The world of Vecta, there raged a battle between the Light and the Dark. Two gods - Morganna and Drasil - had birthed this world from nothing. Conquering over the light and the dark, the brother and sister unleashed their might to bring life to a barren world. The first beings, the Primals, sprang forth from the Earth. Then, the dragons established their dominance before the twin gods birthed their ultimate creation: The Morai. A race that could grow and develop as they chose. A seed from which all other life could spring forth. However, it was the creation of this race that drove a wedge between the gods.
Morganna, goddess of Light, believed it was their duty as gods to attend to the needs of their creations and usher them along. Her brother Drasil, god of Darkness, decided they must experience hardship and grow stronger through trial by fire. This war of ideals tore the siblings apart and split Vecta in twain. A Divine Accord was forged shortly thereafter. Neither god would be permitted to set foot in the other's domain. Taking the North, Morganna ruled with peace and the study of magic while Drasil ruled the Southern lands and forced his subjects to grow strong. New races appeared over the centuries, but they were incomplete. Nothing could match the creations the siblings made when they were together. In their race to build the ideal world, the two gods had plateaued in their ability to create.
That all changed with the discovery of the Otherworld. It was Morganna who found it first. A world parallel to hers; ruled by science in place of magic. Filled with creatures who resembled the Morai, but imbued with a spirit that burned brighter than any in Vecta. It was during this time she noticed the souls that passed in the Otherworld often still possessed life within them. Almost as if they were dying before their appropriate time. Filled with pity for these souls, Morganna began to select the ones she deemed 'worthy' and brought them to Vecta in new bodies to complete their lives.
It didn't take long before these "Children of the Otherworld" were noticed by Drasil. Even placed into new bodies, he could sense this new spirit that blazed with might. Taking a note from his sister, Drasil began watching the Otherworld to find souls worthy of his time. Thus, Morganna and Drasil's battle began anew. A race to find the best and brightest of the Otherworld and bring them to Vecta. It came to be understood that a soul brought from the Otherworld was destined to achieve great things in Vecta. Thus, the arrival of an Otherworlder always caused quite the stir among particular circles. The Children of the Otherworld became highly sought after. Some wanted their protection, others wished to utilize their abilities for themselves.
One such day in Vecta, Drasil was in his temple in Sombros, the capital of Southern Vecta. A tear in reality - carved by his sword Oro - stood before him. Through this tear, he watched scenes from the Otherworld with an intense glare. There were a lot of deaths happening in the Otherworld. Knowing his fool of a sister would be watching as well, he needed to find souls before she took all the best. His thoughts were confirmed by a sickeningly sweet voice in his head.
"Watching the Otherworld too, dear brother? If you even think about putting another soul in those ugly things you call your subjects, I'll send another maelstrom to your ports."
"Truly you are the benevolent goddess of light," muttered Drasil as he rubbed his temple. "Even so, if you throw a storm at me, my people are stronger than those weaklings of yours. A light rain could destroy them." All Drasil heard was his sister's scoff before she cut off their connection. With a sigh of relief, Drasil returned his attention to the window. No matter what happened, this new crop of Otherworlders may shift the balance. Once all his targets were chosen, the dark god unfurled his wings and stepped through the portal. It was time to give these creatures the chance at a new life.
The blaring of an incessant, unyielding alarm clock.
The sensation of something wet and soft squishing against her cheek.
Eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the murk of the lightless bedroom, illuminated only by the glow from the neon signs and street lights outside the window. Cookie was sitting next to her pillow, staring at his sleeping human, letting out a soft but firm meow. It was time for breakfast.
Getting up, the red tabby followed close behind her feet, until the kitchen was reached. The littl furball circled her ankles and meowed while he heard the whirring noise of the electric can-opener unsealing this morning's feast. The human, rubbed her eyes and yawned, then plopped the mass of wet food into her cat's bowl, which said cat almost pounced upon in an instant and began to devour with reckless abandon, as if he'd never eaten before in his life.
Next, the shower. Followed by a quick brushing of her hair.
What's the point?
Then it was time for her own breakfast, accompanied by watching the TV, morning broadcast. Weather was going to be cloudy. Slight chance of rain. HEr horoscope? Who cared. In 24 years it had never been accurate anyway. Time to get dressed. Even though she wanted this quiet, peaceful time to last forever, and do nothing but give her full attention to her roommate, today was a weekday. Which meant work. Which meant another week of the usual.
Time to go.
...
The trains were packed, as usual. Even though she got on at an early hour there were never any seats. People bumped into her, as usual. Some even shoved her asiue. Nobody apologized. She didn't say anything. Even if they did, they wouldn't hear. Or they'd ignore her. Or they'd yell at her. It was almost her fault, after all. The train stopped, then started, over and over, a repeating cycle. More people always got on than those getting off. This must be how sardines feel.
Finally, her stop. Time to get off.
Though not before being tossed and bumped aside a few times, and taking an elbow or two for the team.
...
The office.
Walking in through the doors, the receptionist didn't even greet her. Too busy talking on the phone and painting her nails. Had they ever talked? Maybe the first few times she'd started as an intern here. No. That one was a brunette. It didn't really matter. They all looked the same. Young pretty girls who dressed stylish and got lots of invitations to lunch or after-hours outings.
The elevator.
"Oh look, it's Futsuno. Heeey, better hurry up, the lift's about to go."
A voice, full of venomous glee. Co-worker. What was her name? Aoba? Aono? She did this every morning, so you'd think she could remember to hold the door. But no. Again, she let the elevator doors slide close, right infront of her face. Smirking all the while, tutting. Did she eepect Minami to run? She had. In the past. The first few weeks. Then she'd learned. She was never going to catch that first elevator ride.
Waiting.
More waiting.
Time ticked. No more waiting. Time to use the stairs. It was such a pain. The door to the stairwell was heavy, and there were so many steps. She always felt exhausted when finally getting to her floor. Perhaps it was good for cardio? But she never felt like she got used to it, or that it got any easier. Perhaps she was just inherently frail. No matter, time to get to work.
...
"Futsuno! You're late, again."
The manager's voice. Waiting on the other side of the stairwell door. He knew she was coming. Of course hd did. As for being late... She was a minute and a half over, and only because she didn't get to use the elevator. Of course, he didn't care. In the six years she'd been here, he never accepted excuses, even if they were factual.
A long tirade of complaints about a lack of motivation and dedication to the company followed, as usual. She could see Aoba-Aono off at her cubicle, snickering along with some of the other, pretty girls. The manager noticed her focus was elsewhere, and stomped his foot. She instinctively let out a surprised noise and shrunk back. Bowing profusely and apologizing quietly. Why was she apologizing? She'd done nothing wrong. She never did. But she was always the one saying 'sorry' no matter what.
The man grew bored of the charade and dismissed her, warning her to shape up.
Her desk.
As usual, a wilted flower infront of her keyboard. How many did this make now? She sighed and threw it in the trash bin, before sitting down and booting up her computer. The grind begins anew.
...
Lunch-time.
Well, for everyone else. Not her though.
"Futsuno, take care of these."
A large stack of paperwork was dropped on her desk.
"Ms. Futsuno, I need these looked over before qutting time today."
Another stack appeared.
"Hey Futsu-whatwasit? Anyway, I'm heading out early to hang with my girlfriend, you'll cover for me, yeah? Thanks."
No time to respond or protest. She had. Once. In the early years. Then she'd gotten the stink-eye and been told that just because she was a sad, lonely and unpopular dyke she shouldn't take it on others.
Today's lunch seemed to be another vending-machine sandwich. Joy.
"Hey, Futsuno. Could you run and get me asome coffee real quick, I'm swamped."
Said the man sitting next to her, who didn't even have a single stack of papers on his desk. Yes, he always asked. And if she didn't go, he started whining and clicking his tongue at her. And when she fetched it, he never said thanks.
"Hey, Ms. Futsuno, the manager wants to talk to you about the work you submitted last week."
Of course hd did. Because it was either not up to his standards, or someone had messed with her documents after she'd gone home. It was almost a weekly ritual by now. She watched the others. Average-looking guys, asking the pretty office ladies out to lunch. The pretty guys, asking the even prettier girls out for drinks. The really handsome guys, making plans to go hang out with what could only be assumed to be litteral models or bombshell-knock-outs after work.
Nobody invited her. To lunch or drinks. They never had. They never would.
Time to go listen to another undeserved scolding. She could feel her spine shiver.
...
6:45 PM.
Another almost 12 hour workday. Overtime not paid, of course. After all, you only get paid for overtime if you were doing work, not correcting your own mistakes or incompetence. Someone had hidden her jacket again though. Probably written on the inside of it with a magic marker too. What was this, pre-school? Was this how adults should act? She sighed.
Oh.
There it was.
In the trash. Along with the flower from this morning. Wonderful.
Grabbing it and shaking it free of... Other trash... She slipped it on and made way to the elevator. Aoba-Aono was there, along with some of the other ladies. Some she didn't even recognize. Maybe they were from another department? Looks like they weren't closing the door on her this time. Wow. That could only mean one thing, of course.
"Oh, hey, look! It's Ms. Futsuno. Finally done cleaning up your mess?"
"Y-Yes..."
"What? I didn't catch that, speak up!"
"Yes... I'm all done..."
"Seriously, I don't get why they even hired someone like you. You're always messing up." "Now, now, Asuka, don't be like that. It's not her fault. After all, she only graduated high school. It's not like she's actually got the proper education for this kind of work." "Oh, that's right! I forgot, soooorry~ My bad, I totally spaced that you were a college-flunkie." "... I never... applied..." "Huuh? What was that?" "I never applied... to... college..." "Well, duh! Not like it would've done you any good. Someone like you couldn't get in, even at a low-entrance backwater university in the boonies."
They all laughed. Like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. Why wans't the stupid elevator at the bottom yet? She just wanted to go home. Spending time in this tiny space, surrounded by these cackling sirens was worse than long nails dragging across a chalk-board.
"Oh yeah, did I hear right, Akemi? Tsuda asked you out on a date?" "Oh, you heard that? Eheh, yeah, he did." "Way to go girl, he's a total hottie. I'm so jelly." "Jeez, what're you even saying? You get aske dout way more often than I do." "Yeah, but only by the bench-warmer rejects. Like I'd ever give the likes of them a shot with me. They're more suited for someone like her." "Hmm, but I don't think I've seen anyone ask Ms. Futsuno out..." "Right! She's been here like, what? Five years+ And hasn't gotten a single guy to ask her out! Hilarious!"
More laughing.
But at least the elevator had finally reached the bottom. The doors slid open. But the others didn't seem to want to move. But she wanted off. Now. Right now. She pushed, squeezing past two of the taller ladies next to the door. They let out outraged gasps. As if they'd been touched by something filthy and unpleasant. Aono-Aoba Asuka-or-whatever called out for her. But she was done. She didnt want to stay and listen to anymore. She just wanted to go home to Cookie.
Home. The one plcae she didn't have to hear or see these other human beings.
...
Street on the way to the train-station. She felt like someone was following her. But that couldn't be right. Why would anyone do that? Most people didn't evens ee her when walking.. Some just bumped into her and didn't say a word.
She though she heard a voice, one she knew.
Then.
It happened.
Something caught her foot, in the middle of the street.
She fell.
And fell.
And... Fell...?
...
Minami opened her eyes, having clsoed them instintively when she started falling. She was... Not falling... But also she was...? Or rather, she was in mid-fall, but was perfectly still. Suspended? Time-stop? Miniature black hole? Regardless, one thing was for sure. At the current trajectory, her skull was about to give the edge of the sidewalk a very intimate greeting.
Ah. So that was it. This was one of those things she'd heard about somewhere. The whole, life-flashing-before-your-eyes just before you die.
Die.
Death.
Dying?
Why? How? For what reason?
Even if she thought back on her life and her past, nothing made this situation any less unfair. A father who was never home and prefered to work than spend time with his wife and kid. A mother who prefered to fool around with strange men. A school with daily bullying. Weekeneds with no friends. Watching everyone else get chocolates on Valentine. Watching all the other girls get confessions and love-letters. Getting nothing except mockery or being ignored. Forgotten. A shadow. A living ghost. A lynch-pin and punching bag. That was her life. Her life. Minami Futsuno's life. ... Had it ever been a lfie worth living?
Even though time seemed to have stopped and she was frozen in the moment just before her head would be smashed open like a watermelon on the beach during summer, she could feel something. Somehting she hadn't felt in a while. They were tears. But not because she was sad. Well, she was, but mostly she was frustrated.
"Is this it? This. I'm going to die on a sidewalk because I tripped? No... Someone tripped me. Hah, of course. Of course this is how I go."
An inner monologue formed.
"The ugly, incompetent, unwanted Minami, died because she fell on the groound, in the middle of a crowded street. And not a single crap was given. Look, that kid's even using his phone to film this. Thanks, brat. You couldn't have tried to help or call out for someone instead?"
There was bitterness and resentment.
"Oh, Minami, Minami, Minami... What a wasted life you lead, huh? When those other kids talked down to you, you should've stood up for yourself. But you didn't. Of course not, you were too scared. They were bigger and stronger, and there were more of them. That's what you always told yourself. You couldn't do anyhting, because you were weak, because you didn't have the courage, because you even if you did say or fight back, you just couldn't win, could you?"
She laughed, but it wans't because she was amused. The tears were streaming more heavily now too.
"I... I just wish... I just wanted... To be like... Others... Why couldn't I be pretty like the other girls? Why... Why couldn't I talk back when people were calling me crap? I... I wanted to be brave and strong and cool... I didn't want this... this scrawny bod' that got tired from mothing... And... I wanted to live a long life, with Cookie. Oh, Cookie... My dear... sweet... kitty. The only family I had, picking you up off the street... Bringing you home."
"... If I... If I ever got to be pretty... No, if I was ever a babe, I'd snub all those pretty-boy-casanovas only interested in tits and asses... I'd make those self-absorbed, try-hard popular girls see just how outmatched they were... I... I'd have the confidence not to back down from anyone...! ... I don't... want to... die..."
"I'm very sorry sir, but at this time we're unable to approve your application..." Dalton flinched away from the phone as a tirade of garbled verbal assault poured over him. "I understand, sir, I really do, I know this is frustrating--" He closed his eyes as the caller continued to berate him. When the man finally paused for breath, Dalton tried to cut back in, "Th-the p-policies won't let us approve it, sir, because there are too many open lines of credit. It's just that one thing, other than that you had everything else we typically look for--!"
Dalton noticed one of the vice-presidents (why did the bank need more than one?) leaning on his doorframe and glaring at him as if all of this was his fault. For a fraction of a second the younger man wished he could pass the call off to the disdainful son of a--No, no, just do your best, like you always do, you can still make this right!
"Yes sir, I'm aware you had the down payment ready. Yes sir, I'm aware most of your cards are balanced. It's just, the bank prefers no more than--No, please, sir, we can work this out I'm sure! Could I suggest that you maybe, j-j-just switch one line? You c-could close one of them, and the bank would be more than happy to open one of our own credit accounts with you after you re-apply--Okay, sir. Y-yes, sir, I understand. Again, I apologize for all the trouble, and I'm sorry we couldn't come to an--"
The man told Dalton to do something sick to his own mother, which brought up a whole new surge of deeply repressed emotions, and hung up.
