Testing grounds. Idea dumps. Capricious little spot where writing occurs. Indiscreet nest of hedonism and self-indulgence, all of it literature-related.
Nothing important, just a short exercise to get a feel of a character I’ll be using for a tabletop game. Keep this in mind when reading this, as it is less a nuanced story and more “the concept put into practice”. As such, not all information is readily available, and won’t be, as her development will happen through the game proper. It’s a short story about one Lisbeth Elstad, who can be best described as a “walking pharmacy”.
---------
“One... Two of them... No peepers from inside the building itself. Regular windows, not polarized, likely bulletproofed and magic-warded, no cameras that I can see, and the surrounding buildings don’t seem to be theirs, but...”
Through the binoculars, a pair of silver eyes scouted through a remote location by the hole in a wall of an abandoned building. This wasn’t the middle of nowhere, this wasn’t some backwater hole, it was merely a less bustling part of Southern California, so the well oiled cogs of society were alive and running just four stories underneath. A werewolf in a suit, running late for his job interview, a harpy rollerblading, carefully using her wings to balance herself while her human friend, wearing a matching neon green sweatshirt, instructed her how to better use her torso to handle the shifts in weight efficiently, smiles on their faces. This wasn’t your old village or the dumps, this was the city, with all the eyes and ears that come with the package. It wasn’t an option for Lisbeth Elstad to draw attention to herself while trying to get into that building by the squalid dead end street. She was unaffiliated with any sort of law enforcement or any sort of organization whatsoever. This was a one woman war running on bread crumbs that were ambiguous and obscure at best. It was less a wild goose chase as much as it was trying to find a tsuchinoko sleeping on a bed of four leaf clovers, neatly across the pot of gold by the rainbow’s end. That was more than enough for her to deem it worth a shot.
“...This stinks. That rat lied to me through his teeth! This info has to be wrong, this place is wide open like the legs of a cheap prostitute, and no matter how much I look at it, this can’t be affiliated with them at all, not with this Olympic gold medal level of incompetence. They were pros, these guys are peanuts at best... And yet...” And yet, she had nothing else to go on. Every clue, every tip, every trail she had followed so far had gone cold. This was all she had left. If she couldn’t find anything here, then that was that, it was back to square one again. Frustrated and resolute in equal parts, the girl put away her binoculars in one of her three satchels and descended the abandoned apartment complex’s stairs. The plan was simple: Get in that building, confirm if they are affiliated with them, and take any information of value by reason or by force.
Lisbeth made her way to the dead end by using the back alleys to call less attention to herself, what with the two-headed wolf pelt poised over her shoulders and all. She romanced the idea of saying, “Oh, this? Nah, don’t worry! I’m just a model on my way to the Rafael Laurel Feral Collection! Please come to cheer on me!” if she were to catch the eye of someone, but quickly discarded this clever ploy, preferring to stick to the shadows. When she was finally in position, she once again confirmed that it was merely two sentries by the door of the so called “Clement & Sibbens Law Firm”, no doubt a front for more morally bankrupt endeavors. They were dressed with security guard outfits, sure, but it was clear simply by looking at them that they were two-bit thugs at best. After a few seconds of pondering, the girl nodded to herself and seemed to have come up with an optimal plan for infiltration. Producing a small brown glass jar and a bottle of water, Lisbeth first poured some water in the jar, and then she extended her palm over the jar. From a hole in the center of Lisbeth’s hand, a pungent dark yellow substance oozed into the jar. “First, we dilute the sulfur mustard a bit...” she muttered to herself, as she was wont to do when working with chemicals, “we stir it a bit to let them coalesce, and after some hydrogen and oxygen...” -- as she murmured, the chemicals she mentioned were injected into the brew through the hole in her hands -- “...we have a very weak variant of mustard gas, high in oxygen, diluted, and without much kick.” As her substance was complete, the girl then dipped her finger lightly into the brew and gently rubbed it against her eyelids, blinking a couple of times. Soon enough, her eyes were red, little tears trailing down her cheeks. Dragging her hand across the ground at her feet, Lisbeth then rubbed her dirty hands across her pale face and, as a finishing touch, with a pristine scalpel produced from her breast pocket, she gave herself a little cut across the cheek. Step one was almost complete! The girl removed her black, pointy hat and her elegant black dress jacket, placing it neatly on the floor on top of her two-headed wolf pelt. The result: A fragile looking girl in a white shirt and black suit pants, eyes red from crying and her face dirty and bloody. She looked like the perfect victim.
---------
“...So, how much longer ‘till we change shifts?”
“We’ve literally been here around an hour, man.”
“This sucks, dude, bossman could at least let us bring our earbuds so we can jam out and no die of boredom, there’s nothing fun about standing here for five hours!”
“It used to be seven before we got more whiny kids like you, just tough it out and stop bit--”
“Ahhhh! Someone, please help me!”
The guards’ casual dialogue came to an abrupt end when the shrill screams of a girl flooded their ears. In this comparatively isolated dead end, two blocks away from the bustle and hustle of daily life, this was certainly not common. Their necks craned to meet the source of the voice and, sure as rain, they found it: A girl almost tripping on her own feet, desperately running, heavily panting, eyes red and face stained with tears, blood, and dirt. She looked like a waiter or receptionist, by the looks of her clothes, and was clearly a civilian.
“Huh? Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright, ma’am?” the more experienced guard asked, approaching her and trying to see what was it she was running from. “Stop yelling, it’s fine!”
“Th-the Veiled...! That Veiled, with big claws and fangs...! He tried to take my blood in broad daylight! Please, please, he’s coming! I escaped by sheer luck, but he’s coming, oh, lord! Please help me!” the woman hysterically explained, clinging to the guard’s broad chest like a terrified rat.
The guard immediately stood in front of her, facing the direction she came running from, hand already on his pistol. “A Vampire!? In broad daylight!? Tsk, cocky bastard... Must be a real tough one to not mind the sun! These damn Veiled, sub-human pieces of trash, you take your eyes away from them for a moment and they immediately turn on you! Hey, kid! Come here, back me up, this one’s going to be tough!”
“Wh-what’s it got to do with us, man?!” the terrified underling shot back, clearly no having any of this bee’s wax. “Let her run, his beef is with her, not with us!”
“Idiot, I couldn’t care less about the girl! If he’s hungry enough to hunt in daylight, he may just be desperate and may go after anyone! If he goes inside the office, we’re done for!” chastised the senior. The less experienced guard simply resigned himself, nodding and standing side by side with his colleague.
“S-say, mister guard...”
“Don’t talk to us, we have to focus on that damn Veiled! We drop our guard for a second he’ll-- Urk...!”
“...How come you are just security guards, and yet pack guns? Hmm, mister guard? Why, oh why, would that be?”
The older guard plummeted and began convulsing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, his neck pulsating with veins, scraping at the ground helplessly with curled fingers. Before the rookie guard could react, the girl had already begun dashing towards him. He took a wild swing, a panicked reaction more than anything, which she gracefully ducked under, grabbing him by the shoulders with both hands and hitting him in the crotch with an ascending knee, putting all of her weight behind the attack while pulling herself towards him by the shoulder to maximize this ball-busting critical to infernal heights.
“Grrkk!”
As the guard crumpled, submerged in pain and his eyes spinning, he felt a hand grasp his head from behind, smashing his face against the asphalt.
“Do not make any noise or I’ll pierce your jugular,” Lisbeth explain with a calm, neutral voice. “If you scream, talk, or move in any way that I don’t particularly like...”
Lisbeth deliberately placed her free hand in his field of vision. The pale hand with long fingers, like a piano player’s, had a distinctive feature: A hole in the palm. Then, suddenly, a stake-like spike protruded from the hole, long, thick, and deadly, a single droplet of an indigo substance dripping from the tip.
“You see this? This is my ‘syringe’. You know how it hurts like hell when a bee stings? Well, that’s because of the venom more than the sting itself. You see that dear chum over there undergoing cardiac arrest? He got nice and intimate with the venom dripping from this here syringe, and for the low, low price of your noncooperation, you can join him right this moment, so you’ll tell me and give me what I want, or you can have a hot date with Saint Peter and tell him all about how it felt like when your bodily functions all shot down one by one as your body burned from within. Alternatively, nod thrice if you wish to cooperate and walk away from this one instead.”
And thrice he nodded.
“I want to enter this building. Nod once if I can walk in, nod twice if I need a key or any sort of verification.” The guard nodded once, but Lisbeth simply sighed, not particularly convinced. “I have some nice, nice sodium thiopental on me. That’s nerdspeak for ‘truth serum’, and overdosing you on that will not only get me what I want, but also leave you with lasting neurological damage, so please, be a darling and just dispense the... Uh, spill the... Aw, shucks, what was the term... The beans! Yes, please, deposit all of the beans here, if you would”.
After some silence, he nodded twice and whispered, “the keys are on my left vest pocket. Slow day, so no one is in aside from us, a couple of more guys, and Mister Clement,” his voice cracking once or twice during the sentence.
“And how’s the building’s layout? Any basements? Three paltry floors can’t be all this delightful office has to offer, hm?”
“...Who are y--”
The guard immediately felt pressure from Lisbeth’s spike threatening to bore a hole in his jugular. “Hey, now, love, don’t answer a question with a question. Where I come from, that gets you injected with neurotoxins.”
“...It’s got a large basement, two floors, you can only get there via the elevator. This is really all I know, I just started working here two weeks ago, please, you don’t have to do this!”
“Hmmmm... Ok! I’ll be taking this key, then, now... On your feet. Slowly.”
Taking the key, Lisbeth helped the terrified man stand up, and patted him one the shoulder. “See? I told you you could walk away!” But before the guard could take one step forward, Lisbeth’s wicked thorn found purchase on his left arm.
“Wh-what!? I thought we ha--” but her hand immediately covered his mouth.
“I said you could walk away, but I didn’t specify you’d do so alive. Now, be a darling and make a nice show for me, hm?”
The guard cursed her, or at least attempted to do so, but whatever words he intended to use were lost in his pained screaming as he burst into flames almost instantly. What Lisbeth injected him with wasn’t poison or a neurotoxin, it was something far more sinister, one of the many shames of human ingenuity, a reminder that somewhere out there, a scientist once thought “what if I could make the world burn?”. Napalm, injected directly to the bloodstream. “Why in the world did you think I told you to nod in order to communicate? The moment you spoke, you spoiled our agreement, Not talking was literally the second instruction I gave you,” the blonde muttered to herself.
With deft agility, Lisbeth left the smoldering man to scream and run at his leisure as she hid back in her back alley, the slow chemical painfully, slowly burning him away like the loudest candle in the fair, prompting a group of seven men burst out of the building to pursue the burning sod not long after. As they futilely tried to put out the napalm flames, stubborn as a mule as they are, Lisbeth simply dusted off her coat and her pelt, calmly wearing them again. A black jacket with elegant gold details with matching black pants and boots, a pelt of a two-headed wolf providing a feral contrast to her elegant attire, and a pointed hat, right out of the witches’ tales. From her second satchel, Lisbeth produced her last item: A blank, featureless mask, which covered her face while still letting locks of her cream blonde hair spill in front of it.
As the men were distracted by their doomed companions, one weakly twitching as the poison devoured him from within, the other flailing wildly and making a commotion, Lisbeth calmly walked inside the building unnoticed.
“If they are speaking like that oh so openly about the Veiled, then this might be worth checking out,” a somewhat annoyed Lisbeth remarked, indulging in her habit of conversing with herself.
---------
Carpeted floor, old metal cabinets, and steel chairs neatly lined up in front of a TV comprised the interior of the supposed Law Firm. Sure enough, this looked like an accommodating waiting room for consultations and other such licitations. The illusion would hold up pretty well if it weren’t for the rather sizable amount of armed men that stormed out of the building mere moments ago. As fun and wholesome as a man undergoing cardiac arrest next to someone burning to death can be, these are merely distractions and won’t last forever. Understanding this, Lisbeth took a good look at the building’s frame, lightly but quickly knocking on the walls to see which walls were hollow and which were firm, giving knowing nods after each tock tock and each knock knock. With a good idea of which walls were essential and which weren’t in the thankfully simply designed structure, Lisbeth took a deep breath and concentrated.
“...I say, I loathe doing this every time, but you gotta do what you gotta do... Here goes nothing. Can’t afford to skim it with all these guys packing heat” the masked girl murmured as she chatted with herself, halfheartedly laughing. One or two unsuspecting fools were one thing, but seven angry, buff men? Lisbeth shall take a rain check on that, thank you very much.
The veins in the blonde’s arm bulged as her arm was suddenly grew red and swollen, then purple and grotesque, and finally almost black and fully sickening. With some clearly pained grunting, the arm’s mass finally began to subside, and as it did, a clay-like, brick red substance came out of the hole in her hand. “Hurts like hell every damn time...”, she lamented as she spread some of it on the door frame, on the crevasse behind the reception desk, under the rug, and in a couple of other places. On each of the little mounds of clay, she stuck a little pin. Without looking back and while clutching her pained arm, Lisbeth made her way to the elevator. It was an old model with rusty binder-style curtain doors. A little plaque to the left of it read “Authorized Personnel Only”. She simply snorted and pressed the unlabeled button on the bottom of the panel, descending where, hopefully, the truth awaited her.
---------
The stagnant air of the dark basement wasn’t the worst aspect of it at all. In stark contrast with the pristine, welcoming presentation of the first floor, this basement was putrid. Crude wooden tables, assorted bottles of alcohol, a dart board (with no bullseyes on it, tragically enough), a table of billiards, and plenty of nasty looking utensils right out of a cheap gore B-movie. For someone with a mask, Lisbeth’s expression sure screamed “disgusted and furious”. It seems no one was home, at least not on this floor, but the same couldn’t be said about the first floor anymore. Footsteps, and many of them, tumbled and stomped above Lisbeth’s head. Calmly producing a small controller-like device, Lisbeth pressed the red button with an “>:)” emblazoned on it, a symphony of explosions and screams filling the air with the harmony of a trap well set and executed. Before she could celebrate, however, an unexpected scream came from the end of the hallway, something between terror and surprise in a beautiful if somewhat grating high pitch.
“Who’s there!? Please, by all means, make a sudden move so I can melt your face off with a clear conscience!” Lisbeth yelled at the source of the scream, receiving no answer. Protruding spikes from both of her hands, she cautiously advanced towards what looked like a cell at the end of a poorly lit hallway. Inside the cell, a little girl with long, thin horns huddled to the corner, terrified, tears streaming down her face. She was very thing and no doubt ill, if her labored breathing was any indication.
“P-please... Don’t... Don’t...”
Lisbeth came to a full stop upon realizing just whose face she threatened to melt off. “Ah, no, wait, hold on, I’m not one of th--”
“Stay away! What did I do to you people!? Why are you doing this to me! I want my mom! Stay away!” snapped the child, throwing a dog’s bowl that seemed to be from where she’d been eating the last few days. The sight couldn’t be more lamentable.
“Jeez... Yeah, of course you’d be wary if I look like this...” Lisbeth muttered to herself, for once cursing her choice of attire. Before she could sulk anymore, however, a light bulb shone above her head. “Hey, hey, I’m not going to get close, I just wanna show you something nice. Look at my hand.”
“...?” the child’s curiosity was roused, and she intently looked at the black-clad girl’s hand. The distinctive glove she wore lacked fabric where the palm is, kind of like fingerless gloves except an aggregate of one hundred times more pretentious. What caught her eye, however, wasn’t the strange glove, it was the hole in the center of her palm. Before she could craft a question about it in her tiny little mouth, however, a gentle jet of cold air blew from it, and soon after, beautiful snowflakes filled the cell. “W-wow! Snow...!? I’ve never seen snow! It’s so pretty! How are you doing that?”
As she produced more snowflakes with one hand, Lisbeth slowly removed her mask with the other, a friendly smile meeting the child’s cheerful expression. “By gently blowing a controlled amount of liquid nitrogen, I can freeze the natural humidity in the air, that is, the small amount of water in the air just enough to cause it to crystallize! In this way, if I manage the output in relation to room temperature and, if applicable, altitude, I can--” but she quickly shut her own mouth when she noticed the horribly perplexed expression on the poor child’s face.
“...U-uhh...?”
“...Magic, my dear friend!”
“Wow!”
Sometimes, less is more.
“My name is Lisbeth. Lisbeth Elstad,” she kindly explained as she approached slowly, until she finally was next to the child. “I have a hypothesis that your name must be really cute, given how cute you are, so would you mind sharing it with me? For science, of course.”
“I’m Marcela Toreca!” the child answered, no longer afraid of Lisbeth.
“Hypothesis confirmed! What a nice name, you little sweetling... Say, I need to ask you a few things, but if it becomes too hard to answer, don’t sweat it, ok? I’m here to more or less dismantle the place. How... How long have you been here? Why are you here?”
Marcela’s face immediately went grim again, tears welling in her eyes. “They... They kidnapped me. Snatched me when I was on the park with mama and papa, I saw them beat them up, yelled at them over something, and I’ve been here for four days. They... They were going to sell me tomorrow, and they, they sometimes would take the branding iron there and--”
Whatever came after that, Lisbeth didn’t hear as she hugged the child close. “Tug on the pelt. Grab it with all of your might and tug on it. Try to rip it if you want. Don’t say anything else, just rip and tug.” And so the child did, gripping the wolf pelt with all the strength her little hands could muster, pulling at it. It wasn’t necessary to make her relive those events anymore. “Marcela, your skin is pretty pale, and I noticed you have trouble breathing. I’m kind of in a hurry here, so I can’t really check you thoroughly, but I have a shot that’ll help you.”
The child shook with a single, potent goosebump. “U-uh, no, I’m fi--”
“You aren’t afraid of shots, aren’t you, darling? My, my, and here I thought I’d show you some more snow tricks, but alas, they are only for brave kids!”
“Uuuh... F-fine! I ain’t afraid of no needle!”
Lisbeth couldn’t help but smile. Producing a long, thin syringe filled with a green liquid from one of her satchels, Lisbeth gently held Marcela’s wrist and extended her arm. “Ok now! Close your eyes and don’t open them no matter what, ok? It won’t take more than a minute.”
With a nod and a smile, Marcela closed her eyes. Lisbeth discreetly put away the syringe and protruded one of her hand spikes, gently pressing it against a vein on Marcela’s arm and pumping her full of vitamins, nutrients, and mild energizers. Then, after retracting her spike, Lisbeth produced a different, empty syringe from her satchel. “Ok, open your eyes now.”
“...Did I do good?”
“Now, don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ve met plenty of kickass kids in my time, but you? Easily the kickassest... Kickassetest? You did great.”
The little horned girl couldn’t help but smile. “Miss... Are you going to get me out of here?”
Lisbeth gestured a cross with both of her index fingers. “Not if you call me ‘Miss’ again! Lis is fine, I’m not much older than you. I’ll get you out of here, but first, I need to finish my own business here. Once I’m done with that, I assure you that no one will hound you again, and I’ll take you back outside. So be good like hydrogen and stay put here until I’m done, ok?”
“No! I-I’ll help you, Lis! Th-that guy has a weird trick! He shot my dad from the front, but the bullet hit him in the back somehow! If you go in alone, he’ll kill you! I’m strong, I’ll help you!” the resolute little Marcela declared, putting up her little dukes.
“...Ah, how am I gonna say no to this? Ok, but on one condition: I have a special potion that will help you become stronger. You can come with me only, and only if you take it. Howzat sound?”
“Fine! Even if it’s another i-injection,” -- Marcela’s voice cracked -- “I’ll accompany Lis! Give it to me!”
“Hmhm! Brave little pancake, ain’tcha? Ok, here’s the potion.”
With a sudden yet gentle and careful motion, Lis’ palm cradled the petite girl’s face, a mildly sweet and ether-like odor blanketing Marcela’s nostrils. The tiny girl quickly collapsed, Lisbeth catching her and settling her down gently. “A jet of chloroform always gets the job done, doesn’t it? Sleep tight, Marcela.”
Wearing her mask once anew, the resolute girl made her way to the staircase at the end of the poorly lit corridor, making sure her footsteps would be silent, the unexplored second basement floor beckoning every violent urge in her already trembling body. Tilting her mask sideways just slightly, Lisbeth nibbled on the tip of one of her spikes, “snacking” on liquid diazepam to calm herself. “Let’s have some words, you and I, Mister Clement...”
---------
The second floor basement was vastly different. It wasn’t luxurious by any definition, but it didn’t feel cramped, had no cells, and felt more like a little gathering spot with touches of mancave, given the plenty bookcases, billiards table, bar, and other such “classy” entertainment staples, all of which would have had an endearing air were it not for the whole Veiled trafficking. If anything, it’s correct to say this place wasn’t luxurious yet, as it was clear it was slowly but surely being furnished little by little to resemble some sort of mafia underground hangout, the kind wacky and villainous art collectors seem to always have in the movies. At the far end of the spacious basement, on an elevated section, not yet carpeted, a large leather chair with two arms barely peeking on the arm rest were Lisbeth’s goal. That had to be Clement. Controlling her breathing and making sure her footsteps were silent, the girl managed no more than three steps before a voice froze her in place.
“That’s far enough, madame. You seriously didn’t think you’d be able to sneak up on me after detonating bombs on the first floor, right?”
In a split second and with her eyes wide with shock, Lisbeth tumbled out of the way, a bullet grazing her left shoulder from behind, a little grunt escaping her lips. The chair turned around, and sitting on it was a man in his early 30s, slicked back black hair with piercing blue eyes, his exquisite white suit looked less like a legal adviser’s and more like an hedonist’s pajamas, save for the single glove he wore over his right hand, and dung beetles everywhere in the world felt a strange sense of attraction to his shit eating grin. “You made me wait quite a bit, Exter. I hope you have a good reason to have made a mess of my office without a warrant. And here I thought I had made a good network. So, who snitched on me? I bet it was Harland! I always suspected him of being an undercover rat, hah!”
“Hah, don’t lump me together with those wusses. Exter’s aren’t worth the filth stuck to the sole of my boots. I’m here on behalf of no one but myself. I just wanted to have a little chat with you, see? I need to know the legality of disfiguring someone’s face with a lead pipe, Mister Lawman, so please help me out here.”
“...Hold on, you’re not an Exter?” Clement first looked genuinely confused for a second, and then simply let out a guffaw. “Ahahah! Oh, well, slap my ass and call me Cindy! You, you’re here alone? Unaffiliated? Well, that makes things easier.” Without further ado, he pointed the gun at Lisbeth and pulled the trigger. The sound very distinctly came from the pistol, but the bullet struck Lisbeth square in the back, making her lurch forward momentarily before she collapsed with a pained wimper. “If you’re not with anyone, then I have no interest in whatever information I can get out of you.”
“Why, that’s very rude, mister Clement, heh,” the girl laughed as she slowly rose from the ground. none the worse for wear. “At least let me finish talking. I suspected you’d have one of those after a little tip I got from a certain girl, but seeing you fire it confirmed it. That right there is a Rennard DZ87 ‘Mitsuhide’, isn’t it? Also known as the ‘Backshooter’, a popular enchanted handgun.”
Clement simply scratched his head. “Huh... Hey, how come you didn’t die? People usually do when I shoot them.”
“Ballistic gelatin,” explained the girl, tapping her back. “Never go in without some preparation. Put some there when I heard you had a habit of shooting people’s backs. I got some bad news for you, sweetheart, but that gun right there is useless. All the DZ87 does is use basic portal magic to teleport the bullet at the muzzle to a portal behind whatever is on its crosshairs. It’s an effective gun if you’re fighting completely mundane people or rookies, but otherwise, it’s just a gimmicky gun for, as the more crass denizens of the streets would say, pussies.”
“You mean to tell me you carry ballistic freaking gelatin with you everywhere you go? Why not just wear kevlar?”
“Good question! Why don’t you come a little close to good ol’ Lis and find out for yourself?”
The foes locked eyes for some silent moments, and when the calm was over, the storm began. Lisbeth produced some sort of little rubbery object, akin to an uninflated balloon, and pressed it against her hand’s hole, quickly filling it with a light green liquid, and the “balloon” filled, it gradually lost elasticity until it became a perfectly sealed glass orb, full of the liquid. This whole process happened in a second, and without losing any more time, she lobbed it Clement-wards, who dodged the flung weapon.
“Throwing balls versus a pistol? You must be out of your m--!”
Clement had to call a rain check on his very important taunting, however, when he heard the glass orb shatter behind him. The liquid inside the orb, as soon as it made contact with air, burst into a noxious miasma, a toxic gas that threatened to blanket him. Rapidly reacting, Clement leaped down from his high ground, evading the toxic gas, but before he knew it, Lisbeth was already making a rush for him, spikes hungry for his veins protruding from her palms. Clement took aim, and as he was pulling the trigger, Lisbeth turned her back to him.
“What...? Idiot, you could at least try to dodge the bullet instead of giving your back to m--Urgh!”
The gun went off, but the one struck was Clement. As he double over in pain, a swift kick from Lisbeth disarmed him, and another right on the chin floored him.
“Didn’t I explain before? The DZ87 makes a portal behind whatever is in its crosshairs. No one uses Mitsuhides on real combat anymore because of how utterly simplistic, outdated, and unreliable they are. All I had to do was give my back to you while being sufficiently close to you, and the portal, still technically behind me, is generated at a fixed distance, which happens to put you between the bullet and I. Even at the apex of their popularity, Mitsuhides were a side arm, and never a main weapon. You’d use the Mitsuhide with another firearm or weapon to keep your opponent guessing. If the bullet is always going to come from behind, it becomes trivial to deal with it,” the spiked girl explained with a matter-of-fact tone, almost as if dealing with a child. “You’ve never fought anything more dangerous than the parents of the innocent Veiled whose children you’ve abducted, am I right?”
“H-hey now, please! I’m just a lawyer! No need to get-- Hey, you said you wanted info, right? I’ll talk, I’ll talk! Just please promise you won’t kill me!”
Lisbeth’s eyes were looking not at a human being, but at garbage right now. “You’re quite the honest person, are you not? Talk, before I change my mind.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Clement said almost as if worshiping her. “...Hold on, before I start, you might want to do something about that Minotaur over there. She’s looking sickly, and, well, we haven’t fed her in two days,” the host explained as he pointed behind Lisbeth, towards the elevator.
“What!? Marcela, did you wake up alre--”
As soon as she turned around, something cold and sharp like the beak of a scythe found purchase on Lisbeth’s right side, sinking deep into her. She spat blood and fumbled her feet a bit before a kick sent her barreling to the floor, fresh vermilion spilling out of her wound.
“Hey, Miss Lecture, maybe don’t take your eyes off your enemy, dumbass.”
As Lisbeth turned around, Clement dipped his left hand on some of the blood left behind by her and used it to slick his hair back again. It had to be his left hand, after all, because his right arm was currently a massive metallic sickle. Moments later, the sickle turned back into a prosthetic arm.
“A Technomancer!?”
“Yup. That ‘dee zee’... Whatever you called it pistol was just insurance. I do practice some magic of my own, I mean, you’d have to be crazy not to if you’re in this business.” Clement’s jovial explanation ceased immediately after he noticed not as much blood as he expected was flowing “Hm? I thought the wound was deeper, you’re not dead yet. Again. You’re starting to piss me off, girl.” To be fair to Clement, it is pretty frustrating when people won’t die.
Upon closer inspection, Lisbeth was indeed wounded and bleeding but the wolf pelt had not been pierced at all. It was the impact itself more than any slashing damage that harmed Lisbeth. “And once again, she saved me...” Lisbeth murmured, clutching the pelt tightly before standing up.
Clement’s assault continued, his mechanical arm changing shapes to axes and swords and sickles, trying to mince Lisbeth into a pile of flesh and agony, but she kept her body parts where they should be by evading the attacks. However, it wasn’t graceful dodging, it was more akin to a headless chicken trying not to get diced up, something Clement picked up on. It was almost as if Lisbeth was afraid. As Clement advanced on her with a sword-arm, Lisbeth put chairs and other pieces of furniture between them, obstacles that were easily cleft in twain by the Technomancer.
“...Hm? Oh... Oh! I see!” Clement declared, his eyes shining with the light of realization. “You... You are deadly afraid. You piece of shit kid. You clothes made it hard to notice, but now that I get a good look at you, not only are you just a kid, you’re trembling in your boots.”
“...Oh, please, of course my body language is going to be all weird during a life or death situation!”
“No.” boldly interrupted Clement, calling Lisbeth out on her bluff. “That’s not merely adrenaline, that’s fear. I know fear when I see it. When you abduct Veiled, you see fear. When their children are abducted, you see fear. When leave them beaten bloody as you take their children, you see fear. In your body language, demeanor, and words, I see it, girl. I see fear. You can’t fool a merchant of fear in the subject of his trade.”
“S-shut up, I’m two steps away from killing you, what the hell do you know!?” Lisbeth yelled back, losing her cool.
“I understand it, even! Girl, you dispatched my men and casually strolled in because it all went according to your plan. You’re very smart, I’ll give you that, but the moment things went off the rails, the moment things stopped going according to your plan... You panicked. The moment you saw my mechanical arm, your whole facade fell through. You expected a punk ass bitch with a gun, but you found a Technomancer instead. You do not know how to play it by ear!”
“...!” One didn’t have to look at Lisbeth’s face behind her mask to know she had been read like an open book. As if to confirm Clement’s words, Lisbeth filled two more orbs with a white powder and recklessly, or it’d be more accurate to say sloppily, threw them at his assailant. The lawyer simply snatched one of the air with his left hand, while moved out of the way of the other. As it landed on the floor, the orb shattered, causing a small explosion that left a little, short lived fire where it landed.
“...White phosphorous, huh? It’s what they use in incendiary rounds, if I have my chemistry right. Still, a fire that little means you were very sloppy in producing it. Maybe, the quality of the things that come out of those holes in your hands depends on your focus. Pissing your pants as you are right now, you can’t even make a proper explosion, I’d wager,” Clement summarized, taking his sweet time in purpose to fully indulge in the helplessness of the girl in front him. “What kind of magic is this? I’ve never seen anything like it. You can just make things with those holes? It’s some sort of Conjuration or Alchemy, if I had to take a shot in the dark... It looks more like playing with chemicals more than any real magic. Just some artificial cheap tricks, perfect for an artificial cheap girl who has to fake her bravery! I’ll have plenty of time to see how it all works after I cut your arms off.”
Lisbeth’s response was to throw more orbs, but nothing worked against him in this chaotic state of mind. The plan had gone awry, and Lisbeth no longer knew what to do. Why? How come someone who got this far today was suddenly so inept and incompetent? Why was she suddenly a scared little nobody, when she had been oh so efficient mere minutes ago?
Well, the answer is simple.
“...Kudos to you, kid,” Clement chided, half seriously, half in jest. “It takes balls to do what you did when you are such a massive coward. That mask, that outfit, it’s all out to evoke fear, to make you look big, eh?”
“Shut up!” Lisbeth retorted, producing her spikes and lunging at Clement with a panicked leap, only to meet a metallic hammer-arm face first, her body being flung to a bookcase like a helpless rag doll as her mask clattered against the floor. As she tried to get on her feet, her body simply wouldn’t comply.
“Ahh... Ahh... Damn it, come on, stand...! Hhr...! That’s two or three ribs... Come on! Stand up! W-wait, where is my mask... Where is it...!”
“You know,” Clement continued, talking leisurely as the fight was as good as won. “I didn’t know what I expected behind that mask, but it sure as hell wasn’t an ugly ass kid with tears streaming down her face. I feel like a god damned idiot for having been tricked by you in the first place. As soon as I am done with you, I’m going to take it out on that little shit upstairs. You have only yourself to blame.”
“You...! Why do you kidnap Veiled children!? Is human trafficking that fun!? Are you really that desperate for some cash!?” the furious Lisbeth lashed out, crawling away from him, huddling against the bookcase she was flung against.
Clement simply blinked. “It’s not human trafficking, though? It’s just Veiled kids, no biggie.”
“...What?”
“Oh, come on, it’s just some garbage from the other side that shouldn’t be here in the first place! I wouldn’t do this with an actual fucking person, get real! Its just a Veiled! It’s like cattle! You take the young, and let the old make more young, and then take them again! It’s good business.”
“Good business, huh...? I see, it’s good business. Ripping children away from their parents is good business to you... So we are just good business to you, huh? Good to know, really good to know!”
“Hm? Wh--”
Clement had seen fear plenty of times, but there was something else he was very familiar with: Anger. He saw anger every time a Veiled parent would have their children taken away from them. He saw anger every time a Veiled children would get sold off to the highest bidder. He saw anger every time a helpless parent tried their hardest and was beaten to a pulp by him and his thugs. He knew anger when he saw it, and right now?
Lisbeth’s face wasn’t one of fear, not exclusively. She was afraid, for sure, but there was something far more potent that that in her lithe frame right now, causing it to shake not from fear anymore.
And that was the blistering, white, hot anger that her silver eyes exuded with naught an attempt to curb it.
Protruding her hand spikes, Lisbeth impaled herself and let out a primal scream as her veins bulged unnaturally. Not two seconds later, she less jumped and more exploded towards Clement with far more force and speed than her body type and musculature would suggest, quickly releasing a burst of liquid nitrogen to encase her right hand in a block of ice that smashed against the face of the Technomancer, his world spinning for a second. He swiped back at her, catching her with a well placed right hook, a literal hook, mind you, that should have pierced her real well. And it would have, had it not been for the ice shield Lisbeth quickly made with another burst of liquid nitrogen to intercept the hook. Clement acted fast, however, and used his regular hand to streak a punch right across the girl’s face with all of his strength. Surely, with their weight and height differences, she really should’ve felt this one, right?
Nope.
Unfazed, Lisbeth swung her left hand this time as if to respond in kind, a white phosphorous-enhanced flaming uppercut that connected squarely with his jaw, quickly followed by another meteoric downwards hammer punch from the frozen hand, making him spit blood and a molar.
“S-shit, what the hell! How the hell...!”
“I pumped myself full of steroids and painkillers, darling. You are so, as they say on less reputable streets, fucked right now!”
Clement desperately turned his arm into a blade again and lunged at her, and surprisingly, found purchase, piercing the girl... And then, she grabbed onto the arm, and pulled him closer and closer.
“...! Did you intentionally...!? Wait, wait, are you nuts?! Wait!”
“Nuts? No, just desperate and short on time. Bare your neck.”
Clement’s begging fell on empty ears as Lisbeth’s left hand, swollen and charred with the burns from her own fire punch, protruded that nasty, flesh-hungry spike that quickly found its way to the veins in his neck, injecting something that quickly paralyzed Clement and made him burn from within. Pulling herself away from the arm that was currently running her through, Lisbeth, who wobbled and struggled to walk straight, one hand pressed tightly against her wound, approached his (obviously pretentious) whiskey cabinet, poured herself a glass, and drank it in one shot.
“...Even your taste in whiskey fucking sucks,” she quipped. Getting four more glasses, she lined them up in front of the poisoned Clement, and filled each with different, strange liquids directly from her hand holes. The first one was electric blue, the next, transparent, like water, followed by a light green liquid, and last but not least, a brown, sludge-like substance.
“Alright, Clement, we’re going to play something I like to call the Apothecary's Game. The rules are simple: In front of you are four glasses. Three of them are poison, but one of them is an antidote to the poison I just injected you with.”
“...What the hell is this?” Clement snarled, unable to move but seemingly able to speak.
“I didn’t give you a full dose of the venom, just enough to disable you... For now, anyways. That dose will turn lethal, given enough time, so your clock is ticking. Now, you can try and pick one of the glasses in front of you, giving you a 25% chance of picking the right choice. Pick wrong, however, and you will have drank a full dose of another poison. The two venoms in you will react really, really badly together, and you’ll die slowly and very painfully. Here’s where it gets fun!” -- Lisbeth cheerfully announced as she fastened her mask back in place, back in-character -- “If you give me information I want, and I believe you, I’ll take away one of the duds. Give me three answers I am looking for, and you’ll only be left with the antidote! Fair, isn’t it?”
“Fair like a gun to the temple, you maniac...”
“That’s rich coming from the child kidnapper. Alright, question one: How did you get this gig rolling? I heard you once worked with one Mister Sibbens, but he doesn’t seem to be around today.”
“...I killed Sibbens.” -- it seems Clement had given up on lying, fearing the repercussions of being caught -- “We originally only took cases that involved Veiled trying to get a citizenship here on the Human World. Sibbens was very much a philanthropist in this regard, and would sometimes not even charge Veiled if they didn’t have the means...”
“And you, of course, didn’t like that very much.”
“Heh, nope, not at all. I studied law to get paid accordingly, not to run a charity, much less one for sub-human freaks. Eventually, I staged his death, pinned the blame on a Veiled, and what do you know? The Exters fully bought into it.”
Lisbeth grabbed the glass with the light green fluid and tossed it across the room. “That’s one dud down. How did you get away with it for so long?”
“I still take cases, see? Veiled cases. I defend them, I vouch for them, I get them their citizenships, and play the part of the hero. I use a system much like the ‘decimation’ of the Roman Army: Every tenth Veiled family that comes, I get my boys to abduct their kids and threaten them to keep silent or risk getting their children killed. Even if they speak out against me, I have a bunch of other Veiled that will defend me, as I got them their citizenship for cheap. Then, I sell the Veiled kids in the black market for high prices. Pretty good system that guarantees no one snitches on you and, if they do, nothing happens anyways... Well, at least until an ugly masked bitch ruined it all.”
Lisbeth, however, didn’t react at all for a few seconds, and simply tossed the glass with the blue liquid away after a short delay. “It’s always money for your type, huh? That’s all we amount to when placed in front of you and your money: Obstacles to be removed, the consequences be damned. Ripping families apart is just so fun to you, isn’t it? Bad whiskey and a tacky mancave justifies it all for you, I gather. Last question: Were you involved in what happened to the White Silhouette?”
Clement looked visibly puzzled. “White... Silhouette? As in, the extremely efficient and deadly Doppel corps? They got crushed mysteriously some time ago, didn’t they?”
Lisbeth nodded. “Were you involved?”
“Not at all, I’m not that big of a player.”
“And do you know who could have done it? Do you have any clues? Any idea of where one could begin to look for answers?”
“I’ve seriously no idea of who could’ve done that... Why do you care so much for that?”
“I’m the one making the questions, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, yeah... But really, I’ve nothing to do with that, nor do I know who could have done it.”
“...Alright.” Lisbeth sighed, grabbing the glass with the transparent liquid and tossing it. “You’ve earned it. Here’s the antidote.” And just as she said that, Lisbeth also tossed away the antidote, the glass shattering against a bookcase, staining several books with the brown sludge.
“Wh-what the fuck!? We had a deal!”
“It wasn’t a deal, it was a game. I don’t deal with serial kidnappers, and even less with lawyers. Kindly fuck off to the afterlife, please.” As if to call the curtain on this horrible specimen, Lisbeth’s spike dug into his neck one last time, pumping him full of the venom, making Clement undergo seizures as he bled from his eyes and frothed at the mouth, an ugly end for an ugly man.
Examining the elevated section where Lisbeth first spotted Clement, the Alchemist found a computer, conveniently on and accessible. Gripping her silver cross pendant, Lisbeth pulled on its bottom to remove what seemed to be a detachable section akin to a cap, revealing a USB drive. Plugging it into the computer, Lisbeth copied and pasted everything she could find in the terminal to it. Once she was done, Lisbeth copied an executable program onto the desktop, unplugged her drive, and ran the program, bricking the computer in mere seconds.
“...Until I am done going through this data, I can’t know for sure if he lied or not, but it seems he’s unrelated, making this a waste of time for the most part. Well, at least the world is one child kidnapper down...” And as she walked one, one could swear she also said “...And one lawyer down...” under her breath.
Putting the cap on her USB drive, Lisbeth called for the elevator, feebly and barely holding herself together, the kickback from the steroids and the waning effect of the painkillers making her really feel her sustained wounds. “...Better just bear with it... If I keep injecting this stuff, I’ll really OD...”
---------
The sky grew pink over the Clement & Sibbens Law Firm office. Bodies and rubble adorned the first floor of the building as Lisbeth emerged from the elevator with the still asleep Marcela in her arms. Carrying her away, Lisbeth noticed, much to her relief, that despite there having been a literal explosion, it seems authorities were not yet in the area. “...The fact that they’ve taken so long to come check this out means they knew this was a front. I wonder how many of the local cops are under Clement’s pockets... Well, were under his pockets. Still, I should hurry.”
As she walked away through the back alleys and away from more populated areas, Lisbeth collapsed, both her and Marcela meeting the ground, unable to go on any longer with her wounds, particularly her broken ribs and the lower left side of her torso, which had been completely run through with Clement’s blade-arm. As much as she produced morphine in her body, she had accumulated far more damage than she could handle. As she lay on the floor, bleeding out, Lisbeth couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief.
It was all so scary. It can finally end. She did her best, right? This much was enough. Time and time again, she ended up in terrifying situations, acting as if she was on top of it all where in reality all she wanted was to scream. The mask looked intimidating, but it was all to conceal her terrified expression and her crying. She couldn’t help crying during battle. These clothes were so heavy, the pelt was so asphyxiating, both physically and mentally, an eternal reminder of who she must avenge.
But none of that mattered now, right? She could go. She could finally rest. She tried her best. Oluwasanmi and the Mercury Witch would welcome her in the afterlife, after so long, right? She could almost see them, the gentle giant and the rowdy witch, arms spread open, waiting for her...
“...Bullshit...”
It was only a matter of walking to the end of the light, where Father and Mother awaited her...
“...They aren’t my parents...”
Mere footsteps away...
“They never found the fucking bodies! They aren’t dead! Until I see the bodies, I won’t--”
Of course it’s never that easy. Even cowards have their pride. Even if a coward hates every moment of it, once cornered, once pressured, they will bare their fangs. It’s not that Lisbeth has nothing to lose, it’s that she lost it all already.
Some might take that as a sign to call it quits.
But Lisbeth isn’t like that.
Lisbeth shot awake, but the blinding pain caused by her sudden movement immediately made her inch back onto the bed. Wait... Bed?
“...Where... Just where am I?”
“Well, good morning, Miss Hero.”
White sheets, a window, medical equipment, and a woman in a suit sitting on the other side of the room. This was a hospital if she ever saw one.
“How...”
“How did you get here? Well, one Miss Marcela Toreca called us from a payphone, emergency call, and told us where to find you. It seems your good deed saved your life.”
“Marcela--! Where is she!?”
“Relax. She’s in the room adjacent to this one, she’s--”
“Malnutritioned and has a case of Plonar’s Disease! If we don’t treat the gangrene on the base of her horns, she might become a vegetable or even die!”
The woman in the suit whistled and clapped. “Well, now, that’s quite the accurate diagnosis. You are correct on all accounts and she’s being treated. You’ll be delighted to know her parents were contacted and they are in there, too. They really want to thank you for saving their disappeared daughter.”
Upon hearing this, Lisbeth visibly sank into her bed. “Ah... Well, that’s good to know... But now, you... Are no nurse, are you?”
The suited woman simply giggled. “Indeed I am not. Miss ‘Lisbeth’, was it? Unless you fed Marcela a false name, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance... Now, on behalf of the California NEST of Exters, I have some questions I’d like you to answer. And please don’t try to, ah, finesse your way out of this one. I’ll tell you right now we have the whole building surrounded.”
“...It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, then,” Lisbeth murmured, clearly displeased.
“Whether that is your name or not is irrelevant, really, because we know something for sure, courtesy of that tattoo on the back of your hand, Miss White Silhouette.”
“...Ah.”
Just now realizing she had been stripped of all her clothes to be put in a hospital gown, that also included her gloves, and with her gloves gone, the Canis Major tattoo on the back of her left hand was fully visible.
“A genuine article, too. So you’re the sole survivor of the White Silhouette, huh? Well, Miss Lisbeth, we can’t have an ex-Doppel just running around in Exter turf like this, you no doubt understand. Depending on your cooperation, we might be able to reach some sort of compromise. I am sure we can both benefit from this, hmhm.”
Lisbeth could only listen to this office fox flap her gums. With the damage she sustained, she knew better than anyone, better than any of these doctors, that her body would break down should she try anything. It seems the gig was finally up.
It was this encounter that brought the story of “Lisbeth Elstad” to an end and that marked the beginning of the story “Lisbeth Elstad, Exter”, a story about a coward who has decide to face everything to recover what she lost, even if all she can recover is ‘closure’.
But that story is one for another day, for another medium.
Lance “The Monster God” @tainbocuailnge hit me with:
for writing prompts, how about someone drunk bidding on a sword (or other weapon you're the one who knows shit about weapons) on ebay only to find out when it arrives that it is a magic and/or possessed sword that /desperately/ wants to belong to some mythical ancient hero despite it being the good old year of 2018 and if it has to whip its new owner into shape then so be it
So sit back, grab your pop corn, and let Uncle Drimo Beheading tell you the story of an unemployed man who drank a little bit too much and got in a scuffle with a mysterious man with an anime avatar, an event that changed his life.
———
“...And who the shit has an anime avatar on ePay?! You mean this freaking nerd outbid me? Get the hell out, let’s see what other deals he’s in, you’ve crossed the wrong unemployed drunk, shithead.”
The dark room’s sole source of light was the monitor’s light blue hue, reflected on a man’s glasses that sat in front of two tired, drunken, furious eyes.
2:38 AM, three bottles of schrobbeler, twelve cans of stout and a small army of discarded potato chip bags. It was a particularly bitter Friday, now Saturday, for Jan, and what better remedy for the sorrows of modern life than senseless spending? Like syrup finding is way down one’s throat, vigilantly hunting for a cold, the act of burning money seems oddly cathartic. It’s very much just pretending one’s current problems aren’t there by simply creating more trouble for oneself in the future. And sometimes, this future trouble is worth it if one’s splurging involves spiting someone with an anime avatar and a lot of booze. Not really, but it sure as hell seems so during the heat of a bid war.
“You think you’re hot shit, xX_KimikoKisser937_Xx? That I’m gonna let you flaunt your weight around just because you got some disposable income? I’m gonna shit on your sofa!”
Bills are a pain in the ass, aren’t they? Water, light, real estate, food expenses, cab fare... We’re lucky these brutes haven’t found a way to pipe oxygen and charge us for it yet, but it is what it is. And for bills, you need a job, for you kill those with your paycheck. Things were rocky, but stable enough the last few months for Jan Wildemors, but just yesterday, Fate decided to be that unlikable bitch we all hate and that hates us back, and he was laid off. No feedback or reason given, either. He was handed his stuff in a box that was missing a flap, and told to go, thank you for your hard work the last eight months, which is a very polite and corporate way of saying “go choke on a cat-o-nine-tails composed entirely of dildos”.
“Hah! Really regret on screwing me over with that keyboard now, don’t you, jackass?” Jan adjusted his glasses as he proudly asserted his dominance, victory his, not really sure what he just bought, but satisfied with the knowledge that he did. Hooray, unhealthy coping mechanisms! With his objective complete and his body at its limit, Jan went down like a glorious baboon that just missed a branch during its jump, his face smacking his desk as he lost consciousness like an ape plummets down a tree: With a lot of drool and a dull thud.
———
“Now, hold on just a second, let me check one more time with my bank, and--”
“Hey, you bought it, I just deliver it, now please just sign up already, and with all due disrespect, wear some pants next time. The day’s not even begun, and your hairy legs already ruined it. And yesterday too, retroactively.”
As the confused, unemployed man signed the paper on the clipboard (with a lent pen, of course), he was left one on one with the fruit of his idiocy: An ornate box, long and purple, the most expensive thing in the small apartment by far without even accounting for whatever it contained. “Oh man, oh man, I really messed up last night...”. Well! Whatever! It’s here already, so might as well open it! The best part of messing up is when you finally realize there’s no use in crying over spilled! Hooray, unhealthy coping mechanisms!
Inside the long and purple box was nothing other than a longsword, ornate and majestic. It was at this point that our dearest Jan propped a chair close to the window and prepared himself to just fucking throw himself out of it headfirst into the speeding traffic from the fourth floor.
“Welp, that’s that. I went and bought a sword. A sword. I can’t buy anything fancier than instant ramen or soggy lettuce leaves, not even the whole thing, I just got laid off from my job, and the first thing my drunk ass does is buy a sword. No wonder I had no cash when I checked in the morning. Well, alright, I’d like to thank my father for my ethics, my mother for my sense of humor, and neither of them for my savvy with finances, now let’s check out heaven, alley oop!”
“A moment, if you would.”
“Oh, sweet, the delirium is starting to kick in, I can hear voices! I love nervous breakdowns!”
“Face me when I speak to you, boy.”
Jan froze in place. This was the first time the panic voices ever were so untoward. He considered, for just a second, that maybe he truly wasn’t alone in this room, that perhaps, against all odds, that which was inside the box was the one...
“...Yes, it is I that speaks to you, now turn around and face me already, you unruly child.”
In the words of Oscar Wilde himself: “Holy shite”.
“Hold on, what, no one told me swords could speak.”
“And they normally don’t, but I am not a normal sword.”
On top of the chair, wearing only a sleeveless white t-shirt and coffee stained boxers, Jan Wildemors faced the sword in the purple box, a faint silver aura blanketing it, the two staring at each other while Jan comprehended, little by little, that his mundane life was about to end. The faint glow of the morning sun that filtered in through the closed blinds accentuated this scene, the young man’s face stained with lines of bewilderment and amazement.
He then faced the window and tried to throw himself out again.
“H-hey, stop trying to kill yourself for a second and hear me out, will you not!? What kind of reaction is this to the honor of being addressed to by Moonflare itself!”
“Yeah, no thanks! I’m not only unemployed and in debt, now I am being plunged into some magic nonsense that I want no part of! This truly is the end for me!”
“Wait, you’ve no job and you owe money? That’s less than ideal, young one.”
“And now a sword is criticizing my life choices! This sucks!”
“Just hear me out, damn it!”
“Aaaaaa!”
“Aaaaaa!”
“Baller”
———
“Coffee or juice?”
“I’m a sword.”
“Yeah.”
The young man sat in front of the sword, sipping his coffee, finally wearing pants, the weapon unmoved from the purple box, its faint silver flow still emanating like a candle at the end of a long, dark hallway. A resigned sigh is all the young man could muster, lifting his arms in very real surrender.
“Alright, let’s do this. What’s up?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s up’? First your purchase me and now you wonder what the dickens I am? Where is it that I came from? How could you possibly acquire a Resonant Arm without knowing? Is this some manner of jest?”
“Yeah, look, I’m not going to lie to you, Monsieur Sword, I--”
“Moonflare.”
“Hm?”
“I’m no Monsieur, nor am I a Madame, I am a sword with a name, and that name is Moonflare. Be sure to use it.”
“Yeah, sure. Anyways, so yesterday, I was laid off from my job, so I got real damn drunk, and decided, yeah, Imma buy a gaming keyboard! It’s a sound investment! It’ll improve my morale and help out with my job hunting!”
“Uh huh...”
Jan stretched and sipped from his coffee, making keyboard motions with his free hand. “No, for real, reward yourself, and then be responsible without a regret! It works! Sometimes! Unfortunately, the model I wanted was the last one in stock in ePay, this bidding website for online transactions--”
“You bought me online!?” Moonflare cut in.
“What, that weird?”
“I’m a Resonant Arm! It’s akin to saying someone bought a priceless relic on the internet!”
“Well, about that...” Jan produced his smartphone, tapped it a couple of times, and pointed the screen to the hilt, where he assumed the sword’s “eyes” were. Jan is no sword biologist, so we hope you’ll excuse his beginner’s mistake. “...People kinda buy really expensive things like the Mona Liz--”
“Someone bought the Mona Lizard!?”
“On the internet.”
“Curses!”
“Yeah, so I guess you ended up being sold off online, and whether your previous owner knew about you being a Restaurant Arm or not is anyone’s guess, but the fact is, the keyboard I wanted was ripped from my bloody, splintered fingers by some asshole with an anime avatar that outbid me at the last second. So I got mad and went to outbuy him in something else he was putting money in for.”
“...What for?”
“A foolish and short-lived sense of satisfaction and spite.”
“Marvelous, and that’s how you came to own me.”
“That’s the whole shebang, ya.”
If the sword had eyes, their revolutions per second would create a localized cyclone. It was clear this was a six piece McNobody who just obtained them as a consequence of bad impulse control and good taste in alcohol.
“...Well then,” Moonflare finally let out, as if forcing words out of its sword throat. “You know, at least you’re honest. Well, this might just be what you need.”
Jan’s eyebrow raised inquisitively. “...What do you mean?”
“This could be destiny at play, young man. No job, crippling debt, the end of the road, that’s what life is for you right now. And at the moment of most need, when you see the horizon as a guillotine encroaching on your throat with each passing day, cooped up in this cell that no doubt will be subjected to embargo, you come across me, Moonflare the Pilgrimbreaker, Resonant Arm... No doubt you see where this is going, right?”
“What are you suggesting...?” Jan inquired, his interest thoroughly piqued.
“You can be a Hero. I can make you a Hero. One worthy of wielding the real me. Look around you, you know you want this. Say, what’s that poster over there, above the couch?”
Jan looked to where the sword had verbally pointed and found his old Funny Fantasy VII poster, with its protagonist boldly wielding his weapon in an action pose.
“It’s my Funny Fantasy VII Collector’s Edition poster. It’s my favorite game ever.”
“And who is that brazen, courageous man showcased oh so prominently in the forefront?”
“That’s Clown Strife! A failed JESTER who didn’t have it in him to make it big in the ranks of the CIR.cus organization! After taking to wandering as a mercenary, his freelancing eventually landed him smack in the middle of a huge, world-class incident!”
“Poetic, is it not? You’ve just been released from your own job, you’re swamped in debt, and nothing seems to be going right... And that’s when we cross roads. It’s not only that you don’t really have a choice, this is the right choice. We’ll make it big.”
For the first time in years, Jan’s eyes shone with a fire they had long forgotten. Hopping from job after job, doing shit he didn’t wanna do, forcing smiles for nasty bosses who didn’t give a damn about him... It could all be over. It could all remain in the past, were he to become a Hero.
“I’ll do it.” he said, resolution dripping from his voice and fire emanating from his eyes like a faulty smelter. “Let’s do this!”
———
“Let’s not do this!”
“Quit whining and give me ten more laps!”
“Stop giving me more laps!”
“Then stop whining, cur!”
It’s been a week of this tragedy. Day after day, night after night, the sword and man duo engaged in this pitiful play. Moonflare, the sharpest drill sergeant in town, attacked the would-be Hero with arduous routine after routine, if one could call “20 hours straight of morbidly harsh training” a routine, by any stretch. When he was finally done doing suspended midair push-ups with a tire, Moonflare gave the signal (which is a disappointed sigh, by the way), and Jan finally came down.
