Content Alert For - Stuffing (aftermath), transformation, body horror, vague hints to blood drinking, mild belly kink, hurt with comfort, very mild whump, gagging (no vomit), hints to a past abusive relationship.
Note- I plan on doing way more with these characters but this is the end part of their first story. Please feel free to send in asks for my OC's at anytime or to ask me anything! I'd love some ideas for drawing them.
Cardinal cursed at the lock, jiggling the key until it finally gave and let them cross into the dark room. It was messy, but not overly so. The desk (as usual) being the focal point, covered in its usual clutter of pens, paper and coffee cups.
They entered the kitchen, not bothering to hit any of the lights on the way through. The light was unnecessary, their vision worked better in the dark than in the light if they were to tell the truth. As they bent over to put the container of soup into the fridge, their stomach gave out an unhappy grumble.
"Oh hush." Cardinal mumbled in response, rubbing at the taught skin in an attempt to quiet it down and wishing they had thought to wear a hoodie rather than the snug T-Shirt. Really, they'd barely even fed. Just enough that they wouldn't have to worry about it. Still, their stomach stuck out unhappily and complained at any sudden movements. It would be an excuse to steal one of Grace's hoodies, something soft and warm.
The young vampire was brought out of their thoughts by a loud thud from Grace's bedroom. Followed by crashing and more thudding, like furniture being knocked over. Cardinal froze, listening up at the rapid heart beat pounding overhead.
It was louder than it should have been, faster too. The most concerning thing however was the sound of claws on wood. A fact that was especially upsetting considering Grace didn’t have any pets, especially nothing that large.
Cardinal crept up the stairs, not even breathing as the sound of breaking glass carried through the home. The door was closed tight, and no light shone from underneath. The scrabbling noise increased, it sounded like the claws were scraping drywall now.
In a single, fluid, movement Cardinal wrenched the door open before sliding in and slamming it behind them. Whatever they had been expecting, the large wolf escaping through the (now broken) window left them at somewhat of a loss for words. There was no sign of Grace, and the animal had clearly not been dragging her with it.
There was no evidence of a struggle, no blood on the sheets, and the air smelled strongly of Grace albeit sharper than Cardinal ever remembered it being. The dresser had been knocked over in the creature's (in her) attempts to escape. It was apparent nothing had entered or exited the room recently other than the concerned vampire.
The pieces fit together in an unfortunate manner, making Cardinal groan in dread. This… wasn't how they had ever wanted to introduce their girlfriend into this world but it was happening regardless. Time to minimize the damage, at least to Grace anyway.
--------
The first thing Grace did when she woke up was groan.
Everything hurt. Her joints cracked and popped as she stirred and her muscles complained. Her head pounded in a way reminiscent of a hangover, but worse in it's own special way.
Potentially topping the migraine however, was the cramping pain coming from her stomach.
"Easy, I don't know exactly what you did but I reckon you feel pretty bad right now"
It was Cardinal, in a voice as smooth as honey. Soothing the headache to a degree.
Grace struggled against the blanket laid over her, feverishly trying to get up.
"Hey, just lie down. Please, Grace. Just lie back down."
She did, that sticky-sweet voice drawing her in. The blanket was pulled back, leaving a sheet to cover her.
A sheet that was the only thing covering her naked body.
"I'm going to grab you some clothes and help you get them on, ok?"
The voice was less sticky now, more recognizable. Once again Grace felt acutely aware of the heavy, painful feeling in her stomach. A feeling accentuated by a prolonged groan.
Finally, her eyes fluttered open. Cardinal was holding a tshirt and shorts, an older outfit Grace usually wore when sleeping. Their hair was wild, sticking up all over and falling in their eyes. Their dark shirt was ripped and muddy and their pants were much the same way. It was a simple outfit that Grace didn't think she'd ever seen worn before on the petite figure.
"Wha' happened to ya shirt?"
Grace didn't even register how bad her mouth tasted until she opened it. Coppery and foul, with a touch of something gone off.
That was the breaking point and she bolted upright despite her painful stomach and leaned off the bed as she retched.
And retched.
And try as she might nothing came up but strings of saliva for her efforts.
A cool hand rested on one shoulder and supported her until it ended.
"I'm sorry. God- just- just lean back. Oh God"
Grace hadn't even realized she had her arms cradled around her stomach. What was typically fairly average and flat was stretched out painfully. Hard and round, it had expanded outwards a significant amount and with every threatening gurgle she felt as though she was going to vomit.
But it never happened.
The cool hands pulled her back until she was no longer hanging off the bed. Hands pulling her shirt over her head as she numbly complied by lifting her arms gently. The soft shirt was still baggy around her shoulders and chest but was just barely snug around the mysterious belly. Every movement of her midsection left her panting on the verge of gagging as she worked with her partner to get the shirt on.
Cardinal leaned her back onto the bed before lying beside her, on top of the sheets that covered Grace's bare legs. Her stomach let out a long gurgle in protest of the movement and a pale hand reached tentatively for it, pausing before gently rubbing it. The motion was painful as first, eliciting groans both from Grace and her tortured stomach. Soon however, the pressure seemed to lessen and Grace belched wetly. The taste almost brought on another retching fit, but the slight decrease in pressure and the relief it brought helped immensely.
"What…" Grace coughed, and held a hand to her swollen midsection.
"I…" Cardinal froze. Their voice was soft as they stammered, "What do you- um. You…"
They took a deep breath.
"You might be a, uh…"
"Werewolf?" Grace croaked out.
Cardinal shifted their body weight suddenly.
"How did you even know to guess that?"
"Had an ex-boyfriend who bragged... well it was threats really but I thought he was full of shit. Not to say he wasn’t-" she burped again, less satisfying this time but it helped "Just not about that. I guess."
"How much do you know?"
"Not much." Grace admitted. "I thought he was trying to be funny, then I thought it was annoying when he threatened me with it. He called me last month all pissy and angry. I told myself that the nightmares I had that night were coincidental. That it didn’t mean anything, just my subconscious picking up on his claims."
Another burp, more relief and unbelievably her brain presented the idea of actually trying to go get something to eat. An idea that made Grace almost want to weep.
Instead, she curled up as Cardinal lay still and silent at her back. Soon she was asleep again.
-----
This time when Grace woke up she could move. She felt… good actually. Really good. Her stomach still had a small paunch to it but nothing like the painful, heavy lump she had woken up to.
The smell of coconut curry soup wafted through the open door, and Grace was on the verge of drooling as she pulled on her shorts and hurried towards the kitchen. Trying hard not to run down the stairs and trip in her haste she stuck a head around the corner into the kitchen
Cardinal was standing there, with an amused expression.
"Glad to know you feel a bit better."
Grace nodded as she grabbed the bowl of soup sitting on the counter, barely even bothering with the spoon. It didn't fully end the ravenous hunger, but gave her room to think with a clearer head.
"Yeah, I do." She glanced around the kitchen hoping to spot some more but was out of luck. The rest of the soup must have been in the fridge still
"God. This is insane. I don't think I've ever been so hungry in my goddamn life and considering this morning I really shouldn't be."
"I think it's just part of it darling. Best to eat when you're human, at least then you have more of a choice."
Grace stopped for a moment. Gears turning. If her stomach had been full, then she must have eaten something and if she were to go by the rancid taste in her mouth when she first woke up...
"What exactly did I eat last night?"
"Honestly? Not a fucking clue but your breath was rank and you certainly seemed to regret it. I had to carry you back. That is, after I chased you through the woods for several hours."
Grace groaned and leaned against the counter.
"It's not over yet, is it? So will several days a month be trying to consume literally anything I can rationalize as food or is this an all the time thing?"
"You're asking the wrong person, I have no idea."
Grace eyed them suspiciously. Her rational side finally catching up despite the weirdness of it all.
How did they know this? How did they know any of this?
"Got something you want to share?" Grace kept her tone controlled, looking Cardinal dead in the eye.
Their partners' body language shifted, from comfortable to mildy self-conscious. Like they were trying to shrink in on themself.
“What do you mean?
She poked Cardinal in the stomach, where the soft skin bulged beneath the hoodie stolen from her closet. It was obviously an attempt to be subtle, but it wasn't the first time they had been mysteriously bloated. Typically they just tried to pass it off as a food allergy or intolerance. Other times they both just ignored it.
"Between the belly and the nighttime disappearance act-"
"I'm not a werewolf. I'm something else. Think more along the bloodsucking side of the spectrum."
Grace recoiled before gently poking Cardinals firm stomach.
"So… You're like a tick or a leech or something?"
"I think vampire is the politically correct term, but yes."
"So… you were going to tell me when?"
Cardinal grimaced.
"Probably not now and not like this. I just… I was worried about you."
"Hmm."
"Are you mad?"
Grace paused in the tactile exploration of her lover's distended stomach before grabbing them by the face and kissing them slowly.
Cardinal pulled away gently, lifting their head and looking them in the eye.
"We should make sure you actually eat enough today. I really don't want to have to chase you through the woods again."
"What? What do you mean?"
"I have a friend who’s a bit more in touch with this sort of stuff that I am. He said you should actually go ahead and cave to that growling stomach of yours. Supposedly it’ll make the change easier, and will hopefully keep you from trying to go hunting.”
"Hunting? What was I even hunting?"
"Judging by the smell, you didn't hunt anything. You found it."
Grace grimaced, not even wanting to know anymore.
She leaned into her partner, the ghost of the pain she had felt this morning when she woke up was still fresh and that gut had to be a little sore. It gurgled softly, as if in reaction to her thoughts.
"You ok?" She said, putting a hand gently on their stomach.
"Hmm?" Cardinal glanced down and laughed. "Oh yeah, this is mild really. I stopped short to come back early. I wanted to go ahead and check on you. Turned out that was a good idea, wouldn't have wanted you stumbling naked back to your house just to find the door locked."
Grace hummed in response, already casting her eyes around the kitchen for more food.
It was going to be a long day.
----------------------
Grace woke up suddenly, having fallen asleep on the couch with her small partner curled up next to her.
It was easy to realize what had woken her up.
"Holy hell."
At her exclamation Cardinal stirred.
"What's up?"
Grace didn't even answer, trying to stand up and immediately collapsing onto her knees as a wave of vertigo washed over her.
There was swearing from Cardinal, then the short vampire picked her up and set her down on the couch.
"Your bedroom window is broken. We decided you should stay down here, remember?"
Grace shook her head, a clawing pain in her throat starting to bring her to tears. As if reading her mind Cardinal grabbed a water bottle, removed the top and steadied Grace's hands as she downed the whole thing. The pain didn't go away, but as she moved her joints started to crack and pop.
-----------------
Cardinal watched helplessly, their enhanced hearing picking up every shift and squelch as Grace's body began to rearrange itself. The taller girl curled in on herself, shivering even as her temperature skyrocketed.
"I-it's going faster this time."
Grace managed to force out the words as Cardinal helped her with her shirt. Despite the close relationship, the vampire still grabbed a light blanket and wrapped it around the werewolf. Covering her bare torso and hiding the disconcerting warping of tissue and bone beneath the skin. Then, they carefully massaged her back along the spine and shoulder blades and tried to ignore the feeling of bones moving under the skin every so often.
Caelum had said this would be rough, and not just for Grace either. As usual, the witch was right. However, Cardinal had more sympathy for the person actually going through the change than for the person who only had to listen.
And watch.
And feel.
Grace moaned feverishly, a sound that lengthened into a yell as her muscles clenched abruptly.
It cut off suddenly with a choking noise, and Cardinal instinctively backed away as the girl convulsed. When it got to be too much, they closed their eyes. Refusing to look at Grace’s body was forced into its other form.
Until the noises stopped, and something bumped their leg. They jerked their head up, obviously startling the large gray and copper wolf who jumped up and scrambled back like a scared dog.
Guilt tugged at Cardinal’s insides from the sight. Some half forgotten tidbit of information presented itself to her mind. Something about helping werewolves by saying their name.
Well, it was worth a shot. Right?
“Hey-”
The wolf began snarling, and Cardinal swiftly realized the large animal had backed itself into a corner.
“Grace, it’s ok. You know me. I won’t hurt you, and you don’t have to worry about hurting me, ok?”
The animal still seemed wary, but it recognized the name.
“Grace, you there sweetheart?”
They suspected they knew the answer. The wolf was definitely intelligent, but something was clearly lost in the transformation. Leaving a wild animal with some version of human rationality. A fun concept considering Grace already had the incredible ability to get into heaps of trouble, even when not high off of adrenaline and moonlight.
The wolf stopped snarling, cocking her head before rushing Cardinal and knocking them to the ground.
Cardinal yelped hands going up in an instinctive attempt to protect their face as the wolf-
Started licking their face like an excited puppy.
The vampire laughed, gently rubbing their hands through the unbelievably thick fur while they tried to come up with ways to keep the energetic werewolf occupied and the damage to a minimum.
Descending From the Sky - Part 1 (500 Followers Special)
IN CELEBRATION OF 500 FOLLOWERS...!
(freezes as someone whispers in my ear)
...Eh? You...say I have 509 now?
...Frick.
WELL, BETTER LATE THAN NEVER! Something a lot of people have wanted me to write - on this site as well as an alternate site I frequent - is a “rampage story.” You know the type: macro-sized predator goes stomping around eating people and causing destruction in their wake. I have several ideas for such tales, though most of them are still in the “pre-production” stages.
I decided to go with the one that could offer me the clearest possible plot, and which I know a few people were hoping to see: this is the third chapter in my Giant AU for My Hero Academia, based on Jack and the Beanstalk. In the past two sections, Midoriya and Kaminari went up to see the Giants. THIS time, however, one of the giants comes down to Earth themselves.
I mustn’t say more though, or I shall spoil the fun. This is a two-parter; part two will be up tomorrow. As is typical, this first section is mostly just expository stuff and...well...actual STORY than anything else. Most of the “fun stuff” will be in tomorrow’s second half. Keeping this in mind, I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for the support!
Three months had passed since Izuku Midoriya and Denki Kaminari had descended from the beanstalk with the Golden Eggs.
The result of their fortunate adventures were plainly visible: the farm where they both lived had become far more prosperous. The fields had been able to widen, as their master, Aizawa, had been able to hire new farmhands, buy new equipment, and even purchase a new cow for milking! (Although Izuku couldn’t help but notice how much whiter Milky White’s output had always been.) The farmhouse had been repaired, and plans were in motion to construct a larger building, all while a second barn was being built to house all the new supplies.
Over all of this rising splendor towered the magnificent beanstalk...and on the unusually hot morning where our story begins, the boys were very glad about that.
Kaminari sighed as he paused in his work, wiping his brow with a spotted handkerchief before stuffing it back into his pocket. Though the boys could afford nice clothes, they usually wore their old peasant garb while working After all, there was no point in ruining the good stuff.
“Y’know something, Midoriya?” he mumbled out, looking up.
Midoriya paused, putting down his hammer and looking down at Kaminari. His expression was wide-eyed and attentive.
Kaminari huffed, leaning against the side of the shed the two were in the process of building.
“Life doesn’t make sense sometimes.”
