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Forks…was boring.That’s all there was to complain about really. The rain was good for keeping her skin from drying out – as vain as it sounds, skincare to a Hunter wasn’t necessarily important, but regardless she found herself caring for it all the same – and even when it wasn’t raining she had the sheer moisture in the air to keep her from crusting up and flaking all over the place; a thought that disgusted her more than she’d like to admit. Even if it was impossible.The rain was good music to her ears, if one disregarded her need to keep skin moist – even if it was a stupid notion, her purely black feathered garb doing well to keep the rain away – the feathers a natural waterproofing, she guessed one idle morning – and her beaked mask was never taken off, even in public. It helped that the incense stored in the beak protected her against the body odour of those walking about her.Back to the sound of the rain – it nearly drowned out the many different whispers of the echoes she’d absorbed, not trying to free themselves, but to make themselves known; a song of groans and moans of the dead, those she’d released to the sky as was a Crow’s duty. Those she’d watched die before becoming a Crow Hunter.The last Crow Hunter, a tale of tragedy. A tale of the caustic inability to save the one she cherished most – even if Eileen had made peace she, herself, had not.Of course, when blood sang to her she answered with a dance – The Blades of Mercy were given to her by right of succession, of apprenticeship to the last Crow Hunter, and the best dancing partners she could ask for. Siderite was difficult to forge into trick weapons, let alone weapons at all, but somehow the metal of gods was bent to the will of some Crow Hunter a hundred-something years ago in a backwater village near Yharnam’s outskirts. How he’d found the secret she’ll never know, but she also knew Gehrman had his scythe-sword hybrid made from the stuff; and she also knew how sharp Siderite could be from first hand experience. When she showed up in this strange land filled with carriages that needn’t horses to move, and metal birds that swallowed people to travel from one area to another she thought it a strange version of the Hunter’s Nightmare she’d found Maria in. instead, she learned, that the world was indeed that – another world, separate from her own altogether and missing eldritch nightmares and eyes within minds, missing blood as a common substance that was outside bodies more than it was in, missing the Night of the Hunt.Missing the paleblood moon that hung from the skies, as it always had since her first memories as a child.No matter; she hadn’t expected much to happen save for the world to collapse upon itself when she killed The Moon Presence. She expected either that or rebirth as the new Host of the Hunter’s Dream. She expected to awaken with Annalise in Cainhurst, seeing the sun for the first time since she was twelve. She expected Gehrman’s scythe – now hers – to slowly absolve itself of its past and vanish with the collapsing Dream. She expected the Little Ones, the messengers, to bid her adieu and leave her be. She’d expected a lot of things.She didn’t expect to have her immortality taken from her, nor did she expected her agility, strength and stamina to increase tenfold. She definitely didn’t expect her Echoes to start giving advice instead of the constant moaning and screaming they did – though, most of it came from Gascoigne and Maria, with little snippets from Ludwig and Henryk when the situation called for it. Rarely would she hear from Queen Yharnam, and she’d only heard from Gehrman once.
“There…is no Hunt.”
“Yes, Gehrman, very astute”, had been Maria’s snipe back, Lawrence and Gascoigne laughing over the man’s grumblings. He was silent after that, but of course she knew he was there – he was her last human kill after all, so for him not to be there was more worrying than him being there.Speaking of this new world, she’d been in it for close to six months now; a strange land that spoke a rudimentary and – quite frankly, with Gascoigne and Maria agreeing – primitive version of her own sophisticated language. Hell, even Arianna, The Woman of Pleasure, had better literacy than most of this time! Their clothing, too, was strange and odd to her – so used to Cainhurst’s lavish style and Yharnam’s intricate but simple designs that these new clothing styles threw her through multiple loops at once. At what point in this world’s time had clothing styles devolved from classy and professional to ‘skinny jeans’ and practically walking around in underwear?!No matter, this world’s clothing styles – strange or no – were things she’d never change into. For formal events, such as her knighting at Cainhurst, she’d simply wear Lady Maria’s garb. For informal events…probably the same thing, actually – the clothing of this world was that bad.If she were to walk around as she is, however, it would signify a Hunt – not of the paleblood moon or of Nightmares, but of animals, humans…other beings.While this world didn’t have the Beast Scourge it did have something akin to men that shifted into wolves by the light of a full moon – apparently hunted to near-extinction, with how rare they were, but regardless they were prey and she the predator. There were others she hunted, as was a Hunters duty – witches that preyed on small children, man-eating monsters of taut skin and teeth on their bellies, succubae that tempted men and women alike into an hour of bliss to die seconds later.It was a world of monsters and she, a monster herself, will hunt the others to keep the men safe.A monster saving men? How backwards, yet it was her contractual duty. ‘A Hunter is a Hunter, be they beast or men’, a line of the contract she’d signed in her blood before awakening to the Hunt.Eileen had an…interesting addition to the contract that she’d remind her of whenever the chance arose.‘A Hunter is a Hunter, be they beast or men…of beasts or men’.A description most agreeable with, what with her current situation.Looking through the crowd of humans that stared after her when she strode through this strange town, she saw weakness and frailty; something any Yharnamite would have shunned and cast aside – but she was no Yharnamite, and so she’d protect these people.Protect them when they can’t protect themselves. Protect themselves of those that would do them harm and mislead them from whatever path they have chosen for themselves – be it to turn into a beast, trade their souls for power with the devils that lived amongst them, becoming food for a hungry predator, immortality, servitude…she’d keep them safe.And so, with swiftness belying her craft she moved through the crowds to the woods that surrounded a large portion of Forks.There were beasts to hunt.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Lavenza?”There was no answer to her question. Nothing but an eerie silence that made her feel sad and unhappy, rather than creeped out. Silence in the Velvet Room was never a good thing. But there was something more important to think about; something that needed addressing.The voice was gone.The voice was always there within the Velvet Room inside her mind; always there to help. It had been two voices when she first arrived here in Tokyo, and while as silent as she was attending Shujin Academy, they were vocal when the sun went down.One with barely held-back maliciousness. Sadistic tendencies made up a majority of the small girl’s personality, but the rest was what Ryuji would describe as ‘classic Tsundere’. At first, she’d become confused as to what that meant exactly, but as her bonds grew and her understanding of the world expanded she’d become knowledgeable in reading people. The very first thing she read of Caroline was that she was embarrassed to be soft; especially in front of Igor and Justine, but whether the two noticed and cared or not was up for debate.The other part of the voice, the one that compiled her Personas into a logically needed compendium, was a quiet thing with logical thinking overruling emotions. An inquisitive little creature with a mind of infinite possibilities and knowledge of things even Igor wasn’t privy to. The first to notice that two Attendants made little sense for one ‘prisoner’, the first to notice the odd way in which the compendium was written and worded, the first to voice her opinions of herself. Caroline was her sister’s opposite yet, without one, the other could not be; the other would be incomplete, and yet in the first place they were never whole. They were, as the letters on their hats would infer, an oxymoron.From the beginning of her journey to the here-and-now, Caroline and Justine, and to an extension Yaldabaoth had been guiding her towards ‘rehabilitation’. What said ‘rehabilitation’ entailed was lost to even the twins, but when Yaldabaoth, as the Holy Grail, told her – even if it was in a roundabout way that left the noggins of Ryuji and Morgana shaking – she’d suddenly understood.The rehabilitation she underwent was not for her, but humanity as a whole; to see if the race of humans could stand up to that of gods as they did in the past, to see if their will was as strong as her own, to see if bonds prevailed through thick and thin.It was unfortunate really that humans could choose and instead not have things chosen for them. In her opinion a world such as that would be ideal – no one would worry about choosing sides when the side was chosen for them, no would need to fear making the wrong decisions when the decision wasn’t there’s to make. A guilt free world where no one had to choose, though, sounded like something Yaldabaoth expected to come of his demise – unfortunate for him that the world just reverted to normal. Just kept spinning its regular orbit and ignoring everything else that happened to it in the pastAnd thus the crux of the matter – normal wasn’t what she felt right now, while everyone around her seemingly reverted back to their post-Phantom Thieves stages in life; Ryuji was cursing out the education system while barely passing his exams, Ann was modelling in different parts of Tokyo, Makoto had just finished school and was attending numerous criminal psychology courses before college, Haru had now fully devoted her time to opening a chain of cafes in the name of her late grandfather, Morgana was staying with Yusuke, and Yusuke had taken on being a full-time artist. There were others she was forgetting – but not because she wanted to. More of because she didn’t want to. Her memories of those that she hadn’t spent much time with were slowly slipping.This was, after all, the Velvet Room; this was a place that existed between dream and reality, mind and matter, fiction and fact. A place that lived in limbo and relished in the oddities it brought. The Velvet Room was a world in and of itself, existing in a world that didn’t exist, a state of being that was practically corporeal. It being the Velvet Room shouldn’t cause her memories to slip, but she’d been here for days, weeks on end after defeating Yaldabaoth.Again, not because she wanted to. The world outside has changed – people don’t know she exists, have no recollection of their interactions or previous relations; the metaverse was gone, the Velvet Room being sustained only by the remnants of Igor’s powers and her own Trickster abilities coming into play – she was, by design, a Joker after all. A Fool, with the ability to change fate itself to suit her needs.She needed to see the voice one last time; her guidance in the world, her best friend, sister in all but blood; and even then, as the Wildcard, she could probably make that happen. But she’d settle for Lavenza being back in her head again – the outside world was not ready for someone like Lavenza, after all. Then again, it wasn’t ready for her either.The black emptiness that surrounded the Velvet Room was visible now, encroaching ever slowly, steadily breaking down her desire for it to remain; it wasn’t hers to know whether or not the room was supposed to stay or not when the metaverse vanished; it was not her concern though. Her power worked on her best interests. Or, at least, the Wildcard power held the ability to defy whatever fate she felt was unjust.Staring into the abyss she saw nothing stare back; a shame, it would have made things a little more interesting for her final minutes alive. Now she would die alone, with no reason to continue living, and nothing to do.No, not alone; this she knew.
“Persona.”
First the sound of chains, subsequently followed by the sound of laughter; subdued as it was. After all, Personas were the inner self, and while she had many thanks to her ability, Arsene reflected herself to the point of mimicry sometimes. His red hue glowed with ethereal blue, a sheen of blue fire surrounding his summoning. The chains that followed him snapped, their shards turning to ashes beneath the flames that writhed around him.“A flair for dramatics?”Arsene seemed to give off a snort, his head bowing low to look her in the eyes; dead as they were, they hid her true ‘windows to the soul’ – of course Arsene knew this, knew how to decipher the blank stare and see what lay beneath. As did all her Personas.His eyes wreathed in flame sparkled with mischief.“I Am Thou…”She rolled her eyes but played along anyway; at least her end would be filled with melancholic humour, instead of silence.“…Thou Art I.”His permanent grin seemed to shift to something as little bit softer, a smile meant for her and her alone, meant to radiate his undying love and loyalty – as all Personas in her collection felt towards her. But Arsene was special, the first she had and something of a novelty; there were thousands of each different type of Persona, but there was only one of him.There was silence for a moment, in which Arsene manoeuvred himself behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder in support.The darkness spread throughout the Velvet Room slowly, its’ ceilings and walls disappearing readily, with the small desk that ‘Igor’ used to sit at remaining, along with a small patch of ground next to it that she stood on.She was not scared; merely tired, and the chair looked oh-so pleasant. Its brown leather looked inviting, the dark blue hues it was giving off like a siren’s call to a sailor at sea. Igor was gone, the world was blackening around her and nothing in the real world remembered her anymore – she’d be surprised if her parents did, so ready to throw their daughter into the heart of Tokyo for saving someone. The blackness surrounding her reflected her feelings; slowly being overtaken by a wave of guilt, self-hatred and loneliness.The chair looked even more inviting after that.It was a nudge by Arsene that moved her though, and her hand stroked the edge of the chair – ‘soft’ could only describe it. No wonder ‘Igor’ liked to sit in the chair a lot. But that didn’t matter. Carefully she lowered herself into the embrace of the chair ‘Igor’ was so fond of sitting in, and as soon as she was settled in and melting into the softness, a voice tinkled in her head.A butterfly flew past her eyes.Lavenza.The beautiful fusion of Caroline and Justine.The attendant that learned to love without any ulterior motives, unlike her ‘sisters’ in different Velvet Rooms. The attendant that managed to mean more to her than her entire group of friends and confidants combined.
“You have taken up the chair.”
She was tired now. The leader of the Phantom Thieves couldn’t see anything other than the desk in front of her and Arsene’s floating form. For once, she noted, the Persona had a small, sad frown on his face. It was likely because she’d been unable to fulfil her one wish, and instead sacrificed everything for humanity to save them.
“The mantle is now yours.”
Mantle of what?“While this was an unexpected outcome, you are the Wildcard.”Of course, she was. The Wildcard that saved humanity! The other Wildcards throughout history couldn’t compare to her – except maybe one, but he was still technically alive, just as a seal, not a person. How she knew this was of no consequence, but Personas knew more than they let on.
“You shape fate to your whim.”
Fate was simply a very straightforward guidebook; one she tossed out years ago. She never was good at following instructions, at conforming.
“You bend rules.”
At least she didn’t break them. She made sure no lasting effects would come of her rule-bending, and yet she also made sure that no negative effects would come of her meddling in the fragile system humans had created.
“you are cruel on one hand…”
She heard a giggle, high pitched and reeking of death, suffused with many a tortured soul’s scream. Red eyes and blonde hair with a devilishly childish grin held on lips of pure scarlet. Teeth sharpened to points, with a baby blue dress reaching slender ankles. A patchwork teddy bear with rips and stitched limbs clutched in a small hand, its arm only just scraping the floor beneath her.Her face was otherwise childish, yet stoic – save the ear-splitting grin she held whenever fighting would occur. Her entire body bristled with the power of curses and darkness, her very being pulsing with the will to inflict horrible violence and death; all’s the more reason to keep Alice in her head unless direly needed, after all – she was the Death Arcana.
“…You are kind on the other.”
A soft sigh entered her mind, the overwhelming feeling of peace and happiness stopped her from subconsciously tensing her muscles – she didn’t even realise she was on edge like that. She’d come to peace with her upcoming death, found it necessary for the world’s order to remain. Light flowed through her veins as she allowed this Persona to soothe her.Gabriel always was a massive softie when she could afford to be. All her Personas were when it came to her – she was, after all, their saviour from enslavement to greedy Palace Owners, their giver of mercy when they pleaded for it, their seeker of revenge when they sought it against their human captors. When all was said and done her Personas were eternally grateful to her, and now that the other worlds and Velvet Rooms were gone from their access – possibly permanently – every Persona knew she was their saviour once again for simply housing them.The light receded, and she slumped into the chair, her back sinking into leather. Arsene, out of the corner of her eye, gave her a somewhat-mocking bow and vanished in a puff of smoke and fire – again, he was a rather eccentric creature with a flair for dramatics.The blue butterfly landed on the desk, a voice she knew to be Lavenza’s sounding from it, wings of cobalt blue slowing their flapping.
“You are in pain once more.”
She let out a dry laugh, one filled with tinges of dark undertones and sadness. “Yes, I suppose I am.”The shadows surrounding her had stopped at the foot of the desk, the darkness behind her stopping its slow crawl up the sides of the chair. The softness of the chair was then accompanied by a slight flash of purple, the butterfly seemingly transforming into Lavenza in an instant.The table in front of her was now gone, Lavenza taking its place. To be honest the desk was hideous anyway, no real purpose behind keeping it around could be seen and so she didn’t even blink when it was gone.This, however happy she was, brought up the question that grounded her to what, exactly, was going on.“How are you even here?”Lavenza’s soft smile sprouted on her face and her own face felt some form of heat to it as a result, but thankfully the writhing shadows surrounding them both hid that well.“I am here because I wish to be here.” She paused for a second, the compendium of Personas underneath her left armpit. “Also, because there is no use for a Wildcard without their Personas, no?”She saw behind the lines, through the text, beyond what Lavenza was saying. “Your real reason?”Lavenza’s smile seemed to expand a little. “I did not wish to serve Igor anymore. He has gone to a different time, different place once more and I wanted to see more of the potential humanity holds.” She stepped forth, leg after leg, until she arrived a mere foot away from the chair she was sat on. “I wished to serve you, who has taken up Igor’s mantle.”Ah.Now…now it all made sense. By sitting in Igor’s chair, with Igor no longer technically existing in this world, she had become Igor’s successor. Taking over his responsibilities – and what those were, she wasn’t sure of yet – and all the perks that came with the position became hers. When Lavenza took a step and situated herself by her side, compendium of Personas held within her left hand and her other resting on the edge of the head of the chair, she also knew that, somehow – whenever she left the Velvet Room – she wouldn’t be in Japan anymore. Possibly not even earth.While saddened that her friends and family would never see her again and vice-versa, she was content knowing the world of Erth would stay free from tyranny and destruction. At least for a short while.Whichever place they went, she knew Lavenza would be there.That was enough for her.The Velvet Room changed in the hundreds of years they remained inside, hidden away from the world; her duties as Igor’s successor reared their head as soon as the shadows vanished about fifty years in.Her very existence kept the Velvet Room from disappearing again, and with Lavenza’s help they made sure each Persona under her control had somewhere to be – With the compendium acting as not only a list but a summoning matrix for each Persona inside, this was no less a challenge than writing a letter was.Next came the maintenance of the new Velvet Room’s look – gone were the cells surrounding the desk in a circular fashion, twin wardens standing at attention and prison-esque stylisations around the walls. Gone were the barbaric means of fusion via execution and the gallows in which the act was to be performed. Gone was the desk of a prison overseer.In place was a small room reminding her very much of the inside of a medieval castle. A large dining table with enough room to fit twenty stretched half the length of the Velvet Room, her desk replaced with a large wooden chair – carvings on said chair told many different stories, but she’d found them to be of no consequence to her. With her at the head of the table, Lavenza took her dutiful place at her side; compendium unchanged in looks and held beneath her elbow. Neither of them had changed all that much in the time they’d spent here; her hair had grown out longer, now reaching down to her waist rather than tickling the back of her neck; Lavenza changed the least, simply doing everything she would usually do were Igor here in place of her.The only difference that she took note of in Lavenza was how…soft she’d become. It was almost as though she preferred the new arrangement in which Igor was no longer ‘in charge’ of her. She found herself making the comparison of a change in management – kind of like how Haru’s father died and left the company to a new person. At first that person was suspicious, but over time she and Haru both realised that all he wanted to do was right by the company and its employees. Except in this case she was the new boss and Lavenza was her only ‘employee’, so to speak; and neither had said anything to each other about her new position and title, but Lavenza seemed to be enjoying herself quite immensely.Speaking of the blue themed girl, Akira turned to her with a small eyebrow raised when the small purple – almost corporeal – door that led from the outside world to the Velvet Room opened.“I believe we have…guests?” Even she was confused. The Wildcard already existed – Akira, of course – and the Velvet Room only opened from the outside, or if they ever wished to leave. With them both there, however, witnessing the door open by an outside force, they could only guess that the Velvet Room was visible to everyone this time. No special required circumstances meant everyone was able to see and enter the Velvet Room, but if that was possible it also brought up the question.Why did it take so long?“Interesting…” Leaning in her chair she placed her hands, steepled beneath her chin, in a manner reminiscent of how Igor would sit. “…There appears to be a group of them, instead of one or two.” She turned towards Lavenza, who was equally as perplexed as she was. “Isn’t there supposed to be just one person?”Lavenza hummed for a second before softly sighing and shaking her head. “I think I understand; you, the Wildcard, are the only one to ever contain the abilities of The Fool. With this in mind, each Wildcard has only ever existed once, and only in a different period of time, within a different dimension.”Akira’s brain whirred at the implications; unlike how the Velvet Room usually acted, transporting Igor through space and time, it only sent them through time. Or space, and she’s replaced whatever Wildcard that could have been. The very thought was ridiculous, and the very idea preposterous. Then she had to remind herself that the Velvet Room was exempt from the natural order and rules of things. It was a non-existence within a plane of existence, an anomaly, a paradox.That made her a paradox too, but then again, she was the Wildcard – she was paradoxical in nature anyway.“Wow look at this place!”Their attention snapped towards the now-open door, six silhouettes standing against the light of the outside world. Seemingly varied in sizes, the smallest one of the six could be seen from their position at the head of the table, head swivelling around. The second smallest seemed to be admonishing the first, a strange sideways ponytail that made all the practical sense of a paper bag containing water on her head. The last one had hair that rivalled Akira’s own in length, with a blindingly bright golden sheen that made it hard to stare at for too long.The last one just had her head buried in her book.The fifth and sixth ones, presumably two adults, stepped forward first, allowing her to see faces of both wonder and caution. Grey hair in an unruly fashion not unlike her own, with eyes hidden behind slightly tinted spectacles that reminded her of when Kawakami would read to the class. He seemed to have a form of obsession with the colour green – but then again, Ryuji quite liked the colour orange, and Haru seemingly had an obsession for baby pink – and wore, from what she could see from this distance, a three-piece suit.She didn’t get time to evaluate the other woman, however, as the team of four girls and two adults came to eventually find themselves at the bottom of the table; with her at the head and Lavenza at her side, fingers steepled beneath her chin and eyes shadowed by her hair, she made for an imposing figure that demanded respect.She should hope so; as the new proprietor of the Velvet Room this was her world, these people her newest guests. Her only guests now that she thought on it, and six instead of one to boot; she can’t complain, as to her the best way to learn how to swim was by being thrown into the deep end. The same could be said for the rest of the Phantom Thieves, actually – each one earned their power through a test of emotional and physical constitution, with the lives of their team and friends on the line to motivate them even more. Each one tested through fire by being directly thrown into the flames head first, each coming out with a strong Persona and a changed look on things.While she had spaced out, Lavenza had introduced herself and the area they had found themselves in, showing them to seats closest to Akira on the table but not close enough to be of any threat.She focused her eyes on each one, hands still beneath her chin but eyes no longer shadowed by her hair. Igor was her predecessor after all, and she felt that – to succeed him – she needed to emulate him somewhat. While his strange ability to smile and talk at the same time would be lost to her, and his pointed nose would be something she would never be able to grow, she could take on his aloof and knowledgeable mannerisms.Raising a hand past her chin, she gestured to the room around her, looking straight ahead but keeping an eye on them all. “Welcome to the Velvet Room; a space between realities, a dimension between fiction and fact, mind and matter.” She didn’t grin, her facial muscles so used to the blank and stoic way she conducts herself that it would probably hurt to grin – especially as wide as Igor once had. Regardless of her lack of ‘Creepy Igor Grin™’, the way in which she conducted herself practically demanded that they not speak until she was done with introductions.The little red one was busy eyeing up the velvet blue walls and ceiling, with the remnants of her prison cell resting in the far corner – it was a discovery that Lavenza found the answer to quite quickly: seeing as she was now ‘in charge’, but was also once a guest, the remnants of her previous ‘rehabilitation’ acted as her private room. Obviously, she’d replaced the prison cot with a soft bed and draped a velvet curtain over the bars to hide away the inside as a form of privacy, but other than that it was the same as when she first found herself within the room.“My name is Akira.” Her raised hand once more dropped to beneath her chin, Lavenza standing next to her. She gestured to her with her head. “This is my assistant, Lavenza; she will help you with anything you may need.”The silver haired man that seemed to be comprised of many different souls within himself rose an eyebrow, but it was the blonde one sat next to him that asked the question the children around them daren’t.“What, exactly, is this place?”In response, Lavenza answered for her. “This is the place my master created for the sole purpose of training and guiding the Wildcard, which unfortunately doesn’t seem to exist within this timeline.”“’Master’?” It was the black haired one that spoke up, something hidden in her voice that the World Arcana helped her identify as bitterness. It was a strange reaction for her to witness, and even stranger than the girl didn’t seem to understand that she was in a pocket dimension that technically didn’t exist. It was almost like the conversation didn’t phase her and the simple connotation behind what being a ‘master’ could mean set her on edge.Looking at everyone in the room only the two adults seemed to be unaffected by her words – her and Lavenza not withstanding of course. It seems that not only the black haired one was affected by the hidden meaning behind ‘master’, or at least what they saw as the hidden meaning. She had to give it to the black haired one – even though she was assuming things based on the very little words spoken by the Velvet Room pair, she was allowing them to explain or deny any claims to actual ownership.The blonde one…not so much. “’Master’? like…like she owns you or something?!”Akira noticed the girl’s eyes turned red during her little emotional outburst, and while she was slightly interested, she found it to be nothing special – when the Phantom Thieves would sprint through Mementos or traverse the Palaces of corrupt adults, their clothing changed, and their eyes distorted to a soft red glow. The girl’s eyes were a bit of a deeper shade of red than theirs were, but overall it was nothing to be concerned or amazed about.The fire that seemed to spawn around her in little waves, however, was something to keep an eye on – was she able to use fire magic? No…it didn’t feel like magic – it must be something else, then.The feeling she got from it though was eerily similar to that of a Persona…While Lavenza explained the system of master and assistant to the six people, Akira’s near-infinite patience was waning, even if ever-so-slightly. These people barge into her home and demand explanations of things they knew nothing about, accuse her of common slavery and then get confused about the place they had rudely barged into? She was just a little bit peeved, to be honest, but it must have shown on her face for the silver haired one shook his head in a manner reminiscent of apologetic.Lavenza was mid-speech about the Velvet Room’s origins and who created her when Akira silenced her. “Lavenza.”She was at Akira’s side in a second, a look of curiosity on her face. “Yes, master?” Her soft voice soothed her slightly, but she was still annoyed. “Is there something the matter?”Akira simply shook her head, placing both hands on her lap instead. “No, but we shouldn’t reveal too much to our guests when we do not even know their names.”She seemed to understand immediately. “Ah, of course.” She turned to them all, each one having calmed down after the…misunderstanding, from earlier. She bowed her head slightly, eyes scanning them all quickly. “I apologise, but may we trouble you for your names?” A second of silence before she raised her head from its bowed state. “And your titles, if at all possible.”To both of their surprise it was the silver haired one that spoke.“I am Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy.” The velvet Room Host and Attendant were both confused at the title and name of the school but held it in well enough to not be picked up by the ‘headmaster’. “Across from me is my assistant Glynda” – the woman bowed her head in greeting – “and those four are team RWBY.”Each one, when they were introduced, greeted them in a different way – Ruby waved excitedly while ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘ahh-ing’ at everything around her, Weiss was a little more refined and bowed her head slightly in a way that reminded her of Haru, Blake looked over the top of her book cover while giving a rather bland and uninspiring “Hello” while Yang saw fit to wiggle her fingers in some sort of wave.The red one, Ruby, didn’t seem excitable, but rather seemed to be somewhat clueless of her situation – it must have been because the girl probably didn’t listen to her introduction on where they were, what the Room was and who, exactly, Akira was. Weiss on the other hand seemed to have soaked it all up and was thinking of many different scenarios – probably in case things went against them or turned in a way they didn’t agree with. Blake took it all in but didn’t really seem to care, and Yang just ignored most of everything anyway, from what Akira could see, so she probably didn’t really take enough in to understand much of anything. She still seemed to be understanding of her surroundings, though, and Akira could at least respect that.All in all, they didn’t impress her, but she kept her thoughts to herself; if there’s one thing she learned from Yaldabaoth it was that all humans had the potential to be something great if they put their minds and hearts to it. These girls had spunk, they had heart, but until they got a hold of their motivations and their will to continue in the face of adversity they would be nothing more than humans with potential.Back to the matter at hand – she’d never heard of this ‘Beacon’ place, and evident by Lavenza’s face neither had she. Lavenza turned to her and Akira gave her a subtle, small nod; indicative of permission to ask any questions she felt would help them both.Akira, on the other hand, was simply the host – while it was her job to host these people and provide any and all forms of aid within her power, she could not do that with the limited information she possessed of the world and inhabitants she now existed in. as the host, she leaned back and allowed her assistant to do all of the talking – as Igor had done multiple times before, and it seems Lavenza didn’t really have an issue to be the one to interact with the guests.The thing that also limited her was her lack of abilities ranging beyond that of Personas – magic, like Agi, Zio, Bufu spells and the likes were hers to command, but they were hers and hers alone – gifts she could not give out. Her role as host to the Velvet Room was unclear at this point, but she knew she’d at least try to help out – it was in her nature, and most likely job description, after all. Seeing, however, that this world might not even have Personas and magic, she was rather confused as to how, exactly, she could help them as her rightful duty of Velvet Room host – for now, though, she’d sit back and process any gathered information.“If I may ask?” Ozpin nodded, his posture a mix of both relaxed and alert. “What exactly does Beacon teach?”Ozpin blinked for a minute as RWBY went silent at the question. It was Ruby who got over her stupor first, owlishly large eyes staring at Lavenza with disbelief. “You…you’ve never heard of Beacon?”Lavenza simply tilted her head, before opening her compendium and moving past the rather large section that held Akira’s Personas. Beyond that was a small area dedicated to general knowledge, things that would be needed to help better explain things to any guest she was to help host. It also helped her learn more about Akira – when she was still two twin wardens, that is.After searching through the book, she was convinced that Beacon was some place previous compendium users had not yet come across – Margaret hadn’t ever mentioned it, either, and to her knowledge Elizabeth only stuck around the time-frame of that ‘Minato’ fellow. Again, this meant something rather disturbing to her – they had gone so far forward in time that neither her previous master nor siblings had documented it. So far in time that the world was an unknown; that academies rose and fell, professions lost and found…it was rather disturbing.“No.”Ruby seemed to gasp in pure shock, while Weiss simply stared at both her and Akira, Blake simply lifting an eyebrow and Yang looking as shocked as Ruby – for some reason it was evidently a big deal. She didn’t look to see what her master thought of this, but by the glance to her right she could see Akira deep in some sort of troubled contemplation.“Beacon Academy is a school that teaches humans-”“-And Faunus-” Blake cut in.“-To battle the creatures of Grimm. Do you know what Grimm are?” At The shake of her head, Wiess gave Lavenza a long look before continuing. “The creatures of Grimm…”Lavenza opened her compendium and began to record these events within the pages – this information was on a time in the planet’s life-cycle that humanity seemed to split into two categories of species instead of race, and creatures known as Grimm dominated a lot of the known world. Hunters were people with an ability known as a Semblance, a unique power only available to them, while Aura was a manifestation of the soul brought out to shield them.…this immediately told her that Personas no longer existed – that humanity had forgotten its legends and myths, its gods and demons. That humanity no longer wished to rebel against chains and instead wore them proudly. This was a disturbing predicament indeed, but a glance at the compendium told her that her beloved master’s Personas and abilities would still be accessible to her.Akira sat in her chair, tired from these events but hiding it well; across from her sat the Headmaster, seemingly wetting his lips every now and then, the tell-tale signs of a man with nothing to drink. The woman he was with seemed exasperated by the situation, but nevertheless confused and interested in equal measure.She turned to them, and instead found herself with two steeled faces; questions clearly on their minds and some form of guilt behind the look.“So…who are you?” It was Ozpin that asked the question, Glynda staring with some iota of curiosity.Akira’s eyebrow lifted, her confusion present for the first time since they had entered the room. “I believe I told you who I am.” They both stared, so Akira sighed. “My name is Akira, The Host of the Velvet Room of which you are currently seated in. I-”“That’s not what we meant.” Glynda seemed to glare at her, Akira in clear confusion as to why, but not annoyed in the slightest –if she got annoyed at a simple glare she’d be no better than Ryuji and his hair-trigger temper, lack of discipline and…loud, very loud, mouth. Instead, she sat back in her chair, hands once again steepled beneath her chin. “What are your goals here?”“I’m afraid you’ve lost me since this conversation started, Miss Glynda.” Akira’s steepled fingers tightened ever so slightly, the power to call forth her Persona resting at the back of her mind. These people were powerful and as much as it pained her to admit, Arsene would not be enough. Yoshitsune would be more than enough to deal with them all should the need arise, and Lavenza was no push over.That Ozpin man though…based on her earlier assumptions he did, indeed, house many souls – hundreds, if not thousands. It was unnerving to find a man that resembled a Wildcard yet wasn’t one. After all, Akira herself housed multiple Personas and Personae were simply the inner you’, as Morgana had put it once, given thought and shape. They were manifestations of the soul’s inner desire to break free of the chains that sought to bind them, of weakness that sought to exploit them.This man, though, wasn’t just housing the souls – he was made of them. He was those souls, each and every iteration taken over by his own soul and merged into it. It was, to a Trickster, sickening – to see someone so freely take over the souls of others for their own gain of immortality reminded her of why the Phantom Thieves even existed in the first place.He didn’t feel evil, however – or, at least, not at first glance.Akira leaned back in her chair, the leather flattening around her. Her hands went to her lap, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Lavenza smiling at the group of four that came with the two adults – the two adults that were now questioning her for reasons unknown about things she didn’t really understand.“I think you should elaborate on your questions, Headmaster.” Akira, for emphasis, huffed in slight indignation. “I, as the host of the Velvet Room, have explained to you all I know and can – the least you could do is return the courtesy.”He seemed to look at her for a second – really look at her – and conceded to her point with a bow of the head. She’d been nothing but forward and blunt with them, so he’d extend the same courtesy; she’d asked for it.“How aligned are you with Salem?”Akira blinked, her eyes slightly squinted in confusion and her left eyebrow raising.“Who?”
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Her eyes were the only signs she contained a mutation quirk. No skin changing into pigments thought to exist only in fantasy novels or games. No bones jutting this way or that, some spiked into horns, others resending nothing a human could think up. No flames licking her skin or ice misting around her body, no water dripping from her pours. No shark head or cat's tail or bird wings or even slightly different textured skin - normal, save for her eyes. "She's...well." The 'quirk doctor' coughed into a hand, eyes hidden behind shades as he stared at the impassive girl before him. He couldn't hold her gaze. "She's, uh, got a mutation quirk." Inko wrung her hands together in a tell-tale sign of nervousness - he didn't even bother registering that her child's face had not once changed from its impassive, almost apathetic state. Her eyes - they grabbed him, knowledge dripping from her as they ushered his mind to open, 'I know all' they said, 'I have seen all and I am left wanting' - he locked eyes with her mother again. "How can you tell? Mutations are usually easily visible from birth right? S-so what if you're wrong? What if my poor Izumi is q-q-quirkless?" He understood her fear. Twenty percent of all beings could be classed as quirkless now - staggeringly low compared to just a hundred years ago, where the twenty percentile were the majority. Now, seen as inferior and lowly, quirkless people no longer ruled as the dominant species. They were outcasts in many areas, never able to find work in some - unfortunately - common cases of quirkless discrimination. The twenty percentile, nothing more than the weight dragging down the rest of the world. Useful if only for mundane chores - policing, nursing, cleaning and engineering, civil service and other chores. Things no self respecting quirk holder of the modern day would deal with. Mostly because of pride, misplaced as it often was, but the point stood. No one wanted a quirkless child. In this Age of Heroes, to be quirkless was to be seen as useless. To not have that genetic marker granting you anything that set you apart from the normal humans was a sin in society's eyes. "I'm quite sure..." He was more confused as to how Inko Midoriya had not noticed her daughter's eyes yet. Four years and she comes to him questioning such a thing? The odd colouration of the girl's eyes should have given it away at birth. If not that, then the mere way she stood - the way she held herself was unearthly, and in all of his years of diagnosing quirks he'd never seen anything like it. Izumi Midoriya had, somehow, kept hidden a mutation quirk from birth, from her own mother...for four years - presumably under constant scrutiny by said mother. It boggled the mind - but he felt it well within his right to ask a question of his own. "Has Your daughter - Izumi - done anything...strange?" At Inko's confused stare he felt the need to elaborate. "Any behaviour changes? Sudden shifts in attitude? Anything out of character for her?" Inko shot her answer out almost instantly - not a lie, then, no matter how odd it sounded. "No, she's always been this..." Her mother glanced down at Izumi, before averting her gaze as the girl's eyes locked with Inko's. "...docile." It was finished as a lazy answer, but the doctor couldn't blame her. Even he couldn't come up with a word for Izumi's current state. "She's always been quiet, not shy just..." "Apathetic?" He threw out, hoping it was the word she was looking for. Otherwise they'd both be puzzling over the jigsaw that is Izumi Midoriya. "...I suppose so." He sighed. 'Might as well ask the girl if she has any idea what her quirk is beyond creepy-looking eyes'. "So, Izumi, do you have any idea what your quirk is?" Without hesitation, a blank, monotonous reply was given. "Yes. I see dying stars." Her eyes were galaxies, she'd once been told. Swirling masses of tiny specks, motes of light drifting in a void of dark purple and black. Tiny stars orbiting other tiny stars orbiting her pupil - of which was just a black hole of nothingness, emptiness given form save for a tiny, punctuation mark-sized speck of light in the centre. Her eyes were not just galaxies. They saw galaxies. They saw everything. Everything from now to a hundred years from now. Everything from yesterday to tomorrow. From a mile away to a hundred miles away. As far back as humanity's dawn, to as far forward as humanity's end. Her eyes weren't just galaxies, because to insinuate such was nothing more than a lie - her eyes were so much more. After all, how can a galaxy see? She stared at her classmates - the one to her left, a boy with a deterioration quirk, would become a villain that would one day threaten the world - and thought nothing kind or unkind. They were there, and they acted like Izumi wasn't. That was fine, her eyes saw all, knew all, told her branching paths and the branches to those branches. She didn't even need to be in school, despite being only six years old. Her eyes told her the answers."Green, duh!" A classmate shouted - Katsuki Bakugou, a boy that would have tormented her to the brink of suicide had she not developed these stars in her eyes - and she knew the question was 'What is yellow and blue mixed together?'. Her eyes showed her the answers to everything - she could be in a top-grade university performing the hardest examinations for some of the most delicate and difficult subjects and would have no peer in terms of completion rating. But she followed this branch of time by sitting in this school, and then enduring highschool, until her inevitable application into U.A and her past classmates being forgotten. After all, glancing around the room and measuring the class with her eyes, everywhere she looked all she saw were dying stars.
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Taylor was easy to push around, sure, but it wasn't the only reason Sophia Hess - under the careful pretence being led around by Emma Barnes - targeted her. It was a reason, don't get her wrong, but it wasn't the only reason. There were a litany of reasons, actually; none of them would even be remotely considered 'sane' reasons by anyone that wasn't her, but to Sophia they made too much sense in the grand scheme of things. They were too logical to her 'predator or prey' mindset.Hebert was a girl, and usually that would have been enough to set Sophia after her anyway - except that, oddly enough, wasn't a reason that even came close to her top ten. No, while Taylor was a girl, she wasn't a 'girly-girl'. She didn't prance around in pink clothing, wearing short tops that showed cleavage or mini-skirts that gave her ass a good breeze, she didn't mope around because her boyfriend all of three minutes dumped her, and she sure as shit didn't flirt constantly just to ensure a good grade or place herself above some others in the pecking order.She was quiet, kept to herself and waltzed through lessons like they were nothing to her. She was attentive where others would have gossiped, she was the ears when others would have been nothing but mouth. Taylor Hebert was, for all intents and purposes, a girl Sophia Hess could have seen herself becoming good friends with.her eyes drifted from the sight of Taylor getting shoved into her locker, filled with what could only be described as legitimate toxic waste, to Emma. "Better than the current 'friends' I have, anyway."Before her Trigger event, she and Taylor could have been something great - Taylor with her smarts and seemingly parahuman ability to fade away into the backgroud, Sophia with her talent and strength backed by fighting knowledge and her years of exercise. Then her Trigger happened - "And wasn't that just fun?" - and her family started pushing away from her. Then she decided to follow some crook through a shady alleyway one night and pin him to the wall - in all honesty she hadn't intended for him to bleed out, but that 'attempted murder' was her own fault.Once that shit-show went down, so did any chance of her getting in with the 'good' crowds. Any chance Sophia Hess may have had when she saw Taylor Hebert on the first day of high-school to become her friend...was gone the second day back, when she witnessed Emma Barnes - Taylor's best friend - trip the girl over and sneer.Sophia almost regretted saving the wannabe model from those gang members when she moonlighted as Shadow Stalker. key word is 'almost'. Emma quickly became her new best friend - though, of course after witnessing such a grand betrayal on Emma's part, Sophia kept the girl at arm's length for a not unsubstantial amount of time.while her two friends laughed themselves silly, herself releasing a chuckle every once in a while to keep up appearances, her brain whirled back to the thing that started this whole 'inner monologue' she'd read about comic book characters having. The reasons she hated Taylor Hebert enough to do this to her. Taylor was everything a girl could ask for, to quote Madison before 'The Trio' set their sights on ruining Taylor's life. she was kind, fair, polite yet not overly so.the 'predator' part of her mind decided to twist those thoughts into the reasons she bullied her. "She's naive" it whispered, as she watched her 'friends' peel into louder giggles and clasp at their sides. "She's weak" it opined, and that thought alone was enough for her to pay attention to the locker they'd thrown the otherwise - in all honesty - adorable Hebert into - "And wasn't that thought sickening?".The girl wrapped in a steel coffin littered with insects, used tampons and - banging and screaming, pleading to get out, scratching on the locker door breaking nails and tracing blood down the surface with insects crawling all over her, biting, nibbling, worming their ways inside and gnawing on flesh, burrowing in bone - destroying the girl once known as Taylor Hebert, remaking her into something worse than Sophia could ever imagine.She, Emma and Madison walked away from the locker filled with bugs, toxic waste and a slowly dying girl, doing their best to eliminate the feeling of dread and self-hatred crawling up through them."She's alone" Muttered that voice, and Sophia couldn't help the sobering thought of "Because of me".
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YorHa Android Model 2 Type B wasn’t all that surprised when she was called to the Flooded City by Android Commander White investigating strange reports of suspicious robot activity. Robots were, after all – as loathe as she was to admit it – as adaptive as androids could be, and as harmless as they were even against the newest of androids, they could pose a threat when they banded together and thought.What she was surprised about was that she was ordered to not to clear them out or fight a Goliath-Class robot that was most likely controlling the herd of machines…but to watch.To find out what they were up to and report it to White personally.She had her own thoughts about White, about the Operators in general, but for the sake of the mission she’d allow those thoughts to sink harmlessly into the deepest recesses of her data banks; these thoughts were thoughts that only trouble would accompany. For now, her mission was simple; set up her pod’s onboard camera so that Commander White and the other Operators received a video feed of whatever was going on, while noting down any changes on robot behaviour and – if possible, extracting or terminating the robots’ reason for gathering here.Simple.Easy.As 6O would have said were she not surrounded by every other Operator aboard the Bunker and the Commander herself present, it was “A breeze.”Hiding behind a half-crumbled wall six stories up a dilapidated skyscraper, 2B’s hovering camera at the moment focused its lens on the group of robots surrounding what looked like an evacuation pod from the Bunker. Eerily similar to one, actually, were it not for the markings on the side of it and the slight extra plating on the outside designed to keep whatever was inside safe. The pod’s shape was that of an oval, with the sides flattened rather than rounded to provide cushioning on the inside – if she had to guess, this was not from the Bunker at all.To be sure, she ordered her Pod to focus on it more while she informed the Commander of her new thought process.“Commander, if I may?”There was silence for a little bit and some tapping on a keyboard somewhere, and this time she was sure it was White that was typing as opposed to the Operators.“Continue, Unit 2B.”She did so with very little room for silence to take over again. “I would like to clear out those robots below to secure the pod.” There was the silence that grabbed her for a bit, and with the Commander’s terse ‘Explain’ as the answer that followed four seconds later, she continued. “I have reason to believe that whatever is in that pod is…”How would she say this without looking crazy? Dysfunctional? That the pod was most likely from the moon, the base the humans live on, and what was inside was most likely a human? How would she say that without looking insane? She was a B Unit, designed for extraneous battles and drawn-out skirmishes. She was a fighter, one of the best in YorHa, but she was no thinker. To her though, it just made sense that a Life Pod that wasn’t from the Bunker came from the moon. Where else would it come from?2B made mental calculations but those weren’t going to help, so eventually she completed her thoughts.Unknowingly mirroring the Commander’s own.“I…believe this pod is from the moon.”After those words were spoken, she heard the entire command centre erupt in shouting, chatter, talking – even the Commander, from what she could hear, was speechlessly, furiously, typing on a keyboard. It brought to question of why she wasn’t rebuked on her borderline-insane theory. It made the most sense for the Commander to be ‘in a tizzy’, as 6O would have said. The Commander was the first Android built by YorHa, with the Devola and Popola models being the only surviving androids to outrank her in terms of age. The reason for her to be in such a state, however, was both enviable and unnerving.All androids pre-YorHa were designed with their main priorities to serve humanity in whatever capacity necessary; be it from personal bodyguards and butlers to friends and family. They were designed to be whatever the humans wanted them to be, and Commander White was the only surviving Android – aside from the twin androids at the Resistance camp – to retain that coding for the eventual return of humanity. She would be whatever this possible human needed of her and her coding would ensure she was happy with it.It was enviable more so than unnerving, really: The Commander had not only loyalty to the humans and their return, but unconditional worship for the human race; she’d hidden it well over the many thousands of years YorHa has existed, but 2B wished for such a clear-cut purpose as servitude to a human. She’d rather that than her current life aimlessly following orders unheeding of the impact said orders had on her mental state. She knows a great many android that think like her.“YorHa Model 2B you are to eradicate those robots immediately, and ensure the area is clear; then await further instructions.” The Commander didn’t even need to ask if 2B understood the orders or not, because 2B was her best android, rivalling the skills of the now-rogue A2. Perhaps rivalling her own skills, if only just and with a great amount of luck.She wasn’t Commander for no reason.2B just gave a clipped “acknowledged”, as she understood exactly why the Commander was so urgent in the robots’ eradication from the area all-of-a-sudden. Whatever she was doing with the keyboard she heard tapping in the background while she received her orders must have confirmed something on the Commander’s part.With widening eyes, she leapt from the crumbling room on the sixth floor of the ruined skyscraper, and with a sense of something she could only describe as urgency did she realise why this was such a big deal.A human had landed on Earth.Human.After thousands of years and hundreds of messages indicating no change in the mission to clear the way for humanity to descend back to Earth, all of a sudden their efforts paid off; just like that, after thousands of years of what seemed to be fruitless and pointless fighting, of androids dying and coming back and dying again, of robots being exterminated only to come back in stronger number each time…suddenly, with little warning, their efforts were paid off in the form of a single human.“Maybe the only human.” That single thought alone pushed her onwards.While tearing through the robots surrounding the Pod with ease that belied her station as 2B, she tried to figure out why it was just one human. She was overjoyed of course that the humans were returning, that their loyalty was rewarded, that their efforts were not in vain…but why only one human?Swinging Virtuous Treaty in an arc in front of her while the Pod kept its lens on the human’s life pod for any signs of danger, she destroyed four robots – but her mind kept wandering and her fighting kept speeding up as urgency pushed her through the veritable horde of machines towards the pod of a human. She needed to eradicate these robots now lest she put the human in any more danger; for all she knew this was a scout, a dignitary perhaps, but nevertheless the first human to be sighted within close to ten thousand years.Needless to say, she ensured those robots never even blinked before they were all scrap.She turned to the floating pod unit above her, recording everything so that Command didn’t miss a detail, after ten long minutes of scouting and ensuring not a single robotic lifeform existed within ten miles of the life pod. Looking directly into the pod’s lens as she spoke, 2B ensured the Commander was well notified of the situation on the off chance that she’d turned away from the camera for some urgent Bunker business or something like that – she doubted it though, as nothing was more important to the Commander than humanity’s return.“Unit 2B to Commander White; the area is clear, no machine lifeforms within a ten-mile radius of the Human’s life pod have been discovered.”The answer was immediate, rushed, urgent; she could hear some form of protesting in the background and even some noises that suggested pistons moving. “Acknowledged, Unit 2B. keep the area clear of hostiles and ensure the pod’s safety.”She was already doing that, wasn’t she? Why the need for her to remain here? Unless a crew was coming to collect the pod for extraction to a safer area, with a medical team on standby for the human – but those units took time to mobilise to Earth and that was something that couldn’t be wasted when it involved a human.“Ma’am?”The Commander’s tone was clipped, rushed, urgent, worrying – more emotion in a single sentence than she’d ever heard in all of her hundreds of years of service.“I’m entering an emergency drop-pod now; I’ll be with you shortly.”And just like that, with the sound of mechanical doors closing, was 2B’s connection to the Bunker cut abruptly.Ten seconds.It had taken ten seconds for the Commander to drop from the Bunker to Earth. Ten. Seconds.Ten.In ten seconds 2B had witnessed androids make old human cuisine as practice for if – when – the humans migrated back to Earth. She’d watched a fellow model B Unit tear apart a Goliath-Class robot with minimal effort. In ten seconds, she’d fought the rogue A2 to a standstill and subsequently repelled her when she and 9S were exploring the castle ruins.In ten seconds, she’d watched Jackass turn a veritable mini-mountain into a cloud of dust. She’d witnessed feats breathtakingly incredible.Never, had she ever, witnessed an orbital drop from just beyond the atmosphere in ten. Seconds.While her computerised brain tried to apply logic to what she’d just seen The Commander had already made her way out of the now smouldering and crispy drop pod towards the life pod containing her entire existence’s reason.2B did not take into account the Commander freezing up and a hiss sound coming from the life pod, but she did take into account the gasps of something trying to take in oxygen.Oxygen.The Human was awake.White peered through the smoke, her sensors casually explaining to her that it was produced from internal pressure meeting external sources of wind, temperature and other such information. Information, might she add, that was useless and unnecessary to the survival of the human attempting to push their ways out of the pod’s inner confines.So frozen with indecision was she that White almost missed the human’s feet touching ground, almost missed the hacking coughs of a person taking in air after spending their lives in an environment where air was a dream, not a reality.She almost missed the ornate longsword pressing to where her chest was, the tip barely scratching her hardened skin as the human rasped out.“Who…a-are you!?”Unit 2B, out of the corner of her eyes, recognised the situation far quicker than the Commander thought possible for one not designed to be attached to a human by coding. Immediately her hands removed themselves from any form of weaponry she may have had at the time, placing it within eyesight of the human and slowly kicking them away.She’d give her credit for forward and diplomatic thinking if she wasn’t held at sword point.By the human she was designed to love unconditionally.To the human’s credit, it seemed to recognise that Unit 2B was, while not friendly, neutralised. The Commander didn’t even have any form of weaponry outside of the small katana at her waist, and that was easily grabbed by the human before she could even blink, the weapon skidding to a stop a couple of meters behind it.By this point the smoke cleared, the small coughs coming from the human subsiding into a choked gasp or two as its lungs worked to bring oxygen in. With the smoke cleared, the Commander could see metal plated greaves interwoven with what looked like silk, a cloak of blue velvet draped around its neck and fluttering in the wind. A mess of unruly but not unclean white hair fluttered down its back and around its shoulders, and a small metal hairband kept what remained pinned to the side of her head.Her.Because looking down the Commander could see the signs of womanhood very well; legs covered in thick but flexible plates of silver or polished steel, the plating fading off into a thick looking material that stopped just beneath the beginning of her thighs. A short skirt doing its best to cover the distance between legs and hips, but a small flash of thigh still remained, bridged with plated stockings and a small blue bow hanging off of her left thigh, fluttering about. The human’s chest area was covered in thick silver plating covering the vital areas with a small area around the chest and ribs being made of that gossamer-silk that she’d seen.All in all, the human looked stunning, regal, elegant, deadly.All in all, the human looked ready for war. Which, The Commander noted to herself, was not far off from what they were in the midst of for the past thousands of years against the machines. It was a shame, of course, that the first human she sees looks ready to take on anything, but not all that bad – this little adventure helped stretch her legs and, most importantly, find a human.It still made her uneasy just thinking about it.Gathering her wits, The Commander spoke – usually she’d just overpower her adversary and, if not outright eliminate them, berate them for thinking in ‘hostile until otherwise’ manners. But this human was a real, honest to any deity out there, human. The life pod spoke of being fresh and new, which meant the other humans on the moon base were watching this as of the pod’s awakening. And yet even if they weren’t, she couldn’t bring herself to be rude to her life’s purpose.Her voice, so powerful and detached, came out warm and soft – Unit 2B didn’t know what to think about that. “Hello, my name is Unit White, designated Commander of YorHa.” The human seemed to recognise what YorHa was – White would be confused if she didn’t to be honest – and relaxed her weapon back to her side. “I’m sure you may be confused, or lost, and this may not be the nicest of places to have landed…”Out of the corner of her eye she could Unit 2B hurriedly shove a robot’s ‘corpse’ into a nearby crevasse with her foot, hoping the human would not have her views of Earth squinted before she’d even properly settled onto it. It would have been comical in a way, but right now she could not afford comedy.The human glanced around before nodding once, relaxing more with each word White said – Earth was not how she remembered it being. At all. Buildings dilapidated? Crumbling skyscrapers? It was too much to take in and it was made worse with the knowledge she carried.“Let us not beat around the bush, here.” The Human spoke, Unit 2B standing rapt at attention while the Commander felt herself slacken her stiffened posture. Her voice, when not demanding to know who she was and where they were, was heavenly; soft, a certain rasp that could never be imitated by androids no matter how hard one tried. “You are the commander of YorHa?”The Commander nodded. “Yes.”The human turned to Unit 2B, of which was standing at attention with her hand placed over where her blackbox would be encased with a look that the Commander had never seen before – it wasn’t her sombre grimaces or her usual blank expression, and whatever it was the Commander knew it could only be a good thing, but it confused her nevertheless.“From the clothing you are a B model; Battle-hardened against the machine lifeforms and used to carrying out orders.” It wasn’t a question, but Unit B felt the need to expand on that anyway – the human was probably appreciative to have the information regardless.“Yes ma’am. Full designation is YorHa Model 2 Type B, previously YorHa Model 2 Type E.” There was no hesitation in revealing her former occupation before getting transferred to the B Units; after all, why would you hide something from your sole purpose for existing? It also made sense that the humans were clued in on this anyway. Any squad transfers or promotions went through White, sure, but everyone knew White had to get permission from the human moon base first before accepting or denying any promotions.The androids wouldn’t let her know, but they were grateful the humans had the last say – if the application was accepted it was usually with the android’s best interests that aligned with the interests of the humans. If they were denied they were given a personal one-thousand-word reason as to the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of it. Every android that had been denied held no grudge because of it – each letter was addressed to them by Unit name and number, personally written up and e-mailed directly from the moon base.Every single time an android was denied promotion they were given valid reasons, not excuses, and they were told to simply apply in the future whenever possible; duties came first to many androids of course, but the fact that they were not denied promotion for such reasons as ‘you’re not ready’ or some such nonsense endeared the humans to them more than they already were.“Ah.” The human looked at her again, almost appraisingly, with something that 2B would have called recognition. “I remember you, Unit 2E; I personally signed off on your squad transfer.” Before anything could be said, the human had walked up to the stiff Unit 2B and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can relax 2B; I’m glad to see you safe and well.”The Commander blinked at this; this human had personally signed off on 2B’s transfer? That was a nugget of information that was interesting to say the least. Before anyone could say anything, the human spun on her heel and began walking in the exact opposite direction of the now-defunct life pod.“Ma’am?”Turning to look at 2B, the human spoke. “Please lead me to the Android Resistance Headquarters, Unit 2B.” As 2B nodded and wordlessly sped in front to act as both guide and vanguard, the Commander fell into step next to her charge. There was no point in questioning how the human knew of the Resistance – White had, after all, been reporting things to the humans since her creation. It was also likely the humans had a surveillance system in place to monitor their once-home planet.Instead, a more pressing concern came to light.“May I ask your name?” The human gave her a sideways glance before mumbling something her auditory sensors couldn’t pick up.“Indeed, my name is Corrin.”As Corrin walked off, following Unit 2B, the Commander came to a startling thought.The transfer from E squad to B squad was over four hundred years ago, and yet the human seemed to have been the one to personally sign off on the request?Something wasn’t right here.Corrin’s day was headed in a strange direction from the first hour onwards. She’d woken up in her bed at Valla, her butler Jakob handing her the tea she needed to start her day. Being the ruling queen of a country was difficult, but when you’re the relative of two other country’s rulers, things get complicated real quick. Then, after dealing with her morning court meeting and overseeing some reconstruction in the Northern part of the country – because Anankos, while killed, still wrought havoc and destruction in his reign – she had dealt with vying politicians trying, and failing, to ‘woo’ her. A solitary ruler was never known to have ruled for long, after all.After that she’d had her midday lunch as usual, chatting with her maid-turned-bodyguard Flora, before sitting down on her throne and closing her eyes in thought. Before she’d known it, she’d been asleep, and then……between her closing her eyes and waking up, something had happened. What that was exactly she knew not, but she found herself in unfamiliar territory with a machine looming over her, and only her quick wits had saved her that day – the Yato was a blade that clung to its wielder as a babe would a mother. It was, in essence, a part of her. So, it didn’t really surprise Corrin when instinct called and her hand swept towards the small and chubby machine’s head…only for her sword to materialise in her hand and lop the thing’s head clean off its pudgy body.After her close encounter she’d looked high and low, and found herself surrounded by, what she now knew to be, computers. Monitors, servers, each one leading via wires to a large mainframe that held a single screen atop its rather large ‘body’.And on that screen shone the image of two girls in red.A lengthy explanation later, and some form of odd subservient behaviour by the god that wasn’t a god, and Corrin was gifted with the one thing she thought she’d always wanted.Knowledge.Ever since she was a child, she’d been a person that craved adventure, craved attention and knowledge, and despite this and her caged childhood she’d become a kind and gentle soul. War, like it does with many things, changed that, but her need for knowledge only expanded upon what it usually was – only, the topics became different. She no longer craved knowledge of innocent things, like birds and trees, and the lifespan of a butterfly or the fifteen different ways a sewing kit could be used if one were creative enough. Instead she craved things related to war – the different ways a sword could cleanly kill, or the many application of fire during a siege, or the many and varied war tactics that master strategists had recommended she learn. War had changed her and her learning goals, but she still wanted to learn; then the war was over, she’d become a queen of an entire country, and she’d had all the knowledge in the world at her fingertips.This, however, wasn’t her world. This was a new one she’d somehow found herself in; a world that had run empty on humanity as a whole, a world that needed no more interference – save for this, for her being in it. It needed her she could tell, and the knowledge being pumped into her mind told her this. But as mentioned, this wasn’t her world – she’d had close to twenty-two years to absorb the entirety of her world’s knowledge and history, and she was quite sure she only knew a portion of it all. She was being fed knowledge directly into her brain from a machine-god bent on keeping the stalemate war on Earth going for as long as possible, and that knowledge wasn’t just history or battle tactics.It was everything.So, to help her cope she was placed – rather gently, she might add – inside a pod that would keep her alive for the next couple of hundred years or so, so she could absorb the information as naturally as one could in this situation. While the pod was unnecessary – she was a manakete, after all – she nevertheless accepted the offer.Her eyes closed, her mind absorbed information for four hundred years while she listened to reports from the ‘YorHa’ Android movement; she gave out orders to the Commander via some sort of ‘neural linking system’ the machine god had explained briefly, and then her eyes opened to her own body stumbling out of the pod in a different area than she was last – she assumed this to be Earth, but from her ‘memories’ Corrin couldn’t tell. There were two women in front of her, one she recognised easily as The Commander Unit of YorHa; the one that, while in a pod, was being fed orders and such.And now she was being led towards the resistance movement that she somehow knew about and somehow knew would interest their leader greatly – aside from being the sole human being on the planet, but she’d break that news to the entirety of the android race.Deserters or not, she’d allow any who left the chance to return to service.Before that, however, she had to get in touch with the rogue android A2, and that was a whole other deal to worry about.Indeed, hers was an interesting life.
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There was a time for mourning, and oftentimes that period in which one can grieve for the lost or deceased is never in a convenient setting; never in a place you would wish to mourn, never surrounded by the people that you know can help you recover, never enclosed in the arms of the one you wish could just be there.I couldn’t mourn. Not now, probably not any time soon, and by the time I could, I’d be too used to the emptiness to want to fill it – too used to the scar that I’d never want if to fade. In fact, if there ever was an emptiness, I couldn’t feel it; my bugs were useful like that, shunt it all off to them and watch them freak out for a bit in amusement. When the emotional eventually came back I’d just shunt them off again. I couldn’t afford to feel right now.‘How ironic’ I mused. The irony, of course, came from the lack of rain – a quick glance upwards proved that to be a foregone conclusion for the rest of the day. Clear skies, with not a hint of grey cloud anywhere. And wasn’t that upsetting? Well, it probably should have been, but oh well.There was a small hand gently touching my forearm, but I ignored it – Panacea had no right to even think about comforting me right now. I didn’t need it; my bugs could take the emotions and I could ignore the sheer agony that having such a hole in your chest left.“Skitter…” That wasn’t Panacea this time, that was Brandish; New Wave’s lawyer-hero that felt it necessary to come along and probably exacerbate the situation – whatever ‘situation’ this could be.How do you call this anything less than an event worthy of a second trigger? How do I come back from this? It doesn’t matter if my bugs can take it, anymore, not with the memories I’d be stuck with. Nightmares. Maybe a hallucination or two. Hearing things and jumping at shadows would be what I’d be reduced to.But I couldn’t grieve, couldn’t hate myself, could embrace the demons and let them torment me. Not yet, not until I’ve dealt with this.The Glock Lisa gave me feels so heavy on my hip now.There, in front of me, lay Grue – Brian. It wasn’t pleasant to think a teammate of yours was dead, and if I hadn’t have seen his body I would have fallen into vehement denial. “he’s not dead, Lisa” I’d say, and her power would tell her that yes, yes, he really was, but she’d be too kind for that and say instead that she would let me ‘think it through’.His body was mangled, barely recognisable beyond burns and char, and the only way I could tell that it was definitely Brian I’d be burying later was his mask; cracked, charred, but still his. One of his hands was flaked and blackened – soot or charred skin was the question of the day – and the other was nowhere to be seen, but disintegration couldn’t be ruled out. The hand that was visible though was twitching still – I knew him to be dead, but nerves tended to be finicky like that.I don’t even remember when I started walking. The little hand on my forearm slipped to my own hand, and for a second there was resistance. Of course, I could have been softer about it, but the perceived notion that someone would stop me from doing something as rudimentary as tending to Grue’s body was abhorrent to me. I’d never felt poetic before, but when I practically wrenched my hand from Panacea’s and turned to stare at her with the mask of Skitter on my face I’m quite sure she saw something that shocked her enough to drop it.Without the impediment of Panacea, with Glory Girl off fighting Lung with Armsmaster and Brandish just standing there with this grim look on her face I felt it vital that I start dealing with my friend’s body.I didn’t even realise I was already kneeling by his body until my hand was gently lifting the cracked and charred mask from Brian’s face to reveal nothing but wide eyes and a half-open, red, black and grey mess that could have been his mouth. Surprisingly his neck was the cleanest thing about him, but maybe that wasn’t too surprising – despite Lung being what could only be described as ‘muscle-bound muscle with occasional fire and more muscle’ the Dragon of Kyushu knew what he was doing. When he went for the kill you would be dead if you couldn’t counter it; it was just bad luck that Grue’s ‘smoke and mirror’ fighting style was the worst thing to use when against someone that held off Leviathan.I lifted my head and looked around the area that could most definitely be described as ‘apocalyptic’. Fires raged in small little bundles surrounding what used to be houses, char covered the ground where fires weren’t and blood filling in the rest. Lumps of mass that I could only assume were people – were being the operative word, seeing as most of those people were little more than congealed masses of reddish pulp with the occasional organ thrown in. looking to Grue’s left I could se, leaning up against a wall, was Regent – he was dead too. After all, how do you live through the entire right side of your body being nothing but soot, charred flesh and bones poking through whatever skin was left over? You don’t, by the way.But something was different about Regent’s death; one of his hands were clenched around a pipe that looked like it was shoved through-and-through, acting as a pin to the side he was leaning against.I got up and walked right past him – he was dead, sure, but we weren’t friends; Regent was…well, he was Regent. Apathetic to everything – through no fault of his own of course, but it made it difficult to like him – and snarky about things he really should have kept quiet about.He wasn’t going to be missed beyond a few fond memories involving “shut up, Alec” being thrown around. Mostly by Lisa and me, but Rachel was good for it a couple of times and Grue liked to punch down on his head instead.He’d be missed slightly then.Rachel wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and it took a while of walking before I came across her dogs’ bodies; again, like Grue, they were barely recognisable. Of course, they were like that anyway when she used her power on them, but they at least resembled dogs even when grown; these things in front of me were just lumps of charred meat with a paw or a snout floating about.I averted my eyes to see Rachel a little bit further away than I thought she’d be. Had she tried to run? Had she attempted to flee once her dogs were down? Or had she seen Grue kick the bucket and decided to escape, only to get stopped by something. Her body was practically unmarred, almost flawless – flawless in that I knew it was her, anyway. Flawless compared to the states of the other Undersiders’ bodies. She was lay face up, back against the ground and a hole in the forehead of her mask, congealed and dried blood covering the surface of her cheap dog mask. Shot? I found it odd, but the ABB were known for the usage of guns in large scale fights – I would definitely call a battle with Lung involved a ‘large scale fight’.I heard a choked gasp to my left, and I practically shot my head in that direction; Glock was in hand before I even knew what I was looking at, but I can tell you now that what I saw was something that made me almost drop it.Lisa.Tattletale.Lisa was alive.I’m pretty sure I broke the sound barrier in my effort to get to her; either that, or Glory Girl was done with Lung and making her way back over here – the popping of my ears could have been anything, really. I attributed it to how fast I launched myself at Lisa.My bugs were taking the emotions, of course, but I still knew how I would have felt – relieved, worried, exasperated, tired…scared. For Lisa, mostly, but scared all the same.I heard a muffled chuckle against my chest, and then a cough – a wet thing that splattered blood against my front, but I couldn’t care less right now. I felt her arms snake around my neck, pulling me down so she could rest her chin in that little area between your neck and your shoulder, and without thinking I lowered mine to the crown of her head.I was worried. The bugs didn’t take that emotion, I didn’t shunt it off to them like I did for everything else. I felt it this time, and it brought tears to my eyes just thinking about it.Grue was dead.Regent was dead.Rachel was dead.But Lisa was alive. And that’s all I needed, really. It was all I desired out of this…this. Whatever this was, anyway.“You can let go now, Ta – Skitter.”“I can.” I agreed. I could let her go whenever I wanted, but this little incident spurred my brain into action. I saw perspective now, knew what I was doing wrong in my life and what I needed to do right if I wanted to get things done properly. I wanted to be a hero, I wanted to save people; but the adage of ‘who saves the saviours?’ came to mind, and I realised I can’t save anyone if I haven’t saved myself yet. I haven’t given myself peace of mind, happiness, I haven’t let myself wind down or take some time off. Worked harder than I thought anyone ever should for a dream that’s looking more impossible with each day that passes.But.“I’m fine. Just some bruises and some burns.”“Mmhmm.”But Lisa was alive.Lisa was a constant. A friend I didn’t know I needed until she became one. A friend I craved the attention of, a friend I couldn’t bare to see upset, or angry, or dead.“Are you okay?” she wasn’t asking to be let go anymore, her power probably supplied her the knowledge that I was thinking about something. I was, and what’s worse is her power could see through my outfit; or is that a bad thing, really?The truth never hurt anyone anymore than a lie could, and if I didn’t get this out there now, I doubted the courage would come to me again. Courage and fear are a potent mix, after all, and both can spur the cowardly on to do something brave.I needed to be brave.“I am now that you’re okay.”I shuffled the embarrassment off to the nearest swarm.I wasn’t that brave.There was a chuckle as a palm, small and barely calloused, rested itself beneath the chin of my mask. I wanted it to be against bare skin, but the heroes were over there. She seemed to have a smirk back on her blood-stained face, smeared in dust, soot and blood. It didn’t stop her from looking any less than beautiful.“Got something to admit, Tay?” she was…I don’t know the word for it. But Lisa was being quieter than usual. She knew, of course she would, her power would let her know everything, but my courage-fear-mix hadn’t faded yet and I was ready for war if it meant I could say this.“You know I do.” I was going for the knowing look, but I stopped almost before it began; despite her power seeing through my suit to read my body language, she couldn’t read my facial expressions. Stupid heroes watching something they had no right to.Her smile turned from her usual wolfish, impish, other kinds of ish smirk, to a smaller, friendlier, less punchable grin. Then it turned into a frown for a second, and she seemed to meet Panacea’s eyes with her own. I didn’t bother to worry about that; Panacea was herding the other heroes away with a blush and a glance back. Brandish caught on really quick – and despite us being villains I guess even she had a soft spot for the tragedy that happened here.Lisa’s hands went up to my mask – I performed some scouting with my bugs to make sure no one was watching – and I helped her undo the clasps holding it to my face.I was plain. I knew I wasn’t winning any beauty competitions any time…ever…but I also knew my face was clean. Spotless, damp from dried tears maybe but otherwise pristine.Lisa sorted that out really quick with a kiss to the lips that lasted way longer than any kiss friends should give to each other.