“You’ve got the physical condition, Jan, you are fit and can move well, but you don’t take pressure well.” the sword chided. “How are we going to achieve fame like this?”
“...”
This silent reply didn’t go unnoticed.
“Is there something that’s bothering you, young one?”
“Yes, actually. You keep mentioning ‘fame’. We need to be the best to cause an impression this, we need to be at our peak condition that, you seem really obsessed with fame. Isn’t a Hero’s role to save people in the first place?”
But now, the silence came from the sword.
“...Hey, I’ve put up with this for a week, you could at least tell me what a Restaurant Arm is already in addition to answering to what I just said. I’m breaking my back, almost literally, here.”
“You make a good point.” the sword replied with what almost was a sigh. “A Resonant Arm, and please get ‘Resonant’ right already, is a weapon crafted with a fragment of a powerful weapon of legend. In this body, I am powerful sword with capabilities far beyond regular weapons, yet, I’m still a shade of my true potential. It’s because only a shard of my original body is in this shell.”
“Oh! So wait, you’re not just some delirium or haunted sword with delusions of grandeur?”
“I ought to pierce a lung of yours for that statement, hmph! Indeed, I am not a figment of your desperate psyche, I am indeed THE Moonflare, the Pilgrimbreaker, the Discipliner, the...”
Jan scratched his head as he drank some water as Moonflare went on and on with his titles before he interjected. “I’ve never heard of you.”
That window shattering in the distance? That’s Moonflare’s confidence you just heard. “...Yeah, that’s the problem.”
“Hm?”
“...I am a legendary weapon, but I am unsung, because my previous master didn’t care for fame in the slightest.”
Jan simply looked at the sword, as if telling it to go on.
“...Centuries ago, I belonged to The Pilgrimbreaker, a very unknown Hero. There’s no records of her real name, for she refused to announce it, there’s no records of her face, for she always wore a helmet that shrouded it, and there’s no records of where she went to after the Mana Turbulence, for she disappeared without saying a word after all was said and done. Just a few souls in this world know about her, hence why I’m an unsung legendary weapon.”
“Huh... I was thinking she was small time, but the Mana Turbulence was a big deal way back in the day, wasn’t it? Was she weak compared to the other Heroes or something?”
“Nonsense!” Moonflare suddenly raised its voice in stark contrast to its usual calm bearing. “Pilgrimbreaker was the real deal! I never could see eye to eye with her, but I will never tolerate illspeak of her!”
“W-woah!”
“Her form was perfect, her mind impenetrable, her defense unbreakable and her aggression irresistible! She struck fear in whoever was in the wrong side of her blade! Do you know where she got the moniker of Pilgrimbreaker, boy!?”
“Moonflare, calm down, I didn’t mean to--”
“She singlehandedly infiltrated the dread cavern where the Pilgrims Of Brozarok held the Ritual Of Turbulence, which would’ve torn the world’s apart thrice had it been completed, and killed every last one of the wicked dastards! Her arm swished left and right, which each move an impact responding, each swipe a life taking, over and over, dodging curses and enduring maladies! She fought for an entire two days, killing every single Pilgrim in the cavern. By the time four hours had passed, I had gone dull from the sheer and excessive amount of cleaving, and yet, she relented not! With myself as a blunt hunk of moonsteel, she kept going, going, and going! What once were slashes now were blunt strikes, but her sheer strength would break them apart all the same! By the forty eighth hour, when she had broken every Pilgrim and stopped the Ritual, her own sword arm lay shattered and her muscles swollen. She saved the world! She saved us all...”
“...But she’s not famous, not unlike the other Heroes whose names are now in history books, huh?”
Today, Jan learned that swords could indeed cry. “Indeed... The other Heroes actually acknowledged and respected her. Some admired her! They worked together many times, and they were all equally instrumental in stopping the Turbulence. However, she always insisted in others not singing her praises. She foolishly refused to reveal face or name, and eventually, history forgot her.”
“...I guess that explains why you were sold as an antique at best online. No one knows the true of your previous Master, and thus, of your deeds.”
“...Yes. I suppose that makes sense.”
“So I guess your true body, that is, the true Moonflare is elsewhere, if only a fragment is built in you?” Jan inquired, going back to that topic not only because of his genuine curiosity, but also to change the topic, as it clearly was a sensitive topic for Moonflare.
“Yes and no. The ‘true’ Moonflare would imply I’m a fake one. I am indeed Moonflare, just, not in my true body. This blade was forged with a fragment found in the cavern where the Pilgrims met their end. As thus, I have consciousness in this ‘body’. Resonant Arms are called a such because they resonate with their true bodies, and can thus direct their owners to the real legendary weapons. Since it’s my body, I know where it is -- where I am.”
Jan’s eyes shot wide open and he choked on water. “Pwaah! H-hold on, if we can go get your real body, then why haven’t we done that?! We’ve just been wasting time for a week!”
“It’s not that easy. I need to make sure you are worthy. Not anyone can handle a legendary weapon, and you need to show me your physical and mental aptitude. That’s why, today, we’ll have a little test.”
“What? What’s this test? If you make me run more laps, I swear to Aunt Jemima I’ll--”
“We’ll go and do heroic deeds! The streets are dangerous at night, no? We’ll go and stop a crime! Then, I shall judge you!”
“Oh!”
It was finally time. After a whole week of this tiresome nonsense, of pushing his body to the utter limit, of ragging his muscles to shreds, it was finally time to engage in the whole Heroing dealio! And Jan, our strapping would-be Hero, simply couldn’t wait.
———
The streets of the city aren’t exactly what you’d call safe. In fact, they are not what you’d call “oh they are alright as long as you stay in the main streets and by the light”, either. Every back alley you see is a brave new world of armed robbery and assault, with your neck and wallet ripe for the taking. The ideal place to truly thrive as the scum of society and get your doctorate in banditry. Why, just now, a helpless office worker, on her way back from overtime, has found herself tangled in an interesting business proposition between herself and a switchblade pressed against her neck. The switchblade’s companion, a rather forceful fellow with an iron grip and a neck covered in veins, currently yells at her politely, suggesting she voluntarily makes a generous donation to his wallet. How beautiful they are, the streets of this city, rife with opportunity and bankrupted in morals and safety.
Little did the streets know that a brand new market element was about to change their business dynamic.
“Hold it right there, fiend!”
The sudden voice blindsided the mugger not from behind, but from above. As his neck craned to see just who in the world would dare interrupt such an important business meeting, he soon found his answer: It was the man wielding a longsword that currently plummeted towards him.
“The fu--!” The mugger moved out of the way in time to avoid feasting on boots, finally finding himself face to face with the vigilante. The lady that was being mugged couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at the cloaked figure of justice, its silver blade glimmering under the moonlight with unnatural fervor. The billowing cape and the small domino mask made it abundantly clear that this was no mere civilian, this was a vigilante who meant business.
“R-repent now, wrongdoer! Surrender yourself peacefully, and you may yet know mercy!”
“Oi! What’s wrong! Don’t stutter your lines!” Moonflare whispered.
“H-how do you expect me not to!? These lines are so cheesy and stupid...! J-just let me handle the script, yeah?”
“Absolutely not! Who is the seasoned legendary weapon here? If I may be so bold, I believe I know more about this whole Hero business than you do! Just follow my lead and we’ll rake in the fame I de-- we deserve! Now shush!”
With a sigh, Jan simply surrendered and went along with it, dramatically pointing the sword towards his foe. “Hark! Release the dame or taste the righteous fury of the Pilgrimbreaker, miscreant! Know that I shan’t stay my hand a second longer!”
“...pfff...”
A small chuckle finally interrupted the monologue of the would-be Hero. It wasn’t the mugger that let it out, however, it was the victim.
“pppfff... I-I’m sorry, but wow, you are extremely lame. A domino mask? Cape? Really? What C-list telenovela did you jump out from? Shouldn’t you be looking for your missing baby? Maybe slashing ‘Z’s on walls like a loser? Please do me a favor and let me get robbed, it’d be far more dignified than letting you save me, Costume Party.” the lady mercilessly commented, performing Herculean efforts to contain her laughter.
“Shit, I know, right? Who goes, ppfppfffffff, who goes all ‘reepehnt villuns!’ anymore? Did your mom slam dunk you when you were a child, guy? Cloak and mask over sweatpants and a sleeveless wife beater with coffee stains? Really?” the robber added, shaking his head.
“A full outfit is expen--”
“Then don’t wear any at all, idiot! You only look like an overgrown manchild going out trick or treating! You really looked at yourself in the mirror and thought, ‘yeah, this is cool, I look like justice itself, I’ll drown in pussy!’?” the supposed victim harshly mocked, her laughter now out of control.
“Pffff, yeah right, this guy couldn’t score in brothel. His birth certificate is an apology note from the condom factory. Imagine being this asshole’s mom!”
“Oh, fuck off! Someone carried this thing for nine months! Imagine looking at this dude’s FateBook and seeing him posting pics of his outfit, like, ‘Yeah! Ready to fight crime! #Herointhemaking’, and then thinking, yeah, I did this, I made this, I was irritable and in pain for 9 months so I could bring this specimen to the world. At that point, I rip my ovaries out with my own hands and play ping pong with them.” she mercilessly chided.
“Bwaaahahahaha! Hey, you are really funny, and pretty cute, now that I look at you.” observed the criminal, apparently taken with her, now that he could see her better, out of the darkest reaches of the back alley.
“You are not bad yourself... I like a man that can handle a knife. Say, are you free right now? I’d like to unwind after work. We had a meeting today and my bitch of a supervisor, who happens to be why I drink, was on one of those moods today.”
“I’m down for that. I know a really good place here, they have craft beer really cheap, since they make it themselves, and the steak is to die for. Let’s leave Captain Virgin behind and get started!”
The mugger and the victim looked at each others’ eyes with just an inkling of passion for a few seconds before walking away, arm in arm, leaving behind our would-be Hero, the night young and ripe for their taking. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that would steer the young man towards rehabilitation and for him to abandon the ways of the petty street criminal, working long and hard for his doctorate in electrical engineering, a career he dropped out of, with the loving support of his girlfriend, whose own lifestyle greatly improved thanks to his good domestic skills and the encouraging fire of his pep talks. Together, they had three children (two of them twins) and lived a happy, humor filled life, growing old together, hand in hand.
Anyways, back to the present, where Jan’s self-esteem was shattered into so many pieces that you couldn’t even vacuum clean them.
“...What did just happen...?” Moonflare inquired, confused, no scratching his sword chin with the sword hand it didn’t have.
“C-crime successfully prevented! A-all part of the plan!”
“Are you crying?”
“Of joy!”
“Are you also trembling of joy?”
“Y-yup!”
“...In your parlance, this ‘sucked’, didn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“I really don’t know what to say, Jan. This is the first time I see an attempt at crimestopping end up in matchmaking. You might be cut out to be a Cupid more than a Hero, perhaps. Well, no matter, let’s try with the next--”
“Oh no no, look here, we’re not doing this again.” the would-be Hero vehemently declared, ripping his tiny domino mask off and throwing it in a nearby trash can. “No way. This sucks. Your way sucks. I’m absolutely not doing this your way. Look, we’re doing this my way, or it’s the highway for you.”
“Fool, I’ve got more experience, you must listen to me, and then we’ll be famous!” argued Moonflare, its silver glow intensifying as if to show irritation.
“You’ve no legs, so the highway means I’ll dunk you into the nearest river and call it a day. Now, you listen to me and you better listen well, Moonflare.” Jan’s voice finally hardened up, much like his grip on Moonflare’s hilt. “I’m neck-deep in debt, out of a job, stuck with a stupid sword that talks like a shitty Shakespearian secondary character, humiliated and ready to go and throw myself off that window, just like I should have. You either take me to your real body right now, or I’ll really make sure no one can find you. I’ll take a damn loan for a shovel and some scubba gear, dipshit. I’ll bury you at the bottom of a river or a lake, and no one will know.”
“Jan, please wait, you are clearly making a hasty decision here, your body and mind are not ready for the brunt of a legendary weapon, just follow my lead and--”
“And keep playing Cupid to victims and their would be assailants? Fuck off and fuck you. You’ve three seconds to start leading the way.”
Seeing as there was no convincing Jan, Moonflare finally complied, giving in to the demands of Captain Vir-- Jan.
———
Marble tiles, ivory pillars, and a massive sanctum lit only by mysterious floating gems that shone a dim blue. This was the Sanctum Of Moonflare, hidden deep within the underground, a place impossible to reach unless you know of it, as the path to it will capriciously twist and curve to kick you out if you don’t, leading you back to the entrance, no doubt all part of the arcane architecture that the gnomes who built this place are known for. Only Heroes, or those with the aptitude to become one, could reach this place.
“Well, it’s awfully convenient that this was located under the sewers of my city. What are the odds?”. Jan wore his trademark sleeveless white t-shirt and black sweatpants, without the silly cape and mask, of course. The majestic room clearly had gotten his attention, his eyes scanning the place thoroughly with child-like admiration, whistling at the intricate handiwork of the engravings in the ivory pillars that held the place together. “Sure looks like a place where you’d find a legend!”
“Odds had nothing to do with it.” curtly replied Moonflare. “We are no longer underneath your city. We are far, far away, in another country, actually.”
“Oh, quit it. We just went down a manhole, don’t try to embellish your shitty tale more than you need to.”
“I speak the truth, cur. This place is not subject to the physics and logic of the world. All Sanctums that hold a legendary weapon are hidden away in places that would be impossible to reach physically, and instead, one must know of the place and fulfill a certain number of rules in order to reach them. My Sanctum, as an unsung weapon, hasn’t difficult rules, as you can see.”
“I assume they are something like ‘knowing about the place’, ‘travelling underground while intending to reach it’, and ‘carrying a fragment of Moonflare’?”
The sword didn’t respond for a few seconds. “...That’s spot on, actually. Those are the three rules. How did you...?”
“Intuition. Places like this turn up in games and novels a lot. Perhaps they were inspired by the real tales of old Heroes in the first place, with no one knowing any better.”
“...The era of mass information is terrifying.” the sword lamented, still not used to the 21st century.
In the center of the massive Sanctum, a staircase led to an altar where a protrusion with a sword planted in it could be seen. As the duo approached the gorgeous marble staircase, the engravings of the ivory altar, which turned out to be runes, glowed with the same dim blue at the crystals that floated aimlessly, resonating with the fragment in the incomplete Moonflare, the structure making a noise that was simultaneously organic and mechanical.
“Well, it’s ready. Try and fail so we can get out of here.”
“...So, you are a sword in a stone that only the worthy can pull out, huh?”
“Good, seems you’re familiar with the concept. Saves me having to explain it to you. This is what I meant when I said you were not ready. Now, give it your futile go so we can go back and apply ourselves to accruing fame.”
As Jan’s hand approached the indigo hilt of the true Moonflare, just inches away before he could grip it, Jan and Moonflare were interrupted by a slow clap behind them.
“Bravo! You actually made it here. My compliments! Now, would you please turn around and face me, you thief? I’d so love to see your face.”
Surprised by the sudden personage, the duo turned around to see a man dressed in an exquisite purple suit, two long and curved blades hanging on his hips, one on each side. “What do you mean, ‘thief’? I ain’t taken a thing from you.”
“I disagree, you lout. That sword you insolently grip right now should have been mine to begin with.” he replied, his footsteps echoing in the ample hall as he approached Jan.
“Hold on... xX_KimikoFucker456_Xx!? Is that you!?”
“Kisser! xX_KimikoKisser937_Xx! Get it right!”
“So it is you, the weeb from ePay that outbid my keyboard! You asshole, I should’ve guessed only someone with an username like that would wear a tacky purple suit and carry two... Ppfff.... Two katanas! My goodness, you really are a disaster! Where’s your fedora? Shouldn’t you be at home complaining about the fairer sex?”
“These are tachi, you ignorant, insolent nobody! And the plural of ‘katana’ is ‘katana’, which you’d know if you knew anything about weaponry. You’ve got a lot of nerve to outbuy me for a Resonant Arm, but... I wager you had no clue it was one, am I wrong?”
“Oh, please, of course I kn--”
“He had no idea and everything you say is correct”
“Moonflare, shut up, the people with opposable thumbs are talking right now!”
“You’re telling me this is all because you were mad that I outbid you for a gaming keyboard? You went a got in a bidding war with me for a legendary weapon just because you couldn’t accept that someone took a blasted keyboard from you?”
“Ye.”
“Incredible.”
“Indeed, I said the same.”
xX_KimikoKisser937_Xx sighed and simply took a stance, his hand on the left tachi’s hilt. “...My name is Clement Marmaduke Solaris, and I challenge you to a duel for the Moonflare that you currently hold. In the impossible case that you defeat me, I shall gracefully relent and admit defeat, pursuing you nevermore.”
“Hey, quick question.” Jan shot at Clement as he readied his blade in a stance unlike anything Moonflare taught him during the hellish training week. “Does everyone involved with legendary weaponry and Heroes and all this jimjam talk like a loser nerd? Is it part of, like, a contract? Why do none of you speak like a fucking real person? Is it too hard to not be immediately unlikable as soon as you open your mouth?”
“...Do you accept my duel?”
“On one condition. If I win, you gotta give me the keyboard.”
“You’re still going on about that, Jan!?” the sword chastised, but Clement simply laughed.
“Very well. If I win, I get Moonflare, and if you win, you get the Palanquin Corsair K195 RGB Platinum Gaming Keyboard.”
With a nod, both men agreed to the terms of the duel, and not ten seconds passed before they were at it, the two clashing as the altar with the true Moonflare served as their judge. Eschewing all of the sword’s antiquated teachings, Jan’s fighting style was far more fluid and natural than the proper sword technique Moonflare would rather he used, involving tumbling on the ground and spinning, launching unpredictable slashes and thrusts from every direction and angle.
“Jan! What in the world is this!”
“Breakdancing! I do this a lot, hence why I was in shape before your training. Your formal style is too stiff and old, this suits me better!”
“We’ll never be famous with a silly style like this! Just use the proper style of Pilgrimbreaker, and--”
“Fame, fame, fame! It’s all you talk about! Put a sock on it, already! I don’t give a fuck!”
But just because he was doing much better didn’t mean he had the advantage. Clement’s technique was equally unorthodox, drawing his blade with lightning speed and re-sheathing it, shooting out attacks with immense force as he attacked and defended at the same time.
“Impressive, Jan. I didn’t think you’d last a second against my Iaijutsu.”
“Just like a weeb to use freakin’ Iai... But I hate to admit that you are really good at it.”
“Oh, you flatter me, but you’d seen nothing!”
Jan spun and flipped in the air to attack Clement with a smashing overhead, but the man in the suit, with practiced mastery and a cool head, blocked the attack using his tachi’s pommel, paralyzing Jan with the impact, and subsequently launching him across the room with a powerful sheath thrust to the gut, saliva and tears shooting from Jan’s face.
“Phwoo! Sh-shit... He’s really good...” Jan struggled to say as he cough and barely managed to get back on his wobbly feet, the air knocked out of him. “...He may be a loser, but he’s a strong one...!”
“Cease this child’s play and use the style I taught you already, Jan!”
“I’m afraid there’s no need to. I’m done playing.” Clement approached the duo, none the worse for wear, the pressure around him increasing tenfold compared to what it was before. He was clearly holding back, but playtime was over. “You are a disappointment, Jan. I held back to see if you truly had what it takes, but you don’t even clear the minimum requirement. That Moonflare and you are opposites, and thus, without ever agreeing on what your purpose should be, nay, in how you should even move, you’ll never unleash its true potential. Ready yourself.” Without letting go of the hilt on his left hip, Clement’s left hand now reached for the hilt on his right hip.
“...Wait, no way, are you really gonna--!”
“Hwaa!”
He was less a man and more a raging storm. With speed that defies comprehension, Clement’s attacks doubled in both velocity and quantity, employing iai strikes with both swords at the same time. If the flurry of one such blade was already difficult to keep up with, defending against this storm of steel was impossible. The sheer impact and velocity of the bladed tempest lifted Jan off the floor, silver and blood dancing around his helpless frame as his clothes were ragged to tatters, his mangled body landing square on the altar, next to Moonflare.
“H...Holy shit... I can’t fight that...”
The footsteps approached him. “Indeed, you can’t. Now, surrender the sword. You can’t keep going.”
There simply was no way for Jan to win. With a pained sigh and a bloody cough, he mustered the strength to extend Moonflare towards the Iai master. “Yeah, it makes sense for you to have it... You’ll make a better Hero than me in every way...”
“Hero...? What are you talking about?”
Jan twitched, confusion tinging his face. “Huh? Don’t you want Moonflare to become a Hero?” The statement was apparently a devastating joke, for Clement could barely contain his laughter.
“Of course not, silly. I just want Moonflare in my collection! I’m a collector of weapons who travels all across the world finding different antiques and relics, but alas, I’ve grown tired of simple mundane masterpieces. I’ve set my eyes, thus, on legendary weapons, and with Moonflare as my first, my collection will reach the next level.”
“Hark!” Moonflare interrupted, shining a furious silver. “I’m no ornament! I refuse to gather dust in your vault when there’s heroic deeds to be performed! You can simply commission a replica if you must! You have a fragment of me, as well, don’t you? You wouldn’t be able to come here otherwise.”
“Hah! Indeed, a fragment, albeit one too small to even house your consciousness. I’ve waited here for little over a week for you to show up. A weapon ought to obey, for without an owner, you are nothing. Simply sit tight in my basement as the crown jewel of my collection, O mighty Pilgrimbreaker, and cease your yapping?”
“...Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Blood oozing from his wounds, muscles tearing from the exertion and damage, Jan stood up, a new fire in his eyes. “You know, I was ok with losing to you. Moonflare’s a dick, but it’s a strong sword. If it was in the hands of a capable swordsman, no doubt it could mete out some ridiculous amounts of justice, enough to clean up the streets easily! I was ok with that Hero not being me! But you...”
“Jan...?”
“Oh?”
Jan pointed at Clement. “You are no Hero! You’re just a selfish little cunt who wants to feel good by filling his basement with shiny things! I’ll never give Moonflare, the Pilgrimbreaker to you! Not such a storied blade with a bright future in front of it!”
“Hah!” Clement could only laugh. “And how, I wonder and ponder, do you expect to make good on that? You are no match for me. Will you seriously throw yourself to the grinder for these ideals? Heroes are a thing of the past, and should remain so! They have no place in the modern world!”
“Oh, fuck you. Moonflare! I finally understand Pilgrimbreaker.”
“What do you mean...?”
Jan simply took a deep breath and approached the sword stuck in the stone of the altar. “Pilgrimbreaker was a real Hero precisely because she didn’t give a damn about fame. You only held her back, but she still managed to save the world.”
“What!”
“You’re obsessed with fame. You just want the glory of other weapons and their Heroes, and I kinda do feel for you, but that’s not what Heroism is about. You know what my job was before I got fired? I was an insurance agent. I got fired because I kept giving people benefits. Insurance is supposed to be there for when tragedy strikes.”
“...”
“Oh...?”
“When you have a car accident, when your parents die, when you get sick with a complex illness, insurance is supposed to cover for you. But my boss kept insisting that we find ways to screw our clients over, to bring up the small letter of a contract and fuck ‘em over! I ignored it, gave our clients our support, and that meant loses for the big wigs on top, loses they recouped by kicking me out. I thought I could make the world a better place, yet, it was another dumb pyramid scheme, the insurance game. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of all this shit!”
Jan grabbed the sword’s hilt. “Moonflare! Pilgrimbreaker was the same! Heroes are all about public image, but she kept fighting as silently and anonymously as she could! Fame didn’t cross her mind! She wanted to make a difference! I admire her, I didn’t know about her until this week, but I wholeheartedly admire her! You should be ashamed of disrespecting her style and respecting only her strength!”
“Jan, I...”
The silver glow of the blade turned gold, and strength seeped into Jan’s body. The golden glow of affinity, achieved only when user and weapon are one mind and one soul, shone brightly from both sword and man, Jan’s words striking chords Moonflare didn’t even know about.
“...Interesting. Still, you won’t be able to draw that sword. A little bit of determination isn’t enough to change the world, which is exactly the kind of power that Moonflare requires to be drawn.”
“Bite me, nerd. Moonflare! Your methods are old, but your power is real! What you need to become a Hero in the modern day is to be a baller!”
“A... A what?”
“Baller! One who can do, no, who does what needs to be done. One who can make a difference, and makes the difference! Not one with the potential, but one with the intent! If we are to change this cynic piece of shit world, you need more than tradition! You need innovation! And with this innovation, we’ll pull out your body!”
“Jan, that’s fine and all, but it’s not how it works! But...” The sword’s golden aura intensified. “Whatever! We’re doing this your way! Let’s do this!”
Jan gripped the true Moonflare with all of his might and pulled, pulled, and pulled. Even the massive power boost from synchronizing with Moonflare didn’t seem to be enough. “W-we can’t do it...! You don’t have the power to change the world just yet, it’s nothing one can achieve overnight! That’s why I didn’t want to bring you here!”
“I don’t have the power to change the world...”
The altar rumbled.
“I don’t have the wisdom, either... The tradition... The pedigree...”
Cracks began to form on the floor surrounding the altar.
“But I have the heart! And there’s no way I’m surrendering you to an egoist jackass like this! I don’t have the power to change the world, but I sure as hell have it to draw one stupid sword--!”
The floor quaked wildly.
“--And start with the small things, like the streets! I don’t have the power to change the world, but that won’t stop me from trying!”
With a sound as loud as an explosion, rocks flew everywhere and a wall of dust obscured Clement’s vision as Jan let out one final scream. When the dust finally settled some, Clement couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him, Jan stood boldly, the True Moonflare resting atop his shoulder... Still embedded to the rock and the altar, which he simply carried as if it was nothing.
“Y-you what!? You just ripped the altar off the ground?!”
“I got no time for these dumbass traditions and tests of worthiness you losers like so much! This sword is rotting away down here when it could be saving lives and making the world a better place! If I have to take it with stone and altar and all, so be it! I like clubs better than swords, anyways!”
“This is unprecedented...! No one ever ripped the whole altar along with the sword! You technically didn’t draw me, but at the same time, you practically did! Is this the modernity you speak of?”
“Damn right! I’ll drag the entirety of the Sanctum if I need to. A little altar stuck to the sword is nothing! Now, Clement... Clench your teeth.”
“You dastard...! Hand over Moonflare!”
“Take it from me, bitch!”
Clement once again turned into a cyclone of steel, his infinite slashes approaching Jan faster than a ballistic satellite could catch, but Jan stood calm, took a deep breath in, and swung the altar-sword forward, like a baseball bat, with all of his might. The holy altar clashed with the furious steel, and the steel shattered into pieces. Behind the steel was the arm that held it, and the arm, too, was shattered into pieces, mere bone unable to withstand the impact of a ton of ivory and righteous Heroism. Behind the arm that held the steel was a body, and the body was, too, shattered into pieces, the single deft swing enough to incapacitate Clement easily, his mangled body rolling away from the sheer force of the impact, a few lucky bones in his body unbroken.
“W...Wha...? H-how...?”
“The thing is, Clement, you ain’t a baller. You are simply a selfish rich boy who looked at people’s hope and saw an ornament for his wall. You could never swing this blade meant to serve the people. You ain’t shit, Clement.”
———
“Hey, we’re on the newspaper again!”
“...Is it another collateral damage report?”
“...Y-yup...”
The sword sighed.
“We sure are stopping crime and accruing fame, just, not the kind of fame I wanted...”
“Hey! We’re saving people! What if a few cars or buildings get smashed in the process? I-It stimulates the economy!”
“Maybe if you were more careful when swinging me! I have a whole boulder-like altar stuck to my body!”
“Ok, ok, mom, chill. Let’s just go home now. We keep at it like this, and crime’s a-gone in a few weeks. No one wants to risk being clobbered by an altar, after all.”
The duo jumped from rooftop to rooftop, Jan lugging the massive altar casually atop of his shoulder still, less sword and more comically oversized hammer.
“You just wanna keep gaming with that new keyboard, don’t you? I swear... You should be training to be able to draw me properly!”
“You can’t rush Heroism, Moonflare! As long as we keep being ballers, we’ll get there eventually!”
What is a Hero? A beacon of hope for the people? Or someone who acts for their safety in the shadows? Both are valid definitions, and many more kinds of Heroes exist, too. There’s some that are Heroes due to their lineage, while others are self-made, defying expectation and rising to greatness, all that truly matters is that you seek greatness for yourself and others, regardless of how you go about it. Some prefer the bombastic splendor of the spotlight, while others feel comfy in the shadows, but as long as you are excellent to one another and keep going and going, no doubt you’ll become a Hero in your own way, be that sticking to old tradition or carving your own path.
For Jan and Moonflare, the path to being a Hero is to be Ballers.
“...But really, stop causing collateral damage, your debt is only getting worse, you idiot.”
The nauseous song of ripping flesh and gurgling blood fell upon deaf ears as the stake dug deep in her chest, burrowing inside the purple heart easily and smoothly, as if meant to be there. Pained, savage screams never heard were loosed, for the mind of the stake’s handler was full of his own guilty crying.
There was no hatred in those frenzied, red eyes. Twitching of the wrists and other such spasms are to be expected when the hourglass’ last grain falls, but knowing about it doesn’t prepare a man at all when that pitiful act finally plays in front of his eyes, like a sad pantomime trying to futilely recreate vigor, a facsimile of survival that is but a short lived placebo. Clawing, convulsing, rocking one’s head forth and back, romancing the possibility of this being a dream... All of it amounts to exactly as much as you’d think, when a long, thick stake is driven in your heart.
The weakened, clawed hands finally ceased their tantrum, and they laid peacefully atop the stake owner’s hands. Their fingers intertwined, and her weak grip faded before long.
There was no hatred in those frenzied, red eyes, a trail of crimson sorrow leaving a streak across her cheeks. She was smiling, and she silently mouthed some words before her eyes and body stood still. The thrashing was already a memory.
And yet one could say she got off easy.
The stake was coated with a fresh layer of purple blood, but he was of the mind that some red would go well with it.
There was no hatred in those frenzied, red eyes, unlike in his blue eyes, bitter and wet with hatred, self hatred. It was almost as if she found peace. Lucky.
Into his own chest it went with no reservation whatsoever, in stark contrast as to when it went into hers.
As it should be.
———
“...ben! Reuben! Gosh, wake up, already!”
“...I’m up! I’m up, goodness, what makes you think I want your yelling first thing in the morning.”
He didn’t have to look at her to know that she had placed her right hand above her modest chest as if offended, nay, hurt. “You should be thanking me for relinquishing my precious voice unto your unworthy self first thing in the morning, Ru! We could’ve avoided these deplorable circumstances if you had decided not to be a sleepy, sleepy filthy little piggy! But, alas, here we are!”
Eyup. That was exactly the kind of flowery nonsense he expected. She could’ve simply said “Well, you weren’t waking up, and breakfast’s getting cold.”, but what is Eveline without a flair for theatrics? A penchant for the dramatic?
“Yeah, yeah...” the man answered from deep within his impregnable fort of blankets with the vim of a sloth as he blindly pawed at his bedside table, hitting his lamp, his wallet, and finally, his wristwatch. “It’s just like you to pick a random day to have breakfast earlier than usual... Hold on, is the time really--”
“Hence why I didn’t wish you a good morning, you lout.” Eveline sniffed, twirling doorwards, her lush, blonde mane dancing in tempo accordingly. “Be there in five minutes.” she commanded.
“Well, dang, I’ll be, I really overslept. Yeah, be right there.”
“...”
“...”
“...Do you have unfinished business with your bed sheets and pillow? Out, already.”
“You’re still in the room.”
“And?”
“I am not wearing a shirt.”
“And?”
“I don’t want you gawking upon my pure body... It’s embarrassing.” Reuben said in an exaggerated tone.
“Hmph! Just get up already! Whatever abominable insinuations you are making upon my honor and caliber as a dame are simply mistaken, but fortunately for you, I am full of mercy, so I shall forgive it. Now, please, do get up. Nothing spoils a day quite like cold fried eggs.” pouted and puffed the maiden, lightly stomping on the floor as she is wont to.
“Haha, yeah, yeah, comin’ right up.”
With a hop and a huff, Reuben abandoned his cozy fortress, quickly putting on a simple shirt and combing his brown hair in front of the large mirror next to his bed. Were one to see such an earthly, let’s call it, man dressed in the bare necessities of an open shirt and tidy yet rugged work pants fixing his hair in front of an elegant mirror hanging on an exquisitely ornate wall full of handmade carvings, standing barefoot on the luxurious red carpeting that spanned the massive ‘room’ some might consider a home in terms of size, one might deem it necessary to pinch themselves. A large chandelier hung above him, with many smaller and no less beautiful lamps placed strategically across the room. Sofas, a centerpiece table, and a desk used the rest of the space with no cluttering to speak of, all accentuated by a cabinet with some top-notch glassware.
The man simply did not match the room, but that room was indeed his. Had been for years now.
With a grin and a stretch, the man collected his belongings and stuffed his pockets and belt straps with all his necessities. Wallet, wristwatch, notepad, pens, keys, and a large, stake-shaped object wrapped in linen cloth, which he usually carries by hanging it on his hip.
He doesn’t like the stake...
“Well, let’s not keep Her Majesty waiting any longer. I really overslept today.”
...But he must bear with its weight on his hip.
Lest a promise shatters.
———
If the dear reader thought Reuben’s room was extravagant, then the dining room where Reuben and Eveline enjoyed their breakfast was downright decadent. A long, priceless table where one might imagine mafia drug lords, evil dark lords, or a variety of assorted lords of all calls of life and moral alignments to be sitting on it, discussing overdue payments this or impure rituals that. A bigger, brighter chandelier hung above the table, and the walls were lined with the same intricate engravings, and then some, as Reuben’s room, in addition to a myriad of paintings depicting previous owners of the castle, all different generations from the noble Stanasila family. As tradition went, the paintings adorned the room in a clockwise temporal fashion, meaning that whoever was a child in one painting, was an adult in the painting to the right, accompanied with their children who’d become adults in the next painting, and so on. Despite the prodigious length of the table, they were huddled in a corner, our dashing duo, as there is no sense using each end of the table when there’s only two of you.
“Seems we made it on time! It’s delicious as usual. My compliments to the chef, Skender!”. Reuben enthusiastically devoured the fried eggs, the sausages, and the toast spread with jam as if possessed, which meant things were business as usual.
“It is my utmost joy to hear your praise, Sir Hopfer. I hope the rest of the meal delights you still.” answered Skender with practiced poise, standing next to the dame in his impeccable black tuxedo as he always did.
“Skender... Come on, drop the ‘sir’ already, we’re both equal in the hierarchy here... Hell, scratch that, you’re above me in the hierarchy! ‘Personal butler to the Madame Stanasila’ is far more impressive than “that lad that fixes fences and does other such stuff’, so throw me a bone here.” the exasperated Reuben answered, nervously stroking his stubble.
“I’m honored you think of me with such praise, Sir Hopfer, but see, Sir Hopfer, despite your opinion on the matter, Sir Hopfer, and how much you revile and whine about me referring to Sir Hopfer as ‘Sir Hopfer’, the reality of the situation is that you are ‘Sir Hopfer’, Sir Hopfer, and nothing can change that, Sir Hopfer.” the butler replied with a perfectly pleasant and consistent monotone.
“Oh, woah, ok, your sass is a bit more volatile than usual. I guess you’re mad about me oversleeping, geez. Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”
“And he is right to be cross with you!” the dame interjected, finishing her own slice of toast. “You had us waiting for quite the spell, Ru. Had this feast gone to waste, as per the law of equivalent exchange, Skender would have had to slaughter you. This marmalade is simply heavenly on this bread!”
“Pfff...” the man chortled, averting his sight and trying to drown laughter and sausage with tea.
“Oh? Care to share what is so funny that you must subdue the laughter, my dear Ru?”
“Who the hell calls it ‘marmalade’?”
A different, faint, almost inaudible chuckle came from behind Lady Stanasila, but alas, her ears are sharp and her eyes, sharper, as it took a single glare from her Lordship to silence the butler. “And what would one so uncouth as to delay breakfast call it? ‘Jam’, as if they were some uneducated rodent from the barrows?”
“Darn right I call it jam, ‘cause it’s jam. ‘Marmalade’ is the kind of word that gets your lunch money stolen by feisty kids, Lin. I swear, you gotta keep with the times, or you’re really gonna end up in an embarrassing situation, and I am not going to be there all the time to bail you out.”
“Oh, dread the thought of needing you to solve my problems. You haven’t even touched the eggs yet! Ta ta! Get to it!”
Such lively table talk was habitual during the mornings in Castle Nefartatul, where naught a breakfast ended without a laugh and some banter. The scene was so common that it might as well have been one with the paintings that lined the walls: The sharply dressed Lady Eveline Stanasila, her butler Skender Plesu behind her, and the jovial Reuben Hopfer by her side, enjoying whatever masterpiece Skender’s hands crafted that particular morning.
“...Well? Are you ready to tell me?” Eveline inquired as she sipped the last of her tea, motioning vaguely with her hand and immediately getting a refill, courtesy of the able Skender.
“Hm? Tell you what, about the jamalade? It’s pretty darn good, yeah, I am utterly surprised that this was made from the apricots from the backyard, it goes really well with the sau--”
“No, silly. About your nightmare.”
“Hm? What nightmare?”
“Haha. Don’t even try, Ru.”
“...”
Those jewel-like red eyes, shimmering and knowing, weren’t just for show. As she rested her chin on her pale hand, Eveline’s lips showed a kind, subtle smile, but her eyes sang a melody of concern.
“You are usually the first one up alongside Skender. And you must forgive a lady for refraining to point it out, but you were covered in sweat when you finally woke up.”
“Ah.”
An apologetic smile indicative of surrender is the only answer the man replied with, averting his eyes and finishing up his plate, to which the dame could only sigh.
“...It was that, wasn’t it?”
“...That it was.”
“I must apologize for leaving early, but I do have a myriad of tasks lined up for me this day, so I’d like to get to it. Lady Stanasila, Sir Hopfer.” And with a polite bow, the butler left without waiting for a response.
“...Heh, what a kind man. He certainly knows how to read the atmosphere. Now, Ru...” -- Eveline’s voice softened considerably -- “...Please don’t blame yourself. Night terrors such as that are not your fault in the slightest, and whenever they come, please, I implore you, share them with me. No one can blame you for them, and if someone does, know that I shall be the one to pose them the utmost duress for it.”
Saying that, the aristocrat’s slender, pale arm slowly turned dark red, starting from the tip of her fingers up until the middle of her forearm. Dark red tendrils erupted from the arm and hand, thin and elegant, coiling around the handle of the teapot, lifting it with ease and filling up the concerned man’s teacup.
“Now, drink up some more of this Lemon Balm tea and clear your mind of concerns, yes?”
“...”
“...Ru?”
There was no verbal response. Reuben simply stood up and approached the castle’s lady with confident steps.
“...Ru? W-was it something I said...?”
His strong hands slowly reached for her beautiful face, softly cupping around her cheeks, holding her dearly. The poor girl was left speechless at this bold motion, her heart mimicking an earthquake. When Reuben crouched further and his face slowly yet boldly approached hers, Eveline, redefining ‘red’ with her neon-like blush, nervously closed her eyes, puckered out her lips, and...
*SKRITCH SKRITCH SKRITCH*
...Reuben mercilessly rubbed his stubble against the fair and smooth skin of Lady Stanasila.
“!? Gyaaaaah! Hey, stop! Stop!”
“What have I told you about using blood magic in the dining hall!”
“N-now, please, no need to get like this! It was m-merely to refill your cup, I--”
*SKRITCH*
“Uuuuaaaaaah! I yield I y-yield! Please! No more!”
“You cheeky vampires...!”
“Uwaaaaaaaa!”
The stubble rub once again claimed victory.
———
“Geez... My poor cheeks... What did I do to earn the sandpaper’s ire...?” the vampire lamented, her slender hands tending to her red, raw cheeks.
“That’ll learn ya! We’ve discussed this before! Anyhow, Lin, I need you to come out with me today.”
This last sentence certainly piqued Eveline’s interest. “Oh? And what for? You never require my aid in your duties, dear Ru. Whatever is it that bars your path?”
Eveline sat on a large sofa facing away from Reuben in his room, her usual spot, sipping away at Lemon Balm tea as she always did while he changed into his work clothes.
“Well, the thing is, I chopped a lot of trees over the last two days, and I want to neatly tie it all up as lumber we can use for this and that, primarily heating, what with winter right on our doorstep and all.”
“...That sounds rather laborious. What do you need me for, then?”
“Your blood magic would come in handy for piling it up all neatly and then carrying it to the storage.”
It took no more words to make the red eyes of the vampire glow with excitement, her feet kicking vigorously for just a few seconds before she stood up, gallant and dignified, right hand over her chest, sporting that face that knows no adversity. “W-well well well! I understand if you are insufficient for this task, my dear Ru! One can’t expect much out of weak and feeble humans, hmhm, especially with heavy lifting such as this, and so, I declare, it cannot be helped that you require I to assist you! It shall be me who provides this fine day! I understand, so worry not! Your dearest Lady Stanasila shall show you how it’s done!”
“...So easy...”
“What was that, Ru? I couldn’t hear you! Hmhm!”
“I said thank you for your generous and merciful aid, Milady Lin!”
“Hmhmmmm! It is noblesse oblige, after all! Gratitude needn’t be voiced! ...But don’t let me stop you, hmhm!”
Nothing in this world enthused Eveline more than a chance to show off her powers. If she were left to her own devices, she’d be slinging blood threads left and right with nary a reservation whatsoever. She probably wouldn’t even walk or use any of her limbs, simply deciding to move about by using the tendrils. This would be the case, were her neck not restrained by a collar with a massive iron ball tied to it, name of “Reuben”, who insists she use her body, y’know, her appendages, her biology, perhaps, lest atrophy (and incomparable laziness) claims her everything.
“Well, let us depart already, Ru! Are you dressed yet?”
“Ready and rearing to go, ma’am.” he teased.
In stark contrast with his Lalph Rauren 2018 Sloppy Winter Collection breakfast look, Reuben now wore an impeccable dark green suit with a black string tie over a white shirt, somewhere between a tuxedo and something far more nostalgic and bombastic, worn by Stanasilan gentlemen of the past. The suit used to be a more vibrant verdant in ages long gone, but the toll of time spares no one, not even the finest of fabrics. Still, the fabric aged not like milk, but like wine, the charming dark green giving Reuben the exact look he liked: Not too fancy, not too bright (so stains incurred during work wouldn’t stand out so much), yet still rich with class and dignity, befitting a man of Stanasila. Even during the most menial of work, he is representative of the household, after all, and dread the thought of tarnishing the family’s good name. With his hair slicked back and his stubble shaven clean, Sir Hopfer was ready to work.
“Oh, behave. Don’t you start with the ‘ma’am’s this early in the day. You know you are to refer to me as Lin, Ru.”
“I’m just pulling your leg, Lin, let’s get going.”
But there was a little snickering behind the man’s request. Some rascality, one may say.
———
With deft if perhaps too vigorous swipes, Eveline swung her blood threads around, slashing and smashing some of the felled trees into firewood with ease, while shaving and piling other logs together for any other use, such as repairs. For her blood magic, this task that would take many men many hours was done neatly and quickly, the heavy lifting included, as the logs weighted as feathers to her strong blood threads. Reuben couldn’t help but whistle.
“Eyup, this is precisely what I had in mind!”
“Hmhm! What do you think? Perfection itself, is it not? For one such as I, this merely child’s play! I deserve no praise for such a simple act.” -- she held her breath for just a few seconds --”...But I wouldn’t complain if praise were to find its way to me.”
“There’s no other person in the world I would ask for help, because no one could do it as perfectly as you! What marvelous magic! You’re so strong and beautiful, Milady Lin! Sign my shirt!”
“Hmhmmm!”
“By the lords, is she easy...” Reuben thought to himself as he chuckled.
“...Now, oh good Sir Reuben Hopfer, mind ceasing with this trickery and telling me exactly why it is that you brought me here?”
“...You really are the sharpest darn tool in the shed, Lin.”
She simply replied with a smug smile over her shoulder, not one meant to belittle in the slightest, one that said “I know you better than you know yourself, Ru. Who might you think I am?”. She simply shaved the last of the logs with the threads that erupted from her red arms in silence, not taking her eyes off of him, quietly indicating for him to go on.
“Well, there’s something that’s most likely going to happen today, and I want to show you.” finally confessed the woodsman, taking a peek at his wristwatch. “Yup, we’re on time. Follow me, it’s not far.”
“Heh, I knew it. This many trees is nothing you’d need my help with, so I figured you had an iron on the fire.”
The territory of Castle Nefartatul was expansive and occupied many hills overlooking the town of Mesterul, one of which housed a forest. One of the duties of Reuben was to make sure all the fencing was in top condition, as the protector family must showcase a good image towards the townspeople at all times. The fencing was composed of a large black iron fence with pikes on top, elegant and sleek.
“I still think the fence is unnecessary. I mean, the townspeople love you, they aren’t going to try to do anything bad to your lands or anything. Even if someone tried to break into the castle or anything, well... It’s not like anyone except me would be in danger, given the residents.”
“As if you were any less dangerous than the regular resident of Castle Nefartatul. Fancy that!” -- she laughed lightly, hiding her mouth behind a sleeve -- “As I’ve told you repeatedly now, the fence is simply there for the looks. The townspeople must look at the Stanasila family and see a mighty fortress! The fence improves their morale, believe it or not.”
“You do have a point. I do recall thinking it was the coolest thing, those black bars with the castle framed in the far back. I wasn’t afraid of anything, because if anything happened, I knew you all would protect us. Oh, Lin, shush now, come here, we should be on time.”
Grabbing the vampire by the wrist, Reuben pulled Eveline into a bush, hiding them from sight. They were stuck close in that small bush, bodies pressed together tightly, chest to chest as Eveline elegantly sat on her knees on top of Reuben’s lap, yet they showed no sign of being uncomfortable or troubled in the slightest.
“Oho! This brings back some memories, doesn’t it? It’s been far too long since we were up for some mischief, hehe.”
“I think we spent more time together hiding in bushes and other such places than out and about, honestly, haha! Now, shush, they should be here any mo-- Oh, here they are! Watch closely!”
As if on cue, a boy and a girl trespassed into a field of flowers in the castle’s territory. It was far away from the castle, and they used a part of the fence that was damaged and bent, giving just enough space for a small child to pass through.
“Hey now, it’s your job to keep the fence in one piece, Ru!” the lady chided in whispers.
“I had noticed it and I was gonna fix it, but... Well, these kids have been coming here for a few days now, and I’ve been observing them. It’s usually more of them, but today’s special, it’s just the two of them.”
“You’ve been peeping on children? Are you daft, perhaps?”
“Yup! But trust me, pay attention...”
———
“So, why’d you bring me here, Helga?” the boy asked, scratching his head. “We usually come with the whole gang, but you insisted just the two of us came. We’re gonna miss the games!”
To properly complement the boy’s confusion, the little girl was beet red, clearly avoiding contact of any kind, be that with the eyes or with the hands. No doubt, the little bundle of nerves was resolute and believed firmly that this was going to go swimmingly, but by the lords, confessing is much like bungee jumping: You can read up on it all you want, research the proper methods, get the best equipment, but when you find yourself in front of the void, you realize nothing ever prepared you for the real thing. Replace “void” with the much scarier “feelings” and you’ve got yourself the game of speed checkers that is love. A tangential note: A certain lurking pair by a nearby bush had peepers the size of saucers, their sight fixated on the scene unfolding in front of them.
“S-see... Well... Here!” the girl finally shouted, as if letting out a war cry, pushing a hastily thrown together bouquet (read: messily plucked from the very flower field they currently stood on) of gladioli. “Florin! I like you! I l-like you a lot! Please be my best friend forever!”
“Helga...! Yes, of course! I love playing with you! Let’s be friends forever!”
The boy accepted the bouquet, the two little bundles smiling, and so they trotted away, hand in hand. A tangential note: A certain lurking pair by a nearby bush were quietly yet very vigorously celebrating and pumping their arms up and down.
———
“Wasn’t that disgustingly adorable? I overheard the girl talking to some of the others about how she wanted to do this little confession to her best friend today, so I think I can be forgiven for the fence.”
“You are promptly exonerated from any crimes you have ever committed, period.” answered Eveline, dragging her hands down her face. “That was positively dangerous to my sugar levels. That was a sunshine so potent that even I may turn to ash. I consider this a murder attempt from your part, but one I am glad you orchestrated... Sweet little things... I could eat them.”
With that last statement, Reuben frowned loudly.
“...Not like that, gosh! You know what I mean, you tease.” she laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. “Aah~ This does remind me of a certain pair of kids mere years ago...”
“Oh, it’s really been that long, huh? Time really flies.” Reuben chuckled, subtly checking if her “light” jab bruised or broke a bone.
“...”
“...Hm.”
As if the kiddie confession they witnessed just now was the catalyst, the bush duo suddenly became very aware of their current position and proximity, almost as if they had not really been paying attention to their demeanor in lieu of whatever it was Reuben had to oh so fervently show Eveline. Her modest breasts pressed against his solid chest, his legs coiled around hers as she sat on his lap, their scents, how close their faces were, they suddenly realized exactly what position it is that they’ve been holding for some minutes now without really having paid it much mind before. When they were kids? This was natural, an efficient way of being able to fit in even the cranniest nook. Now that they are both adults and developed in every sense of the word? This was catastrophic.
“...Right, we should be getting back on track with that lumber.” Reuben awkwardly muttered, looking elsewhere, lest he gets lost in those captivating red eyes, doing his best to ignore Eveline’s sweet fragrance point blank, hoping none of this showed on his face.
“...So, ahem. Is the log issue pressing? Is your plate full this day?” she asked meekly, averting her eyes as well, trying not to move much so as to not rub against him.
“Not really, no. Taking the logs back and mending the fence are the most pressing matters, really, everything else is pretty secondary and can wait.”
“I see, excellent. Then! Upon my authority! I command you to stay like this for a bit longer.” Eveline took a sharp breath in and cuddled against Reuben, ringing her slender arms around his torso and doing her utter best to not choke on her words. “Go against these orders at your own risk, human. I sh-shan’t release you unharmed if you do.”
He simply chuckled, half amused and half nervous, those nerves that come not from the action, but from the context, not from the implication, but from the realization. It really had been a long time, hadn’t it? Her mask of noble demeanor was always cute to see in action when it came to something she was being insincere about, but goodness gracious, he had plenty to mind as well. Laughing now would put him in the fast lane for a gold medal in hypocrisy. There really wasn’t a joke he could crack, so he simply replied by returning the hug, embracing her tightly, one hand on her back, the other on the back of her head, brushing his fingers through her soft, gold mane. In return, she was tugging and pressing lightly with her fingers on his back, giving him that awkward little massage one does when hugging someone tightly in silence, taking in the moment, quietly hoping it could go on forever.
Silence.
The only sounds Eveline could hear were those of the nature around them, the winds of her beloved country making leaves whistle and branches rattle softly. That, and the heartbeat of the man whose chest she pressed the side of her face against. A reliable, solid chest. Expand. Contract. Expand. Contract. His breathing was not calm at all, and his heart could be rated dangerously on the Richter scale, but she was in no position to make a joke, given her own heart was not doing any better.
Silence.
It truly had been a while since they just held each other. A mixture of joy and sorrow filled them, and both tightened their hold on the other. Sweet, soft caresses and the heaven of simply having each other...
It wasn’t as simple for them.
As they held each other tightly, warmly, lovingly, they both entered a state of reflection, flooded with the memories of the circumstances that lead to this, almost as if their hearts beat in sync...
Silence.
———
Many years ago...
Windmills.
Are they giants? Are they enemies? Are they alive?
“W-wait, Reuben, don’t! What if it attacks you? You’ll get everyone else involved if you anger it!”
“Pff, as if that thing could beat me. Even if gets angry at everyone, the Stanasila family will stop it!” boldly answered the kid, putting on his “Champion’s Helmet” (a bucket with a hole poked in) and brandishing his “Victor’s Mace” (a ladle). Without further ado, he rushed in to fight the lakeside windmill, attacking it with all the fury twenty five kilos of kid can muster. Which doesn’t amount to much, it seems, as his ladle got stuck in one of the windmill’s sails and the poor lad was sent flying sideways, landing harshly against the grass. “Oww! H-hah! Worthy opponent! You’re lucky I have an appointment today!”
“By the lords, are you alright, Reuben!?” one of the children cried, laughing his lungs off. “You madman! You could’ve died!”
“You mean he could’ve died!” Reuben declared, pointing at his ‘adversary’. “He got a lucky parry, that’s all!”
So went another day, the rowdy bunch of kids playing their rough games and laughing as the sun shone above them. Or it would’ve been another day, had they not have been at the right place and time for destiny to play one of its old tricks. The harbinger of this encounter were the clippety-cloppety of a horse that approached them from the hills. Atop the stallion, an imposing, slender man rode with a little girl in front. The horse soon enough made its way to the children, the riders descending and approaching the windmill.
“This one looks to be in perfect shape, Milady... Except for that... Ladle? Yes, aside from that ladle that seems to be stuck on it, this one presents no problem.” the adult man explained, questions brewing inside of him.
“That’s good. This windmill is important, after all!” the little girl added without missing a beat. “Still, we haven’t seen inside.”
“I haven’t seen inside, Milady. You promised to behave if I brought you along for the inspection. Now, wait out here, I’ll be back momentarily.
“Boo.”
As the slender man headed inside, the girl and the horse waited, with a slowly approaching mob of curious kids approaching, a mob that didn’t go unnoticed.
“...Yes? May I help you?” she finally shot at them without even glancing in their direction.
“Who are you? We’ve never seen you around here!” one of the kids asked.
“Oh? You all play here often? That’s marvelous, then you know this place pretty well, right? What’s this windmill like? What’s the lake like?” the now somewhat excited, pale girl asked, twirling one of her blonde locks with her finger.
“Oh no no! We don’t give info to outsiders!” one of the children interrupted, right before the others could start divulging essential turf information to this interloper.
“Oh, come on, Reuben, be nice!”
“Nice is for those that earn it! You, girl! You don’t look the outdoors type, what are you doing here? You oughta at least give your name before you try to shake us down!” Rowdy Reuben demanded, pointing at her.
“She wasn’t shaking us down... Don’t point... Why are you like this?”
“Hmph! Fair enough, to all of your points! I suppose it is only right to show my mettle.” the girl said, undaunted, picking up a nearby stone. “My name is Eveline Izabela Stanasila! I shall prove myself to you now.”
“Wait...”
“Did she... Did she say Stanasila?”
