanna explain why he’s still injured? Or did you just not care?”

“I couldn’t treat him fully, we had to get moving.”

“So you half-assed it. Why.”

“Fenris hunt in packs, Arisen.” I helpfully provided with a raised eyebrow. Even for me, this was starting to get excessive. For the love of god, too, it had better not be a tsundere act, otherwise you’ve completely missed the genre and should be ashamed of yourself. Cut off those twintails, you don’t deserve them if you can’t play nice too!
 
From what I’d learned of him in our short time together, Luke normally would have leapt all over a blunt video game quote like that, and I knew there was no way he wasn’t familiar with Dragon’s Dogma.

Instead, all I got for my trouble of putting myself out there was an absolutely withering glare from Opal. Great. Just shut up, got it. Don’t hurt me.

“An entire pack of them?! What the fuck?!”

“No... It was one. We had to move in case there was a pack.”
 
It was a completely reasonable answer, but what the hell felt so off about it? I turned to him—

And I could swear I just caught the tail end of him actively putting that characteristic pensive frown of his back on top of something else.

Weird.

Not worth pursuing until we were somewhere safe, but weird. He’d make a damn shitty Hunter if he couldn’t keep a lid on things, whatever they could have been, until then.

“Oh wow,” the Atlesian drawled derisively. “So you had some foresight after all?”

Props to him, he wasn’t halfway bad at keeping up that mask of good nature during crunch time. Laughing it off only somewhat awkwardly, he responded with an attemptedly easygoing “Well, I’ve been working on it,” type of hedge.

“Hmph. Perkele.” came her simple snort back, continuing to refuse him the same kindness. 

Okay, really, there came a point where, if I had to break out my dictionary of international profanity to understand the only conversation you were willing to have with an ally of yours who was just trying to do his job, you were taking your act too damn far. I didn’t care if he was some dumb Chad who dumped you or anything, you’re literally getting in the way of my life here.

What a bitch.

“He’s not broken anywhere, but there’s a long hairline running down his calf that he’s aggravating to hell and back.” she surmised without missing a beat, before levelling yet another angry look upon the guy who you’d swear was supposed to be her mortal enemy by now. “You’ve been having him walk on that?”

The corners of his mouth tightened as he made a noise in the back of his throat that I had hoped were the beginnings of a protest, but he unfortunately seemed to think better of it. Stand up for yourself, at least a little! That’s an accusation of malpractice, isn’t that shit serious to you guys?
 
“No, I’ve been supporting him on the way down.”

“And not carrying him? I know you’re morally weak, Schwarz, but I would have figured a knucklehead such as yourself to at least be strong enough to manage that after getting into Beacon Academy.”

“Alright, that’s enough--” I began, before Luke raised his hand in front of me--

“I wouldn’t want to aggravate it more than necessary, so on that note, we should… get…”

And blanched again, eyes going wide as he stared past Opal and into the trees.

All at once, a symphony of low growls filled the air. In hindsight, Opal running into him and our argument beforehand was the absolute worst possible way to prevent this from happening. In fact, it rendered all that hard work from before nil.

Our frustrations with eachother had all combined into a great big vortex of negativity, hadn’t they? My frustrations with Luke, Luke’s crusade against me, Opal’s outright hatred of Luke and my grievances against her had all effectively been a giant waypoint for all Grimm, just like that Fenris, in the area.

And they lead the pack he belonged to right to us.

I heard the sound of steel on leather as Opal drew her Seax, followed shortly by the loud thud of the weighted uniform dropping into the snow with enough force to still hit solid ground, as we all darted our gazes around us in a panic.

“Vittu, Schwarz! I thought you said there weren’t any more of them coming! /you lying son of a bitch!”

“I didn’t, I just said they never showed up! They must have been tailing us out of sight!”

At least a dozen of those shaggy, black, low-hunched profiles were bearing their bone-white fangs as they stalked forward, with at least one from every direction.

We were surrounded. Each Fenris looked like it was even bigger and meaner than the last, and despite knowing I had two Huntsmen protecting me, that was still the odds of one versus six or seven, and they already worked together famously...

The ball in the pit of my stomach returned.
 
“Are we going to die?” I asked?

“Hell no!”

Without warning, Opal— who must have only been 5’3 and 110 pounds at the most— scooped me up onto her free shoulder, as though I were little more than the average duffel bag.

Again, this tiny girl lifted me. Bodily.

With one arm.

Aura really was insane…

“We’ve gotta make a break for Redwood! Schwarz!” She called, starting and then stopping as she saw her hated rival take up a fighting stance with a grim, dutiful look on his face. At least they seemed to be back to all business now that there was imminent danger…

“Go!” he barked, steel in his eyes once more. “I’ll--”

I blinked, and in that time he fairly teleported, at least from my perspective, into the large Fenris that Opal had nearly charged, knocking it sideways through sheer momentum.

“I’ll clear a path and hold them here! Just him there ASAP!”

My current captor ground her teeth…

But nonetheless nodded, muttering something under her breath before shouting out an absurd promise that I still, somehow, believed she would keep, simply due to the sheer Huntsman Insanity these two suffered from:

“I swear I’m following your calamitous ass to hell to kick it myself if you die, Lucas!”

She ran forward, not even pausing as she suddenly brought that huge, sword-sized knife across in a swift arc through the throat of the Fenris that had slipped past Luke and leapt for the two of us. Breaking clear, I hurriedly pointed out two that were trailing us and gaining ground, that same horrifying desire for murder in their eyes—

And was then whipped around to suddenly face the direction of our destination, as I heard the Seax enter the sheath once more and something else, something buzzy leave another one—

And then with equal suddenness, the whole thing having only taken a second or two, the Grimm’s faces, which I had feared would be the last I ever saw, were each sporting a new, sparking metal horn.

I had just enough time to recognize them as kunai—

And then the world around me became a blur of white, brown, and grey.

* * *

“Vittu, vituttaa niin vitusti!”

You know, if I had to guess at the most interesting dialect to hear incoherently swearing, it would probably be Northeastern Atlesian. Masters of pragmatism, theirs was the only language I knew of where you could string a whole bunch of the same word together and get away with it.

“Fuck this, I’m so fucking pissed off”, more or less, which basically echoed every other sentiment she’d aired prior.

We had been moving at a pretty substantial clip for ten minutes now, and despite her constant strings of profanity and obvious basal state of being disgruntled, coupled with my own of healthy cynicism, no more Grimm had come after us.

Color me shocked, but hey, better that than no improvement…

“I knew coming back here would be nothing but trouble.” she griped, finally switching back over to common Valic, which gave me an opening to try and figure out a few things that I needed to ask her, for the sake of trying to make sense of it all.

“...That distress call?”

She shook her head, ducking down at the waist for a moment and bringing me under a particularly low-hanging branch.

“No, I mean Vale as a whole. I should have put my foot down and stayed in Atlas, but nooooo,”

Adopting a lighter, brighter, and very much sarcastic voice, she began to recite various quotes back to me: “ ‘Opal, you should go back and see your hometown for training, at least check out that famous martial arts academy!’ ‘Miss Sjostrom, everyone else is returning to their homeland, and I think you would benefit from it as well.’ ‘Hey, you want to get a lay of the land with me for the tournament’s host country during winter break? Better than being cooped up in the dorm with nothing but an old trig textbook to keep you occupied!’”
 
Who the hell gets entertained by math, though? Seriously?

“Yeah, well guess what, Old Trig would have been a damn sight better than Schwarz, Tritten.” she spat the names out, albeit the former with a lot more genuine heat than the latter.

Really?

You really hate him so much you prefer math?

Are you some kind of weirdo? Maybe a savant? Look, I get not liking people, I really do, but I don’t think I’ve ever hated a single person more than I’ve hated pointlessly subjecting myself to more coursework. That’s absolutely nuts even for a workaholic, which I very much am not.

“So what the hell is your deal with Senpai, anywa--NNGHK!”

Bad move, Bad move! Bad Question to ask! 

“Uh, spine! Spine!”
 
After a brief, agonizingly frightful moment of consideration, the vicelike pressure around my waist returned to a normal, firm grip. 
 
“My deal’s none of your business, kid, and on what level do you call that walking disaster ‘Senpai’? You know him that well?”
 
This girl's mean streak was a mile long, especially when it came to my former rescuer and high school alumnus, so my choice in answers was extremely obvious. Self-preservation was something ridiculous to be worried about in the face of an Atlesian (read: typically very good) Huntress, but at least I could talk to her and have an infinitely higher chance of getting through than I could any Grimm.

So no hard feelings, Senpai, but I’m fighting for my life here as well. I’ll fight as hard as I’m sure you must be.

“No, just met him today and he went to the same school as I do, that’s all. Ma’am.”
 
“Relax.” She grunted, easily clearing a fallen sequoia that seemed to herald us finally reaching level ground, “I don't know how people can tolerate the guy, but my beef is with him, not everyone who's met him. He's too damn gregarious for that to make sense.”
 
“Tha--PTHHPT!” I began, sputtering as our landing caused a plume of white powder to erupt all around us and, consequently, straight into my damn mouth. “That's a bit hard to believe after you just tried to crush my ribcage, forgive me.”
 
“I'm an Atlesian Specialist.” She shot back, testiness kept in stern measure but still evident in her clipped tones. “We’re trained better than to further harm the injured in transit.”
 
Tilting her head back, she regarded me with an almost appraising expression, as though she were trying to deduce my worth. 
 
Well, that's unnerving.
 
“No matter how much they annoy us, we're still professionals. It's not like I actually hurt you, anyway.”
 
And on that note, we were off once again. Now without a slope to contend with, and seemingly at home in the snow as much as anyone could be, this time I truly got a front-row seat as to how blisteringly fast Huntsmen really were. While I'm sure this wasn't the mind-boggling speed that Luke apparently fought at, on account of the G-forces not yet significantly traveling not one direction or the other, the landscape whizzing past and the wind buffeting me easily suggested that Opal could easily reach Olympian-tier speeds while carrying nearly a hundred and sixty pounds worth of extra baggage in the form of her weapons and myself.
 
“You're awfully confident about that. How can you, with your Specialist training and Aura, really be so sure you won't accidentally snap a mere mortal like me as though I were a twig?”
 
Yeah, I could have gotten by with asking a simple question that didn't involve needlessly antagonizing her, I know that. 
 
But, hey, eye for an eye and all that, not to mention, her dismissal of that very real concern pissed me off.
 
“Do you crush every egg you pick up? Same thing.” She succinctly explained. “Not to mention, I also can directly see whether or not I've hurt you.”
 
“X-Ray vision?” I ventured. Since we were talking about bones and all, that was the first thing that leapt to mind, and considering how Semblances were just classic superpowers in my memory, it fit the bill well enough.
 
But, wait, did that mean she could see through people's clothes? That's terrifying in the eyes of someone with a personality as nasty as hers! I wouldn't trust myself not to judge people horrendously if I had that ability, let alone to not abuse it!
 
I mean, this isn't me saying I wouldn't instantly accept a power that useful and abusable, but even so, I knew that it would scare me if it weren't in my own hands.
 
However, my fears were quickly alleviated with a shake of the specialist’s head.
 
“No, it's called Triage Appraisal. You know what Triage is, if you got into Naoetsu, right?”
 
Oi Oi, how'd you know what school I'm from? I'm not wearing my uniform, here-- Oh, right. I said it was the same as Luke's.
 
“You went there too? What happened to Mantle?”
 
“No, but when you said ‘High School’ instead of ‘Combat School’ I knew it had to be that preppy place. He's an idiot, but I know for a fact he's intelligent enough to get in.” She explained, before darkly muttering something to herself under her breath that I couldn't make out through the rushing air. “Just answer the question: You know what Triage is or not?”
 
“The medical practice of sorting the wounded for treatment in order of severity.” I complied with her demand, despite having a million questions still buzzing about my head. He had originally intended to head to Signal, as his sisters were now? Or was he supposed to follow her to Atlas? “So you can tell when someone's injured?”
 
“I can see the nature and severity of the injury and weakness it may give you. That's how I know you were stupid to be putting weight on that shin, and that I didn't squeeze hard enough to do anything more than shut you up.”
 
How charming. You know you're going to end up as nothing but a spinster if you can't be a little less acerbic, right, Opal-san? Or are you a kindred spirit of mine, and you've already given up on finding love? That would be smart, because nobody likes bluntness these days~
 
I mean, damn, now I knew what Luke meant by knowing firsthand how miserable a spiteful loner’s existence was. I've always figured myself to be a pretty self-aware guy, but if I looked like this from the outside…
 
No, that couldn't have been the case. My ire was towards the moral failings of the society we live in, not a singular person.
 
“And is that how you're so familiar with Lucas’s moral weakness or injuries or whatever?”
 
Please don't look at me. Oh wait, she already did. Please don't comment on my black heart, Sjostrom-san! I might cry if I hear anything about it from you!
 
Instead, she laughed. It wasn't pretty like you would figure from a girl with her looks.
 
It was rough. Hysterical. And despite carrying on for half a minute and being accompanied by something that looked like a smile, I had a feeling it wasn't coming from good humor.
 
“Oh, I wish…” she moaned, wiping a tear from her eye as her gaze zoomed well off into the distance ahead of us. 
 
“No.” 
 
First the first time, I sensed something beyond the thick layers of anger and contempt in her voice. A pained warble, the slightest waver beneath that I only heard because I knew how to listen for it.
 
“I learned about that the hard way.”
 
Well, at least I didn't have every shameful thing about me painted across my chest like a neon sign…
 
“So what, did he--”
 
She squeezed again, this time not quite as hard, but the question died a valiant death upon my lips nonetheless. I can take a message.
 
“Not,” she pointedly reiterated, “your business. My life ended because of that man, that's all you're going to get. It's all I have left.”
 
I pondered that in silence for a moment. There were more than a few ways to take that particular line…
 
“Is he going to make it out of there too? We did just kind of leave the guy high and dry with like a dozen of those things and no weaponry or backup.”
 
“He’ll be fine.”  Opal told me flatly, managing to make words of reassurance sound like a pain to say. “A pack of Fenris isn't so bad when you have nobody else to be trying to look after.”
 
“You can tell from this far with that Appraisal?”
 
That was certainly an impressive pair of eyes she was sporting. How far away did the range of the 8 trigrams stretch?
 
“Pff, not a chance.” She scoffed wryly. “I need to see someone to do that. No, I just know Lucas Schwarz. Even before he began seducing Gold Stripes, he’s always had the devil’s own luck, whether he admits it or not.”
 
They said that answers to the secretive questions came not from repeated interrogations but honest slips of the tongue.
 
After learning that “they” were actually right every once in awhile, and learning of another hint towards whatever deepseated issues lied between those two, I found myself going back to her previous statement.
 
‘It's all I have left,’ she had said.
 
All you had left, huh?
 
All you had left to say about the subject?
 
Or all you had left, period?
 
I wondered.

* * *

Well, at least that didn't quite blow up in my face, right? Honestly, though I sound desperate to find a silver lining, it was better than I expected things to go once I saw her walk out from the trees, like a grown-up ghost from the past.
 
Though I probably just got lucky in that the pack had been tailing me and Rhodes after all due to our bickering, which had cut things off early, I still wouldn't have dared hope for an outcome so tame. That's only got off with some light verbal browbeating was a… pleasant surprise, I guess.
 
My shadow roiled in disagreement, and I could feel the frown from within.
 
Well, it wasn't as though hearing all that was pleasant, don't get me wrong. Anyone who'd enjoy it needed a visit from Solomon “Mike Pence endorsed my Backyard Fence” Speer, because she was still unabashedly directing 100% of her soured personality towards me. 
 
Even so, I was still relieved in spite of it. At the very least, the fact that after all ties had been cut and four, maybe even five years had now passed since we'd seen hide or hair of eachother…
 
The fact that she was still hale and hearty enough to be around and willing to sling such abuse my way was, to me, still something of that silver lining I had been searching for.
 
The tumult in my shadow slowed to thoughtful halt, and for a while it was still and silent.
 
Then, a voice floated through my mind, albeit without the usual casualness or hint of ringing-bell laughter upon it that made it so fun to listen to.
 
Luca.
 
Yes, Giada?
 
Are you sure you don't need my help?
 
I exited my reverie, flexing my fingers one-by-one followed by my fist opening and closing, and watching the requisite muscles tense and relax with the motions.
 
It hurt like hell, but it was still functional. Just in time, too.
 
I whirled in a full one-eighty turn, dipping slightly at the knees to drop my center of gravity below that of the Fenris that had leapt for the back of my neck, before springing back skyward and bringing that same fist up into a short, tight uppercut that crashed into and obliterated its open jaw.
 
Yeah, I'm fine. These guys aren't that bad. Especially now that there's--
 
Of course, now having become well-accustomed to my uniform, that spring upwards became a leap carrying me some three, four feet in the air, up past the Grimm I’d knocked senseless--
 
But at the perfect height to reach for the borrowed Kunai that I'd hastily jammed into my waistband midair. I grabbed the handle, now long-bereft of any electrical charge that I could register after my many experiences with my father’s equipment, little sisters’ dirty tactics, and Vacuan Surrogate Elder Sister’s harebrained schemes--
 
Twirled it around my finger for an aesthetic flourish--
 
And rammed it home through the eye socket of the insensate demonic bastardization of a wolf, steel penetrating all the way through its cerebral cortex with ease.
 
--only three of them left. Besides, it's Vytal training season, right? Extra help only slows me down in the long run.
 
Not that. We all know you're not the underdog in THIS fight.
 
I frowned, twisting the knife and yanking it out of the quickly-forming pile of dust.
 
Puns aside, what are you getting at?
 
I'm getting at the fact that you’ve been trying to bottle up a whole teeming host of repressed issues that would make Piper’s arm blush ever since that Sjostrom girl showed up. You can't try and put on a brave face and hide them from me like you’re going to try to from everyone else, Tesoro Mio. We both know that.
 
……
 
I'll ask again. Are you sure you don't need my help?

Because I’m not.

Something sharp and strong stabbed and clamped down upon my calf, and before I could answer her, the battle continued. 
 
I felt the Fenris’s fangs grinding up against my tibia, and with grit teeth, I elected to return the favor by ramming the blade straight through the bone of its faceplate, even as it pulled me off of my feet.
 
Fractions of a second from belly-flopping onto my stomach, I twisted and kicked as hard as I could with my other leg, my heel colliding with the ringed pommel of the knife—

And driving the blade that extra half-inch deeper it needed for the jaws to go slack on my leg, as more dust filled the air. At this rate, I was going to pollute the atmosphere as much as my mother’s Aston did on idle, or as much as much as any HJNS member did in a chatroom dominated by single females.

Speer was my boy and all, but there was a point where thot patrol ended and thot entrapment began, and it was a line Lauren had been very adamant at drilling into my skull. You’re not supposed to tap dance on it, man!

Luca, focus. You’re not helping your case by trying to distract yourself.

I hadn’t meant to.

I’ll…

A growl, bark, and crunch of snow to my side.

My eyes darted that direction and my arm lashed out with a hammerfist, both before I quite consciously realized it. The strike collided thunderously with the Fenris, knocking it out of the air as well as making my hand explode into complaints from the meaty point of impact, as well as the small bones beneath.

Not out of the water yet, Lukey-boy…

I’ll have to get back to you on that, Gigi.

I’m holding you to it.

Naturally.

* * *

“Perkele! Tulla jksk kyrpä otsassa! Paskiainen molopää, jumalauta!”

I honestly could not agree more. Quit dodging, you spooky son of a bitch! I don’t want to die, and it’s not like telling my ride to throw better is gonna help either of us! Hell, it’ll probably hurt me, so that means it’s all on you! The ball is squarely in your court!

“It’s gaining...”

“I know, dammit!” she growled, stealing a glance back at our new pursuer. “Fucking Geists! It keeps moving the damn mask around as soon as I throw!”

As I had the distinct misfortune of learning firsthand, Geists were what were known as a possession-type Grimm. This meant that, rather than using their own strength to fight humanity, they instead weaponized the nature around them, turning whatever object or material they possessed into a body through which they could fight. According to Opal, through her myriad Atlesian swears, their base form was apparently pretty weak.
 
This one, however, was old enough to have learned what did and didn’t constitute advantageous materials to possess and make a body out of. So, instead of something that suffered from mobility issues like trying to go whole-hog and possessing entire trees, this so-called “Borea Gigas” instead forged its body mostly out of snow and brush, with only the ends of its limbs taking advantage of the jagged hardwood branches that had snapped and fallen around it.
 
Which was just our luck, considering that this thing was both A) Smart and B) chasing us like we'd just told it we punched its mother.
 
Then again, there's a non-zero chance Opal actually had, but that's beside the point.
 
In being mostly made of something that wasn't all the way solid, like snow, the Grimm held a distinct situational advantage over Opal right now:
 
While she was stuck carrying me, the only method she had of fighting against the thing was her knives. While she assured me that every throw buried a knife exactly where she’d aimed it, and I believed her, the loose, powdery nature of the beast’s composition allowed it to render her years of aiming practice all but moot, simply by shifting its one weak point, the mask, around like a pinball on speed.

This in turn kept the thing from ever giving up any speed by raising its arm to block, which would logically add some drag—while also acting as a method of slowing Opal down and gaining ground. Her speed was already diminished enough by my being her passenger, but every time she turned to toss one of those lightning-charged knives, that action for the briefest moment slowed her down.

And shaved the briefest moment’s worth of distance between it and us. Thanks in part to the baker’s dozen knives embedded throughout the things torso and in equal part to the many obstacles in the forest that she had to duck us under, dodge us past, or jump us over while the Grimm and its golemlike body could just bowl straight through, the Borea Gigas was now only three or four of its own arm lengths away from us.

I could tell this because, after Opal wisened up to its tricks and focused purely on trying to outlast the thing in a footrace, it raised its arm and started firing off branches at us—

“Right!” I called, tapping the side I meant with my hand in case I ended up miscommunicating. If we got blown to smithereens because of me, I’d be too ashamed to even try and reincarnate into a man with better prospects in life.

She immediately swerved, and not a moment too soon. I could feel the rush of wind as the wooden stake slammed into the snow, the crash of the impact kicking up enough snow to crest over our heads. 

Holy crap, if that thing hits, I’m dead! Opal’s Aura may be able to tank it, but I certainly can’t!

And what was more…

“Dammit, forcing us to swerve means we lose even more ground!” the huntress all but roared in frustration. “Can it reach us yet, Rhodes?”

I tried to gauge the distance, and--

“It’s about to shoot again!”

“Do I have room to--” she began, desperately looking over her shoulder to see for herself--
 
It fired.
 
Time slowed to a crawl as, for the second time in as many hours, I stared down my own death.
 
The wooden projectile, some 3 feet in length and encased in a layer of sharpened frost, seemed to slowly, painfully drift through the air, almost lackadaisical in its short path towards my skull. 
 
We'd come so far.
 
In this journey down the mountainside, though they were both a couple of incomprehensible weirdos beyond even myself, with issues so deep-seated you'd find them only at the bottom of a Dust mine, I felt that I had grown to know these two huntsmen. 
 
I had shared laughter, hardship, and even anger with them, real, palpable anger.
 
I had seen them personally put themselves in harm’s way-- for my sake.
 
As the stake-branch came within a foot of scratching my nose, another one of those sobering moments of clarity came.
 
Ah.
 
I was describing camaraderie there, wasn't I? 
 
It seems through all that, even a monster of cynicism and sloth like me…
 
Even he could have made some friends, couldn't he?
 
Ten inches away now. I don't know when I became so proficient at judging distances, but it didn't matter.
 
Nine.
 
This was the end.
 
I'm sorry, Sakura. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I never told you how much even my troublesome and disappointing self loved you in spite of all that nonsense I say about everyone else.
 
Eight.
 
I'm sorry, Luke. I'm sorry, Opal.
 
It looked like, for all of my big talk…
 
Seven.
 
Not even my prized instinct for self preservation made me someone who could help you save them.
 
Six.
 
Please don't blame yourselves. I know how hard you tried.
 
Five.
 
Just… work out whatever you have to--
 
Four and a half.
 
At four and a half inches away, my attempts at making peace with my imminent death, which had been going so well, were brought to a screeching halt--
 
And the world blurred into real-time again, as an impossibility strong pull yanked my head and body away, even faster than that same spear which had produced such tremendous force of impact.
 
“Hold tight.”
 
And before I even had time for flustered panic in the realization that I, a self-respecting red-blooded guy, was being princess carried by a girl I towered over, that force of impact was there again.
 
Directly onto her back. 
 
“Ghah!”
 
While her Aura protected her from a brand new window straight through her solar plexus, that sheer force was only blunted, not mitigated completely. 
 
She stumbled. Tumbled. Rolled. 
 
Clutched me tight to herself.
 
And somehow, some way, through sheer dumb luck or some secretive Atlesian ninja training, found her feet back under her and sprinted for all she was worth, even as one snowy ton of ice and birch fist crashed into the earth just inches behind us.
 
For the second time in as many hours, I had been forced out of contemplating my own cessation of existence by a Huntsman literally shielding me with themselves.
 
Maybe due to having bumped my head on the ground, I was a little dazed, my first thoughts after being literally pulled away from the light went something like this:
 
I can't ever complain about luck again.
 
Quickly followed by,
 
“Are you crazy?!”
 
“If it means getting the job done--ARRGH!” She roared, even as a second salvo crashed into her Aura. This time, though, she had braced for it and managed, just barely, not to break stride-- 
 
“Then I’ll gladly be the most insane damn person anyone’s ever met!”
 
The trees were beginning to grow sparse. That meant no more ammo, and no more shots, right?
 
Between ragged and flagging breaths, she still managed to pin me with a glare of pure spite. Maybe not at me, but at something.
 
In a low, tired voice, coupled with a struggling, beginning to slow pace, she told me one last thing.
 
“Word… of advice: Never take half measures.”
 
“H-Hey, keep it together! We’re almost there--”
 
Another shot.
 
Another hit.
 
A few spots of the snow behind us went red.
 
Gritting her teeth, Sjostrom screamed as though she were the daughter of Ares himself, raging against fate and the world that was so intent on putting her down.

She forced herself to keep running.
 
Through sheer willpower, she made it one.
 
Two. 
 
Three steps forward.
 
Before sinking to her knees in the field of white, utterly spent.
 
The open field of white.
 
We were out of the forest.

I looked up, and understood, finally, why she had let herself stop.

The heavy footfalls of the Borea Gigas catching up to us reached my ears-- which I then covered.
 
Not because I didn't want to hear my own death, but because--
 
BRRRRRRRRRRRRT
 
Because the sky was filled with light and sound.
 
The heavy caliber machine guns tore through the snow and wood, so threatening to us before, like they were little more than paper.
 
The Borea Gigas was a big fish, sure.
 
But not even the biggest fish in the sea could survive the fangs of Redwood’s walls.
 
Hot lead sailed over us in twin streams for five seconds. Once the gunners ceased, an inky black cloud began to coalesce beneath that bone-white mask--
 
And then burst apart into that now-familiar plume of dust, as the mask gained an equally familiar protrusion.
 
Metallic.
 
Charged with Lightning.
 
Associated with Ninja and the country of Atlas.
 
Panting, bleeding, and grinning in a victorious show of teeth, Opal Sjostrom’s last words to the biggest pain in her ass that was taller than five foot seven were exactly what you would have expected.
 
“Sayonara, Saatanan Helvetti.”

* * *

The next few hours were little more than a blur, as the adrenaline finally left my system and I got hit with the resultant sensory crash.
 
I could vaguely recall us being met halfway by the guardsmen within the walls, who helped Opal load me onto their stretcher before whisking the both of us away to the nearby hospital. Evidently, they’d already verified who she was and only really needed to know the nature and extent of the obvious injuries afflicting the kid (me) she was carrying in.

I remember being questioned as we entered the stony gray walls. It must have been basic stuff, because no specifics leapt out at me as seemingly coming from left field: so probably just the whole “What’s your name, where are you from, what happened that put your leg out of commission, good lord kid, you said how many grimm?” deal.

Opal and I finally were split up to go our separate ways once we entered Redwood General Hospital proper—a rustic looking building, befitting the rustic looking town. She was taken off to get the wound, which apparently wasn’t as severe as it had seemed when she received it, looked at as well as put through a small debriefing procedure of sorts, if I remember right.

Meanwhile, I was put under an X-Ray treatment to confirm her initial diagnosis, and then tossed on some painkillers, into a cast for my shin, and at a bed for rest. I was to stay there overnight, and would be either picked up or driven back to Shiroyama tomorrow, assuming no sudden complications arose.

Later that evening, I had gotten a call from the police station— or, rather, the same call the on-site Redwood PD officer had been using to relay the information to Sheriff Schwarz, who I had been told practically spittaked when he heard the name “Sjostrom” come up— was handed off to me. 

My sister was on the other end, and though I expected an earful from her about my egregious disregard for my own safety and how worried she was… She just kept saying that she was so glad I was safe and sound.

I took that opportunity to remind her that through thick and thin and beneath all the bullshit, I was glad that I had a sister like her.

I think it made her really happy.

The night was, thanks to the sleeping aids, mercifully without dreams of my near-death experiences on repeat, and instead simply long and restful.

The next morning, both Opal and I were given brief psychiatric screenings and, barring some papers that I was worried might end up in my student counselor’s lap in two weeks’ time, we were both given the green light for release, provided I not forget my crutches there.

I wasn’t going to, but the fact that they thought I might really disturbed me as well as, of course, insulted me. Who the hell did that before me, and why the hell did they take me for someone as stupid as them?

While waiting on the Transit system to return, I basically had an hour to kill that essentially amounted to getting to follow Opal around while she went about her business there.

“Look,” I said, as she patiently (for her) chewed on a cinnamon bun as we walked through the wintery streets, with the kids running around making snowmen and having snowball fights and all that other crap thankfully managing to keep us out of the crossfire of their play. “Why don’t you just try to talk it out with him, or something?”

“I do.” she replied in a manner that was far too measured to be anything resembling true. “I’ve told him about my beef with him a million times over, and yet he still tries to act friendly with me, or even talk to me. If I could fix that faulty brain of his, I’d have done it ages ago.”

Uh, news flash: talking to somebody is actually supposed to be the less severe offense to people in this predicament than trying to act all buddy-buddy with you. And telling someone “I hate you” without saying why isn’t much of a conversation, even if you say it 57 times over.

I wish I was making it up, and I wish that she hadn’t flatly told me about that moment herself.

“Oh, he knows why.” was her response to the latter concern. “He knows exactly what he did, and if he tells you he doesn’t, he’s lying through his teeth.”

We rounded the corner, drawing up to Lloyd’s Smithy, an extension of the Lloyd family household and birthplace of every one of the 15 kunai that Opal had lost yesterday. He was a man of principle, she’d said, who prided himself on the quality of his work—which made ordering a bunch of relatively cheap Kunai from him a smart move. They would always come out decently sharp, well-balanced, and in excellent temper and condition; the only trade-off being that this attention to detail and dedication to quality necessitated more time spent on her orders.

“Yeah, she’s right.” a solemn, familiar voice said from behind us as we made for the door of the forge. It was low, smooth, and melancholy—

We turned, me doing so with much less of an angry whirl than my tour guide, and our eyes fell upon none other than Lucas Schwarz.

It spoke volumes to how much we all wanted to simply be done with everything for a while, when the only attacks even Opal would deign to muster were a raised eyebrow and, “Seriously? A full day and you couldn’t grab a change of clothes?”

It was even a fair criticism, shockingly enough. Despite showing no visible injuries at all, thanks to that healing-based power of his, you could definitely tell the guy had been through a minor war or two against nature simply due to how shredded his clothes were.

Yeah no, I actually agree with the raging Atlesian here, what’s up with that? Your family has a nice house and an Aston Martin, don’t tell me that those are the only clothes you own, dude.

“Not really, no.” He replied with a wry smile, as though he just remembered some stupid pun in his head. “I was basically on my feet the whole time. Once I finished off the Fenris, I tailed you guys to make sure you made it in—”
 
“We did.” Opal curtly cut in. “I’m not the type to bungle something as simple as a half marathon just because there’s snow and a geist.”

“—Er, yeah, I heard about it, are you guys alright?”

“You mean besides the leg?” I asked, smirking at his disapproving frown. Sorry senpai, but it’s fun to be a smartass when you leave an opening for it a mile wide.

The female member of the party didn’t share my good humor, however, and simply said in tones as cold as the Atlesian north she represented,

“Don’t you even think about it.”

“...Right.”

He reacted as though she’d taken that Pukko knife of hers on her belt and rammed it straight into him. He really was weak to that horrible personality of hers—

And for the record, I still wanted to know the history behind that. I hate being left out and I hate not understanding things. I needed to figure out a way to get one of them, at least, to talk. 

What was genuine here? What was bluster and bullshit? I couldn’t know.

“Uh, you were saying?” I asked, taking it upon myself to fill the very uncomfortable silence and, hopefully, break the tension in the air…

“Oh, I, uh… Right. Once I confirmed with the guards that you guys made it in in…” he hedged for a moment, wincing. “Relatively fair shape, I doubled back for the Shirohebi.”

“Oh, right.” I nodded, suddenly piecing together why. “So you got the charm on the shrine replaced.”

“Yeah, that’s right. The Grimm’ll probably be a lot sparser in the whole area now. I spent the night there, and then headed back down to actually go in and check on the both of you right away.”

Opal snorted, but seemed to accept the explanation readily. 

“Your priorities are screwy as ever. Fat lot of good it does me now, but at least you finished what you started, for a change.”

He frowned, nonplussed. 

“We still have to go back, don’t we? If the charm’s in place, the trip’s going to go a lot more smoothly. For a change, we and the Transit guys can relax.”

“Please, you’re always too relaxed. You and the kid may be heading back, but I’ve got business here.” she folded her arms and tossed her head back towards the door of the smithy. Raising an eyebrow, her accusatory glare morphed into a questioning look. “And it sounds like you’ve gotten pretty well-acquainted with this town as a whole to be running in and out so easily.”

“Ah… So you’re a patron of Lloyd’s, then?”

He looked up at the smithy, eyes drifting inexorably from the front door of the building proper over to the small, rustic house it seemed to be an extension of.

“For another dozen and a half knives, yes.” she replied firmly, following his gaze as it drifted before forcing him back into making eye contact with her. “Is there an issue with that I should be aware of?”

Two gray eyes bored into two more. If I grabbed her knife and didn’t get tied into a knot, I could use it to cut the tension in the air easily.

This simple fact gave me a horrible feeling.

“No, I’m just… Just a friend of Ben’s. It’s how I’m on good terms with the town, is all.”

One pair of eyes flashed—

“I don’t believe that ‘that’s all’ for a second, you nosy bastard.”

And in the blink of an eye and a flash of silver hair, Opal was suddenly right in Luke’s face, forcing him to step back in surprise. It looked like that horrible feeling was right on the mark. Sasuga Me.

“Schwarz. Why. Are. You. Here.” she bit out each word. “If you know Lloyd’s son, and if I know you, then I know you’ve got some problem. And whatever it is, you want to stick your nose into this family’s business because of it.”

Hey, please stop! Please play nice! You’re two hunters in the middle of a cozy village, don’t start fighting! You’ll wreck the place!

To Luke’s credit, his grimace tightened, but he held firm. 

“He and Ben have been at odds the whole year, Opal. They’ve all but completely split because of Ben getting into Beac--”

“And you’re just going to run into the situation half-cocked, right? How like you. Do you even know why?”

“Because Ben’s my friend, and I don’t want to let my friend and his dad just hate eachother for the rest of their lives!”

“Oh, so because you don’t want to understand the situation, you’re going to butt in with your ignorant and one-sided ideas on the issue? Do you even know Daniel-san’s side of things? Do you know why he doesn’t like him going into this line of work?!”

“I didn’t say that— And because he thinks he can’t handle it!”

Now even Luke was shouting. People were starting to stare, and I wanted to shrink into the wall behind me.

“And you shouldn’t, you dumb asshole! You really don’t have any idea at all, and you’re still looking to butt in like fucking always!”

“Hey, that’s enough--”

Grabbing the dumbfounded object of her ire by his lapel, Opal took only a second to give me a look so dangerous I thought she might have been a Grimm.

“Fuck off.”

Those cold gray eyes of hers were completely ablaze with anger. 

This went beyond touching a nerve.

This went beyond a long-standing disdain.

This was— complete, total, and uncompromising hate. I thought I knew about hate. I thought that the eyes of the outcasts looking upon the school idols were hateful. I thought that myself in the mirror whenever I heard about working was hateful. I thought that the eyes of a Grimm, as it gazed upon Man and all his works, was hateful.

None of them could compare with the pure, personal, visceral loathing I saw in the eyes of Opal Sjostrom, when Luke Schwarz wanted to meet Daniel Lloyd.

“And you.”