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“Go!”The voice was sullen, broken, but with all the fervour of a dying woman pushed to the brink by desperation. The voice was scratchy, as though water was a substance untasted for some time. The sound was hoarse, as though she’d never used it before now, as though she’d screamed her throat ragged and shouted out orders too much. It was fading, too; shifting between high pitch and scratchy baritone. It was ready to give out but it was still there.Like her.There were hundreds, if not thousands, of enemies lay at her feet; dead, dying, dismembered and beheaded. A river of blood flowed through the cracks the bodies left, and when those cracks grew too thin, when there were too many bodies for the blood to flow properly, it just overflowed and snaked on top of them. Listless eyes stared straight at the sky, and on the faces of the bodies that were belly-up, if she paid attention, she could see some thankful smiles etched on their faces.Behind her were thousands, if not millions, of civilians; all unarmed, all healthy and undamaged – save for a few with some scrapes and bruises but those were superficial and didn’t really count as wounds. Some veteran shinobi stood ragged behind her; some retched their guts out as poison flooded their systems, some sought out their civilian families, others still were performing headcounts, and even fewer than ten were stood behind her with kunai and swords in their hands. Some clenched teeth when she’d given the order, and many knew the fight ahead would lead to their deaths if they stayed…she had none of that.She spun on a heel, stared each dead in the eye, and practically growled her order. “Go. Now.”“Lady Hokage…”They only hesitated for a few seconds, she’d give them that, but even they fell back under her cold glare eventually. She’d stared down Tailed Beasts with less ice, and they had eventually bowed to her. Mere humans had no chance.She turned back when she heard slow clapping, and like she had thought would happen, Madara appeared; spotless amidst the sea of dead and blood, clean against the backdrop of filth and decay. Crows cawed as they circled the dead, and she’d seen them pick men clean in under five minutes before – she had no doubt that, despite how this fight to end the war went, the crows would feed good. They would have their fill as bodies rotted, and they’d get even more if she died here.They just had to pass through the mountain behind her. Just had to make it clear of her and Madara, and she could go all out; the wounds she’d sustained were nothing compared to the biting failure she’d feel if she let down an entire continent’s worth of people – unarmed civilians that would be crushed under Madara’s heel if she were to fail. The world would burn, and extinction of the human race was all but inevitable should she fail. The last remaining survivor of Team Seven, aside from her, would die, were she to fail.She couldn’t fail.There were no other enemies but Madara, but she’d seen him wipe out entire armies with a casual ease that still left her reeling when she thought about it. That’s why she sent her men away to guard the helpless: she’d die here of course; everyone knew she would, and she didn’t doubt for a second she’d go forgotten as she saved them all. But it was the right thing to do and she’d be damned if she went down without taking him with her.“You are much better than those Kage before you.” His clapping increased as he began laughing; it sounded off, wrong, like he was unhinged, and the presentation of an actual challenge was alien to him.It probably was, she thought, an alien concept to him for someone to challenge him and actually have a chance of winning.His clapping subsided eventually, and he looked her dead in the eyes as he spoke next. “This game has gone on long enough; a war that should have lasted mere hours has taken years.”She spat at him with a vitriol that has festered for years before it broke out all at once; she’d cried and screamed as her team and friends were taken from her, but that sadness festered and boiled into rage. A hatred that even the Kyuubi inside her balked at. It almost overwhelmed her when her words came out through clenched teeth.“Your madness did this.” Her hands reached behind her as if to unsheathe something only she could feel was there beneath the torn Hokage robe. “I’ll put you down like the rabid dog you are.”He looked almost disappointed but for some ungodly reason she simply could not fathom, she didn’t give a shit. “Threats now. Really? After all this, threats are all you have?”She growled out her words like a cornered animal growled before biting. Her eyes glinted with a madness and desperation that none could compare to anything, and as Madara spoke she had her hands coil around the sword strapped to her back; back from when she was ANBU, back from when she’d saved the world from calamity once before; back when Pein was the only threat she’d had to face. It had nicks and scratches along an otherwise impeccably made blade, a standard black hilt and a sheen to it that reflected just how much of its non-reflective paint had come off. She’d not had a chance to reapply the polish and it was bothering her now that she noticed it.She’ll reapply it later, give the sword some love and care that it was long overdue for.After she’s killed this prick.“Threats imply I may not do what I said I would.” Her usually straight-backed, rigid standing stance was abandoned for a looser, crouched position that gave her reflexes and speed a chance to shine should he start the fight; a style she’d made during the beginning of the war to capitalise on the Zetsu clones’ inability to rein in their instincts to charge without thinking. She was practically snarling at him. “I will put you down like the dog you are, Madara Uchiha.”A small grin had been stretching across his face as she started speaking, and by the time she’d finished the Cheshire cat would be ashamed of its inadequacy compared to the sheer size of his smile. But what had her almost blinking in surprise was the honesty behind that smile; despite the madness that lingered, there was an honest relief there.She almost missed the muttered ‘finally’ before he faced her down with his face stoic again. “We shall see, Naruko Uzumaki.” His face shifted into an almost pitying frown. “If you fall here, the world will follow.”"I will die here." A concession he clearly didn't expect, but there was a surety to her voice that set him on edge. "I will drag you with me."He reached back and grasped his war fan with unfaltering ease.“Don’t die too quickly. I want to enjoy our dance.”She charged wordlessly, madness and exhausting giving way to determination and a body full of adrenaline.Her last thoughts were of cherry blossom petals, and a tear fell before they clashed.Sakura Haruno was having a strange day.Well, no stranger than anyone’s day when living in a village surrounded by gravity-defying, ‘I-laugh-at-the-laws-of-physics’ ninja. There was a distinct difference, though, between having a strange morning, and having a strange morning.A strange morning would be, for example, waking up in your bedroom to find nothing out of place. Not so strange, it was her room and since she’d hit puberty about a year ago – despite Ino constantly reminding her that her chest was still as flat as her forehead was large – no one had entered. Except her mother, but only when it was direly needed. She’d wake up, brush her lengthening-by-the-day hair – all the better to make Sasuke love her – and stare at herself for about five minutes in the mirror to find any imperfections with her cute outfit. Not so strange. After that she’d ‘meet’ up with Ino, argue with her all the way to the school, they’d shove each other around for a bit, and then she’d sit down and dream about how dreamily dreamy Sasuke was while bemoaning her existence and how unfair it was that Ino got to sit a single chair closer to Sasuke than she did.None of this was strange – to her, anyway; she’s pretty sure most of her routine would be considered ‘abhorrent’ by some – and yesterday had followed this mould to the letter. Nothing out of place, nothing odd or weird.Today, however, was strange from the damn get-go.For example, she’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to casually wake up one day, stare at yourself in the mirror, have your eyes open in slowly dawning horror, and silently weep tears of both joy and soul-splitting agony that you’re not who you remember being. That you, somehow, travelled back in time to your twelve-year-old self and, somehow, you knew that your amazing, back-then-but-really-in-the-future girlfriend did it. And that they were here too.She would call it exceptionally weird that she’d retained her chakra control, jutsu and had larger than normal – for her perceived age, anyway – reserves…if she weren’t too busy shuffling her clothes on at mach speed and sprinting out of her house in the direction of Naruko Uzumaki’s residence. Naruko, her beautiful, amazing Naruko, had somehow, someway, given them a second chance at everything. Sasuke wasn’t her Sasuke, and that was something she just knew, but this Naruko was her Naruko.Her Naruko that was, most likely, having some form of anxiety-panic-PTSD induced attack of some sort, drowning in guilt and too-fresh memories of being the only one capable of facing off Madara fucking Uchiha on even ground, giving the refugees enough time to escape. Giving her enough time to escape. Giving Naruko enough time to kill that bastard in the light show of the century; and die in the process.She’d not even begun mourning when she fell asleep to exhaustion’s lulling pull, not even had a chance to process that the last member of Team Seven, that Naruko Uzumaki, her girlfriend since the beginning of that hellish war, had sacrificed herself to save everyone. To save her.And now here she was, thrown back in time with the one person who could stop the war before it started – that is, if she retained her skills, jutsu and chakra capacity as Sakura did – and said person may just be catatonic staring at the wall of her too-small apartment freaking out.Naturally, Sakura didn’t even bother slowing down when her parents called to her past her rushing form. She could have used her chakra, but the idea that she was an Academy student sprinting about at the speed of some Jonin would have been suspicious.So, she settled for Chunin speeds, with her most prevalent thought being ‘The things I do for you, Naru’. That thought was, as usual, abandoned of any and all malice that could have been there. Instead she was more exasperated, fondly accepting that her slowing down was a concession she’d have to make until Naruko could bluff her way past the Academy teachers, students and the Hokage.Ah, Hiruzen Sarutobi; wasn’t that a can of worms for them to open?Of course, she ran into the last person she wanted to see when jetting around a corner towards the one person she wanted – needed – to see.“Billboard Brow!”She could hear the screech as her feet slowed their speeds from ‘mad-dashing-Chunin’ to ‘annoyed-as-fuck-Wannabe-Genin’.Just to make sure that the person she thought had shouted that was, well…the person she thought had shouted that, she turned her head over her shoulder and –Yep. There she stood, hands on her hips like a disapproving mother, eyes creased into a frown. There was an imperious air about her, as though Sakura should be compelled to bow to the non-existent greatness that is Ino Yamanaka, as though Ino was entitled to everyone’s attention. She used to be, once upon a time, and was very good at letting you know just how far down the pecking order you were; well, back in her war-torn time that is. Here she was a girl harbouring feelings for what could only be described as a prick not even a cactus would enjoy brandishing, and it almost disgusted her that she used to be the same before the war opened her eyes.Sakura looked ahead of her; Naruko’s building was literally right there. Right in front of her. She could just dash there and ignore the girl but…no.She could only say one thing when she realised that just ignoring Ino Yamanaka would not be good – for either her or Naruko – because Ino had some obsession with snooping around into business she didn’t belong in.And that would be bad.“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
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Kaiser wasn’t the best man he could be, he would admit that with a straight face and no small amount of guilt, but at least he’d admit it. He was ruled by his lust, the twins Menja and Fenja coming to mind almost instantly; it was something Victor wasn’t a fan of about him, but at least Victor could say that Kaiser knew his faults and kept them separate from his ruling of the Empire 88.As Max, he was lustful – of the twins, mostly, but he had urges like any other man – and had a tendency towards violence that his Kaiser self didn’t have. Max was brash, insightful if not headstrong, and made choices his other self wouldn’t. As the human that he wasn’t half the time, he was a man that didn’t think of consequences, but a man that acted and then thought.As Kaiser he was a natural leader; he knew what people wanted to hear and said it with a power that surprised even himself, and such power was one of the reasons Victor was even in Brockton in the first place. He was an example, of power and a form of elegance – not that of a dancer, and not the elegance that may invoke romantic feelings, or even the type that could induce awe. No, Kaiser’s elegance was that of his speech; the way he spoke made one see that he was more than they were, more in a way that was hard to describe, and the word that Victor used – while a disservice to the word itself, he knew – was elegance.As Kaiser he was a man that was attempting to epitomise the word ‘honour’. A word that, with the separate word of ‘Nazi’ should not have fit into Kaiser’s personality – and yet, to many a person’s astonishment, they fit well. His honour was less that of fighting, though, and more that of words – he spoke, made deals, and no matter how it impacted him and his, he followed through on the deals he made.While it was an admirable quality, sometimes Victor wished he’d think some things through before he made some deals – an example would be whenever he made a deal with Hookwolf, which almost always resulted in far too many civilian casualties. Sure, they were ‘Nazis’, dedicated to the absolute annihilation of everyone that wasn’t one of them, but for fuck’s sake did he have to target children? Even Menja and Fenja had their reservations, and quite a lot of the time Othala and Rune outright refused, but it worried Victor a little to see Hookwolf grinning when he tore through kids – niggers or not, no one deserved to be torn apart by Hookwolf. Especially kids.In fact, Kaiser’s deal-making was the whole reason his thinking nose-dived from ‘I wonder what I’ll make for food later’ to ‘I wonder how the fuck he’ll handle this’. This, being of course, a young girl with the name of Taylor Hebert.Now, usually if they weren’t a prospective member Krieg and Kaiser wouldn’t care about some no-name girl of fifteen. In fact, the fact that she was – without a doubt – the weakest fifteen year old they’d ever laid their eyes on made them all want to do the opposite; Kaiser was better than that, of course, but many of his subordinates weren’t. Othala, for example, was staring straight at the girl with her famous, if not bland looking ‘are you kidding me?’ look. Complete with eye twitch of course.Hookwolf, on the other side of the spectrum, was downright growling, the metal along his wolf-shaped body quivering in something he would akin to hatred; or perhaps, anger, because even Hookwolf wouldn’t hate someone they’ve never met before. Actually, looking a bit closer on it, Hookwolf was sort of vibrating in place – was he excited about this? It fit his personality to a ‘T’, but if anything that just worried Victor even more.Rune was just sort of…there. Silent, with her face blank beneath the hood she wore – and it worried him, sometimes. Rune was a child, in her early teens at least, and she was running around with literal Nazis. Of course, a lot of that was because she felt compelled due to previous familial ties, but that was neither here nor there. If there was any one thing for sure, though, it was that Rune was not a true ‘believer’; she was just here to fulfil an obligation. He could understand that. There was a solid anger in her small form, though, and oftentimes it was directed at the Undersiders – their interference in E88 operations wasn’t too bad, but it always seemed to coincide with her patrols, which left her not an inconsequential amount of work to deal with when they left.“I don’t suppose you’d like to repeat that, would you?”The girl, Taylor, nodded at Victor’s question. “Indeed.” For added effect she curtsied, looking old and Victorian in her mannerism. Even the way she spoke reminded him of that time he’d read through a Jane Austen book; refined, precise, and utterly sure of everything she was saying. But her voice was soft, muted with a calmness that he didn’t think was a skill he could steal, but a natural talent. “To be sure ‘twas my hope, if bold I may be, to join your Empire.” Her Victorian attitude wasn’t helped by the fact that was wearing what could only be described as ‘Victorian-era doll’s clothing’.Othala’s look, if possible, grew from ‘stupefied’ to ‘done with the day’. This wasn’t making sense; no one joined their empire if they were a Cape unless they were pushed into it by external means, their goals aligned, or the Empire itself ‘’pressganged’ them.Kaiser wasn’t expressionless, but even Victor could see that he wasn’t hiding how confused he would usually be if this situation were to happen; Othala didn’t hold the title alone for ‘really long day’ then.“Not that we aren’t thrilled to have a Cape join our ranks, of course, but…”“Ah, you wish to understand the reason as to why?”Kaiser bobbed his head slightly, his throne made of metal making him seem all the less regal for it – Kaiser never bobbed his head for anyone, and barely ever regarded them with anything other than impassivity. The fact that this girl was forcing him to acknowledge her was both astounding and worrying in equal measure.“In not so many words, yes.”The girl nodded; this time followed by a half-curtsy. That rogue, Parian, could only hope to come close to this girl’s elegance. There was something off about Hebert, though, and now that he noticed it Victor could feel his body erect gooseflesh; there was something very wrong with her. Her elegant behaviour felt almost ethereal. Were he feeling any form of poetic right now, he’d say it felt eldritch – otherworldly in a way he could not explain.Her voice took his thoughts away and brought his attention back. “Before an explanation, if it would be permitted, I feel as though my introduction was woefully improper.”In what felt like it was becoming a theme, Hebert curtsied – this time however it was low, almost a straight up bow, and he felt something twist in the air when she spoke. “I am The Plain Doll, my previous name being Taylor Hebert, and I am The Keeper of the Dream. I help those who seek to help others, and I aide those who in turn aide others.” Her head lifted from its position and her body straightened from its curtsy, and only now did Victor and Kaiser see how tall Hebert – The Doll – was, and he realised just how much his neck was straining just too look at her face. And now that he was paying closer attention, he spied her skin; it looked porcelain, with cracks along the surface.“Your power is similar to Othala’s?”At Victor’s question, The Doll shook her head. “Oh, no. I apologise, it seems my way of speech has confused you.” Her inexpressive face seemed to dip into a frown, and it made her look sad, before it shifted back into apathetic politeness. “My words do change and escape meaning, oftentimes. Allow me to explain.” He and Othala both noted Rune leaning in to hear this; as thought it were gospel and The Doll were God Himself. “My powers allow me to permanently empower those whose bodies are ready for such a change.”“Empower?” Rune asked, and her question was honestly on everyone’s minds.“Indeed. I take the strength of those you have beaten through battle, dead or otherwise, and turn it into power. I can, of course, define power in many differing aspects; raw strength, speed, intellect.”Kaiser seemed to almost rock back in his throne, and Victor really couldn’t blame him. Power through combat? Permanent power? And it just…what, fell into their lap? Such a person didn’t go to the PRT, or get snatched up by Lung – now that he thought about it, Lung wouldn’t go for her – or didn’t go independent?He knew the E88 were cruel, and not people civilised folk would intermingle with – let alone join up out of their own free will – and yet here strolls in a game-changing power, free will, thought and curtsies following…and wants to join?The Plain Doll continued speaking, fingers laced in front of her and back straight. “I wish to join thee as support. I fear my combative abilities are a cause lost.” She dipped her head in apology, it seems, before lifting it and staring at them – at Rune. “Though, f I were to choose a reason, ‘twould be because of young Rune.” The Doll’s eyes, once impassive, held something Victor would later describe as tangible joy; a thing he’d never seen in even the happiest of people, but then again the Empire didn’t really have a good track record in leaving happy people around it.“I have looked and searched, wandering and wondering, for a very long time Young Rune.”“You…have?”“Oh yes. I am The Doll, and you are Rune, yes?”“Uh…” Othala’s face betrayed her mirth, and even Hookwolf – after he shifted back into a person – could be seen revelling in Rune’s uncomfortableness. Not knowing what else to say, Rune simply nodded.The Doll’s face simply shifted to Kaiser’s form, and after a moment her lips curled upwards in something that might resemble an imperfectly straight line – close to a small smile, if you squinted.She nodded to herself, and began walking – gliding, really – towards a chair and table sitting off next to a window, not too far from Kaiser’s throne. And then, after a mere blink, there was a full porcelain tea set resting on the small wooden table, the chair replaced with what looked like carved oak – fancy and elegant, befitting one such as her.Kaiser just blinked, shrugged, and began doing his paperwork. Hookwolf grinned and rushed off through the doors to the ‘throne room’ as it were, off to do god-knows-what – to preserve his sanity, Victor didn’t care to ask. Othala, after a beat of hesitation, walked over to The Doll’s impromptu tea party, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting opposite The Doll – who, he noticed, was sipping on a cup of tea.“May I sit?”The Doll stared at her for nary a glance before nodding with that same line-smile from before and began pouring Othala a cup as well. Unbidden, but his wife seemed to enjoy the tea enough to ignore that.They both seemed to be content with talking quietly between each other, and interspersing the silence with sips of tea and staring at the skyline of Brockton.Rune, after a second, joined them both, and before he knew it, Rune and Othala were chattering with each other, including The Doll on occasion, who smiled congenially and poured them more tea from what was quickly – in his suspicion – becoming bottomless.Victor just wanted to know how a normal day could turn into this.
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The hammer was cocked.
Step
The swords were launched.
Jump
The blood was spilled.
Twist
The blood was spilled. Always, was the blood spilled for a cause or another. He didn’t even know if this army he was fighting were the ‘good’ guys or the ‘bad’ guys. He didn’t care at this point. He couldn’t care, at this point. His eyes were glassed over, no life could be seen within what once were golden pools. Never was there life anyway within those eyes, but in the very least gold was a more welcoming colour than steel grey.
Block
He didn’t care, didn’t know how to care anymore. He’s been the Counter Guardian for too long to remember how. He sees faces sometimes, smiles that he’s never been able to emulate no matter what; hugs that were colder than they were warm, kisses to the cheek that made his steel body sharpen. He didn’t know how to be human anymore, nought but a weapon, a cog in Alaya’s machine. Yet he carried on being EMIYA, The Counter Guardian. He ended up being the one thing he tried desperately to avoid being.He didn’t know how to be human. All he knew was that Avalon was waiting for him, Saber was waiting for him, and he’s already abandoned so much to get just this far already. The Ever-distant Utopia had earned its title, after all. Always within sight but never reach. Whenever he visited his world of swords, his hill of regret littered with the grave markers of all those he’s killed, his very soul, he could see a small patch of grass where there should be soot, ashes and swords. A small tree in place of a weapon, blades of grass instead of blades of steel, a patch of the whitest clouds he’s ever seen hovering above it. Avalon, the Sheath of King Arthur, of his beloved Saber, doing its duty to remind him of the thing he was fighting for, even as he himself forgot what her face looked like.What her hands felt like, what her outfit looked like, what her lips tasted like, what sound her feet made, how she swung her beautiful sword. All he could remember was that she was blonde, with the most striking disposition and the most beautiful voice, with eyes he would never forget for however long he remained a slave to Alaya.Beneath that tree he saw a figure, shrouded but he knew it to be Saber – her green eyes locked onto his with so much longing and sadness that he had to remind himself that suicide was not the way Saber would ever have wanted him to meet her.
Slash
He would not abandon more. No more of himself would he abandon for a world that didn’t care. No more would he give up to Alaya, humanity incarnate but so much more at the same time, for nought more than a stupid dream. He knows what Archer knew, now, sees why the man was so jaded and lonesome. Why the man was so cold and hardened.After all, Shirou Emiya was Archer, and Archer was Shirou Emiya. No matter how many times he wished to never become that man in the first place. Fate is cruel, after all, and so is Alaya; promising him with each time she sent him out there, each time she made his dream die a little more, that he would see Saber again. He’s been at this for hundreds of battles, thousands of years…he no longer wants to follow his dream. Hero of Justice, Defender of the Peace? Saviour? He had realised not far long into Alaya’s servitude that he was foolish. He lived for saving; it was all he had left of the person that was ‘Shirou Emiya’. But how can you save people when there is no one to save? No wars to fight, no battles to prowl, no fields of dying men to stalk? How can he, the Wrought Iron Magus, the Counter Guardian, the man that cannot live without saving…save anyone when he had saved everyone?Alaya had robbed him of the one thing that made his dream slightly viable; his innocence. He was, after all, a sword incarnate, steel on fire on iron and glass and she had wielded him as one was to do with such a weapon. He was fire and glass and steel, with hands so calloused from war and soaked in blood he could never look Saber in the eye and feel proud, never hold her with the hands of a hero’s. She made him promise that, no matter what, he would fulfil his dream and find her waiting, fall into her arms as they rested beneath the tree of Avalon; as they roamed its beautiful plains and watched the sun rest and awaken time and time again. They’d be married – if not officially recognised by any form of church or religious system – and they’d live in constant peace and happiness for the rest of time and beyond.After all, Avalon was not bound by time, space, or the laws of physics. It was Fae made and designed for no one but Arturia – and, because he was recognised by the sheathe as a secondary owner, he too could find peace when he died. When Alaya held her deal and released him from her service, or when Gaia’s – albeit lacking – tolerance of magecraft dried up, he wouldn’t ascend to the Throne of Heroes, nor would his soul pass on to whatever afterlife existed for swords in flesh and bone.He would ascend to Avalon, to the Utopia that was promised to him and Arturia, to the fields of endless green and the clouds that floated by in shapes both calming and indescribable. He would hold her, would sit under the tree and bare his soul to her, as she would him. And then peace for eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.He’s practically already won this war, the other participants noting his strength and unrivalled stamina, his prowess and magecraft – as third-rate as it was – and giving up not even halfway through – now they threw themselves at the bottom of his hill of swords, some killing themselves and only adding to the steel markers that littered his world, others surrendering but finding no mercy – to save a hundred you kill ten, after all. In this case to save a million you kill a thousand.His swords rose and fell on command, and without resistance the rest of the attacking army died, blood splattering nearby markers and the air saturated with the iron and steel.Now he just needed to leave, visit Illyasviel’s chipped and worn-down grave, and continue on with his heroic journey; all the while being hounded by Alaya.“Shirou Emiya.” His voice was cheerful, almost to a childish degree and not for the first time did Shirou feel reminded of Illya and her mannerisms.‘but brother,’ she’d say ‘I’m not childish!’He simply disagreed with her on principle, if nothing else. During the Grail War she was composed, calm, much like him a weapon pointed at someone else. When she was out of said war, however, she became exactly what she was; a girl without a father or brother, holding on to the one thing that kept her safe – him. And if she had to behave like her looks implied her age to be – that is, of a ten-year-old – who was he to fault her?He still knew her to be beyond childish sometimes – especially of her dislike toward being reminded of her height.“Zelretch.”But first, disregarding the fact that he’d been hearing his sister in his head for the last thousand or so years – since she died, actually, but he chalked it all up to a coping mechanism – he’d deal with the dimension hopping vampire that trolled entire universes just because he was bored. Wielder of actual Magic, more specifically the Kaleidoscope. The man that took Rin under his wing – the same girl that didn’t even bat an eyelash or let Shirou know she would never be returning to his side as a friend.She never returned at all, but he’d heard rumours of her continued existence – and despite him being tied to Alaya, thus explaining his immortality, hers could only be explained by Zelretch somehow…doing something.Probably something he wanted no information on, so he ignored it in favour of the grinning troll in front of him.“How are you, Emiya?” He greeted him like an old friend, but in the very least they were anything but. Slight acquaintances, maybe, but nothing to the level the vampire was insinuating.Shirou took to staring at the blood on his hands as if in contemplation of everything he had done in his rather extensive existence, before locking eyes with the dimensional traveller.“What do you want?”His blunt reply seemed to catch the vampire off-guard; from what Rin had told him while he tutored her in dimension travel and other aspects of magecraft, Shirou Emiya was polite to a fault. He was a calm, if an idiot, and had a stupid if not admirable dream to become a Hero of Justice.When speaking to her about it Zelretch could say that Rin, despite being the very definition of Tsundere, found Shirou’s willingness to save people both unlike that of atypical magus and, dare he say, praise-worthy.It was then he took in his surroundings; a hill of swords, thousands upon thousands of grave markers, and possibly even more than that beyond the horizon. The air…to say there even was air would be a fallacy, for air carried notes of breathable atmosphere and what he was breathing now may as well have been blood in gaseous form. There was a distant sound of gears churning, and looking up he could see the massive cogs, spindles and gears that looked to belong to a forge of modern times – to illustrate his point, Zelretch’s ears rang from the occasional sound of distant hammers striking metal.…and it was then he realised he was inside Shirou Emiya’s Reality Marble.This was his soul, depicted and brought forth to disrupt and impede upon reality itself; a magic that even Zelretch didn’t have access to – or, if he did, it was most certainly not to this scale.“You didn’t answer the question.”That gruff, toneless voice brought Zelretch back to his…’host’.And he locked eyes with his ‘host’.And he saw pain. He saw emptiness that even he could not fathom, he saw agony the likes of which he had no clue of, he saw a hollowness that could not be described in mere words. Most importantly, however, it seemed Rin was right.He saw Shirou Emiya had realised his dream that he chased was an impossible one, and he still chased it – all for a distant utopia and a love stronger than life itself. He chased and chased, killed and killed, all at the beck and call of Alaya – Humanity’s will, Humanity Incarnate. Turned into a Counter-Guardian.Looking down at the bodies surrounding the hill, some rapidly decomposing while others seemed frozen at the time of their death, he saw many; young, old, children, elderly, teenagers and adults, men and women……so, this is what happens when a dream is chased for so long that the reason for chasing it is a faded memory. This is what thousands of years turns someone with a singular purpose into. He pitied Shirou, for even if he was as old – if not older – than the Counter-Guardian in front of him, he had multiple universes, timelines, people, to keep himself from going completely insane. Shirou had nothing more than a false dream and memories, nothing more than his hill of swords and the perseverance to reach the Utopia promised to him.Shirou Emiya was simply the single most fascinating person Zelretch has ever come across.“Well, you see, I simply came to say ‘hello’!”Shirou snorted, derisive, jaded, pained. His eyes were locked onto the twin forms of Bakuya and Kanshou in his hands, and he seemed agonised at the sight of blood staining their once-pristine blades.“You don’t simply go anywhere to just say ‘hello’, Zelretch.” His empty grey eyes lifted to look at the Dimensional Hopper.The man in question seemed to take a non-existent offence at that, his chin tilted upwards and his arms crossed over his chest in a petulant manner that reminded him of a child – of Illya.‘I am nothing like him!’ He could imagine her nose tilted upwards in much the same way, arms crossed beneath her chest and eyes closed, a small smile despite her apparent ire. ‘And I’m not a child!’Shirou ignored the voice of his long-dead sister, turning his back to the vampire and taking his place atop the hill of swords – The twin swords Bakuya and Kanshou vanishing in sparks of blue light from his hands to return to their places at the summit, criss-crossing each other while a third sword rested between them.That sword was Caliburn, his most treasured sword besides the twin Dao blades.He stood at the summit, gazing longingly at the sword for a second, before he rested his back against a large stone claymore jutting from the ground. With his back rested and his legs weary he slumped down – his gaze locked to the sky of his world as he awaited Alaya’s next orders.There were a few seconds of silence, and Shirou almost forgot about the man stood next to him; which is why when Zelretch spoke, Shirou almost jumped from his seated position with Dual Swords raised to fight.He didn’t of course, but that was just testament to how tired he was.“So, an interesting thing happened today.” Obviously Zelretch was waiting for Shirou to ask what, but it was clear after another few seconds of silence that he didn’t care. Of course, this didn’t stop Zelretch from continuing. “There I was, minding my own business, when all of a sudden my little apprentice blindsides me out of nowhere!” The man’s voice went from his usual annoying mixture of high pitched yet low in timbre, to just a plain high pitched – if nasally – mimicry of what he could only assume was the Tohsaka girl. “’Zelretch, I think I found a universe in trouble! We need someone to save it!’ so, naturally, the first person she pointed me to was you, and then she said ‘Zelretch we need to do something! I’m so worried!’”Shirou almost snorted at that – there were lots of things that he didn’t remember about his wayward ‘friend’ but one of them was that a single universe out of the infinite amount being in danger was not something she’d have even batted an eye at.He needed to stop this farce before it carried on any longer. “Zelretch,” His voice was weary, tired, yet there was a steel there that made even the Magic User blink. “What do you want?”There were a few more seconds of silence, before the man rested next to him, back against a neighbouring Zweihander.“I have a proposition for you, Mister Emiya.”
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Taylor wasn’t having the best day. In fact, it was going quite poorly. There was torrential raining scheduled for the entire day, set to occur…between some time now and…maybe later. Her dad had told her this morning, but she’d tuned it out, shut herself in her little bubble of cheery smiles and Emma. Emma gave her a feeling of contentment she didn’t think a friend could give. Granted she was Taylor’s only friend, but one friend was better than none.That wasn’t really what was ruining her day though; rain was standard in Brockton and had become a thing she’d enjoy. She could spend hours standing outside, getting soaked through as she stared into the sky – most likely catching a cold in the process, but it was a small price to pay for the utter zen she’d reach when being pelted with rain. She loved the rain. It was a calming tool she’d found could help her sleep.Again, the rain wasn’t what was ruining her day. There was also the fact that she’d suffered a power cut at home, and her PHO browsing had been cut short. She didn’t even get to look up anything interesting, either; just some stuff about how Armsmaster was becoming the leader of the local Protectorate, a new Ward called Vista was credited as being the youngest to join the Wards programmed to date, and that Miss Militia was…single…because that was information necessary for the world to know, apparently.PHO, you are truly an ocean of knowledge.No, not even that was ruining her day. She could put up with the power cutting; she could do with getting away from the computer, actually. They say computers rot your brains, and until she found out whether or not that was true, she wasn’t going to find out the hard way.No, what ruined her day was the phone call they’d received about…an hour ago – well, her dad received it, she was busy complaining to herself how boring it was at home with nothing to do. Then she was practically thrown into the back of dad’s car, driven to a hospital, and told to wait while he went to talk to a doctor.It took her what felt like hours before she realised something was very wrong. Someone wasn’t here with them, and that made her blink; when was her mother phoned again? She couldn’t remember seeing her dad phone her to let her mother know where they were, and this – combined with her lack of awareness for people’s privacy when they were talking – led to a conclusion she’d rather not reach.Her mother was already at the hospital; and not as a visitor.It took what felt like days before her dad got there to tell her that her beloved mother wasn’t coming back home; that Anne Hebert wasn’t going to sing her songs anymore, or tell her stories, or kiss her cheek before she went to bed – but of course, seeing as she’s a big girl now, she doesn’t need them…just really wants them – and wouldn’t be able to tell her how silly she is for-for thinking monsters exist under her bed, an-and how s-stupid she was for trying to sing a song that didn’t suit her p-pretty voice…an-and…and…There was a sharp pain in her head, but she ignored it. Her mother was gone, never coming back, never to say anything else to her.All because she texted her when her mother was driving.Taylor didn’t notice exactly how she knew when she’d texted her mother; at 3:47PM, after she got out of class and walked with Emma to her house. She didn’t notice exactly how she knew there were eighteen flies, thirteen grey cars, forty-six trees and ninety-two people when they drove on the way to the hospital. She didn’t notice how the blinding pain in her head quenched itself under her thought processes speeding faster than the world’s fastest Tinker-made supercomputer. She didn’t notice how she knew the kindly doctor that had seen her father was cheating on his wife, or the nurse across from them was the one he was cheating with. Nor did she notice how her tears were stopping and her breathing was evening out.She didn’t notice her hands unclenching as her back slumped and her eyes unscrewing themselves from their shut positions into an almost lazy gaze. She didn’t notice that she could no longer hear war drums in her ears and taste blood and spit in her mouth.Well, she did, but she didn’t care.Not anymore.Distantly, a thought came unbidden as her newly discovered power whispered secrets about everything she noticed – people, objects, places, times, dates…everything.A thought came to her, and she was inwardly disgusted with herself how upset she wasn’t.
‘I got my mother killed – father too, most likely; in about four or so years – and I gained a power from it. Thinker from the effects so far, but then again there was no way I would be able to know what would happen in the future, regardless of clues. A minor precognition as well?’
All the passing nurses noticed was that Taylor Hebert was a very well behaved, quiet, polite girl with a gaze that froze them solid for a second whenever they met her eyes.All Taylor noticed was that she’d only been in the hospital for fifteen minutes, fourteen seconds and that her father had yet to come see her.In the back of her mind she wondered why she hadn’t passed out yet; many new Triggers did, didn’t they? How odd that she doesn’t recall whether that was fact or just something someone said on PHO. Were her thoughts getting slower? Was her head hurting more? Taylor couldn’t tell, she was too busy bemusedly watching as black dots flittered across her vision.‘Ah’ She thought, idly placing herself in a better position, for her inevitable collapse. ‘So, it is true after-’And then she blacked out.Being sent to Japan was interesting.Being sent to a different Earth within a different universe was amazing and terrifying in equal measure. The method? She surmised it could be one of two things – power interactions working so badly in tandem that she was sent here as a result (low probability of forty percent), or she was sent here on purpose by someone. Who would that someone be? A Tinker. Her power could fill little more than that in without her actively seeking the answer.Her power obliged.Long story short, she got hit with a bomb as she slept, and regrettably being asleep left her with very little information to work with. Thankfully her power filled in what her brain couldn’t, and before she knew it she could ‘Sherlock’ up a scenario; new Tinker, specialises in either time distorting creations or time distorting bombs, through a ‘Grey Boy’ Loop bomb at the wing she was staying in. the result? Many patients locked in an never-ending alternate timeframe in which they are constantly doing the same thing over and over again, and her? Sent to a different universe.How?Tinkertech Bullshit, that’s how.Now her father would suffer alone, drink himself until approximately eighteen months from now, and then either end up killing himself – a sixty-six percent probability if her calculations were correct (they were) – or his liver would give up – and discounting her previous calculation, that was, sadly, the next most likely cause of his death. Even Endbringer attacks didn’t even rank in the top ten reasons he’d likely die before he hit fifty. Before she could even hit twenty.It would make her feel guilty if she didn’t have responsibilities here.“Sister, what are you doing?”Taylor sighed – either in fondness or annoyance, not even she could parse that – and turned her head slightly to see a blonde blob roughly in the shape of a human being. The blob had some sort of face she’d liken to a ball of dough, with some sort of small gap where a mouth should be – oh, wait, that is the mouth – and two wide eyes that glittered with what could only be described as ‘childlike innocence’. Only ramped up to eleven, out of two.“Asia.”“Are you thinking again?” Asia’s face seemed to go from ‘cute ball of dough’ to ‘oh god stop making that face, such cuteness should be considered a W.M.D’ and Taylor used every ounce of self-control she could muster, which was a lot, to ignore the funny feelings it did to her. She just nodded and stared back at the foreign sky. Night-time in Japan was truly beautiful, her power helping parse out the best-looking starts in the sky, or the prettiest looking scenic areas. “You always look so sad when you think.”Taylor shook her head – sight-seeing was over, she guessed – with a huffing sound she lifted herself from her seated position to stand a full four heads above her companion. Being five foot ten to her companion’s barely-hitting five foot one was amusing.“Just staring at the stars; Japan looks so different than Italy does…”Asia grinned. “yeah! They have a lot of tasty-looking food too! I can’t wait to try it all!”And she smiled.And boy did that smile do something to Taylor’s insides. This girl was pure. She would be protected, that smile would be sheltered from all the bad things.“And a different language, so do try and attempt to blend in, yeah?”Taylor smiled slightly, wrapping her hand in her adoptive little sister’s, and leading her towards their destination; a hotel to stay at until morning came. Afterwards?Enrolling to school. Well, her; she needed something to keep her entertained until their business here was concluded. Not Asia.Asia had something to do with the Fallen hanging about in the church, so they’d be busy for a couple of days, and she’d be enrolling into the school nearby to kill boredom, so they both had things to do that didn’t involve ‘nearly dying’ or ‘ridiculous powers’.Nothing too exciting, nothing too grandiose, just a nice, relaxing few months here in Kuoh as she finished her high school year and relaxed with her sister somewhere in Italy. Maybe France? She’d always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.As Taylor entered the school that morning and signed herself in as a new arrival, her eyes were drawn to the – quite frankly – amateur group of people proclaiming they were some sort of chess club. Even without her power she could trounce them in ten moves. With it? Her morning became very entertaining.She should have stayed away and kept her head down, because now her life was set on the course for ‘less relaxation’ and ‘more insanity’.Sona Sitri was not having the best day she’s ever had. Granted it wasn’t the worst day, but it could be…better. Certainly, this day had been most unfortunate for her, never tilting in her favour since the beginning.She woke up this morning with something amounting to a premonition; a feeling of dread that steadily built as her day went on, and as soon as she got to school she had one of her Peerage show the newest arrival around, whereas she’d usually do it – the headache that had been steadily growing since her awakening this morning would have left her in a bad mood, and not feeling like scaring away a new student she sent Saji to do it.She really hoped he didn’t hit on the new girl.Aside from a growing headache and a constant feeling of dread, Sona’s day had just gotten weird; she forgot things she would usually remember and her Peerage had to cover for her, she almost left her home half-dressed, didn’t eat breakfast this morning, and now…?She placed a knight in prime position to take the enemy’s queen, but it would seem her vaunted skills had decided to add ‘chess’ to the list of things they’d abandon today. First it was writing a speech – something that she, as a King, had practiced almost religiously. As a King of a Peerage, especially one related to ‘The Leviathan’, she prided herself on her knowledge with manipulation – that of crowds, either through speeches written by herself, or words made up on-the-fly. Sometimes speeches were paramount to climbing the socio-political ladder that has become Devil Society; and even more important assuage any fears of her being supremely lesser than her sister, or even unworthy of the Sitri name. Then it was combat practice; she found her mind drifting more than once during her weekly practice. After that her ability to pour herself a cup of tea had apparently left her as well, and now?Now, the only thing keeping her sanity – and her hand free of a wedding ring – in check was drifting away from her. She clutched at it in a vain attempt, sending her pawns in tactically and allowing her knight to get taken so she could remove a bishop from the enemy’s side.But now, now she was not just stalemating as she had been.She was losing.“Checkmate.”Correction: Sona Sitri had lost.…This was the worst day she’s ever had, hands down, no debate on the subject. In all honesty, she couldn’t believe her luck – or lack thereof.Her Peerage evidently could not believe it either, considering their unison gasp of shock – and she was pretty sure Tsubaki had just fainted, if the heavy thud she heard from behind her was any indication.She looked up from her board, eyes locking with the woman she had challenged – and didn’t she hate herself for it now? It was a stupid challenge with the newest student, after said student had trounced the entire Chess Club in terms of skill; and speed, too, defeating their fastest player in under five minutes (she took what little comfort she could from the fact that she’d at least taken more than five minutes to be beaten). It was a challenge borne of pride, that foolish devil sin that could corrupt even the staunchest of warriors into throwing their lives away; Sona feels as though she’s literally just handed the rest of her life to this person (a human no less) on a silver platter with a ‘take me’ sign attached to it. She bemusedly noticed her hands were shaking, but she couldn’t be bothered even looking at her hands anymore – soon she’d have one of them adorned with a ring, and her heart locked in a cage as she became nothing but the ‘next heir to Sitri’. Not Sona Sitri, heir to the Sitri Clan of the 72 Pillars of Hell. No longer would she be Sona Sitri, sister to The Leviathan Maou, sister of one of the four Satans who ruled Hell. Nevermore would she be Sona Sitri, King to her Peerage, best friend of Rias Gremory. No longer would Sona Sitri be free.She locked her eyes with this girl’s, this girl she had met less than three hours ago – ‘Not even someone I know’ she thought bleakly – and practically submitted to her fate. Tears unshed in her eyes, but she was quite sure this girl could see them with how sharp her gaze looked.“I…W-What is your name?” She thanked very star in the sky that her voice only warbled with her inner turmoil for half a second before she regained control. It was little comfort.The girl across from her had eyes that shot into her very soul, pierced everything she had and was, made her feel naked yet clothed at the same time, and she wasn’t too sure whether she hated it…or liked that someone was trying to understand her on such a level. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, but Sona knew better than to assume based on looks.The girl saw something, for her impassive face gained a twitch – barely noticeable, barely even a twitch, but her mouth had twitched downwards. Barely a half-second, barely there, but Sona noticed it.“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you…but you don’t seem too pleased.”Sona didn’t know whether she was being yanked around but decided she would salvage her situation as best she can. She straightened her back, fixed her glasses upon her nose correctly, and reached a hand across the table to her new…’fiancée’.“My name is Souna Shitori; Student Council President.”The girl reached a hand across without any form of hesitation, and no emotion displayed; and yet, when she spoke, Sona could only agree with her thoughts. Despite how much she may hate herself and everything around her for it, she still agreed.“Taylor Argento.” Their hands clasped in a handshake that set sparks in Sona’s hands; her nerves were tingling.She hated it.But she agreed with that little voice, as she locked eyes with Taylor’s eyes once more.
‘Her voice is beautiful.’
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Well, is this not odd to see? A child from a time, place and world that differs to this one, lost amidst our dreary little sea?”
“Your sea…I ran through it.”
“Haha! Yes! And a most magnificent run it was!” The voice showed itself to be that of a diminutive girl, almost childlike were it not for her bearing, sat upon a throne that defied and yet defined its own description. Large pointed ears, a grin spread ear to ear, a faint blush adorning pale cheeks.
Ruby ignored her instinct that told her to kneel to this goddess, this creature before her that radiated power Cinder Fall could not hope to near, that Salem had almost surpassed. That Ozpin used to wield. That Ruby had completely outshone. Her silver eyes alone could count as being on the level of this woman, but along with inheriting what could only be described as ‘Ozpin’s Bullshit Powers’ and tearing down everything Salem had built, with years of experience and time, Ruby was not only on par with the diminutive goddess, but in ways far outstripped her.She instead let that aura of power wash over and thrust it away from her with her own. No one invades her mind, sits upon her throne, and expects to get away with demanding her servitude.
The little goddess’s grin just widened some more.
“You are in my mind, Deity. This may be your world, but this is my mind.” Ruby’s frown turned into a scowl, her fists from palm to crunching themselves into a grip that left her knuckles white. “My mind is the only thing I have left. Leave it.”
The goddess’s grin turned into a frown, pronounced with no malice. Just a frown indicative of displeasure. On who’s end could not be parsed.
“To fly where others fell, to slay those who would-be gods, to fight a fate that left you alone with the power to traverse entire worlds, with the power to create and end entire civilisations as easy as any other god, and demand a deity leave your head…you are a remarkable girl indeed.” The frown turned to a neutral stare, and after a moment of steadily growing dislike on Ruby’s end, the deity abruptly spoke. “I am Sothis, the Progenitor God in these lands.”
Ruby said nothing for a second but did agree with her thoughts that a goddess telling you her name, no matter how rude or intrusive that goddess may seem, only warranted a return of manners. “Ruby Rose.”
A slender green eyebrow rose. “No title? No boastful tagline, no…moniker?” Sothis leaned in her throne, shifting from the dismissive slouch she was in earlier to a more interested setup; one hand holding the bronze-gold sword she had been this entire time, the other resting beneath her chin.
Ruby laughed a bitter, sad laugh that betrayed nothing of herself, but everything of her attitude; self-loathing, mixed with a healthy dose of loneliness.
“What is the point of a moniker to a god?” Sothis didn’t reply, too busy figuring out what Ruby was saying. “My world is said to have had two Gods; Brother Gods, Dusk and Dawn. Light and Dark, Creation and Destruction.” Her bitter laugh was back, more rueful and dark than it was before. “Where were they when the world burned, and people with names more worthy than mine died in droves?”
Sothis didn’t speak. She just watched this sad mortal with sad silver eyes break down even more than she already was, hands clenched so tightly her nails broke skin and blood flowed down her palms. She said nothing as the single most remarkable human she had ever met buried herself in nihilism, hatred, self-loathing and a – frankly – understandable sadness.
“Tell me, Progenitor, If two gods didn’t care about my name when I slaughtered the epitome of my world’s evil, when I put their avatar of destruction to the sword, when I beheaded a snake that bit their hands more than it fed from them…Why would one?” Ruby’s eyes hardened, silver molten in its hatred, and Sothis felt a truly deific power lying just beneath, held back by – frankly – otherworldly self-control.
“Why would you, a foreign god who’s lands I practically invaded, want to know when my own didn’t even give me the time of day?”
Sothis came up short, and a derisive snort from the human brought her attention back to her. “Leave me be, Progenitor. Let me wallow in self-hatred until my death; uncared for even by my own gods.”
Sothis felt something push her from the girl’s mind, but without fighting it she got swept up in the waves instead, finding herself returning to her little dreamland within five-year-old Byleth’s head. But before her departure, she whispered.
“Because even a foreign god can love the legend you are.”
And Ruby Rose hated her for it.
“Because even a foreign god can care.”
She woke up with pointed ears and a slight tinge of green to her red and black hair one day. This world’s magic flowed through her veins as a steady flow of her own aura encompassed it tightly. Her semblance was fuelled by nothing now, and could be activated at will for however long she wished; even using her semblance to get here took a lot out of her, but now? Now it just felt as though she could run between worlds with nary a thought and feel no ill effects.Fifteen years later she realised she hadn’t aged since her arrival, and her hatred vanished into a soul-searing agony that wouldn’t end.A spear to the chest caused nothing but annoyance to sprout, and not blood.A sword cleaving her head from its shoulders caused her nothing but discomfort as she placed back and let her powers fix it back up.An axe splitting her whole body in twain caused nothing but irritation instead of the desired effect. Death, unlike everything else, escaped Ruby Rose.She couldn’t die.Sometimes something just gives. It just stops working all of a sudden leaving you wondering where you went wrong – or in this case, where anything ever went wrong. Ever.Nothing did, of course, and you’re just blaming yourself for what could only be cosmic humour, some form of universe-be-damned joke that just so involved this particular brand of misfortune. It’s silly to think about, blaming oneself for something beyond their control, so far beyond their reach that it’s just stupidity to attempt to grab for it; there is such a thing known as ‘Lady Luck’, and unfortunately certain things fall under her jurisdiction. For example, bullshit cosmic jokes.This particular cosmic joke involved one Ruby Rose, aged twenty, Huntress dropout, Dimension Hopper. Immortal, elf-eared loner.That last one was another cosmic joke she just rolled with; in all honesty, travelling faster than the speed of light as an experiment with a material known colloquially as ‘Nature’s Wrath’ would have told anyone how that endeavour would turn out. Ruby just didn’t care.
Hard to when all your friends are dead.
Ruby was a simple woman; she liked simple things, with simple tastes, and anything refined set her on edge. She would say refinement as a whole set her off, but she would be a hypocrite seeing as she loved to act refined in her spare time; a hobby turned lifestyle, but she’d be remiss to mention her enjoyment of the ‘noble lady’ approach.Ruby’s part in the cosmic joke was thus – she was sat here, reading a lovely book and sipping on some rather nice lemonade, when a knock came to her door. Not the polite knock before the door opened gently to reveal an old friend, or the rough but pleasant knock of a Village spokesperson to enlist her aid, but a rough bang-bang-bang on her door. It wasn’t an aggressive banging either, but a hurried one, almost anxious and needy that she opens the door as soon as possible. She worried for the frame, before smoothing her face from its worried frown to a neutral, if polite, gait.Reaching the door all-too-soon in her opinion, her hand reached for the handle and, soon, the door opened wide. Her face was placid and warm, her eyes not too wide to be creepy and not too narrowed to be suspicious, her hands open and empty to be welcoming, her back straight to show attentiveness. The dress she wore and the stance she took, along with her near-flawless skin and her swept back hair, made her look like a doll or a Victorian lady of some sort. It was her home, however, and being without society’s eyes on her she could dress however she pleased.The door was opened fully now, and her smile vanished in the face of complete concern, worry and a flash of anxiety.Here comes the funniest part in the Universe’s cosmic joke: A man and woman showed up at her doorstep, swords in hand, eyes afire with something akin to righteousness; a zeal in their stances that set her on edge almost instantly. A tautness to their form that betrayed their stances of rigidity for swift movement.“Are you Lady Ruby Regalia von Rose of House Beacon?”They thought her a Lady? Of a noble House? House Beacon…? She attended the Academy in her youth, sure, but this was a world – and a half – away from her past. These people shouldn’t know anyth…oh.She felt like slapping herself.She bought the house because it was named Beacon Estate. As soon as she did she was declared a Minor Noble, and using her Huntress Emblem as her House’s Coat of Arms got her a fancy title as well: Ruby Regalia (not her middle name, but the local nobles needed something for the books) Von Rose of House Beacon – there was a ‘The First’ in there somewhere, but she deigned to not recognise that due to the implication there would ever be more than one.Still, she was unfamiliar with this land’s laws, customs and the nature of addressing Nobles in particular; when in doubt, fall back on old habits that worked, instead of trying new ones that were uncertain in their success.To pretend long enough that one becomes the lie is a worthy goal.Or, as the common folk would say: “Fake it ‘til you make it.”“I am, yes.” Topping this declaration off with a small curtsy and a chaste smile, Ruby’s eyes wandered between her visitors; neither was recognised. Their faces and coat of uniform was completely alien to her. “Might I enquire as to whom you two are? Or, in the least of whom you represent?”The woman shared a curiously shocked look with the man, and said man’s hands almost slackened the grip of his sword completely. Only the steely gaze of which he held betrayed his experience in strange and odd events. They then both looked at her, standing in her doorway with no small amount of confusion but, to her guests’ surprise, hiding it very well beneath a veneer of politeness.‘I know I’d be less than polite to two armed people showing up at my door’ thought the woman, while the man just seemed to lower his guard even more as he finally connected some sort of dots within his head.“I…Do you not recognise who we are?”Ruby shook her head, a dark thought worming its way in when she saw the symbol on their chests – a coat of arms, professionally made and stitched in a manner that befit soldiers from armies.The woman interceded by pulling out a scroll from somewhere, unfurling the papyrus and beginning to read its contents.With each word the pit in Ruby’s stomach gaped ever wide. With each sentence the death knell rang ever louder in her ears. With each syllable her heartrate sped up and her hands wished to hold familiar steel.“Representing Archbishop Rhea of The Church of Seiros; you, one Lady Ruby Regalia Von Rose of House Beacon, are cordially invited by The Archbishop Herself for a day of pleasantries.” The woman’s voice seemed to get weaker and weaker as time went on, and the man – seemingly used to odd events – slackened his law ever-so-slightly. “As a close friend of Lady Rhea’s…sh-she would like for you to attend at your leisure.” Closing the scroll with shaky hands the woman produced a note from somewhere – probably the same place she received the scroll from – and handed it to the now frowning Ruby.With trepidation she read the letter, signed, of course, by the Archbishop herself and sealed with the wax stamp of the Church of Seiros.By the end of it her chest felt cold, her heart unfeeling, and her placid face set in a quaint smile unfurled itself into a rather deep frown. Her silver eyes had gone from soft to empty, and without a word she motioned for the two guards to wait for her while she closed the door to her home and opened her wardrobe.The outfit she wore to Atlas still fit her to this day, and her lack of aging would make it a favourite for decades to come.Her weapon? A simple flat-bladed rapier– she buried her scythe out in the backyard beneath a large tree, and besides not wanting the locals to get a hold of technology and firepower well beyond their current advancements it was a sentimental reason; a burial of her past, of ‘Ruby Rose The Huntress’. It did not lay whole – only the barebones frame of it existed, for she’d melted down the gun barrel and all associated mechanisms long ago. No, all that remained was a collapsible scythe – even that was beyond this world.It was with a heavy heart that she buried it ten feet beneath the ground, and a heavier one that she now ignored its existence.To complete the ensemble she donned her red cloak with a familiar flourish, and felt the red material it was made of – worn and torn as it was, with holes and tears along its surface – wrap around her as though she hadn’t taken it off. Fifteen years without it and she only felt like she’d taken it off yesterday. Next to don was a yellow neckerchief, a memento of her sister Yang’s, tied around her right forearm. Around the left was a small dagger, the blade itself black and unimpressive-looking, the hilt a curved but sturdy thing; the sheath etched with her teammate Blake’s emblem.The rapier’s blade, if one looked, had Old Remnant Script etched into the blade; the hilt carved with Weiss’ emblem, the writing containing the names of her three friends.Lifting her hood, she turned, blowing out candles as she went, and headed straight for the door; the key to the building weighing heavily in her hands.The single lit candle she’d taken with her weighing much lighter. To start, she ignored the two ‘guards’ for the time being and locked her home’s door. Next, the candle was aimed and thrown through one of her windows – the metal cup holding the candle seemed sturdier than one would have thought it would be, seeing as it busted through a solid glass window and slipped the hot wax of the candle over a flammable chair. The smoke that billowed out nary two seconds later indicated she’d done her job.The guards cried out in alarm of course, but neither stopped her – if a noble wished to burn down her home and head with them back to the monastery without complaint, who were they to argue?So they locked eyes, shrugged as one, and eyed the noble for a second; she looked ready for extensive travel, and armed to take on anything that might impede her.Without a word, they fell into step behind her when she began to travel North; Garreg Mach was expecting her, and the Archbishop no less! It wouldn’t do to dally.Ruby just wanted today to end.And it started off so well, too.Her rapier lifted and, with nary a flick, sliced clean through the throat of a bandit.‘That’s number four now…’ Her eyes twisted back to her guards, both zealous in their protection of the Noble, but both equally as incompetent. In the very least they provided her the openings needed to cleanly kill the five bandits that surrounded them, but even then, they died during the fight. To bandits. The three other nobles – for what else could they be wearing such finery? – were watching her with what seemed like awe, but the white-haired one shared a look she’d seen on Ozpin more than once. A schemer, one to look out for.‘Is this what I’m going to look forward to at this Monastery? Incompetent guards and snotty brats?’ Idly she swayed slightly out of reach of the fifth bandit, a man wielding a rather large axe; yet, he must have the upper body strength of a god to swing it as lightly and as fast as he is. Granted, Ruby was faster. She was always faster.To be honest this ‘fight’ wasn’t something she was paying attention to. Her mind was taken up with much more important thoughts right now – since finding herself surrounded with these cretins, and then having the three nobles behind her drag a fourth girl along with them and watch her fight as though she were some exotic play to be leered at, all she’s done is stay in her head. This wasn’t even in her top one hundred easiest fights; this was akin to setting Yang against a toddler in a boxing match. Actually, that would be pretty funny.‘Damn my humour’s gotten dark.’ Her mind flitted back to Yang, a feeling of both sorrow and exasperation filling her. ‘At least I’m not doing any puns’.A gargling sound brought her out of her thoughts, having realised that her body automatically stepped to the side of a swing from the bandit, and her hand lifted her rapier’s point straight into the bandit’s throat. With an annoyed flick of her wrist she departed the tip of her rapier with the man’s neck, spraying blood on her sleeve and causing his body to fall backwards into the ground; she didn’t care, the blood on her sleeve evidently more important to her than the man’s slowly cooling body.‘Couldn’t swing an axe right, couldn’t set an ambush right…’ Her eyes drifted to the approaching nobles, then to the mercenary girl, stopping on the body, then back to her sleeve. A scowl replaced the carefully blank expression she’s been holding, before being replaced with a stoic look once more. ‘…Can’t even die right. Truly, a paragon of your kind.’“You’re quite skilled miss!” The one dressed in blue seemed to lower his eyes to the bodies of the two guards she’d come with, before a slowly dawning look of apology encompassed his face. The other three looked on with a mixture of trepidation, excitement and a little bit of interest. She couldn’t say for sure who felt what, mostly because she was still staring at the blood that had now soaked into her clothes.For all her intellect, power and experience, blood soaking into her sleeve bothered her more than anything else; and the worst part was that none of her godly powers included ‘erasure of blood from clothing. She’d have to clean it the old-fashioned way – and wouldn’t that be a pain?The white-haired girl decided to interrupt her thoughts with a gentle tap to the shoulder. “I’m sorry about your companions.”Ruby just shook her head; they were honestly rather annoying in their frantic need to arrive to this damned monastery. Wherever it was. She guessed North but for all Ruby knew she could be travelling to this world’s version of the South Pole. Did this world even have poles? Worth looking into. Sure, their deaths would have bothered her…had she the ability to care anymore – to her they were simply humans, people destined to be born, reproduce, fight each other, and die.Theirs was not an exciting tale, nor a lengthy one.Don’t get attached.While walking between worlds for the rest of her existence seemed tiresome and lonely, it was better than forging friendships, relationships, loving people then watching them die, all to end up alone and missing something even more than she already did. Ruby would not make that mistake. She would not let another into her heart.These people at this Monastery claimed to be similar to her, and that was a big tip-off that she was not the only one with immortality; or, in the very least, these people had a lifespan long enough to outlive entire civilisations. Ruby could outlive entire worlds, but these people could be what she needs. Even she recognises the futility of trying to stay sane in a world constantly changing, all alone with no one to talk to.Her voice was distant; she’d had quite the length of time to pin down how Blake managed to sound so disinterested in everything around her. “a tragedy, truly.” With a flick that even the mercenary girl couldn’t follow her rapier was sheathed and her back was turned to the group. They weren’t important, impeding her progress with short stares and small talk as they were.Without a second glance to the group she began her walk in the direction she thought the monastery to be in. a three day travel that, with her semblance, would take barely two minutes; the only reason she’d travelled by foot was to make sure her guards didn’t lose her.‘Bit late for that, but oh well.’ She thought, her arms tensing as she checked herself over – pockets were still full of money and other necessities, weapons were free of blood but the same couldn’t be said of her sleeve. ‘Honestly, I can run between worlds like they were nothing, but I can’t clean blood out of a stupid sleeve?’“What…? Hey, wait!” She heard footsteps behind her, and quickly found herself fleeing her thoughts as the four from earlier were standing in front of her. Surely, they wouldn’t wish to impede her progress anymore than they already had? She’d just saved their lives! If she could just muster up the will to tell these brats to piss off Ruby would, but even she couldn’t feel that irritated at what was essentially a non-issue.She didn’t snap when the girl in red with the white hair stepped in front of her with an expression bordering exasperation. She was close to snapping, of course, but she didn’t.Her voice was damn-near glacial though.“What? I’ve places to be.”“Where?”Answering that one question would be the cause of every headache Ruby Rose would suffer for the next one hundred years.
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She was doomed.Forever to be the greatest of life’s jokes, the saddest of its tragedies, the largest of its failures.She was a failure. That single word had followed her around since her birth – a real failure in aura usage, a real failure in long range weapon combat. A real failure in living, never knowing how to socially connect with people, never know how to show the world just who she really was.Never knowing how to stop being the failure her sister insists she isn’t; the same sister that Ruby hears call her an idiot behind her back, the same sister that calls her a moron for messing something up that Yang herself would have been able to do. The same sister that spits her distaste, her displeasure, of even being related to her.Ruby Rose, the greatest failure Remnant has ever seen.Failures don’t march to battle, something said inside her; a rebellious part of her she’s long since ignored. Failures don’t kill creatures of Grimm like they were nothing. Failures don’t have dreams as big as mine, failures don’t patrol streets at night to keep people safe.Failures are named Ruby Rose. Therefore, she was not a brave warrior rushing to save some people from the ever-encompassing darkness, nor was she a great hero for beating back the shadows with red eyes and bipedal limbs. She was no legend, walking through towns and cities, proclaiming her heroic deeds, and making children swoon in awe.She was a failure.Granted, a failure exceptionally good at not dying, and equally as good at making sure others don’t die as well. Almost-as-equally good at killing monsters, and just about the same level of mastery when it comes to fighting.Ducking beneath the wildest-thrown haymaker she’s ever seen, Ruby practically danced around three thugs at once – she hadn’t a clue why they all decided to wear the same clothing as each other, but her semblance provided her with the answer as soon as she thought on it; professionalism. They were an outfit, and only those who earned their ‘stripes’ so to speak, earned the right to wear something not of the norm.She wasn’t impressed, but her face was placidly blank and her silver eyes were almost doll-like in their ability to not give anything away. She’d learned this from her uncle Qrow, who could never get the technique to stick but taught her and Yang anyway. Yang ignored it almost instantly considering what her semblance was, but Ruby took to it like a duck to water.She wasn’t just stoic, she was no longer Ruby Rose, Remnant’s greatest failure. She was simply there; that’s it, nothing else to it. She existed in a state between this world and her daydreams.The biggest benefit to this was that it creeped the approaching thugs out. The three she’d been dancing swirls around for the past half-minute finally got tired and broke away, panting and heaving like they’d run a marathon.Ruby bemoaned the poor – and not unsubstantial – amount of money Roman Torchwick had thrown into getting these guys to help him.“Please cease resistance and surrender peacefully.” Her voice was an almost mechanical drone, and combined with the crimson hooded cloak and the way her silver eyes seemed to catch every light out there, making them look like they glowed, she couldn’t blame the grown men in front of her for flinching.Hell, she almost flinched when she heard her own voice. Years of disuse, no one to talk to, and being an all-around failure of a human being would do that to someone. Yet, she couldn’t deny that watching grown men flinch away from a fifteen-year-old girl was amusing to all hell. Maybe she should keep this going? An idle thought for when she was alone.The men practically threw their weapons at her feet and wrapped zip-lock cuffs around their own wrists in the hopes that she wouldn’t do anything to them. One by one they seemed to acquiesce to her request.Until Roman Torchwick, known thief and murderer, walked out of the shop with a scowl on his face. Behind him, a small girl who didn’t look a year older than Ruby herself, a parasol balanced over one shoulder while her second hand swung freely – like a child, almost.Ruby asked who she was, what she was doing here, how to beat her.Her semblance, as was usual, obliged. Were you not such a failure, it said, you would beat her by using her momentum against her, bleeding the stamina she has. Were you not a failure, it whispered, you would know her name to be Neopolitan. Were you not a failure, it hissed dangerously, you would know she was here to act as Roman’s security, and his getaway.So Ruby quizzed it for her semblance, how to skirt it, how to control the battle. All it said back?
Move.
Without preamble she backflipped from her previous spot, the two-toned girl in front of her vanishing in a shattering of glass and reappearing where she was just a moment before, sword thrust forward where her neck would have been. In a surprising display of self control she didn’t immediately hit back, her fist itching to plant itself in the area of the torso known as the solar plexus; perhaps a shot aimed at the throat would have worked out better, but Ruby was a failure.Knowing herself as much as she did, she decided not to, and instead lowered her hands placatingly.“I am not here to fight you,” Her voice that disconcerting blankness, which made the girl in front of her flinch slightly and step back, eyes narrowed. “I simply wish to be left alone.”The girl in front of her didn’t seem to know how to take that.Roman laughed. A deep belly laugh that made him clutch his splitting sides and keel over.Ruby just blinked.“I am not joking.” Her voice bland as well, no hint of the frustration she was feeling. Even she could admit that she was a failure at many things, but Ruby Rose was not about to explain that she didn’t even want to be a hero in the first place – she’d happily let these guys run around stealing stuff.If they didn’t attack her the second they saw her, that is.Neo blinked, lowered herself from her combat stance, and blinked again. Ruby took it as a question.“I was minding my own business and they attacked me as soon as they saw me.” She waved her arm at the prone or kneeling members of Junior’s gang with a slight disdain to her voice – ever the failure at hiding things for too long. “I just want to be left alone; they didn’t leave me alone.”Neo blinked again, Ruby blinked, Neo frowned. Roman was still laughing.“Don’t you have a Dust store to rob?”Neo burst into soundless giggles, and Ruby sighed deeply when the girl grabbed her hand and enthusiastically dragged her towards the store.This was her life now.“Do you have any idea what you did?!”“Yes.”“And what do you have to say for yourself?!”“They didn’t leave me alone.”Glynda sighed, rubbed her forehead with two fingers, and sighed again. This girl in front of her, with the features of a finely-crafted porcelain doll and the voice of a robot from Atlas, was confused as to why she was even here in the first place. She stopped over a dozen fully-grown men from robbing a shop, sure, which would usually have earned her praise.She would have earned praise…right up until she helped the two masterminds behind the robbery rob the place.Her reasoning?They wouldn’t leave her alone, and the quickest, most time efficient, least casualty-causing method was to help Roman Torchwick rob a Dust store. From a certain perspective Glynda could see how that might be the case – she’s heard of civilians going along with their attacker’s wishes simply so others wouldn’t get caught up in it, which sure, was quite heroic. In a sense.She let them get away, too. Which to be fair on her would have been the outcome regardless – just Roman on his own she could see this girl taking out. With another Huntress-level fighter backing him, with illusions and teleportation? Ruby made the right call, she thinks, in aiding them and letting them escape, because if she hadn’t Glynda gets the strong suspicion that she’d be making a house visit to the girl’s parent’s to explain how their darling girl isn’t ever coming home because she tried to be a hero and save a Dust Store’s manager from going bankrupt.In hindsight perhaps Glynda shouldn’t be scolding the girl, but praising her – she not only kept herself alive, nor did she fail to keep the shopkeeper alive, but she also managed to ensure the safety and arrest of over a dozen gang members. Gang members, she noted, that had nothing more than some bumps, bruises, and an extremely small cut the width of a hair on one of their faces.All in all, the girl was exemplary. A model huntress and all around great inspiration that Glynda guessed would be idolised in the future in very much the same way Pyrrha Nikos was; she knew what she was doing in that fight, such as it were, and Glynda could tell almost immediately that the girl in front of her acting nonplussed about the whole situation could have done a lot of damage to end the fight a lot quicker than she had.The fact that she not only exercised caution and knew using weaponry near a shop full of Dust would probably end up in an entire street of Vale’s getting levelled, but also asked her attackers to surrender before things got worse – even after the fight had started – was something she wouldn’t even see from most Hunters with decades of experience.So why, exactly, was she upset?Oh, right, because Roman slipped her some money for her ‘help’. Honestly, it wasn’t worth getting upset over.Which is why it confused her more that she was, indeed, upset.Before she could get stuck in her head too much about it, however, the headmaster of Beacon walked through the door – her boss, in all basic purposes.“I’ll take it from here, Glynda.” His voice to anyone else would have been sonorous, or perhaps a baritone that commanded a room. Sometimes it flitted between the two as easily as a firefly flitted around a forest. Sometimes it would he as though he was a trained vocalist, having discovered and adapted his voice for melodic singing. Others would hear a voice that commanded attention, respect, a voice that demanded their fullest and upmost uses of mental faculties to be diverted towards its source – a voice not unlike that of a wartime general.Ruby Rose heard nothing but screams.“You have many inside you, screaming to get out.” Her voice whispered, but thankfully he didn’t hear that, too busy looking her in the eyes and finding himself entranced with deep – familiar – silver eyes.“You have…silver eyes.”Ruby didn’t let it phase her; she’d heard worse – the failure that listens to others’ opinions isn’t much of a person to be paid attention to, which lets her listen to others with even more ease. The point is, she’s heard far worse than the rather obvious ‘wow, you have silver eyes’ thing.“Indeed.” Her voice replied curtly, and after a moment of awkward silence on the headmaster’s part, Ruby continued dryly. “If this interrogation is over with, I need to leave.”Just before she could get up and do exactly that, however, the headmaster all but shoved a tablet in her face. A tablet that showed her dancing around the oafish gang members proved to her that something was wrong with this whole image; she was spied on, first of all, but there was something niggling her at the back of her mind.She asked her semblance.He sees in me the power to change the world, said her semblance, he sees in a failure the power to be something more. How ridiculous a notion, it hissed, and Ruby couldn’t agree more with it.“Where did a girl like you learn to do that?”Ruby sat herself back down in her chair and hooked one leg over the other; even failures needed to be presentable.My uncle, Qrow, insisted on learning the basics of combat.” Ruby lifted a hand almost imperiously to wave away what she must have thought to be a trivial matter. “Such as it is useful, I’ve never really been all that interested in utilising it.”Ozpin, at this point, would lead into a small but surely important talk about how he was the headmaster of Beacon, a well respected and quite well-to-do public figure with fingers in a lot of pies. Pies, for example, named Beacon Academy’s Initiation Selection Process, and how he, in a round about way, wished for this girl, Ruby Rose, to attend his school.He eventually weighed the pros and cons, lined them up with what he knew of Miss Rose, and knew exactly how to ask her.“Would you like to come to Beacon?”Ruby, for the first time in a long time, felt something akin to shock.“Pardon?”
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"Ashes denote that fire was;
Respect the grayest pile
For the departed creature’s sake
That hovered there awhile."
Emily Dickinson – Ashes Denote That Fire Was
Fire.It was everything one could imagine it to be.A careful dancer, swaying to and fro with hypnotic movements, entrancing all those that looked. It could be both erratic with its movements, or gentle with its waltz.A touch, burning and powerful, or soft and warm. It could heat and cool, take and give, and it left you feeling breathless no matter what it did.A feeling, both loving and hateful, both forgiving and spiteful; it was everything one could expect from something that was everything you could think it to be.Fire wasn’t just a thought; it was a feeling. It was a being that stole and gave in equal amounts, and it never took more than it needed, it never gave more than it got. It was fair, above all else, nurturing even. It danced to provide succour to those with weary minds, it heated to provide warmth to those missing it, it grew and grew to swallow the world in its radiance and provided light for those that couldn’t see in the dark.For many, fire was brutal and passionate, taking all within sight and only leaving ashes. For others fire was a harsh but fair creature, taking whatever it burned, and leaving heat, warmth, and more fire in its wake.For Heather Potter, fire was home.Fire wasn’t the cupboard under the stairs, or the bedroom she was granted by the creatures that masqueraded as The Dursleys. Fire wasn’t the clothing she wore, or the friends she made at Hogwarts, or Hermione’s gentle hugs and searing kisses, or Ron’s wit and dry humour and motor mouth. Fire wasn’t the vitriol Draco spat, or the punches from Dudley when he thought he could get away with it.Fire wasn’t what she used to burn away Quirrell’s very soul. The heat that she used back then was but an ember from within, but she felt it catch alight and Quirrell along with it – very soon she was standing in the chamber, with the Philosopher’s Stone safely tucked in her pocket and eaten the next day; she’d swallowed it whole and felt its power merge with her very soul. That little ember would have taken years to grow into the burning pyre it was in her second year, but she’d sped up the process by eating a stone known for immortality – thus was her flame kindled.Fire wasn’t the acid that burned through her veins when the basilisk bit her. Nor was it the feeling she’d had in her – rage, hatred – at the thought that it would go after her friends. There laid Ginny Weasley, a cute girl with a shy streak and a stutter that wouldn’t go away whenever Heather approached, but she was a good girl. A smart and brittle girl. She was innocent, and with that thought Heather refused to let her die – she would slay this creature, put the fang she’d rip from its still-alive head through that damnable journal, and carry her up through the Chamber to the girl’s bathroom, all the way to the infirmary.She was dying as she did so, she knew, and every step was like fire – no, not fire, fire was gentle and warm not eatingawayatyourverysoul – and every heartbeat was pain. She climbed up though, one foot at a time, with Ginny cradled to her chest and a slowing pulse being her reward. She was dying. Ginny wouldn’t. she wouldn’t let it happen; a glance at her arm showed the poison in her had spread well beyond her elbow and was creeping up towards her chest now.Heather didn’t care, and with one step in front of the other – with her soul being shorn apart piece by piece and her mind burning and her skin itching – Heather laid Ginny Weasley down on a soft bed; she ignored Madame Pomfrey with practiced ease and turned on heel to die, and then blacked out, awoke in a hospital bed, and realised that Death didn’t want her soul just yet – it burned too bright.Fire wasn’t present when the Dementors prowled the carriages of Hogwarts Express and stole her fondest memories. Stole her warm hugs and soft touches, stole the ‘I love you’s that she’d come to adore replaying in her head – she would not let them take the fire that burned her soul, it was hers and hers alone and it would not be theirs. She screamed, a wordless wandless magic erupting from her fingers and melting the Dementor with a flash of light. Not fire, she reminded herself, but something brighter and darker all at once.Fire wasn’t what surged around a rock she hid behind when she faced a dragon during her first task. The dragon didn’t spew fire from its lungs, but it felt hot enough to burn her anyway – she would be nothing if that fire hit her, and she wouldn’t be nothing anymore. So, with a soundless cry she shot out and cast an unnamed spell. Fire met not-fire in a beam of searing heat that melted the stone beneath it, the audience were quiet when they watched the impossible before them, and Hermione had tears in her eyes. Ron was shouting her name – Heather! Heather! Heather! – and soon the audience themselves were following suit, cheering for the little flame that dared bare its teeth at a dragon.Fire wasn’t what she felt when she saw Hermione – her Hermione, her everything – drowning in a Black Lake for her second Task. She’d never swam so fast, never forced her oxygen into another being’s mouth before but she did, and Hermione was safe. Shivering, lacking warmth, but that’s what a fire is for, and before long they were both huddled beneath a woolly blanket giggling and stealing kisses – the fireplace in front of them watched on with a fondness she’d never felt before.Fire wasn’t what she felt when she watched Cedric Diggory take a curse meant for her, and when a cutting curse came her way she was helpless but to turn her head – if it was to take her, let it, but she was as fire is to the world and wouldn’t go willingly. Her face stung from the curse’s strike, but she stood with a snarl and a glimmer of blood soaking her cheek. She stood before the Dark One, Lord Voldemort, a man colder than her raging fire could ever will itself to be.Her fire burned, her flame rising to consume, to take and give, be the fair flame she knew it was – so she let it, her hair catching and her skin granting passage to her inner heat, her fingertips clawing to extend, her soul burning with a heat she’d only felt when she walked Ginny to the infirmary soaked in Basilisk Venom. Her soul demanded retribution for all her wrongs, and her blood thrummed with magic and fire, and her mouth dripped with magma, and her eyes swam with conflagrations the world knew not.She raised her wand, and screamed a word in a dead language, and watched as liquid light screamed and clawed to chase the man whose soul was torn willingly. It hounded him, eating up his followers and scorching the world in heat and light. It chased and shook the man to his core, and with a snarl he raised his own – “Fiendfyre!” He’d shouted, but her flames weren’t just magic but her very soul bared forward, and so as such ignored the fire’s consuming nature and whispered pain to the man who dared defy her soul.He fled in a pop and words screaming vengeance, but she left him with parting words.“I am as a flame is to the world, Tom! It’s only fair that you would burn yourself when sticking a hand in open fire!”Fire wasn’t what she felt when she reigned her inner flame back in and lifted Cedric by his underarms towards the Portkey. She needed to provide the son’s father the body, as was fair – he’d saved her from pain by dying, so this was equal and fair trade in her opinion. She lifted him in a manner reminiscent to her second year with Ginny, and ignored the horrified silence when she emerged; she used her fire to seek him out – Amos Diggory, a man with the years he’d lived clawing to catch up to him – and laid the boy before his feet with a heartfelt bow of apology.All he did was cry and take note of her missing left eye – and he wept for her, too, and promised her vengeance.She told him her fire would chase Tom to the ends of the earth and take back what was stolen; just as he’d planted a shard of himself in her when she was young, he’d taken a shard of her, too – and her soul burned in righteous anger.Fire wasn’t what she felt when Hermione proposed to hunt down the Horcruxes making up the man calling himself Voldemort, but it was close to it; her soul burned to take the piece of her back that the thief had stolen. Her soul itched to burn the piece of him out of her forehead, remove him from the scar she had. They hunted, her owl and Hermione’s flame, and searched all over for the piece of her that was taken.Fire wasn’t what she felt when the pretender and his army descended upon Hogwarts with green Killing Curses striking out at teachers and students alike. Her eyes roamed, and found her owl flying between curses as though they were nothing but air, her wand flickering out and shooting out bone-breakers and cutting curses aimed at throats; she’d told Hermione once that justice should be as a fire is – swift, burning and scathing, leaving nought behind. No mercy for the killers, she told her, and Hermione, her precious owl, took it to heart.She lifted a wand and batted away an Avada Kedavra shot at her by…oh, isn’t that precious? “Tom’s little whore makes an appearance!” She’d exclaimed and watched in idle amusement as only her and her owl were fighting still. Everything had gone quiet and silent save for Hermione’s whispered cutting curses and her own Avada Kedavra spells. Heather understood why everyone was stunned, of course; Bellatrix LeStrange was insane at the best of times and goading her in a fight was akin to signing a release form for your inevitable torture.Bellatrix could never capture the fire that she was; she was flame and burning free, and fire could not be controlled or captured.“Come now, Bella!” She batted away a furiously thrown Killing Curse, and responded in kind, of which the insane woman barely moved out of the way. “Your insanity is showing!”Hermione huffed out a laugh, rolled her eyes, and began spewing her own Killing Curses at the Death Eaters; only then did the fight break out in earnest, her allies rallying behind her and her own, her flame burning brighter and hotter.Fire wasn’t what she felt when she struck Bellatrix dead centre with the Killing Curse, and Lord Voldemort took the stage – his Killing Curses without wand movements or incantations, but hers came out just as fast; the world watched with baited breath. Their spells collided mid-air and beams of power erupted from the two; a struggle, but her flame wasn’t agreeing with the scenario she’d found herself in, and she knew what had to be done.She lifted her wand, a gasp of horror as the killing curse struck her dead on and killed that piece of him Tom had planted in her; she didn’t fall, because flame doesn’t fall.“I told you, Tom.” Her fire scrambled to be let out and she obliged with a grim – toothy, sharp, and wide, tongue dripping magma and heart pumping fire. “I told you, I am as a flame is to the world!”Fire wasn’t what she felt when she scorched the very earth Tom stood on, when she melted the man that dared to take a piece of her without recompense.It was close, though.“By the Gods…This is the girl we were sent to take back?”Grover bleated in uncertainty and watched as Chiron’s own head was bowed in confusion. Heather Potter was supposed to be a Demigoddess that they were tasked by Zeus himself to bring back to Camp Half-Blood; something about the Fates singing her praises and shouting for all to hear what a hero she was.This was no hero but flame in flesh, and the only god he could think of that would have birthed such a child in the first place vowed upon the River Styx to remain chaste.“It…would seem so, Annabeth.”“But why!?” Her hair swirled about her face as she spun on her heel to lock eyes with Chiron. “Why does she need us to take her to the Camp?”“She doesn’t,” he replied. “But Lord Zeus wants her in Camp to keep an eye on her – his vision here is limited.”A flash of fire from the corner of his eye had Chiron sighing wearily, Annabeth jumping in place and Grover crunching on some tin cans.“So!” Exclaimed Heather Potter, Hermione Granger holding her hand with a smirk. “When are we leaving?”