“She’s from the castle... Oh wait, the Count’s daughter?!
“Y-yeah, now that I think about it, their daughter is named Eveline, and she’s got the gold hair and red eyes...!”
A lot of murmuring brewed among the kids, all of it dying down as she once again raised her voice, pointing towards a distant tree across the lake.
“See that tree? I shall hit it with this rock. Now, witness my mettle!”
“Pfff, come on... There’s no way a girl can hit that tree from here, you are cra--”
Reuben’s words were cut short as a rock at sonic speeds flew right by his face, missing him by a hair’s breadth, the lake’s water growing turbulent just from the sheer force of the projectile that just soared the air above it. The rock hit one of the tree’s branch, cutting it off cleanly. Had it hit the tree’s trunk, it was easy to believe it would’ve easily been uprooted, if not outright destroyed. With a mere flick of her wrist, she had thrown such a rock.
“Holy...!”
“She’s really one of the Stanasila...!”
The murmuring was now cheering, and the kids spared no effort in showing their adoration, praising her and thanking her, gushing about how it was an honor to meet one of their protectors. All of them, except Reuben, who simply looked at the grass, as if searching for something.
“Hoh?” the cocky girl voiced. “Now now, you truly plan to be this uncouth? Challenging me to show my worth and then failing to recognize it? That is simply deplorable, hmhm! I may forgive your indiscretion just yet if you acknowledge my feat! Maybe even bow a little!”
She was strong, she was smart, she was capable, and she knew it. This wasn’t hot air, this was the subtle bragging of a girl who knew she was superior. To her, these kids were just that, kids, unworthy peons whose maximum potential could never hope to match a hundredth of her power. She was polite, but such cheshire sharpness was hidden behind her polite velvet.
And Reuben didn’t like that one bit.
“Yeah, that was a pretty cool throw, but I can do that too, so it’s no biggie.”
“...Excuse me? You believe... Oh, oh my! This is rich! You believe you can hit that tree from here, too? Please, you’re merely a hu-- A child!”
“...But if it’s Reuben...”
“Yeah, maybe...”
“He’s got a plan, huh? Let’s see...!”
“...What?”
A claim by itself is nothing more than that: A claim. But when that claim is seriously considered others, validated, believed in, that’s when a claim gains heft. In front of her very eyes, these kids believed in the impossible that this ‘Reuben’ could supposedly accomplish.
And she didn’t know if to laugh or be wary.
“Oh! Here’s a good one! Now, watch this!”
Holding a stone that looked like a flattened egg, oblique and smooth, Reuben threw it with all of his might, his whole body working in tandem to make the best possible throw. The stone hit the water, and then skipped. And then skipped again. And again. And again and again and again and again. The stone skipped the entirety of the lake’s length, and sure enough, hit the tree right on the trunk, the children exploding in praise and excited screaming.
“Yooooo!”
“Reuben, you are crazy!”
“Rowdy Reuben does it again!”
Eveline was stupefied. She was matched, pound by pound, by a human. This supposedly impossible feat she achieved, he matched equally. They both had their own way of doing it, their own method, but the truth stood that he didn’t take it lying down, and backed his claims with actions. More than peer approval, that’s what adds even more heft to a claim, and makes it something far beyond one: Actually living up to your word.
“Heh! Easy. How’d ya like it, oh mighty Missy Stana--Ah?”
And nothing could’ve made her happier. There she was, clapping her hands with a big, beautiful smile plastered on her face, her pearl white fangs showing. “I say! That was a fine toss! I didn’t know one could-- How did you do that? You must teach me!”
“...Huh? U-uh, skipping stone on water?”
“Is that the name of this art? Yes, then, indeed, I wish to appoint you as my personal instructor! Do you accept my request?”
Reuben was confused, to say the least. Whenever he showed someone up, be it an adult or an older kid, it usually resulted in a fight or an argument. This had been the first time someone actually complimented him. It was an emotion he never knew, a joy he didn’t believe existed. Something about someone strong being able to accept someone else for their skill was, well...
It was wonderful.
“...Y-yeah! Uh, I’m sorry if I seemed nasty just then. I’m Reuben. Reuben Hopfer! Nice to meet you, Eveline!”
“The pleasure is mine. I apologize if my attitude was unseemly.”
“Oh, don’t sweat it, it’s fine.”
“...Sweat? Am I sweating? Goodness, I-I did not notice, I apolo--”
“No no, as in, no problem, haha. Just come over here any day and I’ll teach you to skip stones, we’re always playing here!”
———
Months later after this...
The setting sun dyed the sky a gorgeous orange as the gale blew by the windmill, two silhouettes still by the lake, throwing stones at the lake, trying to make them skip. They had been at this for hours, as they did every day. During the day, the other kids were around, too, but in the afternoon, it was always just the two of them. And they talked and they talked and they talked. They argued often, but never harshly, and they made up just as fast. They competed about everything, these two. Even now, they competed on who could make the stone skip the most times. They never could get ahead of each other. Never had a crushing victory and defeat come from them. It was always close. The girl, who always relied on her superior strength, now learned how to apply wits and skill, lest she be left behind. The boy, who was merely human, had no shortage of creative ideas, coming up with solution after solution to seemingly overwhelming odds, matching her raw strength every time.
He wasn’t a stranger to smiles, but they never felt as fulfilling as when they happened with her around.
She wasn’t a stranger to smiles, but they never felt as genuine as when they happened with him around.
The sun had set, and thus time pried them away from each other, alas. The slender man on the horse was here to pick her up.
But that’d last merely hours.
For as sure as morning would come, they too would meet under the sun again, as they had all these days, as they would for as long as they could.
To skip stones at the lake.
———
One year later after this...
With a simple leap, the vampire reached the top of the tallest tree by the lakeside. Clad in her usual elegant red and black dress that exposed her shoulders, waist adorned with a red rose over the black sash, she sat there, looking down at her adversary.
“Well? I eagerly await to see how it is that you match this, Ru.”
“What, that’s all, Lin? You said you had something ‘noh-vel’ or whatever in store for me. Well, one second.”
Reuben took off his bag and rummaged through it. He didn’t go anywhere without that worn out yet sturdy green bag, big, filled to the brim with sundry utensils. Dubbed the “Eveline Bag” by everyone else, it contained anything and everything he thought would come in handy when taking on any given challenge by Eveline, or when challenging her to something. To match her monstrous physical strength, he needed to have a kit handy, after all. It didn’t take long for him to produce a rope with a hook tied on one end (not to be confused with the rope with hooks tied on either end, that one was for another purpose). With some spins and an almost casual throw, the townie used momentum and daredevil dexterity to simply swing his way up the massive tree, soon reaching the top. Before he could grab onto a branch, however, Eveline grabbed his arm, catching him midair and easily holding onto him.
“Wh--! Hey, Lin, no helping me! You’re just gonna say you helped me and so I lose by default, you weasel!”
With an elegant chuckle and the utmost care, the vampire simply pulled him up and helped him sit on the same branch she currently sat on. “Nonsense. I can’t call disqualification or foul play if it’s me doing the helping. It’s another tie, I concede you can do this, too. It’s been ties nonstop as of late, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but it’s not bad, honestly.” earnestly replied Reuben, now safely balanced on the branch. “Let’s think of something where there can be no ties! One winner, one loser, simple as that. Winner takes all the recent ties as wins, and--”
“Simmer down, you boiling dullard, let’s not talk about that right now.”
“Huh? Then what do we even talk about?”
“Hah... I did say something novel awaited you, should you prove capable of matching me today, and so, I shall deliver on this promise.”
The girl shuffled towards Reuben and casually wrapped her arm around his waist, pressing her body against him, much to his surprise. Such was his shock, that he couldn’t get a word out, not helped at all by the innocent, pure flushed face of the vampire. It took a simple look at his face for her to realize the effect this had on him, prompting a smug chuckle from Eveline.
“My my, you can throw stones across the length of a lake, climb trees with unmatched agility, and match a vampire pound by pound, but a girl showing you the barest physical affection is enough to make you crumble like this? How delightful, Ru. I thought you were better than this, hmhm...”
“It’s not ‘a girl’, you dummy... I don’t care about being hugged or anything!”
“Oh? Then will the young man elaborate on what this reaction is~?” she whispered mockingly.
“It’s, uh, the fact that it’s you that caught me by surprise. You’re my best friend, and I love everything we do, from talking to competing, always pushing the other to improve, but... None of that changes the fact that you are, well, this cute.”
Vinyl scratch.
“P-pardon?”
“Oh, uh, I don’t wanna make this weird, but you are really freaking cute, and I never really thought about it, but now that we are up here, and you are kinda plastered to me and I can feel your... Everything pressed against me, it kinda kicked in that you are, uh...”
“I am...?”
“Y’know...”
“I object. I do not know. You need to say it or I won’t know.”
“Come on...”
“I suppose I can’t force you, it’d be unbecoming, but I must admit it’s disappointing...”
“Argh! You’re beautiful! You’re so beautiful that it makes my heart hurt! Seeing you all close and huddled up makes me realize you are so stupidly beautiful and cute that I can’t stop looking at you, because if I do, you’re all I can think of! You have a beautiful face with eyes I wish I could look at all day, lips that look softer than marshmallows and thrice as cute, you have long beautiful golden hair without a strand ever being out of place, and you are strong and love to improve, I’ll file a theft complaint with the town hall, because you stole my h... Look, you’re really beautiful and fun, I’ve never felt this way about anyone, but I just know that I don’t want to spend a second without you, you, you bandit, I don’t know, I’m just talking now, I’ll shut up.”
For the first time in Reuben’s life, he heard Eveline gasp sharply. Her usual perfectly composed image lay shattered as she simply looked at him in the eyes with an expression that didn’t believe what it just heard.
“I-I don’t know what to say... My word, I simply, ah, intended to tease you a bit, but...”
“Oh.”
Her grip became stronger and she buried her face in his chest, much to his surprise. “...But I do not dislike this at all, nor am I of a different opinion about you...”
“R-right.”
“Reuben, do know that I adore spending my time with you, and that I’ve only found joy in associating with you. It’s been...”
“Are you ok?”
“It’s been the happiest years of my life. I extend my heartfelt gratitude. I wish to spend many more with you, if you’ll have me.”
“...How in the world could you think I wouldn’t? I can’t imagine a future wit-- Are you crying, Eveline? What’s that wet sensation on my chest!?”
“Of course I’m crying, you oaf! This is by far the most embarrassing thing I’ve done in my life! I never thought I’d-- Towards a man, towards you, I’d--!”
“Oh, cool, then we’re both on the same page here, can we stop cuddling it out now? It’s really freaking embarrassing, and if anyone saw us--”
“No! Absolutely not!”
“Oh what.”
“...We’ll stay like this for a bit longer. No objections, right? I-I... Wish to hold onto you for a bit longer. In fact, as heir to the Stanasila house, I order you to hug me tightly with your arms. Do you wish to become a criminal?”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“...Hmhm...”
“...Hey, Lin?”
“Yes?”
“I admire you and like you a lot. You’re the best.”
“I know.”
“Well...”
“Don’t pout, silly. I merely tease. I feel exactly the same way about you. I’m happy I met you.”
Atop the tallest tree by the lakeside, the duo that has only competed, argued, and laughed about different contests and pranks learned that, in peace and silence, they still are drawn to each other in different ways than usual. Their tight embrace and almost imperceptible caresses lasted until sundown, and night did pry them apart, perhaps the harshest farewell they ever shared, the hug lasting until the tips of their fingers came apart at last, each going their way, he to the town, she to the castle. But until that time came, they held each other the dearest they ever held anyone. Reuben missed the soft, warm body pressed against his chest that night, and Eveline ached from the lack of his strong arms wrapped around her until morning.
———
“...Milady Eveline, I understand you’re entranced, but it’s His Lordship and Her Highness.”
“Ah? My apologies, Skender, I was spacing out. What is this about Father and Mother?”
“Please keep your bearings, but the purple blood is back.”
Eveline put down her pen and faced the butler. Correspondence could wait.
“...Nonsense. Father and Mother are strong, their impulses easily kept in check. They shan’t go feral just like that. The last three times the purple blood has come, they managed to subdue it, did they not? Why would it be different this time? Name one other vampire that has kept the purple blood in check not once, not twice, but thrice.”
“I understand and share your pride for the Lord and Lady Stanasila, but it could be the tenth time and this should still be a reason for concern. What worries me the most is that the Mesterul Festival is occurring tomorrow.”
Eveline tilted her head slightly, placing one finger against her lips. “...Enlighten me, Skender. I admit I don’t quite get the implication.”
“Ahh, youth... She was incapable of admitting ignorance or error in the past. That human lad sure has had a positive influence in her...” the elderly butler thought to himself with a smile before returning to the real world. “Ahem... The festival means a lot of humans will be grouped together in one place. The powerful scent of all that blood together might make things worse for the purple blood. And unlike the previous times, the blood seems to be very potent this time. The Lord and Lady lay bedridden and locked in a room, by their own order.”
“...”
Eveline’s poise was unbreakable, but her face was evidently a mask of concern. Putting away her pen and ink, the young lady prepared her stroll dress with haste. “Skender, make sure no effort is spared in trying to contain the purple blood. I’ll go to town and tell them to postpone the festival. It’s lamentable, but we can’t risk having so many humans together in the main plaza with my parents like this. Plus, we can simply hold it later. Go! We’ve still got time until tomorrow, but we must act quickly!”
“Yes, Milady! Godspeed! Shall I prepare a horse?”
“Nay. I will run there. It’s faster.”
———
A small cauldron boiled in the kitchen of the modest house, the broth’s aroma torturing the hungry Reuben, who currently exercised a zen-like level of restraint. “Must not eat the stew... Must not eat the stew... Gotta wait for everyone to come back first.” Just when he was about to break his promise with a traitorous bowl, someone knocked the door, snapping him out of the dangerous stew trance.
“Coming! Oh, Lin, hey! How are you doing? What are y--”
“Ru, no time, where’s uncle and auntie?” The fear in the eyes of the vampire was pristine, something Reuben never had seen before. “Ru, hurry, we haven’t time to waste.”
“Wh-what’s going on? They are at the main plaza, helping with festival preparations with the rest of the townspeople. I-I’m back early because I was helping in the morning and I finished my workload, don’t think I’m just being lazy here!”
“...Wait.” Eveline’s voice cracked. “The... Rest of the people? They are all at the plaza!? Right now!?”
The usually calm features of the fair maiden were distorted unlike ever before. Her red eyes were wide open and welling with tears, staring at the ground, as if a horrid realization had just struck her, her hands shaking, her lips trembling.
“Lin, what’s wrong? Calm down, this isn’t like you.”
“How could I calm down when--!” she finally snapped, fangs bared in her frustration, her usual ladylike demeanor chucked out of the window. “...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, but Ru, listen to me, this is very important. Do not leave this house until morning. Turn off all the lights, and put out that fire.”
“But that’s dinner for when my folks and sister get ba--”
“Reuben, please.” He’d never seen her so forceful and panicked before. Whatever it is that had Eveline like this had to be serious. “Just trust me, for the love of anything you hold dear, trust me. This is life or death. I’ll go to the plaza now, just turn everything off and hide.”
“...Got it. I have no idea what’s going on, but... Don’t you dare die, or I will never forgive you.”
Finally, her features relaxed just a little, and her lips curved into a kind, warm smile. “Of course not, silly.” The vampire took a bold step forward and hugged her friend tightly and closely, secretly wishing this wouldn’t be the last time.
“There’s no time. Hide.”
With the strength of a bomb, Eveline leaped towards the plaza, leaving a crater where she jumped from, disappearing from sight instantly, doing away with the idiotic notion of “wishing” and instead applying her mind to “making damn sure to protect this happiness so that wouldn’t be the last time”.
She had to make it in time. She had to.
———
“What...?”
In front of Reuben lay the ruins of the main plaza. Where once stood a beautiful statue of a past Lord Stanasila now only rubble rested. The fountain, the myriad of colorful stands, the ice cream shop, the park slide and swing set... All gone, pulverized, wrecked, and demolished, as if a meteor had struck overnight. The ruined plaza would’ve been enough to tug at the hearts of any Mesterulian, but it’s the not destroyed childhood memories that almost made the young man hurl, it was the bloodstains and the nondescript chunks of flesh and meat that dotted this horrible scene.
“What happened here...?”
“Young man... Ah, you’re the Hopfer’s kid, no?” an elderly lady spoke from behind, startling the confused Reuben.
“What happened here? What is this?”
“...The Lord and Lady Stanasila succumbed to the purple blood. It was when were all putting the finishing touched to the festival that they leaped at us like starved wolves. Against their speed and strength, we stood no chance. It was a massacre.”
“No way... Then... Then, where’s--”
The old lady hugged the crying man. “The Hopfers didn’t make it. They died making sure your sister got away. They were going to attack her and some other people trying to escape, when the Young Lady intercepted them. I’m so sorry, young one.”
“What...? Eveline?”
“Indeed. She managed to make it, and she held them off so everyone could escape. She fought bravely, focusing her everything on defending people until they were sufficiently far away. I was watching from the distance, and when it was finally just the three of them in the plaza, so fought to kill... And kill them, she did.”
Reuben fell to his knees, salty streaks trailing down his face. Whatever he said next was an inaudible, incomprehensible blubber. The world darkened around him, and his consciousness took a break.
———
Days later...
The town was still undergoing its reconstruction effort. The stains and such had already been cleaned, but most of the rubble was still there. It was an effort the town underwent together. Every able man and woman, no matter their age, helped out. The way of Mesterul had always been one of cooperation, as one would expect from a rural town far away from everything, but never had it rung more true than now.
Midst the crowd, Reuben labored, clearing away rubble and moving his cart here and there, doing heavy lifting, getting this to him and that to her. Reuben labored, as it was the only thing that drowned the screaming in his mind and dulled the pangs of his heart. Reuben labored, closing his ears to the whispers that followed him everywhere he went.
“Isn’t he really close to the vampire...?”
“Tsk... It’s those damn vampire’s fault this happened, he’s got a lot of nerve showing his face.”
“You think he’s telling her about who survived so she can swoop down and devour the rest of us?”
“No doubt... Trying to save his own skin by selling all of us out...”
It had been days, and Reuben labored, labored, and labored. He knew the truth. He knew what happened and how it happened, but he understood it’d be futile to try and make them understand. Logic and fear are odd companions, after all. His concerns lay elsewhere: He’d not seen Eveline at all after the tragedy.
He’d waited some days by the lakeside windmill, where they spent their childhood together, but she never appeared.
He’d forsaken sleep some days, for maybe she’d show up under the cover of night to not call attention to herself, but she never appeared.
He’d visited the gate to Castle Nefartatul, but the gates never opened, none of the usual woodsmen that were near the gate were there to pass on a message, and she never appeared.
She simply never appeared.
Another day of work complete, another day of sore muscles and conflicted feelings. After checking in with his sister, who was staying with some neighbors that offered to care for her, Reuben headed home, to that torture chamber that was too big for one person to live in.
Reuben labored ceaselessly, as it was the only thing he could do. Preparing a humble ‘meal’ of water and bread, Reuben went to bed, as the next day, more labor awaited him. Trying to fall into the realm of dreams was much harder than usual, and it was less “sleeping” and more “collapsing from exhaustion when his body could no longer handle it anymore”. And so, he waited for his consciousness to give up.
He was about to fade out when he heard a familiar, particular clacking of shoes on the border of his window. His body shot up, and his blue gaze met Eveline’s red own, clad in her usual red and black dress, bathed in moonlight as she stood on the window frame.
“...Greetings, Reuben.”
“Eveline...! Lin! Where... Where were you all these days!? Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?”
The dame of the night gasped. This wasn’t the reception she expected. “I’m... Fine, but are you sure you should--”
No more words came out of her mouth before the man launched himself at her and caught her in the sloppiest, most desperate hug, pressing her tight and close as if she was a priceless treasure, tears flowing from his eyes and onto her hair. “You’re alive, oh, lords, you are alright... Lin, where were you...?”
That was it. Whatever resilience the vampire had, whatever mental preparation she underwent before finally coming here, whatever clay mask of indifference she was wearing, ready and bracing for the worst possible reaction from the young man melted. This embrace disarmed her of it all, of her mask, of her poise, of her noblesse oblige, of everything. She clung to him and pressed her face against his collarbone, crying her eyes out and sobbing, her lithe frame trembling.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Ru! I-I was utterly afraid of coming here. I didn’t know how you were going to react, what things you’d say to me, because I couldn’t save them, I couldn’t save uncle and auntie and so many more, I was too weak, I... Was so afraid...!”
Her words were clear, but there was obviously more layers to them. She was afraid of his reaction, she was afraid he’d hate her, she was afraid during the tragedy in itself, having to fight tooth and nail against her own frenzied parents, she was afraid of the townspeople, who she couldn’t save, she was afraid of the vacant look on her father and mother’s corpses, as they finally found peace at her hands, she was afraid she’d be next, and that she’d be the next to feast upon the townspeople she loved so dearly. She was afraid, so very afraid, and this finally could find a way out her chest as she cried the hardest she’d ever bawled, barely being able to remain on her feet, shaking violently, her resilience finally reaching the final point. Human or vampire, man or woman, townie or royalty, in the end, we are all people, and people have a limit. it’s the price that comes with having a conscience.
Some minutes passed, Reuben simply stroked her head as she let it all out and composed herself, not lacking tears himself, until her breathing wasn’t as haphazard anymore.
“...You don’t need to apologize, Lin.”
“...Huh?” the girl muttered in confusion, looking at him in the face again. “...Of course I have to, it was my parents that...! Uncle and auntie...! You should hate me! Why are you embracing me when you should be attacking me, insulting me! You have every right to do so!”
“Do I? Lin, I admit this is all hard, I’m extremely sad, I miss my parents... But I am sure you’re the same.”
“Reuben, shut up!” yelled the vampire, pushing him away as her arms turned dark red.
“How do you expect me to see you as guilty if you came here first thing that night to warn me and make sure we were alright!?”
Her only response as furious snarl, pearl white fangs bared, as she pointed at Reuben with a red arm, a myriad of bloody tendrils missing his body by just a hair’s breadth.
“Are you done?” replied Reuben, undaunted, walking towards Eveline. “You came as soon as you realized something was wrong. You fought for us, and you killed... You killed your own parents for our sake! Who the hell in their right mind could hate you!?”
“This wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t monsters! Frenzied beasts wearing the skin of humans!”
“Monsters don’t save an entire town with great personal sacrifice, you idiot! You want me to hate you, but you’ll never have that. You may be furious at yourself right now, but I know you did the best you could and things would be worse if you hadn’t! Stop trying to take responsibility, darn it!”
“What else... Am I supposed to do, Reuben!”
“Restore peace and assume the mantle of the head of house Stanasila, as you should. Mopping will only bring further problems. They know, Eveline. There’s certainly people that are furious, but for every one of them, another person saw you kill you own blood for their sake. You’re no monster, you’re our savior.”
And she plummeted. She couldn’t take it anymore. With a faint whisper, the blood retracted back to her pale arms. “Heh... You... Somehow keep outdoing me and yourself, Reuben... It’s terrifying.”
“Only because I had a rival that kept me on shape.”
Eveline smiled at that reply, and she stood once more. “I apologize, I am... Not too stable right now, a lot has happened, but... I am very happy to see that you are fine and that, well, you don’t hate me. I wouldn’t have known what to do if you did.”
Reuben simply chuckled. “I am just glad you’re ok. I really assumed the worst when the days passed and I didn’t know a thing of you.”
“I... Also came for another reason, however. Reuben, I want to hand you this.”
The vampire’s hand clutched a large spike-shaped object wrapped in linen cloth. Upon seizing it, Reuben could tell from the shape and how it felt in his hand that is was stake, hard and solid.
“...What is this?” he inquired, puzzled at the object, albeit with certain suspicion, only fueled by the serious expression on the vampire’s face.
“That’s a brass stake. I had it specially made in the last few days.” she explained as she too in a deep breath.
“This is too light for its size and material... It’s hollow, isn’t it?” -- Reuben shook the stake, a light rattling sound coming out of it -- “What’s inside?”
“Heh, sharp as ever, Ru. Indeed, the grip is hollow. Inside the stake rests one of my fangs, imbued with as much power as I could grant it.” Saying this, Eveline tugged at her mouth with a single finger, revealing a missing lower fang. “...Vampires were once the enemies of humanity, and our bloodlust is ingrained in us on the genetic level. It’s been several generations since hostilities have ceased, and some vampire clans, such as mine, have dedicated themselves to living with and protecting humans instead. With each passing generation, this genetic bloodlust is curbed further, but it sadly has a chance to surface nonetheless... This is the Purple Blood.”
“...That’s what happened with His Lordship and Her Highness, then?”
“Indeed. It is possible to stave it off, and it is inconsistent as to whether it shall surface or not. My grandmother, for example, showed no signs of it whatsoever, but my parents were afflicted with it thrice. Once you succumb to the Purple Blood, that’s that, you become a Frenzied Vampire, eternally looking for living creatures to feast upon. All reason is lost, and we enter into a berserker state where the senses, smell excepted, are dulled, and instinct takes over. Frenzied Vampires recognize each other via vampiric power, registering it as an ally or, more correctly, not a source of food.”
“...Wait, so this stake imbued with your power would render me effectively invisible to a Frenzied Vampire?”
“Correct. I want to entrust this to you.”
Reuben’s brow twitched. “...Are you telling me to run away?”
But Eveline simply chuckled. “Perish the thought. I mean, I want you to, with that as safeguard, knowing that if I ever succumb, I’d spare you, but you’d never agree to that, so instead, I want you to have that stake, so when the day comes that I succumb, you will use it to kill me.”
The young man gasped, horror filling his eyes. “K-kill you!? Lin, I could never--!”
“Reuben, please.” Eveline’s voice was soft and tinged with sorrow, but resolute, as if woven of the same steel her noble demeanor had to it. “No other vampires remain here. If I succumb, there’s no one to defend the town. No residents of the castle come even close to matching me in power. Only one person in this world has ever matched me pound by pound, whether it be throwing stones across a lake, climbing the tallest trees, and in everything else: You. Were I to succumb, only you would be able to find a way to kill me. I know this.”
“...” Reuben simply gripped the linen cloth pouch and looked at it. He understood its profundity, and that of her words. She made sense. She was here when her parents succumbed, and the damage was still grave. What if she were to succumb next? Mesterul wouldn’t last a night. This wasn’t only sound logic, it was the only option.
“I understand this is a selfish and unreasonable demand, so don’t feel forced. I can think of something--”
“I’ll do it. I promise, with every pang that ails my heart, to end you should you succumb to the Purple Blood.” He said this not valiantly, not gallantly, but almost as if pledging guilty at the tribunal. “If you place this much trust in me, I can’t have it go to waste.”
A bittersweet smile adorned Eveline’s lips. “...Thank you so very much, Ru, I--”
But at that moment, the man, with a jolly, bold stride, took three steps forward, crossing the room in an instant, face to face with Eveline. Cupping her beautiful face with his two hands, he inched forward and kissed her lips, a long, heated, disarming kiss that sent thunderbolts down the vampire’s spine.
“...! Wh--!”
“...But I have my terms. I’ll only do this if you let me help you try to stave it off. I’ll only do this if I can see you. I’ll only do this if you won’t distance yourself from the world, afraid of your own power, spending day after day wondering when your time’s going to be up, isolated and deprived of joy simply to protect others. You’re the kind of fool who’d do that, and I won’t allow it!”
“Ru, I... Gosh, but...”
“I love you, Eveline. I want to be with you every day of my life. I love you so much that I cannot stand the thought of you isolating yourself like that from the world -- from me. You made a selfish request, well, here’s my selfish condition.”
“...Again, please. Kiss me again.”
And so he kissed her again. And she asked again. And he kissed her again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Inexperienced kisses, clumsy tongues intertwining, teeth clashing, awkward positioning of their faces, and lots of little giggles. Inexperienced kisses, clumsy kisses, delightful kisses. Her wings, usually kept well hidden, unfurled during these clumsy kisses, wrapping around Reuben as if to pull him even closer, closing them off to the rest of the world.
“...Hehe... Wow... We suck at this...”
“...Hmhm, well, you know... This only means we have to practice more, don’t we?”
And so she kissed him now. And again. And again. And again.
———
Back in the present day...
Silence.
It was broken.
“...It’s been two hours now, I think we need to get going.” the woodsman commented, his embrace on the vampire still tight. “...Whatcha thinking about?”
“Merely remembering the past.”
“...Yeah, same here.”
She smiled and gave him a peck in the mouth. “Quite some things happened, hm?”
“Plenty, but here we are now... I’m glad I could come live here after that.”
“Hmph! I offered you a life of decadence when I extended my invitation, but you insisted on working to earn your keep! Legions would sacrifice it all for an opportunity like that, and yet you let it go!”
“Well, duh! All the people back in town were breaking their backs with the reconstruction efforts, it would’ve been downright terrible if I had simply come here to live off your coat tails!”
“Hehe... Indeed, it’s just like you. Now, I regret to inform you that you must let me go. I must finish writing that letter for Leticia.”
“Right-o, and I have to get the logs back.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll carry them on the way back, you just focus on the fence for now... Though, be a darling and leave a little opening.”
Reuben simply chuckled. “Will do. I bet the kids will be happy.”
He held her no longer, as correspondence is a very important part of vampire life, and tardiness could lead to worry. Vampire clans keep a healthy line of correspondence running at all times, that way, they can keep in contact and, more importantly, know for sure that their relatives and friends haven’t succumbed to the Purple Blood. No correspondence arriving in too long is usually an ill omen. Eveline wouldn’t want to concern her cousin Leticia so.
Tools in hand, a grin and a stretch, Reuben got to working on the fence.
But as she walked away, a sly grin peeked out of Eveline’s face...
———
“...What in the world happened here!?”
Reuben’s room had been wrecked. Claw marks, punch holes, and soot decorated the once-extravagant room. The windows were torn apart, the mirror shattered, and the bed a pincushion for invisible needles, riddled with holes.
“Ah! Ru! Terrible, terrible news!” Eveline yelled with faked exasperation. “An unknown assailant has thrashed your room! Egads... How could this happen? Skender shall atone for this lack of security!”
Reuben pinched the bridge of his nose. “...These holes are the size of your fists. The holes on the bed are just the width of your blood tendrils. The claw markings match the distance between your fingers, and the soot... What the hell did you use for these!? You could’ve burned the whole castle!”
The vampire lady simply averted her sight and puckered her lips as she nervously twirled one of her golden locks. “E-eh, what might you be insinuating? W-why would I do something like this? An assailant of unknown origins did it!”
“I can see the dirt of your shoes from when you stood on top of the glassware cabinet in order reach these spots up here, Eveline.”
“Hahaha! Hahahahaha! Nonsense! Human nonsense! Why are you so human, Reuben? Haha!”
“You better get explaining, or I swear to the lords, I’ll--”
“Ah, look at the time! It’s quite late, we should be getting to bed, since we have business in town tomorrow, remember? It’d be foolish not to be at our peak condition, don’t you think?”
Reuben simply squinted and then let out a sigh. “...Whatever, I’ll take one of the guest rooms, but know that I will get you back for this.”
“No! You can’t do that! It’d be unbecoming for a man of Stanasila to use a guest room! Deplorable! You are much more than that!”
“...Then I’ll just go see my sis in town, and we can meet at the plaza tomorrow in the morning.”
“No!” -- she yelled even louder now -- “Absolutely not! It’s... Too late, yes, and the horses, they all died suddenly! You have no way to get there!”
“Wait, wait, no, don’t tell me you actually--”
“T-they haven’t died suddenly yet! But they just might, depending on your actions!”
“Uuuuuuurgh! Ok, fine, what do you want, what it the plan, Milady Eveline Izabel Stanasila?”
“Urk!” she gulped, as it was clear he was really mad. “W-well, given the circumstances, there’s no other choice for you other than to sleep in my room tonight.”
“...You did all of this for--”
“Well, let’s get going! Yawn! I am spent!”
“ .”
———
The master room of Castle Nefartatul knew no comparison. Marble pillars, intricate engravings, and the Stanasila family crest emblazoned on large purple banners were only the beginning of just how decadent this vault of indulgences and luxury got. In the far back, the massive bed looked like the centerpiece treasure in a trove of priceless relics.
“Alright, we shall set some ground rules, but first... I want you to have this, Reuben.”
Eveline extended her pale hand towards Reuben, and in it, a graceful, gorgeous, ornate bouquet of gladioli shined like a gem.
“Woah, when did you pick these...? It’s gorgeous!” Reuben gasped,
“Hmhm... In the language of flowers, gladiolus, or the ‘sword lily’, represents strength and moral integrity, two of the many gifts you gave me by being in my life, and... They represent infatuation, a bouquet conveying to a recipient that they pierce the giver's heart with passion. All of this is accurate as to how I feel, Reuben. I love you with every fiber of my being, to the point it hurts. So, please accept it.”
Reuben was simply overcome with the bouquet, holding it close and looking at it for a long time. “That’s not fair, Lin, you can’t just ambush me like this, haha...”
“I must keep you on your toes at all times, don’t I? It’s how we’ve always done things. Now, I’ll draw a line with blood magic. You are not allowed to cross the line, alright? Should you do so, immense pain shall course through your bones. I intend to make clear which boundaries we mustn’t interlope on.
“Yeah, you do that...” the infatuated man answered, his focus still in the bouquet. “...Wait a second, why blood magic? We can just put a pillow on the center to separate the bed in half, we don’t need to-- Oh you gotta be kidding me.”
“...Who said anything about separating the bed~?”
Once Reuben finally looked at his surroundings, he noticed that Eveline had drawn a circle of blood magic around the bed, making it impossible for him to leave. He now was imprisoned on the bed.
“...Lin, wh-what are you--”
“The bouquet was but a distraction, dear Ru. You lose this one... Though, I did mean every word of it, make no mistake, hmhm.”
The vampire casually did away with her garments, leaving her only in her frilly underwear, her splendid, gorgeous body exposed for her dear Ru to take in, stretching as if to flaunt her curves shamelessly. Then, she approached the exasperated woodsman, mounting him without any reservation.
“...Lin, you can’t be serious, you tricked me!”
Her lips twisted into a sweet, devilish smile. “Well, see, dear Ru, our little close quarters in the bush earlier today left me... Wanting. It is only right to satisfy my hunger, no? And you have been having those nightmares as of late, no? We can’t be having that, no sir. So, I thought of a solution to both of our problems!”
“And t-that is?”
“I simply must make sure you don’t sleep a wink tonight. You can’t have nightmares if you stay awake drowning in the throes of carnal pleasure, now, can you? Oh, beloved Ru... You look delicious right now.” Eveline flirted, shimmering red eyes invading his blue own, her hips already rocking.
“Oh, lords.”
They did not sleep at all that night, those kooky lovers.
...They missed their appointment in town the next day,
as neither could move in the morning...
5:31 AM was not a nice hour to be up and about for Vinn Ingram, but there simply was no other choice. Sure, the cold winds that blow through Mint Hill Street were a very convincing argument to buy a scarf the moment today was over, the uphill walk made paying a taxi very, very attractive even though it was a short walk, and the deadly combination of both made our new Exorcist miss his bed sheets with the agony of a lover who left his sweetheart behind to go to the war, but alas, this was a necessary evil if he ever was to see his workplace at all. At the Seventh Office of the Mythic Affairs Bureau, work hours begin at 7:00 AM, which is a whole one hour and twenty nine minutes our daring star could’ve spent tucked in bed dreaming about sunshine and puppies, but if the last two days were any indication, this was a bad idea, and that bad idea has a name: Bastian Ashfield, his partner.
“Mother fu... Arc damned cold wind... Uphill walk in the middle of... This better be worth it...” muttered the displeased Vinn to himself, making his walk under the purple early morning skies. Two days ago, Bastian raided his apartment and snatched him away to a sudden necromancy case, and yesterday, Bastian once more got him by the cuffs and got him working with a truant demon after an exorcism. These last two days, he’d been roped into all this work without being able to even see his office or meet his other colleagues. For a top scorer like Vinn, this was like a rusty, jagged spoon to the heart, as it was vastly unprofessional from him to not even greet his other seniors at the office just because this hydromancing asshole of a tyrant decided to start paying him house visits. Well, no more! Today, Vinn left far earlier than he was supposed to, as he wasn’t gonna risk a third day of impromptu plate-juggling. Maybe now, finally, he was gonna be able to do things right.
But Arc damn the wind is cold.
“I should almost be... Oh! That over there is the office, isn’t it?”. Vinn perked up and broke into a calm jog, and indeed it was. A four story building, solid and made of brick, with a large sign that read the “7th Office” in bold black letters. It didn’t indicate what it was the office of, just that it was the 7th. Magic and the supernatural is a well kept secret, after all, so whoever stumbled in there by accident would just be told a lie about this being a real estate firm or maybe an engineering firm. At long last, Vinn was going to be able to meet people that hopefully weren’t condescending jerks!
As Vinn approached the building, the door swung open, and what strode out froze Vinn in his tracks. A very tall woman, at least two heads taller than Vinn, with long dark green hair and a somewhat dark complexion, but the prodigious height and the curious colors of the dame weren’t what paralyzed Vinn, it was the long, curved, thick black horns that protruded from her head that did, peeking through holes in her large brimmed hat.
“Hm? Hey there, I haven’t seen you around before” the mountain spoke. “For consultations and filing reports, head to the left desk, and for general questions, the help desk is on the right. We’ll help you in however way we can.”
“...Oh!” finally reacted Vinn, taking his eyes off the horns, hoping he didn’t offend. “Oh, thank you, but I work here, actually, it’s good to meet you, I started two days ago, my name is Vinn Ingram.” Upon hearing this, the woman brought a hand to her mouth in surprise, and immediately smiled gracefully, lifting her hat just slightly so she could take a better look at him with her piercing crimson eyes.
“Ah! You’re one of the graduates! How silly of me, my apologies, I assumed you were a new client. I haven’t seen you around, but, well, I suppose the same can be said for others, hmhm. Well met, Vinn Ingram.” -- the woman bowed with dignity and poise found only on professionals -- “I am Fatima Allanach, Exorcist here at the Seventh. Have been for years now. A pleasure to meet you. I would love to chat with you more, but I need to go out for something rather pressing right now. Which division are you on? I’d love to drop by later to properly meet you when time isn’t a pressing concern.”
“Oh, no no, don’t let me hold you back, the pleasure is all mine!” hastily replied the novice. “I’m in the 3rd Division.”
“The 3rd... That’s... I see, so you must be an intel support, then? Well, have fun with Nicholas, he’s kind of a stick in the mud before 9:30, but he’s very good at what he does. You’ll learn much. Well, farewell, until later.”
With a graceful half-bow and a smile, the large woman in the trench coat walked away, her horns disappearing from sight as soon as she headed to the streets. Can’t be seen with those by civilians, after all. Vinn couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by “intel support”. He was very much a fully fledged Exorcist, and his partner was Bastian, not some “Nicholas”. Well, whatever, he thought, maybe she was just confused and in a hurry. They’d meet later, so no biggie.
Finally at the 3rd floor, Vinn looked up which office was the 3rd Division’s in his briefing e-mail. It was more than a bit daunting when his worst suspicions were confirmed and that large, imposing cast iron door was, indeed, his office. With someone like Bastian on their payroll, however, the iron door made complete sense, unfortunately. “Well, whatever, let’s get to it.”
The already small room behind the iron door was made even smaller by the sheer amount of chaos within. Paperwork everywhere, pizza boxes, the scent of coffee and mana leftovers mixing into what can only be described as a terrorist attack on the senses, and one very bitter-looking blonde man sitting at the very end of the room, surrounded by cabinets, coffee mugs, and his computer, mashing away at that keyboard like it owed him money.
“Uh, he--”
“And why the hell are you here this early again, Bastian! Can I just not have my own little world of-- Huh?”
“Um.”
“Oh.”
The red haired man and the blonde bitterness extract given a human form looked at each other awkwardly for a second, before the latter finally threw a brick and smashed the silence. “...Who, who the hell ar-- Who might you be? This is the 3rd Division, I think you got the wrong door, pal.”
“Uh, hey there, no, I work here. Effective as of two days ago, but it’s my first time showing up due to... Exceptional reasons, I guess. I’m Vinn Ingram, assigned here as of August 4th, a pleasure to meet you, Mister...?”
“No Vinn works here, dude, just go to your office.”
“Um, sir? I do work here, it says as much in this e-mail, I’ve been working for two days now on field.”
“No you don’t.”
“Sir...”
“Dude, come on, I know everyone in this office and-- Hold that phone, what did you say your name was again?”
“V-Vinn Ingram, partner of--”
Whatever came after his last name fell upon deaf ears and was drowned by the loud tik and tak of the keyboard’s cry for help as the blonde man’s fingers struck it with surgical precision. A few seconds of awkward keyboard sounds later, the man’s face seemed to be right out of the cover of a cheap gas station horror novel. “Bastian’s partner? That Vinn?”
“That’d be me, yeah.”
“What the fuck, you haven’t quit yet?”
“E-excuse me?”
Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all:
– Chapter 3: Neon War Paint –
“Oh, um, ahem, h-hey, welcome, Vinn, welcome! I just, mm, never really expected anyone partnered with Bastian to last more than one assignment with him. Or less than one, really. I hope you’ll understand, he’s kind of, mm, not a very nice person.”
“Oh, trust me, I could gather that much. But yeah, I’m here, alive and willing still, somehow.”
Molotov cocktails burst green with envy at the explosive laughter the man by the computer just showcased with peerless cacklesmanship. “By the Arc, man, you really went and... I’m Nicholas Dunbar, Seventh Office 3rd Division information agent, assistant, and secretary, an actual honor to meet anyone who somehow survived Bastian.”
Vinn could only sigh, half laughing and half crying internally. “Vinn Ingram, once again, now assigned to this office as that oaf’s partner, the pleasure is mine. So, um, Nicholas, is Bastian just... Like that? In general?”
“He very much is like that in general.” replied the intel agent as he prepared some coffee on the worn, jury rigged coffee maker that had what was very clearly a band aid somewhere on its base. “See, the thing is, you’re the fourth partner that’s been assigned to him, and the only to survive the ordeal without quitting the job or requesting a transfer after... Well, not after, during the first day.”
“And I can see why. I’m here this early because he kept going to my place and roping me into more stuff, telling me he has to test me on this and test me on that, what a prick.” Vinn recounted as he tried to navigate this disaster room of pizza boxes and stray paperwork, making a futile attempt to find his desk.
“Yeah, you’re actually the only one I’ve met, haha. I kinda just assumed you’d be roadkill as well, no offense. You aren’t the top scorer of the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy for nothing, after all. Man, Bastian is real good at this job, one of the best, I dare say, but his people skills just haven’t been the same anymore...”
This last statement perked the novice Exorcist. “Mm? What do you mean with ‘anymore’?” The inquiry clearly changed something in the atmosphere, as Nicholas simply looked down and then at the coffee maker, gripping it by the handle and serving two piping hot mugfuls of coffee, offering one to Vinn.
“I can’t really tell you, man. I hope you understand. It’s kinda personal to him, and I’m not about the snitch life.”
“Ah, no no, sorry, didn’t mean to put you in the spot. Thanks for the coffee.”
“Say, since you’re here early, I might as well tour you through the Seventh, what do you say? Introduce you to the people, show you where stuff is, the works.” offered the intel agent, sipping his coffee, his voice certainly softer than before. This wasn’t an offer Vinn was going to turn down.
“I’d very much like that!”
——-
The Seventh was a sturdy, spacious building. That cramped little hellroom that was the 3rd Division was not indicative of just how impressive and accommodating the rest of it was. Air conditioning, ample hallways, and effective use of space made it easy to navigate through and easy to fit all the relevant facilities. It certainly was a whole different beast from the antiquated brick fortress that it seemed to be from the outside. Nicholas and Vinn made small talk as they passed by the various other offices, most of them empty due to how early it was, heading to the Infirmary in the first floor.
“The Infirmary is open practically all the time, and it’s the first place you go to after an assignment, and the last place you go to before clocking out and leaving for the day.” Nicholas explained as he ringed the bell. “Cordiality is nice, but it doesn’t mean much in general in the Seventh, since we are all about getting the job done first and foremost. However, if there’s anyone you gotta be good with, that’s the Infirmary crew, because these people keep us alive. I think you’ll agree with me when I say you’d rather be on good terms with the people in charge of keeping you alive, yeah?”
“Hah, no argument there. I planned to come here first thing after finding the 3rd Division.” Vinn replied, adjusting his vest as Nicholas opened the door. “Hold on, don’t we have to wait for them to give us the ok?”
“I mean, by protocol, yeah, but as long as you ring the bell, Aria doesn’t really mind if you come in, Mister Stiff.” laughed the intel agent. “Can’t blame ya, though. You are the top scorer of this year’s promotion, so I assumed you’d be kinda stiff, but man, trust me, real work is a lot more... Earthly, if you will. Don’t take all those regulations and strict protocols to heart. As long as you do your job, no one minds.”
Vinn shrugged his shoulders as if saying “I guess”, which only prompted another chuckle from Nicholas. Inside the Infirmary, a woman with two large white wings and a long lab coat checked a clipboard and wrote on a little notebook propped on a desk. “Hey, mornin’, doc!” greeted Nicholas, prompting her to turn around with a pleasant smile and kind eyes.
“Hey, Nick, good day! Hm? Who’s the kid?” the doctor enthusiastically replied as she set down her clipboard. “Oh, one of the fresh meat, huh? Hey, I’m the patch up artist around these parts, name’s Aria, a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Aria, I’m Vinn Ingram, ‘fresh meat’ at the 3rd Division. We’ll be seeing each other.”
“Oh, so you are a new intel agent? You’re lucky, Nick is awesome at his job, just, be sure not to catch him before 9:30, he’s kinda--”
“Oh no no, he’s not mine, Aria.” interrupted Nicholas, a wry grin plastered on his face. “Take a wild freakin’ guess who he is partnered with.”
Aria tilted her head in confusion, looked at him real good, the ol’ tip to toe scan with the eyes, and she realized, given his build, that he was no pen pusher. Those strong limbs were for working out in the field. “Wait, Bastian’s!? No way, but it’s the 6th! Any partner of his should have transferred already! Holy moly, you are some next level shit, aren’t you?”
Nicholas laughed out loud while Vinn simply sighed and pinched his nose. “Yeah, I guess I am fecal matter of the next degree. Man, he really is infamous for this, isn’t he?” The two of them laughed, but before Aria replied, she caught the Nicholas’ eyes, insolence brewing behind them.
“Oh... You wanna do that, huh...? Ok... Hey, Vinn, I applaud your manners for not pointing out my wings.” said Aria. “People usually get impressed by them and sometimes, it get uncomfortable, so hey, nice. But, at the same time, I can’t help but be a bit disappointed, since I am proud of them, as an Angel and all.”
Those last words perked Vinn up. “An Angel, you say...?”
“Yup! Ain’t the Seventh impressive? We practically have a demon in Bastian, so we make up for that with an actual Angel in our Infirmary. Not something many offices can claim, yeah?”
It’s true that those impressive, white feathered wings were the definition of majestic in any dictionary you could find, but Vinn didn’t seem impressed at all. “She’s not an Angel, though.” he declared.
“Oh?” Aria smirked. “I am, though. What proof do you have that I am not an Angel? Are you saying these wings are fake?”
“It’s true that you have not moved your wings at all, so they could be a prop, but no, they are the real deal. However, ‘wings’ does not equate to ‘Angel’. No offense intended, but the palms of your hands are very rugged, and your musculature in general suggests heavy physical work, instead of the more magically inclined personality of Angels. Speaking of your hands, you did a pretty good job trimming them, but I can tell those talons grow up to be very strong, sharp, and destructive. You’re not an Angel, Miss Aria, you’re a Harpy.”
The rapid fire analysis left both Nicholas and Aria dumbfounded for all of five silent seconds before they both broke into laughter. “Oh, wow! This kid is the real shit, ain’t he? Damn, when was the last time, anyone saw through this little prank, Nicholas?”
“Wasn’t it Fatima many years ago? Haha, damn, anyways, that was impressive, I’d expect no less from top scorer of this year’s promotion. Nice job, Vinn.”
The young man was getting a bit flustered with all this praise and attention, but thankfully, before he had to say anything, the bell rang again, and the door swung open, a tall, muscular, blonde man wearing sunglasses walking in shortly after.
“Heyo, doc, I’m sorry I didn’t come before, I came t’ greet ya! Name’s... Oh, Ingram?”
“...Hold on, you’re Daryl. Hello.”
“Oh, you two know each other?” Nicholas inquired, resting against a nearby counter top.
“Yeah!” the large blonde lad replied. “We both graduated this year. Ingram’s the top of the class, so I remember him. Didn’t know ya were here, dude.”
“Likewise. I wouldn’t have expected to meet you so soon after graduation. Good to see you. Which division are you on?” Vinn cordially conversed.
“2nd, the boss woman told me to go greet people already, got kinda mad that I hadn’t yet, so here I am. Heyo doc, and heyo other dude I don’t know, here’s to some good ass work and all that.”
“Nicholas, good to meet you, though I am just the tech dude at the 3rd, it’s this lady you oughta pay your respects to. She’s a nice Angel doctor that’ll keep you in this world, no matter how banged up you get.” the intel agent explained, a chuckle already charging up behind his lips.
“Wait, an Angel!?” yelled the shocked Daryl.
“Oh, don’t say that so loud, I get kinda conscious... But yes, I am Doctor Aria, pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll trust my--!”
In a move that shut everyone in the room, Daryl approached Aria and outright kissed her, holding her chin up to better feel her tongue with his. When it was all said and done, Daryl simply took a contemplative hand to his chin. “Ya ain’t no Angel. You’re a Harpy. See, Angels have soft tongues, and kissing them feels like warm honey bathin’ yer tongue, an indescribable feelin’, really. But yer tongue was thick, rough, and strong. It wasn’t warm honey, it was more like a powerful adversary, a tongue to remember, ‘cause it ain’t easy. I like Harpy kisses far more than Angel kisses, there’s that roughness to them that makes them--”
The sound of her palm meeting his face echoed in the Infirmary.
“How dare you...!?” the doctor exclaimed, slapping him across the face.
“Ooph, yeah, see, Angels don’t slap like that, that’s a Harpy’s strong hand, alriOOPH.”
“What the fuck are you doing, dumbaaaaaaass?!”
The sound of his spine singing a melody of pain and regret echoed in the infirmary as his body was lifted off the ground by a single righteous uppercut.
“Yep, just on time, if you’re in the 2nd, then your partner is...”
“W-woah what the hell!?”
With just a single punch, the large blonde man was downed. Behind him, a brawny, tough-looking woman stood with the River Styx in her eyes, shooting ballistic missiles at the battered young man with her glare.
“I take my eyes off you for one second and you’re already doing dumb shit again! I am so sorry, Aria, this one’s on me, I’ll buy you all your drinks next time we go out drinking, ok? Please forgive this good for nothing piece of shit!” the big woman apologized as she stomped on the downed idiot.
“F-Fiona, don’t worry about it! It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t kill him in the Infirmary, please, that’s a lot of paperwork to deal with!”
Lifting him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the imposing woman desperately apologized. “I’ll educate this dipshit, even if it kills me, or if it kills him! I’ll go now, see y...ou? Hey, who’s this kid, Nick? New techie for the the 3rd?”
“Naw, he’s Bastian’s.”
“Cut the bullshit.”
“I am not dumb enough to lie to you, Fi.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “You’re legit his partner? Woah, some big fat balls of brass, you must have! Well, kid, introductions will have to wait ‘till later, I have a shithead to lecture. Try not to get killed. Let’s go, you imbecile.”
“M-my spine... Let me get it checked first...” begged Daryl like a beefy, floppy sack of wounded potatoes with all the dignity of a headless chicken.
“Oh, sleep it off, ya wuss, let’s go.”
As fast as she came, this tornado of a woman left, leaving Vinn speechless. “Is she... Is she always like that? Who was that? Did that really just happen?”
“That’s Fiona, and yeah, that’s her modus operandi. Leaving the door open is also part of her, but she’s a lovable tower of muscle and alcohol.” explained the doctor, going back to her clipboard. “Be a dear and close it, will you?”
As Vinn approached the door left open by the human cyclone, he spotted her outside, still carrying Daryl, being lecture by a tall, thin man who had an aura of authority and resignation to him. Before him, however, Fiona couldn’t stop bowing apologetically.
“Well, that’s our Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist. Watch in awe as she is lectured by the Chief because her cropped tank top, ‘perfume’ that smells like 6 AM tequila, and habit of carrying coworkers like veggies at market spit in the soup of Officewear Regulations. Heh, this is a daily show by now.” Nicholas elaborated, as if watching a movie while eating pop corn. “You know about Oni, Vinn?”
“Oh! She’s an oni? That explains the strength and the pungent stench of alcohol.”
“Nope, she’s married to one, and he’s helping her with her drinking habits.”
“...Classy. So, that’s the Chief, huh? I’d better go say hi to him now.”
“Woah there, buddy, I’d suggest not. He’s lecturing her right now, but he’s a very busy man, especially in the mornings. Leave him for the afternoon.”
“Is he a hardass or something?”
“Not... Quite, just trust me on this one. Let’s go back to our office, Dani should be here by now.”
“If you say so. Bye, Miss Aria, have a good day.”
“Mmhm. Have a good one, you two, I hope you survive, Vinn.” the doctor expressed with no ill will whatsoever, waving a friendly hand goodbye.
——-
The more one looked at the office, the more it seemed that the door frame was a portal to a different dimension. How could this pigsty possibly be in the same physical plane, let alone building, than the neat everything else? There was a difference now, however: A lone girl sat by another desk.
“It’s weird not seeing you here first thing in the morning, Nick. I was wondering where you went.” she greeted.
“Yeah, was just showing the newbie around. Lookin’ good, Dani.” Nicholas chimed back with Vinn on tow, who politely nodded as if to greet her.
“Oh? New tech g--”
“Bastian’s partner...” Vinn clarified for what felt like the tenth time this morning.
“What!? Bast--”
“Please.” Vinn begged for what felt like the tenth time this morning. It was getting tedious.
“Oh, pfff, yeah, I guess you’ve already gotten your fair share of dumbfounded responses. Sorry about that! I’m Danielle, just call me Dani, though.” the girl responded before moving away from her desk without standing up, traversing through the pizza boxes and paperwork in a motorized wheelchair, controlled by a little controller on the right hand rest. Of note, her left hand and leg were prosthetic. Accompanied with the soft sound of her wheelchair’s motor’s vibration, Dani approached Vinn and offered her right hand, which he shook. “I’m the communications expert here, and since you’ll be working with us now, you’ll need one of these.” Her prosthetic hand held a firm grip on the bag while her regular hand rummaged in it, the sounds of junk and crumpling plastic raising many questions as to what was actually inside the otherwise trendy looking little bag. With an expression of eureka, she seemed to have finally found the desired item, which he proudly offered to the novice Exorcist: A tin can.
