Deviant's Masquerade: Get Ink'd (A Toon Villan's Tale) [Transfer to SV Complete]
- Thread starter Arthicern
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Thank you for being Get Ink'd's first comment on Sufficient Velocity.
Also, I shall neither confirm nor deny how much time I spent on making up a name that fit that acronym.
TPK (Pt. 1): The Ink Pen's Words and The Mighty Sword's Wit
A/N: I'm going to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how this turned out like this. I rolled a couple dice, followed their characters and it all just sort of… escalated into this and I'm not sure if I should apologize or not.
---
TPK (Pt. 1): The Ink Pen's Words and The Mighty Sword's Wit
"Okay, so before we go any further I've got to ask if you're trying to run me off, see what kind of guy I am, or if this is some kind of shovel talk? Because I'll admit on that last one we are nowhere near dating given how we've had like… two long conversations. It's way too soon for that kind of thing." He told TPK, hoping she could be reasoned with.
The red head blinked for a moment before looking down at her blade. "Huh, it does look like that doesn't it?"
It was his turn to blink. "Uh, what?"
The woman seemed to think about something for a second before snapping her fingers. "Ah, that's where you misunderstood."
"Again, what?" He frowned.
"Okay, so yeah, I don't actually care if you talk to the GM." TPK admitted, before explaining that. "She's a big girl with two small armies both willing to rip you limb from limb if you touch her. Or if she tells them not to, one of her many adopted siblings can just fire bomb your house while you're asleep, hunt you down for sport with a pack of demons, or frame you for crimes so vile no one mundane or mask will ever work with you again. All of which of course depends on which of us you piss off."
"I see." He did not squeak as he was once more reminded how thoroughly the GM could trounce him if not only her but her family felt like it.
"What actually interested me is the fact that usually doesn't have conversations outside of the family unless she's playing a game. So I asked who she was texting with without playing a game, since it wasn't one of our siblings and she said it was this new Wonderlander she met." The GM's sister continued. "At which point I looked up your dungeon run, and wouldn't you know it as I was walking out I saw the same guy standing outside waiting for a rematch with the dungeon."
"Alright, I'm uh, I'm following so far." He nodded slowly. "But uh, that doesn't explain why we're here." He gestured to the coliseum around them.
"Oh, I just wanted to fight you." TPK explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"Right… and the uh, kidnapping?" He asked, silently questioning the woman's sanity. "I mean you could've just asked for a fight."
"Your consent does not matter to me." The woman told him bluntly.
He blinked. "I'm sorry, but what was that?"
"I said, your consent does not matter to me." TPK repeated. "Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, but I am going to thrust my sword into you."
"... I am deeply uncomfortable with everything you just said."
"Right, rough way it is." TPK told him, picking up the massive sword she wanted to fuck him up with.
"Wait, wait, wait!" He cried trying to stall. "Uh, what kind of person do you want?"
"What do you mean?" The (crazy) woman paused.
"I'm, uh, I'm a Wonderlander." He reminded her. "And well… A Wonderlander has to stick to their theme, and mine just so happens to be a… theater."
"Okay…" TPK nodded, waiting for him to explain why that mattered.
"Well, uh, as a theater Wonderlander I have these… different personas I can play." He lied through his teeth. "Each persona has its own powers and style, so which one would you like?"
"Like those few bits of your run where you got especially brutal." The guild lieutenant said, buying his bullshit.
"Exactly." He smiled, happily selling said bullshit. "So what do you want, something comical, brutal, heroic? Ooh, maybe an honorable warrior type, huh?"
"You know what? Yeah, let's go with the honorable warrior type." TPK told him. "Been a while since I've fought one of those."
"Ah, good choice." He applauded her before forming his ink blade in hand. "Oh, but wait, we need to signify respect with our duel."
"You're right." The warrior woman nodded, before offering her hand. "Let's have a good clean fight, huh?"
"Let's." He nodded, taking her hand and immediately tagging it.
"You know this is what I love about honorable types." TPK said as they shook hands.
"The fact that they're willing to show respect?" He figured.
"No, that they're stupid enough to get in beatdown range." The gang leader corrected before kicking him between the legs with enough force to lift him off the ground.
"Fu~uck!" Whimpered hitting the ground.
"Honestly, if you're going to be a Mask that kind of thing would get you killed." TPK told him as she used her grip on his hand to lift him up before stabbing her sword into him. "Don't worry though, I'll teach you what you're supposed to do. Though the first time does hurt a bit."
"Not if… your partner… knows what they're… doing…" He argued, refusing to let her have the last word.
TPK gave him a smirk before pulling out her massive sword and kicking him away from her.
Rolling across the ground, he could do little to slow himself down due to the pain in his stomach. Though when he did finally come to a stop he couldn't help but grimace as he saw the gaping hole in his stomach. (Fuck that's bad…)
"Oh come on, don't tell me you finished already?" The (psycho-bitch) whined as he reached into his coat rather than immediately get back up. "Are you really a one-and-done chump?"
"Fuck… you…" He coughed, pulling out a crimson vial as he picked himself off the ground.
"Maybe if you're a good boy." The older woman winked, causing his face to heat up as he pulled the stopped off of his vial.
TPK gave a laugh at that as rather than answering he downed the vial of malice, the taste of strawberries and copper filling his mouth.
"What's that? You need a… performance enhancer?" The older woman teased, making his blush worsen given the truth behind it.
(Oof kid, we need to step up your game and how. Don't worry though, I've got your back.)
"What, am I not good looking enough for you?" TPK pouted as he felt his heart begin to beat to that familiar tune.
(First rule of any performance be it flirting or comedy, it's all a game of chicken. Never back down and always be willing to go a step further than your opponent.)
He gave a chuckle and smirked at the older woman. "No, shame in a man admitting he needs a bit of help to keep up with someone as beautiful as you darlin'. After all, all that matters is making sure you are more than satisfied."
TPK blinked in surprise before gaining a smile dangerous in more than one way. "Ooh, you might actually be fun."
"I try not to disappoint." He admitted with a nod.
The older woman glanced down before kicking his ink blade back to him. "That might be tricky, since with what you're carrying you don't look all that well equipped."
(Next rule: subvert expectations and you'll hit 'em twice as hard.)
He gave the TPK and her oversized blade an unimpressed look as he spun his own knife in hand before shaking his head. "Oh, I do feel the need to apologize."
"What for?" TPK frowned suspiciously.
"Well it seems you've been deeply disappointed by my fellows if you believe size is an indicator of… prowess, which is a true shame." He explained, before having his Ink Equip turn into a whip and strike at her. "Especially since skill is far more important."
(Most importantly always recognize your audience and what appeals to them.)
"Oh, whips on the first date?" The older woman smirked as she blocked the strike. "Aren't you forward?"
"You seem like the kind of gal who'd appreciate such a thing." He admitted, before giving her a charming grin. "We both know anything less would bore you."
"You're not wrong." TPK admitted as she readied her blade. "So let's see if you can satisfy me with that little toy of yours."
"Trust me," He bowed, never breaking eye contact. "my tongue is far more dangerous than any toy."
---
TPK (Pt. 1): The Ink Pen's Words and The Mighty Sword's Wit
--- Joshua ---
"Okay, so before we go any further I've got to ask if you're trying to run me off, see what kind of guy I am, or if this is some kind of shovel talk? Because I'll admit on that last one we are nowhere near dating given how we've had like… two long conversations. It's way too soon for that kind of thing." He told TPK, hoping she could be reasoned with.
The red head blinked for a moment before looking down at her blade. "Huh, it does look like that doesn't it?"
It was his turn to blink. "Uh, what?"
The woman seemed to think about something for a second before snapping her fingers. "Ah, that's where you misunderstood."
"Again, what?" He frowned.
"Okay, so yeah, I don't actually care if you talk to the GM." TPK admitted, before explaining that. "She's a big girl with two small armies both willing to rip you limb from limb if you touch her. Or if she tells them not to, one of her many adopted siblings can just fire bomb your house while you're asleep, hunt you down for sport with a pack of demons, or frame you for crimes so vile no one mundane or mask will ever work with you again. All of which of course depends on which of us you piss off."
"I see." He did not squeak as he was once more reminded how thoroughly the GM could trounce him if not only her but her family felt like it.
"What actually interested me is the fact that usually doesn't have conversations outside of the family unless she's playing a game. So I asked who she was texting with without playing a game, since it wasn't one of our siblings and she said it was this new Wonderlander she met." The GM's sister continued. "At which point I looked up your dungeon run, and wouldn't you know it as I was walking out I saw the same guy standing outside waiting for a rematch with the dungeon."
"Alright, I'm uh, I'm following so far." He nodded slowly. "But uh, that doesn't explain why we're here." He gestured to the coliseum around them.
"Oh, I just wanted to fight you." TPK explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"Right… and the uh, kidnapping?" He asked, silently questioning the woman's sanity. "I mean you could've just asked for a fight."
"Your consent does not matter to me." The woman told him bluntly.
He blinked. "I'm sorry, but what was that?"
"I said, your consent does not matter to me." TPK repeated. "Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, but I am going to thrust my sword into you."
"... I am deeply uncomfortable with everything you just said."
"Right, rough way it is." TPK told him, picking up the massive sword she wanted to fuck him up with.
"Wait, wait, wait!" He cried trying to stall. "Uh, what kind of person do you want?"
"What do you mean?" The (crazy) woman paused.
"I'm, uh, I'm a Wonderlander." He reminded her. "And well… A Wonderlander has to stick to their theme, and mine just so happens to be a… theater."
"Okay…" TPK nodded, waiting for him to explain why that mattered.
"Well, uh, as a theater Wonderlander I have these… different personas I can play." He lied through his teeth. "Each persona has its own powers and style, so which one would you like?"
"Like those few bits of your run where you got especially brutal." The guild lieutenant said, buying his bullshit.
"Exactly." He smiled, happily selling said bullshit. "So what do you want, something comical, brutal, heroic? Ooh, maybe an honorable warrior type, huh?"
"You know what? Yeah, let's go with the honorable warrior type." TPK told him. "Been a while since I've fought one of those."
"Ah, good choice." He applauded her before forming his ink blade in hand. "Oh, but wait, we need to signify respect with our duel."
"You're right." The warrior woman nodded, before offering her hand. "Let's have a good clean fight, huh?"
"Let's." He nodded, taking her hand and immediately tagging it.
"You know this is what I love about honorable types." TPK said as they shook hands.
"The fact that they're willing to show respect?" He figured.
"No, that they're stupid enough to get in beatdown range." The gang leader corrected before kicking him between the legs with enough force to lift him off the ground.
"Fu~uck!" Whimpered hitting the ground.
"Honestly, if you're going to be a Mask that kind of thing would get you killed." TPK told him as she used her grip on his hand to lift him up before stabbing her sword into him. "Don't worry though, I'll teach you what you're supposed to do. Though the first time does hurt a bit."
"Not if… your partner… knows what they're… doing…" He argued, refusing to let her have the last word.
TPK gave him a smirk before pulling out her massive sword and kicking him away from her.
Rolling across the ground, he could do little to slow himself down due to the pain in his stomach. Though when he did finally come to a stop he couldn't help but grimace as he saw the gaping hole in his stomach. (Fuck that's bad…)
"Oh come on, don't tell me you finished already?" The (psycho-bitch) whined as he reached into his coat rather than immediately get back up. "Are you really a one-and-done chump?"
"Fuck… you…" He coughed, pulling out a crimson vial as he picked himself off the ground.
"Maybe if you're a good boy." The older woman winked, causing his face to heat up as he pulled the stopped off of his vial.
TPK gave a laugh at that as rather than answering he downed the vial of malice, the taste of strawberries and copper filling his mouth.
"What's that? You need a… performance enhancer?" The older woman teased, making his blush worsen given the truth behind it.
(Oof kid, we need to step up your game and how. Don't worry though, I've got your back.)
"What, am I not good looking enough for you?" TPK pouted as he felt his heart begin to beat to that familiar tune.
(First rule of any performance be it flirting or comedy, it's all a game of chicken. Never back down and always be willing to go a step further than your opponent.)
He gave a chuckle and smirked at the older woman. "No, shame in a man admitting he needs a bit of help to keep up with someone as beautiful as you darlin'. After all, all that matters is making sure you are more than satisfied."
TPK blinked in surprise before gaining a smile dangerous in more than one way. "Ooh, you might actually be fun."
"I try not to disappoint." He admitted with a nod.
The older woman glanced down before kicking his ink blade back to him. "That might be tricky, since with what you're carrying you don't look all that well equipped."
(Next rule: subvert expectations and you'll hit 'em twice as hard.)
He gave the TPK and her oversized blade an unimpressed look as he spun his own knife in hand before shaking his head. "Oh, I do feel the need to apologize."
"What for?" TPK frowned suspiciously.
"Well it seems you've been deeply disappointed by my fellows if you believe size is an indicator of… prowess, which is a true shame." He explained, before having his Ink Equip turn into a whip and strike at her. "Especially since skill is far more important."
(Most importantly always recognize your audience and what appeals to them.)
"Oh, whips on the first date?" The older woman smirked as she blocked the strike. "Aren't you forward?"
"You seem like the kind of gal who'd appreciate such a thing." He admitted, before giving her a charming grin. "We both know anything less would bore you."
"You're not wrong." TPK admitted as she readied her blade. "So let's see if you can satisfy me with that little toy of yours."
"Trust me," He bowed, never breaking eye contact. "my tongue is far more dangerous than any toy."
TPK (Pt. 2): A Duel of Wits, Ink, and Blades
TPK (Pt. 2): A Duel of Wits, Ink, and Blades
The guild lieutenant rushed him, crossing half the arena with a single kick to the ground and her sword pulled behind her.
Reading his tag on her hand he adjusted his footing ever so slightly, so close to the perfect distance that the blade crashed but a hair's width behind him.
"Ooh, you missed, does that mean I get a kiss?" He wondered idly as he glanced over his shoulder to meet her eyes bashfully.
TPK grinned with more fangs than he was expecting, before telling him, "Only if you can give me a proper dance." as she backhanded him with enough force to generate a gust of wind.
Or rather she tried to backhand him, and unfortunately -(for her)- chose to use the hand he tagged, letting him move as soon as her hand began to twitch.
"Since you seem intent, I've no problem letting you lead, beautiful." He grinned back as he gave her a half bow.
"Oh, not going to hit me again?" TPK asked with a pout, despite swinging her sword with enough force to cleave him in two if she hit him.
"What can I say?" He shrugged ever so casually as he continued to avoid her strikes, some part of him having realized that her swings were about twice the length of his legs, allowing him to dance around her swings with an odd sort of two-step. "A proper gentleman knows to only go as far as the lady is willing."
"Really, in that case I'm thinking…" She lunged forward stabbing her blade towards him. "penetration!"
"Oh, my!" He gasped, putting a hand to his mouth as bashfully spun around, and just so happened to avoid getting stabbed. "Who's the forward one now?"
"And who's the fight tease?" TPK scoffed as she swung at his open back, before watching him backflip over the blade without touching it. (I didn't even know I could do that!) "You're not even fighting back!"
"Oh, that?" He smiled as he took a step forward, leaving their faces close enough to breathe on each other. "I was just figuring out what you'd find most… pleasurable."
TPK swallowed and -(that is my victory)- didn't notice his hand swinging for her face until he toonified it on impact, causing her to stagger back a step from the unexpected blow.
The redhead blinked before giggling as she wiped a bit of blood from under her nose and gave him a smile of her own, one notably more deranged than his own. "Oh, that was a good one."
He was about to offer her another innuendo before she blurred out of existence, causing him to drop to the ground as he felt her reappear behind him, just barely avoiding the swing that would've taken his head.
"Give me another!" TPK laughed as she kicked him in the ass, sending him tumbling across the arena a good few meters.
"F-u-uck." He groaned, as the song in his head began to skip and sputter a bit. (She is really crossing the crazy threshold for her hotness.)
He shook his head as he forced himself onto his feet and immediately rolled to the side to avoid being cleaved in two by the (crazy) woman's skull splitter, which instead left a visible fissure in the ground.
(Right, okay time to start cheating.)
(Best idea you've had all day.)
"Whoo, you are… something… darlin'." He coughed as he twisted his Madness in the general direction of TPK, trying to get his field to latch onto her but finding that it didn't want to listen to him for some reason.
"Oh, getting serious enough to really bring out the Madness, eh?" TPK smiled with more fangs than he remembered her having. "Should warn you whatever you're trying to pull there ain't going to override my field."
"Uh, what?" He asked, realizing that no matter how hard he focused he just could not get his field to target her. (Oh, this is bad, this is very bad.)
"Yeah, perk of being so close to my little sis." TPK explained as she slowly walked towards him with a bloodthirsty grin. "To directly attack me with Madness, you have to use enough Madness to override hers, and well…" The Gamer Guild lieutenant gestured to the arena around them. "We're kind of in the middle of her domain here. My corner of it maybe, but still her domain."
(Ah, shit… I thought that was justJack's weirdness…)
He swallowed, as the tune inside his head finally snapped leaving behind an ominous silence and a feeling of weakness.
"Ahh, don't tell me you're going to give up because your little trick didn't work?" TPK cooed as she lifted his chin with her sword. "Unless that and talking are your only real tricks?"
(She's looking down on me…)
"No." He growled, grabbing her blade and moving it away from him so that he could stand. "It's not."
"Then what's your next trick?" The Guild lieutenant smirked, her pupils contracted to pinpoints. "Because you promised not to bore me."
"I did." He admitted, before bending down to pick up the hat he had lost. "And I assure you it is going to be a stunning performance."
The moment his hat touched his head he flooded it with Madness, causing a flash of light to erupt from it and TPK to stumble back as she blinked the spots out of her eyes.
While he did this, rather than pressing the advantage, he tightened his grip on her blade and began pushing his ink into it, hoping to toonify her sword in the same way he'd turned a goblin's blade into his knife.
TPK shook her head and turned to him, having overcome his stun faster than he'd been expecting, before her eyes darted down to her sword and the ink spreading across it with a glare.
Instead of trying to wrench the blade from his hand, she instead let go of it, leaving him with all of the weight as even his strength wasn't anywhere near enough to hold it up with a single hand.
With her now free hands TPK grabbed both sides of his head before pulling back her own and headbutting him hard enough that he could swear he heard his nose crunching beneath her forehead. She then pushed his head back before slamming his face into her knee and proceeding to kick him hard enough to send him flying into the arena wall.
"Fuck!" He gasped as he staggered to his feet.
"Frak, you really screwed with my sword's coding with whatever you were doing here." TPK told him as the blade in her hand seemed to give off pixels along the edge of where his ink coated it. "Hmm, welp not much I can do with this, so I guess you can have it."
TPK deftly flipped the blade in her hand before raising it into the air and proceeding to hurl the broadsword at him as if it were a javelin.
"Oh, shi-" He barely managed one step before the blade pierced through his bicep. "-UCK!"
Blinking through the pain, he tried to move but found the blade was pinning him in place.
"Shit." He cursed, before looking at TPK who was slowly making her way over.
"You know, I'll admit that was a bit interesting but it wasn't really the stunning performance you promised." The guild lieutenant told him as she stuck a hand through another hole in the air before pulling out a sledgehammer with a head made of stone.
He swung his ink whip at her hoping to force her back until he came up with an actual plan, but the more experienced fighter simply weaved through his strikes as she got ever closer. Something made all the worse when in his panic he swung his ink whip without refilling its ink, causing the whip to splatter against TPK's clothes on the one strike she couldn't avoid.
"Ah, done so soon? Ya couldn't keep it up just a bit longer?" The redhead pouted as she pulled her hammer back. "I guess you really were all talk."
"Boss!" Avery cried out running up to him as he hit the cabaret floor.
"The, the fuck?!" He blinked looking around in a daze as he pushed himself up. "How, how did I get here?"
"That, that woman she knocked you out and you, you come here when you're, you're unconscious." Avery tried to explain as he set a couple of half empty bottles next to them before mixing them into a glass and shoving it into his hands. "If you, if you want to get back up you-you have to drink this. It'll consume a bit of Madness but, but it'll let you get back up right this second!"
"The… the spirit raising spirits?" He asked, half-recognizing the drink despite his pounding headache.
"You need to decide quick, I-I know she said she wasn't your enemy but, but she's from a rival gang! Can you, can you really trust her?!" Avery panicked.
He stared down at the glass in his hand, before [Telling Avery, "Keep that bottle ready, I'm not losing no matter what."]
--- Joshua ---
The guild lieutenant rushed him, crossing half the arena with a single kick to the ground and her sword pulled behind her.
Reading his tag on her hand he adjusted his footing ever so slightly, so close to the perfect distance that the blade crashed but a hair's width behind him.
"Ooh, you missed, does that mean I get a kiss?" He wondered idly as he glanced over his shoulder to meet her eyes bashfully.
TPK grinned with more fangs than he was expecting, before telling him, "Only if you can give me a proper dance." as she backhanded him with enough force to generate a gust of wind.
Or rather she tried to backhand him, and unfortunately -(for her)- chose to use the hand he tagged, letting him move as soon as her hand began to twitch.
"Since you seem intent, I've no problem letting you lead, beautiful." He grinned back as he gave her a half bow.
"Oh, not going to hit me again?" TPK asked with a pout, despite swinging her sword with enough force to cleave him in two if she hit him.
"What can I say?" He shrugged ever so casually as he continued to avoid her strikes, some part of him having realized that her swings were about twice the length of his legs, allowing him to dance around her swings with an odd sort of two-step. "A proper gentleman knows to only go as far as the lady is willing."
"Really, in that case I'm thinking…" She lunged forward stabbing her blade towards him. "penetration!"
"Oh, my!" He gasped, putting a hand to his mouth as bashfully spun around, and just so happened to avoid getting stabbed. "Who's the forward one now?"
"And who's the fight tease?" TPK scoffed as she swung at his open back, before watching him backflip over the blade without touching it. (I didn't even know I could do that!) "You're not even fighting back!"
"Oh, that?" He smiled as he took a step forward, leaving their faces close enough to breathe on each other. "I was just figuring out what you'd find most… pleasurable."
TPK swallowed and -(that is my victory)- didn't notice his hand swinging for her face until he toonified it on impact, causing her to stagger back a step from the unexpected blow.
The redhead blinked before giggling as she wiped a bit of blood from under her nose and gave him a smile of her own, one notably more deranged than his own. "Oh, that was a good one."
He was about to offer her another innuendo before she blurred out of existence, causing him to drop to the ground as he felt her reappear behind him, just barely avoiding the swing that would've taken his head.
"Give me another!" TPK laughed as she kicked him in the ass, sending him tumbling across the arena a good few meters.
"F-u-uck." He groaned, as the song in his head began to skip and sputter a bit. (She is really crossing the crazy threshold for her hotness.)
He shook his head as he forced himself onto his feet and immediately rolled to the side to avoid being cleaved in two by the (crazy) woman's skull splitter, which instead left a visible fissure in the ground.
(Right, okay time to start cheating.)
(Best idea you've had all day.)
"Whoo, you are… something… darlin'." He coughed as he twisted his Madness in the general direction of TPK, trying to get his field to latch onto her but finding that it didn't want to listen to him for some reason.
"Oh, getting serious enough to really bring out the Madness, eh?" TPK smiled with more fangs than he remembered her having. "Should warn you whatever you're trying to pull there ain't going to override my field."
"Uh, what?" He asked, realizing that no matter how hard he focused he just could not get his field to target her. (Oh, this is bad, this is very bad.)
"Yeah, perk of being so close to my little sis." TPK explained as she slowly walked towards him with a bloodthirsty grin. "To directly attack me with Madness, you have to use enough Madness to override hers, and well…" The Gamer Guild lieutenant gestured to the arena around them. "We're kind of in the middle of her domain here. My corner of it maybe, but still her domain."
(Ah, shit… I thought that was just
He swallowed, as the tune inside his head finally snapped leaving behind an ominous silence and a feeling of weakness.
"Ahh, don't tell me you're going to give up because your little trick didn't work?" TPK cooed as she lifted his chin with her sword. "Unless that and talking are your only real tricks?"
(She's looking down on me…)
"No." He growled, grabbing her blade and moving it away from him so that he could stand. "It's not."
"Then what's your next trick?" The Guild lieutenant smirked, her pupils contracted to pinpoints. "Because you promised not to bore me."
"I did." He admitted, before bending down to pick up the hat he had lost. "And I assure you it is going to be a stunning performance."
The moment his hat touched his head he flooded it with Madness, causing a flash of light to erupt from it and TPK to stumble back as she blinked the spots out of her eyes.
While he did this, rather than pressing the advantage, he tightened his grip on her blade and began pushing his ink into it, hoping to toonify her sword in the same way he'd turned a goblin's blade into his knife.
TPK shook her head and turned to him, having overcome his stun faster than he'd been expecting, before her eyes darted down to her sword and the ink spreading across it with a glare.
Instead of trying to wrench the blade from his hand, she instead let go of it, leaving him with all of the weight as even his strength wasn't anywhere near enough to hold it up with a single hand.
With her now free hands TPK grabbed both sides of his head before pulling back her own and headbutting him hard enough that he could swear he heard his nose crunching beneath her forehead. She then pushed his head back before slamming his face into her knee and proceeding to kick him hard enough to send him flying into the arena wall.
"Fuck!" He gasped as he staggered to his feet.
"Frak, you really screwed with my sword's coding with whatever you were doing here." TPK told him as the blade in her hand seemed to give off pixels along the edge of where his ink coated it. "Hmm, welp not much I can do with this, so I guess you can have it."
TPK deftly flipped the blade in her hand before raising it into the air and proceeding to hurl the broadsword at him as if it were a javelin.
"Oh, shi-" He barely managed one step before the blade pierced through his bicep. "-UCK!"
Blinking through the pain, he tried to move but found the blade was pinning him in place.
"Shit." He cursed, before looking at TPK who was slowly making her way over.
"You know, I'll admit that was a bit interesting but it wasn't really the stunning performance you promised." The guild lieutenant told him as she stuck a hand through another hole in the air before pulling out a sledgehammer with a head made of stone.
He swung his ink whip at her hoping to force her back until he came up with an actual plan, but the more experienced fighter simply weaved through his strikes as she got ever closer. Something made all the worse when in his panic he swung his ink whip without refilling its ink, causing the whip to splatter against TPK's clothes on the one strike she couldn't avoid.
"Ah, done so soon? Ya couldn't keep it up just a bit longer?" The redhead pouted as she pulled her hammer back. "I guess you really were all talk."
---
"Boss!" Avery cried out running up to him as he hit the cabaret floor.
"The, the fuck?!" He blinked looking around in a daze as he pushed himself up. "How, how did I get here?"
"That, that woman she knocked you out and you, you come here when you're, you're unconscious." Avery tried to explain as he set a couple of half empty bottles next to them before mixing them into a glass and shoving it into his hands. "If you, if you want to get back up you-you have to drink this. It'll consume a bit of Madness but, but it'll let you get back up right this second!"
"The… the spirit raising spirits?" He asked, half-recognizing the drink despite his pounding headache.
"You need to decide quick, I-I know she said she wasn't your enemy but, but she's from a rival gang! Can you, can you really trust her?!" Avery panicked.
He stared down at the glass in his hand, before [Telling Avery, "Keep that bottle ready, I'm not losing no matter what."]
Thanks for catching that.
TPK (Pt. 3): Give Me Victory or A Dance With Death
-RR+SB=Total: Vote Option
Madness
-4+7=11: Telling Avery, "Keep that bottle ready, I'm not losing no matter what."
-3+6=9: Telling Avery, "Keep that bottle ready, I'm not going down without a fight."
-2+0=2: Sitting it down, this fight wasn't worth it.
-2+0=2: Downing it to get back up and concede.
-1+0=1: Downing it to get back up and fight.
Malice
-4+8=12: 1 Vial
-1+1=2: 0 Vial
-2+0=2: 2 Vials
Madness
-4+7=11: Telling Avery, "Keep that bottle ready, I'm not losing no matter what."
-3+6=9: Telling Avery, "Keep that bottle ready, I'm not going down without a fight."
-2+0=2: Sitting it down, this fight wasn't worth it.
-2+0=2: Downing it to get back up and concede.
-1+0=1: Downing it to get back up and fight.