She rounded back on him, white-knuckled grip tugging him close until they were nearly forehead to forehead as she stabbed that hateful gaze into his eyes.

“You’re right in ‘not saying that’, you hear me? Your only right is in doing so, let me make this eminently clear, enough that even a stubborn, dense, and vexing fool like you could understand:” 
 
Where they had been shouting before, she now spoke at only just above a whisper.
 
And it did nothing to mitigate the roaring sea beneath.
 
“You have no right to speak whatsoever. You have even less of a right to try and interpose yourself between those two. That is their issue, you hear me? Not yours, you walking goddamned calamity. Here's a fucking hint: that man doesn't hate his own son. He doesn't have a problem with Benjamin risking coming home with this--”
 
She yanked his collar upwards, presenting the myriad tears in his shirt and coat to him.
 
“Or this--”
 
She tugged on the side of her own jacket and twisted her back into view, showing off the hole torn by those stakelike projectiles, ringed with flecks of dried blood and showing bandages beneath.
 
“--Because he hates him, do you understand how stupid that is? He's seen what we go through, Hunstmen are his primary fucking customers. You think he hates his only son because he doesn't want him to come home like us? Do you really believe that bullshit?”
 
He worked his jaw, but was too stunned to answer.
 
“You’re nothing but trouble, and know nothing of what that family's going through. Got it? I'll issue an ultimatum, just for you, Lucas. If you stick your nose in where it doesn't belong, I will end you my god damned self.”
 
She finally let go, shoving him away and turning for the door as he staggered back, pale as the snow he’d fallen into. All he could do was try and fail to remove the slack from his jaw, staring up at her with wide eyes.
 
Opening the door to the smithy, she bid me a gruff farewell, saying that my leg should get better in about a month--
 
And then frigidly looked over her shoulder, and fired off one last parting shot that I would never forget:
 
“I mean it, Schwarz. Don't let me see you out here when I'm done.”
 
“Opal--”
 
“You've already torn enough of us from good homes.”

His words died.
 
The door shut firmly, and we saw her no more.

* * *

I hated being out of the loop.
 
I hated not understanding. 
 
I hated owing people something.
 
I hated a lot of things, but these things I truly never wanted to be descriptive of me.
 
Although, now I wasn't sure my usage of “hate” wasn't overly frivolous. Not after that. I definitely at least disliked them heavily, shall we say.
 
Therefore, being afflicted with all three at once, my very soul needed to figure out a solution to this conundrum I had wandered into.

To figure out what the genuine nature of the problem would be.
 
I looked to Huntsman, numb to the frigid air in his torn clothes as he was to the rest of the world. He walked with his hands shoved firmly into his pockets, and between his long bangs and the shadow that hung over his eyes, I had no way of reading his carefully stony expression as he lead me, bound by my cast and crutches to the pace of his dreary trudge, towards the transit station.
 
Not that it wasn't obvious that the guy had practically shut down and restarted in safe mode. I didn't know how people always managed to miss this, but when the friendly and talkative guy suddenly speaks in a monosyllabic monotone, that means there's probably a problem!
 
The worst part? That was progress. I valued silence, but nothing so uncomfortable as the kind he'd dimly sat in for five minutes after Opal had torn him a new one, only breaking when he finally rose to dust himself off and beckon me to follow him with a “Come on.”
 
In the exact same “safe-mode” tone, he simply said “Here,” as we reached the Station.
 
The thing about Redwood is that they're full of pragmatists, I'd come to find. If they could repurpose something and get away with it, they would gladly do so as opposed to letting it waste away.
 
Case in point was the Shiroyama-Redwood Transit system. While plans were apparently in the “talking” stage for the Shiroyaman Tram Line to run through both cities in the future, for now they took a much more classic public transportation approach. 
 
A fleet of five repurposed Atlesian War Buses, which basically amounted to old-looking Greyhounds with a pair of chainguns mounted to the top as turrets, was always split between the towns. Typically, it went something like there always being two in each city whilst one was in transit.
 
It was a very ironic system and gesture of friendship if you knew anything about the area’s history. If you hadn't already guessed by the names, Redwood was purely Valic and always had been, while Shiroyama, literally meaning “White Mountain”, was originally settled by Atlesians and a smattering of the Mistralese.
 
It was strange, then, to realize that these buses were a scant three or four generations removed from traveling between the two, on the very same roads, to try and annihilate this city’s men.
 
And that this very same road was also paved by Vale’s army, using Redwood as the top of their spear, to conquer Shiroyama and bring an end to the war in our northern edge of the continent, after our hometown fought to the last man to defend against the onslaught.
 
And now they were used as ferries to and fro, carrying people and goods and turning their powerful cannons upon the creatures of Grimm, so each city could feel a little safer.
 
And, as I was unfortunate enough to learn, the Redwood drivers apparently were in good enough spirits to have jokes.
 
“Woah, you kids look real banged up already! Leave that bit to us, and show your tickets for the Bangbus!” He'd said, helpfully pointing to the turret up top with a grin.
 
...
 
I’m sorry, Redwood, but I'm going to revive my ancestor's wishes at your total destruction, if only on this dude.
 
I'm so fucking done.
 
Thankfully, the Gunner shared my sentiments, and the inter-city friendship lasted another day.
 
“Dammit, Jerry, that bit’s been dead for months. Quit creeping the passengers out and just take the tickets!”
 
I breathed a sigh of relief, handing my ticket in, and Luke wordlessly followed suit.
 
If his natural tsukkomi inclinations didn't leap at that one, I was sure that he was practically comatose.
 
The bus was sparsely populated today. Most were cleaning up after New Year's Festivities, I imagined, that or returning to their usual work and lives. Something I, amazingly, also wished for at this point. Let me return to Vita-chan and Sakura’s concerned-big-sister nagging, this rollercoaster called the past 36 hours needed to let me off.
 
I want off the ride, Mister Bones.
 
Snow began to fall again in big, fat flakes as the SRTS began its thirty-minute trek towards our hometown, visible even from my aisle seat through the window on the opposite side. Today was going to be an easy, smooth trip, Jerry had jovially called over the intercom, there were reportedly very few Grimm sighted in the area.
 
Well, duh. Luke had effectively bolstered the absorption rate of human bullshit by a whole fifth last night. 
 
If he was proud of that at all, though, he wasn't showing it. That must have been a very interesting seat in front of him. Truly, the full grey faux-leather and its smooth texture-- I couldn't do this.
 
“Hey.”
 
I had to break it, for his sake. Time to snap out of things.
 
One eye ponderously drifted up to meet mine.
 
“She was being a huge bitch, man. You, uh… You didn’t deserve that.”
 
People typically liked hearing, in the aftermaths of verbal beatdown, that they were unjustly persecuted by the offender. That they weren't in the wrong in the eyes of the witness, that they were victims.
 
Helpfully, even if I didn't know the story, I wasn't saying something I necessarily disagreed with, either.
 
However, Lucas Schwarz wasn't a typical person. Instead of brightening a little at my words of encouragement, he simply sighed. Instead of perking up, he propped his elbow against the windowsill, giving me one last measuring look before resting his chin in his hand and gazing out into the field of white through the window.
 
A pause.
 
And then he spoke.

The cool-headed and confident hunter I had first taken him for was not there. Nor was the genial and net-savvy memespewer I had met on the way down. Not even self-righteous and presumptuous crusader against cynical loners at large was present, even as a trace.
 
Instead, I was met with pain and regret.
 
“She wasn't always like this.”
 
“Hm?”
 
“Opal Sjostrom… she used to be a nice girl.”
 
I settled in as he began. 
 
“She used to live in Shiroyama too, long before Atlas. I don't remember if we were neighbors, but… But I do know we were friends.”
 
“We would play together pretty often, usually stuff like cops and robbers, pretending to be huntsmen or samurai from the war, stuff like that. Always at our house, at times it was almost as if I had a third sister.”
 
The wistful ghost of a smile passed across his face.
 
“I was actually really glad to hear that she's enrolled at Atlas right now… because we shared the same dream. Heroism’s a desire that runs in the blood of my family, yeah, but Opal was every bit as earnest about it as me when we were kids. We would help eachother learn all sorts of things: I taught her how to punch the kid who picked on her in grade school in the face, she taught me how to do long division in second grade, things like that.”
 
Bit of a weird bartering system there, guy.
 
“But at her home, things weren't so rosy. I never learned the exact details of what was going on, but there was definitely a reason she never invited me over. Eventually, it got so bad that the police had to step in--”
 
“Your dad.”
 
Shot in the dark.
 
“Mm, yeah. Dad was the one who brought her home that day. They kept the three of us in the dark about it, just saying that she would be staying with us for a while. I still remember how she'd just… sit there, no matter how often we'd go and invite her to play with us. She just wouldn’t respond for the first week… ”

He wrung his hands, and looking down at them, I saw that the knuckles had gone bone-white.
 
“Of course, at ten years old, you're a complete idiot no matter what… I remember this situation lasting for two and a half weeks before my curiosity and stupid, stupid mouth got the better of me. I asked my Mom how much longer she'd be living with us… I'm sure I didn't mean anything by it, but… Opal didn't hear it that way.”
 
“She was there when you asked that?!”
 
“No, she overheard. She must have been in the next room over.  But I was a stupid kid, and asked a stupid kid question… And my mom… She's a strong willed woman. Strongest one I know by a mile. Owns everything she does… And told me that it would only be another week. They'd found her a foster family in the city, and were finalizing the paperwork.”
 
He glanced back over to me, but I wasn't even sure he was registering that he saw me. For all I knew, he was miles away.
 
“Immediately, she thought that we hated her. That we wanted her gone, that she wasn't as welcome as we said she was. That's where her resentment began. We would no longer have the conversations we used to, would no longer play or watch TV together… it felt like I always had a glare at my back whenever the two of us were in the same room. I had no idea why, back then. I thought she’d just turned mean for no reason.”
 
“I…” He took a deep breath, visibly shaken. “I really was an idiot. At least now I have the decency to realize it, but it’s too little too late for her…”
 
“When the social workers came to pick her up, she didn't even say goodbye. She just walked forward as if in a trance. And when she looked back at us that one last time… Like I said, Mom’s strong, the type to always stand by her beliefs. But that moment, she told me, is the one thing she would gladly go back in time to try and prevent. She thought that we couldn't host another kid forever… but she's never turned one down since.”

...

“After seeing what she'd done to Opal, she never wanted to put another child through that pain again. She told me that herself.”
 
We heard a low, buzzing rumble from above, as a brief burst of hot lead sailed out of the turrets barrel and into some ill-advised Grimm well away from the bus.
 
“I didn't see her again until seventh grade, two years later. In that time I'd forgotten a lot of what had specifically transpired between us, but she definitely hadn't. The girl I knew used to be my friend… now she treated me as more of a rival. An obstacle. She still aimed to become a hunter, same as me, but now she was determined to beat me at it.”
 
“Wherever and however I trained, she would show up and do the same, just as hard at the very minimum. Whatever I was studying about the trade, she made sure to know at least as much, if not more than me about it. Even my anti-bully crusades…”
 
A wan laugh.
 
“She made sure to be an even more fearsome ranger than I. Naturally, being someone who wanted to be as great as my Mom and Dad put together, I responded in kind. We pushed eachother extremely hard in that year and a half…”
 
“And this is an extension of that?”
 
“If only.”
 
His face was turned away. I couldn’t see his expression.

It wasn’t like I needed to.

“We had actually begun to get along again. We could each rely on the other’s desire to keep going when things got rough to motivate ourselves. We learned where we were weak and where we were strong. Even as friends, classmates, and sometimes even family would come and go, we were always there. Racing eachother towards greatness. It wasn’t quite the friendship we used to have, but it was… something stable.”

“And then in the summer, when we were both priming ourselves for Signal’s entrance exam…”

He trailed off, before turning to me and showing me just what a broken man looked like.

“I failed her, man. I fucking failed her.”

“...Failed her how?”

“Completely and utterly. She thought she could trust me again. She thought that if anything went wrong, I could help. She thought that I would be able to deliver justice in its time of need… And I didn’t. Not couldn’t, didn’t.”

No details, huh? Fine, but I get where this is going:

“And when you get burned by the same hand twice…”

All he did was nod, fighting to swallow the lump in his throat.

“She was off to Atlas soon after. For one of their combat schools. She had nothing left here. From what I’d heard, the foster family was more than happy to see her off, too...”

“And then this was the first time we’d met since then. I’m not surprised at all that she still hates me. Anyone would after going through all that.”

The bus pulled to a stop. We had arrived at the station in Shiroyama. Home, sweet home.
 
“So, I appreciate the sentiment, Jason,”
 
He rose a moment after I did, waving me and my crutches along with a small smile that I'm sure not even he would pretend I didn't see through. 
 
“But trust me when I say she's got every right in doing what she does. No amount of my apologies will ever make it up to her. I really do deserve her ire. Ruining someone’s life… no matter how well they come off in the end, you can’t take it back.”
 
“But to use your own words,” I replied, carefully navigating my way off the bus and spotting my sister, one step away from hysteria, all but sprinting towards me. “You can't just let it go on like this forever either, right?”

That pensive frown of his returned, and the most melancholic Schwarz that Remnant had ever seen furrowed his brows in contemplation.

“... I’ll have to work out how.”

“Good luck.”

* * *

Springtime had arrived. It had been months, now, since my leg and foot had been freed from their imprisonment in that ridiculously bulky cast. God bless modern medicine! Now I could run, jump, stand, and move about at my leisure!
 
Only, my leisure currently just involved my foot impatiently stamping the floor of our house’s living room, leaving a distinct imprint shaped like my heel in the thick carpet. Damn you, commercials! Who even paid any more money than normal for a product that interrupted their real-time programming?! Idiots?
 
Oh, right, society at large. 
 
So yes, idiots! Damn you, society, for encouraging these cheesy ads breaking up my coverage!
 
“I've gotta say, Jason…” Sakura began, plopping down on the couch next to me and offering me a handful from her bag of chips which I readily accepted. “I thought you didn't care for things like this! Who knew you were a Vytal fan~?” 
 
Hey, quit it with the elbows and the nudging, dammit! Don’t make me fight back, my Annihilating Counter Strike will blow you to pieces, police girl!

“I’m not,” I clarified with a huff, rejoicing as the feed finally returned. “There’s just a few names I’m interested in this time around, is all.”

“Hehe, you mean Luke, right? You know, I know of a really pretty girl your age who also got--”

“Forget it, Sakura.” 

You may be as sunny on the idea as the blossoms in full swing outside you were named for, but I vehemently begged to disagree. That drill-haired bitch wouldn’t give me the time of day and I wouldn’t want it, not from a vapid groupie like her.

“Yeah, I’m interested in seeing how Luke does, of course, but… there are also a couple others. From around here, no less.”

“Hoh?”

The tale of the tape faded out, for once with nothing being “VIRTUALLY EYE-DENTICAL”, and the camera zoomed into the field.

On the flat white disk, two contestants stood. We were well outside the finals, I knew that much, but I hadn’t paid attention to how the bracketing or whatever worked for this leg of things.

It didn’t matter to me anyways. This was the fight I had hoped to see, however possible. This was the one reason I really found myself watching when I could have been playing some games, or napping.

“Yeah.”

One contestant was a girl, with a short stature, Atlesian uniform, and silver hair styled into twintails. Seemingly obsessed with knives and blades to the point of having dozens on her person, perhaps the sharpest thing of all was her gaze, flashing dangerously as she appraised her opponent.

Said opponent was a boy, taller than her, with every long bang of his raven hair covering one of his eyes from view, save for one that stood straight up in some perverse mockery of a cowlick. He was dressed in a black and red uniform that didn’t belong to any academy— rather, an old number from his high school, as Professor Port wryly noted. What he didn’t note was how it was probably the most dangerous part of his ensemble, even moreso than the Lucerne he carried. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of its weight.

Even as the referee went through the motions of going over the rules one final time, both searched the other for a chink in the armor. Both found none.

There was no touch of weapons.

“BEGIN!”

They wasted no time, launching towards eachother at a pace more at home coming from automobiles than people, and I found myself shaking my head in disbelief.

Hunters.

They don’t fear death.

They willingly throw themselves into danger at the drop of a hat.

They settled age old scores and rivalries by throwing every last bit of their ridiculous powers at eachother.

They proved their heroism to eachother by fighting it out.

Naturally, the solution the two that I’d met at the dawn of this year came to was exactly as I expected, prompting me to scoff.

They’re all fucking insane.

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Plank Sinatra

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Plank Sinatra the reaper won't come when you're ready for him

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Plank Sinatra

the reaper won't come when you're ready for him

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Seen 11 days ago

PROLOGUE - NICOLE

It could not be healthy keeping four idiots like these this close to her heart at all times. 

Nicole Polendina, honors student and mission operator for the Golden Stripes chivalric order lusted after by every student of Atlas Academy, wouldn't have traded her transcript and honors for the world -  but chief among the burdens that came with her charmed collegiate life were the constant interviews, psych evaluations, and transcript censorships that had become necessities in the lives of her charges. There were some nights, like tonight, that her position of authority over them meant that it was likely she would be forgoing sleep and devoting all her time to paperwork before she officially began summer break, which wasn't bad in of itself. The fly in the ointment came from being self-sacrificial enough that even though her four specialists - Heinrich Gault, Solomon Speer, Noah Bright, and even her erstwhile knight, Jericho, halfway across the world - had all seen fit to scatter to the four winds without her to begin their two months off, she was still stuck here, forced to be content with having all the final paperwork they'd neglected unceremoniously dumped on him.

Not that she was some weak damsel, mind. She'd taken her own revenge where she could. Every instance of 'king' in Heinrich's psych evaluation had, for instance, been replaced with the far more ignominious title of 'stooge' in his official record for the spring semester, and Bright's official role on the team had gone from his scribbled 'I drive' to 'Speer polisher,' edited in an elegant hand over an occupation field that had been painted over with a healthy layer of correction fluid. It was the little things that kept her going.

For a while.

The characters had long since begun blurring together on the pages for her, defiled here and there by the bloody swathes of red ink she had cut over materials that wouldn't be fit for a normal school record. Her chuckles at her little private jokes had long since died into faint snorts of breath that were more suited for just keeping her awake than they were to express amusement at herself. She wanted to sleep; the team's well-worn leather couch was right there, and there were four free beds scattered throughout Team HJNS' condo for her to take. She could be done with all this in the morning, and maybe even still manage to catch a flight home in time for--

BZZZZT

Nicole blinked groggily at the sound of the door alarm, before it pierced her haze again.

BZZZZT

Bright was the only member of HJNS who hadn't left the city yet. No doubt he'd forgotten some troll doll that belonged in the rear window of his car and refused to leave without it. The members of the team were always coming back for crap like that; each was sentimental in his own way, slave to subtle trinkets that tugged at their heartstrings. Nicole sighed and stood up from her barstool, preparing to go helping Bright on some scavenger hunt that would only result in--

The sound of a key fitting into the lock and twisting rang out with a sharp click! The door swung open.

"--Jer...?"

The Atlesian soldier turned to face her, and she stared into his golden eyes in search of the qualities she knew others gave up on; cutting past the cold calculation in search of the warmth, the surprise, the inquisitive, often disarming easygoing nature that only those close to him got to see. Heinrich had once described his face as a pharoah's death mask, bronzed, sculpted and still; even if his face was eternally impassive, though, Jericho had two sets of eyes, and she loved the pair that he shone on her. 

"Jer!" She rushed forward to hug him.

"Nicole. Hey." Still impassive, but he had his warm pair of eyes. She was effortlessly scooped up off the ground even without the help of his gloved arm, giving her a hug that would have seemed perfunctory to most who didn't know how rare the Young Devil of Atlas' hugs actually were. He held her by the small of her back and under the seat of her pants for five seconds flat before letting her down on the ground and crossing over to the team fridge, on the other end of the bar. "What the hell's keeping you soul trapped to this place? Shouldn't you be halfway home by now?"

Nicole perched on her barstool, watching him - not creepy! - instead of giving him a prompt reply. Whether absence made the heart grow fonder or not had varying mileage depending on the lovelorn individual, but to Nicole, Jericho somehow seemed even more...beautiful than he had when he left, even if nothing had really changed. He didn't appear to have any new scars, and though his hair had grown a little during his yearlong sojourn in Vale, it was still recognizably his - rich and copper and begging to have fingers run through it, from bangs down to the luminescent strip of scarlet that hung down to his right shoulder blade. He was even still wearing his Gold Stripes jacket, albeit with a Beacon patch sewn lovingly in a position of esteem below the Atlesian military insignia, a "-40x2," and the two Gold Stripes decorated with his marksmanship qualifications. If it weren't for little touches like that, and the giant hole in her heart rapidly swelling closed again, she may have believed he had only gone away for a weekend to stand guard onboard Sleipnir.

Jericho seemed unaware of her Capulet moment; he reached into the back of the fridge and plucked out two remaining half-and-half beer bottles with a look of savage triumph.

"Aha," he crowed softly, balancing them between his fingers. "Want one?"

"No thanks, Jer. I need to stay sharp if I'm gonna keep this paperwork from nipping at your heels."

Nicole gestured towards the four manila folders spread out throughout the bar. Jericho's brow furrowed in distaste at the sight of them, and he walked over to sit opposite across from her at the bar. She noticed that she had occupied his usual seat between counter and bar - a border zone that Heinrich had christened 'Wench's Walk' on move-in day last year - but he didn't seem to mind, instead occupying one of the opposing gold-leather barstools and flipping through a folder.

"Solomon Speer, Psych Evaluation," Jer read, flipping the folder closed after reading through another two or three lines with a roll of his eyes. He set both cold beers down atop the folder, raising the volume on his grumbled "Jeeee-sus Christ" to be heard over Nicole's squeal of protest. "Give yourself a break already, boss. It's summertime. Don't be the last casualty of the school year."

Nicole's knees went weak behind the counter as he reached over with a gloved index finger and, with the tip of the digit hooked underneath the bottle cap, flicked the little metal scrap right into her freckled button nose. Jer opened up his own beer and took a long drink, setting it back down perfectly after a second into the slight wet ring he'd left on Sully's folder.

"So where is everyone?" he asked her. "I was looking around the lobby. People cleared out fast around here."

"Rich and Cecilia are on holiday with their parents up in Mantle, and Sully went with Nia and your sisters for their tour this summer," Nicole answered, kicking at the bar and trying a sip of the beer. Nia Niers and Babylon Piper were a pair of pop paragons in the making, and wanted to see all the world and ply their trade in every venue that would take a pair of cute, charismatic friends with an ear for harmonies. Rebekah Piper had gone along to ply her trade as Babylon's silent shadow, and Solomon Speer, ever the opportunist, had gone along at Babylon's invitation to ply his trade of pretending to be gay long enough to worm his way into a girl's inner sanctum. "Bright's still in town. He just left a few hours ago, he's got a flight in around..." 

She checked her Scroll: 12:02 AM. 

"Two hours from now."

Jer was looking at her passively, nursing his beer with pursed lips. It was clear he'd wanted to come home to at least one night's worth of revelry with his team, Nicole noted, but then he shook his head slightly and set his beer down. The yellowing wet patch at the bottom of Speer's file was starting to blossom outwards like a damp sunflower.

God, that's gonna be so messy...

Then again, a moist patch down south was Speer's calling card...

Nicole's eyes widened in shock at her own mental innuendo.

He'd better not go near Babs with that kind of slick crap...

Then again, that wasn't very likely. Speer had befriended Babylon long before Jericho had warmed up to him, and it was thanks to the idol that they had taken steps to forge the brotherhood they shared today, despite Jericho's chameleon-like ability to fit into any team dynamic and Speer's easygoing charm. In return for saving the team dynamic, the one-time Bastion honors student had become a sort of hallowed ground for Solomon, the one girl that the meme-savvy Don Juan of the Golden Stripe refused to go down on. Even Heinrich, who shared a closer relationship to both Piper twins that sometimes gave even Nicole sleepless nights, seemed to treat Babylon as closer to a patron saint than a potential lover. No one would go near her - even without the threat of Jer.

Too bad it felt like most of the time, the same principle applies here...

She knew that it was rather selfish of her to feel that way, especially in this instance; with a guy like this, someone as guarded and capable and cold as Jericho, wasn't being loved like a sister enough?

If it meant keeping him here for good, would I settle?

Nicole Polendina liked to think she would. 

Jericho had finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin by its glass neck, and was now reaching for Nicole's hardly-touched beverage. He made a small show of closing one eye and peering into the murky amber depths of the half-and-half before brushing any of Nicole's cooties back in her direction and taking a long drink. She smiled despite her inner self-deprecation.

"While you're here, I wanted to talk to you about something in your--"

"No."

Even though he was still mostly unguarded by Jericho standards, the response was still brusque, almost curt. The Gold Stripe reached out with his hand and scooped up the remaining three folders, brushing them all onto his side of the bar and pushing them outside the reach of both students. He aimed the bottle's neck at her face, as if to pour it at her.

"It's summer now," he said to her, voice raspy from beer in a way that made her spine lock up. "You're not my boss, boss."

Take me now.

"You know, you like to get on the others about being insolent, but when it comes to red tape you're just as difficult as Speer or Bright--"

"I've complied with three times the information requests of any Gold Stripe since Graduation Day," Jericho replied bitterly. "I can only imagine what kind of vetting I was put through when you tried to separate me from HJNS the last time. The whole reason I went to Vale was so that I could feel like myself in the field again."

"And do you?" Nicole pressed. "Feel like yourself?"

Jericho Piper gave her a long, searching look. His eyes were neither hot nor cold, a lukewarm goldenrod as opaque as prison walls. 

"Nothing controls me," Jericho stated assertively, "unless I let it. Boss."

The beer lent a certain emphasis to the back half of that rebuttal that made Nicole's mouth tighten.

d a m p    s u n f l o w e r

It was clear Jericho was done with the conversation; he finished off the second beer and sent it spiraling after the first bottle into the recycle bin, and this time he turned away from the bar entirely, towards the living center of the Gold Stripes condo. It was another page right out of his defensive playbook; a casual dismissal of an argument as beneath his notice or outside the realms of his narrow, objective-based worldview, which he retreated into as a safe space where he didn't have to confront his own humanity or vulnerabilities. After all, a weapon would perform at its apex potential for as long as it was carefully and properly maintained and cared for.

And whether he liked it or not, Jericho Piper was going to be thoroughly cared for. She had seen him in a place so low no human could possibly understand it, and they had done all they could to bring it back. She needed to know if it had worked.

So that, if necessary, she could execute the very first guideline in the Piper playbook - finish the goddamn job. 

Jericho was messing with the remote on the TV, flicking through channel and video settings before the team's gaming console booted up, the silvers and greys of various option menus appearing before Jericho's eyes. Nicole stalked up to him and put her hand on one of his slim shoulders, spinning Jer around to glare up at him. On most, it probably wouldn't have been intimidating - Jer had a solid half foot on her, give or take, and a freckled redhead with bright green eyes was something that made guys like Speer moan wistfully on imageboards instead of wince in intimidation, but Jericho's eyebrows rose up in an arc of faint surprise.

"I control you," she said, with all the force she could muster channeled into her voice and glare. "You swore an oath to Atlas, right? For God and the Kingdom. You promised General Ironwood, you promised your father, and you promised Heinrich that you would be a weapon in our hands. In the hands of Atlas. You promised that you would never fail us, and you never have."

"Nicole, I--"

"You never have," she repeated angrily. Something was roaring up inside her chest, a bonfire of white-hot emotion repressed for nearly a year. "Because I am in your eyes and ears at all times, Jericho Goddamn Piper, and when I tell you to do something I've seen you literally divert course to do it to the best of your ability. For no other reason than because you swore. Right? For God and the kingdom."

"...For God and the kingdom," he repeated, bemused. One eyebrow had continued to arch as he looked down on Nicole, head cocked. Jer looked almost dumbstruck.

"So as far as you're concerned, I am Atlas, soldier. So when I, as Atlas, make you do three times the paperwork of any other Gold Stripe, it is because you mean three times more to me than any other Gold Stripe. And when I tell you that you have orders not to be a sad sack of crap and shut me out, I mean it, because you are the most important person in my life, and I remember the only other time in my life that you ever shut me out. I never want to feel that kind of helplesness again, you...you...you grouchy, detached, disassociative bastard."

Jericho blinked slowly. Then his mouth twitched, eyebrows arced, and he was blinking again in shock. Nicole realized that her fists were balled up, even shaking. 

"Do we have a copy?"

"Copy, Atlas." He was looking at her funny, with warm golden eyes like wet sunflowers. His voice was as sardonic as it was quiet, turned husky by the pair of cheap beers he'd knocked back to avoid her. 

Do it. Do it now.

"A solid copy?" she asked. His hair was so...

"Solid copy, Atlas." Was he toying with her?

So...

Bright. Red, beautiful, and bright...

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

Nicole screamed at the noise, pumped through every appliance in the house with a speaker and extrapolated upon by a bland rounded rectangle on the top right corner of the screen:

Incoming from: Noah Bright

Nicole screamed again.

Jericho didn't look any more pleased. He turned towards the TV and used the motion capture camera atop the appliance to flick the notification away without reading it. This time he didn't turn back towards her. Any moment that had been brewing - Nicole knew a moment had been brewing - had been beaten to death. Beaten to death. Just like Noah Bright would be once the Kingdom of Atlas got its hands on him...

"So," she started. Her voice must have sounded at least half as crystalline and defeated as her heart felt. "What were you about to do?"

"Hm? Oh. I was just booting up Dance 'Til Sunrise," Jer explained, waving away at the menu wearily to boot up the game. Despite her sudden downturn in mood Nicole's eyebrow raised in its best impersonation of the Young Devil. 

"You play Dance 'Til Sunrise?"

"It's hard to be a bad dancer when you share a womb with Babylon Piper." Jer stepped in front of the camera and looked towards Nicole with a challenging twitch of his glowing hair rune. "Two player? We can play on normal."

"I've been playing Dance 'Til Sunrise since I was seven," Nicole shot back. "Mansplainer."

"Wew. I was only offering. By seven, huh? Babs and I could do all of Thriller by seven. But I'm sure you were kicking ass too."

Nicole rolled her eyes, scrunching up her face and slugging him in the arm as she walked up to the motion capture camera; the device recognized her after a minute and pulled up her long-disused profile data from the console's live service. Song selection would begin momentarily, and then maybe she'd at least have a chance to channel some Dirty Danci--

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

IS HE IN THE FUCKING CAMERA!?

Incoming from: Noah Bright

Jer sighed in impatience. 

"Display message on screen."

Fwd frm RRRG: Sth Mistral 5'11 Jade Sharp Teeth SHARP CHEESE autist says more vamps AAAAAAAAARGH

GG KIA? Confirm

Nicole's brow furrowed, looking over to Jer.

Jer.

Jericho was standing as though he'd been petrified.

"What's he talking about?" Nicole asked Jericho quizzically. "More vamps...vampires? Giada? But we--"

Jericho sat down on the couch, Judgment cupping his mouth. His eyes were alight in anger. Nicole hadn't seen him this upset since, well...Giada herself. The artificial vampire was a bastard in every sense, an unwanted daughter of a wealthy Mistralian family turned STEM intern turned hybrid of the latest in medical technology and a smattering of old pre-Great War occult rituals. It was the kind of weird mishmash of influences that only took place in bizarre science fiction...which made her perfect for Atlas, a land of bizarre science fiction with a history of the occult. Giada Fiordilatte had been picked up shortly after the Graduation Day incident with Jericho, one of his first jobs since returning to active duty, and after the plucky vampire's escape from the military facility she was housed at, her recapture was one of the ways Jericho had sought to prove he was still every inch the capable agent he had been at Bastion Academy. After one successful lead trailed another, Jer had come back to Atlas shortly before his departure for Vale saying that he'd gotten her trying to escape from Mantle to Mistral.

So if Giada Fiordilatte was alive, it meant that she had frozen over Hell during her latest escape to celebrate a failed Jericho Piper assassination...or it meant the assassination had never taken place.

Her eyes fell on Jericho, already on the phone.

"Dad, it's me. How much money and material is left in our stipends--no, I don't have time to--it's a lead. Yes, for school--yes, Atlas, our school. Fine, we don't need to withdraw for Speer and Rich, just...yeah, Bright's in town. Yeah, if you could scramble an airship that would be--22? 29. How the hell does Bright only have seven thousand left in--"

A beat.

"What in the goddamn...no, there's no Shenron statue here. Yeah, I think I would recognize it, I've spent two months sleeping on a couch with April Schwarz, didn't I? 29. Okay. And the albinium stipends, too. Yeah, it's important. Yeah. And Dad -- I...thank you. Yeah, I'm bringing Nicole, we'll have a full report. If it pans out, yes. Yeah, Dad. It's a goddamn Freak. Alright, Dad. Thank you. Fare thee well."

Nicole waited until the connection was definitely dead before starting her sentence cautiously:

"If Giada's alive..."

"You don't have to say it," Jer grumbled. There was quiet for a second before Nicole, for reasons even she wasn't certain of, decided to try and brighten her white knight's mood.

"Well, I don't blame you." The cheerful absolution came with a wistful smile towards the message. "I always liked GiGi."

"I can't believe you nicknamed her," the Young Devil grumbled, to which his mission operator rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I can't believe you let her live."

******************************************************************************

LUKE SCHWARZ

Crystal Castles, Mistral.

If you put any store into the midnight howls of Lauren Negasi (easily heard from three dorms away and no doubt screeched from atop a deadpan, insensate Ben who was trying his hardest to go dead inside) it was Vacuo that once boasted all of the world's natural beauty, a lush, verdant land of clear skies and endless lakes, an oasis on par with the mythical Avalon. Of course, like most things, Lauren's stories of ancestral Vacuo ended with the caveat "...before the white people came," so any beauty the continent may have had was unfortunately sullied by the same race that, in her eyes, had unfairly sullied the good names of Vine, hip hop, and OJ Simpson.

Lauren was as good a big sister surrogate as anyone ever had - and, with the meteoric rise of April and Dawn in her esteem, she may even safely qualify for the real thing - but it's hard to take someone at their level when they spend the rest of their time gleefully reminding you what a skilled and inventive liar they were.

So, at the risk of provoking an argument with my only sister thus far to successfully talk me into electrocuing myself for the sake of money...

Crystal Castles, Mistral had to be the most beautiful little town I'd ever seen in my life. Most of my friends would insist that my little mountain hometown of Shiroyama gave this Zephyr-outlier of a hamlet stiff competition, but as a mountain man of sorts myself, I could never look at home with the same objective eye that someone like Lauren, Bianca, or Jericho could. Growing up and spending your life in a certain place can often numb you to some of its natural beauty as easily as its faults, which is perhaps why I never got the big fuss over Shiroyama that most of my friends made. It's also why Gratia didn't mind the swamps, and why you couldn't say more than five words about Atlas before Jer was brushing your teeth with a laser sight.

And come to think of it, that might be the same reason my host family keeps insisting this place is no big deal...

It was for that very host family that I was running this particular errand on the seasonably warm evening of June 19th. The Pressman family had never had much in the way of money; it was a point of contention with their only child, a daughter who had been thrust into a team with a bunch of super-rich aristocrat's daughters and weaponized her cunning and barbed wit to compensate. But despite being qualifying as lower-middle class to those feeling particularly charitable, it seemed like my hosts had pulled out all the stops for me. I had a whole bed to sleep on, the same as I would sleep on any other, instead of the sofa that Jer Piper would crash on whenever he laid over in Shiroyama or the Mistralian swamps where the Mindaros hosted him for spring break. 

Not that I'm spoiled or anything, because any couch was more than good enough for me, especially given the four or five inches that Jericho had on me. But Julia Pressman, the occult-loving, pants-spurning matriarch of the family who I happen to believe was the primary architect for my summer in Mistral, had refused to hear a word of it. More to the point, she had somehow scrounged together the money to not only keep the whole apartment well fed, but keep plying me with junk food throughout the fortnight I'd spent here. 

It had taken Veronique bluntly informing me of her mother's gameplan to truly gasp the insidiousness of it. You see, Crystal Castles is a small town, mostly meant for being driven through on your way into the larger city of Zephyr, home to such famous names as Nuit and Venetia - the real attractions of Mistral, to most tourists at least. As a drive-through town, most of the food similarly caters to drive-thru customers, with the exception of the town's lone pizza delivery business and a Vacuan restaurant specializing in hibachi-style and traditional kaiseki dining, named the Plum Gardens and featuring an eye-rollingly similar kanji to that of "Umeko," which was no doubt meant to cater to Vytal Festival nerds such as April. 

Although I certainly hoped that April never had the urge to dine on Umeko...

That sort of hopeless celebrity crushing is for Speer, not for one of my blockhead Griese-stanning sisters. And I had long since learned not to bring up Sensei's famous friend around her. 