"--or that too, that's fine." He sighed as he put the phone down.
"What was all that about?" demanded the vice-president. The stocky man still had crumbs in his mustache, no doubt because he'd just gotten back from his typical 30-minutes-over lunch break. Which meant Dalton had been told to answer all the calls for him, in addition to already answering all the calls that the tellers and receptionist sent to the loan department because they couldn't be bothered to take messages so that the loan officers could get through a single state-mandated meeting without being interrupted.
"Th-that was Mr. Christophe, the gentleman who was applying for a mortgage loan towards the vacation property near the reservoir--"
"And you DENIED him!?" The man looked at Dalton with a satirical slap-jaw, as the younger man held one hand up in supplication and pointed at his computer with the other. "He had a hundred-and-thirty-thousand down payment ready to go! What were you thinking?!"
"No, I didn't deny him! It came back from the underwriter--"
"Didn't you see that we already approved him last week?!" Dalton frowned. He knew that one of the other officers had been the one to start the whole process with Mr. Christophe, and had been told the details by that same individual precisely because they expected the man to get back in touch with them soon and didn't want to risk putting him off if the other person was out of the office.
"No sir, we recommended him for approval, we don't get the final say-"
"Don't tell me how to do my job when you can't even do yours!" The man huffed and crossed his arms. His jowls wobbled as he shook his head back and forth. "Dalton, we just talked about this with you last month! You can't keep denying people over every little thing--it makes the auditors think the bank is using discriminatory practices!"
"Then stop sending me everyone you can't be bothered with..." Dalton screwed his eyes shut as one hand clenched the arm of his chair in a white knuckled grip.
"What'd you say?" growled the vice president.
"Sir, I said, I've had a lot of clients this quarter--They're being referred to me even though I'm the newest in the office, and--"
"Because you need the most practice, clearly!" The man waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, most of them are people we've dealt with before, so why is it that you're the one they have the problem with, huh!?"
Because this office has been letting people slide left and right! Some of these accounts have been in collections for YEARS, or else we KNOW they're going to get denied and so they get pushed off on me as a scapegoat! Dalton felt sweat breaking out under his armpits and his heart thudding in his chest. He wanted to scream, Because you keep making backhanded deals with people to keep them happy, instead of making them follow the same rules as everyone else! I haven't been here for thirty-plus years, so how am I supposed to grease palms with people I don't go to wine-tastings with every weekend?!
Instead he sighed.
"I don't know, sir. All I'm doing is following the policies and the rules as written. I think the credit line thing is stupid too, but--"
"If we didn't have rules on credit, we'd never make a cent!" This time the higher up jabbed a finger at him, leaving Dalton to raise both eyebrows in shocked confusion. Was the jackass berating him for following the rules or not?! "Every dopehead off the streets would be coming in for quick cash and wouldn't pay us back a cent!" In Dalton's experience, the customers with low credit had actually been the easiest to work with, because they wanted to show score improvement and were motivated to be able to buy their homes or vehicles. It was, typically, the "upper class" types and local business owners who always seemed to think they deserved an exception to the rules. Dalton didn't know what else to say, so he just kept silent. He tried to maintain eye contact--or rather, he stared intensely at the vice president's forehead. The man stared back at him, and after a moment took a step back and pointed at him again.
"Don't get mad at me because you keep screwing up!" The man turned on his heel. "That's your problem, Dalton, you don't have any people skills! Loosen up! Be willing to negotiate! I'm gonna call Christophe back and see if I can salvage this, so you just sit that case out from now on!"
"...Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Dalton said, as the heavy footsteps plodded down the hall. He settled back in his seat and looked at his cluttered desk. The serrated letter opener in his pen cup caught his eye. He wondered how deep it might go into someone's throat before the fragile blade broke off the dinky plastic handle.
The one blessing of the day was that the twenty minutes left until his own lunch break passed without any more phone calls, though his attempts to catch up on the backlog of record-scanning--again, something left to him by others in the office who'd neglected to keep up with their own records--were still interrupted by people asking him about other accounts he'd worked on, or if they could borrow his stapler, or some other variant of constant inanity. In the time it took the scanner to read the pile of documents he dumped into its feeder tray, he browsed memes on his phone--but even that wasn't free of irritants anymore. Why did everything have to be political these days?
One of those stupid short videos with an artificial voice claimed, "My dad cut this guy off in traffic, you won't believe what they did next!" as the oversized caption obscured the actual footage of an idiot egging on a road raging jerk, before one of them took a nine iron to the other's windshield. Dalton closed the tab with a grumble as he checked the time.
Why couldn't people just...follow the rules? Everyone always thought they should be the exception. People wanted to force others to behave a certain way, but when those standards were pushed back on them it was suddenly not okay? And any time there was an argument about it, people had to be terrible monsters to one another. And because some people were terrible, other people had to be terrible or else they'd just get plowed over and pushed around! Like Dalton always seemed to be.
His lunch break came right on time. As he tried to get out of the stupidly-designed parking lot onto a street that was always under construction of some sort, Dalton's hands tapped an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel. He'd always followed the rules, hadn't he? At least, as much as was humanly possible. His parents had always told him that if he did the right thing, if he was kind to people, if he studied hard and always did his best, that things would work out for him in the end. Now he often found himself wondering why they would've lied to him all his life. Had the world really changed so much in the time he'd grown up? Or had it always been like this--the wicked prospering, and no good deed going unpunished--and everyone had just been trying to pretend against reality?
The young man saw the intersection light ahead of him change to yellow, and slowed down. The car behind him didn't. The last glimpse Dalton had through his rearview mirror showed him a young, pasty-faced teen with one of those stupid haircuts that looked like a head of broccoli and a glittering pin through one of his eyebrows. And he was, of course, glued to a cellphone.
Glass shattered and metal crumpled as Dalton's vehicle was rear-ended. He felt something in his neck pop painfully, and the seatbelt against his chest tried its best to crush his ribs. His tires squealed as he was forced out into the intersection--
And then the truck T-boned him from the left.
The impact didn't feel like the fist of an angry god. Dalton wasn't thrown from the vehicle. But he was hurled, sideways, turning and rag-dolling, into blackness. An empty, soundless void. An unpleasant wind, like giant's breath, pulled at his hair and his tie, causing the collar of his blazer and the button up shirt beneath it to flop and flutter.
...Am I dead? How long did it take him to think that thought? How long had it taken him to become aware that he could still think? Honestly? Kind of a relief. Mom, Dad...is it over? Can I finally see you again? Can I finally...stop trying so hard?
He felt like something was closing in on his chest. Like a cold, skeletal hand. Was he...really okay with it ending like this? With everything being over? Never achieving anything? Never becoming anyone worthwhile? Never getting his just rewards for all the effort he'd put in? He clenched his teeth. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks.
I wish...I wish I could've known, at the beginning. I wish I'd seen the truth, so much earlier--it doesn't matter how hard you work! No one cares how smart you are! No! It's all about...about getting what you want, and damn others!
Dalton continued to tumble. Had he changed directions? Where was he falling to? Did gravity even exist anymore? And...how was the emptiness getting even darker?
I didn't want to spend so much time studying! I didn't want to play nice, and be a kiss-up, to people who deserved to have their teeth kicked in! I didn't want to be bullied, or shunned! Why couldn't I have just been handed the freakin' manual to life that everyone else seemed to get!? Why wasn't I born rich, or handsome? Why was I the only one who ever had to follow the rules?!
A twisted, desperate, animalistic roar tore itself out of his guts. A sound full of rage, and yet, a scream that was so devastatingly sad because it was angry. He started to thrash, his numb, no-longer-physical body spasming and warping and swinging at the cessation of existence. Everything that had once been bottled up came pouring out, a projectile vomit of feelings.
Everyone treated me like dirt, but if I ever stepped a toe out of line, I was the bad guy?! Society lets people who cheat, and steal, and lie, have everything they ever wanted but I was the selfish one for thinking I deserved better?! Why weren't they ever punished?! Why didn't society hold up its end of the bargain? If only...if only...if only I could've made them!
How many times had he wished he could just haul off and punch someone in the face? How often had he wanted to correct someone else's willful ignorance, or make them taste their own medicine, or just plain beat them to death for being so damn terrible!? And yet, he'd always bottled it up! Always tried to be "the bigger person," and what had it gotten him!?
Death. He was dead. So none of it mattered now, right?
If only...if only he could've had another chance...
It was 9pm. Ryoko had started her shift at 7am this morning. She was supposed to finish at 4pm but ran way overtime because an entire floor of an office building lost power to a lot of server stacks and the entire network needed rebuilding; file structure, group policy, etc. She even needed to create everybody's account from scratch one by one. She couldn't stop working until their business was back up and running.
She was finally finished. The employees at that office, many of whom she was still on the phone with, thanked her but stated that mostof them would now be working overnight, and they would call her if there were any other IT issues. After hanging up, she packed up her laptop and headset into a rucksack, put her phone in her pocket, and left her one-room apartment. She caught the bus to the library, as she still needed to submit a paper for college by tomorrow morning. She was almost finished but she'd still need to spend a few hours bringing all of her research together, tidying it up and making it digestible and professional in the final paper. All the while she could get a work call at any moment. She bought a can of coffee from the vending machine outside the library then headed in.
She couldn't concentrate. The caffiene hadn't made her any less stressed or tired. It had just made her buzzed and irritable on top of still being stressed and tired. It took much longer than it should have to finish her paper due to the constant threat of her phone ringing. She couldn't live like this much longer. Thankfully her dissertation was coming along nicely, and the final deadline was in a few months. All she needed to do was hang on and run out the clock for a few more months and she'd be home free.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd had fun. All of her time was spent on college, work, or recovering from those. She knew that she wouldn't get out of bed tomorrow, on her day off, until 3pm. Maybe not even then. In a twisted way, she liked being kept so busy. It distracted her from the all-encompasing mental black hole that was her current depressive episode. She didn't have time to think about how little fun her awful life was when she was too preoccupied with her awful life.
She was doing it again. She'd already promised her parents that when there's less to distract her, and when she finlly has room to breathe, she'll start going to the gym and to therapy. She knew they were concerned. But there was no point trying to make things better yet. She walready had too much on her plate. She just needed to hang on. It was only a few months!
Ryoko almost slammed the desk, but the realisation that she was in a public library calmed her down. She never was called by work, thankfully, and finally, at 4am, she submitted her completed paper. She packed up her laptop and headset again, and headed out. She walked back to the bus stop in a daze. She was on auto-pilot. Too fatiqued to pay attention to the world around her. She saw but didn't look. Heard but didn't listen. It took a sudden bright light to her left side, and the blaring horn of a truck in her ear, to realise that she was currently in the middle of the road while the walk signal was red.
It was a skiff without a motor. In waters this deep, it was just a well-shaped raft.
And the storm that struck was terrible indeed, waves rising like walls. His hands gripped the sides of his vessel just to stick to it as it tumbled over mountains and into valleys, a gut-wrenching ride caught by intermittent flashes of lightning.
But the struggle was what he needed, wasn’t it? Fire lanced up his limbs, a muscle torn, a tendon ruptured. The pain kept him aware, aware of the warmth of his blood against the chill of the ocean’s spray. And awareness brought joy all on its own, a rush of pleasure that persisted only through a complete and utter commitment to surviving the next minute, the next second, the next moment. He opened his mouth and enjoyed torrential rain; he scrubbed his eyes, tears forming from the salt in the spindrift.
And then, he found the world flipped on its head, a haunting cry the last thing he heard before he struck the waters.
Instinct drove him to kick upwards as the bubbles burst out from his nose. His hands pulled for the skiff he had never let go of, but only fragments remained in his grasp. He swivelled around, but the undertow, the churning of currents, continued to pull. Fire entered his lungs now, and adrenaline gave him another shot of alacrity, the exhilaration now of simply fighting for another few seconds of existence, for without a boat, there was no surviving the ocean depths. A futile struggle.
Always, a struggle.
And within the gloomy dark, lit up by shafts of light cast from the crackling of lightning thousands of meters up in the sky, Belo laid his eyes upon a whale for the first time of his life.
"Rise..." The voice resounded in the heads of the three individuals. Minami opened her eyes to see the train-station platform completely deserted. Dalton slowly pulled himself into a sitting position inside his destroyed car, and Belo... he didn't know how but he was STANDING on top of the ocean! As the three took stock of their surroundings, they all noticed something similar in their experiences. It seemed as though time itself had stopped for each of them.
As Minami rose to her feet, she could see the image of her body sprawled on the ground and bleeding from a head wound. Vacating the car, Dalton found another version of himself still sitting there beaten and bloodied. If Belo squinted hard enough, he could just make out the silhouette of his drowned body just beneath the waves. Their fascinations were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a bright golden doorway in front of them. On the other side stood what could only be described as... an angel of death?! The figure was at least six and a half feet tall and had massive black wings sprouting from his back. His body was covered in golden armor and a long glowing sword was attached to his arm. He gestured for the three to step through the gate.
"Come," he said. As if to obey him, all three found themselves inexplicably drawn through the door. Upon stepping through, they were each in a void with the unusual being.
MINAMI Drasil regarded the unassuming girl with a cold stare. [color=gold][i]"Not strong, not particularly extraordinary, but..." As if on cue, Minami's voice echoed through the void.
"Oh, Minami, Minami, Minami... What a wasted life you lead, huh? You couldn't do anything, because you were weak, because you didn't have the courage. I... I just wish... I just wanted... To be like... Others... Why couldn't I be pretty like the other girls? Why... Why couldn't I talk back when people were calling me crap? I... I wanted to be brave and strong and cool... If I... If I ever got to be pretty... No, if I was ever a babe, I'd snub all those pretty-boy-casanovas only interested in tits and asses..."
"You possess a fire within you that can't be ignored." Drasil reached forth his hand and Minami was enveloped in a golden light. She heard a voice in her head as something began to change.
"Soul Transfer Initiated! Suitable Race selected! Scanning soul..." Now it felt as though something were digging through her mind, her thoughts open like a book. "Skills Selected! Desire for Courage - Resist Fear Unlocked! Desire for Strength - Atlas Unlocked! Powerful Desire to Live combined with Desire for Beauty - LEGENDARY SKILL Life Drain Unlocked! Racial Traits - Blood Serf Unlocked!
As the light vanished, Minami was dropped back onto the ground. Drasil strode up to her and threw a smirk down at the young woman, "Today your desires have been granted. Welcome to my world of Vecta, Miss Minami! My name is Drasil. When you are ready, come and find me." Minami's vison suddenly went black and when she came too, she was lying on the ground outside of a gothic castle. Her office clothes replaced by a simple black dress and a dagger at her waist.
DALTON Stepping through the gate, Drasil cocked his head at the young man, "An unusual soul. Deprived of any chance to prove yourself... " The god couldn't help but smile as Dalton last thoughts echoed around them.
"I didn't want to spend so much time studying! I didn't want to play nice, and be a kiss-up, to people who deserved to have their teeth kicked in! I didn't want to be bullied, or shunned! Everyone treated me like dirt, but if I ever stepped a toe out of line, I was the bad guy?! Society lets people who cheat, and steal, and lie, have everything they ever wanted but I was the selfish one for thinking I deserved better?!"