Malice
-4+8=12: 1 Vial
-1+1=2: 0 Vial
-2+0=2: 2 Vials
TPK (Pt. 3): Give Me Victory or A Dance With Death
--- Joshua ---
He told Avery, "Keep that bottle, ready I'm not losing no matter what." before downing the shot of Madness and feeling as if he was being dunked into a vat of cold water.
---
He gasped, as his entire body lurched forward and he found himself once more pinned to the arena wall by the sword through his arm.
"Oh, that's good I was half-scared I'd killed you with the way you passed out." TPK admitted with that (infuriating) smirk of hers. "I guess that means you're just one of those guys who falls asleep before the girl is done."
He gave her a dark look as he reached into his jacket and pulled out another vial of Malice before pulling the cap off with his teeth and proceeding to down the vial as fast as he would a shot of Madness.
All around him he began to hear music filling the air, and hearing that (sweet sadistic symphony of sound and swing) as he grabbed the blade pinning his arm to the wall he couldn't help but smile as he ripped the sword out of both in a spray of blood and ink.
"Oh, darlin' you've no idea what kind of demon you're bringing out of me." He grinned, swinging the ink stained sword through the air as if it weighed nothing at all.
TPK shook her head, "You've been making some big promises kid and you've yet to-"
An oversized toon hand shot at the guild lieutenant, his arm stretching several meters as his hand slapped against the ground, and his opponent just barely avoided getting squashed as she leapt backwards.
Rather than just retracting his hand he dug his fingers into the ground and pulled himself to his hand, before using his momentum to swing the oversized sword enough force that the only reason it didn't cleave TPK in two was because she bent over backwards to avoid the slash. Which unfortunately meant she was in no position to avoid the toonified backhand he threw back as he pulled his hand from the dirt.
The guild lieutenant went flying before flipping in the air and hitting the ground in a three point slide.
"Alright, that's what I'm-" TPK leaned to the side to avoid being impaled to the arena wall by her sword, much as he had been just a moment prior. Something that kept her from noticing as he wrapped his Ink Whip around her arm, before pulling her towards him.
Shifting his ink through his hand he was about to use his Toon Hand to slam her into the ground, when much like he had with her sword TPK used the momentum of his pull to swing her axe at him with enough force that he could see the air splitting in its wake.
Reacting more on reflex than any thought, he slid his feet across the ground as he spun his body around, somehow managing to both avoid being cleaved in two by TPK's axe and end up behind the older woman with an arm around her and an Ink Knife to her throat.
"I hope you don't mind beautiful, but I feel it's my turn to lead this dance." He warned her, some part of him able to think beyond the hot older woman currently pressed up against his body.
(Trust me, you'll get more than used to it, kid.)
"I'll admit, that was some fancy footwork." TPK told him, as he felt several parts of her begin to tense.
(Don't let her turn this around.)
Rather than letting her do whatever she was going to to break free, he instead spun her around to face him and took a step closer making it impossible for her to get the leverage to swing her axe at him as he took her free hand in his and held it up.
"If we're going to dance, then shouldn't we dance?" He asked by way of explanation, purposely spinning the two of them to keep her from getting her feet underneath her.
"I, uh, what?" The older woman blinked, as he continued to move them in a way that he hoped would force her to drop the axe, so that he could drop the act, and her in turn.
"What? Can't you hear the music in the air?" He wondered aloud, beginning to hum to the tune in his head as he sped their movements up.
"That, uh, that doesn't sound like this kind of dance." TPK pointed out after a few moments (of still holding onto that stupid axe.)
"True." He admitted with a nod, before giving her a grin as his patience began to wear out. "It's more this kind of dance."
He pulled back a step as leaned backwards, before stepping forward and swinging his head straight into hers.
"Fuck!" TPK cursed as she stumbled back.
"Oh, we haven't gotten to that part yet." He warned her, as he once more pulled her towards him before swinging them in another circle in one last attempt to get her to lose her weapon.
Feeling her beginning to tense as she tried to lift her axe, he went ahead and called this a bad bet and let go of her on their next swing causing her to stumble back a step. Leaving her open for a toon hand to her face.
Or so he thought as she instead caught his hand in hers.
"You know what?" The redhead asked with a grin as she licked a bit of blood from her lip. "I think this dance is more my pace."
The gang lieutenant released his oversized hand before grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him in close as she swung them both around with her axe raised into the air, chasing after him to split him in-
---
"Fuck!" He gasped shooting up from the cabaret floor before grabbing onto a nearby table and pulling himself to his feet, where he found another glass of spirit raising spirits waiting for him.
Grabbing the glass he raised it into the air and said, "Third times the charm." before downing it and feeling a wave of hot water rush over him.
---
He pushed himself off of the ground where he'd landed and saw as a massive gash in his side stitched itself shut with a series of black and red tendrils. Ink, blood, and Madness doing all they could to keep him alive and in one piece.
"Getting up for a third round." TPK whistled as he climbed to his feet. "Not many guys can do that."
"What can I say? I've got grit and gumption." He told her, trying very hard to cover up the fact that he was having trouble breathing and could taste blood in his mouth. (Think she hit a lung with that last one.)
Refusing to show blood in the water he gave the redhead a once over, and admitted, "Then again it might just be the woman I'm with, being too hot to stop."
"Yeah, who knows when the next time you'll get a girl like me." TPK nodded as she hefted her axe over her shoulder before blurring out of existence. "You should enjoy it while you can."
The moment he heard her voice, he rolled forward; just barely avoiding a repeat of his last two performances as the gang lieutenant's blade cleaved through the air above him.
"Same to you. Most guys probably don't last this long, with a woman as feisty as you." He pointed out, stalling as he got to his feet. "So what do you say, we enjoy this chance and have another round of fun, eh?"
The redhead giggled before giving him a vicious grin. "Let's."
She moved before him, but he moved more smoothly, as TPK rushed forward and slammed her axe down in a skull splitting strike that he stepped around, spinning his knife for a retaliatory slash. One that failed to connect as his opponent used her axe to leverage herself at an angle she couldn't naturally make before lashing out with a kick to his stomach, sending him sliding back a couple of meters.
He tried very hard not to think about how many ribs that single blow must've cracked if not outright broken.
(I can't keep taking hits… My healing factor is barely keeping up… I'm barely keeping up…) He was forced to admit, feeling a faint exhaustion throughout his mind and body as TPK rushed him once more.
(Need something big to put her down.) He decided, as he avoided another flurry of swings, only managing because of the size and heft of the weapon she was twirling about slowing her down.
(Madness field it out, I've got one maybe two toon hands left, and I'm just about out of ink.) He listed, running an inventory of his situation.
(Quit thinking about what we can't do, and focus on what we can.)
He blinked, before shaking his head as he caught sight of something as he weaved between TPK's onslaught.
(Yeah, might be able to make something work with that…)
Manipulating his ink he ducked beneath one another one of the gang lieutenant's swings, before throwing an Ink Blot at her face.
"Frak, what is this shit?!" TPK cursed as she leapt back, swiping at her eyes.
Aware that this was likely his only chance he rushed forward, twirling his ink whip around his hand as he did so before leaping at the guild boss with a superman punch.
He didn't know how she knew, but even blinded TPK stepped to her side avoiding the blow to her head, that between his weight, increased strength, and toon hands could've done some serious damage to her.
Luckily that blow would've just been a bonus to give an opening, as instead he threw his hand out and sent his Ink Whip to grab the ink stained broadsword he'd left in the arena wall before pulling it towards him with a spin.
As he pulled the blade shot out of the wall and whistled through the air towards him, before giving into the momentum of his spin and swinging into a heavy strike across TPK's torso sending her flying back as he retracted the blade towards him.
Not letting up he chased after her blade in hand before raising it for an overhead strike on his blinded foe.
The redhead stilled for a split second before letting go of her axe and rolling to the side, somehow managing to once more avoid his attack despite her impairment.
(Well… At least I got her axe away from her…) He noted, attempting to stay positive despite his practically empty reserves.
"Gah, that was a dirty trick." TPK told him as she finally cleared her eyes of his ink.
"Really? You seem to be… enjoying it." He pointed out with a glance to her grinning face, hoping to keep her talking so he could catch his breath and figure out his next move.
"Oh, I am." The redhead admitted with a sinful smirk. "Though I hope you know you're not the only one who can be dirty."
He gave her a grin and a shrug. "Don't worry, I don't kink shame."
"Good then just let me pull out a few more toys." TPK smiled as she pushed both of her hands through the holes in the air before pulling out another pair of weapons.
"Kinky."
---
"Oh, she is fucking me… up…" He coughed, having to roll over rather than being able to actually pick himself off the ground.
"Are you okay?" Avery asked, helping him up to his feet.
"No, I'm too tired to pull out the big moves, I can barely focus, and my Ink Well is just about empty." He explained to the cabaret manager, before grabbing the glass of spirit raising spirits off of the table. "At this point I'm just going to have to brute force it until I beat her."
"Can you beat her?" Avery frowned with a fair bit of concern. "You've already burned through two of our resources trying to beat her."
"Well you know the saying… give me victory or give me death." He told the Boss Dream before downing his glass and being thrown back into the cold of reality.
TPK (Pt. 4): A Finale Desiring A Mutual Encore
TPK (Pt. 4): A Finale Desiring A Mutual Encore
"Fu~uck…" He couldn't help but groan as he forced himself back up, no helpful Avery to aid him in the Waking World.
"Ooh, up for round four?" TPK asked, looking for all the world like she'd barely broken a sweat if not for the bit of dried blood beneath her nose.
"The spirit is willing." He smiled, despite the aches and pains filling him. (But my flesh is squishy and bruised.)
"Fantastic." The redhead grinned, scraping her swords against each other.
Rolling his shoulders he raised his hands into the air, knowing that even if his powers were running dry he might be able to brawl his way out. (With enough tries anyway…)
TPK's eyes narrowed before she sighed, and pushed her swords through a pair of holes in the air similar to the ones she'd withdrawn them from before his latest defeat. "Yeah, no."
"Wha?" He blinked. "What're you doing?"
The redhead gave him a look. "You're barely standing."
"But I'm still standing." He pointed out, as he fought down a grimace. "And I'll keep standing back up every time you knock me down."
"Oh, I don't doubt it." TPK admitted. "But at that point this becomes more of a chore than anything fun."
"That's…" He sighed after a moment. "Something I can see…"
If TPK was only in this for a fun fight, then her just swatting him down so that he could stand back up and repeat the process wasn't going to be fun for anyone. (Even if I'm willing to see it to the bitter end…)
"Yeah, at this point you're spent and it's just me working myself up for nothing." TPK nodded as she raised a hand before snapping her fingers and causing the world around them to shatter as they were left in the same park clearing she'd dragged him to before their fight. "That said, you did last significantly longer than I was expecting."
The red head gave him a sinful smile. "Even if you didn't quite satisfy me, it was… fun in its own way."
(Oof, my manhood…)
He gave her a wry grin. "Like I said, I'm willing to keep fighting for it if you are."
"And I appreciate that." TPK chuckled as she walked over. "If anything you've definitely got more games than I was expecting."
"My tongue is my most dangerous tool." He reminded her.
"That it is." TPK agreed, stepping far closer to him than he was expecting. "Hell, with a tongue like that you'll eat my sister alive if you try but-"
(Oof, my manhood!)
"-hopefully not before I get a proper taste for myself."
With that he felt a pair of lips on his cheek not even an entire inch from his own.
"It was a fun date, kid." The redhead winked, before turning around, "Find me when you grow up a bit, and I'll show you how to have some real fun on a date." -and sauntering away with a sway to her hips.
And for that his response was a simple,
"Meep."
--- Joshua ---
"Fu~uck…" He couldn't help but groan as he forced himself back up, no helpful Avery to aid him in the Waking World.
"Ooh, up for round four?" TPK asked, looking for all the world like she'd barely broken a sweat if not for the bit of dried blood beneath her nose.
"The spirit is willing." He smiled, despite the aches and pains filling him. (But my flesh is squishy and bruised.)
"Fantastic." The redhead grinned, scraping her swords against each other.
Rolling his shoulders he raised his hands into the air, knowing that even if his powers were running dry he might be able to brawl his way out. (With enough tries anyway…)
TPK's eyes narrowed before she sighed, and pushed her swords through a pair of holes in the air similar to the ones she'd withdrawn them from before his latest defeat. "Yeah, no."
"Wha?" He blinked. "What're you doing?"
The redhead gave him a look. "You're barely standing."
"But I'm still standing." He pointed out, as he fought down a grimace. "And I'll keep standing back up every time you knock me down."
"Oh, I don't doubt it." TPK admitted. "But at that point this becomes more of a chore than anything fun."
"That's…" He sighed after a moment. "Something I can see…"
If TPK was only in this for a fun fight, then her just swatting him down so that he could stand back up and repeat the process wasn't going to be fun for anyone. (Even if I'm willing to see it to the bitter end…)
"Yeah, at this point you're spent and it's just me working myself up for nothing." TPK nodded as she raised a hand before snapping her fingers and causing the world around them to shatter as they were left in the same park clearing she'd dragged him to before their fight. "That said, you did last significantly longer than I was expecting."
The red head gave him a sinful smile. "Even if you didn't quite satisfy me, it was… fun in its own way."
(Oof, my manhood…)
He gave her a wry grin. "Like I said, I'm willing to keep fighting for it if you are."
"And I appreciate that." TPK chuckled as she walked over. "If anything you've definitely got more games than I was expecting."
"My tongue is my most dangerous tool." He reminded her.
"That it is." TPK agreed, stepping far closer to him than he was expecting. "Hell, with a tongue like that you'll eat my sister alive if you try but-"
(Oof, my manhood!)
"-hopefully not before I get a proper taste for myself."
With that he felt a pair of lips on his cheek not even an entire inch from his own.
"It was a fun date, kid." The redhead winked, before turning around, "Find me when you grow up a bit, and I'll show you how to have some real fun on a date." -and sauntering away with a sway to her hips.
And for that his response was a simple,
"Meep."
Halloween Event Prologue: Costume Styles and Sneaking Out
-Improved Tag Distance (I)
-Physical Conditioning (II)
-Physical Conditioning (II)
Halloween Event Prologue: Costume Styles and Sneaking Out
--- Joshua ---
"Coming through!" He called out as he weaved through a couple of party goers before dishing out a set of plates to the people sitting at the table. "And here's your order. Will you be needing anything else?"
"Nah, this'll do." An old construction worker named Howard assured him, the man's family dressed up like the Munsters.
"Cool, then just give me a call if you do." He nodded, before making his way back to the bar counter.
"Thanks for grabbing that one." Maddie told him as he drew near.
"Yeah, almost forgot how bad of a dinner rush we get at these parties." Chris admitted, switching between several dishes behind the counter. "Was honestly hoping people would just snack on all of the treats we left out for everyone."
"Some people just want real food rather than sweets." He shrugged as he unwrapped a candy he'd swiped before tossing it in his mouth. "Just means more for us when they all leave."
"Ha, like the way you think." Maddie grinned as she adjusted the hat on her feminine mad hatter costume. "Kind of disappointed you didn't dress up though."
"Complete honesty, I got side tracked and forgot to grab one." He shrugged, lying through his teeth as he briefly thought about the costume he'd be wearing once he managed to get out of this party.
"Yeah, I get you." Chris sighed with a shake of his head before gesturing to his own costume. "I'm just lucky a bandanna and a couple of Mad's earrings were enough to pass as a pirate."
He couldn't help but smirk as he had a wicked thought. "You know if you were short on a costume you always could've worn your old one. Definitely would've looked better than this mess."
Chris scoffed. "Yeah, no. I'd rather not put that old thing on again, even if I had to come to this thing topless."
"What? It's not like anyone will think you're Styles." He pointed out, as they both ignored Maddie's joking whistle. "And I know you've got that outfit stashed somewhere upstairs."
"He's just embarrassed about his 'old taste'." Maddie told him with a smirk. "He no longer thinks his old costume is cool."
"It isn't." Chris grimaced. "Hell it wasn't even a proper costume with torn jeans, a leather jacket, and sunglasses."
"Ooh, don't forget the slick back hair and earrings." Maddie added, enjoying his brother's discomfort.
"Nah, it was that smile that made the Styles' brand." He argued. "That cocky grin that made you just want to punch him in the face."
He blatantly ignored how cool he used to -and still- thought that smile was.
"Oh, good point." Maddie nodded seriously. "His patented 'Arrogant Bastard Grin' was the thing you never forgot. Especially with that tilted glasses thing he used to do. Took him weeks to get that down without having them just flop off of his face."
"Alright, that's enough about my bad fashion choices." Chris told them both, his brother's eyes doing a quick but subtle glance to make sure no one had heard their little conversation before looking him in the eye. "And wipe that smile off your face, give it a few years and you're going to regret the things you think are cool now too."
"Nah, I doubt it." He dismissed before smirking. "My style is timeless."
"Heh-ha, he's got your grin down pat." Maddie laughed.
"Didn't you go through a goth phase?" Chris glared.
"Nah, I was just trying a darker flavor of my punk brand." Maddie disagreed, before gesturing to her outfit. "A brand that I maintain to this day, see these are my regular pants and boots."
He rolled his eyes with a grin and a shake of his head before letting out a yawn. "What time is it?"
"About eleven, a little after." Chris added after checking his phone. "Tired?"
"Little bit." He nodded.
"What? It's Halloween and a Saturday! How can you be tired by eleven?" Maddie groaned.
"Because he barely sleeps during the week." Chris throughout.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at his brother. "Probably that."
"Also he's been helping us keep this thing running rather than actually having fun with it." Chris added with a furrowed brow. "If you don't feel like hanging around the party you can go ahead and head upstairs."
"You sure?" He frowned.
"Yeah, it's not right that you're stuck helping us with this rather than having fun." Chris told him. "So if you don't want to hang out you can go upstairs and watch a movie or play a game, or something fun."
"What?" Maddie asked. "He's having fun with us, aren't ya?"
"Yeah, but I am getting tired." He lied. "Probably going to get ready for bed and crash."
"Ugh, you're boring." Maddie helpfully informed him.
"And I think you've been sipping something you shouldn't be." Chris said with narrowed eyes.
"Pfft, I'm barely buzzed and it's a party." Maddie defended in a lackadaisical manner.
"That's not the point." Chris argued.
(Right, I'm just going to slip away now.) He thought to himself as he left his brother to deal with that.
Once upstairs he closed the door to his room, arranged his bed to look like someone was in it, and proceeded to jump out his window. With a mid air twist he found himself in a familiar black and white outfit before hitting the ground as he adjusted the gloves on his hands.
"Now then let's see what kind of tricks and treats are abound tonight?" He grinned with a hint of Madness.
Halloween Event (Pt. 2): Tricks and Treats
-RR+SB=Total: Option
-2+5=7 :Let's see if we can't cause some tricks.
-3+1=4 :It's Halloween, there's bound to be some interesting people.
-0+3=3 :We know there are monsters about, let's find one.
-0+1=1 :Maybe we can find some treats lying unattended.
-2+5=7 :Let's see if we can't cause some tricks.
-3+1=4 :It's Halloween, there's bound to be some interesting people.
-0+3=3 :We know there are monsters about, let's find one.
-0+1=1 :Maybe we can find some treats lying unattended.
Halloween Event (Pt. 2): Tricks and Treats
A trio of teens jostled each other about, laughing about one thing or another as they adjusted the simple masks they were wearing.
"Hey, get a look at this freak." One of them said, nudging another with his elbow as a goth kid turned around the corner. "Bet it's halloween every day for someone like him."
The goth kid paused in front of him, his eyes dashing about as he tried to look for a way around the trio taking up most of the street. "Uh, you guys mind letting me through?"
"Yeah, look at all the makeup this pasty asshole is wearing." The largest of the trio laughed, completely ignoring what the goth had said only to shove him back a step.
The goth froze in fright for a moment before coughing into his hand.
"Ah, what's wrong? That little love tap hurt?"
"Apologies, I've never had the strongest of constitutions." The goth told them with a weak smile and another cough.
"Then you probably shouldn't be out at night. That's when all the freaks come out." The smallest of the trio warned him before stepping into the goth's face. "Then again you'd fit right in with all of them."
"You know it's halloween so dressing up is kind of the idea." The goth pointed out, before coughing into his hand.
"As monsters maybe, but not as… Uh, is he okay?" The apparently kindest of the trio asked, as the goth continued to cough with an increasing wetness to their voice.
"Oh, I'm fine… Heh…" The goth laughed, waving a gloved hand stained with black smudges as his long hair covered his eyes. "I just think it's funny…"
"What is?" The smallest of the trio frowned, noticing that something was wrong as he saw a trail of black leaking from the side of the goth's mouth.
"Well, you said Halloween is the day people dress up as monsters." The pale teen explained with an ever widening grin. "So it stands to reason…"
The boy looked at them with pitch black eyes bleeding black and a bloody grin, "That today is the day monsters dress up as people."
As two massive hands began to encircle them, the trio quickly turned tail and ran from the monster before it could catch them, tripping over themselves all the while.
Watching them flee as he wiped the ink from his face, the living cartoon couldn't help but laugh at the retreating trio.
"Dumbasses."
---
The little girl continued hopping down the street, leaping over every crack as she waited outside the store for her guardian.
Only to pause as she came across a little drawing on the ground that hadn't been there just a few moments prior.
Looking up she glanced around the otherwise empty parking lot for whoever had drawn the little doodle, before turning her attention back to it when she couldn't find anyone.
She blinked for a moment, before frowning curiously at the little man that had changed shape when she wasn't looking.
As she continued to stare at the doodle, and as she stared at it it winked at her, causing her to jump in surprise.
The doodle mimicked her as it too jumped in fright, before seemingly cowering behind its hands at the terrifying little girl in a pink fairy tutu.
A small giggle escaped the girl as she watched the silly doodle, before eventually giving into her child like curiosity and poking it, causing the little doodle to stumble back with an affronted look.
This of course meant that the little girl had to poke it again.
Instead of letting her do this, the doodle leapt out of the way before shaking a finger at her, eliciting another giggle from the child as she continued to try and poke it.
After a few minutes of this the child's guardian finally stepped out of the store and asked the girl what she was laughing at.
To which the child replied, "It's a funny picture!"
"Oh?" The guardian asked, stepping up to look at said picture.
Only for said picture to explode off the ground from behind the girl, and take on the form of a towering inhuman figure.
"Oh shit!" The girl's guardian cursed before grabbing the girl and quickly running away. The girl all the while waving good-bye to the doodle from over her guardian's shoulder.
"Hopefully, that'll teach them to actually keep an eye on their kid." A voice told the doodle, earning a nod to the affirmative.
--- Joshua ---
Continuing through the streets, he couldn't help but find an odd sort of amusement in casually walking through the streets in his full toon regalia. Something he knew most Masks actively avoided doing. (Then again I can't be the only one going out as themselves for Halloween.)
This amusement was of course further heightened by the fact that every so often he would come across someone to play a friendly -or not so friendly- little trick on.
From a few of his high school bullies, who apparently couldn't recognize him in his cabaret clothes -(Which is good to know.)- to the occasional child he'd entertain with his powers. A feat that while not necessarily the mischief he had set out to cause, still felt right to some part of him.
(Cartoons are for everyone, but that doesn't change the fact that children are our biggest audience. It's good to keep them entertained.) That same part pragmatically pointed out.
"True, but we should strive to be the kind of toon that all ages adore for ages to come." He reminded himself. "We can be nothing less than a timeless classic."
(Of course, of course.) He mentally nodded to himself.
"It's just a shame the curfew means everyone is held up somewhere, otherwise we could've put a show on tonight." He sighed to himself. "You know, supposedly other cities are packed on their Halloweens… The ones without yearly zombie or demonic invasions anyway." (Really wish Chris clarified which of those this Halloween Haunt thing is.)
Not that he was stupid enough to actually go looking for it given how he could still in a rough-ish shape after his fight with TPK the day prior. (I'm just curious about what goes bump in the night.)
Speaking of curiosities, he found his being further peaked by the sight of
Halloween Event (Pt. 3): Party Crashers
-RR+SB=Total: Vote Option
-4+5=9:Lights and music
-1+5=6: A young woman
-2+1=3: A child
-2+0=3:Colored flames
---
-Rube Goldberg Field Renamed: Toon Field (7/9 Votes)
-4+5=9:Lights and music
-1+5=6: A young woman
-2+1=3: A child
-2+0=3:Colored flames
---
-Rube Goldberg Field Renamed: Toon Field (7/9 Votes)
Halloween Event (Pt. 3): Party Crashers
--- Joshua ---
Following the lights and music through the streets, he eventually found his way to the old trainyard. A place filled with rusted metal and abandoned train cars from way back when the city was focused more on shipping goods from the farms and mines of the nearby rural areas. Something that had slowly died out as the city grew larger, new towns popped up, and other waypoints along the tracks became more practical.
"Oh, right… The older teens sometimes throw parties here." (Not that I've ever been invited to said party.) He just remembered Chris sneaking out to them when he was younger.
(Well why not crash it?) The devil on his shoulder whispered. (Show them what they've been missing out on, by not inviting you.)
"Eh, why not?" He grinned as he continued on his way.
As he neared the main station, he began to spot a few people here and there in their costumes. Some just loitering about, talking with friends, drinking -what he was pretty sure was- alcohol, and smoking. Though every once in a while he would spot a pair climbing into one of the train cars before closing it behind them.
Ignoring all of that, he made his way inside of the train station where a number of people were meandering on the train tracks between the various platforms, while the actual platforms themselves were filled with the various things that made a party beyond the people. From a drink and snack table, to a number of musical instruments and a DJ board. And randomly placed either near these things or near the walls were a number of big guys in tight fitting shirts that read Security.
Though for some reason he found himself unimpressed with this security detail.
(Given the number of people here, and the fact that anyone can show up there should be at least twice as many guards. Whatsmore I don't think any of them are Deviants meaning their muscles are probably the only 'security' they can provide. Fuck, I can't even see a gun on any of these assholes.) His more cynical self criticized as he gave them another once over.
(Meaning if this Halloween Haunt thing is real and something goes down, they probably won't be able to do anything.) He couldn't help but realize with a grimace. (This whole mess is security theater at best.)
"Fu~uck…" He couldn't help but groan as he ran a hand down his face. "Really wish I hadn't noticed all of that…" (Then again I guess it is good practice for casing a place on the spot…)
Slapping his cheeks, he shook his head. "Nope, not going to think about that. I'm at a party and I am going to have fun and enjoy it." (Just as soon as I figure out how to enjoy a party.)
"That is the idea at this kind of thing." A voice agreed.
Turning to it, he found a teenager
[]- With a skull painted on her face.
[]- Wearing a cheerleader outfit.
[X]- Wearing a jacket covered in neon paint.
[]- Wearing a cheerleader outfit.
[X]- Wearing a jacket covered in neon paint.
"Uh, yeah, that's uh, that's why I'm here." He nodded, wondering why this particular stranger was talking to him.
"Oh, right, you were talking to yourself and looking like something was wrong and… I just wanted to make sure no one was having a bad trip or something in the middle of the dance floor."
"Right, right, that's fair." He admitted, knowing that his tendency to talk to himself did make him come off as a little crazy.
(Well, a little Mad if we want to be accurate.)
"Sorry, I just, I got a little caught up in my head." He grimaced, trying to figure out a way to make himself look less suspicious and floundering. (Damn it, why is it easier to talk to a bunch of gangsters than it is to talk to a normal teenager?)
(Because we've got more style… Or at least the ones from back in the day did.)
"You want to talk about it?" The stranger asked. "It's not like I have anything else going on since my date apparently stood me up."
"No, I think I'm-"
Something in his head began to crawl as he felt something in the air shift, and, (Shit, we've got some real party crashers.)
Moving more on instinct than anything else he wrapped an arm around the girl and kicked off the ground, as the sound of glass shattering and the roaring of a flame passed just behind him.
Turning around he found a crowd of screaming teens running from an overgrown mass of burning flesh burst from the trainyard office before slamming into the middle of the screaming crowd.
"Well that can't be good." He dryly noted, as the burning mass stood to reveal a very large man wearing torn and scorched clothing with a snarling visage and glowing red eyes. An expression that was completely understandable given how the man had several torn bits of skin where overgrown muscle could be seen.
"Damn it." The girl cursed as she broke away from him to glare at the figure.
Part of him felt he should be curious about the fact that the teen wasn't running at the sight of this monster. Unfortunately he found himself far more concerned with the fact that some aspect of the man in front of him resonated with something inside of him. Something that even with his limited experience with his powers he could tell was distinctly not Madness, but far more Malicious in nature.