Anyway, apart from those, the cuisine of Crystal Castles is dominated by four burger chains, trapped in an eternal gridlock for dominance. On the south side of town by the rec center was the drive-in-only Beef Stack, which served the best fries in Mistral but required at least two patties per burger in order to feel like you were consuming any meat at all. Then there was Wolfman Blake's Burgers and Shakes, more of a hybrid between fast food and a traditional restaurant, obviously named for its hand-crafted burgers and thick milkshakes but suffering from a price premium to go along with the premium quality of its dinner trays. And then you had the two eternal rivals - Wendy's, the favorite among young people my age for its savvy social media presence (ironically enough run by a shitposting cousin of Veronique's, from a bastard offshoot of the Pressman family a generation or two above from Julia-san) and Big Tohunga Burger right across the street, standing resolute against the smirk of the redheaded Pressman on the Wendy's sign. 

Now, back to the matter of Julia Pressman's nefarious plan - it seemed that my mother's sweater-bedecked soul sister had gotten it into her head that the more empty calories from fast food I consumed on her time and dime, the more I would be forced to exercise in various compromising fanservice positions in order to compensate. Were I only a few inches taller, a few shades meaner, and had a different kind of Mindaro-infuriating hairstyle, the odds of her settling in for a summer full of self-perpetuating eye candy may have been ever in her favor. Unfortunately, she failed to consider that Crystal Castles, with its close proximity to Zephyr, was built on some of the cool north-western hills of the continent of Animus, meaning that the trek to and from the Big Four burger chains alone was more than sufficient to keep fit. Taking a bicycle, which I had decided to forgo tonight in order to relax and enjoy the cool evening, would have been even heartier exercise. I don't pretend to be a grand planner on the level of a Gold Stripe or Grand Inquisitor or anything, but Julia-san's plan had such glaring flaws that it would have been harder not to exploit them.

I love you as a relative, ma'am, but you have a husband of your own! He barely looks older than your daughter! You can make him do your precious chin-ups!

Tonight we had decided to dine from Wendy's, both because another Pressman was in need of business and because their food generally stayed the warmest during the walk from and to Veronique's apartment complex. It was a shorter distance than Beef Stack, which gave me less time to enjoy the quaint little flyover town's sights and sounds but also spared me the trouble of being tempted by the smells of the Wolfman Blake's combo meals that I would have to endure as I walked past. Wendy's was right there, quick and easy, a sharp end to my path before I reached the branching forks of temptation. 

Curse me for thinking anything in a life even as seemingly dull, inspired, and unachieving as mine was ever going to just be that simple.

As ironic as it may sound, pinpointing the exact moment where the object of this story changed my life can prove kind of difficult. You would think that in such a picturesque small town, on such an important night in my life, confronted with a remarkable girl such as the one I bumped into...well, it sounds like the perfect storm of eidetic imagery, right? Unfortunately, you're used to dealing with Gold Stripes and Mistralian scientists and all-around star students, not the kind of person who takes a look at a stunning girl and, having by now been inoculated to the weird genetic quirk in all Mistralian girls that lent itself towards superhuman cuteness, instead says:

"Whoa, what's wrong with your face?"

Even Jericho would have slapped me for that goof-up of a pickup line. He wouldn't have been wrong. Speer probably would have just hanged himself. Sorry to my friends in the Atlesian elite, but there are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's MasterTard.

...Where did that come from!? 

That wasn't good, that wasn't a good one at all! The oldest form of humor was going senile aaaaaaaargh!

Maybe it was because she looked so...so...

...familiar?

Specifically the family portion of familiar...

For even though her eyes were not sky blue, but the shade of molten gold that could only be found in one of Albert Morgan's swimming pools--

--despite the fact that she was clearly on the wrong end of Mistral to be so--

--and despite the blood that coated one cheek and ran down her neck like a smear of paint--

--she had the cheesy grin of a Fiordilatte.

"Salve," she simpered, lips pursing as a fat drip of blood fell down her top--

(i'm ashamed to say my eyes guided it down)

--and twisting back from pout to easy smile. "You look like a very charming boy. Does a charming boy like you know where to find a good, ah, bike mechanic?"

I don't know who she thought I, a young man in lazy yet assured lockstep along the sidewalk, not the bike path into town, thought I had any idea where to find a good bike mechanic -- even though I was no slouch myself after having owned a bike and captained her through Shiroyama for so many years. And how did she even guess I was charming? I haven't said a polite word to you yet! A woman who was greeted with a pickup line like that would slap you for your insolence!

Unless you were Lauren!

Then it becomes sexy somehow!?

Truly, eb-onee-sama's ways were a mystery to me...

If you've noticed the puns slipping into my dialect, I assure you that they're not going to become a trend, at least not in the story on my end.

...Nor are rhymes. 

"Ahh, I'm sure there's one in town...but it's getting kind of late for anyone who runs a trade to be open," I said apologetically, scratching the back of my head. My eyes took note of the situation, and my natural impulse to give her a hand with what I could only assume from the blood and her line of questioning was an accident was tempered by all the experience I'd cultivated with the guys and girls I'd met at Beacon. What was it Jericho kept saying to Bianca during her personal training?

Don't ever let a word leave your ears without your mind cross-analyzing it, and don't let your mind settle on anything without your eyes double-checking for it.

Granted, that was the day Jericho had convinced Bianca that her given name and surname meant 'gullible' and 'nitwit' respectively in the Mistralian root language, but the contrast between my birdbrained teammate and I was just more proof that you could learn a lot when you weren't putting all your attention on how perfectly formed the instructor's butt is.

"So...did you leave your bike at the scene of the accident?" I asked the Mistralian girl. Her eyes widened slightly, and her head tilted more unhealthily to one side. 

As if this were a SHAFT anime! 

They don't have the money to keep animating all these side stories!

"Yeah, I did. Back in the woods."

Well, that explained why I wouldn't have run into any trace of it during my walk up to this point...

"Why'd you leave your bike all the way back in the woods?"

"I was getting nervous around all the sharp branches," she said matter-of-factly."One cut my face when I flew."

That explained the blood...although it was coating part of her face pretty heavily for something as simple as one branch.

"Why were you biking through the woods if you were nervous around branches?"

"I was trying to avoid them."

...!?

Then why not just--

"You could stick with the bike path."

"I could," she conceded, shifting her weight to one slightly wobbly leg and tilting her head unhealthily in the other direction. "But then I wouldn't get practice at avoiding the branches. The branches are lava."

Then what does that make the floor!?

"Well, if you're scared of lava I hope you have the good sense not to go near a volcano with your bike..."

"Why? Are you saying that I'm a klutz that would be stupid enough to tumble headlong into a volcano, or are you trying to imply that I'm an impure thot who has no business being atop a volcano in the first place for want of virginity? You think I'm a streetwalker, you faux-charming boy?"

No. No no no! This can't be happening to me again! Just once a girl can speak like a normal human!

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all! I only implied--"

"--that I wasn't good enough to be thrown into a volcano as a virgin sacrifice. Well, I want you to know that of course I could. What's the harm? I do lava good bonfire."

...

Absolutely a Fiordilatte.

"But don't you worry, I'm a magma-nimous person."

Magnanimous! With two n's! That pun was such a reach!

"So I forgive you. What's your name, fraternity boy?"

I wish I could have repudiated that claim, but one thought of how many times I've teamed up with Solomon Speer to mess with the other Atlesians put the words on ice on my tongue.

"Luke Schwarz," I introduced myself politely. "And you are...?"

"Giada," she greeted me with a courteous bow, so low that her bloody cheek almost touched the pavement. The drop of blood that had rolled down her neck splashed against the pavement with a crimson pop!"Giada Fiordilatte. I hope the night finds you well, Luca."

"Well, actually, it does, but it's Lucas..."

"So, Luca, while I'm out prowling the streets for a man to throw me into the volcano to provide you proof of my virtue, or a man who can fix my bike," she barreled right over me, "what brings you out here tonight?"

A fair question. By now Julia-san was probably getting ready to start blowing up my phone to make sure I'd arrived at Wendy's okay...

"I'm picking up dinner for my foster family," I explained. "They asked for Wendy's, and I like the walk, so..."

"Ahh, Wendy's, eh? Not Big Tohunga Burger? It's right across the street."

"Yeah, but they have a family member who works there and--"

"Perhaps we may both find what we seek there," she suggested amiably. "After all, what's a Big Tohunga if not a Kraka-toa?"

Don't try and ma-nuva your way into your eatery of choice! Julia-san gave me the exact change for Wendy's!

"I'm afraid they made up their minds..." I said, shrugging with a peevish smile. "Maybe next time, though. I have a long summer ahead of me."

"Ah, you're here for the summer..." said Giada Fiordilatte thoughtfully. She trailed off for a second before spinning around, and offering me her left arm, perhaps trying to distance me politely from the bloody coat that had been splashed over her face's right side. When she lifted up the crook of her elbow, I saw that there was a medium-sized stain of blood blossoming from a small rip in her purple hoodie...but I didn't see a wound, or a bandage.

I'm following your advice, Jer...but what's it telling me?

I, of all people, knew there was nothing that weird about healing powers, after all. To a person like me, a complete restoration of a misshapen or destroyed bike could be far more costly than some minor injuries from tumbling through some tree branches.

Although that didn't look like a puncture wound, come to think of it...

At least, not one that had been made by anything from nature.

It was too clean.

"You're gawking at me like a monolithic head," teased the girl who could only be Napoli Fiordilatte's sister. "Am I not Moai enough for a cute little Shiroyaman boy like you?"

What the--hey, I'm not Tanner! My attire doesn't scream village hick in any sense!

"It's moe," I corrected, even though such a gesture was mostly useless. Because I got the sense she wasn't going to quit until I threw her this bone, I caught up to where she was and linked arms with her gingerly, taking care not to exacerbate any wound she may have had...all while my eyes ran two quick glances over her side looking for any evidence that the skin underneath the hoodie was actually broken.

Nothing.

Thankfully, her attention was elsewhere, golden gaze pointed firmly in the direction of the north side of Crystal Castles, which we were fast approaching.

"So, two young, hip darlings on the way to grab dinner," she hummed with a faint smile. She had a beautiful smile, as pearlescent as the castles that had once stood in the center of this hamlet before the Great War...but a few of her teeth seemed a little...crooked?

No.

Sharp.

"You know what they would call this in film, Luca?"

Her canines...

"Luke..."

Her canines were as sharp and pale as lightning in a stormy sky.

"A meat cute."

This was shaping up to be a big mistake.

totally pissed with how little of this i got done so i'm going to be editing in more of the story and doing formatting as time goes on, final word count at judging time is around 6600 give or take a few dozen words

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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by FlitterFaux

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FlitterFaux The Incurable

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FlitterFaux

The Incurable

480 posts

in 2775 days

Seen 5 yrs ago

Bio

You know, I have no clue how many words this is. Almost certain it is less that 1k. Sad, I had a bit more written towards the end but as it goes sometimes I lost all that to unfortunate circumstances. This is also a fraction of the tale I hoped to tell. ~shrug~ Time limits and I are not good bedfellows. No matter, this is the best I can do for now. Who knows, if it's enjoyable maybe I can finish it over time.

Stormy leaned back and let one leg hang over the edge of the cliff, enjoying the sunny day. It wasn't so much that she favored sunny days, rather she tried to get some enjoyment out of everything. One never knew which would be their last day. Not usually, anyway. She supposed some situations made it clear just when a person's time had come. But for her and her own? She had predicted death with one hundred percent certainty several times in the past and yet here she was. Years later. She had stopped trying to guess when it would happen some time ago.

Below Stormy the view was... breathtaking? Stunning? No, she was neither short of breath nor paralyzed. It was very beautiful at least. Stormy had never been very good with words. The scene was very much like a fancy painting, though. She should take a picture. Directly beneath her the near vertical cliff face gradually curved into a steep angle before meeting the bottom of the valley. The valley itself was mostly tall grass with a few clusters of trees, rocks, and shrubbery. A small river snaked its way through the land. Far to her right the valley narrowed into a tight pass featuring a small waterfall. She knew that here the valley curved, widened, and eventually came to a lake. They had passed by earlier that day and, regrettably, had not stopped for a quick swim. Such a shame. Ahead of her the opposite end of the valley rose more gradually into the mountain range. Some of those mountains were so high they were capped in snow and wreathed in clouds. To the west of these mountains, her left, was the city, maybe a half dozen miles away. And beyond that she could see the ocean, sparkling (majestically?) in the sunlight. The forest was a nice touch, as well.

There was also another sea below her but that was far less appealing. A sea of Grimm was probably never unappealing, unless one were a Grimm. Stormy, being very much not a Grimm, found the sight irritating as it disrupted an otherwise wonderful view. Wonderful, there was the word she was looking for. Or it would be but, again, sea of Grimm.

Stormy sighed and reached for her sniper rifle, Lullaby, to literally scope out the scene for umpteenth time today. There were a few Death Stalkers that were easy to pick out, even though the weaker, smaller Grimm covered everything like a thick blanket. There were Creeps everywhere, easily thousands, possibly tens of thousands. The little buggers were so many they were crawling over the larger Grimm and even getting crushed underfoot sometimes. There were also hundreds of Boarbatusk and Gashadokuro in their own groups scattered throughout the valley. An intimidating collection of monsters, to be sure, and more of them in one place than her team had faced in the last few years. 

An army. It was hardly possible to view this as anything but an invasion force, especially taking into account the solitary Goliath. That one was a unique piece of work, Stormy had never seen anything like it in all her years as a Huntress. It wasn't just the biggest and loneliest she had ever seen; it was by far the strangest. For one thing it had broken tusks and only one eye, terrible scars over what little flesh she could see, and what looked like bright red warpaint on its face. Secondly the Goliath was wearing armor. A Goliath was practically impervious to small arms, even the kind most Hunters employed. Armor, even absurdly heavy plate like this one had, seemed pointless. Never mind she had never seen a Grimm gear itself up as a human might, and she was sure this had to be an unheard of turn of events. Not to mention the whole army business in the first place. And this Goliath was clearly acting as some kind of leader, though she saw little in the way of actual activity so far. The Creeps gave this one a wide berth. She could not spot any Bael in the mess which seemed odd. Didn't an army need it's lieutenants? Was that Goliath the sole commanding force here? That might make things easier, but that was assuming that she and Magnus decided to make a move at all. This was a problem for a city and its full defenses, not half a team of Hunters; it didn't even matter that they were considered elite.

Of course the whole problem would be solved if their communications gear wasn't trashed. As it was they'd had to send their third team member on foot to go warn the city of what was going on here. Stormy shifted her scope towards the forest Hawke had entered not twenty minutes before. It was unlikely she would catch sight of the other Huntress. Stormy just worried for her teammate, even though Hawke was easily the best choice when it came to solo missions. She would probably be fine. It was just that normally they could stay in touch, but now... Sighing, Stormy leaned Lullaby against the rock wall behind her. She went back to trying to enjoy what she could of the day. The music helped.

There was a hint of movement, a flicker of a shadow beyond the rock wall that extended twelve  feet to her left. Lullaby was in her hands and pointed in that direction in less than a second, its black three foot long blade leveled at... Magnus. Her lover scowled at her as she once more put her weapon away. She met his scowl with a smile as the enormous armored man settled down next to her. He leaned close and gently pulled free one of her ear buds.

"Maybe if you didn't have these things in your ears all the time you could actually hear me once in a while." He said, only slightly annoyed judging by his tone.

"Where's the fun in that? Besides, if I didn't blast my ears with music constantly that deep baritone of yours would drive me to distraction." She teased in response. 

Her life mate shook his head at the comment and looked down at the valley below, mumbling something about her being far more distracting, or some other such nonsense. They did not speak for a few moments and Stormy was content to just bask in the warmth of his aura. It was s strange thing, their connection. It wasn't just a bond of love but a synergy of their auras, something apparently very rare. Rare enough that she and Magnus were the only two people she knew of that could do what they did. While Hawke worked best on her own Stormy and Magnus were far more effective fighting in tandem. They had to stay close to each other but their already impressive auras lasted much longer when they did. When they were near enough to one another they could withstand damage that would drop nearly any other Hunter. More importantly Magnus and Stormy's semblance barely put a strain on them when they were together. Alone neither of them could use their semblance for very long, or as effectively. 

"What are you listening to, anyway?" Magnus asked as he sat down next to Stormy.

She leaned against him and flicked the switch that retracted his helmet before answering. "Transistor soundtrack. I find it relaxing."

"If you say so." He grunted as the metal of his helmet folded into slots built into his body armor. "Sure would be nice if you let me use  my player once in a while."

Stormy laughed and put a finger to his lips, gently shushing the seven foot tall giant. He made his 'grumpy face' when she did this and she couldn't help but laugh even harder. "So adorable when you're upset." 

He grumbled something unintelligible and flipped the switch to reactivate his helmet. Stormy flipped it back before it could complete the process. He looked even grumpier now. Smiling, she put the loose ear bud in his ear and embraced him. They sat like this in silence for a long while, long enough for the sun to start sinking low in the sky. Magnus nudged her, likely wanting to free himself from her cuddling. She did not feel like obliging.

"Stormy. Stormy, look." He spoke up and there was an edge in his tone. 

He wasn't just tired of her clinging to him, something was happening. Lifting her head Stormy looked at the mass of Grimm still occupying the valley. They were moving now, or at least the Creeps were. But they were not advancing as she had expected. Instead they were filing into caves like rows of ants. What the hell? she wondered as she grabbed Lullaby for a closer look. She could see Creeps filing into caves for sure, but there was also a parallel row emerging at about the same rate. She had never seen this kind of behavior from Grimm before. What exactly were they up to? Zooming in a bit more she tried to get a better sight of the Creeps that reemerged. Were they carrying things? What a day for firsts. The gear on the Creeps backs was pretty crude, much like a sack with netting over it. She could not even guess at what was inside. But as it turned out she did not need to. One of the creatures stumbled, tripped, and disrupted its companions as it spilled the sacks contents over the ground. Was that...? Stormy's breath caught and she was sure her heart skipped a beat, the implications of the Creeps cargo fully dawning on her.

"Dios mio..." She whispered.

She was on the move in the next moment, sliding past a startled and confused Magnus, practically slammining her rifle into his lap so he could have a look himself. She did not explain but went straight for their packs which held most of the gear they did not need weighing them down during a fight. Apparently not getting the point Magnus called after her, insisting she tell him what was going on. Pulling out all of their spare ammunition and counting it as she did so she answered his questions with one of her own.

"How long would it take that horde of Creeps to tear through the forest and reach the city?"

"Not long. Less time than it would take Hawke to get there." He answered gravely, taking the hint and scoping in on the activity below. It did not take him as long to realize what was happening. "Joder!"

He was by her side in an instant, helping her prepare. Stormy removed a very large black box from among their things and laid it flat on the grass. THE CASE was lettered in bold white paint on the top of this box. Magnus shook his head, understanding exactly what Stormy meant to do. They had discussed this very plan of action in case events made a turn for the worse. At the time it had just been a fun way to pass the time, coming up with Plan B. They had both fully expected the Cavalry to arrive well before anything serious came up that required stupid risks. Now those plans were reality and the fun was greatly diminished. Stormy unlocked The Case without a word and opened it fully, revealing the two enormous missiles their team kept on hand and the specialized launcher for the ordinance. They always had this special weapon with their team but it almost never saw any use. It bore the stigma of being the last resort, the option to reach for when nothing else would do. Such as right now. 

Stormy loaded the launcher and handed it off to Magnus. She then carried all of her spare magazines to the edge of the cliff and lined them up. This first part would be easy. Stormy would take out as many of the big ones as would hold still for her. Once the Grimm caught on to the fact that they were under attack Magnus would collapse the valley's choke point. With the two groups more or less cut off from each other it would be up to her rifle and his grenades to thin the numbers before they got up the cliff and in their faces. Then it would be a game of holding out as long as they could. With any luck help would arrive before they were overrun. At worst, well, they would fight like hell and put a limp in this little army. They were together at least, so that gave them a chance. She sighed and looked over at Magnus, already in position and waiting. Turning away she began to line up her first shot on one of the Death Stalkers eyes.

"Hey, babe."

"Yeah, Stormy?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Onarax

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Onarax Sleepy

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Onarax

Sleepy

890 posts

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Seen 1 yr ago

No time to really proof right now so I guess I'll do that in the morning. I also might add in Episode 2 later if I ever finish it. Enjoy this last minute idea. Final word count was sadly just about 900 words from 5k, but I wasn't looking for credits anyhow. Enjoy I guess.

EDIT: And proofed, stuck the hopefully typo free version in the v2 header. 

Fabio Fiordilatte was always chasing. 

“One more chance, that’s all I’m asking for.”

There was no moon nor stars out tonight to illuminate the long road. 

“That’s what you said last time Park.”

Still, the crowd was deafening. These late night events always attracted a rowdy sort. An underbelly filled with adrenaline junkies, loan sharks and half-naked women. 

“I know, I know. But I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

Yet it was the smell of dust that overpowered everything else. 

“You always have a good feeling Park. That’s your problem.”

The engines were roaring, drowning out even the crowd’s cheers; the drivers behind the wheels wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“You’ve never won Park. Not once. There’s not even money to be had in you throwing the race.”

Through the roaring engines, screaming crowds, and heart pounding music, a trained ear could pick up the static of CB radios. Over their two way systems the organizers were hard at work, making sure the roads were clear for tonight’s event. 

“Sell that worthless car of yours and then I’ll get you some real work Park. You’re never going to pay me back racing.”

It was almost time to begin as the first car pulled up to starting line. It was a heavily customized first gen, blood red, mid-size sporting the kind of spoiler most only saw at the cinema. From the sound of his engine alone it was obvious the driver had put quite a bit of time and effort into his ride. The overall wedge shape culminating in a sloped bumper with the gentle framing of a low roof crafted a fearsome yet beautiful beast. 

“I can’t do that.”

If the stickers of defeated teams on the red’s monsters spoiler scared the other driver, it did not show. Pulling up in his comparatively underwhelming green sports coupe. The long flat body struck a remarkable contrast to his opponent, and the driver had barely been able to afford a few engine upgrades. By and large, his car kept the look of its stock model. 

“Fine. Then you’ll race for pinks next time. You lose and you’re out, we’ll talk about how much you owe me after the race. Who knows, if you put on a good show you might even cover some of your debt.”

“Hey Park, is that you?” 

The voice from the red car took Fabio by surprise, he didn’t expect the other driver to speak let alone recognize him. 

“I take it by the look on your face I hit the jackpot.” The grinning black haired man continued. The rest of the details were rather hard for Fabio to make out in the darkness. 

“Uh yeah. It’s me.”

“You’re Eve’s little bro right? I’d recognize that bright blonde hair anywhere.”

Before Fabio could respond, another voice boomed over a megaphone. 

“GOOD EVENING RACERS! We’ve got a great show for tonight. The legend of this pass, driving his brilliant red comet: Ryoma ‘Aka’ KOBAYASHI!”

“I miss the old days y’know?” As the crowd cheered with the announcer, the driver in question took advantage of the announcer’s pause to speak more with young Fabio. “Back then it was just a couple of us kids driving down these passes to kill time after classes. None of this noisy nonsense.”

“After years at the Atlesian Pro-circuit, Aka’s comet has returned home! His FR has only ever lost to one driver on Jōmō Pass. The question on everyone’s minds, can the golden boy maintain his near perfect record tonight!”

“It ain’t anything close to perfect if you ask me.”

“The answer lies with his challenger, an underdog still trying to make his mark on the scene despite loss after loss. Will this be the day for young Fabio Park? Can his unconventional ride’s Four Wheel Drive overcome Jōmō’s champ? LET’S FIND OUT!”

“Here we go kid, see you at the bottom.”

As the announcer continued to hype the crowd, a new face walked up to the two vehicles standing by. The transceiver at his belt signifying his role as one of the organizers of tonight’s festivities. 

“Alright listen up. We’re going over the rules one last time. Standard downhill pass race and since neither of you are lacking in power, you’re gonna take off at the same time. Whoever gets in front is the leader, if he pulls away by the time you’re down at the bridge it’s his win. Other guy catches up and passes then he wins. Standard stuff. Go when the flag drops.”

“LET THIS BATTLE OF ANCIENTS BEGIN! Racers to your marks, get set, GO!”

The flag dropped and the race was on. 

Both cars came alive instantly, the sounds of turbo and the fumes of their exhausts filling the air.  Their RPM gauges lurched up as both drivers began to shift into gear. Squealing tires and burning rubber were mere side effects of the intensity of these two men. The opening stretch was one of only a few places wide enough to accommodate both cars like this, whoever seized the line here would be the leader. 

Rear wheels propelling it forward, Aka’s red comet displayed it’s superior acceleration to snatch the lead in the first straight. Leaving Fabio’s 4WD chasing it’s bumper, but younger driver refused to lose hope because of a shaky start. He already expected to lose the initial straight, his ride didn’t quite have the same power in it.

Taking the moment to flip his fog lights up, the Mistralian boy prepared himself for the race ahead. He had studied the course intently for tonight, he knew the pass liked to trick new racers with the three easy turns up ahead that were immediately followed by two tight hair pins. Then there was the straight away, followed by six more harrowing hair pins and then the final sprint to the end. If he was to stand any chance at all, he’d have to make to move before that final sprint, there was no way he was beating Aka’s acceleration. 

Deep down Fabio was well aware that no amount of studying was going to catch up to sheer experience his opponent had on this mountain. He knew his odds were slim, he didn’t possess a faster ride, he didn’t possess more skill, hell he probably wasn’t even smarter than Jōmō’s comet. A clutch victory seemed impossible, he was at a breaking point. 

Even so, he refused to lose his car.

Shifting gears once more, foot nailed down to the accelerator only moving when the clutch called his attention, Fabio Fiordilatte chased. His green coupe remained tight on the red FR’s bumpers as they approached the first turn. Both drivers shifted down around the same time, with the FR going into a controlled oversteer cutting off Fabio’s attempt to use his superior traction to steal the inside line. 

The spectators at the bend couldn’t help but cheer as the rear bumpers came dangerously close to the guardrail between them. Yet to the drivers the outside world had long since faded away, all that remained were the cars, the road, and the beatings of their hearts. 
Screeching tires could once more be heard, as the red comet snapped back in front maintaining its lead out of the first bend. Still, Fabio’s old ride was not going to be outdone this early and it continued its pursuit into the second bend of the race to similar results. So close was the 4WD, that Aka could barely recognize anything in his rear view as the 4WD’s fog lights cast a bright glare. 

In the third turn, the FR made its move as it went into this turn far faster than it had approached the rest. Pulling away from the 4WD for the moment, the spectators watched in awe as the FR squealed once more in a high speed drift to widen the distance between the two. The race had only just begun, but already Aka was pulling out all the stops to keep his lead. In a blur he disappeared behind the turn, rapidly entering the two hairpins. 

“Aka’s at it again,” one of the spectators on the third turn remarked, “the newbie is dead meat.”

“Shame too. I thought we might seem something special when he showed up in a 4 Wheel Drive, that’s what the beat the FR last time too.”

“Really? Well, I guess this brat was too cocky if he took on this race.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” came a new voice into the conversation between the two spectators. It belonged to a young woman whose features were obscured by the large shades she wore. The fact that it was the sun had long ago descended did not bother the blonde. 

“How do you figure?”

“Aka always tests his opponents here. Now we’ll see if he can pass.”

“Was that supposed to be a pun?”

Despite his initial fear, or the fact that he had lost sight of the FR at the third bend, Fabio did his past to remain calm. His body had screamed at him to go even faster, but he remembered the danger of Jōmō Pass; the two hairpins ahead would not forgive a fast entrance. He just had to have faith that his 4WD could take the corners faster than the FR. 

With the first hairpin on him mere seconds out of the bend, Fabio took advantage of his newfound room to seize the optimal line on the inside. It was amazing what the traction of all four of his wheels could do when he didn’t have to worry about hitting the bumper of his opponent. In a flash he was out of the second hairpin and once more had eyes on his target as he chased him down the straight away. 

“Hey is it just me, or did the coupe come out of that turn way faster than the FR.”

“No way. Aka’s FR is untouchable, hell I amazed the other kid didn’t smash into a guardrail.”
“That happen often?”

“Have you see the state of the guardrail on that turn?”

“Still, doesn’t it look he’s cut down the distance between them?”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Despite the advantage the FR normally had in acceleration, the high speed of the 4WD out of the turn produced a noticeable difference in speed between the two vehicles. By the time Aka was entering the Jōmō’s deadly six, the foglights were nearly upon him once more. All Aka could do was downshift and go into yet another one of his practiced drifts. Both drivers were well aware that these hairpins would decide the outcome of this race. 

No slouch in the corners, the 4WD displayed it’s superior grip as it tried to hold the inside line. By the end of the first hairpin, the two cars were bumper to bumper again. It was going into the second hairpin, that Fabio remembered the danger from before. As predicted, Aka went into another drift but this time, like he did in the earlier turns, his FR cut off Fabio’s line. 

“Holy crap, they’re gonna hit each other.”

“Babe if you keep freaking out, I’m not bringing you to another race.”

“But they’re right next to the guardrail and the front of the red one is nearly touching that green car. How can they not hit each other?”

“No, no, you don’t get it. That’s Aka’s game, he’s blocking off the other driver’s line-”

“What’s a line? Do you mean the white stripes on the road?”

“No a line is like the optimal route a driver can take through corners.”

“Isn’t racing just about who’s car is faster anyway?”

“Of course not, look at these two. Compared to the FR-”

“Eff Arr?”

“Front Engine, Rear Wheel Drive. Anyway, like I was saying. The FR is slower in the corners, but it doesn’t matter if Four Wheel Drive can’t maintain his line.”

“You’re such a nerd, this is a horrible spot for a date.”

“Whatever, now we can please go back to the race.”

“What race, those guys went out of sight ages ago.”

“GOD DAMN IT.”

“Anger management honey.”

Entering the fourth hairpin, Fabio was starting to get worried. The previous three hairpins had all been the same, it didn’t matter how much he had cut down on the distance if he couldn’t pass the FR. Aka’s knowledge of the course was incredible, he knew all the optimal lines for Fabio’s 4WD and thus every single one them had been blocked off. 

As much as he couldn’t afford to lose, Fabio’s hopes for a victory were being dashed away. 

Going into the fifth hairpin, he knew he had to do something. He had been hoping the grip of his car would carry him through, but that was no longer an option. He had to do something crazy to take the lead, and only had one shot coming up. The narrow road opened up just enough after the sixth hairpin for the two cars to race side by side. That meant he couldn’t just afford to take the lead in the hairpins, he needed a substantial distance. As the FR’s tires squealed once more, and his opponent’s front cut off the 4WD’s line, Fabio realized his way out. 

The next hairpin would decide the race.  

Meanwhile the spectators continued to be amazed at the state of the race. No one had expected this race to be so close. Most pursuers of Aka down this hairpins got sent flying off the mountain. That this loser had made it so far baffled many of the onlookers with money on this race. Some were even beginning to sweat nervously as the blurs made their way down the mountain. Yet the veterans, who had been coming to Jōmō Pass long before the adrenaline junkies, loan sharks, and half-naked women, were all smiling. It had been many years since they had last seen a race this close on the pass. 

That was an era that was long since past. When the Lady still ruled. 

Inside his car, Aka was smiling. The kid had done extremely well to make it this far, even now, speeding out of the fifth hairpin, he could make out the fog lights of the 4WD in his mirror. The boy was sticking on his bumper, but unfortunately it was too late. They were about to enter the final hairpin and after that it would all be over. 

“You put on one hell of a show kid.” Aka remarked inside his relatively silent car as they entered the last of Jōmō’s deadly six. Just like before he shifted down, began to oversteer once more, and checked his rear view for one last sighting of the kid that had put on a spectacular fight. 

The fog lights were gone.

The 4WD, which had been trailing the FR for the entire race, was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Rather it had given up the optimal line being blocked by Aka’s red comet. Ripping his head to the right side, Aka was finally able to make out the front of green coupe steadily creeping forward. The maniac was taking advantage of Aka’s driving to grab the outside.

Fabio Fiordilatte had realized something important during the last hairpin. He had been so focused on trying to seize his line, that he failed to notice his opponent’s crucial error. In cutting him off on every turn, Aka also wasn’t following his line and just like that the lines both of them needed to take had changed.

FR always lacked the speed in the corners compared to Fabio’s 4WD. However while his opponent was in such an extreme drift his speed was going to be cut down tremendously. He was no longer just a bit slower in the corners, he was a bonafide snail compared to the grip of his 4WD. While racing along the outside, Fabio was gaining speed while his opponent was losing. 

Now it was time for Aka to do the chasing. 

Out of the last hairpin the 4WD zoomed past the cheering spectators to finally take the lead. In contrast, the FR lost even more speed as it straightened itself out. The red comet’s tires were crying out, as Aka kept himself from fishtailing. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, as his temporary slowdown would also affect his opponent. But normally his opponent wasn’t in the lead. 

In an outcome none of the spectators, save perhaps one, could have expected, the 4WD was widening the distance between the two cars as it approached the final bridge. 

However Jōmō’s famed red comet was not out of the race just quite yet. Its famous acceleration kicking into gear, it chased down the 4WD. With only this last straight away left, the red comet pulled itself alongside the 4WD. The FR’s front bumper was so close, that Fabio wouldn’t have been able to open his right hand door if he so desired. 

At this point, as both car’s jostled for the front, the only thing the drivers could do was hold down the accelerator. 

The bridge was rapidly closing in for the two neck and neck competitors. 

1000 meters.

800 meters.

500 meters.

100 meters. 

In that last second, Aka did something that only the two racers could notice. For a brief instant he left his foot off the accelerator just as he would’ve taken the lead. 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! OUR CHAMPION! THE GREEN DEVIL! FABIO PARK!”

As his heart settled, Fabio wasn’t sure what was stranger, the cheering of the crowds, his impromptu nom de guerre, or hearing his father’s surname again. He may have entered with the name, but it still felt odd to hear. 

Well, he knew what felt stranger. 

This victory, while it may have been his first, did not feel earned. Grateful as he may have been to keep his car, he hardly felt accomplished right now. 

“Well I gotta say I’m amazed Park. Looks like you were actually right for a change,” Fabio nearly recoiled away, as the rotund loan shark leaned his greasy arm on Fabio’s window. The smell of cigarettes and booze was unmistakeable. “Don’t worry, I’ve already made sure that your winnings will find their way to me. That should cover about fifty percent of your debt, most everyone was expecting you to lose. I always love an underdog story.”

As the other man walked away, Fabio did his best to keep his disgust off his face. There were more important things to worry about right now. He needed to speak with Aka immediately, he still had so many questions. Luckily for him, the crowd of spectators were beginning to dissipated, already distracted by the night’s next event. As they began to move away from his car, he caught sight of the brilliant red FR parked in the nearby lot. 

At the quietest his engine had been all night, Fabio wheeled his way in alongside the FR. Aka, still with a large grin on his face, was leaning against his pride and joy smoking a fresh cigarette. Now that Fabio got a closer look at him he was a bit surprised by his appearance. The hair he had mistaken for black was actually a dark shade of red and explained the man’s nickname. He was also shorter than Fabio expected, barely taller than Fabio himself. Yet most surprising was how much older he seemed, the man had to be in his late forties but he seemed so worn out. Especially around his hazel eyes. 

Getting out of his car, Fabio turned to face the man he had defeated tonight. 

“There’s the champ. Just like your big sis. Here for the slips?”

“Why’d you slow down?”

“Would you believe me if I told you my foot slipped?” 

Fabio’s silence was all the answer the other man needed. 

“Alright fine, take a walk with me kid. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Nodding his head, and possibly against his better judgement, Fabio followed the other man as he took them down the trail. 

“That lot was made back when the trail got a lot of visitors, but nowadays no one cares about the backwoods in Mistral. Watch your head.”

Ducking beneath the forewarned branch, the young teen paid closer attention to the trail they were now walking along. Nothing about it stood out to him, it was your standard dirt path through the woods. The most important part was trying not to lose his footing on the rather steep downhill. He failed to imagine how this trail might have ever garnered traffic.  

“Well, here we are.”

On cue, Fabio emerged from the last hedge to have his query answered. Across him stood a beautiful lake. The still waters felt so tranquil compared to all the heart pumping action that had occurred earlier today. The trees on the opposite side were so obscured by darkness that had he not known better, Fabio would’ve sworn that the lake continued on forever. 

“It’s lot more beautiful when the moon and stars are out at full force.”  

Seeing Fabio so wide eyed and in awe, the older man couldn’t help but grin. He remembered the days when his face had born that stupid look. Still, even after all these years, the beauty of the place still amazed him. 

“So, you wanted to know why I let up. Eh kid?”

“Huh,” for a moment Fabio remained to entranced to register any words, “Oh right. Yeah, why’d you give up Aka.”

“Just call me Ryoma kid, leave Aka for the fanboys and stupid announcers. Still can’t believe those sleeze bags snuck into our turf.” 