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Taylor Hebert has existed for far too long and seen far too much. She’s watched universes die and be reborn, only to be thrown into said universes in a sick, cyclical game hosted by some large-ass interdimensional space whales shooting shards of themselves at people for experimental purposes. She’s watched as everyone she’s ever loved, everyone she’s ever hated, everyone she’s ever learned to love, everyone she’s ever stopped hating…die. Sometimes meaningless, sometimes meaningful, sometimes their deaths just happened and were a fact of life. Sometimes they were just things that were fated to happen no matter what; part of a script that couldn’t be written over.Demise, death, the end of all things…Taylor had known everything that would happen on Earth Bet since its inception.She’s lived her life a million times, after all. she knew everyone and everything intimately; looped through millions of lives, billions of people, hundreds of different Trigger Powers, thousands of different outcomes. She knew everything that was going to happen, everything that followed the script that couldn’t be changed.It was why she gave up.“She’s a smart child,” The teacher would say when describing her to someone. “She knows everything on the syllabus. Frankly, she’s working at college level.”“She’s a quiet child,” They would say behind her back. “She creeps the other kids out; stares straight through them.”She did. What’s the point of paying attention to someone when they act to a script you’ve read through religiously? Lived through, even? There was always a part of the script that couldn’t be changed, always something that happened that made the world turn in just the right way for other things to occur.Her mother would always die in a car accident, not always at the same time mind you but always on the same day. Her father would slip into a depression – sometimes he’d be suicidal, sometimes he wouldn’t, but he would always slip into a depression he would never truly crawl out of. Emma always betrayed her, and it hurt the first dozen or so times, but now she realised it would never happen if she just didn’t make friends with Emma in the first place. So she didn’t. her mother was disappointed when she told her she didn’t want to make friends just yet when she’d tried to introduce Emma to Taylor, but it didn’t matter to Taylor what her mother thought, anyway. She was dead, fated to die. She’d said her funeral piece as soon as she was born into this life.The Leviathan attack of Brockton in 2011 always happened. No matter what, it was always Leviathan, and he always attacked at the same time.Taylor put all this in the back of her head and let her thoughts stew for a bit. Waking up in her one-bedroomed apartment felt weird, because it was a constant that had changed – she always had The Hebert Residence as her home, always lived in the house with her father, always went to Winslow.She still went to Winslow, of course. Arcadia had a waiting list longer than she had lifespans and Immaculata was filled with prissy, stuck-up rich Christian girls spouting out their virtues of ‘purity’ and ‘accepting Jesus into your life’. She’d been once, and hated every second of it; prissy Victorian-esque school outfit? Nuns that spouted out ‘Jesus’ this and ‘God’ that every second? Lesbians so far in the closet they have Afternoon Tea with Aslan on a regular basis? Yes, to all of those.Turns out this lifetime was one where her father killed himself after a mere couple of months of ‘suffering’ Annette’s death. Never mind the then-nine-years-old child grieving as well – she wasn’t, but the point stood – or the lack of money left to her afterwards so she could live a good life.Thankfully her previous lives of experience came in handy there, and in just a month she’d sued the City Hall for emancipation rights, no guardianship, and blackmailed half a dozen Dockworkers, ABB and Empire thugs to pool together and purchase a large apartment for her.She wasn’t going to live in squalor, after all. Somewhere down the line, in one of her previous lifetimes, she’d managed to live the high life; excessively comfortable furniture, lavishly delectable foods, personnel waiting on her hand and foot. She no longer had the personnel, and the food she ate was barely above sub-par, but at least the furniture was comfortable, and the bed was soft.It was quite lonely, however, but being millions of years old in the body of a fourteen-year-old girl…well, you get used to it eventually. So, shuffling on a designer shin-length dress, a nondescript shirt and a black long-sleeved jacket, Taylor put on her shoes and locked the door to her apartment.Today was a school day – Monday, if her brain was working right – and as such meant that she was in for five days straight of getting stared at, whispered at behind her back, or even ogled. Let it never be said that being the smartest girl in school with perfect skin and straight As was always a good thing.She never made it to school; the Endbringer Sirens erupted in noise, and people screamed and panicked.Taylor laughed; a belly laugh, one that made you hold your sides as though they were about to split wide open. Somewhere in the back of her head she found this whole situation doubly amusing and laughed even harder. Why? Endbringers were, as they said, bringers of the generalist viewpoint of ‘end’; meaning, they killed shit, and killed shit good enough that said shit wasn’t coming back.For example, Kyushu.So why was she laughing? Smiling wide like a Cheshire Cat, grinning ear-to-ear and twisting her head this way and that in a pale mockery of Alice’s twisted Wonderland Cat?Because this was so off-script it almost hurt.Taylor laughed more, heading in the direction of the Endbringer instead of away from it. She just had to see the creature that shifted the paradigm she’d resigned herself to. She had to thank the creature – before it pasted her into a fine mist, that is – for changing something in her boring non-life.So, Taylor ceased her laughing, petering off into little giggles, and followed the direction the civilians were running away form and the heroes were running towards.“To be honest, I should have known it would be you.”Her object of fascination gave no signal it was about to attack or talk back, so she continued walking towards it; tall as it was, she could still register as something more than the regular humans around her – even the heroes were nothing compared to the presence she gave off to Endbringers.“You change the most, no matter what life I live.” She kept walking, stopping only a few feet away from the fifteen-foot-tall Endbringer known to drive masses of people mad with a scream. “Figures you’d shake things up a bit, Simmy.”The Simurgh gave a smile that could be described as ‘maliciously radiant’.Taylor just grinned back. “I’d ask if you know how boring things are for me, but of course you do; you’re you, after all.” The Simurgh just nodded her head, seeming to float there in both confusion and anticipation. For what? She didn’t know, but eh, it was better than dying. “So, Simmy, what brings you here?”[you]“Me?”[affirmative]“Why?” Taylor tilted her head in curiosity, but gave up trying to look the cute, smart bookworm she was in front of everyone else; she made to slump down on the ground but found herself floating in the air instead. Beneath her a throne of debris and concrete slabs was formed, and before she knows it a pillow from somewhere is placed beneath her butt.The Simurgh was…accommodating. For an Endbringer. For anyone, really.She shifted herself so she was crossing her legs with her chin resting on a hand. “So, I brought you here?”[affirmative]“Hmmm…” Taylor couldn’t think of anything she’d done recently, or at all, that would warrant The Simurgh coming to Brockton Bay. Heck today was a school day! she had only just brushed her hair and gotten out of bed half an hour ago. She’d not had the chance to destroy the world yet!“So…you’re here for me, right? Gonna…tell me why?”[Taylor Hebert, Liver of Many Lives]“That’s me.”[Killer of a Thousand Scions]“Only when I feel like it.”[Master of Cauldron]“It was one time, alright!?”[Mother of The Universe]“…I’ll admit, that’s a new one.”[Most Radiant of Humans]“Now you’re just flattering me.”[affirmative. That is the objective]“huh…” What does one say to that?[Myself, designated ‘The Simurgh’ would feel honoured were you, designated ‘Taylor Hebert’, to ‘date’ me]Taylor just sort of…blanked. This was so far off script it wasn’t even funny. Actually. It was so far off script there wasn’t a script anymore! What was she supposed to do? Turn the fucking destroyer of Earth Bet down!? She was quite sure Simurgh would remember this as well, so in her next life she’d probably get mind-raped or something. Turned into some sort of fully sentient vegetable.No choice, but then again…it might be interesting. She’s dated thousands, millions, of people; the weirdest being that time she convinced Miss Militia to ‘ignore the rules’ for a change and somehow got her to go out with her. For a full year before the world fucking imploded or something. The oddest was when she met Sophia Hess before she Triggered, ingratiated herself into the Hess household so, when Sophia did Trigger, her ‘Might Makes Right’ way of thinking was shot like the sick dog it was. Kind Sophia was weird Sophia, but a surprisingly gentle person; and a surprisingly romantic one too – she put that thought away for another day. As weird as it was dating Sophia fucking Hess, it was a nice change of pace; she’d never Triggered in that timeline, after all, and living as a ‘Cape Wife’ or whatever people who dated Capes were was a surprisingly peaceful life. Especially when your Cape girlfriend is as protective as Sophia is. Was. Whatever.She stalwartly ignored the time she dated villains. That was just a strange time all around.Never dated an Endbringer. This might be…well, it’ll be something, she supposed.“Uh…I mean…” Taylor coughed into her hand, and despite lifetimes of practice to control her body, there were some things just out of your control. Like blushing. Which sucked. “So…you’re kind of tall…”Before her eyes The Simurgh shrunk. From fifteen feet tall to Taylor’s own height of five foot and ten inches – they were both exactly the same height, now. Taylor could practically hear the panicked screams of the PRTs higher ups when they realise that The Simurgh can shrink herself down to normal human size. She could get anywhere she wanted with little effort and a few mind games.Truly, terrifying.Taylor just noticed how pretty The Simurgh looked.[is this form correct?]“Uh, yes. Yeah, it’s, uh…fine…”[is there a problem?] To compound this question, The Simurgh tilted its head. Taylor resisted the urge to hug it.“You’re uh…not wearing-”The Simurgh just copied her clothing and it materialised on her body.[any other issues?]“No. no you’re uh, good.”[I have stated my intentions of courtship]“You have.”[your response to my intentions?] The Simurgh looked…apprehensive. As an Endbringer could look, anyway.Taylor resisted that small part of her that said it was cute.“I’m…perfectly fine with it, in all honesty.” Then, under her breath: “For some reason.”Her mind sort of did that weird blanking thing it did when strange shit happened.The Simurgh gently pecking her lips and saying [I am pleased] with a blush on her face – which she thought was impossible but hey, impossible was her life now – was one of those mind-blanking things.Alexandria was so far beyond the very meaning of the word ‘baffled’ that she was simply in a placid state of existence. All emotions had fled her, and all that was left was resigned acceptance.She noticed, with vague glee, that Contessa and Doctor Mother were feeling very much the same concoction – or lack thereof – of emotions that she was. Eidolon looked completely out of his depth, and for once she felt pity go out to the man.“So,” she started. “Care to tell me why ‘The Mother of The Universe’ just managed to shack up with The Simurgh?”Contessa sipped some tea and looked lost in thought – more than likely consulting her power. “She’s…she’s old. Older than Eden was; almost as old as Scion is.” She sipped her tea again, idly aware that her audience all looked resigned in some fashion. “She’s infinite, and I think The Simurgh knew that, too.”Doctor Mother tapped her fingers on the table in front of them in thought. “Ah, so she was…lonely?”Contessa nodded. “Yes, and The Simurgh seemed lonely too; my guess is, because of her innate power, The Simurgh can see whenever the timeline is reset because of Taylor’s …whatever she does. So, two immortal beings – one in soul, the other in memory – finally find out that they can exist together without limitations permanently, in any capacity they liked.”“Which happened to be in a more…romantic sense?” Doctor Mother Hesitantly finished, and Contessa just nodded.“I’d call it romantic if it weren’t the fucking Simurgh.” Eidolon voiced, and a part of Alexandria agreed with him.Contessa didn’t voice it, but she agreed too. There was something about this whole tragic tale though that called out to her inner romantic and made something in her squeal at the lovey-dovey aspects of it all.Then, an idea formed in Alexandria’s head.“Contessa, what would happen were Taylor to be forced into Triggering?”Contessa sipped her tea, an air of nonchalance surrounding every breath she took. “Oh, quite simple really; The Simurgh would find out, and then the world would end, and nothing would really change because The Simurgh would find Taylor in her ‘next life’ and they’d continue where they left off.”“Ah.”“‘Ah’, indeed.”“So, we should prevent her from Triggering at all costs.”“Yes.”“This means immunity from literally anything and everything, with comfort and money thrown her way.”“Oh, most definitely.”Eidolon lifted a hand. “I can provide her with some stuff I, uh…appropriated from Toybox to keep her entertained?”Doctor Mother chimed in with; “I can make sure she never wants for medical needs or food, and Contessa and Number Man can work together to provide her with money, housing and security.”“No point in secrecy,” Contessa groused. “she’ll know it’s us in a heartbeat. Maybe we should meet with her?”“And then what?”“I don’t know, really. The Path just says ‘cooperate’. And make a sandwich, apparently Taylor likes her cheese sandwiches. And a cup of Earl Grey; who knew?”“Useful.”Rebecca Costa-Brown just sighed a deep sigh and pulled out her laptop for PRT-exclusive issues.Emily Piggot would have to be brought to heel for her plans to work.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sophia Hess was confused. Mostly. A lot of annoyance, some intrigue, a little bit of jealousy.Mostly confused.Emma had refused to let her past go when her friend, Taylor, came back from Summer Camp; sure, it wasn’t that big a deal, but it was really throwing her ‘survival of the fittest’ thing out the window when she got a good look at Hebert.From what Emma had described Taylor as, the girl was a bookworm chatterbox with a heart of gold and dreams of heroics, with a healthy dose of ‘in the closet’ goodness. She was cute, and kind, and even if she was lanky and tall and unhealthily thin she could put away eight square meals a day and still look like a twig. She was full of expression, of warmth, and if she found something was wrong with you, she’d hound you for hours until you gave up just to make her shut up. After Taylor’s mother had died, she’d gotten a bit subdued; even Sophia wouldn’t make fun of someone for dealing with a close familial death like that.When Sophia and Emma found Taylor the first day back to Winslow from summer break, she was none of these. She greeted Emma warmly enough, sure, but there was no smile, no expressive attitude; her eyes were unseeing and blank, her gait was imposing with stretched shoulders and taut muscles. She looked like she expected to be attacked.There was a bruise that looked like it was developing beneath her eye, on her cheek. Vaguely like a fist. For all she didn’t care for Hebert, she had to admit that this was a bit…On the first day back from summer, Emma and Sophia shared worried looks. Something was wrong.Emma picked up the chatter that the reclusive girl would usually be making, Sophia pitched in occasionally after introducing herself, and even that hanger-on Madison had added her two cents in now and again. Taylor hadn’t even cracked a smile, but her lips did twitch some and Sophia counted it as some sort of win. The girl was good at cracking jokes, too, even if she was as expressionless as a statue – hell, when she’d called Greg a ‘creepy little worm wriggling around for a chance to peek under a girl’s dress’ in a flat voice laced with humour she’d almost died from laughter.Right then and there, she didn’t realise it, but Taylor Hebert had just become the most important person in her life.It spiralled from there.The bruises were showing up more often, now, with what looked like hand marks around her neck, and even the occasional cut to her cheek; but Taylor, as she was wont to do, soldiered on. She ignored the looks and asked her duo of friends how their days were going, what they were up to, if they had plans. She’d begun to talk more over the year that Sophia had known her, and dare she say it she’d found herself getting soft with Taylor. They’d talk about Emma’s dress sense behind her back with not-so-subtle whispering to get a rise out of her. It got Emma squawking in denial of course, but there was always a smile at the end of it. Taylor cracked more jokes, too. Her wit was sharper than steel and her eyes held this quality to them that screamed ‘danger’ to anyone that bothered her – Sophia had walked in on three skinheads jeering at Taylor once – and her vision almost went red because that was her best friend they were fucking with – but before she could intervene Taylor just looked at them, scoffed, and turned back to her locker. The hallway was silent, of course, but the skinheads didn’t quite know what to do.And then she spoke after a full minute of everyone staring at her like she’d killed someone’s puppy.“You three are the pinnacle of humanity’s nastiest shit-pile. Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from assholes to ‘a mole on humanity’s asshole’. I’m sure your probably-African-descendant mothers would be proud of you for joining a group of racist scum with little to no meaning in life beyond picking on the minorities. Which, by the way, aren’t so minor now that the Endbringers exist. Good job. What are you even doing with the Empire, James? You're mother's Half-Japanese for fuck's sake. And Tom, weren't you dating some Latino girl a little bit ago? Steve...eh, your mother's as white as a one hundred percent coco chocolate bar is.” And then she walked – strutted, Sophia could swear – towards her in the most casual way possible and addressed her how she normally would. Like it was every other day and she didn’t just tear apart three neo-Nazis with a sentence or two.“Hey Soph, how’s your day goin’?”Sophia could swear she was feeling something close to love right then. “Oh…you know, peachy.” She wasn’t blushing. She wasn’t!Taylor just nodded in a slow and overly dramatic fashion, as though she’d been imparted with the secrets of the universe, or gifted with knowledge on immortality. “I see…truly, words to live by.”She knocked her fist into Taylor’s shoulder with a soft “Shuddup”.Sophia would point towards that incident for reference in just how she began seeing Taylor as something a little more than a friend. A little more than a best friend, even. It was gradual, of course, and she could see how gradual it was when she looked back on it. It was a slow thing that evolved from their first meeting, from the first joke Taylor cracked in that ever-dry voice of hers. From their it was little things that piled up into something big; a nudge of the shoulder when commiserating with her, a soft chuckle to one of her own poorly thought-out jokes, a sigh in exasperation whenever Sophia was getting dragged off to detention, and sometimes this inexplicable look she’d get from her that would make her feel like she was getting dissected.Then, there were the touches; little lingering things that Taylor did that left her feeling queasy – but in a strangely good way, and it always made her face feel a little warm – like stray touches to her shoulder, a lingering hug that lasted a little too long, things like that.Surprisingly, Sophia had worked up some form of self-respect that wasn’t arrogance, and managed to get Taylor to agree to come with her to a theatre; she wasn’t all that thrilled with the showing, to be honest, and can’t even remember what it’s about, but it was more being used as an excuse to get Taylor away from the house and out with her. Where she could…confess.“So, I like you.”Her idiot fucking mouth! She’d written a fucking script for this shit! It was gonna be all romantic, and poncey and shit, with heartfelt words and double meanings and it was gonna be perfect! It was gonna have all sorts of nice flowery shit in there, stuff that would make even her swoon if it was used, and she’d just said ‘so, I like you’! what the fuck was wrong with her!?“Huh…well, isn’t this awkward?”Sophia.exe has stopped working.“Huh?”“I like you too, dimwit.”Error 404, brain not found.“Oh.”“Wanna do that ‘dating’ thing the kids are doing these days?”“uh…this is a lot less romantic than I was hoping to make it…”“Yes or no?”“Fuck, yes, sure…uh…”“Just hold my fuckin’ hand already.”So, she did, and now they were ‘doing that dating thing’. And it was, quite frankly, heavenly. Sophia would rather kill a school full of kids – and saying that, she went to Winslow, so, yeah – than admit to anyone that she was probably-maybe-definitely in love with Taylor. It was weird, feeling all these things that weren’t hatred and rage and a need to lash out at the world. Hell, she was mellowing because of the lanky girl! And her heart was racing at the damn thought of her, and she was getting sweaty palms whenever they held hands, and whenever Emma made an offhand comment about Taylor’s fashion sense she got angry, and whenever someone asked Taylor out she got upset, and whenever Taylor kissed her she felt so damn happy it was enough to make anyone sick…and…holy shit did she love that girl.So, of course, a literal year after she confesses to Taylor and they do the whole ‘dating’ thing, something happens.“This is Console, reports of fire near the Dockworker Union building. Armsmaster’s on the way, ETA five minutes.” Her ear buzzed with the voice of an unusually serious Clockblocker, and she would have sniped back at him anyway if it weren’t for her brain grinding to a halt.Taylor’s dad was a Dockworker.Taylor’s house was near the Docks.
“It’s…Lung, guys. Protectorate is doing a full recall of all Wards.”
Taylor lived near the Docks.
“Fuck. That.” She didn’t realise she’d said it out loud until Clockblocker started shouting at her to come back before Piggot railed her with Console time. She didn’t care. The Docks were ablaze, she could see them from here, and even if she didn’t see them the smell of smoke and panicked shouts from Dockworkers were able to be picked up easily.“Shadow Stalker this is Miss Militia!” Sophia hissed back a ‘fuck off’ in response but seeing as she wasn’t chewed out for attitude, she didn’t think the gun Cape had heard her. Or chose to ignore it. “I am ordering you back to the PRT building immediately! You can’t handle Lung!”“I’m not going for Lung!” She’d all but screeched into the earpiece, the resulting half-second of silence gave her time to load up her crossbow with the required tranquiliser ammunition gifted by the PRT’s dumbshit PR Team and guaranteed her a few moments of reprieve to silently jump from one rooftop to another. The Docks weren’t far from where she was, but she’d still take two or three minutes getting there.She set off in a sprint, ignoring the rush of wind past her face with the single-minded determination to reach Taylor before Lung did. She didn’t even know if Taylor was there or not, but she’d never forgive herself if it turned out she was.
“Shadow Stalker…explain. Now.”
“My girlfriend-…she lives at the Docks and-…I can’t let her die!”
“…This is the weirdest Tuesday ever.”
Yes. Thanks, Clockblocker, for that rather succinct, if stupidly put, summary of the situation. Truly, a master of words. She could hear Taylor’s snarky voice in the back of her head railing Clock for all he was worth, ripping into him for even daring to tread in her self-proclaimed territory of ‘snark and sarcasm’. Taylor was the undisputed ruler of that territory, and the one time Emma or Madison had dared to dip their toes into it – Sophia was wise enough to know that leaving Taylor’s territory alone was smarter than trying to intrude in it – they were verbally torn apart; mentally, emotionally, even a little physically, Taylor had ripped into them with the scorn of a dying star. Vicious, unheeding of their friendship, she tore them limb from limb with nought but words and watched dispassionately as they fought to keep tears from sliding down their cheeks. They spent three days away from school recovering, and when they came back, they’d fashioned a crown of scrap metal from somewhere and ‘coronated’ Taylor as the ‘Queen of Snark’. It was a very public affair, with the entirety of Winslow wholly unimpressed and unsurprised.Taylor still wears that dumbass crown.“Shadow Stalker…” there was a note of softness in the usually stern woman’s voice there, a hint of something akin to understanding but not quite there yet; like she couldn’t personally understand but knew the situation well enough. “I understand she’s important to you, but you can’t just rush into a fight like this.”“I can for her!” She was about a minute out, now, steadily gaining speed and keeping her pace despite the burning in her lungs. She found herself skidding to a stop when her eyes caught up with what she was seeing.There Taylor was, stupid crown on her head. And there Lung was…being Lung.“The Dragon with no hoard, no morals, no obligations…you are little but a wyrm.” Taylor’s steely voice was harsher than she ever remembered it being, but the fact that Taylor was squaring off with Lung of all people had her breaking into a nervous sweat. She could hear Miss Militia swearing up a very PR-unfriendly storm in her ear, and Clockblocker commenting on the sheer balls of her girlfriend to stand up to a fucking dragon incarnate. Steel, the size of a fucking planet, in her opinion. Not even she would stare Lung of all people in the eye with a bored look practically goading him to crush her – and she was all for fighting strong people!Of course Taylor had guts, Sophia wouldn’t have dated her if she didn’t. If she were just some snot-nosed pushover she wouldn’t have even given Taylor the time of day.Lung was breathing fire from his nostrils, his eyes hatred incarnate and his limbs already growing scales on them. He was fully willing and ready to kill this girl stood before him with a soft snarl on her face and hands shoved into her pockets. The very air around Lung was beginning to heat up and the concrete beneath his feet was smouldering as he continued to transform. Taylor, as a contradiction to Lung, was stood there with an air of disinterest; the very same air, mused Sophia, that she had when she was about to verbally destroy someone.“The little wyrm with nothing to ground him. No hoard so you’re no true dragon, no wings so you’re no true drake. You, little wyrm, need to know your place.” Lung let out an enraged roar of pure hatred, his previous targets of the Undersiders – who Sophia had just noticed were watching with slack jaws – forgotten and this new girl in front of him his newest punching bag.Taylor snorted at him. “No dragon worth their salt would dare get enraged over something as simple as an insult.”At that, Lung’s self-control snapped, and with a muffled roar of “I’ll ‘ill ‘oo!” he charged full tilt at her. Taylor just snorted again and began walking forward.“I said you were a wyrm, imitating a dragon. I said you needed to know your place, needed to know you’re nowhere close to be the top dog.” Taylor’s hand snapped out and caught Lung’s fist an inch from her face with no visible effort, her face a placid look of disappointment. “Were you a true dragon that would have stung. Your fire would have burned me, your fangs would tear into my skin.”The world was quiet, watching something it would not forget anytime soon. A girl, half the size of Lung, had just stopped his fist with a single hand and no visible effort – no one was talking, the Wards watching through a camera feed were still and silent, even Armsmaster’s bike had slowed to a screeching stop somewhere just behind her. She could picture Halbeard’s mouth opening in surprise and fear, his hands clutching at his weapon in awe. She could feel Piggot’s shock and horror when she realised that Sophia was dating the literal embodiment of everything a Ward should be – quiet, reserved, willing to step up when it mattered and a follower of rules unless it cost lives. Sophia was just overwhelmingly proud.And terrified for Taylor, of course.“Allow me, Lung, to show you what a true dragon looks like.”And then before their eyes, Lung was torn in two by a dragon thrice the size of Leviathan. It was huge, ridged with spikes of all shapes and sizes but in an oddly symmetrical way; it looked more elegant than evil, even with the fire lighting up its maw and deep rumbling growl practically shaking the very earth. The scales were a deep red, slanted in such a way that allowed them to shimmer beneath the glow of remnants of Lung’s fire. The eyes were a deep amber, slit in a way only an animal could have, with a snout that breathed out what she could only assume was smoke.As quickly as it started it ended, with Taylor brushing off her hands from dust that didn’t exist, and looking down at the bleeding, bisected, very dead Lung with a look of profound disappointment. She affixed the crown on her head after it had gotten dislodged during her transformation, but oddly enough none of her clothes were torn or burnt. They were pristine, same as just before she’d transformed into what could only be described as Saint George’s wet dream.“God was that boring.”Sophia wanted to curl up into a ball and let the insanity just take her away. She settled for joining Tattletale and Grue in their hysterical laughter.Miss Militia was in something of a tizzy. Because Taylor fucking Hebert, in all her human form glory, was standing the PRT’s lobby with a disinterested look on her face. One hand holding a phone – presumably, Sophia’s – with the other holding Sophia’s hand. Sophia, of course, was decked out in her outfit, cloak up and all, and was looking decidedly nervous about everything.Shadow Stalker had, at the Director’s insistence – and pleading, and begging, but no one was brave enough to say that. Or stupid enough – decided to bring Taylor in today for a ‘hard sell’ at life in the Wards. With concessions. Many, many concessions. She’d get to pick her own name, get to choose her outfit, get to have more freedom than any other Ward past, present, and possibly future.Taylor was a literal fucking dragon, after all. fire breathing, scaly, massive, hoard-obsessed, hopefully-not-damsel-capturing, flying dragon. Everything Lung claimed to be? She was the definition of. Fire breathing? Her fire didn’t need to ‘heat up’ as the fight continued as Lung’s did; hers did the impossible and melted concrete. Had scales? Hers never cracked, chipped or fell off; hers were bulletproof, fireproof, acidproof, didn’t oxidise, didn’t freeze very well and, true to dragon lore, could only be pierced by something mythological – that is, something that doesn’t even exist. Tinkertech lasers had shown some promise in piercing the scales, but only a laser with enough power to rival an atomic bomb could ever hope of putting Taylor down – no, not even that, it wouldn’t kill her it would hurt her. And annoy her. There was something unique about her eyes, too, but Taylor hadn’t commented – just that they ‘felt normal to her so she couldn’t tell you what was different about them’, which is fair enough if Militia was being honest.Her blood was poisonous – one of the very few poisons out there that had no cure to it, actually – and her saliva was acidic – as in, it could melt through six inches of solid steel. Her human form was nothing to scoff at, either; with Brute Thinker and Blaster all rated 6, and a tentatively placed Thinker rating of 3, Taylor was just as dangerous in her human form as she was in her dragon form.She got bored, easily. And a bored Taylor was a snarky ‘tear your soul out of your body via verbal destruction’ Taylor; according to Sophia she’d caused eighteen mental breakdowns in the last three weeks alone at Winslow simply because she ‘got bored’. It really was no surprise finding out that Sophia acted as a deterrent to that boredom – and, interestingly, Armsmaster had brought up to Piggot that Taylor acted as a deterrent to Sophia’s more…bloodthirsty side. In her honest opinion that was just a bonus.Miss Militia, with all these thoughts in mind, struggled not to show the tension in her body – her power disagreed, and she found herself approaching the dragon in human form stood next to a Ward with an antimaterial rifle resting on her back.Taylor looked up when her footsteps became noticeable, but Miss Militia didn’t think for a second she’d gotten the drop on her. Shadow Stalker looked suitably relieved.The girl nudged Taylor with an elbow and whispered something, and the tenseness she didn’t even know was building in Taylor’s muscles was relaxing. “Hello, I’m Miss Militia.”“And I’m Vista!”
Vista?
“Oh, wow! You’re that dragon lady right? You were so cool! You stopped Lung’s hand with, like, a slap or something!”“Sellin’ the cutesy act a bit much ain’tcha?” Shadow Stalker huffed from her side.Miss Militia’s visible skin – which was quite a lot – seemed to pale as a horror only an eldritch being could prescribe to her settled deep within her bones.Shadow Stalker was right next to her, looking decidedly amused, worried and annoyed all at once.Miss Militia’s focus rested back on the Ward-hopeful, and her eyes couldn’t take in what she was seeing properly for her brain to compute beyond ‘disturbing’. Taylor, with no effort at all, lifted Vista up on her shoulders and started walking around as the Ward blurted out random facts – facts, might she add, that even she didn’t know – about anything and everything they came across. The receptionist had pointed out that Taylor was expected to go see Piggot for her briefing and meeting, and after a huff Vista had pointed her in the direction of the elevator meant to take one all the way up to the Director’s floor.Vista, by the way, was still seated on the shoulders of Taylor, who was looking decidedly amused.An exceedingly long elevator ride later had Taylor emerging, Vista still on her shoulders, with Shadow Stalker just to the left of her and Miss Militia bringing up the rear.Not even a minute later found them all seated comfortably in the office of the Director, the dragon and the Director having some sort of staring contest while Shadow Stalker and Vista sat opposite ends with Taylor in the middle. Miss Militia decided to sit off to the side.“So, you’re the one that tore Lung in half.”“Yep.”“And you haven’t been rampaging through my city?”“Nope.”“No civilian casualties, no property damage, no drug selling or gangbanger hunting or police reports? Nothing?”“Does crushing people’s dreams and destroying people’s self-worth count as any of that?”“No. No I don’t think it does.”“Then nope.”“…I want you in the Wards so very, very badly.”“…Okay.”“Okay?”“My Cape name will be Fafnir.”“Done.”“Every patrol Shadow Stalker has, I want too.”“Deal.”“…”“…what?”Taylor let out a cough and almost glanced away in embarrassment. “I…want my any money I earn in gold. Gold coins, if you can.”“…Dragon thing?”“Yep.”“I…can see about it.” Piggot shifted a little, not breaking eye contact even as she typed up the requests. “Anything else?”“Yes.” Taylor said. “I want a cave. For my hoard.”“…Dragon thing…?”“Dragon thing.”“…we won’t have a cave, but you’ll get your own room in the Wards Rec area. You can use that.”“Deal. I also want my room next to Shadow Stalker’s.”“Consider it done.”They locked eyes for a minute longer before a pleased, if strained, smile came on the Director’s face. She leaned over and Taylor followed suit, their hands meeting in a firm handshake.“Welcome to the Wards.”Taylor’s answering smile was very, very sharp.Shadow Stalker, Miss Militia and Vista all stared at an empty wall five minutes later, having been hushed out of Piggot’s office.“What the fuck just happened?”Miss Militia didn’t even bother bringing her up on the swearing.“I don’t know…”Vista shuddered and seemed to be having some sort of PTSD flashback.“What’s eatin’ you, shortstack?”Vista shuddered some more.“The Director just smiled.”Shadow Stalker joined her in her shuddering, both of them staring at the wall with thousand-yard stares Miss Militia had seen some veteran soldiers have.After a second of contemplation, she shuddered too.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She forgot her own birthday.Such a little thing, and in anyone’s case it would be something that would be disregarded as an uncommon oddity, something that shouldn’t happen but did – and with nothing to do, one would then endeavour to remember the next one all the while mocking oneself for such flagrant stupidity. A joke, self-deprecating and otherwise harmless as it elicited chuckles and giggles from those around, and once ignored would be breezed past as though it never happened. Even if it did.And it did.But it shouldn’t have happened.There was no joking when she told them, no one chuckled and said ‘oh well, at least we didn’t!’ or ‘there’s always next year!’. No smiles, no mocking retorts, nothing that would set her heart at ease and tell her that what she wished wasn’t happening wasn’t happening and everything was going to be okay.But nothing was going to be okay. Nothing. She forgot her own birthday.In retrospect it was rather humorous to see Sakura – then ninety and on her deathbed – spring up as though she hadn’t been dying of two different types of cancer, old age and suffering arthritis. Sakura’s child had died not three years before, and why could she remember that but not her own fucking birthday? Sakura devoted half of Hoshido’s resources to her research – a research that would get taken up by Kaze’s daughter, Midori, as Sakura passed not three weeks into the research – and for forty-something years her ‘life’ passed by in the blink of an eye. Forty years was nothing, no more things forgotten, but when Midori passed and nothing was found she declared the project to be scrapped.All research into Manakete memory loss, the rate it was supposed to occur and whether or not they would follow in dragons like Anankos’ footsteps would remain unclear. And she would see to it.Nohr had imploded upon itself just four years after news of the last of the Nohrian royalty died, and so without much preamble she simply dedicated herself to ruling her country. Valla, while still recovering from Anankos’ reign, welcomed her as its ruler. Yet with her wife, Azura, taken by time and her adopted children well on their way for a maternal visitation that wouldn’t end, Corrin ruled solemnly. Yet with patience, as was her staple. One did not become immortal only to be impatient, after all. Her childish immaturity? Gone in the face of elderly wisdom. Her immature naivety? Struck down and replaced by cold logic and cynicism. Her love for piano? Replaced by a desperate need to know everything there was about war, weapons and magic. Her sweet singing voice, her honeyed words of hope and salvation? Replaced by detached mien, apathetic with cold logic.Immortal.A Manakete touched by a Fell Dragon’s power, with a sword Blessed by a Sage-Dragon, with magic flowing through her veins and fire burning through her heart. With a body normal mortals would compare to as ‘marble’ in texture and difficulty in piercing, with a soul that sent those that could view such things into shock for days at a time, with blood that flowed with so much magic she could spill a drop and cause an earthquake.Unsullied by time, a grey wave dominating the entirety of the ocean, forcing every wave she came across to seek the shore, to finally rest, and yet never finding it.Forever.Corrin the Righteous, they sung. Bards from all over telling the tale of how she saved Valla from The Fell Dragon’s evil grasp in a heroic tale of friendship and bonds. The tales, of course, wildly exaggerated and completely impossible but, all the same, sung with reverence and danced to with haughty joy by the peasantry.Corrin the Valorous the nobles whisper, for she was the one to take the throne from the usurper and raise their country from the ashes, drag them back from the void they’d stepped into and lead them into an age of unending peace, prosperity, and safety.Corrin the Unending was the one that stuck, however, along with Corrin the Vigilant; both interceding with one another to form Corrin the Omnipresent.The Dragon Queen Corrin the Omnipresent, for she was the queen that sacrificed everything she was, is and could be for her people. She learned seer magic to keep them all safe, she learned The Fell Dragon’s Interdimensional magic to lock the kingdom away from outside threats, she learned teleportation magic to be everywhere her people needed her to be. She mastered the blade and bow, lance and claymore, axe and dagger. She built herself as a legend that Vallites would sing of thousands of years from her usurpation of Anankos. Books were written, plays were performed, songs were sung.Corrin just wanted to keep Valla safe while she could; until the end of time, and perhaps even beyond if possible. Valla, after all, existed in the Twilight Zone of existence – not quite in the real world, but not quite touching the realm of the dead – and with her locking it off from the outside world to preserve it and its people in the ‘in-between’ she would see Valla never fell, see its people know nothing but peace, see her soldiers ready for the day she could no longer keep Valla from the outside world any more.Queen Corrin The Omnipotent indeed. With her vast stores of knowledge, with a library spanning the breadth of her castle, with her spies and spymaster knowing more about Valla than most – if not all – Vallites, she was seen as the ultimate in monarchs. There would be none after her, for she would rule forever with fair and righteous hands.The people loved her for it. Loved her for her sacrifice, loved her for her fairness, loved her for simply being her.Being the queen Valla needed.Loved her for locking off the outside world, for keeping their children happy and safe.For training soldiers up to peak performance, for teaching mages lost Nohrian arts, for showing her spies lost Hoshidan tactics.Even if she couldn’t keep their world locked off forever, they trusted her simply because she had the power to try the best anyone could ever ask.And then the veil between her world and the outside world was torn asunder in a suddenness and violence that left her gasping on her throne, that left her spies fading into the darkness to explore the outside world, that left her mages pouring through her library to find answers, that left her soldiers establishing outposts and border patrols.Tapping into her power, Corrin saw the future.She was not amused.Her spymaster was a spry thing; pointed ears that would have noted her as a Manakete were it not for the fact that Corrin’s own magic shaped the very lands and people of Valla. The Holy People, they were called. Fay. Revered as those called to the highest purpose of serving her as her hands. Long, ebony hair that touched her shoulder blades and swayed as she walked, with amber eyes and a pointed chin denoting her high cheekbones. There was a scar from a training accident some twenty years back, when she was first training to become Corrin’s spymaster, running across her left cheek in a diagonal manner that started at the tip of her earlobe and ended just below her thin lips.She was unlike other Fay in that she had pale, human-like skin instead of the shades of blue or purple others of her race had. She had the sloped and aristocratic features of the Fay, and the natural grace and magic potential, but skin, eye colour and hair colour denoted her as something else; a Higher Fay. A being so in tune with Her Majesty’s magic that shaped her body in the womb of her human mother that she was the closest anyone save Corrin’s own children could get to their Queen.“Your Majesty.”Corrin shifted in her throne, looking up from a report her Royal Treasurer gave her regarding the upcoming festival. Her spymaster was, as always, kneeling with one hand on the ground, her head bowed, eyes burning into the tiled flooring beneath her. The other hand rested atop her chest, the place her heart was as a sign of total subservience.“You have a report?”Her spymaster nodded, finally standing and locking eyes with her. It was why she was spymaster – or well, one of the reasons, anyway. She grovelled just enough to show her subservience, but she did not grovel long enough to show a lack of spine. She stood with her hands behind her back, not even blinking as Corrin used an almost casually cast magic spell to teleport the report she was just reading to her personal chambers.“Yes, Your Majesty.” As Corrin’s back straightened from its previous slouch, the Fay continued. “There has been word from Corporal Sascha’s scouts of…’demonic creatures that target anything living’.”Corrin was paying every ounce of attention, now. “Demons, you say?” At the nod she expected confirming what she was hearing, she couldn’t quite stamp out the next question. “Has this been verified by someone other than our scouts?”“Indeed; not four hours ago, accompanied by several of our top scholars at the time researching the veil’s…violent removal…” Corrin almost winced at the reminder of the state it left her in. Having your own magic, cultivated over years and millennia to form an everlasting barrier sealing off entire planes of existence, suddenly backfire was…not pleasant to remember. The pain was almost excruciating. “…Head Scholar Sigrid reported ‘creatures erupting from the ground and spawning from tears in the sky’.”“Tears?”The Fay nodded. “Indeed, Your Majesty. Apparently green in colour, and when our mages got close enough to it, they could hear…whispers, of a sort. They suspect the demons attempting to entreat them somehow, but after a few harsh words from The Court Enchantress they just…ignored them.”Her eyebrow raised, but her curiosity was tempered by worry for her kingdom; Valla would not be as everlasting as she had hoped to make it if the kingdom was besieged by the outside world’s own problems, after all. Something, however, told her that there was more than ‘tears in the sky’ and ‘demonic entities’ to worry about. There was a magical charge in the air now, something that kept her own magic thrumming throughout Valla to counter its unnerving feel. With this in mind, Maevis watched as Corrin placed a hand on one of her temples and closed her eyes.
A raven, eyes that weep lies and a beak that pecks truths.
“There is…also a ‘glowing hole in the sky’, that seems to be the source of these tears.”
An eye, flaming with righteous intent and a horrid sense of finality.
Demons; oh how she wished she could ignore such a thing. Valla was her responsibility, not the outside world. But there was something…
A mark…fire upon a hand that burns with passion.
“We see…”
A scream, a cry, the very world alight with death
“Majesty?”
A dragon’s roar, a calloused hand. Red, deep and whispering lies.
“…” There was silence as Corrin mulled over thoughts in her head, before finally sighing and clutching the side of her head. Since the veil was removed her clairvoyance has become erratic; sometimes leaving painful jabs in her head, sometimes showing her random events and times, sometimes just showing her people and places. With this new world outside, many of the people and places were not recognisable.“…Inform Corporal Sascha that her scouts should avoid these ‘demons’ at all costs and focus more on reconnaissance and information gathering. Who are the current rulers, what countries exist, what powers are at play, what religions currently thrive; and inform the Court Enchantress to lead a group of mages with Sascha and her scouts. If these ‘demons’ can talk to the mages through these tears we may be dealing with magical entities.”Her Spymaster nodded.“Inform the Court Enchantress that she should avoid the ‘red whispering crystal’ at all costs. If anyone is touched by it, for even a second, bring them to me immediately.”“Yes, Your Majesty.”As her spymaster bowed and began to walk off to do her assigned duties, Corrin had one last order before she sat back upon her throne and watched over Valla using Seer magic.“Maevis, gather your spies and find a negotiator from one of the noble houses; the youngest from House Verdant is looking to be the best candidate, but if he is unavailable the young Lady Emmeline of House Sterling should suffice.” Corrin drew a crystal ball from…somewhere…and activated the runes on the side of it allowing aerial view of the entirety of Valla. “Our sudden appearance has not been ignored, and there are both well-meaning and ill-intending forces willing to approach us for their own ends.”“Of course; are they to be approached immediately?”“No.” She explained, her voice an almost-monotone, and serving to remind Maevis just why she admired her Queen so much – in the face of adversity, she never withered. “There is a particular group of people that Our visions have been pointing Us towards; since the veil’s destruction We only get flashes now, but almost all of them show this group. An Inquisition of some sort.”“Of course.”“Good; approach this ‘Inquisition’ when the time is right.”“Your Majesty?”“They shall undergo a ‘Phoenix’s rebirth’ so to speak and shall seek out a new home – one old, ancient, with magic seeping into its very foundations. Once they have settled into their new home, approach them.” Her eyes locked with her spymaster’s, and her voice turned grave. “As loathe as We are to admit it, the very fate of this new world we find ourselves in could rest upon the success of this ‘Inquisition’. Do, say, whatever you must that is within your power to ensure an alliance.”Maevis, to her credit, took the news with gusto – this was important, her queen had given her a personal mission, and she would see it through or die trying. ‘Glory be the Dragon Queen, She who slew the Thousand eyes and Valla did she free’.“How should we approach them?”“Express interest in their Inquisition and offer them a formal invitation to Valla – specifically, to Us. We would speak with their leader; keep eyes on their Spymaster, and endeavour not to talk to their Ambassador overlong. Until the time of approach, however, stick to the shadows and observe.” A small pause, then a shallow sigh. “We expect reports on the Inquisition’s activities and their enemies every two weeks or so, until of course you approach them. Remember; say anything to get them here, for they need Us as much as the new world does.”“Of course, Your majesty.” After a bow, Maevis turned on her heel and left the great Throne Room, but not before some parting words.“Be safe, Our dear Maevis. We see blood and fire and hear ghastly wails. It would…please Us should you return unharmed.”“I…I shall endeavour to return to you at once, Your Majesty.”As her spymaster left with a small smile to fulfil her orders, Corrin turned her gaze back to the crystal ball.Ever stoic, ever watchful.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sitting in her bedroom with silk pyjamas clinging to her form as a by-product of the shower she’d had earlier, Emma Barnes was thinking back on the events of the day previously. Her face was grim, and for once her thoughts weren’t happy ones; the monsters from her past, from that alleyway she’d been dragged in to, had faded into nothing but what they had done had lingered.“You’re strong,” Sophia had said when she’d brought it up one day. “It’ll fade and you’ll be stronger for it.”They’d done it, shoved her ex-best friend Taylor into her own locker filled with used products and the occasional rusty nail. Insects of all kinds, used tampons and even some dried out diapers from who-knows-where – she didn’t bother asking how Sophia had gotten a hold of most of it, and if she was quite honest she didn’t want to know. It was better left a secret from both her and Madison, the little hanger-on with the fakest smiles she’s ever seen. The girl was a walking contradiction to herself and Sophia’s philosophy, and when Taylor finally got strong and proved herself Madison would be next – the girl was a natural born liar and had some of the most disturbing outlooks on life; barring her and Sophia’s own ‘strong or weak’ outlook, of course… there was a certain pride to be had having the ‘worst’ of something.
Emma didn’t realise how wrong she was.
She shuffled her way over to the wall across from her bed where the light switch rested neatly next to a propped-up picture of Alexandria from way back when – she ignored the heartache, dull and aged, that sprung up when she thought of her and Taylor when they were kids practically idolising the Cape. They were as sisters back then, closer even, walking hand in hand everywhere they went and crying out how awesome they’d be as heroes. They’d do anything and everything together, from trying on makeup at Emma’s insistence to reading some sappy romance novel at Taylor’s; and always, always, they’d say the words ‘together’.She doesn’t remember blinking back tears and sliding under the covers of her bed, curling into a ball; she had hope that this would finally make Taylor strong, make her stand up for herself at last and show that she was a predator hiding as prey all along. That she could be her best friend again, her sister, that she could hold her hand when they walked and smile at her again like she used to.She ignored that little part of her that screamed at her; like she used to before you sunk your claws into her, like she used to before you made her miserable. She couldn’t be friends with Sophia and Taylor at the same time, and as much as it hurt her she’d compromised with Sophia; she wouldn’t be Taylor’s friend and she’d torment her to prove her strength, to cut ties – but, if Taylor became strong, she’d be her friend again and Sophia would be too. That should offset two years of abuse, right? Two friends to help her be the Taylor she used to be. Smiling, giggling at every dumb joke, grinning with her too-wide mouth and frowning with her big eyes.If this went the way she wanted it to, Emma would have her sister back.She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, unaware of how unrealistic her expectations had been. And how quick the tables would turn.Fear.Sophia and Emma had taught Taylor that fear was everything. It was power, to lord over the masses and keep them from rising up with pitchforks and torches. It was a weapon to wield at your enemies, make them fear coming across you and make them rue the day they did. It was a method of worming your way into someone’s head, planting imagery and nightmares that wouldn’t go away no matter what you did. Fear was potent, more so than any drug could ever be. It couldn’t be shucked off like hatred or cowardice could be – fear made a person, after all, and no matter how emotionally stunted a person was they would still fear.Fear could shape the world, could make people fall in line and ruin – or even help bring up – a person. Fear could shape everything it came across and make things better, worse, or not change anything at all.Taylor had learned this in the locker. After a long campaign of bullying she’d felt nothing but fear; it had suffused her very bones and clamped jaws around her throat. But she’d done the one thing she never expected her bullies to figure out. She learned fear, and all its intricacies. Fear wasn’t just a weapon, gleaming and bright with threats and bodily harm. It was a tool, hidden and subtle that slowly but surely drove someone insane as they were subjected to its gentle caress; rather than the firm fist that The Bitches Three had used it as, Taylor had learned of the subtler aspect, the gentle palm. They had used the claymore, large and imposing with an edge to cut through anything they swung it at. Taylor, on the other hand, had learned to use the dagger; swift, brutal, silent, and menacing in a different way altogether.Being stuffed into that locker with token resistance and half-hearted screams of fear and mercy, Taylor had learned the final aspect of fear that gave her the clearest picture; the claymore was slow, heavy, but had results in the end. The dagger was fast, light, and impacted with longer-lasting wounds. She’d known this already, but the final thing she’d learnt in that locker had cemented her knowledge.You were not using fear correctly if everyone felt it; fear was to be pointed, directed, not thrown out and used wildly. The claymore swung wide and hit everything in its path brutally with no finesse, the dagger could be swung in an arch to catch more than one person or thrust forward to target just one; it could be thrown, it could be stabbed, it could be sliced, it could dig deep or just leave a shallow wound, it could be poisoned, it could be doused in oil and set alight.The kind of fear Taylor learned was swift, silent, subtle, and longer lasting. It was versatile and could enforce the rule of fear harder than it could ever have been with the claymore. The Trio, when they saw the work of their folly, would wish to have the same understanding she had learned.The Locker just reinforced that.Waking up in hospital with Panacea hunched next to her, looking both dead tired and plain tired left Taylor with the first subject of her subtle use of fear. The dagger, swift, would dig deep in this one and leave behind a wound that would never heal – but it would be used to cut out something cancerous within her, it would be used to put something together instead of tear it apart.“Do I have permission to heal you?” The girl’s voice was tired and dull, as though she expected a simple ‘yes’ and then to crack on with it. Taylor, however, could see depression and anxiety clawing their way through Panacea’s skin, seeping into her bones and settling like a tumour.She’d excise that tumour and bring the kind, if suffering, Panacea back from the brink that anyone could see she was on. Taylor would use that fear she’d learned from the Trio to help, not hinder; fix, not break.Her power was fear, after all. not fear in the traditional sense, but the very concept of fear itself – did something, anything, have a fear of something, even perceived? If yes, she could use it. And everything feared something.“Why ask?”“huh?” Panacea had gone from blank to confused, but there was this overlying boredom there that couldn’t be erased by feeling a bit shocked. To her, this was a surprising, yet unremarkable development. An outlier to her everyday life.Taylor would not be remembered like that; an outlier. Not again. She would instil a fear so deep it would break Panacea free from the shackles of mundanity. Eggs and omelettes.“Why ask?” She repeated.“Uh…well, it’s a legal thing…” The healer seemed embarrassed now, raising a finger to scratch at one of her cheeks beneath the deep cowl she wore. “In case someone tries to sue if they didn’t want to be healed…”Taylor hadn’t known that, that Panacea was entangled in legal issues. “Really? Why would anyone refuse to be healed?”Her power, fear itself, was working in her words. It showed when Panacea shivered as she spoke, but she’d reminded herself that this would help; the gnawing guilt she felt died soon after.Panacea chuckled ruefully, a choked thing that sounded almost like a sob. “I guess some people just haven’t accepted Parahumans as healers…or that they don’t trust them…”There was something broken in that statement. Some vile and wriggly that chewed its way through her fear-laden heart. She’d long since cast off things like pity and happiness, the Trio ensuring it, but the emotions she’d thought she’d killed wormed back into her chest.She welcomed them.“Can I heal you now?”Taylor, all at once, listened as her power fed her the information she needed, and her words went on auto-pilot.“I trust you.”
Panacea has a fear of being trusted too much. Taylor would fix that.
Panacea stood still for a minute, uncomprehending at Taylor. Taylor, after a while, reached out and gently touched the girl’s forearm, holding it with a strength her atrophied body shouldn’t have possessed. Panacea tried to shake off the limb, but in doing so met Taylor’s gaze and froze.
Panacea wants to be seen as her own person, to be a healer when she wants, not when society wants, but is crippled and hobbled by expectations and the all-disparaging-eye of her mother, Carol Dallon. Panacea wants to be trusted, to be loved as a person and not a power. She hates her power, fears what she can do. She fears being trusted.
Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?“I trust you. Even if no one else does, I trust you. Heal me whenever you want, I don’t mind.”The extra emphasis seemed to shake the healer, and before Taylor knew it she was treated to a sobbing Panacea clutching her tightly as she stuffed her head into Taylor’s flat chest and wept. The tears mixed with her hospital gown but, in all honesty, Taylor didn’t care.She could be healed later, she was just happy to be able to heal someone herself.“There, there,” Taylor hushed, her hands clutching the healer close to her and shucking off the cowl to rush through her hair soothingly; out of the corner of her eye she’d spotted a doctor closing the door softly, a small smile on his face – looks like she wasn’t the only one who knew Panacea was falling apart, but unlike her he couldn’t do anything about it. She thanked him silently for the support.“I’m Taylor. Can I get a name for the girl sobbing into my chest?”Panacea huffed out a laugh; broken with tears and sobs, but genuine all the same. “I-I’m Amy.”“Wanna be friends, Amy?”Amy clutched her tighter and renewed her sobbing, occasionally interspersed with some variant of ‘yes’; Taylor found herself not caring all that much. She’d made a friend with fear. Unlike with Emma, Panacea – Amy – would not be let out of her sight; she’d be protected all she could, and Taylor would make sure nothing happened to her. She knew she’d messed up going to Summer Camp all those years ago. She’d let Emma out of her sight, left her to Sophia who twisted her beyond something recognisable.Amy would not break as Emma had done, and Taylor would see to that. If genuine friendship came of it well…who was she to turn it down?It’s been two months since Amy made a new friend – looking back on it she was embarrassed that she’d broken down into tears like that, but no amount of apologising had made Taylor look at her any differently, and eventually she’d gotten over it and focused on the more important thing.Taylor was her friend. Her very first friend, who didn’t care that Panacea and Amy Dallon were the same person. Her very first friend who wasn’t getting close to her simply because, or just to say that they knew Amy Dallon as a friend. She was the very first friend she’d ever made, the very first genuine person she’d been around – even Victoria wasn’t as genuine as Taylor was, and although that hurt her to think about, she knew her sister’s aura was what made her into the wreck she’d become.Antisocial was a word used best to describe her when out of costume, and in it the word changed into ‘harried’. No time for regular people, no time for other Capes, no time for her sister, no time for anything that she used to like doing. Then here comes Taylor, wreaking of understanding and safety, and there little Amy’s mask went – Taylor knew everything about her, and in return told Amy everything about her. It was a level of trust she hadn’t even felt with her family, and it made her even more determined to make sure this friendship never failed, never ended.With that in mind, it was only logical she distanced herself from Victoria; her aura would ruin that, ruin her even more than she already was, tear apart her friendship.Amy wouldn’t let it.So, when she suddenly started to notice things about Taylor that she’d previously been noticing about Victoria…well, things got weird. Not awkward, because Taylor had a way of eliminating such feelings when she looked at you, but something close to it. She’d recently discovered the intricacies, for example, of Taylor’s voice – how it lilted, how it rose and fell when she was excited or angry, how it husked when she was tired and it deepened when she was annoyed. How it growled when she was furious and how it pitched when she was melancholy. She doesn’t know why she’d began noticing her voice of all things, but it wasn’t the only thing that’s for sure.She remembered, blushingly, how she’d almost been caught staring at Taylor’s chest. As undeveloped and flat as it was, it was big enough to be seen as somewhat-feminine, and that seemed to be enough for Amy Dallon’s gutter-like brain. Then she’d caught herself staring at Taylor’s developing abs and toned legs from the running she’d been doing, and had stopped herself – if barely – from sighing wistfully when Taylor hugged her once. When she’d taken notice of her own biological changes in regards to Taylor, Amy noted something; it was nothing like how she felt when Victoria would encase her in her aura, which gave the scary implication that her feelings for Taylor were real. Real, and set to a biological degree – which gave her a small panic attack when she tried to figure out how exactly her very biology sat in tune with the feminine form, which led to the conclusion that Victoria’s aura was, once again, involved. Aura, plus puberty and formative years, equals changed mentality due to long periods of exposure to said aura.The silver lining was that it was something she wasn’t being forced into, unlike her ‘love’ for her sister; she’d theorised that any longer, as short as a few weeks even, under constant strain from the hospital and the unrequited – and, to her, unconscionable – love from her sister would have cause Amy to snap. Her, a biokinetic-tinker well beyond anything anyone has ever seen, snapping and going Rogue or Villain? The world wouldn’t surv-“Amy? Earth to Amy?”“huh-bwah?”Taylor gave her a weird look but shrugged and began sipping her tea again. They were at Taylor’s dad’s house, not too far away from the Docks, and a pleasant place if you enjoyed your retinae burning with gang signs and Merchant pushers on every street corner.“You spaced for a bit.”Amy just took the chance for what it was, and calmed herself down by sipping tea instead of replying; when she got the chance to, she’d put the teacup back down and glanced over Taylor’s shoulder, somewhere only Amy could see. The girl, being as observant – through necessity, a dark part of her whispered, and she found herself hating three specific people more than she ever thought she could – as she was spotted her avoidance immediately.“Okay,” Taylor huffed. “Spill it.”Amy, for a brief time, considered ignoring that, considered running from the issue like she’d done with Victoria – and look how that had turned out, a sad part of her whispered, neglected and broken by your own family; your sister herself ruining anything that could have been a normal childhood with her recklessness. She wanted to fight that thought, scream and kick and drag it away from her; she couldn’t. Amy knew that Victoria knew her power affected minds, and if she’d just exercised caution – if Amy had spoken up about it, too – things wouldn’t have gotten so bad.She took that path once and it almost led to a mental breakdown that would have made any of Bonesaw’s worst bitch-fits look like a four-year-old crying over a broken doll. She’d known since her Trigger that she could reshape the world and its inhabitants in a matter of weeks – she could change someone on a fundamental level, down to their damn genetic coding.But the other path might end their friendship before it began to escalate past ‘friend’ and into the ‘best friend’ territory. It was a large risk, but a risk she’d never had the choice to make before; around Taylor, rudimentary feelings such as ‘fear’ just didn’t exist, and she suspected it was due to her power – Taylor had told her she’d Triggered, and that her power was either a Master or a Stranger one, but she didn’t tell her what it was.Something to ask later.“Taylor…” was she doing this? Really going through with this? “Taylor, no matter what I say I want you to promise me something.”Taylor, taking in the serious gait of her friend, nodded. “Okay…?”Amy took a breath. “I want you to promise me we’ll still be friends.”Taylor didn’t even hesitate to agree, and it made something feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I promise.”So, Amy spoke.“Taylor, I…like you…”An eyebrow arched. “I…like you to-oooooh.” Taylor raised a hand and coughed into it, her cheeks a little red. “Like…’that’.”Amy just jerkily nodded her head. “Amy.”“T-Taylor?”“I don’t know how to return those feelings.”Amy felt her whole world break, her eyes dancing with unshed tears; she’d still be friends, of course, but her very first real friend, that also turned out to be her very first real love interest, just turned her down because-Her brain screeched to a halt, the brakes on that train of thought working overtime to stop the speeding locomotive that was her mind before it picked up faster than it was.“Wait, what?”Taylor had put her teacup down, looked deadly serious as she spoke, and Amy couldn’t help but feel as though this was a profound moment; a once in a lifetime chance to see the inner workings of Taylor’s mind. How she worked, why she was the way she was.“Amy, something in me broke over the two years the Trio hounded me.” Her voice, once strong and powerful, broke into something…weak. Lesser, almost afraid but not quite. Taylor was never afraid. “Somewhere along the way I…got rid of them. Those feelings, any feelings that weren’t resignation just slipped away.”Amy, before she knew it, was sat next to Taylor with a hand on her arm, the other around her shoulder, dragging her into her in a way reminiscent of her ‘breakdown’ in the hospital. A role-reversal she didn’t dare comment on. Not now, not ever.“I was just left with…hate,” Taylor muttered, but being as close as she was Amy could hear it. “Hate and fear.”“I…”“Amy…I don’t know how to return your feelings, because I don’t even know if I can.”So, Amy did what she did best.She healed.“I…I could…”“hmm?”“I…I could…show you?”“Oh?” Taylor’s eyes lifted from the floor and locked with her own, and Amy realised just how close she was to Taylor’s face just then.“I…I’m not good with emotions after…Victoria’s aura.”Taylor nodded in understanding. “Yeah. I guess anyone wouldn’t be after that.”“Looks like we’re both a little messed up, huh?” Amy chuckled, a wet thing that dribbled unshed-until-now tears down her cheeks. Taylor didn’t realise she was crying too until she felt a drip on her shirt; and a thought, unbidden, came to her.
‘How long has it been since I’ve cried? When Mom died? Two years…’
Amy smiled, despite crying, and suddenly Taylor found a nose touching her own. “I could…show you…” The girl swallowed something in her throat, deep and nasally but her voice was still clear. “I could…we could learn…we could try? If it doesn’t work…we’re still friends…right?”
‘It’s been two years since I last cried…and Amy just made it happen. She made me feel something.’
“I…” There was a vulnerability there, in Amy’s eyes, but by god was there determination. They were both broken in a way. Both something shattered. Taylor daren’t hope for the best, daren’t hope to learn how to feel normal things again.But Amy made her cry, made her feel something for the first time in two years that wasn’t hate or fear.“I…” she locked eyes with Amy, tears still dribbling down her cheeks, but something…something was there. Deep in those eyes something was there. Fear? No, she’d know fear. Fear was a companion of hers she’s memorised down to the last detail.No, there was no fear. This was more foreign in its intricacies, in its very makeup. It burned, like a furnace, and it filled her eyes with a light she couldn’t see past.Hope, she realised.There was hope.So, Taylor closed her eyes, finding herself drowning in her own tears and feeling Amy’s hands rest against her cheeks. She simply muttered her answer.“Okay…we can try…”Lips pressed against hers, salted by the shared tears, but sweeter than anything she’s ever tasted.There was a fire in her chest, now, one that died when her mother did; one that was smothered by Emma and the embers left to drift in the wind. But this was rekindled, and she relished in the warmth it brought.Sat on a bench just inside the bank Amy was visiting Taylor was performing a pastime she’d not had much experience in – a public service announcement to the world that sharp eyes were aware of the secrets they held, and the fears they had.People-watching.Taylor scanned an old woman quickly.
Fears her daughter will never have children. Fears never seeing grandchildren before dying. Fears the cancer in her brain; has stage two brain cancer. Fears Heaven not being real. Fears not being able to enter Heaven. Fears past mistakes catching up to her daughter…
That was a bit more than expected, but then again scanning anyone who’s made it past the ‘fifties’ milestone seemed to give her similar answers.
Fears his wife knowing he’s cheating on her. Fears his daughter knowing she isn’t his. Fears spiders. Has an outstanding fear of Capes. Has a fear of tight and small spaces. Has a fear of the Empire after they beat his biological sun to death. Has a fear against an abusive father, even though he’s been dead for seven years.
That one was a powder keg of fears and phobias – not all willing fears, of course – and was ready to be set off at a single spark’s emergence. She’d keep an eye on him. Turning her head from the forty-two-year-old ex-banker, Taylor watched a small woman, twenty-seven, walk about.
Fears her mother finding out she’s a lesbian. Fears the Empire finding out she’s a lesbian. Fears her boyfriend. Fears her manager. Manager works for Medhall. Medhall rumoured to work for or be associated with the Empire. Fears the Empire-associated Medhall. Finds bank teller attractive, fears reprisal. Has a phobia of the dark. Fears fire. Fears Lung. Fears finding out she’s bisexual; knows she is, rationalising it as lesbianism. Fears her mother finding out she’s bisexual. Fears the Empire finding out she’s bisexual…
Taylor scoffed; were people in Brockton so damaged that they feared such little things as the dark, or coming out to your parents? Well, enough to develop a borderline phobia of it, anyway. That actually said something really sad about their society and how things worked in the modern age that people were scared of something as natural as telling their mother they might like other girls – she’s not even fully lesbian, but she fears letting someone know it might be a possibility? There’s something wrong in that girl’s life – in everyone’s lives – if people are conditioned like this.The Empire are at fault, of course, but then again why wouldn’t they be? They were literal Neo-Nazis, second best to the Third Reich itself. They’d publicly beaten children in the streets for even having a somewhat-coloured relative of theirs; not even for being coloured themselves, but for containing the genes for said colouration. Fearing the Empire was all well and good, rational even, until one realised they represented a better solution than the other option.The ABB.And wasn’t that a sad thought? That literal Nazis were a better option than the Asian-only gang of sex-traffickers, rapists and arsonists?Something’s wrong with the world if that continued to be the case.Taylor grimaced at her thoughts, but found the only person here she could stand to watch for any extended period of time and not grimace; Amelia. Amy Dallon.Taylor focused her power, and came away pleasantly surprised when Amy only had two fears.
Fears using her power on brains. Fears the power that working on brains could give.
Today Amy was wearing a nondescript grey hoodie that hung just above her knees and covered up whatever shirt she may have been wearing. Faded blue jeans that were bordering on being baggy, but weren’t quite there yet, and a pair of grey and white trainers. The hood was down, so people knew exactly who she was but none seemingly cared. Here, in the bank, you were just one more person in the line. A Cape was side-eyed every once in a while whenever they walked in but the peoples of Brockton had learned very quickly that as long as they weren’t one of the proclaimed villains, even Vigilantes and Rogues were ignored; unless given motivation to not ignore them. Parian’s ‘shows’ came to mind.So, of course, when she spotted a group of Capes colloquially known as The Undersiders burst in through the front door with one of them pointing a gun in the air and three of Bitch’s – or Hellhound’s, if you want to stay PR-friendly – ‘dogs’ growling at anything that moved Taylor did the one thing she’d never regret doing.“Alright! Everyone down and no one gets hurt!” She ignored Tattletale’s advice, and shuffled her way through the panicking crowds. She moved over to where Amy was, and with a quick look-about to make sure the soon-to-be-thieves weren’t looking their ways while demanding obedience from the civilians, Taylor shoved Amy to the ground underneath a table; just in time to get spotted by their leader, Grue.Grue was a big guy, muscled and powerful in every action he performed, and Taylor would be lying if she didn’t think he was probably attractive – unfortunately for Grue, she had Amy, so – but with the smoke pouring off of him in constant flux he looked more intimidating. Which, as she looked back on it, probably was what he was going for. He didn’t have a gun or any other form of weapon on him, but to be honest he probably didn’t need one; he was noted for fighting hand-to-hand and coming out on top ninety percent of the time.“Playing smart, huh?” His voice, to be described, would sound ‘smokey’, and while that doesn’t make much sense to anyone not listening to it, it did to Taylor; it fit the bill perfectly, actually. Smokey, with a growl of danger behind it that told you to do what he wanted or things would go south very quickly; probably why he leads the Undersiders. “Get on the ground. Or get hurt.”Taylor kept quiet; to anyone else they would be shaking in their boots, quivering in fear, dodging and ducking just to do what he asked.Taylor Hebert didn’t fear anything. She was fear. She was everything you were scared of, everything you bravely told your sons and daughters were nothing to fear while you cowered away from them anyway. She was terror, fear, a swift dagger that cuts. She was everything, from the spiders to the dark, from the whispers to the shouts, from the gunshots to the stab wounds. She was everything from the blood to the sun, form the ocean to the night, from dreams to nightmares. Everything anyone could conceivably fear she was.And the biggest fear?The unknown.Before everyone’s eyes Taylor shifted. It couldn’t be explained as a Breaker state, not really, because that would imply the change was something she couldn’t control beyond going in and out of it. It may, perhaps, be able to be described as a Changer state; shifting her skin to a pallid grey, her eyes contorting into beady ovals of red, her fingernails extending into something akin to talons. Her clothing melted off of her into a deep black, full-bodied cloak accompanied with a hood that shadowed her upper face; her red eyes glowed from within the shadows cast, and caused all the more fear when looking in that direction.She was fear.There was a distant caw.“No, no I don’t think I will.” Her voice sounded as though it resonated with thousands of others; it reminded everyone eerily of Glaistig Uaine. She stepped forward, into his personal space, and Grue felt the need to step back; The rest of The Undersiders were silent and shivering as her eyes passed over them. The ever-psychopathic Regent reduced to a shivering mess, the ever-smug Tattletale reduced to a gaping fish, the ever-animalistic Bitch reduced to a whimpering wreck, dogs following suit. The humans around her felt nothing more than a primal urge to flee, but it was far less than what The Undersiders were feeling.She took another step.There was another caw.She ramped her fear up until she saw all four of the criminals entering the bank shaking, sweating, and looking at Tattletale, crying. Regent barely held it together, Bitch curled into an insensate ball of whimpering, and Grue?Grue was on his knees, begging.She didn’t know what he saw, but her power made him see the things he feared most – it made all see the things they feared. Based from what she could hear from his half-gasped pleas it was something to do with his sister.She stomped down that part of her that felt guilty and leaned down to look him eye-to-mask.A black-eyed raven landed on her shoulder.