"Untapped anger, but with no true direction. You seek a world in which you can rise or fall by your own strength. You'll be a perfect candidate." Raising his hand, Drasil summoned the light once again and Dalton felt his mind be scanned as the transformation process occurred.
"Soul Transfer Initiated! Suitable Race selected! Scanning soul... Skills Selected! Desire for Battle- Combat Sense Unlocked! Desire to Lead - Pack Leader Unlocked! Powerful Desire to DESTROY detected! - LEGENDARY SKILL Primal Rage Unlocked! Racial Traits - Hunter's Trap Unlocked!
Stepping up to Dalton as the light vanished, Drasil offered a hand, "If you're going to get ahead in this world, you're going to need a pack of your own to follow you. I think I know right where I can send you. Welcome to Vecta, young Dalton". With that, Drasil and the void faded into black. When Dalton could open his eyes, he was no longer bleeding out on a city street, but instead was lying face down in the middle of a forest.
BELO
To say Belo's experience was "unique" would be putting it gently. As he walked over the waves towards the hole in reality, Drasil smiled at him, "A perfect physical specimen! You'll make a fine addition to the world of Vecta, dear friend. I've been watching your journey for some time now. Now let's see..." Unlike Minami and Dalton, scenes from Belo's life began to play out around the two beings in the void. Scenes of childhood, of battle, and of loss.
"Your life tells a sad story, Captain Belo," said Drasil, observing each memory. "Howeverm it was not meant to end here! You've been gifted a new life in a new world. You'll have a new family to protect very soon!" The light began to close in around Belo and his mind became an open book to whatever power it was that Drasil had summoned. This time, due to Belo's lifespan, the processs took slightly longer than it did previously.
"Soul Transfer Initiated! Suitable Race selected! Scanning soul... Skills Selected! Desire for Battle- Combat Sense Unlocked! Desire to Defend- Iron Skin Unlocked! WARNING POWERFUL Desire for the Seas Detected - Master of Seas Unlocked! Racial Traits - Elemental Resistance Unlocked!
As the process completed, Drasil approached Belo and placed a hand on his chest. "The seas of a whole new world are calling to you, Captian. Go out and conquer in my name. I am Drasil. Welcome to my world of Vecta!"
With a metaphysical thump, Dalton's long fall suddenly came to an end. He blinked with eyes that did not feel real--only now that all sensation seemed to have come to an end did he notice that subtle lack of his eyelids flicking together, of the slight warmth and wet of physical eyeballs in his skull, and the off-red shade of darkness he no longer saw when he closed the aforementioned eyes.
He was back in the car, with one of the trunk's front wheels nestled firmly in his lap. There was hardly any door, or windshield, left to speak of. Yet despite the literal tons of crumpled steel on top of him, there was no weight. And no color to anything around him. Somehow, he "stepped out" by desiring it...and, with curious, echoing steps, circled the totaled remains of his car and the only slightly dented truck that had reduced his real body to only so much bloodied mush and viscera painted all over the seats.
He turned away from the gristly sight, and saw a door of golden light open up. On the other side stood what could only be described as...
"...Is that cosplay?" he asked the golden armored, black winged figure, his voice echoing in the emptiness. The figure cocked his head with an expectant smile, and Dalton's ghostly form shivered. With a rich voice, the man--or whatever he was, because something about him simply screamed not human--seemed to examine Dalton and commented on his life. The young man jumped as his own voice echoed all around him--bits and pieces of his final thoughts from moments ago. Yet with each line that was quoted back to him, something inside his being...resonated.
Another voice bubbled up, this one coming from inside Dalton's own phantom ribcage. He looked down at himself, then back at the figure who offered him an outstretched hand, backlit by the glowing gateway's golden rays.
Dalton had allowed so many opportunities to pass him by in life. He'd never taken risks, because he'd always been taught to be "smart," and "safe." He never made deals or promises, or signed any kind of contract, unless he was absolutely sure it would be of 100% benefit to himself.
This time, he decided not to hesitate. He grabbed Drasil's outstretched hand. And the next thing he knew--
??? Forest ???
A humanoid male with blue, braided hair and a lithe young physique awakened with a sudden start--like someone dozing off in a moving vehicle, whose unconscious mind triggered their falling reflex when it felt their heart slowing down. He jerked and sputtered, leaves drifting out of his hair as he sat upright and sucked a deep breath.
"JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH!" Dalton turned his head this way and that. "I'm--I'm alive?! Wait, where--wh-what? H-how?" He scrambled to his feet--and then noticed that he wore nothing but a skirt of woven grass, and primitive sandals made of knotted cane strips. "GOOD LORD I'M NAKED!?" He crossed his thin arms over his bare chest, and again took in the sights and sounds around him--and the smells, too, and something else he couldn't quite identify, but that tickled his awareness as if some new organ had been implanted in him. It was all...so much sharper than he was used to on Earth.
Wait. Earth. This...this isn't Earth anymore. This is...Vecta?
He could see the thick, interlaced canopy of limbs and leaves and vine over his head with exquisite detail, and despite the golden rays of sunlight filtering through in dappled patterns the glare didn't hurt his eyes. Bird calls, the whispery breath of the wind, and the slightest rustle of the undergrowth stood out to his twitching ears. And they were literally twitching--as he lifted a hand to brush the leaves from his hair, he felt a long fleshy tip under his palm. Not only were his ears longer than before, they were much more mobile. He gulped as they drooped, the tips folding ever so slightly.
The smells of earthy soil, vegetation still damp with dew, and his own sweat filled his nostrils. Chronic allergies from childhood had left Dalton with a quite diluted sense of smell back home, but here, in this new world, in what appeared to be a new body, that was no longer the case. All of these new senses, sharpened to new levels, threatened to overwhelm him!
He sat back down right where he was.
"Alright. Okay. You're alive. So...focus." Dalton whispered to himself. He peered carefully into the depths of the wood, hoping that nothing bigger and meaner than a junkyard dog would be coming his way anytime soon.
"You got hit by a truck. Then a glowing guy showed up and said something about a new world. And the other voice talked about skills." said one part of him, cool and analytical.
"Legendary skills, at that!" said another part, which was starting to get more excited. "I think we've been Isekai'd! Hot diggity!"
"But where are we? Aside from, you know, in the middle of the woods." Dalton added, reigning in his emotional side. "Should we...try to find our way out? To civilization?"
"All those bushcraft videos on Youtube say we need shelter first, then clean water." said the analytical part, metaphorically pushing up its glasses with two fingers. "And, if we have indeed been isekai'd, we need to figure out what that entails. We clearly have enhanced senses, so maybe there are other abilities?"
Dalton's inner voices all nodded in agreement, so he stopped talking to himself and instead looked for the nearest source of shelter. Were there any caves nearby, or a tree with a hollow large enough for him to huddle inside? At the very least, fallen branches he could use to make an impromptu shield against the elements?
As he looked, he spoke his thoughts out loud again--but not to himself, this time.
"Uh, System? Menu? Status Screen? Cultivation Arts?" he asked the air. "Query: What is Skill, [Combat Sense]? Please?"
The clock's ticking was the only sound that could be heard across the room. The room was quite cold but the sole occupant of the room was not bothered.
Assignments done, his reports had already been written and printed, his part for their group assignment...
...he still needs to wait for everyone else's parts but it would be trivially easy once they came.
And with every single schoolwork that requires immediate attention out of the way he could finally go back to his hobbies.
Namely card games, but unfortunately not on motorcycles or virtual reality.
Closing the tabs on his laptop, he quickly opened an application on his computer.
[Dominion Master Online]
[Friend Chat- You are now conversing with EndlessWest]
Pierrotee: You ready?
EndlessWest: Oh, you’re finally online. Ranked is boring now. All Dominions nothing else.
Pierrotee: You’re playing Dominion as well.
EndlessWest: Doesn’t matter, you’re like the only person not going to play it. Worst Meta Ever.
Pierrotee: I’m pretty sure the meta was not that lopsided.
Endless West: You’re the only established player bringing something else. Evrybody else is meta slave.
Pierrotee: cept CapCrown
Endless West: He is a given, praise the meme
Pierrotee: So ready play?
Endless: Yes, already sent decklist and sideboard
It took a minute but he also sent his decklist and sideboard.
He played a few games for a while. He won more games than he lost which is something that worked but didn’t expect.
EndlessWest: Your sideboarding and cold reading was bs, you’re is also very aggressive.
Pierrotee: Need to, can’t let you get a room to breath.
EndlessWest: Need to update my sideboard, can’t let you win easily after all
Pierrotee: easfdtefaweE
EndessWest: Are you alright?
A day later, the community will learn of Pierrotee’s unusual death from a truck that was somehow sent to the second floor of his residence.
As a form of tribute, various players would play a variation of his deck at the tournament he was supposed to play. Many would fall in the group stage, not used to circumventing the deck's drawbacks. But those who played wiselty and boldly found themselves to be unstoppable against others.
With the winner EndlessWest, dedicated his win to him.
But the story of the man who died wasn’t over.
Beyond the physical world, he opened his eyes. Name was forgotten but the man was still there.
Her noises of confusion, bewilderment and surprised echoed into an endless, hollow emptiness. There she was. On the ground. Lying sprawled unceremoniously. With a big stinkin' crack in her head, bleeding all over the concrete. But... How was she exactly seeing that? Like, she was looking at her very own corpsified corpse here... She tried rubbing her eyes. Didn't work. Tried pinching her cheek. Nope, no dice. The young woman looked around, and only then noticed.
The world... Was... Still? Stopped? It was like that moment right before she hit the ground, but a lot more prminent. Furthemre... SEverything looked soimehow... Washed-out... Grey... Was this... Was this what death was like? You, frozen in time and space, in a grey-scale world that never moved, forever to be stuck in the very moment of your demise? She was about to protest when suddenly...
Golden rays of light and hope and brilliant shining... Shininess! Suddenly burst forth from behind her, seemingly out ot nowhere. The radiant glow cast color back into the world of drab, colorless monochrome, and Minami turned, equally curious and baffled by the unannounced arrival of this divine and comforting glow. Had the doors to heaven finally opened and were ready to admit her? Was she finally going to get her eternal paradise?
... Hell no.
Instead, when she turned around, she was greeted by a big, golden glowing doorway... Torn into the very fabric of our world. And inside said doorway, stood the embodiment of Righteous Death and Punishment. Some kind of black and golden angel... With a sword for an arm. No, really, his arm was a god-damned sword! Sweet Jeesus! Was't it enough that her skull had been cracke don the sidewalk? No, of course not! Now she was going to get her soul eviscerated by some kind of Divine Angel of Wrath!
... But the weathful evisceration and destruction of her immortal soul never came. Instead, the equally awe-inspiring and terrifying figure spoke.
After which, Minami could - for whatever reason - hear the lst thoughts and feelings that she'd had just before perishing echo and bounce about, all around her... Like a whimsical recording being played from multiple speakers at multiple angles. It was... Disorienting.
Then, the figure of Black and Gold spoke again, and... Without her consen, mind you! She was pulled towards the gateway of radiant light. The lsat thing she heard, was the angelic being telling her to come find her when she was ready?
Ready? Ready for what, exactly!? There's no way someone can get ready to face off against some kind Extra Stage Last Boss-person like tha----- OoOOoOOoOOoOooh, shiIIiiIIiiiiIIiny~!
Bright light engulfed all, and a voice that was not her own spoke from inside her very soul.
Some mumbo-jumbo about skills and souls and transfer and legends? She didn't really get it... She never owned a game console or played anyhting except maybe solitaire on her phone.
But, then there was only light, and silence. The colorless world she'd died in faded away behind her, and instead she raced towards something bright and unknown... So bright... So very, vright... Actually, too bright! Blindingly, painfully bright!
??? Outside some Gothic-looking Castle
The painfully luminous light faded, into slightly less blinding brightness. When she finally came too enough to take in her surroundings, she found herslef plopped on the ground, in a very unfamiliar place. What the fudge-nuggets had just happened? Everything was, for a moment, a complete mess and blur inside of her head. She slowly stood up, trying to acquire some form of composure, and began to rub her temples. Slowly, but surely, the memories and sensations of events just prior came crawling back. Her childhood, her parents, her school-life, her teen years, her workplace... Her cat... And... Her death.
"That's right... I... Died."
She said the words aloud, to nobody but herself. However, something was amiss.
"Huh? That's... Is something wrong with my voice?"
The usual, quiet, slightly squeaky sound of her own vocalization was nowhere to be heard. Instead, her speech sound soft and smooth, somehow... Or, to put in other words, it actually sounded pleasant and not at all annoying or grating. Furthenmore, she spoke a lot louder than she was used to. Even when she'd been alone in the past, she'd still spoken with a low tone, just above what most would consider whispering. This... Was very strange.
The woman looked around, taking in the surroundings of which she was not familiar. It seemed to be... Dusk? No, dawn. Very early morning at least. She didn't know how she could tell, she just could. Looking towards the sun though, she felt an uneasiness... A certain subconscious desire to get away from the glow of that slowly rising orb of radiant, ever-glowing indifferene. Her head turned, and she looked... Wait... She looked?
Minami's hand went to her face. More specifically, her nose and eyes. But... There was nothing. Nothing there. Her glasses! They weren't on her face. But... How could she see if she wasn't wearing them? Without them, everything usually just got blurry and she could only ever make out shapes and colors... But now... Now, her eyes seemed... Fine. Better than fine, actually! She could make out details and colors to such an extent it was almost jarring. Never before had she known this level of detail and depth when just looking around. It was... Amazing... And a bit unsettling.
"My voice... My eyes... They... They've changed. That angel... He said something.. What was it? About a world? His world? Is this..."
She had to mull this over. Unlike most japanese otaku who would shriek and jump for joy at the prospect of being taken to another world, Minami wasn't exactly familiar with the concept and terminology. After all, she neither read manga or light novels, nor watched anime or played any sort of video games where those themes came up. Thus, the process of figuring out just what was going on was a lot slower for her than it would've been for most people. But, as with all things, with time and thought came eventual realization and results... Plus, y'know, looking around and seeing the big stonkin' castle nestled against the unfamiliar mountain range right next to her also helped.
"Isn't that... An old european-style castle? What's... What's going on here?"
She looked away and over in the other direction. Her hearing, which also seemed to have been vastly improved, noticed something. Aside from the gentle breeze and quiet rustle of whatever nearby foligae there was... There was... Nothing. No other sounds at all. No birds chirping, no animals, no voices... She could see a village off in the very far distance, but... It was so far away... It'd probably take her more than half a day just to walk there. And the unsettling silence didn't exactly inspire the whole: Let's go on an adventure!-vibe in her.
Instead, the young woman looked back at the castle right next to her.
"So... Am I... Supposed to go inside? Wait, my clothes. I fell on the ground before... AM I... Dir... tyyyyyyy....?"
Her voice dragged on for a bit as she looked down at herself. ANd was greeted by something that shouldn't have been there. A pair of them, actually. Just sitting there. On her torso. Chilling. Taking up an unreasonable amount of real estate.
"... Where the heckin' honkin' hooswhatsit did these chernoboobs come from!? And why're they stuck to me!?!"
She was... Perturbed.