“Right uh, then Ryoma. Why’d you do it?”

“Cause I’m old.”

“Come again?”
“I’m olllddd.” Ryoma reiterated, taking special care to stress the second word. “I thought it was elders that are supposed to be losing our hearing.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Look, I was old when your sister burst on the scene, and I’m even older now. Why do you think I was racing for pinks.”

“I’m not sure.” Fabio confessed, “I hadn’t really thought about your reasons.”

“Course you didn’t, kids never do. Look, a teenaged brat like you as plenty of years of racing left him. Hell, you might even hit the circuit one day. Me? My days are at an end, I was hoping some gutsy bastard would beat me and earn my car. That was the plan at least.”

“So what happened?”

“Obviously this race did. Seeing you race I realized that anyone who did beat shouldn’t drive my car, they needed to make a name for themselves with their own four wheels.”

“Still, that doesn’t explain why you gave up.”

“I didn’t really give up, truth be told if we raced again you’d beat me. You saw through my trick kid, had you caught it one turn earlier I wouldn’t have stood a chance. You upgrade your ride a bit, and I also would’ve been completely smoked. Far as I’m concerned you won fair and square.”

“You don’t have to give me your car y’know.”

“Ah, the youth and their misguided charity,” Ryoma’s laugh took Fabio by surprise and younger boy could only eye the elder with confusion. “Look, I knew I made the right choice when I saw that damn shark leaning on your window. If I talk to him, sell him my car, I’m sure it’ll cover your debts.” 

“But-”

“Shh,” silenced Ryoma as he put on a head on Fabio’s head, “I want you to keep racing debt free. And not in this damn, infested crap. Look head up north to Nagano, that’s where you’ll find the real racers. Away from all this riff raff that just tunes in to see a crash and make some money. No annoying announcers or troublesome sharks either, just a bunch of guys and girls who want to drive. Think you can do that?”

Fabio found himself nodding again. 

“Great, then I guess I’ll head back and see who I need to hand my car off too. Impressive stuff out there kid, you Fiordilattes are something else, the puns could use work though.”

“Wait! How’d you know-” but even as Fabio turned his head, Ryoma had long disappeared back into the shrubbery heading the trail. Thus leaving Fabio alone alongside the spacious lake. In the morning, he’d head back to his car, fuel up and head for Nagano, but for now?

For now he’d enjoy the peaceful night by the lake, he had finally won his first race. 

Time to take it slow.

Fabio Fiordilatte was always chasing. 

“One more chance, that’s all I’m asking for.”

There was no moon nor stars out tonight to illuminate the long road. 

“That’s what you said last time Park.”

Still the crowd was deafening. These late night events always attracted a rowdy sort. An underbelly filled with adrenaline junkies, loan sharks and half-naked women. 

“I know, I know. But I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

Yet it was the smell of dust that overpowered everything else. 

“You always have a good feeling Park. That’s your problem.”

The engines were roaring, drowning out even the crowd’s cheers; the drivers behind the wheels wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“You’ve never won Park. Not once. There’s not even money to be had in you throwing the race.”

Through the roaring engines, screaming crowds and heart pounding music, a trained ear could pick up the static of CB radios. Over their two way systems the organizers were hard at work making sure the roads were clear for tonight’s events. 

“Sell that worthless car of yours and then I’ll get you some real work Park. You’re never going to pay me back racing.”

It was almost time to begin as the first car pulled up to starting line. It was a heavily customized first gen, blood red mid-size sporting the kind of spoiler most only saw at the cinema. From the sound of his engine alone it was obvious the driver had put quite a bit of time and effort into his ride. The overall wedge shape culminating in a sloped bumper with the gentle framing of a low roof crafted a fearsome yet beautiful beast. 

“I can’t do that.”

If the stickers of the defeated teams on the red monster’s spoiler scared the other driver, it did not show. Pulling up in his green sports coupe was comparatively underwhelming. The long flat body struck a remarkable contrast to his opponent, and the driver had barely been able to afford a few engine upgrades. There was no massive spoiler to be found here. By and large, his car kept the look of its stock model. 

“Fine. Then you’ll race for pinks next time. You lose and you’re out. We’ll talk about how much you owe me after the race. Who knows, if you put on a good show you might even cover some of your debt.”

“Hey Park, is that you?” 

The voice from the red car took Fabio by surprise, he didn’t expect the other driver to speak let alone recognize him. 

“I take it by the look on your face I hit the jackpot.” The grinning black haired man continued. The rest of the details were rather hard for Fabio to make out in the darkness. 

“Uh yeah. It’s me.”

“You’re Eve’s little bro right? I’d recognize that bright blonde hair anywhere.”

Before Fabio could respond another voice boomed over a megaphone. 

“GOOD EVENING RACERS! We’ve got a great show for tonight. The legend of this pass, driving his brilliant red comet: Ryoma ‘Aka’ KOBAYASHI!”

“I miss the old days y’know?” As the crowd cheered with the announcer, the driver in question took advantage of the announcer’s pause to speak more with young Fabio. “Back then it was just a couple of us kids driving down these passes to kill time after classes. None of this noisy nonsense.”

“After years at the Atlesian Pro-circuit Aka’s comet has returned home! His FR has only ever lost to one driver on Jōmō Pass. The question on everyone’s minds: can the golden boy maintain his near perfect record tonight!”

“It ain’t anything close to perfect if you ask me.”

“The answer lies with his challenger, an underdog still trying to make his mark on the scene despite loss after loss. Will this be the day for young Fabio Park? Can his unconventional ride’s Four Wheel Drive overcome Jōmō’s champ? LET’S FIND OUT!”

“Here we go kid, see you at the bottom.”

As the announcer continued to hype the crowd, a new face walked up to the two vehicles standing by. The transceiver at his belt signified his role as one of the organizers of tonight’s festivities. 

“Alright listen up. We’re going over the rules one last time. Standard downhill pass race and since neither of you are lacking in power, you’re gonna take off at the same time. Whoever gets in front is the leader. If he pulls away by the time you’re down at the bridge it’s his win. Other guy catches up and passes then he wins. Standard stuff. Go when the flag drops.”

“LET THIS BATTLE OF ANCIENTS BEGIN! Racers to your marks, get set, GO!”

The flag dropped and the race was on. 

Both cars came alive instantly, the sounds of turbo and the fumes of their exhausts filling the air.  Their RPM gauges lurched up as both drivers began to shift into gear. Squealing tires and burning rubber were mere side effects of the intensity of these two men. The opening stretch was one of only a few places wide enough to accommodate both cars; whoever seized the line here would be the leader. 

Rear wheels propelling it forward, Aka’s red comet displayed it’s superior acceleration to snatch the lead in the first straight. Leaving Fabio’s 4WD to chase its bumper, but the younger driver refused to lose hope because of a shaky start. He already expected to lose the initial straight; his ride just didn’t quite have the same power in it.

Taking the moment to flip his fog lights up, the Mistralian boy prepared himself for the race ahead. He had studied the course intently for tonight: he knew the pass liked to trick new racers with the three easy turns up ahead that were immediately followed by two tight hair pins. Then there was the straight away, followed by six more harrowing hair pins and then the final sprint to the end. If he was to stand any chance at all he’d have to make to move before that final sprint; there was no way he was beating Aka’s acceleration. 

Deep down Fabio was well aware that no amount of studying was going to catch up to sheer experience his opponent had on this mountain. He knew his odds were slim: he didn’t possess a faster ride, he didn’t possess more skill, hell he probably wasn’t even smarter than Jōmō’s comet. A clutch victory seemed impossible; he was at a breaking point. 

Even so, he refused to lose his car.

Shifting gears once more, foot nailed down to the accelerator and only moving when the clutch called his attention, Fabio Fiordilatte chased. His green coupe remained tight on the red FR’s bumpers as they approached the first turn. Both drivers shifted down around the same time, with the FR going into a controlled oversteer cutting off Fabio’s attempt to use his superior traction to steal the inside line. 

The spectators at the bend couldn’t help but cheer as the rear bumpers came dangerously close to the guardrail between them. Yet to the drivers the outside world had long since faded away, all that remained were the cars, the road, and the beatings of their hearts. 
Screeching tires could once more be heard as the red comet snapped back in front maintaining its lead out of the first bend. Still, Fabio’s old ride was not going to be outdone this early and it continued its pursuit into the second bend of the race to similar results. So close was the 4WD that Aka could barely recognize anything in his rear view as the 4WD’s fog lights cast a bright glare. 

In the third turn the FR made its move as it went into this turn far faster than it had approached the rest. Pulling away from the 4WD for the moment, the spectators watched in awe as the FR squealed into a high speed drift once more to widen the distance between the two. The race had only just begun but already Aka was pulling out all the stops to keep his lead. In a blur he disappeared behind the turn rapidly entering the two hairpins. 

“Aka’s at it again,” one of the spectators on the third turn remarked, “the newbie is dead meat.”

“Shame too. I thought we might seem something special when he showed up in a 4 Wheel Drive. That’s what the beat the FR last time too.”

“Really? Well, I guess this brat was too cocky if he took on this race.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” came a new voice into the conversation between the two spectators. It belonged to a young woman whose features were obscured by the large shades she wore. The fact that the sun had descended long ago did not seem to bother the blonde. 

“How do you figure?”

“Aka always tests his opponents here. Now we’ll see if he can pass.”

“Was that supposed to be a pun?”

Despite his initial fear, or the fact that he had lost sight of the FR at the third bend, Fabio did his past to remain calm. His body had screamed at him to go even faster but he remembered the danger of Jōmō Pass; the two hairpins ahead would not forgive a fast entrance. He just had to have faith that his 4WD could take the corners faster than the FR. 

With the first hairpin on him mere seconds out of the bend, Fabio took advantage of his newfound room to seize the optimal line on the inside. It was amazing what the traction of all four of his wheels could do when he didn’t have to worry about hitting the bumper of his opponent. In a flash he was out of the second hairpin and once more had eyes on his target as he chased him down the straight away. 

“Hey is it just me, or did the coupe come out of that turn way faster than the FR.”

“No way. Aka’s FR is untouchable. Hell I amazed the other kid didn’t smash into a guardrail.”
“That happen often?”

“Have you see the state of the guardrail on that turn?”

“Still, doesn’t it look he’s cut down the distance between them?”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Despite the advantage the FR normally had in acceleration, the high speed of the 4WD out of the turn produced a noticeable difference in speed between the two vehicles. By the time Aka was entering the Jōmō’s deadly six the foglights were nearly upon him once more. All Aka could do was downshift and go into yet another one of his practiced drifts. Both drivers were well aware that these hairpins would decide the outcome of this race. 

No slouch in the corners, the 4WD displayed it’s superior grip as it tried to hold the inside line. By the end of the first hairpin the two cars were bumper to bumper again. It was going into the second hairpin that Fabio remembered the danger from before. As predicted, Aka went into another drift but this time, like he did in the earlier turns, his FR cut off Fabio’s line. 

“Holy crap, they’re gonna hit each other.”

“Babe if you keep freaking out, I’m not bringing you to another race.”

“But they’re right next to the guardrail and the front of the red one is nearly touching that green car. How can they not hit each other?”

“No, no, you don’t get it. That’s Aka’s game, he’s blocking off the other driver’s line-”

“What’s a line? Do you mean the white stripes on the road?”

“No a line is like the optimal route a driver can take through corners.”

“Isn’t racing just about whose car is faster anyway?”

“Of course not. Look at these two. Compared to the FR-”

“Eff Arr?”

“Front Engine, Rear Wheel Drive. Anyway, like I was saying. The FR is slower in the corners, but it doesn’t matter if Four Wheel Drive can’t maintain his line.”

“You’re such a nerd, this is a horrible spot for a date.”

“Whatever. Now we can please go back to the race.”

“What race? Those guys went out of sight ages ago.”

“GOD DAMN IT.”

“Anger management honey.”

Entering the fourth hairpin, Fabio was starting to get worried. The previous three hairpins had all been the same; it didn’t matter how much he had cut down on the distance if he couldn’t pass the FR. Aka’s knowledge of the course was incredible. He knew all the optimal lines for Fabio’s 4WD and thus every single one them had been blocked off. 

As much as he couldn’t afford to lose, Fabio’s hopes for a victory were being dashed away. 

Going into the fifth hairpin he knew he had to do something. He had been hoping the grip of his car would carry him through but that was no longer an option. He had to do something crazy to take the lead and only had one shot coming up. The narrow road opened up just enough after the sixth hairpin for the two cars to race side by side. That meant he couldn’t just afford to take the lead in the hairpins; he needed a substantial distance. As the FR’s tires squealed once more, and his opponent’s front cut off the 4WD’s line, Fabio realized his way out. 

The next hairpin would decide the race.  

Meanwhile the spectators continued to be amazed at the state of the race. No one had expected this race to be so close. Most pursuers of Aka down these hairpins got sent flying off the mountain. That this loser had made it so far baffled many of the onlookers with money on this race. Some were even beginning to sweat nervously as the blurs made their way down the mountain. Yet the veterans, who had been coming to Jōmō Pass long before the adrenaline junkies, loan sharks, and half-naked women, were all smiling. It had been many years since they had last seen a race this close on the pass. 

That was an era that was long since past. When the Lady still ruled. 

Inside his car Aka was smiling. The kid had done extremely well to make it this far, even now, speeding out of the fifth hairpin, he could make out the fog lights of the 4WD in his mirror. The boy was sticking on his bumper but unfortunately it was too late. They were about to enter the final hairpin and after that it would all be over. 

“You put on one hell of a show kid.” Aka remarked inside his relatively silent car as they entered the last of Jōmō’s deadly six. Just like before he shifted down, began to oversteer once more, and checked his rear view for one last sighting of the kid that had put on a spectacular fight. 

The fog lights were gone.

The 4WD, which had been trailing the FR for the entire race, was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Rather it had given up the optimal line being blocked by Aka’s red comet. Ripping his head to the right side, Aka was finally able to make out the front bumper of the green coupe steadily creeping forward. The maniac was taking advantage of Aka’s driving to grab the outside.

Fabio Fiordilatte had realized something important during the last hairpin. He had been so focused on trying to seize his line that he failed to notice his opponent’s crucial error. In cutting him off on every turn Aka also wasn’t following his line. And just like that, the lines both of them needed to take had changed.

The FR always lacked the speed in the corners compared to Fabio’s 4WD. However while his opponent was in such an extreme drift his speed was going to be cut down tremendously. He was no longer just a bit slower in the corners; he was a bonafide snail compared to the grip of his 4WD. While racing along the outside, Fabio was gaining speed while his opponent was losing. 

Now it was time for Aka to do the chasing. 

Out of the last hairpin the 4WD zoomed past the cheering spectators to finally take the lead. In contrast the FR lost even more speed as it straightened itself out. The red comet’s tires were crying out as Aka kept himself from fishtailing. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem as his temporary slowdown would also affect his opponent. But normally his opponent wasn’t in the lead. 

In an outcome none of the spectators, save perhaps one, could have expected, the 4WD was widening the distance between the two cars as it approached the final bridge. 

However Jōmō’s famed red comet was not out of the race just quite yet. Its famous acceleration kicking into gear, it chased down the 4WD. With only this last straight away left, the red comet pulled itself alongside the 4WD. The FR’s front bumper was so close that Fabio wouldn’t have been able to open his right hand door if he so desired. 

At this point, as both car’s jostled for the front, the only thing the drivers could do was hold down the accelerator. 

The bridge was rapidly closing in for the two neck and neck competitors. 

1000 meters.

800 meters.

500 meters.

100 meters. 

In that last second, Aka did something that only the two racers could notice. For a brief instant he let his foot off the accelerator just as he would’ve taken the lead. 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! OUR CHAMPION! THE GREEN DEVIL! FABIO PARK!”

As his heart settled Fabio wasn’t sure what was stranger: the cheering of the crowds, his impromptu nom de guerre, or hearing his father’s surname again. He may have entered with the name but it still felt odd to hear. 

Well, he knew what felt stranger. 

This victory, while it may have been his first, did not feel earned. Grateful as he may have been to keep his car, he hardly felt accomplished right now. 

“Well I gotta say I’m amazed Park. Looks like you were actually right for a change,” Fabio nearly recoiled away as the rotund loan shark leaned his greasy arm on Fabio’s window. The smell of cigarettes and booze was unmistakeable. “Don’t worry, I’ve already made sure that your winnings will find their way to me. That should cover about fifty percent of your debt. Most everyone was expecting you to lose. I always love an underdog story.”

As the other man walked away Fabio did his best to keep the disgust off his face. There were more important things to worry about right now. He needed to speak with Aka immediately; he still had so many questions. Luckily for him, the crowd of spectators were beginning to dissipate, already distracted by the night’s next event. As they began to move away from his car he caught sight of the brilliant red FR parked in the nearby lot. 

At the quietest his engine had been all night, Fabio wheeled his way in alongside the FR. Aka, still with a large grin on his face, was leaning against his pride and joy smoking a fresh cigarette. Now that Fabio got a closer look at him he was a bit surprised by his appearance. The hair he had mistaken for black was actually a dark shade of red and explained the man’s nickname. He was also shorter than Fabio expected, barely taller than Fabio himself. Yet most surprising was how much older he seemed. The man had to be in his late forties but he seemed so worn out; especially around those hazel eyes. 

Getting out of his car, Fabio turned to face the man he had defeated tonight. 

“There’s the champ. Just like your big sis. Here for the slips?”

“Why’d you slow down?”

“Would you believe me if I told you my foot slipped?” 

Fabio’s silence was all the answer the other man needed. 

“Alright fine. Take a walk with me kid. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Nodding his head, and possibly against his better judgement, Fabio followed the other man as he took them down the trail. 

“That lot was made back when the trail got a lot of visitors but nowadays no one cares about the backwoods in Mistral. Watch your head.”

Ducking beneath the forewarned branch, the young teen paid closer attention to the trail they were now walking along. Nothing about it stood out to him; it was your standard dirt path through the woods. The most important part was trying not to lose his footing on the rather steep downhill. He failed to imagine how this trail might have ever garnered traffic.  

“Well, here we are.”

On cue Fabio emerged from the last hedge to have his query answered. Across him stood a beautiful lake. The still waters felt so tranquil compared to all the heart pumping action that had occurred earlier today. The trees on the opposite side were so obscured by darkness that, had he not known better, Fabio would’ve sworn that the lake continued on forever. 

“It’s lot more beautiful when the moon and stars are out at full force.”  

Seeing Fabio so wide eyed and in awe the older man couldn’t help but grin. He remembered the days when his face had born that stupid look. Still, even after all these years, the beauty of the place always amazed him. 

“So, you wanted to know why I let up. Eh kid?”

“Huh,” for a moment Fabio remained too entranced to register any words, “Oh right. Yeah, why’d you give up Aka.”

“Just call me Ryoma kid, leave Aka for the fanboys and stupid announcers. Still can’t believe those sleeze bags snuck into our turf.” 

“Right uh, then Ryoma. Why’d you do it?”

“Cause I’m old.”

“Come again?”
“I’m olllddd.” Ryoma reiterated, taking special care to stress the second word. “I thought it was elders that are supposed to be losing our hearing.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Look, I was old when your sister burst on the scene and I’m even older now. Why do you think I was racing for pinks.”

“I’m not sure.” Fabio confessed, “I hadn’t really thought about your reasons.”

“Course you didn’t, kids never do. Look, a teenaged brat like you has plenty of years of racing left in him. Hell, you might even hit the circuit one day. Me? My days are at an end, I was hoping some gutsy bastard would beat me and earn my car. That was the plan at least.”

“So what happened?”

“Obviously this race did. Seeing you race I realized that anyone who did beat shouldn’t drive my car. They needed to make a name for themselves with their own four wheels.”

“Still, that doesn’t explain why you gave up.”

“I didn’t really give up, truth be told if we raced again you’d beat me. You saw through my trick kid, had you caught it one turn earlier I wouldn’t have stood a chance. You upgrade your ride a bit and I also would’ve been completely smoked. Far as I’m concerned you won fair and square.”

“But what about all the other races I lost? I just got lucky today.”

“Luck is just a part of racing kids, and you won today fair and square. Those other races? Bad match ups, nerves, lack of experience, hell any number of things could’ve been responsible. It doesn’t matter and I don’t care, you won. End of story.”

There was a brief pause as Fabio reflected on the older man’s words.

“You don’t have to give me your car y’know.”

“Ah, the youth and their misguided charity,” Ryoma’s laugh took Fabio by surprise and younger boy could only eye the elder with confusion. “Look, I knew I made the right choice when I saw that damn shark leaning on your window. If I talk to him, sell him my car, I’m sure it’ll cover your debts.” 

“But-”

“Shh,” silenced Ryoma as he put on a head on Fabio’s head, “I want you to keep racing debt free. And not in this damn, infested environment filled with shit. Look head up north to Nagano, that’s where you’ll find the real racers. Away from all this riff raff that just tunes in to see a crash and make some money. No annoying announcers or troublesome sharks either. Just a bunch of guys and girls who want to drive. Think you can do that?”

Fabio found himself nodding again. 

“Great, then I guess I’ll head back and see who I need to hand my car off too. Impressive stuff out there kid. You Fiordilattes are something else, the puns could use work though.”

“Wait! How’d you know-” but even as Fabio turned his head, Ryoma had long disappeared back into the shrubbery signaling the trail. Thus Fabio was left alone alongside the spacious lake. In the morning, he’d head back to his car, fuel up and head for Nagano. He intended to take up Ryoma’s proposition; a new environment would be nice. But for now?

For now he’d enjoy the peaceful night by the lake. He had finally won his first race. 

Time to take it slow.

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Krayzikk

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Krayzikk The Snark Knight

Member Seen 3 days ago

Krayzikk

The Snark Knight

1770 posts

in 3967 days

Seen 3 days ago

“Benji!” 

Ben Lloyd was pulled into a hug quickly, and with surprising force given the hugger’s age. Abe still had a few inches on his grandson yet, and his grip was inescapable iron when Ben tried to pull away from the imminent ruffling of his hair. His grandfather laughed, a cheerful sound that shook his thinning frame. Even though his hair had long gone gray, the blue eyes that looked Ben over when he finally let him pull free were the same from generation to generation. The old man’s smile only widened when the ruffled teen tried to fix his hair.

“What, you don’t visit anymore? Haven’t seen you for weeks, it’s not like I’m in Mistral.” He jabbed a finger in Ben’s direction, trying to look accusatory. “Don’t be like your Dad, your grandmother and I like seeing you. Lord knows she’ll bribe you with candy if she has to.”

“I know, Gramps, I know.” Ben answered a little sheepishly, slipping one hand into his pocket. “I’m sorry. Been busy.”

“I’m just yanking your chain, kid, it’s good to see ya. Come on in, the missus is out for the afternoon but she’d love if you stayed for dinner. What’s up? Designs you wanna show me? Updates on school?” Abe moved deeper into the house, making a beeline for a well-worn armchair in the living room’s corner. “C’mon, don’t keep me in suspense. What do I owe the pleasure to?”

“Well, Mr. Martin gave us a new project. We get to pick what we write about and I remember all those stories you used to tell me. I thought you’d be perfect.”

The elder Lloyd’s eyes took on an amused sparkle as he sank into his seat, a grin spreading across his face. “Benji, ain’t you a little old to be doing book reports on fairy tales? I can think up a couple, but old man Martin’s probably heard all the local Grimm legends.”

“I don’t think you get to call anyone old man, old man. He’s younger than you are.” His grandson shot back, dropping his backpack on the floor and giving Abe a bit of a glare. “I don’t mean the big Grimm hunting days. We’re doing a unit on the Great War, I thought you’d be a great place to start my report.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned back in his chair, regarding Ben with a raised eyebrow. “What kinda report?”

“I dunno, you never told me much about it.” Ben flopped onto the couch, shooting his grandfather a grin across the coffee table. “I mean, I’ve heard some tall tales, but I figure you could give me a good start. Couple badass stories about you kicking Atlesian ass, I fit ‘em into the war’s timeline, instant report about the glory days.”

“I never told you much, Benjamin, because there’s no glory in them.” Abraham chided gently, much of the levity fading from his voice. His grandson frowned while he was quiet, thinking about what he wanted to say. “... It’s a good project. Martin suggest it?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a good teacher, that one. Probably a lesson you need to learn.” A pause, then he gestured to the kitchen. “Grab me a beer outta the fridge. I’ll give you what you need, but if I do, it’s gonna be the truth.”

“I mean, obvious-”

“No, kid, I’m gonna give you the truth. Not the documentaries, not the action movies, and not a bedtime story. No sugarcoating. That’s the deal.”

Ben looked a little uncertain for a moment but he stood up and walked to the kitchen, bringing back a beer and handing it to his grandfather before sitting back down. He toyed with his Scroll to put it into recording mode and set it down on the coffee table, then cleared his throat a little.

“Why haven’t you told me about this before? You told me about fighting Grimm, even a couple of the ones you fought during the war. Even a couple of the ones your dad fought.”

“‘Cause you’re a kid. You wanted to hear about how cool your family is, you wanted monster-fighting, Grimm-slaying and saving the day. The sort of stuff that makes you grin and go to sleep happy. When they talk about the war in school, I bet, they talk about how the Atlesians and Mistralese were the bad guys. How we won and made it better.” He shook his head, a sharp, jerking motion. “No. It’s not that simple.”

“I mean obviously it was more complicated than that, but they were the bad guys. We did make it better. They treated their citizens like shit, you couldn’t express yourself.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why’d they make those laws?”

“I… Dunno.”

“Exactly.” He pointed at his grandson again, gripping his walking stick tighter with the other hand. “They did it because they thought it would make people safe. They thought if emotions were kept in check, if people didn’t get upset, they could avoid Grimm attacks. At least cut down on ‘em. It was a stupid idea. We can see that now, ‘cause hindsight’s perfect.”

“Wasn’t so simple back then. People were scared. We didn’t have Academies for Hunters and Huntresses, or advanced weapons, or robots. You built walls high and thick, you kept your weapons sharp, and you tried to be ready. War didn’t start because we thought what they were doing was wrong, war started because they started tryin’ to push it on everyone else.”

“But… They were wrong.”

“Yeah, and we spent ten years fighting to prove it. Any idea how many people died? On both sides? I lost an aunt and an uncle in the war, and that was just in our family.” A hand gestured north, accompanied by a nod. “Redwood was the frontlines of the Great War inside of a year. Atlas used Shiroyama, our neighbors, as a foothold. We were the first line of defense.

The whole family cranked out weapons for the local militia as fast as we could, we armed damn near most the town. Those walls kept Atlas out, but keeping them from moving too far past us was bloody. Even when Vale got more troops up here. The Grimm came in droves, the fear and anger drew ‘em in. Everyone suffered when that happened. Both sides had to fight them, and it was as chaotic as you think. It’d go on for hours until they were gone, and everyone fell back to lick their wounds.”

His voice got a little softer, a little gentler, when he continued. He rummaged in a drawer next to his chair a moment, and handed a small, cloth-wrapped object over to Ben. When his grandson unwrapped it he found a curved blade about eight and a half inches long. The teen turned it over in his hands while he listened, examining the worn tool. It was a billhook, the sort of thing he’d used for clearing shrubs before, with a battered wooden handle and a scuffed and scratched metal edge. 

“I was sixteen when I first had to fight, Ben. A pack of Beowolves broke through the wall on the other side of the town, away from the gates. Everyone was fighting out front. No one could pull back. Coming right for my house. My family. Sixteen years old, a little training and a billhook. I killed a Grimm with it. Just one, and I was lucky it didn’t kill me first. The troops in reserve bailed us out, but it was close.

My friends called me a hero for not running away, but I was too scared to run. I fought because I had to. Because if I didn’t, they’d have gotten my family.”

He paused a few moments, taking a long drink from his beer, before he continued. “A couple years into the war, when the body counts started going up, that was when I fought for real. No armor, because if they got through your Aura you were dead already. Awful guns. Big, they had to be to punch through an enemy’s Aura, and they jammed all the time. Around here you took whatever hand-to-hand weapons you could. Nothing standard.”

“I kept that billhook. I used it on Grimm, and I used it on people. Soldiers that didn’t want to be there either.”

Ben had long since gone quiet, listening and trying to understand what he was hearing. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and he wasn’t really thinking about his report either. His grandfather looked old, maybe for the first time in Ben’s life. He looked tired and he looked sad.

“But they were the enemy, weren’t they Gramps?”

“No, Ben. The enemy was a philosophy. We fought them because we wanted to protect our home. They fought us ‘cause they had to. Because their leaders pushed them into a fight they didn’t want to fight, but now they had to. To keep their homes, and their family’s safe.

Once, about halfway between here and Shiroyama, we managed to wake up something big. That Datura had probably been sleeping there longer than anyone in the forest had been alive, because when it woke up it was like the whole forest came alive. Nothing we hit it with could make a dent. We all stopped fighting each other to fight it, to try and bring anything we had to bear. Smaller Grimm lived inside it, and came out to keep us busy while it just smashed, and smashed, and smashed. We set the place on fire to try and kill it, and that hurt us as much as it hurt the Grimm. 

We wounded it, forced it off, but we were all trapped. Anyone that hadn’t already gotten out was trapped with the fire, the Grimm, and no backup. 

I figured that was it. Probably should’ve been, because I was trapped in there with the Atlesians, too. I can’t remember most of them, now, but we worked together. That was why we lived. Instead of squabbling we fought the Grimm that were left, watched each other’s backs, and yeah. Carried each other out of there. At one point I fought back to back with a swordsman with a black blade, and we held off dozens of Grimm to get our comrades out. Because they were the real enemy.”

He sighed, letting the silence fill the room for a few minutes. It was deafening, encompassing and overwhelming all else. Ben was clearly thinking, unsure of what to say, but Abe knew he wouldn’t speak until he’d said his piece. Respect, partly, and a need to gather his thoughts. He was a good kid. A very good kid. It was harsh, but these were sentiments he needed to hear. Especially if he was thinking about following the same path his father abandoned.

There was a difficult subject. He knew Ben would ask. But it wasn’t entirely Abraham’s story to tell.

“We won, Benji, but it cost a lot. Not just in money, but in lives. We did make it better. The world is safer. That’s a noble thing. We established academies, and new governments, and better ways to communicate. Travel. Shiroyama, after the war, became our allies. If not friends. But the process is nothing to glorify.”

“Why do you tell me about fighting Grimm, then? If the war was so awful, why do you tell me about one but not the other?” Ben looked not upset, but troubled. He seemed to have forgotten he was recording for a project, and instead stared at the table between them quietly. The billhook was resting on it, laid there almost reverently beyond his steepled fingers. “The cost’s high there, too. I know… Your Dad died, after the war. Fighting Grimm.”

Abe nodded, slowly.

“He did. It was hard for me to deal with, even after the war. He was only fifty two. Barely twenty years older than I was. He’d made it through the war, too. My Mom cried, ‘course, but she didn’t lose hope. Told me, when I was struggling with it, that it was how he’d have wanted to go. He’d been fighting Grimm before the war, too, and told me that that was easier.”

A sip from his drink interrupted the comment, then the old man nodded to himself.

“Grimm are the enemy. They’re not fighting because they have to, they hunt us because they want to. They thrive on the worst of us. To fight against the Grimm, the closest we’ve got to a symbol for everything wrong, is noble. It’s a protection of those less capable. We’ve been doing it for decades, protecting Redwood. Dad wouldn’t have minded how he went because it was in defense of his home and family. I like to think he knew that. But he would’ve hated dying in the war. Fighting someone else like that, even winning hurts you. Stains you.”

“Dad hates Hunters.”

“No he doesn’t. He’s… He’s afraid.” Abe crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, frowning a little more. “There’s no shame in that. Anyone who isn’t afraid is stupid. But he grew up seeing how difficult Hunting was, from seeing how exhausted I would be when I got home. Danny never said much about it, but that wasn’t the life he wanted. He was happy making weapons. But he didn’t want to use them.”

“Then why does he hate them so much now?”

“Because you were born, kid.”

Ben looked like he’d been slapped, opening his mouth to object- then closing it again. He clasped his hands tight and looked hard at the weapon in front of him.

“... I’ve been thinking about being a Hunter, Gramps.”

“I know you have, Benji. C’mere.” Abe patted his lap, and Ben dutifully stood and crossed the room to sit on his grandfather’s lap. The older Lloyd hugged him tightly and ruffled his hair again. “You’d be a great one. But that’s exactly what Danny’s scared of. Why do you want to be a Huntsman? Is it the fame?”

“No!” The teen objected, looking almost shocked. He shook his head vehemently, looking Abe in the eye. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“The money?”

“Most Huntsman don’t make that much.”

“Then why?”

“I…” Now he looked a little upset, as though the foundation beneath him wasn’t so certain. Ben was quiet a long time, trying to think of his answer. He finally shook his head and looked at the floor guiltily. “I don’t know.”

His grandfather nodded, and gently patted his back. “You don’t have to, yet. But if you choose to try, you have to do it for the right reason.”

“Dad won’t talk about it.”

“Of course not. But no matter what you choose, if your heart’s in the right place, I’ll help you. I never went to a fancy academy. I can’t help you study. But I can give you advice, I can show you what I know, and I can help you with your Dad. He can hate me all he wants, if it’ll help you.”

He leaned forward and plucked the billhook off the table, flipping it around to catch the flat of the blade with remarkable dexterity and held it out to Ben with a smile.

“Take it. And don’t decide now. I think that’s enough for your report, and definitely enough seriousness. Grandma will be home later, you are staying for dinner. In the meantime I know where she put the snacks, and I think I’ve got the latest episode of that talking train show taped. That’s still what you watch, right?”

Ben’s head snapped up in a flash, eyes widening in confusion until he saw the glint in the old man’s eye. Then confusion turned to red-faced fuming and a disgruntled laugh.

“It is not! You grab the snacks, old man, I’ll pick a movie. If you can stay awake for it.”

*****

The train station was desolate. Redwood wasn’t a hub of travel or anything, but even at its quiet hours the station was full of life. Trivial, mundane life. The workers trying to stay awake, chatting when no one was looking. Travelers trying to catch some shut-eye, or figure out where they were going. Hell, in tourist season you even had a bunch of confused looking foreigners that always stuck out like a sore thumb. There was always something, if you were looking.

This place was barren. Few people, and little life from the ones that were there. It was too modern to have a life of its own, too little character in its construction, and all the people were… Cold. They ignored everyone else, they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, and the workers looked dead on their feet. It had all the life of Purgatory itself.

Or maybe he was projecting. 

For Ben, this was Purgatory. A temporary place of suffering before he was shuttled off. Except he wasn’t headed to heaven. He was headed back to Redwood, to a father he’d failed to prove wrong, and a job that he’d labor away at for life. His father would tell him the shop would one day be his. His grandparents would console him, and his grandfather advise him. Probably tell him there was no shame in moving on.

But there was shame. He had thrown everything into it. His time, his energy, all opportunities he gave up to focus on his goal. And he’d gotten so close. He qualified for the entrance exam, despite never attending Signal. Or any other prep school. He had his weapons, his knowledge, his chance at qualifying for Beacon.

Until he fucked it up.

Until he failed the exam. 

The objective was different every year, but it was always a test of abilities. And a test of how you could work with your potential teammates, too. He’d been confident. He strode in, ready to take on everything, and [i[fucked it up[/i].

He still couldn’t believe he did. One wrong decision. One fucking wrong decision, and out the window went years of work.

Ben really couldn’t believe it. Still. Almost a week later and it just couldn’t process. He felt numb, numb except for the fire that briefly flared up in his heart when he had to call his father and tell him the news. He’d put it off for two days, while he got himself a hotel room. It was too painful to face, too painful to actually pick up his Scroll and make the call.

”I’m sorry. I’ll see you at home.”

The casual tone was what did it. The polite, apologetic tone like he’d just been told Ben lost the lottery. It wasn’t condescending, or angry, it was just casual. Like it wasn’t a huge revelation. He’d almost exploded until he continued with ”You should call your grandfather”, and all the fire died in an instant. Ben said he had to arrange travel, that it would take a while, and got off the phone. His heart wasn’t in the fight, and his heart wasn’t even up for making that call.

Gramps wasn’t going to be angry, he wasn’t going to be relieved, he was going to be sorry. Genuinely sorry. The old man was pushing a hundred and he’d still given everything he could to get Ben ready. Lessons, practice, advice. He’d even put up the money for all the application fees. Every one. 

”You’re gonna do great, kiddo. Write us a post card from Beacon, alright? I’ll try and get my boney ass down there to visit.”

He still hadn’t called. He was taking a train back in an hour and he still hadn’t been able to pick up his Scroll. But doing it in person would be worse. 

So before he really knew it, the Scroll was ringing.

“How’re you holding up, Benji?”

The silence was oppressive. 

“... That good, huh?”

“I failed, Gramps.”