“Yeah, that’s a fact,” Midoriya said, with a small smile, and chuckled, turning his freckled face back towards his work. He was standing on a ladder and tapping nails into place to hold the roof boards. Kaminari was holding the nails in a jar, and passing them up, and was supposed to be holding the ladder. In that moment, however, the distracted blonde was more focused on the jar, biting his lip as he stirred the nails boredly. The pair had been alternating positions every couple of boards, since, obviously, it was a lot more work to hammer than to hold.
Not that the heat made either of the stations particularly fun. Kaminari tried to get a bit of shade from the side of the shed, but as the Sun was facing in the wrong direction, there was no shade to be had.
“What I mean is,” Denki went on, “I thought all this extra stuff would make our lives easier: a little less of a workload on us. Instead, it feels like we haven’t a chance to just...you know...breathe.”
“I know,” Midoriya murmured, pausing in his work and dipping his head. “Nor a chance to visit our friends ‘upstairs.’”
“Friend. Singular,” Kaminari corrected. “Unless you count that mean man-eater as a friend…”
Both of the teens shuddered, and Kaminari even crossed himself. Midoriya shook his head and refocused on hammering as Kaminari passed up another nail, and made sure to grab hold of the ladder with one hand. He didn’t want Midoriya to fall over.
For one thing, it would be kind of embarrassing if either of them broke an arm falling from a ladder after managing to climb up and down a mammoth beanstalk and never tumble once.
“Mr. Aizawa says that after this is built, we should be able to rest a bit,” Midoriya said, with a bright-eyed smile that made his green irises look like emeralds. “Maybe we’ll get to go back up there in a couple weeks.”
“Maybe,” murmured Kaminari, and frowned. “Hey, do you think he’s giving us extra work to keep us from going up there?”
Midoriya frowned and turned carefully on the ladder, looking to the beanstalk, then looking over the farmland...and shook his head again, this time in disagreement.
“No,” he answered, and continued hammering; the boards were hard and the nails long. “With everything going on, I think we can give him the benefit of the doubt there. There’s just...so much expansion, with all the buying and selling we’ve been doing…”
“I’m glad he let us keep those Golden Eggs!” grinned Kaminari. “They look cool in the bedroom.”
Midoriya nodded wordlessly in agreement, and began to descend the ladder. It was Kaminari’s turn to take care of the next few boards-and-nails.
“We’ll get back there soon,” he said. “Things just have to get harder before they get easier.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” shrugged Kaminari, giving Midoriya the nail jar as he took the hammer. He bit his lip and looked off to the side.
Midoriya tilted his head, concerned by the unhappy expression on his friend’s face.
“Hey...something else wrong?” he asked.
“Just...when I went up there last time…”
Kaminari trailed off...took a breath...and shook his head.
“Never mind,” he said, and smiled. “Let’s just get back to work. The faster we finish, the faster we can get inside where it’s cool.”
Midoriya looked skeptical, but before he could answer, a voice interrupted the pair…
“It’s going to take a little longer than expected to do that.”
The boys looked up. The baggy-eyed figure of Aizawa was approaching the pair. The teens stiffened, almost as if standing at attention.
“Good morning, Master!” they chorused, as if speaking to a drill sergeant.
Aizawa rolled his eyes and made a grumpy sound.
He made a lot of those.
“Relax, you’re not in trouble. Yet,” he mumbled, then went on a bit more clearly: “I need you two to stop work on the shed today. There’s another job for you both now.”
The teens looked at each other, then back to the head farmer.
“Um...no offense, sir,” Midoriya spoke up, and sounded sincerely polite and curious as he spoke, “But why not get one of the others to do it?”
“Or do it yourself?” suggested Kaminari, in the same tone. Neither sounded defiant, just a little confused.
Aizawa crossed his arms and sighed through his nose, looking out over the farmland, watching the new helpers hoe and shovel and rake away…
“I have to stay,” he said, simply and strictly. “And as for the rest of the farmhands…”
He looked back to the pair somewhat earnestly.
“...I trust you both more than most of them.”
The two boys practically had stars in their eyes.
“You...you trust us?” peeped Midoriya.
“Really?” Kaminari gasped.
Aizawa narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” he droned, drably. “I trust Mineta more than you both, and he’s a donkey. And I trust my dog more than I trust him.”
The pair ducked their heads with nervous, bashful smiles. Kaminari scratched the back of his head, kicking an imaginary pebble, while Midoriya rubbed one arm, trying to look anywhere but into Aizawa’s face.
Aizawa rolled his eyes and then cleared his throat.
“Ahem...the new help has loaded the wagon with produce to take to market,” he informed the pair. “Change clothes and hitch the horse up, then take it all. And this time, PLEASE don’t try to trade anything on the way for Magic Beans. One big green liability is enough.”
He looked to Midoriya pointedly with those words. Midoriya gulped guiltily.
“We’ll do our best, Master,” Kaminari promised, and slung an arm around Midoriya as he gave a cocky grin. “Just leave it to us! We’ll come back with more money than you can shake a stick at! Although I don’t know why you’d want to…”
Aizawa just made another grumpy sort of sound and paused before going on…
“Mind your way through the forest. Don’t stray from the path. Keep the cart moving on its course: some of the new boys have said they’ve encountered robbers in the woods, ever since…”
He pointed up towards the clouds indicatively.
“We’ll be careful, Mr. Aizawa,” vowed Midoriya, then looked to Kaminari. “C’mon, let’s get moving!”
The duo folded up the ladder, and darted off to put away their tools before getting ready for the journey to market. Aizawa watched them go, then looked back to the partially finished shed, then turned his gaze heavenward.
He glared as he looked at the top of the beanstalk...or, at least, the furthest point he could see, as it disappeared beyond the blue sky’s crest. He shook his head and pinched his brow as he walked off to see about feeding the chickens.
“This place has never been the same,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t mind so much if I could decide if that was good or bad…”
Meanwhile, in the Land of the Giants…
“Sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?”
The red-haired, fang-toothed giant known as Kirishima looked with concern to his friend. His fellow titan, Bakugou, narrowed his own crimson eyes, a sour expression on his face as he lounged on a sofa in their living room.
“Hell’s that s’posed to mean?” he sneered. “What do you think’s gonna happen while I’m here?”
Kirishima opened his mouth to answer...then closed it again.
“...Never mind,” he shrugged, and gave a cheerful smile as he slung the leather backpack over his back. “Anyway, I better get going. Tamaki’s probably gonna get all anxious if I’m late; start thinking if I still wanna be his friend, and so on…”
“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, and took a sip of the coffee he held in his hand. “How come you hang out with that wuss anyway? He’s softer than you are!”
“Hey, you can’t pick your friends!”
“Yes, you can,” droned Bakugou, boredly. “It’s family. You can’t pick your family.”
“That, too.”
Bakugou blinked slowly, his expression tremendously dull as he took another drink.
“Whatever. It’ll be nice to not have your dumb hair poisoning my vision,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, I’ll miss you, too,” Kirishima chuckled.
Bakugou just grunted, taking yet another drink. He licked his lips thinly as Kirishima tilted his head.
“Hey...you certain you’re alright?”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
“I dunno...just...you’ve been a lot quieter lately. And you haven’t gone down to mess with the little guys in a couple of months. Not that I mind that at all…”
He grinned.
“Am I rubbing off on you a little, maybe?”
“Dream on. I just haven’t had an appetite for ‘em.”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” Kirishima mumbled, sounded unconvinced, and gave a smile. “Well...anyway, I’ll be back by tomorrow. Guard the house well!”
“The fuck do you mean ‘guard the house well’?!” snapped Bakugou, barking out his annoyance. “DO I LOOK LIKE A DAMN GUARD DOG TO YOU?!”
Kirishima sniggered, and responded with a jaunty mock-salute. Whistling merrily, the friendly giant thus left the house.
Bakugou growled (ironically sounding VERY much like an angry guard dog), his fingers twitching around his coffee cup as he finished his drink. He stifled a burp in his ballooning cheeks - “HHHMMMRRRLLLRRRPH...grm…” - and swallowed the excess gas back down, thumping his bare chest with a beefy fist before rising to his feet. The Barbarian-garbed colossus then tromped back to the kitchen, cleaning his cup and putting it aside to drain and dry.
In truth, there was something on Bakugou’s mind. Something that had been buzzing around in his brain for months, and had become increasingly more annoying.
I climbed a beanstalk to the top of the sky...I befriended a giant, was able to hide from another...and I was able to make my whole village happy, and even the king...do you think anyone who’s ‘just meat’ could even think of all that?
The giant ground his teeth together, fingers twitching again.
“Worthless little runt,” he growled to himself. “What does he know?”
The little one Kirishima called “Midoriya” wouldn’t leave his mind. He kept trying to force the small one’s words aside, but the pathetic rat wouldn’t get out of his head. It was starting to drive the titan insane.
He’d spent his whole life eating humans. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and all around better than they were. It was the law of the jungle: they were SUPPOSED to fill his belly. It was just their fault they were so small and tasty!
That’s how he’d always justified it. That’s how he’d always felt about it. And it wasn’t as if he ate indiscriminately. But now…
Someones gotta knock some sense into you, Bakugou! You can’t just eat people, it’s...it’s not right! And if one of my friends is in danger...I’ve got to do whatever I can to help them! No matter what!
Bakugou snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. The little vermin had guts.
What he wouldn’t give to introduce them to HIS guts...
Still...he hadn’t been down to eat in months now...and the truth was, what he’d told Kirishima was true. He just...hadn’t been in the mood to eat little people in a while.
It was really starting to piss him off, because this had never happened before. They were his FAVORITE food...so what was holding him back?
GRRROOORRRLLLB…
Bakugou winced and hissed through his teeth, clapping a hand to his belly. His fingers rubbed over his bare, strong, well-sculpted abs as his stomach gurgled and “brumbled” noisily. So far, all he he’d had that morning was coffee. It seemed his gut was demanding something more substantial.
For a moment, the thought of dozens of squirming little morsels flashed in his mind...but he shook that thought away with a toss of his messy blonde locks, and instead relaxed slightly as he stomped towards the icebox.
“Something light oughta kill those damn noises,” he muttered coarsely. “Where’d I put those cold cuts…?”
The wagon full of pumpkins, apples, cucumbers, potatoes, corn, and all sorts of other home-grown delights rattled along the semi-level road that twisted and twined its way through the forest. Kaminari sat beside Midoriya, who held the reins, while an old gray mare hauled the cart along at a steady trot.
“Easy there, Chiyo,” Midoriya smiled gently, as the horse huffed softly, ears flicking at a noise from somewhere in the underbrush. “Just a jackrabbit.”
“Hopefully,” mumbled Kaminari, then cocked his head to the left. “Say, Midoriya? Do you think we’ll run into that Yagi guy who gave you the Magic Beans?”
“I doubt it,” Izuku said wistfully. “I get the feeling that was a one-time deal, or something.”
“Hm. Got it,” Kaminari grunted, looking away again, a somewhat pensive, pondering look on his face.
Midoriya’s smile faded.
“Kaminari...seriously, what’s been bothering you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re thinking. A lot. That’s...very unusual for you.”
“Hey. Thinking is dangerous. It can lead to headaches.”
Midoriya smirked and chuckled, then paused, pulling the horse to a stop.
“Come on,” he said, gently, placing the reins at his side nad putting a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”
Kaminari squirmed a bit uncomfortably.
“We should keep going,” he said, quietly. “Aizawa said there were-”
“We’ll be fine. Talk to me. We’re friends, right?”
“Right...well, um...it’s just…”
Kaminari took a deep breath, and let it out before speaking.
“...I’ve felt...really bad ever since I went up the beanstalk.”
“Bad as in sick?”
“No, just...bad. Emotionally. I really messed things up, and I almost got killed for it. I was being greedy and stubborn and selfish, and...look, I still love money-”
“And girls.”
“Well, duh, girls are what make life worth living, and money helps there.”
Midoriya sighed and rolled his eyes, still smiling.
“But seriously,” Kaminari went on, shifting his position so he could look Midoriya in the face, “What I did was wrong and...well...kinda stupid, even for me. I wanna make up for it somehow, just...I don’t really know what to do. And with all the time that’s gone by-”
“I forgive you.”
Kaminari stopped short.
“I forgive you,” Midoriya said, his smile gentle and friendly. “And I know Kirishima forgives you, too. If it makes you feel so bad, we’ll find a way to go up there and see if you can do something more. I wanna go back up there just as much as you do. But work’s gotta come first.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Kaminari sighed...then smirked, and adopted a dramatic pose, pointing forward. “Well...drive on, my good man!”
Midoriya snickered at Kaminari’s over-the-top impression of a pompous nobleman.
“Yes, My Lord,” he winked, and whipped the reins, clicking and calling out Chiyo’s name.
Chiyo let out a soft whinny and began to move forward again. Kaminari paused to adjust his clothes: both he and Midoriya were dressed in sharp-looking coats and breeches, so they could look more presentable at the market.
“Yellow and black are good colors,” smirked Kaminari, admiring the golden lining of his jacket. He grinned somewhat sneakily. “Hey, think I’ll impress a few ladies while we’re out?”
Midoriya was about to respond...but before he could - and after the pair had only traveled about twenty or thirty yards - Chiyo suddenly let out a sharp cry and came to an equally sharp stop.
“Whoa, whoa, girl!” called out Midoriya, and as the horse settled, he and Kaminari frowned and stood up in the wagon to see what was the matter.
The pair were surprised by what they saw: a small girl, dressed in a somewhat ratty-looking white dress. She had metallic-colored hair, almost the color of steel, and red eyes that looked like a couple of fresh, ripe cherries.
The girl was trembling slightly. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared up at the pair. She didn’t move off the path, even as she stood.
The two teens looked to each other, then back to the girl, and smiled.
“Hello there!” Midoriya said kindly, and stepped down from the cart, while Kaminari stayed aboard and took the reins, just in case the old mare got a bit fidgety.
The girl didn’t answer. She stayed still as Midoriya approached. His smile remained gentle and good-natured as he got down on one knee, bringing himself to the little girl’s height.
“What is your name, little girl?” he asked, sweetly.
The girl paused, blinking just once, before answering in a plaintive, soft voice: “Eri.”
“Eri,” repeated Midoriya. “That’s a nice name.”
He looked back to the wagon.
“Don’t you think so, Kaminari?”
“Oh, yeah. Short but pretty,” Denki nodded.
Midoriya smiled a little wider, and looked back to Eri.
“What are you doing out here, Eri?” he asked, carefully, and looked about with some small amount of worry. “Are your parents around?”
Eri bit her lip and squirmed where she stood, looking away and hugging herself.
“My...my papa needs help,” she admitted quietly, sounding almost ashamed of the words. “I...I heard your cart coming, and...c-could you...could you help me?”
Midoriya frowned with concern.
“Of course we’ll help,” he promised sincerely, and looked back to Kaminari. “Stay here with Chiyo and the market goods. I’m gonna see what’s going on, then we can figure out what to do.”
“Gotcha,” Kaminari nodded. “Be quick though.”
“I’ll try,” Midoriya said, then looked back to Eri with another kind, sweet smile. “C’mon, Eri...let’s go, okay?”