And upon putting the sight of the burning man in front of him with that feeling, he and his very twisted brand of Madness came to one very obvious conclusion.
Halloween Event (Pt. 4): Burning Silver And Ink
-SB+RR=Total: Vote Option
--
-4+5=9: Neon Paint
-4+3=7: Skull Face
-3+2=5: Cheerleader
--
-9+3=12: Protect the Audience
-3+6=9: Fight The Deviant
-1+2=3: Investigate Deviant Origin
-0+0=0: Walk Away
--
-4+5=9: Neon Paint
-4+3=7: Skull Face
-3+2=5: Cheerleader
--
-9+3=12: Protect the Audience
-3+6=9: Fight The Deviant
-1+2=3: Investigate Deviant Origin
-0+0=0: Walk Away
Halloween Event (Pt. 4): Burning Silver And Ink
--- Joshua ---
"Ugh, why couldn't I be more of an asshole…" He groaned to himself, feeling his near empty reserves of Ink
(Because then the audience would be dead and wouldn't be able to pay up that sweet sweet Madness.)
"Point." He admitted, before watching the neon covered teen pull her arm back and punch the air in front of the attacking Deviant.
Something that would've been harmless if not for the truck-sized arm manifesting in a swirl of blue light and decking the Deviant into the station platform.
"Well… at least I don't actually have to fight that guy." He told himself, only mildly surprised by the fact that the teen had powers after she was ballsy enough to walk up to a burning Deviant thrice her size.
Figuring that she had that handled, instead of intervening with the fight he reached out with one of his toon hands to pluck up a teen that had fallen several meters away before placing them back on their feet closer to the door.
"Now then, I'm not fighting so you don't get to stand around gawking. Move it!" He ordered while making a shooing gesture with his oversized hand.
Not needing any further prodding the teen nodded before taking off towards the station exit.
With it now established that there were three Deviants involved in this event, the crowd began to avoid him as he meandered through it while occasionally picking up the occasional half-trampled teen before they could be too injured.
Of course, despite the fact that they weren't his main priority, this did not mean he was stupid enough to ignore the dueling Deviants.
The girl had proven herself to be fairly agile, avoiding each of the larger bruiser's swings before using one of the two spectral arms following her to punch the burning man. Though none of her blows seemed to do as much damage as her initial suckerpunch, given how the man barely moved more than a few inches from each blow.
As for the spectral arms, he noticed the fact that they were seemingly made out of a blueish gray metal and looked more like clawed gauntlets than actual hands. Whatsmore their movements only seemed half in sync with the girls, moving only when she meant to punch before defaulting to an at rest pose behind her in contrast to her own boxing stance never lowering her guard.
"Hmm… Now what Deviancy do those count as?" He couldn't help but wonder as he eyed the silver arms.
(There's Madness in the air, but I don't think it's coming from either of them.) He noted, as his senses stretched out all around him and-
Something pulsed through the air and the world around him turned black and white before regaining its color.
"Okay… what the fuck was that?!" He blinked, hearing something in the air as he looked around him in a daze. (That… was not normal…)
Shaking his head clear, he only just noticed the body flying at him. Sadly this was not enough notice to do anything about it.
"Fuck!" He cursed as he and the girl were sent tumbling across the ground in a tangle of limbs.
"Gah, if you're not going to do anything then stay out of the way!" The girl told him as she shoved him away and staggered to her feet.
"I'm just trying to clear the venue out so you two can really cut loose, darlin'." He groaned, swinging his legs into the air before flowing onto his feet as the world glitch black and white once more.
"Shit… Are, are you seeing this or is it just me?" He asked her, with just a touch of desperation as the world regained its color.
"See what?" The girl frowned, never taking her eyes off the burning man as the two stared each other down.
"Right, okay… just me then…" He frowned himself, staring down at his hands. "What kind of Deviancy are you?"
"Now isn't really the time." The neon covered girl told him, as the burning man pulled his arm back and a glowing sphere began to grow in his palm.
"Just wondering if this is some kind of power interaction." He tried to explain, before watching as the burning man threw a fireball at them and the girl blocked, using her silver arms as a shield.
"Again, really not the time!" The girl repeated as the burning man began bombarding her with an onslaught of fireballs. "Now either help me or get out of my way!"
"Fine… Just give me a second." He told her, taking a step forward as the world lost all color before blacking out briefly, leaving him behind the burning man without explanation. "Okay… that was… different." (But kind of familiar…)
He glanced around dumbly at the colorless world around him before stumbling as the world regained its color. "Yeah, okay… Not liking whatever is causing this."
Shaking his head, he focused on the burning man once more before throwing one of his ink blots at the Deviant in the hopes of distracting him for a moment. (Because I really want to talk to that girl about whatever the fuck is going on right now!)
This turned out to be an… interesting idea as the ink blot proceeded to explode on contact with the burning man, causing the rampaging Deviant to stutter and stumble. Thus giving the neon covered girl the perfect opportunity to rush forward and hit the burning man with an oversized silver handed hook to the face.
When the girl moved to follow with another blow, the burning man caught it with his own hand and glared at the girl as he started growing another fireball in his free hand.
Joshua decided that this was an ideal time to throw another Ink Blot at the burning man, causing it to once more detonate on impact, stunning the Deviant long enough for the neon covered girl to deliver an uppercut and knock the burning man back as she freed her hand.
Seeing this as good a time as any to disengage from the two dueling Deviants, he hopped just outside of the pair's fight and looked down at his hand as he covered it in ink. (Ink that is apparently very flammable…)
From there he extrapolated just how bad of an idea it was for him to get into a fight with a fire user given how the Malice Doc once told him something about his ink being in his blood (or maybe it was vice versa?) Either way, he quickly came to the conclusion that being set on fire was a horrible idea.
(You don't say?)
(Well at least they wouldn't possibly explode!)
Turning his attention back to the fight -(that I am not stupid enough to rejoin)- he watched as the neon covered girl proceeded to launch the burning man into the air. At which point she proceeded to grab the Deviant with one of her silver arms as it began to rapidly grow until it was taller than the building they were in before slamming the burning man into the trainyard ground with enough force to make the station floor shake a bit.
Rather than accepting this as the end of the fight, the burning man ignited into a pillar of flame so large that it consumed the equally massive silver arm, and elicited a scream from the neon covered girl.
(Guess she's got some feeling in those things then…) He couldn't help but grimace as he watched her clutch her arm and curl it close to her chest. A sight almost as painful to look at as the massive figure climbing out of the half-charred crater in the middle of the trainyard.
Knowing he didn't have long he took a moment to glance around and make sure that (yes, all of the dumb teenagers seem to have been smart enough to run from the living wild fire) before turning back to the two dueling Deviants with just a touch of apprehension as the world turned black and white.
Halloween Event (Pt. 5): Investigating The Origin of The Flame
Halloween Event (Pt. 5): Investigating The Origin of The Flame
Unable to help himself, he found his eyes drifting towards the broken window the burning man had first appeared from. (Really where did this guy come from?)
Stepping forward he found the world around him once more fading to black before he found himself in the air just in front of the window.
"Oh, shit!" He cursed, his hands shooting out and grabbing onto the broken window. And immediately regretting it as the glass started biting into his hands. "Fuck. Might've been better off with the fall…"
(Well… when in doubt double down.)
With that thought in mind he proceeded to pull himself through the broken window and into what looked like a VIP area of some sort. Or rather it looked like an old office with significantly better furnishings than the rest of the party, as well as several bottles of alcohol lying about. (Interesting…)
A quick glance around confirmed that the broken window was the only damaged entrance to the room, even if the actual entrances were looking a little scuffed up from the party goers quick exit. Of course this quick glance also revealed a half charred and still burning corpse thrown against a wall. (Very interesting…)
He couldn't help but grimace at the sight as well as the smell drifting from the corpse. "Right… just… going to avoid looking at that." He told himself, as he looked at anything other than the dead body that was making him a little light in the head.
(Going to have to get used to it at some point, kid.)
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he shook his head clear and double checked the flames spreading from the bodies, noting that while they had burned a bit of the wall they didn't seem to be spreading all that far from the body itself.
Frowning at the oddity, he took a peek out of the window where the girl was still fighting the burning man rather than taking the smarter route of escaping while she could. (Then again who am I to talk?)
What was important about the picture outside of the window though, was that despite the fact that the burning man was throwing out flames left and right the train station itself wasn't in a state one would call 'on fire'. (Crispy, maybe spicy, but definitely not on fire.)
"So what makes you so special?" He asked the less aggressive burning man in the building.
He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm going to have to investigate the dead body aren't I?"
(Probably a safe bet.)
Hating the sarcastic little voice in his head, he forced himself to get as close as he was willing to a dead body. (Which admittedly wouldn't be close enough to touch it even if he reached out and stretched a bit.)
Something rolled under his foot.
Glancing down and spotting something very familiar, he couldn't help but blink. "No way…"
With a gentle kick he watched the glass vial at his feet roll over to the open hand of the body, where a patch of flame was burning some unknown substance on the ground. (Come on, you know exactly what that substance is.)
He gave the burning body a frown and another once over before spotting an odd bulge in the man's pocket, where some of the flames seem to have gathered. "Well, after this long in the flames whatever's in that pocket is probably fried… And before anyone says anything I am not stupid enough to stick my very flammable hands into a fire like that."
(I wasn't going to suggest that.)
Taking a step away from the body, he looked around for anything that could pass as more concrete evidence for his current theory before spotting a briefcase with several burn marks lying just beneath a visible hole in the wall. And if one ignored the damage done to it, it was probably the most professional looking thing in the room, far more so than any of the designer bags that had been abandoned during their owner's panicked escape.
After picking it up he found that the case was fairly sturdy -as well as familiar for some reason- and had somehow managed to remain locked in spite of what he figured was the burning man's best attempt at opening the thing.
With a flex of his wrist he took what little Ink he had in the tank and forged it into a Ink Knife that he slid into the edge of the case, before using it and his enhanced strength to cut through the locks and open it. A feat that sad knife, sadly did not survive as it burst in a small explosion of ink.
"Fuck… I think that was the last of my tank too…" He couldn't help but grimace.
(Yeah, need to be more careful about preserving our resources.)
Shaking his head with a sigh, he opened the case and found it to contain a foam material of some kind with a large number of little slots in it, of which only *four* still held their contents.
With a deft hand he reached in and plucked out the handful of Malice vials before holding them up to the light. "Guess you explain that weird feeling the Burning Man was giving me."
Three of the vials were exactly what he'd been expecting, looking the same as the red and black vials the Malice Doctor had been giving him for the past month or so. The fourth however was different in the fact that it could be mistaken for a glowing blue, if not for the faint traces of green that seemed to slither through it.
He slid the other three vials into a pocket, but held this one up curiously. "Now you I'm interested in." (Is this even Malice or is it a different drug altogether? Was this guy a dealer for the Doc or was he just selling Deviant drugs to-)
A crashing sound interrupted him from slotting the last few puzzle pieces together and he found himself turning around to find the Deviant girl had been thrown through the window and was now laying limp against the wall, her body covered in a number of burns, cuts, and bruises.
"It occurs to me that leaving you to fight the monster after your Ult failed, probably wasn't a good idea…" He admitted to the unconscious teen before turning to the window as a massive burning hand latched onto its edge. (Right, need to think quick.)
--- Joshua ---
Unable to help himself, he found his eyes drifting towards the broken window the burning man had first appeared from. (Really where did this guy come from?)
Stepping forward he found the world around him once more fading to black before he found himself in the air just in front of the window.
"Oh, shit!" He cursed, his hands shooting out and grabbing onto the broken window. And immediately regretting it as the glass started biting into his hands. "Fuck. Might've been better off with the fall…"
(Well… when in doubt double down.)
With that thought in mind he proceeded to pull himself through the broken window and into what looked like a VIP area of some sort. Or rather it looked like an old office with significantly better furnishings than the rest of the party, as well as several bottles of alcohol lying about. (Interesting…)
A quick glance around confirmed that the broken window was the only damaged entrance to the room, even if the actual entrances were looking a little scuffed up from the party goers quick exit. Of course this quick glance also revealed a half charred and still burning corpse thrown against a wall. (Very interesting…)
He couldn't help but grimace at the sight as well as the smell drifting from the corpse. "Right… just… going to avoid looking at that." He told himself, as he looked at anything other than the dead body that was making him a little light in the head.
(Going to have to get used to it at some point, kid.)
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he shook his head clear and double checked the flames spreading from the bodies, noting that while they had burned a bit of the wall they didn't seem to be spreading all that far from the body itself.
Frowning at the oddity, he took a peek out of the window where the girl was still fighting the burning man rather than taking the smarter route of escaping while she could. (Then again who am I to talk?)
What was important about the picture outside of the window though, was that despite the fact that the burning man was throwing out flames left and right the train station itself wasn't in a state one would call 'on fire'. (Crispy, maybe spicy, but definitely not on fire.)
"So what makes you so special?" He asked the less aggressive burning man in the building.
He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm going to have to investigate the dead body aren't I?"
(Probably a safe bet.)
Hating the sarcastic little voice in his head, he forced himself to get as close as he was willing to a dead body. (Which admittedly wouldn't be close enough to touch it even if he reached out and stretched a bit.)
Something rolled under his foot.
Glancing down and spotting something very familiar, he couldn't help but blink. "No way…"
With a gentle kick he watched the glass vial at his feet roll over to the open hand of the body, where a patch of flame was burning some unknown substance on the ground. (Come on, you know exactly what that substance is.)
He gave the burning body a frown and another once over before spotting an odd bulge in the man's pocket, where some of the flames seem to have gathered. "Well, after this long in the flames whatever's in that pocket is probably fried… And before anyone says anything I am not stupid enough to stick my very flammable hands into a fire like that."
(I wasn't going to suggest that.)
Taking a step away from the body, he looked around for anything that could pass as more concrete evidence for his current theory before spotting a briefcase with several burn marks lying just beneath a visible hole in the wall. And if one ignored the damage done to it, it was probably the most professional looking thing in the room, far more so than any of the designer bags that had been abandoned during their owner's panicked escape.
After picking it up he found that the case was fairly sturdy -as well as familiar for some reason- and had somehow managed to remain locked in spite of what he figured was the burning man's best attempt at opening the thing.
With a flex of his wrist he took what little Ink he had in the tank and forged it into a Ink Knife that he slid into the edge of the case, before using it and his enhanced strength to cut through the locks and open it. A feat that sad knife, sadly did not survive as it burst in a small explosion of ink.
"Fuck… I think that was the last of my tank too…" He couldn't help but grimace.
(Yeah, need to be more careful about preserving our resources.)
Shaking his head with a sigh, he opened the case and found it to contain a foam material of some kind with a large number of little slots in it, of which only *four* still held their contents.
With a deft hand he reached in and plucked out the handful of Malice vials before holding them up to the light. "Guess you explain that weird feeling the Burning Man was giving me."
Three of the vials were exactly what he'd been expecting, looking the same as the red and black vials the Malice Doctor had been giving him for the past month or so. The fourth however was different in the fact that it could be mistaken for a glowing blue, if not for the faint traces of green that seemed to slither through it.
He slid the other three vials into a pocket, but held this one up curiously. "Now you I'm interested in." (Is this even Malice or is it a different drug altogether? Was this guy a dealer for the Doc or was he just selling Deviant drugs to-)
A crashing sound interrupted him from slotting the last few puzzle pieces together and he found himself turning around to find the Deviant girl had been thrown through the window and was now laying limp against the wall, her body covered in a number of burns, cuts, and bruises.
"It occurs to me that leaving you to fight the monster after your Ult failed, probably wasn't a good idea…" He admitted to the unconscious teen before turning to the window as a massive burning hand latched onto its edge. (Right, need to think quick.)
Side Stories and One-Shots
Okay, so we've just about caught up to Spacebattles on the story, but since we're in the middle of an event I kind of want to let them wrap up the last chapter or two before opening up the voting here. So until then, I'll be uploading the backlog of side-stories that the patreon's have unlocked in the year or so since I started it up.
Now then, I've got this patreon thing going where once or twice a month I'll put up a poll with a series of one-shot prompts from the Deviant's Masquerade setting, and the winning prompt gets it's own sidestory one shot that may or may not be relevant to the stories I'm posting but do take place in some corner of the setting. I figure this is a decent Patreon perk, and since I'm still posting them publicly it's not me holding my stories hostage for money.
If you want to check it out, head on here to the patreon page where people are voting on the next side story.
Now then, I've got this patreon thing going where once or twice a month I'll put up a poll with a series of one-shot prompts from the Deviant's Masquerade setting, and the winning prompt gets it's own sidestory one shot that may or may not be relevant to the stories I'm posting but do take place in some corner of the setting. I figure this is a decent Patreon perk, and since I'm still posting them publicly it's not me holding my stories hostage for money.
If you want to check it out, head on here to the patreon page where people are voting on the next side story.
Patreon Side Story: Beware, Beware The Boogieman's Scare
Beware, Beware The Boogeyman's Scare
Fear had a reputation.
One perhaps unironically frightening, given how most people used it more often than not.
But this didn't change the fact that fear was a good thing in the long run.
It kept people cautious and alive. It made them stronger, faster, and smarter. It could bring out the best in those it touched.
What's more, in the right doses it could be fun to feel that chill down your spine, to jump out of your skin, the exhilaration of having your heart pumping and knowing you endured the thing that terrified you so.
And perhaps most importantly courage could not exist without fear, for courage is merely the willingness to stand despite your fears. The willingness to face your monster and rise to greater heights than you ever thought yourself capable of.
That was the thing he loved to see the most from children. That spark of courage, that growth of potential that only facing their fears could bring into being. (It's the thing that makes everything else worth it.)
Of course that wasn't to say he would deny the fact that all of that was only if you gave them a more moderate fright. In truth, he was probably the last person to pretend that fear couldn't make people careless, slow them down, and make them run rather than fight as fear turned to despair rather than courage. (But even then that kind of fear has its purpose.)
Still that caution and the courage born from it was the reason for his people's job.
Nightmarians such as himself would sneak the shadows of the night and haunt the homes of children, filling their dreams to the brim with fright, but never so much that the child couldn't stand up to them. Which is why over time after exposure and nightmares those children would eventually grow to face their fears and become so much greater.
And as painful as it was to watch their children grow, the day they faced their fears was always the proudest of any monster.
Which is why his people went to such lengths to make sure every child was assigned the exact monster needed to help them reach their full potential. Someone with long and spindly limbs for the child scared of spiders, a shadowy figure with glowing eyes for the one scared of the dark, or perhaps someone capable of a low rumbling growl for the kids scared of thunder. Regardless of what kind of monster they were, every Nightmarian knew they would be assigned to a child they could help better than any other monster.
This wasn't to say they got it right every single time, whether it be due to multiple fears or a simple misunderstanding of the situation, sometimes the monster assigned to a child not being the one necessary to help them bring out their true courage. In which case they helped figure out the monster that would help the child the most, occasionally forming entire teams of monsters to help the child work through their numerous fears so that they can build the courage to face the world with their head held high.
In a mix of fortunes, he was a monster most often brought into a situation only after another monster had been assigned and discovered they weren't up to it to deal with the situation.
Normally his brand of fear was… frowned upon by his fellows, but as times changed and the number of children grew to be far greater than what his people could feasibly handle it became more and more apparent that his kind of fear was a… necessity to help certain children in need.
"Would you like more tea Mr. Bubbles?"
"I would love some." He nodded to the little girl sitting across from him before turning to a stuffed animal next to him. "How about you Mrs. Bearington? A cookie perhaps?"
"No, no, she has to watch her figure." The little girl told him.
"Oh, of course, how silly of me." He scoffed, rapping his knuckles off of his skull.
"You know you're not like the last monster under my bed." The girl confessed, rubbing at a dark spot on her arm.
"How so?" He asked, tilting his head and suppressing a frown.
The little girl seemed to think about it for a moment. "You're a lot nicer."
"Am I really?" He wondered tilting his head to the other side before giving the girl a wide smile with far more teeth than any human had. "Personally I think I'm a lot meaner if we're being honest."
"Yeah, but he didn't sit down and play tea party with me." The girl pointed out gesturing towards the fact that he was sitting in a chair so small his knees came up to his chest.
"And what kind of monster doesn't like tea parties?" He scoffed, forcing himself to remember that not all Nightmarians were built like him. (It's not anyone's fault, it's just how things are…)
The little girl smiled at him shyly, before there was a thumping in the hall and she gasped. "That was my dad, you have to hide. I'm supposed to be in bed!"
(Well, it was fun while it lasted.) He thought just a little sardonically as he bonelessly slithered beneath the table and made his way around the toys he'd gotten the girl to play with before hiding under her bed, unable to keep from savoring the smile he'd put upon her face with his little act.
The door to the room opened and from beneath the bed he saw a pair of boots walk into the room.
He was a special kind of monster for a special kind of kid.
"What are you still doing up? You were supposed to be in bed hours ago." The girl's… father said.
Every Nightmarian knew who he was, and far fewer approved of him.
"I, I couldn't sleep." The little girl lied.
(Which is fair.)
"Really because it looks like you were up playing when you're supposed to be sleeping."
He'd never deny he tended to take things too far.
"No, that's, that's from earlier!"
Sometimes he just couldn't help himself.
"Are you lying to me?"
But despite what they knew, his bosses still assigned him children.
"..." The girl was quiet, the bed creaking as she shifted on it.
Because they knew as well as he did that some kids needed a monster like him.
"What have I told you about lying?"
And maybe he was on probation for taking things too far, too often.
"..."
But he wasn't the only one, and some kids still needed him.
"Not going to say anything?"
And sure this tendency meant he couldn't scare kids like every other Nightmarian.
"..."
But what he could do is…
"You're a liar just like your whore of a mother." The man spat. "And you know what we do to liars."
Scare the shit the monsters that took it too far.
The man lunged for the little girl, and he shot out from under the bed snaking around the man and throwing him across the room with a loud thud against the wall.
"Uh-uh-uh." He told the man undeserving of the title 'father' as he wagged a finger through the air. "There's no need for violence."
"The fuck, who the fuck are you?!" The man yelled, picking himself off of the ground.
"Me?" He asked, tilting his head at an angle no human could match. "Why, I'm the monster under her bed."
"The what?"
He glanced at the little girl cowering behind him and gave her a sad smile as he waved his hand in front of her face. "Shh, little one, this is all a bad dream."
The little girl slowly nodded off.
"What the fuck did you do to her?" The man yelled.
He sneered at the man. "Something far kinder than you were about to."
The man growled before swinging at him.
"I told you there's no need for violence." He reminded the man as he caught the blow with ease.
As he loomed over him, the man paled as he realized that of the two of them he was the bigger monster by a good head and a half.
"Though I suppose with how you treat your daughter, violence is your prefered language." He admitted, picking the man up by his throat -sure to let his fingers grow long enough to wrap around the man's neck thrice over- and raising him so that the back of his head hit the ceiling.
"W-what d-do you want?" The man whimpered.
"What do I want?" He repeated, scratching at his face and purposely peeling away his own grey skin to reveal the black and white muscle beneath. "Well that's really simple…"
He pulled the man close to his face, while letting the stench of rot leak from his mouth. "I want you to never lay a hand on the girl again, or else… I'll skin you alive and feed you your own flesh as we take her somewhere you'll never touch her again."
"Y-you can't-"
He slammed the man into the ceiling once more. "I think I can, after all no one stopped you from hurting the girl, so who's going to stop me from hurting you?"
With that said he released the man and let him fall to the ground before kicking him over and putting his boot on the man's neck. "Besides you'll find I can do a lot of things other people can't."
He opened his mouth and let the spiders crawl out and down onto the man's crying face, amused by the fact that someone who'd bully children would be scared of something so small.
"Meaning I can come for you whenever I please. That there is nowhere I won't hunt you down if you ever harm her again." He continued as he ran his claws over the man's face. "And honestly if it was up to me you'd already be dead."
The man merely whimpered.
"But luckily for you, and unluckily for her, the little one still actually loves you for Cheshire knows why." He explained, before crouching close enough that their faces were touching. "So remember, she is the only reason you still breathe, and everyday you wake up is another you owe her your life. Am I understood?"
The man nodded.
"Good." He opened his mouth wide enough to bite the man's head off as he yawned, before giving the man a disgusted look as he let him up. "Now get out of my sight."
Rather than standing up or trying to defend his daughter, the coward ran abandoning his daughter to the friendliest monster she'd ever know. All the while a faint haunting tune of a dozen children followed the man as he ran in terror.
With the nuisance dealt with he reached down and picked up the girl's stuffed bear before giving it to her sleeping form and tucking her in as he himself hummed the tune that all of his people had come to know him by.
Fear had a reputation.
One perhaps unironically frightening, given how most people used it more often than not.
But this didn't change the fact that fear was a good thing in the long run.
It kept people cautious and alive. It made them stronger, faster, and smarter. It could bring out the best in those it touched.
What's more, in the right doses it could be fun to feel that chill down your spine, to jump out of your skin, the exhilaration of having your heart pumping and knowing you endured the thing that terrified you so.
And perhaps most importantly courage could not exist without fear, for courage is merely the willingness to stand despite your fears. The willingness to face your monster and rise to greater heights than you ever thought yourself capable of.
That was the thing he loved to see the most from children. That spark of courage, that growth of potential that only facing their fears could bring into being. (It's the thing that makes everything else worth it.)
Of course that wasn't to say he would deny the fact that all of that was only if you gave them a more moderate fright. In truth, he was probably the last person to pretend that fear couldn't make people careless, slow them down, and make them run rather than fight as fear turned to despair rather than courage. (But even then that kind of fear has its purpose.)
Still that caution and the courage born from it was the reason for his people's job.
Nightmarians such as himself would sneak the shadows of the night and haunt the homes of children, filling their dreams to the brim with fright, but never so much that the child couldn't stand up to them. Which is why over time after exposure and nightmares those children would eventually grow to face their fears and become so much greater.
And as painful as it was to watch their children grow, the day they faced their fears was always the proudest of any monster.
Which is why his people went to such lengths to make sure every child was assigned the exact monster needed to help them reach their full potential. Someone with long and spindly limbs for the child scared of spiders, a shadowy figure with glowing eyes for the one scared of the dark, or perhaps someone capable of a low rumbling growl for the kids scared of thunder. Regardless of what kind of monster they were, every Nightmarian knew they would be assigned to a child they could help better than any other monster.
This wasn't to say they got it right every single time, whether it be due to multiple fears or a simple misunderstanding of the situation, sometimes the monster assigned to a child not being the one necessary to help them bring out their true courage. In which case they helped figure out the monster that would help the child the most, occasionally forming entire teams of monsters to help the child work through their numerous fears so that they can build the courage to face the world with their head held high.
In a mix of fortunes, he was a monster most often brought into a situation only after another monster had been assigned and discovered they weren't up to it to deal with the situation.
Normally his brand of fear was… frowned upon by his fellows, but as times changed and the number of children grew to be far greater than what his people could feasibly handle it became more and more apparent that his kind of fear was a… necessity to help certain children in need.
"Would you like more tea Mr. Bubbles?"
"I would love some." He nodded to the little girl sitting across from him before turning to a stuffed animal next to him. "How about you Mrs. Bearington? A cookie perhaps?"
"No, no, she has to watch her figure." The little girl told him.
"Oh, of course, how silly of me." He scoffed, rapping his knuckles off of his skull.
"You know you're not like the last monster under my bed." The girl confessed, rubbing at a dark spot on her arm.
"How so?" He asked, tilting his head and suppressing a frown.
The little girl seemed to think about it for a moment. "You're a lot nicer."
"Am I really?" He wondered tilting his head to the other side before giving the girl a wide smile with far more teeth than any human had. "Personally I think I'm a lot meaner if we're being honest."
"Yeah, but he didn't sit down and play tea party with me." The girl pointed out gesturing towards the fact that he was sitting in a chair so small his knees came up to his chest.
"And what kind of monster doesn't like tea parties?" He scoffed, forcing himself to remember that not all Nightmarians were built like him. (It's not anyone's fault, it's just how things are…)
The little girl smiled at him shyly, before there was a thumping in the hall and she gasped. "That was my dad, you have to hide. I'm supposed to be in bed!"
(Well, it was fun while it lasted.) He thought just a little sardonically as he bonelessly slithered beneath the table and made his way around the toys he'd gotten the girl to play with before hiding under her bed, unable to keep from savoring the smile he'd put upon her face with his little act.
