Troubled Teens [Frederick and Elanor]
“Chill out, freak, I told ya, I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about!”
“Your leader,” Frederick repeated, teeth clenched in frustration. “No gang of brigands simply materializes, organized and uniformed, out of nothing for gods' sake!” He held the panicking youth up, one armed, by the collar of his shirt, Shepard held firmly in the other. His remaining would-be-assailants— dispatched swiftly with the blunt face of his sword— now scrambled horrified to their feet, fleeing the deranged swordsman as soon as they could (more or less) stand. The trapped thug swallowed, hard.
“L-listen, man, I don't... I-I'm not high up enough, alright?! I got my crew, sure, but we all just got— there's always somebody above us, okay? Nobody knows who's at the top, nobody's ever— MNF!”
Frederick's sword hand jerked, unbidden, as Shepard's sash extended. The thug was cut off mid-sentence, the fabric wrapping itself around his mouth and squeezing— hard. Frederick frowned; he couldn't very well ruin the effect he created, but gods, she always liked to operate a step too far. The young man's eyelids fluttered for a moment as Frederick felt a buzz of energy travel through the sash and into his weapon, vibrating prickly under his sword hand. She was tasting him, he knew, just as she had tasted Frederick, not too long ago.
He forced his expression stony, unreadable. “Well?” Shepard loosened her hold on the young man, the long, arm-like sash fluttering back to inanimate. She considered, briefly, before replying to her partner with a soft chime. Truth.
“Wh-what the fuck...”
Frederick let go of the man's collar, holding back bitter disappointment. He supposed it would have been a little too easy for a lead to just fall into his lap like this, but... well. At the very least, he could try to see that Alola had one less gang terrorizing its streets.
“Do you have a family?” The question came out sounding more foreboding than Frederick really meant, judging by the youth's terrified, emphatic nod. “Get back to them, then. And tell your fellows they'll not find any easy targets from here on out. Understood?” The young man nodded again, though by Frederick's estimation, he seemed too scared to move— certainly not without Frederick's say so. He sighed as he Shepard back into her sheath, and gave the thug a small, curt nod. That was permission enough, it seemed, and the young man bolted out of the alley as fast as his shaky legs would carry him.
“That was... appreciated,” Frederick said, as soon as he was satisfied the thug was out of earshot. “But unbecoming of you.” Shepard rolled her single eye at her wielder, tinkling back an annoyed reply. “No, milady, I am most certainly not scolding you, but fear is a blunt instrument which must be wielded with care, and— beg pardon! I'll thank you not to compare me to a nursemaid!”
The two may very well have bickered into the day, had a sudden presence not caught Shepard's attention. She let out a low warning chime, and (with a touch of embarrassment), Frederick noticed it too. They were being watched. Reflexively, his hand went to Shepard's hilt, drawing her up so that a glimpse of steel was visible to their “guest.”
“...Who goes?”