“This is how things are going to happen…”
“…You’re not getting away with not explaining what happened by buying me food, you know that?”Taylor just nodded, as though walking down the street and talking about her terrorising The Undersiders with little difficulty was an everyday occurrence. She looked around briefly, very carefully not looking in the direction of where she knew an unmasked Rune was stood, and trying hard not to nod in the direction of one of Coil’s undercover mercenaries.“Of course not, that’s why we’re getting food.” They came to a stop at their destination. “Now…what are we eating…?”“Chinese?”“For a discussion like this?”Amy conceded to that point, as lacklustre as it was. “Hmm…how about some steak?”“Eh, good enough.”And so Taylor Hebert and Amy Dallon walked into the restaurant, completely oblivious to the eighteen different PRT tails all watching their every move, and the entirety of New Wave watching from above.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I remember a lot of things from the time before Remnant.I remember the Brother Gods and their foolish thought experiment known as ‘Humanity’. I remember a lot of them; how they thought humanity could prove to be like them. How they thought humanity could ascend as their equals…or drive each other into the dust. To me they were fools.Humanity wouldn’t ever ascend as they were, the Brother Gods and their stupidity ensuring that. Gifting humans with magic? Remaining on the planet you created for the sole purpose of grooming them to be little more than a passed experiment? They were idiots, foolish Gods with too much time on their hands and power they didn’t even understand, not fully.I’ve been around since the planet’s inception, I’ve crawled through the mud and blood and guts of my enemies to make it as the pinnacle of evolution. When the Gods showed up and gave the planet humanity I was thrilled; a lonely existence is still an existence, sure, but being lonely forever isn’t anything anyone wants. When humanity arrived, I noticed something interesting; The Brother Gods modelled them after themselves, sure, but they looked like flawed version of myself.Of me.Genetically they may be different, and physically even more so, but anyone with the basest knowledge on the Gods and their thought processes could tell you that they were uninspired. They knew I existed here well before they came to the planet and made it their own, because of course they did, they were gods. As old and powerful as I may have been when they arrived, a god I was not. Nor do I want to be if I’m honest. All that responsibility, all that power, all that worship? I’m quite happy sitting back, sipping on some fine fresh blood, watching as two Gods make an ass of themselves to one young woman named Salem. Sure, they were making a point, and sure it was a necessary one, but they could have been softer about it. Gentler in their ways, perhaps; the Dark Brother had the right idea but used the wrong methods, with those Grimm he made.I remember, specifically, when the moon exploded.Back to the point, I suppose. The gods were fools, but they had bright ideas and clever machinations that even I am struggling to put together; they destroyed the planet, sure, but brought it back as a ‘last chance’ to humanity to prove itself worthy of being kept around.The way humanity has been going as far? Well…we’re all doomed, pretty much.While they drag themselves further down the rabbit hole of destruction and self-pittance, I shall watch and learn as I always do; when the next race comes along I’ll know how to approach them, how to talk to them, ingratiate myself within their culture and community. I was a little bit different than anything my mind worked up to what this new race might be, but that’s fine. I can become a person they rely on and I can drive them from the self-destructive tendencies humanity has.And then the Faunus came.They were, above everything, an improvement on human framework; all the strengths, only few of the weaknesses, and very little of the tendencies. They worked towards banding together, helping each other, surviving against the Grimm that nipped their heels at every turn. They were smart, intelligent, and possessed many traits of their animal ‘species’ so to speak; Ox Faunus gained increased physical strength, spider Faunus the ability to thread silk from their hands, many mammalian Faunus gained a form of night vision or other, many aquatic Faunus gained the ability to breathe underwater, or just swim better than the average person. They were nothing but improvements, genetically perfect and physically superior.So of course, it took me by surprise – and yet, I found myself unsurprised – when humanity began enslaving the Faunus for greed. For their foolish fears that drove them to do such stupid acts of violence against themselves. They wielded that fear against those they found different than themselves, and thus were the Faunus enslaved to a race of power-hungry morons.And there went my ideas. But new ones sprouted from the old, and soon I had a friend in one of the first Faunus I met, long after the Faunus showe dup, but not long enough for their enslavement to span many generations; a Garan Belladonna. A Panther, or some type of cat, with a kindness I’d never seen before from anything that wasn’t one of my race, from…anything, really. Together, with my shadow-puppetry and his gentle demeanour we roused the Faunus to take arms against the humans enslaving them, and thus became a war; but not of our doing, no, but of someone else’s. a war on expression.Foolish, arrogant, pitiable.Clever.Remove expression from the masses and you get nothing but drones, but drones that do well; they do their job because it’s all they can do. Self-expression requires ingenuity and a certain level of autonomy, but remove that and you’re left with robots that do nothing but the job they’re assigned. Of course, removing such things would inevitably plunge the world into a low population period of darkness, and with the misery following the Grimm would rend the world asunder. They would be slaughtered by the thousands and in a few short hours – a whimper of existence dying out – they would become extinct.Like my own people. Only the strongest survive in our community, after all, so it would make sense of course why I would be the remainder. That, and the planet was destroyed once. That would put a damper on anyone’s day, I believe. Then again, I pulled through to watch the twin gods remake the world. I survived, so the fact that no one else did upsets and pleases me in equal amounts. Salem survived, of course, but she’s…different. Immortal, yes, but tainted; corrupted by the gods she hates so much.The war on expression ended with the humans rising up and destroying those that sought to shackle them; and in response the world decided thus – all children would henceforth be named after a colour. Anything that reminded one of colours, even, or something alluding to a colour. A rather creative form of uprising, which of course was ironic that no one saw it like that.Garan died which gave way to Lucille, who died which gave way to Banna, who again died which gave way to Rama. Each one as important to me as the last, each one proving to be something special to me that I daren’t think of as anything less than family. I was their protector, their parent, their grandmother, their friend. In exchange, they staved off the loneliness.Rama died, which of course upset me greatly, but his death gave way for his daughter to be born; Amrita Belladonna. A spitfire of a girl with the same kindness Garan had, with none of the war held over her head to bring her to an early grave. She had kindness and fierceness in equal measure, and a temper that reminded me of how Garan would act when sent over the edge.And oh-so loyal to anything she threw herself into.She died in the war waged to give Faunus equal rights, but not before leaving me a gift.A son.Ghira Belladonna. Orphaned, angry at the world, afraid of what being a Faunus could mean for him when starting and raising a family was all he ever wanted. Kind, gentle, fierce…all Belladonna traits, of course, but with something I hadn’t foreseen; ruthlessness. He knew what he wanted and knew how to get it and would fight and die if it meant his race would be kept safe. When the war ended and Menagerie was gifted to the Faunus, he founded the White Fang to keep the world from forgetting the sacrifice made; it wasn’t enough, of course, it never was. So, he improvised – they went from handing out fliers to protests, and how wonderful it was to watch my boy’s fledgling group take off and soar.Menagerie required a leader, of course, and who was Ghira to refuse? With no reason he took his position, leaving a young but fiery Faunus by the name of Sienna Khan in charge, and began to raise a family.My family.I would do anything for my family.“Grandma?”I turned up from the book I was reading – modern poets were so very dark in their proses, but I found it funny – and locked eyes with the small girl wriggling under my gaze.“Blake.” I smiled, but it wasn’t reciprocated; that’s fine, I knew my smile could unnerve people. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” I glanced at the clock above the fireplace of the living room. “It’s two in the morning, can’t sleep?”There was more fidgeting, but she seemed to come to some conclusion. “I, uh…” Even if she was being reticent with the information on what ailed her, I could see she was shuffling closer to me. Good to know that I didn’t bother her as much anymore. I remember when Ghira first introduced me to Blake and Blake to me; she was two weeks old, but quiet for a baby and had the most piercing gaze you’d ever see. I went away for a bit to travel and came back three years later, and when Ghira introduced her again she clammed up. Apparently I was terrifying? To a child, sure, but Ghira must have explained who I was.My lack of aging, I found out later, unnerved her. She wasn’t scared of me, but she found the fact that I was her ‘Grandma’ yet looked about twelve in appearance disturbing. Put that way I can’t say I blame her, but she’s warming up to me. Warming up to the idea of an older authoritarian figure that doesn’t look old. Perhaps it would prepare her for when she begins to work under a young boss?Blake, being nine years old now, felt it her duty to her family to find a way to provide for them. I hoped to disabuse that notion but…there was a fire there in her eyes that I feared to snuff out. I hadn’t disabused any of my other Belladonnas of their notions before and their line continued strong and healthy.Perhaps nothing would change?“I…want to join the White Fang.”Something stopped working in my mind for a moment, but I fixed a fake smile on my face and tapped the seat next to me. I couldn’t put kids on my lap, not with how young I looked and how small I was, but I could comfort them other ways; thousands of years of tending to the Belladonna children I came across left an impression on me, gave me knowledge on how to deal with unruly children, quiet children.When Blake sat next to me I continued, eyes straying back to the book in my hands. “Mind telling me what brought this on?”Her eyes shifted about, I noted, as a sign of hesitance, but to her credit Blake just smiled – sheepishly, I suppose, but it was a small and fragile thing. I also noted it to be the first smile she’d sent my way. How sad a thought that is.“I…I made a friend, and he wants to join because humans did…bad things to him.” Her voice took a quieter tone, and her fidgeting erupted into almost shaking. “He…wants to hurt them…”“Hm.” I idly flicked through the book, eyes moving rapidly, but taking in the words themselves was a bit of a challenge when your grandkid – for all intents and purposes, anyway – is sat there telling you she wants to join a budding terrorist organisation. I’d like to give myself the credit of not freaking out.Blake took the hum for permission to continue. “I, uh…so, I thought I’d join to show him the White Fang’s a peaceful place.”“Okay.”“You don’t understand, I – what?”“I said ‘okay’.”I don’t know what possessed me to say ‘yes’, but if anything it was perhaps the most important thing about Blake; Blake doesn’t smile a lot. Ever. In fact, I can count on one hand the amount of times I’d seen her smile – and that was to her parents. To me? She never smiles to me, and I suspect it’s because I unnerve her a little too much.But that’s fine, because even if I don’t understand why I acquiesced to a child’s foolish wishes – again, I reprimanded myself – the smile I received eased any doubts.Just a little bit, but it was enough.Humans, despite their tendencies to be stupid and floundering in their ways, have found rather interesting and differential ways to slaughter things.Guns, knives, swords, hammers, axes, bayonets, claymores, daggers, explosives…even this material they call Dust. They have, astonishingly enough, found different ways to mutilate and maim each other, and somehow adapted them for combat against the Grimm. Swords? They slapped a rifle on it and suddenly they have one of the most versatile weapons I’ve ever seen. Pistols? It now shifts into a dagger, and has a secondary Dust chamber for different effects when firing at an enemy. An axe? It has three different forms and two gun attachments.It scared me and amused me in equal parts; scared because I can only imagine how quickly humans would find themselves escalating from what they already have for the simple need of expediency. Why, soon we may have portable nuclear devices on every second Hunter! Thankfully, my amusement levelled out the fear; if only humans put forth this amount of brain power towards more peaceful objectives, perhaps the Brother Gods would have deemed them a success by now. Perhaps the planet wouldn’t be the mess it is today, the wreck holding together through sheer spite.One such weapon was in the hands of a rather large man. Large as in ‘muscled’ not ‘overweight’.I did give him credit for the suit he was wearing, it was rather dapper; tailored, I imagine, to his large form, but it fit him well. The tie was loosened, however, and the sunglasses I usually saw him in were gone.“Hei, you look well.”“Ruby.” A simple inclination of the head, but with my keen eyes I could see the stress of doing such an action. Now that I paid attention, I could see bags under his eyes, and a healing bruise on his temple. “What are you doing here?”Oh. Was he expecting someone?“Expecting someone else Hei? I can leave and come back later if that’s the case, I do try not to get involved in these things.”“Anymore.” He snorted, and put his rocket launcher bat thing away. Somewhere. Honestly these humans scared me a little with how clever they were at creating weapons. “No, we’re just on edge.” I lifted an eyebrow and he waved me over to the bar; the only part of the club that wasn’t in shambles, I noted, but for all I knew this could be a new décor theme. “Club got wrecked by some crazy girl.”I sat down at the bar and took the offered drink of – I sniffed – white wine, swirling it about in my hand absently. “Hm. Was there a reason for this or…?”Hei frowned and rubbed a hand through his hair, looking older than when I saw him last. Actually, when did I last see him? When he was…was that about five years ago? I’m pretty sure it was, because back then he was training up those two bodyguards of his and just putting The Club together. He looked as tired as I felt, and I reached over to pat him on the shoulder; it seemed to have worked, because I was sent a small smile. “Not really. I didn’t have information she wanted and she got…’handsy’.” At my curious look he shrugged uncomfortably, and I dropped it after a second of thought.“She did this,” to emphasise my point I waved a magnanimous hand in the general direction of The Club’s dance floor “because you didn’t know something?”“Yeah. Real crazy she was, too, insisting I knew the person she was after.” He poured himself a glass of something darker than what I had. “kept telling her I don’t know this person but she kept swearing up and down I did…”“How long ago did this happen? The place should be cleaned up by now. “He grimaced in response, drinking from his own glass that I suspected held something stronger than what I had. Whiskey maybe, but to my knowledge the man that went by Junior was never really into the stuff. Case and point when his grimace turned a little deeper. “About two months ago, I think, but I just got out of hospital and the Twins only just managed to evade the police long enough to make their ways back here.” I lifted an eyebrow at him, and he elaborated. “They’re in their room, resting. Been a tough few weeks for everyone.”I let loose a rather unladylike snort at the understatement. If anything those girls have earned their rest and more.But that’s not why I came here, and Junior seems to know it. Without preamble I pulled out a picture of Blake from my pocket. “This is Blake, went off to join the Fang and I haven’t seen her since. Any ideas?”“Hm…” He took the picture with my permission and stared at it intently for a full minute; his memory was the best I could find outside of an eidetic memory, or my own, so if he’d seen someone all he had to do was think on it for a bit. “Kinda looks like that girl that got into Beacon…”“The Hunting Academy?” Now wasn’t that a shock? From freedom fighter to terrorist to Huntress-In-Training? My, my, Blake, what an interesting little Belladonna you are.“Yep.” He gave me the picture back. “Looks like that girl on one of the First-Year teams. Can’t remember the name of the team, but if you go looking there, look for a kid called Coco.”“Coco?”“Yeah,” he nodded “Coco Adel, she owes me a favour or two so if you let her know she should be able to help you out. Team leader of the Second-Year-Team CFVY.”I downed the rest of the glass in one go and patted his forearm. “Thanks, Hei. I’ll be sure to come visit properly when the place is all fixed up.” I made my way out of the building, leaving the man with parting words while I thought on my plans to get into Beacon. Not as a Huntress, but perhaps a concerned parent? I technically was a concerned grandparent, at least, so that should work. Especially if Ozma recognises me.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Risa was a good friend – sometimes – but I think she needs some sort of chill-out mode. A switch. Just flip and boom! She stops running around doing eight things at once – god do I wish that was an exaggeration, but she really does multitask to the extreme – and takes a minute to take in the world.An excellent example would be now with me and Risa sitting in the park; her eyes were glued to some book she’d brought with her – homework for her English class, I think – but mine? On something more beautiful. Not the trees, which were definitely beautiful, or the people walking around – people watching was a nice thing to do to relax sometimes – or even the blossoms. Was it even the season for blossoms? I don’t really tend to keep track of that kind of thing, but hey, they looked neat. Pretty, really – anyone with the name ‘Sakura’ should be both proud and happy with that name. what I wouldn’t give to be named Sakura…I shake my head slightly – I hate it when my thoughts get away from me. It tended to come out as rambling, and I swear if I have to hear Risa tease me about it one more time I’m going to strangle her, anyone that laughed, and then myself. Well, maybe not, because, well…traumatophobia sucks. I could want to hurt people – or myself, but those thoughts are dark enough without connotation – all I wanted and this stupid phobia would stop me. Because, who knew, being hurt is something you should be scared of?I remember, I skimmed a knee when I was five, and my mother just wouldn’t…I wasn’t staring at Risa either – and oh, was she pretty. Not in the same way, but she had this ‘just stopped being cute and started being pretty’ thing, unlike me. I’m just cute, and she’s said it so many times I don’t even blush anymore!No, back on track.A butterfly. Not just any butterfly, but one of the rarest to see in Japan, and here it was! Right in front of me! The best thing about this sighting was that not only was it rare, but it was endangered. I get to see an endangered butterfly, just floating around doing its thing! I’m pretty sure my mouth was touching the floor with how jaw-dropped I felt.The Tsushima Uraboshi Shijimi, the type of butterfly, was beautiful; it could entrap you with its mere presence. This thing was sheerly magnificent to look at…a glance to my side forced a sigh from my mouth – yep, Risa wasn’t paying attention. At all. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity! A butterfly so rare and beautiful that it was placed on the endangered species list and forcefully bred in this very park!She’d asked earlier why I wanted to go to Tsushima Island, and I think I’d told her something about seeing the sights – our parents were somewhere around here, chatting up a storm no doubt. To be honest I don’t really care.Wow that sounded harsh. But true. I came here for Risa, to show her this island and the places – to marvel with me, to stare at the trees, or walk through the park. If that just so happened to be hand-in-hand well…who was I to complain?Oh, my face felt hot now, so I think I’ll keep those thoughts away for now. I just brought her here as a friend! No ulterior motive whatsoever!…She was still reading the homework book and hadn’t looked up since we sat down here.“Hey, Risa?”“Hmm?”I motioned to the butterfly resting on a flower, definitely under the assumption she’d lifted her head to look at me. “Isn’t it so pretty!?”“Oh, yeah, sure.”I didn’t scowl, because if I did, I’d probably scare away the kids nearby – I never stopped smiling. Risa said she liked them……I sighed and slumped on the bench. What’s the point of smiling when the person you’re smiling for doesn’t notice?Ah well, today was a bust – like all the other attempts – but maybe…next time might do better?‘Yeah, and pigs fly, fish walk, and I’ve got a chance with her’.I want to argue with that thought but I can’t. why do I keep trying? She’s too busy playing video games or reading or catching up with homework – and here’s me, silly little Kaede with big dreams and a bigger imagination, nothing going for her except she’s painfully average in every way. I don’t do video games, I used to read but just never find the time or energy to do that anymore, I don’t go out much, I have very few friends…huh.Now it all makes sense.No wonder she doesn’t look at me like I want her to. What’s the point in trying for someone you’ve got no chance with? Were we always destined to be nothing more than friends? Her, my childhood friend who was perfect in every way, me, the loner hanger-on with a motor mouth and expectations too large for anyone? She was pretty much the best at anything that could be considered to matter; sports, socialisation, even her dress-sense! She had plenty of hanger-ons of course, girls just hoping to run with the crowd, but she hung around me for some reason. Was it pity? That sounded about right – poor little Kaede, look at how lonely she is. I’m her only friend and that’s probably how it will always be.…why were we even friends…?…that’s a dangerous road to go down. Best to shelve those thoughts for now and look at them again when I’m alone and not liable to burst into tears.Oh, the sun was setting! How long was I in my own head…? I shot up from my slouch with a start – or I must have, because it shook Risa from her reading and oh my god was she reading all this time, and not once did she notice the time!? We were here for hours! Did she not even notice that I…that…“Kaede? What…oh shoot! Look at the time!” She shot up, face from confused to that odd shock-worry I’d attributed to Risa’s ‘spooked’ face, and before I could say anything, she grabbed my wrist and sprinted off in the direction – presumably the direction our mothers were. At this point I don’t care. Something weird happened in my chest, like a tight feeling that made my face all blank and cold.I don’t think I like it. I don’t think I care either.Her hand was around my wrist and I don’t care anymore. It used to send little shivers down my spine, used to make me beam in joy, used to make me feel things. When she first did this when we were younger it was odd, but in a good way. Like, it made me feel all tingly, but I liked the tingles? Then when she kept doing it my…feelings for her developed a little more, so instead of tingles she made my pulse race; I’m pretty sure I used to blush a lot too, but I don’t do that anymore – I hope, because damn is that embarrassing.I used to feel safe and warm, happy and giggly, whenever she’d hold my hand.As Risa dragged me to where our parents were, I just felt numb.Why do I feel so tired? So bone-tired and…fed up?
Something broke.
What was this stupid game called? I know it was something uncreative, and I’m pretty sure I said something harsh about it once because come on, that name was really uncreative. But for the life of me I can’t remember it. Was it something like ‘LifeExperience’? No, but that’d be pretty ‘on the nose’ for a sim game, wouldn’t it? Something like ‘FreshStart’? Nah…huh, I woulda thought I’d remember it by now, but…Can I even remember something I don’t really care about anymore? I used to like reading once, now I hate it with a passion; I wonder why? I know I used to like Risa, too, but now I’m just…indifferent to her. I go along with these silly little schemes she has or the nonsense she drags me into because she used to be something important to me…why can’t I remember what?Do I even care about being dragged into this stupid game anyway?Not really. Risa, as she was wont to do nowadays, dragged me into it. Something about ‘spending time with her best friend’, or something. Getting me to cheer up, I think. Can’t remember what she said exactly – I was too busy studying for an upcoming History Exam – but I think it was something like that.Ah, now I remember.
“Gotta cheer up my bestie! You’ve been down for a while now, and I think this might help!”
Careful, Risa, your pity is showing.Anyway, I’m fairly sure I found a new hatred for decision-making; here I stand, before an altar of choices…I should use that for my English class. The teacher might go apoplectic! That’d be a sight! Head in the game – ha – so…I chose the gender, and I created my character…class…? I have no idea what to be. I mean, a shield is looking very appealing right now – hide behind it with max defence stats and just…exist! That’s like, a dream for any suffering Traumatophobe out there!But…apart from myself, what would I be protecting? Risa? She went with some goofy Swashbuckler Class – I wasn’t paying attention all that much, but I’m pretty sure she said something about ‘doing something stupid for once’. Maybe the Swashbuckler wouldn’t have been her first choice, but she chose it for some reason. No idea what that means but…okay? from what little I know about games, it could be something close to being a Thief; less with stealing and more with overall adventuring, maybe.Classes…Classes…Warrior was out immediately. I know I’m trying to get over my fear of getting hurt, but frontline fighting was not appealing to me. VR game or not, I don’t relish the idea of killing people – PKing, I think Risa called it – swinging around a sword just doesn’t appeal to me.I can’t be a Vanguard; using a shield means sitting there and waiting for people to attack, and I could just max my Vitality stat through the roof to help with…not dying…sitting still and waiting for something to happen just doesn’t appeal to me.
“Hey Risa, isn’t it so pretty?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
No wonder it doesn’t appeal to me. I sat and waited for something, anything, to happen. I instigated it of course, but nothing came of it because I didn’t do anything. I just expected to move the piece and watch everything fall into place. The world doesn’t work like that, and neither should a game. I think I’ll pass on being a walking target, thanks.I’ll pass on more waiting.Maybe a Mage? I’d get to sit back and light things on fire. With my mind! That’s awesome, right!? No, when you consider MP costs are a thing, and knowing that a video game can be cruelly unfair sometimes I don’t think I want to be limited because an arbitrary statistic ran out and I had no way to fend for myself. Oh, sure, there’s potions and stuff that can boost my MP and even give some back, but it just seems…too limited.Too much like waiting.No Warrior, Mage is out, Vanguard too…I could be a Healer? Just sit back and…no. just…no.No to Warrior, Mage, Vanguard and Healer. I’m gonna guess that Paladin is pretty much Vanguard but with some healing mixed in, and Rogue might be something like a mix between Swashbuckler and Assassin.I want to be fast, avoid all damage before it even gets to me. Always moving, never standing and waiting. I want to choose what happens, not let it happen; not let opportunities slip by because I waited too long. I want to move around feely with the wind, but I also want to do damage in case I’m backed into a corner.Something like Assassin with a bit more oomph, like Thief with more versatility, something like Mage with less restrictions…My eyes found the perfect Class seconds after that thought had ended, and I split the stat points given to me between Intelligence and Agility. I didn’t even realise I could do it until now, but I can effectively create my own Class with careful point acquisition and application. I can create something entirely new – anyone could do it, but I doubt they’ve learned that just yet, locking themselves into arbitrary Classes. These ‘starting Classes’ weren’t even Classes but guidelines, at least until you hit a certain cut-off point, I imagine…anyone could see that.So why hadn’t Risa…?Doesn’t matter. I’ve just created a new Class type, all for myself. Mixing together Assassin attacks, Mage magic and Thief stealth, with some Swashbuckler versatility. With this in mind, creating the Class – as unofficial as it was – would be as simple as naming it…and I have the perfect name.Maple the Spellthief doesn’t sound intimidating, but it works. Heck, maybe I could even put that moniker to use; make it my job to steal spells and information about different types of magic, and sell the info to others? Maybe even learn what some of the other Magic-users’ spells are and sell info on that? A magical information broker, staying away from fights but going the distance for info that could make it so you don’t die in your next fight against that one magic user with a little more MP than you thought they had…that sounds cold. And pragmatic.And nothing like wimpy little Kaede that sat back and waited.Now, I’ll watch and learn, I’ll act when I want to, when I see things happening and have a plan to act accordingly. If I can sell that plan off and get some money in the process…well, I’m not gonna complain. Was that even possible? Magical information broker? Maybe even sell information on bosses, perhaps even normal enemies and their weaknesses – assuming the game just doesn’t tell you them for some reason – and if I can figure it out what drops they have? That would make farming so much easier for the newer players, wouldn’t it; giving them info on where an item they’re looking for is? For a pretty penny, of course.How very un-Kaede-like.I could feel a very un-Kaede-like grin spread across my face; it felt wide, and positively unnerving, and I wasn’t even able to see it! Maybe I could even play that up? Have that be my ‘in-game’ personality? A smug, know-it-all magical broker, dry humour and witty comments, information pouring from my brain, and for some money that information would be shared.Maybe even make a Guild when I can figure that out, get myself some underlings of like-mindedness to gather the info I might be too busy to get myself – the important stuff would go to me, of course; scouting players, their strengths and weaknesses and the like, their favoured spells and where to get them from, their armour and how to get it if it wasn’t unique to them or crafted…I imagine crafting is a thing…and other important things like that. Unimportant stuff can get passed on to the minions, like regular enemies and minor bosses, maybe? Drop rates, drop items, minor Player Guilds, location scouting, things like that…Wow, I’m putting thought into this and I haven’t even stepped into the game yet!I’ll find out, sooner or later, if all this is even possible. If I could, well all the better. If I couldn’t…well, I’ll make it happen. I will not be held back by ‘ifs’; not anymore.Kaede Honjo will not be a waiter; I’ll watch, I’ll use the information carefully, and I’ll do what I want with it. Kaede Honjo will die here, and the Spellthief Maple, Magical Information Broker Extraordinaire, will live as a queen.About two hours later I completely regretted saying that.“You may notice your ‘Log Out’ command isn’t working…”Kaede Honjo very well did die when she opened up the game ‘NewWorld Online’.Maple was all there was left. Maple the Spellthief, Information Broker. She was all that was left of Kaede’s still-warm corpse. The VR gear linked to her head beeping steadily – a bomb, a noose. Kaede was dead the second she stepped into NWO.Maple clawed her way out of the carcass left behind, biting, kicking, screaming, stabbing and slashing to get out. Standing above her corpse, she looked up at the man that held her former life in his hands, held everything she used to be – airheaded, clumsy, silly little girl that she used to be – in a grasp he could loosen any second.Kaede died, Maple was born, and as Maple I will not die here.
I will not die here.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was Monday when the world ended.It wasn’t a gradual thing, built up over the years and decades. The sun didn’t slowly boil the planet alive, and weather didn’t pick up to inhospitable levels and destroy landscapes. Monsters didn’t rampage throughout the globe and lay waste to everything they came across, hurricanes didn’t tear apart entire continents, the moon didn’t fall out of orbit, AI didn’t invent killer robots to wipe out humanity, a disease didn’t run rampant throughout the populace.No, the world ended with a whimper that was barely audible, exquisitely pathetic. With a sort of sigh that felt more resigned than anything else and nothing could ease that resignation beyond grim acceptance. An unavoidable end, a death really, that the world itself felt nothing but copacetic about. No spite holding the planet together, no sheer force of will keeping it from imploding, no insanely strong being welding it back together in a feat that defied knowledge of physics.That whimper when the world ended was overruled by cackling, giggling, madness-inducing laughter that trailed its destruction into the heavens it now resided in. malicious, intent on revelling in how much the world suffered, even if not directly its hand.The world ended on a Monday, and Taylor Hebert loved every second of it.Monday, after all, was the day she learned she was going to die. It was factual that her mortality would be ever-present, a cloud hanging above her head, a sheet covering her life until it all just ended. It was a wool that shrouded her, threatened to drown her in the presence it brought, but instead of folding to it she grasped that wool with both hands and embraced it. She took that sheet that threatened to block out the sun and drown her in darkness, and instead wrapped it around her shoulders as a mantle; a cloak of her ever-present death, a sign of her weakness worn as pride.“Degenerative,” they said, the doctors that is, with their grim looks and their false pity. They’ve probably seen hundreds, thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, walk through their doors and die on a table somewhere. It doesn’t matter to her what they think, or how much pity they have for her; it hasn’t mattered to her since she was six years old and forced to come to grips that she wouldn’t even live past her eighteenth birthday; maybe she’d manage to make it to thirty, if she lived a stress-free life, but in Brockton that was impossible.Unlike the doctors, she was a realist, is a fatalist. They gave her thirty to forty-five years before the disease began to induce organ failure, but Taylor gave it about fifteen to twenty before the organ failure killed her. The doctors thought themselves so smart with their tools and machines, their predictions and their grim outlooks, but Taylor, while six, was a realist. As a realist she knew she wouldn’t hit her eighteenth year without major amounts of luck. Or maybe a Cape? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? A medical Cape that takes pity on her and vanishes away her terminal, one-hundred-percent mortality rated disease.She shook such thoughts from her head; she was fourteen now and the only Cape that could do that – in the whole world, by the way – was Panacea. Overworked, heroic Panacea, the Cape that saved people because she could, with a power that could easily be used to become Nilbog 2.0, but with major world-ending potential added into the mix. Overworked Panacea that looked as tired as she also probably felt, if not more, and a burgeoning almost-need to be a good person…no matter how much Taylor might say she was anything but deep down. Amy Dallon didn’t want to be a healer, hated her power, and Taylor didn’t want to burden the hero anymore than she already was by asking her to fix her up.Taylor would manage until the disease kicked in full swing, and then she’d go crawl into bed, close her eyes, and dream for an eternity. Well, she would if her death would be that peaceful, but she had the idea that it wouldn’t be.It really says something when the doctors give you forty-five years and overcalculate by thirty-one. No matter, that just gave her four years to do her best to be a hero! Sure, being a Cape wasn’t in the cards for her when she listened to her mother on the phone collide with a speeding sixteen-wheeler, but in all honesty the powers sort of made up for it. They didn’t make up for her father killing himself in a pique of depression, or her grandmother dying a year later in her sleep, but they came close enough to feel like they could have. It didn’t really matter, in the end; Taylor was to die, but if her powers helped someone else, if they worked their best with her steering the wheel to make someone’s day a little bit better…well, she’d do her damned best to help whoever she could.Being a Cape at eleven sucks, sure, and being an orphan Cape sucks worse; but there are upsides.The very first thing she did as a Cape? Find out what her powers were, and then laugh-cry when she found them incredibly ironic.The second thing?Practice her powers. Unceasingly, unerringly, without stop; for two years.Lastly?“Hi! My name’s Taylor Hebert, but you can call me Avalon!” She shot her hand out expecting a handshake. “I’d like to join New Wave!”One of the benefits of being an orphan Cape? You can unmask yourself with little fear and very little worry for anyone in your personal life being affected – Emma found herself a new friend and told Taylor she wasn’t needed anymore, but that’s okay – and basically become a 24/7 hero. All day, all night, no personal life.Taylor loved it.Victoria Dallon was confused.Amy Dallon was tired, overworked, and needed sleep; the best she could do was shrug at the confused Victoria.Carol Dallon thought she was an idiot, but simultaneously found the idea of their little movement finally taking off after ten years of stagnation appealing enough to regard her with some sense of approval.Mark Dallon just stared at her, something soft and understanding in his wispy eyes. He saw something in her, when her smile, he noted, seemed a little too fake and the cheer a little to cheery. He would know; he suffered depression.He was used to faking things for the sake of others.“You wish to join New Wave?”Taylor, in response to Carol’s question, beamed brighter; Mark noted how practiced it looked, and Amy made a mental note to talk to her later on when she noticed that Taylor’s hand seemed to be shaking a little. “Yep!” Her hand was still out, expecting a handshake, and Victoria giggled as she reached out and shook the girl’s hand. Taylor’s grin became more genuine, if only a little.“…you’ll have to go through screening.”Taylor bobbed her head and, before their eyes, seemed to materialise what looked like an ID card, a birth certificate, and a piece of paper with a doctor’s name on it.Carol continued, as though she’s seen much like this before.“You would also need to be interviewed on why you would join New Wave instead of the PRT Wards.”“Okay!” Taylor bobbed her head again, and Amy glared at her in a half-asleep state wondering where the girl got the boundless enthusiasm she seemed to emit.“Lastly…” Carol shifted in her seat, looking more serious than she already was – which was very. Taylor either didn’t notice or didn’t care; she just smiled. “we are all about Cape Accountability; being accountable for your actions.” At Taylor’s semi-serious nod she continued. “You would need to unmask yourself publicly, your public identity and your Cape identity would be one and the same in this case.” Is Carol trying to deter her? She knew this already!Taylor voiced as such and Carol’s grimace became a little softer, a little more approachable.“Do your parents know?”Taylor’s smile died. “Ah…can I talk about that after I join?”“Yes.” Carol turned to Mark who gave her his patented dead-eyed-but-still-there-somewhere stare, and after a minute she turned away. With a nod he continued, ignoring his children and their stares with expert practice. “It’s not like we require parental permission anyway, just that you know what you’re doing, and understand that you’ll be held accountable for anything you do in and out of your Cape outfit.”Taylor nodded, smile blooming back, but it seemed to take her some effort this time. “Okay!” Giving an exaggerated look around, she turned to Carol. “Do I need to sign anything?”Carol took back over and smoothed her face into a more personable smile; blank, devoid of all meaning save being called a ‘smile’ but still used to ease the minds of people. “Just some forms to say you consent to a background check, a quick personality test,” at Taylor’s confused look she elaborated “just to make sure you can mesh well with our team.” At Taylor’s understanding ‘ah’ she eased down into her chair. “The last thing we need is approval of the others in New Wave.”Taylor smiled. “Okay!” Then her smile dipped a bit. “Uh…are there any rules I should know?” Carol tilted her head in question. “Like, house rules? Things frowned on in New Wave?”“Ah. I think there’s been a mistake.” Carol looked stonier than she did before. Taylor took that as a bad sign. “New Capes, if there are any, don’t stay with us in our homes. That’s up to your parents. We simply act as an alternative to the PRT.”“If I can pay my way, can I stay here?”Mark jumped in again. “We have a guest room.” At Carol’s side-eyed look he shrugged. “If you can pay rent, which we’ll work out based on what you do exactly, then I don’t see why not. We’ll work things out like breakfast and dinner and the likes, but I don’t see why not.”Victoria interjected. “Can you pay rent?” Then, as an afterthought, added in “and will your parents be okay with it?”Taylor smiled a lot more genuinely than she had all night.“Yeah! My dad dabbled in the stock market for the Dockworkers Association when he was younger and he invested a lot of it into a trust fund for me when I hit sixteen, and mom used to be an English professor and had a college fund saved up for me.”Carol, for the sake of expediency, ignored the ethics of her using a trust fund and a college fund to pay rent, and just picked up her phone to call the rest of New Wave while Taylor engaged in conversation with Victoria.Unknown to all, Mark smiled slightly before it righted into a disinterested look, eyes glancing back to the TV.“So, what’s your power?” It was an icebreaker to her, but Amy was genuinely curious. She’d been slipping in and out when they were questioning Taylor and couldn’t remember hearing it. from Victoria’s questioning gaze and Carol’s inquisitive look she could say that no one had asked her that yet. They must not care, really, finally getting a new member must have been a real shock to the system.“I’m a healer!”Amy perked up, eyes locking with Victoria’s for a second before returning to Taylor’s position slumped on the couch. They’d gone over the legality and the rest of New Wave grilling her, and Taylor – or Avalon – was now to publicly unmask as a new Hero of New Wave tomorrow afternoon on the Boardwalk. Sarah and Crystal Pelham were notifying the PRT and PHO respectively, while Mark got on the phone with some contacts of his to make sure the venue was as safe as possible.No one wanted another Fleur incident.“Really?” She’d stab anyone that pointed out the grain of hope in her voice.“And a teleporter too!” She waved a hand and the mug on the table in front of them materialised in her hand, the liquids inside not even sloshing in anything other than a gentle way.That was how Amy Dallon gained her first best friend.Taylor didn’t want to tell her they’d be friends for the next four years, and only the next four years. Hell, she didn’t even expect to live that long, not in a place like Brockton Bay. With literal Nazis in one corner, angry dragon-worshipping Asians in another, and drug-pushers wriggling around at the side, Taylor honestly didn’t even expect to hit her first pay check. Didn’t expect her to meet her first boyfriend – or girlfriend, in all honesty she wasn’t even sure, what with her fatalist outlook and lack of opportunities – or settle down or even own a house; the little room she had in the Dallon’s house was sort-of hers but the house rules were a bit…restrictive.She can see why Victoria sneaks out nearly every night, and why Amy spends most of her time at the hospitals.Taylor adored the rules, though. They were structure, something her aimless life has been needing since her parents’ deaths; a time to wake up if you wanted breakfast, a time to be asleep before all the lights went out, a schedule set for lunches and dinners, a diet and exercise list for if you wanted to get a bit healthier, no drugs or paraphernalia, no boys or girls over for any reason that isn’t approved or supervised…it sounded harsh, was harsh, but Taylor didn’t complain; she actually sat down with Carol and ironed over some of the more vague rules with ideas of what she could and couldn’t do to skirt them.Carol, to her, was like a stern aunt: Vicky the outgoing, if ditzy, cousin; Amy the withdrawn, snarky, always-busy relative; Mark the ‘done with the world’ uncle. The rest of New Wave were like old, if sometimes vacant, friends. They would never replace her parents, but they were a family to her; a feeling that had grown mutual over the time she’d spent there, even to the point that they celebrated her fourteenth birthday with her, despite not sharing blood.“Oh wow, is that Avalon?”“Oh my god it is!”Taylor overenthusiastically waved at the passing girls with a large smile and received giggles and swooning noises – exaggerated, of course – in response. She didn’t mind; it was fun to lighten up people’s days.She was out in her standard shirt and jeans, no costume, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a hero to the people; she was the top healer besides Panacea and helped everyone and anyone with no cares or worries – as long as you weren’t a villain, but even then she’s healed a few of the minor ones. Villains that are more ‘nuisances’ than ‘public enemies’; L33t, Uber, even Faultline’s crew. She’s never had to heal The Undersiders before, the group of slippery thieves that they were, but she knew they’d slip up eventually – no one remained so low on the radar forever, especially not if the rumours of them targeting one of Lung’s casinos was true. Thankfully, they hadn’t hit it yet, so she could only hope it was just something dumb floating around on PHO and not something they were actually thinking of doing.she can heal someone from the brink of death, even revive them from near brain-death, but not if they’re burned to a crisp.‘Well’ she thought ‘as long as they don’t do anything stupid, I’ll heal them.’Taylor, two days later, would think back to this moment and curse her stupidity in jinxing herself.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Kiriko was in a bit of a dilemma. Well, a “bit” was an understatement when comparing the situation she now found herself in with the past few months of events. There wasn’t really all that much to compare this situation to, in all honesty – the past few months had been filled with her making up with Suguha, her cousin-sister, and beta testing the new SAO. She’d occasionally met with real-world friends, had some form of decent conversation with her mother about a week ago, and had fully experienced the entirety of the NerveGear’s systems.Akihiko Kayaba, in her opinion, was a genius. He’d single-handedly founded a company that somehow gained enough money and traction to create the first ever full-dive NerveGear. A system that, in complexity alone, baffled many; essentially, it took away the ability for you to move, translating all thought processes into movement within the full-dive VRMMORG Sword Art Online. He was someone to look up to, someone to see hanging on the wall alongside his company’s logo and say “I want to be like him someday”. His success story made Kiriko want to know him better, made her want to join in whatever endeavours he had concocted. He was a colour of a different shade than the other corporate games industries – a single man that gathered together the top minds of the gaming industry from around the world to create the most immersive game ever, a man that used charisma and promises to get what he wanted, rather than money and bribes like so many nowadays.She was in SAO because of him. She owed him for this opportunity that she’d been granted.“So, how does combat work?”…Correction: she owed him after she finished teaching this newbie player the basics. Apparently, everyone who bought the game wasn’t someone that had read extensively on the usages and application of the NerveGear as she – and many other of the current day-one players – had. He was, for all of his intellect and quick learning abilities, a newbie in every sense of the word. He knew nothing of how the VR world operated, how different – and oddly similar – it could be when compared to the real world. Gravity functioned down to the first percentile of accuracy; after all, if something went up, that something would go down. It was a law that anything to do with ‘immersion’ would have to follow. It wasn’t very immersive, after all, to jump and float to the ceiling of a tall house, or touch a virtual cloud with your hands. While it would seem interesting to say the least, and spoke of the numerous applications Virtual Reality could have, for now SAO was as advertised.A fully immersive, full-dive, VRMMORPG where the only limitation were the rules of the world and the player’s imagination, skill lag times, and ability levels. You wanted to play it to be a carpenter? You could do that with the right mixture of skills and the willpower. Wanted to become a blacksmith? Money was no issue for those in the game that devoted their time to crafting weapons for adventurers. Always dreamed of being a lone wolf rogue? An assassin? A merchant? Anything you wanted to be you could be, anything you felt like becoming you could become.Then there was levelling your abilities themselves; for example, a beta tester friend of hers, Argo, liked to role-play as an information broker – which surprisingly the game had functions and skills for. Her favourite skill, as it would seem, was the Hide skill; upon activation the user became invisible to all but NPCs and other players with a high enough Searching skill. Of course, Kiriko never did figure out how exactly Argo managed to get information, but with her motto being ‘anything’s for sale for the right price’ she was fairly certain there was some trading involved – and with her Hide skill, most likely some spying too.The girl had some sort of natural inclination towards money, it would seem; an unhealthy obsession that, when called out on, prompted her to simply titter and giggle. As if she knew something everyone else didn’t. with her information broker background and her obsession towards uncovering secrets and the like, it wasn’t too far out there to assume that there were some secrets the girl wouldn’t part with.It made sense; every spy needed secrets of their own, otherwise they were simply information collectors, and not brokers. And yes, while Argo may be a self-styled broker, she was, nevertheless, the reason Kiriko didn’t die as often as she did during the beta. It helped to have an info broker hellbent on discovering every secret of the game as your friend.It was no surprise that the first thing she did was send a friend request – which was timely accepted – to the ‘Rat’.Back to her conundrum at hand; she’d been dealing with this player, “Klein”, for a while now.Apparently, he’d caught her running as soon as her avatar spawned and figured her for a beta tester – and it was a smart assumption, too, because everyone else around her was too busy gawking and staring at everything around them. Of course, she’d done that too in the beta, but it was far from impressive. While everything looked realistic, if you’ve played video games long enough like she has you’d notice something off about the world – something really off. Birds chirped, of course, but their flight patterns were simply uninspiring, and they only seemed to chirp in three or four different patterns before it reset. The clouds looked too far spaced and too white to resemble anything realistic at all, especially in modern-day Japan. The grass, while green, was too simple; no variation amongst the blades of verdant nature at all, no differences that would be uniquely realistic.So yes, while SAO was a beauty and looked perfect in every way…despite its many claims it was not realistic. It was fantasy-realistic, sure, but not realistic-realistic. The term ‘Uncanny Valley’ comes to mind.Then again, she couldn’t fault Klein for following her the way he did – with her running through the streets towards the monster spawns she was bound to draw some attention; if anything, she had to give him credit for keeping up with her. Not many could keep up with an ex-kendo regionals champion, and even fewer that weren’t named ‘Suguha’.Reminding herself for the fifth time now that he was probably new to gaming in general, she reigned in her waning impatience and explained as best she could; SAO was more of a ‘you do and you learn’ sort of thing, with the beginning tutorial being optional instead of mandatory and many of the game’s aspects rounding down to ‘you’ll know when you do it, or when you pay someone with the information on how to do it’.She resisted the sudden urge to cross her arms and rest them atop her breasts as she glared him down for wasting her time; she’d had to remind herself more than once that she was, as of right now, to identify within the game as a male.“Listen, Klein; did you skip the tutorial?” Instead of the raspy and somewhat soft voice she’d used for nearly sixteen years of her life, there was a deep and rough baritone that grated on her ears. There was nothing attractive about her voice whatsoever, nothing that suggested she wasn’t a male. Her looks were plain, her avatar painstakingly crafted in the beta to resemble what she imagined a N.E.E.T with an athletic background to look like; tall, about five foot eleven or so, with scraggly black hair and grey eyes, nothing else of note – if anything she looked like the standard Japanese man.Instead of crossing her arms as she longed to do, she instead placed her hands inside the pockets her starter armour contained; thankfully she wasn’t nude when she started the game with her previous avatar, as she had feared when she was told that items the beta testers held would be removed upon entrance to the full version.She had very little desire to see if the male and female avatars held any form of ’biological realism’. There were enough things going on right now, and she did not need ‘existential crisis’ and ‘gender confusion’ added to that list. Of course there was always the ‘holy shit something’s gone wrong but you can’t think about it because more shit is going wrong’ list, and that was a long list; she had a feeling it was going to receive an extension to it real soon, and wasn’t that a fun thought?“Yeah…but I sorta…sped through it all?” While worded as a structured sentence bereft of any sarcasm, Kiriko had just about had it with people thinking they could just start up new games with innovative systems and expect to just pick up everything via trial and error. She was all for the ‘chaos theory’ route of programming, but that didn’t necessarily apply to the gaming world. She would have let Klein know that the very painful way – via elbow to the groin, regardless of whether or not he could feel it – but instead sighed. He couldn’t be faulted; he was as new to video games as she was to dancing – that is to say, she couldn’t dance to save her life and only extensive learning and training could possibly give her the chance to move without her two left feet crashing into each other.She imagined it was very much the same for him.“Okay. So, Sword Art’s combat system functions very much the same as any other video game’s. You following me?” At his hesitant nod, she continued. “you swing a weapon, weapon does damage. You get hit, you take damage – there are healing potions to give you health, teleport crystals to move you to a designated safe zone and damage types and resistances to add some…flavour, I guess, to the combat.”“It’s…” he looked apprehensive, and maybe it was because of how simplified she’d made it sound. Well, Kiriko never claimed to be good at this stuff. Aside from Suguha – and some brave kids back in high-school – this was the first person she’d actively been approached by and talked to. Even after hours of talking and teaching he still could barely grasp the basics and even then, had only just gotten the hang of proper movement beyond running and walking.“I know.” Kiriko – or her in game avatar Kirito – waived him off while slouching with her left hand still in her pocket. There were mobs around, sure, but they were Level one boars, and she was already level four – no need to kill them when they were passive, too. She did, however, spy some level three boars near the back of the ‘herd’ or whatever you called a group of digitised pigs. She turned her eyes back to Klein. “You just have to think about it like this – sword skills can be activated by certain thought processes or hand gestures – you can open the menu, right?”He nodded, more confident now that he had some form of knowledge beyond basic movements.“Open it.” He did so with an unnecessary flourish, but she wouldn’t judge him for it – many betas did much of the same when they first got their hands on SAO. “You should see your skills to the left-hand side of your vision, and next to that, an ‘info’ tab.”“Oh, I get it!”“Y-You do?” there was no small amount of shock in her voice – even she’d had a hard time learning the menu system and combat controls, but VRMMORPGs weren’t exactly known throughout the land as being easy to get. Because SAO was the first. She had, of course, prided herself on being the highest levelled and fastest learning beta in the test, with only four deaths across ten floors to her name. All of this being said, SAO didn’t go out of its way to teach you new things; you either learned from someone else, paid rapt attention to the mundane and boring tutorial, or discovered it on your own – and information wasn’t cheap in SAO, either. Anything new was bought and sold like cake at a bakery.Everything was for sale information-wise; avatar names, player fighting styles, moves and techniques, quest walkthroughs, even information on dungeons.It helped, as mentioned before, to have a friend like Argo in the beta; friends typically gained a discount, after all. Granted it was a small one, about ten percent or so – but Kiriko wasn’t complaining.“I mean, I’m not a complete noob; I’ve played 2D MMORPGs before. If this is just like some of those but 3D I think I’ll have it easier than I thought I would!” He seemed to be getting louder and more boastful the longer he went on for, and eventually he pressed his chest out like some of gorilla asserting whatever feeble dominance he thought he had over the younger ‘male’. Kiriko sighed, loudly, and simply pointed at one of the boars across from her; the digital creature in question was ignoring them both, grazing at the surrounding digital grass that reappeared as soon as it was ‘eaten’. She did have to give the programmers of the game their due for things like this – water actually felt wet, animals grazed on grass or hunted each other according to the in-game’s ‘food chain’, day-night cycles and weather changes occurred…it was, again, no wonder people preferred video games sometimes to the real world. “Go on then.” At his somewhat inquisitive look she elaborated. “Go kill that level one Boar; you clearly know what the game’s about, and you’re right in that all MMOs share a formula. You get one down, the others should be easy to pick up – I’m not being sarcastic, no.”He did no speech following her explanation, no ‘fighting for control of the situation’ as she’d read about. Realistically she knew she shouldn’t compare all humans to their primate counterparts but with her limited human interaction and the fact that she learned most of what she knows in an age of internet searching there was an established opinion from what she’d seen that she needed to get rid of. It would do her no good to keep thinking like that, and while it could be amusing to her, to some degree, she didn’t imagine it was to everyone else.He just wordlessly brandished his level one starter sword, somehow puffed out his chest even more, and charged at the nearest level one Boar.Kiriko just grabbed a pebble and sat down on a nearby jutting boulder.Today was proving to be more amusing than she’d thought it would.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Vista to console, I found another one.” She didn’t sigh, but it was a close thing, marred with a tiredness borne of staying up way past her bedtime; she might resent being treated as a child, but Vista just knew she was really pushing her own nightly tolerance for patrols.What was the time again? She glanced down at her watch and frowned; 11:34pm. Way past her bedtime.There was a sigh, weary, and she didn’t blame whoever was manned on Console tonight; overseeing Vista run around, documenting what looked like Gang-affiliated graffiti of some sort was not, in any way, shape or form, interesting. Not even remotely. In the very least this was a bad night; these gang tags had been popping up all over the Docks, and a little bit into the Downtown area; a startling number had been spotted on the Boardwalk as well, and despite the Enforcers’ best efforts they hadn’t been able to spot anyone spraying them. They were not there one day, and then there the next.A new gang was settling in Brockton, and the only thing they had to go off of was the gang tags themselves. A lighthouse, more of an outline of one; the ray of light from the top facing forward, in words beneath written in something resembling blood – but was later found to just be red paint – were-
-Big Sister Is Watching
They were creepy, too. Foreboding in a way that sent shivers down even Armsmaster’s spine – yet, for some reason, Vista felt safe. Others, adults mostly, felt fear and wariness at them. Others still, such as the males of the Wards, felt upset for a reason they couldn’t even understand – the connotations held within were creepy, but if Vista could feel reassured and safe about walking around the Docks or the Boardwalk at night, then why couldn’t they?“Copy that, Vista. I’ll add it to the board, and our growing tally I guess.” Oh, So Kid Win was on Console today? It must be a punishment for that experimental laser pistol-thing he made last week when the E88 decided to perform a ‘Rally’; it stick sickened Vista sometimes, knowing that people could stoop to such levels as to beat non-white children half to death for breathing the same air as them. Then Kid Win had opened fire, and must have miscalculated or something, because his laser damn-near punched a hole clean through some random mook.The E88 had beaten children in broad daylight…but the perpetrators hadn’t vanished when they managed to escape the PRT – they turned up days later outside the local Police Station, blubbering and sobbing about something ‘showing them the error of their ways’. They were inconsolable, hysterical, screaming at everything and anything that made even the slightest of metallic screeching noises; Panacea had been asked to knock them out for transport to a Prison-hospital, and the healer wasn’t exactly gentle about it. There’d been a viciously satisfied gleam in her eyes when she’d done it, and Vista made a mental note to stay away from her whenever she was on her bad side.Vista shook herself from her thoughts and spoke aloud, using her power to circumvent the very laws of gravity and space to hop from one side of the Docks to the other; she stayed well away from ABB hotspots, as were her orders, but she couldn’t help but feel useless just looking around for tags instead of muggers of late-night looters.“Vista to Console, I found another one.”
“What? How far away from the last one are you?”
Vista looked behind her to the rooftop halfway across the Docks; she stopped pinching the spaces between her rooftop and that one, and watched in dry fascination as the world righted itself once more.“I’d say about a half-mile?”“Damn, they’re getting grouped together.” Kid Win sighed, but soon after there was a huffing sound from him and a squeaking as his chair was moved. Soon after Miss Militia was talking through the headset.“I’m going to be taking over for Kid Win, Vista.” There was a shuffling noises, some paper she thinks, before Miss Militia continued; in the meantime, Vista continued her patrol; she would be out with Shadow Stalker right now, but the ex-vigilante had broken into a sweat and ran off back to PHQ as soon as she found her first tag. “I want you to see if you can find some more tags grouped together.”Vista nodded, her no-nonsense attitude unknowingly making Miss Militia smile a bit. “Yes, ma’am.” And then her image of a strong, no-nonsense girl was replaced by the tired teenager she was when an audible yawn broke out.“This will be your last bit in the patrol, Vista.” Miss Militia’s voice had this tendency to tell you that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, even if it sounded sweeter than anything imaginable. She was scary like that. “This last bit will take you to the edge of ABB territory – don’t worry, Armsmaster’s on his way to meet you there.”That stopped her higher brain functions for a few seconds before an audible beep rang out in her head and signalled her brain rebooting. “Uh…Armsmaster, Ma’am?”“Yes. For some reason, these tags have caught his attention.” There was the clickety-clack of fingers on a keyboard for a minute as Vista raced through Brockton Bay to reach the edge of the Docks – Armsmaster hated when people made him wait, after all. “Then there’s Lung.”“Lung?”“He’s been more active, recently,” Miss Militia explained. “He’s been seen trying to make moves into snatching up some E88 territory more often, too.”Vista hummed, but ultimately found herself not caring. She was a hero, she saved people from the villains. She didn’t go looking for impossible fights she couldn’t win. As long as she stayed the hell away from where Lung was, or stuck close to Armsmaster, she’d be safe. Sure, she’d taken on Hookwolf and walked away with a scar and him with some jail-time, but she’d exploited everything she could to ‘win’ that fight. Lung…couldn’t be exploited as easily. She’d die in the first minute.With that cheery thought she finally made it to the edge of ABB territory, nodding once to herself when she spotted Armsmaster leaning against his bike. “Vista to Console; about to make contact with Armsmaster.”“Copy that, Vista,” muttered Miss Militia.Vista, now on a rooftop just above Armsmaster, looked around for a bit before sighing to herself; there were no other people out aside from Armsmaster, and even should there be he’d keep her safe – he may be known for social suicide, but good lord did he take his job, and the lives of the Wards, seriously.Without second thought she pinched the ground four stories beneath her next to Armsmaster and walked down to stand next to him.The Locker broke her, she knows it did. Nothing the Trio had ever done, even her mother’s flute being destroyed, had shattered something integral inside her like the Locker had.Banging on the metal walls, screaming at the top of her lungs to be let out. Mercy, she wailed, I haven’t done anything to you. Let me out! They laughed, and she broke in that Locker, the last thought on her mind of her little sister Emma Barnes being twisted by Sophia – a bully, a monster that preyed on the weak – and Taylor being nowhere near her to save her in time.She wasn’t the big sister she should have been. Now she was.She wasn’t a hero or a villain or a rogue or anything else she could be. She didn’t murder people, or lock them up, or make clothes like Parian, or perform feats of collateral damage only rivalled by Endbringers like Glory Girl. She didn’t heal people like Panacea did, or freeze people in stasis like Clockblocker did, or build amazing machinery like Dragon did, or become something of a feared entity to the gangs like Armsmaster did. She was Taylor Hebert, newly orphaned, with nothing left except her little sisters.Her precious Little Sisters.They weren’t a gang or anything, they weren’t even affiliated with her, but they were her Little Sisters, and she was their Big Sister. She would defend them from everything she could – the gangs, unpowered thugs, even the PRT if she needed to. She would keep them all safe, let them grow up in the ways she couldn’t – not anymore – and watch over them as a big sister should. They’d get married, have kids, those kids would have grandkids and all the while Taylor Hebert would watch them all.She had no interest in healing Brockton, not anymore. She just wanted her Little Sisters to be safe and sound, secure in their future – and cracking some gangbangers’ skulls just so happened to coincide with keeping her Little Sisters safe.She didn’t have a gang. The PRT thought otherwise.It’s rather sad when a seven-year-old girl had to know more about her than the PRT did – then again, she’d saved little Sakura Namamura from the E88 Rally, and only told her two things about herself. Two more things than the PRT knew about her, that’s for sure.One; her name was Big Sister, and any child in the city was her Little Sibling. Two; Big Sister didn’t care about the gangs as long as they left children out of it. As soon as children were involved…Big Sister would come out to play.Taylor didn’t snort, but it was a close thing. How the PRT hadn’t figured it from the ‘gang tags’ she’s been leaving around she has no idea, but then again a vague ‘Big Sister is Watching’ might not be enough for an organisation known for over-thinking things. Also, it was somewhat reminiscent of ‘Big Brother is Watching’, which to be honest would put anyone ill at ease.A shout broke her out of her thought processes, and she blinked for a moment – her diving suit helmet went yellow, responding to her emotions of caution and confusion, before it glowed a serene green again. Not a child’s shout, sounding in the late twenties, maybe even mid-thirties.Therefore, not her problem.Just as she was about to continue a child’s scream echoed throughout the Docks, and her visor glowed a menacing red immediately. A child, aged between 11 and 15; puberty hadn’t affected her voice yet. From the scream she was somewhere near the Docks. It sounded muted, as though it was behind something.Her visor lit red.Lung’s roar echoed after the scream.Taylor sped through the Docks as fast as she could, a metallic screech of rage following. She would not fail another Little Sister, not again, and definitely not to one of her monsters that hid under the bed. Lung, chief of monsters, would harm no more of her precious Little Sisters.She'd make sure of it. Or die trying. “-ta!” It was Armsmaster’s voice, but it sounded so far away, like she was underwater and above it all at the same time. It sounded warbled, distorted, like she couldn’t remember what the words were supposed to mean and it came out disjointed. A hand shook her shoulder roughly, but not ungentle, and it roused her consciousness enough for her to pick up the inflection of urgency in his voice. “Vista!”Her head lolled to the side, and her eyes were seeing triples of everything, but she managed to choke out a straight “S-Sir?”“Vista! You’re conscious. Can you understand what I’m saying?”“Y-Yessher.”His bearded mouth lowered into a frown and he seemed to come to some conclusion. By the swimming in her vision and the gargling in her ear, with the ringing sound she’d accompanied with explosions, Vista was almost certain she was suffering a mild concussion. Anything more severe and she’d be loopier than fruit loops, singing dumbass songs and complaining about her non-existent life outside the Wards. Probably doing what Gallant did the last time he got a concussion and singing love songs to a lamppost that he called ‘Vicky’; teased relentlessly for weeks after that, but apparently Victoria ‘made it up to him’. Whatever that meant.Romance is weird, and Missy was staying far the fuck away from that.“ko-agh-Concushon.”He nodded, somewhat surprised at her show of weakness but nevertheless accepting that it was important to know one’s disabilities and weaknesses to relay to teammates. Especially in a battle. “Yes. When Lung attacked he threw a large car at us. I saw and moved out of the way, but you seemed to be focused on something else and didn’t move in time.”Vista nodded, her memory coming back to her, and her eyebrow twitched when she felt an overwhelming sense of stupidity flood through her. She’d been staring off into the distance when Armsmaster shouted his warning, but…what had she been focused on?Lung roared again, the very ground beneath her body rumbling and quaking with the force of it. She saw Armsmaster grow a grim and resigned frown, and watched as he looked around the area she’d found herself in; checking if the place was safe, maybe?“Vista.” She trailed her eyes back to his face. He was kneeling down next to her, now, and despite his lack of social ability and facial cues she could see his frown become concerned – was he sad? For her? He rested his hands on one of her legs – one of her legs she couldn’t feel, mind you – and pressed down lightly, watching her face. For a reaction, maybe?“Vista…” His voice sounded…sad, upset…devastated. “Vista, this is going to hurt, but I need you to try and keep quiet, okay?”“S-Sir…?”He just handed her a soft and pliable-feeling piece of wood, and when she didn’t seem to get what he wanted, placed it gently in her mouth. “Vista, I need you to bite down on that as hard as possible, okay?”Just as she did bite down on it, Armsmaster pulled. Whatever it was brought a lot of blood with it.Despite herself, Missy Biron screamed behind the flimsy wood.A metal screech answered back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was morning when Lisa received a call from her boss. Well, she says morning, it was more polite to say that it was the ass end of dawn, and she was woken up by the incessant ringing of her most hated device. Hated, namely, because it was another connection to how chained she was to Coil and his, quite frankly, antics.A good example of his antics was phoning her at three-thirty in the morning, waking not only her up, but her bed-mate as well. Saddest thing is, as she went to pick up the phone and remove the grog from her voice, she knew that Coil knew she was going to have to explain things.Again.She hated him a little more because of that.“Hey boss.”Thank god she’d managed to clear her voice beforehand to make it seem like she was wide awake. Showing weakness of any kind in front of Coil was unacceptable.
“Tattletale, I have a job for you and your gang.”
Despite her self-control, she still found herself slumping back into bed – ignoring the hand that snaked around her waist – and groaning into the phone. “It couldn’t have waited until they were all awake?”“No.” It could have. “If I tell you now you would have more time to plan it.” He could have told you later, finds waking you up over something so trivial amusing. Has ulterior motives. Doesn’t want job to fail, excuse of more planning isn’t a complete lie.“Just tell me the job.”“A day from now I need you and The Undersiders to rob Brockton Bay Central Bank, the caveat is it needs to be in broad daylight.” There was a long pause over the phone, and then her laptop in its dormant state pinged from an e-mail being received. “I’ve sent the payment details and finer points.”Lisa, despite herself, winced at the words he’d just spoken. He sounded serious, too, and one of his major plans revolve around this heist going off during the day, doesn’t expect trouble with the PRT, doesn’t need the money from the bank. Distraction? “The others might not like this, especially Grue.” She knew that he knew the rest of the teams’ names, but it didn’t hurt to show some…what was it Echelon called it? OPSEC? Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to show some caution. “Regent might, and Bitch will with some persuasion, but Grue might just turn it down outright.”“And Echelon?” She could hear the grin he was sporting over the phone, she knew he was mocking her, but there was little she could do besides grit her teeth and bear with it.“She’ll…”
“Put her on the phone, Tattletale.”
Lisa grumbled and handed the phone to her groggy, half-asleep bed-mate. As Echelon picked up the phone and put it to her ear, Lisa slipped out to make some coffee; well, coffee for her, tea for Echelon.“Echelon here.” Her voice, compared to Tattletale’s lackadaisical, if stressed, voice sounded far more professional. Coil would say it sounded military, but he knew it was more than that; a confidence gained from something much more than simple military. Either way he appreciated it, and found himself, not for the first time, liking Echelon more than he thought he could like someone else that wasn’t him.“Coil. I have a proposition for you, Echelon.” There was the sound of clicking and something that sounded like a mouse being dragged against something soft, before a few more clicking noises.“Details?” She sounded far more awake and serious than before, now.
“Optional, not time-sensitive, silent.”
“Lethality?”“Either, doesn’t matter much to me.” There was a pause. “Just don’t leave evidence.”“Job?”“Espionage.” At her hum he continued, some more clicking in the background followed by some pinging on her phone. “I need you to break into Medhall’s Headquarters and download a file containing the employees names. Home addresses, phone numbers, even their pay checks.”“For Empire information, I assume. Pay?”
“Five hundred thousand, and if you manage to steal anything, I’ll fence it for you for free. I need this done whenever possible, but there is no time limit unless something comes up.”
Echelon hummed, bouncing around the pros and cons before slipping herself out of bed and walking over to the shared laptop she and Lisa had. “Consider it done.” She opened the file he’d sent her on the phone and connected her phone with a USB to the laptop to view the files on a bigger screen. “I’ll help out The Undersiders with this Bank job, and head over to Medhall once the heat’s died down. You might have to wait a couple of days. Maybe even a week or two depending on PRT response.”Coil nodded, knowing she couldn’t see him but also knowing that the silence spoke volumes enough. They understood each other like that, and it was why he was determined to have her as a partner and not a ‘pet’. “Acceptable.”“Good. I might need to see Pitter about some new pain medication. Side’s acting up.” She closed the laptop down and turned away from the phone, ready to turn it off when she saw Lisa coming out of the kitchen of The Undersiders’ lair with two steaming mugs in hand. “Goodnight, Coil.”Unlike how he would usually act when given such an empty platitude, Coil chuckled and returned the favour. They both understood that they didn’t have an indefinite time to live, and that death could come from anything. He respected that outlook a lot more than he did anyone else’s.“Goodnight, Echelon.” The phone clicked silent.Turning from the laptop, Echelon lifted herself from her chair and met Lisa halfway, pecking her lips and taking the mug that she knew from the scent had tea in it.“Morning Lisa.”Lisa took a sip of her coffee and sighed out some sort of happy noise that only coffee could bring. “Morn’n Tay.” She took another sip and walked over to the foot of their bed, slumping down and looking as tired as she probably also felt. Taylor, for her part, sat next to her and stared at the ceiling.“Grue’s gonna throw a fit, you know?”“Yep.” Taylor took a sip of her tea and used her other hand to pat Lisa’s empty one. “I’ll talk to him, try to smooth it over.”“Maybe I should…?”Taylor shook her head. “He’ll listen to me more than he will you. He respects those with reputation.” She took another sip and slumped, her straight-backed posture falling in line with Lisa’s slouch. “And who’s got more reputation in The Undersiders than Echelon?”Lisa, sighing as she did, snuggled closer to Taylor. “Good point. I’ll convince Rachel and Alec, you convince Brian?”“Sure.”They just sat there for another hour, looking forward to, and regretting in equal measure, the day they’d be greeting in a few hours.“So…about that job you did for Faultline…”Taylor groaned and already regretted waking up.Her mother died when she was nine. Annette Rose Hebert, a woman with dreams larger than life and a smile on her face that could chase away the greying skies and overcast attitudes Brockton Bay brought with it. The quiet disapproval at anything you did that she didn’t agree with; something stupid, something ill-thought, something dangerous. Anything she disagreed with would set her into a ‘cold’ state of anger or disappointment – she didn’t show it very much, but when she did it had an impact, sort of how Danny Hebert’s anger is so surprising in how well he keeps it hidden and how scarce it is to see.Her mother was also a presence, something great, physical that couldn’t be explained; the way she stood, the way she talked, the way she looked at things with this tilt of the head that hid interest behind vague disinterest. There was a cleverness in the things she did, but her presence was something Taylor admired.It was, aside from the too-thin lips and too-wide mouth, one of the things she’d inherited from her mother.A presence. Lisa could tell the moment people began noticing Taylor – they stood a little straighter, paid a little more attention, became a centre of sorts for their focus. From the way Taylor tells it, Annette used to be part of Lustrum’s gang and learned how to ‘present’ yourself there.Taylor has this presence about her, of course, but if anything it helps her more than hinders; learning how to become invisible to people when they always take notice of you is a skillset derived from necessity. It doesn’t pay to be always noticed as a thief, and doubly so for Taylor’s…side-work.Case in point? How she was stood right behind Amy Dallon and the girl didn’t even notice her there; hell, most of the bank-goers didn’t even notice the fifth member of The Undersiders entering with them, and if Lisa was truthful the entrance was anything but quiet. Again, if Lisa was being honest, that just made Taylor’s ‘disappearing act’ even more extraordinary. Knowing that Taylor had effectively neutralised the only Cape that may have proven an issue – that is, until Glory Hole gets there – Lisa turned her attention to the quivering masses and sought to alleviate their fears. Well, for Grue to alleviate their fears – he was white knight-y like that.“Alright, listen up!” For emphasis she lifted her Glock into the air and watched in slight fascination how all the attention shifted from themselves to her instantly.“The Undersiders are here to rob this bank! No one will get hurt, no one will lose any personal affects!” His smoke began pouring out of him, and Lisa resisted rolling her eyes; he may like drama and respect and such, but he knew how to use his powers to cow the masses. “No one will play hero, are we clear?” At the silence he huffed and walked to the back where the vault was, Regent following and hefting with him the bank manager, Lisa turned to the crowds; Bitch’s dogs were a deterrent, sure, but having Taylor loom over them unsuspectingly helped her move on to the secret reason she was even here.Coil’s identity.Waving a hand in the general direction of Bitch and a hidden Echelon, Lisa made her way to the computers that held all of the personal details of anyone that had ever banked at Brockton Central at least once in the past thirty years or so. Endbringers, the Slaughterhouse Nine, Marquis and his Marche…none of them had managed, with all their destructive tendencies, to ever implicate themselves by banking with anyone that wasn’t a private bank firm. Coil, however, she knew was a person before he was a Cape; and led a double-life that required him to do the menial yet obligatory actions other normal people did just to fit in with the PRT or whoever it was he was blindsiding.She dearly hoped Coil was an idiot.While Lisa jumped off to do whatever it was she came here to do, Echelon – or Taylor – watched over the frozen masses. Her eyes scanned over a young couple; the male in his early twenties, the woman just hitting twenty. She was holding on to the male for dear life while the male put on a blank and brave face to be a bastion for the woman’s fear to take refuge in. If she was feeling charitable, she’d call it romantic; but all her trifocal goggles saw were two young people clinging together as the bank was robbed. Sparing them a glance, her goggled eyes splintered over an old woman in her sixties, to a young man in his thirties, to a child that looked about ten or eleven.Always did her vision flick back to Panacea. Amy Dallon.Lisa must have miscalculated or something – sure, the boss foisted the job onto their shoulders and demanded it done by today but there’s no way Lisa would jeopardise the job like this. By robbing when Amy Dallon was there, phone in her pocket ready to call her sister to save her? Yeah, there was something up here. She’d be having words with Coil later when they got out of this. That is, of course, if the Ruby Dreams Casino robbery didn’t come back to bite them in the ass. With Lung locked away and the ABB under Oni Lee’s and Bakuda’s leaderships she can either see it imploding or glory hunting.That is, hunting down those that took Lung away in the first place.Taylor didn’t always have these instincts, or a drive to do right by the people around her while, at the same time, keeping any promise made to the best of her abilities. She didn’t always have a cynical outlook on life, or a hypocritical outlook on people – a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ approach to things – or an incredibly dark sense of humour. Or memories of a wife she’d never loved, or a child she’d never had, or a military brother she’d never seen, or a cryptanalysis tech expert in her ear, or a best friend she’d put a bullet in, or a president she’d saved from death, or a gun she’d known simply as ‘her favourite’, or a string of tragic romances that died before they picked up, or a life filled with nothing but combat.No, she hadn’t ever started out with these things, but uniquely enough she never gained them through anything even resembling a Trigger Event. She went to sleep one day when she was eight and woke up with everything that made her – Echelon – up. It didn’t just make her though, it made that man, Samuel Fisher, and it gave her the best of them both with the worst being systematically eradicated. It helped to have the memories, experience, muscle memory and thought processes of a retired Lieutenant Commander with a lengthy service in what basically amounted to ‘Black Operations but hyped up to one hundred out of ten’. It definitely helped to not have his flaws – she was many things, but thankfully a flirt she was not.With the experience came wisdom, and with wisdom came an impressing need to keep her skills secret from those that would do her wrong – she was, even if highly skilled in Krav-Maga, an expert with a Karambit and other CQC weaponry, and an excellent shot using Center Axis Relock Techniques, still a child. As a child of eight with a steadily depressed father and a dead motherTaylor leaned heavily on Sam’s memories and experience to survive the streets of Brockton for years.Then she met Lisa. Then Coil met them – a gun to the head or a job didn’t really sell Coil’s trustworthiness to her at the time, but it did help that she had a gun pointed at Coil’s main mercenary.Taylor shook herself from her memories just in time to catch Panacea type something on her phone – the one she’d thought Regent had taken off of her, or that she would know not to so blatantly touch when surrounded by villains. She burst from her shadowed position in the corner of the bank and snatched the phone from her hand in an instant, but it wasn’t enough – already she could hear the PRT’s vans speeding to the bank, and if she had anything to guess it would be Glory Girl leading the charge.Fun.Amidst the confused and worried looks of the civilians when they realised there were, indeed, five Undersiders, Taylor lifted a hand to her ear. “Tattletale, we’ve got PRT and New Wave on their way.”
“What? How!?”