But, for the sake of confirmation and making sure things were as they should be - AND FOR NO OTHER REASON WHAT-SO-EVER - Minami slowly raised a hand, moving towards her own greatly-expanded bosom. With a gulp, she took a breath, closed her eyes, steeled her resolve and...!
Squish.
"Hyan~!"
...
...
...
Well... That was unexpected. But, hey, at least she knew two very important things now. One, they were definetely real and definetely attached to her. Two, they were frickin' amaziiiiiiiiiiing! No, wait! This wasn't the time for that. She shook her head vigorously and slapped her own cheeks slightly, trying to rgain focus. This was no time to stand around, day-dreaming and lost in your own confusion while fondling yourself in the middle of nowhere! Though on that point...
"When... Did I change into this...? Did that... oh... Oh no... He... He didn't... Right? There's no way..."
Well, she certainly had no memories of putting this new, very plain-looking black dress on herself... Nor the accompanying pair of mary-janes... Yet, they were somehow on her. Being worn. Which begged the question: Who exactly had dressed her? The answer? The shiny death seraph who'd brought her here! ... Right? There was nobody else around, after all! Minami could feel her cheeks... And then entire face... Turn a brilliant shade of scarlet. Along with her voice letting out a very elongated 'Nhnnnnnnnnnnnn!'-noise.
Though, after her little episode was finally over, she also noticed the thing strapped to her waist. She blinked and reached down for it, pulling the oject out of a small sheath and examined it.
"A... Knife? Is this meant to be for self-defense?"
She couldn't imagine it being for much of anything else. Especially since it didn't look like one of those survival knives they sold in camping and hunting stores. Quickly, she decided to put it back. Then, there was only one thing left to do.
"Well, what do I do now?"
The question was asked not so much in expecting an answer, but more in the sense of trying to motivate herself into some form of action. She was in an unfamiliar place, where she knew absolutely nothing - either about the local area, the customs, the enviroment or even if there were any locals. But, given that there was this fancy-pants structure here - and from the looks of it, it was very well maintained, along with having clear signs of someone actually living inside, the best course of action was probably...
"Right. I need to at least figure out where I am and what I should be doing. Standing around won't get me anywhere."
With a final spurt of talking aloud to herself, the woman began walking towards the large, imposing building of what must surely bn the residence of either aristocracy, or someone with more money than sense. Seriously. Who would want to live in a creepy ass castle like this? It looked like it belonged in a horror-movie!
As she drew near though, and was about ti raise her dainty hand to knock on the overly large door... The... Gateway opened... On... Its own... 'Cuz nobody was behind it once it slid open... Were... Were they automatic? Like at a convenience store...?
"Hello? Is anyone home?" She called out mildly and calmly. "Pardon the intrusino, but I'm... Lost." She added on,
What now? Did she walk inside? The doors had opened for her, so she was invited? Right? For some reason, she could feel a great discrepency in her own being. While in the past, she would've neither had the courage to call out, nor the gall to step foot into a private home without proper invitation out of fear of reprisal or infuriating someone... She... She no longer felt that way... In fact, she didn't feel concerned at all. No. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned... She wasn't... Afraid? That's right... She didn't feel the ever-present sensation of anxious worry and uneasiness which had had a vice-like grip on her heart for her entire life before.
...
..
... So, she was just going to get splattered as soon she went inside, right?
With that grim though, Minami stepped past the archway of the opened gate-like doors and entered into the cstle interior.
Samantha had just poured herself a cup of coffee when her co-worker popped into the doorway of the break room, her eyes wide and her smile wider.
"Sam! Are you ready for your date tonight!" "Rhianna?!" Sam replies, feeling her cheeks burning. "Yes, uh, thank you?" "Brian said you had to change the time to 8:30?" she asked, coming over. "What's that about?" "I have to run home to change, I can't go out like this!" Sam replied, stepping back with her coffee cup. "And there's an errand that might run a little long." "An errand? Can't you just do it later?" "No, there's been so many changes lately with their schedule, this is the only time I have to see them."
Rhianna froze, then turned to Sam with an anguished face. "Is it another date? Did you double-book on my brother...?" "Oh! No, nothing like that," Sam replied, feeling the blush in her cheeks grow hotter. "It's purely professional. I have to see someone about a contract." "Legal stuff? Are you being sued?" "Just a small settlement," Sam says. "Oh, you were a marine before, is it that Camp Lejeune poisoned water thing... Wait, are you sick?!" "No, no!" Sam said, waving her hands dismissively. "I'm fine, but there's some things I have to talk to them about, that's all." "So late?" her co-worker asked, turning back to pour herself a cup of coffee "They're doing me a small favor," Sam lied. "I really need to get back to my desk. I'll see you later." "Well, if you're sure you're alright..." Rhianna said, turning with cup in hand, but Sam had already left the break room.
At five P.M., the office stirred to life as the assistants shut down their systems and gathered their things. Rhianna glanced over to Sam's desk, but the other woman was already slipping out of the door before she could get out a word. "Is that a marine thing?" Rhianna griped.
Sam's car drove west for several blocks before pulling into a storage facility. When she came out, she was wearing a trench coat over a Fratello pizza delivery uniform, carrying a pizza delivery bag. Keying in her code, she waited as the gate retracted before pulling back out into the street.
The guard looked up as the Fratello delivery driver entered the lobby, a blonde woman. "You're not the usual guy," he said as she walked up to his desk. "Better looking than the usual guy." "Yeah? Well, he broke his arm last night," Sam smiled, remembering the snap. "So they sent me, instead. A delivery for Mr. Temor?" "Yeah, sign the book then go to the 47th floor."
The guard glanced down at the almost unreadable signature, then watched as Sam sashayed towards the elevator, shaking his head in regret.
The man who opened the suite door frowned at Sam, but before he could say anything her hand chopped at his throat. Eyes wide and choking, he fell back, and Sam strode in, her guns barely making any noise thanks to subsonic ammunition and her suppressors.
"What's... this about?" Temor demanded, still sitting at his desk. "What's it about?" Sam repeated. "You really should be more careful when you poison your customers' babies, Mr. Temor." "What? No, the courts cleared me...!" he protested. "Your lawyers got you off on a technicality," she corrected, raising her pistols. "There will be no repeal, Mr. Temor."
"What?" the guard asked as another Fratello driver showed up with pizzas. "They having a party up there or what?" "No, just the regular order. That moron broke his arm last night..." The guard's jaw dropped, just before he hit the security alarm. "What the hell, buddy?" the pizza guy asked as the guard drew his side arm. Nobody noticed when a side door opened over the sound of the sirens.
She changed back at her car, driving off before the police arrived, heading downtown.
The parking garage was packed full on the lower floors, so Sam finally gave up and went to the almost deserted top deck. However, as she got out of her car, she saw the sign on the elvator.
Sam swore, then headed towards the stairs. "I'm going to be late," she grumbled, running down the stairs. On the fourth floor, however, her shoe got caught by something and she fell through the window.
"Whoa, look dude," the kid filming his buddy said as she came flying out the window, staring at the electrical wires below.
"I wish I could fly," she managed before landing on the wires, electricity arching as she shorted the power, then bounced to the street below. She managed to raise her head to see a horrified clown driving an ice cream truck before it all went black....
Floating above the waters that consumed him, the rage of the storm insufficient to alter his spiritual form. And yet, it had not been death that surprised him, that had changed his world so greatly. No, it had been the understanding that the winged being towards him, pale-skinned and black-haired, was not the prophet that he had veneered, that his family had spoken of. His presence was warlike, his countenance disdaining humanity. Belo had expected hell. He had received another world instead.
And as that winged being placed their hand upon his chest, Belo’s hand reached up to grab them by the wrist. Not squeezing. Just a firm enough grasp to remind this creature who plundered this drifting soul, lost at sea of a single thing.
He was not taken by Allah.
But he never worshipped Drasil.
If he kept his eyes closed, his ears shut, perhaps he could imagine that he was back home. Coarse sand and small stones scratched at his skin, and the salt in the air tickled his nostrils, a brininess that at once whetted his appetite and pulled at his consciousness. But even if he was blind and deaf, he could smell it too, the iron tang of blood in the air, mixed with vomit and fire. He could feel it too, the tremors in the sand, the thrumming in the air, the weight of pounding feet of pursuer and prey. Even if he was blind and deaf, he knew something was afoot.
His ears, now huge flaps of skin and cartilage, were far too big for him to profess deafness. His eyes, beady and black, absorbed the light in terrible clarity and granted him a much too sharp awareness of his surroundings.
Plumes of smoke stained the clear skies as blazing spheres rolled along the beach, leaving trails of soot in its wake. Long-limbed creatures, cloaked in a fabric that sparkled like steel, shouted out commands in a foreign tongue, as the more well-armed of them rushed forth with slender sabres, cutting down those that fled or those that fought. A strange witchcraft seemed to seize the limbs of the burlier race, their movements arrested mid fight or flight, before their blood contained to soak the white sands a sanguine pigment. Chaos was abound, the chaos that confounded an organized defense. He had seen the work of bandits before though. He had been a pirate himself, knew all about the practicality of a shocking attack.
They were not collecting their plunder though. They were not taking hostages for ransom, not using threats to force surrender and submission.
No.
Those pale-skinned soldiers were in the business of sawing off ears, of setting ablaze a village and all its goods, of running through their targets with a lethal grace entirely at odds with the brutality they marketed. Belo felt his own blood sluggishly ooze down his crown, slip down his pudgy nose, splatter upon the sands. Had that winged creature hurled his soul into a vessel that had just lost their own?
Was there anything more to expect though, out of a creature that desired war and conquest, conflict and…
You’ll have a new family to protect very soon!
Bastard!
He hurled himself forwards, his body so much lighter and stronger than he was accustomed to. He could hardly register the gawkiness of his own limbs, the strange way that his teeth did not fit inside his lips, the ways his clawed feet dug into the sand as he charged shoulder-first into one of the soldiers. They tumbled into the ground together, a tangle of limbs, but Belo had the advantage of surprise and the knowledge that if he did not act swiftly, his own body would be paralyzed by the witchcraft that these invaders wielded.
It was a quick thing to do then, pulling out the small knife that he had somehow known was there and ramming it into the open mouth of his stunned opponent. Blood, the same sanguine ichor, gushed out from tongue and throat. An instant death, swift enough that it was only a terrible heartbeat later that Belo registered who it was that he had just killed.
A woman, in the spring of her youth, one who couldn’t have been even twenty years old. Her long-lashed eyes subsumed with a blank, deathly terror. Her unblemished skin drenched with sweat and blood. Her features of such refinement that he thought he had gotten things wrong for a moment there. That he had somehow attacked the wrong person.
The shouts of others, in a tongue neither Somali, Arabic, or English, snapped him out of it, and he remembered why he had broken out from his feigned death. His expression hardened and he scrambled up once more, picking up the pudgy, pig-like child by the neck and tossing them over his shoulder. She had been the one to pull a blade on a child. She was the one who ought to have expected all this! And though his own skin now shared the color of the shaytan whom tempted humans to sin, his own religion did not apply to this new world and devils did not bleed red.
He did not drown, did not become forsaken, did not become reborn, simply to die once more.
But, in pursuit of life, of life saving life, Belo left that burning beach as well, left the gleaming ships and the glistening sea, for the shelter of a forest so dense that the greenery itself was blinding. He delved into the forest, one hand warding off the branches and twigs and brush that impeded his path, another hand grasping firmly upon the soiled loincloth of the child he had plucked out from the massacre.
Knowing nothing, nothing at all, of how it was the woods that the elves were most comfortable in.
The office buzzes with activity as employees settle into their workstations. Kenji Yamamoto, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, strolls through the maze of cubicles. He passes out cookies he baked himself to his coworkers as flashes his trademark grin as he passes by, eliciting waves and greetings in return.
Kenji approaches his own cubicle, adorned with a pristine desk and a row of neatly organized files. He logs into his computer, preparing for another day of customer service calls.
One of his coworkers leans over the cubicle wall. “Morning, Ken! You’re looking sharp today, as always.”
Kenji grinned. “Thanks, Sarah! You know, presentation is everything.”
Kenji’s phone rings, and he picks it up. His tone shifts to the polite and helpful persona expected of a customer service representative. “Good morning! Thank you for calling. This is Kenji. How may I assist you today?”
The voice on the other end launches into a tirade about a recent purchase gone wrong. Kenji listens patiently, his smile never faltering, though his eyes show a hint of weariness. The customer was irate. “I demand to speak to your manager right now! This is ridiculous!”
Kenji, still maintaining his composure, types a few keys on his keyboard and makes a few clicks. “I understand your frustration, ma’am. Let me see what I can do to help. Please hold for just a moment.”
He mutes the call and takes a deep breath. His cheerful facade momentarily fades, revealing the simmering irritation beneath. “Another day, another difficult customer.”
After a few moments, he unmutes the call and continues assisting the customer with her issue. He managed to resolve her problem. But she wouldn’t be the only customer to give Kenji trouble.
Kenji sits at his desk, taking calls al morning. His cheerful facade starting to crack as the day progresses. The ringing of his phone is met with a subtle grimace. He answers it with his usual greeting. “Good afternoon! Thank you for calling. This is Kenji. How may I assist you today?”
On the other end, a customer unleashes a barrage of complaints, unjustified anger, and insults. Kenji tries to maintain his composure, but the customer’s relentless tirade pushes him to his limit.
“This is absolutely unacceptable! You people are incompetent!”
Kenji struggles to remain calm. “I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. Let me look into this for you.” He says through gritted teeth. He then mutes the call, and rubs his temples. His frustration was boiling over. “I try to be nice, but sometimes I just can’t take it anymore.”
His coworker, Sarah, notices his distress from the adjacent cubicle and leans over. “Ken, are you okay? You seem really stressed.” She asks with concern in her voice.
“No, I’m not okay. These people… These… idiots! They just don’t understand.” Kenji unmutes the call and attempts to address the customer’s concerns, but his voice now carries an edge of exasperation.
The customer continues to berate him. “You’re useless! I want this problem fixed immediately!”
Kenji, unable to contain his anger any longer, raises his voice. “Listen, you little bastard. I’ve been patient with you, but there are limits! We’re doing our best here, and I won’t tolerate this abuse!”
The customer was taken aback. “I…I want to speak to your manager!”
Kenji, now fully aware of the severity of the situation, takes a deep breath and regains his composure.
Kenji, realizing the severity of what he just did briefly regains his composure. “Of course, sir. Please hold for a moment.”
He tries to give the call to his manager, but gets an unwanted response. “Kenji, I’m busy right now. Handle it yourself.”
Kenji’s frustration grows as his manager is unwilling to assist. He unmutes the call. “Where is your manager? I’ve been waiting!”
“Great, just great.” Kenji mutters to himself.
Kenji takes a deep breath, trying to remain composed, but the relentless customer’s voice continues to pierce through his patience. “This is ridiculous! Your company is a joke!”
Kenji was livid now. “You know what? I’ve had enough of your insults! We’re not your punching bag! My manager doesn’t want to talk to you either!”
Kenji’s outburst is heard through the office, drawing the attention of his coworkers, including his manager. Sarah exchanges worried glances with her colleagues as they watch the scene unfold.
“Kenji, what’s going on here?” His manager demands.