The door to the room opened and from beneath the bed he saw a pair of boots walk into the room.
He was a special kind of monster for a special kind of kid.
"What are you still doing up? You were supposed to be in bed hours ago." The girl's… father said.
Every Nightmarian knew who he was, and far fewer approved of him.
"I, I couldn't sleep." The little girl lied.
(Which is fair.)
"Really because it looks like you were up playing when you're supposed to be sleeping."
He'd never deny he tended to take things too far.
"No, that's, that's from earlier!"
Sometimes he just couldn't help himself.
"Are you lying to me?"
But despite what they knew, his bosses still assigned him children.
"..." The girl was quiet, the bed creaking as she shifted on it.
Because they knew as well as he did that some kids needed a monster like him.
"What have I told you about lying?"
And maybe he was on probation for taking things too far, too often.
"..."
But he wasn't the only one, and some kids still needed him.
"Not going to say anything?"
And sure this tendency meant he couldn't scare kids like every other Nightmarian.
"..."
But what he could do is…
"You're a liar just like your whore of a mother." The man spat. "And you know what we do to liars."
Scare the shit the monsters that took it too far.
The man lunged for the little girl, and he shot out from under the bed snaking around the man and throwing him across the room with a loud thud against the wall.
"Uh-uh-uh." He told the man undeserving of the title 'father' as he wagged a finger through the air. "There's no need for violence."
"The fuck, who the fuck are you?!" The man yelled, picking himself off of the ground.
"Me?" He asked, tilting his head at an angle no human could match. "Why, I'm the monster under her bed."
"The what?"
He glanced at the little girl cowering behind him and gave her a sad smile as he waved his hand in front of her face. "Shh, little one, this is all a bad dream."
The little girl slowly nodded off.
"What the fuck did you do to her?" The man yelled.
He sneered at the man. "Something far kinder than you were about to."
The man growled before swinging at him.
"I told you there's no need for violence." He reminded the man as he caught the blow with ease.
As he loomed over him, the man paled as he realized that of the two of them he was the bigger monster by a good head and a half.
"Though I suppose with how you treat your daughter, violence is your prefered language." He admitted, picking the man up by his throat -sure to let his fingers grow long enough to wrap around the man's neck thrice over- and raising him so that the back of his head hit the ceiling.
"W-what d-do you want?" The man whimpered.
"What do I want?" He repeated, scratching at his face and purposely peeling away his own grey skin to reveal the black and white muscle beneath. "Well that's really simple…"
He pulled the man close to his face, while letting the stench of rot leak from his mouth. "I want you to never lay a hand on the girl again, or else… I'll skin you alive and feed you your own flesh as we take her somewhere you'll never touch her again."
"Y-you can't-"
He slammed the man into the ceiling once more. "I think I can, after all no one stopped you from hurting the girl, so who's going to stop me from hurting you?"
With that said he released the man and let him fall to the ground before kicking him over and putting his boot on the man's neck. "Besides you'll find I can do a lot of things other people can't."
He opened his mouth and let the spiders crawl out and down onto the man's crying face, amused by the fact that someone who'd bully children would be scared of something so small.
"Meaning I can come for you whenever I please. That there is nowhere I won't hunt you down if you ever harm her again." He continued as he ran his claws over the man's face. "And honestly if it was up to me you'd already be dead."
The man merely whimpered.
"But luckily for you, and unluckily for her, the little one still actually loves you for Cheshire knows why." He explained, before crouching close enough that their faces were touching. "So remember, she is the only reason you still breathe, and everyday you wake up is another you owe her your life. Am I understood?"
The man nodded.
"Good." He opened his mouth wide enough to bite the man's head off as he yawned, before giving the man a disgusted look as he let him up. "Now get out of my sight."
Rather than standing up or trying to defend his daughter, the coward ran abandoning his daughter to the friendliest monster she'd ever know. All the while a faint haunting tune of a dozen children followed the man as he ran in terror.
With the nuisance dealt with he reached down and picked up the girl's stuffed bear before giving it to her sleeping form and tucking her in as he himself hummed the tune that all of his people had come to know him by.
"Beware, beware the Boogeyman's Scare
He haunts and prowls the night,
Filling your dreams to the brim with fright
Beware, beware the Boogeyman's Scare
Under your bed he lurks and hides
In the darkest hour does he reside
But child fear not the Boogeyman's Scare
For the monster is on your side this night
But those who'd harm innocence's light
Beware, beware the Boogeyman's Scare
For should you lay a hand upon a child's head
Then the boogeyman shall see you dead."
He haunts and prowls the night,
Filling your dreams to the brim with fright
Beware, beware the Boogeyman's Scare
Under your bed he lurks and hides
In the darkest hour does he reside
But child fear not the Boogeyman's Scare
For the monster is on your side this night
But those who'd harm innocence's light
Beware, beware the Boogeyman's Scare
For should you lay a hand upon a child's head
Then the boogeyman shall see you dead."
Patreon Side Story: Three Kings And A Father
A/N: To clarify I once let readers vote on my next quest and this was a protagonist from a world hopping quest.
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Three Kings And A Father
He made his way through the halls of the capital fortress, idly taking in the various images along the wall depicting the former rulers of their people. Each dressed in red, green, or blue as a designation of which King they were.
Briefly he paused in front of a portrait of a female King in red and silver, one who had already passed their crown to a prince and was likely enjoying their retirement training the various recruits for the military as she had with him before becoming King.
He'd like to believe he'd done her proud in the war, especially since they were on the cusp of signing a peace treaty that would finally end the hundred year war they'd been fighting since his grandfather's grandfather lived. A concept many hadn't believed a possibility until the decisive victory he and his King had accomplished just a few weeks prior.
It'd be a lie to say he wasn't glad his son wouldn't have to fight in this war.
While he believed he'd done his mentor proud he also knew he'd killed enough of the enemy's people -both soldier and not- that he knew his final judgment would be a trial. Even if the old kings of war praised him the old kings of the people would abhor him regardless of how kind he was to his own people, meaning in the end it'd come down to whether the old kings of trade to decide his fate. ('Which is why you should never burn banks or farms.')
He couldn't help but shake his head at his mentor's old words on avoiding damnation. (If only it were that simple.)
Deciding that he'd meandered long enough he continued on to his meeting with the kings to discuss the security details of the upcoming peace summit, because while they knew everyone on their side had tired of war that didn't mean the other side lacked in warmongers seeking to continue a blood feud older than any of them.
(Hopefully if they do have a traitor we'll be able to keep the peace summit from falling apart.) He wanted to believe they could all put their weapons down, but he'd spent enough time fighting to know what the enemy was capable of in their darkest hour. (Nothing that you're not capable of too.)
He stopped in front of the door to the Kings' chamber and gathered his thoughts -while pushing some away- before nodding to the guards on duty that he was ready to enter.
Both guards gave him a standard security check to make sure he wasn't armed with an unauthorized weapon and was in fact who he was supposed to be. His high rank was the only reason they let him enter the chamber with his old war knife, a gift given to him by his mentor upon completing his apprenticeship in the arts of war.
The kings' chambers was a circular room with four doors large doors, three with a throne in front of it and flanked by a set of banners in the given king's colors and with their domain's markings. To his left was a blue banner depicting bronze book over a set of herbs for the king of the people, to his right a green banner with a gold set of scales surrounded by grain for the king of trade, and finally across from him were the red banners bearing a set of silver swords over a shield for the king of war.
"Ah, the man of the hour." A fit man wearing a red and silver mix of formal wear and armor, similar to what he wore, laughed offering him a hand. "How fair you on the eve of this momentous occasion?"
"As well as I can." He smiled, clasping his king's arm with his own.
"Good, I haven't been able to catch up with you since our return and wanted to make sure you were doing well." The king of war nodded. "Have you had a chance to see your son since your return?"
He shook his head. "Sadly, he's still at the academy, but should be home to enjoy the celebrations of the upcoming summit."
"Lad will make an honorable warrior just like his father I'm sure." The king assured him.
(Honestly, I'd prefer it if he was more honorable than me.) He nodded in acceptance rather than voicing that thought. "I'm honored you think so."
"Quite, right. Come now we have much to discuss." The king nodded back before motioning him towards the center of the room where the other two members of the triarchy stood with their own guests.
"So he's the one you've chosen then?" The king of trade -a thin but tall man- asked, eyeing him curiously.
"Yes, he is." The king of war nodded. "In addition to leading the decisive victory that gave us this unique opportunity, he was also the previous king's apprentice prior to her ascension to the throne. In truth if not for his age at the time, I have little doubt she would've made him her prince instead of me."
That was… much higher praise than he'd been expecting.
In truth he knew exactly why his mentor had no desire to declare him her prince for when her time as king ended, and it had little to do with his age and more that fifteen years ago he'd just had a son and lost a wife. A situation that left him in no position to fulfill all of the responsibilities of a prince and then a king.
"A ringing endorsement." The king of the people laughed with far more compassion than someone who had done what he'd done deserved. "And if he was passed over once, well, it's good to know you're man enough to give him the second chance he deserves."
"Hm, I may be prideful at times but there truly is no greater warrior in our lands. Be it a marksman, swordsman, strategist, or ship captain. He is the best." The king of war assured his counterparts.
(Honestly, it's less that I'm the best and more that I'm the most 'vicious'.) He thought, forcing down his frown before blinking as he registered what the king of the people had said. "I'm sorry, but 'second chance'?"
"Yes, that is the reason I have brought you here." The king of war told him with another smile. "While it is still a few months away, our current king of the people will be retiring, passing his crown onto his prince."
Now that he took a second look at the king of the people's guest, he did recognize the woman as the current prince of the people. With this revelation his attention snapped to the king of trade's guest as it clicked that the man was the current prince of trade.
His eyes drifted to the king next to him. (Meaning…)
"Meaning, that the time has also come for me to declare my own prince." The king of war continued, placing both hands on his shoulders. "And I can think of no greater warrior to fulfill that role than you, my old friend."
"I… I don't know what to say…" He admitted in his stunned stupor. "I…I am unworthy of such an honor."
"Nonsense." The king of war dismissed. "As I've said I can think of no better heir to the crown, and both of my counterparts have agreed that after your astounding record that no one else can match you for the role. So what do you say?"
This was a momentous thing, an honor that he truly did believe himself unworthy of given how he already knew his judgment when he inevitably met the kings of old.
(Though that judgment could change…) His mind whispered.
While he knew his judgment was likely grim from all but the king of war, as a king himself things could change. As a king his record was changed merely from the duties of any other man, and to that of his king's domain, namely to use the military's might to protect the innocent from all who would do them harm.
What's more, with the upcoming peace treaty he'd be the first king of peace in over a hundred years, the current king's mantle already red from the previous war. Meaning if he could keep and maintain the peace for the entirety of his own time as the king then even in the eyes of the old kings of the people, (I could be redeemed… I could be reunited with…)
Swallowing down this revelation before it could consume him, he kneeled before the king of war. "All I can say is that I humbly accept this honor, and shall do my best to honor the kings before me."
"I'm sure you will." The king of war nodded with a pat of his shoulder. "But still you won't be prince until the next king of the people's coronation."
"Of course." He accepted, nodding towards the prince in question. The one who would grant him his right to rule upon becoming king.
"Still, while this is a joyous occasion that we will be celebrating, I do believe we had something else to attend to with this meeting." The king of trade pointed out, reminding them that their duties went far beyond the line of succession.
"Bah, don't mind him. He's always been a bit of a killjoy." The king of war whispered just low enough that the others wouldn't hear him. "Hopefully the lass will be a bit more fun when you become king. Still," The king clapped no longer whispering. "Do you mind if I fill my prince in about the situation?"
"Certainly." The king of the people smiled. "We can make this the first of his lessons as your heir."
"Quite right, quite right." The king of war laughed, before gesturing for him to follow to a table in the center of the room where a number of documents were on display. "Now I'm not sure how aware you are of all this, since you've never been positioned as a palace guard, but while we are given control of our domains outside of overlapping interests, it is still considered a courtesy to inform the other kings of any major operation we may take on."
(That explains why most of these documents are about the war and supply lines rather than just the peace summit.) He figured idly looking over some of the documents on the table. (They must be doing an inventory as they get ready to pull back from the war front.)
"This is especially true should our domains face potential overlap." The king of trade added. "In this case while we all trust the king of war to fulfill his duties as effectively as possible, the fact that everyone here will be present means we have a little more say in this operation than usual."
"With your safety on the line it makes perfect sense that you'd want to be aware of all the security details." He agreed in complete understanding. "I'm sure anyone would be when they're the ones most at risk."
"Yes, that's a compassionate thing to keep in mind." The king of the people agreed. "My own predecessor warned me of a previous king of war that readily used his own prince as bait without warning them."
"Ah, I remember my mentor's… issues with that." He grimaced, given how the woman had spent a good three hours complaining about the king nearly getting her killed while he tried to keep her from waking his son.
"Don't worry that's not something I intend to do." The king of war assured him before giving him a pat on the back. "Hells, I'm pretty sure any plan I present to you you're bound to be able to improve several fold over what I can come up with."
"Perhaps not that much." He grinned wryly, because the only way he was the superior tactician to the current king was when he… (fires raged all around as bodies littered the ground, none having been expecting this onslaught)... bent certain rules of conduct that he'd regret more if it didn't save the lives of his men.
"Let's put that to the test shall we?" The king of war laughed, before rearranging the documents on the table to show a map of the site they were to hold the peace summit. "Our recent victory has given us a unique opportunity, and while it does require that the three of us be present in front of our enemies, it also requires them to do the same with their own leaders."
"Which is why we need to set up a proper security line and evacuation route for the… pardon, less combat oriented kings." He finished, understanding that they were getting to the part he'd actually been informed of this evening.
"Of course, that was the first thing I did." The king of war nodded, showing a map with three separate colored lines. On this map the blue and green lines split off from the core placement in a full on retreat, while the red line took a separate repositioning that would offer both a decent defense from the opposing side and a solid overview of the battlefield. Showing that the king of war intended to stand his ground and defend his counterparts retreat should the other side betray them. (As any true king of war would.)
"You split their retreat?" He asked, with a frown despite his king's valor.
"Aye, it may split their defenses but should worse come to it'll also split the enemy's attention, while preventing them from capturing both kings in a single maneuver. Thoughts?" His king smiled, excited to hear his counter proposal.
"Given the size of the forces we can reasonably bring to bear, we could create two decoy units with more easily intercepted routes, and should the other side manage to capture them they'll find a squad of prepared soldiers rather than the more… peaceful kings." He suggested, drawing out two slightly different paths with dotted lines of the two kings' respective colors. "Then once we have confirmation that they're in pursuit of the decoys we send off a third route from our defensive position with the actual kings and a smaller much less notable group."
"That could work." The king of war admitted. "Truthfully the route you're drawing for their mutual escape is the one I'd planned to use should the situation become unfeasible and we need to retreat ourselves. Part of the reason I had their other routes spread out was to also spread the enemy opposition out so that we wouldn't have to deal with one overwhelming flood of their own troops."
"Yes, that would be an unfortunate positioning." He agreed, having been forced to defend against such a position himself, and knowing full well that they hadn't won this war due to having more soldiers or better equipment than the other side but by having better tacticians and infiltration units.
"But your decoys should make an even better split off due to being an easier target, while negating the risk to my fellow kings." The king of war applauded him. "What's more, instead of risking any of our soldiers with the escape caravans we can simply fill them with as much Dragon's Breath as we can and have our soldiers light the fuse before fleeing the site."
"A solid strategy, though I doubt bringing our all-chemists' best to a peace summit is a good idea." He confessed, knowing his king had a tendency to become excitable at times. "Should they be discovered then the entire summit will fall apart and we'll lose whatever chance we have."
"True, their security will want to inspect everything to make sure we're bringing no more than the agreed upon defenses." His king of war nodded, before shaking his head. "We'll have to figure out something more subtle. Perhaps we could have a few spies infiltrate their camp and sabotage their supplies, given how long they'll be standing still for we should consider this more a skirmish between encampments than the usual trench warfare."
He couldn't help but glance at the rest of the kings and princes at that suggestion, all of them watching with considering looks. "My king, that poses a similar risk to the Dragon's Breath. Even if we could slip them in during the security inspections, should our infiltrators be discovered then the summit will again fall apart."
"You're right, we've built up too much of a reputation for such tactics. Anyone we send into their camps will have twice as many eyes upon them." The king of war sighed.
"But alternatively when our own inspection leaves without causing any trouble that should reaffirm their belief that we truly wish for this peace summit to succeed." He tried to console his king.
"Aye, and the more we can lower their guard before striking the better." The king of war agre- (Wait, what?!)
"I'm sorry, my king, I think I might be misunderstanding something, but did you say, 'before striking'?" He felt the need to ask.
His king stared at him for a moment before making an expression of dawning comprehension and swatting his forehead. "Ah, I see what you're misunderstanding. We jumped straight into the fun parts without dealing with the more boring details. You'll have to forgive me, I've always been excitable when it comes to my warfare, I'm sure you understand."
"It's fine, my king." He accepted easily, more than a little reassured that he'd just been misunderstanding the situation and not that-
"We're intending to use this summit to eliminate the enemy's leadership and a fair few of their forces."
"What." He swallowed, his attention snapping to his king with a disturbing intensity.
"I know, I know, the idea that we'd settle for a simple ceasefire was probably weighing on your mind this entire time." The king of war laughed before clapping his shoulder. "But don't worry after losing so many of our men to these savages we have no intention of ending this war until we've won, something I'm sure we'll be able to pull off now that we have you on our side."
His eyes snapped to the other two kings. "And you two are alright continuing the war? I know that it may be the king of war's domain, but together you do have the right to overrule this decision." (Please, overrule this decision.)
"I'll admit, I myself am against the continuation of the war." The king of the people confessed with a frown.
(Thank the kings of old…)
"But after how long our people have been at war and how ruthlessly they've attacked us over the years, the number of mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters we've had to bury… Our people will not be safe until we have completely wiped out the enemy forces."
His heart stilled with the king of the people's short speech.
When two kings agreed on a course of action then there was next to nothing that could be done to change it, (but I still have to try.)
"And you're alright, funding the war effort?" He asked the king of trade as casually as he could, hoping that he might be able to convince the other two to change their course. "I've seen the costs on the requisition forms, and if we're going to continue the war it will be costly in a way that will require your cooperation." Because if they couldn't get the other two to see reason, then the king of trade could influence things enough to make the war unsustainable and force them to retreat back onto their lands.
It wasn't something he wanted, but (that option is still better than another hundred years of war.)
"Hmm, yes I suppose given what you've seen you'd think I'd be against continuing the war. What most people don't realize though is after a hundred years of it, war has actually become quite good for our economy, especially with the plundering of enemy resources." The king of trade smiled, ruthlessly killing the last of his hope for aid from the kings.
(They're going to continue the war and I can't stop them…) He realized, his heart pounding in his chest as he thought about being forced back onto the battlefield.
"See there's nothing you need to worry about, you'll have whatever resources you need to win this war just like you've won every other battle you've been put in charge of." His, (no), the king of war assured him, wrapping an arm around him in a side hug as if that was a good thing.
He may have won countless battles but he always hated himself for it, because the methods he used were the kind he knew would see his damnation when he met the kings of old. He was a vicious monster who'd burned down entire villages of innocents, who had killed and tortured people in the most horrific ways to complete his mission objectives. And while he'd done it all in the name of his survival and to make sure his son didn't become an orphan, he had hated every last second of it.
"Ah, I just thought of something that'll really make you proud about this whole thing." The king of war said before placing a battle plan on the table. "Tell me if you recognize this?"
In a state of despair there was little else he could do but follow the king of war's orders as he looked over the plans and realized, "This was my plan…"
"Well, I may've changed a few details, but aye it's yours." The king of war admitted. "I know it was a few years back, but the way you orchestrated that prisoner exchange and then turned a losing battle around by stabbing them in the back. Oh, I've never been able to get that plan out of my head, and inspired this whole maneuver we're pulling off today."
"I inspired this…" He realized almost breathlessly.
"Aye, can you imagine the look on your boy's face when you tell him you're responsible for the maneuver that turned this whole war around in our favor?" The king of war laughed.
He could and it wasn't a look of pride.
It was one of his greatest guilts, just how much of his military career he lied to his son about, a son who proudly thought him a great war hero rather than a savage war criminal. A son who'd joined the academy to be just like the father he was so wrongly proud of, (just like I did for my father.)
It was a horrific revelation, when he considered the fact that he'd become a soldier to be like his own father, who had become a soldier to become like his father before him, and so on for as long as this war had raged.
(Did… did this war make my father a monster?) He wondered, before a more important question formed. (Will, will it make my son a monster too?)
He looked down at his shaking hands and for just a moment he saw just how much blood was on them before swallowing as he came to the most important realization of them all and curled his hands into fists, the image of his son's innocence at the forefront of his mind.
(I won't let it.)
His eyes shifted between the three kings and their heirs, all watching him as they saw determination filling his gaze. A determination that they attributed to a war hero that would do their kingdom proud, instead of the war criminal that would do anything to complete his mission of ending this war.
Taking a calming breath he put his hand on the table above a pen and turned to the king of war.
"Ha-ha, I can tell you've got that fire in you now! You're going to end this war and they won't even see you coming!"
"No, no they won't." He admitted, before stabbing the pen straight through the king of war's windpipe and fatally ripping it out.
Before the king's body could begin to fall he turned his attention to the prince directly across from him and climbed onto the table before taking two steps across it.
The prince of trade barely had time to process what was happening before taking a boot to the face hard enough to send several teeth flying.
"Wh-what do you think you're doing?!" The king of trade shouted.
He turned a cold gaze to the king, "Like he said, what I have to do to end this war."
A short hop had him sending the king crashing to the ground beneath him, as he felt several of the king of trade's bones breaking beneath him, disorienting the man long enough for him to stomp the king's throat, killing his second king of the day.
He rolled his shoulders as he turned to the king of the people who had begun to yell for the guards to come.
As the guards from outside the entrance to the king's chambers opened the doors, he reached down to the still breathing -if painfully- prince of trade and grabbed him by the base of his jaw and the top of his head before snapping the prince's neck.
Seeing this the guards raised their weapons towards him and he rushed to the prince of trade, wrapping an arm around her throat.
"Try anything and she dies." Admittedly he was going to kill her either way, but this gave him a moment's respite to assess the new threats. (At least a dozen of them, going to be a problem.)
"W-why are you doing this?" The prince of the people whimpered.
"Like I said, to stop the war." He told her, figuring she deserved to know why she was dying. "Little known law about the three thrones, if a king dies with no princes to take their place then the title will revert to the king before them if still alive. Hasn't happened in two hundred years, but the law is there."
"How, how does reinstating the old kings end the war you mad man?!" The king of the people screamed, backing ever so slowly towards the guards.
"Because with the confusion of replacing the kings so quickly, and the fact that they'll have their hands full catching up to date on everything, they'll have to follow through on the peace summit rather than using it as an ambush opportunity. Especially if I destroy said ambush plans." He explained lowering his free hand to his side.
"You accomplished that when you killed the king of war, so why did you kill the rest?!" The king of the people yelled.
"You and the king of trade agreed to prolong the war, and I can't actually tell how much your princes agree with that decision so killing them is my safest bet." He shrugged, twisting his fingers as the king of the people started getting a little too close to the guards.
"I-I don't!" The prince of the people shouted. "I-I don't agree with continuing the war…"
"Maybe, but unfortunately with the current circumstances I can't just let you go." He admitted. "So sorry about this."
He threw his mentor's knife at the king of the people, the blade piercing between his eyes deeply enough that he wasn't concerned with the possibility of the man surviving. With that done he shifted his grip on the prince of the people's throat and with a subtle twist tossed her corpse to the side.
With a sigh, he took a quick inventory to make sure that all three kings and their princes were dealt with before turning towards the dozen or so guards staring at him in horror.
"Given how you lot weren't planning on prolonging a hundred year war I'm going to give you one chance to walk away, because I have zero intention of letting you make my son an orphan." He warned them.
His eyes drifted between each of the guards before he rolled his shoulders and raised his fists. "Well then, let's get wild."
---
Three Kings And A Father
He made his way through the halls of the capital fortress, idly taking in the various images along the wall depicting the former rulers of their people. Each dressed in red, green, or blue as a designation of which King they were.
Briefly he paused in front of a portrait of a female King in red and silver, one who had already passed their crown to a prince and was likely enjoying their retirement training the various recruits for the military as she had with him before becoming King.
He'd like to believe he'd done her proud in the war, especially since they were on the cusp of signing a peace treaty that would finally end the hundred year war they'd been fighting since his grandfather's grandfather lived. A concept many hadn't believed a possibility until the decisive victory he and his King had accomplished just a few weeks prior.
It'd be a lie to say he wasn't glad his son wouldn't have to fight in this war.
While he believed he'd done his mentor proud he also knew he'd killed enough of the enemy's people -both soldier and not- that he knew his final judgment would be a trial. Even if the old kings of war praised him the old kings of the people would abhor him regardless of how kind he was to his own people, meaning in the end it'd come down to whether the old kings of trade to decide his fate. ('Which is why you should never burn banks or farms.')
He couldn't help but shake his head at his mentor's old words on avoiding damnation. (If only it were that simple.)
Deciding that he'd meandered long enough he continued on to his meeting with the kings to discuss the security details of the upcoming peace summit, because while they knew everyone on their side had tired of war that didn't mean the other side lacked in warmongers seeking to continue a blood feud older than any of them.
(Hopefully if they do have a traitor we'll be able to keep the peace summit from falling apart.) He wanted to believe they could all put their weapons down, but he'd spent enough time fighting to know what the enemy was capable of in their darkest hour. (Nothing that you're not capable of too.)
He stopped in front of the door to the Kings' chamber and gathered his thoughts -while pushing some away- before nodding to the guards on duty that he was ready to enter.
Both guards gave him a standard security check to make sure he wasn't armed with an unauthorized weapon and was in fact who he was supposed to be. His high rank was the only reason they let him enter the chamber with his old war knife, a gift given to him by his mentor upon completing his apprenticeship in the arts of war.
The kings' chambers was a circular room with four doors large doors, three with a throne in front of it and flanked by a set of banners in the given king's colors and with their domain's markings. To his left was a blue banner depicting bronze book over a set of herbs for the king of the people, to his right a green banner with a gold set of scales surrounded by grain for the king of trade, and finally across from him were the red banners bearing a set of silver swords over a shield for the king of war.
"Ah, the man of the hour." A fit man wearing a red and silver mix of formal wear and armor, similar to what he wore, laughed offering him a hand. "How fair you on the eve of this momentous occasion?"
"As well as I can." He smiled, clasping his king's arm with his own.
"Good, I haven't been able to catch up with you since our return and wanted to make sure you were doing well." The king of war nodded. "Have you had a chance to see your son since your return?"
He shook his head. "Sadly, he's still at the academy, but should be home to enjoy the celebrations of the upcoming summit."
"Lad will make an honorable warrior just like his father I'm sure." The king assured him.
(Honestly, I'd prefer it if he was more honorable than me.) He nodded in acceptance rather than voicing that thought. "I'm honored you think so."
"Quite, right. Come now we have much to discuss." The king nodded back before motioning him towards the center of the room where the other two members of the triarchy stood with their own guests.
"So he's the one you've chosen then?" The king of trade -a thin but tall man- asked, eyeing him curiously.
"Yes, he is." The king of war nodded. "In addition to leading the decisive victory that gave us this unique opportunity, he was also the previous king's apprentice prior to her ascension to the throne. In truth if not for his age at the time, I have little doubt she would've made him her prince instead of me."
That was… much higher praise than he'd been expecting.
In truth he knew exactly why his mentor had no desire to declare him her prince for when her time as king ended, and it had little to do with his age and more that fifteen years ago he'd just had a son and lost a wife. A situation that left him in no position to fulfill all of the responsibilities of a prince and then a king.
"A ringing endorsement." The king of the people laughed with far more compassion than someone who had done what he'd done deserved. "And if he was passed over once, well, it's good to know you're man enough to give him the second chance he deserves."
"Hm, I may be prideful at times but there truly is no greater warrior in our lands. Be it a marksman, swordsman, strategist, or ship captain. He is the best." The king of war assured his counterparts.