Taylor turned her trifocal gaze to a squirming Panacea. “Dallon got off a text.” There was a sigh from Tattletale, a growl from Bitch and a huff from Grue. “Guess who was supposed to take it off of her?”All at once the rest of the team, including Regent, groaned out “Regent!”Echelon ignored Grue’s vague threats – and some of Bitch’s not-so-vague threats – and bent down, trifocal goggles-to-eye, with Panacea.“Panacea – do you mind if I call you Amy?” Amy’s confused nod answered her. “Amy, you can call me Echelon. So, why would you go and do a thing like that, huh?”“Uh…because you’re villains?”Taylor nodded, a hand scratching at her exposed chin as her head tilted in a manner Amy would have called ‘inquisitive’. “Because we’re villains…that’s a good reason.” Taylor stopped scratching her chin and Amy felt the eyes behind the goggles lock with hers. It was an odd sensation, like knowing you’re being stared at but not knowing who’s doing it. “Now, Amy, were you aware of what exactly we were here for?”“…Money?” The girl didn’t so much answer as she did squeak, but it was an answer, nonetheless. She seems to have shrunk in on herself, and if Lisa was right when they discussed the New Wave family a while back there were issues the girl needed to resolve before she self-imploded. Oh well, as much as it might hurt to admit New Wave and, by association, Amy Dallon, was not her problem. That was the realm of professional psychology, not her middling experience with psychoanalysis and Sam’s failed love life and psychologically dark views on anything adhering to family matters.Taylor reached a gloved hand to Amy’s bare one and stood up. Amy, still confused, grabbed her hand and used the leverage Taylor offered to lift herself from her seated position. Taylor let go once Amy was stood up, and reached both hands down to press onto Amy’s shoulders lightly. “Amy, what you need to understand is this; heroism is good and all, but you need to pick when to be a hero.”“uh…”“Would you like to know why?” At her nod, Taylor spun her around to face the crowds of terrified if confused bank-goers. Now hostages, she supposed. She must make quite the sight, too, leaning over the shoulder of Brockton Bay’s very own angel like a demonic counterpart, complete with glowing green ‘eyes’ and shadowy clothing. “These people here all had the opportunity to do something to oppose us – sure, it may have been futile, but the opportunity was there.” She leaned down and tightened her grip so her chin was almost resting on top of Amy’s head and her hands were almost squeezing her shoulders. “Look at them.”“O-Ok.”Taylor clenches her hands over her shoulders, bordering uncomfortable but not quite harming Amy – a simple clench further could change that. “Look at them all, helpless at our mercy, and now brought to the attention of a group of barely-sane thieves.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tattletale watching on in something akin to pleased surprise, but she powered on. Idly she heard a small hiccup from her captive. “These people would have been left alone, ignored as long as they didn’t do something stupid – but you did something stupid. You did something that brought them to our attention, and now they can’t even breathe without permission.”Taylor leaned in close so her mouth was directly next to the sniffly Dallon’s ear and whispered the five words that would stay with the healer for the rest of her life.“And it’s all your fault-”And then the wall next to her exploded, rubble and bricks flying into the crowds of screaming hostages, and a voice of anger boomed throughout, an aura of fear washing through the cowering masses.Echelon was unimpressed, and while Tattletale directed the Undersiders to move faster, Echelon calmly reached behind her to an unseen holster and armed herself with her Five Seven pistol. Sam’s favourite, now hers, and she could see why. Bitch and Grue shuffled the hostages further back towards the vault, and Regent tazed the braver ones and had some sort of sick version of fun by dragging their bodies with the rets of the hostages.Never mind that, she had a flying brick to bring down.“What did you do to my sister!?”Ah, she must have seen Panacea’s sniffling form on the ground beneath her, and to be honest there really is no good way to frame that – much less to the overprotective sister of the premiere healer.Taylor grinned, and loaded a fresh magazine into her pistol, promptly shooting its silenced barrel at a beaming light overhead. As the light shattered and threw darkness into that small area of the bank – despite it being sunny outside, a work of her power – Taylor chuckled and slipped away into the shadows.“Come find me and I’ll tell you, Glory Hole.”Predictably, Glory Girl followed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She was Taylor once.Once upon a daydream years ago she used to be Taylor. She used to be a sad, depressed, lonely, bullied fourteen-year-old with a sycophantic, psychotic ex-best friend out to destroy her. She used to have a father that made her food, and asked ‘how was your day’ and watched movies with, until he broke and the most conversation they’d had was a grunt between eating food. She used to know how to smile, once, before her friend turned on her and ruined everything she ever was and ever could be. She used to be happy.She used to play a metal flute, once. One her mother gave her as an heirloom, a promise to ‘always be better’; to go with the wind and ride until peace found you. Or you found peace. It wasn’t engraved or anything, but it held a dull shine to it that belied its true value; silver, pure and formed under the most temperate of conditions, created during a rainstorm – or at least her mother said it was. Her dad just grunted and nodded whenever she asked.She was Taylor once. Feeble, skinny, long hair that flowed like a twisted, knotted curtain. Eyes too big for her face, lips too thin for her too-wide mouth, skin stretched over skeletally thin limbs, subtle but persistent bags under her eyes, a pudgy belly. Brown hair, unremarkably-coloured eyes, pale skin, a gaze like a dead fish.She used to be that; weak, unpowered, feeble.Ghost used to be that once, but not anymore.“Ghost.”Staring down at the mask in her hands, Taylor’s mouth thinned more than it already was – working out had given her a toned physique, and her height, an already impressive five foot nine inches, shot up to six foot one. Her arms were still thin and her legs a little too long, but the clothing she wore covered up her legs nicely and her arms were more corded muscle than fat or bone, now. Her pudgy stomach had retreated into itself and deigned to turn itself into a six-pack; toned, not ripped, but she very well could become so if she truly wanted to. Why would she, though? Her body was perfect for what she did – sneaking, jumping ridiculous heights, falling from said heights. Fighting.Killing.“Ghost?”The half-mask stared back at her with a wide, pointed grin she’d expected to see on Oni Lee’s face while he was murdering innocent people, but Taylor honestly couldn’t deny the effects it had on her enemies. It terrified them when she emerged from the underbrush of a park, or a cloud of fog, and her grinning visage was staring them in the eye; she didn’t like what she did, but Taylor knew that she was good at what she did. Why stop what you’re good at?“Ghost!”Taylor stood from her perch atop the house she was on, standing and dropping two stories – her hands slipping on her mask as she fell. As her feet impacted the ground with a soft thud Taylor stood from the crouch she’d landed in, eyes locking with the speaker’s.“Yes?”The speaker who was clutching at their chest and breathing heavily. “Why do you keep doing that!?”“You called for me?” Her voice was a careful monotone, eyes locked onto the left shoulder of the speaker instead of their eyes; the only one she ever locked eyes with was the person she served, her Lord – or, in this case, her Lady.“Ignore the question then,” The speaker grumbled, and Taylor couldn’t help the Schadenfreude at their consternation. “Mom’s called you in; we’re having food.”Taylor immediately walked past, but the hand that landed on her shoulder stopped her. “Are you feeling okay, Ghost?”
Are you okay, Ghost?
Taylor thought it over for a minute in her head before acceding that it wouldn’t be a bother to answer, and dipped her slightly. “I am fine, Lady Victoria.”
I’m fine, Yuna
“Damnit stop calling me that!”“Is Lady Amelia attending dinner?” Ghost swiftly ignored the ‘request’.“Oh, right.” Victoria cleared her throat. “Amy’s in her room. Mom shouted her down but she hasn’t come down yet, so…”I shall see to it, My Lady.”Before Victoria could complain about the honorific that Ghost seemed to lump them all with, she was gone; one minute she was there, the next she vanished, the shadows twisting and turning to their mistress’s will to hide her and speed her to her destination.Sometimes, if one paid attention, the wind would whisper things. Secrets, of old and new, present and past. Sometimes, for those special few, it guided, showed the way, lit the beacon so to speak. It was not a harsh wind either, but a gentle caress that wrapped around your shoulders and pressed to your spine. It was a finger brushing through your hair, lips whispering in your ear, hands gliding down your shoulders.It brushes past you invigorating and guiding, as a parent would their unruly, lost child.For Taylor she knew the wind was closer than that. Unlike what people thought, the wind to her was a parent; her mother, the one that had always guided her in life. The parent that had shown her the way, told her ‘to be better’, taught her everything she knew about being a person.Ghost was no longer a person, now, but the lessons stuck; she could imitate a person pretty well.How does a person deal with this, though?“You are in so much trouble it’s almost impressive.”She didn’t reply, but of course Carol Dallon didn’t care. Why would she? She was the stern parent of two children and the guardian of a third; sometimes being uncaring just showed you cared more.Sometimes.Sat at the end of a dinner table, Ghost’s eyes drifted over to where Victoria was sat next to her sister, Amy, and attempted to convey just how much this betrayal will be avenged. ‘calling you in for food’. Right, and her skill with dancing was suddenly world-renowned.If the visible gulp and averting of eyes was any indication, the message was received.Ghost turned her eyes back to the still talking Carol – ranting at this point – and decided to pay attention to what she was saying again. “-out being a vigilante while under this household! I get enough trouble from her little escapades-” At this she pointed at Victoria, who shrunk back with a half-hearted ‘hey!’ in protest “-and I don’t need any more from yours!”“I understand.” At Carol’s pleased look Ghost continued, and some part of her just knew this wouldn’t go down well. Was it the Ghost part, well-versed in the ways of people’s behaviours? Or was it the Taylor part, just always waiting for the second shoe to drop? “I will not stop what I am doing, however.”A hand rose to meet the bridge of her nose, and after a pinch to show exasperation, Carol ground out “Why not?”Ghost, for the first time during this little meeting, lifted her head and locked eyes with Carol – with the person she’d sworn herself to, the one person she knew she could serve; she was just, had a good heart and knew just what kind of place Brockton has become. She knew what she wanted to turn the Bay into, but work kept getting in the way and having your name and face known throughout the world wasn’t always the best thing.
She had so much in common with Lord Shimura
Find me…in the next life.
It was with that thought in mind that she remembered those words, and despite the company kept she looked away again – discretely, of course, hiding the tear that slid down her face and dripped from a point on her mask. “I have sacrificed too much to help the people of Brockton.”
I have sacrificed so much to help the people of Tsushima!
“And I will sacrifice more if it means keeping them safe.”“What…?”Ghost locked eyes with Carol, and despite herself knew she was tearing up in memories.
Memories of a past life
“I will drive these gangs out of our city if it’s the last thing I do.” There was a silence at the desk as everyone looked at her, but the Ghost wasn’t looking at anyone anymore. Not seeing any sign of her being chased down should she leave, Ghost stood from the table and bowed a shallow bow to her current Lady – not that Carol knew about it. “I hope it is the last thing I do.”She needed to leave, this place and these people kept reminding her of those from her home – from the Land of The Ghost. From Tsushima.Amy looked so much like a younger version of Ghost’s mother that it hurt to look at her sometimes.Victoria had the same personality of Kenji that it made her want to both laugh and cry.Carol had the bearing of her uncle before the invasion.Mark had the bearing of Yuna after Taka died.Ghost couldn’t stand it anymore.“I will continue doing what I am doing. For the people of Brockton Bay I will sacrifice.”Shockingly it was the socially inept Amy that asked the question on all of their minds. “And what happens if you get hurt then, huh?” Ghost turned to look at Amy, but wasn’t necessarily surprised by the sight of Amy trying not to lock eyes with anyone as she spoke. “If you leave New Wave, I can’t help you outside of hospitals, you know that.” Trying to sweeten the deal to bring her back into the fold – back under control – by playing at blackmailer? Ghost is pretty sure Amy didn’t learn that from her; Victoria maybe?“Keep saving lives, Amy.”She turned to the door and heard no protests form anyone in the house, so she placed her hand on the door handle and spoke up one last time.“I will save Brockton from these gangs.”The door opened, still no protests form the occupants inside. If she left she’d be reported to the PRT as having either gone rogue or simply just leaving New Wave.
Killing you isn’t my reward; it’s my punishment
“Brockton needs its Ghost, after all.”“Goodbye…Taylor.” Carol’s voice sounded strained, as if she were holding back something.
Goodbye…my son
She needed to find Lord Shimura. She needed to find her father, and serve him – or her – with her fullest ability. If he didn’t like the Ghost? She’d serve from the shadows. As she always has.And she was gone.The wind at her back.The birds leading the way.The song of her mother’s flute playing in her ears.The reason for their little meeting was sat on the table under a sighing Carol Dallon’s hands. A newspaper with a headline that caught the attention of all.
‘The Merchants Gang Wiped Out! Brockton Bay’s Ghost Involved?
Earlier today Brockton Bay police issued a raid on a known drug dealer, Kenneth Daniels, but as they entered they found a scene one officer described as “unforgettable”. Kenneth Daniels, an MIT graduate and all-around neighbourhood friend, was hiding a secret that would haunt the people of Brockton’s Docks for years to come…’
She’d killed them all. Squealer, Skidmark, Mush. Unpowered gang members drugged up and clutching weapons. All of them. Some with their throats slit, some killed in their sleep, some poisoned in such a way that they vomited blood – all of them didn’t get a chance to fight back. Squealer was decapitated, Skidmark was almost cut in half. Mush lost an arm and a leg before bleeding out.Carol looked up from her position, noting that a solid twenty minutes had passed since Ghost left.And yet…despite the things she’d done to those gang members, Ghost had done a good thing. A good thing with bad methods, granted, but still a good thing.Carol couldn’t help but think back to what she’d seen when she locked eyes with Ghost.Resolve. The need to do what must be done for the good of all, despite the consequences. Despite what it did to her, as long as the people were safe Ghost didn’t care. Acceptance of consequences, and a lack of willingness to back down from her beliefs.That was good enough for Carol.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I was someone else, once. I think, anyway, that I used to be someone else, but at the same time I’ve always been that person. And then I’ve always not been that person. I’ve always been a woman and a man, I’ve always been Mammon and Viper. I’ve always been them and me.When I was a small child, I used to love people. Idealistic, naïve, foolish. I used to see the good in the worst of individuals, the greatness that was left inside of someone that they just needed to cultivate. In retrospect the loss of such an innocent outlook is haunting and more than a little distressing, but…well, thirty-three years of mafia life will change anyone’s outlook. I remember loving stories, a woman’s voice telling me all about the wider world of monsters and men, of darkness and light, of heroes and villains.I hate it now. The world isn’t so black and white anymore.When I was about five years old – give or take a few years, to be perfectly honest those memories are a little faded – something happened that brought my soul to bare. There was someone else there, too, someone close to me; but, well, being five years old I’m not even sure I knew what ‘close’ was.Of course, when I was seven something in me sparked, and that little fragment of my soul that I brought out did something. I don’t remember what but it was something tremendously powerful that brought my father’s attention, and I was allowed to go to school. One would think I wouldn’t want to go to school, but I remember…eagerness. I remember wanting to go to school – or, this school in particular I suppose. It’s all blurry, a lifetime’s lifetime away and buried so deep I have to actively search for it.Then I got to…fourteen, I think. I might have just hit my teens, actually. I was reading – I think I was reading. I read as much as possible nowadays, but I remember not liking studying as a child. How foolish I was back then. Intelligence and information are what have kept me going since I found myself here; information is knowledge, and knowledge is power.“Reborn!” I never really had anything against Skull, but oh could his voice grate on you.Where was I? Oh, right. When I was in my teens something happened, something…like a flash. A light, silvery and shining brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. And then I went to sleep, and then I woke up somewhere in East Asia – or was it Germany? The faintest knowledge of German linguistics served as a secondary language, but still… – with a muddled head and a man standing over me.He taught me martial arts. He helped me survive. When my Flames awoke he taught me to use them.He belittled me, he bullied me into surrendering even my gender, he almost broke me in almost every and any conceivable way.I hate him. He was my first and only kill; directly, that is. I’ve indirectly killed others, of course – one does not stay in the mafia for thirty-three years without bloodying your hands in some way or another – but he was the only conscious decision I’ve ever made to kill someone with my own hands.Then, a year later when I was wandering around, building my spy network and establishing a reputation, Checkerface showed up; all blank mask and attitude, demanding I go to Italy to Harmonise – I tried so very hard to ignore the call of safehomewarmthbelonging that my Flames ached for, but you can’t ignore yourself forever.Luce’s betrayal didn’t really hurt because I saw something in her eyes when she offered Harmonisation, something guilty and dark. I knew she was going to do something that would set us all down a path we wouldn’t like to be on, so I had my finger on the button, so to speak, to liquidate my assets and steal away with all my money to a private island somewhere.I needn’t have bothered.All the blood on my hands, direct or not…I hate myself now. I feel empty.“Reborn, what are you doing!?”“Shut up, Lackey.”There was a gun in my face. Was that why I was getting all retrospective? All ‘stuck in my own head’? maybe. I’ve had many guns in my face before.None of them from Reborn. I ignored the sting of betrayal that pierced my money-obsessed heart and stared him, hood-to-face. I asked for this, after all. I didn’t expect he’d be so willing though.If I’m to die here it will be on my own two feet with a frown and a head full of knowledge. I’d rather die smart than stupid. My money was hidden away, safe and sound – my money was still mine and nothing would change that, not even death.“Mammon,” his voice growled, and damn if he didn’t have a gun in my face and wasn’t my type, I’d call it appealing. Now I just call it frightening, and slightly upsetting; I’ve never been on the receiving end of that growl before. “are you sure about this?”The whole reason I’m in this situation is because I asked Reborn to do this. Nothing left to live for, now. Nothing left to lose, either. The Trisinette doesn’t exist anymore and we’re free of the Curse we were plagued with – and wasn’t it humiliating, to be put in the body of a toddler? – to find ourselves in a world that hasn’t really changed at all. all my contacts were dead or traitors in disguise, all my money had nowhere to go, and damn if that wasn’t the worst part. I never did get attached to the other Arcobelano, never liked any of them enough to want to stay around after the Curse was lifted.But I called in a favour anyway.Perhaps Colonello would have been a better option? Maybe even Lal Mirch? We weren’t friends, sure, but none of us were enemies either. They wouldn’t hesitate like Reborn was doing.“Channel your Sun Flames into your gun.”He looked perturbed that I’d basically called in this favour he owed just to kill me, but oh well, he’s done worse for less. Thankfully he did as ordered, his gun’s barrel shining slightly, the chambered bullet heated and ready for one of his ‘Chaos Shots’.“Now shoot me in the head.”Skull was being held back by Fon, who was looking in my direction with an understanding glint; pity as well, to which I ignored. Fon was always one of the only ones around that I could tolerate. To a degree.The others were just watching on impassively. We never really did get along all that much; I can’t find it in myself to care.“I…Mammon…” Why was he hesitating? Something’s up here. “…Are you sure about-”“I die as Viper, not Mammon.” I’m dying, might as well give them something. “don’t give me a gravestone, Reborn. I don’t deserve it.”He was hesitating.“Now, Reborn.”I saw him firm his stance.I closed my eyes.I heard him huff out a sigh.I breathed out slowly and lowered all my defences.I felt his hand on my shoulder.“Addio, Viper.”Reborn would take it to his grave that I’d died with a smile on my face.He pulled the trigger, and I died.And then I woke up.Green.A lot of green. Waking up to a blistering almost-neon green is as unpleasant as it sounds, and absolutely nothing could have prepared me. I mean, really, I’d just taken a Chaos Shot from Reborn to the fucking face – my head should be atomised right now – so why was there green? Why was I seeing anything at all? I’m dead!Oh fuck, I hope I died.I tacitly ignore the sense of familiarity I get when I see what looks like a gothic castle mixed with the feel of university perched atop a cliff, and look down at myself. Still in my cloak? Yep. Still got my memories, all intact? Yep. I pat my side, hidden by the cloak, and frown; no gun, so I pat my other side and the frown vanishes – I might not have a gun anymore, for some reason, but I do have a knife that feels awfully similar to what Belphegor uses. Did he slip me one? No, he’s never been that stealthy in…anything, really. I don’t like not knowing things, it’s making me itchy and – what’s that noise?A rustle in one of the bushes behind me. Was I that caught up in this newest development that I completely ignored what was going o – wait. My cloak is red. I didn’t need to pat the top of my head because I could see the rim of my hood so I knew it was covering my face, but I did so anyway. No one could prove that I sighed in relief, and anyone that would try? I could melt brains with my Mist, so…I got spooked by a rabbit? What is becoming of me? It doesn’t matter. I don’t have the money I used to have but my skills in gaining said money hasn’t changed. Perhaps an information broker? I used to be one, sure, but I wasn’t a dedicated one; usually just charging exorbitant amounts for good info. I’ll still need a spy network of course, and a bodyguard or two for personal safety, and a few underlings for processing clientele and such…but this could work…just thinking about the money has me wanting to get this done as soon as possible.Back to the point. My cloak is red, and I’m quite sure it’s always been black. I pat my chest and frown when I notice something missing; curious, I look down – ah, never mind, that’s been missing since the curse broke. Why did I expect to find the pacifier weighing me down again?I tug a lock of hair and notice it’s still a light shade of lavender. Good, assuming that hasn’t changed then the only thing that really has would be my cloak. The cloak doesn’t feel too bad actually, this shade of red not really doing it for me, but the cloak feels heavier than the one I used to wear – the sleeves covered halfway up my hands instead of stopping at the wrist, and instead of stopping just beneath the knees this one went all the way down to my ankles. It felt more secure than my previous one; it felt softer, heavier, more…it felt more me.Speaking of me…I feel smaller; thankfully not a toddler, because fuck that whole shitshow of an experience, but…I feel younger. Less aged. I’ll find a mirror later – I know I could just use Flames to make a mirror, but I’m in the middle of nowhere, and who knows who could be watching? – when I’ve got everything set up and a steady supply of money.Now, the only thing to do is…find out where civilisation is. And where I am.My body, I’d later learn, was that of a thirteen-year-old. Better than a toddler, I’ll admit.I still wanted to cry about it because, really, what are the odds?His name is Hei Xiong, but with a misleading nickname like ‘Junior’ one would think him small and meek; perhaps sly and cunning, or simply named so because he shares a name with his father. I have long learned to never judge by names alone and to at least try to keep an open mind, but of course there times when I’m still surprised by the ‘expectation’ getting destroyed by ‘reality’.For one, Hei Xiong was not ‘small’ or ‘meek’. He was tall, assuming his position of owner of a club – uncreatively named ‘The Club’ but I’m not gonna judge poor naming choices when I named myself Mammon – quite nicely and filling in a number of roles; from bartender to racketeer, from event organiser to muscle for rowdy customers.He was also trying to dip his hand into the information broker business; a perfect underling.To preserve his masculinity I’d keep the information that he squealed like a girl when I appeared next to him out of nowhere to myself. Unless, of course, someone paid for it.It was a split-second decision to walk down that alleyway after taking Junior under my wing as an apprentice Information Broker.The two girls I met would call it fate that I’d saved them and worship the ground I walked on.Militia was quiet, unassuming – save for the sheer gaudiness of her clothing – and rather pleasant to talk to; I don’t talk to her of course, the conversations she had with people ranged from bookkeeping to astrophysics, of all things. She was the smarter of the two, the calmer of the two, the most level-headed of the two, and honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that I dislike people as a whole, I might even have felt like engaging in conversation with her. It would give me something to do, other than leaf through information and take notes on my steadily amassing account of money.As though to prove herself a complete opposite in every way – except for fashion, seriously what was with these girls? I was starting to regret taking them under my wing – Melanie was loud, abrasive, haughty and possessive of a slight sadistic streak. Nothing sexual of course, but enough to the point where she found amusement in others’ pain; I’d say, now that I think on that, that she was less sadistic and more…what was the word…she revelled in Schadenfreude.They were both milling about the dance floor of The Club, Melanie dancing and generally having a good time, Militia siting with the other recluses and trying to get them to open up a bit and try dancing – and to open their wallets a bit more at the bar if that proved fruitless. That girl was a good con-woman I’ll give her that.Some music was thudding about but honestly, I don’t quite care; it’s loud and electronic and wholly unbefitting my sensibilities – a perfect hideout, this club, and a perfect staging ground for an information broker.My room in a small space above the dancefloor so I was often greeted by the unintelligible rumblings of annoying dance music – I soon learned, however, that it was nothing but a rumble bo matter the song, and if I played my classical music at maximum volume while I looked over the information my newest contact had brought to me…well, it was a rather relaxing evening all things considered. I looked to the left where a one-way mirror sat, giving me a perfect vantage point of the entire dancefloor, and I felt like smirking when I saw Militia eyeing up the newest patron to The Club with curiosity; then it went to something like understanding, and a careful blank mask to give nothing away, and I frowned.Someone was here, probably about to start trouble.After a second or two I shrugged. If the girls couldn’t handle it – doubtful, considering their relative skill – Junior could.Now, back to the information. One of my informants managed to sneak away some White Fang base locations; maybe one of my contacts in the VPD would be interested in purchasing such information? For a premium, of course. There’s good money to be made from police officers at the end of their rope trying to catch criminals. Hell, if I’m lucky I might even get to pass this on to the chief of police! Then again, maybe the White Fang would like to buy the information back? Desperation breeds vultures, sure, but it also breeds idiots seeking to keep themselves secret for as long as possible while they enact their ‘dastardly deeds’ and whatnot. Honestly, I might make a mint if I did that; they buy back their own secrets, I get money.A win-win.Something shook the floor; an explosion? Whatever, I’m quite sure The Twins can handle it.Now, something else that a contact of mine brought to my attention, the recent Dust robberies. Now this wasn’t unusual, people robbed Dust stores and hijacked shipments all the time, but…never with this frequency. Never this amount. The sheer quantity of Dust being stolen left even me feeling a little uneasy. Just half the amount being stolen could destroy a significant portion of the City of Vale, never mind Vale itself. All the Dust currently projected to have been stolen by my contact painted a grim image. If these people who were stealing Dust stole any more than what they had… they could wipe out an entire kingdom.This…this was bad. This was so far beyond bad it was disastrous. There was nothing to do about it but grit teeth, however. I was an information broker, not a saint! I could inform the correct people, point some people in the right direction, but I simply refuse to get involved. The information wouldn’t be free, either, but my reputation as ‘The Greatest Information Broker’ followed me from my past life. Not without effort of course, but now people knew who I was and what I did.They also knew that no information would be given away for free.There was another explosion; just what was going on down there? It should have been handled by now! The noise was disrupting my ability to check over information, for god’s sake!I heard the twins shout, and then begin groaning in pain; the music had stopped and a loud bang heralded the DJ’s demise.After a moment or two of deliberation I sighed and opened the door to my room that leads down to the bar.This was getting tiring.Sometimes you just have to look at yourself and the situation you find yourself in, and question where it all went wrong.“What is going on here?”Sometimes, you regret your life choices and think about how much you wished things had changed so you wouldn’t be put in this situation.I could feel a headache building, and the only thing I solidly regretted about this was asking Reborn to shoot me. Maybe it would have been easier to simply vanish from the public, maybe hide out somewhere on an island, die of old age. Maybe even adopt a kid or two – I’d never get lonely or anything, but the money had to go somewhere after I die – and slowly slink away from the Underworld’s eye.“Boss!” Came Junior’s strained, if still loud, voice.Sometimes I just wish I’d blown my own head off, instead of getting Reborn to do it for me. At least that way I only had myself to blame.“V-Viper!”Militia.“Ah, b-boss!”Melanie.I had to punch down the fondness I felt for those two. No getting attached. All that matters is money.
If only I could believe that. If only these two girls didn’t make me feel something other than apathy. Melanie, rebellious but compliant. Militia, quiet and studious. The perfect daughters.
Maybe I should start treating them like it.
“Another one?”The newest occupant – and said destroyer of my home – glared at me. Probably hoping to disrupt the calm ambience I was putting on. Maybe hoping to intimidate me? As if the girl could hope to do what Reborn has been trying to do for years. Her hair was a burning gold but it seemed to stop glowing when I turned to ‘look’ at her. Emotionally tied semblance, maybe? A biproduct? I needed to get feelers out there, find out about this.Melanie was on the ground with a steadily building black eye, and Militia was clutching at her sides – bruised, maybe even with some broken ribs and a growing concussion if that dreary look in her eyes was any indication. There were even tears in her eyes as she looked my way – did she think she’d failed me? Silly girl.Mists were possessive.
She hurt my girls.
“You better have a very good reason for destroying my club, hurting my people and wasting my time.” If there was an undercurrent of anger there, well, no one dared to voice it. All who knew of Viper knew that my only stipulation was ‘time is money, so don’t waste it’. There’s honestly nothing I hate more than getting my time wasted. At the girl’s reluctance – glowing red eyes? I’ll file that away for later – I spat out at her. “Now, time is money and you’re wasting mine.”“You-!” the girl seemed to bring her attitude to heel, if barely. There was anger simmering beneath the surface, ready to boil over and explode out, but she kept a lid on it for now. “I wanted information.”“On?” My mind slipped into business mode, but really, who could say whether or not the girl would be getting charged triple for annoying me? Whatever information she wanted could have cost her barely anything. Now? She’s definitely going to find herself a house poorer than when she entered.In response she reached into her pocket and brought out a picture.I took the picture, turned it over, and froze.“Her name’s Ruby,” said the girl. “She’s been missing since she was thirteen.” She must have taken the silence as a wave to continue. “She’s…she’s fifteen in-”“-October 31st, I know.”“So you know where she is!?” There was hope. So much hope in those eyes that it hurt to look at. I wasn’t used to this, I’ve never had to do this. Damnit, couldn’t she have been looking for someone else!?I sigh, breathe in, breathe out, sigh again. Just rip it off, like a plaster. Pull it out like a splinter and let the wound heal naturally. No point dragging this out.I turn to my bodyguards. “Militia, Melanie, head up to my room and rest. I’ll be up soon.” My voice took a softer tone it hadn’t taken with them, and I know they’ve never heard it because they wouldn’t be acting surprised otherwise. “You’ve earned a rest. Go on.”I turned a look to Junior and pointed at the bar. “Get me the Mistralian Spiral Whiskey.” I chanced a look at the thoroughly confused homewrecker – literally, in this case. “What was she asking for earlier?”“Strawberry Sunrise.” Hei didn’t speak so much as grunted, and I found myself appreciating that.“Get her one.” I turned to her and pointed at the bar. “Make no mistake, you will be paying for The Club’s repairs after your little temper tantrum.” She flinched. “But the police won’t be called in, so worry not.”I still had the picture, and my fingers idly traced the cheeks of the girl. The hair colour was different, as were the eyes, but the facial structure, the hair length, the height…Like a plaster, Viper. Like a plaster.Once we’d gotten our drinks I almost chugged mine, before turning to the girl who hadn’t even taken her first sip, and declared thus.“My name is Viper, and I used to be Ruby Rose.” I swirled what was left of my whiskey before idly commenting. “Call me a girl and I’ll end you.”No one can blame me for taking vicious glee in the face the girl pulled as she unsuccessfully tried not to spit her drink everywhere.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
From your birth until your death you know what your ‘Other Half’s’ first words will be. The Other Half destined to love you for however long you may live, the red string tying the two of you together unbreakable no matter what. A voice in your head that starts monotone; it tells you the age you’ll meet them, the reason why, the exact purpose of the meeting, and even their motivation. It tells you their name, their native language. It tells you everything about them.
And then you hear the words they would speak to you, in their voice down to the exact tone.
A magic forged from the dying wills of the very first humans to walk the earth, older than even Merlin, immortalised as a magic-god by wizards everywhere. Older than him or his vaunted Camelot, older than the oldest star in the galaxy. Magic born of a universe’s birth, and a will so strong it could be compared to a deity’s wish.
It has always been like this, since times before the Greeks and Romans, the Egyptians and Sumerians. Since mankind trudged from the muck and made home in trees and caves they’ve always heard that voice, whispering in their darkest hours, what their ‘Other Half’ would say to them on the first time they meet.
If they ever meet.
Many have never known the love of their other half, never known what the feeling of wholeness could do to a person, because of anything that may happen – a disease could kill their other half as a child, or perhaps the bond is rejected for whatever reason and their other half finds love in another – the bond is fickle, and until accepted by both parties an aching feeling would grow until it becomes unbearable. The standard age for the bond until it becomes almost agony to keep unfulfilled is twenty, and by then you must either accept the bond and hunt for your chosen one, or reject it completely and try to live out a normal life with a normal partner – your soul will always ache for that one who could only be your other half, but it gets better the longer the bond is rejected.
It’s more like a contract, really, with both parties knowing and understanding that they are made for each other, but if rejected the contract is null and void and both parties are exempt from starting up the contract again. There are no do-overs, no second chances. Once one member of the ‘contract’ rejects a love they may never even feel in the first place, both feel the rejection, and are forced to get on in their lives.
The saddest part is that only one percent of the entire population will ever feel that. Only one percent will ever know they even have an ‘other half’, let alone hear the voice and feel the ache until they are bonded. Anyone with a fated other half was akin to royalty, for the ability spreads through blood.
What did it say about Heather Potter, then, that she knew of her soul’s other half, knew the words and who they were, knew she would be fulfilled in a way she’d never understand otherwise…and accepted it before she hit six years old?
It meant she was lonely, oh so very lonely and just aching for the feel of someone to love her. Somewhere down the line for the person fated to love her to know her less than the ‘Freak’ she’d become, and more like the Heather Potter she was.
She wanted to feel that vaunted love oh so very badly and promised she would be the best she could be for her fated other one. The best person she could try to be. She’ll learn to cook and clean, learn to listen and obey, be the perfect little girl so that her other one never regrets knowing her. She’d be pure, innocent, would never be ‘Freak’, and would always be Heather. She’d be perfect and innocent, and smile and laugh and do all the things she doesn’t do right now because she’s trying but not hard enough.
She didn’t last a year before she regretted accepting a bond she’d come to realise she’d never feel the love of, because how could she bond with someone not even on the same planet?
My hands were covered in blood. So, so much of it. Was any of it even mine? Any of it from the wound pulsing venom through my body, or the fire that burned beneath my fingertips, or the cold and dead body I was becoming? Was any of it relevant? Was any of it even blood? Was it Ginny’s coating her small frame as her body cooled, or was it the Basilisk’s as the great lumbering behemoth curled up and died, or was it even blood and not just dark-coloured water soaking into everything it touched? Maybe remnants of Tom’s diary?
I ignored the words that echoed in my head; Mia Cara. Italian. Strong. Caring. Loving. Mine.
The venom burned. It coursed and changed everything it touched, and not once did I think it to be a pleasant experience. Not once did it feel nice, or kind. It was a harsh feeling that reminded me of the cruel hands of the Dursleys, it was a callous touch that reminded me of how much I’d been led around. It was a choking, gut-wrenching liquid coursing through my veins that made me hate myself. It burned like liquid fire, starting at the tips of my fingers and numbing everything it contacted, melting veins and burning sinew, disintegrating bone and blackening skin.Ginny was dead, now, so I kissed her temple and placed her down gently in the Basilisk-soaked waters of Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber. My hands were soaked – definitely blood, both mine and hers – and I could almost feel something in me mourn who Ginny used to be. Such a cute girl, so nice, so sweet. So naïve, so lost-puppy, so…persistent. Persistent, like me, covered in her blood, kneeling in a pool of my own blood, slowly dying because I just did nothing but let things happen to me. I wandered into things aimlessly, foolishly hoping nothing bad would happen and I’d get out of it with a trip to the medical bay and a slap on the wrist from Poppy.
I foolishly wanted that bond. Foolishly. Keep walking, little soldier.
I was dying. Me, a foolish little girl locked in a cupboard under the stairs and let out only to eat scraps. Me, a foolish little girl that barely knows one spell from another and is so Gryffindor it hurts. Me, who should have been sorted into Slytherin, but foolishly let a childish grudge get in the way of connections. Money. Socio-political intrigue. Information.All because some ginger idiot with a stupid grin tried flirting with me, failed miserably, and I decided he’d amused me enough to stick around his House; also because that Malfoy boy wasn’t lending himself any favours with his sneers.I was a fool to turn away such a beneficial partnership.I will die a fool. Chasing a dream so empty as love, yet oh-so fulfilling. A siren’s call.Then I heard a shrill cry, mournful and trilling, and suddenly a heat bloomed in my chest. Suddenly I could feel fire, and see colours I’d not seen before, and smell even the tiniest scent within this acrid Chamber. I could see motes of dust drifting like fairies in the breeze, and hear the pipes and their subtle gurgling, and I could feel the water’s very molecules beneath my fingertips. My soul felt like a bonfire and my emotions smoothed into a sort of detached, apathetic calmness.Fawkes’ last wish, then. His dying will; for me to live. His dying will has become mine. What was my dying wish?
To be me. To never be the stupid girl led around because she’s too much of a martyr to say otherwise. To be who, what, I want to be, and never someone else’s expectations.
To be with my bonded. To survive long enough to see them. Just once.
I could feel my heart picking up pace, and a song resonating within me and my eyes with liquid fire and my chest was alight with music. Fawkes was gone but his song now became mine, and my hair felt like silk and my mind like a knife’s edge; sharp, pointed. My thoughts were faster than light, my reflexes sharper than knives, my voice was carefully androgynous, my skin was porcelain white and soft.I felt the venom of the Basilisk mix with the tears of the phoenix, suffuse itself into my very glands, and knew I was immune to anything short of a lethal hit. I felt the phoenix tears meld and heal, flatten my skin over a shaking ribcage, puff the bags around my eyes, pull at the magic in my core and mix with the soul I locked away.I heard their voice. Find me, it said, and I will love you.And I knew.I died as my flames engulfed me, orange and indigo mixing in some beautiful conflagration that just worked. They just worked in a way I’d have never expected fire to work – I can feel something else, whispering, lulling, soothing, swearing protection, smothering, calming…loving. All encompassing. All accepting.The flames climbed, brighter and swirling, and I closed my eyes to shield them.When I opened them again, I was in a bed. The white sheets that curled around me and the shower-curtain-looking barrier that gave people privacy hinted that this was the infirmary.My body felt frail, weak, like I’d been wasting away for months.My soul was a pyre of orange, indigo, magic and venom.I never did go back to those vermin, those filthy creatures calling themselves ‘Dursley’. Dumbledore the fool just smiled and nodded when I told him of Ginny Weasley’s death. There was sadness in his glinting eyes, of course there was, but he seemed like he almost expected it – did he know what was going on? Of course, he did, he wasn’t The Leader of The Light for no reason.He knew that the snake was beneath the school, the snake that froze Hermione and shattered the friendship between me and Ronald. The snake that butchered a cat and destroyed whatever dwindled kindness Filch might have had. The snake that killed one of his students, and all he could say was ‘I’m sorry you went through that, my dear’.I remember locking away those indigo flames beneath my soothing orange ones lest they burn the old fool, lest they conjure nightmares and melt his mind beyond recovery. He wanted Heather Potter to fall in line, make her a martyr, slay the rising Dark Lord that slew her parents like cattle? He wanted to control Heather Potter, know where she was at all times, who she talked to, what she did, where she went? He wanted a toy soldier, breakable and so easily moulded to his whims?He would see that Heather Potter died in that Chamber, and Basilisk crawled from her broken corpse with madness, determination, and power.I kept what Fawkes did a secret, kept what I was a secret, and knew I’d be keeping a lot more secrets from now on; what secrets do you have Dumbledore? What do you hate, love, used to hate, used to love? What do you want out of life, why do you go on? How much blackmail can I drag out of your pathetic cretinous body before it gives out? Who else could I gather information on, and how could I use it to secure my safety away from this madness? There was a war brewing, no doubt about that, and if old Voldemort thought I would be another victim like I was as a babe…well, blackmail would be the least of his concerns.Subterfuge. Espionage. Connections beyond what the feeble Dark Lord could gather in his non-body. I would wrap myself in secrets and put a price on information; money was power, information was knowledge and knowledge was power. I needed power to survive, and if I can’t gain the power through combat or strength, then why not secrets? Reliability, information? All of it for somewhat expensive prices, sure, but all of it valid and confirmed. All of it sourced by me directly, but I knew I couldn’t keep it up forever.I needed a subordinate, someone that would be loyal and knew what to do and knew how to keep secrets; and weasel them out, of course. I couldn’t do all the heavy lifting.It was a stroke of luck that I found myself in a pique of apathy and decided to walk outside one night during my third year in this waste of an educational building.It was a stroke of luck I found my first subordinate.From there it snowballed.Formerly Heather Potter, known to her subordinates and clients as ‘Basilisk’ had managed to grow and sustain a reputation that was becoming worldwide as a person you could count on for fair, impartial and valid information – if overpriced.Her obsession with money notwithstanding, and her seeming apathy to anything she wasn’t paid for, Basilisk could be quite the person to be around. Well, Severus Snape thinks, most of the time anyway. When she’s not charging someone out the nose for the slightest things and refusing to do anything if it doesn’t involve money or favours she can cash in at any time.She’s the Slytherin she should have been sorted as, he thinks, and just imagining her bastard father’s groan of disappointment makes him almost forget she’s a Potter. In his office after a particularly gruelling Potions Lesson – that Longbottom boy would be the death of any and all of his patience, he swears – he’d slunk back from his classroom to his office and locked the door tighter than anything that could be feasibly possible without the use of locking charms.Turning from the door he’d just closed – not slammed – Snape could only wonder to himself why his thoughts turned to the miserly not-Slytherin.And then he saw her sitting in the chair tucked away in the corner of his office, book in hand – no doubt a ledger to her bank account that automatically updated with each new purchase and the like – and performed a very un-Severus sigh. He didn’t question her new fascination for his office – could only speculate that it was quiet and away from her House Mates, and couldn’t really fault her – but he did find it odd that she’d all but broken in to his office instead of waiting outside like usual.He didn’t say anything and she didn’t, and if she’d made an expression when he walked in he couldn’t see it very well – the only thing he could see beneath her black cloak was her chin and mouth, of which was always either dipped into a frown or, more often than not, a stoically careful line that showed neither pleasure nor displeasure with anything in particular. Like her attitude towards anything that didn’t involve money it portrayed an apathetic air that closed her off from social interaction.In fact, he remembers specifically that she’d told him how little she finds herself wanting to interact with anyone beyond a business capacity – and charged him twelve Galleons just for the ‘information’ that he could have found out himself. When asked why the price was so high, she’d responded simply with ‘stupidity tax’. Which, once he thinks on it, is fair; he could’ve found out himself with about five minutes of observation.He made no effort to hide how relieved he was to be away from the children and their stupidity, their differences and similarities merging together that made something horrible lurch in his chest at the thought of any of them actually paying attention. He wanted to teach, he did, and he knew he wasn’t nice like Flitwick or tolerable like McGonagall. But he was a master at what he did, burned through hours of his life he’s not getting back, bled and cried, suffered and finally triumphed. That introductory speech during the first new year he made? It was not an idle boast. He could bottle fame, stopper glory, brew death like it was nothing – required the ingredients were on hand, of course, but still.He shook himself from his musings. Ah, but now is not the time to think but to rest.He turned a gaze to the reading, hooded, cloaked girl; he’d forgotten what she looked like under that cloak – he had a feeling that such a thing was the point.“I’m curious,” he posited, and once he’d gotten the attention of the girl he continued “Why are you here?”“Hmph, that information will cost you. Two Galleons.”Snape rolled his eyes, but nevertheless reached into his drawer of his desk and withdrew two Galleons. Without a word he flicked the coins her way, watching in idle amusement as she snatched them out of the air without even looking at them. She seemed to feel them for a moment before placing the coins inside a hidden pocket on her cloak, and all at once closing the book in her hands with an audible crack sound. She seemed to sit up straighter, her hooded face turning to look at him.He noticed her mouth was set into a firm line, and mentally frowned. Of course, she was in her apathetic mood today. She may be miserly but even she wouldn’t charge someone over something so small. Unless she was as she is now – apathetic to people and their plights, stuck in her little world of ‘money is power’.“I’m here because I came to warn you.”Or maybe, he thinks dryly, she was just asking for payment to ‘warn’ him of something. Whatever this something is it must be important for her to go out of her way. He did still pay her, of course, but…“The new DADA teacher, one Remus Lupin, is thinking about using Boggarts to teach the newest class as an introduction after the Dementor affair on the train; he would like you to join him in educating them.” She stood from her chair, uncaring for the other man’s widened eyes, and made her way to the door. Just before she left the door, hand on the handle, she spoke quietly. “You have secrets, Severus. That Boggart might let some of them out.”Heedless of the wreck of a man she’d just left behind, Basilisk strode through the door; she tried so very hard to ignore the clench in her chest at giving away free information at the end, there, but felt it necessary.Snape was a good informant, after all.Mia Cara. The words were always in her head, and through some measure of control and focusing her Indigo flames she could force the words to replay over and over again. Almost second nature, almost like a soothing balm to her weary soul. If someone irritated her, instead of lashing out the words warmed her and she would just charge them extra instead. Instead of flying into fits of rage she would close off, become apathetic, withdraw away from anything that wasn’t money. Instead of killing everyone around her the words soothed her rotten soul and she turned her backs on them instead.Basilisk had no reason to care about the people around her, but she didn’t know anything about her Other Half, and for all she knew her Other Half would care. If that was the case, then she could adapt – she’d do anything for her Other Half – and if it wasn’t she could just as simply drop all pretences and go back to being completely and utterly apathetic.The apathy helped when the words didn’t.She was seventeen now, stood in a great hall that used to be part of Hogwarts before it got blown to smithereens – beneath her feet, killed by a small dagger, was Voldemort; she’d refused to use her magic, to play by the games the madman had set out, because she was Basilisk and Basilisk had no reason to give a shit for games and rules when all they’d done is hurt her. Dumbledore the old fool had taken her aside one day and talked down to her like she was a child; her, with the largest information network in the world! He explained Horcruxes, he explained Riddle’s ridiculously foolish attempt at immortality.She spat in his face and slit his throat. She was no child. She was Basilisk! She’d known about them for years, been hunting them down and destroying them one by one! The sword of Godric Gryffindor had yet to leave her side, stuck in a pocket plain she’d conjured up with her indigo flames one day, and she’d found the sword – still inexplicably coated in basilisk venom and blood – a perfect tool for destroying those foul mimics of her beautiful purple flames.Mia Cara, the voice spoke, and after twisting the dagger in Voldemort’s chest she withdrew it. Wiping it on his robes to remove the stain his blood would be, she pocketed the weapon and frowned beneath her cloak; of course, of which was pristine, as though she’d not just slogged through bodies and slain hundreds.Mia Cara, the voice spoke; but it sounded different. Deep. Warning.Troubled.There was a small displacement of air behind her, but being careful these past years had shown her how to be surprised without showing it. There was somebody behind her.“Hello there, are you Basilisk?”A metal hat, a pointed grin. This could only go so well.“Hmph, that information will cost you.”Because fuck this random weirdo.His grin got wider, and from within the depths of his jacket sprung a card with – what kind of name was Checkerface? Whatever. She scanned the rest of the card, her stupidly fast brain putting itself to the paces crawling through all the information she knew to find links and the like to the address she could see on there.At a gesture from the man she flipped over the card, froze, and glared at him through the deepness of her hood that made even him lower his grin. “This is not funny.”
Mia Cara
“I’m not joking.” His grin evaporated, and a measure of respect entered his eyes when he looked at the carnage she’d caused, when he took in the Mist Flames so powerful they actually rivalled his own. “My name is Checkerface, I come from an alternate Earth to this one, and I have…an issue only you can solve.” At her slight head tilt, he huffed. “The card isn’t lying, but to do what I’m promising I have to take you from this Earth and drop you in that one. Different time, as well.”She glanced down at the card in her hand at his serious tone, contemplating what she’d just read.“You’re not lying. I know you’re not.” Her head lifted back up and pointed in his direction once more. “You’re not telling me everything, either.” She pocketed the card and turned her full attention to him. “All my effort and hard work here will be nullified, all worthless in the end, because you are promising something that shouldn’t be possible.”“That’s fair, I suppose.” He lost his grin completely, his voice becoming less and less ‘maniacal’ and something approaching serious. “Honesty then; an information broker as yourself would heavily appreciate that.” At her nod he sighed. “I’m putting together a team of The Seven Strongest – or, I suppose this time around, The Seven Greatest.”Almost mockingly she pointed at herself, her mouth a set frown. “And I’m The Greatest Information Broker?”Here Checkerface frowned, his hands lacing together. “Not quite, though you are probably the strongest contender for that title.” He tipped his metal hat slightly, as though in salute. “You, aside from being what would be the Greatest Information Broker, are possibly the strongest Mist in existence. To ever exist, in fact.”She put two and two together incredibly quickly, Checkerface idly noticed, because her frown settled out and she lifted a palm. Indigo Flames tinted with orange – A Misty Sky, he idly noted – danced atop her fingers for a second before something sparked and he found himself staring at the Mist in front of him as she lowered her now-unlit hand. All the bodies he’d previously been surrounded by – and one he’d been standing half-on – were transformed into mossy gravestones and wooden markers. The ground beneath his feet, once cracked cobble and chipped marble, was now a smooth concrete that seemed to almost shine beneath the artificial sun above his head. In the distance he could see a pure white sky, untainted by anything but a few clouds, and further still, on the horizon, a gathering of clouds greyed and ready for a storm. Below him a steadily rising mist, and in the distance a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning beyond his peripherals. Smatterings of raindrops dribbled down from the sky and soothed his tensed muscles.If this was supposed to impress him…well, it’s working, he will admit. Something sharper in his mind told him this was her way of telling him she knew about Flames and the like already; of Skies, of Clouds, of Mists, of Rains, of Storms, of Lightnings, of Suns. She knew of it all, and wasn’t that a shock, because as far as he’s aware there’s no mafia in this world – well, no mafia in the same sense as the one back on his world. The question became ‘how did she find out?’ but he knew better than to ask that. Instead he’d just chalk it down to her being the best information broker this planet has ever seen.She didn’t even wave a hand, but behind him there popped into existence a chair, and for her a smallish throne of violets and yellows.He didn’t take the chair offered to him.She noticed and sighed, conjuring a cup of tea for herself as she sat staring at the sky – he still couldn’t see her face even with her head at a full ninety degree angle from her body, so he chalked that up to Mist shenanigans.“You promise me my Other will be there?” He nodded. “…I have things to tie up here, a line of succession for my business and a subordinate to hand it over to.”“The meeting will be in six months, and I’ll take you to the other world in a week.”“Plenty of time to consolidate my contacts.”He nodded.Her voice, for the first and – he suspects – only time, turned soft and weak. Vulnerable. “Would you…tell my Other that I’m on my way?”He lowered his hat to hide his eyes from her vision – he knew they’d softened. His answering grin and nod set her at ease, and she passed the time on her throne by sipping tea; she flicked her wrist to send out a clone to tell Severus the good news.She sent another to pack her meagre amount of possessions and any information she had that was physical in any way, and, after Checkerface vanished, she frowned.She let a tear drop from beneath her hood.
Mia Cara.
“Finally…finally, all my effort is being paid off…”This meeting was a farce, but it had the very real possibility of being incredibly profitable, and if what that Checkerface fellow said – and the seating arrangements – it would lead to much, much more. Not that Viper was interested in Harmonising with anyone – they were a free kind of snake, bound to no one and listless in the ways of Sky Attraction and courtship, but even they could say that they found the idea of safety, of home, slightly interesting.They distracted themselves by counting money, and with the only other people there being the Hitman Reborn and a woman named Lal Mirch they found themselves able to do it in silence. Thankfully, or not, depending, Viper found themselves able to think once more as they idly shunted away a small pile of notes to the side.Checkerface…what the foolishly dressed man said to them was insane. Nonsense.
They dared to hope, to feel their heart beat for something more than just money.
After years of work, after decades of saving enough money for two people, of gathering a safety net of information and informants, after hours and days and weeks toiling away to perfect their usage of Mist.Finally. Finally, it was all coming together. Finally, their years of sacrifice and work are being rewarded with the one thing they’d wanted the most; their Other was coming. Checkerface, for all he was a complete ass, was honest with this. The one thing they coveted money and power for, the one person they would ever care about regardless of gender or personality – hell, their Other could be the most obnoxious person in existence and Viper would still love them for it.Just to feel that bond. Just to feel something other than apathy. That promise of unconditional love through a soul-deep bond was something people have killed for, something adventurers have sought endlessly, something that pirates have coveted as a dragon would gold. Entire wars were fought over that promised search of love and peace the bond could provide; deeper than even Sky Harmony, more powerful than being encased in Sky Flames. The bond was something Viper had sought for since they realised the bond was accepted by their Other.They were only six years old, an urchin on the street with a reputation for finding things out and an eye for detail – they could have become a painter, an artist, even a sculptor. As soon as they felt the bond become accepted from their Other’s side, Viper dropped all pretences and took their life seriously. No artistry, no painting, they needed money and they needed it in a way they could both be good at and profit from. They needed reputation to fall back on when money wasn’t enough to keep them safe, and they needed power to ensure they would never be taken advantage of – the needed power to keep their Other safe.Their eye for detail became an ear for weaselling out secrets, and their mind turned to money; when they find their Other – never if, because not finding them was out of the question – Viper would need a little nest egg to support them both for the rest of their lives. Nothing but the upmost comfort for their Other. Nothing but the best for that promised Unconditional love.
Hmph. That information will cost you.
Was their Other a miser, from these words? Did they hoard money for the same reason? Were they in the information gathering business too? Did they sell information to build money and reputation for safety? Viper didn’t know, but they badly wanted to.They just had to wait for their Other to show up. After that happened, they’d both finish this job and vanish somewhere. Maybe they could stop being Viper and just be. Maybe even retire from the information network business altogether and buy a pet – surely their Other would like a dog, or a cat? – and live in a large house?They snorted. Like any Other of theirs would be all for that. No, they had a feeling that their Other would be a lot like them in many aspects. Maybe not as money obsessed, but perhaps with their own quirk that would show itself. Maybe even similar fashion sense?The sound of the heavy door almost startled them out of their thoughts, but they shot their head up slowly to mask surprise.“Well…this is certainly…unsubtle.”Reborn snorted and the military woman, Lal Mirch they think, smirks slightly.“So, who’re you?”At Lal’s question the person beneath the cloak answers in a monotonous voice, apathy dripping from every syllable in a way that would make even Viper envious. “Hmph. That information will cost you.”Viper didn’t know how to respond, their voice was choked, their breath was stopped, their eyes widened, their jaw opened but nothing came out.After a second of staring at the person beneath the cloak that looked an awful lot like their own, Viper spoke.“Mia Cara?”They dared not hope. They don’t. they shall not think that it was that easy. Join a secretive group of the Seven Strongest, get your Other Half? Too good to be true.
Their heartbeat sped up, their eyes widened. They knew.
The person’s whole body turned their way and hitched a breath.Viper’s heart thudded.Neither noticed when Reborn carefully shunted Lal Mirch out, and acted as Gatekeeper to the room they found themselves in. neither cared for the others that they could feel just outside, slowly getting more and more confused at what was happening. Neither bothered to care about how Reborn could be heard through the door telling them about how ‘Viper had found their bonded, give them some space’ and how oddly respectful the gesture seemed.After a second of silence, both shifted closer to the other and, before they knew it, they were stood not even a meter apart. They both lifted a hand to the other, caught what they were doing, and lowered it again.“Are…is this real…?”Viper huffed, ignorant of the tears dripping from their cheeks. “Yes, it is.” They both lifted hands to the other, and clutched tightly as though worried the other would slip through their fingers.“All my effort…”“All my work…”Viper leaned in so close that they could feel the others’ breath on their lips, and with no hesitation closed the distance. The kiss didn’t last long, but it was sweet in a way that they were both desperate. Once it passed they clutched each others’ hand tighter and rested their cloaked foreheads together.“Mia Cara.” They both breathed, as though it were the word of god.Basilisk was the first to break away, putting some distance between them but still holding their hand. “I’m Basilisk, information broker, Mist, witch.”Viper held one of her hands with both of her own, lifting it to their mouth and pressing a kiss to it. “I’m Viper, information broker, Mist, ESPer.”They both chuckled then, relieved and humorous.What a pair they make.When Reborn and Lal Mirch returned it was with others in tow. Ranging in sizes and fashion sense, attitudes and personalities, Basilisk could just feel the headache ready to brew. To abate the headache she knew was coming, she nudged Viper – stood to her side – and conjured a small table out of nowhere. Viper didn’t catch on until Basilisk pulled out a small bag of money from her cloak and started tipping it onto the table. Without a moment’s hesitation Viper joined her, and to the gathering Elements they could only watch in gruff amusement as the two hooded figures began leafing through their money and muttering to each other exactly how much they had.Reborn turned away from the sight and wished he had something like that to pass the time. Right now, he could just content himself with glaring at the civilian dragged into their midst. Oh, sure, the civilian wasn’t at fault per se for being dragged into this situation he now found himself in, but did he have to be so clueless? Anyone with even a lick of sense could see they were surrounded by dangerous people. But apparently this new addition of theirs didn’t even know what the mafia even was. It was insulting, really, to be gathered together as the Seven Greatest – would it be eight, with the Other of Viper? – and one of them had done nothing more than be born with strong Flames. No reputation beyond sheer stupidity and-“Behold, the mighty Skull-sama has arrived!” The juvenile in a man’s body rested his feet atop the circular table, and his arms sloughed behind his head to act as a pillow. He’d taken his helmet off, revealing a face that can only be described as ‘caked in makeup’.Reborn glared harder. This was the strongest Cloud? This cretin with a loud mouth and irritating voice? If it weren’t for the fact that he’s definitely here for some reason that’s obviously important, Reborn would have shot him.He settled for glaring harder, the tip of his wide-rimmed fedora covering his blackened eyes. He liked to think it made him look frightening.If the way this ‘Skull’ was shaking, it did.One by one they all followed the loud idiot’s lead, slinking into chairs with varying amounts of poise and grace; Reborn himself cautiously eyed the chair before carefully, slowly, seating himself in it to make sure there were no traps. He watched as Lal Mirch, military woman she was, sat with a back straight and chin pointed high; he inwardly groaned, because he just knew this one would be a pain. Verde, the ‘New Da Vinci’ slumped into his chair, looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. Fon, renowned Martial Artist that he was, of course seated himself with a poise befitting of royalty; back straight, eyes carefully neutral, small smile present, long-sleeved arms crossed over his lap.The only one – two, he corrected – to not sit down were Viper and their Other. He never did quite catch their name, did he?He wouldn’t get a chance, it seems, because the door opened yet again and a woman strolled through.“Hello everyone!” Her smile was wide, infectious, and he found himself having to fight off a smirk – he found his Flames walling themselves off from the accepting Sky they longed for.A Sky to hold his Sun.Skull was the only one to grin and cheerfully shout out a “Heya!”Reborn, frowning, tipped his hat in her direction when she looked his way with this expectant gleam in her eyes. He wouldn’t show his hand just yet; not even for Luce de Giglio Nero.“So!” She clapped, and he watched in curiosity how the Other of Viper fought to reign in a flinch. What was that? PTSD? Or just nerves? “My name’s Luce, a Sky!” After no one followed her example she coughed into a hand, her voice getting slightly nervous as all eyes turned to her. “Uh…could you all…?”Skull, for once, did something smart and introduced himself. “I am the great Skull-sama, a Cloud!” Reborn amended what he thought he knew of Skull. Not completely civilian, then, if he knew what his Flame type was. That or Checkerface told him what to say. He wouldn’t put it past him. The idiot civilian flashed a smile to Luce, but he couldn’t even will himself to be mad at him when she smiled back.Sighing, he followed suit, making sure his hat covered his eyes. “Reborn, a Sun.”Without missing a beat the military woman did some sort of salute to the Sky, her eyes never wavering from Luce’s own. He’d applaud that usually, but the woman had the gall to bring military mannerisms to the mafia. She’d survive better than the civilian would, sure, but discipline and ‘justice’ didn’t mean shit in the underworld. He hoped she learned quickly, for her own sake if not for all of theirs.“Lal Mirch, a Rain. Ex-COMSUBIN.”Reborn sighed. At least she kept it short.“Verde, Lightning.” Came the monotone reply, and Reborn could find himself appreciating that a little.“I am Fon, a Storm.”After a second or two, all eyes turned towards the duo whispering to each other, money being put back into bags and tucked away beneath their cloaks.After another five seconds Viper’s Other pointed at them, Viper turned their heads to the group and sighed.“Mou, I am Viper, a Mist. Any more than that will cost you.”Lal Mirch was hit with the most startling sense of deja-vu.The Other of Viper just waved a hand dismissively and conjured herself a chair, waving the Mist next to her off to sit in the designated chair they were given. Viper obviously hesitated, but after a reassuring nod from the Other they seemed to sag a little and trudged over to the chair. Without fanfare they plopped down into the chair, but held themselves with a stiff back and eyes undoubtedly watching for escape routes. For either them or their Other, Reborn couldn’t tell, but the previous interaction between the two already spoke volumes.He smirked and ignored this indignant little part of him that frowned at the knowledge that he never learned Viper’s Other’s name. While he chafed at not knowing something, he did take solace in the fact that, were it his Other, he would most definitely keep any information on them close to his chest. Assuming his Other wasn’t a carbon copy of him, of course, and could kill everyone in the room with barely any effort.His eyes, shaded by his hat, drifted to the Other; of whom was sat in a corner keeping an eye on everyone, he guessed, a dangerous-looking sword resting on their laps; their hands drifted to the sword and he watched for a bit as they began to meticulously clean it with a conjured rag. He also noted how, while he doubted they needed to be careful, they took care not to touch the blade itself. Poisoned?Perhaps, if he got the chance, that one could provide an adequate challenge. If he didn’t get Viper trying to sabotage him during the fight, of course. After all, it’s what he’d do if his Other were fighting.Everyone else in the room seemed to write the Other off almost instantly, but there was a look in Luce’s eyes that he knew. He also knew that, based on that look, he might get his answer sooner than he thought he would. Reborn guessed that he’d maybe have to pay for the information, perhaps even wait a couple of months and ingratiate himself to them.Luce might just up and demand the name. why didn’t he think of that? Oh, that’s right; none of his business.Luce looked to be making it her business.The Sky placed the tray in the centre of the table and smiled as everyone seemed to hesitantly pick up a cookie that she’d baked for them. Her smile dimmed when she noticed Reborn just sipping a coffee he got from…somewhere, and Viper ignoring how rude it was to pretend the cookies weren’t even there.Maybe her Other was more sociable? Granted they were sat away from everyone else and hadn’t spoken a word yet, but that was more because…well, there weren’t any seats left. Then again they conjured a seat up for themselves. Maybe they were just shy?Regardless Luce knew she’d be seeing this one around a lot – they’d be sticking like glue to Viper, that much was for sure. It may be for the best that they get acquainted.Before the curse hits, anyway.She knew her daughter, Aria, would look up to this person. She knew from the visions, from the faded words she’s had whispered into her ears.
“Madrina.”
This one would be Aria’s godmother. It was decided from before they were even born.Of course, for that to happen, she’d need to build a rapport. Get to know them. Minimise damage for when the curse hits.It was with this thought in mind that she approached the cloaked individual that had stopped cleaning their sword – where did they get a sword? – and smiled widely. This one wasn’t to be an Element, wasn’t to Harmonise with her, wasn’t to be anything but a godparent to her child. She had no reason to be distant with them, no reason to treat them like the future Arcobaleno.Her smile got a little softer when she noticed the woman leaning the sword away from her. “I’m Luce. Luce de Giglio Nero.” As she was wont to do when meeting other people, she shot a hand out and prepared for a crushing handshake. “What’s your name?” Then, with a teasing tone, she continued. “I can’t just keep calling you ‘the Other of Viper’ now can I?”The hooded one snorted and lifted a hand, flicking the wrist and producing a chair out of thin air; like it was nothing, like such a feat didn’t cost most experienced Mists a quarter of their Flames. Luce lowered her hand and took the seat as it floated behind her, breathing out softly to hide the relief she was feeling at not having to stand up anymore.By the slight nod the Mist sent her way Luce knew the other person had heard it. Thankfully their separation from the others wasn’t interrupted, more personal introductions going around and cookies being eaten.She could also feel Viper’s eyes on her back. That one still hadn’t even bothered to interact with the others, still hadn’t taken a confection. Always looking at her like she was about to kill their Other or something. A second away from leaping at her, if those tensed hands were any indication.“So,” Luce brought the Other’s attention to her, and smiled when their head tilted in her direction. Before now they were eyeing up the others in the room. “what’s your name?”They seemed to struggle with it for a moment before sighing and extending a bandaged – heavily bandaged, she noted with concern – hand. After a second Luce extended hers and they met in a brief handshake that sent tingles travelling up her spine.Wait, what?The Other also felt it, their hand jetting away from hers and back into the heavy cloak as quick as it appeared. Their face was neutral of course, but there was trepidation in their body language. Luce tried to salvage it by getting up and grabbing the tray, but before she could even move a bandaged hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.“Sit.”Luce did, the hand having left her wrist and resting atop her hand. She felt…something. Whatever it was it felt nice and she wanted more of it.There were sparks flying in her head and she distantly realised that this, this right here, was what pure harmony felt like. Not harmony between Others, or harmony between a Sky and their Element. Harmony, in that everything in her relaxed around this person. Everything tingled and spasmed, dying to be felt more. Everything yearned.It was a yearning she’d felt once, she knows she did. A past life, maybe, but it was heavenly when it was fulfilled. It was damn near bliss. She’d die soon and leave her daughter lost and scared and alone in the world with lumbering Elements and booming voices demanding she die for the curse as well.She couldn’t have this. She knew she couldn’t. But her daughter could; she feels it in her bones, deep beneath the sinew and burrowed in her marrow.She knows this one would be a lot more important to her daughter than a mere godparent. Be a lot more important to her granddaughter, Uni, as well.That spark beneath her skin was tempered by the thought, and Luce knew what this was.“My name’s Basilisk.”Luce, with the softest smile she’s ever felt grace her face, whispered out.“A pleasure to meet you, Basilisk.”“…I believe you have Elements to court, Sky Luce.”Luce bit back a laugh.From what Basilisk could see the mission was rather simple. If anything, she felt offended on behalf of Viper, that their skills weren’t being put to test with such a simple, menial, task. Hell, even Basilisk could do this, and she wasn’t even part of this group!Reborn, the smooth operator he thought himself to be, was grimacing and hiding barely concealed groans of annoyance beneath a sip of expresso; it always bothered her a bit that even Viper didn’t know where he kept getting those cups from, and Basilisk found that she didn’t really care. It was just an oddity she chalked up to the ‘Strongest Seven’. Something she, herself, was thankful to not be a part of.This group was a walking disaster, dysfunctional and untrusting even after having been forced to work together for months now. Luce, to her left, was sighing in either exasperation or fondness – Basilisk still hadn’t understood why the now heavily pregnant woman wanted to get to know her, but it couldn’t hurt her any. In honesty she found the woman’s charm to be pleasant, and dare she say that she was worming her way beneath Basilisk’s walls – well, her heavy, thick cloak that separated her from the outside world, but that still had to count for something, right?Viper, sat to her right and all but clutching on to her, was huffing in annoyance every few seconds. Honestly, Basilisk couldn’t blame them – this was a joke of the lowest proportions. Even Fon, the ever unflappable, seemed put out. that annoying Cloud was blaring on and on about how the ‘famous Skull-sama could never fail anything!’. Or some such tripe. Honestly, she hadn’t even bothered looking in his direction since she first saw him.She was heavily debating just dragging Viper off to their shared room to sulk and count money, maybe listen to the radio and practice dancing? She had two left feet, but Viper was surprisingly good at ballroom dancing; when asked why, Viper had just responded like it was obvious. And perhaps it was.
“Mou, I wanted to make sure I had everything covered for when I found you.”
So of course, when Viper asked her the same about her surprisingly good swordswoman skills she responded back; in the same voice, in the same manner, with the same verbal tick she always used.
“Hmph, I wanted to make sure I had everything covered for when I found you.”
Hm, instead of dancing maybe they could just sit their and soak in each other’s presence? They found themselves doing that a lot with each other lately, but neither got bored and neither found the activity less than interesting. Sometimes they’d even question the other on things about themselves; from it, Viper had learned that Basilisk had a fondness for croissants, and Basilisk learned that Viper had a liking for lemonade. They also seemed to like strawberry milk, which was an interesting surprise.Viper, in turn, learned about her bouts of apathy. They came and went, and oftentimes it was quick enough to not be noticed, but sometimes they hit her whenever they felt like it and it left her feeling numb and dry inside. The only thing she found she could still feel anything for was Viper, and she hazarded a guess that it was because of their Other Half bond.Luce, next to her, coughed into a hand with a dainty action that nevertheless caught the attention of the gathered Strongest Seven – technically eight-and-a-half if you involved her and that little runt Colonello. “It’s a simple mission, sure, but I have faith in you all that you can complete it perfectly!” She went for a smile and, watching in mild Schadenfreude, Basilisk noted how everyone’s faces twisted in a grimace as they realised they were powerless against that smile.She felt quite bad for them; well, not really, but she felt like she should feel bad for them. “Amica,” Basilisk started, still not quite used to the Italian language so prevalently spoken here “I don’t think they’re upset about your choice in missions.”Luce turned to her, a somewhat odd mixture of knowing and cluelessness that never ceased to remind her that this woman in front of her could see the fucking future like a literal fortune cookie. “Huh?”Basilisk sighed, a hand lifted to rub at her face, hidden beneath the deep shadows of her cloak. “Hmph, they’re upset about who, exactly, you’re sending to do the mission.”Luce looked, understandably, put out and confused. “But…but they’re all going…?”Basilisk used her free hand to lift up through her cloak’s hood and run it down her face in a manner that would convey just how exasperated with this situation she was. “Exactly.” She muttered. “They’re all going.” She saw how lost Luce looked and just decided to bite the bullet. “One would be enough to ensure success, two or three for adequate backup. Five of them is pushing it, but understandable if the mission is to be done with no quarter given.” Basilisk wrapped her Mist flames around her and felt them tingle with Viper’s. she relaxed, if slightly. “But seven of them?”Then she pointed at the offending party – namely, Colonello – and scowled. “This little hanger-on isn’t even part of your group.”The offended party growled out a ‘hey!’ and raised a sniper rifle he brought from…somewhere…in her direction. Then promptly lowered it and began sweating buckets when Viper’s head almost mechanically shifted in his direction. With the hooded information broker’s attention on them and him feeling so utterly terrified he barely reacted to the sharp twist Lal gave his ear. If there’s one thing the ex-COMSUBIN soldier learned, it was this: Never mess with something a Mist sees as ‘theirs’. That goes doubly so for anyone they may have Harmonised with, and an Other Bond? Well, Colonello learned very quickly. He was scared shitless like that.Viper, though to his surprise, wasn’t the scary one. Viper would just ignore him, deny him information, charge him exorbitant amounts for the slightest of things, even blank him on missions where his – or Lal’s – life could be in danger! They were vindictive like that and had a mean streak a mile wide, but felt it necessary to enact out their vengeance in subtle methods.Viper’s Other was, in every sense of the phrase, a vengeful bitch hellbent on ruining everyone and anyone that dared even scoff in her Other’s direction. They’d start with families, ruining any relative’s chances of getting anywhere in life, destroying perfectly healthy relationships and marriages with a well-placed glove and a scent of perfume in a bedroom one night. Then they’d move on to friends, slowly but surely alienating their target until, eventually, they would be cut off. Then distant relatives, second and third cousins and the like, arranging ‘accidents’ and ‘unfortunate events’ to slowly but surely pin on their target. Then, their target would suffer being placed in an inescapable cell in a max security Flame-proof prison, awaiting Death Row for a crime as simple as staring at Viper for point-one seconds longer than necessary.But no, not even that terrified Colonello.Viper wasn’t the scary one because they controlled their Other. As soon as this ‘Basilisk’ was irritated with a lack of action against an offender they quickly took the reins, Viper taking a backseat and watching on in malicious glee. No, Viper truly terrified him, because if Viper’s reprimands didn’t get through to you, Basilisk’s would.Whenever Colonello even felt the stirrings of a threatening action from Viper he whimpered and backed off. Not even Reborn was stupid enough to draw the Other’s ire, and if that didn’t say how scary the Other could be then Colonello had no idea what would.Basilisk continued on, as if they hadn’t just watched Colonello almost shit himself in full view of suddenly sympathetic Elements and a secretly-sadistic Sky. No one could smile through that, he thinks, no one but a person revelling in all types of schadenfreude.“Luce, please, on behalf of these – apparently opinion-less – idiots, think this through.” Basilisk tilted her head down as though tired, Viper’s hands once clutching her arm now sliding across her waist. “There’s overkill, of which I participate in almost daily mind you, and then there’s…whatever this could be called.”Luce finally got the picture painted for her and frowned. “Yes, yes, I see your point.”And then her smile came back with barely hidden sadism now, and Reborn resisted the urge to groan. Verde really wanted to run and hide.“But that just means you can go with them!”Basilisk was unimpressed, and Luce knew it.“No.”“What is the job, anyway?” Asked Lal, and Luce bounced back from her depression quicker than anyone could have guessed she would have been able to.“You’ve all been given a contract! Your first as a group!” Viper had to resist the urge to ask how much was being paid. It was a very, very strong urge. “You need to assassinate a disgraced mafia boss!”Basilisk almost swallowed her tongue laughing at the expressions on the Strongest Seven.She cuffed Luce around the ear instead, the woman letting out a pitiful whine. “Bad Luce, no involving outsiders in taking out mafia heads.”“But…!”“No indulging your sadistic tendencies by potentially putting my Other in danger.”“But-!”“No. Bad Luce.”“…aww…” There was silence as the future Arcobaleno watched in barely hidden curiosity.“I’ll be staying here to keep an eye on you,” Basilisk’s dry tone rang out “and Viper will be here because reasons.” Basilisk turned a dismissive eye to the rest. “Don’t you lot have a mission to prepare for?”“But…but…!”Basilisk sighed and cuffed Luce around the ear again. Honestly this friendship thing was just so complicated sometimes. Was she supposed to act this grown up?She ignored the whine Luce let out. “Bad Luce. No plotting to kill off my Other because you’re jealous.”“…Maybe just a little maiming…?”Oh. Oh, that tone had so much hope in it, so much twinkling delight for the future ahead.Basilisk just had to crush it. She had to. Like a need she was born with, almost on the same level as the need to breathe.Basilisk cuffed Luce’s ear again, watching as the woman slumped against the table impassively. “No. Bad Luce.”Luce let out a whine akin to a dog being chastised.Viper had to smother their need for photographic evidence. Blackmail was also an important part of being an information broker, after all.They settled for making sure their accounts were secure and Basilisk was really okay with them being here with her – they knew the answer to that before they even had to ask – before slinking off to their shared room to relax while Basilisk…handled Luce? Even Viper wasn’t too sure what that relationship was even supposed to resemble.They just shrugged and followed the rest of the bewildered Elements out, ignored hushed whispers of ‘what just happened’ and ‘Basilisk is kinda scary, but Skull-sama is scarier!’ and used their Mist to teleport them up to their room.As Basilisk told them once: ‘walking is for plebs’.