He extended a hand...and to his surprised, Eri stepped back, letting out a tiny, timid whimper, as if she expected to be hit. Midoriya looked at his palm, then up at the little girl.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. Just...take my hand, and tell me where to go. Alright?”
Eri blinked a few times, looking between Midoriya’s face and his hand...then, her own tiny, trembling fingers clasped about his. Midoriya smiled and stood up, holding firmly but carefully onto the young lady as she led him off the path into the forest.
Kaminari, for his part, watched them go. Once they were out of sight, he reached into the cart and picked out a juicy yellow apple. No reason he couldn’t have a snack while he waited: there was plenty in the cart to sell at market, anyway. He checked the surrounding trees as he took a crunching bite from the fruit. He made sure to be alert; he didn’t want to make any mistakes. After all, if Aizawa was right, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let their guard down in the forest…
While Kaminari dutifully and calmly guarded the wagon, Eri led Midoriya deeper and deeper into the untouched woods, away from the road. Midoriya looked back and frowned; the cart disappeared from sight behind him.
“How far away is your father, Eri?” he asked. “And what happened to him?”
Eri bit her lip, and paused, keeping her head down. As they stopped, Midoriya looked to her with concern.
“Eri?” he checked, quietly. “Please answer me.”
Eri let out a whimper...and, without warning, pulled her hand away from Midoriya’s, as if his touch burned her. He stepped back with some alarm as her tiny, frail shoulders began to shake. He could hear her starting to cry.
“...You’re nice,” she said very, very softly. “No one...no one has been nice to me...in such a long time…”
She gulped and looked up to the teen with misty eyes.
“I’m so sorry.”
No sooner had Eri uttered the words...then suddenly, someone leapt out from the bushes behind Midoriya and grabbed hold of him. Midoriya gasped and whirled to try and fight back...but another figure lunged from behind a tree and grabbed hold of his other arm. Izuku’s eyes widened: both of his attackers were strapping, masculine figures, dressed in long black robes, with plague doctor’s masks upon their faces.
“Wh-What is this?!” he shouted, and struggled to break free. “Let...LET GO OF ME!”
“Good work, Eri.”
Midoriya froze as he heard the words...and his eyes widened as a third figure stepped out from behind another tree, moving over to Eri’s side. They placed a dark-gloved hand on the girl’s shoulder; she whined like a kicked puppy and shuddered, clearly repulsed but unwilling to move away from the figure’s touch.
This figure wore a long green coat, lined with unusual violet fur. He, too, wore a plague doctor’s mask...but this one was not the plain ivory visage the two strikers wore. His was decorated in red and gold, and covered only everything below his eyes.
The golden eyes in question narrowed, a supercilious gleam in them.
“Very good work, my daughter,” the voice behind the mask intoned. “Thank you for helping us, Izuku Midoriya. We have much to discuss.”
The figure then pointed off in another direction, and uttered one command to the two cloaked men: “Take him!”
“KAMINARI!” Midoriya yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling harder as one of the two attackers pulled a short club out of their robes. “KAMINARI! KAMINAR-!”
WHACK!
The world became fuzzy and filled with plain. Midoriya’s voice slurred unhealthily.
“...K-Kamin-ar-i…”
WHACK!
Izuku knew no more.
However, his cries had not gone unheard. Kaminari jolted as he heard Midoriya call to him with what sounded like real panic, the apple dropping from his hands and rolling across the dirt. It stopped right in front of the gray mare, who, thinking it was a treat, nibbled it happily.
It was a lucky thing the apple distracted the horse, because the moment Kaminari heard the calls stop just as suddenly as they had come, he was on the move. He bounced off the wagon and bounded into the woods, calling back as he ran in the direction he’d seen Eri taking Midoriya.
“MIDORIYA! MIDORIYA, I’M COMING!”
Naturally, he was too late. Kaminari skidded to a halt, his expression horror struck, as he saw a second wagon not so far ahead...but this was no produce cart drawn by a farmer’s horse. Instead, it was a prison wagon, a cage-cart drawn by two black horses. He saw the driver’s plague doctor mask glint in the sunlight, and heard them laugh jeeringly as they whipped the horses up...then, the wagon rolled out of sight.
Just before it disappeared, he caught sight of Midoriya, slumped over in the prisoner’s cage...alongside Eri and another figure he couldn’t rightly make out.
Once it was gone, Kaminari stood stock still for several seconds, processing with dread what he had just witnessed...then, cursing under his breath, he dashed back through the woods to his own cart. Chiyo had just finished her apple, and let out a startled sound as the blonde-haired, yellow-eyed youth leapt back into the driver’s seat, tugging and cracking the reins.
“C’mon, old girl!” he shouted. “We have to get back to the farm! This is an emergency!”
The horse neighed, and the cart was soon turned around. Then, with another crack and a click, Kaminari rode the rattling wagon back down the road towards Aizawa’s farm as fast as he could…
“Kidnapped?!”
“Yeah!” Kaminari confirmed, emphatically. “I saw it happen, Mr. Aizawa! They were riding off with him; I couldn’t hope to catch up in time!”
Aizawa grinded his teeth; a look of intense worry burned in his eyes.
“Which way were they going?” he demanded, standing up from his desk in the room Kaminari had found him in. “South? West?”
“East,” Kaminari replied. “Due East, no doubt of it.”
“And you said the driver of the cart wore a plague doctor’s mask?”
“Yes, sir!”
Aizawa sighed.
“There’s no doubt of it then,” he murmured, in an ominous tone of mortal dread. “He’s being taken to Yakuza.”
Kaminari gulped nervously. Everyone in the Kingdom of Ua knew about Yakuza: it was one of two neighboring kingdoms, which had been feuding with the land for years on end. It was ruled by the evil King Kai; its armies were ruthless, and its defenses plentiful. While outright war had not been done in many years, relations between the kingdoms were still intensely...well...tense, to say the least. No one in Ua ever went to Yakuza...and lived to tell about it.
“Wh-why would they take Midoriya?” Kaminari almost whimpered.
“I can make a few guesses,” growled Aizawa curtly, as he dressed himself in his best hat and coat and looked to Kaminari. “I’m going to to take the new stallion to the castle. I have friends among the King’s Knights, they might be able to help us.”
“I’ll go with you!”
“No,” ordered Aizawa. “You stay here. I already have one of you in danger. I’m not getting you into any more trouble, and I don’t want you causing it, either.”
“But I want to help!”
“I know,” sighed Aizawa. “But this is no time for rash action!”
“This is the PERFECT time for rash action!” Kaminari almost screamed out. “They took Izuku, and who knows what they’re gonna-?!”
He stopped short at a burning, searing glare from Aizawa. He ducked his head and looked away.
“...I’m...I’m sorry…”
“Stay. Here,” Aizawa commanded, then added more softly, “Please.”
Kaminari said nothing, but remained where he was.
Aizawa looked the blonde haired boy over a time or two...then sighed again and shook his head, before hustling out of the house. There wasn’t a moment to lose.
For a time, Kaminari stayed perfectly still where he stood. He listened. He waited. And the instant he heard the sound of Aizawa whistling to his horse, and the sound of the horse hooves galloping off into the distance...his eyes lifted.
He looked to the beanstalk outside...and then moved to Aizawa’s desk. He hastily pulled out a small piece of parchment, and scribbled a message onto it.
You said to leave you a note next time, the message read. I’m sorry, Master. I have to help my friend. I have to make up for my mistakes. Signed, Kaminari.
With this managed, Kaminari clambered out of the open window, and crept towards the mighty beanstalk. He glanced from side to side, to make sure no one was looking...then, without another thought, he latched onto its based, grabbed hold of its stems and leaves...and began, once more, the long climb up...Up...UP…
“I’ll save you, Midoriya,” he promised, as he soon climbed up past the roof of the house, and kept right on climbing. “I’ll save you...one way or another…”
“UUUURRRRRRRROOOORRRRRPH...mph...weak…”
Bakugou snorted as he lounged back on the couch in the den of his and Kirishima’s home. His stomach was ever so slightly distended; just enough to make the strong, deep crevices between his six-pack muscles a little less well-defined, a clear but very small curve of fullness along his middle. One of his hands was resting upon his gut, covering his deep, black navel. He didn’t rub his stomach, didn’t scratch it...simply let his hand rest there, the limb rising and falling as his gut moved with his breathing.
The ogre’s other arm was slung behind his messy-haired head as he glared with his usual, grouchy scowl at the ceiling, red eyes smoldering as he seemed to look through the ceiling itself...thinking and thinking. The (relatively) light meal he’d enjoyed left a pleasant warmth in his belly...but was not truly full yet. It barely made the slightest dent in his gut, and he knew he could fit more.
But nothing around the house seemed to his satisfaction...and he had a feeling he knew what he wanted.
What was stopping him? He knew what his stomach desired. He’d never denied it before. So why was he purposefully avoiding it now? He couldn’t even blame his appetite: he clearly wanted it, so what was holding him back?
He didn’t know.
This was...annoying.
“Pissing me off,” he all but hissed to himself, fingers curling over his bare belly and twitching slightly with his ever-present anger. “Damn that little snack-rat...how’d that little fucker get inside my head anyhow…”
He growled and shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts and the ever-repeating words. But they wouldn’t go away.
He covered his ears, snarling and pulling at his hair.
“Die, you stupid thoughts!” he snapped, trying to think of a way to force them out of his mind. He couldn’t take this much more…!
He froze in the middle of his thoughts. His eyes widened as his ears pricked up. The giant listened closely. He could have sworn...he’d heard the scampering of tiny feet.
He sniffed the air...and growled again, almost like a wild bear.
“Fee, Fi, Fo-Fuck it. I don’t have time for this shit…”
The giant swung himself out of his seat and onto the floor...but he didn’t stomp his way towards the source of the sound and scent. Instead, he cautiously began to prowl towards it, moving almost like a giant cat. He was fairly certain the little rat hadn’t realized he was around, and he wanted to keep it that way…
The giant tip-toed out of the living room and towards the main hall. He peered around the corner, and his red eyes widened at what he saw. He looked both surprised and angry at the same time.
Creeping across the floor was a familiar little fellow - no bigger than a mouse, compared to the man-eating man-mountain - with yellow hair and matching eyes. He nervously moved across the floor, peering from side to side and looking all around.
“Kirishima?” he called out. “Hello? Is anybody home?”
“Yeah. Someone’s home, little snack.”
Kaminari jumped...then squealed with fright as he saw Bakugou step out from hiding. The giant’s teeth were bared in a vicious snarl, his fists clenched and visibly shaking. With a comical holler, Kaminari flailed and turned around, trying to make a mad dash back the way he had come…
“COME BACK HERE, RAT!” Katsuki roared. “I’LL KILL YOU!”
“That’s not a good incentive for me to come back!” Kaminari called back.
Bakugou just let out a wordless shout of anger, and lumbered forward. In three long, strong strides, he moved in front of Kaminari. Kaminari skidded to a halt as the Giant glared and lifted one massive boot over him...
“DIE, RUNT!”
“YIPE!”
Kaminari barely had time to scramble out of the way before the giant’s foot slammed into the floor.
THOOM!
Denki stumbled as the floor shook with the force of the stomp. He hit the floor was was briefly winded...and barely had time to lift a hand in a pleading gesture, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable, as Bakugou’s own giant fingers came swooping down towards him and snatched him.
Kaminari cried out as he was hoisted into the air; vertigo hit him in an instant, and he felt woozy...but only for a second or two. He had much worse things to worry about as he was soon held up to the giant’s face.
“What are you doin’ back here?” sneered Bakugou.
“I...I was lookin’ for-GACK!”
Kaminari choked and gasped as Bakuguou gave him a squeeze. His ribs felt nearly ready to cave in, and his spine creaked forebodingly.
“I don’t give a damn,” Katsuki snorted, then smirked. “Guess it’s my luck you decided to try and rob us again. This time...you’re not goin’ home, runt.”
Kaminari let out a terrified moan as Bakugou licked his lips.
“I haven’t had a human to eat in months,” the ogre rumbled, his free hand rubbing his belly up and down. “Now, I’ll finally get a small taste again...thanks for comin’ to me, meat.”
So saying, Bakugou closed his eyes and opened his jaws. Kaminari cried out as he was brought closer to the stinking hot maw of the man-eating monster, the tongue twitching as the teeth parted to reveal the slimy chasm of pink, soft flesh that would consume him.
“W-Wait...WAIT, JUST A MINUTE! WAIT, PLEASE!” Kaminari yowled as the mouth loomed closer and closer, and he struggled in the giant’s grip. “I DIDN’T COME HERE TO STEAL, I PROMISE! PLEASE!”
Bakugou stopped. His eyes opened...and he pulled Kaminari away from his jaws, closing them and glaring at the small morsel.
“You’re...not here to steal?” he repeated, skeptically.
Kaminari - relieved to be away from that mouth and the odor of digesting meat that came from it - sighed and nodded in confirmation.
Bakugou glared darkly.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Um...b-because it’s true?” Kaminari eeped out.
Bakugou’s glare did not soften.
“Listen,” Kaminari said, and took a breath to steady himself before going on, still wiggling to try and find some semblance of comfort between the boa constrictors that were Bakugou’s mighty digits. “L-Listen, I...I’m sorry. For what I did last time. I know it was wrong, a-and I won’t do it again.”
“Apology not accepted,” sneered Bakugou. “And if that’s all you’ve got, I’m eating you.”
“It’s not, it’s not!” exclaimed Kaminari, desperately. “Please...wh-where’s Kirishima? I need his help!”
“Stupid hair’s not here. He won’t be back till tomorrow,” shrugged Bakugou, carelessly.
Kaminari looked mortified.
“But...but...oh, no...now what do I do?” the human worried, speaking more to himself than the giant. “By tomorrow...b-by tomorrow, he could be dead…”
Bakugou looked the tiny morsel up and down, and tilted his huge head curiously.
“What do you need that extra’s help for, anyway?” he groused.
“Midoriya. My friend. He’s been kidnapped.”
Bakugou’s eyes widened anew.
“Kidnapped?” he repeated, voice soft and somewhat shaky.
“Yeah,” Kaminari nodded, his expression dour. “He...he was tricked…a-and a bunch of creeps from a rival kingdom took him away. I...I was too late to stop them. I though...maybe Kirishima could...you know...help me rescue him. Being a giant and all. But...without his help…”
“Without his help, you’ll be better off,” snorted Bakugou. “Where is this kingdom?”
Kaminari looked up, seemingly stunned.
“Wait...you mean...YOU’LL help me?”
“Psh. Don’t think of it as me helping you. I’m just helping myself,” Bakugou snorted, and smirked cruelly as he jabbed his free thumb to his chest, head held high. “No one’s gonna kill that green-haired, worthless idiot except ME. Besides, I’ve been on a ‘diet’ recently, you might say…”
He licked his teeth as his stomach let out an excited burbling noise.
“...I think it’s time I broke it. So...where do I need to go to eat?”
Kaminari gulped nervously.
“Um...uh...y-you need to go due east, f-from our home. I...I can point the way if you...um...maybe...p-promise not to eat me?”
Kaminari smiled hopefully. Bakugou glared.
“I don’t make promises to snacks,” he growled...then paused before going on, slowly: “Still...it’ll be hard to find the place without a guide...I guess I can let you live a little longer.”