Kenji is fuming. “This customer has been nothing but abusive, and you won’t even speak to them!”
“See? Even your own employees can’t stand you!”
Kenji replies to that comment in kind. “No asshole. It’s you they can’t stand!”
“Well, I never!”
“I know you never! Are you so dissatisfied with your own life you’re just trying to take it out on people just trying to make a living? You’re a pathetic miserable human being!”
The manager sighs, and takes the phone from Kenji. “I’ll handle this, Kenji. Please calm down.”
Kenji leans back in his chair, his face flushed with anger and frustration, as he watches his manager deal with the unruly customer.
After the call was done. The manager calls Kenji into his office. Where he got lectured on being professional. It was a miracle he didn’t lose his job. They were shortstaffed and needed all the help they could get. Then he was sent back to his cubicle. He dealt with more callers until lunch time rolled around. Where he was the subject of office gossip.
After lunch, it was back on the phones. Where it was another barrage of difficult customers.
“I demand a refund, and I demand it now!”
“I understand your frustration, ma’am. Let me look into your issue and see what I can do to help.”
The customer continues to berate Kenji, criticizing the company’s policies and demanding immediate action. Kenji’s patience wears thin, and he finally loses his temper. “Listen bitch! You need to understand that there are procedures in place, and I can’t magically make things happen! I’m not a miracle worker!”
The customer was annoyed. “I want to speak to your manager right now!”
Soon, Kenji was pulled into another meeting with his boss.
“Kenji, I’ve been receiving complaints about your conduct with customers. I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure, Kenji. But you have to maintain professionalism, even in difficult situations. Yelling at customers is unacceptable.“
Kenji lowers his head in shame. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right it won’t happen again. I’m terminating your employment. Effective immediately.”
Kenji’s eyes went wide. “W-w-what? B-b-but…” The room felt suffocating, and his dreams of becoming a Broadway star suddenly felt even further out of reach. He had lost not only his temper but also his job, a lifeline to pay off his debts and survive in the expensive city.
His manager continued with a stern expression. “Kenji, we value your skills, but we cannot tolerate this behavior. We’re short-staffed, and we need a team that can handle customers professionally.”
Kenji’s voice trembled as he tried to plead for a second chance. “Please, I promise I’ll do better. I can’t afford to lose this job.”
His manager sighed. “I understand, Kenji, but this decision has been made. I’m sorry.”
As Kenji gathered his belongings and left the office, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of anger, frustration, and despair. He had let his emotions get the best of him, and it had cost him dearly.
His coworkers watched in silence as he walked out, some exchanging sympathetic glances, while others whispered amongst themselves. Office gossip about Kenji’s outbursts would undoubtedly linger long after he was gone.
Kenji found himself standing on the sidewalk outside the office building, feeling lost and uncertain about what to do next. His acting dreams now seemed even more distant, and the weight of his student loans pressed heavily on his shoulders. Now what was he going to do?
As he drove home along the dimly lit streets, another car suddenly swerved into his path. With a crash, the two cars collided, in a head on collision. The world seemed to slow as Kenji’s car was pushed off the road and came to a screeching halt.
The drunk driver, in a drunken stupor, stumbled out of their vehicle, their alcohol-fueled bravado quickly turning to horror as they realized what they had just done.
Emergency services arrived quickly, but it was too late. Kenji Yamamoto, was gone.
In Isabella’s opinion, mornings were almost universally the absolute worst part of any regular day. It was almost as though whoever coded the universe into place had designed it that way. Your eyes would sometimes be glued shut with weird stuff on them that, according to some children’s story, was from a “sandman” guy. She didn’t remember the story very well, but he sprinkled sand into people's eyes as they slept for some reason, and it was probably the most annoying thing to wake up to.
Isabella was fully aware that there was probably an actual scientific reason for it that she never bothered to look up, but it was a lot easier to get mad at a personification than at science.
Another eye related reason mornings sucked was waking up with dry eyes, which was almost always accompanied with a dry throat. While just as annoying as the earlier sand stuff, it got one over it by somehow discouraging her from actually getting out of bed, which confused Isabella. You’d think the body would encourage pulling itself out of bed when it’s dealing with that stuff, right? But no, the human body was perfectly intent to keep her frozen still under the sheets as her eyes grew itchy and her throat grew uncomfortably warm.
It was always those first minutes waking up that were the absolute worst like that, and it seemed that today would be no different. Forcing her weakened limbs to move, Isabella managed to rip herself away from the twin sized bed and got both of her two feet onto the floor. A monumental accomplishment for… seven in the morning, as the clock read. Which meant, Isabella realized as she groaned, that her body had woken her up an hour earlier than her alarm.
Which meant she had absolutely nothing to do for the next hour. Any homework that she might need to do was already done, she didn’t really have any games to play in the morning, and the cafeteria wouldn’t be open for another… thirty something minutes? It didn’t really matter, she tried to keep her breakfast consistent and tried to always eat it at around eight forty, so it wasn’t like she was going to eat anything soon.
Isabella hobbled around half awake, hunting down that water bottle that her eyes dearly needed, and tried to figure out how to kill time until her first class started.
… She decided to mess around with some rune combinations to show Alice later.
...
Her first class of the day was always math related. It was either physics or calculus, and it depended on the day which one had come first. As today was a wednesday, Isabella’s first class would end up being calculus, since physics was never on wednesdays.
It wasn’t like it mattered to her very much, though. Both of them were easily her worst classes. And it wasn’t like she blamed the teachers-... well, she kind of blamed the teachers, but she wouldn’t say that it was entirely their teaching that was doing her in. Most of the time, Isabella knew that when a person failed at something, it was usually their own fault. She was no exception to that. If she failed a quiz, it was really just because she didn’t study enough. None of her teachers were that bad, even if her calculus teacher talked a bit too fast for her liking, most bad results were ultimately her own fault, in her eyes.
Some might say that this was some kind of complex, with how often she attributed her failures to her own self, but Isabella couldn’t disagree more. More often than not, her failures were quite simply the result of her just… not studying particularly hard for something, or leaving something for the last minute because she just didn’t care enough to do it beforehand.
And she had no trouble admitting that, because… She didn’t really even want to be there. College was just an obligation, really. Another checkmark in life, just like middle school and high school. It didn’t matter if she liked it or not, because she’d be stuck dealing with it regardless.
That said, she would admit a preference to college over middle and high school, if only in that she wasn’t forced to transfer every semester.
Isabella sat in the middle left side of the room, close to the wall. There was no assigned seating like back in high school, anyone could sit anywhere they wanted, but Isabella preferred the consistency of just having one seat for the year and tried to keep it that way as often as she could. Even if she got to class too slow, and her usual seat was taken, she would take whatever seat in that row was closest to her usual spot.
The class itself was always at least somewhat helpful, when Isabella paid attention. The instructor was old and had a bit of a lisp when he spoke, but it was plenty obvious that the man had the credentials to teach the class.
Which was a lot more than she could say for her humanities teacher.
...
Isabella’s classes came and went with little fanfare, nothing especially important was going on in any of them. Calculus, for all that the teacher was good at his job, was math, and was accordingly boring. Humanities always turned into some weird debate thing that Isabella never quite had the energy to join in on, and always wondered if she’d accidentally signed up for a debate club instead of ancient history. And her last class of the day, chemistry, was in much the same boat as math.
Ultimately, a whole lot of nothing that she just didn’t really care for. So it was incredibly relieving to open the door to the occult club and to be greeted with the sight of Alice running about the room, trying to pull off what Isabella assumed to be some elaborate magic trick.
The blonde haired girl momentarily paused after she noticed Isabella at the door, giving a quick “Hi Izzy!” before carrying on with whatever trick she’d decided to try out today. After Isabella had joined, the occult club sort of branched out a little into a joint occult-magician sort of thing. Though, they were kind of the only two members, so it wasn’t really a branching out thing so much as it was combining their interests. Even if it didn’t quite seem like she was getting the trick right, it got a simile out of Isabella.
She’d actually learned a good bit of stuff from the club, or rather, from Alice and their team effort internet information gathering sessions. Norse stuff, Egyptian stuff, kabbalah, and so on and so forth, they made a decent enough pair at looking around and finding out neat stuff. Though, like mentioned earlier, it was far from all they did. Sometimes, they’d be practicing a bunch of magic tricks and try and see who could stump the other on how it worked. Sometimes they’d go out and look at some place that was getting called haunted or something. And sometimes, they just talked for a bit.
In a lot of ways, the club was… less of a club, and more of a hangout spot for a pair of friends.
Though, today was a day they’d actually be going out and doing something.
Even if Isabella was a bit less into paranormal stuff than Alice was, there was something to be said about checking so-called ‘haunted houses’ for ghosts.
And Alice had found a new place to check out, so it’d probably be a good time.
...
As she lay bleeding out on the floor, a phone call with someone shouting on the other end that she could no longer make out, Isabella found some measure of comedy that, in spite of everything, she still would only manage to hold a friendship for a single year. Though the circumstances in this case would be that she was literally about to die, it was still true.
She had all the evidence, and her friend would be able to spread it all around since Isabella sent everything she had recorded her way as fast as she could. And so could her parents, she supposed, since that was who she’d called in her final moments.
Honestly, she couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t called at all. Despite everything, Isabella didn’t want the last memories her family would have of her to be the sound of her choking on her own blood.
It just felt horrible.
If there was any silver lining to the blood dripping from her throat, it was that she knew Alice had made it out. There was no way she’d survive long enough for help to arrive, but she knew Alice would, and that was what mattered. Even if she wasn’t going to make it, with the information Alice had, there was no way the person who did it was going to get away scot free- and definitely not when she wasn’t the only victim.
It wasn’t like she wanted to die, or something. She’d barely done anything with her life, this wasn’t at all how she had wanted it to end, you know? Isabella had wanted something long, she wanted to be successful, she wanted to do something with her life, and didn’t everyone? Wasn’t that normal?
… Though, it wasn’t like it mattered. She doubted that the killer particularly cared about what she wanted out of her life.
Her hand moved to its final position, gently placed on her old deck of cards, as she continued to try and think.
Her eyes began to shut against her will, and though she could hear her mothers desperate voice, and her fathers panicked shouting, she stopped being able to make out what was being said.
Isabella tried to think about Alice.
She tried to think about that cafe that was open until eleven, that she and Alice had planned to hit up after they’d wrapped up. She tried to think about all their talks about how they could make some kind of magic spell out of whatever occult or religious thing they had taken interest in on that particular day. She tried to think about the car they’d driven over in. She tried to hope that Alice wouldn’t blame herself.
Through her bloodied throat, she choked out as many words as she could manage on the phone.
A sudden clap of thunder snapped Petra out of her thoughts, and deep in them as she'd been she had to spend a moment to reorientate herself before taking the opportunity to glance down at the time indicated in the bottom corner of her screen. 4:46. Blanching as she realised just how much she’d let time get away from her, the young woman hurried to close the browser window before giving a furtive glance around the library, feeling a sudden mixture of guilt and anxiety as though she might’ve been spotted with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
Thankfully, the library was always pretty quiet at this time of day and of the few students that were still around, the majority seemed more concerned with waiting out the rain than in paying even the slightest bit of attention to her, though that didn’t necessarily mean that none of them had noticed…
Wait. What was she worried about again?
It suddenly occurred to Petra that she hadn’t actually done anything wrong or even particularly out of place given the environment, and if anything, acting the way she was almost certainly more suspicious than anything she’d been doing. Rather than doing anything anyone would find objectionable, she’d more or less simply failed to do the thing she’d promised herself she would – no one would call her out for that at least, though that did little to ease her guilt.
Turning her attention to the report she’d come to the library to work on in the first place Petra grimaced. It didn’t even take her a whole minute to read all of what she’d written, it was after all little more than a working title, some sub-headers, and a few sparse notes on the details she intended to eventually include. It wasn’t that she had a problem with the content covered – in fact, she thought the content was pretty awsome – no, the problem was the content was so much more interesting than actually writing the damn paper. If the task had been to talk about the topic, she’d have been able to talk about it all day and then some, but no, they wanted her to write it as a report, with word limits, and specific structuring, and formatting, and all the other things she wasn’t good at. Each and every time she sat down to write something, she inevitably ended up just doing more research into the topic without making any real progress on the paper itself. At least her references would be robust when she finally did the thing.
This was fine.
Closing her laptop Petra assured herself she still had a few days before the report was actually due, besides, if history was any indication, panic would set in over the next couple of days and give her the motivation to actually get the work done so making sure she knew her stuff before then was, if anything, probably the best course of action! Petra’s thinly veiled self-deception did nothing to convince her of its truth and she knew full well that she was just trying to make excuses for herself, but that certainly wasn't going to stop her from trying anyway. In any case, it was actually getting pretty late, so excuses or no, she should probably start heading home.
Glancing at the window as she packed her bag, Petra couldn’t help but grimace. She’d forgotten about the rain and if the sheet of water currently obscuring any clear view of the outside was any indication, the walk to the station was probably going to be pretty miserable. She briefly considered waiting for the rain to let up a little, but ultimately decided against the idea – she had no idea how long that’d take, and the station wasn’t too far away, besides, it wasn’t like a bit of rain would do her any harm.
A flash of colour caught Petra’s attention as something landed outside the window. Was that a bird? From where she stood, Petra could see that it was a tiny red thing, probably not much larger than her fist, though further details were obscured by the rain and condensation. Intrigued, Petra approached the window and slowly pried it open, being careful so as to not spook the bird and completely oblivious to the otherwise obvious annoyance of the student seated behind her.
The bird was seemingly unbothered by the heavy rain and Petra both, having perched itself atop a ledge in the building’s façade where it eyed Petra with seeming curiosity. What was it doing up here? Petra had thought smaller birds tended to shelter during rain like this, was she wrong about that or was this particular species unusual? Maybe it was foraging for food? Birds need to feed quite often, right? But if that were the case why up here? There weren’t any nearby parks or gardens that she knew of. Even up close, Petra hadn’t been able to identify the bird’s species – something that kind of bothered her a little since she’d been pretty confident she could identify all the local birds.
Oh well, she could try to ID it on the train.
Fumbling in her pocket for a moment Petra produced her phone, rising onto the tips of her toes and leaning out to try and get a decent picture of the bird - heedless of both the rain falling onto her and the annoyed student packing his stuff behind her. Almost in sync with the artificial shutter sound of her photo, Petra felt something bump into her from behind. As her body teetered forward dangerously, Petra’s free hand instinctually shot down to catch her fall, only to slip uselessly against the water-slicked tiles. She saw the bird fly off – startled by her sudden movements – and the ground below was rushing up to meet her.
…
When Petra came to, it was to the sound of sirens. She was lying down flat on her back and seemingly in some kind of vehicle from the jostling – an ambulance judging by the sirens. Each bump in the road sent shooting pain down her arm and back, her head hurt like hell and she felt nauseous too. What had happened? She vaguely remembered something about a bird and… oh that was right, she’d gotten carried away and done something stupid causing her to fall out a window. This situation was entirely her doing.
Opening her eyes Petra confirmed that she was in fact in an ambulance. She tried to sit up but the movement only served to send a wave of pain shooting throughout her body and to prompt one of the paramedics to gently hold her down lest she exacerbate her injuries – not that the gesture was necessary, she’d given up on moving the moment she’d started trying.