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Her father never loved her.How could he, with his snake-like mind and venomous eyes? As soon as she was born he had her mother killed, slain in the throes of afterbirth pain and completely helpless to his falling sword. He’d had something close to love, once, for her when she was but two years old; a maid had whispered to her one day about how he used to hold her so tenderly, cup her cheek and kiss away the tears when she cried, make her laugh and smile, make her giggle at silly stories and he used to lull her to sleep with lullabies.Still, knowing this at four years old never helped her from escaping her lessons. Never saved her from the too-harsh slaps or the bruises that formed over her sickly skin. She was born two weeks earlier than planned, and while not unusual the dark magic of Plegia had coupled with her body as she was birthed – she was a sickly child, coughing and wheezing where any form of physical activity was involved. In the rare moments where her father didn’t seem to despise her weaknesses, he took her aside – so softly, so gently, like a real father – and held her close as he told her of the wonders of tactical thinking. If you can’t beat an enemy physically in the here and now, then plan around them to beat them before they’ve even set foot on the board.He’d say to her: “Life is like a game of chess, child; if you cannot be a piece then be the only one playing.”When she turned six, he’d hire the most renowned tactical minds from all across the world and watch in barely-concealed pride as his genius of a daughter trounced each and every one of them. She grew ravenous for knowledge and soon began training in all forms of magic. Polishing her tactical mind to a degree that frightened even Validar, and sometimes outright spooked him. Her magical ability was as natural as breathing for her, and her entire body sang with fire and lightning, her being harmonising with dark and light. She was nothing short of a prodigy.Her father still never loved her.She grew up cold. A glint in her eye that reminded Validar of his own cold gaze, and something deep beneath the venom and hate wailed at the loss of his child’s innocence. Best not get attached, he’d whisper, she’ll die and Grima will take over.When addressing people she’d measure them with their worth, perceived or not, and find herself always wanting for something more. Still quite sickly but no longer bed-ridden for days at a time, his daughter found ways to surprise him time and again. For example, when in combat she’d plan ahead three steps of her opponent and parry an attack they didn’t even realise they were about to do. When reading she’d skip ahead five pages and still recall the entirety of those five pages she’d skipped. When casting spells she barely felt the need to intone the spell’s name – always just a spark of resolve in her eyes and a grim frown on her face.She killed someone at seven. He had no need of useless, soft daughters – her coldness was there but he’d seen kindness in them, and for his daughter to survive until Grima took over she needed to lose it. The world was not kind to those with compassion.His guards had dragged in a dissenter, a man from a relatively middle-class family that aided a squadron from Ylisse enter their borders. The soldiers were beaten back, barely, and the border guards doubled, but the point remained.He’d placed hands on her shoulders as she stared impassively down at the man; sweating, with bruises and cuts, still bleeding from a recent torture session. His eyes were wild and shaky, but he locked them with his daughter anyway. Pleading behind cracked lips.“This man,” he’d said, hands almost clenching on her cloaked shoulders – the cloak he’d gotten her was a favourite of hers, it seemed. “allowed Ylisse’s soldiers through our borders.”“A Traitor, then.” His daughter, pragmatic and dour, looked over her shoulders at her father; her lower face was hidden behind the large collar of her cloak but the upper half was visible enough to where he could see understanding in her pale green eyes. “You wish for me to…dispose of him?”He almost smiled. Such a smart little daughter he had. “Yes, I do.” He tilted his head to the side and his almost-smile dipped into a scowl when he saw her flick her gaze back to the man on the ground. “Will that be a problem?”“No, father.” He noted how she wasn’t quick to assuage his fears – thinking through her words. So clever, indeed. “How would you like me to…kill him?”Ah, so he didn’t imagine the hesitance in the act of killing. To be expected, he supposed.“Any way you wish, child.” He’d said. It wasn’t kindness, but even he knew the difficulties of having your first kill’s choice taken away from you. Killing because you had the choice to mattered more than because you were forced to. It wasn’t kindness, he’d known, but it was a measure of attention to his child.“With magic, then.” She’d said with an air of finality, and he could only question her choice.When asked, she replied with something that made his snake-like soul squirm in delight. Something that settled it for him that this was truly his daughter.“One does not burn an ant with a sword.”She promptly set him alight, stood while he screamed until his coal-charred body dropped in front of her lifelessly. Some soot had gotten on his daughter’s cloak, he’d noted idly, and she seemed to fuss more over the stain on her cloak than the body not a foot from her.Still, even after soaking her hands in blood a year later at some failed assassination attempt, her father never loved her.Still, even after excelling at everything and wielding a tactical mind that would bring seasoned soldiers to their knees, her father never loved her.Still, with magic coursing through every vein and lightning calling to her in a way no other mage could hope to imitate, her father never loved her.Still, with fire in her eyes and a coldness that chilled the air around her, her father never loved her.It was only natural that she took to hiding her face beneath her cloak. It was only natural she took to changing her name and keeping out of sight. It was only natural she put her tactical mind to use and built an information network spanning the entire globe.It was only natural that she didn’t hide herself too much from her father’s steady gaze. Hoping that he would see what she was doing and be proud. Be kind. Even love her.Just once.Validar took in the work she’d put into her network, of gaining secrets and selling them for money, of building an army of informants and loyal subjects, of training her retainers to be competent in magic, of amassing a popularity in the underworld. He took in the whispers of both fear and awe the servants had of his daughter, the hushes of respect his subjects had, the whispers of praise his daughter’s subordinates had for her. He took in the way she held herself, the way she spoke with a cold detachment, the way she never answered to her birth name anymore and insisted she was her alias, the way she used her spies to map out the Exalt’s castle’s secret tunnels for ways in and routes for her own spies to lay in waiting. He took in the way she never took off her cloak, shadowing her face in illusions and masking her voice to sound androgynous.He huffed in amusement and left her to it. If she wanted to play games then so be it. She’d had sixteen years to train herself to where she is, he could allow her a couple of games now and then.He never took in the fact that he’s forgotten what his own daughter looks like beneath her cloak, or what she sounds like without the androgyny she laced into her voice, or what colour her hair is past the illusions, or what colour her eyes were past the rim of her hood, or what her favourite colour is or what she does to pass the time, or how she and Aversa got along a little too well, or how her sickly coughs were masked with harsh demands for drinks to the servants.Not once did he think that it was all a ploy to make him proud. To never appear weak, to never show vulnerability. To be the daughter she thought he wanted, not the vessel of Grima he had.He ignored it all and walked away, leaving her to her ‘games’.The starlight in Robin’s eyes died.He never took in how she slunk away into the shadows and never came back to the castle, Aversa trailing after her and defeat in every step.They hit the border before Robin’s cold voice echoed out; the first time she’d spoken since they left the castle, Aversa muses.“Aversa.” Robin turned on her heel, body language rigid and unreadable, but the little bit of her mouth that Aversa could see was etched into a frown and her head was dipped down. As though sad. As though hesitating.“Robin? Is…something the matter?” She never was good with this mushy stuff, this ‘relationship’ thing was new to both of them, but for Robin she’d try. For Robin she’d attempt to be better. It was all she could be, now, aside from ‘Validar’s apprentice’. It was all she had in her to be anymore.“Aversa…I want you to know something.”Robin was getting closer to her and Aversa found herself walking closer as well until they were barely a foot apart. At an unseen signal from Robin, Aversa walked closer still and lifted the slightly smaller woman’s chin with two fingers. Careful, yet precise, because for all that Robin’s skin was sickly and bruised incredibly easily it was something Aversa cherished. The skin, while porcelain white and unhealthily pale, was one of her favourite things about Robin.She leaned down so that their faces were barely an inch from the others’, and she noted how Robin’s hands, wrapped around her waist, clenched in a manner she’d imagine a child would it’s leaving mother.Or, in this case she supposes, a lover would her leaving partner.Robin leaned her head up to kiss her, gentle, soft lips pressed to hers with a frenzy Aversa would imagine a dying man may have for water.Something was wrong, of course, but she let herself get lost in the throes for a while, the kiss ending soon. Instead, Robin had dropped her cloaked head onto Aversa’s rather large chest and was content to listen to her heartbeat for a couple of minutes – Aversa couldn’t find it in herself to pull away.“Aversa?”“Yeah, Robin?”She felt tears dribble into her chest, but she ignored it in favour of the wracking sobs that seemed to plague Robin’s form.“I love you. So, so much.”She didn’t feel the magic around them building.She didn’t hear the way the wind stopped howling.She didn’t smell the scent of building ozone.She didn’t taste how cold the air had gotten.A portal, purple and bright and flashy shimmered into existence behind Robin.“You won’t remember me, Aversa.” Tears dribbled down sickly cheeks. “You won’t remember me, but I’ll remember you.”She couldn’t speak.She couldn’t move.Her eyes flickered behind lashes and her mouth opened but no words came out before she fell unconscious in Robin’s arms.When Aversa woke up hours later in the Plegian Castle with King Validar stood over her demanding to know where his daughter went, Aversa shook her head and frowned.She didn’t even know he had one.Validar, in the safety of his quarters, broke down laughing hysterically.It was only after she’d vanished did he find he loved her.Mirajane Strauss was tired, hungry, and scared.Tired, for she hasn’t slept for two days straight now, constantly worrying over her younger siblings. Always keeping an eye out for monsters in the forest surrounding their camp, or making sure the villagers that drove them off didn’t chase them. It’s been a few days since then but she daren’t think otherwise. She daren’t lower her guard until they were at least half a continent away.Hungry, for she’s been giving whatever they could take from their home to her siblings to eat. Elfman kept trying to give her his food back but a glare shut him up real; quick, and Lisanna, too young to understand what was going on, just took the food with a smile and thanks. She hasn’t eaten, actually now that she thinks on it, in about three days now; which is bad, very bad if the noises her stomach keeps making indicate as anything.Scared, of herself. Of the power she took from that demon terrorising their village, of the soul that now resides within her magic’s reaches. She’d debated with herself many times over as to whether or not her ability to Take Over something like a demon was natural – whether or not she, herself, was a demon. Was she human? Was she more? Less? What was she, what did she have, that let her take the form of a demon as easily as breathing?She sighed, patting her rumbling stomach and hoping it would abate sometime soon. Her siblings were asleep, thankfully; Elfman sleeping sat up beneath the shade of a large oak tree and Lisanna curled up beneath a blanket next to the fire – the fire that was currently roaring strong, but anything could change. Mirajane just counted her blessings that it wasn’t raining, and resumed her watch for the night atop a smooth rock that overlooked their temporary camp.She might have been half-asleep and starving, but the purple light that flashed into existence five feet away from her and the person that dropped out of a tear that closed up soon after was most definitely not a hallucination. She hoped. Because if she was hallucinating things might be a lot more dire than she’d have thought.The person wasn’t tall, actually only about a head taller than Mirajane herself, but from what skin she could see looked quite unhealthy. The burst of coughs that wheezed from the hooded person’s mouth were worrying, actually, and – oh now they’re unconscious.Mirajane, bless her stupid heart, dragged the person over to the fire.“Are you okay?”“I’m fine now.” There was a pause, then the monotonous voice of a woman – feminine man? Masculine woman? – sounded from beneath the hood. “Thank you for helping me.”Mirajane shrugged, another hand going to her stomach to ward off the hunger pains. She’d done it secretly, of course, hoping that the person in the hood hadn’t seen. If the tilt of the hood meant anything, the person had seen. Mirajane liked to think, though, that the stranger didn’t like giving out pity – and quite frankly, Mirajane didn’t like receiving pity, either.The fire was roaring in front of them, the person she’d ‘saved’ on the opposite end than she was – there was no comment from the hooded person when they woke up on the empty side of the fire, Mirajane herself conveniently sat in front of her siblings and blocking sight to them. Neither commented about the hooded person’s hands shaking like a leaf, even though the night was relatively warm, or the sparks of lightning that arced between their fingers when they stared at them for too long.After about a minute or two of silence, uncomfortable for Mirajane, she spoke up. Hoping, praying against all odds, that this would prove something. She had no idea what, but she was hoping for something she didn’t know the name of. Like a homesickness for a place you’ve never been to, or a longing for a thing you’ve never seen.“So…” Mirajane started awkwardly, but powered through when she saw she had the stranger’s undivided attention. “…So, uh, what’s your name?” At seeing them tilt their head Mirajane took the opportunity. “I’m – that is…uh, my name’s Mirajane. Mirajane Strauss.”“Mirajane Strauss…” The person repeated, and after a second sighed. “My name is Robin.”“No last name?”Robin shook their head, and Mirajane frowned. She was only ten years old right now and, despite having Taken Over a demon and suffering deep moral dilemmas she was still just a child. A child with an active imagination, and wishes beyond what she could want but wishes nonetheless. And kindness, so much of it despite the hard exterior she fronted.It was sad to her that this person had never known a family name, and her childish mind made a leap form ‘no family name’ to ‘never having known family’. It wasn’t much of a leap to her, but to anyone else they would hesitate to make the connection that quickly, if only because they were afraid of offending someone. But she was a child, prone to kindness and apathy in equal measure until she came into her own.“Have you ever had one?”Robin hummed, a hand tapping at their chin for a second before gliding back down to their lap when they saw it was shaking. “No, I don’t believe anyone has ever actually called me by a surname.”“…”“…”“Would you…like one?”Robin started, a cough racking their body for a second before stopping. “If you can think of one to suit me, then sure.”It was the voice, she figured. It was how the person never strained despite probably being in pain. A front, something like what she put up to keep others out. It as how the person used the inflection of their tone to drive home all the points they wished one to know, how they kept their pain hidden behind a mask of indifference, that sold it to her. She may be a child but she’s been forced to grow up too fast, and since Taking Over that demon’s soul she’s been training non-stop. She’s gained knowledge, not much, but enough.Mirajane knew she was being stupid, knew she was being selfish. She just wanted one thing. Just one. She was tired of being the oldest.Despite being ten years old, she was just tired of responsibility.“Would you like mine?”It’s been two months since Robin joined their family.Lisanna just smiled and accepted it, as though it was always that way and nothing had ever been any other way. As though she’d always been there, a part of them in a way that warranted familial love and affection. In a way that warranted a familiarity one would expect someone to build over years, and not just two months’ worth of interactions. It was vexing to Robin, who’d never felt such stark acceptance before, and all the while her head would tilt and she’d try to figure out what the Strauss Family’s game was. What they were up to.Each time she came up with nothing was a time that she’d start ‘practicing’ her magic by flinging ever-increasing bolts of fire, lightning or ice at a tree until she grew tired and started coughing.It took Mirajane, with her expressive yet guarded eyes, so full of understanding and hope, to explain to her that ‘yes, Lisanna really was just that nice’.Robin stopped practicing on trees after that.Elfman was a little more guarded in his approach, but warmed up to her all the same after she started telling him stories of back home – heavily censored and lacking any personal details, of course, but he seemed to enjoy her talk of the different warriors she’d had tutor her. From Regna Ferox’s hard-headed musclemen to Chon’sin and heir ‘silent but deadly’ approach to combat. From Plegia’s own dark wizards and wyvern riders to Ylisse’s knights and Pegasus riders. From mercenaries to thieves, assassins to court jesters, Elfman loved every story she brought his way.It was no surprise he warmed up to her really quickly.It was four months in that Lisanna said something that shocked Robin to the point she’d frozen up; she still never took the hood off of course, but Elfman made a rather startling observation that, with her white hair, Robin could genuinely pass as a sibling of theirs. Along with her height and demeanour she could pass as an older sister, or an aunt.Or a mother.“Honestly,” he continued, a look on his face that meant he was just absently spouting words instead of thinking things through “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were our mum.”Lisanna took the bait, accidental as it was, and clutched it with both hands. There was so much hope in her eyes, tears glistening and a wistful smile on her face. Her hands were clutched to the heavy robes Robin always wore, Elfman stood next to her with this look of complete and utter bewilderment. There was hope there, too.Mirajane petulantly turned her head away when she realised, she felt something akin to hope as well. She did not need a mother! They had been doing fine without one, with just her and, recently, Robin providing for them! They needed a friend, she knew this, and maybe even a sibling, but a mother? Someone supposed to care and provide for their ‘children’? someone supposed to nurture and protect? Someone to love them, and teach them, and whisper soft lullabies to them when their children can’t sleep, and brush their hair and make them laugh? Someone to be more than Mirajane ever could be?Someone to shoulder the responsibility, to take the burden from her and wear it like a cloak?Mirajane ignored the tears dripping down her face, and heard Robin’s voice – it sounded frail, weak from a previous coughing episode, but there was something Mirajane couldn’t really place. An emotion in the voice of the usually bland woman that sounded…distant.“Family is a commitment, it’s not a thing only one of you can decide.” Her cloaked head turned Mirajane’s way, and the mouth usually in a frown was set into some approximation of a wobbly smile. Small, feeble.Mira liked to think it had hope in it, too.“I didn’t have the best parent; my mother died at childbirth and my father was…” She coughed. “I…wouldn’t know the first thing about motherhood.” She lifted a hand to stop all their outbursts. “But…but I can try.”She turned to look at all three of them, and something cold entered her voice that froze the three of them to the bone.“But only if you all want me too.”Without further interruption they continued walking down the road in heavy, contemplative silence.It took eight months after that little fiasco, a year since meeting Robin, to convince all three of them that they desperately wanted Robin to be their mother. While Lisanna and Elfman agonised over it, not knowing how it would go, Mirajane bit the bullet.Robin, face shadowed by her cloak, just opened her arms and invited them all to hug her.No one commented that Mirajane was the first one to return the embrace.“And you three are sure you want to go there?”They all nodded, nervousness and determination fighting with each other.Robin’s neutral face fell, and her eyes took in her ‘children’ and their attitudes.They wanted this. Wanted to go off playing hero. They wanted this.She had to remind herself when she clutched their heads close to her chest and silently wept – she was sure none of them knew what they wanted, what they were doing. She was sure that none of them understood the gravity of their wishes. They could die, fighting for others that would never love them as she does, never appreciate their sacrifice. They could die. They could die off being heroes.And there would be nothing she could do about it.She cried, clutching them tighter to her chest. Both in part to stop them from seeing the tears, and to stop them from leaving her.She coughed, a heaving wheeze wracking her body before she steadied out and rested her chin on Mirajane’s head. “You’re all sure?”They gave affirmatives.Robin felt like something was taken from her when she whispered out a sob and a hushed “Okay.”Makarov’s first thought of her was ‘she’s pretty much S Class.’The second was ‘with all that magic wafting from her she could probably make a match for Gildarts.’His last one, which caused him to drown himself in alcohol, was ‘oh god please don’t let her destroy anything.’This Fairy Tail guild was something, to Robin. To the children it was a dream that they’d finally fulfilled; becoming mages, saving people, being heroes! Working as a family to overcome odds and getting the opportunity to protect those they cared about without relying on Robin for everything.They thought they were removing the burden.They just added to it.Robin, as usual, persevered. One foot in front of the other, never stop walking, never stop fighting. Even when there are no battles never stop winning, even when there are no enemies never stop searching, even when all she has left is her magic and a feeble body never stop protecting. This stupid little family of Strauss, with its stupid values on family and its stupid love of each other – of her – and its stupid ‘family before the world’ ideals…they were her stupid family, and she’d be damned if anything happened to them. Nothing would tear them away from her now that she’s practically adopted them. Nothing.Seated at the bar, with these thoughts in mind, she stared deeply at the small one called Natsu Dragneel as he tried to pick a fight with anything that walked. Then there was Gray Fullbuster, a boy that had this odd penchant for stripping and a weird obsession with proving himself better than everyone else. Watching the odd events play out was Makarov with a huge grin on his tiny face, as though this was something that happened often and something that was acceptable. Robin would have decried this, would have sat those two down and maybe beaten them to their senses, but this wasn’t her Guild. She hadn’t joined like her children did, she hadn’t gotten the stamp.Oh, she was allowed to stay by Makarov’s graces, but she wasn’t a member of the guild; she couldn’t take quests, couldn’t go with her children whenever they went on quests. She had a place at the bar as a regular, she had a small building that she shared with her children as a house, she had a decent amount of money that she made whenever she went out on her own to help people.Then that Erza girl came and her daughter took offense to something, because a rivalry formed the likes of which Robin’s never seen before. A rivalry that had the entire guild laughing their asses off at the silliness of it all, not knowing that such a rivalry could forge them both into the greatest of warriors, the highest of champions.Sat at the bar, Makarov laughing next to her, Robin watched on with rapt attention. The two boys were forgotten, having taken their fight to the other side of the Guild Hall and wisely staying out of the way of Erza and Mirajane. But to her, watching this was becoming tiresome. They’d had their fun, been fighting for a solid hour now, glaring and gnashing teeth and scowling all kinds of ways.It just wasn’t productive to their combat anymore.Robin, with a heaving cough accompanying her, stalked her way through the crowds of jeering Guild members, finally making her way to the girls to catch the tail end of their newest exchange of insults.“White-haired harpy!”“Red-haired hussy!”She opened her mouth to comment, to tell them to stop, but nothing save for coughing wheezed out. it wasn’t a particularly bad coughing episode, she’s had worse, but it did make her lungs feel tight. Regardless she pressed on, the crowds growing silent as she finally reined in her coughs.She had the full attention of the Guild now, some looking worried, others with an insult on their tongue. She looked at the two girls, Mirajane having parted from Erza before the other girl could do anything and already standing next to her, looking worried; a stark contrast to the mock-hatred she’d had for Erza.Robin put a hand on Mirajane’s shoulder and kneeled down slightly. She couldn’t go down on her knees anymore because then Mira would be taller than her, such is her growth rate. “Maybe you should cut it out for now, hm?”Mira didn’t question why, just nodding and clutching Robin’s hand with both of hers. “You don’t sound too good, mama.”Robin withheld a cough long enough to stand and pull Mirajane with her, a fuming Erza left behind. “I’m better than I sound, I promise.”“One of those days?”Robin nodded, grimacing as a cough ripped through her lips. “O-One of those days.”Erza watched in barely concealed anger and curiosity as her rival completely ignored her in favour of helping the woman sit down. Her brown eyes traced Mirajane’s form as she sprinted behind the counter, shaking together some concoction of drinks that definitely didn’t look very drinkable, and nudging the green-blue drink towards the cloaked woman.She hadn’t been here long, only about a week or two, but Erza knew the woman was important somehow. If not to the guild then the Strauss siblings. She’d never said anything about it and Mirajane had never told her anything, and Lisanna and Elfman too kept her identity close to their chests – but what she just heard, ‘mama’…Erza didn’t know what to think. She was still a child, still thinking the world cruel and unfair.This woman had taken her rival’s interest away from her and made it so that Erza stood there, floundering. But her eyes took in everything they could, and her mouth curled into a victorious grin that a watching Makarov didn’t like the look of.They might be one big family and all, and Erza was more than happy, but families fought right? They argued, bickered, slapped and kicked, but at the end of the day they were a family, right? The guild fights were proof of that, the battles and quests were proof.Erza loved her family, but family fights, says mean things, but at the end of the day is still a family, right?She’d use this against her rival, and in the end their family would be stronger for it.In the end, Erza didn’t even have to try anything.“Say, Lisanna dear?”Mirajane side-eyed her before watching with rapt attention, because if there’s one thing she knew about Robin it’s that she never called any of them ‘dear’ without either laying into them for something stupid, or springing the biggest prank known to mankind right on their heads. Having felt the effects of both, but having never seen it in action before, Mirajane was curious.Erza, similarly, in one of her rare days of not feeling antagonistic, watched as well.Lisanna wanted to go huddle under her bedsheets and will away the horrible feeling drilling her gut. No matter how she felt about the situation though she loved her ‘mama’ more, so she resigned herself to some humiliation. Slumping her shoulders she looked up at her mother’s hooded visage and pasted on a weak smile. Even Natsu, stood next to her cluelessly, didn’t know how to feel about that.Clutched in his hands was an egg, large and round and most definitely belonging to a dragon – he completely ignored the logical part of his brain that he was surprised he even still had, that told him dragons were far too large to produce this tiny egg. Blue markings were grafted onto the side of the egg, and as soon as they saw it Lisanna and Natsu were running proclaiming they were ‘having a baby soon’ and that they were ‘married because of it’.The older generation didn’t know how to feel about it, but the general consensus was amusement with a hint of apathy and a helping dose of familiarity.The younger generation just went along with it.Robin felt far too amused about the situation for anyone’s liking.“Y-Yes, mama?”“Tell me, what are you going to do once the child is born?”“W-What?”A grin threatened to take over Robin’s mouth, held back by otherworldly self-control. “Oh, yes, didn’t you know?” Everyone could hear the humour in the woman’s voice. “Once the child is born, for example, you’ll have to think of different ways to move past it. Firstly, you’ll have to name it.”“That’s easy!” Came Natsu’s reply. “We’ll name it whatever we think suits!”Robin patted his head, ignoring his grumbling. “Yes, yes, very good, but I also meant something else as well.” She turned back to Lisanna, trying so very hard not to laugh as she spoke her next piece. “You see, Lisanna dear, that sometimes the parents of a child might get one child but want more.” She reached over and tousled Lisanna’s hair, before shucking a thumb over her shoulder to where Mirajane was definitely not holding her breath to keep in the laughter. “I, for example, have you, Elfman and Mirajane.”Natsu nodded. “Yeah, so we’ll just need more, right!?”Robin, she tried she really did. “O-Oh y-yes, yes you’ll – ahem.” She coughed into her fist to rid herself of the laughter threatening to bubble up. “Yes, you could do that.” Her voice was a mockery of concern. “But how will you do that if you don’t know how?”“Huh?”Lisanna, on the other hand, was covering her scarlet face in both hands.Robin was enjoying this far too much.“You see, children,” she began “When a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, they might want to make a child, but to do that, you see, they need to…”And thus became the day known as ‘The Day Lisanna Was Traumatised By The Talk’.Robin wished such days could last forever.Lisanna’s death a month later proved they wouldn’t.She stared at it.The grave wasn’t big or noteworthy but it wasn’t small, either, and the funeral procession had been a quiet, sordid affair riddled with respect. It didn’t rain during the lowering of the casket into the grave, but it did about an hour later, grey clouds drifting overhead and drizzling a soft patter of rain. Her cloak didn’t even dip slightly. But then it began pouring it down as an hour turned into two, and suddenly she’d found herself here, standing in front of her own daughter’s gravestone, tears leaking from her eyes and coughs wracking her body every few minutes.She couldn’t do this. Well, to be more specific; she couldn’t lose any more of them.She’d received more than a hand clapping her on the back in quiet support, and one or two offers to rest her head on shoulders and cry for a bit. But she was Robin Strauss, mother of three – two, two she reminded herself – and never cried in front of others. She was stoic, her daughter adored her for it and son thought her strong and brave.Robin’s tears welled and a fresh batch drifted down, yet nary a sound escaped her tight-line mouth. She would cry but silently, and Lisanna, wherever she was, would not have to hear her ‘mama’ cry.She could not lose anymore of her children, she couldn’t; Elfman thought it his fault but she’d been quick to shoulder the blame. That is what parents did, right? Shouldered their child’s burdens until they were old enough to carry them themselves. Mirajane must have seen what she was doing because she scowled and screamed and yelled at her, but collapsed into a pile of self-hatred and worthlessness into Robin’s arms. And Robin could only whisper what she’d told Elfman: “It’s not your fault, you aren’t at fault, blame me and not yourself, I wasn’t there to help.”That was the biggest kicker, wasn’t it? That she wasn’t there to help, provide support, be a proper mother.Robin, standing in the pouring rain with her coughing getting worse and steady footsteps hitting her ears, made the decision to shoulder even more. She was a mother, damnit! She could do this!She squared her shoulders, her body feeling light from the coughs and lack of oxygen.She could do this.“Natsu.”“…”The footsteps stopped just to her right. She powered on.“Natsu, I’m going to have to ask you for some help.”“…What with, miss Strauss?”Miss Strauss? Oh, wasn’t he being polite? Or was it the shock of her asking him for something? Or was it because she was – is – Lisanna’s mother?Robin shifted it away from her mind. Useless questions.“Take care of Happy.” She turned, and she knew he glimpsed a little bit of her face as she lowered the illusion around her hood; just for a second, but this level of trust was enough. “He’s technically my grandkid, and I feel like I’m going to have my hands full helping Elfman and Mirajane.”He scoffed, a small smile playing at his once-downturned lips. “Ha! Course I will!”Robin was already walking away, back towards her house to cuddle up to her children, but knew he could hear her even through the pouring rain.“I’m glad it was you, Natsu.”Laxus was a ball of teenage angst and hatred for the world, and Robin could only be thankful that her two kids weren’t as bad as that one. Mirajane had her moments, violent outbursts against her ‘rival’ and a tendency to wear – frankly – obscene clothing, but she wasn’t all that bad. She was a loving sister, loved her family more than anything else, and Robin helped her whenever she could.Elfman was a quiet child as a young teen, but now he’d hit his mid-teens he was fighting everything that walked and screaming about how strong and manly he was, how a ‘true man’ defends those with his fists and not just magic. She ignored that one time he’d run up to her screaming about how she was the strongest person he knew, distantly forgetting that she was a woman and most definitely not even close to resembling a man. If anything, Elfman was the stereotypical man; muscled, tall, strong back and lean shoulders and chiselled jaw – and of course a scar over his eyebrow from the ‘Lisanna’ incident. She’d begun threatening bodily harm to any woman that even looked in his direction for more than a second.Everyone turned away out of respect when he held her shaking hands so gently and swore he would become so strong that she didn’t need to hold up the world for him anymore; he would hold her world up, just as she had done for him, and he would become so strong and brave that nothing bad would ever happen to his family ever again. She’d hugged him so tight and whispered how she knew he could. If anyone could, it would be her boy, her son, and no one else could compare.Mirajane, in contrast, had seemingly lost her fire, her drive, her rough-and-tumble approach. She’d softened, become more overtly caring and less prone to violence. And, after a while, altogether refusing to even fight anymore. It may have had something to do with Robin and her worsening health condition, it may have had something to do with Erza, her rival, taking more and more missions and not being around enough. It may – no, definitely – have had something to with Lisanna’s death. When Mirajane was asked to do photo shoots for that stupid magazine she’d reluctantly allowed it; but whenever the photographer asked for ‘nudes’ well…he learned quickly not to.Her darling Mirajane came over one day, told her how she was going to take over as the head waitress and, later, the person who checks jobs to see if they suit class requirements. She’d held Robin’s shaking hands and kissed her palms, held them to her cheeks and promised to do nothing but make her proud. She was not strong like Elfman, and didn’t shoulder everything like Robin, but she could support them for however long they needed it. Robin ignored the ‘aww’ and ‘how cute’ from the crowd of watchers, and smiled a small wobbly smile. She held Mirajane close to an hour before she gently hushed the teen off to do her newly-assigned work – she ignored how Mirajane most definitely didn’t want to leave her embrace anytime soon.Then, one day, Natsu left, and a day later brought back a girl with keys on her waist and a fire in her eyes, and Robin had the epiphany that the guild was getting too crowded for her tastes.So she went home, used the backyard the Strauss family had as an area to train her magic so as not to get rusty, and decided she’d retire. She may be young, sure, but retirement was an idea she’s had for a while now and one she found herself revelling in.And then a month later her communication lacrima received a call.And Robin found herself leaving retirement rather quickly.Erza was on her knees, her armour was flaking off of her, and the area was deathly quiet with held breaths and distant groans of pain, or cries for help, or shuffling feet and gripped weapons. Her brown eyes took in the area in front of her, the beam of magic screaming towards her, shot by the coward Jose, and she cried. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she cried.She would not be able to survive this next hit. She would save her family, she would save Fairy Tail, but this next hit would kill her. She was as sure as dust is small and the sky is blue and the grass in green. She was as sure as her magic was dwindling and Mirajane was being held back Elfman and Elfman was looking panicked and resigned.Erza was sure she was going to die, but she’d save her family. She’d die saving them, giving Robin her children to see one more day, and Gray the chance to reconcile his past, and Natsu one more chance to find his father. Makarov another moment to make up for his failures to his grandson, and Laxus another day to try and forgive and forget, and Levi another day of meeting her friends. She’d give Freed another day of trying to leave Laxus’ shadow, and she’d give Cana another day to find her father, and she’d give another day for Lucy to flee from the shadows of her past.She’d give them all one more day, just one, but she was content with that.Erza saw the beam screaming at her and poured all her magic into her Adamantine shield. All her will and love and hope and magic into her shield. Just this one more time, just this one more attack. And she could rest. She could die happy knowing she’d done her best.Then a small shadow dropped in front of the beam, and she heard a shrill cry that sounded so agonised it hurt to hear.“Mama, no!”And another voice, so powerful and emotionless and free of worry. So droning and clear. So filled with power.“Ignis.”Erza watched from the safety of her shield, form the distance she was granted, as did the rest, as a lone woman stood before the end and roared back with a beam of what looked like liquid explosions. A sword held in her off hand, the other an open palm from which the beam came held up. The beam struck the Jupiter Cannon’s promise of destruction, its promise of death and doom, its promise of the end of Fairy Tail.It was holding the beam back, this ‘Ignis’ but it wasn’t enough. Robin noticed, too, as her grip of her sword reversed and the blade was slammed into the ground hard enough to bury the tip and leave the sword standing on its own. Her second hand rose in the same vein as the first, and another intonation. Deep, dark, filled with nothing but emptiness and magic.
“Ignis.”
The beams collided with each other and formed a larger one, a spectacle that had all eyes in Fairy Tail upon this one person. This person who wasn’t even part of their guild and, yet, arrived to save them. To give them hope, to show them that one can stand against unbeatable odds and win. Even the fiery ones like Natsu held their tongue and watched in appropriate awe. The naysayers at her existence within the guild promptly took everything they ever said back. The people in Magnolia Town could only watch in awe as this one woman stood against death itself and beat it back with two hands and an insane amount of magic.It was just barely enough, the Jupiter Cannon’s power eventually fizzling out the same time the dual Ignis spells did. Robin stood there in the silence, in the deafening silence left by the cessation of magic screeches, and swayed as though a stiff breeze would knock her over.She held on to her sword and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and beating down the coughs.A voice hit her ears, deep and shaken and so very angry. And, she thought to herself, so very childish, too. “I-Impossible. Fairy Tail doesn’t have a wizard like you! Impossible!”“I am no Fairy Tail wizard, that’s why.”
“What…? Then why! Why save them?!”
“My son and daughter are Fairy Tail wizards, and you almost killed them.” Her voice rose and uncharacteristic anger fled her mouth. She was spitting her words and it gave all other Fairy Tail wizards watching a new reason to be in awe. “They had no part in this foolish game of yours, Jose Porla, and you very nearly killed them.”
“I-”
“Like calls for like. Blood for blood. Destruction for destruction.”
“…You don’t have the guts! You’re a Fairy! You don’t have it in you to kill!”
Robin tilted her head and the rest watching were only just aware of her building magic. So much magic and power that it was visible. It was dark, oozing terrible and destructive power that brought the demons of Zeref to mind, and it may be even darker than that.“I told you, Porla, I am no Fairy.” She breathed out and a cold mist seeped from her lips. “I am courteous; you shall know my name before you die.” Shakily she mocked a curtsey. “I am Robin Strauss, Crown Princess of Plegia and you, Jose Porla, threatened my family.” She took a step. “You could have killed my son. My daughter.”Her cloaked head looked directly up at Phantom Lord’s building, and she scowled.Her magic built.“Like calls for like.”Her hands were awash with what could only be called liquid darkness, and it made Jose’s phantom magic look like nothing but a pale mimicry. Her fingertips oozed shadows and liquid malic dripped from her fingers.
“Blood calls for blood.”
Her cloak’s hood was blown from her face allowing the rest of them to finally see the woman they’d been housing. She was pale, sickly so, with dark shadows beneath her eyes and pale white hair blowing behind her in a lengthy braid. Her eyes glowed with power, a soft shade of violet that almost shone with the magic in her veins. She was breathtakingly beautiful, in an ethereal way, in a sort that made you feel inadequate.And the snarl that twisted her lips made her no less beautiful.
“Death calls for death.”
Purple and black rose around her form, swirling to life in her open palm that was all but pointed at the guild of her ire. It wasn’t enough to destroy the entire thing, she knows that, but it was enough to kill a good few and even more than enough to terrify the guild master into retreating. She was too weakened to pull off her bigger, flashier, more potent spells. That double use of Ignis had taken a lot out of her, and this would likely render her immobile for the next few days.But it was worth it.
"̸̼̅͒̏̉́Ț̴̤̤̠̼̮̦̀h̷͕̻̳͗̇̔̇͌͋̄e̶̳͕͓͗̑̑̑̅ ̷̧̹̰̹̠͖̤̰͒̈́̈̀ͅE̷̗̩̅͋̑̋̂͂̃̇̋͌͐n̷̪̫̾̄͘d̸̡͇͓̝̹̘̫̥̟̥̊͒̐̐͒̓̿͘̚ͅ ̴̳̬̲͚̩̟̜̺̯̈͒̈͆̂̏͑̅́͑͐͂͐͆̕Ç̴̛̬͔̐͂̔̌͑̉́̏̋̚͠͝͝ä̵̮̺͕̦̘̝͕̥̰̍̅̾̂̍͗̈́̉̐͘l̶̡̦̯͈͖̬̱̠͍̝̤͊͑͐́͌̑͠l̸͍̬̭̝̩͕̭͚͍̺̪̉̅̐̒͌͐̀̉̒̏͘͝͠s̵̡̼̭͕̫̰̻̳̭̖͇̟͈̺̑͛̉̌̆̎̆͊̿͗̆̇͐͜ ̷̛͇̫̞͙̥͙̘͎̯͒̂̈͘͜͝͠F̸̟͖̋ó̷̡̦̦̩͈̝̒͐̀̅͗͛̓̑̐͊̂̆̚ȑ̵͙̽̏̄͊̍̿̚ ̶̡̻̰̮̫̞̞̗̹̇̏̆̀̚T̷̢̮̻̣̭͙͓̲̳̖͕̰̙̏̋͜h̵̡͚͎̪̗͕̺͓̠̯̫͈̋͒͛̓͘̚͝ͅę̵͚̹̬̖̞͍̤̟͎̳͋̃̅̈́̈́̏̎̂͌͛͊̈́͘͝ ̷̛͈̠̥͕̺̣̣͆̔͊͗̅̊Ę̶̨͍͙͈̞̜̙̦̟͍͙͈̽͐̿̐̓͛̈́̚n̸̫̯͈͖͎͚̰̳̩͚͓̜̱͐͝d̵̰͚͙͚̬͉̲͚̯̻̿͋̊̊͝"̵̨̛͕͚̹̟̫͔̱̽́̋̑̀͊̃̋̎͘͠ͅ
She finished the chant, her dark magic warbling and distorting her voice until she found herself resembling something of a childhood nightmare, of her father when he used his own darkened magic.Then her palm lit up in purple and black and shadows and screaming, and she intoned, loud enough for the Fairy Tail to hear: “Grand Ruin.”And then the entire front of the building was engulfed in purple and darkness.Robin willed her Levin Sword away into a pocket dimension to be retrieved later and turned to see the awed faces of the guild her children went to.She saw Mirajane rushing to her, she saw Elfman rallying the rest of them and Natsu shouting about being ‘fired up’. She saw Gray help Erza hobble to safety and saw Lucy crying about how she never expected people to save her for no reason.Mirajane held her close and cried into her shoulder.Robin just closed her eyes and leaned into Mirajane.It’s about time she took a nap. The rest was up to them.Gajeel Redfox, watching from the now-destroyed rafters, could only smart in awe at this lone woman who took on a power even a Wizard Saint would fall to and win.He found himself an idol.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Her name meant ‘Firefly’ on one of the worlds she visited, and it always amused Lumine as to how many universal constants seemed to exist.One of them, for example, would be swords. Swords are a weapon, designed from their conception to their creation to kill and maim, threaten and murder. Swords cut, stab, even crush if heavy enough. They are, from conception to creation, designed to kill. Expected to kill. She ignores the time she was called a Sword, by her brother. Her own family expected her to kill. She spited him by learning how to cook.On every world she visited, however, she would always fight. Always seeking that world’s greatest swordsmen and duelling them; hoping, praying, that she was inferior, and she still had something to learn. That she was not a perfect sword, that she was in fact still blunt and unused to combat. To this date, of the thousand worlds she has visited and the millions of swordsmen she’s fought – and killed, her mind viciously reminded her – none have defeated her. She laments her title that her brother gave her, the ‘Firefly Sword’. He thought it amusing. She refused to cook for him for a solid three years.He learned after that.Another constant would be the sky. No matter which world she ends up in the sky is always blue and the night always dark. Of course, saying that, she’s seen blues so deep they looked like oceans above her head, and sometimes skies that looked more violet than blue. She’s seen nights with two moons, and days with four, and felt different kinds of heat on her skin – from sweltering and stuffy to mild and calm. She’s heard creatures that sounded like crickets on one planet be overshadowed by spider-frog hybrids on another, and on one came a creaking noise during the night that the local birds would make.Yet another constant, of course not the last but one of many, would be the concept of ‘freedom’. Of hope and effervescence and life living the way it wanted to. Of chains being shucked off and bindings being torn apart. Freedom is less a constant and more a product of free will, and everyone, no matter what planet, had some measure of free will. It’s less a constant and more a rule. Without free will there can be no freedom, but also without free will there can be no lack of freedom. A paradox, one that boggled her brother’s mind as he parsed the knowledge they’d accumulated through their travels.Her favourite constant, however, was rain. How it always, no matter where and when Lumine went, gave life. Acted as a cleansing tool to wash away sins and misdeeds and herald the sun of a new dawn.How it hid her tears from those too nosy for their own goods.She isn’t yet used to this world and its ways, and even less so the creature calling itself ‘Paimon’, that elected itself her guide and carried with it an insatiable appetite. She has yet to get used to the wind that this ‘Barbatos’ gifted her, and its lying promises of freedom that she’d fervently hate until her dying day.Lumine used to have wings, soaring through whatever world she visited with glee and calmness, with hope and adoration for freedom. She used to be free before her power was stripped and her brother was taken. She used to know how freedom felt. Now she hates it, hates the concept of being free, of having the ability to make choices and have something so integral taken away because someone else had the free will to do so. She hates freedom because someone else with freedom thought that she was ill-fitting to savour it.She hates this Barbatos with all her will. Because he had free will, didn’t he? The free will to gift others with freedom. Who is to say that, once she’s outlived her uses as entertainment for the god, he won’t take it away? Leave her as nothing once again, with nothing but a sword to her name?But her winds, her Anemo, she could not hate. It was so like her own magic, her own brand of freedom. How can she hate it? it was one of the only things she has to remember herself by, her own freedom a fleeting memory, the winds running through her blood acting as the last grasp at said freedom before it vanished completely.She wasn’t a Firefly, now. That contemptable name having wormed its way inside her heart and nestled there as a part of her being. She was no longer ‘Lumine, Firefly Knightess’. She was no longer ‘Lumine, The Firefly Sword’. She was just Lumine, now, the only thing she had to cling to was a name that couldn’t mean anything anymore. Her wings were gone. All that remained was the sword, now. All that remained was her Sword of Descension, her only remaining possession that can be called ‘hers’. That belonged to the Firefly she used to be, instead of the Sword she is.Lumine stifled a wet, gurgling chuckle that tinged itself with hysteria. She refused to let it out lest she break down and die a little more inside. Her freedom was gone, her magic was gone, her brother was gone. All she had was her sword and this foreign god’s wind coursing her veins.Lumine looked at her palm, slick and wet with the thundering rain overhead and calloused with eons of swordswoman practice.She looks up, hair matting to the sides of her scalp, tressed of blonde dirtied with months of ill care. A sword, no matter how rusted, could still kill. Appearances mattered little to a weapon, after all.Her dulled amber eyes take in the city before her, Paimon floating just out of reach and babbling about ‘Mondstadt’ this and ‘Archon’ that. Amber, an Outrider of this ‘Mondstadt’ place, was leading them safely to the city – a sword is meant to kill, how is she supposed to do that when this guide of hers keeps leading her away from these ‘Hilichurl’ creatures?She resolves to follow, and steps besides the young-looking woman. A teen, maybe, with all the innocence of youth and the rigors of early life. No dullness seen in her own eyes, no lack of energy, no inability to care. Just a loud, boisterous attitude that belies a hint of wisdom and encouragement.Amber had no worries, no cares beyond her duties, no downsides beyond getting her hands dirty. She was all smiles and boisterousness and happiness and encouragement. She was loud and brash and hot-headed and rude. Paimon was much the same, if a little duller and a lot more prone to stupidity.Lumine hated Paimon to a lesser extent than she thought she would, if only because the floating girl had taken it upon herself to act as translator when it became very clear that Lumine would not talk to people of her own volition.Lumine hated Amber, too, for the freedom she flouted and the happiness she exuded. As much as Barbatos, if perhaps not so vehemently.She was, if anything, revelling in her lack of freedom now. She would take to her role as sword and do nothing more than that. She’d search for her brother and powers, of course, but a sword is a sword no matter the wielder.This ‘Jean Gunnhildr’ sounded like a worthy wielder.
‘I just hope she’s cute’.
“I apologise for the mess,” I spoke, but of course I felt my hand itch towards the quill resting on the oakwood surface “I am Jean; Acting Grandmaster of The Knights of Favonius.” ‘Acting Grandmaster’ was important, as I’m sure any less than the title’s fullest name would confuse those not entombed within social and ambassadorial politics.Amber, bless her innocent heart, sprung upon the opportunity to introduce to me the traveller that she’d taken in. I hadn’t seen them yet, skulking about the edge of the office, but Kaeya was here as well – say what you wish about that man, but his smarts have pulled through for the Knights many a time, and no less than a dozen times has his impeccable eye for character lent us some good friends.There was a floating girl there, that much I could see, chatting the ear off of Kaeya who, for some reason, was smirking and chatting back. Was this traveller Amber was intrigued in not a talker? I could respect that. I could even admire it, the ability to think and listen where others speak and shout.I turned to Amber, the Outrider saluting as soon as my eyes fell on her. I resisted the fond sigh; so eager to please, this one, but skilled nonetheless. “Amber, you have someone to show me?”Amber didn’t even have to huff out a ‘yes, ma’am’ before the quarry in question strode through, beyond the curtain of bickering flying girls and sassy aloof knights. I would make a note for later to talk to this ‘Paimon’ as well, but from what I’ve gathered the girl is only interested in food and…giant swords? No, not something to think about.I pasted on a real, if tired, smile to greet them; and then I saw them.Ah, I think I’m having a heart attack.Her. She was I would say about half a head shorter than me, with toned legs and pale skin. She reminded me of a doll, almost, with dull amber gems for eyes and silky hair the colour of golden wheat. I must confess I am not much of a poet, but I doubt many could do this girl – no, woman, definitely a woman – justice in any form. No scars or blemishes, I noted, but her bearing was that of a warrior.I’m quite sure my face was red, if only slightly. A new experience to be sure. Lisa, to the left of me, was grinning like a fool.I could already hear the teasing.“Welcome, traveller, to Mondstadt; City of Freedom.” That was a good introduction, yes? A welcoming that sounded both formal and greeting? I must be more tired than I thought, because I could have sworn I saw the woman before me frown. Perhaps a trick of the light.I reached a hand over to shake her own, feeling oddly self-conscious about the callouses on my palms from rigorous swordplay. Her hand was small, dainty as though from a highborn woman, yet the callouses that greeted me back definitely proved my earlier thought; a warrior, to be sure, and if her bearing was any indication, a skilled one.“I am Jean. Jean Gunnhildr.” Why did that come out? I must be more tired than I thought, if I’m introducing myself twice. Thankfully, the woman in front of me either didn’t notice or care, for she dipped a head and locked her eyes with mine – ah, I think I stopped breathing.“Well met, Jean Gunnhildr.” The traveller before me sounded wearied, tired, monotonous too, but there was a hint of anticipation in her voice and an aristocratic lilt. The woman’s eyes seemed to keep trying to lock with mine every second or so, and whatever she kept finding brought those orbs back each time. I’m unaware of how to feel about this, but some part of me is…pleased. “I am Lumine.”Then she lifted my hand to her face.Oh no, don’t. I wanted to pull it away, but I couldn’t. I wanted to flee this entire scene and dive into the mountain of paperwork but I felt locked. My knees would not move yet felt like they were shaking, I’m quite sure I was going deaf with how loud my heart was thudding in my chest and the hairs on my neck were standing on end. If this continues my poor heart may fail.She pressed a chaste kiss to the back of my hand, but my eyes were locked with hers the entire time; I’m quite sure my own were wider than usual and from what it felt like my face was red and aflame. I only just had the presence of mind to shakily curtsey and greet her back with a smile.“Ah. A-A pleasure to meet you.”Then this, this succubus in human skin smiled slightly; did my heart stop?“The pleasure is all mine.”Did she just purr? Oh, oh, oh no, this is bad. This is very, very bad. I’m smitten! I can’t even hide it anymore, either! I’m quite sure everyone else has seen my flushed face and trembling and, and…!I sat there half an hour later, Lumine promising to come talk to me later on for some reason – why did I say I’d clear a time for her? – with my face in hands and groaning every time Lisa said something even remotely relating to Lumine.This was my life now.Okay. Okay! This was it, my life now, smitten by a traveller with wheat-blonde hair and amber eyes.I’d seen many beautiful women and handsome men and not a one has set my heart racing like it did in that meeting. Is this a sign from Barbatos?I felt something stir within me. Yes! This must be a sign, a token for my loyalty! Hm, but how to go about this? I have never felt the need to learn courtship before. I had my wits about me still so as not to copy from romance novels.Perhaps just treat her as a friend, and move from there? Perhaps I should get her flowers?Venti, giggling madly, could only watch in horrified fascination as The Dandelion Knight somehow worked herself into thinking this traveller from another world was fated to be her lover! Or some such nonsense like that. A gift from him? The absentee Archon? Ha!Venti began cackling when Jean stood from her desk and stormed over to flower stand.Yes, yes this traveller would bring many amusing moments. Especially if she keeps charming those around her as she did the once uptight Jean.And maybe the traveller would heal, too. Time does heal wounds, after all.Now, how to help Dvalin…
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There was an error with something. She wasn’t quite sure what, but there was something fundamentally wrong, something that outlined her body as different – this time around, anyway, and the changes were noticeable, too. Something off, something different than the other people she’d knew – and even the ones she didn’t, all looking different to each other, but also different to her. She was an outlier, completely aberrant to the rest of humanity in a way that could only be felt, and seen.She was mentally strong, she knew this, but even by unpowered human standards she was physically weak; her bones were brittle, her skin like paper. The only physically empowering thing she held over normal humans was her…well, nothing really, but her long white hair that hit her knees and pallid complexion helped a bit-
-But her hair was brown and she was an upright frog at best shoved into the locker by her best friend how and why and how and why and she just wanted to live don’t lock me in don’t keep me here-
-and her Trigger abilities. Since birth she was weak, but when she Triggered she became something else. Still weak, physically – she could break a bone just walking down some stairs if she put some effort into it – but her powers essentially rendered that null and void. If she didn’t want someone to fight or wanted to end conflict as soon as possible she wished up a place. A world.All worlds follow rules, all have their own fundamentals that set in motion a chain that becomes unbreakable – one of Earth’s is ‘what comes up must come down’. She could make a world where that is flipped – ‘what goes down, must come up’ – or where gravity and its intricacies don’t exist at all. she could make a world where oxygen is deadly and carbon dioxide is good for you. She could create a world where people are forbidden from fighting of any sort, and any budding conflicts must be hashed out in healthy debate. She could forge a habitat in which monsters conjured by her imagination act as protectors for their creator. She could create an entire universe in her head.She was Starlight, after all. with her eyes of gleaming universes and her face of symmetrical, if normal, beauty, Taylor Hebert was the very height of a Shaker rating – tentatively the highest the PRT would willingly give out to anyone that isn’t a criminal, she was a solid 10+ with a Stranger rating of 4 – and was known worldwide. For better or worse.Worse, if you asked her.Her power, once that new world had been thought up, would then impose said world onto Earth Bet, temporarily destroying Earth Bet’s control over that area and enforcing her world’s rules. She could turn the rainy concrete jungle of Downtown Brockton into a bustling fourteenth-century marketplace. She could twist the fabric of reality to make a castle sprout from a two-story building, or force water to freeze in hot temperatures.She was Starlight, after all, longest-serving Ward in Brockton Bay.And somehow not the leader.It was grating on her, really, how fresh-faced children just a year or two older than her could claim the Wards leadership position and she was forced to listen to some half-witted moron barely a weak past getting manhandled by the PR team boss her around and act like they knew what they were doing. They didn’t, and when mistakes happened or someone got hurt it was mostly because her protestations to idiotic orders went unanswered. Sure, she was eleven and young, but being in the Wards for a solid five years gave her experience in ways new people simply wouldn’t get!Especially after they all died in an Endbringer fight and she was still. Not. The leader. She was the last member of the Wards! No one else remained! That stupid rule of ‘the oldest leads’ shouldn’t matter because, technically, she was the oldest!
By a couple billion lifetimes, but who’s counting? Oh, wait, she is.
Daddy dearest just had to go and die, didn’t he? Breaking the mould of what she was used to and forcing her to pay more attention to this timeline than simply waiting it out and seeing what happens. Of course, in a shock twist mummy-dearest followed suit, leaving her all alone at the tender age of six and freshly Triggered. Because she could already see this timeline sucking.She was eleven, damnit, but her real age was probably in the millions by now! Didn’t that earn her something?A tear in time and space ripped open before her, and Contessa stepped out with a placid smile on her face and a cup of Earl Grey tea.“Ah, thank god you showed up!” Taking the tea from the slightly amused Contessa’s hands and sipping it, Taylor let loose a contented sigh. This timeline was sucking badly, but how long had it been since she’d just sat back and sipped some tea? Snapping a finger she imposed her new world’s will on this world’s, and forged an extravagant four-seat table and three chairs. Contessa, uninvited but not unwarranted, took the chair opposite her.“Three chairs?” The woman raised an eyebrow and looked Taylor’s way, noting that the young girl sat as though a princess.“Precaution.” Contessa’s eyebrow remained raised, and when Taylor saw it she sighed – of course she would have to explain things. “I live billions of lives every instant, but even I can’t predict what will happen. For example, this…” Taylor waved a hand around, the other clutching her teacup harder than necessary “…was never supposed to happen.”“Oh?”“In every timeline my mother dies of a car crash when I’m nine, my best friend bullies me into Triggering and I kill Scion by, ironically, bullying him to death.” Taylor sipped her tea, hiding the frown she had behind the porcelain cup. “In this one my mother died before I even hit five, and my father shortly after. Heck, even this body I’m using is completely different than any of my previous ones – something, need I remind you, that has never happened before.” She paused mid-drink and amended. “Well, in recent memory, anyway. It might have happened before but, well…I’m an old lady, give me credit.”Contessa hid a smile behind her own cup of coffee. “Oh but of course, oh wizened one.”“Shut up.”There was a light silence in the room as she occasionally sipped her tea and eyed Contessa – she might technically be immortal, in the broadest sense, but Contessa could win anything she put her mind to. Or, more accurately, the Path To Victory to. She would as always need to be careful around her.“So…the third chair is…?”“Because you never know if something has changed so fundamentally that this meeting, four lifetimes in the making, will change too.”“Hm.”And so it was that Taylor, in the PRT Wards ENE rec room, sipped tea and talked to Contessa about the good old days – the pair of them were tittering and laughing, making fun of colleagues and dumb ideas passed by a senator, even small talk about the weather and whatnot.When Contessa went back to Cauldron to inform them that the ‘Mother of The Universe’ was on their side, Taylor began making plans.“Ah, uh…hi!” A hand shot out that Taylor eyed amusedly and shook – out of the corner of her eye she could see Miss Militia’s face mask crinkling slightly, probably disapproving of her lack of caution with new Capes. Unfortunately for Militia Taylor wasn’t planning on erasing billions of lifetimes worth of knowledge for a simple act of unnecessary caution.The hand was a little bit smaller than her own, but even if this Missy Biron wasn’t the usual ‘tough girl’ Missy she was used to, she had one hell of a grip. Pulling back from it Taylor shook her hand to rid it of the pain, Miss Militia having taken the girl’s attention off of her and onto a piece of paper. It gave her time to shake the lingering pain from her hand as she half-listened to the lecture Militia was giving Missy on security and such, and after willing the feeling to come back she asserted her will over the world and forged herself a simple wooden cane to lean on; it was more of a parasol that she’d just be holding like a cane, but she liked it. It didn’t suit her or her costume, but she liked it and it was staying. Armsmaster could do his ‘disapproving dad’ routine all he wanted, she was keeping the damn parasol and memeing on the villains with it!She totally did not get the idea from an anime that she watched in one of her previous lives.No sirree.Jokes aside the parasol was a surprisingly adept weapon in the right hands – that is, in her hands, anyway. Forged from her will to be unbreakable in such a way that even the most bullshit of Tinkertech would pale, when opened the parasol would act as a shield – bullets, fire, even acid, all would falter before the peerless shield that is her parasol. It even shielded against the sun, so that was a plus – this body she found herself born with had even paler skin than any other she’s had before, and in such a case burned quite easy underneath any exposure to the sun.When closed the parasol could act as a cane to help her move around – this body she’d found herself in was especially feeble, which is probably why a small child’s handshake felt like she’d broken bones – and was a tremendously useful weapon; the tip of the parasol was blunted to make it safe for her to incorporate stabbing attacks into her repertoire, the wooden handle could be detached to reveal a sword for those times she might need to get lethal against Brutes or Kill Orders, and the crook of the handle itself could be used to pull herself up to things, or latch onto people.Overall a nicely rounded weapon with the side benefit of being an indestructible everyday tool and the added bonus of making her look cool as fuck – in her opinion. If the awed side glances she was getting from Missy – and the presumably-irritated side glances from Militia – were anything to go off she did, indeed, look cool as fuck. She wonders, briefly, what the previous Wards would have thought of her being the leader of a two-Ward team, but shook that off. It didn’t really matter all that much.To be honest she didn’t even remember their names.Was that callous of her? Probably, but then again she was so old she counted as ageless, and even then she didn’t really think she counted as that – what, with her propensity for dying incredibly early on in her past lives.“-Starlight, the current leader of the Wards ENE.” Miss Militia gave her a look that, she presumed, spoke of how proud she was. “Starlight, this is Vista, your newest Ward.”Taylor most definitely did not feel like she’d died and gone to heaven.It’s about time!Taylor stared at Emily Piggot, Director of the Protectorate’s ENE branch, and could only muster up a very distant, very weak “I-I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”The world must be ending, it must be, because she can think of no other reason that Emily Piggot would look at her sympathetically. “I’ve been informed by the higher ups that you are to stand down as Ward team leader, and the newly joined Aegis is to take over.”What?What?She wasn’t even leader for a whole six months yet! Barely four and a HALF!The boy in question stepped forward from behind her shocked self, hands locked behind his back in some vague attempt at humbleness. “Ah, I will do my best to-”Taylor slapped him upside the head. “Silence, my future shadow puppet.” Taylor’s eyes practically bored into Piggot’s with the heat of a thousand dying stars. “You’re telling me that my nearly seven years of experience is being overlooked because of a stupid rule that isn’t even enforced in half of the Wards branches?”She was definitely not angry. Nope. Not at all. No siree.Piggot ran a hand down her face. “Yes. I don’t agree with it either, Starlight, but…”Taylor created a small throne for herself and slumped into it, a cup of tea materialising in her hand and a wave of her other one produced the same for Emily. She noted with distant curiosity how Emily Piggot, known Parahuman hater, didn’t even blink and sipped the tea of her own volition without checking it for poisons or issues of any kind. It was weird being the friend of the ENE director’s, but this whole lifetime was being weird.“…orders are orders, yeah.” She sipped her tea and cringed at the memories of someonetelling her that in a past life. Someone before they got shot to shit, of course. By her. It was a fun lifetime, all things considered. “Sometimes I hate orders.”Emily Piggot, known Parahuman hater, barked out a laugh and just barely stopped herself from choking on her own tea. “Ha! Sometimes I do to.”Aegis looked decidedly uncomfortable watching the play-by-play of the known parahuman hater and an eleven year old girl talking to each other like old war buddies. It was off-putting, it was disconcerting, and it made him want to leave.He tried, he really did, y snapping off a salute he’d seen Miss Milita do, and turned ot leave.“Aegis, where do you think you’re going?” He didn’t even answer before finding himself seated next to the girl in the throne, a stool that barely managed to fit his already tall frame. “Like I told you, you’re the leader; the public leader.”“‘Public leader’?”Taylor looked at him as though he had two heads but turned to an oddly amused director. “With Aegis as the newest leader of the Wards I find myself in a subordinate position.” Emily once again snorted. “Fortunately, I find my expertise in leadership to be nothing short of a shame were it to go to waste, and find myself in the need of a protégé.”Emily read between the lines and found herself highly amused. I want to remain in leadership as my expertise and experience would go to waste, but by claiming Aegis to be my apprentice I can both teach him to be effective and remain in power for as long as possible.Piggot smirked with barely concealed Schadenfreude as her best Ward grinned back. “Permission granted, Starlight.”Aegis didn’t catch the double meaning, but felt like the floor should have swallowed him up any second now when Taylor turned to grin at him; there was something dark in that grin, something deep.He found himself terrified of his new ‘teacher’.Taylor just rejoiced at finding some way to keep this life a little more entertaining.
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Sometimes the nightmares hit her out of nowhere. Her waking condition doesn’t matter to them, because she’s free game whenever they get bored with nonexistence. In her extensive life she’s suffered nightmares since her birth, always a tormented child from an over-active imagination. Her brother used to rib her for it when they were younger, nightmares of clowns or spiders or too-big heads on too-small bodies. He’d laugh at her, not unkindly, and she’d laugh too because in retrospect they were stupid things to fear.Then they stopped being stupid things to fear.Sometimes there’s a build-up, a sense of unease that lingers in the pit of her stomach and makes itself known as she closes her eyes. Her brain will catch up eventually, flooding her with adrenaline in a feeble attempt to wake her up and save her a sweaty night of crying and tears. Sometimes it works. Sometimes her own body rejects the nightmares and she’s awoken, wipes herself down of sweat and tears, drinks a glass of water and returns to a dreamless sleep.About eighty percent of the time it doesn’t work.They aren’t the silly little nightmares of creepy clowns from one world or gigantic snakes from the next that plagued her childhood before she eventually got used to the ‘weird’ factor that came with interstellar travel. They aren’t harmless or silly or childish, they don’t make her want to curl up into a ball and laugh herself ragged because she was scared of something like giant teddy bears.No, these nightmares are vicious, cunning in their ways, brutal in their suggestions. They target her deepest insecurities and prey on them until her heart is thudding so hard she’s afraid she’ll wake someone up with the noise. They torment her for eight hours straight, sometimes more, sometimes less, and they always set her screaming herself awake with one hand in her mouth to stop the noise and another with a sword in hand, ready to swing at the nearest object. Thankfully, the nearest object has never been one of her friends. But that could change. All she would need to do is slip up.The nightmares last night were…vicious. Excruciating, exacting in their torment. Of shadows chasing her and her brother, of a light at the end, of soothing winds guiding their way, of their powers returning and their wings reforming. They would be free! And then the light blinks out, Aether is snatched away, and her arms are shackled to a stone floor. Shadowy knives fly up and tear into her chest, pulling the wound that doesn’t bleed wider and wider until her power is laid bare, and then vicious-looking claws would sink into her cavity and pry her heart apart thread by thread.It’s not a new one, but sometimes the oldest nightmares that keep returning are worse than the newest ones that never again show up.The worst thing about this nightmare, though, is that it always leaves her shaking for the rest of the day; jumping at shadows, unsheathing her sword at loud noises, and a recent development of building her Anemo magic beneath her fingers.Oh, and the whispers in her head, a recent development that would suggest she was either going mad or the loneliness was becoming too much. She wouldn’t be able to forget that if she tried. Always her brother’s voice, too; always mocking her. A failure, a waste of life, should have died. The standard ‘disparaging voice in your head’ things, really. Just because she knows what it’s going to hush into her ear at any second of the day, however, doesn’t lessen the impact.Lumine didn’t even last an hour after waking when Lisa gently pulled her into the restricted section of the library.“You don’t look very good, dear.”Wasn’t that an understatement? There were bags beneath her eyes, her skin was a sickly pale instead of the usual porcelain, her fingers were twitching every now and again, her eyes were shifting to every corner of every room she entered. It is a shock, really, that she hasn’t just flat-out collapsed into a pile of tired goo on the floor. She’s lucky she even managed to get out of bed, get herself dressed and drag her tired self to the library as she did.Lisa did not wait for a response, having somehow known what the problem was and just the way to solve it. She wrapped her hands around Lumine’s frozen body and gently pulled her into a hug that rested her tired head on the pillow of her left breast. Lumine’s hands instinctively shot around Lisa’s waist and clutched like a lifeline.The witch didn’t comment when she felt shudders run through Lumine’s body, nor did she complain when tears threatened to stain her blouse.Her hand gently glided through Lumine’s otherwise controlled hair, the blonde a mess of points and sharp angles that she did her best to smoothen.Lumine just whispered out her thanks, gathered her things, and wore a face too old for one so young-looking.Something changed between them, something vital, something deeper than usual friendship.Lisa wasn’t quite sure what, yet, but she had a few ideas. Most of those ideas she’d written off as absurd; a spiritual bond based on some vague ‘the stars aligned’ nonsense that she’d almost immediately written off. A potion messing with both of their minds, opening them up to new suggestions and ideas; not unheard of, but she tabled that as ‘incredibly unlikely’. There was the idea that Barbara’s ‘bonds of friendship’ thing was a real event of some sort, but again that was ignored.Every time she thought on it a new idea propped itself in her head, and every time she discarded it. She knew the reason, of course she did; what she labelled the Lumine Library Incident.She wasn’t good at naming things.Regardless, she understood that the little incident in the restricted section had spurred Lumine on to seek her out whenever she was having a rough day or suffered from nightmares. Whenever camping Lumine would ask to sleep in her bedroll with her, and whenever dragged by Paimon or Kaeya through Mondstad’s busy streets Lumine would shy away from crowds and vanish away to her little corner of the library.Lisa didn’t mind. In fact, she found herself frowning whenever Lumine would be forced to sleep in her own bed, and smiling whenever the girl waited for her party to fall asleep and climbed into Lisa’s anyway. She found herself grimacing when Paimon gripped Lumine’s wrist and dragged her off to the busy streets to find food, and grinning in self-accomplished glee when Lumine skulked back into the library – usually by taking a seat opposite herself and just reading a book but oftentimes just complaining about Paimon’s lack of social boundaries. And every time it happened Lisa could feel something in her shift to pay a little more attention to Lumine. The way she shifted in her sleep to get closer, the way her eyes trailed the words in a book, the way she’d tilt her chin to talk about the latest happenings, the contact she’d make with her eyes, the slight upturn of her lips.Lisa was no idiot in the ways flirting and romance, which is why she smiled with a small blush when Lumine walked over and asked to help her with her book issue; people these days, no respect for literature. This girl – woman, more like, while lacking curves she was more mature than one would think – on the other hand had a distinct love for books and their knowledge. Like she was trying to soak in everything she read and retain it forever.What could Lisa do, but say yes?“So, the first book we need to go after would be…” Her eyes glanced down to the list in her hands, a short smile coming to her face. “…ah. In Marjorie’s possession.”Lumine nodded at her side, the pair of them setting off in a slow gait – good, Lisa thinks, because it wouldn’t do to rush. Even a job like hers required care. Of course, this was less about care and her feeling a tad languid today, but from the slumped shoulders and narrowed eyes of her companion she can see the same in Lumine. Paimon, on the other hand, seemed to be a bundle of energy and loudness, zipping this way and that.Just looking at her is exhausting.“I know.” Lisa turned a look to her companion. “I get tired just being near her sometimes.” Lumine stifled a yawn. “Just dangle some food at the end of the job and Paimon’ll be quiet for the next ten minutes.”Lisa giggled into a hand. “Words of wisdom from one so young.”Lumine side-eyed her. “Young, huh?” her hands ventured down as though to sink into pockets on her side, before they abruptly stopped and hung loosely at her waist. “If I’m young, dear Lisa, what are you?” Lumine smiled slightly, tiredly. “You’re a lot prettier than me. Age makes one look older as time goes on after all, yet you don’t look a day over eighteen.”Lisa tittered, a small chuckle being shared by Lumine. “Flatterer.”Lumine shrugged.” I try.” Lisa couldn’t see the hands by her sides clench, but she could see the tired frown on Lumine’s face age a little; she looked a hundred years too young to be wearing a face that old that well. “I’m a lot older than you’d think I am, Lisa.”Lumine turned her head and locked eyes with Lisa. “It’s why I’m interested in you, after all.”The rest of the walk to the antique hoarder was, for once, not filled with silence as they usually were for Lisa, but a pleasant conversation that set her aflutter and with a gentle need to continue the conversation at a later date.“Ah! Hello there!” Her attention shifted to Marjorie and her smile became a little bit sharper; Lumine noticed instantly and Lisa had to wonder how perceptive the girl was. Marjorie didn’t notice a thing.“Hello Marjorie,” began Lisa, sharp smile and pointed gazes drilling into an oblivious Marjorie “any exciting new items in stock?”Lumine side-eyed her, looking tired as she was. Paimon bobbed about confusedly, muttering about a ‘job’. Marjorie just looked at the floating girl confusedly.“Huh? But…but Paimon thought we were here to-”“Why so surprised?” Paimon looked at Lisa with a bewildered expression. “Today is such a special day, it’s only natural I’d want a souvenir to remember it by.” Paimon, in her confused blunder, bobbed there for a bit looking lost and dazed. Only Lumine caught the wink sent her way and spotted the rosy hue to the witch’s cheeks.“Hmm…” She began, her amber-coloured eyes chased Lisa’s own verdant shade of green. ‘is she reciprocating, or is this just Lisa?’ “…So, this is a date now?”Ah, so Lumine wasn’t seeing things in her tired state; Lisa’s cheeks were reddened – thankfully Marjorie was just looking confused and cheerful in equal measure. Paimon just looked confused and began softly complaining about ‘being hungry’. Yet again. Lisa’s mouth did curve into a somewhat relieved grin, however, and there was a softness there she has not seen before. “Ooh. Is that how you see it?”Lumine just locked eyes with Lisa and shucked her hands into her pockets – or she would, if she had any. They just hung there awkwardly again. “And if I do?”Lisa’s mouth turned upwards again. “I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that…”Marjorie, having enough of feeling like a third wheel, coughed into a hand to draw attention to herself. “Haha…well, if it’s a souvenir you’re after, you’re in the right place!” At this the cheerful woman gestured wildly to her shop. The door was closed today, presumably to keep heat in – it was slightly chilly this morning – but a small table garnished in items was in full view. She turned to look at Lisa. “I’m sure you’ll find something to strike your fancy, Lisa.”She gestured towards Lumine with a hand, looking at the girl with an upturn of her lips that set itself in a way that Lisa felt…uncomfortable with. “Or you could leave it to your new ‘friend’…make it an occasion?”Paimon, wanting to hurry this along – most definitely not for food, she promises – huffed and crossed her arms. “Yes, yes! Let The Traveller pick!”Lumine frowned at the use of her title but shrugged soon after – it’s not like she’s ever bothered to stop Paimon using her title. Actually, did she ever tell Paimon her name…? she shook her head slightly and turned back to Lisa. Lisa just nodded, smile still present. “Alright then…”“Take a look around!” Exclaimed the bubbly stall owner. “I’m sure there’s something she’ll love.”Her eyes almost immediately found the scroll.“Welcome to Good Hunter!” A cheerful smile greeted her as she half-walked over to the stand, Lisa right behind her looking for all the world as though on a languid stroll. Lumine couldn’t be bothered in all honesty to take this book-hunting seriously; Paimon was quiet, for once, because of the sheer proximity to food. “Would that be a table for two?”Before either she or Lisa could affirm anything, Paimon placed her hands on her hips and none-too-quietly shouted her annoyance. “THREE!” Lumined tapped the side of her head slightly to rid it of the ringing sound it had suddenly developed.The waitress, Sara, looked confused. Lumine would give her credit for only faltering for a moment. “Oh, Haha! My apologies…” Her eyes darted from the strange flying girl to the ‘couple’ looking both annoyed and slightly frustrated. “…please sit wherever you like and call me over once you’re ready to order.”Again, before a word could be gotten in edgewise, Paimon butt in, turning to Lumine. “So, we’re gonna eat first and bring up the book situation later?”Lisa answered, plastering on a smile. “Why, of course. The stress of work really takes the pleasure out of eating, don’t you think?”“Work is that bad, huh?” No one could mistake that tone in her voice for anything less than incredulous. Lumine just ran a hand down her face and waved the curious waitress off – she’d shout her over later when they needed serving.Without a word to her floating companion Lumine turned to Lisa and nodded at a table – wickedly, a sharp smile once again graced Lisa’s mouth. It had only two seats. “That one?”Lisa didn’t skip a beat, practically hopping over to the table and standing next to her chair. “Why, of course!”They both ignored Paimon’s complaints and promptly seated themselves, wicked grins, if one tinged with tiredness, graced their faces. Soon those grins tapered off to soft smiles and Lumine felt it her duty to start the conversation this time around. “Lisa.” At the ‘hm?’ she received, Lumine forged on. “Be frank with me.”Her attempt to inject seriousness into her tone was not ignored, the witch sitting up straighter and looking for all the world as though Lumine’s word was that of an Archon’s. “Is this a date? A chance at a relationship?” At Lisa’s gaze she carried on. “I’ve been on things like this before, gotten hopes up only to be let down. I’d like a straight answer, for this one.”There was no coy smile, this time. There was no aversion of eyes and a flirtatious remark. Lisa’s face took a serious, if somewhat demure, appearance. “I…suppose I’d like it to be.”Lumine smiled slightly, the tension easing as fast as it appeared. “I suppose I’d like it to be, too.” She allowed a small blush to grace her smiling face, if only for a moment, before she suddenly blurted out: “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”Lisa smiled back, and the rest of their time there was riddled with small talk and planning.Honestly, the book was an afterthought at this point, and by the end of it they’d resolved to just go grab the rest of the books another day; it wasn’t urgent, after all.