“I know, Ben. Daniel came by to tell me. First time we’d spoken in a year.” A heavy sigh rattled the old man’s side of the call. “It’s gonna be alright. I always told you, there’s no shame i-”

“In turning away.” He snapped, a little surprised at his own severity. “In turning away, Gramps. Dad chose not to, I failed.”

“There’s no shame in that, either.”

“Yeah there is. I wasted my time. I wasted Dad’s time. I wasted your time, I wasted your money, I wasted-”

“You didn’t waste a damned thing, Benjamin Lloyd. Listen here. There is no shame in fucking up. There’s pain. There’s anger. You’re pissed, and I’m sorry. But that’s a defeatist attitude, and that’s the one thing I won’t tolerate. You might be able to try again, screw what my son says. Even if you can’t, you learned. That is valuable. No matter what.”

“I’ll fuck it up again.”

“Maybe not. And if you do, there’s no shame in that either. Redwood will always need people to protect it.”

“What, as a fucking guard?”

The line, for a moment, became positively glacial.

“Do you think the only way you can do any good is through that school? Fuck the school. It’s younger than I am. I never went, and I can do better with my goddamn arthritis than some of those sad sacks you see at the Vytal Festival can do with thousands of lien of Mommy and Daddy’s money paying for their weapons and training. I served this town for fifty years, before they made me retire. Dad served it ‘til he died. Your father, whether you agree or not, serves the whole damn continent by making sure those Huntsman can do their jobs.” Abe’s tone softened, once he heard the silence on the other end, and became paternal. “I’m not saying you’re going to take the path you want, Benji. No one gets to say that. I know you could have done it. Maybe you still will. But you may have to live your whole life knowing you could have, but didn’t get the chance.

But why did you tell me you wanted to go?”

“... I wanted to help. I knew I could do better than the shop, and I wanted to prove it.” The call’s quality must have dropped a moment, because there was no way Ben had choked up. “I wanted to help people like you.”

“That’s right. And you can. Even if Beacon isn’t in the cards.” There was a shuffling on the other end, and a few muffled words. “... I know you’re getting in late tonight, Benji. Come stay with me and your Grandma. She needs some help around the house that I can’t give anymore, and you can have some quiet. I’ll talk to Daniel, he won’t bother you.”

“... Thanks, gran-”

Whatever the rest of his answer was disappeared into the piercing, shrill wail of a siren. The lifeless terminal was full of it in an instant, the frantic, hurried heartbeat of terrified life. And that was before the loud, resounding tone like the voice of God itself started in.

”Proceed to a secure area. Grimm activity has been spotted to the southeast. Respondents will secure the area. Proceed to designated shelters, or your nearest safe haven. I repeat-”

The voice continued, repeating its message, but Ben wasn’t hearing it anymore.

“Benjamin, where are you?” Abraham’s voice had taken on a grim note, there was no way he hadn’t heard. “Get somewhere safe. Now.”

“That’s Mountain Glenn, Gramps.”

“I know where it is, that’s why I’m telling you to get to a shelter.”

“Average response time for incident response that far from Beacon is more than ten minutes. On a good day. They’re dealing with new students, missions started yesterday for the upperclassmen. They can’t get there quickly.”

“That’s not your problem. The station should have a shelter, get to it now, Ben.”

“I’m looking at the news right now, it’s only a couple of blocks away.”

“That’s why you should get to the godda-”

“You wouldn’t.”

Utter silence reigned, for a long moment. In that second he made a decision.

“Call you back, Gramps.”

His feet were moving before the call ever ended, going from a walk, to a run, to a dead sprint. The sounds of chaos grew by the second, the human tide moving in the opposite direction; towards safety. 

It was a really, really stupid idea not to go with them.

Artorius and Lawnslot had half a dozen rounds each, tops. The rest were in his luggage. He hadn’t even meant to bring them, he just couldn’t bear to leave them be. They helped a little, in a way. He was glad he hadn’t packed them, now, because he was running dick first towards danger with a quarter of what he usually brought. They weren’t even loaded a fact he realized after the first block, and one he started to fix by loading Artorius. Not that he was really gonna have time.

A flipped car soared past to his right, missing him by inches, before he’d even gotten four shells in. The Ursa that flipped it leapt to meet him.

It wasn’t conscious thought, it wasn’t a plan, it was action. He crouched low and met the lunge, slipping under and into its outstretched arms quick enough to drive Artroius’ blade through where its heart should’ve been.

The city street had already turned into a hellscape. People screaming, people running, and Grimm pouring through the breach they’d made in the city wall. Ursa, Beowolves, and he saw a King Taijitu or two poking their heads through. Probably more behind. There wasn’t any time. He flipped Artorius around and fired two Fire shell into the fray, buying a little time. Like, a couple seconds. The Grimm weren’t expecting resistance, but they’d adapt fast.

“Get going!” He roared, loud enough to make himself feel hours already. A frantic gesture directed people towards the safety behind him, from atop the care he stood on. “That way! Station had a shelter! Move!”

Aaaand there was the adapting. Duck low and left, get out of the way of the lupine Grimm’s claws. One round to the head. Dead. Nine shells left.

To his left an Ursa lunged for an old man running as quickly as he could, and it took two to the chest. Dead. Seven left.

The tide of Grimm probably wasn’t as large as it seemed, but it was damn well large enough to keep him from holding them all back. He needed to slow them down, funnel them, keep them from being able to progress. No one was left in front of him, just Grimm. So he retreated a few paces, put down a lunging Beowolf, and put a hasty plan into action.

A parked car, when thrown, served preeeetty well as a path clearer. One Grimm, maybe two, were actually hit but the rest were slowed down. Enough to flip a couple more. Each one was heavy, and he could feel his Aura dropping, but that was what the batteries were for. What was left in them, at least. Even after a week they weren’t completely charged up. Better than nothing. He was flying on a wing and a prayer, here, no instruments to guide. He didn’t have an Aura gauge, he didn’t have enough ammo, and he didn’t have any backup. All he could do was guess at where he was at.

The batteries gave him a little pick me up (maybe green on a gauge? Maybe?), enough to flip a few more cars. Not to throw, this time, as barriers. They were all focused on him already, the one human left in their sight, but makeshift barricades could help funnel them through. 

He exhausted the ammo in Artorius before the fourth minute, with none in Lawnslot yet. So when the next Ursa passed his little makeshift barricade, mid-loading, he spun from its slash, drove a Deinamig-powered elbow into its side, and chambered a shell in the same motion that he but the gun to its head. Bang.

Another few steps retreated, but the Beowolves were coming up over the barricades now. They’d gotten smart, flanked him. No rounds in the chambe-

And yet, somehow, bullets cut ‘em down.

He didn’t recognize the man with an assault rifle, maybe he saw him at the exam, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He retreated the rest of the block, towards his rescuer, and loaded Lawnslot on the way. Fire from the man’s rifle kept him clear of attackers until then, but the Grimm were surging up over the barricade now. No time for holding back. His ally batted the first Bewolf to reach them away, turning his rifle back into a sword, while Ben brought his tonfa together.

The time to combine them had never seemed that long, but the few seconds were an eternity. Still, Caletfwlch was in time to cut down the Beowolf making a move. More help had come, now, two redheads that he had definitely seen at the exam. An Ursa coming up on his left practically disappeared, flung away when a crude-looking claw slammed into it. The makeshift mace pulled back towards its owner, the redhaired woman giving him a faint nod, while her opposite unloaded on the oncoming Grimm with a six-barreled gun.

The first man had placed his shield and let it expand, giving them some cover, but there was just one issue; the Grimm were starting to circle around. Quicker than there was time to cut them off. The good news was that their attention was now firmly focused on the concentrated circle of human resistance, but the assault was relentless.

Caletfwlch swung left and Caletfwlch swung right, the odd gap in his defenses compensated for by the others just as they compensated for him. But between the blows and Deinamig, his Aura was already running low.

Abraham’s billhook had found its way into his left hand, filling in the gaps. His grandfather’s weapon had been a good luck charm. Something to give him confidence, or at least to remind him of his grandfather’s confidence in him. He hadn’t expected it to save his life.

But it was.

As the circle closed in, he had to fine-tune his assault. Stabs, not slashes. Small movements. Compensate for the the delay in strikes from Caletfwlch with ones from the billhook, carving out little spaces in the assault bit by bit. He was getting tired, running on fumes, and he wasn’t even thinking anymore. Just acting. There was no time for anything else.

But in the chaos, he understood.

His mind went back to what Abe told him, about fighting the Datura. About the time he was certain he would die. Ben had thought he was about to, too. Somewhere between that first Ursa and now, he had reconciled himself to it. There was an odd satisfaction there. That he would die proving he could do exactly what Beacon had sought to prove he couldn’t.

Now, though, he understood it a different way.

He knew these people, the people fighting alongside him. He didn’t know their names, or their stories, or their hopes and dreams. But he’d seen them at the exam. They had been his competition. And now they were the allies that he hadn’t expected to have, raging with one voice against the world.

At the Grimm that opposed them.

At the Reaper that hovered over their shoulders.

At the school that had told them they weren’t good enough.

At the very odds that beset them, as the assault went on and wore them down. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes, that he knew, but it felt like an eternity. There was whole world between seconds, a feeling he could relate to across the decades. Because in a different time, Abe had felt the same thing with a group of soldiers he knew even less.

There was a grin on his face, somewhere between a snarl and mania, in defiance of the situation he found himself in.

He barely noticed that the Hunters and Huntresses had arrived, his perception had shrunken to the range of his blades. But he noticed when the fighting stopped, when the last Grimm was fading away. He noticed the looks on their faces when they saw the huddled defenders, standing in the midst of a ruined street.

He was too tired to say anything. At least, until two days later, when he finally picked up the Scroll again.

“So, old man…”

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Torimonogatari
Day 1 of 120

“Hey Hayley, one mocha Frappuccino please.” I said taking a crinkled bill out of my purse and sliding it along the cool counter. The door opened behind me, and somehow I was sure it was exactly who I was waiting for. Beryl Harken.

The warm spring air followed her inside as she raised an arm to her forehead to wipe away a little bit of sweat. Her chipper eyes met mine just before she leaned in for a hug. “Bianca, how’re you doing?” She asked warmly.

“I’m alright.” I said embracing the girl and resting my chin on her shoulder for just a moment. I felt her hair touch my cheek and tickle me slightly as I leaned back and gave her some space. She moved past me as I went to claim a booth for our conversation. She ordered something from Hayley that I didn’t quite catch. But it was soon revealed to be a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows that Beryl happily plucked from her mug and threw into her mouth.

“Can you believe our first year is already over?” The otter remarked taking a seat across the booth from me. I stirred my drink a little with the tipoff my finger and agreed quietly with a hum. She scanned for some eye contact lowering her face to the table in order to meet my gaze. “So what’d you ask me here today for?” She asked jumping straight to the point.

“Gratia’s pretty mad huh?” I asked placing both of my hands on the table and taking a deep sigh. It was no secret when Gratia was mad, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she had already vented to someone and Beryl was in her team. It seemed only logical that-

“Yeah, she is.” Beryl said with an apologetic look on her face. She knew about what was going on for sure. “But I think it’s really commendable that you’ve been trying all these different therapists.” She added attempting to make sure that I didn’t get too sad.

“I just cannot find one that does anything for me. If one more person asks me how I feel about that I’m going to explode.” I said gripping my cup with both hands and feeling the condensation cool my palms. The song currently playing on the radio ended and an advertisement for some new scroll model started playing but I didn’t pay any attention to it. “So what has Gratia been saying?”

“I wouldn’t repeat the things that come out of Gratia’s mouth.” Beryl said raising her hands in defense and letting out an awkward laugh. But she saw my expression and decided to give me something. “I guess she just wants to make sure you’re really serious about getting help. I think her worst fear is that you’re blowing off all these therapists just to get out of going to one at all.” Beryl said leaning back in hear seat a little. It made sense honestly. That’s what I would think if it wasn’t me. 

“Yeah I hear you.” I said taking a deep breath and holding onto it for a second. I let that moment breathe while I didn’t, I felt bad interrogating Beryl instead of just asking Gratia and taking the verbal abuse, but it had been a bad week. “Listen I’m going to get going, I don’t want you to have to sit through this, okay?” 

“Oh, Bianca that’s okay I’m happy to help!” She said standing up with me as I moved out of the booth. 

“You already have Beryl, thanks.” I said hugging the otter once more. Her hug back was reluctant, and she waited a little while before letting go. 

“Are you seeing anyone else this summer?” She asked warmly as we separated.

“Yeah, I guess I’m meeting up with Ben a few times, we were going to train. Same with Jericho. And then that was probably about it.” I said rubbing the back of my head and stretching my wings out a little so that they would be ready for flight. 

“Well good, I’m glad.” Beryl said happily before I turned to leave the small coffee shop. 

As soon as I was out of the doors as I was airborne, taking off through the clear sky. I was headed back home. 

Day 4/120

The barrel of the gun was close enough to kiss. The man’s eyes were completely focused on me. 

“Put your hands up.” He said calmly watching my every movement. I slowly raised my hands, but as I did I flipped my left palm upwards and pushed the gun up with my semblance. The man attempted to lower it and his other hand shot downwards probably to grab a secondary weapon. But I stepped to the side and rapidly knocked his hand down and stopped pushing him with my semblance. The combined lack of resistance from my semblance, his pushing against it from before and the impact of my hand on the top of the gun sent it spiraling to the floor out of his hand. I immediately went on the counterattack sending a punch towards his throat to disable him, but as I did his other hand that had been reaching for a weapon pulled a thin wire out of it. He ducked my punched and quickly wrapped the wire around my arm using my momentum against me tossing me to the ground in front of him and placing his hand on my throat.

“You’re dead.” He sighed unwrapping my arm after a brief pause and the intensity dropping from his eyes.

“Shit!” I yelled in frustration, I hadn’t been able to get past this part of training for weeks. I took Jericho’s offered hand and helped myself back to my feet. 

“Do you want to hear your mistakes?” He asked placing the wire back in his pockets and retrieving the gun checking to make sure the blank hadn’t dislodged or been discharged. 

I took a deep sigh and placed my hands on my knees. Taking a few quick, deep breaths. “Always.”

“You’re rushing and panicking.” He started. “If you’re going to panic in a mock exercise against me you’re going to piss yourself against an actual opponent.” He pointed out completely correctly. 

“I don’t know.” I responded standing up, my chest rising and falling as I stared at him. My ears picked up my scroll vibrating, probably Estelle or Gratia again. I didn’t want to talk though. I wanted to fight.

“I’m not done.” Jericho said coldly motioning with the gun. “You completely failed to separate me form the gun.” He said.

“What? No I knocked it out of your hands.” I said miming the motion of me knocking out of his hands.

“I’ve told you this before but I’ll say it again, it is not enough to just knock it out of my hands. I could have a semblance like yours that allows me to bring it back to my hand. You need to get it out of arm’s reach at least.” He said still staring at me. He sighed a little but before he could open his mouth again his scroll began to ring as well. “I’ve got to take this, it’s either one of the guys or Babs,” he said not wasting any time and taking the scroll out. 

“Piper. Hey Babs what’s up?” He said before walking out of earshot. I walked over to my own phone and glanced down on the bench at it. It continued to vibrate, it was Gratia. I glanced around the park Jericho and I were practicing in. No one was here other than Jericho and myself. Before this is the kind of thing I would’ve loved, it would’ve been filled with double entendres and wondering what he was thinking. But now I just wanted to leave. Ever since deciding to face my trauma head on I had grown somewhat uninterested in, well most things honestly. 

“I’m skipping out on my semblance training today.” I called out to Jericho spreading my wings and taking flight before he could say anything. 

Day 7/120

 “Bianca how’re you doing today?” Ben said taking off his jacket. It was raining lightly today, but we still decided to train. 

“Yeah I’m alright. How’s your break so far?” I asked also taking off my jacket and adjusting the straps of my tank top in order to get more comfortable. 

“It’s okay, kinda dull without the team messing with my every waking moment though.” He said absentmindedly combining his tonfa into Caledfwlch and picking up Joyous Guard, stretching his shoulder out, making large circles with his arm while he held onto his shoulder tightly.  They sized each other up and the wind was strong enough that I had to keep my wings held in. We were on top of Beacon and staring each other down just had enough to know it was a serious training match.

And in an instant, we were upon each other.

First came the longsword, easily enough I pushed it away with my semblance using my left hand, taking a step backwards to get out of the way of the inevitable shield bash that typically followed. My clutch rapidly shifted into its spear form but what I hadn’t realized is that Ben had predicted my backstep. He lunged forward fast enough to catch my off guard and it was all I could do to control the direction I was thrown. 

 Deinamig, damn.

I rolled across the rooftop and was moving quickly enough to threaten getting flung off the edge. I immediately stopped channeling aura into C’est La Vie and allowed it to catch me with its weight. But Ben wasn’t going to take it easy on me today and I needed to get up, now.

I jumped up to my feet and once more Ben came at me with his one-two combination. This time Deinamig didn’t seem to factor in. As he lead with the sword strike I parried it with my spear and pulled his lead leg with my semblance causing him to lose balance for a brief moment. I jumped up a bit, pushing myself off the ground in order to get up higher. As Ben raised Joyous Guard to match my high strike I managed to stab downwards with my spear in the space between Ben and Joyous Guard. I pried the shield away from him and it sent C’est la Vie and Joyous Guard careening down onto the roof. Both clattering to the ground and immediately staying where they were. 

Ben was quick to counter, however. Separating his sword into his two tonfa I guarded my front from an incoming blow and was quickly hit with a strong blow to my ribs with his tonfa followed by a quick kick to push me backwards, skidding on my heels.

He advanced quickly and I knew I had to try and use my new semblance if I had any chance at winning without C’est la Vie. My finger lit up with a small white light that shone beautifully but hardly. I turned it in on myself and touched my finger to my chest. My hair flipped in the wind as Ben approached quickly, I could feel my semblance start to take hold.

I shot my wings out at full wingspan and in an instant they tripled in length shimmering with white light. The wind caught them almost instantly and I managed to use that momentum to close the distance much faster than Ben anticipated. I had managed to disarm Ben of one tonfa, but he quickly followed it up with a blow to my head. I lost concentration for a moment and stumbled backwards falling on my ass, hardly.

Ow.

 My wings shortened once more and I tucked them in. I rubbed my head and Ben offered me a hand up. 

“Almost had me, if you managed to perfect that form, I’m not sure what I’d be able to do.” He said rubbing his forehead with his other hand. I accepted his help in rising and he placed a strong hand on my shoulder. “Sorry about the smack, by the way, you okay?” He asked examining my head for any bruising of scuffs.

“Yeah my aura managed to take most of that, thanks.” I said returning C’est la Vie to my hand with my semblance. 

“Heading out?” Ben asked as I separated from him and glanced off the edge of the school. 

“Yeah, I’ll help you down come on.” I said offering a hand to Ben.

Day 12/120

My scroll’s vibration woke me up. 

Estelle.

“Hello?” I said swiping my finger across the screen gently to open the phone. 

“Get to the coffee shop in an hour Bianca.”

]Beep, beep, beep. the phone disconnected, eliciting a prolonged sigh from me.  Eventually getting up. I drearily threw on my bra, it felt tighter than usual and dug into my back and side a little. I made a mental note to pick up a few new ones. 

Quickly throwing on the rest of the outfit I made my way to coffee. Estelle was in a booth waiting for me. But that wasn’t it. Gratia was there too.

“Ah.” I said quietly before ordering a drink from Hayley and taking my seat across from the two.

“Birdbrain.” Gratia spat lightly stirring a cup of tea with one hand. 

“Yeah.” I responded bracing myself for the shit I was in. 

“Have you seen any other therapists?” Gratia asked calmly, almost too calm. 

“Nope.” I responded.

“How many days has it been now?” Estelle asked immediately afterwards.

“I don’t know, twelve, thirteen I guess if you count today.” I responded abjectly not really paying attention to the conversation. I don’t know why I was so disinterested in finding help. But it just wasn’t for me. Surely therapy wasn’t for everyone and because of that I think it’s fair that I’m just one of those people that doesn’t want to talk about their problems. So that was just how it would have to be.  

“This is unacceptable.” Gratia said, her voice quieting a little bit. “You’re fucking sister and I aren’t going to watch you run yourself into an early fucking grave.” She chided. 

There she was. That was the Gratia I had come in expecting. 

“What we’re trying to say is that we’re sure one of the therapists you visited could’ve gotten through to you if you had just given them time.” Estelle said attempting to calm the situation. She had changed since becoming a teacher at Beacon. She was eating healthier, dressing nicer, drinking less, and spending a ton of time tutoring students. Especially Lauren Negasi. She must’ve been pretty bad at Survival or something.

“Yeah okay.” I said getting up from my seat. I couldn’t endure more of this, I wouldn’t.  “I’ll go back to one and figure it out.” I said leaving the store. I heard Gratia and Estelle get up after me but I was off by the time they went to stop me.

I was actually going to follow through with that plan. I just didn’t want to discuss it for so long that everyone had to cry and vent their emotions. I just want it to be done.

I landed downtown in Vale near where her and Estelle had rented an apartment in the summer. I had been staying at friend’s places for the past little while to avoid my sister, but it looked like that showed no signs of slowing down.

I walked into an office she recognized as belonging to a Dr. Markin. I approached the receptionist and calmly placed my hands on the desk, immediately starting to fidget with a pen that was laid out on the desk. The receptionist glared up at me from above her glasses. 

“Can I help you?” She asked, clearly annoyed with her day job.

“I’d like to speak to Dr. Markin, is she in right now?” I asked glancing at the door one would walk through to go to their office.

“Yes, but next time please make an appointment.” She said motioning towards the door and staring at my hands. I turned to leave but placed the pen back on the desk. The receptionist got back to work as I entered the office.

“Ms. Nuit I didn’t think you’d be returning.” Dr. Markin said rising to greet me. I shook her hand and sat down on the couch that was positioned near her desk. 

“Yeah well I decided to give this whole thing a second try I guess.” I responded staring at the wall. 

“Alright well lay down and let’s speak.” Dr. Markin said motioning to the couch. I did, laying on my side was the best I could do as it was kind of uncomfortable laying on my wings on leather couches. I tucked them in close to my back and stared at the picture of Dr. Markin with her family. She seemed to have two beautiful baby boys. “So what can you tell me about your time with the Dodici family?” Dr. Markin asked.

“It was confusing mostly. Ignacio acted like he was in love with me, Junior pitied me, Vitoria hated me and everyone else just saw me as a price tag. An heiress Faunus who at the very least was worth three times what my father makes in a year.” I said the words echoing in the room and silencing everything around us.

The only sound I heard persisting through the space was the ticking of the clock beside the family portrait. The room was fairly tacky with carpet that you’d often see in a doctor’s office or perhaps a grandparent’s house. The walls were a hardwood paneling and the ceiling seemed to be unfinished with some of the venting and pipes visible. It wasn’t the nicest looking place, that much was certain.

“Well, what happened immediately after you were rescued? From the news reports it seems as though your friends were incredibly efficient and while some Dodici did end up dying you and all of your friends made it out relatively unscathed.” Her words were transporting me back to my cell. To the elevator with Vittoria and Gratia, to the van in which I shot her so that Gratia wouldn’t have to.

“You told me last time a lot of the struggle you’re dealing with isn’t related to the trauma of being kidnapped, but instead, the feeling of being a murderer.” Markin said , leaning forward and looking to see what I was thinking, what my face looked like at the time.

I’m not doing this. This isn’t a person talking to me. This is a business and I cannot be a patient for someone like this.

“Thanks I feel better already.” I said storming off the couch and out of the office.

I found myself walking around alone on the Vale streets for quite some time, mostly ignoring my surroundings. But as night had fallen and local venues were starting to let out, I heard a familiar voice. 

“Heehee, that was really good!” The first voice said, walking out of a theater.

“So what are we doing now?” The second voice asked casually.

“We have to head home now, mom will kill me if I don’t have you guys back at a reasonable time.” The third voice said, in a way that sounded all too familiar, and for good reason.

“Luke.” I said nearly bumping into my teammate and his two sisters.

“Bianca!” April said jumping in front of Luke leaving a little gap on her left.

“How have you been, Onii-chan has been talking about you all the time!” 

“H-hey! That’s character assassination!” Luke said pushing the two heads apart like parting a curtain. “What’s up Bianca, how has your summer been?” He asked eliciting ooh’s from our crowd. I couldn’t help but laugh with April and Dawn as Luke reprimanded them once more. They reminded me a little bit of Estelle and me when we were little girls. It was a nice thing to see. 

 “I uh, just got out of a session… It went alright I guess.” I said trailing off. Luke’s ears seemed to perk up and he seemingly realized the nature of what I was talking about, whereas his two sisters seemed to continue on their own banter. He nodded and started to ignore the girls’ antics.

“Well if you ever need someone to talk to I’m sure you can… Hire a private jet to fly you down to Mistral or something and I’m around.” Luke said reassuringly. 

“Oh, sure thanks Luke.” I said wearing a fake smile and with a sweet tone. We parted ways and before I knew it I was sitting back on top of Beacon’s spire. Staring out at the night sky and wondering where to go from here. 

“For now I suppose I’ll, stay the course. I'm getting better. I'm sure of it."

Act End

Day 20/120

“You need to focus.” Jericho instructed, watching cautiously as I created a bursting light at the tip of my finger. It shone beautifully, as usual it was this part that was truly difficult. I turned the light in on myself, the closer to my chest it got the harder it was to maintain its shape. I struggled and beads of sweat rolled down the side of my head onto my neck. But I stood firm. I slowly placed the bead of light into my chest and waited. Jericho stopped pacing to my side and seemed to be waiting as well. This was where I found out whether or not I was doing it right.

Light shone from my wings, but it wasn’t looking how it was supposed to. It didn’t completely triple the size of my wings, and I didn’t feel a weight change in C’est la Vie, quickly the aura and light dissipated and I felt much more tired than I had before.

“Damn it.” I cursed under my breath as I sat down to make sure that I didn’t faint again. “Jericho this isn’t working.” I said glancing in his direction. He was drinking from a steel canister that I could only assume was water because of the fact that anything that tarnished his physique was basically an allergy to Jericho. 

He dropped the bottle from his lips and wiped his mouth with his forearm capping the bottle and letting it fall from the short distance between his hands to the ground before pulling his pants up by the thighs a little to take a seat across from me. “I can show anyone any technique they taught me in Atlas.” Jericho started, gazing into my eyes with his own. He was building to a point and I knew it. But I listened, there was a lot to learn from him. “But not everyone I show is going to be able to pass all the tests and become a Gold Stripe.”

“So you’re saying I can’t get this no matter how I hard I try?” I responded, taken aback a little.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” He said matter-of-factly. “I’m saying it takes more than me showing you the technique to unlock a new part of your semblance. You can have all the moves down and not have any of the spirit, or finesse, or any other number of factors that could contribute.” He corrected calmly. “There’s only so much that basic semblance activation training can do for someone.” He pointed out, correctly again.

“Well maybe you’re just not teaching me properly.” I said, raising my voice a little.

“That’s entirely possible. But the result for you is the same, Bianca.” He said. He was pulling out my name, he only saved that one for special occasions. I probably shouldn’t have raised my voice at him. My hands dug into the grass and pulled on it, tearing some from the root.

“Either way, we’ve got to start trying something else huh?” I said looking up to the sky. “I managed the form for a few seconds about two weeks ago in a training match against Ben.” I responded fairly innocuously. 

“What was different then?” Jericho asked, apparently completely un-phased by this revelation. 

“I guess I was distracted.” I answered, not really knowing anything else that could’ve been different on that day. I hadn’t been to therapy for almost a week at that point and I was still in a pretty sore mood about it. But I had managed it then.

“From what?” He asked simply. 

“Dunno.” I responded getting up and wiping any grass away from my shorts. “Well I’ve got to get going, as per usual busy schedule right now.” I said with a smile. 

Jericho just nodded and pulled out his scroll. Not too sure who he was going to call, but whoever it was they were in for a treat. He seemed to be in a pretty good mood today.

The park we were practicing in was downtown this time, I wanted to grab some food from there before I headed back to the apartment. Estelle and I were speaking again, but only in short sentences and empty thoughts.

I walked into the small bistro, which caused the door to chime with the bells that were attached to the top of it. The cashier welcomed me with a warm smile.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asked kindly.

“Good afternoon, can I get a pastrami sandwich on Facciata Bianco?” I asked counting out some lien in my hand for the order.

“Sure thing, can I get your name for the order ma’am?” She asked kindly.

“Of course, it’s Bianca.” I responded handing her the exact change for the order. It was something of a favourite of mine. 

“That’ll be easy to remember then!” She said excitedly taking the change, depositing the order and handing the stub to the cook in the back.

Soon after it came out warm and fresh, I decided I that it’d be best to head home after getting my food. But before doing so I felt a tug on my heart. It was just a bit of anxiety at looking down an alleyway. One similar to the one we were parked at when I killed Vittoria. I felt a shiver run up from my toes into the back of my throat. But then I noticed where I was.

This was the theatre I saw Luke at a few days ago. I decided to pull my scroll out of C’est la Vie and dial Luke’s number. I placed the phone up to my ear and listened to it ring.

“Is that a girl?” April asked glaring at Luke’s scroll.

“It’s Bianca-Chan!” Dawn responded analyzing the scroll. 

“Well there are no hearts next to her name…” April continued getting even closer to the scroll.

“But Onii-chan could just be hiding his affection…” Dawn analyzed.

“Could this mean that nii-chan is…?” April trailed off.

“Playing hard to get!” Dawn concluded.

“Analysis: Scandalous!” April said joining her sister’s hypothesis.

“Hey what are you guys staring at my scroll for? Is someone calling?” He asked attempting to break through the barricade that were his sisters. “Let me through you two!”

Voice mail.

“Hey this Luke, you know what to do.”

Beep

“Uh hey Luke, it’s Bianca. How’re you doing?” I asked, but for some reason I waited as if he was going to respond. “Right, voice mail.” I said laughing awkwardly. “Well I just wanted something to distract me while I walked home, so thanks and I’ll talk to you later. See you.” I said hanging up the phone and nearly slamming my head off the nearest post in embarrassment. God that was a bad message. I mean no one was good at leaving messages but my god that was bad.

Ah well.

Day 30/120

“Hey Bianca, it’s raining pretty badly today, did you want to reschedule training or keep on it today?” Ben’s voice rang out over the speaker phone whilst I spread some butter on the freshly warmed toast. Popping a slice into my mouth before responding.

“Well, I don’t think we should cancel.” I said trying to articulate through a slice of toast. Quickly scarfing it down before hearing Ben’s response.

“Well what’re you thinking then?” Ben asked casually. I could hear him messing around with his weapons in the background of the call.

“Maybe we could just go hangout somewhere, get some food?” I asked. I wasn’t interested in dating Ben, in fact at the moment I wasn’t interested in dating anyone at all. But I was interested in getting to know Ben better.

“Sure, how about… You know the bar and grill just down by the dust store?” Ben wondered out loud. I could tell he liked the food there just form the tone of his voice.

“Yeah I do, see you there.” I responded, hanging up the phone and placing it into C’est la Vie. I grabbed a nice jacket for the day and made sure to wear leggings underneath my skirt so I wouldn’t be too cold. I snatched an umbrella before throwing my pair of red rain boots on. The walk to the store was fairly uneventful. I had a very paradoxical relationship with the rain. I liked it, because it felt different. The same sunny day every day would drive me insane and it reminded me that I was alive. But I hated the rain because of the grey that it washed Vale in. outside of sun showers every time it rained here the city looked as dreary as the obituaries.

By the time I arrived Ben had already gotten there. I took a seat beside him at the bar.

“So, how’s training going?” He asked casually ordering a water for himself to drink. I motioned to the bar tender that I’d second that. The bar seemed old, but in good shape. The stools were all brass with a black leather seat cover and the bar itself was some kind of orange shaded wood. It looked fairly nice for a bar that was open at noon.

“It’s been alright I guess.” I responded, there were a few noises that drowned the area out. The rain pelting the door and windows was the primary noise that I could hear, but there was also the noises of the kitchen muffled by a set of double doors and the faint sound of a radio playing some oldies that Jericho probably would’ve liked. He was into that kind of music. I slid C’est la Vie across the counter to Ben. “I’ll teach you how to lift this, just as a fun little party trick.” I added motioning to the black and gold handbag. “It’s just a training device anyway that’s been upgraded anyway.”

Ben examined the bag for a second before placing a firm hand on it, his face twisted when not a single piece of the bag moved at all. “What’s so ‘I guess’ about it?” He asked casually attempting to make the bag budge.

“Try to envision your aura wrapping around the bag.” I directed as the bar tender came with our drinks. I adjusted in my seat a little bit and pulled the drink along with the coaster towards myself. “Um, I guess I’m just not getting it.” I responded swirling the three ice cubes that threatened to melt at any second with the straw in my cup. 

Ben closed his eyes and followed my instruction, allowing the bag to budge a little bit. “That easy huh?” He said, growing a bit more confident. “You seemed to get the other part of your semblance in our last training session about a month ago, feel like you’re probably just psyching yourself out.” He said trying again to get the bag to move, but this time it didn’t budge. His brow crinkled and he focused in on the bag.

“Yeah I kinda hope it’s that simple.” I responded scanning the menu for something that sounded appetizing. I couldn’t really find anything that sounded all that good, unfortunately I couldn’t find much. “I’ll just have three spring rolls please.” I said closing my menu and handing it to the bar tender.

“I’ll have your best cheeseburger.” Ben said sliding the menu across the bar, having never opened it. He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Once more Ben tried to lift the bag, this time he did manage to lift it off of the table. With a proud but altogether humble smile. “It’s a fascinating weapon. How do you shift it?” He asked sliding it back across the bar to me. 

I picked the bag up and glanced at it for a moment, placing it on the ground by my feet. “I have to keep some secrets.” I said with a small laugh and a smile.

Soon enough our food was here and Ben and I were ready to go our separate ways, by the time I was ready to leave I realized that it had nearly stopped raining. The sky was still overcast, but it had lightened up just a little. I tuned to thank Ben for making it out to visit. But a question sat in my mind grating the side of my skull. 

“Hey Ben.” I called out, he stopped and turned back to me. “If someone was going to kill Sangue, or you thought they were, what would you do?” I asked, my voice shook a little bit, but I think it was fairly well masked to the point where Ben wouldn’t have been able to call me out on anything.

Ben’s weight shifted and he looked up for a moment as if wishing that day never came or some other such prayer. “I’d kill them Bianca. I’d find out how to deal with it when I knew Sangue was safe. Nothing more to it.” He said in a calculated and cool tone. “Have a good day Bianca.”

Day 47/120

“I really don’t want to go, okay?” I said groaning and covering my entire body in a blanket. 

“I understand that, but you’re still going. All of our friends are going to be there, even Luke is taking the train down from Mistral you owe it to him to make it out to the beach, just for today.” Estelle said chiding me from the other room. “Besides even Jericho will be there.” She said in her you have a crush kind of voice. Except she was wrong. I didn’t want to go because I felt embarrassed to be there in my bathing suit in front of them. I didn’t still have any scars, Luke’s blood made sure of that.

But I still felt so naked.

The hot sand embraced my feet as I stepped into it. I hadn’t seen anyone in over two weeks and felt like I shouldn’t even be there. But apparently it was some kind of gathering based on what I saw. Gratia and Luke were chumming it up on a towel underneath an umbrella chatting away, most likely about the sun’s effect on Luke’s hair. Beryl was playing in the water with Lauren and Ben, although it seemed more like Lauren was on Ben’s shoulders and had no intention of ever getting off. Even Skye and Sangue seemed to make it out to the beach today, though they also were resting by the cooler underneath the shade of an umbrella. Jer was firmly planted on the sand with a beer in one hand a small novel in the other. A pout proudly protesting on his face.

I could even make out the silhouette of Napoli way down in the water, by himself. Wonder if he was just going to stay there the entire time. I couldn’t figure out why everyone was here though. Was this just the day that best coincided with everyone’s schedule?

“She’s here!” Estelle exclaimed still unloading some things from her car’s trunk.

Why does that matter? I wondered.

Everyone glanced in my direction. Maybe even Napoli, but it was too difficult to tell from all the way back here. 

“Happy eighteenth birthday Bianca.” Jer said raising a bottle of beer in my name. Wait… What day was it??

June 16th

Oh my god they’re all here for my birthday. 

Estelle must’ve convinced Lauren to come, the team were all here, well except for Jack but this wasn’t a combat mission so that wasn’t too surprising. Ben had brought Sangue from the looks of it, Gratia and Jericho came of their own accord. Which was entirely surprising in its own right. 

Everyone seemed to be giving me a little show of approval, and I must’ve lit up like a Christmas tree. Estelle made her way to the beach and Gratia was the first to approach me. 