(Honestly, it's less that I'm the best and more that I'm the most 'vicious'.) He thought, forcing down his frown before blinking as he registered what the king of the people had said. "I'm sorry, but 'second chance'?"
"Yes, that is the reason I have brought you here." The king of war told him with another smile. "While it is still a few months away, our current king of the people will be retiring, passing his crown onto his prince."
Now that he took a second look at the king of the people's guest, he did recognize the woman as the current prince of the people. With this revelation his attention snapped to the king of trade's guest as it clicked that the man was the current prince of trade.
His eyes drifted to the king next to him. (Meaning…)
"Meaning, that the time has also come for me to declare my own prince." The king of war continued, placing both hands on his shoulders. "And I can think of no greater warrior to fulfill that role than you, my old friend."
"I… I don't know what to say…" He admitted in his stunned stupor. "I…I am unworthy of such an honor."
"Nonsense." The king of war dismissed. "As I've said I can think of no better heir to the crown, and both of my counterparts have agreed that after your astounding record that no one else can match you for the role. So what do you say?"
This was a momentous thing, an honor that he truly did believe himself unworthy of given how he already knew his judgment when he inevitably met the kings of old.
(Though that judgment could change…) His mind whispered.
While he knew his judgment was likely grim from all but the king of war, as a king himself things could change. As a king his record was changed merely from the duties of any other man, and to that of his king's domain, namely to use the military's might to protect the innocent from all who would do them harm.
What's more, with the upcoming peace treaty he'd be the first king of peace in over a hundred years, the current king's mantle already red from the previous war. Meaning if he could keep and maintain the peace for the entirety of his own time as the king then even in the eyes of the old kings of the people, (I could be redeemed… I could be reunited with…)
Swallowing down this revelation before it could consume him, he kneeled before the king of war. "All I can say is that I humbly accept this honor, and shall do my best to honor the kings before me."
"I'm sure you will." The king of war nodded with a pat of his shoulder. "But still you won't be prince until the next king of the people's coronation."
"Of course." He accepted, nodding towards the prince in question. The one who would grant him his right to rule upon becoming king.
"Still, while this is a joyous occasion that we will be celebrating, I do believe we had something else to attend to with this meeting." The king of trade pointed out, reminding them that their duties went far beyond the line of succession.
"Bah, don't mind him. He's always been a bit of a killjoy." The king of war whispered just low enough that the others wouldn't hear him. "Hopefully the lass will be a bit more fun when you become king. Still," The king clapped no longer whispering. "Do you mind if I fill my prince in about the situation?"
"Certainly." The king of the people smiled. "We can make this the first of his lessons as your heir."
"Quite right, quite right." The king of war laughed, before gesturing for him to follow to a table in the center of the room where a number of documents were on display. "Now I'm not sure how aware you are of all this, since you've never been positioned as a palace guard, but while we are given control of our domains outside of overlapping interests, it is still considered a courtesy to inform the other kings of any major operation we may take on."
(That explains why most of these documents are about the war and supply lines rather than just the peace summit.) He figured idly looking over some of the documents on the table. (They must be doing an inventory as they get ready to pull back from the war front.)
"This is especially true should our domains face potential overlap." The king of trade added. "In this case while we all trust the king of war to fulfill his duties as effectively as possible, the fact that everyone here will be present means we have a little more say in this operation than usual."
"With your safety on the line it makes perfect sense that you'd want to be aware of all the security details." He agreed in complete understanding. "I'm sure anyone would be when they're the ones most at risk."
"Yes, that's a compassionate thing to keep in mind." The king of the people agreed. "My own predecessor warned me of a previous king of war that readily used his own prince as bait without warning them."
"Ah, I remember my mentor's… issues with that." He grimaced, given how the woman had spent a good three hours complaining about the king nearly getting her killed while he tried to keep her from waking his son.
"Don't worry that's not something I intend to do." The king of war assured him before giving him a pat on the back. "Hells, I'm pretty sure any plan I present to you you're bound to be able to improve several fold over what I can come up with."
"Perhaps not that much." He grinned wryly, because the only way he was the superior tactician to the current king was when he… (fires raged all around as bodies littered the ground, none having been expecting this onslaught)... bent certain rules of conduct that he'd regret more if it didn't save the lives of his men.
"Let's put that to the test shall we?" The king of war laughed, before rearranging the documents on the table to show a map of the site they were to hold the peace summit. "Our recent victory has given us a unique opportunity, and while it does require that the three of us be present in front of our enemies, it also requires them to do the same with their own leaders."
"Which is why we need to set up a proper security line and evacuation route for the… pardon, less combat oriented kings." He finished, understanding that they were getting to the part he'd actually been informed of this evening.
"Of course, that was the first thing I did." The king of war nodded, showing a map with three separate colored lines. On this map the blue and green lines split off from the core placement in a full on retreat, while the red line took a separate repositioning that would offer both a decent defense from the opposing side and a solid overview of the battlefield. Showing that the king of war intended to stand his ground and defend his counterparts retreat should the other side betray them. (As any true king of war would.)
"You split their retreat?" He asked, with a frown despite his king's valor.
"Aye, it may split their defenses but should worse come to it'll also split the enemy's attention, while preventing them from capturing both kings in a single maneuver. Thoughts?" His king smiled, excited to hear his counter proposal.
"Given the size of the forces we can reasonably bring to bear, we could create two decoy units with more easily intercepted routes, and should the other side manage to capture them they'll find a squad of prepared soldiers rather than the more… peaceful kings." He suggested, drawing out two slightly different paths with dotted lines of the two kings' respective colors. "Then once we have confirmation that they're in pursuit of the decoys we send off a third route from our defensive position with the actual kings and a smaller much less notable group."
"That could work." The king of war admitted. "Truthfully the route you're drawing for their mutual escape is the one I'd planned to use should the situation become unfeasible and we need to retreat ourselves. Part of the reason I had their other routes spread out was to also spread the enemy opposition out so that we wouldn't have to deal with one overwhelming flood of their own troops."
"Yes, that would be an unfortunate positioning." He agreed, having been forced to defend against such a position himself, and knowing full well that they hadn't won this war due to having more soldiers or better equipment than the other side but by having better tacticians and infiltration units.
"But your decoys should make an even better split off due to being an easier target, while negating the risk to my fellow kings." The king of war applauded him. "What's more, instead of risking any of our soldiers with the escape caravans we can simply fill them with as much Dragon's Breath as we can and have our soldiers light the fuse before fleeing the site."
"A solid strategy, though I doubt bringing our all-chemists' best to a peace summit is a good idea." He confessed, knowing his king had a tendency to become excitable at times. "Should they be discovered then the entire summit will fall apart and we'll lose whatever chance we have."
"True, their security will want to inspect everything to make sure we're bringing no more than the agreed upon defenses." His king of war nodded, before shaking his head. "We'll have to figure out something more subtle. Perhaps we could have a few spies infiltrate their camp and sabotage their supplies, given how long they'll be standing still for we should consider this more a skirmish between encampments than the usual trench warfare."
He couldn't help but glance at the rest of the kings and princes at that suggestion, all of them watching with considering looks. "My king, that poses a similar risk to the Dragon's Breath. Even if we could slip them in during the security inspections, should our infiltrators be discovered then the summit will again fall apart."
"You're right, we've built up too much of a reputation for such tactics. Anyone we send into their camps will have twice as many eyes upon them." The king of war sighed.
"But alternatively when our own inspection leaves without causing any trouble that should reaffirm their belief that we truly wish for this peace summit to succeed." He tried to console his king.
"Aye, and the more we can lower their guard before striking the better." The king of war agre- (Wait, what?!)
"I'm sorry, my king, I think I might be misunderstanding something, but did you say, 'before striking'?" He felt the need to ask.
His king stared at him for a moment before making an expression of dawning comprehension and swatting his forehead. "Ah, I see what you're misunderstanding. We jumped straight into the fun parts without dealing with the more boring details. You'll have to forgive me, I've always been excitable when it comes to my warfare, I'm sure you understand."
"It's fine, my king." He accepted easily, more than a little reassured that he'd just been misunderstanding the situation and not that-
"We're intending to use this summit to eliminate the enemy's leadership and a fair few of their forces."
"What." He swallowed, his attention snapping to his king with a disturbing intensity.
"I know, I know, the idea that we'd settle for a simple ceasefire was probably weighing on your mind this entire time." The king of war laughed before clapping his shoulder. "But don't worry after losing so many of our men to these savages we have no intention of ending this war until we've won, something I'm sure we'll be able to pull off now that we have you on our side."
His eyes snapped to the other two kings. "And you two are alright continuing the war? I know that it may be the king of war's domain, but together you do have the right to overrule this decision." (Please, overrule this decision.)
"I'll admit, I myself am against the continuation of the war." The king of the people confessed with a frown.
(Thank the kings of old…)
"But after how long our people have been at war and how ruthlessly they've attacked us over the years, the number of mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters we've had to bury… Our people will not be safe until we have completely wiped out the enemy forces."
His heart stilled with the king of the people's short speech.
When two kings agreed on a course of action then there was next to nothing that could be done to change it, (but I still have to try.)
"And you're alright, funding the war effort?" He asked the king of trade as casually as he could, hoping that he might be able to convince the other two to change their course. "I've seen the costs on the requisition forms, and if we're going to continue the war it will be costly in a way that will require your cooperation." Because if they couldn't get the other two to see reason, then the king of trade could influence things enough to make the war unsustainable and force them to retreat back onto their lands.
It wasn't something he wanted, but (that option is still better than another hundred years of war.)
"Hmm, yes I suppose given what you've seen you'd think I'd be against continuing the war. What most people don't realize though is after a hundred years of it, war has actually become quite good for our economy, especially with the plundering of enemy resources." The king of trade smiled, ruthlessly killing the last of his hope for aid from the kings.
(They're going to continue the war and I can't stop them…) He realized, his heart pounding in his chest as he thought about being forced back onto the battlefield.
"See there's nothing you need to worry about, you'll have whatever resources you need to win this war just like you've won every other battle you've been put in charge of." His, (no), the king of war assured him, wrapping an arm around him in a side hug as if that was a good thing.
He may have won countless battles but he always hated himself for it, because the methods he used were the kind he knew would see his damnation when he met the kings of old. He was a vicious monster who'd burned down entire villages of innocents, who had killed and tortured people in the most horrific ways to complete his mission objectives. And while he'd done it all in the name of his survival and to make sure his son didn't become an orphan, he had hated every last second of it.
"Ah, I just thought of something that'll really make you proud about this whole thing." The king of war said before placing a battle plan on the table. "Tell me if you recognize this?"
In a state of despair there was little else he could do but follow the king of war's orders as he looked over the plans and realized, "This was my plan…"
"Well, I may've changed a few details, but aye it's yours." The king of war admitted. "I know it was a few years back, but the way you orchestrated that prisoner exchange and then turned a losing battle around by stabbing them in the back. Oh, I've never been able to get that plan out of my head, and inspired this whole maneuver we're pulling off today."
"I inspired this…" He realized almost breathlessly.
"Aye, can you imagine the look on your boy's face when you tell him you're responsible for the maneuver that turned this whole war around in our favor?" The king of war laughed.
He could and it wasn't a look of pride.
It was one of his greatest guilts, just how much of his military career he lied to his son about, a son who proudly thought him a great war hero rather than a savage war criminal. A son who'd joined the academy to be just like the father he was so wrongly proud of, (just like I did for my father.)
It was a horrific revelation, when he considered the fact that he'd become a soldier to be like his own father, who had become a soldier to become like his father before him, and so on for as long as this war had raged.
(Did… did this war make my father a monster?) He wondered, before a more important question formed. (Will, will it make my son a monster too?)
He looked down at his shaking hands and for just a moment he saw just how much blood was on them before swallowing as he came to the most important realization of them all and curled his hands into fists, the image of his son's innocence at the forefront of his mind.
(I won't let it.)
His eyes shifted between the three kings and their heirs, all watching him as they saw determination filling his gaze. A determination that they attributed to a war hero that would do their kingdom proud, instead of the war criminal that would do anything to complete his mission of ending this war.
Taking a calming breath he put his hand on the table above a pen and turned to the king of war.
"Ha-ha, I can tell you've got that fire in you now! You're going to end this war and they won't even see you coming!"
"No, no they won't." He admitted, before stabbing the pen straight through the king of war's windpipe and fatally ripping it out.
Before the king's body could begin to fall he turned his attention to the prince directly across from him and climbed onto the table before taking two steps across it.
The prince of trade barely had time to process what was happening before taking a boot to the face hard enough to send several teeth flying.
"Wh-what do you think you're doing?!" The king of trade shouted.
He turned a cold gaze to the king, "Like he said, what I have to do to end this war."
A short hop had him sending the king crashing to the ground beneath him, as he felt several of the king of trade's bones breaking beneath him, disorienting the man long enough for him to stomp the king's throat, killing his second king of the day.
He rolled his shoulders as he turned to the king of the people who had begun to yell for the guards to come.
As the guards from outside the entrance to the king's chambers opened the doors, he reached down to the still breathing -if painfully- prince of trade and grabbed him by the base of his jaw and the top of his head before snapping the prince's neck.
Seeing this the guards raised their weapons towards him and he rushed to the prince of trade, wrapping an arm around her throat.
"Try anything and she dies." Admittedly he was going to kill her either way, but this gave him a moment's respite to assess the new threats. (At least a dozen of them, going to be a problem.)
"W-why are you doing this?" The prince of the people whimpered.
"Like I said, to stop the war." He told her, figuring she deserved to know why she was dying. "Little known law about the three thrones, if a king dies with no princes to take their place then the title will revert to the king before them if still alive. Hasn't happened in two hundred years, but the law is there."
"How, how does reinstating the old kings end the war you mad man?!" The king of the people screamed, backing ever so slowly towards the guards.
"Because with the confusion of replacing the kings so quickly, and the fact that they'll have their hands full catching up to date on everything, they'll have to follow through on the peace summit rather than using it as an ambush opportunity. Especially if I destroy said ambush plans." He explained lowering his free hand to his side.
"You accomplished that when you killed the king of war, so why did you kill the rest?!" The king of the people yelled.
"You and the king of trade agreed to prolong the war, and I can't actually tell how much your princes agree with that decision so killing them is my safest bet." He shrugged, twisting his fingers as the king of the people started getting a little too close to the guards.
"I-I don't!" The prince of the people shouted. "I-I don't agree with continuing the war…"
"Maybe, but unfortunately with the current circumstances I can't just let you go." He admitted. "So sorry about this."
He threw his mentor's knife at the king of the people, the blade piercing between his eyes deeply enough that he wasn't concerned with the possibility of the man surviving. With that done he shifted his grip on the prince of the people's throat and with a subtle twist tossed her corpse to the side.
With a sigh, he took a quick inventory to make sure that all three kings and their princes were dealt with before turning towards the dozen or so guards staring at him in horror.
"Given how you lot weren't planning on prolonging a hundred year war I'm going to give you one chance to walk away, because I have zero intention of letting you make my son an orphan." He warned them.
His eyes drifted between each of the guards before he rolled his shoulders and raised his fists. "Well then, let's get wild."
Patreon Side Story: Donovan's Crossroads- Working With Family
A/N: Just a heads up this is a few years after the current quests.
---
Side Story: Donovan's Crossroads- Working With Family
She came to with ash in the air, an ache in her bones, and a pile of rubble on top of her.
Forcing herself to look around, she spotted a familiar face nearby and grabbed a stone before throwing it at him. "You alive, Fe?"
Felix grimaced before glaring at her with red eyes and growling. "What no sympathy?"
She raised a single brow at her brother's other self before gesturing to the rock on top of her, earning a roll of the eyes from the Malcontent.
"Yeah, yeah… I'm coming." Felix rolled himself over and glared at his leg twisted in the wrong direction. "Actually, going to need a second."
"Just get over here and let me deal with it." She told him, not wanting to waste anymore time pinned.
"Nah, I got it." Fe assured her as he grabbed his leg before violently twisting it into place. "See good as new!"
"Good then you can get me out of here!" She shouted, tapping a hand against the rubble.
"And why exactly can't you get yourself out of this?" Her (asshole of a) brother asked.
"I don't have anything to work with, not even any grass for some shoddy flora piece." She explained tapping the stone beneath her. "And I'd rather not sculpt myself blindly."
"Fair enough." Felix shrugged, before placing a single clawed hand on the largest piece of rubble and throwing it five meters away. "Better?"
"As good as I can be with everything going to shit." She admitted, dusting off her clothes as she brushed the last of the rubble off before taking Fe's offered hand and letting him pull her to her feet.
"Yeah…" Her brother agreed, inhaling deeply before letting out a black mist as he exhaled. "Any idea what screwed everything up?" He asked her with silver eyes.
"No, just that the old man is going to be pissed we botched such a simple run." She sighed before taking in the destruction of the street around them. "Ugh, this is going to be a pain to explain."
Fe waved it off. "Eh, town's seen worse, I'm sure."
"You remember back when we thought it'd be boring moving here?" She laughed, picking up her discarded baseball bat.
"Oh, yeah." Fe laughed with her, as he pulled his chain out in a burst of cinder and ash. "Couldn't have been more wrong."
In front of them stood a twelve foot tall monster pulled itself out of the building it'd just thrown them out of. Its skin was a leather hide with bits of graying stone scattered across its flesh, with short limbs ending in claws and a body that was more a large mouth with eyes than an actual body.
"Welp, ugly, ready for round two?"
The beast growled at them before unleashing a roar that would've woken anyone the explosion didn't.
"I'd take that as a yes." Her brother smiled as his other-self began to bleed into him. "Let's make him regret it, shall we?"
"Let's." She nodded, rushing forward as she dragged her bat against the ground, building up its power.
Ahead of her Fe drop kicked the stone beast as he came out of a cinder step, backflipping off of it as he threw out a wave of fire at the creature.
"Don't think fire beats stone!" She told him, throwing her bat as hard as she could at the beast, the second blow sending it staggering back as it hit with far more force than she could manage herself.
"Looks like your bat works though." He threw back, as he sent out a series of chains and wrapped them around the beast's legs.
She flicked her wrist and immediately snatched the bat out of the air as she appeared in front of it, before using her momentum to slam the bat into its face hard enough to send it flying back onto the building.
"Oof, think that's going to bite us?" Fe asked, grabbing her hand as he cinderstepped to her.
"Uh, depends on if the old man finds out." She half-grimaced.
"So that's a yes." Fe fully grimaced back.
The stone beast growled at them as it ripped its way out of the building before stomping on the ground, sending a wave of Anima pulsing through it.
"Welp, that's never a good sign." Her brother sighed as the ground began to shake.
"Ugh, I hate when they can summon minions." She groaned as a number of claws began to break through the concrete of the sidewalk and asphalt of the street.
"Only because you're not allowed to summon yours." Fe's other-self scoffed as he began swirling his chain through the air.
"Which is bullshit by the way." She frowned at her brother's least helpful self. "Speaking of, don't you think Grace is a better option given how this thing is fireproof."
"As if the ice queen could do any better." Sin scoffed, as her brother's eyes turned a blazing hellfire red. "Besides…" Sin threw his chain out grabbing one of the half formed minions before pulling it to him. "I'm still strong enough to smash these pests." The unchained told her, as he wrapped his burning chains around her brother's hand and punched the minion hard enough to shatter it into dust.
"I'm sure you are." She admitted, before hitting Sin upside the head with her bat.
Her brother's entire body froze for a moment before in a single blink his eyes went from hellfire red to a chilling blue.
"Was that really necessary?" Grace asked cooly as she straightened out their clothes with a look of disdain. (More at the clothes than her.)
She shrugged because taking her chances to hit Sin was always necessary. "Fe, still conscious in there or I knock him out too?"
"Mm, you gave him a bit of a spin, but he's still aware." Grace answered after a moment, before glaring to the side and flash freezing one of the stone creature's minions. "Still shall we deal with this rabble?"
"Yeah," She nodded, looking over the small crowd of four foot tall stone creatures standing around their progenitor. "So, you want the big guy or the little guys?"
"Mm, little I suppose." Grace decided as she calmly walked forward with both hands behind her back. "Let me know if you require any assistance with the larger one Cathrine."
"Will do." She assured her favorite of her brother's alt-personalities. (I wonder if that's because I always wanted a sister?)
She briefly remembered her actual foster sister, before watching grace backhand a lunging minion into a nearby car without breaking stride.
(A cool sister anyway.)
"Alright, big guy, just you and me." She smiled at the stone behemoth as she began pushing Anima into the Spell Ink Roz had covered her in, causing sparking blue lines to appear all over her as her eyes began to glow blue.
She kicked off the ground with far more speed and power than her frame was capable of as she launched herself at the behemoth.
"Scale of one to ten… how much trouble do you think we're in?" He asked as they made their way down the bus, casually noting the way that no one seemed bothered by the two teens covered in ash and blood. (Got to love the people of Blackwell.)
"Eh, more than that time we let the demon blow up half the school before stopping it, and less than that time we wreck the old man's car." His sister told him.
"So… a seven?" He suggested, as they got off the bus.
"Yeah, about a seven." Cass nodded, as they started their way up to a three story building sitting on the otherwise empty intersection of four streets.
Halfway to the house a four-legged flesh colored thing ran up to them panting happily as its clawed hands pawed at the ground and it ran in circles as close to the building's perimeter as the little abomination dared.
"Ah, Maxwell!" His sister squealed, running up to the flesh golem and rubbing its face much in the way one would a particularly lazy dog. "Who's an adorably abomination of magic? You are, yes, you are!"
Walking around the display he made his way towards the building's porch where their household's actual dog was laying lazily.
"So Church, how fucked are we?" He asked the -he was eighty-percent sure at this point- Corrupted dog.
The dog seemed to consider it for a moment before patting the ground seven times with his front paw.
(Eighty-five percent.) He thought with narrowed eyes.
Pushing the front door open ever so slightly he found the bottom floor of the building empty save for a red haired teen sitting at the front desk and watching something on a little TV.
"Yo, Chris, the old man here?" He whispered just loud enough for the older teen to hear him.
"Yep, and he is pissed." His foster sister nodded.
"What? Why?" He asked, feigning innocence.
Chris gave him a look before spinning the screen to show a news report covering the decimated shopping district.
"What happened there?" He frowned. "Cat and I were on the other side of-" The screen flashed to an image of Grace crushing a small stone creature under heel… while wearing his face.
(Busted.) Sin cackled unhelpfully from the depths of their fractured mind.
(I can always ask Cat to hit me again.) He offered.
(Kindly avoid giving us any more brain damage.) Grace sighed.
Shaking his head clear, he clapped his hands together with a smile, "So, uh, scale of one to ten…"
"Seven." Chris told him, turning her TV back to her.
"Fantastic…" He continued to smile.
"What is?" Cass asked followed by her fleshy abomination.
"Oh, everyone agrees it's a seven." He explained happily, before running a hand down his face and turning back to Chris with a much more real resignation. "So, where is he?"
"Kitchen." Chris answered, eyes never leaving the TV as she switched it back to an old cartoon of some kind.
"Well, let's get this over with." He sighed, before making his way to one of the building's two stairwells.
"Ah, no Maxell, you know Sam doesn't like you in the living room." Cass told her flesh golem before it could follow them. "Climb up to the attic and I'll be there soon, alright?"
"Out of curiosity did you ever fix the thing that gave him acid piss?" He asked as they went up the stairs, ignoring the seven flights of stairs leading downward.
"Yeah, I screwed up some filtration stuff when hooking his kidneys up to his bloodstream." Cass explained. "But they work the way they're supposed to and leave his acid in his blood."
"And I'm increasingly glad Sam only lets you have one abomination against nature at a time." He admitted.
"Does that mean you're going to tell him about that other one I'm working on?" Cass asked.
"As long as it doesn't try to attack me again I won't kill it or tell anyone about it." He assured her.
"That happened one time!" Cass defended.
"No, it's happened one time with each of your sculptures." He argued, honestly getting a little sick of the things trying to attack him in his sleep.
(I don't know, I like having a reason to burn something alive that you assholes won't give me shit about.) Sin told him.
(That's only because you reflexively take over when he's in danger.)
(Because I'm the most dangerous out of all of us.) Sin bragged.
(...)
(...)
(...)
(Alright, second most dangerous.) Sin corrected after a moment.
(...)
(You know some days I wonder if other fractured Malcontent have these problems…)
"Ah, there you two are." A man with graying hair commented, lighting a cigar -(That he'd probably been holding for the hour it took us to show up.)- as they walked into the building kitchen.
"Right, let's just get to it." He told Sam as he and Cass took their seats at the table. "How much trouble are we in?"
"Well, that depends on a couple of things." Sam admitted. "Namely, what the hell happened?"
He and Cass's eyes met for a moment, as they came to an agreement of sorts.
"You remember the Cult of the Blind Gnome?" He asked.
"I know I had to fish one of them out of my trash can and punt it back into the forest again, 'great one'." Sam informed him dryly.
"It is not my fault they worship me as a god." He defended.
"Did you have to stop Church from eating them?" The old man countered. "Because life was a lot simpler before you did that."
"Gnomes are sapient so… yes?"
(Don't lie to the man.) Sin told him.
(We're physically incapable of lying.)
(Which we both know is bullshit so long as you know where to end and begin a sentence.)
(Still, saving them was the morally correct decision.)
"Yeah, try something else." Sam suggested. "The 'killing Sapients is wrong' thing, quits applying after you kill your first sapient demon, fairy, undead, and/or etc."
"Uh, isn't there still a subjectivity to morality or something?" Cass asked.
"There would be, if you didn't spit in god's face everytime you create one of your little abominations…" The old man pointed out, before more kindly adding that, "They'd be less off putting if you gave them fur or something instead of wrinkly, veiny, pink flesh. Makes them look like a horror movie monster instead of a cute alien critter."
"You're a guy, you wouldn't know cute if it bit you in the ass." Cass scoffed.
"A, sexist. B, while none have bitten me in the ass I have been bitten by over a dozen universally considered 'cute' creatures including babies and flufflepuffs." Sam argued, before snapping his fingers and pointing at Felix. "And don't think I don't see what you two were trying to do there. Real story, now."
He met the older man's gaze, silver eyes to silver eyes, for a good minute before finally conceding. "Fine…"
"Alright, so what exactly is the problem here?" She asked, looking the room over.
"You don't see this… this thing, in the middle of everything?!" The store owner shrieked.
She glanced around the basement full of odd looking statues that she was fairly certain no one in town would actually be buying anytime soon. "No, no I don't."
"Ugh, this over here." The client told her pointing at a round… thing that seemed to be sticking out of the ground.
"Honestly, I thought that was just the foundation for a statue or something." Fe admitted, kicking a bit of debris towards it.
"What no, I would nev- Hmm, actually it does look kind of…" Their artistic client gave the rock formation a considering look before shaking their head. "Wait, no, no, not worth it. Not in this town."
That was probably the most sensible thing she'd heard from any of their clients. (Not that we've actually had that many customers, having only worked for the old man for a few months.)
But the point still stood that weirdness in Blackwell was not to be trusted.
She rolled her shoulders feeling an ache in her shoulder that wouldn't go away.
"Right, well, it's our job to deal with Blackwell's weirdness so you don't have to. Just give us the room and we'll have this sorted out within the hour." She assured their client with the smile Sam had been training into her and her brother since he agreed to make them Hunters.
The client was distinctly unimpressed.
"Hmm, well hopefully you two are at least half as competent as that other girl Samuel employs." The artist told her with a distinctly snobbish attitude before leaving them to it.
"Oof, what a dick." Fe said once they were alone.
"To be fair I'm pretty sure Chris is better at this than either of us." She sighed, crouching down closer to the odd rock formation.
"Yeah, well… we can still kick her ass in a fight." Fe reminded her.
She gave him a smirk. "Was that before or after she shot your dick off?"
"Hey, hey, she shot Sin's dick off not mine." Her psychotic brother argued in outrage.
"You two share a body, so if she shot off his dick she shot off yours." She argued, as she did whenever Sin did something with their body that made her brother cringe.
Fe gave her a glare, before subtly adjusting his pants as he muttered, "I'm just glad it grew back." at a volume she knew she wasn't supposed to hear.
"Eh, I'm sure Grace is glad she didn't have to deal with it anymore." She shrugged, placing a hand on the stone outcropping and sending a slight pulse of magic through it.
"Actually, she was unconscious during that little… event." Fe sighed, running a hand down his face. "See anything useful?"
"Yeah, this thing is a bigger underground." She nodded, before frowning. "It's also alive."