“A... Tin can? Wait, now that you mention it, Bastian had one just like this two days ago...” Vinn pondered, as he examined the item in vain.
“Ah! You were there when the Siren was sent in!? That jerk didn’t mention you at all in his reports! I will have some words with him, the nerve!” Dani fumed as she kicked her feet in frustration, nothing new when regarding Bastian and his old tricks. “Anyways, yes, that right there is a prim and proper tin can, but it may save your life.”
“There’s really nothing special about it, though... I don’t sense anything.”
“Eyup, it’s not until I do this--” With a touch of he right hand’s finger, the can suddenly pulsated, Vinn’s head throbbing as a sharp note drowned everything else in the room, only the can’s ‘heartbeat’ audible to him, until a few seconds later, his senses returned to normal, his head ringing like a struck bell no more. “--llo? Hello? Earth to Vinn?”
“Ugh... Yeah, I hear you... What was that? My head felt like it was going to explode for a second.” Vinn replied, clutching his thankfully unexploded head.
“Yeah, happens the first time. I’ve linked the tin can with you. Now, what this does is...” Danielle moved towards her desk again and held a similar, worn out tin can. “Put that against your ear.” Vinn complied, and once he did, Dani put her own tin can against her mouth, softly whispering words that shouldn’t have been audible to anyone, yet were clear as the skies to Vinn. “And now, we can communicate easily!”
“Woah! That’s... I’ve never seen anything like this! So basically, these are like cellphones now?”
“Better than cellphones!” she declared, chest puffed out. “Cellphones can be traced, need time to make a call, need the other party to notice and accept the call, and if you’re underground? Yeah, not happening. Tin cans are the future of communication! Well, among us, anyways. This is Communications Magic, my area of expertise. Keep that tin can on you at all times, and we’ll be able to talk shit about Bastian at all times, seamlessly and with no interruption.”
“Now that sounds like a good time.”
“Well, I’m sure glad you two seem to have kicked it off well!” Nicholas finally interjected. “Now, you did say something worrying, though: You’ve actually been working the last two days, but Bastian neglected to mention you in his reports, which makes my job difficult. Plus, I don’t have your reports, either.”
“A-ah, well, I wasn’t exactly--”
“Exactly allowed near the office, I know, haha, don’t worry, I’m not going to put you on the spot, all this means is that I will grab Bastian by the neck and have him rewrite his reports. His lack of mentioning you meant to me that you had quit, which is... A pattern, really, so don’t worry, you get a few more days to write your reports, but the sooner you have them for me, the better.”
“Ah, that’s why you reacted that way...” Vinn said, recalling Nicholas’ exasperation earlier. “Well, I hope you don’t have a hard time getting him to re-do those... I already know that he’s--”
“A damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with?” a voice behind Vinn chimed in.
“Yeah! That’s exactly what I was gonna sWhere did you come from and how long have you been there?”
“Aww, I’m glad to know that I have a cute widdle pwartner who wuvs me so much!”
As Vinn turned around, he met face to face with the plastic, hostile grin of Bastian Ashfield, a tall, solidly built man with his wavy ponytail resting on his left shoulder as always. “So can I join your shit-talking power hour? I am like a trebuchet full of excrement, ready to sling the highest quality turds, so? We good? Can I join you fine gents in--Hrg!”
That dull sound just now was a piece of scrap metal hitting Bastian square in the forehead. “You big jerk! You were keeping Vinn out of the office for the last two days and you neglected to even mention him in your reports! As both a person and an Exorcist, you are terrible!”
“Oi, who the hell throws junk metal at people!? At least make it something like a plastic bottle, or a--Argh!”
And that dull sound just now was a broken clock hitting Bastian on the side of his face.
“Don’t talk back!”
“Yes ma’am! Please don’t give me a concussion, ma’am!”
“Denied!”
“Alright, hold it, hold it, please! I’ll stop! Quit chucking assorted reclaimed metals at me!”
“...Are these two like this all the time?” Vinn whispered to Nicholas.
“Just when Bastian’s a dick.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“So yeah, all the time.”
“I see.”
——-
“...Well, now that we are all here, I suppose a formal welcoming is due... But first... You clever little rascal. You left home really early, just to avoid me, huh?”
Vinn simply glared at Bastian. “I knew you’d try it a third day. Get off my back, already. I humored your two ‘tests’, and not even knowing what my workplace looks like for three days in a row is not exactly professional.”
“...Tests? Vinn, what did this oaf make you do?” Dani inquired, already reaching for the next piece of junk in her little bag.
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything terribly cruel. You’ll see in my report later, but basically, the necromancer of two days ago and a case with a stray demon yesterday. Both ended up well, so-- Hey, speaking of, where’s the necromancer?” Vinn asked, having just remembered the rather high profile criminal they brought in.
“Well, I’m not at liberty to say just yet, but let’s just say you’ll know soon enough.”
“Bastian, could you please treat him like a member of our division already?” sighed the girl.
“Oh, no no, Bastian is not being Bastian for once, he really isn’t at liberty to say.” Nicholas interrupted. “All information on the case -- the necromancer herself, the undead horde, and the fact that a Siren was dispatched -- is all confidential. In fact, we should not discuss it at all. He could actually get questioned by the Blackvests if his lips are too loose.”
“Ah, so it is actually confidential... I was curious myself, too, to be honest. It’s the first actual necromancer in forever, isn’t it?” Dani asked as she drank some of her freshly brewed coffee.
“First I’ve seen in active service, and in general.” replied the seasoned Exorcist. “Sure, you get punks who reanimate rats and dogs here and there, and then we have to go in and put the feral critters out of their mindless misery. But one that has actually reanimated humans? And didn’t even bother thralling them? Just letting the do as they please? That’s very weird, no matter how you spin it. Anyways, I am not lying when I say you’ll know soon enough.” Bastian readjusted himself and reached into one of the many seemingly empty pizza boxes, producing a cold slice and chomping on it. “Let’s go back to the man of the hour, now. Vinn, you’ll have to forgive me, but it was absolutely necessary that I test you in the ways I did. You aren’t an idiot, you could see that Exorcists don’t have the best reputation around, and deservedly so.”
The atmosphere in the room changed.
“...Yeah. People feared me. People expected me to throw my weight around. People doubted me whenever I showed any cordiality or kindness. Exorcists really are not liked, huh? This is all very different from the Academy.” Vinn recounted, a disappointed sigh escaping him.
“That’s true, because a lot of Exorcists reign through fear, throw their weight around, and only smile when they want something out of you, or worse, when they already have what they need to blackmail you. The Academy is a bubble, Vinn.” Dani explained, her tone serious. “The Academy will make you believe your duty is just and your methods righteous, but in the real world, you can’t just go in blasting everything and coercing the weak into obeying or paying the price”
“Our duty as Exorcists, and related support parties, is to mete out justice in the Mythic affairs, whether that justice needs to clash against a Mythic or against a Human. We are supposed to be the entity that upholds justice, but a lot of Exorcists, well, they just smoke Mythics. We are supposed to stand up for Humans as much as we are for Mythics, but that’s not how it goes in practice.” Nicholas sadly continued.
“And that’s why I needed to test you.” said Bastian as he propped his legs on his desk. “I told you before, but you need to be able to hold your own in a fight, have the brains to figure out solutions to your problems, and have the heart to actually stand up for Mythics. I -- we -- have no use for yet another kid who slings death around to try and be the big strong Exorcist.”
Despite the shoddy appearance of the office, with the ocean of pizza boxes scattered everywhere and sundry junk adorning every corner, the files were where they needed to be, Nicholas’ computer was impeccable, and whatever actually mattered, was there. Messy as it was, it was the office of those who truly cared about their job, and about those said job entailed. Downing some coffee, Vinn took a deep breath.
“...Crude as they may be, I understand the reason behind your methods. I can’t say I’m mad, since it gave me a reality check I’d rather have now instead of later. It’s only... Fair, really.”
“Well,” Bastian replied, “Whether you are mad or not doesn’t really matter to me, what does matter is that you pass the tests. I was gonna tell you as much earlier today, but you eluded me like a slippery eel, which, I hate to admit, is also a good thing, so yeah, welcome to the 7th Office 3rd Division. I’ll work you to the sinews.”
“That’s just his way of being nice. Please do be patient with him, he’s an idiot, after aaAAAH! Damn! Ow ow ow!” Nicholas snarked before his hot coffee came to life and splashed his face, burning him.
“Maybe don’t insult an Hydromancer while holding a nice, fat cup of hot coffee, dumbass.” laughed Bastian.
“Pfff, well, you kinda walked right into that one, Nick, hehe. Still! It’s good to have some new blood in here, so by all means, welcome! I hope you have a good time! Don’t mind the office’s sorry state, we get our job done.” Dani cheerfully informed.
“Yeah, especially since all the pizza boxes are her doing in the first place, our cute little piglet.” taunted Nick, wiping the coffee off his face.
“He didn’t need to know that!”
“...You already put the order for today’s batch, didn’t you?”
“...I cannot confirm or deny that, Bastian.”
“Haha!”
It was a lively little office with just three people in it, four now, but Vinn could tell there was something different here, something he didn’t find in his time in the Academy, nor out in the field during these last two days.
There was a lot of heart and joy here.
There was anxiety, there were nerves, there was a lot of expectation, from both his partner and himself, but ll of those things, he already knew he was gonna feel. What he didn’t know, however, was how much he was going to crave to be part of this little world, where contact was easy and everyone seemed to get along like this.
And just like there’s a shadow by every light cast, so was there a woe that made his heart throb with a pang of concern: Were his people back home ever going to be able to partake in this?
If anything, this only steeled his resolve further. He left the comfortable wilderness for a reason against the protests of everyone that cared for him for this, after all.
“There’s no way I’m going back empty handed now.” he though to himself, after seeing that the human world is capable of compassion.
——-
Just as the playful banter was beginning to calm down, someone knocked on the big iron door.
“It’s open, come in!” Nick yelled from the back of the office, already submerged in his files and keyboard once again.
“Please excuse me.”
As the door opened, Vinn perked up as he saw that pair of familiar horns, black like lacquered wood, curved with dignity, protruding through the holes of the wide brimmed hat. It was the tall woman from the morning. The dame simply giggled at his surprise, an elegant hand covering her lips.
“Now, why the surprise? I did say I’d come welcome you properly, no? Have you eased into your job with Nicholas yet? He’s a harsh instructor, but you’ve much to learn from someone with his diligence and experience.” she greeted bemusedly.
“Oh, no no, I’m not here as an info agent, I’m an Exorcist, partner with--”
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Fat Fatima!” the brick that broke cordiality boisterously interrupted. “What do you and your five chins want? Don’t remember having any reason to expect a visit from you.”
“Bastian? What the h--!” tried to reproach Vinn, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Just seconds ago, a gallant lady stood by the door, with a welcoming voice, a friendly disposition, and a kind smile. The very picture of manners and helpfulness. Where, oh, did she go? And when was she replaced by a twin with death in her eyes and wicked claws protruded, ready to slash a jugular or six?
“Feh, Bastian... I didn’t come to talk to the wondrous sack of shit that pretends he’s people. Mind going back to your stupid magazines? Me and Nick’s new kid want to do some formal introductions, not that you’d know what those are.” snarled the dame, showing what were very clearly fangs.
“Nick’s got no new kid, shithead. If you mean that kid over there, he’s my new partner.”
“Oh, spare me, I’d think you’d at least give my intelligence some credit. Think of some more convincing lies if you wish to mess with me, Bastian.”
“Uh, hey, Fatima... Yeah, he’s not mine. Vinn’s an Exorcist, and Bastian’s partner.”
“What!? So he’s actually got a new partner!?” This reaction seemed to be popular. “Wait, so does that mean... Oh, uh...” The horned woman seemed to be troubled and wracked with guilt out of the sudden. “...Vinn, was it? I profusely apologize for the trouble I’ve no doubt caused you.”
Vinn didn’t really understand where this came from, and tilted his head just slightly in confusion, trying to think what this person he did not know before this morning could possibly mean by that. “I really have no idea what you’re apologizing for, Miss Fatima, you’ve done nothing but show courtesy to me.”
“Oi oi, so I’m just Bastian and ‘a damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with’, but she’s Miss Fatima? I’m glad to see where your loyalties lie, Vinn.” whined Bastian, a mocking hand to his own chest, as if deeply offended, nay, hurt.
“You said those things, I just confirmed them, geez.”
“Ah, allow me to elaborate...” interjected the horned lady. “First of all, I am the 1st Division Exorcist, Fatima Allanach, a pleasure to meet you, Vinn...?”
“Ingram. Vinn Ingram.”
She smiled graciously. “...As to what I did, well, I am the reason the Siren showed up two days ago.”
“Oh, you bitch! I should’ve figured you, of all people, would just call for them to mobilize all those delicious tax patros to give me a hard time! You could’ve killed me in the crossfire!”
“Oh, put a sock on it, Bastian.” -- all the grace she showed to Vinn was replaced by a vulgar hostility when addressing the hydromancer -- “Both of us know you wouldn’t die from a little Siren... Although I can’t say the same for your new partner. Had I know you had someone else there, I would’ve relented, and for that, I’m sorry. I just never... Thought you’d take another partner after Roderick, you know?”
The rooms atmosphere changed as Fatima’s voice softened with those last words. Even though this was the time for one of those patented Bastian Rude Retorts, he simply produced a cigarette, fiddled with it a bit, and then put it back in the pack. “Neither did I. But, well, here we are. And you, Fatima... It’s fine if you want to give me hell, but putting everything aside for a moment, even if its called for, never use the Sirens. Don’t confuse power for a basis of trust. Those things... Are executioners wearing their own coffins. Don’t forget it.”
“...That’s rich coming from you, Bastian.” Her sharp tongue was unsheathed once anew, albeit with a different, far more bitter fervor. “You don’t get to tell me whether I use a tool or not. Sirens are strong, and they can take care of practically any Mythic situation, small or large scale. It’s foolishness not to use an advantage when we have it.”
“Those things are not an advantage, Fatima. They are indiscriminate, they know only to kill and maim, how can you not see this!? We are Exorcists, it is our duty to--”
“--To utterly obliterate those bastards until they understand their place! How many more Humans must die to their savagery before you get this!? How many more Rodericks do we need in the graveyard before you stop spouting such naive drivel, Bastian?! Had a Siren been there with you that day, Roderick would still--”
“Shows how much you know! We’d both be death, and our assailants as well, leaving us with two less Exorcists and no leads whatsoever! Incredible! Great job! I can see why you are the 1st Division Exorcist clearly, with such a clear head absolutely not full of garbage on top of those shoulders!”
“You have no way of knowing that! When will you see the world for what it is already, you utter--”
“Everybody shut up!”
Nicholas’ voice boomed, drowning any whining in the small office, finally putting a stop to the bedlam.
“Don’t yank the chain, Nick, I need to make her understand--”
“Whatever, do that on your free time! You two schedule a nice, steamy, hot date outside of work hours, meet at a restaurant, order a fine beef steak dinner, and then beat the shit out of each other with it, I don’t care, but don’t go doing this in the office!”
Bastian and Fatima simply looked to the floor, or the ceiling, or anywhere that wasn’t Nicholas’ general direction, like scolded children caught trying to look inside the pot before dinner.
“Geez...” sighed the info agent, settling on his chair again. “Every time, you two...”
As if on cue, the office’s phone rang, Danielle dutifully picking it up.
“...Miss Fatima, did you mean that?” Vinn asked, a certain edge midst his cordiality.
“Hm? Did I mean what, exactly?”
“‘To utterly obliterate those bastards’, do you see Mythics that way?”
“...Oh, please don’t tell me you do share this brute’s view on the matter, Vinn? We are not called ‘Mediators’ or ‘Caretakers’, we are Exorcists. We exorcise, we hunt, we exterminate, that’s quite literally the job description. Things are this way for a reason.”
“And what would that reason be, Miss Fatima?” inquired Vinn without missing a beat, standing up. “What about being a human makes me inherently superior, more ‘people’ than a Mythic? We are not dealing with wild beasts, we are dealing with intelligent, sentient creatures who know love, hate, joy, and sorrow just as we do, who have a culture, traditions, and needs. You yourself are a Mythic, I fail to see the logic in--”
“Oh, the young man will watch his words.” Fatima replied with the same hostility she employs with Bastian, finally dropping her softer tone. “What I am doesn’t mean I should see things one way. It’s because I am a beast that I know exactly how terrible we can be.”
“That’s like saying we should destroy all slides in children's’ parks because one time, a kid scrapped his knee.”
“And only a fool would compare Mythics and slides horizontally.”
Vinn’s face was a mask of utter hatred and disdain for the horned Exorcist. “Miss Fatima, I think it’s about time you le--”
“What!? Y-yes, I’ll tell them immediately!” the communications expert yelled as she slammed the phone back on its base. “G-guys! You too, Miss Fatima! We’ve got a big situation down by Manduco #83493!”
“Dani, calm down. What’s the situation?” Bastian calmly asked, sitting back down and quickly picking up his flasks and other utensils.
“The mass kidnapping from two months ago is happening again! It’s most likely the same perpetrator. It’s going on right now, a laborer that works at that warehouse forgot something, so even though it’s supposed to be closed off today, he went and found a lot of people just... Moving around, as if thralled. The first three divisions are to go there immediately.”
“Thanks, sweetie, that’s all we need. Well, let’s get going, we can’t lose a second.”
“I’ll go get my partner, let’s not waste any time.” Fatima said before disappearing into the hallway.
——-
The dark blue car blazed a trail through the asphalt, going as fast as the worn out engine could manage, a bright red van and a dark green motorcycle tailing them. Inside the car, the grim-looking Vinn double checked his handcuffs and other pieces of equipment, a silence and grimace that didn’t escape the driver’s notice.
“Vinn, you good?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the fakest ‘yeah’ I’ve had the honor of hearing. Look alive, this is a real bad situation. We need all six of us with our heads in the game.”
“Yeah.”
“...”
“...”
Bastian could only sigh.
“Oi, Vinn, don’t let what Fatima said get to you. It’s a kick in the dick, but that’s how many Exorcists are. She’s particularly partisan about it, yeah, but it’s better if you get used to it, hopefully manage it better than I do.”
Vinn only responded with a half-hearted chuckle and a few seconds of silence before reviving the dialogue. “I could understand it if it were anyone else, really, but Miss Fatima specifically is... Inconceivably weird. She was very cordial and kind before then, and is a Mythic, to boot, yet, she wants to kill her own kind so viciously? It goes beyond duty-bound hatred, that was just genuine hatred, how could you feel that way towards your own people?”
The usual brashness of the seasoned Exorcist was nowhere to be found, the sounds of the worn out motor filling in for dialogue for a few streetlights before Bastian found the strength to continue talking. “It’s... Complicated. Don’t hate her, please, she’s got her own problems.” Vinn almost fell out of the car upon hearing this. This had to be the first time he heard Bastian talk about someone so softly. He suspected they had a past from the previous conversation, but this only really confirmed it, especially if it was about someone he was just having a flat out shouting contest with moments ago. The dense mood was already suffocating enough, and they had a job to do right now, anyways, it was a good time to change topics.
“...So, these mass kidnappings... Damn, what a creepy name. Two months ago was the first one, right? How come they are deploying Mythic Law Enforcement for it now?”
“Well, last time, authorities had no idea magic was involved, but after investigating the area believed to have been where it took place, based on witness accounts of seeing the victims heading that way, heavy amounts of mana residue were found, suggesting that it was no mere mass kidnapping... Not that mass kidnappings are commonplace, anyway. So, it’s now a MAB affair.”
“Ah! Take this left, it should be there... Yeah, lots of cop cars. They must be barring civilian entry to the area. That’s a relief, at least.”
Bastian took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel harder. “Well, ideally, I wanted to ease you into the job with easier cases, help you get to know Stroln as a city, with its Mythic underground world and all, but destiny calls, I suppose. This isn’t me underestimating you, but try to stick with me at all times. I have a stinkin’ feelin’ that this might get nasty.”
“...Got it.”
——-
In front of the six Exorcists, the massive warehouse stood with its service door open, the lock smashed to junk by its foot. The structure was clearly from Pre-Amnesiac times, but well maintained and still in regular usage.
“...I don’t like this. It stinks.” said Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist, assessing the situation. “This is no abandoned joint, the lock was smashed too neatly, and you’d have to be a fool to have such a flagrant vulnerability to your million patros business screamin’ to be exploited like this. What do you guys think?”
“Fully agreed.” Bastian commented. “We oughta have words with the owner or parent company of this place after we’re done here. As Fiona said, this is simply too suspicious. The lock really just looks like its there so they can file a police report on unlawful entry and claim innocence. It’s unlikely for any magic criminal to be so nuanced as to break a little lock, they’d usually go for a bigger door, especially if it’s a mass kidnapping.”
“Correct. They probably didn’t even use this service door.” Fatima added. “They probably opened the big cargo gate over there to get all the people inside, nice and neatly, and then simply smashed this lock to make it seem like they aren’t working with the owners of this place. This whole thing stinks.”
Behind the seasoned trio, the novice partners observed in awe how quickly their would-be mentors were piecing together the puzzle in front of them before even stepping in the building. The duties of an Exorcist include the subjugation of magic-wielding and supernatural criminals, negotiation with such individuals, and all around keeping this secret magical world hidden, but an important part of being an Exorcist is to play the role of detective as well. An Exorcist is, after all, the do-all end-all authority in the world of Mythic Law Enforcement, having powers and duties far beyond their mundane equivalents.
“They look and act like washed up garbage after a cruiser accident on the coast, but seein’ them like this really reminds you they are veteran Exorcists, don’t it?” Daryl commented, breaking the silence between the novices.
“The way your worded that was really weird, but I know exactly what you mean.” Vinn responded. However, standing beside Daryl and Vinn was a third person who had not opened her mouth, simply looking at the experienced Exorcists work their craft and plan out how to advance. Vinn and Daryl both recognized her, and it is precisely because of that that the latter knew they shouldn’t bother trying to include her in the conversation, and why the former, who had zero social awareness back in the Academy, made the mistake of taking the initiative.
“...So, Nadja, I didn’t know you were assigned to the 7th as well.”
“...”
“Miss Fatima’s your partner, huh? Must be good working with her.”
“Interested in her looks, I gather?”
Vinn lifted his arms as if surrendering. “What? No, I mean how professional she is and all that. Anyhow, I don’t think we’ve ever talked, I’m V--”
“Vinn Ingram. Top scorer of our year.”
“Yup, the one.”
“...”
“...”
“...Pppffff, that went swimmingly, ya smooth operator.” chuckled Daryl.
“Oh, can it, at least I don’t go kissing girls randomly to determine their species.”
“Yeah, you don’t, and that’s really sad.”
“Hrrg...”
“Alright, coffee break over, kiddos, here’s the plan.” Fiona called suddenly, the novices perking up and giving her their attention. The anxiety of their first real operation, not to mention a rare cooperative operation between different Divisions, was beginning to well up in their guts. “Alright, so, the people are most likely still inside. Bringing a large amount of people here unnoticed, while not easy, is doable, but shipping them all together from here to wherever their destination is is another story. They are most likely waiting for a large transport, a bus or a series of van, maybe a large truck, we don’t know, and they are holding fort inside for now. We don’t know how many men it takes to keep all these people in there, but expect heavy resistance. We’ll go together, but if we need to split for whatever reason, stick to your partner. Questions? I hope not, because we ha--”
“A question.”
“Shoot, Nadja.”
“What level of lethality are we allowed?”
“Ideally, just enough to disable them. We have questions, they have answers. That means you shouldn’t use those things attached to your ankles.”
Nadja’s build was lithe, graceful, like a panther, and that made the large, black devices on each ankle stand out all the more. What looked like the point of a silver stake protruded downwards from the end of the device.
“Understood.”
Bastian spoke up now. “Alright, if that’s it, let’s head in. Keep chit chat to a minimum, and if you must talk, do it as silently as possible.”
——-
Nary a footstep could be heard from the six trained individuals, moving like the shadow of a ghost across the large industrial complex-slash-warehouse. Something was clearly wrong with this place, as the air was stagnant, there were no signs of struggling whatsoever, and every door and window inside, in stark contrast with the service door, was neatly unlocked and undamaged, giving fuel to the veterans’ speculation, much to their dismay. They didn’t have to navigate much until the first shadow of adversity loomed close, by the internal courtyard. It was one at first, and then two, and then three, and then seemingly an endless amount of them, silhouettes walking as if entranced by a wicked siren’s song.
“...! Halt! I see many of them, and they are... You gotta be kidding me... Bastian, look at what they are wearing.” Fatima whispered, pointing towards a little window to their side that led to the courtyard.
If concern had a shape, it was Bastian’s face. “...Large pig masks and red robes. This is bad. Really bad.” Bastian mused, a bead of sweat running down his brow.
“Hm? Hey, hey, uncle, what’s wrong? Didja get cold feet over some costumes? What’s wrOW OW OW!” inquired Daring Daryl with the delicacy of an hydraulic press, as Fiona used one hand to cover his mouth and the other to give him an excruciatingly painful shoulder death grip.
“You beefy sack of crap!” Fiona chastised in whispers. “Flappin’ yer gums when you don’t know shit will only get you a Fiona Massage from now on! The grotesque pig mask and red robes are synonymous with a top wanted criminal, the Hog Priest! This is bigger than we could’ve imagined. Stay on your toes, everyone.”
“The Hog Priest has evaded capture several times, and there’s reports of them being sighted in multiple places at once... I suppose this explains it, though. It’s a legion of them.” pointed out Nadja.
The courtyard had a strange, purplish fog blanketing it, and in it, the pig-masked people wandered aimlessly, sometimes bumping into each other, sometimes tripping and picking themselves up clumsily, and in general, simply drifting along. Some stood still, vacant, some jogged slightly before calming down and clutching their chest, and all in all, it was a miserable spectacle.
“...Something’s wrong.” Fiona warned while putting on a pair of fingerless gloves, akin to those used by MMA fighters.
“Hm? Whatcha mean? They are just bobbin’ and... Oh.”
Daryl’s trap was shut tight once he realized little by little, they had all been stopping, and now, they all stood still, looking directly into the little window where they had been observing the courtyard from. No, not directly into the window, it was directly into their very eyes.
A suffocating, paralyzing, complete silence lasted all of two seconds before the window was smashed, a small canister almost hitting Fatima in the head being the culprit, from which an ominous gas shot from little pressurized holes.
“...Tear gas! Get out!”
In a frenzy, they jumped out of the window, out the gas’ range and right into a courtyard full of pig-headed foes that held pipes, shovels, and all manners of improvised weaponry, looking straight at them.
Not five seconds passed before an alarm siren loudly gave our Exorcists a warm, deafening welcome, sending all of the robed villains into a frenzy.
“Curses! Here they come! Defend yourselves and try to find a way out of here!” Fatima yelled, assuming a defensive stance and blocking a shovel strike with her bare hand.
As soon as the horde began its restless assault, the sinister purple fog that permeated the courtyard intensified, obstructing sight and puzzling the senses with its oddly calming fragrance. It was every man and woman for themselves, Bastian utilizing water to block the weapons and to push his assailants to the ground with immense pressure, Fiona disarming them with expert martial prowess, and Fatima simply utilizing a retractable baton to parry and disarm those who would attempt to harm her. In stark contrast, the novices were expending far more effort in the fight, visibly struggling, not for lack of strength or skill, but rather, because they simply didn’t know how to engage a foe without destroying them. Killing the enemy is easy, but when your duty is to subdue the enemy without killing them or doing enough harm that you’ll ruin their life from there on is an art all of itself, an art that the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy wasn’t keen on teaching. The lacking curriculum was showing all of its weaknesses. That, and a sinister whisper that was invading their mind, which made itself more and more apparent, numbing their reactions, misleading their movements.
“W-what in the world is this...? It’s like there’s a compelling whisper inside of my head... Someone warm and kind, someone I trust, telling me to drop my guard when they attack or to soften my body whenever I try to disable one...!” Nadja said as she unsuccessfully tried to take a shovel away from a masked minion, who simply shrugged her off and shoved her right to the floor.
“Is it the fog? No... It couldn’t be, the fog is welcoming, it’s familiar, a scent of my childhood, it couldn’t...” Vinn lamented, seemingly giving himself up to an incoming lead pipe strike before Daryl pushed him out of the way.
“Oi, you damn idiots! Where’s yer Domunus Tecum!” Daryl chastised, holding off the criminals with his huge frame.
“Domunus Tecum...”
“Domunus Tecum!”
The second of the Six Spell of Self Defense, the spell of protection and shielding, a prayer for resilience. No sooner the two novices put their barriers up, their minds cleared and their bodies could move as they wanted them to. The whisper was still in their heads, but it wasn’t compelling and absolute as it was before.
“Just what is this voice? I’m not the only one that can hear it, right?” the exasperated Vinn asked as he used his many handcuffs and his colorful, unorthodox fighting style to subdue attackers.
“Bad news is what it is. Keep your Domunus up and strong, don’t stop pouring mana into it, or that whisper will claim your mind.” Fiona warned, fighting the good fight.
“C-chief! Hold the presses! These guys...!” Daryl screamed suddenly, a robed figure captured tightly in arms, unmasked. “Chief Fiona, these people are brainwashed civilians! Look!”
The face of the woman in Daryl’s grasp was catatonic, to say the least. A vacant expression and half-lidded eyes that looked nowhere, drool and tear lines telling a story that thousands of words couldn’t hope to match. “Oi, we gotta disable them without harmin’ them! They are just meat shields!”
“Shit...! That means there’s one mastermind out there, and they are just exhausting us! Fatima, do you think--”
As if his mind was being read, Bastian couldn’t finish what he was saying before Fatima was right by his side. “--you could use your poison to--”
“Neutralize them? Yeah, if I control the dosage, I can make it so I can knock them out with a sting each, enough to paralyze their muscles and yet not leave any lasting damage. I’ll need some help keeping them off me while I do this to each one of them individually, though.”
“I gotcha!” Fiona proudly declared, rolling to where they were, dodging several shovel strikes. “Daryl and I can keep ‘em corralled while your girl defends you directly, and Bastian and his boy can go for the brains.”
“I agree to this plan, but, poison? What do you have in mind? Do you have enough for all these people?” Vinn wondered, joining them.
“Oh, don’t worry about her, after all...”
With a wild smirk, Fatima leaped high into the air, her arms growing green fur, and a wicked scorpion tail, massive and heavy, protruding from her back, just under two pairs of feathered wings. Where there once was her elegant face now lies a lion’s roaring maw. She was much bigger than before, her impact on the ground sending several masked minions off balance.
“...She’s a Manticore. And a fat one at that, so she oughta have a lot of calories to turn to venom.” Bastian explained.
“STOP CALLING ME FAT, JACKASS.” the massive Manticore Fatima roared, deft swipes of her scorpion tail knocking out minion after minion, barb oozing with venom.
“We’ve got this area, you two! Get going! Whoever’s behind the fog, the whispers, and this mess is no doubt in that building over there. It’s the only structure to have a clear path to the streets in case they need to escape, and where they can survey all of this area!” explained the bruiser Fiona, joining Daryl in trying to corral the remaining minions with their superior physical strength.
“Yeah, we’ll get this over in a second. Let’s roll, Vinn!”
——-
Two pairs of footsteps echoed in the smaller building, dark and permeated with the fog. Bastian and Vinn both had their Domunus barrier on at full strength, the incessant whispers of the once-compelling voice never going silent.
“This keeps getting worse and worse...” lamented Bastian, double checking how much water he had left in his flasks. “Vinn, do not let up your barrier. It could mean death.”
“What is this whispering, anyways? I’ve never felt anything like it, and I don’t think I’ve read on this before.”
“It could be a curse, but there’s not been enough time to set up one of this nature with such an intensity, so what I think is... Vinn, are you familiar with Mindreaders?”
“Of course, those who can read minds and such. It’s theorized that, Pre-Amnesia, Mindreading was highly illegal and dangerous, given how many surviving records there are that explain, in great detail, how to defend against it. It’s considered useless now, since everyone worth a lick of salt in the arcane arts learns how to counter it.”
“Textbook answer, as usual.” -- Bastian chuckled -- “Well, what I think we’re up against right now, and I hope I’m wrong, is a Mindscreamer.”
“A what?”
“Mindscreamer. It’s the opposite of a Mindreader. Instead of being able to read your thoughts, Mindscreamers practically broadcast their thoughts into others by force. Whatever they think, you ‘hear’ inside your head. They can also make it so their thoughts are subliminal and subconscious in your brain, controlling your behavior to a degree. It’s a really damn frightening power.’
“What...?” Vinn couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet, the constant whispering in his brain since the courtyard brawl began proved that these were no lies. “I’ve never heard of Mindscreamers before, what kind of wicked art is this? You’d think it’d be more popular, with how powerful it sounds.”
“That’s the thing: You can’t learn how to Mindscream. Mindscreamers are born, it’s not a skill, it’s genetic and exclusive to certain individuals, but we don’t know much about it. In a way, that means that, yeah, we don’t really have to worry about it falling in the hands of just about any thug, but... It also means we are up against someone very special, and that knows what they are doing. Take this fog, for instance.”
“I noticed... This fog smells like incense, like chamomile, specifically, but it’s actually haunted. It’s Incense Magic, and this is tailored to numb the senses and lower your mental defenses.”
“Clever boy. Indeed, the incense lowers one’s mental barriers, which makes you susceptible to the Mindscreaming. Whoever is doing this is competent, do not drop your guard. This is how they kidnapped all of these people almost effortlessly: They simply made them come ‘of their own free will’ with Mindscreaming... Sick bastards.”
The Exorcist duo kicked open a door in front of them at the end of a long hallway, and inside, an immensely dense cloud of magic incense blocked their sight. The air was stagnant, almost putrid, and there were things in this room. Piercing glares that couldn’t be seen but could perfectly be felt stabbed the two Exorcists as soon as they entered the room. Before long, a couple of pig-masked minions, brainwashed civilians, no doubt, slowly became discernible in the dense purple fog, with bright, neon-like markings making them stand out in the fog. They moved with far more coordination than the courtyard fodder, shuffling around, circling, keeping their distance, never moving too close, but never straying too far from the surrounded agents. Bastian lashed at a cluster with a tendril of holy water, missing the mark completely as they swiftly moved out of the way.
“...The Mindscreamer is in this room. They are being controlled too well, too skillfully. These aren’t like the puppets we fought on the first fl--!”
The subtle whisper of cold steel sliding through flesh cut the older Exorcist off as a knife plunged deep in his torso from the left, a masked minion without any neon markings having made it past his watchful eye as his focus was on the neon marked masks, a pained grunt and a hammer of pressurized water impacting against his assailant punctuating his sentence instead. “Mother fu... Clever bastards...”
“Bastian, are you ok!? Damn, they are using neon marked and non-marked masks! While we focus on the barely visible neon, they come at us with the plain ones. What a cheap tactic...”
“Cheap it may be, but it’s working! Focus on defending!”
Even with In Te Fallitur, the first spell of detection and true sight active, the sheer magic density of the incense made it difficult to see nonetheless, their vision improving just slightly. Assault after assault, the duo was sustaining more and more injuries at the hands of this well utilized assassin horde. Whenever a neon mask moved, two plain masks slid in the gaps of their perception, getting closer and closer, until they could hurt either Exorcist. Their attacks didn’t pack much power against the protected Exorcists, individually, but as the damage piled on, it was clear this was a battle of attrition they were not going to win by any means, especially considering that their enemies were but brainwashed civilians they couldn’t bring themselves to hurt seriously.
“Haa... Haa... Bastian, can you make an intense flash of light somehow? With a flashbang or some small spell?”
“...Sounds like you have an idea... I can, but what do you want to do with it?”
“There’s really no time to explain!” Vinn barked as he parried an incoming knife just in time with a pair of handcuffs. “Just play it cool and shoot it right above that big group over there!”
“Vague ideas are better than no ideas at all, and we can’t keep this up for much longer... Alright, Aureola Oblito!”
As the spark that would soon become an explosion of intense light approached its point of contact, the ceiling above the horde’s densest point, the nimble Vinn Ingram lunged towards its center like a wolf in blood-starved hunt, shoving past the henchmen and women, and defending against pipes and knives. When he finally reached it, he yelled at Bastian, which he considered the signal, and looked down immediately.
“Praemium!”
Upon command, the little spark went supernova, a blinding light engulfing the room immediately, with every meat puppet in the room covering their eyes as if blinded, and yet, the light was rapidly devoured by the fog after its initial explosion. As the light faded, however, a man’s loud scream of pain echoed at the end of the room. It wasn’t Vinn’s or Bastian’s, it was the man who wore a plain pig’s mask in the middle of the horde, a knife sticking out of his arm, courtesy of Vinn.
“...How did you know?” the pig-headed man inquired, and he was immediately sent barreling backwards by a kick straight to the head, also courtesy of Vinn.
“You looked down to avoid the light. All of these people are brainwashed and not conscious, thus, blinding them wouldn’t do a thing to them. We’ve been striking them for a while now, and they show no sign or reaction of pain. You just made them act as if they were blinded, and joined in the act, but you yourself looked down so as to not be blinded, while the rest didn’t. Good try, though.”
“Quickly, stop flapping your gums and actually catch him!” Bastian screamed as he made his way through the now far less coordinated horde.
Vinn complied, but as he approached him, the Hog Priest lashed out with a large dagger, rolling backwards after Vinn stepped back to avoid being lacerated. Before Vinn could make his way to him, however, the Priest and another exact look alike became entangled in a strange dance, with many more plain masked minions joining in, and then, they all ran in different directions.
“...! Shit, clever bastard! There’s no way to tell which one’s the real one!”
“Don’t lose your cool, Vinn! The third one to the right is heading towards that staircase, which likely leads to a room adjacent to the streets, while the one to the far left is going towards a door, likely with the same idea in mind! The others are running randomly, but those two make sense in their retreat! It’s either of them, go after the right one, I’ll get the left one, go!”
“You may be a nasty customer, but damn, you pull your weight, Bastian! Good thinking! Catch him!”
——-
Vinn chased the figure that might be the real Hog Priest ceaselessly, door after door, hallway after hallway, until the figure stopped in the middle of a large storage room with no windows, no doors, no exits. Cornered at last, the Hog Priest simply turned around and faced the Exorcist, the eyes of the disgusting, realistic pig’s head mask meeting Vinn’s green own.
“It’s dead end for you, piggy. Undo the incense and the mind control, and turn yourself in nice and easy. Without your horde, you are out of luck.”
“Hmhm... Haha! Very nice, you... What a cruel mistress luck is, having me do this with you, of all people...” the muffled voice from behind the mask praised, a distinctly softer, different voice from the one before, which didn’t escape Vinn’s attention. “Now, you might be thinking, ‘did I get the right guy?’, and I have good news and bad news for you!” -- the Priest struck a cutesy and quirky pose while saying this, pointing at Vinn -- “Which do you want first?”
“P-pardon...?”
“I said! Which! Do you want! First! Good news or bad news!”
“...Good news?”
The exaggerated Priest lifted his arms in mock excitement, clapping and cheering excitedly with chants of “Woo! Exorcist! Exorcist!” before finally assuming a new pose. “Alright, so, the good news! The good news are that you have indeed caught the Hog Priest, congratulations!”
“...But your vo--”
“--ice is not the same you heard before, right? Yeah, about that... Here’s more good news: There’s two of us! So no matter which one of us you followed, and you followed both of us, there were only winning picks!”
Vinn immediately produced two pairs of handcuffs. “So, two of you, huh...? Well, that’s twice the questions we get to ask then, those are pretty good news.”
“Sadly, I also am obligated to tell you the bad news.” the Priest sadly informed, sticking an hand inside of his robes and producing a baseball bat covered in various, strange runes, pointing it at Vinn. “The bad news is that you die here.” she announced with an arctic voice unlike her variety show host demeanor of seconds before, taking a step forward and sending thunderbolts down Vinn’s spine. It was not the first time he’d been face to face with mortal danger, it was not the first time his life has been at risk, it was not the first time he was faced with a strong opponent. But, it was the first time in Vinn’s life that his body and mind screamed for him to get out of there fast, a primal, visceral flight response that didn’t even pretend to bother with the ‘fight’ half.
The bat came faster than a bullet from above, Vinn managing to block it only by reaction, leaving him wide open to kick to the gut which knocked the air out of him, and a subsequent palm strike to the chin that sent him barreling backwards against the wall. The Exorcist, in a panic, produced his standard issue handgun, pointing it at the Priest.
“You should’ve keep me close. Hands up, Hog Priest.”
“...That’s not even a Shootist Gun, that’s just a regular one. You... You are not taking this seriously, are you?”
Vinn took aim at his enemy’s leg and let loose a round, hoping to incapacitate him, but a simple swipe of the bat deflected the bullet right out of its path, the battered projectile hitting the wall next to Vinn’s head, missing him by a hair. “What the...!?”
“You really are a novice, huh. Should’ve kept to patrols and such, instead of getting roped into this hell. Then again, you yourself willing dropped into the wolf’s maw the moment you decided to become an Exorcist. Is the paycheck of a murderer really that tempting?”
“Not all of us are murderers! We’re trying to change it, we’re trying to heal this rotten system from within, which is more than can be said of mass kidnappers like you, so don’t you try and lecture me about moral codes!”
“Ah, yeah, in the eyes someone that doesn’t know what’s going on, of course it’s gonna look like we are the bad guys. ‘Changing it from within’, that’s some prime, class-A bullshit. You can’t possibly believe that. You’re smart enough to know you are but one good seed among a fetid, infected crop. You won’t fix the harvest by yourself.”
The Priest lowered his bat and pointed towards the door. “Leave.”
“...Huh?”
“You are outmatched. Leave through that door, exit the warehouse through the office sector, and desert the Mythic Affairs Bureau. Never again take on the mantle of the Exorcist, do something else. It’s for your own good. Do this, and I will not take your life. I will even guarantee you safe passage until you are out of Stroln.”
Vinn struggled to pick himself up after the brief but intense beating he sustained, putting his evidently useless handgun away. “...Why are you giving me a way out? What do you mean by a ‘good seed’?”
The disgusting pig in front of him tapped the “ear” of his mask. “A little bird told me that you do sincerely care for Mythics. You helped out a demon yesterday, helped him find a job that allows him to feed on human emotions without harming anyone when you simply could’ve smoked him. You’re a good person in a bad guy’s job, so I’m willing to compromise... No, I want to let you live. We need more people like you in the world.”
The disappointment in the hog’s fake eye was palpable when Vinn took a fighting stance instead.
“...Last chance, Exorcist. I’ll hold back no more.”
“How about you fuck off. I’m not gonna get lectured on morality by someone who brainwashes a bunch of people for a mass kidnapping. I’m through trying to reason with you. I’m done playing sweet. Let’s go for real.”
With a sigh and a head scratch, the hog picked up his bat and assumed a combat stance again. “I really wish we could’ve done this differently, but if you insist... I’ll give you a proper burial, at least.”
“Domunus Tecum!” the Exorcist chanted, renewing his protective spell, but he was not done. “Hostem Repellas Longius!” As he chanted this spell, a faint, red light covered Vinn’s body. Hostem Repellas Longius, the third of the Six Spells of Self-Defense, the spell of hostility, offense, and righteous violence. Simple as they may be, the strength of the Six Spells does indeed lie in simplicity, and with every brick you put on top of a good base, you get closer to making a wall. With attack and defense ready, Vinn put away one pair of handcuffs, holding only one with his left hand.
No more words were shared between the two, and they clashed fiercely in the middle of the spacious storage room, handcuffs meeting bat, the colliding steel singing a frantic sonata to which these individuals who couldn’t be more conflicted danced vigorously. Overhead strike, left swipe, shin kick, neck shot, eye gouge, they tried it all, and none could land. Vinn certainly seemed much different than before, and in a moment of carelessness, the Exorcist managed to grab the bat by the head.
“...! What’s with this grip!? Let go!” the Priest wined, struggling to get the bat back.
“Sure, here you go.”
Vinn’s hand glowed a dim silver and suddenly began vibrating at extreme intensities, the sheer force from the vibrations hurting the Priest’s arm, making her lose her balance from the pain. Using this opening, Vinn threw the bat away and lunged with his hand, grabbing the Priest by the shoulder, gripping hard for just a second before a skillful twirl of the Priest’s arm allowed him to set himself free.
“What was that...? You didn’t have enough time to do any of that weird vibration stuff to me.”
“It’s over, Priest. Don’t use your left arm and just surrender.”
The Priest simply laughed. “That bat thing was surprising, but you didn’t do anything to me. Now I know to watch out for it. I don’t feel bad at all, in fact, it’s like my left shoulder feels even better than before! Sucks to be y--!”
As the Priest picked the discarded bat back up with his left arm, an explosion of blood gushed from his shoulder, the sheer force of it shredding even the red robe and exposing his flesh, the Priest tumbling to the side and falling to the concrete ground, clutching his bloody mess of a shoulder as he screamed in agonizing pain. “W-what the fuck did you do to me!? Aaaargh!”
“You got confident without even knowing my style of magecraft, and now you’re paying the price. It’s simple in theory: Flux Magic. I know how to control the eb, flow, and movement of mana particles.”
“Haha, what...?” laughed the Priest, still in pain. “That’s... Fucking crazy... So that vibration was just you making a mass of mana vibrate at immense speed... You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“And your shoulder just now was me injecting you with an immense amount of mana, more than your body could possibly handle. Hence, when you moved the afflicted part, it burst like that. You were feeling well because you literally had an injection of energy given to you.”
“Clever bastard, first I see of anyone applying such an otherwise ignored principle of magic emission, Flux, in this creative a way. Hats off to you, friend. I suppose I gotta show my hand now.”
“Wait, if you move with that wound--”
Vinn’s warning fell upon deaf ears as the Priest, left shoulder oozing blood, dashed right against Vinn to renew his assault. Handcuffs parried the bat, but it was nothing more than a feint, Vinn’s stomach catching a knee that made him double in pain. As he tried to get his bearings, the bat’s runes glowed an eerie teal, the weapon bludgeoning Vinn in the side, sending him tumbling.
“Alright, let’s see what we get... Become The Body Of His Innermost Shackles! Terror Ink!”
From within the robes of the Priest, a turbulent torrent of ink exploded forth, covering the bat and transmogrifying it into what looked like a bizarre, serrated hoop weapon. Upon seeing it, Vinn was left speechless.
“Why... Why do you have that...!? That’s impossible!”
One didn’t have to look at the face behind the mask to know that the Priest’s expression was currently a smug grin. “So this is what you fear the most, huh...? Weird weapon. I can’t begin to imagine what its wielder must have done to terrify you so. This is Rorschach Magic, the Terror Ink. Anything inscribed with the right runes and provided with the ink can turn into the biggest fear of whatever it strikes. In this case, this weird... Hoola hoop thingy... Whatever it is. Well, let’s test it, shall we?”
The Hog Priest’s assault was renewed again, slashing and swiping with the bizarre ring-like weapon, one of the ends of the ‘ring’ detaching and flailing wildly as if seeking Vinn with a mind of its own. “Oh! It detaches! So it’s like a bladed whip, too!”
“Put that away! You have no idea what you’re playing with!”
“Nah, I’m good, now please die quietly, or at least making a funny noise!”
The weapon was extremely confusing. It moved with a mind of its own, one end reattaching and the other detaching at seemingly random swings, clearly not the Priest’s doing, wounding Vinn with each tricky, impossible twirl of the notched edges. Vinn, catching him by surprise, leaned forward instead of retreating anymore, as his back would hit the wall any second now, and clinched the Priest, trying to knock his weapon away, his superior positioning allowing him to elbow the Priest right on the wounded shoulder.
“Hraaa!”
“You’re done!”
But as Vinn went for another deadly grip, on the exposed parts of the Priest’s robe, thanks to the earlier bloody burst and the tugging their clinch had brought to their clothes, he saw something that he simply couldn’t comprehend.
Just below the left shoulder blade, there it was, a tattoo that he was sure was the circular object wreathed in something spiky he briefly saw on the girl yesterday. Seeing this, he immediately shoved the Priest and made some distance.
“Ooph! What...? You’ll really regret giving me space to move ag-- Huh?”
“You... Are the girl from yesterday, aren’t you? The one who helped me with Mathanac!”
“...”
“Why are you doing this? It’s you, isn’t it? I recognize the tattoo. You are the same height, too, now that I think about it.”
“...Aha, shit.”
With his free hand, nay, her free hand, the Priest removed the large pig mask and tossed it aside. Behind it was a beautiful girl with striking magenta eyes and shoulder length white hair, her right lock dyed black. A tragically familiar face, with a pained, regretful smile.
Just yesterday, they were hanging out in the streets of Stroln, trying to find Mathanac a job.
“Hey there, Mister Exorcist. Cat’s out of the bag, it seems!”
“Why are you doing this...?” the anguished Vinn inquired.
“Hey now, it’s not like we are lifelong friends or nothin’, don’t get all dramatic on me. This is just... Who I am, really. One half of the Hog Priest, protector of Mythics, and seeker of clarity.”
“What does that even mean? Why kidnap so much people?”
“Mister Exorcist... Vinn. Look, please, just walk away. Pretend this never happened. It’s impossible for you to believe me right now, I understand, but you gotta trust me, we are doing this for the common good. It sure as hell doesn’t look like it now, but this is all for the good not just of Stroln, but of the world. We need these people, and we’re not gonna hurt them or anything! I promise!”
“How can I possibly believe that when every moment since I stepped in here has been a fight to just stay alive?!”
“If Exorcists were the kind of people that you could explain things to, we wouldn’t need to do this! You are decent, Vinn, but you are the exception! Exorcists are a rotten bunch! There’s simply no more time, we need to--”
In the middle of her impassioned speech, an alarm went off on the bulky wristwatch the girl was wearing.
“...Tsk. Vinn, this is my last warning.” she murmured, with softness and honesty, not a hint of hostility to her voice. “You really are a good guy. I could tell from how much effort you put into helping Mathanac yesterday, and with how much respect you treated him. Please, walk away. Retire from the Exorcists, and leave Stroln. It’s going to get ugly, and we need people like you in the coming world, people that will receive Mythics with arms wide open. If we meet again in these conditions, know that I will not show you a shred of mercy.”
“...The coming world? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Good bye, Vinn. And for both our sakes, let’s not meet again until the next world arrives.”
The wicked weapon in her hand suddenly turned black, and then seemed to melt. As the ink peeled from it, its true shape as a baseball bat returned. Pulling a little detonator from the robe’s pocket, the girl smeared some of the neon paint the other masks had across her face and smiled farewell as she pressed it, an explosion nearby blasting a hole in the wall.
——-
Meanwhile, in another room,
in another part of the building...
“Isn’t the view up here just divine, Bastian Ashfield?”
“Yeah, I gotta give it to you, man. You’ve gone and given me the perfect scenario, not gonna lie.”
“Oh? Is that so? Would you mind elaborating?”
“I ain’t much of a nature landscape fan, but urban stuff? Cities? My jam. Love ‘em. I also love interrogating domestic terrorists. In some minutes, I’ll be making you spit blood, curses, and answers while enjoying the beauty of Stroln in the afternoon, and that? That’s priceless. If I had a nice, bodacious babe to praise me while I’m kneeing you in the throat, it’d be my second birthday, not gonna lie.”
“Damn right we do, and I dream the biggest of them all. So, are we done flirting?”
“Very much so, Ashfield.”
The banter was followed with silent sizing up, not one of the two men moving an inch as they stood on top of the main building’s rooftop. It had been an arduous, lengthy pursuit, but it all came to this. Face to face at last with the wanted criminal, Hog Priest, the Hydromancer was already grinning like a madman. He truly had been waiting for a chance to unwind, you see.
Without warning, a sharp, potent tendril of pressurized water lunged directly towards the Priest like a lance, only to be met with an invisible wall, mana sparks and the sound of magical diffusion concluding with a mass of useless water falling helplessly to the floor. Stretching his arms, the Priest let out a chuckle, hundreds of incense sticks popping out of his robes all over his body.
“What...?”
“Vervain incense, Ashfield.” the Priest explained mockingly. “Very strong magic retardant. For once in your life, splashing water around won’t save you.”
“Incense Magic... Never thought I’d come across someone wacky enough to weaponize it for combat. Still, defense seems to be your only strong point, so I just need to punch through and I’ll be gold.”
“And how do you figure you’ll do that?”
“Well, I could do this, for starters.”
Just as suddenly as the first tendril, two massive jets of water erupted behind Bastian, propelling him with immense speed towards the Hog Priest, getting close enough to use a pressurized water slash that came a hair short of beheading the porcine foe thanks to his reflexes, managing to duck just in time with only the mask’s top being sliced off.
“Woah, man! What happened to that ‘interrogation’? Dead men tell no tales!”
“You can survive long enough without a piece of your face, no biggie.” calmly explained Bastian. “...That incense only protects you against long range magic, huh? Makes sense. The farther magic is from its caster, the less magic emission remains in it. That incense of yours has a heavy enough disruption that spells with little emission remaining in them will not be able to penetrate it, but the emission of my holy water is strong enough to pierce through it if I am close enough... You knew this, however.”
“Astute observation, mister miscreant. How do you figure the last part, though?”
The Exorcist smirked. “You have a pistol hanging by a holster on your right hip under those robes. You intended to keep me away by using it, rendering me helpless to hurt you from afar. And it could have worked, had you actually stopped flapping your gums and actually focused on the fight. You’re not much of a fighter, are you?”
Impressed, the Priest couldn’t help but lift his arms in not-so-mocking surrender. “...Guilty as charged. I’m not a fighter, no. My partner handles the direct combat end of the business, truth be told.”
A vinyl scratch inside Bastian’s head brought him to a full stop. “Wait, partner? Hold on, so the decoy that Vinn went after--”
As shock overcame Bastian, the crafty hog quickly reached for the gun on his hip, but Bastian, seasoned fighter as he is, immediately closed the distance again with two water propulsion jets.
“You got too cocky, shithead!” Bastian boasted, as his arm ascended to direct the water Priestwards, a splatter of crimson blood and the horrifying sound of ripping flesh polluting the air as a scream of agony echoed in the skies above the rooftop.
“...Did I, now, dear Ashfield?”
“W-what the shit...?”