“Happy birthday birdbrain.” Gratia said standing adjacent from me in her completely monotone voice as per usual. 

“Thank you Gratia.” I said warmly, she looked beautiful in her bathing suit. Even if she did look like she hated every second of it.

“I didn’t get you anything, because you know I hate birthdays. But my family wanted me to give you this card. So open it when you get home tonight, okay?” She said handing me a fairly small manila envelope. I nodded and hugged her. Her hand kind of patted me on the side, which was huge progress for a girl like Gratia who wasn’t about hugs in anyway. She left and soon I was met with Luke.

“Hey Bianca, happy birthday – I think we can both agree this year has about a 100% chance of being better than last year.” Luke said, but then got the kind of look on his face that only happened when you felt you said something extraordinarily dumb. 

“That’s okay, I agree. I think this next year will be a lot better.” I said happily reaffirming the sentiment. 

“So listen, I know you’ve got a lot going on with therapy and all that. But I just wanted to let you know that if you wanted to come and stay in Mistral, we could set you up in a guest bedroom for a month or so.” Luke said not avoiding my eye line. 

“Oh, that is so sweet. But I could never put you out like that!’ I said shaking my hands in front in front of my face, it was an incredibly kind offer but one I surely couldn’t take him up on.

“Well I’ll leave it on the table in case you decide to come by.” Luke said with a smile and nod and he was off. 

I made sure to thank everyone, even Napoli who I had to fly out and greet just for him to hit me with a silly pun. 

But then I finally got to relax.

“Hey Biiiiiiiird.” Jericho called out. Maybe I won’t get a chance to relax.

“Hey Jericho what can I do for you?” I asked politely. 

“I don’t know.” He responded glancing down at the bottle in his hand. 

“Want another beer?” I asked casually with a small grin.

“Sure.” He said in his typical Gratia impression.

“Okay give me one sec.” I walked down to the cooler and leaned over to grab a beer. Glancing back in Jericho’s direction I felt his eyes on me. He was staring at my ass.

I walked back over to him and took a swig of his beer, sighing in relief from the cool drink hitting my throat. Huh, I guess I really am Estelle’s sister that was better than I thought it’d be. 

“Gah!” Jericho gasped reaching for his drink.

“You can have it back but you can’t stare at my ass anymore.” I said leaning down to his level. He used that opportunity to snatch the beer from my hand and plop the opening into his mouth.

“Liar.” He said abruptly. “I wasn’t staring at your ass. Now come and sit.” He said pouting even more than when I first saw him. 

“Alright but you scoot you have to share your towel with me.” I said to the Atlesian lieutenant. He shook his head while he laid on his back. 

“You may be my own personal eternal hell” Jericho started.

“As long as you’ll have me around anyway” I added with a chipper smile.

“But if that’s the case,” Jericho continued completely ignoring me. “Then get down here and help me finish this beer.” He said motioning down to his stomach.

What doesn’t kill you.

“Fine.” I said sprawling out on his torso so that my head could rest on his chest. I snatched the beer from his hand and took a small swig.

“Next year in practice, I’m teaching you how to play poker.” He announced taking his beer back with little to no effort.

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” I said laughing to myself.

“See that’s the issue. I’m going to teach you poker but you wouldn’t bet on it. This is why I have to teach you.” He said.

“Yeah okay.” I responded, sinking into his chest a little more.

“Come back to my place tonight, we’ll watch Casino Royale. You like the old Bond movies I think you’ll like this one.”

“Sure.” I said quietly falling asleep.

“Bianca we gotta go.” Jericho said, the sun was setting over the ocean and most of everyone else had already departed. 

“O-okay.” I said pushing myself up off of Jericho’s chest. Estelle was still packing a few things up but it seemed like everyone had a good time. I was somewhat sad that I spent the majority of the time sleeping but the company was nice enough.

“Stella would you mind dropping Jericho and I off at his place?” I asked.

“Sure thing!” She responded happily. 

The car ride was mostly silent. I decided to sit in the back seat so Jericho could talk to Estelle on the way back to his apartment. 

“So Jer what have you been doing this summer?” Estelle asked, glancing at me in the mirror. I stuck out my tongue in protest to her questioning but she didn’t seem like she was going to let up any time soon.

“Nothing much,” he started placing an elbow against the window and allowing a finger to gently run through his hair. The car was a dry cool, the air conditioner was working overtime and was the dominant noise just over the tires on the highway. “I’ve been helping Bianca with some training here and there, keeping busy mostly.” He said remaining fairly non-descript. “And yourself?” He asked, his eyes glancing towards Estelle as well as to me in the rear view mirror on the side of the door.

“Well I’ve been preparing my fall curriculum, chasing after this nutcase,” she said motioning towards me. “And honestly that’s about all I’ve had time for beside a small part time job I picked up.” She said resting one hand on the wheel and brushing the hair out of her face. “Alright, we’re here.” Estelle said bringing the car to a stop across the street from Jericho’s apartment. “You guys alright if I drop you off here?” She asked casually, glancing back at me and across the car to Jericho.

“Yeah this is fine.” I said hopping out of the car. Jericho said something to Estelle but I didn’t quite catch it since he was still inside the car. The trunk popped and he made his way there, grabbing the cooler.

“So where’d you get all this beer anyway?” I asked waving goodbye to Estelle as she drove away down the dark city street. 

Jericho glanced both ways before starting across the street. “Estelle got it from her work, she’s working at the bar now right?” He said casually, once more only glancing at me.

“Oh, uh, yeah I guess so.” I responded. I didn’t actually know she worked at a bar.

We got into Jericho’s apartment. It was actually quite nice. He had a perfect view down one of the streets and the summer night time looked gorgeous from his windows. He had a nice island dining table in the kitchen that I promptly sat at. He gently put the cooler down and began offloading it into his fridge. Taking the last two beers out of it and sliding one across the table, the other stayed with him as he plopped down on the couch.

“So.” I said, taking a swig of my beer while I noticed the silence hang in the air.

“How are you Bianca?” He asked, cutting me off before I started a question about god only knows what.

“I’m okay.” I responded.

“… It was nice… Today. Not being on high alert for the first time in… Years I guess.” Jericho said looking up through some of the hair that had fallen through his eyes. I took a swig of my beer, placing it back on the island with a small clang and walked over to him. Looking down on him from the end of the couch.

“You okay?” I asked cautiously.

“Always.” He responded returning to his usual tone of voice. “I felt like a little kid again today.”

“You must’ve been a cute kid, god I can only imagine.” I said walking back over to the island and taking my drink back into my hand, grabbing just the neck of the bottle between my index and middle fingers. Quickly turning it to meet my lips. The beer felt cool on my throat which was largely dry.

“I was okay.” He responded as simply as always.

“I wasn’t such a cute kid,” I started taking a seat near his head on the arm rest of the couch, gently running my fingers through his hair gently and slowly. His eyes met mine but I didn’t feel different at all. “I was a very quiet kid. I didn’t talk too much.”

“I see why with a dickhead dad like that.” He said, not breaking the eye contact we had. I stopped running my hand through his hair and closed my eyes, forcing a small smile to my lips.

“Yeah.” I said quietly, opening my eyes and continuing running my hand through his hair. “He can be a little much at times.”

“You know him better than I do so I’ll take your word for it.” Jericho said closing his eyes, bringing his beer bottle to his lips and taking a massive gulp out of it, tearing through nearly half the bottle. I realized we were still in our bathing suits, but for whatever reason I didn’t really care. 

“I respect your opinion, Jer. I’d like to hear it.” I said intent on not letting it go.

Jericho’s eyes opened and he seemed to take a breath. Not showing any emotion, but also mentally preparing for the conversation we were having. “He’s the kind of person I would be tasked to kill to make the world a better place.” He said completely neutrally.

“How so?” I asked, immediately following up on the question.

“Well typically we’d have to catch him in some sort of illicit deal with a terrorist or mob organization, like the Dodici. But I’d skip that.” He said, finally managing to catch me off guard. "But I would have shot him in the head just for turning one of the liveliest girls I know into such a meek trophy piece. I had to use my Semblance just to keep cool."

“Jer…I understand." I said quietly. This time I seemed to take him off guard a little bit. "I'm going to distance myself from him I think. I've been saving with Estelle for some time. Just in case something ever happened. We can afford three months’ rent downtown and we already bought Estelle’s old car so I think we can do it." I realized my hand was stuck on the top of his head, not having moved in some time.

“…Huh.”  He said out loud, seemingly pondering a thought as bizarre as the Nuit sisters working part time to afford rent.

“I wouldn’t want to lose the title of one of the liveliest girls you know, just to someone who thinks the family name is more important than the family itself.” I said.

“You won’t. Unless you’re some kind of spineless shrimp, which I don’t think you are.” He said closing his eyes once again.

“I’m not.” I said, emboldened.

“Good.” He said quietly, seemingly getting ready to doze off.

“Good yourself.” I responded quietly, stroking his hair one last time before bending down and lightly kissing him. “I’m going to get some air.” I whispered quietly.

Leaving the apartment and taking the elevator up to the roof I sat with my feet dangling off taking in the sight. If myself four months ago could see me now. I kissed Jer, was staying the night in his apartment, and yet. I didn’t feel like it changed anything. I was happy to be doing what I was doing and be where I was. But I didn’t need this to be whole. 

I took out the letter form Gratia’s family and my fingers dextrously opened the manila envelope, finding a small card wedge inside. It read:

“From our family to yours:

Bianca darling, we have heard from Gratia that you are going through a hard time. Please know that as always our thoughts are with you. If you hadn’t acted we might not have our daughter. So from the bottom of our hearts,

Have a happy birthday, Bianca.

Love the Mindaro’s.

I decided to phone Luke. I quickly tapped out his number onto my scroll and listened to the ringing.

“Hey Bianca, everything okay?” Luke said immediately upon picking up the phone.

“Yeah, I’m all good.” I said quietly. “Would you mind if I… Took you up on your offer? And came to stay with you guys next month?” I asked.

“Yeah of course, that’s why the offer was there.” He said positively.

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you then.” I responded.

“Have a good night Bianca.” He said, hanging up the phone.

Act End

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Azereiah

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Azereiah far, far away

Member Seen 3 mos ago

Azereiah

far, far away

1287 posts

in 3502 days

Seen 3 mos ago

Post un-nuked due to sufficient progress. Life happened, then life unhappened. Pardon the roleplay style in the intro. Felt that was more fitting at the time, but now that my feelings have changed, I'm too lazy to go back and rewrite it.

“Here. Sniff this.”

Arturo was holding out a shot glass with some sort of powdery green substance drifting along in a clear liquid. “What is it?,” Ashe asked. She’d been through this routine with him five or six times already, and it never went well.

“Just sniff it. It’s not ether again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, no, no. THAT’S what I’m worried about. I have no idea what that shit is and I’m not going anywhere near it until you tell me what it is.”
“Fine. It’s a new stim blend I’ve come up with. You won’t get anything out of it just by sniffing it.”
“Ugh, fine. If this is some kind of trick, you’re going to the hospital.”

Ashe reached out to take the shot glass, and Arturo pulled his hand back. “No drinking, ya junkie. Just sniffing,” he taunted. So Ashe leaned in and took a whiff, and promptly fell flat on her face. Holy SHIT. Laughter sounded out about the room - four or five voices, perhaps, and Ashe tried to scramble to her feet. It didn’t work. She tried to scramble to her feet again and managed to scoot a couple feet across the floor, but still couldn’t stand.

“See, guys? What’d I tell you? Weak. Stomach. Get up! It wasn’t THAT bad, was it?”

Ashe’s eye twitched in annoyance. She was feeling it already and she hadn’t even taken a deep breath, but in a few moments, the feelings of intense dizziness and nausea disappeared, and she pulled herself off the floor… and promptly threw a haymaker into Arturo’s stomach. More laughter.

“See? What’d I tell ya? She don’t fuck around!”
“That’s what you get, dumbass.”
“‘Ey Arturo, bring me that shit when you get up!”

Thomas, King Lowe, and Violet were laughing their asses off from the rattily upholstered red couch in the corner of the warehouse. Thick smoke wafted through the air, stemming from a very, *very* large hookah sitting upon a half-broken coffee table coated with duct tape patches. Thomas’s bulky form rolled forwards to pick up one of the hoses and took a long drag between his tusks, prompting a gurgling sound from the glass contraption. More fruit-flavored smoke billowed forth, further clouding the room. Violet, meanwhile, was halfway through a bottle of Old Mantle vodka, and was sprawled out across King Lowe’s lap. King Lowe towered over the hookah, even while sitting, and didn’t seem to notice the tiny figure drunkenly slobbering on his new pants.

Ashe reached down to pull Arturo off of the ground. Somehow he hadn’t spilled his concoction. For a tall, scrawny, balding guy, he sure knew how to take a hit. Out of respect for his health, he scooted away from Ashe as quickly as he could and passed the shot glass to Violet, the resident test subject. Everyone knew mixing uppers with alcohol was a really stupid idea - which was probably why everyone did it. Violet pulled herself upright, downed the green mixture, and promptly fell over again to chatter away like a coked up auctioneer to Thomas. King Lowe continued to ignore the drunk.

“So, uh… When’s the next batch coming in, Arturo?,” Ashe inquired. He’d mentioned earlier that he’d be able to get in a new package ‘soon’, whatever that meant. It usually wasn’t a good idea to ask him about his business, but time was important.

“Some time in the next day or so. I’ll let you guys know - could use some muscle this time.”

And so the party continued.

Ashe blinked. An alarm clock was going off, and she swung her arm out to the left, to hit absolutely nothing. Oh. Not my bed. And worse, Violet was lying sideways on top of her, stripped down to her underwear. And something smelled particularly foul. With some effort, Ashe managed to roll the unconscious girl off of herself and gave herself a quick examination. Nope, nobody’d done anything to her this time around (not that she expected them to, but it didn’t hurt to double check). And she’d actually remembered the pajamas this time - which were basically just a pair of loosely fitting jeans and an old tee shirt, but they still did the job well enough. The alarm kept getting louder, and after looking around for a moment, Ashe found both the source of the noise and the smell. Violet had puked on the alarm clock. There's no way in HELL I’m touching that mess...

Ashe pulled herself out of the bed, which smelled faintly of Violet’s bad habits, and slipped into her shoes before leaving Violet’s ‘room’. The Barbarians’ ‘rooms’ were all small plywood shacks sitting on the floor of the otherwise empty warehouse, save for Ashe’s, which was sitting on the very top of a shelf for privacy. Probably explained how she ended up in Violet’s bed -- nobody else could climb up there.

Thomas and King Lowe were already wide awake and cooking pancakes in a frying pan over a small campfire. “Sleeping beauty awakens! Go take a shower -- it’s open and you look like shit. We’ll have some breakfast ready for you in a few minutes,” King Lowe said, and Ashe groggily nodded. The alarm clock was still sounding off inside the tiny shed. Hopefully Violet would get out of bed and turn the damn thing off in a little while.

Twenty minutes passed in the hastily constructed “shower” (really just a wooden frame wrapped in a tarp with a propane water heater and a couple garden hoses), and Ashe stepped out, completely freshened up and perfectly clean. The group had a pancake breakfast with strawberries and coffee, and shortly after, everyone set off for work for the day. Nobody bothered turning off Violet's alarm.

The clanking and thunderous rolling of about a dozen rusted shopping carts tied together with a bungee cord triggered confused and suspicious looks from the crowds walking down the city streets, and a clown was running his ass off, red nose, frills, and all. Two supermarket security guards were hot on her tail, but after a couple turns, they fell behind, wheezing and puffing in the summer heat. One police siren sounded off in the distance and the clown turned a sharp corner down an alley. A couple blocks down the road and about a minute later, a square jawed man in a navy blue business suit walked out with the shopping carts.

Over the course of a half hour, no fewer than ten different calls were made to the police regarding ten different suspicious individuals walking around with a bunch of carts. Of course, it was too late - the shopping carts had already been loaded into a pickup truck by a huge man with a lion’s mane. On the way back to the warehouse, Ashe dropped her disguise and scratched a note down in a small notepad. “27 minutes. New record. Let’s get these things repainted quickly so we can get them the hell out of my sight.” Lowe simply nodded.

By the late evening, eighty shopping carts, four charcoal grills, a very fancy mailbox, and three bicycles had been stolen, rebranded, repainted, and resold without serial numbers. The team worked fast and had pulled in a pretty hefty profit, even with only four people working at it. Violet was, of course, still completely unconscious, so JJ the Junkie had to fill in for her. That kid was pretty good at talking his way out of things, apparently.

After making that much money, there was no way in hell they weren’t going to throw a party that weekend.

Arturo didn’t come by in the ‘next day or so’. The whole squad occasionally chatted about it, tried to figure out where he might’ve gone, if something happened, whatever. People sometimes disappeared in their lines of work, though, and unless they got shot or arrested, they usually came back. The group agreed that the best option would be to just continue on like normal. Continued shopping trips. Continued shoplifting trips. Continued drug scores.

	“Dinner’s gonna be salmon again. That okay with you? If not, go fuck yourself.” King Lowe was frying a couple fillets of fish over the campfire again. Violet, in her infinite genius, had decided to blow most of the group’s food money on fish because ‘bulk purchases are a great deal’. King Lowe didn’t mind, though, and babied the food as caringly and lovingly as a proper chef. Ginger was sprinkled atop the sizzling slabs of fish, followed by a drizzle of lemon juice, and the sound of pure, concentrated culinary joy sprouted forth from the pan. The oceans and rivers were packed into every draft of warm air rising off of the pan, and King Lowe almost couldn’t stop himself from eating both fillets right then and there.

	The other ones he’d already prepared were wrapped in foil on a small rack well above the fire itself, where they stayed nice, warm, and moist. Dry fish were the worst thing ever to the King, right alongside aggressive dogs, rodents, late mail, tire wall blowouts, broken transmissions, snitches, and not having milk in the refrigerator, among other things. A jab of the spatula flipped both fillets over, and he again sprinkled ginger and lemon juice across them. Being thorough was only polite, especially with other peoples’ food on the line.

	Meanwhile, the rest of the gang was huddled on and around the couch and various chairs they’d come to acquire over the past few years, all watching TV, quietly chatting, chain smoking, dumping full ashtrays into the garbage can, drinking their poison of choice, and the like. A pretty typical ‘family gathering’. Thomas, a slightly roly-poly boy of 17 in khakis and a green polo, eyeballs deep in a bottle of malt liquor, was staring at the screen from his place on the floor. “Teapot’s my spirit animal,” he said in his usual monotone, and the group quickly nodded in approval.

	They were watching some sort of reality TV show about life on a beach house in Vacuo, and Teapot was an autistic man who always tried to make sure his roommates stayed out of too much trouble. Teapot’s moral efforts usually failed, but the rest always tried to keep him safe anyway. Everybody loved Teapot. Thomas especially did though, because he identified with the awkward, prematurely balding man. Thomas was always somewhat ‘off’ - taking social cues the wrong way, not understanding body language, just little things like that, and they were pretty sure he was autistic on some level as well. He was happy enough though, so trying to get him to see a shrink felt like a waste of time.

	Violet, a very short girl of around Ashe’s age, was sitting next to Thomas. They were almost always together, and most of the Barbarians were pretty much certain the two were ‘together’ together. It was a strange relationship, though. At least, by their standards. Violet had no standards normally, and she’d regularly bring in a new hookup every week or two, put a sock on her doorknob, and disappear with them for a few hours. Nobody had seen her make a move like that on Thomas, though. Ashe felt that Violet didn’t feel she was good enough for him, but she didn’t voice it, and Thomas seemed happy enough with how things were going. It was probably going to crash and burn some time, but the rest of the gang was there to pick up the pieces if that happened.

	J.J. wasn’t in the TV corner, though. Everyone knew he had issues and everyone had reached out to help, but with Arturo gone, he wasn’t able to get his fix and was undergoing harsh withdrawals. Opioids are a bitch. Instead, he was in the back corner of the warehouse, lying on a mattress and trying desperately to sleep it off. Everyone knew not to bother him beyond making sure he was hydrated and fed, and everyone knew that pushing him to go to rehab simply didn’t work. He didn’t trust modern medicine enough for it. It was a miracle that he even was accepted in the group, but he was useful in his own ways at times, and he was genuinely a nice person when he wasn’t trying to manipulate his friends into funding his habits.

	Some twenty minutes later, King Lowe approached the group huddled around the TV with a stack of paper plates and a pile of hot and beautifully cooked fish, and plopped down on Ashe’s lounge chair without a thought. The goatlike faunus had to scramble out of the way before she was crushed flat, and took up a perch on the back of the chair above his head. King Lowe don’t give a fuck. Dinner and TV was the name of the game most nights, after desperately scrambling to make some money, and some days were worse than others, but it was always peaceful at night. The gang continued their routine as such for some further days, clinging to livelihood as best as they could, and Thomas even managed to get a proper part-time job as a janitor at a local diner. Everyone was happy enough.

	Eventually, Arturo came back. The gang was huddled around their campfire, happily chattering about their activities and town gossip while they prepared breakfast, when a sharp knock came at the massive hangar door that led to the docks outside. Violet volunteered herself to open it, and a few moments later, while everybody was focused on their pancakes and their fruit and their coffee and orange juice and eggs, a scream echoed throughout the warehouse and was cut short.

	King Lowe blazed across the warehouse to the shack he’d set up inside a shipping container in a blur, and every single person immediately went for their weapons without even bothering to look at what was going on. They’d been hit by rival gangs before, and training for SHTF scenarios was burned into their brains heavily, but halfway through, they heard a voice call out from the garage doors.

	“Get on the ground, hands behind your heads! This is Officer Hiroshi of the MCPD!”, the voice shouted. Gruff, old, and intensely pissed off. Like running sandpaper across a bear with sunburn. One by one, those who hadn’t reached their shacks turned their heads towards the source, and sure enough, the police had arrived. And with them was their ‘friend’, Arturo, in handcuffs.

	“King Lowe, your crime spree is at an end. I’m taking you back to prison. Violet, Ashe, Thomas, your parents will be very disappointed to hear what you’ve been up to. And J.J… Dear J.J. How many times is this? Seven? I thought you’d have learned by now.”

	The man was tall, at 6’3”, but not nearly as tall as King Lowe, and there was a dangerous edge to his appearance. He wasn’t like most police, and they only called him in to make arrests when the MCPD had a lead on potentially dangerous criminals -- mostly potential huntsmen and huntresses who for one reason or another had turned to crime to make their living. He was wearing the traditional Mistrali kendogi and hakama, purple, printed with red flowers, which sharply contrasted with his chiseled, scarred face. The state of his jaw suggested that he’d all but given up on shaving beyond keeping his beard too short to grip, and a simple katana was sheathed at his hip. Everything traditional, everything professional, everything exquisitely dangerous.

	“You’ve got ten seconds. On your knees, hands behind your heads. I won’t say it a third time,” the man coldly said. Arturo, at his side, was staring at the floor, covered in bruises. Something bad had happened, but he wasn’t about to talk. Violet was gagged and cuffed as well on the officer’s other side.

	Ashe’s eye twitched in rage. She would kill that motherfucker for his betrayal, but that could come later. Right now, she had to make a judgment call - comply, or resist, and she wasn’t sure which was the best decision. A few moments passed, and a golden blur flashed across the room, followed by a loud crash as the Officer’s sword flickered up to counter a claw strike. King Lowe had made the choice for the gang, and he and the officer’s clash threw the two apart. Arturo did the only ‘smart’ thing he could and ran as fast as he could towards the docks before throwing himself head-first into the water, as a series of Atlas-built police androids charged in through every opening to the warehouse. For petty criminals, the MCPD was going awfully hard on this. What the fuck was Arturo up to?! We shouldn’t be getting this kind of treatment!

	It was Lowe against Hiroshi. Ashe, Thomas, and JJ were left to handle the androids themselves, and that was enough. Lowe himself called to the group mid-combat, “Go, get the FUCK out of here. This is my problem,” as he threw himself back at the officer. The two were on a level far beyond anybody else and the blitz of sword and claw strikes between them was nearly impossible to follow. Lowe and Hiroshi were channeling their aura into every strike, redirecting blows beautifully. Hiroshi was meeting every claw swipe with the reverse edge of his blade, gently pushing the blow away from himself. Lowe was catching the blade with his bare hands and his claws, trying desperately to disarm his foe. But it wasn’t clear who was winning.

	Meanwhile, Thomas had disappeared. A brilliant flash of white across the room, accompanied by the crack of lightning, resulted in a pair of android legs crumpling to the ground, smoking and torsoless. Thomas had begun fighting as well, and gunfire erupted across the room as the androids desperately tried to take the surprisingly agile fat kid down. His weapon - The Boomer - was a custom-built handheld dust artillery piece, closer to an airship’s main gun than to anything else. And it was doing a number on every target. Its secondary function - a very, very ‘loud’ ECM device - was screaming on all radio frequencies.

	Ashe herself sprung into action, swiftly flipping the safety of her gloves off and adjusting the dials to a reasonable “5” as she charged the group that had entered through the back door. Railgun fire was erupting from the androids’ armaments, but there was a noticeable time lag, and their targeting was horrendous. Several bullets slammed into Ashe’s body out of many more fired, and she reached her first victim. One punch sent the android’s head flying, and a second open palm strike sent a lance of ice hurtling through the head of a second. More heads flew and more spurts of pure energy flashed through the warehouse, scorching some walls and putting holes clean through others. Cleanup was fast, and just as the last of the androids fell, Ashe felt something hard, thin, and heavy crash into the back of her head. Everything went dark.

	She awoke to the feeling of something hard, flat, and cold pressed against her face. Senses came back slowly, and with each shred of awareness that came along, she realized more and more where she was. Biting cold cut into her wrists, binding them together. She couldn’t move. And she was upright. Eventually, her eyes opened to the sight of an interrogation room. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but the old man must’ve gotten the best of them all. It’d looked like King Lowe was doing really well, though.

	“Awake at last, huh? I’ll get Hiroshi,” said the loudspeaker in the corner of the room. A pane of one-way glass acted as a mirror for her, and when she looked up to the loudspeaker, she caught a glimpse of herself. She looked like utter shit - covered in scorch marks, spilt oil, bruises, you name it. Dark circles under her eyes suggested that she’d slept like shit. No mistakes there, of course. Getting knocked out the day after a long night didn’t do much good for a body. The question of what would happen next floated across her exhausted and half-asleep brain, but no answers came forth. Thinking was hard, especially in the brightly lit room with air conditioning blazing forth to chill arrestees to the bone.

	After some time, two knocks came at the door, followed by the old man stepping in. He was still in the same outfit, but he wasn’t wearing his weapon this time around. He laid a file on the table in front of Ashe and sat in the stainless steel chair across from her, then placed a scrap of paper on top of it. Slowly, with one finger, he spun the scrap of paper around and pushed it towards her. It was an invoice. “Shouldn’t have resisted. Wouldn’t have had to bill your folks for the androids you smashed,” he said. He wasn’t quite as abrasive this time. More… Disappointed. He seemed to be playing the ‘good cop’ role.

	“Speaking of, they’re on their way now. I think they’re tired of this little runaway experiment of yours. Hope you’re tired of it too, because it’s ending here and now.”

	Ashe lifted her head. The thought of seeing her family again was rather uncomfortable, after years of being gone. She’d run off in a huff after a long argument over whether the White Fang were good or not. Something about her future had been mentioned, but she was too upset at the time to think, and she impulsively stowed away on the first boat out of town. It wouldn’t be a fun talk. So she simply blinked at the officer, slowly and deliberately.

	“Don’t look so disappointed. Look, you’ve got a court date coming up. We’ve got video evidence of your activities, and the pictures are all in the file here. Your little semblance doesn’t seem to work on video cameras. I’m willing to cut a deal with you, though. I’ll recommend deportation over imprisonment, since you’re a minor and I’d rather not see kids rotting in a cell when they should be going to college. And I’ve made up my mind on this. You’re going home, where you can’t cause us more problems.”

	He flipped open the folder, displaying every single time she’d been caught on camera stealing or reselling property in public. It was pretty comprehensive, but Ashe found herself staring at the invoice instead. It had cost her family thousands of Lien, which she was sure she would have to pay off. And they weren’t exactly well-off, either. But a question came up, and she shot her eyes back up at the officer. “The others. Are they okay?”

	“Yeah, yeah. They’re a little banged up, but they’re fine. Your big pal is on his way back to prison, though. Not sure if you know what he’s done in the past, but I’ll let you squeeze that out of him by mail. Not my place to talk about it.”

	She nodded once. “Alright, then. If you’ve got anything else to add, now’s the time to say it. Your buddy had a lot to say about your involvement with a big deal when we picked him up, but it’s his ass on the line, not yours,” said the officer. Ashe shook her head, and Officer Hiroshi retrieved the folder and the bill, then left the room. Arturo could rot for all she cared.

	A jail cell is a lonely place by design, even when surrounded with petty thugs and drunks who’d been picked up over the course of the week and were waiting for their court dates. Ashe was privileged enough to have been given her own, on account of being a minor. Days passed, but without the sunlight to tell her how many, Ashe lost count. One day, though, came a rattling as one of the guards dragged his baton across the bars of her cell. “Wake up, Ashe. You’ve got company.”

	When she looked up, standing next to the guard were two Faunus. A huge, dark-skinned and bearded man in his early fifties, with long horns curling from the top of his head almost all the way back to his hips, and a woman in her late thirties, small, slender, and almost completely human in appearance save for the swishing tail of a Fennec fox waving around behind her. Her parents had arrived.

The trip back to Menagerie was long and quiet, and Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood knew their daughter well enough to not prod her for information. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about how life had been going, and they’d gotten all the details from the police anyway. So they stayed in two separate cabins on the ship, and when they arrived at port, the conversation could be summed up as: “Should I carry that for you?” “I’m good.” “Okay, then.”

	Striding across the bustling streets of Kuo Kuana at sunset with a suitcase in each hand reminded her of the first time she had gone to and come back from a summer camp. It was, strangely, in Atlas - a place not usually thought of when summer was brought up. The camp was for kids who wanted to learn about modern technological wonders, and she distinctly remembered learning about the failures of the space program. Dust stopped working at some point high above the ground, so Atlas was looking into alternate ways of getting off of Remnant without any success. The thought of using chemical propellants was so utterly alien to the people of Remnant that even with their advanced Dust technology, rocket fuel and engine-based electrical power were centuries out of reach, and most scientists didn’t even stop to think for an instant about how stone-age technology could’ve branched off in a different direction.

	But that was beside the point. In her ruminations, Ashe eventually came across a familiar-looking door and moved to stand in front of it. A hand on her shoulder tugged her away, though, and her father’s silky baritone voice explained, “We moved. Had to sell the old house. New place is this way.”

	So the old family home was gone. A shame, really - she’d spent fourteen years in that place off and on, and the idea of living anywhere but there or the Barbarians’ warehouse felt out-of-place. A short walk further brought them to what she remembered as her father’s store, the West Kuo Kuana Dust Outlet. He was a third-party distributor for the Schnee Dust Company, and regularly had to purchase and resell shipments directly from Atlas. Competition in Menagerie was fairly tight, though, so profit margins were so low that her mother had to work as a waitress on the side. One thing was different about the store, though. It was a bit taller than she remembered, and it looked like a second story was tacked on top. Her father spoke up again. “Did a bit of remodeling ourselves. Bit small, but it’s home now. Come on, your room’s waiting. Tried to make it like it was before you left, but I probably messed it up somehow.”

	She nodded and entered. Thoughts of her friends were still laying heavily across her mind, and she had a little bit of trouble talking to her parents. But they knew her nature through and through and didn’t say any more than they had to. They were obviously worried, happy to have her back, and greatly disappointed, all at once, and Ashe wondered how they were able to hold it together so well. Truth be told, though, her parents were panicking entirely. What they didn’t tell their daughter was that they had sold the house to cover bail and the android damage costs, and that they hadn’t added the second floor to live in but rather to store excess stock. Between their mess of a child and the financial hole they were stuck in now, they weren’t too sure how to make it. But they weren’t about to give up, and they didn’t want to break their family a second time.

	Through the back room, up the stairs, and at the first door on the left, Ashe was given a gentle push into the room. It was arranged very similarly to how it had been when she was still a younger kid, complete with band posters, fluffy bedding, a cheap radio/alarm clock next to a cute plushie polar bear that’d been turned into a nightstand lamp, and a very pink color scheme in general. She’d never really outgrown the pink, but the posters had to go at some point. Unpacking was quick enough, given that she only had some twenty-odd copies of the same outfit in different colors, and some gear that she and Thomas had built together, including her Magicians’ Hands.

	And so when the unpacking was finished, her parents were gone - unpacking their travel gear and discussing their problem of a kid downstairs no doubt. Ashe flopped onto the old bed, to be surprised by the comfortable floof of a new foam mattress. That was new, and was probably what her father had been talking about when he said he’d messed something up. In a few moments, she fell asleep, and when she finally came to, it was already morning.

	Loud noises downstairs indicated that breakfast was already made and eaten, and her father could be heard arguing on the finer points of pricing between raw and purified crystals with a rather snooty customer. As poor as Kuo Kuana was on average, they sometimes had vacationers who thought they knew better about economics than the locals. That was a new sound to her, and she wasn’t entirely sure she liked it, but she had to get up and get going. When she stepped into the hallway, she bumped into her mother, who was on the way to go to her own job. “Ooh, sorry~! Gotta run, late again! Bathroom’s right there, food’s in the fridge, help your father, bye!”, the older woman spewed as she leapt down the stairs and broke off into a sprint around the corner. Ashe blinked. Had her mother always been that… Whatever-that-was?

	But that didn’t matter. A long shower and proper cleaning, complete with intense scrubbing later, she emerged from the bathroom next to her room sparkling clean and draped in a towel before getting sharply dressed once more in her usual outfit, though her shoes were scratched to high heaven from the brawl with the police. She would have to help her father that day, and help she did. They continued not talking about what had happened years back and where she’d gone and what she’d been up to, because that’s just how they were. It was as if nothing had happened at all and she was in the right place again. Breakfast was eaten. Crates of dust were moved about. Lunch was eaten. Belligerent customers were chased out of the store. And eventually closing time came around late that night, when Mrs. Blackwood returned, and the family ate dinner together for the first time in four years.

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Crimmy

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Crimmy Oi brat, what're ye using that noggin for?

Member Seen 6 yrs ago

Crimmy

Oi brat, what're ye using that noggin for?

3660 posts

in 3860 days

Seen 6 yrs ago

Bio

When different groups come together, one of the natural outcomes tends to be conflict. You’ve got a set of people who aren’t part of your clique hanging about, possibly trying to find a good opportunity to muscle in on your ‘turf’ and kick you and your mates out. It might not be what they actually want, but the chance is there, so in order not to look like some wooden soldiers, the obvious solution is to kick them out before they can. They’re just the ‘other’, after all; just a tribe with experiences that aren’t yours, so why should you worry about what they really want? That’s somebody else’s problem, and the only thing you care about is your problem - what you and your group wants.

That’s what they’re thinking too, so with that in mind, battle lines start being drawn, and soon enough you’ve been insulated into your side of the battlefield, peeking through the fence at the five people you’ve determined to be your enemies - or just opponents.

Usually though, it’d be four v. four rather than three v. five, but sometimes human selfishness triumphs over the desire to keep your own ‘tribe’ safe.

It’s an unfortunate fact of life, really. Even though our very society is built upon (and so strongly promotes) the concept of everyone working together to further a single, common cause (its continued survival), it doesn’t hide the fact that if it boiled down to someone picking between themselves and every other bugger, “me” sounds better than “we”. Self-interest is the name of the game; even if you’re part of a group, if there’s something you really want that your mates can’t help you with, then there’s no way you’re not ditching them, you know?

Your self-interest is more important than any loyalty.

Fortunately, trust is one of the important glues of society, so constantly betraying your buddies in order to get what you want isn’t beneficial in any way, but it still doesn’t stop some people. You want something, so the rest of the world can bugger off.

Or at least, I guess that’s the long-winded explanation my big sister would give on why the red-headed lass on the other side of the volleyball net is over there with the ‘enemy’ rather than next to me as society (see: the name of my team) has dictated.

Aeronwy Larkspur, Starscream-level traitor, stands there in her orange swimsuit, grinning like she’d just won a lottery. She hasn’t, though, because otherwise we’d be able to hear her triumphant shouting all the way down in Menagerie. She likes winning, you see.

But it doesn’t stop her from declaring her usual challenge in the same loud way as always.

“You’re going down, Fionnaghal,” she yells out through a smile full of gleaming white teeth, punching her fists together in an attempt to pump herself up (more than she already is). “Today, I’ll prove that I’m way better at volleyball than you!”

“Have you no honour, Larkspur?” my (more loyal) teammate Cahaya Camella responds indignantly from my left. “Betraying us like this … how could you do such a thing?!”