Kaminari sighed with even greater relief.
“Thanks,” he breathed...then squeaked like a rodent as the giant quickly tucked him into his vest pocket.
“Stay right there, and if you do anything stupid, I’ll squash you flat,” Bakugou grunted. “Now come on, snack. You’ve got another annoying bug to save…”
He grinned viciously as he began to march out of the house.
“...And I’ve got dinner waiting for me now. Heh heh heh…”
Kaminari shuddered as he heard the giant smack his chops hungrily, and looked out over the white and blue landscape of the Kingdom Above the Clouds as his “ride” stepped out into the daylight and went on his way.
“I hope I don’t live to regret this,” Denki murmured to himself. “Hang on tight, Midoriya...I’m coming…”
“Ahem!”
“Uh...oh, uh...w-we’re coming.”
“Hmph. Better. Don’t make me regret not eating you…”
“I’ll try...h-heh…”
Izuku Midoriya groaned; a splitting headache greeted him as he opened his eyes. Breathing, itself, required great focus, which only made the throbbing, stinging pain in his cranium worse. Something prickled like nettles inside his nostrils - it smelled like ammonia - rousing him from the bleary, black haze he’d been in for some time.
He could still feel the weight of the club against his skull, and hoped he didn’t have any lasting damage to worry about.
Midoriya sneezed as the odor became stronger, and shook his head with a louder groan, trying to clear it and focus on the fuzzy, faded-out world around him.
“That’s enough,” a voice grunted. “He’s coming to.”
The scent went away, and that’s when Midoriya became aware of a few things. One, his hands and ankles were both bound with what felt like rough hemp cord. Two, a large wooden post or pole was against his back, his arms wrapped around it behind him. Three, as he shifted his bound feet he realized they brushed against splintery wood.
Finally, vision and total awareness returned to him...and Midoriya felt a chill go up his spine. The location appeared to be a city square, a huge black castle not so far in the distance, and various buildings all around him. This, however, was no city square he’d encountered before...and the people around him were the most unsettling part of all. There were hundreds gathered all around him, and while many of them looked perfectly ordinary in dress and appearance...at least a third of them were wearing dark robes and bone-white plague doctor’s masks, thee black lenses blankly staring at Izuku upon the pyre he was stationed on.
At the base of the pyre, Midoriya became aware of a flicker of flame. He looked down and gulped nervously: one of the Plague Doctors carried a torch. Beside him stood King Kai: his purple eyes peering over the crest of his ruby-and-gold mask, dressed still in his expensive-looking green and purple coat. Half-hidden behind the King was Eri, who was visibly shaking, eyes darting about to look anywhere except at Midoriya.
Midoriya blinked at Eri...then looked up with a glare at King Kai.
“Where am I?” he asked, bluntly. “Wh-What’s going on?”
“Welcome to Shie, the capital city of Yakuza,” King Kai answered, and Midoriya could sense the smirk behind the mask. “I am-”
“I know who you are,” Midoriya said, trying to sound as brave as he could, but unable to stop shaking. “What do you want with me?”
Kai blinked slowly.
“Why don’t you guess, filthy Uan?” he responded, his voice cold and cutting.
Midoriya bit his lip.
“In the past few months, the Beanstalk you grew has helped make your kingdom’s capital all the more prosperous,” Kai decided to explain, his voice business-like. “I would like to know how you were able to create such a thing, and where all the wealth came from.”
“And why should I tell you that?”
Kai narrowed his eyes, and with a slight motion of his head, the robed figure holding a torch stepped forward.
Midoriya shuddered, but held up his head, straightening against the post as he glared defiantly.
“Y-You can do what you want to me,” he said softly. “I’ll never tell you anything. If someone like you figured it out, who knows what you could do!”
“I can already think of a few possibilities,” Kai said, coolly. “But I would recommend reconsidering. Burning to death is a TERRIBLE way to go. Trust me.”
Midoriya’s defiant expression did not shift.
“Please don’t hurt him…”
Both Kai and Midoriya looked down at the furtive little voice that spoke. Kai’s eyes widened as he found Eri tugging on his pant leg.
“Please...j-just let him go,” she pleaded. “H-He’s nice, he didn’t-AH!”
Kai sneered as one of his minions struck the girl across the face, knocking her back. Kai checked his leg and sighed with relief when he saw nothing wrong.
“Never touch me,” he said, in a soft, warning tone. “How often do I have to tell you, Eri? You. Do. Not. TOUCH ME.”
Eri sniffled and whimpered, holding her cheek; a bright red mark was visible upon it.
“Leave her alone!” snapped Midoriya. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?”
“She’s useful on occasion,” Kai answered, in the same icy tone as before. “But she’s very undisciplined. A father is supposed to discipline his child when they misbehave, yes?”
Midoriya looked ill. He looked to Eri with sympathy.
“Are you okay?” he asked, gently.
Eri blinked, clearly not sure how to respond to the question under the circumstances.
“She is far from your concern,” Kai intruded. “I’ll ask again: will you tell us where you got those so-called Magic Beans that brought that stalk to fruition? This is your last chance.”
Midoriya struggled against his bonds for a moment, but the knots were strong and taut. He heard several in the crowd snicker. Sighing in defeat, he glared at Kai, who stared up patiently.
“Even if I knew where you could find them,” he said, firmly, “I would never tell you.”
“Very well,” shrugged King Kai. “In that case, you are of no use to me.”
He held out a hand, twitching his fingers in a beckoning gesture. The minion holding the torch handed it over. Kai then turned to address the crowd.
“Citizens of Yakuza!” he thundered. “The enemy agent has refused to tell us the secret of the Magic Beanstalk. Today, we burn him, and purge his sorry existence from our clean and well-ordered society. Tomorrow, we shall treat those who live on his farm the same way...and then cut down the mighty beanstalk itself!”
The crowd cheered, lifting their fists and shouting jeers at Midoriya. Kai smiled darkly behind his mask, amethyst eyes glittering maliciously as he turned back to Izuku.
“Any last words?” Kai hissed.
Midoriya blinked once...and gave his reply quickly.
PHUT!
Kai stumbled back...and his expression became one of livid horror as he felt the slimy substance on his cheek...felt his face burning, felt the hives itch and puff up…
He glared with psychotic, feral fury at Midoriya, who smirked back with undying defiance after spitting in the evil king’s face.
Kai snarled, and without further hesitation, hurled the torch onto the pyre.
The kindling at the base of the pyre began to crackle and burn in an instant. Midoriya’s smile faded, and he began to struggle again. The crowd cheered louder than before, laughing and mocking Midoriya’s struggles as he fought for dear life. Smoke was wisping up, and growing rapidly in density...the fire would be burning fiercely in a very short while. If smoke inhalation didn’t kill him, the flames themselves would. Either way, it would be a lingering, painful demise.
“HELP! HELP ME!” he called out, struggling to loosen the knots.
Kai glared with triumphant anger as his robed minions taunted Midoriya by mockingly screaming for help, and the crowd pointed and hollered.
“NO! NO, LET HIM GO! STOP!” Eri cried out, as two of the masked men held her back.
“Perhaps you’ll scream out the answer while you burn, you diseased piece of trash,” sneered Kai. “If not...at least tomorrow we’ll make sure your family suffers the same fate.”
Midoriya struggled harder in response, which made Kai chuckle. He crossed his arms, the dark king patiently watching the fire rise and the smoke billow, quickly growing into thicker and thicker curls of vapor...it wouldn’t be long before Midoriya began coughing and wheezing.
He was going to enjoy every last second of this he thought, shuddering with revulsion as he touched the stinging portion of his face the boy had spat on.
“Bring me my balm,” he muttered, looking towards one of his minions. “I need to-”
THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP…
Kai froze...and the crowd soon went silent...as a huge, pounding sound echoed through the air. The ground began to tremble, and all across the city went very quiet, confused and frightened as the noise grew steadily louder, and the vibrations more intense…
Midoriya blinked, and looked upwards, as did Eri and Kai and nearly everyone else gathered in the city square. Midoriya saw a huge, towering silhouette - at least as large as the castle itself - approaching the area…
“Kirishima?” he whispered to himself hopefully, with an optimistic smile.
“A Giant!” exclaimed King Kai, and barked orders to some of his soldiers as he moved a few steps away from the pyre, the people of the city clutching each other, their chatter turning into frightened noises as the King shouted and cried out: “Get to the edges of the city! Fan out! Do everything in your power, but don’t let that...that THING pollute my capital!”
The soldiers hurried to move, forgetting all about Midoriya, whose pyre still burned. Midoriya himself had almost forgotten, himself, given the circumstances.: the adventurous lad’s smile quickly faded into a look of confusion and fear as he realized the hair didn’t look like Kirishima’s...and as the giant moved closer and closer, and people in the city began to fretfully murmur, he soon saw the glare of two glowing red eyes.
So like Kirishima’s, yet so unlike them.
A flash of green and orange caught his eye...and that’s when Midoriya knew.
“B-Bakugou?!”
You all may have noticed I never uploaded a story last week. I’m trying to get at least one a week done, but recently I’ve been feeling overtired and the usual days I take to write my TW stories or other personal works have been getting eaten up with other things. I don’t have a lot of time to spend on writing, or a lot of energy. So things may slow down a bit now.
Anyway, my point with that is that the main reason there was no upload was because I was working on THIS sucker: another massive, three part OC introduction piece. As well as introducing my newest OC for Twisted Wonderland, Elias Inque, it also features the return of our favorite Giant, Billy Geant! So those of you who love Billy should hopefully have some fun here. ;)
Part Two will be uploaded tomorrow, and Part Three will be uploaded on Thursday.
You gasped for breath and grunted as your ride through the winding passage beyond the trapdoor came to a halt. You looked over to check on your friends; Donald and Goofy looked just as startled and breathless as yourself, but thankfully, none of you were injured. You gazed about the room you had come to with apprehensive curiosity; you appeared to be inside a deep pit or huge vat of some sort. Everything around you was sterile and metallic; the shades of gray running a limited palette of silver, chrome, steel, and aluminum. It was cold, the light dim and pale, and everything you saw was spotlessly clean…
…At first.
PLIPP.
You and your comrades froze as you stared down at a single drop of ink that dripped onto the floor from somewhere above you all, the ink blot spreading out to form an uneven, asymmetrical pattern on the otherwise tidy metal floor.
“So,” came a voice as dark, cold, and refined as the chamber itself. “We meet again…for the last time, I assure you!”
SCHLANK-SCHLANK-SCHLANK!
You and your friends gasped as, out of the floor, shackles appeared, binding you to the ground. You tugged and pulled at the iron restraints, but they wouldn’t budge! A low, dangerous chuckle caught your attention, and you turned your eyes upward.
High above you, you saw a control panel, covered in knobs, lights, and dials, set upon a ledge overlooking the deep well. Out from behind the control panel stepped your captor: a tall figure, skeletal of build, draped from head to toe in a black cloak, gloves, boots, and a cowl like that of an executioner. Though the figure’s face was nearly completely covered – aside from a pair of bright green eyes behind the mask – you could somehow sense their smirk as, from the folds of their dark robe, they pulled out a small wooden box.
The Dark Figure opened the box, and pulled from it what appeared to be a thin, rectangular piece of metallic-colored green plastic.
“Now that I have Von Drake’s Radium Card,” the Dark Figure gloated, “All the money in the world will be mine!”
“A credit card?!” quacked Donald.
“So THAT’S what was in it!” you realized.
“Ooh! Shiny!” giggled Goofy.
You and Donald looked to him, then back up at the Dark Figure as he put the card back in the box, and tucked it once more into its secret place in his robes. The Dark Figure then pulled a lever on the control panel. A secret hatch opened up above its head; through the opening, you could see a massive blimp, colored black and white with shades of blue here and there, and with a flag that bore the image of a single spot of ink.
“Well,” the Dark Figure chuckled, and went on in a sing-song sort of way: “It’s time for me to go! And time for you three to become the biggest ink blots in history!”
With a powerful laugh, the figure pressed a button on the control panel…and suddenly, out of the walls sprang out what looked like four giant fountain pens. The pens shook…and then, dark ink began to pour from their quills, spilling into the chamber. You shivered as the cold, slippery, somewhat sticky fluid began to pool rapidly around you, as you realized the grim purpose of the chamber you were stuck in. Donald realized it, too, and let out a frightened moan, while Goofy lifted an ink-covered hand from the pool, tilting his head as he looked with confusion at the dark liquid.
You could sense the evil smile of the Dark Figure as you looked up again, and saw him grab hold of a rope ladder that had dropped from the zeppelin and through the open hatch in the roof.
“Farewell,” the Figure growled. “Although I know you won’t. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
Laughing like a madman, the Dark Figure waved goodbye in a taunting manner, as the rope ladder retracted and he vanished into the zeppelin’s cabin…then, with a whirr of its motors, the airship began to drift off into the clear night sky beyond, leaving you and your friends to suffer your inky, horrible fate.
“Pretty stars,” you heard Goofy mumble as he looked to the sky as well.
You sighed; there were days you wished you had his ignorance.
“What are we gonna do?!” Donald squawked in panic, tearing at his head feathers.
Now THERE was an attitude you could get behind.
“Calm down, Donald!” you said, shakily, trying to keep your own composure as a bright thought came to your head. “Use your stamper to shut off the ink!”
Donald’s expression brightened, and he nodded, splashing a bit as he reached for the stamp in his pocket.
“Good idea!” he cheered, and stuck his sharp, short tongue from his bill as he reeled back like a practiced pitcher. You watched anxiously; the ink was rising rapidly, already lapping at your pelvis. You shifted to try and pull free, but the restraints on your legs still held you tight.
Donald hurled his stamper up at the control panel. You heard the “DONK” as it hit a button, then three more repetitions of the same sound as it bounced along the control panel.
There was a terrible groan from somewhere inside the machines behind the steel walls…a sound that made your blood run cold. Donald gulped, and Goofy whimpered.
“Uh-oh,” they both muttered.
Their worry was warranted, for suddenly the four fountains were GUSHING with oily black ink; instead of turning the ink off, Donald’s stamper had only SPED UP the process!
The ink rushed upwards in a surging tidal wave.
“HELP! HELP! HELP!” you all called out desperately, as the dark fluid rose faster than ever, bubbling its way past your chest and up to your neck…
…Then, your eyes bugged out as it flowed over your chin. You opened your mouth and screamed out one last time as both Donald and Goofy were swallowed up by the ink. Distantly, you saw the twinkling stars above, as the ink oozed over your forehead and face…
Then, there was no air, and everything went black as the ink completely consumed you.
“SNAP OUT OF IT!”
You coughed violently and jolted as something SLAMMED into your chest. Your eyes shot open as wide as they could possibly go as you…sat up.
But…wait…what were you sitting up in?
You looked around fast, eyes desperate and frantic…then you realized you were breathing. The smell and texture of the ink was gone. You steadily became aware of the fact you were in your room. It was nighttime.
You’d been dreaming again.
A sound between a groan and a sigh of deepest relief left your still trembling body, and lifted a hand to your face. You felt a little sick.
“Nya? Are you alright?” meowed a worried voice.