With a loud thud, Bastian hit the floor harshly after being sent flying, a gash on his chest oozing blood. On the other side of the rooftop, the still-standing Priest had two massive spikes protruding from his chest, red with the blood of the Hydromancer they just downed. Removing his robe and torn mask, the Priest revealed short black hair, a scar on the right side of his face, and amber eyes. He looked like he was in his late 30s, with a mostly skinny, not-quite-lanky frame. Most notoriously, he was fully clad in stitched-together leather, crudely put together and of different animals by the looks of it. His jacket, shirt, pants, and even boots, all made of patchwork leather. The spikes slowly retracted back into his chest, seamlessly disappearing into his body, staining his shirt with the blood that was on the horns.
“You jumped the gun, friend, pun absolutely intended. You didn’t even consider I might have a way to deal with you up close.”
The blood oozing from Bastian’s chest slowly stopped, and it seemed to being drawn back into his chest by an unnatural force. “Oh!” the Priest exclaimed. “Your command of Hydromancy never ceases to amaze, Ashfield! Pulling your own blood back inside you with it! I guess it takes grit like this in order to live in the way you have.”
“S-stop talkin’ as if you know shit about me... What the hell was that...? I sense... Necromancy?” panted the wounded Exorcist, still on the floor, unable to move much. That statement made the man’s face shine with joy.
“You have a good eye, Ashfield. This is failed Necromancy... A poor man’s version, a mere counterfeit. Like every other Necromancer out there, I’ll never be a full fledged master of the death. However, I have no interest in that, and just this much control is good enough for me. My specialty is leather, allowing me to temporarily revive and reform any animal from leather, just for a short while, but hey, that’s all I need. Bringing back people is way out of my scope and ability, haha. What you experienced just now were the horns of a bull whose hide I have stitched on this shirt.” With a jolly stride and a confident gait, he approached the felled Hydromancer to deliver the last blow. “It was great playing with you, Ashfield, but you are a big pain in the ass, so I gotta put you out now, see ya!” From his right sleeve, a tiger’s foot materialized, razor sharp claws at the ready, and... Nothing. Nothing happened afterwards, as a spike seemed to have pierced the leather-clad man right through his chest. “...Ah... Haha, curses... You’re right, I’m not much of a fighter...” Bastian simply smirked again.
“Thanks for getting close enough to let me use my own blood on your shirt like that. Love ya.” Bastian had used the blood he had splattered on his assailant to pierce him from point blank range, incapacitating both men. It was pointless to even try to attack each other at this point, as the counter would kill the other.
“Pretty fancy necromancy you got there, friend. Leagues more creative than your run-of-the-mill shithead kid who revives a rat or a feral dog... Asperges Me, Domine.” commented Bastian as he put his hand on wound, controlling the blood so it stays inside while using a healing spell to close the wound.
“Me? Fancy? Don’t lie to yourself, Ashfield. Your Hydromancy is far more interesting. I don’t know how you get away with it, but surely more people have noticed it’s a facsimile, right?” the necromancer retorted, producing a needle from his utility belt and injecting himself in the arm.
“...!”
The Priest missed naught a beat in savoring the shock on Bastian’s face. “Heh, I knew it. You tricky scamp, of course I’d notice. I have plenty of experience and knowledge on spellweaving theory. You, sir, are no Hydromancer.”
“I command water, that’s Hydromancy, so you’re not really making a lot of sense here, amigo.”
“Oh, way too late to try and play it cool, friend. The cat is already out of the bag. Hydromancy is a traditional art of the Shaman school of magic. You befriend a spirit of water, make a pact with them, and with the spirit as a proxy, you gain control over the element of water. You, sir, have no such contract. Hydromancers are rare because it wouldn’t make sense to limit yourself to a single element. If you can make a pact with a water spirit, you surely can do the same with the other elements.”
“There’s plenty of ways to control water, Sir Pig.”
“Yup, and you are employing none of them. A way to bypass the pact with a spirit is to master control of remote mana particle emission, but that would only allow you to project water at short range, and without much potency. There’s far more practical uses of such power, and you make no use of them, meaning you have no such mastery. I can prove you haven’t made a single contract with a spirit of water as well, because you utilize holy water in your Hydromancy. Imbuing water with foreign energies, such as the holy energies of the Arc, is an insult to the spirits, and it would weaken your water, if not sever your pact with the spirit outright. Your water is most assuredly very powerful.”
“...”
“Just what are you, Bastian Ashfield? How come you can use water in the way you do? Could this be, perhaps, some sort of divi--”
“Shut the hell up!”
His wound finally closed, Bastian haphazardly stood up, ready to continue the fight. With a resigned, if not bemused sigh, the incense master stood up as well. “Mm, the drugs kicked in. Alright, let’s go, Hydroboy. Hit me with the best fake water you can muster, haha.”
“Man, props to you, you really get under my skin!”
As round two began, tendrils of water clashed with powerful tiger claws, pressurized jets of water were deflected by a tortoise shell, and a crocodile’s head was stopped from biting Bastian’s carotid artery just barely thanks to water spikes produced at the last second. The two men were evenly matched, and just as their dance was reaching its utmost violence, the large wristwatch on the man’s right wrist rang off an alarm.
“...Time flies when you’re having a blast. Well, Ashfield, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I must take my leave. This has gone long enough.”
Producing a small detonator from his pocket, the man pressed it without any hesitation or explanation -- apparently learning something about not flapping your gums in front of the enemy and just doing what you need to do -- and jumped off the railings of the rooftop, a series of explosion engulfing other parts of the warehouse complex.
“Shit, wait! You!” Bastian yelled as he approached the railings. Looking down, he saw the man safely running down the side of the building. That is, manifesting two long and thick ostrich legs from his back that stepped with such strength that their feet dug into the concrete of the building, safety being able to descend that way. “Bastard! He had it all planned...! I gotta get down there!”
“Adieu, my dear Ashfield! The name’s Balthazar Wharwood! Forget me not! Haha!”
——-
“Fatima, Daryl, help me shield the civilians from the debris! Nadja, go and assess the situation behind the building those two went to, it’s possible they might need your help with their escape if they haven’t captured them yet!”
With a collective “roger!”, everyone got to their task as assigned by Fiona, Nadja’s agile strides quickly getting her inside of the building.
“I gotta say, Chief! Yer pretty cool when ya ain’t drunk off your ass!” excitedly proclaimed Daryl as he helped carry the no-longer hostile, but very much disabled civilians out of the dangerous warehouse.
“If that’s your idea of a compliment, my idea of gratitude will be to knock your lights out with a flawless right hook once we are out of here!” Fiona barked back.
“Keep your heads in the game, please! I cannot carry all of them safely without you to help me, even with this Manticore body!” pleaded Fatima as she carried as many people as she could on her back, safeguarding them with her wings.
Every couple of seconds, a new bomb went off, ever increasing the threat to the people in the premises. With just their limited numbers, they were saving as many people as they could.
——-
As Vinn finally reached the first floor, he made a beeline for the door that leads to the street, coming face to face with Nadja, who came from another hallway.
“Are you alright, Ingram?”
“I’ve been worse, but no time to chit chat, she’s getting away!”
“She? The Hog Priest is a woman?”
“I’ll explain later, but if you see a girl with magenta eyes and white hair, she’s our mark.”
“Acknowledged.”
As the novice duo went into the street, there, in the distance, was the girl in the red robes with the baseball bat, alongside a tall, skinny man clad fully in leather. “...That must be the other Hog Priest next to her.”
“Hog Priest is two people? What a day. I’ll take the man, you go for the girl, since you were fighting her recently, you know what tricks to expect from her.”
They both nodded and dashed with all their might towards the Hog Priest duo, but just as they were reaching them, a line of machine gun fire threatened to fill them with holes, the two Exorcists backing away at the nick of time.
“Ah, just on time, Sir Gatling Knight!” Balthazar greeted with joy, grabbing the white haired girl by the hand and running away towards a black van that awaited them nearby. The girl herself had no words, and just looked at Vinn in the eye one last time, bitterness and disappointment in those magenta eyes, before facing the truck and never looking back.
“Darn! What was that...!? Ingram, back away.”
“Don’t worry, Wharwood...” a muffled, sinister, if uninterested voice finally replied. “I’ll keep them away from you while you run with your tail between your legs.”
From their left side, a tall man clad from tip to toe in riot gear with several ornate engravings, a ballistic helmet with a visor that hid his face, and a cape on each shoulder that draped over the entirety of each arm approached them, a heavy machine gun trained at them casually with just one hand.
“I’ve no orders to kill you, but I can make an exception if you insist on pursuing them.” he announced not as a threat, but as a promise, the green machine gun disappearing behind the green cape, vanishing just like that.
“Move aside. We’ve no time to waste with you while they are escaping...!” Nadja commanded as she rushed not towards the van, but at the man himself. “You can give us answers, too!”
“Wait, Nadja! Don’t!”
But Vinn’s warning came too late. In just the flash of an eye, Nadja lunged at the man with a stake, which he shot out her hand with a pistol he produced out of thin air behind the green cape, making her recoil from the shock. As she fell, from his other hand came a shotgun, which he pressed against her gut and shot, the blood she spewed staining his visor and riot chestpiece.
“G-guah...!”
“N-Nadja!”
“Worthless. You, boy. Don’t make waste more ammo. The van is gone, anyways. You have no more reason to oppose me.” The armored man then simply threw the wounded Nadja at Vinn, turned around, and walked towards a manhole without the cover, presumably where he came from.
“Who are you? Why are you helping them?” Vinn asked as he tried to stabilize the wounded Nadja.
“...I’m the Gatling Knight, and why I help them is none of your business, but mark my words, on my honor as a Knight, if you oppose them, then you are bound to face me again, and if that happens, I’ll shoot you down where you stand. The first time you see me is a warning. The second time is your funeral. Be smart and don’t recklessly pursue your funeral. Now, tend to that fool. Her Domunus Tecum is flawless. If treated, she might survive.”
“...”
“Hoh, that’s a hateful glare, if I’ve ever seen one. Consider this, kid: You attack me now, you will meet the asphalt just as she did. You are exhausted from fighting Sacrifice, so you’re not at your 100%. I take you down now, and both of you die. You take her back, she might just make it. Your call. I can spare a few bullets, if you truly wish to force my hand.”
Cursing under his breath, Vinn had no choice but to carry Nadja back to where the other Exorcists were, as it was pointless to stay here, what with the Priests having escaped and his colleague nearing death with every passing second.
To call this operation successful would be a joke, Vinn though to himself.
“...And what did he mean by ‘Sacrifice’...?”
——-
August 7th
12:01 PM
7th Office’s Infirmary
“...And that’s what happened on my end.” said Vinn, concluding his report.
“I see, we both had a dog of a day, it seems. Damn pigs...” the bed-bound Bastian said with a half-laugh. “...Never imagined the Hog Priest, well, Priests would show up like this and cause this much trouble mere days after you started. You must really be cursed to end with me as your partner and those two wackos as your first foes, bwahaha.”
The younger Exorcist couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, the Academy really didn’t prepare me for this, I want a freaking refund. How are you holding up?”
“Doc says I gotta chill for the rest of today and tomorrow, and I should be golden. Oh, dunno if you heard, but after yesterday, all six of us have been given today and tomorrow as days off to recover properly. Which sucks, because it’s two days I gotta spend cooped up in here. Well, at least the good doc will keep me company, right?”
“I’ll just make it easy on myself and juice you up with so many painkillers that you’ll simply sleep the two days away, honestly.” doctor Aria casually commented from the other side of the Infirmary, a hint of playfulness in her voice.
“Aww, come on, Aria, you don’t gotta be that way.” jokingly commented Bastian. Vinn was somewhat surprised at how well these two seemed to get along. Bastian getting along with anyone was kind of a surprise. “So, yeah, go and take it easy, and... Discard that long face, boyo.”
“...Hm?”
“Oh, don’t HMM me, Vinn Ingram.” the Hydromancer chided. “I know your goody-two-shoes stiff little ass is probably all depressed because of how they got away yesterday. But, the fact is, the operation was successful.”
“...Was it really?”
“It was. We all survived, for starters. Nadja is in critical state, but Aria here is the best Arc damned doctor I’ve met in my life, and that I’ll possibly meet in my life, plus, Nadja’s Domunus was apparently strong enough that a point blank shotgun blast didn’t shred her organs to pieces. That should’ve killed her immediately, and yet, here she is. She’ll recover, I guarantee it. The rest of us were just battered and wounded to varying degrees, but we pulled through. The civilians? No casualties whatsoever. The bombs were a distraction, and none of them were placed anywhere where there were civilians. Fatima, Fiona, and Daryl made sure to evacuate all of them and search several times for more of them. All the missing people have been accounted for. We rescued them, Vinn.”
“...I didn’t consider it this way...”
“Look, man, I know seeing them escape is a kick in the dick, I know, but consider the rest of everything. We’ll get another shot at them, but had anyone died, there’s no coming back from that one. Not all of them are gonna go all flowers and sunshine, and hell, look at you, you are practically unscathed. Compare and contrast with my dumb ass that got saddled in bed. It’s fine, man. You’ll go crazy if you consider anything short of perfection a failure, man.”
“...Haha.”
“Hm? What’s up?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’s just so freaking weird to hear you be so nice and supportive, Bastian, that’s all, haha.”
“Yeah, and it’ll cost you 5000 patros. I expect them by the end of the month.”
“Hahaha, but really, thank, it helps a lot to hear that” Vinn said with a smile.
“Oi oi, don’t go smiling at me now, save those for nice girls, like the doc here. Hey doc, can I get a smile?”
Aria, without looking at him, just flipped him her middle finger.
“Bwahahaha, yeah, love you too, doc. Alright, Vinn, go enjoy your day off. Trust me, you’ll learn to treasure them.”
“Alright, I’ll just drop by the office to say hi to Nick and Dani and then go home.”
“Good idea. Oh, and Vinn?”
“Yeah?”
“A bit late, but welcome to the 3rd Division. We are going to get revenge on those sumbitches when round two comes, yeah?”
“You fuckin’ bet we will.”
It might not have been ideal, it might have been perilous, but what Bastian said was true, the operation was, ultimately, a success. A mass kidnapping prevented is indeed good news to numerous families, no one can deny that. The day was saved, and while the root of the problem is still alive, it would be foolish to not enjoy this little moment of peace, or so Vinn thought at least. Whatever little moments of peace he might have from now on, he must make the most of them, for he understands that this is merely the calm before the storm.
The girl’s words echoed in his head, particularly the “coming world” she mentioned. Stroln was slowly but surely being submerged in conflict, and with it, the casualties that inevitably come from the crossfire. More than anything, Vinn wanted to prevent that.
The future looked uncertain and bleak for Vinn, but at the same time, he witnessed firsthand how capable the 7th Office was.
As the door closed behind him, Vinn walked away from the Office, ready to rest his body and prepare his spirit for the trials that he knew were coming, and that he knew Bastian and him and the rest of the 7th would deal with.
The world he wants rides on this, too, after all.
“...What a nice day for a nap.”
Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all:
– Chapter 3: Neon War Paint –
End
A mutually self-indulgent gift for my friend, @moogiorin, fellow acolyte of similar tastes and appropriate standards, as congratulations for finishing his move. Based on a conversation we had regarding this and this. 2,396 words.
Sealing order, inspection slip, haunted house negotiation, public event security detail, another sealing order, and three different XCG-747-6 pink and yellows that need to be filled and filed before the day ends. Your job’s never been easy, but most of the time, it’s out there, in the field, in the streets, where things are happening, where your wits and calm discipline are needed to make quick decisions, not behind a desk, swamped under an interminable monolith of paperwork and stamps. You feel that if your wrist had hands of its own, its own wrists would be as tired as yours is from strangling you for putting it under this sort of labor. Six and a half hours, and you haven’t stopped for one second, sans the seventeen seconds it took you to produce a new piece of chewing gum from your drawer. Your job’s never been easy, but you were unlucky enough to be assigned as “the paperwork slave” this period, and it couldn’t be a more dull task if it tried. You’ve seen molasses slowly crawling down a wall more extreme than any of this. Slugs moving might as well be Formula 1 if put next to what you’ve been doing these last three days.
Quite frankly, and to summarize all of this in one line instead of trying to give more lyricism and tears than it needs: It Sucks.
But you’ve never been one to complain. Oh no, your pencil, this boredom be damned, carves a trail of graphite through these forms. You can’t be stopped. You can’t be contained. You are the Bureaucracy Behemoth, the beginning of a legend that will be remembered in Headquarters for years to come! Or so you thought yesterday, but you are really, really biffed right now. You have come to a halt, a piddling speed that is equivalent to half of a grandma’s scooter. You can’t take this anymore.
And someone else in the room has noticed this.
“You’ve been awfully slow today, Chief. What happened to that bravado? That enthusiasm? Those promises of victory and triumph? It’s not like you to get battered by such lesser foes.”
Ah, crap. Just what you needed. Her.
You make a thumbs up and a hand gesture that would mean nothing to anyone except her, but she knows it stands for “no problem”. Her response comes in the form of a sweet, mocking chuckle that doesn’t believe either of your gestures, flustering you just a bit. You tell her it’s fine, you’ve been at it for three days now, there’s a lot of work left, but it’s certainly less than it was two days ago, you got it. Her response comes in the form of a sweeter, even more mocking chuckle, punctuated with an “uh-huh.” that makes you wanna turn, face her, and make a bet with her, as you always do. You know that the incentive of a bet would really help right now. You wouldn’t mind seeing her eat her words and, most importantly, her chuckles. It’s been that way with you both ever since the Academy days. But you can’t do that. You simply cannot do that today. You cannot face her, not today of all days.
Because she’s wearing that.
She’d only been on the corner of your eye, and you immediately averted your sight. You could tell instantly that it was that, and you simply didn’t dare look at her directly. “It could just have been something similar”, you entertained, but every time she moved, in this closed, not too big room, you heard its rubbery stretching and contracting, subtle yet impossibly loud to you, as her legs moved. You could hear how tight that was around her abundant thighs with each step she took, pressing against those soft, pale, bountiful legs. Oh, she was doing work, alright, walking from cabinet to cabinet, from drawer to drawer, but it was always in a circle around you. If you weren’t any wiser, you’d think this is just a coincidence, but you know better, you know this is entirely deliberate, a conscious patterns she knows drives you nuts, because you and her know one important, quintessential, key fact:
She holds your weaknesses. By the lord, she knows every single one of them to heart.
This wasn’t a workplace, this was a predator taunting her prey, a mental domination that crushed your every thought easily and trivially.
She always held that power over you.
You cough and mention something about a dress code. “You know we don’t have a dress code.” she whimsically replies with naught but the truth as she intentionally takes a long step, the rubbery spandex making those accursed sounds even more pronounced as it stretches against her thighs. Your office has always been hyper efficient thanks to you two, and one of the perks this has given you is that Headquarters doesn’t waste your time with surprise inspections. This means that, yes, she can wear that and it’s perfectly fine. It’s an ambivalent feeling, knowing you’ve done well enough to get this special treatment, yet knowing, at the same time, that this is the very reason as to why you were being tortured this way right now. A torture that felt asphyxiating, and yet, one that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world, emotions that brought by yet another feeling of ambivalence by themselves. Just thinking about this puts you in a weird and flustered mood, so you simply chew your gum faster and harder to try and distract yourself.
“You seem really tired, Chief. Your pencil stopped moving a couple of minutes ago. Perhaps you are focused on something else?” she says with a tinge of knowing mockery in her voice, her face sporting a smug expression that you couldn’t see, but knew for sure it was there. The rubbery sound approaches you with each step, much to your horror, until you can feel her presence right next to you. Notably, and regrettably, right next to your face, just outside of your peripheral vision, you know that is there. So, so very close to your face. You can feel the warmth from her thighs and her characteristically sweet and intoxicating scent strongly. “Hm? No response? You won’t even look at me, huh~? That’s kinda rude, Chief, even if it’s you. I don’t think I can let you get away with that.”
Now, based on your experiences and your knowledge of your years-long partner, there’s two outcomes to what she just said: Option one is that she just stands there for a while, very close to you, knowing the exertion and pressure this puts on you, overwhelming you with her presence and scent until she’s satisfied mentally dominating you like this with a knowing grin on her face, fully aware that you are powerless against her. Option two, less likely but far more lethal and thus it can’t be ruled out, is that she does The Forbidden Maneuver. The FM, as you call it, is a special technique she doesn’t do all too often, which only helps make it even more devastating when she actually does perform it, and it consists on, simply put, sitting on your lap unannounced and making herself comfortable, nuzzling against your body with hers until she is fully content. Of course, she never is fully content, so it involves a lot of rubbing, pressing, and shifting, which usually spells doom for your attention and more so for whatever task it is you’re trying to accomplish. This she-devil knows the destructive power of this maneuver, so it is only for special occasions, such as when you win a bet against her and she’s feeling a bit rancorous about it. Either way, you brace yourself for either and then it turns out you were wrong and didn’t consider option three.
She sits on your lap, alright, but she doesn’t sit normally, no sir, she sits facing you. If there’s anything that can be described as simultaneously shameless and graceful in this world, that is definitely the way in which she is currently pressing her whole body against yours, chest to chest, crotch to crotch, and forehead to forehead. Her arms are lazily slung over your shoulders, and most alarmingly, her lips are pressed against yours. It’s not a kiss, they are ‘simply’ pressed together, her cocky smile and your overstimulated grimace, touching. She nuzzles and cuddles a bit, trying to find a more comfortable posture, still plastered fully against you, your eyes invaded by her vermilion own, your thoughts occupied entirely by her scent and warmth. “Well?” she whispers in a minuscule voice, lips rubbing. “Can you focus now?”. This makes you accidentally swallow your chewing gum.
You avert your eyes, but she follows them. You press yourself back against your chair to minimize bodily contact, but she counters by pressing harder and fully. The back of your chair might as well be the wall against which this predator has you cornered against, with zero possibility of you escaping her. Her scent is intoxicating, her soft and abundant thighs pressed against you, the rubbery sounds of latex from her biking shorts, which you can no longer afford to not acknowledge, as well as the shuffling sound of your clothes rubbing together has sent your mind into DEFCON 1, red alert, maximum danger, what have you. Her arms fully circle around your neck and press your faces softly but boldly, and she does the same with her legs around your waist, a demure expression on her face replacing the smug mask she had seconds prior. “Hey...” she whispers, but you don’t answer, trying to move your pencil hand to try to pretend you’re still working, that this isn’t assaulting every single one of your senses, “try” being the key word here, because it tricks neither of you. “Hey...” she whispers again, a bit higher, her hips rocking back and forth to a slow, pacific, agonizing rhythm. You can feel your composure, or whatever facsimile of a composure you like to believe you are tricking her with, melting. Things that aren’t her are starting to, quite frankly, not matter in the slightest, and if it’s the office, well, so be it, you are cornered this badly by the Forbidden Maneuver 2, might as well just admit defeat and indulge in this feast of the flesh. You drop the pencil, close your eyes, and wrap your arms around her curvaceous body, ready to return the favor, when you realize you didn’t catch a thing between your arms. She was gone. Her scent, warmth, and her lovely curves feel as if they were imprinted in your body, in your mind, and you can clearly feel her body still, even though she’s not there.
“...Pff! You were actually going to, huh? It’s my win, then!” her voice comes from behind your chair. She was always really flexible and agile, so it doesn’t surprise you at all that she managed to pull off a escape like that. “That’s no good, Chief.”
Your embarrassment cannot be put into words with any human language. You really were gonna do that. You really had surrendered to your desires like that... But then again, who couldn’t, when confronted with such titanic and overwhelming seduction from the person you trust the most in your life? From the person that not only holds your weakness, but that has also had your back since you were greenhorns? That has walked the walk with you since the days you both were inexperienced and foolish? That has contributed to both of your mutual successes as much as she has? Well, those are excuses, this is still the office, and even though there’s no dress code, there IS a conduct code: Your own morality. You sigh somewhat dejectedly, disappointed in yourself, when she repeats those words. “That’s no good, Chief. You really are exhausted. If you weren’t, you would’ve noticed I moved out of the way. Hell, you would’ve caught me. As your second-in-command, I forbid you from working anymore right now.”
Your eyes spring at her, and you can tell she means it. This is no mockery, no taunting, no playing around. She truly is concerned for you. “I’m not going to try and convince someone as stubbornly dutiful as you to just not do that frankly ridiculous amount of work, but I am asking you, not as your second-in-command, but as your friend, to put the pencil down and take a nap. You’ve not slept well at all the last few days, have you? Well, get to that! Come here.”
You try to argue, but she does have a point, and you can’t turn down a personal request from her, even if you really need to keep working. She locks the door and then sits on the sofa, waving for you to come close. As you sit next to her, she pats her thighs lightly twice. “Now come and sleep.” The implication is clear as water, and you give her that “what in the Two Worlds are you suggesting” look you give her when she makes a ridiculous demand, but she doesn’t budge. It’s not the dominating smirk that faces you right now, nor is it the playfully mocking chuckles. It’s a sincere, warm smile that could melt icebergs, affection mixed with genuine concern for someone important to her, an invitation not to a battle of wills, but a sincere lap pillow she’s offering to a certain someone that has truly worried her from his overworking. You sigh and resign yourself, again, to play by her rules. She has a way of making you do that.
As your head lays on her soft thighs, you feel your eyes become heavy, not helped by her fingers that run through your hair, gentle, caring, loving. Her other hand holds your own, and you can hear a few faint, almost inaudible “thanks for always working hard.” You’re not sure if that was your imagination or her, and you don’t have much time to think about it before you fall asleep on your pillow of soft thighs and latex biking shorts, involuntarily nuzzling on it to find a comfortable position as she keeps playing with your hair.
It’s just another day in your office, where you do a job you love alongside your favorite person in the world. Filling out a couple of XCG-747-6 pink and yellows doesn’t feel daunting anymore.
This post is meant to divulge a bit of trivia, things that were part of the characters but that weren’t revealed so as to not derail the narrative, and other such extra things that, while relevant in the creation process, weren’t made explicit and/or implicit in the story. I believe it is always good to make a comprehensive summary such as this in a document to always keep in mind where it is you want to take your narrative and characters, and how to go about it consistently, and since I have no plans on continuing this particular story, I might as well reveal everything that didn’t see the light. This blog is a writing blog as much as it is a repository of ideas and a love letter to the joys writing, so I do believe this might be of interest to anyone who wants to see the “behind the scenes” process, so to speak, of the Valentine’s One-shot. Future One-shots ideally will also have an accompanying Design Document post. It is simply something I believe to be a good idea and also a fun and useful to keep everything you need about your cast in order so you don’t end up being inconsistent in their execution.
Also, I am a huge hedonist, and I am doing this for myself as well.
Let’s begin.
Astrael
Astrael’s real name is Azrael, better known as the “Destroying Angel” or “Angel of Death”.
Astrael used to be a simple Archangel (this is a good reminder that Archangels are the second lowest rank of the Choir, just above Angels) who happened to have been born a rare genius in techniques of erasure. She always found it too easy to learn how to ‘remove’, whether that be information or lives, and while that lead to a mastery out of curiosity, she herself never liked actually using her skills. Her job in the Choir of Angels was minor stuff, ranging from recordkeeping to delivering minor omens to devoted followers under the guise of “apparitions”.
When Moses and Ozymandias’ confrontation brought the Ten Plagues to Egypt, God ordered the Plague of Death. Jehoel, the Seraphim of Fire who knew of Azrael’s rare but underutilized talents, ordered her to accomplish this job. Azrael, hesitant but aware that she couldn’t refuse a direct order from a Seraphim, begrudgingly accepted the job. She was informed to kill every firstborn from every house, unless that house’s door was marked with lamb’s blood. Using her knowledge to remove her own physical form, she became a fog that blanketed Egypt, removing the specified lives. The sheer efficiency with which she accomplished this surprised her superiors in the Choir, and for years, she was the go-to person take lives, be it from religious opponents or from other such accursed earthly matters, matters that Azrael had no personal interest in. Being the Tenth Plague of Egypt was the “big job” she commented to Nahoko about.
As time passed, she began to detest her job more and more, for she began to see herself more as a “spearhead” than a person; the Choir needed someone death? She would be the one thrown at them. Time and time again, she was sent to remove life, and never to remove the misery or suffering of the people devoted to God. She eventually had enough and deserted the Choir. Whenever Angels desert, they usually do so to become Fallen Angels and ally with Demons, or simply because they have become immersed in earthly matters and have decided to leave, but none do so without repercussion. Azrael saw no pursuer, for they knew what she was capable of.
During one of her ‘jobs’ for the choir, she fought the Shinto goddess Inari Okami. She was not able to terminate her, not with any of her removal techniques. Inari Okami, however, saw the sheer pain behind every single one of her motions, and offered a shoulder to cry on and an ear that was willing to listen. Azrael considers Inari Okami as the one person she truly respects, and the two have remained in contact ever since. Inari Okami, the goddess of fertility and agriculture, among other things, is the one that offers Azrael a commission in Japan after she deserts the Choir.
Azrael changed her name to Astrael after deserting, as a reference to her passion for Astrology and stargazing. She loves reading the Zodiac as well, especially the sections that have to do with romance.
Ever since her time in the Choir, Astrael has been interested in romance, and loved to get assigned Omen jobs because that meant she could go to Earth and observe the wild romantic lives of humans, who give themselves to emotion much more than the more stoic and cold Angels. She had a ‘human phase’ when she was a kid, where she wrote many self-insert stories of herself as a human and her adventures on Earth.
Astrael is a lesbian.
Her Cupid’s Bow’s form is that of a sniper rifle. A Cupid’s preference shapes their Bow. As she considers herself a consummate professional and a Cupid is ideally not seen by their ‘target’, a sniper rifle was the ideal choice for her and her steady hand. She also thinks it’s cool. She can morph her Bow into a pair of semi-automatic pistols, but that doesn’t have much use, considering Cupid is supposed to stay out of sight.
Her master of Scenario Witchery comes from her vast experience. The specific Scenario Witchery she uses in Coincidences is called “Lovermaker Park - Graveyard of Indecision”. Since her talent lies in removal, she’s not actually bringing forth feelings of emotion from her targets, rather, she’s effectively removing, that is, killing the hesitation in those who are in her Scenario. By ‘killing’ their indecision, she brings forth their true underlying emotions to surface. Aimi felt the magic as “grim” because the source of Astrael’s power is indeed grim and ruthless, but the way she’s using it is truly and honestly benevolent.
Astrael’s decision to become a “freelancer Cupid” comes from her lifelong admiration for the Earthly emotion of love and how passionate it can be expressed. She means every word of her wanting to see clumsy couples come together and be happy.
Aside from Astrology and love, Astrael enjoys texting with Inari Okami, hiking, and rollercoasters.
Nahoko
Nahoko used to be a Mount Ooe henchwoman. A bit player who never was anything more than “a troop”.
When Minamoto no Yorimitsu and his Four Heavenly Kings came a-knocking, she was immediately knocked out by Sakata no Kintoki right hook. She was sent flying through a cave wall so hard that everyone just assumed she died. She was, in fact, unconscious, making her one of the few survivors of the Extermination of Mount Ooe.
After becoming a vagabond following this event, she settled next to a certain rural town, living by the mountainside and lying low. She mostly hunted to survive, but really missed being able to drink sake on demand. The townspeople eventually learned of her, and approaching the mountainside was forbidden due to her dangerous presence.
One day, a young man intentionally approached her. “Whatcha think yer doin’?” she inquired. “I want to be strong. Please teach me how to be strong.” he replied. She laughed and mockingly said she’d consider it if he brought her sake, but that if she didn’t like it, she’d kill him on the spot by removing his spine. He brought exactly one keg and it was the best she’s ever drank.
She mostly saw him as a little toy, but humored his requests to train with him. She taught her how to fight and how to condition his body to reach higher and higher heights of strength. He would never, ever, become as strong as her, for she was an Oni and he was merely Human, but he insisted that he’d love the look on her face when the day came and he proved her wrong. She liked his guts.
However, Oni are fundamentally mischievous, and with the massacre of Mount Ooe fresh on her mind, despite legitimately growing to like him, she was first and foremost using him to eventually get back at Humans, starting with that village.
Little by little, she had him tell him about his village as idle conversation. Eventually, she learned of where the livestock and the main stash of the village’s rice for taxes and such were. One day, she went and stole everything, eating and killing the livestock, ransacking the rice.
Everyone immediately pointed their finger at Nahoko, but the young man, by now an adult in his mid-20s, defended her. She had indeed done it, but he defended her over and over, not allowing baseless accusations without evidence to be thrown at her. Nahoko felt immense guilt for the first time in her life, having utilized her “little toy” like this, not realizing just how much the two had bonded over the years, and how she spat on his trust.
The very next day, she had come to realize that she couldn’t bear it, so she went to the village to confess, just to find the man beaten and bruised. He had been lynched for siding with the Oni. As rage filled her, she uprooted a tree with a single hand and swung it around as a club, smashing house after house, striking villager after villager, until she noticed that the roots of her makeshift weapon tried to capture her.
The village had brought an experienced Onmyouji to deal with her. It was him that had beat the man to a pulp, and so, she threw herself at him, aiming to crush him to dust. Alas, the Onmyouji was too powerful, and a single incantation launched her away with the power of the earth: He was a nature specialist. The Onmyouji shot several seeds at her, but before she was hit by them, the man shielded her with her body, standing up one last time before being riddled with the seeds. He only managed to miss a single bullet seed, which hit Nahoko in the left leg.
Seeing her chance, Nahoko escaped with the man, leaping away with all of her strength. As he lay dying, the man expressed how happy he was that she was ok, and asked her to find the culprit, so she could clear this misunderstanding. Crying her eyes out, Nahoko begged for him to hold on, but the bullet seeds were already acting, and thorny vines were growing from beneath his skin, torturing him from within, feeding on his own insides to grow. Truthfully, this was nature magic of the most malicious and cruel kind.
Nahoko couldn’t bear to see the man she had come to realize she loved to suffer like this, and after their first and final, sorrowful kiss, she snapped his neck to save him the suffering. His death was painless, but Nahoko couldn’t forgive herself for doing this to someone she loved and who loved and trusted her back in the way he did. She cradled his body, hugging him tightly, impaling herself with his thorns to atone.
Nahoko entered a long period of deep depression, disappearing for many years in mountain caves, until she finally could bear to forgive herself enough to see the light again. She saw a different world from before, full of industrial life, urban cities, and peace. Youkai like her were now considered not real.
After this, she simply became a vagabond, going where she pleases, doing as she pleases. Her boisterous nature returned to her, but she was a changed person, and much more mild and civilized than before.
The “curse” of her left leg is indeed the seed of the Onmyouji that hit her, causing a thorny vine to have embedded itself inside her leg, coiling her leg bone. Her unnaturally high magic resistance kept the vine localized entirely to her left leg, but her immense guilt prevented her from removing it, and now, she couldn’t do so even if she tried.
Nahoko is bisexual.
Astrael’s job offer looked like something to kill time with, as well as a way to start making amends for playing with the man’s feelings, so she took it, believing that she has a duty to help others get the warm and loving future she denied the man and herself of.
Nahoko’s specialty lies illusion magic. Aside from her shape-shifting abilities and immense strength that come with being an Oni, she’s always had a knack for illusions, a rarity among Oni. This is how she turns into the ghoulish Oni beast of Lovermaker Park, and how she disguises a regular branch into the Branch of Amenonuhoko. She’s also the one that spread the rumors of Lovermaker Park prior to Coincidence, shapeshifting into several different people to gossip about it in Meguro. Lastly, she’s the one that came up with the “oddly colored bench” idea, as, in her own words, “a landmark or some weird shit of some sort, not too mystic, just out there enough, hooks kiddos into rumors somethin’ fierce!”. Astrael liked the idea, so they went with it.
Nahoko loves handicrafts and is a hobbyist carpenter. She likes to carve geta clogs in particular.
Nahoko has always been eccentric when it comes to fashion; her mix-and-match wardrobe, tacky warpaint, bells, bones, feathered glove, and on-and-off sarashi mix isn’t an Oni thing, she just enjoys dressing weirdly.
Actually a really good singer and loves karaoke.
Aimi
Aimi is actually the around same age as Michiko, not a Kitsune pretending to be a high school girl. Aimi is 18.
Aimi is originally from Kyushu, but her family moved to Tokyo when she was younger.
Aimi is a Yako, or Nogitsune, a specific kind of Kitsune that is known to be malicious, cruel, and harmful to humans. She comes from a long line of Nogitsune, and her family is practically Youkai nobility. She’s the eldest daughter of the current generation.
She can go toe to toe with an old Oni like Nahoko because of her raw power and potential as part of a powerful and ancient family of Nogitsune. Her specialty is spontaneous combustion.
She met Michiko when she was 13 and Michiko was 12. As stated in Coincidence, she wanted to lead her to her death, as a Nogitsune does, but she grew to genuinely like, and then love, Michiko.
Her bond with Michiko has led her to reconsider a lot of things as a Nogitsune with such grand pedigree. This has led to many fights with her family, and at some point, there was even talk of offing Michiko so Aimi would stop with this nonsense. Aimi made it clear that if anything happened to Michiko, she’d bring an era of torment to their household and end the lineage’s prosperity as Youkai with her own hands. They relented.
She’s a troublemaker and a problem child. Aimi gets in trouble practically all the time, and is seen as a loose cannon that not even delinquents mess with. Teachers, fellow students, random passerbys, her own family, no one is safe from her pranks, no one, except Michiko, her steadfast companion in mischief, and Michiko’s family. She does prank Michiko and her folks here and there, but it’s always magnitudes more lenient than her usual, malicious pranks. Nogitsune are just like that.
Actually very intelligent. She gets some of the best grades in her class.
Not only does she get along very well with Michiko, her best friend and girlfriend, she also gets along swimmingly with Michiko’s parents and Michiko’s older brother. They love it when she comes to visit.
She loves techno, 90s rock, industrial metal, and future funk. She does not like enka.
Aimi loves accessories and has a bunch of them. She’s very stylish and knows she is beautiful, so she tries to keep up with fashion to look good. She doesn’t enjoy wearing traditional clothes too much, preferring modern and more urban trends.
Aimi is pretty good with technology, in stark contrast with her traditionalist home and its denizens. She plays a couple time sink mobile games and loves making silly ASCII art in her free time, which she sends to Michiko.
In Michiko’s own words, “Aimi is the kind of girl that takes silly photos of stuff and launches them your way at 4:30 AM with a funny caption”. This is entirely true and she does this very, very frequently to Michiko and her older brother both.
Michiko
Michiko is 17 years old and comes from a middle class family.
She’s always lived in Meguro, Tokyo.
Michiko is a completely regular and ordinary human form the new era, who prior to the events of Lovermaker Park in Coincidence, did not know about the supernatural.
Her first friend that isn’t her brother was Aimi. She used to be a quiet and very shy person until she met Aimi. After that, she’s been much more outgoing and outspoken. Her family loves this, but also laments the fact that she now gets in trouble practically all the time thanks to Aimi.
Her brother’s name is Kenta (23). They’ve always gotten along really well, and Kenta is also friends with Aimi. Kenta practically adores Aimi because his precious kid sister has only been smiles and joy since they became friends.
Michiko’s parent’s, ‘Auntie’ and ‘Uncle’, are a hard working couple of loving parents. They sometimes lament that they work too much and haven’t been able to truly be there for Michiko as much as they should, hence why she used to be quite and very shy, but since Aimi came into Michiko’s life, they’ve relaxed a bit in this regard. They love Aimi like their own child due to her positive effect on Michiko.
Michiko used to be bullied. Aimi put a stop to that with her own hands, but Michiko didn’t come to realize this until years later.
Gets average grades, Aimi helps her study.
Surprisingly athletic, despite her appearance. She’s only realized this recently, when Aimi remarked that it was actually kind of incredible how she could keep up with her when running away from teachers, jumping out of windows, and in general getting in trouble.
She likes wide frame glasses because they are tough. She hates having to wear glasses, however, because she always ends up touching them with her fingers by accident and she hates having fingerprints on them. In her own words, “this happens to me at least 93 times each day and I want to drink napalm each and every single time”.
Loves video games. Her favorite genres are shmups and fighting games.
Her favorite styles of music are techno and 90s rock. She’s the one that introduced 90s rock to Aimi, and in turn, Aimi introduced her to techno. She also loves video game OSTs.
She used to dress very plainly, but now she tries to accessorize more so she doesn’t look too plain next to the natural beauty and great fashion sense of her best friend and girlfriend. Aimi loves dressing her up.
Actually quite cunning sometimes. She loves the expressions of people when they realize they’ve been bamboozled by her. Michiko never really does mean pranks like Aimi does when she’s by herself, but she HAS helped Aimi take her pranks to the next level of nasty by chiming in ideas, especially if it involves teachers she doesn’t like.
After Coincidence, she requested for Aimi to let her touch her ears, to which she accepted. She immediately bit an ear lightly instead of using her hands, prompting a very cute and startled yelp from the fox girl. She was summarily executed via tickling for this crime.
Though their hands were clasped tightly, their eyes had not met in minutes now. The nerves of youth were very apparent in the faces of both the boy and the girl, who walked side by side, hand on hand, and step by step, but who couldn’t bear looking at each other.
“...T-this is the park, right?” the girl inquired, smashing the silence with all of her courage at long last. “The park that is... Supposed to bring couples together. Haha, it’s a really weird rumor, isn’t it?”
“It’s worth a try, at least” the boy replied, doing his best to not stutter. “I’ve heard of people that have come here and... Well, they end up much better, but they refuse to speak of what happened, and they warn you to not come here! That’s just way too suspicious, they just wanna hoard whatever it is for themselves!”
“Hah, that wouldn’t be too far fetched, but they could also just be lying, like, to be hip and stuff, you know?”
“See, that’s what bothers me. Yoshida isn’t one to lie! He’s been my bro since we’ve been little, we’ve never kept a secret from each other, and yet, he was practically begging me not to come! It’s wrecking my nerves! Just what is it about this shitty park...?”
Keisuke and Asuka are not dating, but lord almighty, do they wish they did. Keisuke and Asuka used to be classmates in middle school, and now once again are classmates in high school. They have a good vibe, but their insecurities have led them to be unable to say the words, to seal the deal, to stir the stew, to clench the cheeks, and so, they spend agonizing days full of awkward implications, sweet little nothings, and painful blushing. It could continue this way until something overly dramatic happens, or until they spit it out, but, haha, yeah, good luck doing that when you’re wuss, and guess what Keisuke and Asuka are? Wusses. Grade A, low fat, bona fide wusses from the finest wuss farms.
And for wusses, there’s always one salvation, one resource that never abandons them: Rumors. Whether it be magazines, “psychological tests” found in said magazines, Zodiac compatibility, blood types, elemental affinity, anything, wusses will take it as gospel and find the crutch they need to move on. Where that takes them, who knows, but it sure as hell makes them move at least. Proof: The Lovermaker Park.
“So, how did this Lovemaker Park rumor go, Keisuke?” asked Asuka, trying to stir any conversation to distract herself from the fact that she was holding sweaty palms with him.
“It’s Lovermaker Park, and it goes that if you get off Naka-Meguro station and walk down towards Saigoyama Park, but keep going from there without entering the park, you’ll find a desolate memorial park that no one remembers about. The benches will be sufficiently maintained, but still in disrepair, the trees will be alive, but with browned leaves and ashen bark regardless of the time of the year, and you’ll be alone with your lo... Lo... Companion. If you walk from the entrance to the end together, hand in hand, you’ll grow closer.” Keisuke replied, capitalizing on the opportunity to talk as much as possible, as the silence had been torturous not only to her.
“...It’s kinda unsettling how specific the rumor is, but it’s even more unsettling how... Well, it’s kinda true. It’s the start of spring and these trees look battered! Withered leaves, dried roots... D-do you think we should go back now?”
“Wait, Asuka! Don’t say that! Remember what they said! If you turn back, or even think about turning back, an Oni will appear and eat you!”
“Oh, a Oni, you say? Ya believe in those, little boy?”
“O-Of course I don’t!” retorted Keisuke, facing Asuka for the first time since they entered the park. “But you never can be... Did... Did your voice get deeper, and... What are you looking at...?”
The poor girl to his left was not looking at him. With a horrified expression and teary eyes, she stared at least two heads about the boy, her neck at the limit of how much above her she could look at. “K-K-Kei-Keisuke, be-behind, behind, Keisu--”
As he turned around, Keisuke found himself face to face with a belt decorated with various bells and bones. As he slowly looked up, he realized he was next to something truly and well massive, with white eyes that looked down at him, a razor sharp cheshire grin barely holding back its laughter. “What’s wrong, runt?”, it spoke, “I thought ya didn’t believe in Oni? Whatcha peein’ yer pants for, then, pussy?”
Both teenagers screamed in horror as they realized they were face to face with an ogre three times their size. Its long limbs looked unnatural, and though it was slender like a panther, it was very easy to see the toned muscles that comprised its body. Not that they looked at those for too long, as the real “charm point”, let’s call it, was the toothy smile comprised of a mouthful of sawed, jagged, misplaced teeth and large, featureless, mocking eyes. The bony hands with long fingers came down upon the two adolescents, missing them by a hair as they panicked and fumbled backwards.
“A-A real Oni!? Wha... Run! Run for it, Asuka!” cried the boy, trying to desperately get on his feet and stumbling forward, meeting the cobblestone face first and flailing wildly to get away as fast as he could, but his headless chicken tantrum came to an end the moment a shrill scream made him realize that his escape was a lonesome one. Turning around, the horrible sight of his crush being lifted effortlessly by the torso with only one hand broke his stupor, and instead genuine, conscious, palpable horror froze him in place.
“Keisuke! Go! Get away!” she pleaded and pleaded as the chesire maw approached her head with glee and laughter. “What are you doing!? Run!”. Keisuke dashed not towards the exit, but at a nearby bench with an oddly colored plank. “N-not that way, Keisuke, the exit is over--”
“T-the rumor said that if the Oni appeared, you had to find the oddly colored bench, and behind it...!” -- Keisuke leaped at the bench and landed on it kneefirst in his panic, his adrenaline masking the pain, and reached behind it to produce a large, gold branch with a glowing, silver, stake-like tip -- “...You’ll find a branch that can kill it!”
“What!? That’s the Branch of Amenunohoko! How could a brat like you brandish that!?” exclaimed the Oni, impetuous and brutish footsteps smashing the cobblestone beneath it as it shortened the distance between itself and the boy with blinding haste. “Pretty good for a pussy! Die!”
With a scream more akin to a warcry than a cowardly whine, Keisuke lunged at the towering beast, the branch easily piercing its hand and impaling the shoulder, purple blood gushing out of the wound, the pain forcing the beast to let Asuka go to cover it as it cried in pain. “Keisuke! T-the last part of the rumor! The Oni can only be killed if two hearts that truly love each other impale it with the branch...! Hurry, let’s do this!”
“Ou! Hyaaaaa!”
The two, their hearts as one, jumped at the screaming beast, still recoiling from the holy branch embedded in its shoulder, and their two pairs of hands drove the stake fully into the beast, it’s deafening scream drowning out every other sound in the park, sacred azure flames ensnaring the Oni in their purifying embrace.
“You... You bast... Aaaa...” crackled its last the Oni, collapsing a smoldering ruin.
The boy immediately embraced Asuka. “Are you alright!? I thought-- I thought it was gonna kill you! Are you hurt at all?”
“I’m fine! I’m fine! Thank everything, you are not hurt either...! I love you, Keisuke! Let’s... Please go out with me! This all made me realize that I can’t just hesitate anymore! And the way you threw yourself at that beast... I knew you were the one for me!”
“Asuka...! D-don’t say it so loud, I... I love you, too... Haha, hahaha! Let’s get out of here, and... I’ll be in your care!”
The smiling pair, nay, couple, held hands firmly and with no second thoughts, they left the park, effectively a closer couple than before, having survived the vicious assault of an Oni thanks to the power of their love!
The end.
Of their story, at least.
The burnt out husk of the Oni was left in the park, the glowing branch sticking out of it as unending blue flames gently swayed and danced with the night’s gale. A single pair of footsteps, light and subtle, became louder and louder as a blonde woman with a plastic bag hanging from her left hand and a long sniper rifle hanging from her right approached. Once she was a couple of meters away from the burnt corpse, she rummaged in the bag and produced a can of beer.
“Great work today, here you go.” the woman whimsically said to the corpse as she threw the can at it. As the can was about hit the corpse, its hand suddenly sprung to life, catching the can. In a flash, the fire was gone, and where there was once a smoldering carcass now lie a tall woman with long, dark hair in a casual, almost relaxed position. Wordlessly, she opened the can and downed it in a matter of seconds, motioning to the blonde to throw her another one. “Sheesh, you were parched, weren’t you?” the blonde chuckled, throwing two more from the bag.
“Ya know it! After a whole freakin’ day of doing this, I deserve it! Ya got the good stuff, too, ya lovely little bugger, thanks! Screamin’ and laughin’ that loud so much all day to mask yer rifle bangs has me throat parched like the sole of a crusader!” enthusiastically replied the cheerful dame on cobblestone, in stark contrast to the more subdued, quiet tone of the blonde woman. “I tell you what, I wasn’t fully in love with yer plan when ya laid it on me three weeks ago, I thought this was gonna go bust and then we’d hafta skedaddle for this or that reason... Or that ye were gonna try ‘n cap me while I was doing this shit, yeah? I’m glad I was wrong as usual!”
“You have a bounty on your head or something? Not that I care if you do, I am not into mercenary wet work, just doing my job here, so that’s what I’ll do. You’re free to be as paranoid as you wish.” calmly replied the riflewoman, removing her wool beanie hat and undoing her hair, letting her pale yellow mane flow with the night’s gale as she sipped soda from a can as if it was wine.
“Iunno if I have a bounty or not, friend, and though I’d bet my horn and a half I do, it ain’t about that, bwahaha, it’s about, uh, don’t take it the wrong way, aight?” replied the dark haired girl, who was dressed in a mish-mash of differently colored fabrics, her hair messily tied in a spiky ponytail as she casually removed the branch from her shoulder and tossed it aside. “But, an Angel holding a freakin’ rifle approaches you in this country, which is well out of your peeps’ jurisdiction, may I add, well, ya can’t blame me if I feel a little itchy behind the knuckles, yeah? Angels ain’t exactly the best fellas -- uh, no offense -- so an Angel with a rifle is, like, double bad news. Double false alarm in your case, though, thankfully!”
A hollow, practiced, and barely cordial chuckle came from the Angel. “Eh, you aren’t wrong. Angels are pricks. I’m not with them anymore, either way, and as far as I know, freelancers are ok here, right? I am a solo Cupid, not affiliated with anyone and not in contact with the Choir at all. If anything, I find it weird that an Oni so readily accepted to work with an Angel with as much... Pulchritude, let’s call it, as you did.”
“Eh, I ain’t smart, I like risks. I was half hopin’ for ya to shoot me in the noggin’, and then we’d have a nice ol’ rumble, ‘cause see, I’m not gonna lie, I ain’t never traded hands with an Angel, and a buncha little birdies have told me ain’t nothin’ funner than brawlin’ with one of y’all, but you turned out to be a real Cupid, and a weird one at that. First I hear of a solo Cupid. You just... Do this as a hobby? It’s our last day together, so I figured I might as well ask, if that’s cool with you.”
Without raising her voice or changing her deadpan expression in the slightest, the holy woman simply looked directly into the Oni’s red eyes. “Love rocks.” she uttered in the flattest, but clearest, of monotones.
“...Hah? What?”
“Love rocks.”
“You... Ya just doin’ this ‘cause you got a metaphorical sweet tooth?” asked the puzzled, bewildered, but definitely bemused Oni, downing another can of beer.
“It’s not metaphorical. It’s very real. Love rocks.” Again, that monotone? An unbreakable bastion. “I like seeing inexperienced couples composed of clumsy people manage to come together. I mix pleasure and business, because my business happens to be pleasure.”
With loud and powerful footsteps, the tall woman approached the angel and sat beside her. “...You... Went solo ‘cause you just love seein’ couples, Astra? Ya mean to tell me that ya took one good look at yerself in the mirror one day, said “fuck it, I’m doin’ me now”, gave the Choir both slips, and just legged it here to Japan? Just to shoot literal love into dumbass teenagers and shit? Then you look at yerself in the mirror again every night after a steamin’ hot shower, blonde hair probably a mess from bein’ inside that beanie all day long, cascadin’ ‘round ya as ya try t’fight it with the mightiest comb, and ya think, “yeah, fuck yeah, this is my life now, I love it”, girl?”
“Yup.”
“...Well slap me on the buttcheeks and tug on me ponytail.” the Oni remarked, laughing heartily. “It’s just one thing after the other with you... Fuckin’ Angels, man, bwahaha.”
“Astra” was a tall, woman with an almost pale, cream tone of blonde coloring in her shoulder blade long hair. Although not as tall as the Oni, she definitely wasn’t short, standing at 187 centimeters. Her attire consisted of exactly what you wouldn’t expect from someone who is supposedly “Cupid”: Tough steel-toed boots, grey jacket and cargo pants, tactical vest, grey wool beanie that usually concealed her hair, and silver sunglasses that masked her green eyes. One couldn’t tell her figure from her clothes, but her way of carrying herself indicated a lot of grace and dignity, with an elegant gait and a repertoire of smooth moves and habits, which would be charming if she wasn’t as intimidating as a woman with a perpetual, concrete deadpan expression and a rugged sniper rifle slung over her right shoulder was. “Don’t call me that, please refer to me with my full name, Nahoko.”
Nahoko, in contrast, was an even taller woman, hitting 217 centimeters of height. Her long, black hair was tied in a wild, messy ponytail, and not once had the Angel seen her without her eccentric war paint adorning her face or her even wilder attire that consisted of mix and mash pieces of fabric, some singed, some torn and ragged, worn in a way that barely counted as an outfit, with her left arm clad in a bizarre, single long glove covered in black feathers of several different birds, judging by their varied shapes, spike-like accessories jutting out from her left leg, and several bells and bones hanging from her sash. Her feet, legs, and right arm were wrapped in sarashi, and due to the exposed, almost exhibitionist nature of her outfit, it was immediately discernible that her sizeable chest also was covered by sarashi, and that her body as a whole was strong, with well defined abdominal muscles and biceps. Atop her forehead, the pride of every Oni, her two long horns, sat like a magnificent crown, above her red eyes, and below these, her toothy, serrated smile. “Yeah, yeah, yer so stiff, Astrael, jeez, we’ve known each other for three whole weeks! We’re practically sisters at this point!”, the Oni teased.
You couldn’t find a more contrasting pair.
“Finish up your drink, we still have time for one more. Last couple, and then our contract is up.” Astra was a very no-nonsense person in general, already cleaning her cylinder and preparing her ammunition and scope.