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Lumine and her brother Aether were born when two stars separated by billions of lightyears died at the same time. Down to the same second, and even then, before that. The very same second the two stars died a god followed, and following him with nary a sound an entire universe.There was no birthing process, no mother swelling with twins as the stars prepared their funerals. No gods and goddesses cavorting with mortals at just the right time.They fell from the skies as stars were wont to do, glimmering and shimmering with effervescent yellows and streaked whites. They just appeared one day, twin streaks like hope and determination twinkling through the night sky, streaking across the entire globe before settling down in a quiet battlefield.Twin gods, mockeries of gods, and more at the same time. Birthed from the death of two stars, a god, and a universe.Do good, child. Be our better. Be our hope, Lumine heard when her eyes opened, and her mind processed it like she would do anything from now on; quietly, with acknowledgement and understanding, but the lack of care necessary to prove impartial. It, like she, knew she would be the one to guide and lead.Lumine. Light. Hope and speed and wit wrapped in a bundle of flawless skin and eyes the amber of a dying star’s heart. She who guides with sword and smarts, indeed.Walk with your head high, child. Be our stronger. Be our determination, Aether heard once his body formed, and his mind prepared itself for gruelling tasks and strengthening tragedies. It, like he, knew he would be the one to hold the skies above.Aether. Quintessence. Power and strength cradled in a body too small for his ambition. He who holds the stars aloft, indeed.They grew up together in a state of perpetual loneliness. The world had already died, the planet’s inhabitants having killed themselves off in a war that lasted millennia. They were the answer to a prayer a hundred years too late. Their wings gave them the freedom to explore the entire world, streaks of heavenly white trailing Aether and regal gold trailing Lumine.They found books, knowledge wrapped in leatherbound casings. Aether found lances and axes, tools for killing and not much else to him. Lumine found tomes of magic and swords, tools to ensure their survival to her.Then they found their wings could do more than just fly. The universe was open to them, another world entirely sating their need for an end to loneliness.Aether found himself a wife, a young thing on the cusp of twenty with brown hair and green eyes. Verdant, as a tree’s leaves; under careful advisement he’d not sired any children with her, but his wife minded not, and in her home village he became a world-renowned hero.Lumine on the other hand founded a school of magic, and taught the world her secrets from her home world; of the books she’d read and the scrolls she’s found; Grandmaster Lumine, founder of star magic. she was given an orphan child to raise as an apprentice, one treated as a child borne of her own flesh.“Aether,” spoke his twin, younger by a nanosecond but wiser by a century “we are careless in our actions. These worlds we visit have their own gods. We are but visitors.”“We cannot stay here,” he finished for her “this is not our home. Not truly. We may anger the gods of this world should we stay.”There are no gods here, she wants to tell him, for they died and left these people to ruin. Instead she stands and nods, because he is right; it isn’t good to stay here overlong.And so, they left; Aether telling his wife of their journey beyond the stars and Lumine leaving behind her apprentice to carry on her knowledge. It went like so for eons, ages passing them by in blinks as their wings took them further and further.They were searching for something, but what that was Aether had no clue. Only that it should feel like a home instead of a house. As a place to live instead of visit. He feels a pang whenever he thinks on it for too long, and he eyes his sister with fondness and sadness – she would never know stability, social skills stunted behind books and dry wit.They were seekers of something, Lumine thinks, but hasn’t a clue what they were seekers of. Knowledge, maybe? Power? The heavens Aether would hold, or the people she would guide? Lumine doesn’t know, but this just spurs her on. Her eyes drift to her brother, and she sighs. He would never know safety, she thinks – the both of them travelling through dangers new and fresh to sharpen their skills.They are streaks of regal gold and heavenly white. They blink from world to world, in search of a thing they have no name for, to sate the ache in their chest for a place they have never seen.And then they find it.And then an angered god finds them.They fight, her with her sword and magic and he with his sword and power. She with her wits and agility, and he with his strength and endurance. They fight, swords clashing with cubes of inked darkness and crimson – like blood, the twins muse. They battle this goddess, angered and upset, “Outlanders!” spilling with stoically snarling lips.And then her brother’s endurance flags for but a second, and he is held within the calloused grip of a goddess angered; shrunk to nought but a nail-sized cube, his power stolen and his life gone; so Lumine believes.“Why!?” He hadn’t found the heavens to hold! He hadn’t bound the stars to his fingers yet! “We are visitors! Why would you do this!?”The goddess doesn’t answer, her hand raising and cubes threatening to swallow her whole. Lumine fights, her sword broken and her agility useless, but her magic calls to her fingers and she fights it with all she has. There’s confusion in the goddess’s eyes when Lumine grits her teeth and keeps the cubes at bay.But then her magic, as Aether’s endurance did, flags.Before she is swallowed she releases a blast of her magic, stunning the goddess and knocking her backwards. If slightly, and futile, she can take to her death that she fought with all she had.She is swallowed by darkness and bears witness to a world dying, its inhabitants crying to seven gods that will not answer. Its people cursing at deities that will not hear. Then seven others rise and with power storm the heavens, claiming titles and respect and worship. They live as gods, become gods, and slowly the world heals of its disaster.Lumine can do nought but watch as people kill each other, and monsters shear humans apart, and gore splatters and drips between fingertips she doesn’t have anymore.She sleeps and dreams and dies and is reborn and sleeps again. She waits for her slumber, her nightmares, to end. She awaits the day she is free to mourn the loss of her brother.Her twin star, her half of a god, her second of a universe. She awaits the moment she awakens to grieve, and bathe in tears that will not be shed. Aether cannot hold the heavens for her, cannot bind the stars to his will. He can no longer watch her lead or witness her wit and cunning for himself. He can no longer be what abates her loneliness.She would traverse the universe empty, now. No heavenly white trailing her side. No golden hair, no blinding smiles, no promises of home.She is one star of two, one half of an empty universe. One being derived of half a soul. She is nought but Lumine, now.…And then she wakes up.She has been here for years. Longer than either of the twins ever spent on any planet. But it isn’t home. It isn’t the home that Aether preached of searching for.She does not interact. She does not talk or sleep much. She exists.Lumine swipes her sword through the neck of a Hilichurl and her gaze shifts around once she notices none left.Her amber eyes find a Statue of The Seven and she scowls at it – Archon, god, words to define higher beings. A higher being stole her power and slew her brother. A higher being made her feel more alone than she’s ever felt. She hates higher beings.The Anemo Archon gazes at her from those statues, the chill down her spine is nothing less than proof. She feels his gaze, weighty and heavy and judging and she spits at it. wiping her mouth of stray saliva, Lumine turns on a heel and walks away from it, torn and heavy white cloak trailing her a second later.The cloak is touched by fingers of wind, asking her not to leave, not to go. The Archon has much it can offer. Freedom, safety. A quick death.She scowls and mutters a curse at the Archon before doubling her pace away from the blasted thing.She’s been judged, hasn’t she? She and Aether both? Has she not earned the right to want nothing but peace?Her plan was to die on this planet – not a choice, but a plan; a distinct difference should be noted – old and alone. Or, perhaps, young, youthful, with a sword in hand and magic crackling behind her fingers. She can no longer have her own magic, but this world had magic she hasn’t seen before – some channelled through Visions, but other sources of magic can be found if one looked. As she lived on the planet, so too shall she die; alone. But that did not mean she had to die a fool.She found her way into Mondstadt a month after arriving, and not long after that began searching for a job for money; for a year or two she’d been a waitress for that tavern Angel’s share, moved on to aiding a woman named Lisa in the library, blinked passed that job and helped chefs cook and clean in Good Hunter. She’d walked all sorts of paths here in the City of Freedom.She’s lived here for six years. Watched the Knights of Favonius greet a new Acting Grandmaster, saw a multitude of festivals and parties for all times of the year, listened to bards tell tales of distant lands and Archons – she steered clear of those songs – and paid heed to the newest gossip and the likes going around.Six years is a long time to remain a hermit, alone, but also a long enough time for speculation to circulate. She was a spy according to some. Sent by the Fatui or the Abyss Order to watch over and report back to her masters on weaknesses within Mondstadt. A saboteur, perhaps, for third parties interested in Mondstadt’s downfall. To others she was a fugitive, on the run from the other countries for things as petty as thievery to as heinous as mass murder. In her home rested a basement in which remains of her newest victims could be found, and the walls of her home were lined with blood and viscera.To the Ordo Favonius, she was a hero. Silent in her duty and unknown to most, a hero that didn’t care for monetary reward or fame or glory. A hero that went out of her way to ensure safety and security of Mondstadt’s citizenry. Even if they didn’t know it was her.It was this heroism she began to hate the most – silent salutes from the guards at the gate, nods of acknowledgement from the wealthier citizens or prayers of good health by the nunnery, even a clap or two on the back from some of the people she’s saved.And knights waiting for her outside the door to her small single bedroom home. The door was closed and none of the candles inside have been lit yet, so she could be thankful that it wasn’t a raid of some sort – perhaps they’d began spending resources listening to the rumours? – but two armed knights in the middle of the day standing outside her home was bound to bring attention. A small crowd of chattering people stood looking on, whispering about their current thoughts or what they believed to be happening.As she approached the guards saluted her, one of them nodding to the other and sheathing his sword, moving towards her in a brisk stride – she had no need to lower the cloak, people knew who she was from the ratty, torn clothing she wore and the dull, chipped sword at her waist; holdovers from her slumber, from her first days and weeks alone. She had not the heart to ever change out of them. From the moth-eaten scarf around her neck to the chipped white bracers on her forearms. The best she’d done is try to keep them from falling apart.“Sir Knight.” Her cloaked head bowed slightly in respect, and then lifted again to look him in the eye. “To what do I owe the occasion?”“Miss Lumine, apologies for this, but the Acting Grandmaster has asked to meet with you at your earliest convenience.”She lifted an eyebrow, and her eyes surveyed the crowd. “And the people?” She joked. “Will they be coming too?”He rubbed a hand behind his head, bashful of her dry-natured teasing. “Ah. Yes, maybe we should have been more…subtle.”She shook her head and patted his armoured shoulder. “What has been done is done, Sir Knight. There is nothing but the aftermath, now.” Before he could respond, she altered the course of her direction and began a stalking gait towards the Ordo Favonius’ headquarters.Jean Gunnhildr awaited, and Lumine had a good idea as to why. But first – a harsh wind swept across her face and blew the cloak from her head. A roar shook her form from head to toe and she felt a shiver trail her skin. Claws digging into her spine and routing her to the spot. Without her magic she was nought but a sword and intellect.She had no Vision. She hadn’t learned this world’s magic.Stormterror had arrived, sweeping in on grand wings and screams of deafening noise. Stormterror was here.Lumine was terrified, and turned to run away. Her eyes took in the sight of harried knights bustling people away from the dragon, citizens screaming in fear and terror, birds squawking and flapping wings to leave lest the winds tear them apart.Lumine wanted to run away and hide as she had done all the previous times.Her eyes took in the sight of her city, Mondstadt, a place she’s come to acknowledge as something that she could perhaps consider a home.Lumine wanted to run.But she was Lumine. A light. Guidance. She would lead these people to hope and safety, even with her dying breath. She had lived here for six years and six years is an awful long time to become fond of a place – even if it wasn’t fond of her. Her hands trailed to her dulled and chipped sword and her amber eyes hardened from eons of experience.The knights behind her were too busy herding the people off to a secluded part of Mondstadt to notice her sprinting towards the dragon, Stormterror.“With swiftness great,” she huffed, legs pumping her towards her destination. Her magic was no longer in her body, but the chant always calmed her before a battle “with blood aflame, with death a friend that knows thy name.” Her hand gripped her sword and she sped past a startled Outrider Amber, blitzing past her attempt to grab Lumine’s shoulder and herd her to safety. “I am Light, no shadows here, no fight to win, no loss to fear.”“Miss Lumine, wait!” her head turned, her calming chant on her lips, to spot Noelle running after her. She willed herself to move faster, kicking up slight particles of dust and leaving behind a worried Noelle.“There is no hope, but do not fear, the calm of battles won draws near.” There it was. Stormterror. A dragon. She hadn’t seen a dragon since the twins left a world doused in magic and souls. She hadn’t seen one since, on any and every world she visited. Until this one.This world had a dragon. It’s only now kicked in. she knows of Stormterror, has since her arrival here, but she’s never felt so fed up with being evacuated and watching as her humble home crumbles into dirt. Watching as Mondstadt attempts to recover what it can’t and mourns the dead of those who couldn’t flee.She was running towards a dragon. “D-Do not falter-” she cut herself off when the dragon turned its gaze to her. “Do…do not falter. Stand tall.” She barely resisted the urge to clap her hands together and cast a spell she couldn’t. “Persevere.”Her eyes locked with the dragon’s. there was a knowing in those eyes, an acknowledgement – Lumine scoffed. Why would a dragon acknowledge her? She was weak, already shaking with her sword stuttering in her grip and her eyes wider than anything. Had she her magic she would have barely glanced its way but now…now she was nothing more than human. Nothing less, too.With a breath she steadied her nerves, her grip solidifying. “You have terrorised these people for too long, Stormterror!” She shouted past the roaring winds, yet knew somehow that her voice had carried to all the ears available in Mondstadt. “I will drive you from my home, dragon, if it’s the last thing I do!”Then she charged it, the roar of outrage – and perhaps surprise, that a human would dare to fight it – shaking her to her bones and leaving her muscles feeling like jelly. Nevertheless she ran, sword held in a tensed grip and eyes brimming with knowledge and tactics. She could not win with might, she knew this, but knowledge on weaknesses and strengths of dragons she’d previously fought would be of use here – it did, after all, share a good number of physical traits with the ones she’s seen before.She ducked a vicious claw swipe that would have taken her head from her shoulders and jabbed her sword into its underbelly; she expected nothing as she backflipped away and out of reach. Imagine her surprise when she spotted purple blood dotting the tip of her blade.Perhaps she wouldn’t have to cut the tail of this dragon off after all or pierce its heart. Perhaps she could just wound it enough to drive it off.She grinned, tired already, and dove in the fray, the citizens of Mondstadt watching in bated breath and the Knights of Favonius charging the dragon with her.She could do this, or at least she could take to her death that she fought with all she had.Venti watched the woman that scorned his power and winds charge his friend with hope and knowledge burning in her eyes, and he sighed. She was likely going to die here.She wouldn’t die. He couldn’t allow that. She was an Outlander, after all, not of here. She would take his power, he would show her not all Archons were as bad as she thought them to be, and he would join her on her journey whether she likes it or not.The only problem was she hadn’t started her journey.Venti frowned, his perch atop a creaking windmill granting adequate sightlines of the battle taking place. The Outlander hadn’t started her journey yet, had no travelling companions to aid her, and had no reason to start one in the first place.His eyes trailed to Dvalin, his friend, his partner, his companion corrupted by pain and longing.She couldn’t die. He wouldn’t allow that. But pain brought on revelations – she needed to start her journey, and soon, lest plans hundreds of years in the making fall apart. She needed to find a reason to become an adventurer and seek answers to questions she currently didn’t care to get answered. This Outlander needed companions to aid her journey, to help share the burden of what was to come.He traced his eyes over her ratty form – no adventurer wore such shabby clothing. He would need to fix that.Her sword – chipped, again something no adventurer would use – swung and his eyes widened in surprise when her blow sliced a thin ribbon of purple blood.His winds obeyed his thoughts and, as she attempted to jump away from the dragon’s furious counter, found herself dropping to the floor several meters away from where she tried to be.Venti closed his eyes and winced at the sound of shocked gasps and cries from horrified people. His breath hitched at the muted scream of pain and the sounds of crunching bones.Then they opened and his gaze hardened.She needed pain. She’s suffered enough, he knows, but she needed a push to get her going. Venti believed pain would make her see how stagnated she’s gotten, how weak she is in the face of overwhelming odds and her pain would drive her to become stronger, to walk the world as a rising star and save it from its own inadequacy.She was an Outlander. What did her future matter to the Archons?Venti didn’t realise how wrong he was until Dvalin released a shriek of pain.His eyes shot back down to her and widened in shocked awe. She stood there, one arm dangling uselessly and exposed threads of muscle doing their best to keep it attached. Her face was a rictus of agony but she held strong and swung her blade again.A wet plop sounded out through the now silent Mondstadt. Dvalin wasted no time shrieking his pain for all to hear, cracking windows, lifting himself on currents of wind and flying away as hastily as he can. Venti couldn’t blame him, honestly. There stood the Traveller, chipped and now shattered sword held high, purple blood glistening from its broken surface, dribbling into the floor.The floor of which was now home to Dvalin’s eye, a red orb slathered in purple blood and pulsing with the remnants of Dvalin’s magical power. A trophy of her victory. He could see it in her eyes. Proof she was not helpless. Proof she didn’t need to prove herself.Venti’s mind was…he couldn’t believe this. This was unprecedented.He flew off to regroup his thoughts – and to check in on Dvalin later on.He ignored the aftermath of cheering citizens and collapsed Outlanders.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Her Daddy was the best. Of course, many Little Sisters thought their Daddies were the best, but hers truly was the best!Her other sisters don’t agree and say that her Daddy wasn’t a Daddy but was still really good, but that just meant she was even more right! See, when she says her Big Daddy was the best she means it, but not because he’s a Big Daddy at all! See, he’s the best at being a Big Daddy because he’s not a Big Daddy!She thought on this for a bit and rubbed her head, before sighing and continuing her soft tune when an orange light beamed on her. The tune was one she’d heard from Before, she knows it is, but her Daddy holds her hands and pats her head and tells her the Before isn’t the Right Now and she doesn’t have to worry about it! So, being the good Little Sister she is for her Big Daddy, she doesn’t worry about it anymore.She used to. A lot. She used to cry and scream and beg her Big Daddy to take away the pain and make it all stop, but her Big Daddy just used to hold her hand and sing her the most beautiful – haunting – song she’s ever heard, and it would lull her to sleep and she’d forget all about the bad things from Before!With a gentle jerk she pulled her needle from the sleeping Angel and giggled when it made a weird pbbplt noise. It was a funny noise! At the green light that flooded the area around her she turned to her Big Daddy and grinned, holding out her hands like she was expecting a hug. “Another Angel, Daddy! This one was really sleepy.”The reason her Daddy was the best, better than all the other Big Daddies – and her sisters even agreed! – was that her Daddy could listen. Big Daddies just pat their daughters, hold their hands, lead them to Angels, and lead them off for naps and the likes. Her Daddy listens to anything she says and nods or shakes his head whenever he finds something off with something she’s said, and even taught her things like a Big Daddy should! Hers is the best because hers cares extra more than the others do!And…and if that didn’t prove her Daddy was the best, then-!“Well done, sweetheart.” A slender, soft hand reached down and patted her head, brushing stray flicks of hair away and combing it down. “You did real good.”-her Daddy talked, too! None of the others could do that! But her Daddy didn’t sound like a Daddy, it sounded like a Little Sister but all grown up! Like…a Big Sister’s voice would sound, but more echo-y because of the knight armour he wore. Would it be she? Was her Big Daddy a Big Mama?Before her young mind could come up with an answer she yawned, real loud and weary. She heard a chuckle soon after and pouted. “Daddy! Don’t laugh!” “Let’s get you off to sleep, little one.” A hand encompassed her own and she found herself led away form the sleeping Angel to the hole that would lead to her bedroom. But…she found herself not wanting to go just yet. Her Daddy was the best, truly, but that wasn’t it. something deeper gnawed at her. Something…dangerous.Before Eleanor was shunted off into her bedroom for the night to sleep and dream of Knights and Mr. Bubbles and more Angels, she hugged her Daddy’s arm and nuzzled it with her cheek. “I love you, Daddy.” She yawned again and began to crawl down the chute. “nighty-night!”She only barely heard the muttered “love you too, Eleanor” but it still brought a wide grin to her face.That was one of her earliest memories of her Father. Or was it Mother? Even now Eleanor finds herself confused with the distinction, but her mind finds itself digressing from the original point and she sighs. The Little Sister were doing their work. Soon, she and her parent would be reunited and whole again.The Pairbond she was afflicted with shuddered and she felt something tug at her, but resisted the urge to hop up and find out what was going on. She’d been patient for ten years; she could be patient a little more. Eleanor sighed and leaned back until her head thudded quietly against the headboard of her bed.Ten years. Ten years since that woman that calls itself her mother used a hypnotism plasmid to force her…her Mother to shoot herself. She forced her to unmask, to drop the rounded diving helmet to the floor to reveal her pale and eldritchly beautiful face, to reveal her hair as black as night, to reveal a set of molten yellow eyes. Then she forced her Mother to grasp at the pistol, but she knows that, while Sophia Lamb had control over her body, she didn’t control her Mother’s mind. She never could.Molten eyes locked with hers as the barrel kissed her temple.“I love you, kiddo” was mouthed to her. She knows it wasn’t the Pairbond speaking. Not really.Eleanor sighed, discarding those thoughts and just…waiting. Just waiting, being patient as she always has. Her Mother will come for her someday, and when she does…Eleanor smiled slightly, her hands clenching into little fists and held against her chest.…nothing would take her away from her Mother. Never, ever again.She heard her Mother’s humming in her head, of the lullaby she’d been treated to since this whole thing began, and she smiled. Watery, but a true smile that stretched form ear to ear and allowed her tears to dribble down her cheeks.
“Wow, Daddy, that sounds so nice! What’s it called?”
“Eleanor’s Lullaby, sweetheart.”
“Oh…Oh! I’m Eleanor! Is it for me? Is it?”
Her Mother was waking up.
But something happened.
Something went wrong.
Two beings, massive in scope and diameter, circled each other. A dance of otherworldly grace and delicacy.
[Trajectory]
[Alignment]
[Displacement]
[Agreement]
[Transportation]
[Success]
[Trajectory Recalculated]
[Alignment]
The woman known as Eleanor’s paired Big Daddy woke up amidst the scent of salt with a thinly-clothed woman by her side and she raised a hand to her temple.Her helmet was still there. Her daughter Eleanor was still alive.She wasn’t dead.Taylor Hebert sighed and smiled, willing herself to get up and question the woman. She amended that when she saw the woman wake up spluttering as a blast of seawater smacked into her face.She needs shelter first. Taylor obliged.Of course, she obliged with more haste when she realised that, while nothing but a chill breeze it would seem for her, the woman on the floor was probably diving headfirst into hypothermia.She almost dropped her precious cargo into the sea-soaked floor of the docks she’d found herself on, because she recognises this beast, this new monster she’s now within the belly of.Brockton Bay.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
War was brutal; none, even Being X, could deny that.He wouldn’t dare to, either. Despite having his hand in starting, despite the people born to die on a field somewhere, despite once-green hills rolling with red, Being X would never deny that truth.War was horrible. War was awful and cruel. And war took. It continued to take and take until you had nothing left and replaced what it took with dreams of glory; for others that weren’t obsessed with their names being printed into history books, war offered peace. Just finish it, to end it, and you can have peace.War, most of all, never gave back what it took. War didn’t borrow and promise to give it back later when you were feeling better. War took and took until you were an empty shell and took some more until you couldn’t bare it. War scarred, too. It left deep trenches in the minds of survivors and burned images into the brain that no amount of hoping or praying could get rid of.War made martyrs, not heroes.Tanya, over the course of her thirteen years of life, had lost everything that made her a salaryman from Japan. War took everything from her and left her as nothing more than a martyr that refused to die for someone else.He could see it in her eyes. Being X could see it in the way her back slumped when she thought no one was looking. He could hear it in the jilted sobs she masqueraded as sighs. He could smell it in the coffee she drank religiously to escape the nightmares. Being X could do nothing more than watch as Tanya was torn apart by a war she wanted nothing to do with but was thrusted into anyway.He watched as she clashed with Mary Sioux and willingly gave up more of her own humanity so that Mary might walk away and return to fight once more. She looked into the angered girl’s eyes and saw herself when she was taken from one world and put in another. Angry at the world, angry at her perceived transgressor. Willing to go to any lengths, despite the magic tearing apart her body and clouding her mind with false promises. She used Mary as a way to get across to someone, anyone, that she was just a girl thrown into a war doing anything she could to survive; Tanya used Mary as a vessel for her will to be seen as anything but the devil she was perceived to be. Mary saw it as gloating, as ‘I could have killed you but didn’t’. He watched as she patted young children on the head and steered their wishes to become soldiers ‘just like the Argent’ into something away from war. He watched as she spoke to them like she would give her younger self advice. She’d talk to them softly but with no inflection in her voice and a thousand-yard stare; the nearby mothers would offer her pitying stares but do nothing else. She’d pat their heads and tell them with false bravado “You can’t join the war, kiddies! I’m gonna win it so you won’t have to!”. The children would cheer and wave goodbye to the ‘nice White Silver’. She’d never smile.He watched in the way a soldier under her command looked at her for guidance and she spoke words she didn’t even believe anymore. “For the Fatherland!” she’d shout, empty and numb at her soldiers’ reinvigorated cries and her Adjutant’s cheerful mien.
(none of this was true, but Being X liked to think it was)
When he froze the world, when a bird ceased its flight, when the trees ceased their swaying, when the skies turned grey and the clouds never parted, Being X spoke through the bird and locked eyes with Tanya.“Being X.” Her voice was…empty. Weary. Tired. Monotone. Her eyes were looking at something only she could see and her ears hearing something only she could hear.
(She was daydreaming, actually. Being X saw differently.)
A far cry from her anger. A far cry from the reverence and worship from Mary. A far cry from the scorn and disdain she’d had of the ‘false god’.“Hello, little Tanya.” She didn’t even rise to his bait, just looking out the window past the bird he spoke through. Her eyes were locked on to the skies through the slit in her tent. There was longing there.
(She quite liked her daydream; coffee as far as the eye could see, her Adjutant constantly refilling her mug the second it went empty, her faithful soldiers bringing her chocolate and more coffee…if only Being X would leave.)
“What do you want?”…what did he want? He had broken her, finally, and anyone could see it. Oh, she may not be a believer, but she was broken all the same for her transgressions. Except…they weren’t, were they? The words she’d spoken, the anger she’d felt, they were justified. And he, the benevolent god he was, tried to bend her will to his own and shape her into the perfect little believer.He didn’t bend her will to his own, he broke it. he didn’t shape her, he shattered her. She was nothing but the perfect little soldier for a country she felt nothing but anger for, for a people she felt nothing but tiredness for, for a world she didn’t know as she knew her previous one.So…what did he want?
(“Ah, rolling hills of coffee beans, chocolate rivers and edible plants. This reminds me of something…something to do with a chocolate factory?” She pondered for a bit before mentally shrugging it off and turning her attention back to the irritant that is Being X)
“Do you believe yet, Tanya?”
She didn’t answer, eyes locked to the skies. Eyes locked to the clouds and the grey-blue she could see past them. Then her eyes finally found the bird’s. “And if I did, if I started to believe…what would change?”
(“Take the bait you sanctimonious fuck. Better yet, go away. I want my rolling hills of coffee back damn it!”)
He didn’t answer. What would change, indeed? He had gotten what he wanted in the most abstract of ways. He’d taken Tanya and torn away her scorn and left her as a shell to be filled with prophetic visions and the will of God flooding her veins. But what would change?
(She mentally sighed. “I’m not getting my rolling hills of coffee back, am I?”)
What would change for the girl he broke? Would she be given a better life? No. He had taken every chance of her having peace and crumbled it underfoot. Would she find a lover, settle down, live out the rest of her days wracked with memories and torment? No, because who, save for other soldiers, would understand what she did and went through?
“What would you want to change, Tanya?”
(“Okay…this is…new? What’s his game?” Her eyes narrowed and she resisted the urge to scowl; she was too fucking tired for that. She settled for a blank stare. “What’s his angle? What is he up to? There’s no harm in giving him something…let’s test this ‘god’, then. See if he balks at impossible requests.”)
“I like women, Being X. Can you change the entire world’s ideas towards homosexuals?” she turned her gaze away from his and locked eyes with the skies once more. “I don’t like killing but since nine years old I’ve been doing that. Just to survive. Can you eradicate war?” She looked down from the skies and stared at her hands, no doubt envisioning the blood dripping from her fingertips. “Why would I believe in you when you did this to me?”
(“Take the bait you dick!”)
Seeing he had no answer, and she doubted one would be forthcoming, Tanya slumped down and wrapped her hands around her torso. She was tiny, smaller than she usually was; lack of sleep and rationing out food to her soldiers instead of herself would do that to anyone. She stared at nothing. “Tomorrow we’ll be sent off to route what remains of the Francois Republic, undoubtedly they will receive aid from the Unified Sates. I’ve no doubt your precious little Mary Sioux will be there.”
(“Oh she’ll be there, alright. And when she is I’ll pop her head like a fucking cherry! Nothing but an annoying, irritating little-”)
“I am aware of this, Tanya. Did you forget I am God? I know all! I-”
“Then you know I’m planning to end this little feud she has with me.”Before he could answer she walked over to the flap of her command tent, blank eyes watching as the world slowly returned to colour and things started moving once again.She ran a hand down her face and sighed. “Fuck. I’m somehow more tired than I was before.”To be Tanya was to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders and find the world asking for you to hold more. As Atlas held the skies, to her soldiers, so too does Tanya hold the world up.She is the beating heart of the Fatherland, The Ace of Aces, the legendary Mithril herself. She is the will of many bundled up into a body eighteen sizes too small. An army in a child’s body.Everyone, from the Kaiser himself to the lowest of grunts on the ground, knew that Tanya von Degurechaff was a girl of focus, commitment, tenacity, and – above all else – a burgeoning need to not die. She was a sheer force of will, having trained up the entirety of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion in a month to a standard many would be training perhaps even years to achieve.Her titles were endless, from the Mad Dog to Argent Silver. From the Devil of Rhine to the Ace of Aces. From Rusted Silver to Mithril. She was a force to be reckoned with, a monster to her enemies and a national hero to her allies. A figure to despise and adore. The gold standard for a devil, the platinum standard for an angel. To civilians of Germania she was a young girl who fought for her country to see peace, to the civilians of other countries she was a devil incarnate with no compassion or mercy.There were always two sides; to Being X he’d finally broken her, attained victory at an odd cost.To Tanya she was just really fucking tired because of all the marching they had had to do. So tired, in fact, that she hadn’t been up for arguing with Being X when he showed up. So tired, in fact, that her mind had been unfocused in its attempts to keep on task; straying to mundane things from her previous life as a Tokyo Salaryman; then it would take a turn for the odd, bringing to her attention how bright the sky was this morning, or how quiet her men seemed to be. How her Adjutant seemed to be nervous of something, shuffling at her side as usual but without the pep she had come to expect.Her soldiers did not seem upset or worried or sad, so she shunted it from her mind and focused on her Adjutant; the woman named Visha, of whom she’d been having…strange thoughts of.‘Then again,’ she muses, hand clutching a mug of coffee while she brought her men to rest from the long march ‘it’s awfully hard to not think of someone glued to your side’. Her silver-blue eyes trace the lines of clouds, of birds flitting between them, and she sighs; thankfully not loud enough to catch her ever-faithful Adjutant’s attention.Without further aplomb she spins on her heel and steps forward onto a crate the ever-loyal Major Weiss had placed there not moments after she stopped. “Alright men, we’re stopping here!”As one her soldiers all dropped their gear and collapsed into heaps of flopping bodies and groaning idiots. She felt her hair twitch beneath her cap and held the urge to scowl. “None of that! I trained you all better than this!” Well, she thinks she did; she barely remembers the training she put the 203rd through thanks to that blasted Type 95. “Besides, this was the last march before we send those Francois cowards running! We can rest here for a day or two.”She received a bunch of weak cheers and a thumbs up or two, but she held off from disciplining them. She was tired as much as, if not more so, than they were. She grinned a grin that sent shivers down the Company Commanders’ spines. It boded ill whenever she’d grin like that. “Don’t go resting too soon, we still have camp to set up!” Her eyes shifted to the white-faced Neumann. “And I do believe it’s the Fourth Company’s turn! Now, get to it!”She sunk down and used the box she’d previous been standing on as a chair, resting an elbow on her knee and using her hand as a cushion for her chin. She felt tired, but she’d overseen 36 consecutive hours of artillery shelling on her men while they dug trenches and cried like babies: she’d been through worse. Now all she needed was a bed to rest in and a coffee to keep her going until she could rest – she looked at her mug and noticed it was empty, and resisted the urge to scowl. But she was curious, her Adjutant had been quiet the entire day with pensive looks and concerning frowns. It was time to get to the bottom of this.
‘Speaking of…’
As her men busied themselves with setting up the camp and the company commanders set out to divvy up their responsibilities, Tanya turned to her Adjutant just in time to see her tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Lieutenant Serebryakov.”before her eyes Viktoriya went from being in her own head to saluting, crisp and peppy as usual. “Ma’am!” Tanya’s keen ears could hear the heels of her standard issue boots clack together; let it never be said her Adjutant wasn’t eager. She was beyond eager. She was loyal to no faults and always exceeded her expectations; a true human resource any company would be proud of bragging about. But had Tanya ever imparted to her Adjutant just how valuable she was? Had she ever told Viktoriya just what she meant to the people around her; especially Tanya herself?Tanya spared her a side-glance before looking back over her soldiers. “It’s recently come to my attention, Visha, that I never tell you how much I appreciate you being around.” The bright smile she received in response made her feel warm inside, but she pushed it off and looked at this clinically; a simple compliment like that could not be enough for anyone, surely. Perhaps she should espouse her comrade’s virtues? Yes, Tanya agreed with herself on this one; she would need to tell her Lieutenant just why she was valued.“Oh, ah, thank you very much, ma’am!”Tanya waved it off, eyes focusing back on to her work – soldiers. Yes. They were much better than her previous workforce ever was anyway. “It’s just the truth, Lieutenant. You are a valued member of the 203rd; especially to me. Your value in human capital is approaching priceless.”Tanya, having been turned away from her Adjutant, failed to notice the blush rising to her cheeks. “Human Capital…? A-Ah, you…value me, Ma’am?”Tanya nodded, eyes not straying too far from her men – her men who were currently trying to pawn off duties to each other. She would shout at them, but she is just so fucking tired right now. As if on cue a yawn threatened to erupt, and the only reason she managed to keep it hidden was due to having been around Visha long enough to pick up on poker faces and facial expression usage.“Of course. Despite how you may feel I would rather you never leave my side.” She turned her head in her palm slightly to see the…relieved look on her Adjutant’s face. Why would she be relieved? Perhaps her compliments had assuaged fears? Tanya shook her head, one eye trained on her Adjutant’s nervous disposition; perhaps she needed more encouragement? “You are the perfect partner for me to have had at my side all these years; I would never function the same way were you to leave my side.” Namely, because of her coffee. Then again, the coffee is only part of the reason.The relieved look gave way to determination and her Lieutenant seemed to have this gleam in her eye. Curious, Tanya turned her full attention to the woman at her side. “I would like to talk to you in private, ma’am!”“Oh?”It’s something very personal and important, ma’am.”Tanya didn’t even consider weighing the pros and cons in her head; in her previous life she’d had workers request to speak to her privately, as though she were some sort of psychologist; but in the end it always helped boost morale for her workforce and make her job of Human Resources much easier than it had any right to be.“Of course, Lieutenant; I always have time for you.”As Visha led their commander away, Weiss traded an exasperated glance with Koenig, both slipping Neumann some marks. Grantz, indulging in schadenfreude, cackled away while using a shovel to mark where the Argent’s tent would go as compared to the others.“I told you it was a sucker bet!”“Shut it, Grantz.” Koenig scowled, doing his damnedest to rein in the impulse to bash a shovel on Grantz’ head.Neumann high-fived his fellow company commander. “Ha! They should’a just listened when I said it was guaranteed.”Weiss chimed in, finally. “Shut it, Neumann.”None of the soldiers commented on the betting.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
This school, in Taylor’s opinion, was practically insane. Crazy, in a befuddling way that left her intellectual head spinning and made her brain weep for the sheer number of braincells she would undoubtedly lose attending this place. Already her IQ was dropping by the tens, and soon – she gives it a year, her head hurt too much to use her power to accurately calculate – she’d be no better than the other girls and boys strolling the halls, drooling over the two ‘Great Ladies’ of Kuoh.These halls of academic learning were filled to the brim with hormonal teens – thankfully of the female variety, but recently there was an influx of males joining, so her standards of learning just went down by a solid eight percent – and the less said about the ‘Perverted Trio’ the better. If she has to hear that Issei Hyoudou’s ‘Oppai!’ shouts while he peaks on the women’s changing rooms one more time she’s probably going to have an aneurysm.“Ooooh, look at how big they are!”“The sizes!”“The shapes!”Then, to her infinite chagrin, she heard a concerted “Oppai!”After a second of thought, debating on whether to involve herself, Taylor snorted and spun on a heel to escape the predicament she’d otherwise find herself in – that is, Issei and that ‘Three Sizes Scouter’ friend of his mocking her for being flat as a board. Her eyes, sharper than anything she knew, spotted the glint of red hair – most likely one of those ‘Two Great Ladies’ she thought blithely.Taylor scowled and shoved her hands into her pockets – like hell was she wearing such a short skirt like the official female outfit had! That shit could fly off a bridge, headfirst. Preferably with the pervert that designed it. Oddly enough she hadn’t had any of the student council on her case about it, as they have been with other like-minded individuals. All she gets is this odd look from whoever she meets – usually that Tsubaki lady, but sometimes she runs into the closet pervert Saji as well, and he has this oddly annoying tendency of looking her up and down before flashing a thumbs up and strutting off. His eyes always linger on her school slacks tailored for her by cannibalising the men’s uniform and adding a feminine flair to them, and he always seems to look proud for some odd reason. And approving.Even her power didn’t know what to make of the sense of approval she kept getting. Was Saji into flat-chested, rule breaking, scowling, verbally-tear-you-apart-for-fun women? Her power told her no every time she met him, and yet something deep within her couldn’t help but fret over it. she knows he isn’t, but if he checks her out like that one more time, she’s going to tear him a new one.Taylor hummed in thought at that, ignoring the ‘ooohing’ and ‘ahhhing’ going on around her. Maybe she will tear him apart – verbally of course, she doubts she could do it physically with how scrawny she is. Perhaps even in front of the rest of the council to make a statement? Yes, that’ll do. Ever since her little ‘episode’ of defeating the student council president Souna Shitori at chess the council have been treating her like she’s something to be respected.Her power says only thirty percent of them treat her like that. The other seventy treat her like someone to be hated and avoided.She doesn’t quite know what to make of that, but she knows she doesn’t appreciate it.So lost in her thoughts is Taylor that she does not notice when she bumps into someone. The force knocks her back a step or two while the person she bumped into doesn’t seem to have been affected beyond a slight shuffling of their feet.“Sorry for that. Was lost in my head.” Her power reminds her to bow slightly in apology and she does before she picks herself from the pose and skirts around the person. The voice stops her in her tracks – that and the sight of two more people stepping into her desired path. She recognises both.“Ah, Taylor Argento, right?” She turns her head at the sound of the voice ignoring the fact that she’s obviously been blocked in here and disallowed from leaving – and, from the watching students looking at the exchange, she’ll become the newest social pariah within the hour. She spots, amongst the crowd, a very displeased Souna Shitori and a mildly irritated Tsubaki Shinra. Curiously, they were looking at the person accosting her.Rias Gremory.Ignoring Rias is tantamount to social suicide, and as much as she might not care for what the masses thought of her Taylor does recognise that, to have the rest of her stay her as smooth as possible, she needs to at least go unacknowledged instead of vilified. Standing next to her is Akeno Himejima, and Taylor just realised she can’t ignore these two even if her reputation wasn’t on the line.Taylor tried so very hard to ignore the damn-near klaxons of warning her power was sending her about Akeno. Some things should not be known.“Indeed, Miss Gremory.” Taylor accompanies this with a nod of her head but doesn’t bother faking a smile. Everyone knows by now she smiles for nothing. Her hands clench in her pockets, and she spots Akeno paying a little more attention to her – her power informs her that the movement, however slight, was spotted.Rias puts a show of tittering behind a raised hand, and her power curiously admits to her that it isn’t wholly faked. Apparently, Rias finds her polite demeanour somewhat laughable.After a little bit of not-quite-fake laughter from Rias and a stoic silence from Taylor, the redhead lowers her hand and uses it to act as a rest for her head, placing one arm beneath the sizable bust she had – just coincidentally using said motion to push her breasts upwards and outwards – and the other to rest against her cheek.“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, have we?”There was something dangerous in the innocent smile she sent Taylor’s way. It set the hairs on her neck standing and her muscles twitching. It caused her fight of flight instinct to go haywire, and only judicious use of her power to focus on the here-and-now rooted her to the spot. If she were to lift her clenched hands from her pockets people would see them almost splitting at the seams.That smile was poisonous, and Taylor made it a mission for herself – after this, she’d ignore any and every thing to do with the Occult Research Club. They were all so insane and dangerous that she found herself having headaches just being near them in class. This was the first she’d spoken to one, and now she sees them as less of a nuisance and more dangerous than they appear.This would not stand. Taylor would have nothing to do with these people. She had to remind herself to speak.“No, I don’t believe we have.” Taylor dipped her head in greeting, using the movement to shift her eyes between Akeno and Rias, hoping to use her power to find out what was going on. All too soon she rose from the bow. “I am Taylor Argento, Third Year student, recently joined.”Rias smiled – again, her power insisted it was a real one, but looking as dangerous as it did Taylor found herself on-edge anyway. “Rias Gremory, Head of the Occult Research Club.”Okay, this exchange was taking too long, and her head was beginning to pound. Out of the corner of her eye she saw an uncharacteristically scowling Souna near stomp her way towards the spectacle, ordering the other council members to force the gawking onlookers back to their classes lest they be late.After a moment of silence Taylor’s face almost slipped into annoyance, held back by a self-control she didn’t realise she had. All she had to do was wait until Souna got here. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Gremory, but I really must be going.” Taylor made a show of turning around and attempting to walk in the direction of the two blocking her path, but after a few steps she noticed how neither even inched towards moving away.Okay, fuck it. if this was a shakedown or something of the sort then she’s going to make them work for it.Ignoring the throbbing in her head she spun on her heel again and locked eyes with a mischievous-looking Akeno and a still-smiling Rias. Somehow, she managed to force out the next words sounding polite, but she knew her control was slipping by the second and soon she’d snap. Souna was stomping her way there, looking for all the world as though about to burn Rias on a pyre. Taylor would hand her the damn tinder for it. “Miss Gremory, might I ask why-”“No, you might not.” The smile was gone now.Taylor, in yet another feat of otherworldly self-control, almost grit her teeth instead of spitting. “Why not?”Her fight or flight was going crazy, now, her head was beginning to blister and her eyes were damn near stinging due to how bloodshot they were. Rias took a step forward and it took everything in her not to take a step back.Rias looked serious. No show to put on for the masses now that it was just them and the slowly gathering student council.Thankfully, before that venomous look could devolve into anything that would further set off Taylor’s inbuilt instinct to run away, Souna Shitori gave in to the budding frustration and stepped forward. “Rias, just what do you think you’re doing?”Rias, at the reproachful look in Souna’s eye, flicked her gaze between Taylor and the president, looking unashamed but surprised, nevertheless. “Sona?” Taylor took note of the slight difference in pronunciation. “I, uh, what are you doing here?”Sona would usually play games like this, skirting around the topic and using her social and political acumen to say things without saying them. Parse out words when they weren’t spoken. It was a socio-political game all Devils were fond of in some way or another.It really said a lot about her dwindling mood when she scowled and pushed her slipping glasses back up her nose. “Answer the question, Rias.”Rias’ venomous smile came back and Taylor tensed her muscles. If she had to fight…her power wasn’t the best for it and her body was weak, but she could plan and strategize, and if she needed to, she could use her power to predict and counter. It was all she could do. It would have to be enough.Thankfully, it wasn’t necessary, Souna seeing her tense and stepping in front of her slightly. Not completely, just enough to shield her from attention. Tsubaki stood behind the two behind her – Kiba and Koneko, Taylor thinks – and had her hands clasped in front of her. None were fooled; she could grab them – or worse – should they make a single move, and while strong neither were prepared to take on an experienced Queen.Koneko startled, not paying attention to how close Tsubaki was behind her, too busy watching as Taylor’s muscles tensed and her hands clenched even harder in her pockets. And her nose picked a smell of something old, something eldritch and unknowable. The scent was…indescribable, and curiously enough wasn’t unpleasant. But it was unnameable.Her brain screamed Sacred Gear. Her gut…something else. Something older.Akeno hadn’t taken her cold eyes off of the human.“Answer. The. Question.”Rias frowned at her friend’s tone. “I was just….”Souna didn’t wait, her eyes taking in the scene, her intellectual mind coming to a conclusion, and her mouth spitting the words like poison. “You were planning to kill her, weren’t you?”Their heightened hearing caught the sound of the human’s breath hitching and her heart pounding harder than it was before, yet surprisingly she hadn’t made to run away. Instead she seemed to come to some morbid conclusion, Taylor’s shoulders sagging in defeat but her face giving none of it away.Rias’ face went through a few different emotions before settling on shock. “What!?” Sona found that the shock was, funnily enough, real. “No! No, I was-”“-planning to scare me from something. A person. You like this person, a good friend? No, like a sister. Something you perceive I did, you dislike me because of it.” The area quieted down and all eyes shifted to the human in their midst. “You find my existence amusing. No, not amusing, necessary. A pawn. No, a rook. A knight. A bishop. A queen.” Blood dripped from the human’s nose but she carried on, eyes locked with Rias’ startled own. “Sinful, filled with desire and pride. What do you want from me, Rias Gremory?”“what…how are you-?”“You want power, any power. To win something. No, because you must win something. You don’t care for the lives of others. No, that’s not right; you care as long as they serve a purpose to you. That’s not right either. You care as long as they know you’re the person doing the caring.” There was a gaping Rias staring at Taylor, along with the rest of the hallway’s populace of student council members. “You think I have a lot of power, don’t like how I interfered with a plan of yours. Something to do with Issei, wanted me to stop him from peeping? No, wanted me to build a rapport with him, incensed when I scorned him instead.”There was blood dripping from her nose in a steady gush, now, but she still locked eyes with a slowly-horrified Rias. “You wanted to confront me to scare me. Scare me into obedience, keep me from someone. Who?” Rias’ eyes shifted to Sona’s still form for a split-second. “Ah, Souna. You wanted me away from Souna. Why? Something to do with a game? Irrelevant. You planned on keeping me under your control. Part of a group. Feudal, using chess pieces.”Sona pressed a gentle yet insistent hand on her shoulder. “Taylor, why don’t we discuss this somewhere more private?” Her glasses flashed dangerously and her purple eyes drifted to Rias’ frozen form. “I was planning to let you know at a better time…but things can’t be helped.”Taylor, mind numb from the flood of information, blandly nodded and used her sleeve to wipe away the excess blood from her face. Her head felt light and she felt dizzy but thankfully she didn’t feel ready to faint.Taylor spun on a heel and wordlessly led the still-shocked group to the location Sona had on her mind; the student council room.They were devils.In hindsight, Taylor should have seen it coming. Her power had pointed out to her all the signs when she sifted through her memories of any interaction she’d had with any of them and it concluded the same thing she did. How she missed this…was unacceptable. All the signs were there, all the masks were seen through, all the hands were played, and yet somehow she’d ignored the signs as easily as she had breathed the hundreds of times she’s done since waking up in the morning.She’d grown complacent. Weak. She’d let herself be fooled by the veneer of high school normality and drama, swept up in the guise of safety and calmness Kuoh provided. The student council weren’t malevolent towards her in any way, and some even enjoyed her company it would seen, but after the little meeting she’d had with them and the subsequent…reveals…Taylor Argento thought it prudent to stay far the fuck away from anything to do with the supernatural.As soon as her sister was done here, she was leaving town and never looking back. They might not be able to go to Paris after all of this, and due to Asia’s excommunication Italy was out of bounds for a trip, but Greece was nice this time of year…Almost mindlessly Taylor shifted her bag from the left of her shoulder to the right, the hand about to touch her bag – and stop her from moving had it caught purchase – flailing in the air instead. Without a beat she continued walking, as though nothing was wrong, as though Kiba Yuuto of Rias Gremory’s Peerage hadn’t just tried to stop her for some arbitrary reason or other. Thankfully for her slowly growing reputation as the ‘brainy quiet one’ no one had seen the social faux pas.Greece seemed to be in hot demand, though, so perhaps they could avoid it for now and return when the days got a little colder; not too cold as to be a detriment, but cold enough to warn off tourists and leave just her and Asia to sightsee. While Greece was out of the picture, however, maybe China wasn’t. She had never really been a fan of the Greek food anyway, but Chinese dishes appealed to her; perhaps that was why she took a liking to the more rice-based dishes of Japan? Food for thought, she supposed.Seemingly casually walking on an interception course with her was Koneko, the Rook of Rias’ Peerage if she understood correctly. While the girl held her no ill will Taylor understood that orders were orders; she’d spotted no less than a dozen attempts at making peace and friendship with her – her power whispered that it was a high probability that her King had asked her to, to foster better relations for the mistake they made. Taylor huffed and sighed, because while the girl was earnest in her attempts the likeliness of her King having been the one to issue the order instead of her own free will pushed Taylor to ignore her as she does Kiba and – recently joining the daily attempts – Akeno.Instead of walking the same speed she was, Taylor slowed down; just enough to be noticeable while not enough to bring attention to herself. Koneko had lost her in the throng of students but knew she was expecting her course to carry as it had, so she was surprised and slightly incensed when Taylor walked in a straight line to her open classroom door behind her. She’d expected from in front so she could intercept, but behind? How had that happened?Taylor seated herself at the desk of her ‘homeroom’ and sighed, shuffling her backpack beneath her desk and slumping in relief when the bell rang; her eyes, half-lidded and bored-looking, ignored the rest of Rias’ Peerage that slumped in looking defeated. She’d feel victorious if she could. She only felt tired. She’d been keeping up this one-sided game of Cat and Mouse for a while now and honestly, she was getting tired of expending her energy in such a way. But she would not give in. she wouldn’t give those devils the time of day, let alone even a microcosmic iota of her attention.Taylor knew she was tired of this, but she could keep this going until she graduated if she had to.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
What would you do if you could meet God? Your creator, the person that placed you here for a plan bigger than the millions and billions of people around you. What would you do if you could speak to him, or her, or it or they or even nothing at all? What would you do if you could?Would you ask ‘why was I made?’ while trying to keep tears down at the thought of your ruined, wasted life? Would you ask ‘why don’t you help us?’ when you think back to the atrocities people have committed, or the countless dead fighting over this God’s name, or the religions that sprouted up amidst bloody and pointless crusades?Would you scream at him, begging ‘what did I do to deserve this?’ when your mind conjures up everything bad that has ever happened to you? Would you weep, or cry, or get angry, or scream and shout? Or would you do what Taylor Hebert, Khepri, did? Would you stare up at this being of pure power, righteous and strong, and reminisce on everything that’s ever happened? Would you look at the human he had decided to take over, this person that he had occupied, and stare them in the eyes with a disconcerting blankness? Would you sigh, trace a hand down your side to touch the stump of an arm that wasn’t there anymore, and wish to see the cheeky smile of a good friend once more?Would you do as Taylor Hebert did, staring at her hand as though slathered in blood, mind conjuring up every evil you committed in the name of good, every betrayal you ever suffered that hardened you playing behind your eyes?Taylor did. She did that and more. She thought on her suffering, how the world she lived in suffered, how the end result would have been mass extermination had she not become the second coming of an infinitely darker Jesus. She thought on the implications of a world with an absent god, and she found herself unable to care.Those two bullets in the back of her head didn’t disable her like Contessa was hoping. They killed her. Taylor couldn’t be gladder.It meant she got to ask this creature calling itself god a pivotal question.“Where were you?”The being in front of her didn’t even twitch, even after she stood there in this empty white room staring him down with a blank look that, for once, wasn’t because she shunted them off to her insects; but because she was just so tired. They stood there for ten seconds, then twenty, then thirty, then fifty, then a full minute. He didn’t talk.“I prayed to you. I believed when others wouldn’t.”This god in front of her tilted his head and stood slowly. Taylor continued; eyes locked with his own the entire time. “I asked for help. I begged for reasons, I even demanded in a few of them for answers.”He walked to her slowly, his body at least seven feet tall and draped in robes so white her eyes burned looking at them. So, she looked back up at his face, taking in the full-face beard and long white hair that seemed to tickle his shoulder blades. Taylor, fearlessly – because right now, really, what did she have to fear? – held his empty, golden-eyed gaze.“I believed in you. I finally believed in you.” She clenched her fist, her stump twitching. “I believed in you, and then you took away my magic. You abandoned me and took her away. You left me behind.”He kneeled before her, lifting his massive hands and placing them gently on her shoulders. She hadn’t stopped looking him in the eye. She never used to be able to, hateful of that golden stare, scornful of what it could mean and what it could do. Angered at the thought of everyone she’s ever known looking down on her despite her size, staring down their noses despite not having a valid reason to anymore.And she still saved them. Because-“I’m sorry, Tanya.”Her eyes blinked away tears and she found herself small again, back in her own body with magic flowing through her veins and the Type-95 resting in place around her neck. It no longer whispered to her to believe in a power higher than her own. It no longer demanded heathens burn at stakes and the good word of god be spread through the world. It no longer demanded supplication through subservience, and whispered to her power in return for lost memories.It still thrummed with holy magics. It still honoured its promise to grant her miraculous power through prayer. It still rested heavily around her neck and pressed against her tiny chest.“I believed in you, Being X.” The title was more for her to call him something other than God at this point, less a denial and more a name. he did not seem offended, at least. “I cried and begged and screamed for help. I went through hell on that planet, sacrificed everything I was and ever thought I could be, and saved them all anyway.”Before he could talk, before he could do anything, she spoke again, her voice insistent and rough; sharp, just like she used to sound when demanding obedience from her squadrons. Just like she used to sound when giving orders to her Kampfgruppe. Just like she used to sound before she woke up in a dead teen’s body inside a cramped locker, insects and blood and filth writhing around her, her friend’s tormenting cackles chipping her down.“Is Viktoriya well?”After a second or two of silence he nodded. “Yes. She died just after you did in Germania.” At her sharp look he continued. “She’s resting very well as a revered soul in Heaven.”Tanya kept up the glare for a moment longer before sighing and slumping to the ground. The gigantic form of Being X shrunk to a more reasonable five foot in height. Tanya didn’t care – if there was anyone from Germania, from Earth Bet even, that deserved heaven it would be Viktoriya. The metaphorical angel on her shoulder, guiding her hand away from spite and hatred, and towards duty to her country and love for her soldiers. With Viktoriya’s gentle nudging she went from bloodthirsty and mechanical to slightly considerate of others and much more emotionally stable.Every second on the battlefield was a second her mind would either snap or she’d delve into the power Being X offered her and be forcefully converted. Even now she acknowledged he was a god, but she refused to call him ‘her’ god – too much…too many bad memories.
There was Mary Sioux and the blood that flowed through the trenches and her men screaming and dying and Viktoriya sweet Viktoriya her Visha but she was a coward to tell her how much she meant to her and she looked down there was mud and blood and she was grinning and laughing the land was hell and she a devil standing on a mountain of corpses and-
She shook her head and looked at Being X; she didn’t think for a second that he hadn’t seen her little flashback.She needed coffee. She needed Visha. She settled for business-like stoicism.“What now?”“Now…you go to Hell.”Tanya didn’t even look upset, only steadily more depressed; she hid it behind a sharp look and cynicism. “Well, I was known as the Devil of Rhine.” She chuckled, injecting dark humour into it and opening her eyes in a slightly wider way that made her seem…unhinged.Perhaps she was.She’d lived three lives; one as a boring salaryman that refused to acknowledge anything above him as anything less than a scientific endeavour; another as a girl thrown into a war where men ruled, and wading through blood and guts was as much a pastime as reading a book was; the last, a bullied girl that sought an out from the world and decided to die the martyr she never wanted to be in the name of a god she only just acknowledged.None of that contributed to the healthiest mindset.She looked away from Being X’s face to stare at her own hands; being back in the previous body of the soldier known as Tanya von Degurechaff felt odd, but she felt more comfortable with this one than her newest one of Taylor Hebert. She clenched both hands and grinned ruefully. “Devils belong in Hell, after all.”Being X watched on before calling her attention back to him. “You will be going to Hell, Tanya, because someone very important asked for you to be there.”Tanya took a moment to process that. Someone…asked for her to go to Hell and Being X just…acquiesced? Who would have the pull, or the audacity, to ask – neigh, order! – Being X to do what they wanted!? She knew extraordinarily little of the bible and its contents, but she knew of some key figures that she’d heard repeatedly muttered throughout all three of her lives. She knew, of course, of the Seven Cardinal Sins – or the Deadly Sins – and of Dante’s Inferno, but nothing much more than that really. A shame, but she’d never really needed to look any of that up.Until now, of course, to ascertain the name of the person she was about to bury. That is, if there was anything more than a thin paste left of the person.On a whim, Tanya threw out the one name she’d heard the most. “Satan?” Being X looked for a moment before nodding. “Right. Did this Satan have a reason, or…?”“Well…they made it noticeably clear that they’d explain everything to you when you arrived at Hell, but that you aren’t going as a…resident. They used the words ‘honoured guest’.” He looked at an alarm clock – Tanya felt very unimpressed because, really, instead of a watch he got an alarm clock? – that he’d forced to pop into existence. “Ah, right on time.”Then, as if answering Tanya’s lifted eyebrow, he clicked his fingers once.Her vision blacked out, and Tanya saw nothing.Usually she’d be slumped down, eyes crossed onto her clasped hands, wondering where everything went wrong in her un-life that she’d ever consider properly taking over this job from the previous secretary. Coffee was only a good motivator for the first couple thousand years, but after that it became the only reason she even bothered with this job, let alone the only reason to being awake.Her sadistic tendencies became too much effort to even maintain whenever she ran out of coffee, but Pandemonica could at least say that the job paid well.Even if the hours were fucking trash.Today, however, she had been told of a guest coming all the way from Heaven – a human soul, at that, one with enough Will to defy the Holy Father through three lifetimes before giving in. And not even then! Barely giving in to that being’s needs of subservience would be a stretch in description if there ever was one; if anything, this guest had only acknowledged the being as a god, not her god! She was a guest with as much sadism and cruelty in her than most devils in hell!And her boss had made sure to send her all the coffee she could ever need for the next thousand years if all she did was just escort them through the Circles of Hell to her office!Hence, when the newest arrival walked in looking the spitting description of the guest she was given by her boss, Pandemonica could barely contain herself as she all but threw herself at the guest’s diminutive frame.“Welcome to Hell.” At the guest’s slight nod – the too-big officer’s cap slipped over one of her eyes, but the other almost glowed a fierce ice blue in the shadows the cap’s peak made – Pandemonica took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “My name is Pandemonica.”Tanya looked around – Hell was a rather bland place, all things considered – before turning back and nodding shallowly to the devil in front of her. “Tanya von Degurechaff, Degurechaff to be short. If you must address me by a title, call me Major Degurechaff; or just Major.”Pandemonica absorbed what she was told for a second before nodding and sipping her coffee again. In her other hand she called into being what looked like a clipboard, her voice from polite to no-nonsense. “I am to escort you through hell. Unfortunately, the scenic route will be necessary to our trip; the usual route is…packed.” Tanya lifted an eyebrow and Pandemonica sipped her coffee before continuing. “Souls of the damned need processing, after all. Thanks to the recent World War on one of the various Earths, a number of them needed to be fast-tracked, so to speak, to their destinations.”Tanya would have said something to that, had she not been the most probable source of an influx of souls into Hell at one point. Instead she nodded, waving a hand in front of her while the other rested behind her back. “Lead on, then.”“Of course.” A sharp nod from the secretary-looking demon announced the beginning of their trip into Hell – and wasn’t that a funny thought? These so-called devils surrounding her were more human than she probably was. Of course, Tanya knew she was literally just an overpowered human, and that these probable devils could snap her in two if they tried, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make them work for it if they did dare.Her thoughts turned to Visha; to Viktoriya. Oh, how she missed that woman. Her adjunct, a good friend of hers, and had she not been embroiled in wartime battles and trenches Tanya would have made an attempt for romance – as romantic as an emotionally stunted girl with the mind of a thirty-something salaryman could, anyway. Had they not been at war, had they not been in a time known for sexism and hatred towards homosexuals, Tanya would have tried everything she could to win her Visha over; partly, of course, because of her coffee, but mostly because Visha was everything to her.But here she was, drifting into Hell with a demon at her side, while Visha rested well and safe in the halls of heaven. Tanya held in the sigh that threatened to come out; how she wished for the woman to be at her side, but even Tanya was not selfish enough to drag someone from well-earned rest just to have her at her side again.Then her mind turned to the object she felt weighing down one of her pockets; a stealthy pat down of her side confirmed what she thought it would be, and her mouth made a strange attempt not to twist itself into a smirk. Her Luger P08, the exact same one from her second life, with all the dents and scratches in its otherwise flawless frame that such a thing entailed. Now, why would Being X willingly give her a weapon? Unless of course he just wanted to ensure his ‘Atheist Project’ didn’t get killed due to a lack of self-defence. Then again, she still has her magic; perhaps he was paranoid?Before her thoughts could spiral Pandemonica spoke up. “We are just about to leave the First Circle; Limbo.” At a curious sound from Tanya she continued. “Limbo is where souls go to get processed into whatever Circle they belong to, or if they even belong in Hell at all.” The woman took a sip of her coffee. “In this case, however, the influx of souls has meant we have had to utilise the fullest extent of Hell, instead of just Limbo, to process them.”“I see…” And she did, to an extent, but it sounded horribly inefficient. Her inner salaryman was begging to complain about the lack of fall-back plans and the likes, but this was Hell; for all she knew such a thing was impossible and they were making do with what they had. Tanya knows, then, how that feels. One is not a soldier for most of one’s life without experiencing shortages and making do with what is available. Even towards her end, before the ‘Slaughterhouse 9000’ shit occurred, she’d been suffering from food shortages and lower-class poverty.Such a thing, however, did not make her appreciate the masses around her anymore than she did; no, in fact it made her scorn them. Who were they to try and drag her down with them? She wanted a cushy life! At this point she expected them to drag her into fights and conflicts and the likes, but honestly it was par for the course. But still! Was a single life of peace and quiet too much to ask for? And now here she was, literally strolling through hell with a surprisingly placid outlook on her surroundings; honestly, the Massacre at Arene was more hellish than this.She almost violently shook her head to remove the oncoming PTSD from her brain, before distracting herself with inane observations about her surroundings, her feet blindly following her numb brain’s orders to keep moving.They arrived at an elevator, a rickety metal contraption that looked more like to fall apart than it did to take them wherever they were going, but the demon by her side barely spared a look to the rusted wheels atop it, or the frayed cables and stained metal walls, before she walked in. No hitch in her step or anything. Tanya shrugged and followed her in, slightly more wary and a Flight Spell on her lips just in case the thing decided to collapse around her. Her Active Barrier spell, she felt, wouldn’t cut it here; the thing looked a lot heavier than Tanya felt it ought to be.Pandemonica pressed a worn-away button on the side of the elevator, the machine whining and filling her ears with a ringing sound; she barely held back the urge to cover her ears. The entire contraption shuddered violently before moving downwards at a slow and steady pace. Tanya would even call it smooth were it not for the occasional shudders the machine made.“We’re now about to enter the Second Circle; Lust.” Here the demon looked Tanya in the eye. “Normally I wouldn’t care what happens to a human that wonders in here, but you are my duty, so I find it imperative that I stress this. “The woman leaned down and before Tanya’s eyes her horns seemed to elongate, her eyes widened, her teeth sharped and the suit she wore became crisper and clearer. “Do not do anything that may hinder our progress here.”Tanya just gave her an unimpressed look; she’s seen scarier looks on herself in the mirror. She nodded nonetheless. “Of course not.” Tanya reached down and grabbed her Luger, checking to make sure it came with ammunition before she nodded to herself and held it loosely. At Pandemonica’s curious look Tanya just pointed to the opening doors of the elevator. “Considering this is the Circle of Lust and I am surrounded by demons older than me with much more experience in the art of seduction…well, I don’t exactly have the best ideas for staving off advances.” She scowled briefly before lifting her gun. “This, however, does.”The demon by her side nodded and began to lead the diminutive Major out of the elevator. “Fair enough. Anything that makes my job easier in escorting you to the boss is more than welcome.”Tanya smirked at the back of the woman’s head, following along dutifully. Who knows? Perhaps she’d even get to shoot some demons here!As though announcing her death, Pandemonica’s voice echoed through the room they were in. “Welcome to the Circle of Lust.”Her smirk evaporated as a sweltering heat smacked into her, rushing over her body and leaving her sweating in her military outfit. Her blood felt like it was boiling in her body and she felt the overwhelming need just…strip it all off. The heat here was horrid and stifling, but her outfit was making it worse. Maybe she’d just walk around nude, that would help, right? Nothing but her and Pandemonica here, anyway, and they were both girls! But then again that just made it all the better, the both of them stripping off to escape the heat, eyes wandering over each-Tanya shook her head violently and gripped her Luger tightly. In an effort to stave off her lust-induced thoughts her mind turned to Viktoriya, and what she missed most about her. Her coffee for starters, of which she could swear she has tasted no better in all three of her lives. Then her cheer to counter Tanya’s pragmatism; though that isn’t to say Visha was an idealist, no in fact the woman could rival Tanya in cynicism sometimes. Then there was her body, svelte and lean despite the amount of chocolate she seemed to attempt to stuff it with. Breasts that swelled in just the right way, lips that weren’t too flat but not overly plush either, legs that showed a tone to them, leading to her thighs-Tanya shuddered and gripped her gun tightly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a naked demon of…some horned variety advancing towards her. She spared it barely a glance as her gun sounded out and a hole found a home in the creature’s head. Pandemonica didn’t even blink but did spare her an appraising glance. Honestly, it was to be expected; she hadn’t even had to line up the sights of her pistol before firing and, yet, she’d landed a shot right between the eyes. Pandemonica took note that the Major didn’t even seem to be shocked that such a shot landed, instead keeping her head swivelling and eyes open.Tanya sighed, her grip clutching the pistol in a ready position.Perhaps this would be harder than she thought it would.As though a knife cutting through her thoughts, the crackle of a walkie-talkie sounded throughout the chamber they had found themselves in. Pandemonica sipped her coffee, her other hand vanishing away the clipboard and instead gripping the device Tanya had only just noticed.
“Pandemonica, come in.”
The woman, Pandemonica, just sipped her coffee and seemed to be doing her best to ignore it.
“Pandemonica, if you don’t pick up in the next five seconds I’m sending Justice down to deal with you.”
The demon sipped her coffee again before clicking the button responsible for allowing two-way communication, instead of it being a glorified PA device.“I’m here, Miss Morningstar.”“Finally.” They both heard a feminine voice sigh down the receiver and what sounded like paper being written on. Throughout it all Pandemonica sipped her coffee and Tanya flicked her eyes between the device and her surroundings. “Did the guest arrive?”In response the secretary demon affirmed, eyes flicking to the alert form of Tanya. “Yes, she arrived not too long ago.” She sipped her coffee at her boss’s curious ‘hm?’. “We’re currently working towards the innermost part of the Second Circle.”“I see…” They both heard typing on a keyboard for a second, and then a sharp inhale of breath. “No sign of Modeus but be careful; this recent influx of souls has left her…unrelieved.”“So, this ‘Modeus’ is…incredibly horny?” Tanya managed to hide most of her incredulity behind a mask of professionalism and stoic soldiery, but a hint of it must have crept through, for the ‘Miss Morningstar’ on the other end chuckled.“Indeed. She’s far more steeped in the Sin of Lust than anyone in Hell.” There was a pause. “So, you must be Tanya, then?”Tanya’s eyes strayed from the receiver in Pandemonica’s hand to her surroundings, eyes spotting what looked like three demons all looking her way. She cautiously pointed the gun in their direction. “Yes, but then again, seeing as you’re probably the one to have asked for me here, you already knew that.” This ‘Morningstar’ woman chuckled, but before she could say anything else Tanya lifted her gun up. “One moment.”Three sharp bangs ringed out from her gun, and three bodies hit the ground.
“Was that a gun?”
Tanya scoffed. “Like I’d kill demons with my hands.” To emphasise her point she wiped her hands down her sides to clean them of imaginary dust, in the same motion holstering her pistol. “Who knows where they’ve been?”“…I’d take offense to that, but you are in the Circle of Lust.”“Of course. Now, I have questions.”“I guessed as much.” They both heard a sigh before Miss Morningstar put down something that sounded like it could have been a pen. “I believe we need proper introductions, first.”Tanya nodded; no workplace survived for long if a potential employer did not even know the names of potential employees. “I am Major Tanya von Degurechaff. Commander of the Salamander Kampfgruppe and known by my allies as The Argent Silver.”“Argent Silver, hm?” There was the sound of something being uncorked – she figured wine, but in all three lives Tanya had never gotten familiar with any alcoholic substances before to memorise the sounds. “And what of your enemies?”Tanya’s mouth dried up. “A lot of things.” She hoped her evasion would work, but at Pandemonica’s curious gaze and the unimpressed silence her face twisted into a scowl. “What, would you like me to recite every single title I’ve earned or something?”The woman on the receiver didn’t even sound irritated at her biting tone; instead somewhat amused. “Of course. It can’t be as many as mine. Titles tell a tale of a person’s life, after all.”Tanya bit back the venomous retort. “Fine,” she ground out, teeth clenched, and eyes narrowed. “I am Major Tanya von Degurechaff, technically Lieutenant Colonel; The Devil of Rhine, The Butcher of Arene, The Argent Silver, The Rusted Silver, Mithril, The Mad Dog, The Ace of Aces...” There was silence before Tanya decided to go all in. “More recently known as Taylor hebert, Khepri, The Slayer of Scion.”The woman over the receiver didn’t even seem stunned. “I am known by a lot of names, so you’ll have to forgive me with this. Ahem.” Pandemonica seemed to straighten up at the tone shift but Tanya didn’t even spare it any of her attention. “Most common names for me are these; Satan, Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil, The Beast, The Unholy One, The Liar. Less common was Ahriman, The Snake, Satanael, Mephistopheles, The Great Betrayer, Samael, Demiurgus.” Tanya soaked all of this up with the same stoic determination she’d used to have in Germania, when soaking in anything her superiors told her.
“You may know me as Lucifer; the CEO of Hell. And you have questions.”
Tanya just had to wonder how this had become her life, and held back the impulse to curse out Being X.