You looked and found Grim sitting on your bed. The fire eared, trident-tailed, cat-like critter tilted his head, whiskers twitching as his turquoise eyes glittered with deep concern.
“H-Hi,” you managed to shakily breathe out.
“That must have been some nightmare, Minion,” Grim observed. “You were gasping for air like a dying tuna.”
“Please never use that analogy again,” you groaned a bit less shakily, and shook your head as you tried to clear your head.
Grim tilted his head the other way and shifted his position in your lap, on top of your blankets.
“What were you dreaming about?” he asked, carefully. “One of the Great Seven?”
“No,” you answered, shaking your head, then paused. “I was…I was in a…I can only describe it as a death trap.”
“A death trap?” Grim repeated, crinkling his nose. “That doesn’t sound super scary; more cartoony, like something on a Saturday Morning.”
“It’s different when you’re going through it,” you said, grimly, then added: “There was this…guy, dressed all in black…I guess he trapped me and my friends, in my dream…it all felt so REAL…”
“Well, it’s all over now,” Grim soothed, and pawed at you comfortingly. “You should get back to sleep, minion…I can sleep with you! Keep all those scary, mean dreams away!”
The cat like creature puffed out his chest with pride. You smirked and chuckled despite yourself, petting the plump feline-like imp behind his ears.
“Well, with the Great Grim watching out for me, I can hardly expect anything else, can I?” you teased.
Grim purred and smiled wider as he was petted and praised.
You both yawned; you lay back on your pillow, while Grim curled up atop your legs.
“Sleep well now, Minion,” Grim said, gently. “I’m here.”
“I know,” you whispered. But it took you some time to finally sleep again. You frowned as you looked to the ceiling, and pondered the alarming dream you’d had.
You knew better than to take it for granted: something was coming. And after how vivid that nightmare had been…whatever it was could NOT be good.
Story of your life.
“Hey, careful not to burn the eggs!”
“Sorry, sorry,” you grumbled, flipping some fried eggs onto a plate and returning to the breakfast table. Grim licked his lips as he saw you place his breakfast before him: two fried eggs, six strips of bacon, a good helping of hashbrowns, and a single piece of toast with peanut butter. Also, a small bowl of milk. Your breakfast was exactly the same, but with chocolate milk in a cup, rather than a small bowl.
“Yummy!” cheered Grim, clapping his forepaws, then tilted his head. “Um…isn’t that a bit much for you?”
“Maybe,” you shrugged. “But hey, after last night, maybe I’ll have more of an appetite.”
Grim looked sympathetically at you as he picked up his toast and began to eat. He growled something through a full mouth. You frowned at him.
“Try SWALLOWING before you talk…and be careful, you know Bertie doesn’t like it when you get crumbs all over the tablecloth.”
The Haunted Mansion called Ramshackle Dorm seemed to groan and shiver. Grim gulped nervously, swallowing the masticated toast in the process.
“Uh…sorry, heh heh,” he laughed nervously, rubbing one arm, then looked to you again as the house settled. “So, um…what I was trying to ask was…that dream’s still bothering you, huh?”
“The last time I had a dream like that, it was right before you ended up getting pulled into the Kingdom Above the Clouds,” you answered. “And before that, it was all the dreams I had involving the Great Seven. After what happened with Mickey, I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”
Grim nodded slowly.
“Well…if it’s the start of an adventure, there’s not much we can do but ride it out,” he said, sounding a bit bitter about that. “I just hope it doesn’t mean I get kidnapped by another freaky cloud monster…”
You smiled and shook your head as you took a sip of milk and then ate your own taste quietly.
You had scarcely finished your toast – and Grim had scarcely finished his eggs – when suddenly you heard a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” you said to Grim, and dabbed at your lips with a napkin before hurrying out of the dining room and to the foyer. Another knock sounded out, sharp and fast, and you called out: “I’m coming, please hold on!”
You opened the door…and gaped at what you saw on the other side. Ace and Deuce had the most dismal looks on their faces…as they were each held in the burly grip of a seven-foot tall figure, with a “musclegut” build, dressed in a Pomefiore school uniform, the vest barely able to contain their thick belly. The figure smiled down at you, baby blue eyes accenting its gap-toothed grin.
“Hello, Little Friend!” Billy Géant greeted in his usual, boisterous, booming way.
“Hi, Prefect,” droned Ace and Deuce, monotonously, and glared at each other, as if each was angry the other had spoken at the same time.
You blinked, mouth opening and closing a few times at the odd scene before you. It wasn’t often that your shapeshifting giant friend walked up to your door carrying your two best friends like a pair of grocery bundles.
“What…I…how…why…?”
“Can we come in?” Billy asked, sweetly, tilting his head.
“Oh! Uh…sure,” you said, lamely, and stepped aside.
Billy nodded, and ducked his head as he stepped into the Ramshackle dorm, Ace and Deuce grumbling as he hauled them in.
“Mind the doorframe!” Ace snapped.
“I don’t want to break anything else,” Deuce added with a growl.
It was then you noticed that both of your friends had casts on their arms: Ace had his on the right, Deuce on the left.
“What happened?” you asked with concern.
“I can answer that,” came a cool, clean voice. You turned…and stepped back a bit more as Vil Schoenheit strutted into the mansion, flipping some of his blonde hair behind his ear with a daintily gloved hand. The head of Pomefiore looked around the foyer with a raised eyebrow, his hands on his hips.
“You’ve had this place redecorated, haven’t you?” he asked, then before you could say that yes, in fact, you’d changed out some of the furniture, he sniffed snootily: “Hm. I don’t like it.”
“I…well…sorry,” you grumbled, thinking you were quite happy with said furniture as you shut the door. “Billy, can you put Ace and Deuce down now? Presuming they can walk, that is.”
Billy tilted his head the other way.
“Awww, but it’s fun to carry ‘em,” he said, disappointedly.
“Billy,” Vil glared, and stretched out one hand commandingly, pointing to the floor. “Down, Big Potato.”
Billy pouted, but obeyed, setting Ace and Deuce onto their feet. The two members of Heartslabyul scooted away from the hurly-burly ogre with a couple of unintelligible grumbles, while Billy just smiled and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Follow me to the dining room, Grim and I were just having breakfast,” you offered. You knew Vil didn’t like discussing things in the foyer; he considered it rude.
Billy’s eyes lit up at the mention of Grim.
“My Fluffy Little Friend is here?” he half-squealed.
You nodded slowly.
“Yeah, he’s…usually ALWAYS here, or at least-”
“EEEEEEE, I’MMA SNUGGLE!”
And before you could stop him, Billy had gone lumbering down the hall. A moment later, you heard the sound of Grim yowling, followed by a crash from a chair hitting the floor, and Billy calling out: “C’MERE, LITTLE FELLA! LEMME HUG YA!”
All four of you groaned; Deuce shook his head, Ace rolled his eyes, and Vil facepalmed before looking at you with narrowed eyes.
“I have YOU to thank for forcing me to put up with his lunkheadedness,” he said, droningly.
“Hey, blame the Magic Mirror for placing him in Pomefiore, not me!” you protested, lifting your hands to show you had nothing to do with the matter. “Besides, I imagine some extra muscle isn’t TOO bad a thing to have on your side.”
“You make me sound like Leona with words like that,” Vil sneered, curling his lip and crinkling his nose with some disgust. “I have Rook, and Epel, why would I want a literal ogre helping me out?”
“Well, you’ve got him, regardless,” you said, firmly, then dismissed the matter with a wave of one hand as you gestured to the three to follow you to the dining room. “Now, come on and tell me what’s going on.”
Vil nodded, then snapped his fingers and gestured commandingly to Ace and Deuce. They followed obediently…bumping each other with their shoulders as they did.
“Your fault,” groused Ace, under his breath.
“Shut up,” Deuce growled back.
You glanced back over your shoulder with a frown of your own. What WAS going on?
You soon found out as the three sat down at your dining room table. Vil sat in Grim’s place, while Deuce sat to your right and Ace to your left. You didn’t want them sitting next to each other right now; something told you that could lead to bloodshed.
“As I should hope you know,” Vil said, smoothly, “Tonight is the closing performance for our prestigious academy’s production of Shakespeare’s Scottish Play”
“Oh, you mean Macbe-?”
“DON’T.”
You snapped your mouth shut. Vil sighed with relief.
“Yes. And I am playing the title role.”
He gestured to your friends.
“These two potatoes volunteered to help on the crew.”
“And now their arms are broken,” you observed. “What exactly caused that?”
Ace and Deuce both opened their mouths to answer, but were stopped by Vil lifting his hands indicatively. They shrank back, and Vil went on.
“I cannot conceive,” he almost hissed. “You may ask them, yourself, once my gorgeous presence has vacated these premises. My point is that I know you to be a problem solver; you helped me a good deal in the past before, not to mention all the other dorm leaders and their vice-heads.”
“You want me and Grim to take their place?” you guessed.
Vil nodded.
“I don’t know,” you said slowly and uncertainly. “I mean…not that I don’t WANT to help, you need to understand that. And it’s not even a matter of scheduling, I should be free tonight, and Grim will come if I tell him to. It’s just that…um…”
“You haven’t been rehearsing, and therefore don’t know what to do,” Vil smiled, sympathetically.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
“Don’t worry, that’s why I’d like you to stop by a little early. I can see to it you’re given a cue sheet, and someone will be there to help each of you out on your respective jobs. I promise you, they aren’t TOO difficult, and I’d much rather have your help than rely on any of those slobbery mutts and mangy felines in Savannaclaw.”
He shuddered, and added: “They shed EVERYWHERE, you know…”
You considered reminding Vil that Grim was basically a demonic CAT, but you had a feeling he’d find some excuse to say it was still better than relying on Leona Kingscholar. You would seriously never understand the relationship he and Schoenheit had…
“Well…if you say so, I can try my best,” you promised.
“That will have to suffice,” Vil said, as if this was actually disappointing. No surprise there, with him. He rose and stood straight as an arrow, looking down over his nose imperiously. “The performance begins at eight o’clock. Could you possibly be at the theater by…six, perhaps six-thirty? I’ll send someone to fetch you and make sure you can arrive on time, and don’t get lost.”
“I’d appreciate that, and yes, that time should work; I don’t have any classes today, so after Grim and I finish some work around the campus for the Headmaster, we can manage that.”
“Perfect,” Vil smiled, with a strange sense of triumph. “That will suit admirably then.”
“HISSSS! LET GO OF ME, YA BIG LUMMOX!”
“Mmmm…sooooo soft…”
You all looked up boredly as Billy came marching back into the room, holding the struggling Grim in a tight bear hug as he nuzzled him and kissed the top of his head.
“I love little kitty, his coat is so warm,” he sang. “An’ if I don’t hurt him, he’ll do me no harm.”
“THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK!” Grim spat. “AND HOW OFTEN DO I HAVE TO TELL PEOPLE I’M NOT A NORMAL CAT?!”
“Billy, put the Fuzzy Potato down,” Vil sighed in agitation. “He’ll get fur all over your vest. It’s unsightly.”
Billy chuckled.
“Alright,” he said, and gave Grim a noogie, making him hiss more. “I’ll cuddle my little friend more later!”
“THE GREAT GRIM IS NOT MADE FOR CUDDLING!” Grim roared.
Ace snickered while Deuce just rolled his eyes. You couldn’t help but smirk as Billy let Grim jump out of his arms. The cat-like monster ran under the table like a frightened kitten, hissing his hate.
“It’s time for us to depart,” Vil said, and checked his wristwatch. “We mustn’t be late for the new professor’s Alchemy class. I believe he’ll be teaching us how to make Flynnolium.”
“Ooooh, explosions! AWESOME,” grinned Billy, thumping one fist into a palm.
“Appalling,” droned Vil in response, then looked to you and bowed his head elegantly. “I’ll see you and your…um…whatever he’s supposed to be…tonight. No later than six-thirty?”
“Unless there’s an emergency, no later,” you confirmed.
“Excellent,” smiled Vil, and began to stride out of the room. “Say goodbye, Billy.”
“Okay!” Billy cheered, and waved to Grim blithely. “Bye-bye, fluffy friend!”
Grim made a sound that indicated he would murder Billy in his sleep if he ever got the chance.
Billy then stomped over to where Ace and Deuce were. He looked like he wanted to hug them…then he remembered their casts, and sheepishly patted their heads, making them blush.
“Bye-bye, little buddies,” he cooed, then turned to you and extended his arms widely. “Bye-bye, Best Friend!”
You smiled and allowed the Giant to hug you.
“See you later, Billy,” you promised.
Billy giggled and pulled back…then paused as he pointed to your breakfast.
“Say, are you gonna eat all that?” he asked.
“Well…no, not all of-”
OMPH-NOMPH-GLOMPH…!
Before you could finish, Billy lifted the plate of food and dumped it all into his wide, gaping mouth. His cheeks bulged as he chewed noisily a few times – GRUM, GRUM, GRUM – then swallowed heavily.
GUUULLLP!
A thick, lumpy bulge descended Billy’s tough neck…then, he thumped his chest, and let out a beefy burp that rocked the room.
“BEEEEEELLLLLLUUUUUURRRRRRLLLLLLCH! Ahhhh…tasty! Thanks, Little Friend!” Billy chirruped, casually, and patted your back before heading out of the room.
Vil watched the Giant walk past him with a look of absolute, deadpan emptiness…then raised an eyebrow in your direction, noting the way you were blushing at the crude display.
“You’re SURE it isn’t your fault?” he drawled.
You nodded dumbly.
Vil clucked his tongue, rolled his eyes, mumbled a final farewell, and then left the room. You heard the door shut as he and the oversized Pomefiore student with him left the mansion.
“Well,” you gulped quietly, and picked up your milk, taking a drink before finishing: “Now I’ve gotta make myself some more breakfast.”
“What did they want?” Grim asked, crawling out from under the table.
“You guys will be taking our place at Vil’s show tonight,” Deuce answered for you.
“Your fault,” Ace said again.
“It’s not,” snarled Deuce.
“What did you do?” you asked, hands on your hips as you gave them your best “parent look,” which made them both flinch.
“Well…it took place after the show,” Deuce started to say.
“Good,” you nodded. “If it had been DURING a performance, I doubt a broken arm is the worst you’d have to deal with.”
“Yeah,” snickered Grim. “At best, Vil would poison you, and at worst…well…that Giant guy’s got a gut for a reason.”
“We know,” Trappola and Spade droned together.
“Go on,” you urged. “Just what happened?”
“There was a robbery yesterday evening, before we had our call time,” Ace explained, then glared at Deuce. “We were helping clean up after the performance when SOMEBODY suggested I might have been the thief!”
“I said you COULD have been the thief…sweet Chernabog, I said ANY of us could have done it!” protested Deuce.
“Exactly! Yet you brought it up to me specifically, insinuating anyone included me!”
“Well, you’ve stolen Riddle’s tarts on more than one occasion!”
“ONLY WHEN I KNOW I WON’T GET CAUGHT!”
“Hold on, hold on!” Grim exclaimed, holding his paws in a time out gesture. “A robbery?”
“What was stolen?” you pressed, now even more concerned and curious than before.
“Riddle’s crown,” Deuce answered.