“Oi oi, no need to hurry, Astra...El” -- Nahoko chuckled like a child -- “When the tripwire tells us to go to work, we go to work. Talk with me a little, yer a sight here, and I happen to live for the spice of variety. Whatcha doin’ in a country so far from where yer kind’s influence is? I mean, even if yer solo, there had to be easier places than the land of the rising sun, yeah?”
With a tired sigh and seeing how it was truly the last night they’d share together in this job, the dutiful Astra decided to humor her at least this once, setting her rifle down and cracking open a can of beer of her own. “...I came here precisely because of that. I guess you could say I like a challenge.”
“Or ya don’t want to be found.” immediately interjected Nahoko, who couldn’t tell if Astra was averting eye contact through those silver shades, but she could bet she was. “...I’m not one to prod me horns ‘round where they don’t belong, but it’s really dang novel to see an Angel 'round these parts, and when we see one, it’s ‘cause they tryin’ to expand J-man’s influence in this ol’ country. I mean, we are even celebratin’ Christmas in here nowadays, how wild is that, bwaha!”
“...Did you accept to work with me to keep tabs on me?”
“Nah” -- the big woman produced an old fashioned pipe and lit it with her fingertip -- “I’m no friends with those old Shinto fucks, either. On the contrary, honestly. Y’know about Oni in general, so you should understand if I told you that I hail from the old school, from that one mount you probably haven’t heard of.”
“Oh? Mount Ooe? You were with Shuten-douji’s gang?” Astra added, keeping an eye on her cellphone in case the tripwire called them to work, much to the surprise of the Oni. “Can’t believe I’m working with such a big shot.” she added with some sarcasm mixed in with the curiosity.
“Hah! Not bloody likely, I was a bit player, the henchest of the women, you may say!” laughed Nahoko, throwing herself back to the cobblestone as if it was a comfortable bed. “Nah, a low ranked brigand who wasn’t fit to serve drinks to even his underlings, that was me! I mean, doesn’t sound too cool, I reckon, but I’m still alive! I wasn’t worth their time when they came a-stormin’. They killed every Oni worth killing, the rest of us cowards scattered. Fuckin’ Onmyouji and Exterminators, bwahaha, they only missed on Ibaraki-douji, ‘cause she was ungodly tough and resilient. There, see? I’m willin’ to show my hand, so show me yours already, ya stiff! I signed up with yer job ‘cause it was convenient for me and because it sounded fun. I get to scare kids and then play a big bad villain, just like the old times! Oni nowadays ain’t fun at all, man... Organized crime just ain’t the same as raidin’ and pillagin’... Ooh, racketin’ and protection money! Look at me! I’m such a pussy that I can’t just go take what I want! Subterfuge! I swear to Auntie Moriko, Oni these days ain’t got balls...”
The sniper couldn’t help but laugh at Nahoko’s bravado and lamentations for the “good ol’ days” of savage ransacking. “Heh... Well, times change, for better or for worse. Truth is, I didn’t really enjoy my job as an Angel anymore. I was stationed on Egypt one time for a big job, and I did that one... Really well, apparently, so I was dispatched to do similar jobs, even though I didn’t like it. I eventually had enough of it and just deserted. I came here at the prompt of an old friend who needed help with this country’s low birth rates, he was hoping I could do something about it, so I took to being a Cupid here.”
“Ooh, a big wig in this here country? Pretty well connected, ain’tcha? He’s payin’ you?” the Oni teased, elbowing Astra playfully, who was pretending really hard that those Oni-strength-fingerjabs didn’t hurt.
“Just essentials costs, really, stuff like lodging and day to day necessities. I didn’t want a full-on paycheck as if I was some sort of operator here, I’m just living my life now, helping clumsy couples with that first push, see?” Astra elaborated, playfully chambering and unchambering a round with a clicking sound.
Nahoko dragged on her pipe and puffed a big cloud of smoke from her mouth. “...You really love ‘love’, don’tcha? I swear, the only times yer eyes fire up are when yer talkin’ about these kids and how they need a little push. For such a crackshot to be this much of a consummated... Shit, whatcha call it... Um... There a word for someone like this? Romantic, maybe?”
“I mean, can you blame me?” interrupted the Angel, finishing her beer and opening the last can. “In a country where birthrates are low and where public displays of affection are frowned upon, where kids are clumsy lovers but wish they could partake in the skinship, the sweet caresses of mutual affection more freely, where the public opinion holds such weight and as such is a barbed leash, where the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, a silver angel is needed, and so she descends, bow and arrow of heart at the ready, prepared to ignite a night of romance with devastating accuracy and overwhelming firepower.” With each word, Astra’s monotone was growing weaker and weaker.
“W-woah.”
“Look at it this way: Imagine you are a girl in love with a boy, and you know that the boy loves you back. But! You are both clumsy, coy, foolish! You wait for him to take action, but he’s waiting for you, and you’re both, admittedly, pansies, so this just goes on and on, with both of you biting your respective pillows and waiting for each other to text first, until you are in the last year of high school, preparing for exams, and then you just say, “It’s fine! We’ll have time in university! Or while working!”, but then the years pass and pass, and none of you makes a single freakin’ move or takes a single freakin’ clue and then you are both old wrinkled raisins rich on protein and regret and you wonder and ponder, why! Why did I let the time pass like this! Social constructs, damn you! My own childish idiocy, curse you! You think convenient accidents and unexpected events that will bring you together just happen?! That you just reach into your jacket’s breast pocket one day and say, “Oh, wow! A contrived coincidence that will help up grow closer! Lucky me!” You think life is that easy, Nahoko!?”
“Holy shit, dude.”
“And that! Is why! I’m here! To prevent all of these sad, depressing, inevitable futures of beds far too large for one person and houses too spacious for a bachelor! So these unskilled sacks of love can fully... Love! I am the convenient accident! I am the unexpected event! I am the best thing to happen to clumsy couples! That is what I want to be!”
As the passionate outburst of the love legionnaire came to a conclusion, the perplexed Nahoko only made this “bweh” sound that is somewhere between a “Wow” and a “Mm!”. “Yeah, I didn’t doubt you for a second, but god damn, you a love maniac for real.”
The usually pale face of the Angel had turned beet red once she realized she had, once again, done it, and now she was definitely averting her eyes behind those shades. “I... Well, ahem, hmhm! Let me rephrase that in a less uncouth manner: I believe that love is complicated enough without all the social constructs and expectations that its participants may have to skirt around, and sometimes it can be hard to spit it out. I aspire to be able to give these couples this first push, or maybe their last push, so they can take the first, difficult step, because after that? They need me no more... To be frank, I don’t care about the low birthrate, either, man and man, woman and woman, I am here for love, not babies... There, I said it, are you happy? Have I made my, as you put it, ‘hand’ clear enough?”
“Plenty, ya little love freak! You are so adorable when you ain’t a block of ice and marksmanship. I knew you had a fire behind those stupid expensive shades, after three weeks of workin’ with ya, I just didn’t think it’d be a supernova!” jeered the loud ogre, pounding the cobblestone to dust with a hand as she laughed merrily. “Wouldn’t kill ya to be honest with yerself more often!” she finally declared, to which the Angel simply crossed her arms and pointed her nose skywards.
“W-why, you-- Make a mockery out of me, won’t you? I knew I shouldn’t have humored you. The nerve...”
“On the contrary, Astrael, thank you. It truly does make me happy to know I worked these three weeks with someone as alive as you. I wasn’t laughin’ ‘cause I was mockin’ ya, I’m just happy when I get to see people truly be about their thing. It’d be a more colorful world if we all were alive like that.”
“...I see.” Apparently, the compliment caught her off guard, as Astra calmed down and began playing Chamber The Round again.
“Anyways, get going.” Nahoko abruptly commanded. “We have our last couple.”
“What? Oh! The tripwire!”
Astra had been so distracted by her own volcanic passion that she didn’t notice the sensor being tripped. Grabbing her rifle and beanie, in one motion, four large white wings protruded from back, her special outfit opening on the shoulder blades to accommodate their exit, and she leaped with earth-shaking strength back to her sniper nest.
“Al~right, let’s make this last job one to remember!”. Dusting herself off, Nahoko grabbed the branch from earlier and imbued it with her illusion magic, giving it the golden and silver appearance from before. As she stowed it behind the odd-colored bench, the large woman couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a great companion, ‘Branch of Amenunohoko’, pff! Yer such a great actor!”
It was time for the final gig.
--
“A-Aimi, are you sure about this? This park looks really shady! There’s not a single soul around, and the trees are withered, even though it’s spring! L-let’s just go home, yeah?” pleaded the cowering, shorter girl, whose puffy light brown hair and thick glasses endowed her with a homely, what-are-you-doing-outta-the-library look.
“Michii!” chastised the taller, thinner girl with the longer and straight black hair and the many colorful accessories on her uniform and beautiful, expensive eyeliner, clearly from a different world than Michiko’s. “We said we’d go through this, right? Don’t back out on me now! B-besides, I told you, didn’t I...? I have something... Very important I want to tell you, you know?”. Hearing these words, the cowardly Michiko hit her own face with her palms and gave Aimi a resolute look.
“I’m sorry! It was a m-moment! You are my dearest friend in the world! A-anything you want to do, even if it’s scary and I want to die and explode and swallow needles instead of doing it, if it’s THIS important to you, then I’m down for it! Let me at it!” she roared with a voice that cracked midways through the declaration.
“Michiko... Heh, yeah, see! You can do it if you try! Now gimme that hand.” But as she gripped Michiko’s hand tightly and looked in the other direction, naught but sorrow brewed on her expression as the false confidence melted. “I... I hope you’ll be as enthusiastic after I tell you... That I... That I’m...” she murmured to herself, her heart tightening, her eyes watering.
The park was a depressing shade of brown, white, and grey, even though it was spring. The trees that should be blossoming and offering bountiful recompense for the passage of time for eyes to admire and hearts to sing instead stood almost like made of stone, naked branches offering misery instead of beautiful sights, and the less said about the cracked, dry bark, the better. The plain, white cobblestone, coupled with the dry soil blanketed with dirt, stones, and no life whatsoever, gave the image of a graveyard during the haunting hours more than that of a park where you might make magic happen with a confession. This isn’t even to mention the complete lack of birds or bugs. The air was stagnant, and something was quite obviously off. This wasn’t a place where you wanted to stay for more than you needed to in the worst of cases, and a place that you just took the long way around in the best. None of this dissuaded the two girls, one of which was, as they say, ‘riding or dying’ for her friend (riding and dying, however, would be more correct in this case), and the other simply had no interest in the scenery, a far more grave matter making the rounds in her head, something that had been torturing her for long, an aching secret that left a bitter aftertaste to every happy moment between the two.
And that is simply no way to live.
Aimi’s grip tightened on Michiko’s hand, which the bespectacled girl noticed. “...Aimi? Is everything ok? You’re far more tense than usual, and you do crazy stuff all the time.”
“Crazy is easy,” she replied. “This being a bit too sane is what worries me.”
The shorter girl stopped, bringing both of them to a halt. “Now, look, I don’t wanna push you, but this has had you acting weird as of late. Just what is it that has you like this? You rejected going for a burger -- my treat -- because you weren’t feeling up to it, and then you called me at 4:30 am the next day, saying we needed to abso-posi-you-better-believe-it come here yes or yes do or double die today. That’s not normal!”
“...Hmm, yeah, calling at four in the morning is a bit overkill...”
“You always call me at four in the morning, you expired pancake! But it’s always for a prank or a laugh! You do funny, stupid voices and stuff like that, not dire and ambiguous invitations to a park that looks like it contracted the Black Plague!”
“...F-fair, but the voices are pretty intelli--”
“Aimi.”
The stylish girl sighed and sat down on the oddly colored bench. “...Right, I guess I’ve dragged both of our feet a tad too long. Michiko, see, the thing is... Um?” -- Aimi couldn’t help be puzzled by Michiko’s expression of pure, abject horror -- “Michii? I haven’t actually told you anything yet, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“A-An ogre.” she stuttered back at the inquiry, with the elegance and dignity of a dog that has been caught tangled with the curtains.
“Well, geez, ok, an ogre, a ghost, same thing, what’s up?”
“AN OGRE IS WHAT’S UP, AIMI!” yelled the terrified girl, pointing behind Aimi.
“I think she’s talkin’ ‘bout me, but I could be wrong. Maybe there’s an ogre behind me? Could y’be a love and check behind me, lass?” a grim and mocking voice playfully requested, a hot breeze of freezing air licking Aimi’s ear as the unnatural voice broke into laughter. Wasting no time, Aimi immediately got off the bench, startled, and faced the tall, lanky beast that stood at least thrice her size, a towering creature of bony limbs and jawed teeth. Skulls and bells adorned her waist, neatly hanging by a sash, and she was immediately sent flying through a tree after Aimin landed an impeccable spinning kick right to her lower jaw, using the momentum to--
Wait, what?
The creaking of a tree collapsing under its own weight after the Oni was sent flying through it went completely unheard, for Michiko’s “Eeeeeh!?” was deafening enough. In the distance, a somewhat angelic, but subtle “Eeeeeh!?”, fortunately also went completely unheard. “A-Aimi, what was that!?”
“That was a spin kick. A Rolling Savate, if we wanna be pedan--”
“AIMI, I AM VERY CLEARLY TALKING ABOUT THE ONI! Wait, no, not the Oni! The fact that you kicked the Oni through a tree! Well, the Oni, too, but-- Ok, you! What is going on!”
“...What Oni? That was a stray dog.”
“Stray dogs don’t speak fluent Japanese and don’t wear skulls and bell on their waists! And they don’t have horns!”
“You’ve just had a sheltered life, Michii. They totally do.”
“Aimi.”
“O-ok, ok, I c-can explain, kinda, it’s just that--”
But before Aimi could begin trying to weave a tale or explanation outta this one, the beast was back on its feet, clutching its jaw. With thunderous footsteps that crushed the cobblestone under it, the Oni finally approached the pair of girls, invading Aimi’s blue eyes with its fully red own. Letting go of its jaw, it pointed a long and bony finger at her adversary, the air stagnant with intimidating anticipation. Michiko couldn’t move a muscle nor speak a word. The beast finally opened its mouth: “Eeeeeh!? What the hell was that!? Who the hell kicks an Oni in the face as their first reaction!? That ain’t fair! How’dja do that!?”
“...Ah?” the glasses girl let out, the scene playing right in front of her not quite living up to her expectations of something that should be impossible and mystic.
“For real! What the hell! Do ya just kick people in the face when they tap yer shoulder and are like, ‘hey, here’s the eraser ya dropped’, ya damn miscreant! Apologize to me! Apologize to me right now, or I’ll eat yer frieEEEEEAAAAAAAA!!!!”
Whatever threat the Oni was making didn’t exactly pan out, as Aimi immediately went for its legs in the middle of its little speech, seized them, and begun spinning the beast in the air.
“Holy shit!” a bespectacled voice exclaimed.
“Holy shit!” an exasperated Oni voice yelped.
“Sacred feces!” an angelic voice yelled, unheard to anyone but herself.
“Oraaaaaa!” Aimi cried, spinning faster and faster until she attained sufficient momentum to launch just about anything out of the stratosphere, chucking the monster through many more trees this time. “Piss off already, damn it! You’re ruining my important day!”
“H-haha!” the Oni laughed, coming back battered, bruised, and clearly in pain. “Y-you can’t defeat me with yer p-puny human strength...?” -- the Oni seemed to have difficulty believing the things that were coming out of her own dislocated mouth -- “Only the Branch of Amenunohoko can--”
As if possessed by the soul of a particularly furious housewife after her husband flushed the toilet while she was in the shower, the stylish girl stuck her hand behind the bench, produced the gold and silver branch, and she smashed it over the Oni’s head in one fell swoop, breaking it in half. “PISS OFF”. Picking the broken halves, Aimi proceeded to pretend the Oni was a taiko drum with her makeshift clubs. “Just! Get! Out! Already! Uggggh!”. After the Oni was practically mashed potatoes, Aimi discarded the now regular looking branches and approached her friend once anew. “Dogs are wild nowadays, aren’t they, Michii!”
“...Aimi, just what in the world is going...” is all the poor, confused girl could say, clearly still processing the scandalously brutal beatdown her best friend just inflicted on the Oni. Oh, and the Oni probably has to do with her confusion, too, maybe. Aimi could only sigh again, dejectedly looking at the floor, then the sky, and sighing again before finally looking at Michiko in the eyes.
“Look, Michii... The thing is... What I wanted to tell you is that I... I--! Get back!”. AImi immediately pushed Michiko away and turned around just in time to block a massive overhead hammer punch from the Oni, who was suddenly back on its feet. Aimi’s thin arms somehow blocked the attack, but she sunk halfway to her torso through the ground from the impact and heft of the blow. “Guh...! This is the strength of an Oni, alright...! I guess you finally decided to stop playing around!”
“...Me?” replied the now serene Oni, seemingly not harmed in the slightest from the drum solo or the Giant Swing Aimi inflicted on its body. “I ain’t the one playin’ around, missy, ya know that well. You got some guts pretendin’ to be just any ol’ preppy high school girl, ya fox.”
“...! Not one more word out of you!” Aimi barked back, her composure beginning to melt much like her knees under the immense strength of the hand that threatened to crush her against the ground.
“Yeah, yer right, no more words, we speak with actions now!” the Oni announced with a mocking laughter ten times colder than its hyperbolic act when it met them by the bench. This wasn’t the guffaw of a children’s book’s picaresque and colorful villain, no, this was the genuine snickering of a blood starved beast who was finally found some meat after surviving on dirt and berries for who knows how long. Cocking its free hand, the Oni swung a hook with her left hand, smashing its massive hand against the exposed side of the girl, launched her in the air with a yelp. “How’s that for a greetin’, ya shit.”
“Aimi! Oh god, Aimi!”
“Hey! Nahoko! What the hell are you doing!?” Astra chastised her partner through her radio. “Did you seriously hit a human for real!?”
“...Astrael, two things.” the Oni replied, holding two fingers against the comm on her right ear. “The first is that yer wrong. That right there ain’t no human. Fooled us both real good, didn’t she?”
“...Huh?”
As the dust dissipated from where the school girl landed, a silhouette of a thin, tall girl was vaguely visible. Same long legs, same long hair, same thing arms, and yet, the silhouette was fundamentally different... Or rather, complete. “Aimi...?” The silhouette became clearer and clearer as the dust settled, with two long, fox-like ears pointing upwards, and massive fox tail protruding behind her. For someone that just got ragdolled by an honest to God Oni Haymaker, she was looking pretty good. Stepping forward, she cracked her neck and then her knuckles.
“...Michii, get behind me.”
“Aimi, you... What, what is going on!?”
“Michiko!” finally burst the fox girl, startling the confused, smaller girl. “...Look, I’ll explain everything, I promise, this is... Relevant as to why we are here today, but for now, I need you to trust me, ok? That thing is dangerous. Stay behind me. I’ll protect you with everything I got, and after I’m done with it, I’ll tell you everything.” Michiko was afraid and confused, but she didn’t doubt her friend’s words for one second, nodding and quickly running behind Aimi, at a safe distance.
“...And the second thing, Astrael...” continued the Oni, “...is that ya can count me out. That there Kitsune is a real tough one, the kinda prime meat ya don’t find on the market just any day. And I am hungry. I am oh so hungry for a good damn fight after so long. This is the real pay I get outta this, I guess!”
“Oi, wait a minu--” is all the angel could get out before the Oni destroyed the comm, reducing it to fragments and chips by simply rubbing it between her fingers as they underwent a metamorphosis, losing their bony appearance, much to the surprise of the duo. “Over and out. Now, you, Kitsune... Aimi, was it? I reckon I might as well introduce myself prim and proper, the way momma taught me. Name’s Nahoko, and I am going to pummel you to a pulp.” Nahoko smirked and spat, walking towards Aimi with footsteps more akin to stomps that smashed the cobblestone under her all the same. “Don’t even concern yerself with protectin’ that kid behind ya. I am not interested in her in the slightest. Focus yerself fully on fightin’ me, ‘cause bruisin’ ya is all I’m lookin’ for, yeah?”
Right before their eyes, the beastly and uncanny Oni morphed, shrinking and becoming more properly proportioned, finally resembling a beautiful, very tall woman with long dark hair tied in a messy ponytail and warpaint adorning her face. “...I won’t ask why you were acting and looking like a fool before, but I suppose this means you’re going to be serious now.” shot back Aimi, a faint teal flame surrounding her hands, now balled into fists. “I suppose I can shit all over you for a bit, given you went and ruined my special day, you asshole.”
“Fuck off. Talk with yer hands, pussy.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
There we no more words. Oni and Kitsune clashed in the center of the cobblestone walkway, Aimi opening with a right straight that Nahoko countered with a headbutt, smashing her hard head against the thin girl’s fist, making her wince from the pain, but the Oni’s follow up swipe missed its mark, as Aimi twisted her body and rolled on Nahoko’s arm to get to her back, placing both of her palms against the back of her neck and blasting her with a localized explosion, sending her reeling.
“Hoh! That was supposed to behead you.” coldly complimented the Kitsune. “That was supposed to be an explosion inside of your neck. You have good magic resistance.”
“Hah! This hide of mine is pretty damn rugged!” boasted Nahoko, tapping her unscathed neck twice with a finger. “Yer gonna need Magic Emission on the level of a Faded Sigil in order to cast magic directly inside my body, so ya better start thinkin’ a new strat, fox.”
Although they fought with very different emotions, it was clear both wanted the other made into a bloody mess, stat, and so, they clashed, the Oni seeing a dance where the Kitsune saw a death match. As elbows and knees met and bone and sinew sang, from among the bushes, a tall, blonde woman emerged, rifle in hand. “Alright, that’s enough.” the vexes sniper announced, training her rifle at Michiko, freezing both fighters in place. “Let’s just cut to the chase.”
“Oi, Astra! Don’t fuckin’ intervene in this! I’ve wanted this for a long tiIIIAAAA!” In that singular moment of carelessness, Aimi seized Nahoko by the horns and threw her between Michiko and the sniper just as she squeezed the trigger, the bullet hitting Nahoko square in the chest, making her drop to a knee. “Guh!"
“Don’t you dare hurt Michiko! I’ll rip your apart!”
“Kitsune!” erupted the inflamed angel. “What is the meaning of this!? That bullet was meant for that girl! Do you think those are cheap!?”
“Astra, you god damn imbecile, of course she’s gonna block it! They ain’t even know yer a--!” but the Oni couldn’t finish what she was saying before a jolt shook her to the very core, her eyes fixating on the petite human girl she had unintentionally shielded. “...Hey... Yer... Yer damn cute as a button, now that I look at you better.”
“Oh.” The Kitsune, faster than the eye could possibly ever dare to perceive, grabbed the sniper by the collar, lifting her, a wicked grin on her face. “...A ranged weapon, angel, and a sudden infatuation... You wouldn’t happen to be a Cupid, would you?”
“N-No idea what you’re talking about.”
“And you wouldn’t happen to have shot that Oni with a Love Arrow just now, hmm?”
“Certainly within the realm of possibility.”
“Haha.”
“H-haha...”
“...”
“...Um, Kitsune, you--”
“I wonder if you bleed?” Aimi wondered with the sweetest smile as she clenched her fist hard enough that it sounded like rubber stretching.
“Fair, but you might want to look at Naho-- the Oni right now.”
“As if you could escape the Triple Deluxe Knuckle McSandwich that I am going to force feed you right now with a dumb trick like thaaaAAAAA WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY MICHII!”
As Astra and Aimi played mental footsies, the suddenly infatuated Oni, with a proper posture instead of her usual hunched over gait, approached the paralyzed Michiko, in utter awe and confusion at this behemoth of a curvaceous woman who towered over her, hips swinging with each step she took. “I can see why that fox likes ya! It’s like I could just hug ya while I sleep and dream the sweetest things, ya cute little radish stalk.” With the distance between them gone, the big hand of the tall woman fell upon the tiny girl’s head, bringing her closer and pressing her face against her exposed stomach, causing the little girl to yelp in surprise and bewilderment as she met her powerful abdominal muscles on a personal level. “I don’t even work out much anymore, but I think they are pretty good, ain’t they? Just wait till you feel them in action, you’ll see what I mean once I am rammin’ yer cute little body against my bedpo--”
“Oi! Watch your tongue!” the irate Kitsune yelled. “Don’t be saying things like that in public!”
“Oh? What, ya jealous? Then watch this.” Without further ado, Nahoko crouched, her face very close to Michiko’s own, lips half open and eyes half-lidded and... She lightly tapped her horns against Michiko’s forehead.
“Huh...? Wh-what was that...?” the human wondered, but one look at Aimi and the sniper seemed to clue her in to that having had a special meaning, because the Kitsune was beet red and the Angel was covering her mouth in amazement.
Spin Kick 2: The Return Of The Spin Kick, the long awaited sequel, interrupted the Oni’s scandalous invitation, sending her through yet another tree. “YYYYYOU! Lewd! Extremely lewd! What do you think you’re doing to my Michii!” howled Aimi, hugging her puzzled friend close. “You... Horny temptress! Michiko, are you alright?! More importantly, do you like taller girls? I mean, I am taller than you! Maybe not as tall as she is, but I am still good, right?”
“Um... Aimi? What does it mean when an Oni taps her horns against your head? and what are you--”
“And I can start working out, too! I’ll get some toned abs over the summer, so don’t you worry!”
“T-that’s cool, but, um, hey, so, what is... What is going on, dude?”
“...And plus, a less extreme height different is much cuter, if you ask m-- Hm? What do you mean, what is gOh.” -- Aimi finally returned to the real world -- Yeah, right, the, um, everything. Ok, so, Michii, this might be awkward, but--”
“...You’re... A Kitsune, Aimi.” finally blurted out Michiko, looking at the long, elegant ears that protruded from her friend’s head. “...So things like Kitsune and Oni are real, huh? This is kinda wild.” Aimi couldn’t find the words to answer to that or the courage to look at her in the eyes right now. With a long sigh, she finally worked the courage to say what she had wanted to say all these years, what she had come to say today.
“Michiko, please listen closely, ok? There’s no point in dolling it up by now, but, yeah, I am... A Kitsune. A legitimate Kitsune. I’ve kept this from you for all these years, and I really apologize for that. It’s felt horrible having to lie to you for so long, and I’ve wanted to tell you so, so much, but, well, it’s just not that easy. You’re a completely ordinary person, unaware of the the truth behind the fake ordinary world in which humans live. I was never supposed to tell you, or to even... Spend much time with you in the first place. It never was supposed to be like this.”
--
Meanwhile, rising from the rubble nearby, a revived Nahoko was ready for round two. “Alright, you cheeky little shithead, we were just going for pleasure before, but now, iiiiit’s business! I am aimin’ to kill ya if ya want to lay a hand on my Michiko!”
However, the Oni couldn’t move. Much to her surprise, she found her arm seized and a cold blade pressed against her neck, a trickle of blood trailing down her collarbone. “Wha...! How and when did you...?”
“Do not interrupt, Nahoko. If you interrupt this right now, I will kill you.” Astra promised, holding Nahoko perfectly still, despite her struggling. “Besides...”
“Haha, fuck, so you can actually... Well, aight. ‘Besides’ what?”
“It’s getting good as shit.”
--
“What do you mean, it was never supposed to be like this...?” inquired the puzzled Michiko, dreading the tone of that statement.
“...I initially just got close to you because I wanted to humiliate you. It’s what we Yako, or Nogitsune, do. Being malicious and mischievous is in our nature, and we love toying with humans, sometimes just to lead them to misfortune, other times to lead them to ruination or even death. I wanted to get your trust so I could throw it to the ground when you least expected it.” explained Aimi with a plastic, apologetic smile. “Oh, look at that tiny little loser, she has no friends, she doesn’t go anywhere after school, she just sits by herself during lunch... Is what I thought when I saw you for the first time in school. I saw an easy pick, is what I am trying to say. I went for it. All you were to me was a future accomplishment, a funny story I’d tell to my family some time later during lunchtime, when it was Humans Are Dumb story time.”
“...Aimi, I...”
“Remember the first time we talked? I asked you if you wanted to partner up with me for gym class. You gave it your absolute everything, more than I ever saw you try any time before, because you didn’t want to drag me down. After that, you overcame your shyness and asked me if I wanted to hang out after school. I was surprised, but not truly moved. Not yet, at least. Time passed, we did this and that, you were always on board with my dumb ideas, and you even stuck through our, no, my punishment whenever I got caught. Why didn’t you ever just say it had been my idea? You could’ve gotten away with no punishment, no suspension every single time.”
“Because I was having fun with you. I couldn’t just--”
“Couldn’t just abandon me just because things went south, right? Because that’s the thrice accursed kind of person you are. Time and time and time again, you stood by my side, during the little detentions, and during the big suspensions. I hate you... I hate you for being like that!”
“...Aimi, what are you saying...! I just couldn’t... Turn my back on the first person that--”
“I hate you because I love you, you big idealistic idiot! You never suspected I could have been trying to mess with you, not even once! You didn’t distrust me when you should have! You never once even entertained the idea that I might have just been preparing you for the biggest humiliation of your life, and you just kept treating me like a friend, over and over and over! Too naive! You’re the kind of person that a Nogitsune has a field day with! You are the person that ends up being ruled as a suicide in the middle of a lake or a forest because we can simply toy with you at will!”
“Well, what could I have done, you imbecile! You want me to look at my first and best friend in life and just turn a blind eye whenever she needs me!? If I couldn’t trust you, then who could I trust? Call it naive, call it dumb, I don’t care, I don’t regret a single one of those decisions! It’s been the best time in my life, so you... How can you just call it a waste and something dumb!? Are you out of your... Out of your... Aimi?”
In front of Michiko, the fox girl had broken into tears. The usually haughty girl who stood up to anyone and got in trouble at all times, famous problem child Aimi, who had just gone toe to toe with an Oni, now had streaks of sorrow trailing down her face and her ears were drooping down, an unending stream of tears staining her usually immaculate face currently contorted by sorrow. “...You’re like this, and this is why I hate it... I hate it because I love you...! I love you! I love you so freaking much, Michii! It was all just supposed to be a prank, a ploy, but I didn’t consider the most important aspect of it all: How much I came to care for you, and how much you came to care for me... Every time things were hard for me, you’d stay with me one the phone until the high hours of the morning. When I had problems with my folks, problems I never once told you about, you trusted me, you let me stay over at your place, and damn, I have never enjoyed myself more than the time I get to spend with you. So I’ve felt horrible! I’ve felt horrible because I only wanted to harm you, I lied to you, I kept so much from you, but you kept giving!”
“...Aimi, friendship isn’t about keeping tallies!”
“It should be! No... Well, it’s like that... At least among my family, it is, but I want to believe you. So, I decided to bring you here today so I could tell you. So, please, let me do it properly now. Ahem, um, Michiko, I’m sorry I lied, I’m actually a Kitsune, a Nogitsune, specifically. I couldn’t just tell you, but as time passed, I couldn’t just not tell you anymore.”
“...Well, I mean, this is where I should be surprised and demanding an explanation, but after seeing you and that Oni go Wuxia on each other, and given you kinda just told me already, anyways, well... This is awkward, haha!”
“Ahahaha, yeah, not the most ideal confession, could’ve gone better.”
“Still, Aimi, thank you for telling me this, thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for deciding to trust me with this, even with the malicious beginnings of our friendship, everything. I don’t feel like there’s anything for me to ‘forgive’, per se, but I want to ease your mind as well, so if it’ll help, I forgive you, please don’t worry about it.”
The fox girl smiled and her ears shot upwards. “Michii...! Does that mean...!” Before Aimi could finish what she was saying, the smaller girl rushed her and buried her face against her chest, trapping her in a tight hug.
“Of course I don’t mind! Please don’t go away! I’ll keep your secret, I wanna keep getting in trouble with you, doing dumb things, getting called at 4:30 am to hear your silly voices and jokes, everything! Also, I wanna touch your ears and tail, but that’s neither here and there!” joyfully cried the smaller girl, embracing her friend tightly.
“Ahahaha! Gosh, as usual, you do not hold back, but hey, um... About what I said... Um, I meant it in a lot of ways, but also a very specific way...”
“Hm?” Without letting go of her hug, Michiko, whose face was burried in Aimi’s chest, looked up to meet her eye to eye, just to find a beet red Aimi. “...Whatcha mean?”
“T-that I... That I love you. I love you so, so much. You’re the best thing that has happened to me, and my life has only been sweet and fun since we’ve been doing our thing. I wanna know... If you feel the same way, or if, you know, both of us being girls gets in the way, you know, important stuff! You feel me! Don’t make me say it!”
“I don’t... Understand what you’re saying, Aimi, this is all too sudden, can you please repeat that for m-me...?”
“Aaaarrgh! Michii! I’m saying that I love you so much it makes my heart hurt! I want to hug you and cuddle with you and... Gosh, just run my fingers through your puffy, curly hair as I smooch you right in those adorable cheeks, could you please get it already! I love you!”
“Hehe...”
“...! Oh, you little shit!”
“Sorry, sorry! I just wanted to hear you say those things, haha! You’re so cute when you get flustered, Aimi! Haha!”
“See! This is the shit I put up with! I’m the fox but sometimes I’m the one being tricked! How dare you, you absolutely rotten pancake! You hideous macaroon! You heretic beef stew from two days ago! You--”
“Hehe... Yes.”
“--soggy french fri-- Huh?”
“...Yes. Of course I want to go out with you. I love you too, silly. Kitsune or human, boy or girl, you think that matters to me when my favorite person in the world is the one saying it? I love you. I want to see what kind of trouble we can get into tomorrow, the day after, the year after, the decade after... Ideally, forever. I don’t want to get separated from you, and... Well, you know what my parents say? ‘The best person you could possibly date, love, and grow old with is your best friend’.”
“Michii...”
“And you know what, Aimi?”
Standing on the tip of her toes, the petite human pressed the softest kiss on the lips of the Kitsune, holding her face with both of her hands. “...I’m inclined to believe them. Let’s keep having fun together, now and ever, AImi. I love you.”
“...Once again, you ambush me when I least expect it, gosh... I-I had this whole thing where I was gonna embrace you and kiss you and all, I even had a good line prepared!”
“Hehe! Well, do it now! We have all the time in the world...”
“Ahem.”
Their little world was shattered down to pieces the moment a particularly angelic interruption reminded them that they were not alone. “Ah.” “Oh!”
“Good for you, kiddos, but you shouldn’t be swapping spit in front of strangers.” reprimanded Astra, who had Nahoko on top of her shoulders, hogtied and blindfolded. “Still, congratulations. I hope you two have an excellent future together.” As she said this, however, the voice of the sniper was at its softest yet, and a genuine smile adorned her lips. “Take care of each other, yeah?”
“Yes!” the enthusiastic Michiko exclaimed, hugging her girlfriend tight and close.
“...This was all weird, but, yeah. And... Thank you, Miss Cupid... Even though you totally missed your shot, haha. Um, before you go, can I ask you... Is this park Scenario Witchery?” inquired Aimi as she held Michiko close, a hand on top of her head.
“...Oho. Good eyes, Kitsune. This park is, indeed, my Scenario Witchery. During your confession, I could’ve made all these dead trees bloom and a million of flowers erupt, but... That would’ve been way too cheesy, no? Way too cheesy. It would’ve really been too cheesy.”
“Ah, she wanted to do that, huh.” both girls thought to themselves.
“It’s also why I recommend you to get out as soon as you can. The time limit is the end of today, so just in a couple of hours. I’d held this Scenario for the last three weeks. This ‘park’ is actually an empty lot that will be made into a big building soon. I hear it’s a mall, so I say you two come here for a date when that’s ready. It’ll be fun to revisit what technically was where that cute fox confessed oh so clumsily, no?”
“...Y-yeah, if you wanna. Well, thank you, Miss Cupid, we’ll be on our way, then.” Aimi said, waving half-heartedly.
“Mmhm! I don’t really get it, but I suppose you’re the one responsible for this! So thank you!” chimed the enthusiastic smaller girl.
“Yeah, take care, I’ll go dump this dumb Oni on Meguro river or something now.” And with that said, Astrael walked away with the struggling Nahoko, disappearing among the trees.
As they walked home together, Michiko tugged on Aimi’s arm. “Aimi, what’s Scenario Witchery?”
“It’s a very complex kind of magic. Basically, you morph one area into something else entirely for a certain amount of time, and when people are in this artificial area, they become ‘players’ or ‘actors’ in the Scenario. People trapped in a Scenario have their usual reason and logic skewered by the Scenario, as if a compelling power forced you to act or think a certain way.”
“...Isn’t that really dangerous? That’s practically modifying the thoughts and emotions of people!”
“Yeah, it’s very powerful, and hence why it is so complex and difficult. I consider myself pretty skilled in magic, but I cannot make any sort of Scenario Witchery. That Cupid was really something else. She was using her Scenario to make couples come together, but she really could’ve just made the Scenario ‘a bloodbath where lovers become unable to believe each other and then devolved into brutal violence, with one or both dying’, if she so wished. Scenario Witchery is forbidden due to how it can be used, hence why it’s ‘witchery’ and not ‘magic’.” explained Aimi, serious for once. “...I’m glad she’s using it benevolently, but... No mere Cupid can just handle Scenarios... And even then, her magic felt very grim, it had me on edge, but...”
“...Aimi?”
“...It doesn’t matter anymore. Hey, can we go to your place? I’d like to let auntie and uncle know the good news.”
“N-not so fast, bucko! We should keep it under wraps for now!”
“Haha! I’m kidding, I’m kidding, but still, I wanna hang out.”
“Hehe, yeah, of course! I found a pretty good band last night, I wanna show you their first album, ‘cause their latest one sucks, but their early stuff is absolutely your kinda deal.”
“Ohh, cool! What kinda stuff do they do? I swear if you show me enka again like the last time you said you found some real gold, I’m gonna...”
The new couple laughed and talked their way home peacefully, each with an arm around each other, each with their lips curved into a genuine smile.
--
11:30 pm.
Along the empty back roads of Meguro, a single woman, carrying another woman over her shoulder, made her way across the night, many closed businesses to her right, the empty street to her left. February 14th, Valentine’s Day, where everyone was sharing a moment with their loved ones. This could count as sharing a moment, if you really squint, because it’s not every day you say an Angel hoist a hogtied Oni atop her shoulder. “Alright, we’re far enough.” Finally setting Nahoko down, Astra cut her bindings and finally freed her. “Nice acting, knucklehead. Sure had them fooled.”
“...But it seems I couldn’t fool ya, hah! How did ya know?” the Oni asked, once again producing her favorite pipe to smoke from.
“That Love Arrow was calibrated for a human. There’s no way an Oni would be in the least affected by a Love Arrow that weak, between your own high magic resistance and an Oni’s natural poison resistance. I’d need something like a .905 SSK caliber Love Arrow round to affect you.”
“Well, caught me with the fingernails in the pot.” admitted Nahoko, lifting her arms in mock surrender.
“It was actually really helpful. You wanted to really rile up the fox, and it paid off. Your next drink is on me, Nahoko. You really have my thanks. And with that... We’re done. Congratulations.” said the Angel, warmth in her voice.
“Aw, sweet, I am going to bankrupt you! Bwahaha, but, yeah, japes aside, good shit, Astrael, that went well. Got bumpy for a bit, but it went well. It honestly was tons of fun. I’m actually kinda sad this job’s over.” Nahoko commented as she tried to get on her feet, but when she tried to get up on her left leg, the Oni winced and dropped back to the floor.
“Are you ok? I guess the pain from those blows wasn’t fully an act. Here, let me give you a hand.”
“Ah, no no, I’m mostly fine, but my left leg... These spikes? Well, they are real.”
“Wait, what?” The Angel was puzzled. “I thought they were just part of your outfit.”
“...Well, that’s kinda what I hope people think, but I, uh... Well, I fucked up a long time ago, and it’s kinda related to why I accepted this job. This is a curse I fully deserve, ‘cause I did something really dumb a long time ago, a crime of passion, one might say, and got cursed with this as a result. This is the least of my problems, though, the real curse is livin’ with the fact that I... Well, doesn’t matter now.”
They were finally outside of the hotel where Astra was staying. With a motion, Astra invited her in, to which Nahoko nodded. In Astra’s room, the conversation continued. “I’m not gonna press you for questions, but, hey, Nahoko, are you going do something after this?”
“It’s back to the vagabond’s life for me, really. As I said before, I just took this job on a whim, and... Well, to make amends, I suppose.”
“Well, if you aren’t going to do anything, I want to hire you.” bluntly stated the sniper. “I’ll pay you well, too. I have a sponsor, after all. I realized my objective is much more easily achieved with a partner, and you know the land and the people’s customs. I am very much a foreigner, after all, so having someone native would really help.”
Nahoko’s boisterous face finally softened a bit as she heard Astra’s offer, before finally bursting in a goofy guffaw. “Hah! Hahaha! Bwaaahaha! You for real, girl? A Cupid and an Oni, shittin’ around ol’ Nippon’s highways, shootin’ love at people? Pushin’ inexperienced people towards their happily ever afters? Well, fuck, aight, it’s not like I got anything else goin’, honestly, sure! Sign me the fuck up, cap’n!” The Oni’s laughter, still boisterous as ever, was also very warm right now, the kind of warmth that comes from finding purpose, and maybe, just maybe, atonement.
“Then, it’s settled. I, Astrael, hereby appoint you, Nahoko of Mount Ooe, as my Assistant Cupid. Now go get a bath, you’ll stay here. You’ve had enough of sleeping in caves and under bridges, I take?”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice! Be right back!”
As the Oni got in the bath, Astra pulled out her phone and hit call. “...Hey, it’s me. Oh, it all went swimmingly. The Scenario will be dispelled in just a couple of minutes, at midnight. Yeah. Yeah. No, no problem. Also, something else, ma’am, I’ve decided to hire an Oni to help me with my next tasks. Yeah, I figured you’d laugh like this and would be ok with it. Mmhm, if it’s not much trouble, I will need additional funds to pay her and all. Alright, that’s all, talk to you later, then, Inari.”
With a “that’s settled, then” face, Astra finally put down her rifle and various sidearms, sitting on her bed and stretching. It had been a long three weeks, and a hell of a way to conclude them, but she finally had managed to turn Valentine’s into a memorable experience for many couples that would otherwise still be twiddling their thumbs. With a content sigh, Astra finally relaxed, and the bathroom’s door swung open. “Hey, Nahoko, I already talked to the boss, she said it’s fiWoah what who are you”
Out of the bathroom, covered only in a towel too tiny for a woman that big, came out an absolutely gorgeous woman with long and smooth hair as black as midnight cascading around her curvaceous, voluptuous frame, smooth pale skin, striking red eyes, and light pink lips that one could feel their softness with just one’s eyes. Turns out, when she’s not wearing those tacky bells and bones, or the war paint, or the mix and match clothes, the messy ponytail, or anything else, Nahoko looked quite stupendous, or so Astra thought, anyways, if we go by her complete lack of words and powerful stare. An unwashed savage who smelled of sake and grime entered the bathroom, but a supermodel came out. Notably, the spikes that jutted out of Nahoko’s leg were retracting right in front of her eyes.
“I can at least pull these back for a limited about of time, which is useful whenever I wanna sleep without fuckin’ shredding futons or beds, bwaha. Anyways, what were ya sayin’?”
“O-oh, nothing, you’re officially hired, that’s all. So, take the bed, I’ll sleep in the sofa today. This is a one person room, after all.”
“What’s with that? Nah, we’ll both take the bed, it’s cool.”
“What!? No, no, it’s not cool, I can take the sofa, I’ve slept in worse places.” argued the Angel, trying to find anywhere to look and just finding herself more and more flustered. “Anyways, good night, we gotta get up early tomorr--!”
As she tried to make a beeline towards the couch, the long and strong arms of the almost naked Oni scooped her up and trapped her, pressing her against her dangerous body, still warm, wet, and steaming from the bath. “Oh no, ya don’t! Why the hell would ya take the couch? We can take the bed, there’s plenty space in it for both of us.”
“That’s not what this is abOh Lord I know I’ve forsaken you but please help me” she immediately cried mid-sentence when she found her face pressed against the Oni’s chest, a chest that had to have been hand crafted by the best and most libidinous artisan in the world. “--Anyways, it’s just not right to share beds, we don’t even know each other that well!”
“Oh, what, really?” Nahoko wondered, unaware that she was subjecting Astra to a Full Contact Skinship Torture. “We’ve known each other for three weeks, though? That’s plenty, girl. Back in Mount Ooe, us underlings had to use the smaller caves, and there were plenty of us, so it usually was the case that three or four of us had to sleep together, bundled on one mat or somethin’. We hadta be thrifty with space usage, so we came up with many ways to do so. This bed, for example...” Nahoko, still with Astra pressed against her body, got in the bed, placing Astra on top of her, their bodies pressed together more than ever, one of the Oni’s arm tightly around Astra’s waist. “...Yeah, this works, see? One bed, two people, no problemo. Hell, we still have space, so we can even be luxurious and do this.”
“aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” is all that went on the Angel’s mind, who was trying her best to remain conscious through this carnal assault on her senses. While she fought her inner self, Nahoko got her off from on top of her and put her on her side, instead, slinging an arm around her and hugging her tightly, making the two of them fit in the bed just right, Astra’s face buried against the tall woman’s collarbone, feeling very well how the rest of those dangerous curves pressed tightly against her own body, leaving nothing to the Angel’s imagination. “Oh my God I Am Going To Die.”
“See? We’re good like this. Aight, partner, see you in the mornin’, we gotta hit the road early, shoot ‘em Love Arrows, the works, right?”
“Y-yeah... Wait, no! I gotta take a bath! I’m all sweaty and--”
“Oh, don’t bother, what’s a little sweat between friends? See you tomorrow, Astra.” Nahoko chuckled, and then immediately went to sleep, her powerful arms hugging Astra so tightly and closely that the Angel couldn’t escape that voluptuous Alcatraz, no matter how hard she struggled.
Finally settling down and realizing the futility of her efforts, Astrael simply gave up and swung an arm around her new peer, pressing herself close and burying her face on the smooth skin of the Oni’s collarbone and top of her chest, a muffled “Thank you God but also fuck you, I’m supposed to Cupid” escaping her lips as she decided she might as well enjoy this, given she had no chance but to last until morning like this.
This wasn’t why she decided to hire her, but it certainly didn’t hurt for Cupid to find someone of her own on such an eventful Valentine’s Day.
It goes without saying she didn’t sleep a wink.
--
The rumbling of the truck’s engine waiting by the hotel’s door accompanied the sounds coming from the radio as Nahoko loaded their luggage.
“We’re checked out, packed up and ready, boss!”
“Don’t call me boss, just refer to me normally.”
“Heh, thought so, Astrael.”
“...Astra’s fine.”
The Oni just smiled. “Aww, lookitchu, being nice and shit. Well, Astra, where are we goin’ next?”
“Shinagawa sounds nice, doesn’t it? It’s more populous than Meguro, so we’re sure to find people in their post-Valentine’s blues.”
“Ooh, aimin’ for the target while they are down, huh? I like it. Sounds good to me, let’s be their coincidence, their first push!”
“...The convenient little event they need to take that first step.”
Bumping their fists, Astrael stepped on the gas, and off they went, the two Love Legionnaires, Angel and Oni, off to cause some trouble to greenhorn little pansies that wish to be lovers, to be their coincidences.
Have you ever wanted to write something, and thus started to actually avoid works like it, because you're worried you'll subconsciously take too much from others instead of being original?
Not exactly, but I have considered it here and there because sometimes I have an idea, and then I’ll see something similar to it in any given show or book, and then I think, “Oh, no, people will think I’m a copycat!”, but look, it doesn’t quite work like that: Unless we’re talking about extremely specific things, there’s no way you’ll copy something in its entirety, because ideas and concepts are a dime a dozen, it’s execution that matters. There’s a trillion of fire-users in fiction, but you remember some well above others. There’s a trillion of tragic backstories that are the same, but some are generic while others are iconic, no? It’s because base concepts have been used since the beginning of time, but the way in which they are used is what makes them worthwhile or not.
I don’t worry too much about it, because I know that the way I wanna use my concept is going to be different to the way another creator used it. The concept is just the beginning, the execution is what truly matters, and if you let just similar concepts dissuade you, then maybe you were not ready for the execution... Or you let yourself be daunted by something that should be encouraging, instead! Don’t think “Aw, shucks, we have similar concepts”, think “I will execute this concept in a way that people will love!”.
Giving shape to your concepts is work. Giving heft to your words is work. Now, all that remains to be asked is: Are you willing to put in the work?
A very tangible joy of creation is both giving them concise shape outside of your head, and seeing how other people react to them, how they like these concepts and words you have to offer to them. There is part of the writer in everything they write, it can be just a smidgen, or it can be a full projection, but it’s impossible for the creation to not have part of the creator. This should be embraced. Depending on who you are and the inclination you have towards people seeing you, this can really be a difficult thing to handle: Some people like to keep their mask firmly in place, while others want nothing more than to be seen not through empty declarations of personality, but rather, through what they can convey through their work. This, obviously, extends to all forms of art and creation, but let’s focus on writing here. If you tell two different people to work from a prompt, you’ll probably end up with two different things entirely, just like how a basket of ingredients, handled by two different chefs, can end up with two different, perhaps opposite results. What we do with things is more important that what the things that we are using are.
What I am trying to say here is that your idea might as well never come to fruition if you don’t work on it yourself. It’s easy to simply sit back and believe yourself an expert on media simply because you’ve consumed tons and can criticize it on this or that, and they may very well be valid complaints, but you can immediately tell who has dedicated themselves to create media and who hasn’t based on their criticisms and the way they word them. It doesn’t take finesse or anything, you just realize, because you take notice that the person making the comments has never in their life been in front of that massive empty blank block, or even worse, that massive block full of letters that has a thousand flaws that you wish to refine. Writing isn’t just the end result, it’s the process too. I’ll be frank, I find it very difficult to take people seriously in their criticisms and opinions about shows or whatever when they have not made the effort to try and make something themselves. It’s not a fair thing to do, I acknowledge it, but it’s also how I truly and well feel. I cannot find it in me to be that receptive, I cannot find it in me to see this person, and we ALL know the one, that talks oh so much about how much they are going to do This Thing or That Thing and how they’ve saved so many references and how they’ve gotten these crazy good ideas from this piece of media or how they’ve consumed so much of a particular genre and they feel ready to finally produce their own piece and then
And then Nothing. They do Nothing.
Charlatans. Charlatans that will only criticize the efforts of those who have dared put time, money, and effort into their work. Those who have dared shed the mask and show themselves to the readers.
A concept, a piece of reference, an inspiration, those things, those things are worth a dime a dozen. You can sell your fake courage all you want, but no one will buy it if you don’t make it truly yours.
So, to everyone that is working in any sort of project? Making a fanfic? Writing some original fiction? Even musing ideas and putting them into order, even if you are afraid to do so and you are aware of your own lack of skill and experience? My full respect and support to you. I love you. Please create, please keep creating, never stop enjoying the act of creation, because it’s fun, and because it’s brave.
If you only like creating OCs for your own enjoyment? Do it. Have fun. If you only feel like working with established character from existing IPs instead of your original creations? Do it. Have fun. If you want to create an extremely self indulgent piece of whatever and decide to share it because, hey, whatever, might as well? Do it. Have fun. You are doing. You are creating. You are putting your ideas into stone and giving them form. You may not want to go pro, you may not even want to publish them, but you are still doing it, and I support you.
However, one addendum to that: You have to shoot for what you are aiming for! If you only like creating OCs in a vacuum for your own enjoyment and then you complain about how people don’t care about your OCs? Tsk tsk, bad. I slap your hand. You shot at a target you weren’t aiming for. People won’t just care for your OC because you made them. You know why characters from IPs are so intriguing? Because they have something behind them. We all know one or six pieces of very mediocre media with massive following, don’t we? You know why that is? It’s easy to blame it on “people having bad taste”, but even if that is partially truth, there’s more to that answer: It’s because there’s a world, a setting, in which they exist. They don’t exist as a character profile page, or as a concept: It’s a world, with rules, characters, setting, and life. A world has side characters, main characters, events, happenings, a past, a present, a future... Most mediocre works on the market do have that. Even if the prim and proper writing is garbage and the plot is nothing but an afterthought, there’s still the setting, and with that, the possibilities.
If you want people to care, you need to give them reasons. You need to offer them a setting, a plot, a something that will make them say “I care about what happens to these characters. I want to know more”. A passive aggressive post on your blog isn’t a reason, see.
Seize the interest of people. Make them care with good writing, not with sad demands.
Seize the interest of yourself. Make the first move, start building the flesh that will serve as the motor to that soul you hold so precious, that soul called “concept”, called “idea”.
Seize the moment. Make your fiction. Write. You will love it, and so will the rest of us that will be able to read it.
Hey, so regarding the setting of your story, how does the Amnesia work? Like, did everyone lose their memories for good, or are there things that they remember? Like, if I was there 33 years ago and experiences it, did I "wake up" and see like this whole confusing world? It's cool but I wanna know more about it.
Just for the record and so stuff like this is easier to find, it’s turbo totally ok to send asks to my writing blog @beheadingofmakai regarding the stories and one-shots within it. It’s no problem if you send them here, but if you want to be able to find anything pertaining to those things easily, it’s better to send them that way. I plan to respond to asks in that blog as well.
NOW, I don’t wanna say too much since I don’t wanna spoil anything regarding the following chapters, but the Amnesia is very much how it was described in Chapter 2: It was on a worldwide scale, but it affected information more than the minds of people. “Amnesia”, in a way, is an easy and recognizable way the people have to call it, but you could also say it was a supernatural erasure of information en masse, which includes that which is inside people’s heads, and that which is outside.
If you were there, 33 years ago, minding your business, when suddenly the Amnesia hit, you would have suddenly “come to” in the middle of whatever it is you were doing. Were you driving a car? I hope you have fast reflexes. Were you a baseball player about to hit the ball? I REALLY HOPE YOU HAVE FAST REFLEXES. Were you piloting a commercial airplane? I SERIOUSLY, REALLY HOPE YOU–
Jest aside, yeah, you’d just come to and wonder what in the hell, BUT, the Amnesia is not perfect or absolute, and many things resisted it. Some languages, for example, remained, because languages are known by a ton of people, and “the more something exists, the more resistant it is to the Amnesia”, if you know what I mean. That’s the main rule. The names of some of the races of Mythics, such as Oni, Kitsune, Centaurs, Goblins, etc, also remained due to their popularity in pop culture, whereas less popular Mythics, while they still exist, can’t remember their species name, which carries all sorts of problems. Media, being less ingrained in identity than, say, language or species, suffered much more, but let’s say Alice in Wonderland, a worldwide powerhouse that everyone knows, gets hit by the Amnesia: As long as you keep finding copies of the story, you can eventually reconstruct it, because the “burn marks” (properly named “stasis stains” or “stasis marks”) don’t cover the entirety of something, so you can piece together a book again by finding copies and collecting the words that aren’t covered in the “burns”. Each copy of that book would have several pages worth of uncovered words, due to its popularity. Contrast with gas station minimarket novel from a self published author, who is not going to be too well known. That novel is absolutely gone, with the books fully covered in stasis stains. Speaking of stasis stains, you cannot interact with them at all. You cannot write on top of them, paint on them, nothing. They are immutable.