"Ugh, everything in this town is either alive, undead, or cursed." Her brother groaned more emphatically than he would've a year ago.
"Or part of a cult." She reminded him, because she was fairly certain that half of this town was part of one cult or another. (Including the magical creatures.)
"Or part of a fucking cult." Fe sighed in tired agreement before giving the living stone a look. "So how're we doing this?"
"Honestly, this is probably just some kind of magical creature that got lost in all those hidden tunnels under the town." She told him. "Probably got tired and just burrowed itself into a wall somewhere that shared a wall with… the floor."
"Why would it burrow itself into the ceiling?" Fe asked her just to be an ass.
"I don't know, magic makes the ceiling a floor, are you really one to be arguing non-euclidean designs?" She frowned at him, remembering the time his other-other-other-self turned their house into a death maze wanting to play.
"Technically, I'm not the one who does that to things." Her mentally fractured brother pointed out.
Deciding to be the magnanimous sister that she was, she dropped the tangent and went back to the topic at hand. "Regardless this is probably just another creature trying to make its way back to wherever that one… corruptor thing drove them out from."
"You know I'm kind of glad we moved to this town after they got rid of the eldritch zombie cult." Fe confessed.
"So am I." She agreed wholeheartedly, because they may have had to deal with demons and keeping the magical creatures from invading the town but at least when they killed something it stayed dead. "Anyways let's wake this thing up and escort it back to the forest."
Sam was pinching the bridge of his nose. "At what point did the two of you think it was a good idea to wake up the sleeping monster, inside of the client's store, while underground I might add?"
He met Cass's gaze for a moment before shrugging. "Around the time we did that."
"And to be fair we didn't know it was that big." His sister threw out before pausing. "Or that it breathed fire."
The older man inhaled slowly before exhaling even slow-er. "Right, so I'm guessing that's when the fight that the news reporters caught happened."
"Yep." He nodded, not pointing out that the two of them had been unconscious for a couple minutes there, because an angry Sam was infinitely better than a concerned Sam.
(He merely cares about your wellbeing.) Grace told him. (Honestly, having a foster father who cares is nice for a change.)
(Fuck, that I'd rather keep my freedom than 'kindness'.) Sin spat rejecting the idea of 'family'. (Hey, you, me, and Cass are all we need, buddy boy.)
(You know we could do with one less voice in this head.) Grace agreed dryly.
(...)
(No, I didn't mean you.)
Sam ran a hand down his face. "Ugh, I'm going to have to talk to DeSade to deal with this mess."
"Uh, why?" He blinked. "I mean, it's not like we're covering up the town's weirdness."
Sam gave him a dry look.
"Uh, since when have we been covering up the town's weirdness?" He felt the need to ask, because he had not gotten that memo given just how many people knew about the town's weirdness.
"We aren't hiding it from the town, we're hiding it from the people outside of the town." Sam explained taking a huff of his cigar. "Last thing we need is a bunch of outsiders coming in and messing with things they don't understand."
"Should we feel offended by that?" Cass asked with a half-hearted grimace.
"You've been here a year, and are still here. As far as this town is concerned you're a fellow dweller of Blackwell." Sam waved her off. "We mostly just want to keep Sanctuary and the Hero's guild off of our land."
"Then why did they play that fight on the news?" He frowned.
"Because Bobby fuller is fucking dick bag looking to make it big and move to New Haven." Sam growled before shaking his head. "Either way since it's DeSade's job to keep a lid on things I've got to talk to him."
"Well that's going to be fun." Cass laughed. "Especially since you renamed the street he lives on dead cop and prostitute junction last week."
"Still wondering how you pulled that off by the way."
"Lots of bribes and blackmail." Sam admitted taking his suit jacket off of his chair. "Which is how I'm going to get him to clean up this mess."
"Just be glad he's mellowed out since Edna gave her summer camp to that one kid." Chris told the old man as she walked past. "At least now he won't send demon assassins to kill you in the middle of the night."
"Only because I have you kids as meat shields." Sam scoffed. "Moment you guys go to school he sends a small horde after me."
"Is that why you let us cut so much?" Cass asked.
"Wait, Blackwell has a summer camp?" He asked at the same time because the idea of a summer camp in the middle of these woods was insane given what he knew lived in it. "How many kids get eaten each year?"
"Oh, everyone knows not to touch the kids of that camp, even the town demons know not to fuck with those kids." Chris scoffed, taking a soda from the fridge. "Really you should ask your girlfriend about it, Rosalind has gone every year since she was like twelve."
"She's not…" He bit back his reflexive response knowing that the denial was just as damning.
"Right, well as amusing as it is to make fun of the love lives of teenagers, I do have to clean this mess up, so I'll be going." Sam told them, before snapping his fingers as he reached the door to the kitchen. "Ah, before I forget."
Their foster father pointed at Cass. "Grounded, no dark magic or fight clubs for two weeks."
Then the old man pointed at him. "Grounded, no fighting anything, no caffeine, no watching TV static, and no dating my archenemy's daughter for two weeks."
"Come on, that's not fair!" He frowned, given how he was getting twice the punishment just because he had a split personality. (Half that stuff is how I keep them in line!)
"You're right." Sam nodded. "The creepy black eyed kid probably did nothing wrong so he can still hijack your body to watch TV static at three A.M. but I know the red eyed asshole and Felicia fought so they're both grounded too."
(Fucking bullshit!)
(No this is fair, if overly so… Though I do wish he'd learn my name already.)
(...)
(Glad to see someone is happy about this.)
"If you don't like being grounded don't get me sued." Sam told them unsympathetically. "I never grounded Aiden or Jericho because those boys at least made sure nothing could be proven in a court of law."
"That or they'd burn the house down if you tried." Chris pointed out.
His eyes met Cass's for a moment.
"The moment I decided to foster again I had Edna make everything fireproof." Sam admitted bluntly.
"Damn." The siblings cursed.
---
Side Story: Donovan's Crossroads- Working With Family
--- Cassandra ---
She came to with ash in the air, an ache in her bones, and a pile of rubble on top of her.
Forcing herself to look around, she spotted a familiar face nearby and grabbed a stone before throwing it at him. "You alive, Fe?"
Felix grimaced before glaring at her with red eyes and growling. "What no sympathy?"
She raised a single brow at her brother's other self before gesturing to the rock on top of her, earning a roll of the eyes from the Malcontent.
"Yeah, yeah… I'm coming." Felix rolled himself over and glared at his leg twisted in the wrong direction. "Actually, going to need a second."
"Just get over here and let me deal with it." She told him, not wanting to waste anymore time pinned.
"Nah, I got it." Fe assured her as he grabbed his leg before violently twisting it into place. "See good as new!"
"Good then you can get me out of here!" She shouted, tapping a hand against the rubble.
"And why exactly can't you get yourself out of this?" Her (asshole of a) brother asked.
"I don't have anything to work with, not even any grass for some shoddy flora piece." She explained tapping the stone beneath her. "And I'd rather not sculpt myself blindly."
"Fair enough." Felix shrugged, before placing a single clawed hand on the largest piece of rubble and throwing it five meters away. "Better?"
"As good as I can be with everything going to shit." She admitted, dusting off her clothes as she brushed the last of the rubble off before taking Fe's offered hand and letting him pull her to her feet.
"Yeah…" Her brother agreed, inhaling deeply before letting out a black mist as he exhaled. "Any idea what screwed everything up?" He asked her with silver eyes.
"No, just that the old man is going to be pissed we botched such a simple run." She sighed before taking in the destruction of the street around them. "Ugh, this is going to be a pain to explain."
Fe waved it off. "Eh, town's seen worse, I'm sure."
"You remember back when we thought it'd be boring moving here?" She laughed, picking up her discarded baseball bat.
"Oh, yeah." Fe laughed with her, as he pulled his chain out in a burst of cinder and ash. "Couldn't have been more wrong."
In front of them stood a twelve foot tall monster pulled itself out of the building it'd just thrown them out of. Its skin was a leather hide with bits of graying stone scattered across its flesh, with short limbs ending in claws and a body that was more a large mouth with eyes than an actual body.
"Welp, ugly, ready for round two?"
The beast growled at them before unleashing a roar that would've woken anyone the explosion didn't.
"I'd take that as a yes." Her brother smiled as his other-self began to bleed into him. "Let's make him regret it, shall we?"
"Let's." She nodded, rushing forward as she dragged her bat against the ground, building up its power.
Ahead of her Fe drop kicked the stone beast as he came out of a cinder step, backflipping off of it as he threw out a wave of fire at the creature.
"Don't think fire beats stone!" She told him, throwing her bat as hard as she could at the beast, the second blow sending it staggering back as it hit with far more force than she could manage herself.
"Looks like your bat works though." He threw back, as he sent out a series of chains and wrapped them around the beast's legs.
She flicked her wrist and immediately snatched the bat out of the air as she appeared in front of it, before using her momentum to slam the bat into its face hard enough to send it flying back onto the building.
"Oof, think that's going to bite us?" Fe asked, grabbing her hand as he cinderstepped to her.
"Uh, depends on if the old man finds out." She half-grimaced.
"So that's a yes." Fe fully grimaced back.
The stone beast growled at them as it ripped its way out of the building before stomping on the ground, sending a wave of Anima pulsing through it.
"Welp, that's never a good sign." Her brother sighed as the ground began to shake.
"Ugh, I hate when they can summon minions." She groaned as a number of claws began to break through the concrete of the sidewalk and asphalt of the street.
"Only because you're not allowed to summon yours." Fe's other-self scoffed as he began swirling his chain through the air.
"Which is bullshit by the way." She frowned at her brother's least helpful self. "Speaking of, don't you think Grace is a better option given how this thing is fireproof."
"As if the ice queen could do any better." Sin scoffed, as her brother's eyes turned a blazing hellfire red. "Besides…" Sin threw his chain out grabbing one of the half formed minions before pulling it to him. "I'm still strong enough to smash these pests." The unchained told her, as he wrapped his burning chains around her brother's hand and punched the minion hard enough to shatter it into dust.
"I'm sure you are." She admitted, before hitting Sin upside the head with her bat.
Her brother's entire body froze for a moment before in a single blink his eyes went from hellfire red to a chilling blue.
"Was that really necessary?" Grace asked cooly as she straightened out their clothes with a look of disdain. (More at the clothes than her.)
She shrugged because taking her chances to hit Sin was always necessary. "Fe, still conscious in there or I knock him out too?"
"Mm, you gave him a bit of a spin, but he's still aware." Grace answered after a moment, before glaring to the side and flash freezing one of the stone creature's minions. "Still shall we deal with this rabble?"
"Yeah," She nodded, looking over the small crowd of four foot tall stone creatures standing around their progenitor. "So, you want the big guy or the little guys?"
"Mm, little I suppose." Grace decided as she calmly walked forward with both hands behind her back. "Let me know if you require any assistance with the larger one Cathrine."
"Will do." She assured her favorite of her brother's alt-personalities. (I wonder if that's because I always wanted a sister?)
She briefly remembered her actual foster sister, before watching grace backhand a lunging minion into a nearby car without breaking stride.
(A cool sister anyway.)
"Alright, big guy, just you and me." She smiled at the stone behemoth as she began pushing Anima into the Spell Ink Roz had covered her in, causing sparking blue lines to appear all over her as her eyes began to glow blue.
She kicked off the ground with far more speed and power than her frame was capable of as she launched herself at the behemoth.
--- Felix ---
"Scale of one to ten… how much trouble do you think we're in?" He asked as they made their way down the bus, casually noting the way that no one seemed bothered by the two teens covered in ash and blood. (Got to love the people of Blackwell.)
"Eh, more than that time we let the demon blow up half the school before stopping it, and less than that time we wreck the old man's car." His sister told him.
"So… a seven?" He suggested, as they got off the bus.
"Yeah, about a seven." Cass nodded, as they started their way up to a three story building sitting on the otherwise empty intersection of four streets.
Halfway to the house a four-legged flesh colored thing ran up to them panting happily as its clawed hands pawed at the ground and it ran in circles as close to the building's perimeter as the little abomination dared.
"Ah, Maxwell!" His sister squealed, running up to the flesh golem and rubbing its face much in the way one would a particularly lazy dog. "Who's an adorably abomination of magic? You are, yes, you are!"
Walking around the display he made his way towards the building's porch where their household's actual dog was laying lazily.
"So Church, how fucked are we?" He asked the -he was eighty-percent sure at this point- Corrupted dog.
The dog seemed to consider it for a moment before patting the ground seven times with his front paw.
(Eighty-five percent.) He thought with narrowed eyes.
Pushing the front door open ever so slightly he found the bottom floor of the building empty save for a red haired teen sitting at the front desk and watching something on a little TV.
"Yo, Chris, the old man here?" He whispered just loud enough for the older teen to hear him.
"Yep, and he is pissed." His foster sister nodded.
"What? Why?" He asked, feigning innocence.
Chris gave him a look before spinning the screen to show a news report covering the decimated shopping district.
"What happened there?" He frowned. "Cat and I were on the other side of-" The screen flashed to an image of Grace crushing a small stone creature under heel… while wearing his face.
(Busted.) Sin cackled unhelpfully from the depths of their fractured mind.
(I can always ask Cat to hit me again.) He offered.
(Kindly avoid giving us any more brain damage.) Grace sighed.
Shaking his head clear, he clapped his hands together with a smile, "So, uh, scale of one to ten…"
"Seven." Chris told him, turning her TV back to her.
"Fantastic…" He continued to smile.
"What is?" Cass asked followed by her fleshy abomination.
"Oh, everyone agrees it's a seven." He explained happily, before running a hand down his face and turning back to Chris with a much more real resignation. "So, where is he?"
"Kitchen." Chris answered, eyes never leaving the TV as she switched it back to an old cartoon of some kind.
"Well, let's get this over with." He sighed, before making his way to one of the building's two stairwells.
"Ah, no Maxell, you know Sam doesn't like you in the living room." Cass told her flesh golem before it could follow them. "Climb up to the attic and I'll be there soon, alright?"
"Out of curiosity did you ever fix the thing that gave him acid piss?" He asked as they went up the stairs, ignoring the seven flights of stairs leading downward.
"Yeah, I screwed up some filtration stuff when hooking his kidneys up to his bloodstream." Cass explained. "But they work the way they're supposed to and leave his acid in his blood."
"And I'm increasingly glad Sam only lets you have one abomination against nature at a time." He admitted.
"Does that mean you're going to tell him about that other one I'm working on?" Cass asked.
"As long as it doesn't try to attack me again I won't kill it or tell anyone about it." He assured her.
"That happened one time!" Cass defended.
"No, it's happened one time with each of your sculptures." He argued, honestly getting a little sick of the things trying to attack him in his sleep.
(I don't know, I like having a reason to burn something alive that you assholes won't give me shit about.) Sin told him.
(That's only because you reflexively take over when he's in danger.)
(Because I'm the most dangerous out of all of us.) Sin bragged.
(...)
(...)
(...)
(Alright, second most dangerous.) Sin corrected after a moment.
(...)
(You know some days I wonder if other fractured Malcontent have these problems…)
"Ah, there you two are." A man with graying hair commented, lighting a cigar -(That he'd probably been holding for the hour it took us to show up.)- as they walked into the building kitchen.
"Right, let's just get to it." He told Sam as he and Cass took their seats at the table. "How much trouble are we in?"
"Well, that depends on a couple of things." Sam admitted. "Namely, what the hell happened?"
He and Cass's eyes met for a moment, as they came to an agreement of sorts.
"You remember the Cult of the Blind Gnome?" He asked.
"I know I had to fish one of them out of my trash can and punt it back into the forest again, 'great one'." Sam informed him dryly.
"It is not my fault they worship me as a god." He defended.
"Did you have to stop Church from eating them?" The old man countered. "Because life was a lot simpler before you did that."
"Gnomes are sapient so… yes?"
(Don't lie to the man.) Sin told him.
(We're physically incapable of lying.)
(Which we both know is bullshit so long as you know where to end and begin a sentence.)
(Still, saving them was the morally correct decision.)
"Yeah, try something else." Sam suggested. "The 'killing Sapients is wrong' thing, quits applying after you kill your first sapient demon, fairy, undead, and/or etc."
"Uh, isn't there still a subjectivity to morality or something?" Cass asked.
"There would be, if you didn't spit in god's face everytime you create one of your little abominations…" The old man pointed out, before more kindly adding that, "They'd be less off putting if you gave them fur or something instead of wrinkly, veiny, pink flesh. Makes them look like a horror movie monster instead of a cute alien critter."
"You're a guy, you wouldn't know cute if it bit you in the ass." Cass scoffed.
"A, sexist. B, while none have bitten me in the ass I have been bitten by over a dozen universally considered 'cute' creatures including babies and flufflepuffs." Sam argued, before snapping his fingers and pointing at Felix. "And don't think I don't see what you two were trying to do there. Real story, now."
He met the older man's gaze, silver eyes to silver eyes, for a good minute before finally conceding. "Fine…"
--- Cassandra ---
"Alright, so what exactly is the problem here?" She asked, looking the room over.
"You don't see this… this thing, in the middle of everything?!" The store owner shrieked.
She glanced around the basement full of odd looking statues that she was fairly certain no one in town would actually be buying anytime soon. "No, no I don't."
"Ugh, this over here." The client told her pointing at a round… thing that seemed to be sticking out of the ground.
"Honestly, I thought that was just the foundation for a statue or something." Fe admitted, kicking a bit of debris towards it.
"What no, I would nev- Hmm, actually it does look kind of…" Their artistic client gave the rock formation a considering look before shaking their head. "Wait, no, no, not worth it. Not in this town."
That was probably the most sensible thing she'd heard from any of their clients. (Not that we've actually had that many customers, having only worked for the old man for a few months.)
But the point still stood that weirdness in Blackwell was not to be trusted.
She rolled her shoulders feeling an ache in her shoulder that wouldn't go away.
"Right, well, it's our job to deal with Blackwell's weirdness so you don't have to. Just give us the room and we'll have this sorted out within the hour." She assured their client with the smile Sam had been training into her and her brother since he agreed to make them Hunters.
The client was distinctly unimpressed.
"Hmm, well hopefully you two are at least half as competent as that other girl Samuel employs." The artist told her with a distinctly snobbish attitude before leaving them to it.
"Oof, what a dick." Fe said once they were alone.
"To be fair I'm pretty sure Chris is better at this than either of us." She sighed, crouching down closer to the odd rock formation.
"Yeah, well… we can still kick her ass in a fight." Fe reminded her.
She gave him a smirk. "Was that before or after she shot your dick off?"
"Hey, hey, she shot Sin's dick off not mine." Her psychotic brother argued in outrage.
"You two share a body, so if she shot off his dick she shot off yours." She argued, as she did whenever Sin did something with their body that made her brother cringe.
Fe gave her a glare, before subtly adjusting his pants as he muttered, "I'm just glad it grew back." at a volume she knew she wasn't supposed to hear.
"Eh, I'm sure Grace is glad she didn't have to deal with it anymore." She shrugged, placing a hand on the stone outcropping and sending a slight pulse of magic through it.
"Actually, she was unconscious during that little… event." Fe sighed, running a hand down his face. "See anything useful?"
"Yeah, this thing is a bigger underground." She nodded, before frowning. "It's also alive."
"Ugh, everything in this town is either alive, undead, or cursed." Her brother groaned more emphatically than he would've a year ago.
"Or part of a cult." She reminded him, because she was fairly certain that half of this town was part of one cult or another. (Including the magical creatures.)
"Or part of a fucking cult." Fe sighed in tired agreement before giving the living stone a look. "So how're we doing this?"
"Honestly, this is probably just some kind of magical creature that got lost in all those hidden tunnels under the town." She told him. "Probably got tired and just burrowed itself into a wall somewhere that shared a wall with… the floor."
"Why would it burrow itself into the ceiling?" Fe asked her just to be an ass.
"I don't know, magic makes the ceiling a floor, are you really one to be arguing non-euclidean designs?" She frowned at him, remembering the time his other-other-other-self turned their house into a death maze wanting to play.
"Technically, I'm not the one who does that to things." Her mentally fractured brother pointed out.
Deciding to be the magnanimous sister that she was, she dropped the tangent and went back to the topic at hand. "Regardless this is probably just another creature trying to make its way back to wherever that one… corruptor thing drove them out from."
"You know I'm kind of glad we moved to this town after they got rid of the eldritch zombie cult." Fe confessed.
"So am I." She agreed wholeheartedly, because they may have had to deal with demons and keeping the magical creatures from invading the town but at least when they killed something it stayed dead. "Anyways let's wake this thing up and escort it back to the forest."
--- Felix ---
Sam was pinching the bridge of his nose. "At what point did the two of you think it was a good idea to wake up the sleeping monster, inside of the client's store, while underground I might add?"
He met Cass's gaze for a moment before shrugging. "Around the time we did that."
"And to be fair we didn't know it was that big." His sister threw out before pausing. "Or that it breathed fire."
The older man inhaled slowly before exhaling even slow-er. "Right, so I'm guessing that's when the fight that the news reporters caught happened."
"Yep." He nodded, not pointing out that the two of them had been unconscious for a couple minutes there, because an angry Sam was infinitely better than a concerned Sam.
(He merely cares about your wellbeing.) Grace told him. (Honestly, having a foster father who cares is nice for a change.)
(Fuck, that I'd rather keep my freedom than 'kindness'.) Sin spat rejecting the idea of 'family'. (Hey, you, me, and Cass are all we need, buddy boy.)
(You know we could do with one less voice in this head.) Grace agreed dryly.
(...)
(No, I didn't mean you.)
Sam ran a hand down his face. "Ugh, I'm going to have to talk to DeSade to deal with this mess."
"Uh, why?" He blinked. "I mean, it's not like we're covering up the town's weirdness."
Sam gave him a dry look.
"Uh, since when have we been covering up the town's weirdness?" He felt the need to ask, because he had not gotten that memo given just how many people knew about the town's weirdness.
"We aren't hiding it from the town, we're hiding it from the people outside of the town." Sam explained taking a huff of his cigar. "Last thing we need is a bunch of outsiders coming in and messing with things they don't understand."
"Should we feel offended by that?" Cass asked with a half-hearted grimace.
"You've been here a year, and are still here. As far as this town is concerned you're a fellow dweller of Blackwell." Sam waved her off. "We mostly just want to keep Sanctuary and the Hero's guild off of our land."
"Then why did they play that fight on the news?" He frowned.
"Because Bobby fuller is fucking dick bag looking to make it big and move to New Haven." Sam growled before shaking his head. "Either way since it's DeSade's job to keep a lid on things I've got to talk to him."
"Well that's going to be fun." Cass laughed. "Especially since you renamed the street he lives on dead cop and prostitute junction last week."
"Still wondering how you pulled that off by the way."
"Lots of bribes and blackmail." Sam admitted taking his suit jacket off of his chair. "Which is how I'm going to get him to clean up this mess."
"Just be glad he's mellowed out since Edna gave her summer camp to that one kid." Chris told the old man as she walked past. "At least now he won't send demon assassins to kill you in the middle of the night."
"Only because I have you kids as meat shields." Sam scoffed. "Moment you guys go to school he sends a small horde after me."
"Is that why you let us cut so much?" Cass asked.
"Wait, Blackwell has a summer camp?" He asked at the same time because the idea of a summer camp in the middle of these woods was insane given what he knew lived in it. "How many kids get eaten each year?"
"Oh, everyone knows not to touch the kids of that camp, even the town demons know not to fuck with those kids." Chris scoffed, taking a soda from the fridge. "Really you should ask your girlfriend about it, Rosalind has gone every year since she was like twelve."
"She's not…" He bit back his reflexive response knowing that the denial was just as damning.
"Right, well as amusing as it is to make fun of the love lives of teenagers, I do have to clean this mess up, so I'll be going." Sam told them, before snapping his fingers as he reached the door to the kitchen. "Ah, before I forget."
Their foster father pointed at Cass. "Grounded, no dark magic or fight clubs for two weeks."
Then the old man pointed at him. "Grounded, no fighting anything, no caffeine, no watching TV static, and no dating my archenemy's daughter for two weeks."
"Come on, that's not fair!" He frowned, given how he was getting twice the punishment just because he had a split personality. (Half that stuff is how I keep them in line!)
"You're right." Sam nodded. "The creepy black eyed kid probably did nothing wrong so he can still hijack your body to watch TV static at three A.M. but I know the red eyed asshole and Felicia fought so they're both grounded too."
(Fucking bullshit!)
(No this is fair, if overly so… Though I do wish he'd learn my name already.)
(...)
(Glad to see someone is happy about this.)
"If you don't like being grounded don't get me sued." Sam told them unsympathetically. "I never grounded Aiden or Jericho because those boys at least made sure nothing could be proven in a court of law."
"That or they'd burn the house down if you tried." Chris pointed out.
His eyes met Cass's for a moment.
"The moment I decided to foster again I had Edna make everything fireproof." Sam admitted bluntly.
"Damn." The siblings cursed.
Patreon Side Story: Kestrel, Sanctuary's Caged Bird
A/N: Content warning on this one, nothing too explicit but... sometimes that's worse.
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Summary: The caged bird of Sanctuary, the only one to know the cage is the Kestral and the one who clipped its wings.
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Kestrel, Sanctuary's Caged Bird
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet.
"Ah, good you're awake. I was worried you'd end up sleeping in after yesterday." His commanding officer -a tall imposing man in white and gold- told him with what he knew was a smile despite the mask covering the older man's face. "Now come along nephew, we have a big day today making the world a better place for everyone."
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
He looked down on the criminal group below him, a small group of criminals possibly linked with Covenant, but definitely linked to a series of dangerous summonings throughout the city. Namely in the fact that they were occasionally selling the wrong catalysts to people and thus unleashing a number of eldritch horrors upon the city.
His uncle wanted those Catalysts, hence why he was here.
A few flaps of his wings and a twist of magic had him appearing behind one of the criminals before using his staff to fire a stunning spell at one of his compatriots and wrapping said staff around the criminal's neck to choke him out.
The third of their group finally noticed him and pulled a gun -a curiosity for the magical black market- but hesitated to shoot when he noticed his comrade between them.
He shifted his grip on his staff before sliding his arm around the criminal's throat and swinging his staff to fire off a quick spell at the third knocking the man unconscious.
Letting the criminal in his arms fall limp he sent out the signal for pick-up and moved to secure the box of catalysts.
That was when the fourth criminal made themselves known.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet.
"Isn't he a bit young to be here?"
"What you haven't heard of the little prodigy?"
"No?"
"That's Agent Kestrel, he's the youngest Agent in Sanctuary. Completed the final exams at sixteen."
"Shit. Is that even legal?"
"Apparently, he's the captain's nephew or something."
"Damn, guess nepotism really does run everywhere."
"Yeah, here we are risking our lives and his uncle probably has him on all the easy assignments."
"Well, I can't really blame him there. After all, as young as he is, he probably has no real experience."
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
His hands began moving as he worked to dismantle the spell, one that if let loose would endanger everyone within a mile because the person who designed the spell had thought it a good idea to mix a weak soul-stealer into the code without giving an offload point.
Meaning that instead of a small distraction as the criminal had likely intended, the thing before him would continue to grow with every person it hit until the square cube law meant the area of effect was taking up more power than the spell could sustain.
Which given the fact that they were in a city was still a very big effect.
His hands paused as an idea occurred to him before he began adjusting the parameters of the spell so that when it went off in the next thirty seconds instead of starting with half of the building it would be confined to just the room he was in.
If he managed to reduce how much energy it had to begin with, then even if he couldn't shut down the spell, he could at least minimize its damage by limiting the spread to just this apartment.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers.
"This truly was a brilliant design you've discovered Kestrel." His uncle praised going over the notes he'd made about just what he'd done to the Mass-Soul-Stealer circuit he'd shut down.
"You should be proud of what you accomplished with this." His uncle assured him with a smile. "I don't quite think you understand how much you saved by doing this."
He shrugged, after all he was just doing what he had to nothing more, nothing less.
"Hmm, how about as a reward I show you a spell I believe you'll find quite useful."
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
Gripping his staff tightly, he focused on where he wanted to go before feeling a pulling sensation along his flesh and suddenly finding himself sitting in the back of the truck his targets were using.
He quickly wrapped himself in a thin cloak of magic, obscuring himself from view before taking a seat amongst the criminal's merchandise in a place none would discover him until the criminals had already driven him to their base of operations.