“Which I did NOT take, by the way, thug boy!” sneered Ace. Deuce gave him an absolutely MURDEROUS glare.
“If you call me that again, I swear…!”
“Hey, hey, enough!” you shouted, and both shrank back. “Ace, Deuce is NOT accusing you, and don’t bring up his past like that! And Deuce, just…be careful what you say around Ace. We all know he’s an idiot.”
Deuce smirked, but nodded. Ace glared and just grumbled sourly, a petulant look on his tattooed face. Both held their cast-covered forearms in their free hands.
“Well…we were arguing about it on top of the stairs backstage,” mumbled Ace, after a moment. “And…well…one thing led to another…”
“I…kind of used my Summon Cauldron ability on him, he sort of tripped me when he fell over from it,” Deuce admitted, sounding quite ashamed. “And…well…we both basically tumbled down the stairs tangled up against each other.”
“Yikes,” you hissed, inhaling sharply through your teeth.
“Nya…you guys need to be more careful,” Grim nodded. “You’re lucky it’s just a couple of broken arms!”
“They won’t take TOO long to heal; the breaks aren’t severe,” Deuce nodded back.
“Still, Vil doesn’t want us backstage tonight; I’m not sure if it’s the breaks he’s worried about, the roughhousing, or both,” Ace shrugged.
“I don’t blame him either way,” you mumbled, then tilted your head. “You said Riddle had his crown stolen?”
“Ohhhhh, yeah,” Ace shuddered. “We have been doing everything we can to avoid him today, in fact…that’s part of why Billy carried us here.”
“I guess Vil thought we were hiding from him,” muttered Deuce. “Riddle’s been ready to decapitate or collar anyone who just LOOKS at him funny.”
“So what else is new?” Grim commented, snidely.
“It’s different this time,” Deuce said grimly.
“Yeah. I’d swear he was about to Overblot again,” gulped Ace.
You shuddered at that thought.
“No idea who could have done it?” you checked.
“Not a clue!” Ace said, shaking his head. “They didn’t leave any evidence behind.”
“No signs of a break-in,” Deuce said. “Nothing else was touched, either. Trey has been questioning everyone around the dorm…he even called Che’Nya from Royal Sword, and even the Cheshire Cat hasn’t got any idea!”
“It’s super spooky,” Ace insisted. “It’s like it was stolen by a Phantom!”
“Well, I hope it gets found soon,” you murmured, then smiled and turned to the stove. “Here…while Grim finishes breakfast, would you guys like anything? I can whip up some bacon and eggs for you, too.”
Both of the Heartslabyul boys perked up at the mention of food, and nodded in exuberant agreement.
“Thanks a million!” Ace said.
“Breakfast would be great,” Deuce said, his voice a bit low as he turned away again, noticeably trying not to look at Ace.
Ace Trappola paused, biting his lip…then mumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” Deuce Spade asked, without looking at him.
“Nothing. Just…wanted to say you’re…not such a thug anymore, for what it’s worth…”
Deuce smiled a bit wider, finally looking to Ace.
“And I’m sorry I made it sound like I was accusing you,” he said.
Ace just grumbled again, under his breath…but the nod he gave Deuce indicated all was forgiven.
You smiled wider and moved to do some more cooking, putting the thoughts of the mysterious robbery out of your mind, silently wondering how things would go that night.
Theater work would definitely be a nice change.
“Do I HAVE to wear this?” sighed Grim, gesturing to the miniature black t-shirt he had been forced into. “I feel like a ridiculous housepet!”
“It’s called a uniform,” you insisted, adjusting your own plain black t-shirt, which matched the black bottoms you wore. “We’re supposed to wear these so we blend into the shadows in the theater and don’t catch the audience’s attention if we move around. We want them focused on the show, after all.”
Grim just pouted.
“You should have told me before accepting,” he huffed. “You’re MY Minion, after all!”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Would you have rather I refused when the most skilled poisoner in the entire school was sitting right in front of your food plate?”
Grim blinked…then shuddered.
“Nya…fair enough,” he grumbled, sticking his tongue out at the thought.
You smirked and said nothing.
Just then, the door opened, and you both jumped as heavy footsteps came lumbering through the house. A moment or two later, into your living room stepped Billy Géant, grinning from ear to ear.
“LITTLE FRIEND!” he bellowed, and you yelped as he suddenly moved forward and hugged you tight. “I’ve missed you so much!”
You wheezed and squirmed, awkwardly returning the embrace as best you could, blushing as you sank slightly into Billy’s soft, heavy gut.
“Uh…y-you…you just s-s-saw me this morning, big guy…!”
“Mmmm…too long,” Billy sing-songed, then chuckled and let go of you, letting you back down on the floor. He grinned as he then saw Grim, who yiped and dove behind you for protection. The shrunken giant – who was still quite tall in human form – chortled merrily, belly bouncing as he waved to Grim cheerfully.
“Did Vil send you?” you checked.
“Yep yep!” Billy said, and smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. “He wanted me to make sure you were on time, and that you didn’t get lost!”
His bravado left and he smiled with embarrassment, tapping his forefingers together.
“I, uh…I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner…I miiiiight have taken a wrong turn on the way here, ha ha…”
You looked to Grim dully. THAT was certainly encouraging.
Before any further words could be shared, however, you suddenly heard the front door BANG open loudly, followed by a familiar voice, roaring like a furious wild beast: “HERBIVORE!”
“Oh, no,” whimpered Grim, and stayed behind you, ears flattening back. You glanced down at him, then at Billy, who shrugged, clearly just as confused as you were.
A moment later, the source of the shout stepped into the room. It was, of course, Leona Kingscholar…and He. Was. PISSED. His green eyes burned with a deadly, toxic glow as he bared his fangs in fury, fists clenched as his tail cracked like a whip behind him. A moment later, Jack Howl and Ruggie Bucchi came trotting up behind him, clearly out of breath.
“Hi, Prefect!” Ruggie gasped out, placing his hands on his knees and panting weakly. “Glad to see you still look delicious!”
You blinked.
“Uh…thank you?” you answered, not really sure how to respond to that.
Ruggie grinned.
Jack Howl just rolled his eyes and grunted as he crossed his arms before his chest.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, shortly, then his yellow eyes glared at Billy. “We just have some…ISSUES with the big guy there.”
“Huh?” Billy uttered, and looked behind himself, before turning around again. When he found all eyes were still on him, he pointed to his chest. “Uh…you mean me?”
“Of course we mean you,” sneered Leona, then snarled out: “Where’s my staff?”
Billy looked completely lost.
“Staff? What are you talking about?”
“STOP STALLING, AND GIVE IT TO ME!”
“HEY!” you yelled, cutting into the matter. “My dorm, please! You will literally wake the dead at this rate, and they’re trying to get their beauty sleep!”
Leona snarled again, but not as loudly.
“That’s better. What’s going on here?” you demanded.
“Leona thinks that Giant stole his magic staff,” Ruggie explained.
“Me? Why would I do that?” Billy asked.
“You’ve stolen from the mortal world before,” Leona snarled. “And my staff disappeared right after you stopped by!”
“…I stopped by?” Billy asked.
“Don’t play dumb!” Jack barked.
“Who says he’s playing?” Grim grumbled.
You all looked at Grim, then returned attention to Billy.
“Remember during lunch?” Leona growled. “You woke me up from my nap!”
“Ohhhh, yeah!” Billy smiled, snapping his fingers as he remembered, then turned to you to explain. “Vil wanted me to tell the kitty-cat he has a discount to tonight’s showing, since he helped out with his modeling last week.”
You nodded slowly in understanding, and looked to Leona, who was still glaring daggers at the giant.
“Right. And right after you left, my staff was nowhere to be found!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t taken before you went to sleep, or even while you slept?” you suggested.
“Positive,” Leona scowled. “It was right beside my bed when I woke up. It didn’t seem to go anywhere till he left the room.”
You and Grim looked at each other. That WAS suspicious, certainly, and quite mysterious…
“Not only that!” Ruggie broke in, stepping up beside Leona as he frowned up at Billy. “We found out about the robbery at Heartslabyul. Sounds to us like SOMEBODY has been stealing things from ‘little ones’ again, hm?”
Jack just growled wordlessly, his tail bristling.
Billy frowned, looking quite insulted.
“Hey, I gave that up when I decided to become a student here. I even gave back all the things I took!” he snorted.
“Only because Chief Jehan ordered it,” Jack reminded the young giant.
“Look, I don’t care about the red-faced herbivore’s crown,” Leona snapped. “Just give me back my staff, or else…”
“Or else what?” Billy suddenly grinned, and leaned down, showing off his teeth as he looked Leona dead in the eye. “You’ll EAT me, kitty? That it?”
Leona faltered…his ears flattened back and he growled warningly. He didn’t back down…but you could tell he had lost his comeback at the Giant’s words.
It was a little hard to make that kind of threat when the one you were threatening could swallow you in one bite anytime they wanted.
“I don’t know who took your puny little stick,” Billy went on, “But it WASN’T me. Now, why don’t you and your cute little puppies run home before I…!”
“WHO ARE YOU CALLING PUPPIES?” roared Jack, while Ruggie bared his own fangs viciously.
Billy glared and growled, his temper rising. He cracked his knuckles and neck, as if getting ready for a wrestling match.
“If you fuzzy little runts wanna play rough…”
“Stop, Stop, STOP!” you shouted, and finally stepped in-between Billy and the Savannaclaw Trio. They all settled and looked to you, a bit surprised. Knowing you had their attention, you went on: “Leona, if the theft of your staff had anything to do with Riddle’s crown, it couldn’t have been Billy. He was working on Vil’s show, and I’m willing to bet he didn’t have time to find the crown, steal it, hide it, and get to the theater all without getting caught and while being on time.”
Billy nodded, and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as if to say, That’ll show ‘em.
It did, too. Leona relaxed, and narrowed his eyes.
“You’re sure?” he checked, much more calmly than when he had come in.
“Pretty sure,” you nodded, and then went on: “Besides, do you really think Billy’s capable of taking something like that and making sure no one finds it, right from under your nose?”
Leona rumbled thoughtfully, then looked to Ruggie as he tapped him on the shoulder.
“The Prefect has a point, Leona,” the hyena boy said, then smirked in Billy’s direction. “I mean, Giant or not, he IS as thick as a warthog’s backside.”
“Awww, thanks, Little Hyena!” smiled Billy, clearly thinking that was a compliment.
Ruggie just snickered – “Shishishishi!” – while Leona rolled his eyes. The lion then raised an eyebrow to Jack.
“Got anything to add, Fresh Baby?” he grunted.
Jack looked to Billy, then Leona…and sighed through his nose, shrugging.
“Innocent until proven guilty,” he responded, then added: “The Pack can’t track anything without clues. Until we know more, we can’t say anything one way or the other.”
Leona nodded slowly, and then looked up at Billy, who eyed him expectantly.
“Fine,” he said, conceding curtly, then jabbed a finger in the tall, burly fellow’s direction. “But the moment I get proof, IF I get proof, you’re dust.”
Billy gulped; THAT threat, it seemed, DID land.
Leona smirked, victoriously, then tossed his mane and flicked his tail as he swaggered out of the room without another word. Ruggie mock-saluted you, eyed Billy suspiciously, and then followed. Jack looked at the whole bunch of you – you noticed his eyes flickered with something like an apology as he looked at Billy – then grunted noncommittally before leaving as well.
The moment the door closed, you sighed with relief.
“Well, that was a fiasco,” muttered Grim.
Billy bit his lip and looked to you and Grim nervously; all the fight had left him as he fiddled his fingers around each other shyly.
“You…you really don’t think I did it…r-right, Little Friends?” he peeped, hopefully, looking pleadingly into your eyes.
“Well, it does sound like something you COULD do,” Grim said, but at your scathing look, he added quickly: “But, uh, I don’t think you DID do it; would have been difficult.”
“I know you didn’t do it, Billy,” you assured him, and took his hand, just to show him how much you trusted him. “And time will prove that, when they catch the real thief or thieves. Now, how about we get to the theater? We don’t want to upset Vil, right?”
Billy smiled, spirits lifted, and nodded. Grim hopped onto your shoulder, and the three of you headed towards the door, out of the mansion, and began to walk to the campus theater…
You reached the theater with time to spare; Vil congratulated and thanked you for your prompt arrival. After some perfunctory instructions, he directed you to the stage manager, which turned out to be Epel Felmier. The effeminate young man quietly led you away, while Billy left with Grim.
“We’re gonna be working in the catwalks!” he explained. “That oughta be great for my fluffy friend, huh?”
You felt so sorry for Grim, who moaned as Billy picked him up, holding him like a kitten in his arms, and happily sauntered off to get to his station.
Epel brought you in the opposite direction, towards the tech booth. It was stationed just below the catwalks, overlooking the audience’s side of the theater; you could see the whole stage of Night Raven’s indoor theater easily. Epel opened the door for you, revealing a short flight of stairs, leading into a dimly lit passage.
“Just talk to Eli,” Epel said, in his unusually strong voice, given his rather girlish features and slight build. Before you could ask who Eli was, Epel excused himself, saying he had to make sure the rest of the cast and crew knew about the new members for closing before hurrying off. You called a quick thank you to him, then descended the stairs, shutting the door behind you.
In the tech booth, you found a wide, heavy glass window. It was spotless, and you could see the stage so clearly, you almost swore the glass wasn’t there at all. A long table stretched from one end of the room to the other, and on it were the sound board and lighting board, along with a couple of computers. The dials and knobs and buttons and various lights made it all seem like it was from another world; as if these were the controls of an alien spaceship.
You gulped nervously, wondering how hard your job would actually be.
You then realized you were not alone. Seated in the center of the booth, lounging back in his chair with his legs crossed and slung onto a small stool, was a young man – about your age – with rich brown hair that matched his canine ears and tail, both of which were tipped in black. He was tall, but of average build for his height; neither especially lean nor especially bulky. His skin was fair, but not especially pale, and he had bright green eyes (almost the same shade as Leona’s, you noted), half-hidden behind a pair of round, blue-tinted sunglasses perched upon his nose. He was dressed in a tight-fitting black long-sleeve shirt, which clearly defined his abs (he clearly kept fit, but at the same time, he didn’t look amazingly over-muscled or athletic), and also wore rather tight-fitting black pants, and pointed black laceless shoes. Upon his brunette head was a black beret; two holes were cut into the hat, allowing his ears to pass through. Around his neck was a silver necklace, with a Magic Crystal pendant…and around his waist was a black leather belt.
It was fastened with a silver buckle in the shape of an inkwell.
The young man was drawing something in a sketchbook he had set in his lap. You tilted your head as he sighed and smirked, adjusting his shades and inspecting his work with a sense of pride.
“Are…are you Eli?” you asked, at length.
The young dog demi looked up…and his tail wagged against his chair as he smiled widely.
“Ah! Yes, yes, that’s me!” he said. His voice was cultured and loud; theatrical. However, he spoke in a sort of joking, casual manner as he put aside the sketchbook. “Elias Inque, at your service!”
Elias bowed dramatically and chuckled, before moving over and shaking your hand.
“Nice to meet you!” he said, and tilted his head. “What’s your name? You’re the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm, yeah?”
You confirmed this, and gave him your name. Elias smiled wider.