To keep the comparisons going, I guess you could call Cahaya Camella my Soundwave, except rather than being a serious, stoic robot gladiator with mixtape minion machines, she’s just trying to be a serious, stoic knight of great chivalry, though she’s already got the minion bizzo down-pat.

By ‘trying’, I mean that sometimes she doesn’t really nail the demeanour.

“Th-this is unacceptable!” she continues, doing her best to act appropriately betrayed by Aeronwy Larkspur’s antics as you would expect a knight would if one of their sworn comrades were to leave them for the enemy. “You craven creature! This is utterly improper for even you, Larkspur! Doing this has … um, has …karma … will beset you …”

Poor girl. She tries her best, but it’s still a work-in-progress. Nobody got anywhere from pushing the act too hard. It’s cute, but people are going to recognise it as lacking in genuity. Genuineness. The word’s eluding me. It also doesn’t help at all that wearing the bikini pretty much kills the ‘dignified heroic knight’ thing 100%.

Not even Marsail could do it. But she nailed the ‘dignified’ thing pretty easily, so maybe there’s still hope for Cahaya Camella in that regard. Do your best! One day, you’ll be able to get the attitude down and even when wearing a skimpy swimsuit that I never would’ve expected you to own won’t stop you from being seen as a real hero!

Really, the thin fabric plus the shawl and skirt combo didn’t fit the image I had at all. I guess my superficial surface impressions of your personality have failed me once again. But it looks great on you, so full marks there!

“It ain’t improper!” Aeronwy Larkspur shouts back, completely sidestepping the attempts at bringing her back to the side of Justice. Sorry Cahaya~n, she’s not very easy to convince out of her shenanigans, remember? You’re fighting an uphill battle, and I can’t even help out. “- this way, I can finally get a proper chance to beat Fionnaghal in the summer-iest of summer sports!”

If I butted into the conversation, she would’ve gotten even more invested into this whole thing. There’s no way she’ll let going to let escape her challenge at all. It’s like her enthusiasm’s distorting spacetime to the point where my soul just can’t escape that gravitational field she’s got going on.

It’s also dragging those unfortunate Autobots LMGR members currently awkwardly loitering around behind her into her shenanigans too. I’m sorry, I also wanted a simple, fair match, but when Aeronwy Larkspur issues a challenge, you just have to accept it.

Even if she’s probably better at volleyball than me.

It’s not that I can’t play beach volleyball - I know the rules and everything, but there’s a distinct lack of beaches in Vacuo. So I didn’t get a lot of chances to play it. Aeronwy Larkspur, on the other hand, probably (more like certainly, because don’t think I didn’t notice the new volleyball underneath her bunk) started practicing in some indoor sports complex the very moment we settled on the beach for our vacation, meaning her chances of victory are way higher than mine are.

I’m not forfeiting though.

The likelihood of my victory is very close to zero, but that’s still not zero, isn’t it?

So to me, the probability of stopping my rival from crowing her victory to the world for the next day or so is exactly the same as a one hundred percent chance.

“Linna Hafgufa is ours, then,” I announce, jabbing a finger in the direction of LMGR’s leader. The tracksuit-wearing Faunus looks as surprised as everyone (except Aeronwy Larkspur) else is, but this is one time where I don’t think I can win with a handicap. If we’re losing a team member to the other side, then the solution is to take one of theirs in return. It helps that we’re taking the one who knows how Aeronwy Larkspur ticks the best, too. “You winning doesn’t mean anything if you start with the advantage, right~?”

“Of course!” proclaims the betrayer, as if it had been obvious from the very beginning. “Take any of ‘em! I’ll win fair and square and show you how real volleyball’s played!”

An expected reaction from her. I beam through the net. There’s some skittish murmurings amongst LMGR as they huddle together, trying to think of a way to regain control over the situation. It probably would’ve worked at any other point in time, but you know, Aeronwy Larkspur wants a competition, so they’ll just have to offer one of themselves up as a sacrifice to the volleyball goddesses if they want things to get back on track. I don’t really mind if it’s someone other than Hafgufa. Having her will just be easier for me.

Correction: it is now easier for me.

Linna Hafgufa, cephalopod Faunus (animal trait: her mouth and beak), crosses over to our side of the battlefield in a grumbly mood. She takes up a place to my right (where Aeronwy Larkspur usually would be if she hadn’t been a craven traitor Char Aznable inspired to go against me), her blue eyes looking pointedly at the sand beneath us.

“This was supposed to be team versus team, comrade Cirsium,” she says with an annoyed sigh, glancing my way. “And you had not even signed contract for my transfer. Where is my million lien?”

But she’s not annoyed enough to not make her jokes.

“You’re not worth a million lien -” I reply breezily. But before she can protest the slander against her person, I hold a hand up to stall her, winking in her direction. “Buuut … I’ll buy you an ice cream after I win, okay?”

I link my fingers together, smiling.

“... You cut a good deal, comrade.”

I’m down fifteen lien, but in return, Linna Hafgufa’s loyalty’s been assured for the rest of the match. I don’t really think the cost of those cones is really that worth it, but a seasonal business like a beach resort needs a steady cash flow to stay afloat. That’s why they can get away with it, though having a monopoly on all the ice cream within a ten kilometre radius helps.

I still wish I could’ve paid less, but it can’t be helped. That’s capitalism for you.

“So what is your plan?” asks the Faunus curiously, pocketing her hands in that tracksuit jacket of hers. It looks like even a summer trip to the beach isn’t hot enough to convince her to take it off. “You wouldn’t pick me if you had no plan.”

If it’s one thing about Linna Hafgufa I appreciate, it’s probably her ability to go with the flow and get straight down to the bizzo. You probably wouldn’t expect that of her, but the faculty put her in charge of LMGR for a reason. She adapts very fast - faster than the time it takes for one of her victims to realise they’ve been tricked into doing something embarrassing - but unfortunately that doesn’t apply to the romantic uptake. I think she’s been pining for Kozuka Mito over there before my relationship with that dunderhead bowman had even taken a bow.

“You get in Aeronwy Larkspur’s face a lot already,” is my explanation, although it’s a bit more blunt than I wanted it to be. I push those encroaching thoughts to the back of my mind. I should focus on just defeating my rival instead of getting influenced by distracting thoughts. “By that,” I add after a second, my smile growing, “I mean that it shouldn’t be too hard for you to block her shots, right?”

“Comrade, do you plan on me getting hit in the face?”

I can’t help but giggle upon hearing her response. It’s definitely something with a high likelihood of occurring, and I can testify to the strength in Aeronwy Larkspur’s hits, but I don’t think Linna Hafgufa needs to worry too much about them ruining her face.

“You might be tall enough to get out of the way,” I say, before placing a comforting hand on her fabric-covered shoulder. It’s very sunny today. Not tracksuit weather at all, but that hasn’t stopped her from wearing one like she always does. “And maybe if you do well enough, you’ll impress a few lasses, right?”

There are definitely other girls on the beach today, but I think Linna Hafgufa would most like to impress her previously-mentioned teammate (who’s still trying to adjust to the presence of one redheaded traitor). Even if you’re on opposing sides right now, the sight of you trying to stall Axis the Aeronwy Larkspur steam train has got to be impressive. I would be impressed if you can pull it off!

“Fine,” she grumbles out, but it’s not a very good disguise for her excitement at the prospect. Almost as bad of a disguise as a pair of shades. “I can take Larkspur, no problem, comrade.”

“I’ll be counting on you~” 

That’s why I chose the cephalopod Faunus for this job. With her being familiar with Aeronwy Larkspur, and now with a bit of extra motivation (see: the ice cream and a chance to impress a girl), she was probably going to be pretty good at blocking any attacks my rival would try and pull off. And given that independent, straightforward streak Aeronwy Larkspur has going on, I don’t think we’ll see too much teamwork play between her and -MGR or any block-abuse. As long as Linna Hafgufa can keep harrying away, then we, the remainder of FSCA, will be free to take advantage of their chaotic situation.

Aeronwy Larkspur, I’ll show you that your superior skills have their limits when they go up against the teamwork that you’ve forsaken! Victory isn’t just determined by differences in volleyball prowess!

“You ready to show her what ‘real volleyball’ looks like?” I ask of Cahaya Camella, who looks like she’s gotten over her embarrassing failure to keep up the knightly thing from earlier. The bit of red still in her cheeks is the only evidence of her ever being so cutely flustered. You have to admire that recovery time.

She replies with a firm nod. “Her betrayal will not go unpunished,” she vows in utmost seriousness. As always, the image isn’t helped at all by the beachwear. “We shall make sure that she understands the shamefulness of her decision -”

I think that’s too biggie of an ask, Cahaya~n.

“- by … um, beating her in … eh, volleyball?”

Cahaya Camella crumples into confusion as she tries to make the mundane declaration work. And she was doing so well at first. Her dark skin flushes, and she’s soon just mewling and stumbling over her words like a wee bairn. I should definitely take her to visit Marsail some time.

Spending time with a more experienced knight might be good for her!

The thought immediately occurs to me. Does Cahaya Camella actually know how to play volleyball? I didn’t … hear any objections from her when the suggestion was made, but what if she was just going along with it because I thought it was a good idea?

“You know the rules, right?” I ask a bit awkwardly. Please tell me you know them, Cahaya~n. I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier! You have to remember that being a knight doesn’t mean always listening to your leader. If it did, then that’s half of Aura Battler Dunbine’s plot down the drain.

Alas, my fears came true.

“... I don’t,” admits Cahaya Camella, her despairing face looking as if she wants to find a rock to curl up underneath from the shame. “I’m so sorry, Fionna! I didn’t want to disappoint you all and so I just … I just thought I could try and …”

She trails off. It’s an admirable motivation, but sometimes, you’ll just be hurting yourself if you don’t speak up. Don’t worry Cahaya Camella, there’s no way you could’ve disappointed the rest of us, but try and let your worries be known next time, okay~? 

I wish I had the Jin Family’s sleep-learning device to quickly get her up to speed, but I guess we’ll have to rely on good, old-fashioned last minute hands-on teaching.

“Don’t worry a bit,” I reassure her. “Me and Salvia Djetelina will give you a rundown, right?”

I turn around to face the final and quietest member of FSCA. The chibified version of her being held in her hands nods vigorously in reply. Ahhh, it’s just way too cute~. I wonder if I could have one of my own. Maybe I could name it Chionnaghal.

If Teàr heard that, she’d probably go into a long, internal rant on how stupid and original my naming sensibilities were.

Don’t tell her I said this, but she would get one of her own if nobody was looking.

“Then that’s settled,” I declare, linking my hands together in front of my chin. I give my assembled group of fellow volleyballers a bright smile. “If we just keep at it, we can definitely beat Aeronwy Larkspur -”

“- and my team,” adds Linna Hafgufa.

“- and LMGR,” I continue. “We will definitely win. As long as Linna Hafgufa keeps being the distraction, the rest of us can try and keep hitting Aeronwy Larkspur where it hurts. And that means we’ll have more time to help you improve, right?”

My last words are directed at Cahaya Camella. She flushes again under the scrutiny, but hopefully by the end of today, she’ll no longer be so worried about something like volleyball.

“You finished planning, Fionnaghal?!” shouts the great betrayer from the other side of the net. It looks like she’s already shanghai’d the non-cephalopod LMGR into following her lead. As expected. But if Linna Hafgufa sticks to script, then that won’t help at all.

“Yep,” I reply, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Just needed to make sure I have a winning plan~”

She smirks, punching her fists together. “Hah! Come at me if you can!”

I’ll be taking you up on that offer, Aeronwy Larkspur~. But I’m going to have to say sorry first - this time you’re not going to win again.

“I WIN AGAIN, FIONNAGHAL!”

Guess I spoke too soon.

Aeronwy Larkspur punches her fist into the air, triumph flowing all over her. The sheer joy she has on her face is almost enough for me to forget the melancholy at having lost. Not even seeing her happy will soothe these wounds of betrayal-induced humiliation. I actually wanted to win this, you know?

I let out a heavy-hearted sigh. Even though it was a close game, it was still two points away from victory. Two points that decided whether or not Aeronwy Larkspur could go home in the clear belief of her own superiority in volleyball. Argh, that was super frustrating.

But in the end, it’s true. She is better at volleyball than me. Even if Cahaya Camella had actually known the rules, I think Aeronwy Larkspur still might’ve been able to get a win out of it.

This really isn’t good for our rivalry, you know? A lot of those competitions she throws my way are pretty lame, sorry, but her numbers are higher there than mine, and I don’t like that. It’s a petty thing to focus on, but I just don’t like losing to Aeronwy Larkspur.

But I guess I can let this one slide for now.

“Congratulations,” I reply, putting on a smile and clapping as I make my way over to her. Everyone else is already dispersing, with Linna Hafgufa returning to her own team to commiserate with the remainder of LMGR. Leaving Aeronwy Larkspur free for me to approach. “It was a close one, huh?”

“Of course it was,” the redhead replies in a tone that asked how it could be any other way. “Team stuff is your forte. There’s no way you would’ve lost easily.”

I’m flattered, really.

“I think you have too high an opinion of me,” I giggle. Maybe I shouldn’t have expected anything different. “But it didn’t stop you from betraying us all, did it?”

I pout at her, trying to induce a sense of guilt in that triumphant head. Even for my Starscream, Aeronwy Larkspur really is too focused on beating me all the time.

“Always gotta take the chance, yeah?” It didn’t work. She’s unrepentant. What a reprobate. “I wouldn’t have any other time to beat you in beach volleyball.”

“And that’s why you went for it, huh?”

“Exactly! Not gonna rely on a next time if I have a now!”

A ‘next time’ also means that Cahaya~n would know how to play. “That was a good idea,” I say sagely, before grinning at her. “Because a ‘next time’ would be my victory.”

Aeronwy Larkspur crosses her arms underneath her bikini top. “No way I’m gonna let that happen, Fionnaghal.”

A laugh leaves my throat. It’s a vow I know she could keep, but the next match certainly won’t be something that’ll end in her favour. I’ll make sure of it.

“We’ll see~”

“Comrades, we are off to purchase ice cream!” interrupts Linna Hafgufa’s voice. “Cirsium, you owe me the cone, remember?”

The rest of the group’s already beginning to make their way off the beach. Leaving us behind and everything. I think they’ve defeated Aeronwy Larkspur in being a traitor there. Ah well, I guess if it’s for ice cream, then it’s fine.

Even if that ice cream I’m going to buy for Lady Hafgufa never panned out in a victory.

“I can eat more of them than you!” declares Aeronwy Larkspur, the thought of another possible competition entering her mind immediately. “And I’ll get to the stand first!”

She starts running off.

I shake my head. She sure likes trying to beat me, doesn’t she?

I start pursuing.

“Don’t fall behind then~!” I call to her teasingly as I speed past.

It’s definitely fun, at least.

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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by FlitterFaux

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FlitterFaux The Incurable

Member Seen 5 yrs ago

FlitterFaux

The Incurable

480 posts

in 2775 days

Seen 5 yrs ago

Bio

It was a bright and clear day. Most people were taking advantage of the ideal summer weather to enjoy the public beach with family and friends, or in some cases alone. Scarlet Loveless was not like most people. Though the blonde haired, blue eyed woman clad in a bright red bikini looked as if she belonged, a close look at her face betrayed how she truly felt about being here. She leaned against one of the many bars dotting the beach, nursing some fancy tropical themed drink and glaring out at the ocean. Many a man had approached the attractive young woman only to be repelled by a single look or a few words loaded with as much venom as your average cobra. Scarlet was not here to enjoy herself and at this point she could not if she tried. Any charm this perfect summer day had previously held for her had evaporated at least an hour ago. Her associate, the man meant to relieve her of this tedious, nigh unbearable assignment, was late. Inside her head a storm was brewing.

I fucking hate this place. Fuck all this sand, fuck the stinking filthy ocean, fuck this goddamn searing hot sunshine, fuck this piece of shit bikini that rides up my ass… And, oh yes, fuck fuck FUCK all these worthless sacks of meat and the screaming human larvae they’ve decided to spawn!!!

“And fuck you Mordecai, for condemning me to this abysmal hellhole! Where the ever living shit ARE YOU!?!?”

Scarlet turned away from the beach and the people that had become the object of her frustration and slammed her drink down on the bar. The glass shattered, startling the young woman who was tending the bar and slicing up her hand quite nicely. The pain made her feel better, and she relaxed from the boiling point to a medium simmer. She watched the crimson blood drip down her wrist, a few drops landing on the polished wood and mixing with the shards of glass and remains of her drink. The bartender was stuttering something at her but she wasn't in a mood to listen. She held up her other hand to silence the frazzled woman and took the clean white towel out of her hands. The girl had probably meant for Scarlet to use it and put pressure on the wounds, anyway.

"Relax already." Scarlet wiped away the blood and held up the hand that had been lacerated a moment before. The wounds had healed quickly, annoyingly so by her personal standards. There was not even a mark on her skin. The mousy bartender's eyes widened as if she did not understand. What is this kid, mentally challenged or something? Whatever, she's cute so I guess they just let her get away with being a dumbass. Still, I shouldn't have to explain... "Aura? Healing?" The brunette laughed nervously and said something like 'Oh' too quietly for Scarlet to hear, but she still looked confused. The hell? Has this bitch been living under a rock this entire time? How does a person like that land a job as a bartender? kinda like hiring me to entertain at childrens parties. Or the shit job I'm currently on. "Whatever. Just... clean this up and get me another drink."

She buried her face in her hands in a sad attempt to shut out the world. This seemed to amplify the irritating sound of laughter all around her. Mordecai, I am truly going to kill you next time I see you.

Somewhere along the way, a large green-skinned young man approached the same beachside bar that the flame tongue Scarlet was at. This man was obviously Gren. His figure was square and stocky, with a big of chub in his front. He wore a black pair of swim shorts with a purple trim, walking on the hot sands barefoot. For some odd reason, he carried a simple harpoon over his shoulder, the spear tip wrapped in a thick cloth to prevent accidental stabbing. He seemed content yet focused, like a man on a mission. "Rum Cola." Gren said as he sat across the bar from Scarlet. As he waited for his drink to be served he took out his Scroll which projected a holographic map.

If one observed closely, they could see that the map was a 3D model of the beach they were on, sans people. Instead there were only different colors, warm ones such as yellow and red. In the distance, far into the ocean, were colors of black and white. Gren was studying this map intensely until his drink was brought to him, where he then thanked the rather nervous looking barista and took a sip. "Mhmm. Tasty." 

A muffled musical tone snapped Scarlet's attention to her light purple hoodie, draped over a nearby stool. "Finally!" She snatched up the garment and all but ripped the scroll out of it. She took a few steps away from the bar but didn't really care who overheard. She was about to get loud.

"Hey asshole, you better be-" Scarlet began, ready to let the caller at the other end have an earful, but a familiar sound stopped her. It was a sound she technically wanted to hear at the moment, but considering the circumstances it just pissed her off even more. She lowered her voice to a strained, hissing whisper, not realizing how close she was to the boar faunus ordering his drink. "Is that an ankou?"

"One of two. Now shut up and listen," Came the gruff response from the man that was supposed to be here at the beach, and clearly was not anywhere nearby. Over an hour late, having fun with two Reisen class and maybe a horde of smaller Grimm, and this bastard has the nerve to tell me to shut up? Oh hell no.

"You gotta be kidding me!! She screamed into the scroll, heedless of the people around her startled by the outburst. She had expended her patience. "I've been sitting here all day doing jack shit waiting for your dumb ass, and now this bullshit?!

"Scar, shut the fuck up! Mordecai hollered back and Scarlet did shut up for a moment, but only to grind her teeth. "Plans have changed, I am not getting out there anytime soon! As you can plainly hear-

Scarlet cut him off again, not wanting to hear the explanation. "Well where the fuck is the Boss Lady? Or that new kid? I should be there, not in this shithole!"

"The Boss is in Mistral meeting the client and the girl is with me, occupying these fuckfaces while I waste time talking to some stupid twat!! His response was loaded with as much fire and poison as her own tone in a fraction of the time. Mordecai was not known for keeping his temper, but at this point Scarlet did not care.

Rub salt in the wound why don't you? The new girl gets to square off with two ankou while I'm stuck here until it's all over? "Why wasn't she given this shit job? This is such-"

This time Mordecai was the one to interrupt her and he had definitely had enough of the conversation. "It's your goddamn job, deal with it!!!

The call ended and it took a moment for Scarlet to register what had just happened. He... just... hung up on me. Her hand tightened around the now silent scroll. Her eye began to twitch and her jaw clenched painfully. The small electronic cracked under the pressure of her grip and went dead. She pulled her arm back and hurled the useless thing across the beach and right into the ocean.

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!"

Gren looked over towards the blonde screaming into her Scroll. Seemed like her date stood her up. Or got attacked by Grimm. Either was a real possibility. Gren debated if he wanted to get involved with someone so temperamental as this chick, but then again he could use some help with his mission. If she was as tough as she was feisty, maybe this would work out for the best. Finishing his drink and letting the bartender take it away Gren looked over to the blondie.

"Sounds like your day just got worse. Name's Gren Orchid. Maybe I could help."

As Scarlet fumed and considered how she would get away with homicide, a deep male voice addressed her. Her fiery gaze snapped toward its source. It was a very tall, very wide faunus, something with large teeth and... green skin?. What the fuck is this thing? With his large build and rough appearance he honestly looked like an enforcer for the group she was supposed to be watching. He could even be just that, maybe off duty and enjoying the beach like the rest of the masses. Hell, it was even probable as far as she was concerned. Great. She thought sarcastically.

"No shit? What was your first clue, genius? Or should I say Frankenstein? She said, her voice dripping with poison. She leaned forward to get in the seated man's face, hands on her hips and the obvious glint of challenge in her eyes. "What the hell makes you think you can help me? And I swear, if your answer involves some dumb shit like buying me a drink, I will shove that glass down your throat." Though her words came out as a threat, she found herself hoping Gren would give her the excuse to follow through.

Gren didn't falter as the hotheaded hottie got face-to-face with Gren. He just stood and stepped closer so that their chests were pressed together. "Sounds more like you need to lay off the drinks, goldilocks. You could use a little fun, something involving some ripping and tearing. I know just the place for something like that. So how about it hottie blondie? Let's go find you somewhere to work up that sweat."

Scarlet's eyes narrowed and she did not budge as Gren stood and pressed into her. Excitement rose within her at the threatening body language but this was tempered by mild surprise and confusion. Though Gren seemed to be predictably throwing around his superior height and weight, his words and facial expression were not exactly what she expected. He didn't seem genuinely offended, if he was offended at all. And though he might be foolishly suggesting they go a few rounds in the bedroom, the mention of ripping and tearing implied otherwise.  Actually, if he intends for a bit of violence like I hope he does...

"One, fuck you, I'll drink as much as I damn well please, Dad. Two, if you're talking about literal ripping and tearing I'm in. If you mean anything else I will cut you without a second thought. Oh, and if," She lowered her voice to a whisper before continuing, the threatening tone still very palpable. , you're with the Yun Fang, I'll kill you right here and now." She tensed her body as she said this, preparing for the very real possibility that she had just called out a member of the local gang's muscle. At point blank range, no less.

"Never heard of him." Gren said honestly and frankly. He hadn't really done much research about this area, but if he had to guess this woman and this Yun had some bad blood between the two of them. None of Gren's business though. With a flex of his pecs Gren bounced himself off the angry woman's breasts and handed her his business card. "Grab your favorite toy and meet me at the pier whenever you're ready. I'll show you a good time." Gren gave the mystery woman a wink as he walked off to continue his mission. 

Getting back to business he went about meeting a contact here at the beach. It was a fellow hunter who was keeping an eye on the Grimm in the area. Smart lass, owned the local lighthouse. Knew a lot about the beasts and would be fighting them herself if she still had both legs. Still she did the best she could with her trusty sniper rifle. The two exchanged pleasantries before getting straight to business. Gren traded her some crates of Dust for the information she had. Despite being a hunter, she needed to make money too. Why she wanted her payment in Dust, Gren didn't know. He didn't ask.

With the information Gren headed to the docks. With any luck he'd be a step closer to figuring why all the Grimm were getting closer and closer to this place.

Is this guy for real? What kind of dope hasn't heard of the Yun Fang of Vacuo? And if he's not with them why the hell are we suddenly meeting at the docks? Not part of the gang, not working with them, not looking for them, not part of a rival gang... But this is too much of a coincidence. Who the fuck is this assho- She lifted the card he had left her with for the first time. Her eye twitched again.

"Shit."

Gren was a hunter. Straight from Beacon Academy. And if he wasn't here to deal with the Yun Fang or whoever they were working with like she was… he was probably here about some kind of Grimm related issue. But at the docks? He had promised her some stress relief but if there was a Grimm problem at the docks she should have noticed; she had been watching that area all day. Not only that but there were other Hunters on duty already guarding the beach from any strays tempted by such a large gathering of humans. So what else was going on?

"Hm. Fuck it. I can work with this. Better than sitting around here any longer. She muttered to herself, collecting her hoodie and nearby duffel bag. She slipped on the garment and tossed a bunch of lien at the unfortunate barista, much more than the drinks had cost. "Catch you later, sexy." She said as she took her replacement drink and walked away with it. She thought she heard the girl stuttering something at her but she ignored it and approached the docks.

She smiled darkly as an idea occurred to her. Maybe this guy can help me out, after all. Mordecai did say that this was my job and I should deal with it.

Gren was reading the information he gained while sitting on a small motorboat. He wished he could have gotten a bigger one (As in one that he didn't have to squeeze into), but this was the cheapest he could get. Considering what he was going to do, this boat was most likely going to get wrecked, and he didn't want to shell out the Lien to replace a big one. At least the boat itself looked nice and clean, even if it wasn't the biggest skipper on the dock. In any case Gren read the information he was given: grimm activity had spiked in the recent few months. At first it was usually just a few strays that even the locals could deal with using just some sticks and rocks. But recently larger grimmer had  been sighted, and Hunters had been deployed to maintain watch. It wasn't unusual to see them at regular seasonal intervals, typically during holidays and such. Despite the festivities, a lot of negative feelings tended to crop up whenever such a large concentration of people show up. But something was different this time. The spike was occurring during a non-tourism season, and the usual big grimm hadn't been sighted, but a lot of the small fry had. The hunter who gave Gren this information knew this was a sign that the grimm were starting to amass in a large number. Whenever one could catch a glimpse of their small fries, it usually meant they were overflowing.

This information hadn't been made public yet in order to prevent panic, but the Hunters here lacked the manpower to deal with such a large concentration of Grimm. While they had a team capable of underwater combat, the sheer number would overwhelm the team and ultimately they'd lose their ace-in-the-hole if things get out of hand. An important piece of information that the hunter gave Gren was that she suspected something was happening here to attract the Grimm. So far they didn't really seem to be loitering around the beach itself, but remaining in the sea. Either they were waiting for something, or whatever they were looking for was often in the ocean. And thus, Gren was here at the dock to look for that thing. 

As Gren was waiting for the blond he also looked up the name "Yun Fang". Wasn't long before he got some information about a crime boss who operated in this part of Vacuo. Not much was known based off what he could research in a few minutes, but Gren simply figured that was because this guy knew what he was doing. Infamy was great at scaring small fries out of your turf, but if you wanted to maintain business you had to not draw attention to yourself. It was unfortunate that Gren couldn't dig up any more info about this Yun guy, though he certainly looked like bad news. Kidnapping, smuggling, and routine political assassination. Gren was frankly surprised how little information there was on a guy with this many high profile crimes attached to his name. No wonder why blondie didn't like him.

Eventually Gren spotted said blondie walking down the docks. Gren waved his arm towards her to flag her down. Shouldn't be too hard seeing that he was the only big green man here. "Hey bae. Glad you could make it. I figured we could do a bit of fishing in the ocean. Now before you rip my arms off, I just want ya to know I'm not looking for little fishes like tuna or something. I'm looking for... Bigger game. You in?"

Scarlet considered Gren’s proposal, liking the idea if not the way he delivered it. So he is Grimm hunting. Not here on the docks but out at sea. Ballsy... 

"I'm not your 'bae' so don't fucking call me that again. But to answer your question, yes. I could go for some Grimm fishing. Sounds relaxing. However, before we head out why don't we go chat up some friends of mine, first? You said you wanted to help me out, right? She smiled at the faunus with all the warmth of a snake. The truth was she could handle this business alone but it would go much more quickly and smoothly with at least one other person at her back. And as far as she knew even if Beacon churned out graduates with a hero complex they were also damn fine Hunters. 

Gren shrugged. He supposed he could go meet her friends. It was probably a trap, but Gren wouldn't mind getting into a bit of a brawl before hunting. It'd be a nice warmup. "Sure. Lead the way, cutie-mcbooty." He also suspected that she intended to have him fight Yun, which Gren was only slightly more hesitant about. If he had his weapons or armor, sure. Without it? Less sure. But he'd see what he could do.

"C-cutie... Mcbooty?" She repeated, her eye twitching repeatedly as she stared at Gren incredulously. What? "Who the fuck says that?!" She yelled. "Oh my god, just no. Don't do that. She shook her head and sighed deeply. This is not my day.

"Seriously... Do you have a weapon? I'm hoping you don't plan on going fishing after this with your bare hands. She asked before thinking about it. Hah, I don't think I'd be surprised if that is exactly what he planned to do at this point. Fucker better have a semblance half as good as mine if that's the case.

"Of course." Gren took out the harpoons on his back. They weren't exactly his normal weapons, but they would be good enough for what he needed them for. He also lifted up his shirt to reveal the wasp knives he had strapped to his belt. Just in case he needed to give some Grimm a "lift". Or cut them. And lastly, he had what appeared to me sticks of dynamite. Makeshift grenades; he'd be able to explode them underwater, even light them, but he wasn't relying on them to kill Grimm. Rather, if he found another cave like where the Siren was, he was just going to blow the thing up with carefully placed dynamite instead of walking in there like a fool. He'd explain it to the coast guards once he was certain he slew all the grimm inside. "And until I know your name, I'll just have to keep making one up for you, hottie blondie."

Scarlet eyed the tips of the harpoons and the edges of the knives Gren had acquired since she last saw him admiringly. The thought of what those sharp edges could do to flesh was enough to make her feel somewhat better. I hope one of these jackasses gives Gren an excuse to impale them. Or I could borrow one. A pleasant shiver travelled down her spine as she approached Gren, her expression softer than than it had been. 

She held out her drink to him. "Hold this." She then set down her duffel bag and opened a side pocket to fish out something to tie her hair. She got most of it out of the way by putting it up into a messy ponytail. With that done she started leading Gren towards the warehouse where the Yun Fang had set up shop. 

She thought about the point he had made in not knowing her name. At first she had not cared to share her name with him. She still didn't much care for the idea but things were different now. He needed something to call her besides Goldilocks. Or worse. However, if she told him her real name there was a chance he might have already heard of her, which could be troublesome.

"You can call me, uh, Lavender." She lied, mentally kicking herself as it sounded fake even to her ears. Ugh. Real smooth, Scarlet. Not suspicious at aaaaaall. Dumb bitch. 

She considered how to turn that around as they reached the warehouse door and she tried the handle. It was, naturally, locked. Oh good. I can start this off the fun way. Holding up a finger to indicate Gren should wait a moment, she took a step back and raised one leg. She then delivered a viscous, aura powered kick to the metal door. The result was almost as satisfying as she hoped. The door was instantly warped by the force, and nearly ripped off its hinges. Yeah. Good enough.

Just inside, predictably, were two very tattooed and pierced men in clothing that was supposedly chosen to add to their intimidating appearance. In stereotypical outlaw fashion they were big guys and armed with oversized, ugly, impractical weapons. Then again she couldn't much judge them concerning the weapon department. It was just that the initial scene felt really cliche and scripted to her, like a bad action movie. Considering what she was about to do that scripted feeling was unlikely to go away anytime soon. And as expected, the two thuggish guards jumped down from stacked crates they had been sitting on to brandish their scary blades threateningly at her and Gren. Boring. Oh well. It's not the script that matters... She grinned in anticipation as she closed the distance at a brisk walk. It's how this is going to make me feel that matters. Keep up with me now, Gren.

One of the men, the one to her left, started to say something stupid. Apparently, even though she had just kicked in a door and was bearing down on them with a smile, he did not get the fact that she was a threat. One of these days I'll come across a gang that sets up their smallest, smartest guy in a suit as the door guard. But until then... While this man chuckled and referred to her as 'girly' she tossed her duffel bag at the quieter, stoic guy on the right. Reflexively, he moved to catch it. She was less than ten feet away from the both of them at this point and she followed this distraction with a sudden lunge, going for the idiot on the left. He, too, was distracted by the duffel bag and, having already underestimated her, was not ready when she struck. 

Fingers straight she jabbed at his throat, putting a tremendous amount of power and speed behind the attack. Unprepared as he was the defense his aura provided was nowhere near enough to stop her, and she felt his windpipe crumple around her fingertips. His eyes went wide in shock, then clenched shut as the pain registered in his mind. He released his weapon and clutched at his broken throat, making what she felt were the most delightful gagging noises she had heard in a long time. 

The sensation of his pain washed over her and began feeding into her semblance. At the same time the sight of him in this state caused the fine hairs on her body to stand on end. Her victim struggled desperately for a breath that would never come. Her pupils dilated as she watched him drop to his knees, and his desperation truly began to set in. Oh god, I've missed this. Grimm are never the same. It's so sad, though. I broke him too badly. He won't last much longer... 

She stared into his eyes, entranced for a few seconds. She had meant to immediately follow up her initial strike with an attack on the second man, the one who was just now throwing her duffel aside and assessing what had happened. But Scarlet had miscalculated. She had forgotten her own sickness, and just how much of an effect it had on her. As the one man died, that was, for a moment, her whole world. She did not see the other one as rage filled his eyes, shattering his formerly stoic expression. Her peripheral did not register him raising his curved saw blade.

Gren sighed just a little seeing "Lavender" break down the door. He guessed that this wasn't just going to be a quick lunch date. Two big goons dropped from above and before they finished their tough guy speech Lavender killed a guy. "Guess it's going to be one of those days." The other thug took a swing at Lavender but Gren hurled his harpoon at his sword, knocking it off course and burying itself into the ground. 

Gren didn't waste any time running up to the guy, crushing his kneecap with a stomp, elbowing him in the face, and then putting the guy into a reverse headlock. He punched and grabbed at Gren, but the big faunus didn't give the guy an inch. He crushed the guy’s neck until his aura gave out, then held for a few extra seconds until he stopped squirming. Whether he was dead or just out cold Gren didn't know. There were some other things to worry about now.

There were already a lot of footsteps heading their way and Gren looked over to Lavender. Silently he pointed up towards the catwalk as Gren reeled his harpoon back and tossed it to the railings above. Despite his bulk the big green guy climbed the rope pretty easily. He could already see more goons coming in with guns and swords, so it looked like it'll be a big melee.

To Scarlet, the sharp clang of metal on metal was a dull sound. Her senses were honed in on the dying man in front of her. As he fell forward and faded away she slowly started to come back to reality and tilted her head back, shifting her eyes toward the source of the muffled sound. She might have just stayed there a second or two longer, but the sight of the other man's knee snapping in the wrong direction woke her up from the trance. This new sensation tweaked her semblance and she started thinking again as Gren subdued the other man.

Disappointing, isn't it? Getting so worked up over the little things. I guess I was just starved for it but in the end, She thought to herself pulling her bag towards her and unzipped the main part. ,this level of suffering is nothing. She reached in as the second man slipped away, possibly dead but most likely unconscious. She removed her weapon, a thick, heavy axe with a single head for cleaving and a more blunt, hammer-like edge behind that. She flipped the heavy weapon casually into the air and caught it again, her improved mood allowing her to indulge in the playful act. 

She looked at Gren, climbing to a better vantage point and urging her to do the same. She could hear the approaching footfalls now that she had shaken her tunnel vision. Smart. But I'll have to disappoint and leave the clever strategies to you, green man. Such things will only slow me down I'm afraid. She shook her head at Gren and bent to pick up the discarded saw blade their last victim had imbedded into the concrete. She took a breath as the running footsteps got very close, just around a tall stack of crates, even.

A lanky, hairy redhead with a nasty looking shotgun was the first to come into view. He tried to take aim at Scarlet as soon as he saw her but she hurled the blade at him too fast for him to line up a shot properly. His aura took the hit well but it bounced off his face and neck, startling him and causing him to reflexively fire into the air. She rushed in and hit him hard with the blunt side of her axe. He went flying up to crash into some heavy metal shelving before dropping back to the floor. He lost his grip on his weapon and Scarlet smashed him into the concrete floor where he struggled face down. His aura couldn't handle the assault and flared, completely expended within a second or two. Pathetic, She thought as she realized what class of hired goons they were dealing with. At this rate I won't even need to use Scorpion Tail's full potential.