“Good you’re awake, that’s a good sign. You’ve had a pretty nasty fall, but we’re taking you to the hospital. You’re going to be fine. Okay?”
The paramedic’s voice was gentle, clearly intended to be reassuring. After a moment Petra managed to give him a grunt that she hoped sounded at least mostly affirmative, the action triggering another burst of pain, though at a far more manageable level than when she’d tried to move.
It was kind of funny really, she could do something egregiously careless and stupid and then not suffer any lasting consequences for it. Just another one of the wonders of modern science. Not that she’d complain about that; as far as she was concerned the less she or anyone else had to suffer the better – even if they were only suffering the consequences of their own stupidity.
The paramedic started to say something else, but he never got to finish, his words interrupted by the horn of a truck. Petra felt the ambulance swerve violently to the side and then she felt something hit the vehicle even harder.
As she watched one side of the ambulance cave in towards her time seemed to slow to a crawl to Petra and she couldn’t help but think that this situation was unfair; she’d just been told she was going to be fine and there was so much more she wanted to learn and discover! She hadn’t even gotten to learn what species that bird was…
Petra's body was mangled and crushed beyond recognition.
Wake up, get washed, make breakfast, do chores while she still gave enough of a shit for it.
Her work would start in the evening, and she still had several hours until then.
As she often did when she had nothing better to do, she went out for a walk. She wandered the city, going by the river, crossing a bridge, and stopped somewhere with a decent view.
After an undetermined time of staring out into nowhere, she fetched a boba tea somewhere, and sipped on her drink while fiddling with her phone. She checked her social media, the news, and upcoming classical music events or competitions.
Yeah, so she had a schedule for where he would appear, so what? She smirked, and wondered if he was at home right now. Maybe she’d go see.
And so, she did. Standing on the other side of the street from his apartment building, she sent a short message.
Hey. You home?
Nothing.
A few minutes.
Still nothing.
She sighed. Fine, then, not today.
Well, whatever.
She was able to catch up with one of her friends for a quick coffee – but it really was quick, not even an hour.
Disappointed she’d not been able to see him instead, Kyouka visited her brother – unannounced.
Ring-ring. RING-RING.
“Yeah, yeah, coming!”
Ayato’s attempts at being polite – shoddy as they were – cut short when he saw her. “What the hell are you doing here.”
“What, can’t your sister come see her lonely little brother?” She gave him that smirk she knew drove him up the wall.
He grimaced. “What the hell, get lost,” he muttered. However, she weaseled her way in. They both knew she wouldn’t stick around for long, so as much as he was annoyed by it, he didn’t put up much of a fight.
“Sheesh, your place screams single guy, you know that, right?” She wrinkled her nose at the disarray, but she wasn’t about to go and touch any of it. Instead, she snagged a pillow and found a clean-ish place on the floor to sit on.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Ayato threw himself onto a floor sofa in front of his TV, and went onto gaming – and ignoring her.
“Still into that, huh?” She asked, as she watched idly. There was only a grunt for an answer. For some time after, there was only silence. Her brother was absorbed, she was bored.
“Hey. HEY!” She stretched a leg to kick his side.
That was enough to get his attention. “Ow, fuck,” he hissed. “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Just checking to see if you’re still alive there. Sooo...got any dates? Anyone you'd want one with?”
He was about to go back to his game, but facing the threat of more prodding from Kyouka, he gave in.
Ayato sighed, and paused his game. “Fine. I’ll give you your five minutes. But after that, you’re getting out of here.” He gave her that ‘I have enough of your shit’ look she was so familiar with. “Yeah, there’s some girls I’ve noticed. No, I haven’t really talked to any. The hell am I supposed to say to them, huh? ‘Hi, I game, please date me?’ Even if I find a gamer, that could have its own share of hassles, you know? And do you really think I care enough to do the whole ‘proper romance’ thing? I don’t have that kinda time to waste.”
Kyouka gave a pointed glance to his gaming setup.
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. Now, shoo. Go back to stalking, or fucking old men, or whatever it is you do in your free time.”
This time, Kyouka was the one to get enraged. In quick fury, she grabbed the nearest object – an empty can of energy drink – and hurled it at him. Ayato dodged, just barely. “What the fuck??!”
“You know what,” she growled. They had a stare-off, but stubborn as they were, neither was going to relent. She exhaled quickly, still angry, and stood up. However, before leaving, she did say, “Later, you fucking nerd.”
“Don’t come here uninvited again!” he called after her. She slammed the door with a thud.
All in all, this visit had just served to aggravate her.
However, not all was bad. Moments after leaving, she got a message from him.
He’d sent her an address and time, asking if she could make it.
She sent him a quick confirmation, and made her way to the location he'd sent.
She managed to get there before him, and stood there, facing the winds, hands in the pockets of her coat.
“Hey.” That voice. “What’re you doing there looking all fierce, mm?” he said in that goadingly joking tone of his he had.
“F-fierce? Y-you’re not comparing me to something strange again, are you?” She suddenly felt warmth creep up her cheeks and knew she was blushing. Gods, why did she always act like this in front of him?
He smirked. “How d’ya know? C’mon, demoness.”
She gasped, but even as outrage blazed within her chest, she went up to him, and took up his arm as he silently offered to escort her.
He invited her out for a late lunch!
Kyouka was on cloud nine for the rest of the day.
In fact, she was so happy, she wasn’t as careful managing her alcohol intake at the club as she should have been. Her overseers did much of that for her, but still. She kept inviting customers to drink and chat with her, spending mindless hours in easy, casual, pointless conversations.
On her way home, she was past buzzed, but had decided to walk for some reason. To enjoy the evening, she’d said.
She was crossing a remote walkway high above. She didn’t notice the sectioned-off roadwork part in time. She stumbled into a glaring orange cone, and suddenly, the railing that had been supporting her was gone.
She fell.
Crack.
H-huh? Her thoughts were sluggish, and her body felt even number. For some reason, the sky was suddenly in front of her. W-what?
In her state, it took her some time to realize what had happened.
She tried to pick herself up, but she couldn’t quite move.
W-wait. No. NO!
She couldn’t be – couldn’t be dying, could she?
Sudden fear gripped her.
No, she didn’t want to go like this. She still had so many things to do!
God, what kind of universe was it to kill a beautiful maiden in love like her?
As life seeped from her, she felt various regrets.
She’d never get to figure out what it was that she’d wanted. Love? Passion? A purpose?
She hadn’t had enough of life, not even close. Sure, it was downright miserable at times. It felt like others had that ‘special something’ that she couldn’t quite get a grasp on.
Oh, and she just knew they’d say what a ‘waste’ her life had been. How she could have been ‘so much more’. Trying to decide how she should live even after her death.
Ha!
This, after being called a witch so many times? How often it was said that she was an evil devil of a beuty...
If she were some mystical creature, or had any powers like that, would she end up like this? No, she wouldn't.
Fuck. Dead because of a stupid accident.
And now they’d find her body all mangled and ugly, and cry over her pitiful state. Goddammit, she couldn’t fucking handle that.
Well, she’d not be around to see it. On account of being dead.
A-ah, so I’m dying before that terminal ill wife of his. What kind of luck is this?
As they each felt their lives slipping away from them, four humans suddenly felt a strange sensation of peace washing over them. In fact, despite being 'dead' they all suddenly found themselves able to get up and move, leaving their physical bodies behind. Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light and they were greeted by what looked like a pristine white angel. Striding up to each of them, she cradled their heads in her hands and wrapping her wings around them. Naturally, they were all seeing the same goddess. Morganna had used the power of her gemstone to split her 'essence' across the world and find souls faster.
"My poor child..." she said. "Do not despair, for this not your time. My name is Morganna and today you've been granted a rare gift. You won't be able to return to this life, but you can take on another. You'll be in a new world and far removed from the struggles of your old life." Raising a hand, a series of images began to swirl around the goddess and the respective human. Scenes from their various lives played out showing the trials and tribulations for each. "We'll use these to start."
RYOKO
As Ryoko's life flashed around her, it was disheartening to see that more than half her memories were just her sitting in front of various computers. Noticeably, she looked more and more detached as the memories went on. Staring in confusion, Morganna eventually shook her head. "This is... unfortunate. I sense a great desire for freedom within you, yet your life seems to have bound you to these strange contraptions. Trapped in a cycle with no escape and only the promise of freedom. I think we can fix that. What do you think?"
As soon as Morganna said that, a memory of Ryoko watching one of her favorite anime floated by. The scene depicted a young fairy girl flying through the air and alighting on a tree branch. The girl subconsciously reached out to the memory as Morganna tapped her gemstone and Ryoko was enveloped in a shimmering silver light.
"Soul Transfer Initiated! Suitable Race selected! Scanning soul..." The influence of the goddess began to seep into Ryoko's mind. "Skills Selected! Desire for Love detected - Charm Unlocked! Desire to Escape detected - Camouflage Unlocked! Powerful desire to become strong - Atlas Unlocked! Atlas combined with Fey Ancestry - Legendary Skill Nature's Might Unlocked! Racial Traits - Nature Bound Unlocked!
Ryoko felt her exhaustion returning as her field of vision went white. Just before she zoned out completely she could hear the words of the angel woman in her ears, "My name is Morganna. You'll awake in my temple. Welcome to your new life, Little One."
The Unnamed Character
While his body had been crushed under the truck that magically jumped into a second story building, the young man found himself laid out on the floor of his bedroom that wasn't wrecked by the hulking machine. Morganna stood over him as images of his life played out around her. She took particular interest in the memories of his beloved card games. Not that there was much else to go on since they took up about eighty percent of his life. She clicked her tongue and returned her attention to him.
"Just what are we going to do with you, Little One?" She just shook her head when no replay came. "You're the silent type I see. Well, not everyone jumps at the idea of meeting a goddess the first time. I'll speed things along so we can bypass the awkward conversation. I'm Morganna, you're getting reincarnated, and your life is very hard to create something usable out of. All I see are these cards. Nevertheless... It's better than letting my brother take you. Now let's see..." Morganna raised her hand and the silver light appeared over the young man's body.
"Soul Transfer Initiated! Suitable Race selected! Scanning soul..." This time, it seemed as though the process went a lot faster. "Skills Selected! Desire to Build - Architect Skill Unlocked! A Cunning Mind Detected - Merchant Skills "Appraisal" and "Imbue" Unlocked! Racial Traits - Morai Discipline Unlocked!"
Morganna smiled weakly as she knelt next to the man. "It's not the perfect way to start a new life, but I'm sure someone with your... skillset will find a way to make use of it. You're about to cross the barrier now. I'll see you in the next life." With that, the man's world went white.
Kenji
Kenji found himself staring into the flaming wreck of his car; his mangled body resting inside. He didn't have time to process what was happening when there was a flash of light and Morganna appeared. Noting the uncertainty in Kenji's eyes, she raised her hands and sauntered over to him.
"I'm not going to harm you, Little One. In fact, I'm going to offer you something much better. You see... this wasn't your time. If you'll allow me..." Kenji stood there in amazement as Morganna gave a summary of her identity and the knowledge that he was chosen to be reincarnated into a new world. "First," she said, "I'm going to need a look at those memories." As the scenes from Kenji's life began to play out in the air around him, Morganna took note of each memory like it was an entry in a journal.
"A hard life indeed, murmured the goddess. "Yet not a challenge for me. I think I know just what to make of you, Little One. I think you'll enjoy where you're going." With that, she brushed a hand against Kenji's temple. Plata began to glow and Kenji's vision went white.
"Soul Transfer Initiated! Suitable Race selected! Scanning soul..." The magic flowed through Kenji as it found every single trait to turn into new abilities, both his positives and negatives. "Skills Selected! Desire to Deceive - Silver Tongue Unlocked! Stored Anger Detected - Enrage Unlocked! Anomaly Detected! - Rare Skill Unlocked! Artisan's Eyes! Racial Traits - Anti-Charm and Ageless Unlocked!
ISABELLA
Eventually, the noise on the other end of the phone faded out of Isabella's consciousness. Silence overtook her and the pain from her throat even ebbed away. From her place on the ground, she saw a bright flash of light and Morganna appeared before her. This time, the Goddess knelt down and cradled the girl's head on her lap. For some reason, Isabella felt suddenly calm in this strange woman's prescence.
"Such a shame to be cut down in the prime of one's youth," said Morganna as she studied Isabella's features. "Quite the shame to lose such a pretty face as well. Don't fret though, Little One. You aren't going to die here. We just need... a change of scenery." Before Isabella could question anything, Morganna snapped her fingers and the two of them were suddenly standing in an empty white void. Much like before, Isabella's memories played out around the two of them and the goddess looked at each one as she determined just what this girl was going to become.
"You're quite the traveler you know? Perhaps we find somewhere you can use that potential? I know of a fabulous guild in Ilios that could use someone with your skills. And of course, the new skills you're going to receive now! Let's try..." Isabella was cloaked in the silver light as Morganna's transformation magic triggered again.
"Soul Transfer Initiated! Suitable Race selected! Scanning soul..." Isabella's mind raced upon hearing the voice in her head. It was almost like hearing a disembodied spirit. "Skills Selected! Desire for Companions- Charm Unlocked! Desire for the Occult - Curse Magic and Spirit Caller Unlocked! A Powerful Desire for Shadows Detected - LEGENDARY Skill Shadow Walker Unlocked! Racial Traits - Morai Discipline!
Even Morganna raised her eyes a little at this news. "A child of light wielding dark magic? You really ARE and interesting one. Perhaps you'll be worth keeping an eye on." She waved her hand as the silver light vanished. "Welcome to Vecta, Little One. I trust you'll find this life quite a step up from your old one. Enjoy the new adventure!
DALTON Something was off. The young Merrick girl rushed through the forest, her wolf fur cloak flapping in the wind. She'd been out for her morning hunt through the Penrithe Forest when an unfamiliar scent caught her attention. It was extremely faint, but it smelled like another Merrick! That could mean trouble if the source was from a rival pack. As the smell got stronger, the girl wrapped her cloak around her body as she fell onto her arms and legs. In a matter of seconds there was a sleek silver wolf rushing along the forest floor. Coming upon a clearing, she stopped at the sound of a voice through the trees.
"Uh, System? Menu? Status Screen? Cultivation Arts?" said a confused man. "Query: What is Skill, [Combat Sense]? Please?" Just barely peeking her nose through the brush, the girl could see a figure sitting in the clearing. He certainly LOOKED like a Merrick. She noted his wild and untamed hair, pointed ears, and the fangs in his mouth, but why on Vecta was he dressed like THAT?! At his age, he should have had five or six pelts on him at minimum! Not to mention there was still something wrong with his scent. Now that she was closer, the girl could tell it was unlike any pack of Merrick she recognized. Something was wrong here...
Her suspicions were proven correct when the man called out a new phrase, "Uh.. Status open?" Suddenly a glowing green square blazed to life right in front of the Merrick. The girl watched in bewilderment as he began to tap at the square as though something were on it. Sensing this could be trouble, she leaped out of the underbrush. For a split second, she thought she saw the man turn his head right to where she'd been hiding before she jumped; almost like he suddenly knew she'd been hiding there.