“Awesome!” he cheered, then stepped back and gestured to the room as a whole. “Well! Welcome to my house! This is where all the magic happens!”
“Your house?” you repeated.
“Uh-huh,” Elias nodded, tail still wagging as he moved to another part of the room. “I’m the guy in charge of designing the set, designing the lights…and also running the lighting board and directing the sound board operator.”
Off of a table, Elias revealed a submarine deli sandwich. He smirked, a twinkle in his eye, and gestured to you with the sandwich.
“Tonight, that’s you,” he said with a chuckle…
…Then, you jumped, a bit startled, as the dog demi’s sharp teeth suddenly CHOMPED down on the sandwich, ripping the twelve-footer clean in half. He smiled, cheeks bulging as he chewed slowly before swallowing down the first half of his dinner. You felt butterflies fill your own stomach as you saw the thick distention descend his throat and vanish behind his chest.
“Are…are you a-allowed to eat backstage?” you peeped.
Elias smiled sheepishly and chuckled nervously, rubbing his stomach through his shirt.
“Well, uh…actually, no, this isn’t QUITE kosher, but…I can keep a secret if you can,” he winked…then grunted and held up a finger.
“Oof…um…hold up,” he muttered, and thumped his chest with his other hand once…twice…thrice…
“BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRP! Ahhhh…THAT felt good comin’ up,” he sighed, patting his stomach.
…Well. You DEFINITELY were keeping this a secret.
Your blush wouldn’t allow you anything else.
“Hey, you okay?” Eli asked, tilting his head in a curious, worried way. “You’re lookin’ kinda-”
“I’m fine!” you insisted, cutting him off in a strangled voice…then cleared your throat and said, more quietly: “I’m…I’m fine. Really.”
Elias blinked…then smirked. You immediately didn’t like that smirk.
It seemed to…knowing.
“I see,” he said, then shrugged whatever he was thinking off as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Okey-smokey! C’mon over here, and let me show you how it all works!”
You quickly obeyed. Elias Inque brought you to the sound board. On the computer, a program had already been pulled up, and on it were all kinds of titles like “Witch’s Scene 1” and “Alarum FX.”
“So, your job is actually really easy,” he promised, and pointed to a piece of paper with different lines from the play on it. “All you have to do is listen over these…”
He gestured to a pair of headphones.
“…And wait for the lines written here. Then all you have to do is press the space bar once after you hear the line spoken, and again when you hear the next line happen. Everything’s all set up, you’re basically just in charge of making sure it HAPPENS, see?”
“I think so,” you said, and chuckled nervously. “Seems a lot harder than it really is, huh?”
“Oh, it’s important, but important doesn’t mean difficult,” chuckled Elias, sharp canines glinting in the light as one of his doggy ears twitched. He then went on, jabbing a thumb to the lighting board: “My job’s actually a little tougher, but not by a whole lot. We’ll do a dry run before-”
“What’s a dry run?”
Elias blinked.
“You…don’t know what that is?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I did,” you said, and smiled apologetically. “I…really don’t know that much about theatre, heh…”
Elias whistled.
“Hoooo, boy, you gon’ learn today,” he cackled in an exaggerated dialect, then cleared his throat and straightened his back, speaking like a lecturer. “A dry run is when you only run the cues without the cast onstage. It’s just to make sure all the lights and sounds are working. So I’ll give you a few lines, in this case, just so you can know what to be listening for exactly, and then you just…do your thing, ha!”
“Got it,” you nodded, before adding quietly, “I think.”
“It’s really easy,” Elias soothed gently. “Trust me, I’ve been working in theater since I was a kid, I know what I’m saying.”
“I trust you,” you said with a smile.
It was spoken casually, but something about the way Elias smiled and his tail wagged faster when you said those words nevertheless made you smile wider.
“Well, good!” Eli chirruped, and then hopped over to his board. “Now, we won’t start till the stage manager gives us the okay. Until then, gotta ask…do you know anything about this play?”
“I read it a long time ago, before I ever came to this world,” you said steadily.
“Oh, yeah…that’s right, you came here from another realm entirely,” Elias murmured, and grinned widely. “That had to be so cool!”
“Well…it was more like weird and scary, at the time,” you laughed. “I didn’t expect to be launched to a School of Black Magic.”
“Yeah. Guess it was just your lucky day, huh?” Inque winked.
You snickered.
“I suppose so.”
“Still, it would make for a great story,” Elias sighed dreamily, even placing his chin in one hand, the other waving about in a flamboyant, illustrative manner. “The mystery! The adventure! The drama of it all! If I were a writer, I’d make a script out of it in a second!”
“I AM a writer,” you said, then smirked. “Maybe I’ll do something with that…except, um…I don’t know much about writing PLAYS, you see.”
Elias tutted, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.
“Tsk, tsk…well, we’ll just have to educate you, won’t we?” he chuffed, in an exaggeratedly pompous manner, even grabbing his shirt as if holding a pair of invisible lapels.
You smiled wider. You decided in that moment you liked Elias Inque. He was eccentric…but he seemed like a good sort, really.
“We ARE in a school,” you agreed. “Maybe sometime.”
Elias nodded. Just then, the soundboard crackled, and you both heard Epel’s unusually gravelly voice come over the speaker.
“Dry run, ready?”
You looked desperately to Elias, suddenly realizing you didn’t know how to answer. Elias held up a hand and whispered, “Don’t go up, it’s fine.”
You weren’t sure what “go up” meant, but in a moment, Elias reached over and tapped a green button on the sound board.
“Hold,” he called back.
“Holding,” Epel replied.
You and Elias thus got situated, and he nodded to you.
“Just press the button and say, ‘Ready,’” he instructed, in a friendly but businesslike manner.
You obeyed, and hoped your voice didn’t crack as you called to Epel: “Ready!”
“Good,” Epel said, and then added: “Go.”
It turned out Elias was right.
Your job really WAS quite easy.
Now wonder Ace had been able to do it; even he couldn’t screw it up!
The play was nearing its end. You watched as Vil Schoenheit stepped onto the stage, and as you heard him begin to speak, tapped the space bar. The sounds of battle began to dim and fade, allowing focus to fall upon Macbeth as he came into the lights Eli brought up. Vil was dressed in medieval armor, a line of (stage) blood marring his otherwise perfect, beautiful face. He prowled about the edge of the stage in a wide circle, glancing about in a paranoid, shifty sort of way, holding his (prop) broadsword ready.
“Why should I play the Roman fool and die on mine own sword?” he hissed. “Whiles I see lives, the gashes do better upon them.”
He had scarcely finished speaking when another figure entered behind him, and from the opposite direction: it was Jack Howl, dressed in similar armor, though of a different color, and wielding a sword of his own.
“Turn, hellhound, turn!” he howled.
Vil whipped about…and Macbeth shuddered, holding his blade out defensively as he came face to face with Macduff, who growled as he moved downstage, closer to his foe.
“Of all men else have I avoided thee,” Macbeth murmured, deep pain in his voice, before he lifted his sword a bit higher. “But get thee back! My soul is charged with too much blood of thine already!”
Jack glared, yellow eyes burning with hate.
“I have no words,” he growled. “My voice is in my sword!”
So saying, Macduff lunged. Macbeth parried the strike, and the two began to battle, the stage swords clanging against each other in silence.
You waited, knowing the music would come in the second stage of the fight.
“I never realized Jack was such a good actor,” you whispered to Elias, who smiled and nodded.
“I know,” he grinned. “Macduff’s a surprisingly good role for him. Took him forever to get the hang of the language though.”
“I can’t imagine why,” you drawled.
“Hey, don’t be dissing the Bard around me,” glared Eli, half-heartedly. “I happen to like classical stuff.”
“Oh, it’s good, I just can understand why it would be a problem,” you chuckled.
Eli nodded, accepting this answer. Both of you turned away as you looked towards the stage, hearing Macduff cry out: Jack hit the stage with a grunt, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he glared up at Macbeth, who stared down icily as he pointed his sword at his foe.
“Thou losest labor,” the False King of Scotland warned, darkly. “As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air with thy keen sword impress as make me bleed.”
With a smirk, Macbeth stepped back, spreading his arms wide open in a bold, dramatic way.
“Let thy blade fall on vulnerable crests!” he laughed, mockingly, and added: “I bear a charmed life, which must not yield to One of Woman Born.”
Jack smirked and managed to struggle to his feet.
“Despair thy charm,” he said, “And let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee…”
He paused, and lifted his sword bravely, thrusting his chin up as he finished: “Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripped.”
You couldn’t help but cackle softly as all the color (what little there was) in Vil’s face drained. Macbeth lowered his stance, and almost seemed weak in the knees as he slowly lowered his sword.
“Ohhh, now he’s gonna get it,” you chortled.
Elias grinned, clearly glad you were getting into things.
“Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, for it hath cowed my better part of man!” he choked, clearly realizing the dire peril he was in. He lifted his eyes heavenward, and pointed his blade to the stars (or, at least, the stage lights) above. “And be these juggling fiends no more believed, that palter with us in the double sense; that keep the word of promise to our ear, and break it to our hope!”
He then turned to look towards Macduff again. Macduff glared coldly, showing no sign of pity or hesitation. Regret and hopelessness shown in Macbeth’s eyes…as he sheathed his sword.
“I’ll not fight with thee,” he said softly.
Macduff watched, startled, as Macbeth began to wander off towards the exit…then glared and barked after him…
“Then yield thee, COWARD!”
The word made Macbeth freeze, his back still towards Macduff. With a vicious snarl, Macduff continued: “And live to be the show and gaze of the time. We’ll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, painted on a pole, and underwrit: ‘Here may you see the Tyrant.’”
There was a pause…then came the sharp scraping sound of Macbeth’s sword being drawn once more.
“I will not yield,” he intoned, slowly turning to face Macduff once more, his expression one of acceptance. “To kiss the ground at young Malcom’s feet, and be baited with the rabble’s curse. Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane, and thou opposed, being of no woman born…”
Macbeth took a deep breath…then glared. He snarled and removed the buckler he wore on one arm, hurling it at Macduff, who sidestepped it as it clattered to the ground beside him.
“…Yet will I try the last!” spat Vil, and flourished his broadsword grandly as he gestured to the discarded buckler. “Before my body, I throw my warlike shield!”
With these words, Macbeth adopted a fighting pose, lifting his sword ready, face twisted in a grimace of determined rage.
“LAY ON, MACDUFF!” he thundered. “And damned be he that first cries, ‘HOLD! ENOUGH!’”
You all but slammed your pointer finger down onto the space bar. Dramatic, powerful music began to play as Macbeth and Macduff each let out a fierce battle cry, then charged and crashed their swords against each other with even more passion than before.
“Can I just say I LOVE the way he said that line?” you whispered to Elias.
Eli bit his lip, and paused for a moment…before nodding.
“It’s pretty good, I guess,” he said quietly, then added: “I think I would have tried something…quieter. Less of a challenge and more like a quiet…I dunno…not a surrender, but a sort of…desire to see it all finished to the end?”
“I guess that makes sense, but this is a little more…epic, don’t you think?” you suggested.
Eli looked you up and down. Something glittered in his green eyes.
“I suppose,” he said slowly, and looked away again. Something in his face hardened as he watched Vil and Jack duel. “Just…if I had been cast, it would have been different.”
“If you’d been cast?” you repeated, and tilted your head.
Elias didn’t answer.
You decided to change the subject as the fight continued: “So, how do you get a tech crew position? I know Ace and Deuce volunteered, but how’d you get to be a designer and operator for this show?”
“That was Vil’s doing,” Elias Inque said. “We used to go to school together.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Even back then, he was always the star boy of the plays…I came here and he remembered how I worked on some of the shows he’d been in then, and so he recommended me. Well, you know how Crowley is, and the guy in charge of the drama department…well…they weren’t going to say no to a suggestion from the Great and Powerful Schoenheit.”
You frowned, sensing a hint of bitterness in Inque’s words.
“It must be nice to have a friend on your side,” you said slowly.
Elias scoffed, watching as Macbeth got the better of Macduff for a moment, knocking away his sword…only for Macduff to kick upwards and send Macbeth sprawling back with a furious shout.
“He is not my friend,” he said, firmly. “Our relationship is strictly one of business: one thing I will always give Vil is that he knows talent when he sees it.”
There was a pause.
“Elias…are you…JEALOUS of Vil?”
Eli blinked, and looked towards you. The darkness in his eyes left, and he laughed nervously.
“Oh…well…maybe a little…I mean, who wouldn’t be?” he chuckled. “He’s powerful, he’s famous…hard not to be a bit envious of all that, right?”
He looked back towards the stage as Macduff dragged Macbeth away offstage by the hair.
“Especially when I’m known for setting up spotlights. Not for being IN the spotlight,” murmured Eli, in a decidedly poetic way.
You were about to comment on that…but then you realized it was your cue to turn off the music. You tapped the space bar and watched as Malcom and Ross – played by Rook Hunt as the former, and Jade Leech as the Latter – came striding onto the stage.
“I wish the friends we miss were safe arrived,” sighed Rook, shaking his head most dramatically indeed, even placing a hand to his brow in the process.
“Such a ham,” you snickered, and caught Elias smirking slightly in return.
“Some must go off,” Ross nodded, speaking quite patiently (as Jade always did), before waving a hand to the battle field around them on the stage. “And yet, by these I see, so great a day as this is cheaply bought.”
Rook frowned as Malcolm looked over the field.
“Macduff is missing,” he observed.
“I would not have wished him to a fairer death,” Jade said, in a sad, careful way. “And so his knell is knolled.”
“He’s worth more sorrow!” declared Rook and pulled a handkerchief from his princely cloak, dabbing at his eyes. “And that I’ll spend for him!”
“I get the feeling Rook got this part because of Vil,” you droned.
“Probably,” grunted Elias.
“Something’s missing, too,” you murmured. “I just realized, Siward is nowhere to be found here.”
“Well, the fact you’re just realizing it is WHY he was cut,” chuckled Eli, and then went on: “With Shakespeare, we have to cut things down a lot; if we did the plays unedited, they’d be way too long for most audiences to sit through. The director and script editor felt that Siward wasn’t really necessary to the main plot, so they cut him from the production.”
“Pity. Maybe you could have taken that part,” you smirked.
Elias laughed.
“Ahh, and I could have made an award-winning performance from so little, too!” he sighed, melodramatically slinging an arm over his brow. “Alas and alack! Twas not meant to be so!”
You giggled.
“Bit of a ham yourself, aren’t you?” you teased.
Elias just grinned.
A scream from the stage brought you both back to your present job. You slapped down on the space bar, and as dark, tragic music played, onto the stage walked Jack Howl, face and hands spattered in fake blood…carrying what looked like a severed head, wrapped up in a piece of bloodstained, cream-colored cloth. Breathing heavily, Macduff hurled the bound head at Malcolm’s feet.
Rook looked ill, while Jade smirked. You sensed neither was acting when they did, and couldn’t help but snigger.
“Hail, King!” Jack boomed. “For so thou art. Behold where stands the usurper’s cursed head. The time is free. I see thee compassed with thy kingdom’s pearl…”
He gestured towards the audience, as if they were part of the action, before going on.