All he had to do was wait for his moment of opportunity before calling in the other Sanctuary agents and soldiers. A simple enough task that nothing could go wrong with the mission.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a small razor.
"Hey, have you ever seen Kestrel without his mask?"
"No, why?"
"He lost it yesterday during a mission and guess what?"
"If this is about how young he is, everyone knows he's basically a kid."
"No, no. He's got like… solid gray hair and these reddish-purple eyes."
"So, he's an albino or something?"
"No, his skin had like a tan to it and I could swear his eyes were glowing."
"Well he is a Deviant, some of them can look pretty weird."
"Yeah, but I heard he can't actually do magic so I figured he wasn't really a Deviant."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, you haven't heard? It's not actually him doing magic, it's his staff."
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
His staff went flying as the Arcane's summon crashed into him like a car before slamming him hard enough into a brick wall that he was fairly certain he felt several ribs break.
As the beast pulled back from him he spotted his staff laying on the other side of the beast, too far for him to reach before it could trample him. So instead he grabbed a glass bottle off of the ground, and forced himself onto his feet.
If he wanted to catch the escaping criminal he'd have to do enough damage to the summon, that the Nexus evaced it back to wherever it came from.
And so he smashed the bottle against the wall, leaving it with a number of jagged edges as he looked the beast in the eye and did his best.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers before using them to grip the tooth behind his canine.
"Your last mission was… a failure." His uncle told him with a sigh. "Now given how well you've been doing, I won't have to give you the usual punishment seen of someone who lets a criminal of this scale escape, but I still do need to punish you lest they see my… favoritism, you understand?"
He nodded, forcing down whatever he was feeling.
"Good, because as punishment you'll be getting something of a timeout."
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
He slapped another Creep out of the air as it tried to lunge at one of the Sanctuary Technicians working to shut it down the Bleed spawning this horde of monsters, all while he and the other agents did everything they could to protect the technicians as they worked.
With a burst of magic it shot the Creep through the chest with a beam of red energy -killing it dead- before sweeping the beam across several other nearby Creeps, cutting a small wave of destruction as he wiped the monsters out.
A shout from nearby had him turning to see a young soldier with a Creep on top of him, clawing through his armor.
He spun his staff in hand before swinging it with a wave of wind as he blasted the Creep off of the soldier, before blasting once it was a safe distance from its would-be victim.
Unfortunately, this left him open as another Creep got the drop on him instead.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a small razor before putting it to the flesh of his bicep.
"Oi, leave why don't you two shut the hell up!" A voice interrupted the gossiping whispers that followed him everywhere he went. "Can you believe those people? Act like they have nothing better to do than gossip about the kid who could kick all of their asses."
He tilted his head as the newcomer began walking in step with him.
"Glad to see you're still alive after that invasion, you took a pretty nasty blow after saving me." The person told him, causing the phantom ache of claws on flesh to move across his neck and torso.
"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for that." The dark skinned man continued before offering his hand. "Name's Miller, Varian Miller."
He stared at the hand for a moment before accepting it. "Everyone calls me Kestrel…"
"Yeah, but that's not your real name is it?"
"..."
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
With a twist of magic, he found himself once more shifting from his mistaken namesake into his true form as he landed on the truck smuggling illegal M.A.D. tech across state lines.
His staff clung to the truck roof, with barely a flex of the power he channeled through it, and as he held on with one hand he used the other to guide a thin line of magic out of the staff so that he could cut through the roof of the truck.
Once the metal had fallen inside, he maneuvered himself inside before lighting the end of his staff aglow and finding himself surrounded by crates on both sides, a small path separating them just enough to walk through.
Sticking his staff into one of the crates, he pried the lid off before checking its contents.
Inside he found equipment commonly used by Bio-M.A.D.s to grow their various pets and began collecting samples for his uncle to study, knowing the man would want something to tie everything together in case the main raid didn't go as intended.
After dropping a tracker into the crate, he put the lid back on and used his magic to make it look as if the crate had never been opened before moving onto the next one.
Everything went to plan until he opened the fourth crate and found a live bomb inside of it.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers before using them to grip the tooth behind his canine and ripping it out as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
"Another failure…" His uncle sighed, tossing the report on the table. "What's more this failure led to the loss of valuable equipment and a waste of manpower."
His uncle gave him a look before shaking his head. "I know you can do better than this, have done better than this, nephew. You know I'm going to have to punish you after this? Don't you?"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"Just be glad I talked them out of what the higher ups wanted to do. If they had their way they'd just remove you from my custody altogether." His uncle told him as he stood before stopping halfway. "That… That isn't what you want is it?"
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
He smashed the feral Deadman's skull beneath his boot, sending glowing green scattering in all directions before blasting the head off of a second one that had been about to lunge for Miller.
"Whoa, shit…" Varian gasped from the sideline, before looking around. "Everyone still alive?"
"No one dead, one injured." He reported, walking over to the down, but still living soldier. "Move your hand."
It took a moment but eventually the soldier nodded before removing their hand from the bleeding wound on their forearm.
Channeling magic through his staff, he placed a hand over the soldier's injuries and watched as they slowly began to stitch themselves back together.
"Glad we've got you with us." Varian told him. "That bite looked like it would've been a nasty thing if you weren't here."
"It needed to be treated, if the injury was allowed to fester any residual ectoplasm could've poisoned her." He explained as he stood before looking down at the soldier. "You should evacuate her."
"What?" Varian frowned.
"I can complete the mission on my own, but I have no way of knowing if I got all of the ectoplasm. You should evacuate or else she might lose the arm." He elaborated, without pointing out that this mission would be significantly easier for him if he didn't have to watch all of them.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a small razor before putting it to the flesh of his bicep, the latest in a string of numbers that he could not let himself forget.
Varian opened one of the books his uncle had given him to go over for an upcoming operation.
"Shit, I knew you were smart but I didn't realize you were this smart." The sanctuary soldier admitted, flipping through a few pages.
"It's not that impressive." He frowned, knowing that this was honestly a pretty basic subject. The only reason he was studying it at all was because of an upcoming operation where the spell outline should help him accomplish his goal.
"Kes, I've been looking into magic stuff to apply for the Agent program and this, this is more advanced than anything I've covered in three years of self-study." Varian told him before pointing to a fairly basic spell circuit in the book. "I mean look at this thing, a 'dimensional compression charge' followed by an 'imaginary circuit weave'? I have no idea what any of that means!"
"A dimensional compression charge would be a spell undoing an expansion effect or sealing a dimensional space by folding it in on itself. An imaginary circuit is essentially a spell engine that produces a secondary series of circuits within an imaginary space, while the weave bit references that said engine will be used to stitch the compression shut." He explained, barely glancing at the book he'd read years ago. "It's all basically a way of shutting down Rifts or Bleeds with magic, in case the tech fails."
"And why don't we have every Practitioner and Arcane learning this spell?" Varian asked with some amazement.
"The energy costs are obscenely inefficient in comparison to the tech solution." He answered before elaborating that, "No practitioner foci has that much energy and all but an A Rank magic capacity will be drained fatally dry in the attempt to cast it."
"Okay," Varian closed the book and gently pushed it away. "Why exactly are you learning this suicidal spell?"
He shrugged. "My Uncle had an idea for offloading the energy costs by siphoning off the energy of a secondary target, similar to how the tech solution siphons the energy off of the Rift or Bleed we're trying to close."
"Ah… Your uncle is a magical genius, I guess it makes sense he'd find a work around to this spell killing someone." Varian nodded in understanding.
"He's still looking for an opportunity to test the theory before putting it into practice." He pointed out rather than arguing the fact.
Varian was silent for a moment, leaving him to go over his books, before eventually speaking up after a few minutes.
"Hey, uh, Kes, you think I can ask a favor?"
He gave the sanctuary soldier a curious look.
"You mind teaching me magic?"
"Sure, no problem." It's not like it was anything special.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
Walking through the warehouse belonging to the Merchant Enforcers, he swung his staff creating a wall of magic to block the numerous bullets being fired at him.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Varian cursed from nearby. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"
"My uncle always trained me by throwing me into the… metaphorical deep end, I think?" He admitted with a tilt of his head. "This honestly isn't that bad in comparison."
"Maybe but I'm pretty sure there's a difference between a fight against a Sanctuary Agent and one against a Sanctuary Captain!" Varian shouted while making the hand gestures Kestrel had taught him.
"Just be glad I'm trusting you to man up on your own." He told his friend. "If I was more like him, I'd enchant you to be indestructible and throw you at them until they surrendered in discomfort… or horror, still haven't figured out which it was on their part."
"Wait, he seriously did that to you?" Varian blinked, losing concentration and causing his spell to collapse.
"That was a half-truth, I was trying for comedic effect." He bonked his student on the head as he made another barrier. "Focus, I'm dropping the wall in fifteen seconds, have yours up or you'll be getting shot."
"Shit, fuck, uh, give me a second." Varian pleaded as he sped through his hand signs.
"You've another ten… nine… eight… seven…"
"Not helping!"
"Six… five.. Four… three…"
"Shit, shit, shit!"
"Two… one… good luck." He dropped the barrier and blinked to the otherside of the warehouse, well out of the range of being shot himself.
"Fuck!" Varian cried, throwing his hands forward and forming a wall of sludge from seemingly nowhere just as the bullets began impacting.
"Mm, you can do better!" He shouted to his friend. "Just because you've earth and water, doesn't mean you need to make mud!"
He blinked back to Varian as the Enforcers turned to shoot him.
"Then again, if you learn to manipulate the balance you could do some interesting things with a couple of learned concepts. Hmm, something to consider. " He admitted, quickly shooting a few of the Enforcers. "Try for offense now."
"Offense? What the fuck am I supposed to do for offen- Oh, shit!" Varian yelled as a quick levitation spell sent him flying into the middle of the Enforcers. "You asshole!"
As he crashed into the ground Varian and the Enforcers looked at each other for a moment, before the fledgling magic user threw out his hands and pushed all of the Enforcers back with a wave of colored muck.
"Hmm, not bad." He nodded, sending out a few idle stuns to make sure the Enforcers stayed down. "At the very least it's good enough to pass the Agent entry exams."
"W-wait, seriously?" Varian gasped, losing his anger to shock.
"You'll still have to do the guns, teamwork, and tactic exams, but you've been a Sanctuary soldier long enough to have all of that down pat." He confirmed, before noticing something.
His hand shot out and he threw Varian to the side as a gunshot rang out through the warehouse.
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers before using them to grip the tooth behind his canine and ripping it out as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
With that done he placed the pliers back where they went before grabbing the razor blade laying next to them.
"Kestrel!" Varian shouted upon seeing him. "You're up and moving already?"
"Healing magic." He shrugged, knowing there was a fair bit more to it than that.
"Oh, that's good." His friend sighed. "After the other day I was worried you weren't going to make it."
"I've taken worse and gotten back up." He admitted. "A couple bullets aren't going to leave me in the grave."
"Still… when I had to report the situation to your uncle I nearly had a heart attack." Varian shivered. "That man is deeply protective of you."
"Yeah…" He swallowed. "He… didn't punish you for what was my idea did he?"
Varian blinked before rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, no. Kind of the opposite actually."
"What do you mean?" He frowned, knowing how his uncle sometimes liked to play mind games to reinforce punishments.
"Well, apparently once I explained everything he was really grateful that I brought you back to base before you could bleed out. And once I told him why you were helping me out, he gave me a quick evaluation of my magic before nominating me for the next Agent exams." Varian explained before sighing as he shook his head. "Which I'm not sure how to feel about since it kind of feels like nepotism for being your friend."
"Don't worry about that. My uncle isn't easily impressed and if he really did an evaluation and nominated you, then that means he knows you'll pass." He assured his friend before giving a half-bitter laugh. "Trust me, he won't bet his reputation on a failing spell."
"That's…" Varian ran a hand through his hair. "Shit, it just hit me. I'm taking the agent exams in a few weeks."
"Correction, you'll be passing the agent exams in a few weeks." He argued, patting the aspiring agent on the shoulder. "And we'll be using this next few weeks to guarantee just that."
"What, by throwing me into another horde of enemies?" Varian smiled.
"Pretty much." He nodded before considering it. "Though it'd probably be better to use a few demons and undead this time."
Varian gave him a laugh before his smile slowly died. "Oh god, you're serious."
He stared at the door to the deepest chambers of his uncle's private labs. The ones he'd been summoned to in order to talk about taking Varian out for their impromptu training session. Something that no matter how he rewarded Varian, he knew his uncle would be upset about.
Seeing no value in delaying the matter in further, he stepped through the door and made his way past a number of subjects suspended in glowing green vats, keeping each brain dead creature in a state of semi-life until his uncle released them for the next phase of his trials.
No matter how many times he walked this hall their eyes always haunted him, regardless -or possibly because of- the fact that none of them were ever alive in the first place.
As he neared the end of the chamber where his uncle's primary computer layed, he began to hear the elder Arcane in the middle of one of his audio journals.
"The viability of subject C.E.-S.T.R.-253 has resulted in yet another failure, as the subject's body yet again rejects the energy transference in a way that results in cancerous tumors commonly seen in overcharged healing magics. Once again I have failed to replicate the miraculous healing properties of subject 49, which even after repeating the procedure… eighty-three times now, has yet to show any signs of rejection, even going so far to maintain a slight regenerative factor that seems to vary based on the damage to the subject's previous iteration before transference."
He could hear his uncle sigh. "Despite reiterating this at least twenty times now, it continues to remain apparent that subject 49 was more a product of luck than progress on my part. As even other subjects derived from the same base material, simply do not possess 49's resilience to the procedure with the second most viable subject only surviving three iterations. As it stands I am likely still years from finding a work around that I feel safe using on myself."
His uncle turned off the recorder before setting it on his desk and turning towards him, his uncle's graying blonde hair and blue eyes apparent now that he wasn't wearing his mask.
"Nephew, I was wondering how long you'd be."
He bowed his head. "I'm sorry for the delay, uncle."
"Quite alright." His uncle nodded. "That said, I'm sure you know what this is about?"
"Bringing Soldier Miller with me into the field." He answered, showing no emotion.
"Yes, and though it did result in me discovering a talent that otherwise would have flown under the radar for who knows how long, it also resulted in you being severely injured." His uncle frowned as he stood from his seat. "You really must quit being so careless in the field with your fellows."
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience my injuries have caused you uncle." He apologized, fully meaning it.
"Your injuries are no inconvenience, and as long as you survive I will not fault you for any injuries that require my tending." His uncle assured placing a hand on his shoulder before gripping it ever so tighter. "What I will fault you for however is how and why you were injured."
"..." He could only stay silent.
"I've already debriefed with Miller, but do you care to tell me how you were injured?" His uncle asked in a way that told him he'd be in less trouble if he came clean.
"While training Miller I let my guard down and didn't take the mission seriously, instead treating it like a game as I trained him." He admitted with a small amount of shame.
"True… but given your own Affinities such a thing would be expected especially given our shared genetics." His uncle told him. "No, it's the other matter."
"Other matter?" He repeated with mild confusion.
"Yes, the fact that this is not the first time you've suffered injuries on behalf of Varian Miller." His uncle nodded while pulling up reports from the mission where he'd first met Miller and the one where half their squad had been injured to a Deadman.
"I wasn't injured on the Deadman mission protecting Miller." He defended.
"You were injured because you had him and the rest of his squad extract themselves from the field rather than risking further injury on their behalf." His uncle glared. "If you had allowed them to continue with you in all likelihood you would have completed the mission with minimal injury."
"But at least one of the other soldiers could've died if I hadn't." He argued.
"And I don't care." His uncle admitted grabbing him by his shoulders. "You are far more valuable to me than anyone in this base, in fact I would happily trade all of them for you."
His uncle stared into his eyes before letting out a tired sigh as his only family walked around him and hugged him while running a hand through his hair.
"You can't keep risking your life like this for others." His uncle told him. "You're one of a kind and I can't afford to lose you."
"I'm sorry uncle…"
"It's fine…" His uncle assured him placing a hand on his jaw. "Just so long as you remember dear nephew…"
With his uncle's hands on his head all he could do was focus on the file currently displayed on his uncle's monitor, an ongoing experiment report with a very familiar photo and designation of C.E.-S.T.R.-IL.
His uncle began twisting his hands in opposite directions. "You are only allowed to die for me."
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order and a glance at his bicep showed not a scar on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet.
---
Summary: The caged bird of Sanctuary, the only one to know the cage is the Kestral and the one who clipped its wings.
---
Kestrel, Sanctuary's Caged Bird
--- Kestrel ---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet.
---
"Ah, good you're awake. I was worried you'd end up sleeping in after yesterday." His commanding officer -a tall imposing man in white and gold- told him with what he knew was a smile despite the mask covering the older man's face. "Now come along nephew, we have a big day today making the world a better place for everyone."
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
He looked down on the criminal group below him, a small group of criminals possibly linked with Covenant, but definitely linked to a series of dangerous summonings throughout the city. Namely in the fact that they were occasionally selling the wrong catalysts to people and thus unleashing a number of eldritch horrors upon the city.
His uncle wanted those Catalysts, hence why he was here.
A few flaps of his wings and a twist of magic had him appearing behind one of the criminals before using his staff to fire a stunning spell at one of his compatriots and wrapping said staff around the criminal's neck to choke him out.
The third of their group finally noticed him and pulled a gun -a curiosity for the magical black market- but hesitated to shoot when he noticed his comrade between them.
He shifted his grip on his staff before sliding his arm around the criminal's throat and swinging his staff to fire off a quick spell at the third knocking the man unconscious.
Letting the criminal in his arms fall limp he sent out the signal for pick-up and moved to secure the box of catalysts.
That was when the fourth criminal made themselves known.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet.
---
"Isn't he a bit young to be here?"
"What you haven't heard of the little prodigy?"
"No?"
"That's Agent Kestrel, he's the youngest Agent in Sanctuary. Completed the final exams at sixteen."
"Shit. Is that even legal?"
"Apparently, he's the captain's nephew or something."
"Damn, guess nepotism really does run everywhere."
"Yeah, here we are risking our lives and his uncle probably has him on all the easy assignments."
"Well, I can't really blame him there. After all, as young as he is, he probably has no real experience."
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
His hands began moving as he worked to dismantle the spell, one that if let loose would endanger everyone within a mile because the person who designed the spell had thought it a good idea to mix a weak soul-stealer into the code without giving an offload point.
Meaning that instead of a small distraction as the criminal had likely intended, the thing before him would continue to grow with every person it hit until the square cube law meant the area of effect was taking up more power than the spell could sustain.
Which given the fact that they were in a city was still a very big effect.
His hands paused as an idea occurred to him before he began adjusting the parameters of the spell so that when it went off in the next thirty seconds instead of starting with half of the building it would be confined to just the room he was in.
If he managed to reduce how much energy it had to begin with, then even if he couldn't shut down the spell, he could at least minimize its damage by limiting the spread to just this apartment.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers.
---
"This truly was a brilliant design you've discovered Kestrel." His uncle praised going over the notes he'd made about just what he'd done to the Mass-Soul-Stealer circuit he'd shut down.
"You should be proud of what you accomplished with this." His uncle assured him with a smile. "I don't quite think you understand how much you saved by doing this."
He shrugged, after all he was just doing what he had to nothing more, nothing less.
"Hmm, how about as a reward I show you a spell I believe you'll find quite useful."
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
Gripping his staff tightly, he focused on where he wanted to go before feeling a pulling sensation along his flesh and suddenly finding himself sitting in the back of the truck his targets were using.
He quickly wrapped himself in a thin cloak of magic, obscuring himself from view before taking a seat amongst the criminal's merchandise in a place none would discover him until the criminals had already driven him to their base of operations.
All he had to do was wait for his moment of opportunity before calling in the other Sanctuary agents and soldiers. A simple enough task that nothing could go wrong with the mission.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a small razor.
---
"Hey, have you ever seen Kestrel without his mask?"
"No, why?"
"He lost it yesterday during a mission and guess what?"
"If this is about how young he is, everyone knows he's basically a kid."
"No, no. He's got like… solid gray hair and these reddish-purple eyes."
"So, he's an albino or something?"
"No, his skin had like a tan to it and I could swear his eyes were glowing."
"Well he is a Deviant, some of them can look pretty weird."
"Yeah, but I heard he can't actually do magic so I figured he wasn't really a Deviant."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, you haven't heard? It's not actually him doing magic, it's his staff."
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
His staff went flying as the Arcane's summon crashed into him like a car before slamming him hard enough into a brick wall that he was fairly certain he felt several ribs break.
As the beast pulled back from him he spotted his staff laying on the other side of the beast, too far for him to reach before it could trample him. So instead he grabbed a glass bottle off of the ground, and forced himself onto his feet.
If he wanted to catch the escaping criminal he'd have to do enough damage to the summon, that the Nexus evaced it back to wherever it came from.
And so he smashed the bottle against the wall, leaving it with a number of jagged edges as he looked the beast in the eye and did his best.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers before using them to grip the tooth behind his canine.
---
"Your last mission was… a failure." His uncle told him with a sigh. "Now given how well you've been doing, I won't have to give you the usual punishment seen of someone who lets a criminal of this scale escape, but I still do need to punish you lest they see my… favoritism, you understand?"
He nodded, forcing down whatever he was feeling.
"Good, because as punishment you'll be getting something of a timeout."
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
He slapped another Creep out of the air as it tried to lunge at one of the Sanctuary Technicians working to shut it down the Bleed spawning this horde of monsters, all while he and the other agents did everything they could to protect the technicians as they worked.
With a burst of magic it shot the Creep through the chest with a beam of red energy -killing it dead- before sweeping the beam across several other nearby Creeps, cutting a small wave of destruction as he wiped the monsters out.
A shout from nearby had him turning to see a young soldier with a Creep on top of him, clawing through his armor.
He spun his staff in hand before swinging it with a wave of wind as he blasted the Creep off of the soldier, before blasting once it was a safe distance from its would-be victim.
Unfortunately, this left him open as another Creep got the drop on him instead.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a small razor before putting it to the flesh of his bicep.
---
"Oi, leave why don't you two shut the hell up!" A voice interrupted the gossiping whispers that followed him everywhere he went. "Can you believe those people? Act like they have nothing better to do than gossip about the kid who could kick all of their asses."
He tilted his head as the newcomer began walking in step with him.
"Glad to see you're still alive after that invasion, you took a pretty nasty blow after saving me." The person told him, causing the phantom ache of claws on flesh to move across his neck and torso.
"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for that." The dark skinned man continued before offering his hand. "Name's Miller, Varian Miller."
He stared at the hand for a moment before accepting it. "Everyone calls me Kestrel…"
"Yeah, but that's not your real name is it?"
"..."
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
With a twist of magic, he found himself once more shifting from his mistaken namesake into his true form as he landed on the truck smuggling illegal M.A.D. tech across state lines.
His staff clung to the truck roof, with barely a flex of the power he channeled through it, and as he held on with one hand he used the other to guide a thin line of magic out of the staff so that he could cut through the roof of the truck.
Once the metal had fallen inside, he maneuvered himself inside before lighting the end of his staff aglow and finding himself surrounded by crates on both sides, a small path separating them just enough to walk through.
Sticking his staff into one of the crates, he pried the lid off before checking its contents.
Inside he found equipment commonly used by Bio-M.A.D.s to grow their various pets and began collecting samples for his uncle to study, knowing the man would want something to tie everything together in case the main raid didn't go as intended.
After dropping a tracker into the crate, he put the lid back on and used his magic to make it look as if the crate had never been opened before moving onto the next one.
Everything went to plan until he opened the fourth crate and found a live bomb inside of it.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers before using them to grip the tooth behind his canine and ripping it out as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
---
"Another failure…" His uncle sighed, tossing the report on the table. "What's more this failure led to the loss of valuable equipment and a waste of manpower."
His uncle gave him a look before shaking his head. "I know you can do better than this, have done better than this, nephew. You know I'm going to have to punish you after this? Don't you?"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"Just be glad I talked them out of what the higher ups wanted to do. If they had their way they'd just remove you from my custody altogether." His uncle told him as he stood before stopping halfway. "That… That isn't what you want is it?"
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find the tooth behind his canine missing.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
He smashed the feral Deadman's skull beneath his boot, sending glowing green scattering in all directions before blasting the head off of a second one that had been about to lunge for Miller.
"Whoa, shit…" Varian gasped from the sideline, before looking around. "Everyone still alive?"
"No one dead, one injured." He reported, walking over to the down, but still living soldier. "Move your hand."
It took a moment but eventually the soldier nodded before removing their hand from the bleeding wound on their forearm.
Channeling magic through his staff, he placed a hand over the soldier's injuries and watched as they slowly began to stitch themselves back together.
"Glad we've got you with us." Varian told him. "That bite looked like it would've been a nasty thing if you weren't here."
"It needed to be treated, if the injury was allowed to fester any residual ectoplasm could've poisoned her." He explained as he stood before looking down at the soldier. "You should evacuate her."
"What?" Varian frowned.
"I can complete the mission on my own, but I have no way of knowing if I got all of the ectoplasm. You should evacuate or else she might lose the arm." He elaborated, without pointing out that this mission would be significantly easier for him if he didn't have to watch all of them.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found not a mark on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a small razor before putting it to the flesh of his bicep, the latest in a string of numbers that he could not let himself forget.
---
Varian opened one of the books his uncle had given him to go over for an upcoming operation.
"Shit, I knew you were smart but I didn't realize you were this smart." The sanctuary soldier admitted, flipping through a few pages.
"It's not that impressive." He frowned, knowing that this was honestly a pretty basic subject. The only reason he was studying it at all was because of an upcoming operation where the spell outline should help him accomplish his goal.
"Kes, I've been looking into magic stuff to apply for the Agent program and this, this is more advanced than anything I've covered in three years of self-study." Varian told him before pointing to a fairly basic spell circuit in the book. "I mean look at this thing, a 'dimensional compression charge' followed by an 'imaginary circuit weave'? I have no idea what any of that means!"
"A dimensional compression charge would be a spell undoing an expansion effect or sealing a dimensional space by folding it in on itself. An imaginary circuit is essentially a spell engine that produces a secondary series of circuits within an imaginary space, while the weave bit references that said engine will be used to stitch the compression shut." He explained, barely glancing at the book he'd read years ago. "It's all basically a way of shutting down Rifts or Bleeds with magic, in case the tech fails."
"And why don't we have every Practitioner and Arcane learning this spell?" Varian asked with some amazement.
"The energy costs are obscenely inefficient in comparison to the tech solution." He answered before elaborating that, "No practitioner foci has that much energy and all but an A Rank magic capacity will be drained fatally dry in the attempt to cast it."
"Okay," Varian closed the book and gently pushed it away. "Why exactly are you learning this suicidal spell?"
He shrugged. "My Uncle had an idea for offloading the energy costs by siphoning off the energy of a secondary target, similar to how the tech solution siphons the energy off of the Rift or Bleed we're trying to close."
"Ah… Your uncle is a magical genius, I guess it makes sense he'd find a work around to this spell killing someone." Varian nodded in understanding.
"He's still looking for an opportunity to test the theory before putting it into practice." He pointed out rather than arguing the fact.
Varian was silent for a moment, leaving him to go over his books, before eventually speaking up after a few minutes.
"Hey, uh, Kes, you think I can ask a favor?"
He gave the sanctuary soldier a curious look.
"You mind teaching me magic?"
"Sure, no problem." It's not like it was anything special.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he checked his left bicep and found a number scarred onto it in jagged cuts.
Letting out a sigh of relief he got ready for the day.
---
Walking through the warehouse belonging to the Merchant Enforcers, he swung his staff creating a wall of magic to block the numerous bullets being fired at him.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Varian cursed from nearby. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"
"My uncle always trained me by throwing me into the… metaphorical deep end, I think?" He admitted with a tilt of his head. "This honestly isn't that bad in comparison."
"Maybe but I'm pretty sure there's a difference between a fight against a Sanctuary Agent and one against a Sanctuary Captain!" Varian shouted while making the hand gestures Kestrel had taught him.
"Just be glad I'm trusting you to man up on your own." He told his friend. "If I was more like him, I'd enchant you to be indestructible and throw you at them until they surrendered in discomfort… or horror, still haven't figured out which it was on their part."
"Wait, he seriously did that to you?" Varian blinked, losing concentration and causing his spell to collapse.