People that were there for the amnesia… Well, this is coming up in a future chapter, so I can’t say anything about it, other than “it will be explained soon”.
The girl’s fragile body heaved and thrashed violently as the Exorcists chanted while holding the unholy presence prisoner to shackles affixed to their own bodies, each of the men standing on opposite ends of the bed.
“...Ut inimicos sanctae circulae humiliare digneris...” the older of the two chanted as the younger focused entirely on subduing the demon’s attempts to resist with a smaller, simpler chant.
The room was dimly lit, just four candles providing both lighting and ambiance to the grotesque or extraordinary, depending on who ask, scene that unfurled in front of the terrified parents of the possessed girl, flanked by the two focused men, one tall and with wavy hair that rested in a ponytail atop his left shoulder, the other sporting shorter, dark red hair, and a far more stiff posture that spoke of inexperience and anxiety. The girl was held in place by two large, thick golden chains of light that protruded from the very bodies of the two men, a most fetid and unholy spirit attempting to resist their intervention, convulsing and shrieking in tones both audible and inaudible to humans.
“I-Is she fine!?” blurted out the concerned father of the girl, his wife holding him back and “shhh”ing him, urging him to be quiet as he was instructed. “I can’t just sit around doing nothing while my daughter is suffering like this!”
“Don’t worry, we’re almost done, sir,” replied the younger Vinn, trying to sound as calm and pleasant as possible, as if he wasn’t wrangling a creature most foul by the tentacles. “My partner is almost done with the-- Oh, here it comes, one second, please, I need to catch it.”
“...You need to catch it?”
“Benedictus Deus, Gloria Patri, Benedictus Dea, Matri Gloria!”
A blinding flash of light burst from the girl’s chest, and an ocean of pitch black darkness with dark red orbs that you might just mistake for eyes burst forth from her mouth, immediately being captured by Vinn in a small rectangular object, and just as fast as it came, it was gone. “...Eyup, that’s a good one, now let’s scram,” commented Bastian casually, slinging his coat over his shoulder and heading to the exit.
“...Jeez. Sir, madam, your daughter is perfectly fine now. She’ll be asleep for a couple of hours, but his work is as precise as he is rude, unpleasant, and smells bad in the morning. Now, I need you to come here for a second so I can give you the post-care instructions.”
“T-thank you so much, Mister Ingram! Our daughter is everything for us! Do tell us, if it’s any medicine or doctor, we’ll pay for it!” the ecstatic mother raved, her tears of joy already streaming down her face.
As soon as they got close, Vinn grabbed them both by the back of the neck, a dull green light in his fingertips, and the couple’s eyes went white for just a second. “...Huh? Who are you? Do you have any business with us...?”
“I said that the toilet is now completely fixed.” remarked Vinn. “It shouldn’t need any further repairs. It gave us a hell of a bad time, and the smell was horrible, but we sanitized the place while we were at it. We’ll send the bill later, have a good day!”
“...Oh, right! The toilet, yeah, darn thing, kept clogging up for no reason! Why, we had some good chili some days ago, and you wouldn’t believe how hard it-- Oh, um, thanks a lot, Mister Ingram! See you around!”
——-
“No one’s looking?”
“Nope. Let that bastard out. Imma let him have it.”
“Oh boy, alright.”
The back alley where they stood was a spacious, convenient space between two large buildings, both made of brick, with a large green dumpster on the side, and out of the sight of any city crawler that wasn’t looking for trouble. The backside of a large billboard promoting a popular soda brand hung above them as the older man spat on his hands, rubbed them together, and cracked his knuckles like a boxer about to despoil a champion of his belt. It was 2:34 PM, two men on the clock, two hands ready to guarantee the local hospital would see some action today, and two eyes that rolled at the outdated display of bravado, because, let’s face it, who the hell still spits on their own hands and rubs them together anymore? Only whatever few Pre-Amnesia cartoons that can be salvaged together do that anymore.
Vinn produced a cheap, common, and rectangular sponge from his breast pocket and squeezed it with all of his strength, a black sludge and a blood-curling scream oozing out of it. “OOWWW! Ow ow ow! Yo, hold on! No need to-- AHH! Please, come on, man, yeesh!”
As the viscous sludge hit the pavement, a vaguely person-shaped creature began forming as more and more sludge accumulated, until the sponge had been squeezed dry, and in the floor lie a young man, large and built, with broad shoulders and a body hugging t-shirt that flattered his physique. He’d probably look very dashing if he wasn’t already off the floor and against a wall, with Bastian Ashfield’s firm grip on his neck.
“Possessing a little girl, man? Really? What shitter did you come from?” barked Bastian as he turned him around and seized his wrist, pushing him face-first against the wall. “What did you do to her? Lie, you piece of shit, lie right now and give me the excuse I need to smoke your ass right this instant.”
“Woah woah, man, calm down! I didn’t do anything to her! It was just the ol’ vitality drain, you know? A man’s gotta eat!” cried the demon nervously, struggling in vain to get out of the detective’s grasp. “...I did play a couple of pranks on those old folks, but I didn’t harm no one, I mean, anyone, I swear!”
Bastian looked at Vinn, whose eyes were coated in the gentle light of Fallitur, the SSSD of True Sight. “...It checks out. He’s saying the truth. He didn’t do anything aside from getting nourishment and... Playing some pranks, I guess. This one reeks of milk, man. How old are you, 14?”
“Alright, perfect.” Bastian interrupted before the demon could answer, casually tossing him to the ground as he put his coat on. “Vinn, you remember what I told you yesterday? That I needed to confirm one extra thing with you?”
“Yes, and just as you did today in the morning, when you broke into my house in the middle of my breakfast, Bastian.” remarked the younger Exorcist with the slightest but realest hint of resentment in his voice, his delicious bacon and cereal interrupted by a certain hydromancer who stealthily got inside from a window. “...But you refused to say it because you need to be cryptic and vague and ‘mysterious’ in order to make up for lacking manners and a personality.” Vinn punctuated the word “mysterious” by doing quotation signs with his fingers.
“Where’s your sense of adventure and suspense, Ingram? Were you That Kid in school? The one that did sudoku during recess ‘cause he always lost at Hide and Seek?” -- Bastian laughed, since he clearly had gotten under Vinn’s skin -- “Well, whatever, look, you can handle sacraments and spells well, you can fight well, your heart is the right place, but I need one more thing outta you, one thing more important than those and, if you lack it, you are out of the game.”
Vinn was certainly irritated with his high maintenance and annoying partner, but it was true that he was very curious and intrigued about what this final requirement might be. “...What is it?”
“I need you to find this guy a job.”
“What?!” grunted the demon on the floor.
“What.” flatly responded Vinn.
“What~?” mockingly quipped Bastian, lifting his arms in mock surrender, saying it in a funny voice. “I said, you need to find--”
“But why do I need to find this guy a job?”
“Vinn, we are Exorcists. You remember what they taught you way back in the first year on the Academy? What is it that Exorcists do?”
“We solve crimes related to Mythics or magic, and we--!”
“...You seem to have remembered something.”
Vinn brought his hand to his mouth, almost ashamed of himself. “...It’s been so long... But yes, Exorcists... Solve Mythic and magic-related crimes, but they also serve as involved parole officers for minor crimes, which includes setting Mythics right, letting them know their rights, and assisting them in finding their place in society in a way that lets them live with dignity and a purpose.”
“...And assisting them in finding their place in society in a way that lets them live with dignity and a purpose”. Bastian said these words alongside Vinn, his mocking demeanor gone and his hands reaching for a cigarette. “...It’s definitely not unwelcome to know that you can crack skulls when you need to, and that you care about Mythics, but see, if you can’t actually provide this help to them, then I don’t need you. The Academy’s fucked up, ain’t it? You spend one class in the first year talking about the supposed duty of the Exorcist, and then the rest of it all is learning how to pulverize them, or worst, how to smoke them. It never comes back up, does it? Not in the entire god damn MAB-approved and cooked curriculum. Well, Vinn, if you are going to truly help me set this rotten MAB right, you are going to show me you can do the most important job: Helping Mythics out for realsies. Not ‘beating up Mythics’, not ‘gathering evidence’, but actually caring and showing concern for Mythics that deserve this help, that with just that little push, can find their place in this God forsaken city.”
“...” Vinn held his tongue tight because Bastian was absolutely right. The Mythic Affairs Bureau’s Mythic Law Enforcement Academy’s education was mostly based on immediately assuming Mythics were a threat to humanity, something that always bothered Vinn, but the fact that even then, all he could think about this current case was to just give the demon a warning and letting him go instead of doing his duty properly was enough to make shame itch from within his skin. Vivid memories of his time at the Academy popped into his head, all the spellcasting, all the sacrament learning, the weaknesses of Mythics, what items and elements were most effective at hurting each type, and among all of these, he had naught a memory of Mythic rights or how to properly help them. “...Oi, Bastian, generally speaking, how many Exorcists would’ve killed this guy for what he did?”
Bastian’s face grew grim. “...Seven out of ten, I’d say. They would’ve truly and well exorcised him instead of just pulling him out. This one’s weak, too, so they wouldn’t have bothered like this, definitely”. The demon, who had gotten back on his feet but had not dared make a run for it, gulped visibly. “I’m going back to the Office to interview our lovely necromancer nurse. Help this guy out properly. I’m not demanding you do this in a day, but put your truest and hardest into this. I want to see if you can really call yourself an Exorcist.”
As Bastian walked away, Vinn recovered his composure and approached the demon. Short, stylish black hair, tight black t-shirt, built physique, and jeans. He was dressed as the most generic Joe out there, but his particularly model-like physique set him apart, and he’d look handsome if he wasn’t trembling in his sneakers. The somewhat red eyes of the demon avoided contact with Vinn’s green own as he uncomfortably shuffled in place. It was easy to see that he was not exactly calm, alone in a back alley with an Exorcist who had just caught him red handed.
“Oi, calm down. My name’s Vinn Ingram, and honestly, I am not going to harm you at all. I don’t get kicks from kicking kids like you around, so come on, ease up, what’s your name?”
“...How could you tell I’m a kid? I am pretty sure I have the appearance of an adult male right now. Are you a really experienced Exorcist?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, totally, I’ve been doing this for a while.” responded the man on his second day of work. “I just know how to tell Mythics apart really well by now. Demons especially.”
“...Mathanac. 17 years old, almost 18. This is my True Form, though, I’m not trying to look older on purpose. Look, I realize what I did was wrong, so please, can we not do the smoking thing? I didn’t hurt anybody, just maybe slid a couple of ice cubes down someone’s trousers, and, um, maybe I printed out scary pictures and hid them behind the shower’s curtain... And...”
“...And?”
“Well, um, maybe I spun my head a couple of times to freak ‘em out.”
“...I can’t even be mad at you for that one, it’s a classic.”
“Yeah! See? So please, come on, man, just give me a pass here, I’ll really be on my best behavior! Don’t put me in a room with that other guy, please.”
Vinn scratched the back of his head. Interaction after interaction, he understood one thing more and more with each word that came out of anyone that ever mentioned Exorcists: They were feared, they were dreaded, and they weren’t welcome, not by the Mythics they were supposed to guide, nor by the Humans they were supposed to protect.
Turns out, this job wasn’t as rosy or as noble as initially expected, if you have basic decency and a moral compass. Though he had serious personality problems, that was the one thing Vinn did like about Bastian: It was truly luck for him to be partnered with what seemed to be one of the few decent Exorcists in the line of duty, if the comments of anyone he’s ever met so far on the clock and his own experiences in the MLEA were anything to go by.
“...Look, man, I am not going to hurt you at all. We are kinda close in age too, I’m just 21. All I want to do is help you find your place in this city so you don’t have to resort to possessing people again, and so you don’t get in trouble again. Tons of Mythics live just fine and without causing trouble, so there’s no reason to believe you wouldn’t be able to as well.”
“...21?” Mathanac took a step back and stabbed Vinn with doubtful eyes. “...You just said you were a very experienced Exorcist, but you are just 21? Liar alert! You are trying to bamboozle me! Trick me, even!”
“Oh! No no, uh, it’s just--!”
Of kindred spirits, ink stains, and the reassuring caress of purpose: – Chapter 2: "Exorcist” Is A Strong Word –
“See! You are just another Exorcist that wants to have his kicks by smoking me the moment I decide to trust you!”
“Aah, crap, look, sorry... I’ll explain, I’ll explain, please believe me.” Vinn sighed deeply, nervously fiddling with his hands just slightly. “I... Have been around demons since I was a kid. I know what to look for when trying to identify their age.”
Mathanac looked less panicked but no less confused than before. “...You’ve been around demons since you were a kid...? Aren’t you an Exorcist? Isn’t it your job to put us out of commission?”
“Ahh, man, look, “Exorcist” is a strong word, I like to think of myself as a civil worker first and foremost, ‘cause to be honest, screw having to outright off Mythics for small shit, you know? It’s not fair. I try to at least do my part, it’s what I’ve always aimed to do, since the first day I entered the Academy.”
The demon was taken aback. Demons are creatures fundamentally made of emotions, and they can read the emotions of others better than they can read between lines. Mathanac sensed no subterfuge or trickery behind the words of the young Exorcist, no matter how hard he tried to. “...I didn’t think good Exorcists existed... You care about Mythics and demons for real, huh? You ain’t lying.”
“...I’d rather not get into it, but I kinda want to protect demons. Don’t tell my partner I said that, though, I really dunno how much I can trust humans.”
The demon laughed. “Aren’t you a human, though?”
“Yeah, I am, but I don’t know shit about them, haha.”
“...Haha, what? What kinda oddball are you? Just in whose care did I get put? Man, today’s wild, first I see a grown man scream like the shrillest kindergartener, and now I am face to face with an Exorcist who isn’t a full on dickhead!”
“Hey, better me than some human jerk who’d outright freaking smoked you, man.”
The two laughed, the atmosphere clearly more light than when Bastian was around. “...You looked and talked real stiff when dealing with your partner and the girl’s parents, but you are all loosened up now, it’s killing me. What’s up with that?”
Vinn chuckled nervously. “...I don’t know how to handle other humans too well, but demons are easy. You can just speak your mind, you know? No need to watch your words, ‘cause they understand you. Let’s get looking for your job, though, the sooner we are done with this, the better for the two of us.”
The demon and the Exorcist nodded, and off they went to the business district, but unknown to them, a pair of magenta eyes was fixed on them, having been watching them for a while now. Silent like the shadow of a ghost, the silhouette moved out, tailing them in secret.
——-
“So, Mathanac, whatcha good at?”
And the first question was like a well placed hook right into the demon’s ribs. “...Ya think I’d be out here possessing children if I was good at anything?”
“I’m asking what is you primary emotion. Demons are fundamentally emotional people, and there’s usually a main temperament to you from the moment you are born. We should start by picking something suited to your temperament.” advised Vinn, adjusting his coat and checking his phone. “I mean, it’d be stupid going to random places, hoping you’ll hit it off by coincidence, yeah? It’s better if we can reduce our options.”
Mathanac’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. “I truly have no idea. My parents got... Smoked by Exorcists when I was a baby, apparently, and as soon as I could start possessing people, the family that had me ‘till then sent me on my way. Never really had the talk with anyone that could’ve helped me figure this out.”
There was a moment of silence between the two men, with Vinn unsure of what to respond with when faced with this rather grim turn of events. “...Sorry to hear that, man. I, uh... Damn, sorry, I really don’t know what to say, I don’t want to patronize you, either.” The answer to Vinn’s condolences was a forced chuckle.
“Don’t worry too much. My parents were apparently pretty damn vile, so it was inevitable. That’s also why I never really do any harm to whoever I possess, I mean, if these two dedicated demons got smoked in the end, someone far weaker like me would get pulverized in no time if I were to lay one finger on anybody. I’m a coward by nature, so I’d rather not sign my own death warrant if I can help it.”
“That doesn’t make you a coward, but jeez, alright, I guess our only option is to go to random places and try it out. Alright, so, how do you feel about the food industry?”
The demon boy raised his hand. “Question! I meant to ask this before, but how are you gonna get me a job just like that?”
Pulling out his MAB-issued notepad from his breast pocket, the young Exorcist flipped it open and showed a list of names and addresses to the inquiring demon. “This is a list of places where, if we mention who we are, we’ll be given freedom to get you hooked with a job as part of our parole officer duty. These are mostly Mundane-owned places, but they know of Mythics and such.”
The MAB has many connections, even with people outside the world of Mythics. Even though the majority of people in Stroln are Mundane -- that is, humans that are not users of any sort of sorcery or sacrament -- some Mundanes do indeed know of the world of Mythics that lies hidden under the surface of the expansive city for this or that reason. Generally, these Mundanes are visited by the nice, cordial chaps of the MAB, who politely request, without any sort of threats or implied violence, of course, that they sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement that, if breached, can result in red stains on the carpet. These NDAs contain pretty severe restrictions, but these can be lessened through various means, one of which is agreeing to participate in the MAB Parole System, which allows Exorcists get jobs for their assigned Mythics, no questions asked.
“So that system is actually real? I had heard some people talk about it before, but I assumed it was just bluster.” exclaimed Mathanac in marvel. “Yeah, let’s go for a bite.”
“You’ll be the one cooking, smartass.”
Not ten minutes later, Vinn introduced himself to the owner of a small diner, and got the owner to give Mathanac a trial day immediately upon mentioning the MAB. Though not comfortable with the clear fear in the owner’s eyes upon hearing the acronym, it was a step forward for Mathanac’s rehabilitation.
“...Jeez, never thought the day would actually come...” the owner lamented as he opened a ledger and wrote some stuff.
“Pardon?” inquired Vinn. “How come you never thought the day would come if you are a part of the MAB Parole System? If you signed up for it, it is at least expected that you consider the possibility.”
“Eh. Everyone signs up for that for the benefits, since no one actually makes use of it. It’s the first time in years an Exorcist comes and brings it up, and the previous time it was brought up was when I was asked if I wanted to sign up for it. Just my luck...”
“...Please excuse me.” Stroln’s beauty and hospitality never ceases to impress.
——-
“Alright, you get to wait some tables today. Play nice and you can keep the job.” explained the young Exorcist as he sat by the counter. “I gotta watch you and review your performance, so just do your best. The owner says he wouldn’t mind a mild demon like you on the payroll, plus, you got your looks going for you, which always helps in the service industry.”
“Alright, it’s worth a shot. It’s just knowing what each person wants and delivering it, right? Yeah, easy peasy, got this in the bag, dontcha worry!” Mathanac boasted, getting changed into the diner’s uniform and apron already.
The door’s bell chimed, and in strode a new customer, almost too conveniently, just in time for Mathanac to test his waiting mettle. The customer was quite the sight, as well, with striking magenta eyes, a head full of shoulder length white hair with her right lock dyed black, and most notably, a lilac t-shirt that exposed her left shoulder, albeit it wasn’t due to the shirt being designed with that in mind, but rather, it was too big for her. This would usually call attention by itself, but the most curious aspect of the t-shirt was the large ink stain on the front, clearly not part of the original article, which contrasted not too pleasantly with the lilac color of the clothes. With a smile and a joyful stride, she sat on a chair, looked at the menu briefly, and then looked at the Exorcist with expectant magenta eyes.
“Oi, on table 17, go get her order, man.” chided Vinn, prompting the demon to make his debut in the food industry. As he watched the demon and the girl talk, the Exorcist checked his phone and texted Bastian.
Is the interview going well?
marvelous
shes a dumbass but shes the real
deal no doubt
Mathanac is starting with his job
and he’s a pretty decent demon
so I don’t think this will be hard.
cool
im glad youre calling him by name
can’t stay on the phone much longer
don’t get cocky though keep an eye
on him
Alright, mom.
There was nothing for Vinn to worry about! In the time spent texting with Bastian, Vinn had been keeping an eye on his demon: Mathanac had taken the order, brought the seasoning and sauces, the girl’s drink, the whole deal. Why, just now, he had set down the noodle soup she had ordered! No problem, no dilemma, it was in the bag. Right up until she wanted to put some salt on the soup and the cap fell off, dumping a mountain of tiny white rocks on the noodle soup, accentuated by the snickering of a certain demon, whose laughter immediately ceased upon receiving a powerful finger jab in the ribs.
“You were doing so well! Why the hell did you think this was a good time for a prank!?”
“Haaa, oww, haha... Man, come on, there’s no sin in adding some... Spice to a meal!”
Finger jab and a cry of pain that, if put through a translator, it would read “worth it”.
“Salt’s not even a spice, dumbass. Ma’am, I’m so sorry, we’ll get you a new bowl.”
“Oh, no no! No worries, hmhm, it was pretty funny, no worries! I’ll pay for it, too. I’d like it wrapped for take out, please.” replied the girl with a gentle demeanor and a pleasant smile as she stood up and got close to Vinn. “Actually... That guy’s a demon, isn’t he?”
Vinn took a step back, surprised. “...Guess you are not a Mundane.” The girl simply chuckled and lifted her arms in mock surrender, answering by just nodding. “Ah, no, sorry, didn’t mean to sound accusatory. Vinn Ingram, Exorcist with the Seventh Office of the MAB. I’m helping this guy get a job, but...”
“Oh? An Exorcist actually helping a Mythic? I see! And this is the part where I get careless, lower my guard, you ask for my papers and send me to jail over some little bit of bureaucracy, right?” she prattled.
“Ahh, no, look, I won’t--”
“Chill, I’m just kidding. I know that you are really helping that guy out. I saw you guys before. I miiiiiight have overheard you, and decided to follow you.” -- the girl stretched -- “You got a little careless, I guess!”
“Oh, she totally heard us, haha. Some Exorcist you are,” taunted Mathanac, coming back in his regular clothes and with the take out wrap. “The boss fired the crap outta me, so I guess this is a good time to go to the next place. Ah well, food biz ain’t my thing, anyways.”
The young Exorcist pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, easy for you to say... Well, we’ll get going then, and I’d appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself, miss...?”
“Oh no no, I won’t snitch on you, no worries! In fact, I’m of a mind to come along. This should be fun.”
“Yeah, no, I can’t let a civilian get involved in an MAB affa--”
“Oh, guess I’m snitching, after all. Seventh Office phone number... +56 9 762--”
“Welcome to the group! It’ll be our pleasure having you come with us! Please don’t get me flayed alive on my second day of work!”
“...Second day...”
“...Pff... Second day...!”
The demon and the girl, who could figuratively be said to also be a demon, said this in unison, one voice with concern, the other with palpable hilarity.
“...L-let’s get going.”
——-
The sky of Stroln turned pink behind the three young adults. Step after step, they would find a new place for Mathanac to work at. Step after step, Mathanac would do a prank and get fired. Step after step, the girl would laugh and Vinn could feel his hairline receding and his life becoming shorter. What he thought would be an easy job had turned out to be a nightmare. On top of the very building by the back alley where they had technically met for the first time, atop the billboard, the three sat, taking a short break, mostly for the sake of Vinn’s nerves.
Cracking open a can of beer, the young Exorcist sighed and drank half of it in one go. “...Haa... Mathanac, you are going to give me a god damn ulcer.”
“Ah, look!” the girl exclaimed, pointing at another billboard from their vantage point. The other billboard had burns and scratches that made it impossible to read or make out in the slightest. “A Pre-Amnesia billboard, huh? It’s a miracle that relic is still up.”
“Oh yeah, I thought the same thing yesterday. I think that one is the same I saw. I guess no one wants to foot the bill for that one when there’s this one here.”
“Hmm? Is it rare for that burned-up billboard to be up?” Mathanac asked, apparently out of the loop. “I mean, they could just clean it and reuse it, no?”
“Looks like our little unemployed prankster isn’t too cultured,” teased the girl. “Do you know what Pre-Amnesiac things are?”
“Oi, buzz off, I was busy trying to survive these years, not learn the lore of the world, nature, and all things that surround us, oh mighty scholar,” jested the demon, always in a good mood, despite having been fired from 14 jobs just today. “What’s that about?”
Vinn threw the now empty can and produced another from a plastic bag nearby. “You see those burn marks on the billboard? They aren’t actually burn marks. No matter what you do, you cannot remove, repair, or erase them. They cannot be affected at all. It’s unknown what caused those immutable marks, but whatever they hide, it’s as good as gone. That’s what happened to everything when the Amnesia hit.”
“Mmhm! Books, movies, videos, virtual text files, photos, audio tracks, billboards, even the washing instructions in clothing... It’s all gone. Not only did humanity lose its memories when the Amnesia hit, it lost almost everything that they had made or accomplished, too. 33 years ago, that was one hell of a show, I bet. Imagine coming by one day and not remembering a thing,” followed up the girl, a more solemn tone replacing her usual upbeat one.
Mathanac gasped. “...Woah, what? I had heard of some amnesomething stuff, but did it really hit the whole world? And it just erased everything? That’s nuts...”
“Not everything,” Vinn explained. “People forgot almost everything, and most information was outright gone and inaccessible, but not all. There’s many theories, but the most widely believed one is that the more something was recorded or known, the more it resisted the Amnesia. That’s why we know we are ‘humans’ and that you are a ‘demon’, for example, or how we still know how to make stuff like the concrete mix for buildings. Had we truly forgotten everything, we’d have gone back to something that was apparently named the Stone Age. In fact, the Amnesia wasn’t all encompassing: There’s entire groups of people dedicated to reconstructing Pre-Amnesia things, and they have been able to fully salvage books simply by finding enough copies of it and piecing together what isn’t covered in those burn marks.”
The girl clapped and cheered. “It’s just as the nerd said! So basically, it’s weird that that thing has been there for 33 whole years and no one’s cared enough to take it down. Some people are pretty sensitive about Pre-Amnesia paraphernalia, too, so I bet more than a couple of people have complained about it.” The clapping, however, caused the girl’s already loose t-shirt to shift even lower on her left shoulder, and Vinn’s eyes couldn’t help but react to said shift, only to find what seemed like a tattoo next to the girl’s shoulder blade. He couldn’t see it clearly, but it looked like a circular object wreathed in something spiky.
“Nice tattoo. What is it?”
“!” The girl immediately adjusted her t-shirt back and forced a laugh. “Ah, haha, you saw it. Yeah, um, it’s... Just some ink I got, just some tattoo, random impulse, really.”
“Cool acting. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” -- Vinn stood up after emptying his second can -- “More importantly, what the hell do we do about Math’s job?”
“...Mister Exorcist, you haven’t realized yet?”
Vinn looked at the girl with confused eyes. “Haven’t I realized what?”
“You’re going at this the wrong way. Your heart’s on the right place, I mean, if anyone had told me about an Exorcist that’s stuck by a demon through 14 disastrous jobs, I wouldn’t have believed it. Since you truly want to help this idiot, I’ll help. First, what has been the reason for his gold medal record in getting fired?”
The Exorcist scratched his chin. “He keeps making pranks. No matter the job, he keeps doing something mean but kinda funny, and that ends up getting him booted... Actually, now that I think about it, he was doing pranks on people when he had possessed the little girl, too.”
“What can I say? I like adding that extra oomph to stuff, man. It just ain’t me to do something serious.”
The girl had opened her mouth, but words were unnecessary when she noticed the young detective’s eyes, which were wide open, as if he had struck a realization. “...Seems you’ve realized it, Mister Exorcist! You were trying to fit a squ--”
“I was trying to fit a square peg in a round hole!” declared the young man, his vim returning, his eyes ablaze. “Mathanac, follow me, I want you to try something.”
“Huh. Sure thing, let’s do this.”
The three got off from the billboard, the sky already dark, but the day definitely not over, not just yet.
——-
Mint Hill Street. Not a main street by any means, but one that does see a lot of pedestrian activity. Many shops, offices and apartments compose this hillside road, with busy people darting by and lo twenty four-seven. Today was a day like any other in this busy street, but with one main, loud, and colorful difference. Standing in the middle of a small crowd, a man in a bright red wig and a big red nose clamored to his loving audience. His oversized suspenders contained all sorts of artifacts of hilarity, and he seemed to be the one that had the most fun of them all, even if the audience was all smiles.
“Hmmm?” the colorful man expressed, upon noticing the not-so-smiling face of a little girl. “Why the long face, little fella? Did something happen?”
“Ahh... No, it’s nothing, Mister Clown, it’s just, the last few days I’ve been exhausted, as if something had been draining my energy... I’m feeling better now, but it was a couple of weird days, and I don’t remember much... B-but I am enjoying your show here!”
“Why, I feel like you are trying to bamboozle me! Trick me, even! With a face like that, you corner me, nay, force me to have to utilize one of my secret...” -- the clown exaggeratedly looked to both sides before coming close to the girl and muttering the rest -- “...one of my most secret techniques, just for you! Now, tell me, what’s your favorite animal?”
“I like cats!”
“The contract is sealed, little girl!”
The clown produced a balloon from his pants, inflated it, and began shaping it like a cat. “See,” the clown announced. “This fella’s name is Missifus, and he’s such a lovely cat! And he likes lovely little lasses that smile brightly! Now, where’s one such girl? Hmmm? I don’t see one...”
“Hehe! Me! Me!”
“Oh! Who are y-- N-no way! Are you the same little girl from just now!? What a radical change! Oh, this won’t do, this won’t do! See, Missifus loves girls who smile, but his family will get jealous if he leaves with someone with a smile this good!”
The little girl’s face was about to droop from the disappointment before the clown continued. “...That’s why they have decided that they will all come with you!”
In a flash, four other balloon cats of different colors appeared out of seemingly nowhere, crowding the happy girl with lots of cute balloons, which her parents helped hold as they all smiled in gratitude to the clown. The crowd cheered, and many coins and bills filled the outstretched blanket in the ground, where the audience was free to donate to the performer.
“Haha! I’m glad you enjoyed the show! Let’s call it a day for today, yes? See you around!” And with that, the clown packed his things and quickly left, disappearing into a back alley, where he removed his wig and nose, and came face to face with Vinn and the girl, who were cheering and clapping for him.
“I can’t believe I know a star! Please sign my shirt!” congratulated the girl, patting Mathanac’s shoulder. “No, but for real, that was pretty good! You sure it was your first time?”
“Eyup! Never done this before, but it felt so natural, and I feel so... Satisfied.”
“You gave one hell of a show, I’m impressed, man. You were the one having the most fun out there. So, it was the emotion of “laughter”, huh?” Vinn commented, writing on his notepad.
“It sure seems that way. I feel much better and more fulfilled than any time I’ve ever possessed anyone.”
“Demons can get sustenance in many ways, but the main and most effective way is to be exposed to the emotion that governs their being. So it makes sense that you would feel like you just had a feast from making so many people laugh. I take this to mean you won’t be possessing more people?”
The demon laughed and clicked his tongue. “No, sir, no more of that for me... And, Vinn? Thanks, man, for sticking with this idiocy for as long as you did. You had no reason to, but you did it. I swear I won’t cause any more trouble.”
“It’s incredible, isn’t it? Good Exorcists exist! Out of all the jokes I saw a literal clown make today, that one is the best one! Just quit that job and join Math as a clown already,” the girl jested and she playfully pocked Vinn in the ribs with her elbow.
“Jeez, I get it already... Man, it feels weird to be praised for just, like, not being a dick, haha. Well, that’s case closed, then. I gotta check in with you now and then, Math, since I am still technically your parole officer, so--”
“Yeah, no problem, dude, hit me up whenever, we can hang out or something.” interrupted the demon, having no problem with this arrangement at all. “I’ll be on busy streets like this one mostly. You can easily find me by looking for the tall guy with the massive red nose.”
The three laughed and then realized that it was already night. “Well, today was a pleasure, but I gotta get going. Nice to have met you, Mister Exorcist and Math! Best of luck!”
“Ah, wait! Thanks a lot for your help! I wouldn’t have made it without you!” Vinn quickly exclaimed.
“Damn right you wouldn’t, haha. Everyone has a role in this world, see? You just gotta figure out what it is, what’s that little something you are good at, and then, the road is easy. Well, see ya! I hope you help many more Mythics!” And with that, she was gone.
“...So what was her name, anyways?”
“Iunno. She never said. Well, Math, see you around.”
The city of Stroln was far from perfect. Crimes that affect both Humans and Mythics keep happening, unimpeded and shamelessly. Abuse of power is common, and in the end, you can only truly trust yourself and those close to you to keep you safe. But, today at least, Mint Hill Street was made a livelier place, thanks to a certain colorful man, and the man that helped him get there.
Every wall starts with a brick, after all.
——-
The large steel door covered in graffiti closed behind the lithe girl, who confidently stepped into the comfortable darkness, magenta eyes barely visible in the pitch blackness of this nondescript building. Far ahead, a little light finally could be seen, and near it, a man in red robes sat on a table, reading a book. The closer the girl got to the man, the stronger the scent of chamomile incense became. As she stepped out of the darkness and into the dull light, the man’s eyes turned to her, and he finally waved.
“Back late today, aren’t you?”
“Sorry! I kinda got distracted by something. It was an interesting day,” the girl explained, setting the take out wrap on the table.
The older man in the robes gestured for her to have a seat. On the table, two plates of hot food were ready to be feasted upon. “That’s great to hear! Tell me about it while we eat.”
The girl gasped and immediately took a seat. “Awww, Balthazar... You held off on dinner to wait for me? Thank you, ehehe...”
“Oh, it wasn’t much! So, tell me! You seem to be very happy.”
“Yeah! So, like, I came across an Exorcist cornering a demon in a back alley. I was ready to eviscerate him, when I noticed that he was actually helping him!”
The man’s eyes were wide open. “What, for real? Like, actually helping him? Hey, I’ve told you lying is pretty tasteless!”
“No no, for real! I couldn’t believe it either, but he was legitimately helping out the demon, so I joined them to see where it would go, and--”
“I see you two are enjoying a late dinner as usual.”
The elegant, feminine voice came from the shadows, from whence an alluring silhouette emerged. As soon as her words were heard, the white haired girl in the ink stained shirt held her tongue and looked away.
“...We are, Alkelda. Anything we can help you with?” said the man, quickly locking eyes with the elegant shadow.
“Four days from now, we’ll be conducting our experiment. I assume you know what this means, right?”
“Yup. You need your test subjects soon, right? Don’t worry, we already have it scheduled. We’re planning on getting them tomorrow, so relax. We are ahead of schedule.”
“Oh? My, it pleases me how efficient you and your... Partner are, Balthazar. I assume it’s just you two, as usual?”
“Yup. We’ll be going out to get them tomorrow. We’ll bring them here, so have the pens ready to receive them.”
“Mhmhmhm... Excellent. Well, enjoy your meal, Balthazar and Sacrifice. You have a busy day tomorrow, from what I can tell.” As fast as she came, the silhouette was gone.
If disgust had a shape, it definitely was the girl’s face right now. “...Can’t get used to that bitch...”. The man simply laughed at that comment.
“Just go to bed, and take it easy. It’s all in the name of clarity. We’re almost there, we can’t let personal grievances get in the way so far in the game.”
“Yes, it’s all in the name of clarity... Yes! Indeed! Yes! You are right! See you tomorrow Balthazar. Thanks for having dinner with me!”
The girl hurried to her room, and locked the door behind her.
“...Everyone has a role in this world, see? You just gotta figure out what it is, what’s that little something you are good at, and then, the road is easy...”
Red robes that matched those that the man wore hung from a rack, beneath a large, realistic, almost grotesque full-head mask of a pig.
“...For some, that role is that of an entertainer that gifts laughs to those around them. This is admirable.”
A small jar of a bright liquid sat on the dilapidated desk opposite to her bed.
“...For some, that role is that of a seed of hope among a rotten crop, doing what they should, and yet, they don’t. This is admirable.”
A long baseball bat, inscribed with runes, leaned against the wall, next to the robes.
“...For some, that role is that of the ultimate sacrifice that will save all, in the name of clarity...”
A slender, pale finger ran across the repulsive mask.
“...This is admirable.”
Of kindred spirits, ink stains, and the reassuring caress of purpose: – Chapter 2: "Exorcist” Is A Strong Word –
End
“...And why in the world are you here so early?” sighed a puzzled Nicholas as soon as he saw who opened the loud, creaking iron door at 5:26 AM this fine Monday, the paradise composed of only him, his keyboard, and his files crumbling to pieces.
At the other end of the already small room that was made even smaller by the sheer volume of papers, folders, and the occasional pizza box scattered around, the door swung open, and in strode a tall man with wavy, long dark brown hair, tied in a ponytail that rested upon his left shoulder, clad in a padded coat that was both well worn and ready for more, owing to its clearly wonderful, if pragmatic make, and, under the loosest of definitions, “wearing” a red necktie, as shoddily tied as you’d expect of someone whose desk consists of a spilled coffee mug, two billiards balls in an office without a billiards table, and no paperwork to speak of.
“You could at least tie that thing properly if you are going to storm in so early, man.” followed up Nicholas Dunbar after the man’s lack of a reply. “Chief’s gonna chew you out again if you don’t at least make an attempt to not look like the slob you are.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ve always been honest, after all.” replied the man nonchalantly, throwing his coat to the nearby couch before sitting down on his desk, immediately propping up his legs on top of it.
“Yeah, that’s good and all, but you always end up somehow dragging me into his lectures about dress code, and honestly, I don’t gotta deal wi--”
“I understand that you are a gold medalist in bitching and that you love being cooped up in this man cave all nice and cozy by your lovely, lonesome self, but before you give me some more of that classic Before 9:30 AM Nicholas love, I’d prefer if you’d give me anything new regarding Brown Note” interrupted the man as he fiddled with his tie. Nicholas sighed in an unfortunately trained manner, his eyes saying “oh boy, here we go again” in the language of rolling.
“Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the one before that one, no, Bastian, nothing new on Brown Note. You know you’re the first one I’ll tell if we get any information on him, but you have to be patient.” Nicholas sighed and sipped on his coffee before removing his glasses.” And... Well...”
Bastian stopped fiddling with his tie as soon as Nicholas, a man whose dictionary doesn’t include weird things like “tact” or “sensibility”, stumbled upon his tongue before saying something. “Well? What’s eating you? Just say it, man... Oh, I know what’s going on! You are going to assign me another haunted house case! Nope! No way! I just got the splinters outta my damn ears this morning, not to mention the settlement with that stubborn ghost and all that damn goo on my hair whenever he sneezed, and---”
“Well, see, Bastian... Office Chief Hallvard and Chief Toshiro... Assigned you your new partner.” finally spat out Nicholas, rubbing his glasses with a wipe, masterfully avoiding eye contact with Bastian with all the grace of a dog that knows he did something wrong.
“Yeah, and your glasses look good on you, while we are at it. So, about Brown Note, I think we have to--”
“Bastian, I’m serious. And so is the chief. You have a new partner.”
“I don’t do partners, Nick, you know that, he knows that, now, jokes aside, I think I am starting to understand a pattern with Br--”
“Bastian, the Chief made it very clear that this is a direct order from HQ. You are to have a new partner. It’s been decided, man, and frankly, you... Look, I hate to say it, but you have to move on, not for the Office, not for the Chief, but for yourself. You don’t deserve to knock yourself like this for so long. Roderick’s gone, and it wasn’t your fault. It pains all of us, it pains you more than anyone, no doubt, but the rules are the rules, and you need to come to terms with the present already. You’ve been like this for seven months.”
Bastian looked like his gums were about to furiously flap at the helpless assistant, but before his tranquil rage slipped through jaded words and venom tongues, his face morphed into that very relatable and very familiar visage of “Oh.”. He quickly whipped out his cellphone and confirmed the date: August 4th. “You gotta be chewing my-- Hallvard’s putting me with a greenhorn!?”
“Yup” calmly replied Nicholas, his head cool once more as he adjusted his glasses. “August 4th. Today’s the day when the newest graduates of the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy officially begin working. You have been assigned one of the graduates as your new partner, and you two already have a case.”
One quick look at Bastian’s face could tell thousands of words, most of them indecent and some even horrifying, but he knew that, against a direct order from HQ, he couldn’t get away working solo anymore. Finally tying his necktie properly and brewing himself some coffee with the worn out coffee maker, the tall man finally settled down, something that didn’t escape his colleague’s attentive and somewhat frightened eye.
“Bastian, you are not thinking what I think you are thinking.”
“Whatever could you possibly mean, my dear Nicholas?”
“You are going to scare away the newbie!”
“What!? I would never do such a thing~!”
“Bastian, I swear to the Arc, you got away with it before, but you can’t just bully your way into... Well, having your way, man!”
“Big words coming from the guy who couldn’t stop laughing when the Ogre Incident happened!”
“Dude, that was hila-- No! It’s not right! Don’t do this a fourth time, come on, Bastian! You can’t keep getting away with... Pfff... When the ogre... And the new guy... Ppffffff! N-no! Bastian, please, just please try it honestly this one time!”
“Nicholas, brief me in our case, if you will.” smugly and softly asked Bastian, a wry grin plastered on that oh so punchable face.
“...By the Arc, you monster... Whatever, so, ahem...” -- the assistant holds out the freshly printed sheet of paper -- “There’s been some necromancy sightings. No felony reports, yet, but from what we’ve been able to tell, it’s definitely necromancy.” Nicholas explained, still trying to contain the faintest hints of laughter from remembering the Ogre Incident.
“Oh, great, another freaking knucklehead reanimating stray dogs or sewer rats?”
“See, this is where it gets interesting” replied a serious and compelled Nicholas, inching forward on his seat as he opened a file on his computer. “It’s real necromancy. The actual, for realsies deal. We’ve not seen anything like this before.”
Bastian’s playful grin disappeared immediately. “Real necromancy...? Wait, so people...? Reanimated humans? Actual damn humans...?”
“...Yup. And you know what’s the weirdest part?” -- Nicholas produced a cigarette pack from his chest pocket and extended it towards Bastian, who took one -- “They are not doing a single bad thing. They are simply living as they usually did. It’s mostly senior citizens, and we only noticed due to the signs of strong magic residue a couple of neighborhoods presented... And, uh, the signs of decay on these otherwise perfectly fine people. You need to investigate... Well, whatever the hell this is.”
“What...?” Bastian drank from his coffee and tried to digest this information for a second before reaching for a seemingly discarded pizza box, getting a slice of cold pizza from last night and biting into it. “So you are telling me this is one of the few cases of actual Necromancy, not just some punk kids, we’ve ever gotten, and that they are not even thralled or doing, hell, unholy stuff or whatever, they are just chilling? This forgotten art just being used for kicks? What the hell is this? Why are they giving this case to me and some new runt?”
The assistant shrugged and adjusted his glasses. “If I had to take a guess, it’s the Chief’s way of apologizing to you for giving you a partner?”. Hearing this, Bastian let out a roaring laughter, stood up and headed towards the door.
“That fucking Hallvard... He knows how to play me, alright. Sure, fine, whatever, runt or not, this case is gold. Nick, what’s the kid’s name and address?”
“Vinn Ingram, and he lives close by, at 364 Mint Hill Street, third floor. Why do you want to kn--” Nicholas immediately stood up, realizing too late what was going on. “Bastian, dude, don’t you dare--!”
“Bye, darling! Gonna go pick up my new partner like the lovely, lovely nice guy I am! I’m on the case!” was all that Bastian said before he vanished behind the creaky old iron door with an almost dance-like stride.
“Oh boy... Well, it’s his problem now. I hope he doesn’t scar him for life. Well, now, lots of stuff to file today, so let’s get to it before the others arrive.” finally sighed Nicholas, this maelstrom truly and well out of his hands. Opening a drawer, he produced an old, pre-amnesia large novelty lighter in the shape of a comically oversized pistol with any and all inscriptions and numbers in it covered by burns and made impossible to discern, pulled the trigger, and lit his cigarette. “Right, let’s start by reporting this... Case 898VH7, Mint Hill Office. Exorcists on the case: Bastian Ashfield and Vinn Ingram, and here’s hoping the latter makes it out alive.”
Of hospitals, Hippocratic... Suggestions, and a lot of cyber dogs:
-- Chapter 1: First Day At The Job --
A new suit, pressed and pristine.
A new tie, bright and never once worn.
A hearty breakfast, with bacon, eggs, and pancakes.
Today was it.
“...Right, gotta make a good first impression. Can’t mess up the very first day. I finally graduated, now I get to make an actual impact on the Mythics on this city. No more theory, no more trials, now’s the real deal!”
A young man with short dark red hair and green eyes stood in front of the mirror, awkwardly trying to tie his necktie properly. It wasn’t the first time he had done it, but formal wear had always been weird to him. The suit, however, looked right at home on him: A two piece suit, dark with the faintest grey hues, underneath which was silver sleeveless vest, a black shirt, and a light blue necktie, impeccable and promising, worn for the first time. As great as it could look, however, it didn’t pacify the young man inside of it, nervous about his first day at his new job. He kept talking to himself as if trying his hardest not to panic.
Yet, was it panic or excitement?
“Hair, check. Suit, check. Deodorant...” -- the young man sniffed himself over -- “Check! Alright, I ate my breakfast and got everything ready. If I arrive 30 minutes early on my first day, it’ll be a great first impression, heh!”
Grabbing his keys, wallet, and cellphone, the young man in the suit couldn’t be more ready. Any ambushes on him right now would be futile. Surprises would be meaningless. There was no stopping him now, he was ready!
*ding dong*
Or so he thought before the bell, like a hammer, crushed all of these thoughts into shards. “Wh-- No one knows I live here, who in the world... Yes! I’m coming, one second!”
The man quickly ran at the front door, and upon opening it, found himself face to face with a tall man in a padded vest, wavy ponytail resting on his left shoulder.
“‘Sup. Ingram? Vinn Ingram?”
“Y-yes, that’s me, who are y--”
“You are still not out? You have the gall of living just a couple of blocks away from your workplace, and you are still not there?”
“Woah there, hey” immediately interjected Vinn. “Who are you? How did you know where I li--”
“Ashfield. Bastian Ashfield, Exorcist working at the Seventh Office of the Mythic Affairs Bureau, housed at Mint Hill 1178, which is, again, just a couple of blocks from here. We didn’t have to meet here, you know?”
Though he looked brusque and was certainly not polite, the tall man in front of Vinn carried an air of authority and command to him that you wouldn’t expect from someone as young as him. Between his posture, body language, and his words, he had stolen any momentum Vinn might have presumed to have. This ‘Bastian’ fellow looked like if a Rottweiler and an assault rifle had a child, and this child had grown to bully kids in high school. “That’s the office I was assigned to... But, it said on the e-mail that you guys start working at 9:30, it’s just ten to 9:00, isn’t this a bit too early?”
“I’m glad you know how how to read mails!” Not a single full second passed after Vinn had finished talking before Bastian was already replying to him. “Now I just wish you actually took this job seriously, kid. 9-god damn-30? That’s when we are officially open. You get your ass to the office at 8:00 on point at the latest, so you can prep right, talk to your team team properly, and be ready for what the rest has for you. At 9:30, at the Seventh, we move out, but “work”? Work starts way damn earlier. Are you taking this seriously, Ingram?”
“I am taking this seriously, I graduated with--”
“You graduated with top scores. Top of your class and year. Big damn claps for you, ‘grats, you did well on some piss ass tests, you knew how to answer multiple selection questions, allow me to pay you a prostitute, you utterly priceless son of a gun. Don’t mean shit if you don’t take this seriously. Let this be the last time.”
“What is your problem?” Vinn replied.
“Little shits like you that think this is a game are my problem, that they can get in for the perks and the ‘fancy’ feeling that they are special or what not, without realizing lives ride on this” immediately retorted Bastian, turning back and heading down the aisle towards the stairs. “Let’s get going, boy. We have our first case already.”
The man with the ponytail stopped in the middle of the aisle, without turning back to face Vinn. “Ah, yeah, you have been assigned to me as my partner. Nice to meet you.”
“...Wow, alright then.” Vinn looked at himself one final time in the mirror, closed the door behind him, and went downstairs. That is one way to start your first day at the job.
-------
Old buildings next to new buildings, big billboards, empty cafes getting ready for the day, and children making their way to school, some of which were clearly Mythic kids disguised as Humans, if you knew were to look at the disguise magic they had on. The sky was a “way too damn early” cloudy, and the AC in the car was about the only thing that kept the two men from freezing to death in the cold, cold city’s morning. Just another day on Stroln City. Vinn was ready to unfasten his seat belt, but the car didn’t stop at what looked like the office. “...Aren’t we stopping by?”
“Nope. Any time spent there can be spent working. We are going to Marcelino 913. Go over the case notes while I get us there.”
“Necromancy, right?” Vinn responded immediately. “I was sent the case details over e-mail as well. Actual, real necromancy... Not what I expected my first case to be.” The young exorcist rubbed his chin. “And more strangely, we have a subdue order, not a termination order.”
“...Hold on, what?”
“Yeah, it says right here, look”
Vinn tapped the screen of his phone a couple of times and showed the screen to his partner on the wheel, highlighting the order details.
“...So they actually sent a mail with...”
“Hm? Sorry, what was that?”
“Oh, uh, no, yeah, that is very weird. A subdue order for a transgression this big...?”
“You didn’t know?”
“Man, I just assumed, I mean, I’ve gotten the order to smoke Mythics for way less, a capture order for a straight up Necromancer is crazy.”
Vinn’s posture changed, and he just gave a small nod, which Bastian noted but didn’t comment on. “Well, whatever.” continued Bastian. “Let’s get this done with. I’ll drop you off at Marcelino, then I’ll go at the other two neighborhoods where sightings were reported. I know you are crazy to start blasting things after finally graduating, but this is part of the job, too, got it? We interview and we get information right and proper. Don’t like it? That’s too b--”
“I know what this job entails, and you are trying way too hard with that “kid’ thing.” Vinn coldly interrupted, looking out of the window at an old billboard with indiscernible text due to the burn marks on it. “A pre-amnesia billboard...? How is that thing still up...?” the young man thought to himself.
“Oh, you did remember to bring your balls! Glad to see you aren’t a complete pushover.” Bastian remarked with a slimy grin, tapping his fingers against the wheel to the rhythm of the music. “If you don’t have any questions, that’s all.”
“I do, actually. Smoking... Mythics. Does that happen often?”
“...? You do know we are Exorcists, right? It’s kinda self explanatory from the name. Do you go the library and ask “do people read books here or what?””
“A difference, if I may” interrupted the new Exorcist. “Subduing is one thing, termination is another, but “smoking” adds a whole new layer of fucked up, if I may. If a criminal is doing objectively bad things, yeah, then we take action, but... Look, I guess what I am asking is... For exactly how little a transgression will we be “smoking” Mythics?”
Bastian’s fingers ceased their rhythmic tapping and, for the first time today, he wasn’t immediately vomiting words back at his new partner. “...Sometimes, for very little things, more than I am comfortable with. Sometimes, we don’t do the termination, because the piece of shit in front of us has good connections. Sometimes, we get “wrong information”, and we end up smoking perfectly god damn innocent Mythics just for the benefit of some asshole with big bucks and bigger influence, and sometimes--!” Holding himself back in time, the senior Exorcist realized he was raising his voice. The yelling wasn’t what surprised Vinn, it was the fact that it was the first show of true emotion Bastian had shown in the day. His eyes were those of an extremely bitter man.
“So basically, there’s a lot of--”
Before Vinn could say anything, the car stopped dead on its tracks, and Vinn had to put his hands forward to avoid smacking his face against the glove box.
“...We’re here. Get good info or don’t bother calling me.”
“Alright, mom.”
The car took off, and Vinn was left by himself, much to his relief. Just a few steps away from him was the house of one Hirose Akane. “’Smoking’ Mythics, huh? Whatever, let’s just focus on this...”. The young Exorcist approached the house and rang on the bell, waiting just briefly before the owner responded.
“...You must be with the MAB?”
“Good day, Miss Hirose. Indeed, I am Vinn Ingram, Seventh Off--”
“Come in.” is all she said before disappearing right back in the house.
“Well, then.” muttered a disappointed Vinn to himself, his first professional introduction in his job completely and utterly thwarted.
Inside the house, tons of trinkets lined the walls, a bizarre ox sigil was emblazoned on almost every piece of furniture, and the pungent scent of mana permeated the room with two sofas and a small center table, where tea being served by a small paper shikigami awaited. This was no civilian house, this was clearly the house of a mage, possibly an onmyoji, to be precise. Akane, a woman no older than 22, sat on the sofa, a sour expression that she didn’t even try to hide plastered on her face. Vinn stepped forward after she looked at him with curious eyes, as if wondering why he hadn’t taken a seat yet. “Not a single easy person on the first day, haha” he thought to himself as he took a seat.
“Well, I won’t take much of your ti--”
“Here.” again interrupted Akane, putting a daunting stack of papers on the table.
Vinn took the papers and gave them a quick-over. The names of Akane and presumably her family were in there, as well as several stamps and signatures. “What are these?”
“My documentation. I’m legit, as is everyone in this household. We are certified with the MAB, so there’s no problem with us practicing magic.”
“...Ma’am, there must be a confusion, I didn’t come here for this. I... Didn’t need to see this. I’m here regarding the necromancy sightings near Marcelino Street.”
“Oh, please, you were going to ask me for my documentation. You Exorcists always do this, trying to find the slightest flaw, the smallest chink in the armor. Well? All our papers are up to date. Write it down on that notebook, will you?”
Taking a moment, Vinn noticed six peeping eyes looking from a barely open door across the living room, eyes belong to children. With a resigned sigh, Vinn flipped through the onmyoji’s documentation rapidly and just put it down unceremoniously, just writing random lines on his notepad to at least assuage her nerves.
“...Miss Hirose, can I ask you something?”
“All the paperwork is good!”
“Yes, I know, you are in the clear, and you haven’t a thing to worry about, that’s not it. I want to know... Are Exorcists, well, really that bad?”
The fact that Vinn had not contested any of the paperwork and looked genuinely puzzled confused the home owner. “What...? You aren’t here to... Hm, yeah, I guess you are” -- Akane finally relaxed, if just a little, resting against the sofa -- “I didn’t want to report anything at first, but my conscience wouldn’t let me sit idly, even if it meant dealing with Exorcists.”
“I see. I’m new on the job, started just today, and... Well, I don’t really know where all this hostility is coming from, I just guess I wanted to know, though I have a good guess” Vinn said, remembering his lovely partner.