“…That speak my salutation in their minds, whose voices I desire aloud with mine: HAIL, KING OF SCOTLAND!”
On those words, the audience chanted back: “HAIL, KING OF SCOTLAND!”
You whistled, impressed, while Elias chuckled, adjusting his blue-tinted glasses and clapping politely.
“Wow,” you murmured, and chuckled. “I’m amazed Jack didn’t tell me about this earlier…at least he could have mentioned it when he stopped by today. Then again, I guess he’s not one for sharing stuff like this too often…”
“Stopped by?” Eli questioned, cocking his head as his canine ears pricked up with interest, tail swishing behind him. “At Ramshackle Dorm? What for?”
You frowned, and looked to Eli.
“Apparently, he, Leona, and Ruggie thought that Billy Géant was responsible for a couple of robberies.”
“Robberies, you say?” Eli murmured, and seemed to grow more curious. “What was taken?”
“Riddle Rosehearts’ Crown and Leona Kingscholar’s magic staff. They’re…well…not happy, as you’d expect.”
“Naturally not,” Eli nodded, then smirked. “Must be humiliating for such powerful mages to lose things they care about so easily and so suddenly?”
You grimaced, a little unsure how to take that.
“I…guess so,” you answered slowly. “The thief’s kind of spooky; Ace Trappola said he was like a Phantom, and after being told what his crimes are like, that sounds accurate.”
Elias nodded again, slowly.
“And there’s no clue who is responsible yet?”
“No. But I’m sure the Headmaster and Chief Jehan will figure it out.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Elias murmured.
The conversation was interrupted as they heard the applause of the audience. You tapped the space bar and activated the closing music. Eli Inque turned down the lights for a blackout…then turned back up as the curtain call got started.
As the cast members all took their bows, you sighed with some relief.
“Well…anyway, this was kind of fun!” you said with a grin. “I wouldn’t mind doing more theatre work some time!”
“I’m sure we thespians and technicians would be happy to have you,” Inque smiled, tail twitching happily.
“Heh, no doubt…hey, maybe I can design a show and you can be onstage in it?”
Elias snickered.
“Maybe. We’ll see!” he shrugged cheerily.
Just then, you both noticed that Vil Schoenheit had taken front and center, and was waving towards the booth. You suddenly realized he was mouthing, “Cut the music.”
Confused but knowing to obey, you pressed the space bar, and the music – which was supposed to play the audience out – ended abruptly.
“Odd,” mumbled Elias. “Vil doesn’t usually give closing speeches; it’s probably the only non-narcissistic thing about him.”
You snorted with laughter.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” came Vil’s voice over the speaker on the soundboard. “I won’t keep you all for long. I just wanted to make a quick announcement. First of all, thank you all for coming; on behalf of our director, my fellow cast members, and the crew, your patronage and contributions are deeply appreciated.”
He paused, then went on: “Here and now, I’ve decided I want to announce that I will be directing, here at Night Raven, for the first time with our next show: a musical production of ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel!’”
As Vil made this announcement, and the audience applauded, you saw Eli’s eyes light up.
“The S-Scarlet Pimpernel?!” he nearly squealed, and clapped giddily.
“Uh…I…take it you like that one?” you blinked.
“It’s the forefather of superhero stories!” Eli exclaimed, gesticulating wildly as he went on. “It’s k-kinda like Zorro, okay? You know that? Yeah, ‘course you do. Anyway, think…Zorro, but in the French Revolution. That’s the hero. And the villain! Ohhhh, the villain is so GOOD! I’ve always, ALWAYS wanted to play Citizen Chauvelin – he’s the bad guy, and a GREAT one!”
“Well, Vil’s auditions are in the near future,” you said, giggling at Eli’s enthusiasm. “Maybe you’re going to get that chance at the spotlight after all!”
Elias grinned a bit wider, and looked out the window of the tech booth.
Something dangerous flickered across that smile as he saw Vil posing for photos with the prop of Macbeth’s severed skull.
“Yes,” he hissed to himself. “Maybe…”
“BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”
Deuce coughed and crinkled his nose as Ace smirked, leaning back and patting his swollen stomach with his good arm.
“Jeeze…try aiming somewhere else with those?” he sneered.
“Hmmmm…well, I could always aim them towards the Prefect,” Ace said, and flashed you a teasing wink. “I bet somebody would BEG for more then, hmmmm?”
“You, sir, are not as charming as you think you are,” you quipped, coolly, sipping the soup you’d gotten as you sat in the cafeteria with your friends.
“Ha!” was all Ace responded with, while Deuce and Grim each rolled their eyes.
“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!”
All four of you jumped – Grim nearly dropping the tuna sandwich he was eating – as a roaring rumble of a burp echoed nearby. You all blinked as Billy Géant proudly approached the table.
“How do ya like THAT one, Little Friend?” he teased Ace, thumping his gut.
Ace blinked…then slowly applauded.
“I am not worthy,” was all he said.
Deuce facepalmed and mumbled something impolite into his palm. Grim just rolled his eyes.
“How are you, Billy?” you laughed.
“I’m doing great today!” Billy said cheerily. “I ate 17 double cheeseburgers…I would have liked 18, but the bar ran out of meat.”
You REFUSED to blush as the Giant licked his lips and rubbed his belly at that report.
“That’s…great,” you mumbled, then tilted your head. “Do you need something?”
“Do I ever need something to say hi to my Little Friends?”
“No,” Grim grumbled, “But it helps if you DO…”
You and the others looked scathingly at Grim, then looked back up at Billy.
“Well, I did want to deliver a message from Vil,” Billy said…then paused and bit his lip. “Um…I…can’t remember what it was though, now…”
“Something to do with the show last weekend?” you suggested.
“No, not really,” Billy said, scratching his tummy thoughtfully and shaking his head.
“Then maybe something to do with the show he’s doing auditions for?” Deuce suggested.
“Oh! OH! Yeah, that was it!” Billy cheered, bouncing on his heels till the table shook. Ace grabbed hold of it and sighed.
“Oi…okay, well, deliver the message,” he ordered.
“Oh, um…it’s…j-just for the Prefect,” peeped Billy, apologetically.
“Hey, if it’s for my Minion, I can hear, too!” sniffed Grim.
“It’s fine if you tell me now, Billy, don’t worry,” you assured the Giant.
“Okay then,” Billy said, smiling a bit, then cleared his throat before delivering the message in a methodical, monotonous way…almost like a small boy delivering a recited speech to his class. “Vil wanted me to ask you to help with the auditions. He wants somebody with an audience insight to be present and help him and Rook cast the show.”
“I’ve never heard of auditions being done that way,” meowed Grim.
“It’s not ENTIRELY uncommon,” said Ace.
“Right, sometimes directors will call on friends, or fellow creators, basically people they trust, to help them cast the project.”
“I would be glad to help,” you nodded to Billy.
“Oh, boy, oh, boy!” Billy exclaimed, clapping excitedly. “I’ll make sure to go and tell Vil right away and-!”
“You will not be going ANYWHERE.”
The whole cafeteria went cold, and every single student went silent. Billy turned…then whimpered like a puppy as he saw the figure marching towards him.
You gulped nervously; Chief Claude Jehan – head of campus security – strode forward, his long dark cloak whipping about him as if blown by an unseen wind. His dark eyes glittered like shards of black glass as he briskly moved towards Billy. Billy was taller than Jehan by a decent amount…yet he seemed to cower and shrink as the darkly-clad security officer approached.
“Mr. Géant,” Jehan said, ominously, “I’m afraid I must ask you to come with me to the Headmaster’s office.”
“Wh-why?” Billy squeaked out like a mouse, knees knocking together as he looked wide-eyed and terrified.
Jehan responded emotionlessly: “You have been implicated in a string of no less than six robberies that have occurred within the past few days.”
Billy’s eyes widened more.
“I didn’t take anything!” he pleaded. “Honest!”
“That,” Chief Jehan growled, “Is for the Headmaster to determine. Now, will you come quietly?”
Billy gulped and whimpered again. He looked almost ready to cry.
“Chief Jehan,” you spoke up, and stood. Jehan’s icy gaze turned towards you quickly.
“Ah…the Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm,” he recognized, and gestured to Billy. “Do you wish to vouch for Mr. Géant here?”
“I’d like to try,” you answered. “May I go with him? With you? It may encourage him if he has a friend by his side, and perhaps I can offer some insight.”
Jehan seemed impressed by your reasoning, if not entirely convinced.
“Very well,” he said. “Then you may both accompany me. The vermin may come, too.”
“Hey!” Grim pouted.
“Thank you, Little Friend,” Billy said softly.
You smiled up at him, and without a word, the three of you followed Chief Jehan out of the cafeteria. You could hear the awkward mumblings of Ace, Deuce, and several others behind you as you left the area.
Billy shifted nervously on his large feet beside you as you stood in the Headmaster’s office. Grim was perched on your shoulder, trident tail swishing back and forth as he glanced between the masked face of Dire Crowley, and the stern countenance of Claude Jehan.
“Then you absolutely swear you’ve taken nothing?” Crowley persisted.
“I-I don’t even know WHAT was taken!” Billy insisted.
Jehan reached into his long, black coat and pulled out a list.
“Within the past few days,” he said, reading off the list, “Mr. Rosehearts lost his crown, and Mr. Kingscholar’s mage’s staff mysteriously disappeared. Since then, a cauldron used by Mr. Ashengrotto was taken, followed by the eldest Shroud brother’s copy of the game ‘Iron Gear,’ and a flying carpet from Scarabia.”
“That’s Kalim’s,” you murmured, but fell silent at Chief Jehan’s look.
“Diasomnia was visited just last night,” he went on. “An electronic pet game was taken from Mr. Draconia’s room.”
Jehan rolled up the list and tucked it back into his pocket. Headmaster Crowley lifted a suspicious eyebrow behind his mask as he looked to Billy expectantly. The young Giant gulped.
“…I…the Little Dragon has a pet game?” was all he could get out.
Crowley’s eyes narrowed.
“Headmaster,” you spoke up, catching Crowley’s attention, “I really don’t think Billy had anything to do with this.”
“I’d like to believe he didn’t,” the Headmaster assured. “But right now, he seems the most likely suspect, given his past record.”
“We’ve checked all the other suspects we have considered,” added the Chief. “It’s difficult to check HIS living arrangements, however, as he returns to his home Above the Clouds whenever he leaves the campus. So for all we know, he could be hiding everything up there, and no one could figure it out.”
Billy whimpered.
“But…I’m not,” he peeped, in a surprisingly small voice.
Both the Headmaster and the Chief were about to respond…when suddenly the office door burst open.
“Monsieur Crowley! Monsieur Jehan! Hold it! Hold everything!”
All of you turned fast to see the fleet-footed form of Rook Hunt, the feather in his wide-brimmed hat flapping as he ran. He held what looked like a small scroll, tied with a black ribbon, in one hand.
“Mr. Hunt!” exclaimed the Headmaster. “What’s all this about?”
“Has something been stolen from Pomefiore now?” you asked, almost hopefully; if that was so, Billy obviously couldn’t be responsible.
“Non,” Rook panted as he reached the desk and offered the scroll to the Headmaster. “But this was found in Vil’s room! We don’t know who sent it, but I was told to bring it to you right away!”
Crowley stood, taking the scroll and opening it up.
Behind his Venetian mask, the top-hatted headmaster scowled, and read the message on the parchment aloud: “You fools are barking up the wrong tree. I have taken six treasures, from six of the most powerful figures at this school. At midnight tonight, another shall disappear! Woe to those who try to stop me! Catch me if you can!”
He turned the parchment around to show all of you…revealing the message was signed with nothing but an oblong ink blot.
“Nya…that’s a dramatic warning,” Grim meowed, cocking his head slightly.
“That’s also not my handwriting,” Billy observed.
“Yes, I think you’ve been cleared with this,” Crowley nodded.
“Mon Dieu…whoever really committed these capers clearly wants attention,” Rook murmured, adjusting his feathered hat.
“Not necessarily,” came the cold voice of the Chief, who took the scroll and examined it, eyes narrowed. “While I concede the message is not of Mr. Géant’s making, there is no proof that he is not responsible. One could argue he either had a confederate plant this…or, just possibly, it could be a crank message: a ploy from some glory hound who wants the attention Mr. Hunt rightly observes he desires.”
Billy’s shoulders sagged. Crowly hummed thoughtfully, steepling his fingers.
“The Chief does have a point,” he observed. “Every bit of evidence we have cannot absolutely PROVE Mr. Géant is responsible. But we also can’t COMPLETELY rule him out.”
“What will it take to convince you?!” Billy demanded, clearly starting to lose his temper as he jabbed a thumb to his chest. “I didn’t do it!”
“It does seem farfetched,” Rook Hunt spoke up. “Monsieur Géant is not exactly known for subtlety, and this mysterious thief – Monsieur Ink Blot – never leaves a single clue behind.”
“Till now,” Jehan pointed out, indicating the scroll.
The Headmaster’s dark lips pursed as he considered everything, tapping his forefingers together. In the pensive silence, you finally decided to speak up again.
“I…might have a simple suggestion,” you said.
“Is it going to involve us getting into danger?” groaned Grim.
“Possibly,” you shrugged.
The cat just groaned again, more loudly.
“Go on,” Crowley urged, with a wave of his hand. Rook and Billy both looked to you hopefully, while Chief Jehan raised a barely-interested eyebrow.
“Obviously, this thief is going to steal from Pomefiore next. It’s the only dorm he hasn’t struck yet, and the message indicates that he’s been trying to hit the seven houses.”
“I was thinking the same thing!” Rook exclaimed.
“Nice of you not to say so earlier,” grumbled Billy.
A growl from Jehan silenced them both, and you were able to continue.
“He’s been hitting the dorm leaders, too. So, tonight, with Headmaster Crowley’s permission, Billy will help myself and Grim in guarding Vil’s room. We can thus ensure that there will be eyes on him at all times, and someone to witness whether or not he might be responsible.”
“And if he isn’t,” Billy realized breaking in, “Er, I mean…when I isn’t…we can grab the big meaney-face who has REALLY been doing all this!”
Crowley hummed, his long, mask-covered nose turning upwards. Chief Jehan paused before speaking: “I’m not sure I approve of this plan, Headmaster. The Prefect and their compatriots have been helpful in the past, but they are biased towards the case. We would only have their word for it.
“You’d have mine, too!” insisted Rook, thrusting out his chest. “If the Prefect thinks it’s a beautiful idea, I shall do my utmost to ensure it all goes well! For the honor of Pomefiore!”
Grim rolled his eyes at Rook’s flamboyance, but you smiled gratefully as Hunt tipped his hat to you slyly.
“Very well,” Crowley said, and smiled. “I shall allow this plan to go forth, for I am gracious!”
Billy sighed with relief.
“BUT,” Crowley added stiffly, “If you are proven GUILTY by this plan, it will mean immediate expulsion. Am I understood?”
Billy gulped and nodded.
“Good,” Crowley said…then smiled anew and gave a shooing motion with his hands. “Now, off with you all! Hurry, hurry! And happy hunting catching the thief!”
You were all too happy to leave.
Anything to get out of eyeline with Claude Jehan helped.