As soon as the mythical status screen blazed to life in front of Dalton, he began to see information about his new form spread out on various tabs. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to have anything listed as a "Name". Outside of that, he only had enough time to flip to the skills page and read 'Combat Sense - Your keen senses allow you to detect and predict where potential attackers are hid-' when suddenly, a silver wolf jumped out of the underbrush and began growling at him menacingly.
MINAMI The door to the castle slowly swung shut behind Minami before any sunlight could reach inside. The woman was left alone in the dark for a moment before a series of torches blazed to life. She found herself inside a lavish medieval gathering hall. A grand staircase dominated the room and split off in two directions for different wings of the building. Before she could explore further, there came a voice from the top of the stairs.
"Ahh. His Lordship did say there was someone at the gate." Looking up, Minami saw an older woman clad in a maid's uniform descending the stairs. In her hands she carried a candle and a black cloak. "Poor thing, you must be chilled to the bone with that morning sun. Wrap yourself in this." The maid handed the cloak over before offering a small curtsey. "Apologies for not being down to greet you sooner. We were all about to turn in for the morning when my master sensed the arrival of a fledgling at the gates. You're lucky to have made it inside before the sunrise. Traveling all night. You'll need some rest. Og but where are my manners?! My name is Rowena, a humble servant of Lord Dragomir. If you have any questions about the castle, I'm happy to answer them as best I can?"
Meanwhile, in the crypt beneath the castle, a vampire was observing the small flock of fledglings that had fallen into his care that day. Many of them were likely fleeing persecution in other parts of the continent while others may have just needed a place to stay to wait out the sun. He curled his lips at the thought of such easy marks. They would make promising servants.
BELO "You're sure it was THAT one?" The silver elf eyes squinted through the thicket towards the scrawny orc carrying a child on its back. The beast didn't look any different from the ones they had killed on the beach, but if repoarts were to be believed, it had killed one of their own. While the orcs did fight back, the Elves - with their superior arms and armor - usually quashed any resistance without much trouble. As a result, it was rare for any of these abominations to mortally wound one of them.
In true orc stupidity however, this one and its group had decided to flee from the beach and into the wooods. In other words, they had walked right into the Elves home turf. Regardless of which side you fell on in Vecta, everyone knews the elves were unrivaled when it came to forest basked combat. All this would take was one good arrow to the head and Mirai, the falled warrior, would be avenged. The would-be assassin picked up his bow, notched an arrow, and...
Got stabbed through the eye before he could even pull back the bowstring. On the other end, Belo found himself looking at the bloodstain with incredulity. He couldn't explain this sudden feeling. He couldn't see the elf, but somehow he knew exactly where he was hiding. Hopefully that intuition would hold out as Belo followed this pack of orcs down the forest trail. They all seemed to know where they were headed, and none of them asked Belo any questions regarding his name, or his sudden appearance at the battle. The growing excitement on everyone's faces made Belo hope that wherever they ended up, there would be food available.
@TheNoCoKid As Minami had gotten inside, the doors that had let her in suddenly decided to close. On their own. Without anyone pulling them. Because that wasn't suspiscious or the start to every splatter-horror-movie ever or anyhting. Nope. This was totally not going to go south very soon, very fast. The young woman couldn't help but feel a slight sense of unease, though it was more from the lack of knowing where she was and what was going on, rather than being afraid of being trapped inside and unknown castle in the middle of gods-know-where... Which seems like the more pressing matter that most other people would've been concerned with. But then again, Minami wasn't most people.
A sudden flickering of light then caught her eyes, as she watched a veritable row of candles light themselves. Fancy. But very unnerving. If she'd been familiar with things like anime, games or other such media, she might have found the whole thing horribly cliché and face-palmed at the sight - but, luckily, she was not, so the efficacy of the theatrical display was not wasted, as the woman blinked and looked both amazed and confused. Were there light-switches that could turn on and off candles? Shed'd never heard of such a thing... Alas, there was no time to follow on with that thought.
An older woman, dressed in a generic maid outfit, then suddenly descended form the grandiose and overly lavish staircase infront of her. Once the servant had descended the steps and approached Minami, she performed a courteous western greeting traditional of females from high society, spoke and presented the guest with... uh... A cape? Cloak? Wait, what was that about being chilled by the morning sun? And... Drago-what? Was that the name of whoever owned this place? How'd he sensed someone was at the door? Had he seen Minami from one of the winows on the upper floors? But she hand't seen anyone when she was outside looking in... Although, that really didn't say much. It wasn't like she'd been looking terribly intently. Still, she had to respond, right?
"Ah, uh... Thank you, Miss... Rowena?"
Minami accepted the gift and responded by giving the maid the traditional bowta that was customary in Japan. She wasn't exactly sure what to do with a cape while inside... But it seemed rude to pass it up when she was being offered both entrance and good manners out of nowhere. The maid's words about questions was somehthing the younger woman responded to though, standing up straight again and looking with faint smile - relieved she'd be able to get answers so quickly. Though, she didn't seem to understand what the older woman was talking about in regards to the other fledgelings, or waiting out the sun.
"Well then, if you don't mind, miss." Minami started. "Could you tell me where we are? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the area... I saw a ... Town? In the distance, but I couldn't recognize it either. and are you sure it's alright for me to impose on... Lord Drago...n...ear... like this? I don't want to impose."
Minami's words were polite, calm and clear. Which was still a bit strange for her. After all, she was used to her speech being more mouse-like, quiet and muted, often forcing people to tell her to repeat herself. But that didn't seem to be the case right now. It was an odd sensation. She remained quiet for a brief moment before adding:
"Oh, and do you know anything about a strange... Winged man... Wearing golden armor?"
Perhaps this was her way to get some information on that weird person who had showed up right after.. She... Died... Oh. Oh right. She'd died. And come here. To wherever here was. Was this a dream? She raised a hand and pinched her cheek, pulling it out. It stung. A lot. She let go while letting out a cutesy series of 'ow, ow, ow, ow!'s. Nope. Not a dream.
Tiffany Leicester, Earth
Sunlight filtered in through the drapes on the big dinwo, and a happy, cheerful and peppy tune started playing on the phone lying on the nightstand.
A grumbling noise from the mass of sheets and pillows on the bed right beside it was heard, before a hand reached out and started blindly trying to swat at or grab the culprit whichw was making all that noise.
It took a while, but eventually the infernal device was silenced!
A few minutes passed. A few minutes of nothing.
Then, the golden-haired girl hiding in the mountain of bedding suddenly rose from her realm of slumber, like a mighty Loch Ness monster slowly rising form its... Loch... of... Ness... Metaphores!
Stretching her arms out and yawning, she blinked and rubbed her eyes, before sliding off the side of her bed and standing up. Making a few disgruntled nooises and yawning once more while stretching and arching her back with her arms held up, she looked around the room. The room filled with her things. It wasn't an overly large room, but it was spacious enough for one girl to keep all her stuff. Wardrobe, desk, chair, mirror, bookshelf, drawers, posters... Yup, it was all still there.
Finally a bit more awake, she felt the call of nature, and headed out.
Of course, she had to run into him right out of the door.
"Woah! Sis! What're you doing!? Go put some clothes on!" "... Jeez, you're so loud, shut up." "That's shameful! Can't you be a bit more modest?" "Why the heck would I need to be? We're at home, numb-nuts, remember? Not like anyone can see me anyway." " can see you!" "So? What, you're into your own older sister now? Way gross." "That's not it! Your're so weird, Tiffany! Stop saying that kinda nonsense and go put some clothes on!" "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Toilet." "Hey!"
She ignored him. Man, Phillip really was such an annoying little turd, wasn't he? Continuing on to the bathroom, she didn't have anymore run-ins. Once inside, she did what needed be done. Her business, brushing teeth, brushing her hair, shower, checking herself out a bit, you know, the usual morning-stuff.
Once she was done and got out, she was greeted by a tiny little one wearing a very cutesy, pastel-pink pajama. Tiffany smiled.
"Morning, Lily." "Morning, Tiffa! Mhm~" The little one got a gentle pat on the head. "Slept well?" "Yup! I dreamed about a unicorn!" "Ohh? That's sounds fun." "Yeah! He was really cute." "I bet. Not as cute as you though, right?" "Mhmhm~!" The little one was tickled in the sides and giggled happily. "By the way, Tifa. Isn't today whenn you gotta go to that place?" "Hm? What place?" "You know, the one with the cameras and old guys." "... Oh. Yeah, you're right. Thanks for reminding me, I almost spaced on that completely. You're sucha a good girl~"
More laughing and giggling as the two sisters hugged each other. Then, after a bit of bonding, it was off to eat breakfast. All the things were laid out, but nobody was there. Mom and dad had probably already eaten, and so had Phil - most likely. So it was just going to be her and Lily then? That was good. She really didn't feel up to dealing with either of the two bible-thumpers this morning.
...
After having gotten dressed and sat down at the table, Tifanny made herself some toast. She flipped through the various news and feeds on hher phone, only giving each thing a brief glance.
War. Economic troubles. Natural Diasters. Civil unrest in some country she'd never even heard about. Yeah, the usual crap. Jeez, why couldn't all these other places and people get their shit together? She sighed and took a big crunchy munch from her toasty toast. Lily was taking her time though... Was she still getting ready? Wait, what time was it?
"Oh, crap!"
Scarfing down the rest of breakfast, she also chugged her glass of milk before heading on out to the hallway.
"I'm heading out, guys. Watch the house until mom gets back, 'kay?"
She thought she heard Lily call from upstairs, but it was hard to hear. Phil didn't respond. Not that it mattered, not like he was going to go anywhere anyway. Getting her designer shoes on, she gave herself a once-over in the big hallway mirror, corrected her bangs a little and then set off out the door.
...
Normally dad would've offered to drive her, but he'd been called in to some executive meeting-or-whatever. And mom had taken off to teach one of her students, so she had no choice but to take the bus. Sure, she could've called an uber or something, but she didn't feel like being stuck in some smelly, dinky little car with some middle-aged perv staring at her cleavage through the rear-view mirror all the way. thanks but no thanks. She got enough leering as it was without having it be close contact, thank you very much.
The ride was rather uneventful and she got off at the place she needed to without incident. Walking past an alley, she got accosted by some old, smelly, heavily bearded man who asked if she could spare some change. But not in a very nice way. Tiffany didn't even acknowledge his existence. She thought she could hear the human garbage spit and say soemthing uncouth, but it didn't matter. What was the point of concerning yourself with people like that? Parasites and lowlives who'd let their lives go to shit because they were too lazy, too stupid or both to remain as a member of society. She really wished someone would just clean up the streets sometimes.
...
Her phone rang. It startled her a bit. But wait, it wans't time yet. Who was calling her? Lifting up the device, she looked at the caller ID.
Oh, it was just Jess.
Click.
"Hey, girl. 'Sup?" "Hey, hey~! How ya doing, Tiff? Big day today, right?" "Oh, is it?" "Pssh, don't play cool. You've got that big gig soon, right? The park venue? For the magazine?" "Oh, that. Yeah, I'm on my way there right now." "'Atta girl! You're gonna knock 'em dead." "Uh yeah! Of course I am. I'm like, 'totes on top today." "Huh-huh, uh-uhuh. That's what I wanna hear. You're gonna swing by and hang a little afterwards though, right? Milly wants to see you too." "Awww, I wanna see Mill-Mill too, but I can't.... I gotta go straight back home and look after Lils until mom gets back." "Aw, boo. Well, I guess it can't be helped. Next time then, 'kay?" "Mhm, sure. You got it. Love you, buh-bye now." "Later~"
Click.
Jess. An old friend from junior high. They'd even gone to the same high school. She was an upper mioddle-spec girl. Not as pretty as Tiffany, but a good person and popular enough in her own right. She felt a little happy that her friend had called and, in her own way, wished her luck. Not that she needed it, she'd been doing this for three years now. Still, the thought was more than enough to be endearing.
...
It had taken a while, but she was finally on site. The staff were already busy setting things up and getting everything ready. All the nobodies had been asked to, and told, to stay away while the shoot was going on, so there wouldn't be any interference or unnecessary re-takes. Which was good. As sge got closer, she heard a familiar effeminate voice call out to her.
"Tiffany, darliiiiing, you're finally ehre." "Hey, Marco. Sorry to keep you waiting." "Oh don't you worry your buns, hun. We're still setting up. You've got time to change and get ready, don't. You. Fret." He wagged his finger and gave her a wink. "Cool. So, where's the changing-" "Eight over there, gorgeous." He pointed an awfully well-manecured finger to a little tent. "Nice, thanks. Love your nails, by theway." "Oh-ho, you do~? Thanks sweeite, I'll take you to my salon next time. You'll love it." "Sounds great. I'll go get ready." "Ciao~ HEY! CRREFUL WITH THAT, YOU MORON! DON'T DAMAGE THE EQUIPMENT OR I'LL HAVE YOUR ASS!" ... Marco's latter words weren't said in quite the same... Flamboyantly charming tone of voice as he'd used when talking to Tiffany...
...
Having gotten herself changed, she took a look in the mirror. It was a nice piece. She really liked the red top, it went well with her skin-tone. The shoes were a bit awkward though, but hopefully she wouldn't need to walk around too much. The girl they'd hired to do her makeup sure knew what she was doing though.
"Looking good, girl." Tiffany said to her own reflection, giving herself a wink.
Then one of the toadies called out from beyond the drapes of the tent.
"We're all set! You ready?" "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."
...
"Ah, ja! Guut! Guut! So veri guut! Oh yes, work it! Ze kamera, she luvs you, baby! Gif me another of those, ja! Just like dat!! Wunderbar!"
Gunther was as energetic and lively as usual with the camera. She remembered when she'd first started, she almost couldn't help but laugh at his accent and way of doing things, but she'd gotten used to it. She was a pro after all. Posing, expressions, movement, she got it all down pat. And once this shoot was over, she was finally going to get into the big leagues. She'd become a house-hold name and start going places. Real places. And she'd gotten here, all on her own! She couldn't help but feel--
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAART!!
-- Like she was about to get hit by a speeding truck.
Wait, what?
...
Screaming, shouting and running. She didn't get what was happening until it was all too late. She saw Gunther and Marco hurl themselves to the right, before a pair of blindingly bright lights suddenly emerged from where they'd been and came right for her. It was like... Being a deer in the middle of a road, facing down a pair of headlights on a car... Which was an actually 100% accurate way of what was happening. Except instead of a car, it was a truck. A truck in the middle of a god-damned park!
She didn't feel much, not really. There was a very brief moment of intense pain as the several metric tonnes of metal and machine crashed into her soft, supple frame wiht its front, punting her backwards for several feet. But as she sailed through the air, upside down, hair fluttering free and careless in the ensuing draft... She couldn't help but notice everything slow down and that all the world's color seemed to drain into this weird, grey-scale filter-like state.
She stared, frozen in place while airborne. The screaming, horrified facesof the crew, running for their lives to get out of the way. The knocked over or completely totalled equipment being sent flying. the trees and bushes and benches, all turned upside-down because of her own position. The birds flying in the sky below.
What the actual fuck?