She left herself open to attack from the others to her right but this was not unplanned. She wanted specific results from this opening salvo, she wanted it to hurt. To that end she picked up her current victim's shotgun, aimed roughly using only one arm, and fired the chambered round into the man's leg. The screams of agony and the shredding of the flesh would have been enough for her. This man's pain, like the two before him, was absorbed by her twisted semblance. Part of his pain became her own and she relished it even as several gunmen took aim at her. She dropped the shotgun next to the screaming, writhing, bleeding man.

Gren sighed as she watched Lavender charge forward. "Why do I have to work with the reckless ones..." Shaking his head Gren simply ran forward on the catwalk. At least with Lavender causing a ruckus the thugs wouldn't notice Gren above them. He missed her brutal takedown of the lone thug as more came to face her. They took cover behind some of the boxes and crates in the warehouse, shooting blindly at Lavender's general direction. But they made the mistake of staying still close together. Gren took out a stick of dynamite and armed it, dropping it in the middle of the gathering below. The thugs barely had a chance to see what hit the floor before the bomb went off and sent the men scattering, their auras shattering upon impact with the explosion. One thug was sent flying in Lavender's direction and threatened to knock her over if she wasn't fast enough to avoid or strike him down.

Scarlet stood where she was as the first group of reinforcements hid behind cover and opened fire with a menagerie of automatic weapons. She stared down her attackers, motionless, smirking, and fully anticipating the impact of several rounds at least. Instead, an explosion tore through the men, hurling them in all directions, their defenses decimated in an instant. One of them flew right at her and she batted him aside, into the warehouse wall with a satisfying crunching sound. But her smile fell when she took stock of the now silent scene. Not a single round had hit her.

"Are... are you fucking kidding me?! Who the fuck taught you shitheads how to shoot?! I cannot even fathom..." She said in utter shock and disbelief, letting her last sentence trail off.

Behind Scarlet her third victim felt the urge for revenge and he reached for his shotgun. Irritated and baffled, Scarlet stepped back and brought her foot viciously down, crushing his hand against the gun and eliciting another invigorating howl of pain. Without looking back she strode forward, into the midst of the downed men still reeling from the explosion. Without any sense of urgency she retrieved one of the discarded sub machine guns. She leveled the weapon in the general direction of someone struggling to get to their feet and fired a burst into his abdomen and pelvis. His agony was both refreshing and exciting, and she repeated this cruel act with his companions until no one was trying to stand, and everyone was bleeding. By the time she was finished with the last one and tossed the gun aside she was shivering. Her semblance felt like a thing alive as it transferred all of that energy into her, and her blood felt like it was on fire.

Heh. Not as intense as when I take it myself, but there's just.. so.. many of them. Sublime...

She looked up at Gren, a sultry look having replaced her disappointed expression. "Are we having fun yet?" She asked, half expecting him to decide she was more despicable than the people they were going after. She couldn't blame him since she had done nothing to conceal her nature.

When Lavender looked up at Gren, she saw him dropping the body of one of the thugs off the railing. One of them managed to climb up, but ultimately failed to subdue Gren after he had punched his lights out. The body fell onto the floor in a crumpled, groaning heap. He looked down at Lavender who seemed to be quite... enjoying herself. He gave her a thumbs up. "The party hasn't started yet. This is just a warm up." And sure enough, something big was coming their way. More thugs showed up and this time they wasted no time getting into cover, shooting at the two upon immediately spotting them. Gren jumped off the railing behind some metal boxes for cover, but he didn't stay for long when a giant anchor came flying out of nowhere, nearly crushing him. It forced him back onto the ground with Lavender as more bullets were being flung in their direction. He took out two more sticks of dynamite to deal with the crowd, he just needed Lavender to provide a distraction long enough for the thugs not to gun him down. 

She turned towards what could be considered the second wave, noting none of them had learned from the mistakes of their predecessors. Or maybe they felt safe without Gren directly above them dropping dynamite. Whatever the reason she decided it was better this way. Chasing down her prey would be tiresome.

She charged forward quite recklessly, and this time someone was either a better shot or got lucky. A round or two ripped through her right shoulder, almost making her drop her weapon but not slowing her down at all. At the same time a jolt of pleasure shot through her body, making her gasp. The damaged flesh rapidly began knitting together, drawing on the energy her semblance had gathered. She vaulted over the crate her shooter was using as cover, kicking him in the chest and sending him sprawling. She dropped on his chest before he could get away, straddling him as she raised her axe high above her head and brought it down repeatedly.

While she brutally pounded away at this man's aura one of his so called allies decided to risk shooting his buddy if it meant putting Scarlet down. A shot ricocheted off her skull, instantly reducing her hearing to a dull ringing and making her vision go black for a moment. But with this came intense pain, and with the pain came yet another increase in her already greatly boosted self healing. She turned her head slowly to look at whoever had just landed the headshot, her vision and hearing gradually returning as she did so. The flesh wound was healed leaving only the blood on her face and a few burst blood vessels in her eye by the time she met his eyes. The look on his face was absolutely priceless. 

The horrified man was close, but just out of range for her relatively short axe. Fortunately Scorpion's Tail was a weapon with far more complexity than her preferred combat tactics. A simple flip of a switch extended the handle of the weapon from three feet to nearly seven. Using both arms for more force Scarlet swung the axe into his gut sending him flying out of sight.

Gren could only sigh as Lavender decided to distract the enemy by charging straight towards them. While this definitely took their attention off of Gren, now he couldn't risk tossing his explosives at them without catching her in the blast. However, she seemed the type to like getting hurt, so Gren quickly made his decision; if she was going to be reckless, then he'd have to simply accept that. As the thugs fired at Lavender Gren tossed his dynamite at them, once more sending the group scattering to the four winds as the bomb went off. The blast was close enough for Lavender to feel it, though not necessarily be hurt by the explosion. Shrapnel on the other hand was far less forgiving. 

Of course this wasn't the end of their troubles, either. Hearing something heavy scrap the floor Gren ran towards Lavender and tackled her to the ground just as an anchor sailed right above them. A moment later and Lavender's pretty little head would be splattered on the floor. "Seriously... Who DA FUCK are ya people!?" As the anchor was quickly pulled back, ripping through anyone and anything in it's path, a girl stepped out from the shadows with an very angry scowl. "Yer gunna be chum by the time I'm done with ya."

A few more rounds tore into her unprotected flesh, forcing her to drop to her hands and knees. Each decimated nerve ending shot raw energy into her semblance which in turn pumped that stored energy back into her body in order to heal that same damage. The more it hurt the faster her wounds closed. 

Gren made a good decision as far as she was concerned, the very decision she had been hoping he would make. The bomb went off at a questionably safe distance, but close enough to shred some of the nearby wooden crates and send the shrapnel into her side. The pleasure was coming in intense waves now, letting her know she had reached what she considered the sweet spot. At this point even major wounds would heal almost instantly, but at the same time if she took too much more it would be impossible to control herself anymore.

"Time to take things seriously, Scarlet..." She said to herself carelessly, grabbing Scorpion's Tail and retracting it to its shorter length. 

She started to rise to her feet only to get hit with something akin to a truck. She sprawled onto the floor and some of the shrapnel was driven deeper, dangerously close to her vital organs. This nearly threatened to send her over the edge and she reflexively grabbed at whatever had hit her and now rested on top of her. She grabbed Gren by the sides of his head and almost dug her thumbs into his eyes before she realized it was him. Behind his head she saw something large, curved, and sharp go sailing through the air. "Aww, you threw a bomb on me then saved me from a giant... anchor. Fuckin sweetheart." She planted a bloody kiss on his lips before shoving him aside roughly so she could get up and pull some of the larger bits of shrapnel out. "Thanks, Gren. I could have taken that, though." She said, her mood almost the polar opposite of how she had been just a few minutes before.

Scarlet looked the newcomer up and down, noting how this woman was radiating confidence. She concluded that this must be one of the gang's higher ups, someone with talent and strength beyond the low level lackeys that had been throwing themselves at her and Gren. Now here is a true warm up...

"Hey, sexy. Is your boss in? If you can't tell we would really like to have a word. Maybe some tea? Or... do we just cut straight through you to get to him?"

"Capt'n ain't here. I can take yer final words to him though, once yer cryin and bleedin on da floor." the anchor girl said calmly as she threw the anchor high into the air above Lavender, or Scarlet as she had called herself. As the anchor started falling the girl took the other end of the chain, which had a smaller barbed fishhook, and tossed it right at the Scorpion Tail to disarm Scarlet of her weapon.

As for Gren he was both confused and mildly aroused at Scarlett's sudden change in moods. He liked a good fight as much as anyone else, but he wasn't sure if Scarlet had just kissed him or gave him a sloppy headbutt. "Right, not important." Gren said to himself as he got back to his feet to fight their new adversary. He picked up one of the guns that wasn't too badly damaged by the explosion as Scarlet fought the anchor girl. Activating his semblance Gren started walking up one of the pillars towards the ceiling. This way he could get a vantage point on the anchor girl.

Scarlet burst out laughing. She couldn't even help it. "Too bad. Good luck getting me to cry, babe. But I might bleed for you if you ask real nice like." 

She winked as the unnamed woman tossed her unusual weapon... above her? Dropping it on me? What possible- oh. Scarlet wondered at the odd attack until the other end of that chain whipped around and a fishhook caught Scorpion's Tail. Huh. A distraction to get me disarmed. Ok. As her axe was yanked away Scarlet simply let it go. Sailor girl had good footing but she was still caught off guard enough to have to shift and keep from stumbling. Scarlet took advantage of the moment to duck forward past the falling anchor and reach up for it's chain. She wrapped her arm around it and jerked it taut between the two of them. 

She cocked her head far to one side and said playfully, "Trade?" Happy Birthday, Gren. Fuck her up...

The anchor girl braced herself as she entered a tug of war with Scarlet. She noticed Gren trying to flank her, but unlike the rest of the thugs she wasn't going to be so easily defeated. "I ain't that easy to kill!" Suddenly the anchor's chain started to retract, forcefully pulling Scarlet closer to the girl. As she was pulled the anchor girl tossed Scarlet in Gren's direction. He opened fire but only managed to get a few shots before Scarlet was flung in his direction.

Gren sighed as he dropped to avoid Scarlet and engage this girl in melee. That anchor of hers seemed more dangerous from afar rather than up close. Plus he could see Scarlet's Weapon at the girl's feet; with any luck Gren could grab it and use it to fight this chick. "Don't get full of yourself."

Scarlet moved with the pull of the weapon and trusted Gren to get out of the way as she was thrown feet first at him. Her legs absorbed the impact and she immediately readied herself to push off again, back at the woman who thought to toss her around so casually. Before she did she slipped a hand under Gren's shirt and palmed one of his spare knives, not minding if he thought she was groping him mid-battle. She launched herself at the scantily clad anchor slinger, apparently unarmed. Throw that thing again, bitch.

The anchor girl saw Gren and Scarlet come right at her, but she seemed excited. Happy even. She tossed the small anchor above herself to one of the catwalks, pulling herself upwards she left the chain just long enough for Scarlet to hang from it, the chains wrapping tightly around and holding onto her arms. The girl casually sat on the railing as she looked down at the two below. "You lubbards don't stand a chance. A damn shame too. Could've used you as part of me crew."

Gren slid towards the Scorpion Tail, grabbing it off the ground before continuing his run up the a big wooden box. He tossed the axe at the girl's chain to damage it and give it enough slack for Scarlet to possibly escape, while Gren fired blindly at the anchor girl. However, she merely twirled her small hook around and deflected the bullets shot at her.

That chain just wrapped itself around me. She realized as she was bound just as she landed and before she could react. That is an interesting technique. I'll have to make her tell me how she does that. I can just imagine Scorpion's Tail moving that way... But for now I better figure a way out of this- ah. Gren's got my back.

The big guy not only loosened the chain enough for her to slip out of the trap but he also got her own weapon back to her. Scarlet wasted no time in driving the knife through one of the chain links and into the concrete floor, pinning it there. For good measure she took Scorpion's Tail and hammered the knife and chain fairly deep down. Even with her bullshit chain powers that would surely be a pain in the ass to work free.

"Who's doing the running, and who's doing the chasing? Afraid to get up close and personal? I'm even going easy on you since it's two on one. Maybe you should reconsider whose crew you ought to be on?" Scarlet taunted, driving her point home by stepping on the face of one of the barely conscious lackeys. "I mean, fuck, I've even got time to monologue while my buddy goes at you. Babe, get wise or step it up."

The anchor girl just sneered as she finally dodged to avoid Gren's gunfire. He’d just ran out of ammo too, so he tossed the gun away to whip out his harpoon. "That's where ya wrong. I ain't stuck dealing with ya two. Y'all stuck dealing with me!" Extending her chain the girl swung from the catwalk down towards Scarlet. But that wasn't the only thing. The anchor that Scarlet nearly got hit by lunged right at her from behind. Even Gren didn't expect that as the two ton hook drove right into Scarlet's back. The anchor girl tossed her hook at Scarlet, but that attack was intercepted by Gren's harpoon. Using his semblance he rooted himself firmly to the ground, and his harpoon firmly in his hands. 

A moan escaped her lips before she realized it, such was the impact the massive anchor had on her. She flushed in embarrassment for getting caught off guard like that and letting that sound slip. That was a move that, while ridiculously hard to predict, she shouldn't have let hit her. The cutting force of a small vehicle slamming into her was a massive amount of pleasure for her to suppress, nevermind the fact that she would have been cut in half if she hadn't used her aura to protect her spine. Being split in two would have been difficult to come back from. If even possible at all. She mused, stumbling forward as Gren once again covered her.

"N-nice of you to join us, sssexy lady... She whispered, stuttering slightly as she struggled to control herself. The vicious wound in her back closed up but the sensation lingered this time. This girl had a new surprise for her even as Scarlet adapted to the one before it. She now knew to watch out for disarming, binding, unique sneak attacks, and the mobility and defense any chain could offer, but especially these chains. But Scarlet was excited to think their opponent had even more tricks up her sleeves. 

Minding her flank now Scarlet raised Scorpion's Tail defensively, placing a finger over two different releases in anticipation. She did not take advantage of the opening Gren had provided. This chick was craftier than she looked. Scarlet chose patience, instead, a tactic she didn't usually have to employ.

"What's your name, hmm?" She asked, watching for subtle movements that might indicate her next play.

"Azura!" The Anchor Girl shouted as she drew her anchor back towards Gren. Predicting that would happen after seeing Scarlet Gren slipped out and let his harpoon be taken, as he simply took out another one for himself. This girl was good, but if Gren had come in with his weapon he could have defeated her by now. Scarlet was severely wounded and/or waiting for an opening, so Gren would have to fight this girl alone for now. Fortunately that just meant he wouldn't have to worry about Scarlet getting caught in the crossfire.

Gren flicked one of his knives towards the girl and charged. In return she hurled her anchor right towards Gren. He braced himself and activated his semblance, this time rooting not only himself, but Azura as well. Gren then grabbed the anchor as it crashed into him, his aura taking a fairly weighty hit as he slammed it into the ground. Azura tossed the smaller hook into the ceiling and tried to pull herself up, only to be caught off guard when her feet wouldn't leave the ground. "What?!"

Cute name. Scarlet thought as she bided her time and observed as Gren took the lead during her own inactivity. They probably both thought she was badly messed up after that last attack. She hadn't exactly taken the time to explain to Gren what she could do, and she did remain splattered in copious amounts of blood, her hoodie shredded to tatters. That seemed to work to her advantage in this case as Azura focused most of her attention on Gren, who took her anchor without budging. How did he pull that off? He's big but not giant anchor big. She pondered and guessed it had to be semblance related when she saw Azura fail to pull herself up with her hook.

Her instincts told her this was the moment she had been waiting for, and she moved on those instincts without hesitation. She closed in from mostly behind Azura, choosing two different switches from what she thought she would need, and she extended Scorpion's Tail to its full length. Using it like a long club Scarlet smashed it into the back of her knees, and rooted to the floor as she was Azura was painfully brought to the down. Scarlet followed through, fluidly spinning Scorpion's Tail around and down. She hit the second switch and snapped open the weapons head, extending it into a thick scythe blade. She slammed this down, burying it in the concrete just next to Azura's head, opposite from herself. She then pressed her foot against the side of the woman's head, forcing it against the blade and making a very unmistakable threat.

"Tell me, Azura, do you think you can take this? Is your aura strong enough? I bet I could take a fair chunk out like this at the very least. It would be a shame to have to ruin that pretty face, but..." Scarlet's expression morphed into something terrifyingly psychotic as she looked down at her prey. "...at the same time I would love an excuse to slowly flay the skin off of you."

Azura just grinned even as her head was at risk of taking a permanent vacation from her body. "Do ya worse, ya slattern! I already did my job stallin y'all. Even if this is how it ends, I did everything I needed." Gren stepped over towards Scarlet and Azura, maintaining his semblance so that Azura couldn't escape. He looked down at the nautical themed criminal and made a suggestion for his bloodthirsty new friend.

 "Not that I particularly care if she lives or dies, but Azura here seems like she's a cut above your average mook. Maybe she knows something important. Maybe," Gren knelt down towards Azura while holding a stick of dynamite, "She's smart enough to know when to talk and when to quietly think of better days. Because it'd be a real shame if she's just some thug who can't help us. We don’t have any use for deadweight like that, do we?"

Gren looked over to Scarlet to try and intimidate Azura (which they were already doing just fine with the blade to her neck), so Gren tried to tie things up. "Let's cut to the chase. Where's your boss and what have you people been doing here?"

I have use for deadweight like that.. Scarlet was tempted to oblige Azura, but not in a way she would appreciate. She would make it slow and excruciating. But it was Gren who reminded her of why she was here in the first place. Right. Information. I guess I got a little sidetracked.

She pressed Azura's neck into the blade harder to accentuate Gren's words. She said nothing herself, having made her point already. Now was the time for Gren to act as the voice of reason.

Azura spat at Gren, who simply blocked her spittle with the dynamite. She debated just killing herself but in the end she relented. "I don't know who my 'boss' is. I was just given a fat stack of lien from someone by the name 'F'. Stupid name, but the money was good. His contact told to keep riff raff like you outta here. There's some big shipment that's suppose to come in." That's when Azura smirked and moved her head to glare at Scarlet, even as her neck slid against the scythe blade.

"But I had a runner go warn the ship before I met y'all. By now 'F' already got the message and is gettin away." Azura laughed heartily as she kept glaring at Scarlet, as if mocking her with her last breaths. "Game over. Ya lose."

Game over? Maybe. Maybe not. "So you're just a hired guard dog that doesn't even know anything." Scarlet sighed and looked at Gren. "Doesn't mean I can't still have fun with you, later. Hey, Gren, lend me that rope, will ya? And maybe drag that anchor off so she can't use that shit to escape, please. She took the rope from Gren and started binding Azura's arms and legs while he dealt with the anchor. When she was done she pulled Azura up roughly by the hair and leaned down until they were eye to eye. "My friend and I are going to go slaughter your boss now. And then I am personally coming back to play with you. As a hired crook you're fair game. She leaned even closer to whisper in Azura's ear. "Nobody's gonna miss you, girl. Scarlet licked the bloody cut on Azura's neck, then bit down hard to give her a taste of what was to come.

Scarlet then proceeded to smash the woman's head into the concrete as many times as it took to render her unconscious. She dropped her limp body and cracked open a large crate, tipping it over to empty its contents; drugs hidden in little statues or something like that. She stuffed the bleeding Azura inside and secured the lid, tipping another full crate onto it to weigh it down.

"I hope this deviation didn't cost you your mission. I'm sorry if it did. But maybe that boat of yours is fast enough to catch up? Whatever you want to do. I owe you for putting up with me, I suppose. She addressed Gren, one hand on her bloody hip, the other working Scorpion's Tail out of the floor. For all the damage she took and the blood covering her Scarlet looked absolutely vibrant and unharmed. Looking closely one would not find a mark anywhere on her after the brutal fight.

Gren was a bit startled seeing Scarlet bash Azura's head into the ground. He supposed that's just how she did things, though. Quickly putting that gruesome scene aside Gren held his hand to his forehead and called for his locker to go to his boat. This job just got more complicated, so there wasn't any more time to play with spears and knives. By the time he was done Scarlet had come over and done something that unnerved him even more; Scarlet apologized for the trouble she caused and wanted to repay him. He honestly didn't think she was the type, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth just yet. "I wish I had more information about what sort of boat that was suppose to come here, but I imagine that it shouldn't be too hard. I'd say we'd figure that out as soon as they start shooting at us." Gren noticed that, aside from Scarlet's rather tattered clothes, she was remarkably unharmed. He chalked it up to her semblance; if he had come here wearing his armor he would have been taking more hits than she would've.

”Yeah. Probably some cargo ship. It’ll be moving away from here, so that should also help narrow things down. She agreed.

"This wasn't exactly what I signed up for, but I imagine that they're related. Either way, it's a date. Let's head back to my boat."

Ha! At least Gren knows what a good date needs. And he’s way easier to deal with as a partner than that jackass Mordecai. Wonder if the Boss would like to sign him up? Maybe not. Bitch has ridiculous standards; it’s a wonder she ever took me on.

Gren and Scarlet got back to the boat before anyone would come investigate all the fighting at the docks, and by the time they arrived Gren's locker was already buried in the wood, halfway from breaking through. Pulling the massive thing out Gren took out two things: a giant suitcase and his equally giant gun, Annabeth. Loading the auto cannon with ammo Gren then handed it to Scarlet, who whistled at the impressive gift. "If anyone asks, you're hunting monsters." Gren then tossed his suitcase on the ground and stepped onto it. Then his suitcase began to unfold and attach around Gren's body, locking into place and even neatly tucking in his swim shorts so they didn't get snagged onto the armor folds. And eventually, Gren was fully suited up, head-to-toe in his usual combat armor. Clicking the helmet over his head Gren loaded up the armor's systems as he tried to get a map of the area, though he was unable to get a live feed. "Note to self: Upgrade to Drones."

Gren cut the rope keeping his boat moored, then started up the engine and headed into the ocean with Scarlet. She settled in with barely any space to sit between Gren and the giant gun. As they left the docks behind she suddenly realized she had forgotten something very important. 

”Uh, Gren? Where did you put my drink?”

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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Plank Sinatra

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Plank Sinatra the reaper won't come when you're ready for him

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Plank Sinatra

the reaper won't come when you're ready for him

1517 posts

in 3526 days

Seen 11 days ago

What a cozy little hell I'd woken up in.

This Pressman woman, the same bizarre exhibitionist that had spent the past two nights talking endlessly about my adoptive mother and making coy hints to me about my birth mother, definitely had a knack for this sort of thing, I had to give her that. This apartment was Feng shui as hell. The couch was neatly arranged on a wall to the right of the entrance, so that if you were skilled enough at belly flopping, you might even have been able to land face down into the worn old leather that had no doubt played host to its share of family movie nights. The curtains were all open, and there were a surprising amount of windows in the apartment, so the sheer amount of sunlight must have saved them a lot on the electricity bill around this time of year. 

There was music playing from somewhere in the house; someone'd left a radio on. It was a...it was Top 40. Ellie Goulding. It must have been coming from the bathroom. Luke might have left it on when he showered--

Luke.

"Aaaagh!"

I'd tried sitting up too quickly.

"Luke..."

I felt like I'd been torn in half.

"Bright? Giada?"

I felt so crudely reassembled.

"Gigi?"

At least I knew my memory was intact. I could remember a faces, names, maybe even muster up the ability to cobble together some timeline of events of the past few nights if I tried hard enough. But I wasn't interested in trying that hard. My head hurt too damn bad.

I need to test little things. I need to really test my memory.

"Heinrich Jericho Noah Solomon. Ferris Jericho Andromeda Charon. Vega Gratia Geni Beryl. Bianca Celestia Nuit. Babylon Paris Piper. Rebekah Mole Piper. Cecelia Catherine Gault. April always falls asleep during Round 4. Dawn was wearing a pixie cut this springtime. 39:28, 36:41. I know there's nothing that I can do to make you staaaa~aaaaaa~aaaaay, one thing I know that'll always remain, and that's the aftertaaaaa~aaaaaa~aaaaaste."

Names, teams, times, personality quirks, snapshots, times. I can sing along to the song in the bathroom. I certainly felt alive. I certainly felt like me.

Whoever the hell that was these days...

I tried sitting up a little more gingerly this time, and found that my caution was already leaving me better off physically. I was recovering every second I was conscious. I didn't remember Luke's blood having that kind of painkiller effect, but--

Vampire blood.

I'd consumed a lot of it the last few days. Some of it was our gorgeous Mistralian vampire's...

BITCH SLAP OH SNAP PUNK MOTHERFUCKER AIN'T WORTH THE CAP PREY EVIL TASTE WRONG BRIGHT  B  R I    GH T

...Eugh.

And a lot of it wasn't. That was probably what had me feeling peppier by the second. I was dosed on something.

I looked down to my left tricep and saw that the bandages around my upper arm had darkened with blood, nearly to a thick, viscous black. Whoever had fixed me up and dressed my wounds - be it Luke, Giada, or that love witch in the wool sweater - had left it unattended. I appreciated that.

Had I been on this couch all night? Where was my Scroll, I needed to check for a date--

In my haste, I nearly knocked over the large stool that had been repurposed as a refreshments table to the right side of the couch, between the sofa and Julia Pressman's esoteric bookcase. There were a couple items there, all of them wearing a sheer layer of loose leaf over them with helpful notes, most of them in Bright's handwriting.

DRINK ME: A bottle of Valic whiskey, probably not from this household. A double shot was already poured for me in a small glass, the ice having long melted in it. Normally I liked it neat, but I guess Bright thought I was like a child with a headache. Widdle Jewicho need ice cold dwink.

Go to hell, Bright. Can't believe I saved your ass.

...And that your cereal-shunning, shades-wearing, bitch-slapping dumb ass saved mine.

WEAR ME: A black v-neck in a uniquely shmedium size, no doubt so that whoever else was in the house could enjoy me in tight clothes. Thanks a lot, buddy. We'll have words on that once I find you. 

AVOID ME: A--

I stopped, looked at the note again, and studied the handwriting.

AVOID ME: Underneath a scrap of paper that had been blessed by Giada Fiordilatte's scrawl lay a little plastic pair of fangs, the kind that even dollar stores only had the sack to charge you a quarter for. 

It was enough to make me wish I could smile.

"Giada?" I tried again. The girl had spent over two months in my shadow at one point between her escape from custody and the time when I finally set her free, and she'd seen me at my lowest points; it wasn't impossible that she was loitering around in here somewhere, avoiding the sunlight that had swallowed up the room. Another clever ploy by the Pressman woman. How she was so good at this was beyond me. I don't believe in any of this occult crap, or I didn't before now. But she seems to have patterned her life around it. Weird way to live, if you asked me. 

...Me, the guy who joined the chivalric order at seventeen years of age.

No use thinking about that any further for right now, at least until I figured out where everyone was. I lifted up the drink glass and got part of my answer: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY in Bright's hand. It wasn't a surprise to me that he'd left. He was like me that way; as soon as he was able to stand up on his own two feet, he would be using them to shuffle somewhere or other in order to stay busy. Nicole being gone, on the other hand, surprised me. The girl was devoted to all of us, and me especially. I guess she's been reporting to my dad about me all these years, so she needs to keep a close eye out.

It seemed pretty counterintuitive to not report on how my recovery was going, though. Maybe Dad wasn't interested. Or, if she wasn't reporting to him about it...

Bleh. God knows what went on inside that girl's head. Secrets on secrets, even to a guy like me.

To hell with that. I needed sustenance. The last thing I'd had to eat was...vampire blood. And before that...

A...

A finger, right?

Maybe a palm. 

Like being gagged could stop Judgment. Ha.

...Bleeeeeh.

That was a thought worth drinking over.  I tilted my head back and managed to get the whole glass of whiskey down, even though with a sore throat that still tasted like blood and an empty stomach that was rumbling louder by the second, the stuff just made me want to gag. I rolled the empty glass around in my hand, watching a spare drop or two of alcohol roll around in circles around through its translucent bottom before setting it back on the table.

One glass was all I needed.

...

I wouldn't touch the glass again.

...

I wouldn't touch the glass again.

Sighing, I reached for the pair of fangs Giada had bought me and shrank back into a horizontal position on the couch. The fangs spun around my finger once. Twice. Stopped and reversed course for one spin, two. 

The song was changing in the other room.

With a flick, the fangs flew up in the air--

--and, as the knob on the front door turned, the fangs landed in my hand again. I quickly popped them into my mouth; my head tilted slightly to the right, though the couch was lined up so that I didn't have to do any acrobatics with my neck in order to see who was arriving.

Just Luke; neither of the Pressmans were with him, but he was car--

"YOU MONGREL!"

.

................................

"BRINGING ME TO THIS DEN OF INIQUITY AND ESOTERIC NONSENSE, FOR NEFARIOUS PURPOSES I KNOW NOT OF, I WILL HAVE YOU--M-My knight!"

......................................................

"Celia?"

"Tch, hey, man, it's good to see you awake. There, he's alive like I promised. Could you stop kicking me now?" Luke asked. He seemed grouchy, but for once, it was easy for me to understand why. The girl that was bound up over his shoulders (but, noticeably, not gagged) was someone that required a built-up tolerance for most people, unlike his two precocious sisters. Not for me, but for most people.

Cecelia Catherine Gault. Fifteen. Birthday, March 3rd. I'd bought her a...

A jacket. Leather with Gold Stripes regalia. Every Gold Stripe, in addition to the distinctive uniform we wore to classes and around the academy to denote our elite standing, also got a series of jackets for casual wear, to advertise our accomplishments in any weather. The people at Atlas hadn't had time to really make her any yet, as her appointment to the Stripes had been very last minute, so I'd had one made for her myself through third party. She wasn't wearing it today, but that was understandable for a number of reasons; it was a summer morning, after all, and as far as I knew Cecelia was supposed to be on holiday up north with Rich and the folks. Anything that had brought her here...

No, anyone who had brought her here...

Would likely be someone that didn't want their status as an operative compromised. She had traveled halfway across the world for a purpose.

H-Had Rich?

Crap. Crap, this is what I wanted to avoid.

...

Although, there were possibilities here.

"Celia..." I muttered quietly, careful to keep my eyes downcast and shrinking away from as much of the sunlight on the sofa as I could. It was easy enough to manage, even if I wound up mostly lying atop the back of the piece of furniture, ceding most of the cushions. "Luke, keep her away. I think...I think I came back wrong."

Oh, God, I nearly had to use my Semblance to keep the impression of a straight face here.

"Do I look alright?"

I smiled - only a small smile, though, and nothing as crass as manipulating my Semblance to give the appearance of a glint of light along a sharpened canine. That would be out of character for me.

Luke must have been there to see someone plant the plastic fangs in the first place, so after an initial flinch on his part the Shiroyaman seemed to instinctively relax. But Cecelia screamed.

And then, still struggling against her own weapon and Semblance, kicking her feet into Luke's back with the miniscule amount of force she could muster from her trussed up position, I saw the bratty princess seal her eyes shut and duck her chin towards her chest. The classic "of course I'm not crying" defense mechanism.

Aw, Christ.

"Hey..."

"Y-You idiot! Stupid knight, your heedless courage and your militant death wish have finally gone too far! And you, you mountain mongrel, he would never have found his way to this backwater were it not for you and your--you--dummies, dummies, dummies--!"

"Celia."

The fangs beaned the Gault heir apparent directly in the nose, one plastic tooth bouncing off the little tip, underneath the bridge, and landing on the carpet. For about two seconds she actually looked shocked, looking at me balefully to determine whether or not I stll had a beating heart and a taste for cooked meat. Then she tried passing off an attempt to grab the fangs off the floor, for whatever reason. It wasn't like I was gonna be fooled now that I'd used the trick against her.

"I-Idiot..."

"Yeah," I admitted. "Now c'mere."

I expanded one arm and gestured for her to approach. The intensity of the panicked stare she gave Luke would have been enough to melt any handcuffs that the Beacon student had used to hold her, but there was no way that even Celia was getting free of her weapon without Luke there to give the first inch. Even with her kicking frantically in the air and waving her head back and forth in an attempt to tip herself free of his lumberjack carry, it may have taken her hours to go anywhere.

"Lemmefreelemmefreelemmefreelemmefreelemeefreelemmefreelemmefree--"

The questioning look that Luke returned fire with was aimed straight at me.

"It's alright, man."

"Tch, yeah...fine. Heave ho, kid..."

There it was; he tugged on the bindings towards their point of first contact, down towards her ankles. With even a hint of slack, she was free in seconds, and landed onto her palms on the carpet with considerably more grace than you would expect from a girl who had found herself rolled up into a bundle like kindling by Luke Schwarz, of all people. She let the rest of her body land backwards, pushing herself up off her hands and touching the floor with her own feet again--

"MY KNIGHT!"

--YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH

AND THROWING HERSELF RIGHT INTO THE GODDAMN CLINCH WITH THE HUG OF THE CENTURY! MY RIB! MY RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIB!

Cecelia, meanwhile, sounded...well, if you'd ever heard Bekah snacking on a dozen kreme donuts, or Bianca during leather jacket and beanie season, you'd know the sound of utter content that was currently squeaking out of the face smushed into my taped-together sternum.

"I came halfway across the world for you!"

I noticed.

"Yeah, seems like that's an Atlesian virtue these days..."

Gingerly, I closed the embrace, wrapping my open arm around her back and running my hand through her hair with my other one briefly. Credit to Cecelia Gault - she was one of the only people who had never once flinched at Judgment's touch.

"Virtue, you say...Brother would probably call it folly."

Your brother would do it for either of us.

And you shouldn't judge based on Heinrich "I saw you walking with that owl, time to break in my new towel" Gault's twised idea of affection.

Wow, those were easy. I see why Luke and Speer like them.

Heinrich "I'm afraid that to claim this guy, I must let the linens fly" Gault.

Heinrich "Speer can stick to cyber world, I have my own cute fascist girl" Gault.

Heinrich "Mongrel please, I know these things, it's only gay if you fuck the ki--"

Fuck it, too sick and too busy to finish this up right now. 2500 words or so is as much as I'm gonna get done.

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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Silvan Haven

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Silvan Haven Interstellar Paladin

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Silvan Haven

Interstellar Paladin

791 posts

in 3524 days

Seen 3 yrs ago

A few thousand words shorter than I would like and not at all what was originally planned but it's here.

The sun shone overhead, bathing the beach in warm rays. Towels and umbrellas sprinkled the strip of white sand as people took advantage of the pleasant early summer day.

Two of those happy beachgoers were a pair of Faunus. The owl wings on one and the otter tail on the other would give anyone familiar a clue as to their identity. If that wasn't enough on its own the unusual way the water acted around the latter had to be a dead giveaway.

Beryl giggled as she sent a wave sweeping sideways along the beach towards Bianca. It was a small wave, only knee high. So it wasn't very hard for the other Beacon student to jump over it. A slight flap of her wings sent the girl over the unnatural lump of water.

The two were in the shallows. Beryl up to her waist, Bianca at her knees. The water wielding otter girl would have preferred to be all the way in the water. Zipping about like a torpedo. But Bianca had waaaay too many feathers for that. So they compromised and stayed at the edge of the vast body of water.

With a grin of her own the white haired girl pointed a finger at the water near Beryl. With an unseen flash of energy a dent appeared in the liquid, salt water spraying out and over the young Huntress.

Beryl let out a cry of surprise and reflexively ducked under the surface. The spray splattered harmlessly against where she had been standing the moment before.

She came back up with a distinct lack of sputtering. Sputtering was for people who weren't half water, half otter, half girl. With an evil grin her hands shot up from the turquoise surface. Two streams of water followed her hands and shot through the air at the winged girl several yards away.

Now it was Bianca's turn to whoop in surprise. With a flap of her wings and a blast of semblance that sent water spraying away in every direction she shot up into the air above the streams. Hovering there she watched them splash back down before sending a challenging grin at Beryl.

The girl in the water met the girl in the air's grin with one of her own. Several clear orbs rose up behind her and fired off at Bianca. The airborne Huntress started ducking and weaving around the liquid spheres as she repulsed a larger dent into the water below.

Sunlight refracted through the the orbs and the sound of them splashing back into the water started drawing the attention of other beach goers. One group started hurriedly digging a pit that they promptly jumped into and stuck their umbrella overtop of.

The wisdom of such a manuever showed itself soon after when an orb landed not in the water. And again when another was sent flying overhead by a blast of repulsion from the flying Bianca.

The cries and laughs of the two girls could be heard across the beach as they continued their contest. Beryl sending orbs of water up at her playmate. Bianca dodging and sending them back down or causing spouts to erupt out of the ocean near her friend.

Beryl might not be able to cure Bianca's problems but she could at least help her forget for a short time.

All in all it was a good day

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