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“You’ll be fine, Taylor.”How she got into this situation she had no idea, but inevitably, as all things did, it began and ended with Taylor Hebert. It wasn’t even that big an issue, either. Show up to some fancy-pants rich gala, smile and wave, shake some hands, kiss some babies, drink some totally-non-alcoholic definitely not spiked fruit punch and cuddle up for the night watching old Aleph movies next to their shared bedroom’s fireplace.Maybe they’d rib some of the Wards during the party, watching Clockblocker attempt to be flirtatious, or Gallant suffering alone with girls quizzing the new-age knight. Kid Win would, inevitably, not come; parties just weren’t his thing, and he was a little too young and relatively new to the scene to even think about letting him fraternise with the high-society people of Brockton Bay just yet. Vista, bless her little cotton heart, would not manage the scene regardless; too young-looking to pull off any form of professionalism. She’d still be there, though, smiling politely and making googly eyes at Gallant. Aegis would just linger around, fretting over everything like a mother hen until Shadow Stalker socked him in the cheek for being irritating.She’d laugh at them, Taylor would roll her eyes in quiet judgement as she always did, and they’d both go home.Granted it wasn’t a fool-proof plan, and oftentimes her plans ended up backfiring and causing them both unneeded annoyances, but there always came a time when she could safely say that she’d taken the risk – at least, making sure it didn’t harm Taylor in any way first. Actually, now that she thought on it, that was seemingly her biggest priority in everything she did.She wasn’t complaining.Taylor didn’t look impressed, locking those ‘dead inside’ eyes with her own livelier set.“It’s just a party; we’ve been to plenty of them before. You’ll be fine.”Taylor looked like she disagreed with this statement. Very much. The lifted eyebrow just cemented her lack of faith. The crossed arms were just sealing the deal.In truth, Victoria couldn’t blame her; after all, despite her bravado she didn’t want to go to this party either. Not today at least. But no, the Mayor just had to host a fancy-pants party for the rich and famous – and naturally that included New Wave, The Wards, The Protectorate, some bigwig CEOs, and as Glory Girl’s…‘very publicly-known plus one’, that also included Taylor. She would have been happy to go any other night, in truth, and it annoyed her that her own mother – the entirety of New Wave, actually – thought it would be good for them.They could be sat back, hunched together under a blanket in their underwear, sipping definitely-not-alcoholic wine, watching their little fireplace go fwoosh every now and again. She might have to bribe her sister to keep her parents busy or out of the house so they could enjoy their privacy, but her mom gave off the aura of ‘knowing’ whenever they were hoping for some couple time.But no, instead they’d be sucking up to the upper echelons and practically wishing for some crime to happen just so they could escape.“Hmm.”“Oh, come on Tay.” She laced their hands together – idly she noticed Taylor leaned into her almost immediately, and it made her stomach do that weird flip-flop thing it did – and lowered her forehead until it was resting against Taylor’s. Taylor, in response, decided that looking at the wall behind Vicky would do her no good, and instead focused on Vicky’s eyes instead. “You trust me, right?”“Always.” No hesitation, and it brought a blush to Glory Girl’s face. But at the same time, it made her appreciate what they had even more than before.Vicky closed the distance between their mouths, placing a small peck against Taylor’s lips before resting their foreheads together. “Trust me then. This party will be fine.”Taylor looked more convinced than before, but not by much. Victoria, meanwhile, just watched as Taylor dealt with some internal war, her eyes seemingly flickering between two decisions. She waited patiently; whenever Taylor was like this she tended towards the logical and pragmatic, and her internal battles were usually between what she suspected was what Taylor wanted and what Taylor needed. Need was usually logical, and in all sense a cold pragmatism; it wouldn’t be too much of a lie for Victoria to say that Taylor’s cold pragmatism side scared her a little bit.A Mutter came from her quiet partner. “Anniversary ruined.”With the grip tightening around her hands and Taylor’s eyes once again focusing on her, Glory Girl knew Taylor chose what she wanted instead. It made her face feel warm and her heart feel light that Taylor was willing to give up their special night to go to some nonsensical rich-people party for a couple of hours.Undoubtedly though, Brandish would be hearing words from Taylor, and just thinking about it made Victoria laugh in her head.Taylor could be vicious when she wanted to be.Parties annoyed her.Granted the bright lights and flashy music of the Wards’ versions of parties were absent here, but in their place came crawling the ‘high society’ sycophants and corporate CEOs. She hated them all, fighting over funding for different parts of Brockton Bay instead of distributing it to areas that sorely needed it. Granted they couldn’t do much about the Archer Bridge area, or the docks in general really, until the Merchants were dealt with and the ABB were cowed long enough – that also apparently stopped them from investing more into the PRT’s standard soldier gear, or the BBPD’s funding.Instead they squabbled over art pieces and museum closures, over ‘Medhall’ this and ‘exhibit’ that. No talk of funding for the hospitals, no talk of sprucing up the poorer districts. Not even a whisper of charity donating or increasing the funds for the struggling fire department.She hated this place, hated these people, and hated that she was stuck here listening to this forty-something aristocrat waffle on about how ‘big his estate was’ and how ‘he has quite the dashing son’. Of course, she spied said son out of the corner of her eye, and even if she did swing that way the only thing she’d be swinging at him with would be a bat – he was a relentless hound, bothering every female he came into contact with that he knew hadn’t the power to simply intimidate him into leaving them alone. The comments he made just screamed ‘sexual deviant’ and the fact that she’d caught his eyes stray to Vicky’s rear more than once set him firmly in her ‘hate until he dies of unnatural causes’ list. With her power she could make it happen.She was saved, thankfully, by the sound of shattered glass and a soft curse she knew belonged to Dauntless; it turned the aristocrat’s head enough away from her that she could safely escape without potentially irritating him. And without dirtying New Wave’s name in the process – good lord would Carol go mad at her if she did anything to ‘besmirch’ their name even slightly.Then again, it’s not as though she cared – she wasn’t New Wave, after all. Sure, being Independent had its many disadvantages and many, many dangers, it also came with the advantages one of her position could expect. That is, she had the right to request damn-near anything she wanted for her services. She didn’t, but having the choice really helped.That and she didn’t have to ‘out’ herself just to join a group that was barely active anymore.A shout of her Cape name caught her attention as her eyes scanned the nearest route out of this party without drawing attention. Sighing, Taylor turned her head to see one of the many bigwigs that showed up to these things waving her over to a table filled with people. Sighing again, knowing escape was impossible now, she made her way over; her eyes scanned the table as she did, but since there was no one interesting here she just sat at her designated seat.The man that waved her over worked for Carol Dallon’s law firm, something-Calle, she thinks; but then again, the law’s never really interested her. As soon as she sat next to him he began resuming his chat with someone sat next to him – from the young voice she guessed it was Vista, and from the strain she could practically feel Vista was trying a little too hard to appear cheery and whatnot.Taylor sighed and looked at the dish she’d sat in front of – whatever the Wards suffered through wasn’t her issue; she simply couldn’t find it in herself to care all that much about any of them, but the food was nice. A healthy-sized steak, medium-rare if she guessed, with a side helping of radish and a thin white sauce puddled to the corner of her plate. None of the items touching each other, none of the sauce running too fast or too slow, nothing that would indicate anything was wrong with the dish. She still tapped the side of the steak quickly to make sure.With Calle to her left she spied the occupant of the seat to her right fairly quickly – Miss Militia herself, and what was…oh, she was side-eyeing her? Did she want to ask something?Taylor sighed; of course she did. That’s all anyone wanted of her nowadays.‘let’s just nip this in the bud before I get frustrated and leave’.She turned her head slightly, the hood covering it hiding her eyes but indicating that she had given Miss Militia her full attention. To her credit the Hero just smiled – well, Taylor assumed she did, but she was wearing a face mask and her eyes did that crinkle-thing they tended to do when people smiled.“Miss Militia.” Her voice was cold, but not unapproachable; just off-putting, what with it sounding like it was echoing. She’d found she could do this with her power – project her voice so it sounded like more than one of her talking at the same time – and with the hood on it usually scared people. To Militia’s credit, she ignored it.“How are you today, Nightingale?”Taylor just nodded, but the sigh she’d tried to keep in seemed to have been heard by Militia anyway; Militia giggled in response.“Long day?” Taylor nodded, and Militia nodded back; they both turned to their own food and started picking at it while conversations erupted around them. Well, Militia was picking at it – she didn’t seem to want to eat with her mask getting in the way, but Taylor could eat just fine…so she did.After a minute she heard a sigh, and felt another chatting session with Militia occurring; she quickly swallowed the steak in her mouth; she may be uncaring a lot of the time, but even she didn’t want to be rude to people if she could help it.“You know, I bet you get asked this a lot…”“Hmm?”Militia just shrugged. “So, why the name? Nightingale seems like it would fit a singing power, not a healing one.”Oh. “Florence Nightingale.”Militia laughed. “Wait until Armsmaster hears about this!”“Hm?”“He was talking about how he was ninety percent sure you could use some sort of singing power, so you chose that name and keep the power hidden.” She snickered. “Battery thought to combine the two, saying you sing to heal people.”“What.”Militia just laughed some more. Taylor just wanted to leave.
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Hey everyone, just letting you all know that when this 'story' hits fifty chapters all of the chapters are going to be copied from here and put into a 'series' of one shots instead of as just one 'story'. This 'story' will still be here and still updated, don't worry, but mostly this is just for the people that only want to read one or two one shots. Which is easy anyway because I clearly label each and every one shot and there's a chapter index everyone has access to, but whatever. Sorry if you expected this to be a new one shot or something, but there is one i dug out from the depths of my hard-drive and i'm in the process of cleaning up as you read this. It should be ready in about a week - it was written when I had no idea what i was doing and there's a lot to clean up. Thanks for being patient.
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Blood wasn’t meant to be black. It was always supposed to be a thick, cloying red that stunk of iron and rust and, well, blood. Black blood shouldn’t exist, but then again demon swords popping out of your back to smack your head for something stupid or dumb you just said weren’t supposed to exist either.
She can’t help but think that it suited the girl in front of her more than it should. That the colour black was a skin she’d long gotten used to wearing, and the light robes and thick, black blood suited her more than any other colour.
She can’t help but think that no other colour fit such a girl.
In the throes of madness, her sanity thrown out and vacated, she giggles.
She can’t help but wonder what such blood looks like on her. Will she look good wearing it, like Chrona does?
Some small part of her doesn’t want to find out.
The rest of her grins, wide and Cheshire, and burns with the ache to find out.
Medusa watches, wide mouth and proud. The crowd cheers. She kisses their names into Chrona’s skin as she tears them apart with her teeth.
There’s a demon with a piano in her head and the music is stilted and wrong, but sounds oh-so sweet and right to her ears.
There’s a checkerboard floor beneath her feet and screaming masses horrified. They think her insane. She thinks them stupid.
There’s blood dripping from her teeth, her eye, her mouth. There’s a hand on her shoulder and a another in her hand. There are names burned into her arm and she remembers.
Black is such a beautiful colour, she thinks. Nothing like the red that the bystanders bleed, that’s for sure.
She doesn’t even blink at Chrona’s corpse.
Chrona didn’t like…people. It could hardly be her fault for her slight misanthropic tendencies, but regardless the feeling felt mutual.It wasn’t, but Chrona felt like it was.They were loud, noisy, obnoxious, and sane. Why was it they got to be sane while she struggled day in, day out to keep the madness at bay for just a little longer? Why was it that she had to do this demeaning task of getting to know a certain student and luring her away to be kidnapped, only for her mother to tell her ‘I could have done it twice as fast’? None of this made sense, none of it fit the bill of normal.Medusa doesn’t care about anyone that isn’t herself, Chrona knows this, like she knows the sky is blue and the moon is a giggling mess of blood and teeth. She knows it like she knows her favourite colour is, surprisingly, purple, and her favourite type of book is any, because she doesn’t get time to read that often. She knows it like she knows Ragnarok is just trying to look out for her, but isn’t very good at showing his care in a way that isn’t a physical reprimand. Or whispers in her ears.Or promises of madness.Chrona’s starting to think Ragnarok’s not very good for her.The point is that Medusa has taken a very…unhealthy obsession lately, and that is stalking the Albarn girl, Maka. Chrona can see why, of course. Their soul is such a bright and free-flowing saneness that it just soothes being near, but there’s sadness too, and an untold amount of something just dripping there. She’s a bright mess of smiles and father issues and parental issues and issues. And there’s madness and insanity there, too, dribbling like poison beneath her thin veneer of being a good person, and Chrona – unlike her mother, of whom she is sure is smitten – hates every second of being near her.The girl at her feet, bound, gagged and unconscious, is probably going to be tortured into insanity just for Medusa to see how the sanity wavelength of Albarn’s soul reacts to it. Maybe even infected with black blood, too?Chrona just thinks of doing a little happy dance because finally, finally, there’s a human in front of her that she would know how to deal with. That’s a rare occurrence, like a pat on the head from Medusa, or praise from Ragnarok – a very rare occurrence.Wait, if she’s tortured into insanity, does that mean Medusa won’t want her anymore? Not Maka, she’ll always want Maka, with those twisted smiles and gentle-rough words of encouragement. Will she ever want Chrona anymore, when a perfectly good replacement comes along? Literally bound and ready to be opened like a gift-wrapped present. If she’s insane, does that mean Medusa will love Maka and never pay her any more attention? Is she obsolete, going to be cast aside!?
“Oooooh, someone’s jealous!”
Chrona bites back the retort on her tongue and leans down to make sure Maka Albarn is, well and truly, unconscious. Because it wasn’t easy getting her to this state – her eyes drift over to the half-conscious, most definitely dying, Demon Weapon – and Chrona has no desire for her to somehow get better and put Medusa in a mood because she wasn’t able to get her hands on the girl she’s most definitely infatuated with.Footsteps from behind her, and one of the Mizune Family Members steps up with a crystal ball in hand, Medusa’s face shining with malice through the glassy orb.“Chrona, useless thing.” There’s a snap and Chrona winces because oh, this isn’t good, Medusa’s in a mood. “Did you get Maka?”Chrona winces but answers anyway. “y-yes, but we…” Her eyes glance over to the most definitely dead Demon Weapon, slumped against a wall in an alleyway. Far too close to the DWMA for her liking. “…I-I, uh, had to kill her w-weapon.”Medusa, meanwhile, looks ecstatic, and somewhere beneath the fear Chrona just knows she can’t deal with this. Ragnarok is suspiciously silent, too, and even Mizune looks put-off. “Good! Oh, oh this is-!” She coughs, remembering just who she’s talking to and begins scowling again. Chrona sighs. It was nice while it lasted. “Get me Maka – unharmed, Chrona – and a sample of the Demon Weapon’s blood.” Mizune chitters in some way that Chrona can’t decipher, but Medusa seems almost giddy to explain. “My dear – Our dear Maka, Mizune, shouldn’t be without a weapon, after all. We won’t be there to protect her all the time.”And numbly, as she’s gently lifting the girl while Mizune savagely tears apart Soul’s body for blood, does Chrona realise she has no idea what’s going on.Ragnarok insists she look at Maka’s left arm, covered in a bandage, but while she can’t force herself to do it, she realises that maybe this is why?And then she realises, distantly, as she carries the Albarn girl back to Medusa’s secret hideout and notices quite a lot of Witches hanging around, that maybe Chrona got the wrong idea.Maybe Maka won’t be tortured? She’s already pretty insane, after all. Maybe she just needs a push and the witches around her are here to do that? She has a stupid amount of names on her soul, enough to fill it up and then some, and Chrona knows this isn’t right. There’s only supposed to be one name, maybe two or three. She has never heard of more than that.Maybe nothing will go wrong?Ragnarok feeds off her insecurity and shoots her a thought that almost makes her snort.Maybe Medusa will start loving her again?Chrona really does snort that time, softly as to not cause any trouble, and ignores Ragnarok for the rest of the night.Like that would ever happen.
Maka wakes up, takes in the witches and their names and their soft feather kisses to her tearing cheeks, and cries happy and loud and with feeling. She ignores the pit in her chest that says Soul is gone because, really, he was never going to last long next to her anyway.
Something integral to her snaps and breaks, falls away form the jigsaw that is Maka Albarn.
These witches will, with their soft hands and their feather fingers and their soothing voices. She runs a hand over the bandages on her left arm, kisses her lips to their names on her skin as though to cross off a list.
She’s a little worried when she sees some names not introduced yet, but that’ll pass. She knows it will. They’ll always be together. In physical form or otherwise.
She’s home, she knows she is, surrounded by the worst the world has to offer in terms of non-humans, and maybe that’s not a bad thing. She’s not exactly human either.
There’s a singing in her head, harmony with something she can’t quite place but knows she loves, and as she accepts each and every one of them into her lovely little soul the witches make themselves home in her, too.
Maka grins wider, Cheshire and toothy.
The witches stare back, love and adoration plain to see.
It’s why she doesn’t complain when she’s gently led to the surgery room.
Mizune is holding her left bandaged hand, chittering softly in a way that Maka can somehow understand, oddly enough. To her right is one Eruka, holding her right forearm gently but firmly, as though to reassure her she’s there. Just next to Eruka is another Witch but with the lights in the room blaring down on her she can’t see all that well. All she knows is she’s most definitely taller than her, and Maka really isn’t all that ashamed to say ridiculously well-endowed. She blinks and the woman is gone, as though never there, and in her place is a blinding light she squints away from.She leans back, closes her eyes for a second, and shifts her head to look at Medusa.“This will give me a weapon, right?”Medusa nods, seriousness evident in every move she makes but there’s care there, too. Care and wonder, and a frightful amount of need to get this right; if she messes this up it could be the end of them all. It could kill her already deadened heart. It would be the first thing that would hurt. “And give you a witch’s lifespan, amongst other things.”Maka knows immediately. Oddly enough she isn’t disappointed. Just tired.Today has been a rollercoaster from start to present, and she’s just waiting to get off and go to sleep.“It’ll also turn me into some kind of…pseudo-witch, won’t it?”“More than that, dear Maka.” Says a voice that sounds so old and ancient and she knows the name on the tip of her tongue. But she’s tired. Oh-so tired. “You’ll be a witch we could only hope to be.”“And how much of a witch will I be…and how much of me will I be?”The silence and soft chitters are enough for her. She leans back, bracing as she feels a needle pierce the skin on her neck.Eruka asks the question on all their minds, the entire Mizune Family and even Medusa included. The unknown is just watching from the corner. Maka can’t tell all that well, her vision’s getting blurry. She thinks she sees a cloaked small person, maybe a child, walk in and sit down next to her.She feels little hands holding her right hand in a gentle squeeze.Maka feels the thrum of her pulse slow.“Are…you angry?”Maka smiles, small, nervous of course, but not angry. “No. Never.”And then the surgery begins.She grits her teeth to the scalpels and she tries, she really does, not to scream in agony when her skin is peeled back.Her scream makes them all flinch anyway, until a small hand presses to her head and she’s blissfully asleep.
“Maba…are you sure you want to do this?”
“Never surer. She’s important. Probably the best one for it. I’m old anyway, and she’s young. The answer’s pretty clear.”
“Didn’t Prisoner 13 take your other eye, though? How will that…?”
Maba waved her off, slowly shedding her cloak and carefully laying it next to the unconscious girl. She’ll need the clothing for later. When she wakes up.
She’ll need the bandage too. One eye isn’t pleasant for anybody to witness. Maka will need to keep it covered; a gaping hole isn’t really the best way to get someone to look at you straight.
“Get the Diehl Family on it, their newest little prodigy should be able to get it back in one piece.” She waves her hand, untying her undergarments with a flick of magic. “Or just find someone to ‘donate’ an eye to her. The magic will come back. Eventually.”
She places the hat atop the clothing pile, naked as the day she was born, and lies down next to the girl. She clutches her hand, tight and safe.
She feels the needles descend on her.
Then she feels nothing.
But she’s always with Maka. Always. It was decreed before even her birth.
Maba blinks, and then suddenly she’s looking through a bewildered Maka’s eye. She can’t speak, not now, not ever. But she’s with Maka. That’s all that matters.
Maka thinks so too.
Maba turns to look at the demon with the piano, the shrill noise it makes as it mashes keys vaguely sounding like a song she’s heard once-upon-a-never-before and she sighs as it lulls her to peace.
She won’t be the only one here, they all join eventually, but that’s fine. It was decreed, a written law in the universe.
There would be others there for Maka physically, later down the road, later on in life. The witches would be there for her spiritually.
It’s with that thought that Maba turns to the demon with the piano and pulls out a cello.
There’s an itchy thrum beneath her skin, rippling through her joints and screaming at the world, when her eye opens and she finds herself amidst worried witches and a nervous Chrona. The humming is gentle but strong, and she knows through some means she isn’t aware of yet that she’s the strongest given in the room right now. She could break concrete with a flick of her wrist and launch vectors with an ease even Medusa can’t manage.She holds the thrumming down, tells it she’s safe, and as though recognising the people she’s surrounded by it calms. The calm before a storm, she thinks wryly, sitting up and clicking a finger to call heavy robes and a pointed hat to her. A bandage wrapped around her head and she knows its sitting where it should be, covering half her face and drifting down to her neck.She stares at them, floating just out of reach, and feels a deep sense of loss and a panging for something she never had. Then it’s gone, and she blinks her eye – ignoring the deep blackness from where her other should be. Without thought she puts on the robes, cloak following and hiding her body in a way that makes her nothing if not unassuming. A sense of heady familiarity comes over her and she can’t help but sigh in content when her bandaged left hand tugs on some safety pins to keep the cloak there. Keep it up, safe.It is far too small for her, but a quick wave of her fingers lifted it to be just her size, perfect in every way and snug. Enchanted on the inside so she doesn’t get cold or overheat, waterproof and fire retardant. The hat drifts up and tilts at an angle before landing on her head, covering everything but her singular eye. But something in Maka rebels at the familiarity and, in a strange act of what feels like defiance, she tilts the hat up. Her bandage is more pronounced now but not overtly drawing attention to itself still, and her face is more visible than the other way she’d had it – the other way that feels righter than it should.She sighs again in fondness, her lone eye a pinprick of red in a sea of white. If one paid enough attention, they would see a little pentagram of purple etched into the iris.“…did it…work?” Eruka looks ready to rush over and collapse into Maka just to check if she’s feeling ok.Medusa looks the same, if twice as more reserved. “I would say so, yes, but…” Her snake-like eyes lock onto Maka’s. “Maka, dear…how do you feel?”They await the verdict, breaths held and fingers drifting over each other in rungs of nervousness.Maka gives a toothy smile, half-hidden by her cloak. “Never better!”She opens her arms to feel them crashing into her, propriety and relief thrown out of the window as she hums in content. This is what she was made for. Medusa plants a worrying kiss on her lips, deep and loving. Mizune nuzzles her cheek against Maka’s and chitters reassurances in that odd not-language of hers. Eruka clutches her tightly around the waist and buries her face into the heavy cloak to hide her tears. Chrona shuffles over and tentatively places her hand on Maka’s left shoulder.These people were hers, and she’d be everything she could to keep it that way.The weapon is given to her after the surgery was found to be a success; a scythe, plain and hefty, red jagged lines on the blade. No eye, she thinks happily.They only used his blood, after all, not his soul.That, she put in a jar and ate later.It tasted like music, she thinks. Like a piano with discordant notes, like a guitar with half-tuned strings.Eruka’s lying there, barely-dead and still somehow gripping on to Maka’s hand for dear life. There’s a worried glint in her frog-like eyes that makes Maka’s heart feel like it just got kicked in the crotch it doesn’t have because, you know, it’s her heart. But it still hurts and gnaws, and looking to her left she can see even Medusa looks a little worried, muted as the emotion is.She hasn’t a clue where Mizune is, but she would like to imagine she’s off hunting the person that did this.Maka’s sole eye looks down at Eruka’s chest, the clothing having been torn apart by the giver of the injury; her keen eyes take in the cleanness of the wound, if a little jagged at the edges, and her heart thumps once more as her magic thrums beneath her bones. She hears Medusa throw something, a syringe being stabbed into Eruka’s side none-too-gently and extracting blood.“Betrayal,” she hisses, and Eruka’s half-dead-but-somehow-not eyes flutter in affirmation. She isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, but she knows she’s going to tear the little converter apart with her bare hands and drag Ragnarok from their still-alive corpse, one drop of black beautiful blood at a time.Medusa’s already there, hissing expletives as she tries, and fails, to keep Eruka from dying. Eruka just lifts a bloodied hand to Maka’s mouth and whispers the only words she’ll ever remember such conviction from.“T-Take me…take me with you…”Maka clutches the hand a little too tight, pressing her lips to the palm and tasting magic and blood. Without a word she siphons the magic from the open wound on Eruka’s wrist, the frog witch pushing all of her magic, as much of her own soul as she can, and suddenly she’s dead, and Maka feels full and completer in a way she never would have wanted to feel before.She rages, she hates and she hates and she wants that little shit dead for this.And when she’s done Maka turns to look an equally angered Medusa. “Your little failure took Eruka from me – from us.” Maka does not hiss but it’s a near thing.Medusa, on the other hand, does hiss. “I never should have made them.” She admits, vile poison dripping from every word and snake-like vectors dancing in her teeth. “They were supposed to be the perfect little child. Now look what they’ve done!”Maka just turns back to Eruka’s dead body and places a kiss on its forehead.“Find them and drag them back here, Medusa. We need to set an example.” Maka locks eyes with Medusa and sees in her an inner madness waiting to be freed. That’s okay, she thinks, because she has some inner madness too. “Find Mizune and get her to help you.”“You have an idea?”Maka’s grin is all teeth and insanity. “You could say that.”
She tears them apart with pointed teeth and snide grins, with tongue lapping at blackened blood and hands clawing at the robes.
Chrona’s long since been dead, but Maka doesn’t care. She’s angry, furious at this little upstart, this little fool who thinks they can strut about with little care and kill her Eruka with a grin on their face.
She thrusts her hand into its twitching corpse and smiles wide and free when she hears her witches cheer. She hears the chittering, the snake-like hisses, and in her head a demon with a piano is joined by a cello and a flute.
She stands, she looks and listens as the cheers die down, and she speaks of hate and witches being put down by others not of their kind.
This is proof, she screams, this is proof we need to stand together. Them against the world, them against it all. Her eye draws them in and the names on her arm show them just who she is to them, just what she is to them, and she greets the newest names with kisses to the cheeks and promises of safety and love.
The names on her arm are numerous, varied in length and tone, but numbering well above fifty. Most are witches, she knows, but there are some that aren’t.
Her eye is narrowed when it flicks over those that don’t agree, and she knows Medusa is taking a list of names.
She knows they’ll be dead later.
Good, she hums, no one will endanger them again. Not like Chrona.
The demon in her head with the piano, joined by the cello and the flute chuckles and its tune gets softer, less erratic, as her madness drips away slowly. There’s a budding orchestra in her head, now, and she loves the song it plays; a not-song she hasn’t heard anymore but it gives her a sense of familiarity nonetheless.
She has this horrible feeling that the orchestra will grow soon, and she isn’t sure she wants to find out when or how.
Maka just knows she’s in it for the long haul. These witches are hers, once Maba’s, and now she’ll care for them as a mother would her children.
First thing to do? Destroy those that would ever harm them.
She’s still Maka of course, despite the surgery and her witches surrounding her. Despite the magic thrumming beneath her skin and the joints of her fingers bristling with the elements, she’s still Maka.It would only make some amount of sense, then, that she takes her reading seriously. There’s no such thing as too much information, and she knows Medusa agrees with her because whenever they get time alone she’s snuggled in Medusa’s lap as they both read. Knowledge in this world is power, but that doesn’t seem quite right to her. Knowledge can be more than power, and sometimes less than it, too.Medusa, stood next to her, is flicking her wrist with one hand idly to send out Vectors to defend them both, her other holding a book at eye level. Maka has her nose buried in something akin to a magical dictionary, single eye flickering through the words, both hands holding the book up. Her magic cares not for feeble laws of ‘casting’, Maba never had to flick a wrist and cast a spell so why should she? Her magic reacts to her will and lashes out with hails of ice and spikes of earth.The unprepared DWMA students die in droves. The prepared professors manage to only lose a limb or two. One particular nuisance is a professor she remembers taking the classes of; not often, but enough to remember he had a weird fixation on taking people apart; Professor Stein, if she’s remembering correctly. A madman in the guise of a scientist. Scarily good at utilising his soul’s wavelength for combat, too; using soul-laden palms to shunt aside the weaker spells from her witches and natural reflexes to dodge the stronger ones. Him and a zombie she seems to recall as ‘Sid’ practically ooze skill.Naturally Maka decides to focus her magic on those two, but focusing on them and actually trying are two very different things and sometimes they get confused with one another; for example, she’s reading her book, trying to take in the words and memorise simplistic witch spells, while also half-heartedly flinging spells in their general direction instead of at anyone that looked at her weirdly. She is not, by any means, trying to kill them. She isn’t trying to not kill them, don’t get her wrong, but she’s too heavily invested in finishing this book of hers that she doesn’t see them as anything less than a slight irritant.An irritant that Mizune seemed to be getting tired of.Mizune seems to take their attack as a personal offense, a hissing chittering sound crackles from her mouth as she, all lean form and curves, sprints at the two professors. What follows is a light show for the ages, chittering announcing a spell destructive in its power. Enough to damage the school and take the two professors out.Good, Maka thinks, because they were starting to bother her. She turns her head, idly paying heed to the sounds of dying students. Her ex-classmates. A thought that sobers her before she shrugs and follows Medusa, nose buried in a book still but dodging grasping limps and crying pleas with an ease she never used to have. Once or twice, when a hand touches her, she’s forced to crack open the offending person’s skull with her book. It’s not as gentle as her ‘Maka Chops’, no, it’s vicious and powerful in a way that provides her satisfaction from the brain haemorrhaging she knows she’s caused them. Oh, they’ll die as sure as most will here, but they’ll die knowing they were hit by a fucking book of all things, and that their death won’t be slow either.“Medusa, I seem to have blood on my book.” Maka turns the book around to inspect it to Medusa’s amusement, the snake witch leading her through the twisting hallways of the DWMA leading up to Death’s mirror room. “I think there’s some brains on here too.”Medusa let out a wry chuckle, nevertheless amused with Maka’s childish irritancy at such a paltry thing. “Maka darling, I watched you brain those two students earlier.” Maka keeps inspecting the brain matter on her book, flicking the now-closed article in an attempt to rid it of the offending offal. She failed. “Ah, we’re here.”Maka twisted her head upwards curiously, single eye locked on to the two-tone boy with a frown and a single gun. There was a girl next to him, small and waifish with a scared look of concern on her face. Not for the boy, she noticed idly. How interesting…“Oh?”Medusa’s eyes narrowed. “Death’s little brat.”“Ah!” Maka clicks the fingers on her left hand, the right tucking the magical tome beneath her armpit. None present mentioned the distinct lack of brain matter on the book. “The uncreatively named ‘Death The Kid’.” She chortles for a bit, Medusa cracking a menacing smile, before her single eye locks back onto the girl. “Oh, and who might you be?”Without a word the girl’s face smooths out into a line and, in a second, she transforms into a pistol and flies into Kid’s outstretched hand.Maka, meanwhile, glares. “Rude.”She snaps her fingers on her bandaged hand and Death The Kid is nothing more than a screaming ball of agony and suffering.The two witches move past him through the doors without a second thought. Victory weas close, they could taste the way the air seemed to change.Medusa opened the door and held it with a hand, sketching a chivalric bow, a grin splitting her face. Maka smiled wide and lovingly, a hand tracing Medusa’s cheek as she leaned in to kiss her lips briefly. “Charmer.”Medusa chuckled and followed her through. “I try.”
“There will be no more trying, witches.”
Death had come.
“You have killed many students to get here.”
Death was not happy.
“What could be so important that you would wish to get here so brutally?”
Death was angry.
“So thoughtlessly?”
Death was not just angry, no. He was furious.
“So steeped in disregard for human life?”
She shot him a grin of pointed teeth and dripping irritancy. “Where’s your regard for the lives of witches, hm?”He doesn’t answer, drawing a snort and a muttered “Hypocrite.” From the way he twitched he heard her.Maka looked at Medusa and noticed her shaking hands, her sweating brow, the grin that tried to draw attention. Maka disregarded the feeling of finality in her stance. The look of a woman ready to die for another. A look Medusa would never have held had she not met Maka. Maka’s single eye glowed with a fierce red, the shadows of her cloak and hat doing their best to accentuate the colour.Maka clenched her teeth, Mizune having strutted through the door by slamming it into the wall and throwing the lifeless, but not dead, body of Death the Kid at the floating Reaper’s heel. She felt a slender hand clench her cloaked shoulder before the mouse witch came to rest at the side of her that Medusa wasn’t.Maka’s clenched teeth split beautifully into a smile that would tear steel with the sharpness of it. not that anyone could see it, of course, but as Medusa tells her ‘it’s all about presentation’. Her magic is broiling beneath her skin, guided by the previous witches she’d taken into her and the music thrumming throughout her skull.Her hands, one bandaged the other clothed, come up to rest in a position of firing a spell or other – there’s a hand on her shoulder. When did that portal come up behind her?Medusa’s smile is cracked. “I’m sorry, dear Maka. We won’t allow you do die here.” With one hand she’s holding back the frustrated reaper with a variety of vectors, with the other she’s clenching Maka’s shoulder. Mizune has split herself into five, the other versions of her zipping around to distract the reaper as long as possible. Her sixth body just stands, floating next to her, a hand on her other shoulder and a grim smile on their small face.Mizune chitters in a way she knows meant she was sorry too.Maka’s too shocked to do anything but stand as she’s kissed on the cheek by both witches, the hands holding her injecting her with as much of their own magic as they could.“Wait-!”Before she knows it, she’s thrown through the portal and it cracks shut with a snap.
She makes no notice when a violin and another flute join the growing orchestra in her head. She makes no notice when the place she’s in resembles more of a kaleidoscope of colours than a physical being. She makes no move to get up from her lying down position.
She’s looking upwards at what she assumes is the sky.
The orchestra play a mournful tune.
“They’re all gone…”
She cries for the first time in a long time, and tears open a portal that leads her to this new world she’s been thrown to. She knows there’s no way back. Perhaps others with names on her arm are here?
She uses that to keep her newly found suicidal tendencies at bay, and trudges forward to find herself in a place that looks like it might be in Japan.
She pays no heed to the eyes of infinity watching her leave, nor the shudder the great dragon makes when it feels out her power.
She hates this place and hates these people.She hates the way they look at her, the way they expect her to be or do something. A very particular few look at her like they want to tear her clothing apart and examine the being underneath. Some stare at her with lust or blatant sexual curiosity but she can drown them out pretty easily.She hates the town she lives in, now. Kuoh, a cesspool of hormonal teenagers and people with far too much time on their hands. It’s a land of blatant perverts, supernatural elements and expectations.She especially hates the supernatural side of things.She hates the way Rias Gremory stares at her, like she’s trying to pick her apart and getting frustrated when Maka doesn’t respond to her blatant curiosity. She hates the way Souna Shitori stares at her, like she’s trying to unmake her from her genetics, like she’s trying to reach into her skull and violently rip her secrets out with her mind. She hates how the Perverted Trio stare at her, blatant fascination and curiosity and sexual lust wrapped into a package of creepiness that she doesn’t want to go anywhere near.She hates herself more than anything.This world hasn’t been chipping away at her constantly like her previous one did. It hasn’t been whispering release if she’d just surrender to the madness. It hasn’t been promising her protection and safety if she just stayed sane. There is no Kishin threat. There is no corrupting magic in the atmosphere, no Death to fight or flee, no DWMA. There is nothing but a school for normal people – and apparently abnormal people – to learn and graduate from. There is nothing but her, the town, the school and her own guilt.Everywhere she looks is a dead DWMA student. Every voice she hears is another whisper from one of her Witches. Every corner she spies out of the corner of her eye has accusing eyes and terse bloodied smiles. Everything she sees is a whisper of the past, come back to haunt her. Every time she looks down at her hands she sees the blood of people she’d killed in that half-insane state she’d been in.She has her magic, still as powerful as it was before she left. She has her weapon, the scythe stored away in a pocket dimension. She has her concert in her head, soft and soothing as compared to its previous erratic sound.Maka stares down at the laughably easy test she’d just finished and wishes, not for the first time, that she’d died with her witches back at the DWMA. At least she’d die in battle against literal Death himself, that’s something to be proud of she thinks.The bell for them to leave was like a gunshot for sprinters. Without delay she slung her meagre bookbag over her shoulder, pushed her chair in and started a brusque but steady walk to the exit of the school. Her outfit, as it did, brought stares and whispers. Maka had the forethought to point out to the student council president when she brought it up that she was not, technically, a student here; if anything she far outstripped these pathetic people in intellect by a few hundred IQ points and then some. Therefore she didn’t have to wear the, quite frankly, demeaning school uniform.She only attended for exams, mock-exams, assemblies, her duties as the student council treasurer and, if she had any, club activities. Seeing as she didn’t have club activities and she very much liked her freedom, Maka strolled from the pitiful excuse of a school with a casual ease that brought more than a few disparaging looks from still-attending students.She was waylaid, however, by the student council president herself; Souna Shitori did seem quite surprised to have caught her before she left, so Maka shunted off the thought that she was being stalked.“Oh, Maka.”“President.”Souna fixed her glasses on her nose properly and gave her treasurer a careful smile. She couldn’t tell if it was received or not but she did like to think so. After all, the whole reason she’d brought the acerbic and bitter girl before her into the fold of the student council without pushing for Peerage was because…well, because they were soulmates.Not that she’d told Maka yet, of course. And not that Maka would know, considering she was using a false name.Maka stared with her one eye for a long moment when Souna didn’t respond to her greeting beyond a slight tug of the lips in what she assumes is supposed to be a smile.“Heading out?”Maka began walking again, a nod her only answer.“Well, I hope you get home safely. There’s apparently some strange things going on after dark and I would…I just hope you stay safe.”The semi-witch turned to gaze curiously at Souna. She spotted no ill will, no sarcasm or sympathy. There was concern in her gaze and nervousness in the way she held herself, but aside from that? Nothing less than the concern expected of a student council president to have of her treasurer.She punched down the thought of ‘this is what a friend says to another friend they’re worried about’.Maka responded slowly, carefully, but her voice never lost its bland disinterest.“Thank you, President.”As Maka turned to leave, Sona perked at the hint of warmth in that bland tone.The concert in her head had taken to replicating the classical works of this world and Maka quite enjoyed the music she’d hear from time to time. Sometimes she’d be hit with a rousing waltz when walking on her way to school and it would give her footsteps more pep. Other times, like now, she’d be hit with a sombre and slow piece that allowed her to focus on her work and cleared her thoughts.In her head played Clare De Lune, a song she’d found one day while idly enquiring about classical pieces she could listen to. Nothing but the piano and the violin played, but she could hear hints of flute and a smattering of cello.She paid no attention to anything outside her work and the music in her head, hands deftly writing reports and taking notes of whatever required her attention. She hummed along occasionally and only stopped when she found something particularly interesting in a treasury report, but aside from that it was smooth sailing.She didn’t even pay attention to the student council meeting going on around her, or the eyes locked onto her working form.She did, however, pay attention to the door of the student council being thrown open and slamming rather thunderously into the wall. Lifting her head, Maka ignored the entrant and eyed the door jammed into the wall; that would leave more than a simple mark, she muses. She might have to gather a few people to yank the door free, and the costs of repairing the door and replacing the wall would dig into the funding they had rather harshly.She sighed, looked back down, and shunted off one of the reports she was reading. Her pen clacked once and deftly she began writing up financing reports for a new door and repairs for the wall; maybe, while she’s at it, she’ll get someone to look at the radiator that’s been barely working for the last month. Something to bring up with the president, when and if she can get a chance.She continued humming Clare De Lune, idly enhancing her ears with magic to pay attention to the intruder and Souna’s conversation.“Rias! What is the meaning of-!”“Sona, I can’t take it anymore!” There was the sound of something stomping her way before she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and the stomping sound ceased. “Sona, I’m being serious here!”“Explain.”“Fine!” There were some thuds and a few more people entered, but Maka didn’t really care all that much. She was too busy tallying the newest request she’d written up and the cost-benefit analysis of actually repairing the wall and door. Could it wait until next month? Sure, it could. Should it? No.“Well?”She heard a sigh from somewhere to her left, but her head was down, and she was not going to get involved. This was definitely supernatural bullshit, and she did not want to get involved in supernatural bullshit. Right now she just wanted to finish up, go home, and maybe finish reading one of the books she picked up from the local library. She’s gotten through Of Mice And Men and just started The Lord of The Rings. From what she remembers the librarian telling her it’s quite the hefty book series, so it’ll be perfect to curl up beneath a blanket with.“To be blunt?”“Preferably.”“It’s her.”Maka could feel the eyes on her like a physical presence, and the finger pointing in her direction felt almost as though it were physically poking her in the chest. She resisted the urge to call Rias out on her rudeness and instead focused on writing her reports and humming her music; she had zero reason to involve herself in this nonsense, even if everyone else seemed to want to involve her.Tonight, she thinks, she’ll make herself some good Oolong tea while she reads that Lord of The Rings book. Treat herself for a job well done at ignoring these idiots.Her pen danced across the page, her single eye taking in everything she was writing with clinical efficiency, but her magically enhanced ears still paying attention to the conversation around her.“You can’t mean to drag her into this, Rias.” Souna’s venom when she spoke almost surprised Maka. “She knows nothing about us or our struggles, and I for one would prefer to keep it that way.”“She’s been ignoring me ever since she got here, Sona!” Maka heard a chair get shoved backwards if the screech on the flooring was any indication, and seconds later a huff and what sounded like pacing feet. “Do you know how hard it’s been? At least she talks to you, rare as it is! I haven’t even said a single word to her!”Steady writing filled the room as Maka determinedly attempted her very best at ignoring everything around her. Rias was getting agitated and she’d be worried about that usually, but she was surrounded by the student council and, for some reason, was a somewhat-important figure to both Souna and Rias. It was…vexing. She ignored the brief flare of irritancy and took to finishing the report.“And why not?”“I-I’ve been busy with Issei and Raiser, you know that! There was the whole situation with him being reincarnated a few days ago and-”Issei, the main member of the perverted trio? What would he have to do with Rias Gremory, Occult Research Club president? Maka tilted her head in thought before dismissing it just as quickly; anything that no-good pervert does should be ignored and shunned on principle.“And?”“What am I supposed to do, Sona!? March over to her out the blue and say ‘hi, we’re soulmates and I’m having a tough time with this guy who wants to force me into a marriage I don’t want could you pretty please tell my brother that we’re destined to be together for all eternity so he can leave me alone? Kay, thanks!’”Sona sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, understanding deeply just what kind of issues Rias was suffering with but unable to really help with any of them. She could, however…“Rias.”Rias slumped back into her chair with her head in her hands. “Yeah, Sona?”“You could-”“Say that again.”All eyes turned to Maka, and only then did it register that she’d stopped writing and was staring straight at the two of them with a single, glowing eye.“What-?”“I have no time for games, Rias Gremory.” She didn’t hiss but it was a near thing. “Now, repeat what you just said.”Everyone blanched when they heard the order, and only then did it flash through everyone’s head just what Rias had said. Rias, for her part, looked suitably embarrassed.Maka noted something in her gaze, though. The way her back straightened and her eyes tightened. The way her hands stretched thin over each other and her head lifted. The way her chin settled from its wobbling and her cheeks puffed slightly.“You’re my soulmate.”Souna sighed and rubbed the bridge between her eyes. “I, too, am your soulmate.” She shot a glare at an unrepentant Rias. “I was hoping to ease you into it, but that’s been ruined.”Maka had another sharp realisation as she dealt with conflicting feelings and too-sharp stabbings in her chest.She wasn’t going to get to curl up beneath a blanket and read Lord of The Rings.She lifted her bandaged arm and unrolled a little bit of it, single eye searching through the list of names. She spotted the two, side-by-side, and resisted the urge to curse. She rolled her bandage back up.“The treasury position on the student council was a rather bold move if I’m honest.” Maka admitted with a dip on her head. She gave a pointed glance around and looked back at the two somewhat-surprised girls in front of her. “Can we get some privacy to deal with…this?”Souna gave her a sharp nod and waved the other members out.The door closed far too soon for Maka’s liking.“You’re…devils.”Sona Sitri and Rias Gremory looked at each other before resolutely nodding and replying.“Yep.”“Indeed.”Maka rubbed the bridge of her nose and wanted to scream. She settled for sighing.Sona questioned her with an enquiry of her own.“You’re a dimension-hopping witch?”“Like, real magic, rides on a broomstick, that kind of witch? From a different dimension, too?”Maka nodded. “Yes.” Maka picked up her pen and eyed it silently. “I can enter different dimensions anytime I please.” She tilted her head slightly in thought. “The issue is returning to any dimensions I wish to. It seems random.”Rias stared into empty space, Sona casually cleaned her glasses, Maka shrugged and looked back down to finish writing her reports.“A witch from another dimension is my soulmate. What is my life…”Maka snorted and Sona shook her head.Gabriel’s been around long enough to learn that God himself has…had no hand in the creation of the Soul Bonding every existing being undergoes. He didn’t hate it, He didn’t shun it, He simply found it natural that every being whether good or bad has a Soul Bonded out there somewhere.Every being except for his perfect Angels.They were created to be above humanity, but not to subjugate it. rather, they were created as guides, teachers, like an older sibling to lead its younger.Angels, therefore, were not created by Him with the Soul Bonding in mind. He believed His perfect Angels couldn’t Bond with anything, quietly ignoring the fact that even the Devils could. Quietly ignorant of the other Pantheons much older than His own being susceptible to the Bond.He quietly ignored that Soul Bonds could not be manipulated. They were decided by a higher power than even God Himself, and the receiver would have nothing but their fated Bond’s name to go off of.But there were…ways, methods, to find out where your Bond was.Gabriel looked at Michael with a tilted head and took in how he grimaced. He hated to do this, she knew he did, but he wouldn’t deny her much of anything.She looked back down at the paper with the location and name of her Bonded.“Kuoh Town?”Tiamat opened a single eye almost lazily, her dragon snout lifting into a wide, pointed grin.
“Well, now…haven’t you kept me waiting?”
She rumbled out a laugh as she lifted into the air and flew in the direction of Japan.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She woke up empty, eye wide, hands pawing at anything she could get them on.
She woke up empty, layered in sweat and fear.
She woke up empty, single eye spinning about the room she lay in and seeing only ghosts and shadows of her past.
She woke up empty, and it didn’t get any better from there.
In Maka’s experience, fear can be a powerful motivator for success and genius. It can and has spurred people to push past their limits in efforts to either overcome said fear…or escape it. Whatever causes the fear doesn’t necessarily have to be a person or a place or even an object, but a concept; a fear of flying can lead to adventures on the ground, a fear of swimming can lead to the invention of the boat, the fear of death can lead to someone fleeing from it.Fear is natural and normal, because every living thing has a fear of some sort. Fears can come from anything, too, from benign to well-founded; a fear of sunlight, a fear or water, a fear of spiders and of the dark. Fears come in many different shapes and sizes and, usually, are known to the people they effect.“I wonder…”Maka looks up from the book she’s been reading – The Hobbit – and tilts her head, eye staring blankly into nothingness. Her gaze may be locked onto the wall opposite her bed, but her mind is somewhere else. She shakes her head free of its thoughts and returns to the book in hand.
‘I wonder what fears will show up in this book. It’s kinda curious, seeing how they handle some things but not others. I could write a book repo-’
Her alarm goes off.She sighs in irritation and puts the book down, her impeccable memory remembering the page she left off on. Her lone eye takes in the glowing red numbers flashing on the screen of the alarm clock and her hand slams down with enough force to rattle the bed. The blaring sounds it makes are silenced, sure, but now she needs to buy another one. She could fix it with magic, of course…but that would be lazy. Maka isn’t lazy.“Ugh, should’ve left that silent.” She sat up, the blanket previous wrapped around her falling down and leaving her bare body free to weather the cold of her apartment. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and gave a baleful glare to the clock. “Of course, the one time you actually fucking work is to stop me when I’m reading.” Her lone eye squinted and, after a second, she groaned loudly, barely resisting the urge to drop backwards and slink back under the covers. “Of course, it’s a Monday. Why wouldn’t it be?”She stepped out of the covers and stood up, bare feet touching the carpeted flooring beneath her. With a grunt she lifted herself up from the bed and slunk across, naked as the day she was born, to the wardrobe. Her eye drifts to her left arm, still bandaged, and she wonders; when will the names disappear? How many does she have bound to her? How many will become her responsibility?She reaches the wardrobe and slams the twin doors open unceremoniously, voice grumbling about getting dressed for a school she loathes. Thankfully she doesn’t have to wear that damned Kuoh Girl’s Uniform, because if she did, she has no doubt people would be peaking up her skirt or making rude comments. She’d kill someone on her first day there.Again, thankfully, all she’s going in for is to perform her duties as Student Council Treasurer and to spend some time with her two bonded…devils. And wasn’t that a shock? Two bonded devils that all but confirmed the supernatural were a little more than what it was in her own dimension. Entire pantheons of gods and goddesses existed here, and entire sub-dimensions leached off the main one. It was all remarkably interesting, and she’d love to look into it further, but the headache it promised if she got too involved was…unpleasant to think about.It shouldn’t be seen as being unnecessarily nosy into the supernatural if it was just spending time with her Bonded, right? Hopefully it wouldn’t, and she’d garner very little – if any – attention from the higher ups in the supernatural societies.Maka sighed, ensured her hat was on correctly, and strode over to her apartment’s door. Just besides the door rested two different pairs of footwear – her usual combat boots that reached mid-shin, and a pair of black and white-striped trainers. She hadn’t worn those to school before but with good reason; the boots were sturdier, stronger, and provided better ankle support. She bought those trainers for whenever she decided to take up morning jogging again. She’d let herself get situated with Kuoh a little bit more first before making a decision.She only just finished tying her laces together and making sure she looked the same as always before the door rattled with three bangs that could have passed for knocks if they were about a hundred percent softer.Her eyebrows inched higher on her face and she frowned.“Now who could that be, I wonder…?”She shrugged, opened the door, and somehow regained the all-encompassing wish that she’d just stayed in bed and not moved.“Hey Maka!” Rias Gremory stood before her with her left hand in a cutesy wave and her right hand occupied. Maka didn’t even want to acknowledge the filth Rias had her hand on, but if it continued to exist in the state it was now it would bother her just for being near her.She felt disgusting and like she needed to shower just thinking about it.Maka, despite the situation, still found her mouth curving upwards slightly. Ever so slightly that, even if her mouth wasn’t covered, it would still be hard to notice. While she couldn’t be called an emotive person anymore Maka wasn’t emotionally retarded. She could easily display affection, loathing, happiness, sadness, all of it through her voice and body language.Probably why Rias smiled wider when she responded. “Good morning Rias.” She made a show of raking her eye up and down Rias’ body. “You look radiant, as usual.”A magnificent blush came to Rias’ face and painted her skin as red as her hair. “O-Oh, wow, you-you’re very charming.”Maka shrugged. “I try, sometimes anyway.”Then the thing spoke up, reminding her just why she felt unclean and upset that it was being the little parasite it was and leeching off the moment she and Rias were sharing. In her opinion the thing should have been sectioned off from the rest of society years ago or put down as a ‘cruel to be kind’ method.“Buchou, you never mentioned we were going to see Maka!”Rias shot her an apologetic look and turned slightly to give Issei Hyoudou a smile. Now that she was close enough to see it properly, however, Maka could tell it was fake. It looked like it was practiced in front of the mirror to perfection, and only someone with keen observational skills would notice the difference.“We finished going over basic Peerage knowledge yesterday, didn’t we?” At Issei’s nod with a confused side-eye towards the observing Maka, Rias sighed. “I forgot to tell Maka that you were a new member of the Peerage.”Issei’s face went through some interesting gymnastics before settling on something vaguely approaching understanding. Maka settled in against the door’s frame and sighed to herself. Despite what she thought of him, Issei wore his emotions like a cloak for all to see. He never did have any hidden motives or beliefs; he literally proclaimed day in and day out how he was going to amass a harem, and if she didn’t find his beliefs and wishes so revolting, she may have admired his bravery. More than likely, though, was that she’d hate him even more for his stupidity.“Oh!” He turned his head to Maka and gave her a big, goofy smile that didn’t do much to hide his lecherous thoughts. But it was an earnest smile nevertheless, so she could give him that, at least. “Kiba and Akeno didn’t mention you at all! So what piece are you?”There was silence for a whole three seconds before Maka did her utmost best not to sneer. Rias looked like she wanted to palm her face in exasperation but couldn’t for some reason, so she settled for smiling thinly and looking awkward.“I’m not part of her Peerage, Hyoudou.”To be perfectly fair to him he took the confusing statement in stride, smile still on his face. “Oh, okay then. It’s weird though, I don’t think Sona mentioned getting a new member.”Maka really regretted getting out of bed. “No, I would imagine she did not.” She dismissed the idiot and turned a gaze to Rias. “Didn’t you mention it to him?”Rias sent a gaze that could have put ‘bland’ to shame. “I did.” She sent a pointed look to Issei, Maka following her gaze and seeing just where his eyes were. On Rias’ chest. “He was too busy staring at my breasts to hear a word I said.”Maka almost applauded Rias right there and then, because she’s quite sure the desert would be jealous of just how dry that tone of voice was. Issei, as though to prove the redhead right, had a far-off stare as his eyes were locked firmly onto her breasts.“Rias,” Maka started, eye still locked onto the literally drooling pervert, “what have you done?”Rias had the good graces to look sheepish and embarrassed. “It…was a good idea at the time?”
Sona can see her twitching, sometimes. Voices in her head, shadows that look like people.
Rias can see her shivering, sometimes. Phantom hands on her shoulder, kisses to the cheeks.
Tiamat watches from a hidden spot on a shaded rooftop in human form, blaringly aware of Maka’s mental state and hurting inside that she can’t do anything about it.
Gabriel watches from Heaven, eyes droopy and sad, Michael placing a hand on her shoulder.
A cat in diminutive form watches from the corner of her eye, resisting every urge within her to be the rock Maka so desperately needs.
Maka’s fighting ghosts none of them can see, she’s carrying an entire world’s worth of spectres on her shoulder. She holds a concert of phantoms in her head and the list on her arm seems never-ending.
She carries this like Atlas carries the sky.
It’s all anyone can do to hope she never shrugs.
The best thing about being a pseudo-witch is that Maka never ‘runs out’ of magic. she never suffers exhaustion like so many others do when using magic beyond their limits, because she doesn’t have any limits. Well, none that she knows of, anyway.Her magic lies dormant beneath her, hibernating and sleeping. Then, as soon as she needs it the magic snaps itself awake and answers her call with the obedience one could come to expect from it. it’s not lazy in its dormancy, either. Maka always has it circulating the air around her in a twenty-meter radius, locking down any chances to be snuck up on.Never running out of magic ensures she is fully aware of her surroundings twenty-four-seven, even when asleep. There’s extraordinarily little chance, bordering impossible, that she would ever get caught off guard by anything less than a being approaching god-tier.If she dove deep enough, far enough, into the magic surrounding her and anything to enter its radius she could feel emotions. Just surface level things, like feint imprints of feelings and thoughts rather than clear and concise emotive responses.It’s why she knows this ball of pure golden hair and optimistic shyness was a girl purer than virgin snow. Nothing but kindness, nothing but happiness and faith, and something…else, too. Past that faith, past that happiness. It felt familiar.
“U-Um, hello! Ca-an you tell me where the church is?”
This girl of pure faith and happiness and that something else beneath it all also, apparently, spoke a completely different language.
‘Well, that just won’t do’.
With a quick flex of her magic she skimmed the girl’s brain and pulled the knowledge of the language – Italian, good to know – into her own mind. It took a bit to parse, a second or two too long, but Maka managed.She wouldn’t be stopped by something as pedestrian as a language barrier, after all. She was not one of this world’s pathetic excuses for a magician. Barely any better than charlatans spinning parlour tricks for a living, except these charlatans liked to spin their tricks with actual mana.
“Could you repeat that? I didn’t catch it.”
The girl’s eyes lit up like a veritable torch of hope and giddiness and childlike innocence, and everything in Maka simultaneously screamed and tried to escape, and yearned to be closer. This girl was too pure for this world, honestly.
“You speak Italian!?”
Maka lifted an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Uh…I’m Asia. Asia Argento.”
“Maka Albarn.” And, just because she has zero cares for social norms or etiquette anymore, Maka huffs. “What was it you asked for, again?”
“A-Ah! I, um, need to get to the church but I don’t know where it-”
They were interrupted by a loud growling that sounded as though it came from a tiger. A very, very, very hungry tiger. ‘There’s a joke there, somewhere’, Maka thinks dryly, ‘I think it involved hippos, or something’.Before Maka could comment, perhaps even suggest the young girl follow her to get some food, she was interrupted by the nuisance leeching onto Rias showing up. She hadn’t necessarily ditched them per se, because admitting that would mean she’d willingly left Rias alone with Issei for more than a single second, let alone an hour, and her pride stung at the mere thought.Instead, she saw it as needing space; the pair of them exuded exuberance and surprisingly bounced their behaviour off each other. Rias, who should by all rights be acting like the perfect uptight rich girl was, instead, using Issei as a foil to sneak some innuendo her way – and she knows Rias is doing it on purpose, too, because those damned smirks! – and double entendre sentences that could mean anything.Issei was…Issei. Enough mentioned.So, yes, she needed space. Only for an hour – they did, after all, still have school in about forty minutes. Her eye drifted to Asia, then to Issei, then to Rias.
‘Sorry Asia, but I haven’t had any time with Rias thanks to the leech’.
“Hyoudou, me and Rias have things to do in a minute and we need to hurry off.” She placed a hand on Asia’s shoulder and pushed her forwards slightly; like presenting a prize. Issei, to her infinite shock, didn’t even look remotely perverse when he looked at the blonde girl. “You’re going to take this girl to get some food, and then you’re taking her to the church.”Rias shot her a sharp look at that, but said nothing.“She speaks Italian, but you should be fine. Just talk for her.”“Oh…uh…”
“Um, m-miss Albarn, I thought-”
“Good.” Maka all but shoved Asia into Issei, the two of them clambering over each other to voice dissent or some other nonsense. In the time it took them to orient themselves and not look like complete fools Maka had grabbed Rias’ hand and began walking in the direction of the school.Issei turned a sheepish look to Asia and shot her a smile he hoped would put her at ease.And then her stomach grumbled. Issei laughed at her red face and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go get some food!”A week later Maka was sat in the Occult Research Club’s sitting area, pouring over some rather interesting theories on evolution that some man named ‘Darwin’ posited, when she began to think something truly strange.It was too quiet.Maka liked quiet, loved it even. Adored the silence she found at the end of the day when she went home to her apartment, enjoyed the quiet like it was an old friend. When things were quiet it usually meant nothing was happening and she could relax, take a breather, read a book or go for a walk. When things were quiet, nothing was happening, and therefore with nothing happening the world was well and good and she wasn’t needed.Of course, a reason she was also wary of the quiet was thanks to a saying she’d found in a book once; she cannot recall the name of the book, she’s read too many for that, but she does recall the saying.The calm heralds a storm.There was a storm brewing somewhere. There was this feeling in the air that she could taste on her tongue, this…electricity flowing that she could feel. It tingled along her skin and left gooseflesh, it jolted down her spine and left her feeling nervous, it prickled at her senses and made her aware of it.The door to the ORC opened and crashed against the wall to such an effect that Maka was shocked it didn’t begin crumbling. Akeno, just across from her and looking relaxed and calm, was instantly on alert. The air thrummed with a different kind of energy now, a different type of electricity.Maka herself had her palms open and her magic circulating beneath her skin, ready to launch whatever was deemed at the intruder.Akeno caught sight of the person at the door first. “Issei?”The pervert ignored Akeno’s confused questioning and looked directly at Maka – she still hadn’t settled her magic. She could acknowledge that he looked like shit all she wanted, but looking at Issei and seeing a sure, young man instead of a perverted boy was still a shock to her system. She shook it off.“Issei.”“M-Maka! They have Asia!”Asia. Asia was a kind girl with too much innocence and naivete. She was kindness incarnate, the picture definition of the word. And so, so heartbreakingly forgiving. Maka had learned of her past and what happened, learned how she was excommunicated and sent away, learned that Asia’s entire life had fallen apart because she was too kind – and she’d heard Asia denounce revenge or anger, heard her speak of friendship and forgiveness and of moving on.Asia was this little light in Maka’s dark world that hurt to see dim even for a second, and while they may not be Bonded Maka was damn certain Asia was made to be kind and innocent forever. Maka would treat her like she’d treat any of her Bonded in trouble.Maka hardened her knuckles until both occupants could hear the steady creaking of her joints.“Who and where?”“Fallen Angels in the old church!”“Akeno, let Rias and Sona know where we’ll be.”Maka sprinted through the door, a harried Issei on her tail and Akeno fluttering about casting spells to let Rias and Sona know what was going on.The calm before the storm indeed.Maka was a mystery to Issei.He had no idea who she was or where she came from. He had no clue of what she really looked like beneath those heavy robes or the bandages covering half her face. He knew next to nothing about her life at school or if she had any friends he’s never heard about, or whether she played sports or watched movies, or what hobbies she has and what music she listens to. She doesn’t gossip, she doesn’t ogle some of the ‘princely’ boys at Kuoh – looking at you, Kiba! – and she doesn’t sit with anyone during breaks and lunch period.Asking about her has gotten him mixed reactions, he’ll admit – from ‘oh, her? Yeah, I forget she comes here sometimes’ to ‘what? So you can perv on another girl?’ – and sometimes Issei wants to give it all up. But he can’t. he’s convinced, somehow, that Maka is more than she lets on to be; aside from dressing up in heavy robes and looking like she’d rather butcher him and his family than know him on any personal level, of course. She’s not just a weird almost-adult with a strangely late case of chuunibyou.No, Issei is convinced Maka doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t care for others’ feelings if it doesn’t benefit her, she doesn’t go out of her way to help anyone or anything if she can’t wring an advantage out of it, and she doesn’t do anything for anyone if it isn’t personal to her.She’s uncaring, unfeeling and doesn’t want to be around others, and damn if Issei’s more generous and chivalric side – buried beneath veritable mountains of porn obsession and breast fetishes – isn’t telling him that all she needs is a friend. He’s convinced she’s just lonely, sad, and weak but she’s putting up a front.Issei, when they arrived at the church, didn’t even get to ask her to stand behind him or some other nonsense before she backhanded the church’s heavy wooden doors off their hinges. The doors, three times the size of a normal human and twice as wide, flew a good thirty meters before crashing into a group of people. He was worried, initially, until he saw the lightsaber knockoffs they were holding.Then he just sorta…stood there, gaping like an out-of-water fish as Maka dispensed her wrath.The first group of people to approach her, swords swinging – and yes, not one man but a whole bunch of them, about five or six if Issei’s brain was functioning well enough to do mathematics of such a low calibre – were instantaneously flash-cooked by what could only be described as a miniature sun in the palm of Maka’s bandaged hand. All six of the men were dead before they even hit the ground, skin charred to a black, crispy shade and the overwhelming stench of burnt flesh causing his nose to crinkle. Issei was no stranger to blood, and he’s even seen videos of eviscerated bodies from those ‘true crime’ shows, but this? Seeing it in real life? He had to fight his instincts to vomit and held them back with the recurring thought of ‘better them than me’.Maka didn’t even spare their charred corpses a thought, stepping over them – and into one of their skulls in a display of dominance to the now-cowering exorcists. Her single-eyed gaze swept through the room, the pentagram surrounding her red pinprick iris glowing faintly.“Hmph, not worth using my weapon on you lot.”Issei watched as Maka flexed her right hand, lifted it, and brought it down as though ordering the execution of a man in a guillotine. The results ended up the same, anyway. Visible shadows, pointed like arrows, stretched from her own and numbered well into the fifties before Issei could even blink. Each one looked as though the tip of the arrow itself could be used to slice through steel, let alone the body of an exorcist.Maka didn’t care for what other applications or uses her sharpened vectors might have had. They could have held the ability to eternal life and she would have used them as nothing more than glorified guillotines.She made a show of it, demoralisation of the enemy forces via sowing hopelessness and bewilderment. Outclassing them with sheer brute force where tactics wouldn’t have worked.The first enemy died in the blink of an eye, a vector of hers slithering across the ground faster than most people would have been able to see – it was so slow to Maka – and the point just-as-fast finding itself suspended right in front of the man’s face. Forward momentum carried the vector, well, forward; through his face and severing the top part of his skull from the lower part. Blood and fragments of bone flew everywhere, brain matter flowing suit as the body slumped to the ground lifelessly.It was over for one man in an instant, and the only bad thing Maka could think about was how she wouldn’t be able to kill all of these men in an instant as well. Maybe close to an instant, maybe even faster than close to an instant, but never so fast that they wouldn’t be able to see their deaths coming. She wouldn’t be able to make it painless, either. The first one was a fluke, a bug in the system. She wouldn’t be able to kill these men faster than they could feel it; she could boil their blood, freeze their bones, melt them from the inside out, but give a painless death?Maka did not delight in suffering – anymore, now that she was free of her madness for the time being – and she did not enjoy one-sided slaughters. The first few were examples, the latest was a testimony to her example. She hoped the rest of them got the hint and that her remaining vectors could be put away. She hoped she could look Asia in the eye when she saves her – not if, but when – and say she’s trying to be a better person.
‘Please just surrender. Give up, run away, just move out of the way even.’
DWMA students started screaming in her ears, two hands on her shoulders.She almost screamed in frustration when she saw a large amount of them square their shoulders and activate their light swords. Not all fifty of them, of course, because some of them began whimpering and running past her and Issei to escape the building.She let them.
‘Don’t make me kill you.’
The men that stayed squared their shoulders more and brought their light swords out in an attempt at intimidation. Their shaking hands and sweating foreheads made them look pathetic and they knew it, but they did not run.Why didn’t they just run?
‘Flee. Please. I will kill you all.’
They roared to moralise themselves, a single unit of thirty or so moving as one cohesive individual. Their roars grew in pitch and, for a second, it seemed as though their weapons grew brighter. Faith didn’t necessarily power an exorcist’s weapons, nothing but captured Light did, really, but Faith could carry through and sharpen the weapon’s intent.
‘…So that’s your choice…’
Issei watched with concern and a burgeoning need to hop in and help Maka fend off the enemies charging her. His eyes flicked to her, instead; taking in the way she tensed her shoulders, visible even beneath the heavy cloak she wore. Taking in the way she dropped her head and seemed solemn. Taking in the way she released a shuddering exhale.Then she straightened as though nothing had happened, and Issei’s eyes fell to her shadow arrows.It was over in an instant.All thirty hovered in the air impaled on numerous vectors, each one a rictus of pain and agony. Maka, unseen, grimaced in self-deprecation.Silently she moved on, down the passageway that had opened up behind the now-dead exorcists. She took the stairs two at a time and didn’t even look back at Issei, afraid of the fear she could feel. Afraid of the little things in her head nibbling away.Afraid of the madness she knew was coming back.She paid no heed to the three Fallen Angels that zipped past her to deal with the encroaching devils, or the screams she could hear from Asia up ahead.She paid no heed to Rias and her Peerage arriving five minutes later to find Asia slumped on a crucifix and Maka burying her hand in Raynare’s chest.She paid no heed to the orchestra in her head playing Clare De Lune.she stood there for a while, just staring ahead at nothing, hands coated in thick blood and a barely recognisable Fallen Angel dead at her feet. She knew Rias was walking towards her, heard it, but she shook her head and waved a hand wordlessly to Asia.Rias stuttered in her steps, nodded, and went over with Issei and Akeno to help her down.Koneko stood next to her the entire time.
Maka walked home, paying much more attention to the whispers of DWMA students than she usually would, and doing her best to assure herself she was still a person.
She tried so hard to reassure herself she was still Maka Albarn and not some monster wearing her skin.
She walked into school the next morning with deep bags beneath her visible eye and bloodied knuckles.
She failed in reassuring herself.
She’d taken a week to get her head screwed on properly after the sheer obliteration she’d taken part in at the church. A whole week of agonising over her sins and listening to the whistles of long dead people.In a week, things had escalated, and shifts occurred, and it took everything for her to fight the headaches as they came.Firstly, Asia had been turned into a Devil. That announcement alone hadn’t shocked her per se – she’d basically pointed Rias to her, after all – but the fact that the girl didn’t seem any less happy or innocent than she did still human did spark something in her. Something that was better left buried beneath layers of apathy and irritation.She ignored that scenario with an upturned nose and a friendly – for her, anyway – nod to Asia.The second thing that brought her no small number of headaches was Rias; or, more importantly, Rias and her ‘situation’. Now, she can’t say for sure what exactly the upper echelon of devils was thinking when they decided to write up a marriage contract like they were back in the damn middle-ages. In fact, Maka hasn’t got a clue what Rias’ own brother was thinking when he decided to essentially sell his sister off. Was it for the betterment of their family? Was it for a just and noble cause?Maka had this niggling feeling it was something far simpler. Something far stupider, too; something likely to hurt every precious brain cell she contained within her highly intelligent cranium and reduce her trillions of IQ points to a single digit in no time. Needless to say that Maka really didn’t want to know.She shook her head slightly and sent a curious look to the gathered people in the room; well, gathered devils.She’d been on a rather nice walk, today – the sun was high but it wasn’t hot, there always seemed to be a pleasant breeze wherever she went that tickled what little exposed skin she has available, and the only clouds above were scarce and white. There were very few people out and about to bother her, what with it being a school day, but that just meant she could walk around town with almost total silence following her footsteps.She’d been sat in a park when this maid woman proclaiming herself as Grayfia, maid of the Gremory family, had told her of an upcoming meeting that – apparently as Rias’ Bonded – she was obligated to attend.So, here she is, slumped against the doorway that led into the ORC, eye curiously drifting over the gathered devils and stopping on the newcomer more than a few times.She didn’t get to ask what was going on before Issei practically bulldozed into her, and dragged her over to where Rias and Akeno were.Okay, yeah…no. she wrenched her hands from his with surprising strength and continued the walk herself, Rias shuffling in her single person seat just enough for Maka’s slight frame to slide in next to her. Her lone eye locked with Issei’s pair.“Hyoudou,” it was a literal hiss, her words mixing with her magic to sound guttural and very unfriendly, “never touch me again.”She turned away from him – in the same move cuddling up to a very pleased Rias – and looked at the sole individual she hadn’t been given the name of.Grayfia, as is her prerogative as mediator for whatever the fuck this meeting is supposed to be, introduced the male. “This is lord Raiser Phenex, Heir to the Phenex Clan and betrothed of lady Rias Gremory, Heiress to the Gremory Clan.”Raiser’s face shifted from this blandness he had to a self-assured smirk, and his eyes locked on to her single eye. Despite looking at her, however, Maka wasn’t the one being spoken to. “Rias, remind me why we’re still arguing about this?” Rias next to her went rigid, and the pleased smile she’d had melted to a blank upset. “This marriage is for the betterment of both our Clans, and-”“Sorry to interrupt,” Maka interjected with this sound to her voice that indicated she wasn’t really all that sorry, “but as someone new to the supernatural of this world, could you explain how it’s for the betterment of both sides?”Grayfia’s eyes widened momentarily, but before she could speak Raiser cut in.“And just who are you to speak to me like that?”Maka, ignoring the slight rise in temperature, grinned beneath the shadow of her hat. It made for an impressively terrifying look. “Why, I am Maka, of course.”Raiser, in a display of true disgustingness, picked at his ear with a blank look on his face. “Should I know that name?”Maka stayed silent, Grayfia using this as a means to jump in. “My apologise, lord Raiser. I forgot to introduce her.” Grayfia straightened and waved a hand in Maka’s general direction. “This is lady Maka, Bonded of lady Rias Gremory.”At the stunned silence coming from both Raiser and Issei, Maka grinned wider. Then she slumped, a tiredness overtaking her that she hadn’t felt in years. Maka turned to look at Akeno. “Akeno, could I trouble you for some tea, please?”Akeno nodded, smiled thinly, and left the room to prepare some tea.“So, Raiser, could you explain the benefits of this betrothal that both sides gain?”Raiser, renewed with confidence – and with the secret hope he may be able to win over the Bonded of his betrothed – began a long and rehearsed story of how this ‘alliance’ benefitted the underworld.Maka said nothing, listening attentively and assured of something.What it was, exactly, Rias couldn’t tell.When Raiser left after Rias challenged him to a Rating Game in return for her freedom Maka took the tea Akeno just returned with. Her lone eye followed the steam, Maka herself ignorant to the gazes she was being sent – or, well, not ignorant, just uncaring.Grayfia, in a fit of uncharacteristic curiosity, approached Maka. “Lady Maka, might I ask what you intend to do?”Rias tilted her head but Issei was the one to ask the question on all their minds. Akeno’s placid smile gave way to something deeper, something more sinister that sent shivers down Kiba and Issei’s backs.“What do you mean? Isn’t this Rias’ Rating Game?”Grayfia tilted her head in acknowledgement of that fact. “Indeed, and usually an outsider of Lady Rias’ Peerage wouldn’t be involved. Seeing as how she’s Lady Rias’ Bonded however…”Akeno’s grin was positively frightening.Maka sipped the tea, having taken her gigantic witch’s hat off – exposing her pale blonde hair in the process – and eyed the maid with some sort of assessing gaze. “My, aren’t you observant?” She put the cup down and cleared her throat. “My plan is simple, so simple in fact even Hyoudou could do it.”“Hey!”Rias ignored her outspoken Pawn’s irritation at being demeaned and looked clearly at her Bonded. “So, what is it?”Maka glanced at Rias before locking eyes with Grayfia.“Could you tell me your full name, please?”Grayfia blinked and did so. “Grayfia Lucifuge.”“Allow me to properly introduce myself, Grayfia Lucifuge.” Maka tipped her head in a bow that could have been mocking. “I am Maka Albarn.” Maka rolled up the bandage on her left arm with a smile one would not be hesitant to claim belonged on some type of shark. “As Rias’ Bonded I am allowed, I believe, to aid her in this Rating Game.”“Indeed.”“Does that also mean I can bring in others I’m Bonded to and, therefore, their Peerages?”“I would say so, yes.”Maka tapped her once-bandaged arm.Grayfia tilted her head, eyes wide in an expression of disbelief. On Maka’s arm was a list of names so long and incomprehensible that her trained eyes caught upwards of fifty before Maka expedited the process and pointed her to a particular name.“I do believe my plan is rather simple.”Her finger lingered on the name that Grayfia would eventually report to her husband, of whom would become hysterical and laugh so hard he’d fall from his chair.“I will crush Raiser Phenex.”The entire room was silent, all eyes still locked on to the name standing out in crimson words against Maka’s pale skin.It halted its flight and set down just outside the school, and only just erected a silencing barrier before erupting into deep laughter.“Amazing! Simply astounding!” It almost wheezed. “So-so that’s your game!?”It continued to laugh for minutes on end, tears pooling at the edges of slitted eyes.
“Well, I cannot keep her waiting longer than I already have, now can I?”
Gabriel smiled wanly to herself when the feeling of being in a school brimming with Devils finally overtook her. It wasn’t unpleasant but it wasn’t pleasant, either. Like a sip of water that felt too heavy, or a bite of delicious food that doesn’t taste as delicious as she remembered it being.She looked at the door, aware of the reptilian eyes on her back, and turned away from it to the newcomer.“Tiamat.”“Gabriel.” The dragon in human form tilted her head and smiled a smile of sharp teeth and little else. “Is she yours as well?”Gabriel nodded. “Indeed, she is.” A small smile came to her angelic features. “I can’t wait to meet her…”Tiamat withheld a laugh behind a snigger. “Our Bonded must be something else to have both of us, of all beings. Shall we enter, then?”Without a word Gabriel opened the door.