Are... Are you shtting me? What the fuck's goingon? Where'd this truck come from!? What the hell was he thinkin, driving that thing right into here? Angry and dismayed thoughts filled her mind. She could see the windshielf. The driver inside? His eyes were wide, his face contorted into a weird grimace... Was... Was he high!? Was he one of those truckers on meth? You're serious? No, seriously? This coked-up jackass ran me over? Me? He couldn't have hit a mugger or some homeless guy? No, of course not. She fumed. There're assohles out there who rape, rob, murder and start wars for no good fuckin' reason, but I'm the one being run over by a god-damned truck in broad daylight? What the hlel is ths shit? I went to school! I passed all my subjects! I studied and got my gradss! I even got my own job and career! Me, I did this! I got me where I am! And now I'm gonna just... Die!? I solved all my problems myself, never asked dad or mom to get involved when I had personal issues or spats at school or with others! I dealt with all my crap myself, I cleaned up after myself! So what's the meaning of this, huh? Why is someone like me being killed for no reason!?
Tifanny was miffed. Thinking back, she recalled having dealt with bullies who tried to pick on her, or her friends. She remembered dealing with teachers who'd made inappropriate advances. She remembered dealing with creepy stalkers - by way of calling the police, mind you - and the many, many times she'd had to argue and bicker with her mom about her job and way of dressing. Of course, she'd been born into a rather sweet home with a pretty damn good outset on life, but still. It wasn't like it was her fault that she'd been born into better-off-than-most household, right?
This... This isn't fair! It's not fair! I was gonna be a model, a real one! I was finally geonna get some recognition for all my hard work... All that care I took of myself and my bod', my health... All that time excersiging and staying fit, eating right... Diets... I was gonna look slammin' until I was in my 40s or something, at least! But now, now I'm just gonna get mangled by this truck-fuck? That's... That's not right... There're so many other assholes out there who deserve this... Those dicks who do nothing but spread pain and suffering, don't help anyone and don't do anything good for the world... Miserable sacks of shit that just make everyone around them suffer or uncomfortable... They're the ones who should be getting run over, not me!
She felt something wet on her cheeks. Even though time seemed frozen, she could still tell taht she was crying. But, was it from anger, or from fear? Perhaps both.
Dad... Lily... Mom... Phil... I... I don't want this... I don't want to die like this... I wa... I wanted to come home and tell you all about it... All about how I was finally making it big... Why... Why'd this have to happen, God?
But God didn't answer. Instead, the colors of the world returned. Time began to move, and Tiffany's body ceased being airborne, instead proceeding to ragdoll onto the grassy ground. Right infront of the truck.
... Which proceeded to run over the motionless girl, turning her once attractive and stylish form into a mangled, horribly irrecognizlabe mess.
...
...
...
But on the bright side, it seemed that everyone else from the photoshoot had managed to come out unscathed!
Minami received a cape from, and asked, Rowena many quesitons.
Tiffany got merked by truck-kun and asked, and said, many angry things before succumbing to despair
Just like something out of his Japanese anee-mays, a glowing, data-green screen opened up in front of Dalton. At the same time, he caught a whiff of something on the air. It reminded him of a...dog? But somehow, maybe subconsciously, he knew it wasn't. His ears twitched again at a sound in the underbrush. Nonetheless, in that brief moment before his instincts screamed at him, he read what was on the screen.
SUMMARY | >> [SKILLS] | MAP | INVENTORY [*][Combat Sense] Your keen senses allow you to detect and predict where potential attackers are hid--
In a single second, Dalton's reading speed proved its worth. He didn't have time to register the numbers beside his different stats, or the other two tabs, but "potential attackers" immediately contextualized the new smells and sounds he was picking up. His head was already turning when the brush in front of him parted--!
A silver-furred wolf, as graceful as she was deadly, leaped out in front of him! Fangs bared, the animal snarled and glared with storm-gray eyes as the fur on its neck bristled.
Look big! Look big! screamed Dalton's analytical side, its mental voice breaking and rising a few octaves in terror. Right, he'd always heard that if you made yourself look bigger than you were, and made intimidating noises, that animals would back off! Ambush predators like wolves and mountain lions weren't supposed to attack if the prey knew they were there and looked like it would put up a fight!
HURRY IT UP! yelled his emotional side, before dumping a load of coal on the fire surging up in Dalton's guts.
Dalton did not usually allow himself to have outbursts of anger or fear. Strict self control, a desire not to rock the boat, rigid courtesy training from his parents...for whatever reason, he'd allowed himself to be chained up all his life.
But he had just died. He'd lived his whole life without meaning, letting himself be trampled on at every turn. He'd allowed himself to be tied down by worthless rules that no one else followed. Some dumbass kid had been looking at their stupid phone, and some idiot trucker had been going way over the speed limit, and the freaking vice president had been on his ass all morning, and that rich bastard had heaped nothing but abuse on him over the phone, and then some Final Fantasy reject had thrown him out here with no pants--!
>> [Primal Rage] activated!
Dalton screamed back at the wolf, at the top of his lungs. As he raised his arms high above his head, fingers curled into claws, and tried to make himself look as imposing and dangerous as possible, he screamed. Though he didn't know it, his pupils narrowed to slits and the whites of his eyes turned bloodshot red. His own fangs were bared wide. Though his body wasn't exactly huge and buff, he didn't have much fat on him either. Every muscle stood taut against his flesh, and veins pulsed in his forehead and along his forearms.
As his Skill surged through him, his muscles pulsed as if they were growing of their own accord. His skin flushed red and his voice rose in volume yet again. Something like steam, or maybe an aura, rose from his body as he shook with unbridled fury. A vibration, a thrumming resonance deep within his chest, caused his words to reverberate.
"BACK! OFF!"
The wolf's ears suddenly flattened back against her head in surprise. The animal's tail, which was sticking straight out, lowered ever so slightly. She still snarled, but an unsure tongue darted out between her teeth as she crouched lower to the ground, hiding her vulnerable throat.
"I WILL $%&@ YOU UP, BUTTERCUP!" Dalton stomped one foot on the ground, and the impact seemed much heavier than it should've been, leaving an impression in the dirt under his sandal.
The wolf took a step back, and the snarl faded to a low growl...then a whine. Dalton felt relief wash over him--and then, a cold, nervous realization. What was happening to him? He'd triggered a Skill of some kind? He could barely think straight--it didn't make any sense for him to try and attack this animal unarmed. All he wanted to do was scare it and make it go away, but he felt like if it actually turned tail and ran, his first reaction would be to chase it!
Anyone else might've given into that rage, and damned the consequences. Dalton was certainly tempted. But his habit, the one he'd lived his whole life by, was one of self control. And so he was able to temper, just the little bit, this power that he had only barely tapped into before it could overwhelm him.
>> [Primal Rage] deactivated.
"Yeah, that's right!" He kept his arms upraised, and yelled loud enough to shake the leaves on the trees. But the red glow began to fade from his eyes as he wrinkled his nose at the wolf in imitation of its own hackles. "You don't hurt me, I don't hurt you! So walk away!"
The wolf blinked as it took another step back. Then, slowly, it nodded...and spoke.
"You're the one in my tribe's territory! Identify yourself!" said the beast, in an unmistakably female voice. This time it was Dalton's turn to blink as his ears flattened against the sides of his head, and both eyebrows flew up.
"What the hell!? You can talk?" he blurted out. The wolf looked at him in confusion, pulling back to a sitting position and tilting her head. Dalton relaxed as well, lowering his arms, but he still stared at her with his jaw gaping.
"What's wrong with you?" The wolf shook herself out--and then started to change.
Dalton's face changed as well.
"WUUT THA HAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIL!?"
Somehow, this scream was even louder than the one powered by years of repressed rage and hatred. Above the treetops near the two Merrick, flocks of birds fled their perches and flew over the forest.
"Enough!" shouted the girl as she covered her ears--her actual ears, not the two tufts of hair on her head that resembled ears. "J-just tell me who you are!"
"Uh. Oh. R-right." Dalton nodded dumbly. "I'm Dalton." His shoulders slumped as he pointed at himself with one thumb, as his voice had gone completely monotone.
"...Dah-ru-tun?" She tilted her head again, and the reincarnator gulped. "What kind of name is that? Where are you from?"
"Ohio."
The two of them stared at each other for a long time, as they each faced the difficult decision of whether they were more intimidated or confused by the person across from them.
Okay, so how do we play this? Analytical Dalton pushed his non-existent glasses up. Most isekai protagonists tend to keep their original background under wraps...
I might have blown that already.
Yeah, but she's first girl! Emotional Dalton pumped his fists. First girl is always on your side! And she's a WOLF girl!
"...What? Do you hear something?" The girl looked at Dalton one way, and then another, but he just stood in place, staring at her. She gulped and stepped back again. "Hey! Are you listening to me?"
The Status screen said we're something called a Merrick. Should we assume the omega is a reference to a hierarchy? If she's also a Merrick, and she turns into a wolf, then it's possible her tribe works like a pack-- Normal Dalton interrupted himself mid-thought.
Wolves don't actually have alphas and omegas and all that stuff, though. At least, not in the wild. The guy who did that study realized he messed up cause he used wolves that were raised in captivity.
EARTH TO NERDS, SHE'S TALKING TO US!
Dalton blinked and realized the girl had gotten closer. She was lowering her head and sniffing directly in front of him. He glanced down--then jumped backwards with a squeak. The girl, too, flinched in surprise.
"What?! What is the matter with you!?"
"I don't know!" He exclaimed in a panic. But, taking a deep breath, he tried to concentrate. "Okay, so look. It's not by choice that I ended up in your territory--I kinda got...dumped here, I guess? Long story. So, if you're not planning to kill me...would you be willing to help me, instead?" He held out his hand--which was already starting to sweat--and gulped before smiling at her nervously.
How much of it was luck? How much of it was instinct? How much of it was guidance?
Ever since he had broken out and escaped from the beach, Belo had felt a strange buzzing in his mind, a sharp prickling upon his skin. As if the gazes of those long-limbed killers contained knives, their intents crystallizing upon his flesh before their arrows could. And, by following that sensation alone, he had hurled his knife into the brush and slew someone without even seeing them.
Even in his prime, even when he was amped up on amphetamines and boarding a ship thrice the size of his village, he had not felt this dialed in, this focused.
But there was no time to linger, and the barks of the ones in front pulled him away from his desire to loot the dead. No boot knife now, just a sword that one of the others had tossed at him, and that child still, weighing upon his form. Of the band he was cleaving through the forest in, there were few that shared the same complexions as the others. It was motley collection of muscled creatures, ones that had the same long ears as his own, the same stubby nose. Some were blue, others were red, still more were green and a few were brown. All of them bore skin that peeled though, skin that curled from sunburns and saltwear, roughened up by the ocean. A familiar look, one that was separate from his own memories only by the inclusion of steel weapons and spears, of a war-like temperament with the wounds to match. Chopping through the verdant abyss was a band that totalled perhaps 25, but only 8 of them looked more fit than Belo himself. The rest? Children, denoted by their relatively scrawnier size, the baby fat that clung to their stomach and their cheeks. Women, denoted by their wide hips and braided hair, the swaddle of blankets that they wrapped babes in.
And of the men, the warriors that had managed to wrest a few beating hearts out from the slaughter that they had fled? The largest of them remained the rear-guard, arrows sticking out from his shoulders and back, a wooden doorframe held by its handle as a makeshift shield. The others formed a perimeter around more valuable lives, helping them as they stumbled over roots and pushed through brush, their brows furrowed with a desperate focus. He could understand it too, the cold calculation that any small village would form.
Women birthed children. Children became adults. So long as those elements survived, the village could too. So it was the task of the old and the strong to lay down their own lives. Humans chose civilization. But if they couldn’t be treated as humans, then they had to chose survival.
A pinprick, hot against Belo’s shoulder. He twisted out of the way, a bolt flying past and burying into the back of a female. Three heartbeats later and he was running past her, too encumbered by the child on his shoulder to offer her a helping hand. More arrows flitted through the shadows cast by the leaves, a whistling song in a foreign tongue causing them to twist and turn. The rearguard collapsed, a bulb-tipped arrow sinking into his makeshift shield before bursting into a tangle of thorned vines. He let out a gurgled roar, struggling against his bindings, before three more arrows opened up three more holes in his face.
Meanwhile, trees creaked and groaned in the front, bending down with all the force of falling timber, yet not snapping at the trunk. Their pliability, another impossibility brought by the sorcery of the lithe hunters, cleft the animal trail in half and smashed three others underneath. Their spines and ribs popped like corn, lungs crushed so thoroughly that they couldn’t even rasp out their last breath. And the ones that tried to clamber over the bent-over trees met similarly cruel ends as the branches twisted into spears and skewered them like kebabs. It hadn’t even been a half hour since he had thrown his knife, had gotten a lucky hit that scored a second kill. And now, like that, ten had died. Died without Belo even seeing who killed them.
Pinpricks of malice, a sense of intensifying danger. Echoing through the wilderness were the melodies of horns and flutes, a braying, haunting tune to accompany the warband that had descended upon the forest.
Others tried to organize within the chaos, but the first to break were the warriors themselves, turning heel and rushing with swords and sticks towards their unseen foe. Belo couldn’t spare them a glance either, knew that while there was a place for courage, they were doomed from the get-go. He could manage firearms within tight corridors and the maze of shipping containers, but out here? Where nature itself was weaponized and where arrows could twist at the whims of archers?
That fucking piece of shit spirit!
Fury battered down the fear, as more lives fell to the machinations of the warband. He made his choice again and again. It would be easier, wouldn’t it, if he had just dropped the child? Lighten his load, pick up his pace? He hardly knew any of them, felt nothing more than a strange sense of injustice at seeing what was happening to them. And oh how quickly the optimism in their faces changed, how quickly they turned from living, breathing creatures into corpses that fed the forest. He had no attachment to them. But he knew where he stood still.
Belo had chosen to involve himself with the life of one child. If nothing else, he had to see that through.
And so, when the ground opened up, exposing a natural cave within which only moss and stone grew, he didn’t hesitate either to jump in, dropping into the gloom.
He was the only one who did.
…
Callused feet padded through tunnels illuminated only by bioluminescent fungi.
There were no sounds of pursuit anymore. Perhaps the warband knew that their sorceries were ill-suited for the deep earth, that their arrows were less valuable in close-quarters. Perhaps they grew bored and left. Perhaps they drew blades and approached with stealth.
No matter.
Belo collapsed behind a cropping of stone, letting the child he carried slump off his shoulder. He hadn’t run so pointlessly for years, his body sticky with sweat. The taste of iron still hovered in the air and he pressed his fingers against his forehead, rubbing at the dried flakes that had clung to his skin stubbornly. Something sticky rubbed against his shoulder, the fabrics of his shirt bunching up in a strange way. Had he gotten injured somehow? With his other hand, he poked and prodded his flesh, trying to feel for a pain that…wasn’t there.
That made sense. The shoulder that had been sticky with blood was the shoulder that he had hefted the child upon. Only now, in the quiet, could he take a breath and take a look.
A bud-tipped arrow stuck out of the child’s back, the wound oozing a black blood.
It hadn’t been by some miracle that he had made it out unscathed. It wasn’t simply on the merit of his new instincts, in his strength and his experience.
Belo stared at it, his mind scrambling for solutions even as his thoughts crystallized into a singular condemnation.
He had survived their hunt because he had a shield.