“...Are you really an Exorcist? You don’t know about the beef between magic users and Exorcists? You are all always trying to screw us over, basically. Even when we are the ones to report crimes or anything, it’s always a thorough check on everything, everything before you actually get to the questions, as if trying to actively curb us! We are licensed by your system, and you still do this!”
“According to the manual, these are safety checks to prove it isn’t a false lead or even a trap. They are not there to harm you, they are there to protect you.”
“Yeah, protect us by planting evidence on us when you are running low on your quota, right?”
“What? Our quo-- I know nothing of a quota!”
“Look, whatever, here’s what I know.” Akane snapped her fingers, and a small origami ox walked into the room, jumping onto Vinn’s lap and unfolding itself, revealing a list full of names written on its ‘body’. “Those are the names of the reanimated people in this neighborhood. They are all senior citizens and they are all... Fine, strangely. They are all mundane, so they don’t even know they are... Well... Dead.”
“About that,” Vinn interjected, moving onto this next topic. “They haven’t done anything bad? Was that part of the report right? They are just... Resuming with their lives... Uh, unlives, and minds intact?”
“Seems so” -- Akane sipped tea from her cup -- “The necromancy is so well done that we didn’t even notice until we realized that there was a lot of residue mana, well, everywhere. Do you smell that in the air? That’s a lot. Way more than the normal person can handle.”
“I just thought it was that way due to this being a mage household.”
“Hah! I wish we could produce this level of residue, no, whoever is behind this is way out of our league.”
Jotting down these findings, Vinn tapped his pen against his chin, trying to wrap his mind around this travesty of a case. He drank his tea, and then looked out of the window to notice some senior citizens going into a large yellow and white building. “Those old men and women... They are not alive. What’s that building?”
“...Hoh! Good eye, Exorcist. Yes, those are undead. Not that they know it. That’s the Marcelino Clinic, they usually go there for their check ups.”
“I know this is asking a lot, but would you know if every senior citizen here goes there?”
“Mm, yeah, they all go to that clinic since it’s close by and... Hold on, now that I think about it, yeah, everyone on this list goes there for their check ups, actually. This is a small neighborhood and we all know each other, so we know these things, but-- Ah!”
“What is it, Miss Hirose?” Vinn immediately prepared his pen.
“Just for some days, a new girl from elsewhere worked there as a nurse. All the old men and ladies were charmed by her, saying she was so very cute and a miracle worker for their back pains and stuff. Then, she was gone. Do you think...?”
Whatever she may have said after that fell upon deaf ears, for Vinn was furiously jotting down on his notebook and texting Bastian. “Many thanks for your help, Miss Hirose, and the tea was delicious”.
Vinn got up in a hurry and ran towards the door, but not before being stopped by Akane. “...Hold on one second. Ingram, was it? Are you in a hurry?”
“Hm? I have to wait for my partner to bring the car, so I have time until then, why?”
“...You are new, right? And your confusion seemed to be genuine. You... Truly don’t know of the cruelty of Exorcists?”
Vinn put his hand away from the doorknob and headed back towards the sofa. Before sitting down, he put down his cellphone and his notepad on the table, in front of Akane. “Miss Hirose, here’s everything I have on me. If it calms you down, check it, confirm that I am not recording anything. I want you to please tell me anything you can about this cruelty, because I swear on whatever it is that would make you believe me that I don’t know about it. I’m as green as they come, sadly, this is my first day in the job, and even before coming here, I already heard some pretty damn horrible things.”
Akane signaled to the many eyes hiding behind the door, and they disappeared before the door, finally shut properly. “...Those were my little siblings. Two brothers, one sister, lovely little things. They were worried you were here to take me away as well”.
“...As well? What does that mean?”
“Two weeks ago, we reported a felony. Simple stuff, really, just an oni that had gotten a bit too plastered and got in a fight with some construction equipment, heh.”
“Pfff-- P-please go on”
“...As soon as the dispatched Exorcists came, however... “ --Akane’s face soured and her eyes misted -- “...They came in and took our father into custody for having some goods that he had not yet reported. Every month, you have to fill up a--”
“--A KLB-98 pink and yellow forms, which detail all the arcane items in your possession and, in the case of the ones that are not listed in the Domestic Items Roster, you also have to explain why you have it, where you got it, and what do you intend to do with it.”
“...You know you paperwork, mister Exorcist. Yes, that is exactly it. We had filed our KLB-Whatever three days prior, and then the day before, my father acquired a certain item, nothing dangerous. Well, it wasn’t in the form we had submitted, so he was taken in. Do they expect us to update the form every single time we get something? He’s been at one of the MAB offices since then, apparently until he confesses.”
Although Akane was clearly disturbed, shock overcame her when she looked up and saw the utterly indignant Vinn. “...And it’s this everywhere else that you know of?”
“Y-yes, it’s definitely not an isolated case. Given this is actually a major and serious crime, we were sure you’d take me, or us, away. But we couldn’t just turn a blind eye to something this big, even if it meant--”
The cellphone on the table began vibrating. Vinn stood up, grabbed his possessions, and headed towards the door. “My drive’s here. Thanks for the information, Miss Hirose. I... Will see if there’s anything I can do about this.”
“R-right, thanks.” is all she could say at the sight of the calm man suddenly drowning in anger. A small paper ox approached the onmyoji, a handkerchief clenched in its mouth, which Akane used to wipe her sweat away. “...I didn’t think I’d be sleeping in this house this night.”
-------
“It’s me, Vinn. Did you check what I sent you?”
“Ingram, wait for me at the very spot I dropped you off, we need to go fast!”
“...Huh?”
“Your information more or less confirms it! I went to two other neighborhoods where necromancy had been sighted, and including your interview, they all said the same thing: Senior citizens going to a nearby clinic where a new girl that disappeared soon after worked briefly. In other words...”
“We have our girl... But, how do we know where she’ll strike next?”
A worn out dark blue car suddenly screeched right next to where Vinn was standing, door swinging open and almost flying away from the poorly oiled hinges. Inside, a maniacally joyful Bastian waved for Vinn to get in.
“She’s no mastermind, for sure! She went from this one to the next neighborhood with a clinic, and to the next after that one! I had Nick check their employment ledgers!”
“Nick?”
“Some asshole with four eyes and fast fingers, now get in! She should be at the next clinic, Hanlan Clinic! She’s been jumping around with different fake names, but she didn’t bother to change her appearance!”
There wasn’t much time for words in the frenzied car ride at speeds that made ballistics grow green with envy. Bastian and Vinn briefly cross checked their findings, and it was clear as day that their main suspect was this mysterious girl. Before they knew it, they had arrived at Hanlan Clinic, a small neighborhood clinic situated in the suburbs, close to a beautiful forest. Though still shaken by the ‘smoking’ and Akane’s tale, Vinn couldn’t help but feel a bonfire under his skin: He was finally going to do what he wanted, his very first case, and a major one, at that!
“...Hello there, Bastian Ashfield, Seventh Office” greeted Bastian, leaving out the outfit he belonged to, as Exorcists do when introducing themselves to mundane people ignorant of the mystic world hiding right in front of their nose. “I need to talk to one... Denise McCarthy. Is she on duty right now?”
An elderly lady sat behind the counter with a newspaper and a box of donuts, taking her eyes off the newspaper when the Exorcist approached her. “Yes, Denise is in right now! I’ll call her right now. Um... She’s not in any trouble, right...?”
“Nah, don’t worry, ma’am.” reassured Bastian with an uncharacteristically kind smile. “We just have some questions for her, is all.”
“Oh, phew! I’m glad that’s the case, I don’t know what we’d do without her! She’s such a kind girl and a miracle worker! With her help, patients that even doctors haven’t been able to deal with have suddenly been feeling great since she started! She also brings snacks for us every day! What a nice girl!”
Bastian and Vinn looked at each other. “Ma’am, did she bring those donuts right there?” Vinn inquired.
“Yup!”
“May I see them for a second? We didn’t have breakfast today, and those look great, I’d love to buy some on the way back to the office.”
“Sure thing, darling! Feel free to take one from the box while I got get her, if you so wish!”
“...Alright, Ingram, you were the top graduate of this year, right? Show me your SSSD.” whispered Bastian as he held the donuts box in front of Vinn.
SSSD, an abbreviation of Six Spells Of Self Defense, are the six basic spells any Exorcist must know, regardless of their rank or role, and they serve as the bare minimum requirement an Exorcist must fulfill before they are even considered for graduation or employment in the MAB.
“In Te Fallitur” Vinn murmured, a subtle yet elegant light coating his eyes. “...These are normal donuts. Cream filled, actually. No mana or blight in them. She didn’t spike these.”
“Heh, what a graceful Fallitur.” Bastian commented as he returned the donut box. “You know what they say about the SSSD, right? They are six spells so simple, versatile and basic that they accurately reflect the caster.”
“That’s what they kept saying over and over at the Academy. I must have heard that hundreds of times, all the way from the first year.”
“Yours is delicate, Ingram. I can tell you like Fallitur. Subtle, graceful execution. You might not be suited to this job.” Bastian added, and yet his voice wasn’t the moustache-twirling try hard harsh from before. For a second there, it was genuine concern, perhaps honesty, peeking out of his mouth, much like in the car, which left Vinn quite unsure of what to think.
“Hello? Were you the officers that were asking for me?”
The two men turned to face the soft voice of a girl. A girl in nurse scrubs, with long purple hair tied in a side ponytail. Between the purple hair and the purple eyes, it was clear this was no normal person. Bastian and Vinn once again looked at each other, and in unspoken covenant, they casually moved to cover the exit.
“Miss McCarthy? I am Bastian Ashfield, and this is Vinn Ingram, we are from the Seventh Office, and we’d like to ask you some questions regarding your job-hopping.”
“J-Job ho-- I-I’ve never worked before... This is my first job as a nurse! I have my identification right here, look” the girl sheepishly answered, trembling, handing over an I.D. and some other papers.
“That’s nice, Miss McCarthy, real damn nice, except we didn’t ask for any documentation. Do you mean to say that you carry your documents with you at all times? Even in those scrubs, during work hours? Why did you assume we’d ask for your documents? I wonder why, Miss McCarthy?”
“...! Well, s-see, the thing is--”
“In Te Fallitur” the senior Exorcist whispered, and a radiant, scorching light manifested in his eyes, blanketing them whole. “I spy with little eye, some bullshit. So, we’ll need you to come with us to the Office, “Denise”, we sure as hell have some questions for you and your little revival circus you got going in here!”
“Leave me alone!” yelled the girl, extending both of her arms at the floor. Very suddenly, the stench of mana filled the room, and the skeleton of a large bird-like animal burst from the ground beneath her, running away from the Exorcists and jumping through a window.
“Shit! Get in the car, we are going after her!” exasperatedly yelled Bastian. Vinn didn’t know what to make of this other than they had the right perp. Now came the hard part: Actually subduing her.
-------
Even from inside the car, the heavy, powerful footsteps of the ostrich-like skeleton could be heard as the two Exorcists drove after it in the forest. Sharp lefts and feint rights were no match for Bastian’s skill behind the wheel, who expertly stayed on their tail.
“This is your last warning!” announced Vinn from the car. “Stop running right now and we’ll help you with your charges!”
The girl looked at them for just a second and then turned back to face the road in front of her. “I bet you say that to everyone before you smoke them real good! Go away, Exorcists!”
“Damn, well, what do we do n--BASTIAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”
“Cover your ears, kid!”
Right next to Vinn, half of Bastian’s body was hanging out of the window, right hand precariously handling the wheel while his left held a large shotgun. Vinn was about to say something, but it was completely drowned by the loud bang of the buckshot exploding out of the barrel and hitting the ostrich in the knee, sending it collapsing.
“And that’s “sir” or at least “Ashfield” to you, who the hell do you think you are talking to!”
“Where did you get that from!?”
With the ostrich felled, the necromancer fell and tumbled hard on the ground, alone and cornered around a sea of trees and two Exorcists. “No... No! Don’t... Don’t get close! Get away!” The panicked girl extended both arms towards the men and yelled words in a strange language, unleashing a wave of foul energies that rotted everything it caressed.
A potent, almost blinding light barrier manifested in front of both men, repelling the blighted energy away from them. “She’s agitated! We gotta pin and silence her fast!” Vinn declared, but he soon realized his partner was not beside him anymore. “Wh-- Bastian?”
“...I said to call me Ashfield at least, Ingram.”
Vinn’s eyes followed where the voice came from, and they sure enough found Bastian, leisurely sitting atop a nearby tree. “It’s do or die, kid. With that blast she released, there’s gonna be a lot of walking dead to deal with.”
“...What are you playing at, Bastian?” Vinn asked, skeletons and fleshy corpses erupting from the blighted soil around him.
“I don’t do partners. I work alone. I don’t trust you, so you are gonna make me trust you. If you can deal with this shitfest, then maybe you have what it takes to do this job. If you can’t, well, you die and that’s one less problem for me” -- Bastian plucked a cigarette from pack and lit it -- “...Just kidding. I’m not gonna let you die, but I will let you get battered to a pulp before saving you. Show me that you really wanna do this.”
“Is that how it is, Bastian? You are a sick fuck, but I’ll play your game.” Vinn, thoroughly surrounded by the crawling death, seemed undaunted. The young man simply reached for his pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs. “This?” From behind Vinn, a corpse swung its blight-empowered hand, easily able to smash through concrete, right at Vinn’s head.
“This is nothing.”
At the very last second, Vinn stepped to the side and tripped the undead, sending it hurling to the ground with its own momentum before planting a crushing knee on its head. From his flank, a skeleton attempted to thrust Vinn with what was left of its jagged right arm, but Vinn caught it and flipped it over his shoulder against another incoming foe. Systematically and without much trouble, Vinn kept waiting for them to come at him before gracefully countering them.
“...That’s not the style they teach at the Academy. This is the opposite... Where did you learn to fight?” inquired the genuinely impressed Bastian, holding onto a terribly angry skeleton that was powerless to move from the casual yet effective hold Bastian had it in.
“None of your business. Your only business here is to see if I am taking this shit seriously, right? If I can do this job you oh so oppose me doing, no? Then shut up and watch.”
“Oh, but it is my business. MAB has always geared its operatives to either blast from afar or to go in like rabid dogs. Exorcists fight things much larger and much stronger than then, especially physically. Your style is not only completely god damn nuts, it’s also something I can tell you’ve been doing for a long time... It’s like you know exactly how to use the enemy’s own force. You didn’t come up with this in one day or two or even in the three years you spent at the Academy. This goes deeper. You are different in more ways that I can shake a rosary at.”
“...No comment.” replied Vinn, using his handcuffs to deflect a deadly thrust by expertly capturing the wrist of a foe mid-attack before using the momentum to spin them in the air right towards the ground.
“What’s more, I noticed something, Ingram. Your Fallitur earlier and your Domunus now were on a level unlike anything I’ve seen before from graduates. You are, honestly, on par with men and women much more experienced than you. You have a control of your mana that is absolutely crazy. It’s not unheard from Mythic-related families to have experienced spellweavers among them, but your expertise not only is still baffling by those standards, your style of channeling magic is different. You don’t do this the way we do.”
“...”
“So you know what I think, Ingram? There’s something you are not telling me. I ran a background check on you. Top graduate of your class and year, you are, yet, your friends could be counted in one hand. Your previous residence is some normal, normal neighborhood not known at all for its Mythics. Your professors and instructors spoke highly of you, yet they could never figure you out in the slightest. You were the top graduate, but also very socially maladjusted... And yet! You don’t have any difficulty speaking your mind, and you don’t behave like a reclusive dickhead or an antisocial kid. This is wrecking my nerves, Ingram! What the fuck are you!”
As Bastian went on and on, Vinn never stopped reacting to his foes’ assault. Dodge, parry, swipe, trip, throw, dodge, step, trip, grapple, knock, dodge. Despite his very perilous situation, the young man did not make a single mistake, and soon enough, no undead remained, only a terrified necromancer, sweating from overexertion, sweating that hid her tears.
“...I’m--”
“I don’t care what you are, Ingram”.
Bastian descended from the treetops, skeleton still in his casual “embrace”. “I don’t care what you are, Ingram, I care about what I see, and I care about what I can see you doing. If results are to speak, then they speak well of you. That’s what I care about.”
“...So I take it I pass your little te--Behind you!”
The necromancer’s wave had quite the reach, and far more soil than immediately discernible had been tainted. More and more corpses and skeletons approached from where the wave went, with seemingly no stop to them.
“My turn, I suppose.” nonchalantly shrugged Bastian, pushing his skeleton ‘friend’ away before unholstering two flasks from his belt.
“...? Flasks? Bastian, this is no time for a drink!”
Bastian simply responded with a smirk, turned around and, with a trained flicker of the thumbs, opened both flasks. Faster than thunder, two azure glistening tendrils emerged from the containers, cutting forth a swath of undead with no problem, burning them in contact and reducing them to white ashes. The tendrils then became blasts of water that covered all the undead, burning them and weighting them down.
“What...? The water is burning them!? What is this?”
“Oh, don’t have a knicker twister over this. It’s just one of the most basic and historied blessings in the history of blessings: Holy water.”
As the undead lay burning, the stronger, bigger corpses, clearly not belonging to humans and yet too maimed and decayed to be identified, still tried power through the soil wet with holy water. “But, see, that’s not all. The real point of what you are looking at is...”
The water beneath the corpses suddenly and unnaturally sprung up in the form of a thousand spikes, piercing their bodies like cruel spears, impaling them and burning them from within.
“....Hydromancy. Nothing too complex. I suppose you could call this something cheesy like “holy hydromancy”, but eh, it’s just splashing water that burns around, no? It doesn’t need a prim and proper introduction. There’s gonna be a lot more of them, so I’ll finish what I was saying later, for now, let’s--”
Mere seconds after Bastian had rolled up the sleeves of his coat and had retracted all water back into his flasks, an act Vinn noted with subtle shock, a weird metallic sound reverberated from Bastian. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Bastian produced an empty soup can, and he placed it against ear as if it were a phone. “What is it? It’s about to get real busy, so please just--”
“BASTIAN! Get out of there!” a feminine voice clearly yelled from the soup can. “There’s a lot of undead in there!”
“Ow, my poor ears, you-- Dani, we know, that’s exactly why it’s about to get busy, I am about to grab ‘em by whatever is left of their sphincter and--”
“The problem is not the undead! Chief Toshiro ordered a Siren deployment! S-she’s already on her way there, get out of there while you can!”
Vinn didn’t quite get what this ‘Dani’ person meant by “Siren deployment”, but there was no point in asking: It had to be really bad, judging by how Bastian had gone fully pale. “...Bastian? Oi, what’s a ‘Siren deployment’? Is everything--”
“Everything is very god damn bad, Ingram. Grab the necromancer, we are getting out of here.”
“Should I go get the car?”
“I said to grab her, we are getting the hell out of here, now!” -- the hydromancer looked around frantically until he noticed a nearby hill -- “Up that hill, we need to get there!”
Vinn had no clue what was going on, but he knew it had to be bad if the guy that was effortlessly mowing down scores of the undead was suddenly running with his tail between his legs. “Miss Necromancer, can you walk? We need to get out of here immediately.”
“...? You... Are not here to smoke me...?”
“We are here to ask you some questions, but that’ll have to wait, we’ll have our conversation back at the office, but for now, we need to get out of here, now.” Further inquiry was unnecessary: The necromancer was clearly going through mana exhaustion and physical fatigue, no doubt from the massive wave of blighted energies that she had unleashed. Necromancy is no easy feat, and just resurrecting one person is considered an achievement among those who practice the art. “Please excuse me”.
Without forgetting to mind his manners, Vinn hoisted up the girl and took to running behind his partner. “Can we make it there in time?”
“Yeah, I just got an idea. Come here, hold onto the girl real tight, and, well, do you like piggyback rides?”
“...Pardon?”
“Piggyback rides, Ingram, do you like them?”
“...You better not be thinking what I think you are thinking.”
“Wow, you’ll get along swimmingly with Nick, I can tell. Come.”
There were no witnesses to see this, no cameras to remember it, no recordings to immortalize it, but on August 4th of the year 33 P.A., a man carrying a girl and riding piggyback on the back of another man flew through the skies, propelled by two powerful jets of water. “You were thinking it!” “It’s do or die!” “Wheeeee~!”
-------
The exhausted girl is joined by an exhausted man on top of a forest hill that overlooked the whole area. Beneath them, a small horde of undead writhed and crawled, the desperate energies that brought them up pulsating chaotically within them.
“...I assume you can’t just tell them to go back to sleep peacefully, right?” inquired the barely standing Bastian, clenching an unlit cigarette between his lips.
The girl shook her head. “I-I’m sorry, I would if I could, I panicked back there and ended up raising so many people, I didn’t want to...”
“Accidental necromancy, at that?” Vinn laughed. “You are stupidly talented, man, what a troublemaker... Bastian, now that we are here, what is a Siren?”
The older man’s face grew dire. “You are about to see for yourself, sadly. She’s here.” Bastian pointed towards where the small horde was, and approaching it was a large black truck, completely unlabeled and yet clearly highly armored and advanced. After it got sufficiently close, its doors swung open and an ominous vapor surged from within. Mere seconds later, what looked like a girl in highly advanced armor and a sharp-looking headpiece stepped out. The light blue hair looked even more striking against her silver and dark outfit, and whatever color her eyes were, it was impossible to tell due to the visor that covered them.
“That’s the Siren? What is she wearing?”
“Her coffin.”
“...What...?”
Before anything else could be said, the horde took notice of the girl and began rampaging towards her. In a hurry, the black truck left, and the girl was left all alone in front of the violent ocean of muscle and rot. With a delicate gait, the girl simply pointed forward and opened her mouth.
“Laaa~”
A beautiful sound, like the song of a bird. A fragile melody, demure and warm. A sweet chime, simple and clean.
That is not what came out of the girl’s mouth.
The sounds that came from her mouth were twisted and abnormal. They could be heard clearly, as if someone’s fingernails raked against a blackboard right next to your ears. They had a certain echo different from the one we are familiar with, a sound between tragedy and euphoria, a tone that doesn’t know whether it wants to continue forever or not exist anymore. The cacophonous sound wasn’t a voice, it was something hellish and torturous that was pitiable more than terrifying. A sad, sad catastrophe. And when the sound which cannot be described as anything except audible anxiety came, so came those who obey it, those who pledge a knee to the sounds that never were meant to be heard.
Faster than the eye could see, flashes of dark and silver ripped through the horde, tearing apart whatever they could find with vicious maws. Those not immediately caught by the beasts were instead obliterated by flying masses of metal and ordinance that responded to the song that the Siren monotonously sang, loud explosions decimating not only the horde, but also the forest. At no point was this fight fair: The Siren didn’t even have to lift a finger, because just by producing her “voice”, an army of robotic hounds and ravens, summoned from seemingly nowhere, had already decimated the area. The undead horde was no more. The trees were no more. The animals and insects that lived there were no more. The nearby house were no more. The land was scorched and sterile, a combination of cruelty and sacrament working together to cause as much irreparable damage as possible, the epitome of excessive force with no guilt to speak of behind it.
Truthfully, this was a tragedy.
“...The forest, the houses... What the hell was that?!”
“Calm down, Ingram.”
“That’s excessive! What about the people in those houses!? What about the nature that was harmed!?”
“...This is a forest to the side of a suburban neighborhood that already doesn’t have much people in it. Those who lost their houses, assuming they didn’t lose their lives, will be explained to the media as victims of accidents, such as gas leak explosions. Those who unfortunately died, if any, will be reported as missing persons. Mundane police will look for them, exhaust resources on their search, and then give up. They will be another number on top of the disappearances.”
“That’s...!”
As Vinn stared at the little monster that had done this, from quite afar, she looked right back at him, dead in the eye, paralyzing the young detective. Around her, the shapes of dark and silver had finally settled down after the carnage, and there she stood, among a veritable army of dog-looking constructs coated in the massacre they just partook of, flanked by an airborne squadron of bird-like machines, which flew in circles above its master. Soon after, the unlabeled black truck returned, and the little monster calmly went inside, disappearing inside the ominous carriage as it drove away at last, the hellish cybernetic army dispersing with the same speed it appeared.
“...Bastian, how long has this been going on for?”
“Years. And you never heard a word of it in the Academy. No one did.”
“...What the fuck is wrong with them!? Who is behind this!?”
“Vinn Ingram, listen to me.”
Bastian’s sudden call made Vinn freeze and finally calm down for a second. He had his attention.
“I will continue what I was saying before, so listen well,” he said, putting out the cigarette and looking at Vinn straight in the eyes. “I don’t care about what you are, Ingram. I only care about your attitude and your efficiency. You showed me today you can handle yourself, you showed me today that you dislike what you see, that you don’t like this subterfuge, all these secrets and the ‘smoking’. Ingram, I agree with you. The Exorcists are a bunch of bad eggs, very bad eggs. There’s very few good ones among us, very few that still take protecting citizens, Humans and Mythics, seriously. It’s become a hunt, it’s become an abuse of power, an abominable we versus them scenario, and that’s never what it was supposed to be! Mythics are people, just like you and I, but somewhere in the MAB, something has gone rotten and wicked. This is where you come in, Ingram.”
Bastian extended his hand towards Vinn. “I am still not fully sold on you, but today, you showed me your heart is in the right place. Will you help me, help us, find the parasite that lurks within this body and extract it? Will you help us turn the MAB into what it was truly meant to be? The entity that makes this fucked up, amnesiac world into a peaceful place for Human and Mythic alike, where there’s no need for secrecy, where we can all hold each other’s hands? Will you help me, Vinn? So no more Sirens have to scar the earth? So no more Mythics have to be sold to slavery? So no more Mythics are kept caged as if they were exotic pets, god damn it?!”
“I will.” answered the younger man without missing a beat. “I don’t like what I’ve seen and heard one bit. I graduated with one thought in mind: To change the world for the better. It sounds like idealistic dribble, but I truly do mean it. I want Mythics to have the same safety as Humans, the same rules, the same opportunities. I will help you, no, I insist you let me help.”
The two shook hands, and Bastian smirked. “... I mentioned how I am not fully sold on you yet, right? Well, don’t worry too much about it, it’s easy to find a way for you to prove yourself in that one last regard I need to confirm, but for today, damn, let’s call it a day.” -- he turned to the necromancer -- “Oi, you. What’s your real name?”
“H-Hrodwyn, sir. Hrodwyn Eir.”
“Oh, Norse, aren’t you? Well, you should be able to stand up now. You heard us, we don’t care about smoking you in the slightest. Hell, even if we did, we have explicit orders to bring you back alive, so please, ease up already. I’ll be interrogating you later, but for now, you’ll hafta stay at the Office for a while. Don’t worry, you didn’t commit any actual crimes.”
“R-right, thank you, sir.” replied the nervous necromancer. “Um, I guess I can explain my motives, but we should leave that for later, right? In fact, you look kinda worn out, I’m a nurse, so let me check you out, maybe I can help!”
“Right-o, you keep your hands to yourself, missy, I got no interest in being a corpse. I care about my complexion.”
“Aww, alright... I just wanted to help...”
“Let’s get going, then. God damn, we should’ve accepted some of the donuts, after all. I’m starving.”
“Haha, yeah, we should go for some donuts on the way back, honestly.” added Vinn.
“Actually, yeah, Necro here is paying for ‘em for the trouble.”
“But my name is Hro--”
“Shit’s too hard to say, you’re Necro now.”
“A-aww...”
Of hospitals, Hippocratic... Suggestions, and a lot of cyber dogs:
-- Chapter 1: First Day At The Job --
-- Chapter 1: Reality Check --
End...?
--Hours later, at night that day--
A new suit, wrinkled and dusty.
A new tie, finally undone and recently worn.
A hearty dinner, still in the making.
Today was finally over.
Vinn Ingram grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge -- his favorite -- and was about to turn on the lights of his living room, when he noticed he was not alone. In front of him, a female silhouette with large horns and wings stood in the darkness, the window that leads to the night open behind her. The daemonic presence seemed to have had noticed the apartment owner’s return, as its bright eyes stared inside Vinn’s green own.
Setting the bottle down, Vinn slowly approached the mighty and intimidating creature, reached with his hand, and... Yanked her by the horn hard.
“Simeag! What in the world are you doing here!?”
“A-Aaaaaah! H-hey, woah, stop pulling by my horn, you bully! P-please stop, I am getting dizzy! Vinn, come on, be nice to your sister!”
The young man let go of the horn of the girl with the long, dark red hair, and immediately as he did, the demon rushed him, trapping him in a big ol’ hug. “You! You have no idea how much we have missed you! And that’s the first thing you do as soon as you see me!? I even showed myself in so as to not bother you! Vinn, you are too much sometimes!”
“Hggg... Sis... You’re... Crushing me... Pfff, hahaha... Ah, it’s good to see you, Sim.” finally let out the suffocated Vinn, hugging his sister back softly. “You have to understand, though! It’s really dangerous for you to be here in Stroln! What if humans see you!?”
“I just eat them, then”
And Simeag earned herself another Horn Yank.
“I’M KIDDING, I’M KIDDING, I just came to say hi and check on you, since you start working today! I made sure to not be seen, and they won’t catch me in the dead of night. Ah, well, Mom told me to tell you that she--”
“--That she’s suffering from an intense, mortal poison, and that the only way to cure her is for me to go back to Oflans.”
“--That she’s suffering from an intense, mortal poison, and that the only way to cure her is for you to go back to Oflans.”
The siblings looked at each other and laughed.
“Good ol’ mom is fine, I take.”
“She sure as hell is. Lim also says hi, and... Aw, EVERYONE says hi! We wanna know when you are going to come back to visit!”
There were many ways to describe what Vinn’s face looked like right now, but the most apt is definitely “a goofy, genuine smile”. Vinn went to the kitchen and got another bottle of juice, which he casually tossed to Simeag. “...I just started work, so I dunno when, but as soon as I get some days off, I do plan on going back.” There were many ways to describe what the demon girl’s face looked like right now, but the most apt is definitely “a goofy, genuine smile”.
“That’s great! Ahaha, it’s just... It’s so nice to see how much you’ve grown, bro. You look worn out, though, rough day?”
“Very.”
“Haha, darn... Well, I really want to stay and chat for more, but... The time.”
“A-ah, yeah...”
“It’s fine, though, I’ll tell Mom, Lim, and everyone else that you are doing great! I wish I could’ve stayed for longer, but you’ll get your break eventually! Oh, yeah, Lim and I managed to sneak out a little something for you. It’s in the envelope on the sofa.”
“Ooh, what it is?”
“A surprise~”
Simeag approached her little brother and gave him another hug, soft and caring this time, which the young man who tried as hard as he could to not look sad returned.. “We’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”
“Mmhm. Love you, sis, say hi to Mom, Lim, and everyone else for me.”
“Love ya too, we all do, every day.”
With that, the demon unfurled her wings and flew into the dark night of the city. As much as he wanted her to stay, Vinn knew it was dangerous for demons to be in Stroln, and so he had no option but press her so. As he downed the bottle of juice, he couldn’t help but wonder what was inside the mystery package, until he took a better look at it, and recognized the shape. “Wh-- No, no no no...”
And when he undid the leather package that contained it, Vinn almost felt his heart jump out of his throat. “What the--! Sim and Lim, you are crazy! How the hell did you-- Oh man, no one can see this...”
Playstyle: Mage Hunter (Meter steal, high mobility, mid range pressure)
Bio: A normal day of playing in the river turned into an emergency when young Priscilla and Benson Lomprat found an unconscious, nearly drowned woman floating down the current. Rescuing and barely saving her life, the kids brought her back to their house, where they nursed her back to health with the help of their foster sister, Charmeine, only to discover her memory had been wiped out. This nameless, amnesiac girl only had a large duffel bag with her, and the only things inside were bullets, strange knife-like utensils, scrap metal, pills, vials of mercury, a revolver, and a large, bulky, well-worn, bolt-action rifle with several parts that look like they are about to fall, six notches carved the left side of the stock, a flag of the kingdom wrapped around the stock to be used as a cheek rest, and the name “Summergale” etched onto the right side of the stock.
The Lomprats would have been terrified of this mysterious, seemingly dangerous woman if it hadn’t been for her completely jovial and carefree attitude. Humorous, kind, and an incorrigible flirt, Summergale, as she came to refer to herself, based on the name etched on the rifle, made it a point to repay the Lomprats’ kindness, saying “eh, can’t be too important if a little swim made ‘em go” regarding her memories. The small town close to the river that she found herself on had been on lockdown due to a corrupt Bastet Vanguard, Markus Savate, occupying it and demanding weekly tribute from the people. Defeating him soundly, he liberated the town from its moocher, but with Markus reporting back to the Bastet Vanguard about the mysterious riflewoman who could somehow touch magic, things were about to get nasty…
Yet, before they arrive, Summergale enjoys her time romping around town, helping the young Benson explore the nearby prairies and sand lakes to keep him safe while he indulges in his hobby and passion: Map drawing. She hits the tavern every night and flirts with everyone, male or female, if they are “sufficiently beautiful (read: everyone). Not that anyone ever responds to her advances, much to her dismay.
Summergale is of average height, brown skinned, with brilliant amber eyes and neck length black hair, yet the most striking feature of her appearance are her gold teeth. None of her teeth are real, all of them being golden replacements, which becomes rather eerie when you account for her tendency to flash smiles around, both when having a drink at the tavern or when she has her iron sights trained on her target. This girl is the definition of mystery, and not even general pieces of info can be gathered on her: She looks like a local of the kingdom, located in the magic-using Lower Half of the continent, yet possesses a firearm, which would imply she is from the technology-using Upper Half, but she also practices alchemy, yet reacts negatively when she sees magic, clearly hating it. Behind that golden smile, trouble, no doubt, brews, and she probably doesn’t even know it. Just who was this woman?
Abilities, appearance, playstyle details, stage, moveset and more below the cut
Thing I ended up pondering in the middle of a writing exercise I was doing the other day, I ended up imagining a big, big futuristic industrial complex, privately owned, a colossal weapon's manufacturing enterprise-slash-metropolis-slash-factory, basically an enormous city that could be considered a very small nation, with its own economy, housing areas, industrial sectors, the whole works. A capricious scientist that works there develops his own A.I., different from the other default factory A.I.s, and inserts it into a Turret Android. Turret Androids are humanoid turrets, made for the specific purpose of being solid fixtures to any defense endeavor that can be mobilized easily to adapt to situations, combining all the strength of fixed weaponry with the need for fluidity in strategy and placement. Weeks pass and, eventually, this finished Turret Android is assigned to the very city-factory it was built on, endlessly standing in the same place until it was time for maintenance. This rogue A.I., however, was far more sophisticated, and it wasn't made for combat, but rather, it was meant to simulate sentience. The android then begins to feel boredom, which surprises it and makes it anxious, and in turn, it is surprised and anxious at its surprise and anxiety. It starts yearning for the world beyond its post at the 57th Western District.
It goes on, but that's what I was still thinking on.
"There was no way to prevent it, but you, kids, you can either cower, or you can help prevent it."
What a very selfish thing to say. Might as well have dropped me in the middle of enemy waters with a rocket launcher and a death wish. To approach a bunch of kids who had just lost so much with a smile as plastic as his condolences and spout that kind of crap? Tch, scum. I can remember that skinny, bald man's words, one by one.
"Though they are many and powerful, they still resort to these cowardly tactics. Who can only contain so much of their sphere of influence. What is a human next to an enemy they do not comprehend? When fighting monsters, loss is not only expected, but obvious as well. It will take the effort of all of us if we wish to stop the Abyssal menace. The Guardian HQ accepts all men and women who would pledge their hearts. Stay safe and sharp kids, and remember to report any enemy movement or Tainted to your nearest Guardian Office."
Aah, I cannot forget those words. I hated that man, I hated his false pity, his rehearsed lines, his god damn odor of cowardice and war medals. You could tell he received medals while his men received bullets for him. Despicable. And yet, I have that man to thank, I guess, that abominable liar and his words, for having pointed me in the right direction.
The right direction The right choice
The Guardian HQ
--
"Congratulations, Goto! Fifteen minutes ago, you were a trainee, a student who only hoped to ever be a true man of the sea, but today, now, you are an Admiral. It has been an honor to have been your teacher and trainer" Mister Ueda, my professor, congratulated me during the graduation ceremony.
"Thank you, Mister Ueda, sir! It was only thanks to your instruction that I could graduate today. I am eternally thankful to you, sir!" I exclaimed that night, as I struck a heartful, honest salute towards the man I respect so much while he perched the medal on the chest of my new uniform. This white uniform, this white cap, these white gloves... I fought and studied so very hard for them. I wish to be the wall that protects and the scythe that prevents. With this I could finally do it... And yet, more surprises came my way as Mister Ueda came towards me during the graduation banquet.
"Goto, come here for a second. Your aptitude for a special something was very high, and your very good qualifications and grade have been noticed. You won't just be an Admiral, you... I'll let the higher ups say it."
"R-right away, sir!"
All I knew was that I would be going to go do us proud in the oceans, an Admiral of my own war vessel, maybe a fleet one day. But... The "higher ups"? Mister Ueda was a very high ranking and decorated veteran, the higher ups could only be...
"Welcome, Admiral Goto. Please, have a seat"
In front of me, inside this dark large and ornate room were my heroes: The Inner Council of the Guardian HQ! I was a child all over again, these men and women were the real deal! I hated the unbearable, uncaring bastard that informed us of that tragedy back when I was a child, but these people... They were the ones keeping us safe! The brave heroes in the TV and radio commercials, the ones leading the strategies and battles for humanity's sake! The champions that I had to no doubt thank for my and all of our lives! They were the reason the Abyssals had not steamrolled us, and they requested to see me? I was beyond ecstatic.
"...You look very tense, young man. Please, be at ease"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"...Pfff, or remain tense. I like the fire in your eyes, sonny. What would you say if we told you we have special duties for you? Directly from this Inner Council. Would you accept them, Admiral Goto?"
I was overjoyed, it was the best day of my life, my heroes gave me direct orders. It was right out of a dream. I was told my aptitude for a certain task was high, a hidden parameter that every Admiral is tested on. Lately, it had becoming more widespread, slowly but surely, as if the bar had been becoming lower and lower, as I later learned. At the moment, I was overjoyed. Special weaponry, the latest in Anti-Abyssal equipment, and it was for me to commandeer it!
Haa, I remember very clearly how nervous I was during my first day of duty... I spent a solid forty five seconds jumbling my keys in my pocket and trying to find the one that actually fit in the lock properly. The sight of the sea, to this day, remains gorgeous, though it gets pretty cold at night, haha.
When I finally opened that intimidating door, I was greeted by a petite girl, no doubt one of the mechanics' daughter. "Hello! You must be the newly assigned Admiral!" she greeted me, a warm smile on her face and a gentle disposition all around.
"Indeed" I answered. "I am Admiral Goto, a pleasure to meet you. This place must be pretty lax if they let a kid like you walk around and even let you know I was coming. What's your name?"
Before answering, I remember very clearly the ghost of a frown that was visible for all of a fragment of a second when I called her a kid. "Inazuma, nano-desu."
"...Hold on, what?"
I produced my dossier from my bag and read the specifications of my Office. I was told I was assigned to the destroyer Inazuma, and yet there was this little girl claiming to be named just like the ship that would be my sea faring debut? Kids are precious, I thought.
"Haha, ok, I get it, I get it, you also want to fight the Abyssal, but kidding about having the same name as my ship is too cute. Let's go to the docks to find your father, I can't have you running around this Office."
"Who is kidding...? I am serious! I'm Inazuma, and I was assigned to Admiral Goto."
"Kid, the joke is running dry, let's go to the docks so I can find your father and--"
I remember how she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me with more strength than you'd expect from a child her age, running through aisles and doors until we arrived at what was very clearly the docks, but... But...
"...Aren't these... Small...? Like, for people? What kind of joke is this?!"
"It's no joke, nano-desu! I'm telling you, I am Inazuma and these are the docks, just..."
As if she had grown tired of words, she advanced a few steps and, faster than a skeptical blink, she produced an obscene amount of guns around her body, out of thin air. Before I could just express my disbelief with what was no doubt going to be a pathetic, graceless and drawn out "whaaaaaaaat?", she shot two rounds to a dummy across the 'docks'. Though they were dummy rounds, the firing was very real.
That's when I realized the importance of my superior's words. That's when I realized they weren't kidding. "It's a new type of weapon", they told me, "it's unlike anything you have ever seen, and it's a relatively new thing. As time passes, they will become more and more common pieces of equipment, but for now, we can only assign them to specific officers. You have been chosen, Admiral Goto."
They weren't kidding. I was not expecting that. When they told me "pieces of equipment", I expected new generation motors or main guns, not... Not...
"Do you believe me now, Admiral?"
...Not living weapons...
I've been... conflicted. The way HQ referred to these "kanmusu", these Ship Girls, it was in the same way you would talk about a hammer or a screwdriver by the tool shed. They are weapons, yes, but just staying a few weeks with them is enough to realize they are human as well. They give it their all out there, they really want to protect us, to protect me, they fight and lay their lives on the line.
There must be a reason, right? HQ is always right, they couldn't possibly disregard life like this, there must be a reason, I know there is. HQ is always right. HQ is composed of our heroes, they... They cherish life.
Yes, there is a reason. I am just a gear right now, a bearer of a spear, I am HQ's Spear, I am the wall that protects and the scythe that prevents. I am the wall that protects and the scythe that prevents. I am the wall that protects and the scythe that prevents. HQ is right.
I've been instructed to commander these Ship Girls and bring order to these end of the seas. Alongside my fellow Admirals, I can do this.
The tragedy will not happen ever again. Never again will the Abyssals ravage another settlement, not while I stand. This I swear.
--
"Admiral, I brought tea and cookies. It's 11 o'clock, don't you think it's late...?"
"Aah, thank you, Inazuma... You seem to have your eyes glued to those cookies. You wonder if you can have some as well, right?"
"...! Eeh, that is..."
"A deck must be shy a Jocker somewhere, in that case. Of course you can't."
"Haa! What!"
"Hahaha! Settle down, settle down, of course you can. I just love your reactions, you silly."
"Hmph! Admiral can be a real meanie! You are too good an actor, being all deadpan and cynic when you say things like that, I can't help but think you are serious! What were you writing, Admiral?"
I close my journal and put it away. "Aah, nothing important, just a personal report of what happened in the day, stuff unrelated to the military affairs of this office. Like when Inazuma lost the bauxite tally-keeping notebook."
"U-urgh! B-but I found it! again!" Oh, I love teasing her.
"I know, I know, you are reliable, haha."
"Admiral, have you gotten used to... Well..."
Ah, this happens from time to time. I haven't been here too long, but... "Inazuma, we get along well, don't we? It was shocking at first, yes, but in the end, you are just a clumsy little girl who happens to carry several high-yield guns and torpedoes. It's not that different from a kid with a mean, big slingshot to me, really"
"Pfff... heehee! I guess!"
"Now now, that's the face I like to see. It's late, so let's go. Go to bed immediately, ok?"
"Yes! Until tomorrow, Admiral! Good work today!"
"You too."
...
And this is the most vexing part...
I am supposed to treat them like weaponry. To nurture in them the discipline of muskets and the mentality of a hunter, but... But what happens to their innocence?
I am not here simply to protect humanity, these weapons that aren't... Something in me tells me I need to be there for them, just like they are here for me.
HQ no doubt has a reason. One day, I will be smart enough to understand.
Glory to the HQ. Glory to the Ship Girls. Death to the Abyssals.
I am the wall that protects and the scythe that prevents.
"I-It's no use! Our attacks can't reach from here, and closing in is suicide!"
"We are low on ammo and fuel, Izakuchi is not moving! Help me with her, she is too heavy!"
"The enemy attacks... Did they suddenly decrease...? Is there hope for--"
"No... They are simply re-positioning on us. Look well, they are using the same strategy we have used on the last skirmishes: Shelling us with their heavy gunners to suppress us while their more agile destroyers and light cruisers move around us. They want to finish us off in one feel swoop while minimizing their own loses."
The air, the ground or the sea. Those things didn't matter when where one stood was a battlefield. The incessant fusillades deafen you, they cause a ringing in your ear that will forever accompany you like a cross strapped to your back, paranoia becomes the polygamous lover of every single heart and all fear is justified. If emotion is what pushes one to surpass their own limits, then war is the intense flame to our candles. But an old saying rings even truer in the battlefield: The candle that burns twice as bright, lasts half as long.
One can never earn much without losing just as much.
"Tenryuu!" Tatsuta called desperately, firing her cannons in the direction where the shelling came from. "Izakuchi is unconscious, half the Destroyers have panicked, Maya is critically wounded and we are at our limit! We need to do something right now, at this rate, we won't be able to even reach the night!"
"Tch, I know!" replied a frustrated Tenryuu, maneuvering alongside Tatsuta and Tone, returning fire to the offending Abyssal aggressors, serving as the main bat for their attacks while the Destroyers pulled themselves together and moved the injured to the back. "There's not much we can do! Akagi and Zuikaku are too heavily damaged to deploy their fighters, and those divebombers are ripping us to shreds... If we had Maya, the four of us could attempt something, but with just the three of us, this is all we can do!"
"Do not neglect the advancing enemy, you two!" interrupted a disheveled Tone, doing her best to draw fire from the enemy gunners. "As Tatsuta said, they are re-positioning on us. If they surround us, we shall be be sunk in twain. If we don't do something, our grave is where we stand!"
"Tch, we know, but what could we possibly-- Wait... Tenryuu, Tone, didn't they have a battleship over there...?" called out Tatsuta, sharp as ever, noticing a missing Re-Class. "...! Wait! Murakumo! Shiranui! Evasi--!!!"
But no one ever notices things in time in a battlefield, do they? Before Tatsuta could conclude her line, a heavy bombardment barraged the regrouping Destroyers. "D-damn it all! It wasn't just their light crafts? A battleship also moved in to flank us!?" The Destroyers were wide open, the approaching Abyssal cruisers and the battleship already raining brimstone and sulfur on them. "Wait... that shell...! No... No!"
It was that moment that Inazuma, holding an unconscious Izakuchi, saw everything in slow motion. Homing in directly on her position was a massive shell, courtesy of the Re-Class, its innocuous whistling as it approached the petite girl growing louder and louder, the most miserable requiem as soldier can ever have, and yet, the most common of them. "Ah... I don't even have the strength to push away Izakuchi... This is how it ends, right? I am so sorry..."
Like the hammer of a judge, the shell collided and the explosion came, that tragic miasma we call smoke shrouding the area for mere seconds before dissipating. "...? What...?" Inazuma wondered for all of three seconds before her eyes welled with tears at the sight in front of her.
"I... I told you all these times, Inazuma... In training sessions, in mock battles and in several expeditions... K-keep your eyes on the enemy, and consider that a skilled enemy... Will always trail you and shoot where you will be, not where you are... Y-you... Dummy..."
Inazuma and Izakuchi stood safe and sound behind a heavily bleeding and damaged Tenryuu, who took managed to get in front of the Destroyers in time. Though Inazuma could only see her back, Tenryuu's right gunwale was reduced to a mere nub, her bridge was in taters and left arm limp, a combination of burns and shrapnel decorating it. "T-Tenryuu... I... I'm s--"
"Regroup and follow Murakumo's orders! The Akatsuki class Destroyers are to follow the direction of Murakumo! Shiranui, assist her in everything!"
Sparing a single glance towards Murakumo as she yelled all this, the special class Destroyer took only one look at the light cruiser's eye and understood more than words could ever convey as Tenryuu returned to the killzone. Shaken for exactly a fragment of a millisecond, Murakumo simply saluted and scrambled again. "Destroyer Divisions... We are retreating! Just like we did in training, we will employ the Retreating Arrowhead! Shiranui will take the left, I will take the right, the rest of you make the arrow and suppress to wherever the enemy is closest! Inazuma, get moving!"
"B-but Tenryuu, Tone and--"
"Inazuma! Do as you are told! Don't let... Don't let her sacrifice be in vain!"
"...Her sacrifice?"
"..."
--
"Those two are safe... They are quickly surrounding us, but I have a plan".
"Tenryuu...!" a shocked Tone exclaimed. "You gave me a good scare there! Their barrage is weakening only slightly, but we'll still be in deep trouble if we do not move!"
"Don't worry... I've a plan. We can escape this one. The Destroyers are mostly in line again, and they have begun holding their encroaching line" explained Tenryuu, her voice a few notches lower, clearly struggling to even speak.
"...And, pray tell, what are you doing here with those wounds?"
Tatsuta tried to sound sweetly intimidating as always, but it was clear her edge was stained with concern. "You cannot fool me, Tenryuu. Go to the back with the Destroyers, you can barely stand."
"...I'm going in, Tatsuta."
Silence.
"...You know I dislike your dumb jokes in the middle of battles, Tenryuu."
"...You and Tone go back and help those kiddos get out of here. If I go cause a disruption on their main shelling squad, the spreading Abyssals have no choice but to go after me."
"Tenryuu, we are not doing this. Even then, they will simply shoot you down and come chasing us. We do not have enough firepower for the forces that will remain."
"...And what if I told you we do?" a feeble but intense voice came from behind. It was Maya, heavily injured and barely standing, but her moves and guns performing as if they were in pristine condition. "I got tired of being useless, so I came here. 'Sup, losers."
"Ah, yes, a wounded, barely functional heavy cruiser with a terrible personality, exactly the ace we needed to get out of this one." replied Tatsuta with her usual velvet venom, never ceasing her fire and dodging.
"Wounded as she might be, she is the piece we need for us to see ourselves out of this conundrum" quickly interrupted Tone. "The piece we need... If we..."
"Hah... Looking good, Maya... Grab these two and join the retreating Destroyers... With you three and Murakumo, it should be possible" pleaded once anew Tenryuu, already facing her sister.
"You inconceivable idiot! What is glorious about sacrificing yourself and fighting to the death!? This isn't like one of those war stories, this is real, and--!"
"Tatsuta... Even if we all try and head back together, even if we did manage it... I won't make it to the base" finally declared an ever weakening Tenryuu, opening the front of her jacket to reveal severe wounds and missing chunks of her stomach, oil and artificial organs working at their limit simply to keep her operational.
"...! Ten...!"
The Abyssal barrage suddenly stopped, and their distant silhouettes began approaching slowly but surely. "C-crap! They are closing in for a definitive bombardment! We must act with haste!" said Tone as she approached the other three girls. "They must be running low on ammo, so they are going to close in to do us in for good!"
"Tatsuta... There's no other way. I don't have much more left in me. Heh... J-just hear me out, ok? I... Really had fun... Your jokes, the way you and the admiral always played me for a fool, how you would embarrass me in front of the Destroyers, the pranks and the endless moments of fun. I'm really grateful to you, Tatsuta. Thank you so much."
That's all the granite facade of the younger sister could resist before crumbling into a million fragments, sorrow streaming down from her eyes as he labored breathing prevented her from talking properly. "Don't leave me alone... Tenryuu, we promised to see this through..."
"Heh... Well... Goes to show you were the more elegant and effective all along. I won't be keeping my promise, but with this, I can make sure you fulfill yours. I'm proud of having the honor of being your sister, Tatsuta... Please look after the Destroyers, and move on..."
"...Tatsuta" interrupted Maya, ever the bold one. "We have no time. Respect your sister's wishes. Before we are people, we are weapons of war. We have a duty to protect the Admiral and everyone else. Tenryuu is resolute, respect your sister's... Your sister's dying wish, and survive!"
"...Heh, you always knew how I felt, Maya... That's that, then. Go, you three. I'll cover you."
Taking off her eyepatch, Tenryuu clasped Tatsuta's hand and gave it to her, taking her glaive in exchange. "Remember me now and then, ok? Keep making everyone's lives hell, you are really good at that, hah! Be happy... My beloved sister, survive. This glaive... Do me a favor and lend it to me. Goodbye, Tatsuta."
"...Let's get moving" is all Tatsuta responded with before heading towards the Destroyers."
"Light Cruiser Tenryuu!" called Tone, simply saluting and following Tatsuta shortly afterwards. "Give them hell!"
"Sheesh, those kids are gonna cry..." Maya nonchalantly murmured. "You went and got yourself in this situation... You enormous dumbass. Kick their asses, yeah?"
"Heh, I never was the smartest... Take care, you stupid brute".
"Haha... Right..." was the last thing Maya said with clearly plastic enthusiasm, the sorrow in her eyes apparent. "Goodbye..."
--
Tenryuu, still holding both her own sword and her sister's glaive in her right hand, placed her blade on her mouth, holding it with her teeth with the blade outwards to the left, while holding the glaive one handed, her dysfunctional left arm still hanging uselessly like a puppet without strings.
"...Tenryuu-class first light cruiser, Tenryuu, heading off to her final mission. Today, I die in battle, but if my death is what will save Maya, Tone, the carriers, the Destroyers and... And Tatsuta..." -- Tenryuu advance forward with amazing speed, heading towards the already firing Abyssals -- "Then...! I have no regrets! Let me fight until my dying breath is cast!"
Swerving and zig zagging, Tenryuu closed in on the opposing light and heavy cruisers, skiing really low, her face almost touching the ocean beneath her feet, Tenryuu's two 14cm naval guns firing with wild abandon at her aggressors, blasting a few Abyssals and weakening their barrage.
"71 seconds..."
As she kept advancing towards her enemies, whistling shells and bullets grazed past her lithe frame, some hitting her but none stopping her.
"53 seconds..."
The light cruiser unloaded everything she had. Cannons, anti-air mount guns, torpedoes, Tenryuu launched everything she had in a last resort attempt to get to close quarters, a shell blasting off her left gunwale clean and making her lose her balance.
"S-shit...! 34 seconds...!"
Stabilizing herself quickly, Tenryuu drove Tatsuta's glaive through a heavy cruiser, kicking it away and slashing away at a carrier, smaller Destroyers latching onto her body, ravaging away by biting her and shooting her at point blank.
"19... Seconds..."
Both stabilizers were blown off her injured legs, three I-class Destroyers latched with their enormous maws, eating her alive from the back as Tenryuu, as if possessed by a demon, fought like a cornered rat and struck down yet another carrier, clearly prioritizing targets of higher firepower.
"Se...ven... Se..."
Slashing away with both sword and glaive, Tenryuu's movements finally slowed down to a crawl. Her spine had been shattered, her artificial organs had given up and all movement stopped. Time was up, and all bodily functions of the first Tenryuu-class light cruiser, except her mind, gave up, her body leaning, ironically enough, against the main gun of an enemy light cruiser, primed and ready to fire.
"...Tatsuta... sorry... I'm going ahead of you..."
"龍田、悪りぃ、先に逝くぜ…"
The girl's shattered, torn apart body slowly sunk, ethereal hands grabbing her body and gently pulling it closer and deeper to the unknown reaches of the abyss.