"That was a half-truth, I was trying for comedic effect." He bonked his student on the head as he made another barrier. "Focus, I'm dropping the wall in fifteen seconds, have yours up or you'll be getting shot."
"Shit, fuck, uh, give me a second." Varian pleaded as he sped through his hand signs.
"You've another ten… nine… eight… seven…"
"Not helping!"
"Six… five.. Four… three…"
"Shit, shit, shit!"
"Two… one… good luck." He dropped the barrier and blinked to the otherside of the warehouse, well out of the range of being shot himself.
"Fuck!" Varian cried, throwing his hands forward and forming a wall of sludge from seemingly nowhere just as the bullets began impacting.
"Mm, you can do better!" He shouted to his friend. "Just because you've earth and water, doesn't mean you need to make mud!"
He blinked back to Varian as the Enforcers turned to shoot him.
"Then again, if you learn to manipulate the balance you could do some interesting things with a couple of learned concepts. Hmm, something to consider. " He admitted, quickly shooting a few of the Enforcers. "Try for offense now."
"Offense? What the fuck am I supposed to do for offen- Oh, shit!" Varian yelled as a quick levitation spell sent him flying into the middle of the Enforcers. "You asshole!"
As he crashed into the ground Varian and the Enforcers looked at each other for a moment, before the fledgling magic user threw out his hands and pushed all of the Enforcers back with a wave of colored muck.
"Hmm, not bad." He nodded, sending out a few idle stuns to make sure the Enforcers stayed down. "At the very least it's good enough to pass the Agent entry exams."
"W-wait, seriously?" Varian gasped, losing his anger to shock.
"You'll still have to do the guns, teamwork, and tactic exams, but you've been a Sanctuary soldier long enough to have all of that down pat." He confirmed, before noticing something.
His hand shot out and he threw Varian to the side as a gunshot rang out through the warehouse.
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of pliers before using them to grip the tooth behind his canine and ripping it out as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
With that done he placed the pliers back where they went before grabbing the razor blade laying next to them.
---
"Kestrel!" Varian shouted upon seeing him. "You're up and moving already?"
"Healing magic." He shrugged, knowing there was a fair bit more to it than that.
"Oh, that's good." His friend sighed. "After the other day I was worried you weren't going to make it."
"I've taken worse and gotten back up." He admitted. "A couple bullets aren't going to leave me in the grave."
"Still… when I had to report the situation to your uncle I nearly had a heart attack." Varian shivered. "That man is deeply protective of you."
"Yeah…" He swallowed. "He… didn't punish you for what was my idea did he?"
Varian blinked before rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, no. Kind of the opposite actually."
"What do you mean?" He frowned, knowing how his uncle sometimes liked to play mind games to reinforce punishments.
"Well, apparently once I explained everything he was really grateful that I brought you back to base before you could bleed out. And once I told him why you were helping me out, he gave me a quick evaluation of my magic before nominating me for the next Agent exams." Varian explained before sighing as he shook his head. "Which I'm not sure how to feel about since it kind of feels like nepotism for being your friend."
"Don't worry about that. My uncle isn't easily impressed and if he really did an evaluation and nominated you, then that means he knows you'll pass." He assured his friend before giving a half-bitter laugh. "Trust me, he won't bet his reputation on a failing spell."
"That's…" Varian ran a hand through his hair. "Shit, it just hit me. I'm taking the agent exams in a few weeks."
"Correction, you'll be passing the agent exams in a few weeks." He argued, patting the aspiring agent on the shoulder. "And we'll be using this next few weeks to guarantee just that."
"What, by throwing me into another horde of enemies?" Varian smiled.
"Pretty much." He nodded before considering it. "Though it'd probably be better to use a few demons and undead this time."
Varian gave him a laugh before his smile slowly died. "Oh god, you're serious."
---
He stared at the door to the deepest chambers of his uncle's private labs. The ones he'd been summoned to in order to talk about taking Varian out for their impromptu training session. Something that no matter how he rewarded Varian, he knew his uncle would be upset about.
Seeing no value in delaying the matter in further, he stepped through the door and made his way past a number of subjects suspended in glowing green vats, keeping each brain dead creature in a state of semi-life until his uncle released them for the next phase of his trials.
No matter how many times he walked this hall their eyes always haunted him, regardless -or possibly because of- the fact that none of them were ever alive in the first place.
As he neared the end of the chamber where his uncle's primary computer layed, he began to hear the elder Arcane in the middle of one of his audio journals.
"The viability of subject C.E.-S.T.R.-253 has resulted in yet another failure, as the subject's body yet again rejects the energy transference in a way that results in cancerous tumors commonly seen in overcharged healing magics. Once again I have failed to replicate the miraculous healing properties of subject 49, which even after repeating the procedure… eighty-three times now, has yet to show any signs of rejection, even going so far to maintain a slight regenerative factor that seems to vary based on the damage to the subject's previous iteration before transference."
He could hear his uncle sigh. "Despite reiterating this at least twenty times now, it continues to remain apparent that subject 49 was more a product of luck than progress on my part. As even other subjects derived from the same base material, simply do not possess 49's resilience to the procedure with the second most viable subject only surviving three iterations. As it stands I am likely still years from finding a work around that I feel safe using on myself."
His uncle turned off the recorder before setting it on his desk and turning towards him, his uncle's graying blonde hair and blue eyes apparent now that he wasn't wearing his mask.
"Nephew, I was wondering how long you'd be."
He bowed his head. "I'm sorry for the delay, uncle."
"Quite alright." His uncle nodded. "That said, I'm sure you know what this is about?"
"Bringing Soldier Miller with me into the field." He answered, showing no emotion.
"Yes, and though it did result in me discovering a talent that otherwise would have flown under the radar for who knows how long, it also resulted in you being severely injured." His uncle frowned as he stood from his seat. "You really must quit being so careless in the field with your fellows."
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience my injuries have caused you uncle." He apologized, fully meaning it.
"Your injuries are no inconvenience, and as long as you survive I will not fault you for any injuries that require my tending." His uncle assured placing a hand on his shoulder before gripping it ever so tighter. "What I will fault you for however is how and why you were injured."
"..." He could only stay silent.
"I've already debriefed with Miller, but do you care to tell me how you were injured?" His uncle asked in a way that told him he'd be in less trouble if he came clean.
"While training Miller I let my guard down and didn't take the mission seriously, instead treating it like a game as I trained him." He admitted with a small amount of shame.
"True… but given your own Affinities such a thing would be expected especially given our shared genetics." His uncle told him. "No, it's the other matter."
"Other matter?" He repeated with mild confusion.
"Yes, the fact that this is not the first time you've suffered injuries on behalf of Varian Miller." His uncle nodded while pulling up reports from the mission where he'd first met Miller and the one where half their squad had been injured to a Deadman.
"I wasn't injured on the Deadman mission protecting Miller." He defended.
"You were injured because you had him and the rest of his squad extract themselves from the field rather than risking further injury on their behalf." His uncle glared. "If you had allowed them to continue with you in all likelihood you would have completed the mission with minimal injury."
"But at least one of the other soldiers could've died if I hadn't." He argued.
"And I don't care." His uncle admitted grabbing him by his shoulders. "You are far more valuable to me than anyone in this base, in fact I would happily trade all of them for you."
His uncle stared into his eyes before letting out a tired sigh as his only family walked around him and hugged him while running a hand through his hair.
"You can't keep risking your life like this for others." His uncle told him. "You're one of a kind and I can't afford to lose you."
"I'm sorry uncle…"
"It's fine…" His uncle assured him placing a hand on his jaw. "Just so long as you remember dear nephew…"
With his uncle's hands on his head all he could do was focus on the file currently displayed on his uncle's monitor, an ongoing experiment report with a very familiar photo and designation of C.E.-S.T.R.-IL.
His uncle began twisting his hands in opposite directions. "You are only allowed to die for me."
---
He woke up with a gasp, before rolling out of bed and stumbling towards his bathroom.
Turning the light on, he opened his mouth as he checked the mirror to find all of his teeth were in perfect order and a glance at his bicep showed not a scar on it.
Swallowing, he opened his medicine cabinet.
Patreon Side Story: The Graveslinger and The Vengeful Dead
A/N: This one got a bit out of hand when I wrote it, and is basically its own short novella.
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Side Story: The Graveslinger and The Vengeful Dead
"So tell me again who it is you're looking for?" The barkeep asked, giving him a look.
"I'm looking for a man in a black suit, and carrying a weird looking gun." Grim repeated for the umptenth time.
"A suit, do you mean a black jacket maybe?" The barkeep tried, scratching at the scruff around his neck. "Don't see anyone but city folk and politicians wearing suits this far out. And even then most people don't want black in this heat."
"Well this man is definitely neither a city slicker or a politician." He admitted, looking down at his bounty poster. "Alright, forgetting about the clothes, what about the gun? Any strangers carrying around a weird gun?"
The barkeep looked down at the gun strapped to his side and gave him a curious look.
He shook his head. "No, weirder than an engraved gun."
"Well, I haven't seen much weirder than a gun engraved with magic." The barkeep confessed.
"Can recognize that?" He frowned, knowing how much harder things tended to get once people realized what kind of heat he was packing.
"Sheriff has a gun like that." The barkeep shrugged. "It's weird but I doubt he's the man you're looking for."
"I doubt that too." He nodded. (Though I should probably check to make sure.)
Someone walked in through the front of the old saloon and while the noise didn't stop completely you could tell that it wasn't quite as joyful as just a moment ago.
Glancing over his shoulder he spotted three men walking through the place.
"Who are they?" He asked more out of curiosity than concern.
"Trouble." The barkeep told him. "Just keep your head down and they'll ignore you."
"Never been much good at that." He confessed before downing his drink.
"A grey haired man, with a magic gun." A man noted from behind him.
Choosing to ignore the man he motioned for the barkeep to refill his glass.
"You know there's a bounty out for a man fitting that description." The man told him.
"More than one bounty, and more than one man fitting that description." He pointed out. "Hells, the sheriff is supposed to fit it if you want to take a look at him."
"Hmm, sheriff has brown hair." The man argued, taking a seat next to him. "Guess you haven't been in town very long if you don't know that."
"Just rode in this morning." He admitted. "Though I was about to go have a talk with him if you wanted to join me."
"I just might, especially if it means claiming the bounty on the infamous Graveslinger." The man told him.
He couldn't help but laugh at that. "You and the Graveslinger? He'd eat you alive… Even with your friends there."
"Oh, and what exactly makes you so sure that the Graveslinger, infamous bounty hunter outlaw that he is, could survive a bullet through his head?" The man asked, and he felt a barrel put to the back of his head. "Especially when his bounty is dead or alive."
"Because the Graveslinger is already dead." He smirked at the man. "He's been shot, stabbed, burned, decapitated, and so much worse, but he's still here. Graveslinger ain't a man you can kill with any old gun."
The man just stared at him, deep in thought. "Then I'm guessing those rumors of him being a Necromancer of some kind."
"More than a little true." He nodded.
The man was silent for another moment. "You know we don't get much in the way of spell slingers out this way. I mean the sheriff has been here a fair while but he doesn't much talk about what all he's capable of."
"Not surprised." He shrugged. "Magic is a hard thing to work, especially the darker things. Better to keep quiet and tell no one, that way when you need bring it out no one is ready for what you'll be throwing around."
"But everyone knows the Graveslinger is a Necromancer." The man pointed out.
"Perhaps, but maybe that just means everyone need be scared of what he's not showing off." He figured, before chuckling darkly. "Then again, turning every man he kills against you is something to be scared of? Tell me, you ever have to shoot your brother down because he's trying to tear out your throat with his teeth?"
The barrel pressed to his head began to shake as the man swallowed, paling considerably.
"Let me give you a tip." He told the man, leaning forward. "Shooting them in the heart or head ain't going to do much to slow them down, you're better off shooting out their knees and torching the corpse before they can get back up."
He stood from his seat. "Then again, you'd have to worry about being shot by the Graveslinger while you're doing that, so good luck surviving that long."
He turned to the barkeep. "How much do I owe you?"
The barkeep swallowed. "I-it's on the house mister."
"Mighty kind of ya." He nodded, before looking at the shaking gun still pointing at him. "I'd suggest putting that away before you hurt yourself."
The gunman practically leapt out of his way, leaving him free to continue through the saloon and out the doors onto the town's main street.
Looking around he stopped a passersby and asked for directions to the sheriff's office, figuring that since he was running low on leads, it was the best place to go next.
Walking through the town's streets, he couldn't help but note the fact that despite being seemingly in the middle of nowhere, it was a fairly large size even if not quite big enough to call itself a city. (But it might just be on its way to becoming one.)
Eventually he managed to find his way to the sheriff's office and walked inside, where he found a large brown skinned orkin sitting at a desk just a size too small writing away at a pile of documents.
(Well, there's something you don't see every day.) Orkin were a warrior race, the idea of them doing paperwork was… laughable at best, and grounds to get stabbed by an Orkin at worst.
"I don't suppose you being the sheriff?" He asked, just a little skeptically because while he wasn't against the idea he knew the leather skinned folk weren't exactly liked by the common man, and he felt one being sheriff would earn a little more hub-bub.
The Orkin snorted at that. "No, I'm a deputy. What do you need the boss for?"
"I'm a bounty hunter passing through. Figured I'd introduce myself and see if he could point me in the direction of either my bounty or at the very least another job." He answered walking over to a bulletin board with a number of flyers on it.
"Anything on that board is an open bounty." The Orkin told him never looking up from the paperwork as he gestured towards the board. "You want to talk to the sheriff, you'll have to wait."
Looking things over, he pulled off a flyer mentioning a sighting of some kind of monster on a nearby farmstead. "How long?"
"Had to ride out to the O'learys, probably be a few hours." The Orkin informed him.
"Don't suppose you've seen any strangers in town wearing a blacksuit and carrying an odd gun?" He tried
"Boss only lets me out when he needs more muscle, says I scare the town folk." The Orkin chuckled as if he found it funny rather than offensive before looking up to meet his eyes. "You soft-skins, always frightened by every little thing."
"Sorry to tell ya I've seen far scarier than you friend." He apologized without blinking as he stared into the Orkin's eyes.
The Orkin smirked before shaking his head. "I'll tell the boss you were looking for him Mr…"
"Grim, and mighty kind of ya." He nodded before raising the flyer. "Don't suppose you can point me towards the McKenny's farm?"
"Don't leave the office so I never bothered learning who lives where." The Orkin shrugged. "Ask someone out there, you humans love to gossip about one and other."
"Fair enough." He sighed, folding the bounty poster and slipping it into a pocket.
Stepping out of the sheriff's office he was just in time to see a large man knock a dark haired woman to the ground. "You stupid bitch!"
With a frown on his face he made his way over.
"It's not my fault you cheated on your wife!" The woman shouted at the man as she picked herself off the ground.
"But you're the one who sent out that newspaper!" The man growled, looming over the woman.
"Hey, now what's this all about?" He asked, stepping between the two. "Can't think of a very good reason for a man to be laying hands on a woman."
"Because of this bitch here my wife left me!" The man spat trying to step around him.
"And what exactly did she do to make your wife leave you?" He couldn't help but wonder.
"I published a picture in my newspaper of an event at the saloon." The woman laughed. "And this idiot was sitting with a working girl in his lap when we took the picture."
"You shouldn't have used that picture!" The man yelled.
"How were we supposed to know you were cheating on your wife?! I don't even know your name!" The woman argued, forcing him to step between them once more as the man moved to strike the woman again.
"Hey, now there's no need for that." He told the man. "Now from the sound of this, the woman here was just doing her job and meant you no harm. Hells, how do you know she was the one to take the photo in the first place?"
"Because this whore is the only reporter in town!" The man answered once more trying to step around him.
"Listen friend, you're making a scene." He warned the man, gesturing to the few passerbyers who had begun to gather round. "If you don't want this to end badly I suggest you back down."
"Are you threatening me?" The man growled, moving his hand to his gun.
"Only if you're threatening the lady." He answered, hands in the air.
They were both tense for a moment, staring into each others eyes before the man started to draw his gun.
Rather than reaching for his own, Grim's hand shot forward and grabbed the man by his shoulder before sparks began to dance from his hand and the man cried out as his body began to spasm, forcing him to drop the gun on the ground.
He held the spell for a moment longer before letting go, and letting the man fall limply to the ground.
"Now then, with that settled-" Someone sucker punched him across the face.
"Get your hands off my brother, witch boy!"
Turning to a second man who'd run out from the crowd, he wiped at the corner of his mouth and found a bit of blood from where his cheek cut on his teeth.
Grim nodded once, before wreathing his hand in shadows and punching the man twice as hard, dropping him to the ground in a single blow.
"These two got any other family that wants to try something?" He asked the crowd, pushing just a bit of magic in his eyes to make them glow.
No one in the crowd stepped forward.
"Good." He told them, letting the glow fade before turning to leave.
Or rather he would've left if the woman hadn't stepped in front of him. "Thanks for helping with that mess."
"Uh, no problem." He frowned before trying to leave again.
"Hmm, you're bleeding from that blow." The woman noted with her own frown as she once more cut him off.
"I've had worse." He assured, trying once more to leave.
"Come on, you should see the town doc about that." The woman told him, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him after her.
"I really don't need that." He argued, pulling his arm free.
"Don't be stubborn." The woman frowned. "With the Doc's magic you'll be healed up in just a minute rather than having to deal with a sore cheek all day."
"Magic?" He repeated.
"What, you didn't think you were the only one with it did you?" The woman asked with a fair bit of sass.
He nearly scoffed, knowing far better than most magic users that while rare they weren't one of a kind. "And where exactly is this doc?"
"Just down the street." The woman pointed.
Nodding he started down the way she'd gestured.
"Name's Sarah by the way. Sarah Princeton." The woman introduced herself, still not leaving him alone.
Aware that she wasn't going to stop he went ahead and answered, "Grim. Samuel Grim."
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Grim." Ms. Princeton nodded, before walking into the middle of the street and continuing on. "Wyatt's place is right here."
He couldn't help but blink as he saw the building or rather what was behind the building. "Your uh, Doc, he's a uh, he's a good doctor right?"
"Oh, that? That's his other job." Ms. Princeton shrugged as if there was no problem with the graveyard behind the doctor's office. "He says if he can't save them, then at the very least he owes them the courtesy of a proper funeral no matter who they are."
"Hmm." (Still ought to make sure he's not a necromancer stealing people's health to heal others.) He'd met a necromancer like that once, and it had been a bitch and a half to convince his town that the man was doing more harm than good with his methods.
Ms. Princeton held the door open for him, waiting for him to follow her into the building that he could just hear two voices arguing inside of.
"And I'm telling you we have no right to meddle in this." A voice with a clean city accent practically growled.
"As doctors we are clearly more qualified to deal with this matter than nurses and midwives." A second older voice with a mix of country and city accents proclaimed.
"As male doctors?" The first voice scoffed incredulously. "Managing menstruals has been a femenine responsibility for hundreds of years, what makes you believe we're more qualified than them to rule on this?"
"Given how we have actually been educated on the health and welfare of our patients, unlike many of our femenine competitors we are certifiably more qualified." The second voice argued as they stepped into the main office.
"The fact that you called them competitors shows that this isn't about health, it's about profits." The younger voice -a pale blonde man in his mid-twenties and wearing glasses- pointed out. "This isn't about doing what's best for our patients, it's about eliminating the competition so that they come to you and you can charge them for what some mothers teach their daughters for free!"
"This isn't just about profits it's also about ensuring that women-"
"That women what Mr. Presley?" Ms. Princeton cut in, making them known.
The apparent Mr. Presley -an older man with balding ginger hair- froze before giving Ms. Princeton a dirty look. "As it looks like you have company, we can continue this talk at a later date Mr. Cross."
"It doesn't matter if it's today or a year from now, I still refuse to be a part of this." The younger man called after Mr. Presley as the older man stormed out of the building.
"Hate that man." Ms. Princeton spat before giving Mr. Cross a concerned look. "What was all of that about?"
Mr. Cross raised his glasses and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "He was trying to convince me to join in some association of his in the hopes of lobbying the state to make it illegal for non-Doctors to help women to um, manage their uh, menstruals." The young man coughed with a mild blush.
"And what right does he think he has to do that?" Ms. Princeton scowled.
"That he thinks women an inferior sex, like so many of my professional colleagues." Mr. Cross answered with his own frown. "You'd believe that educated men would know better, but it seems like we'd be incorrect in the matter."
"Well like you said mothers have been teaching their daughters about that kind of thing for years, so I very much doubt his little group will accomplish much of anything." Ms. Princeton assured Mr. Cross.
"I hope you're right." Mr. Cross sighed before finally noticing him. "Oh, uh, sorry you had to witness all of that. Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
"Think nothing of it." He told the man before explaining that, "The little miss wouldn't let me go without seeing a doctor, and given how you're supposed to have 'healing magics' I figured it wouldn't hurt too much."
"If you think healing magic won't hurt you're sadly misinformed." Mr. Cross warned him. "Though luckily that's usually reserved for the more extreme treatments than whatever seems to ail you."
"It's nothing too bad, just a nicked cheek from a sucker punch." He explained.
"Ah, yes, that shouldn't take too long to fix up." Mr. Cross nodded before gesturing to a nearby doctor's chair. "Why don't you take a seat here and we'll fix you up?"
He gave the doc a nod of his own before climbing into the chair. "You know I'm going to be honest, I thought you doctor types were supposed to have a problem with magic?"
"Many of us sadly do." Mr. Cross admitted, pulling out a small stick with a crystal bound to the end. "But my personal philosophy is that you should use whatever means at your disposal to save those under your care, regardless of what the more scientific community tries to ban."
"Fair enough." He said, figuring that saving people was supposed to be the man's job.
"Now kindly open your mouth would you?" Mr. Cross asked as the crystal in his hand lit up with a light.
Seeing no reason not to, he did.
"Hmm, that must've been some punch to cut your cheek on your teeth." Mr. Cross noted with a frown. "Then again you do seem to have sharper teeth than most."
"Ma used to joke that Pa had a vampire in his family tree, no idea if it's true." He shrugged.
"Well regardless of whether or not it's true I should be able to heal this easily enough." Mr. Cross assured him as he grabbed at his tie where a gem of some kind was held.
Placing his glowing hand near Grim's cheek the Doc began to frown after a moment. "Hmm, there… may be some truth to that vampire story."
"A problem doc?" He asked, more curious than worried since he knew why healing magic didn't like him.
"Yes, you seem a bit resistant to healing magics for some reason. Not enough to stop me from healing you, but enough to slow me down." Mr. Cross explained, as his hand began to glow brighter. "Most likely one of your innate affinities doesn't like my brand of healing, not exactly common but not something I haven't come across before either."
"Probably the shadow magic." Ms. Princeton noted from off to the side where she was watching with a bit of fascination.
"Shadow magic?" The doc repeated.
"I'm Arcane." He offered as way of explanation, even if not entirely accurate.
"Ah, then I suppose that would explain it." Mr. Cross nodded, though after a moment or two the younger man felt the need to ask, "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you do for a living… I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name?"
"Grim. Samuel Grim." He introduced himself. "And I'm a bounty hunter by profession."
"I see…" The doc frowned at the mention of his profession. "I apologize for asking, but given the rarity of magic in these parts I feel it's better to be cautious when a new magic user appears."
"That's just common sense." He fully agreed. "Funnily enough, I'm actually out this way on a hunt for a pretty nasty magic user myself."
"Ooh, is it someone famous?" Ms. Princeton asked from the side.
"In his own way I suppose, don't really have a name for him. Just know he wears a black suit everywhere and carries an odd looking gun." He answered in case either of them might be able to help him out with his big one. "If he's up to trouble he'll also be wearing a plague doctor's mask, but I know he doesn't wear one when he's just walking around."
"Have you heard of anyone who fits that description Sarah?" Mr. Cross asked as he pulled his hand away.
"Mm, not that I can think of." Ms. Princeton frowned. "Though if they're in the area then they're probably involving themselves with the O'learys."
"The O'learys?" He repeated, remembering how the sheriff was supposed to have gone out to see them.
"Yeah, they own one of the largest farmsteads in the region but they've also got a hand in a lot of the shadier business in the nearby towns." Ms. Princeton explained.
"Sarah, you really should stop spreading such rumors around." Mr. Cross sighed. "If you keep up with such talk people might start to think less of your family's paper."
"I know for a fact that they're paying the mayor to look the other way on their business." Ms. Princeton argued.
"Yes, with their taxes." Mr. Cross nodded. "Something they pay more of due to owning more property than anyone else in town."
"Oh, Caleb, you're so innocent." Ms. Princeton told him as she shook her head. "You'd think growing up in the city you'd be more on the lookout for corruption."
"Sadly I'm more focused on injuries and illness." Mr. Cross pointed out. "Things that I can actually do something about if I'm confronted by."
"Well, regardless of whether or not they're corrupt, they're something I can look into if I find nothing else in the next few days." He admitted, not wanting the two to have a full on spat when he'd be stuck listening to it.
"I suppose, given how that is your professional prerogative." Mr. Cross shrugged, before taking a step back. "Unless you have another health problem, then that's about it for your treatment."
He ran a tongue over the cut on his cheek and didn't even taste the half-rusted copper that was his blood. "Huh, that's surprisingly good work."
"If I couldn't heal a simple cut then I'd be no good as a doctor." Mr. Cross argued, as Grim climbed out of his seat before stumbling a step. "You alright?"
"Yeah, just a bit hungry." He confessed. "What do I owe ya?"
"Hmm, well this was a relatively simple procedure so I don't feel right charging you full price." Mr. Cross told him, taking a moment to think about it. "How about ten cents and we call it even?"
"Can't be making too much of a living healing people that cheaply." He blinked, knowing most 'Mystic Doctors' would charge a full fifty even for a cut as simple as his, and that was before accounting for his… medical conditions. (Honestly, I'm lucky I've got my own brand of healing if a bit darker to use.)
"Unlike some in my profession I'm a doctor to help, not to make a profit." Mr. Cross explained as he adjusted his glasses.
"Honestly, he has no head for business." Ms. Princeton added. "If it weren't for his family's money he wouldn't even be able to keep this office open."
Mr. Cross seemed to grimace at that. "While my family was fairly well off, I'd like to think I'm not quite so beholden to their wealth."
"Well I suppose you did move this far out of the way to get away from all of that." Ms. Princeton conceded.
"Nothing wrong with a man wanting to make a name for himself." He pointed out, before handing the doc twenty cents. "Our family is where we start, but we shouldn't let their legacy be the end of our own."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but you really don't have to pay me this much." Mr. Cross told him, looking at the coins in his hand.
"It's not that much, especially since I've got a second bounty in the area that I should be able to wrap up before supper." He argued, forcing the too kind man to accept the money. "Kind and honest folk deserve a better turn if only for how rare you lot are getting."
"I suppose…" Mr. Cross frowned as he accepted the money.
"So you said you've another bounty in this area?" Ms. Princeton asked after a moment. "Surprised there's two bounties out in this area."
"The big one is in this region, no idea where it actually is. The one for today is a small thing on a farmstead." He explained, figuring that this was as good a time as any to get directions. "Apparently the McKirdy farm has some kind of beastie harassing the edge of their property. Either of you know where that is?"
"Mm, yeah, that's not too far if you want I can show you the way." Ms. Princeton offered.
"You don't have to do that." He assured her. "Just tell me which way to take my horse and I'll be able to find my way there eventually."
"Or I can show you the way, and I can get a first hand account of a bounty hunter for my paper." Ms. Princeton countered.
"My profession isn't exactly safe." He reminded her, while glancing at Mr. Cross hoping that given how they seemed like friends he'd talk her out of trying to tag along.
Mr. Cross shook his head. "Yeah, no, she's not going to listen to me."
"No, I'm not." Ms. Princeton admitted with a shameless grin.
(I'm going to regret this…) He sighed, already feeling an ache in his gut.
"You're sure this is the place?" He frowned, looking at the fields surrounding a small house with smoke coming from its chimney.
"Yep, this is the McKirdy's farm." Ms. Princeton nodded. "So how exactly do you go about this bounty hunting business?"
"For starters we should probably tell him we're on his property and what for, else he might try and shoot us in the back." He answered, climbing off of his pale horse Ghost.
"Does that happen often?" Ms. Princeton frowned as he made his way to the door. "I mean, wouldn't most want to see who you are and why you're there?"
"If people are actively hiring a bounty hunter then odds are they no longer care to know the 'why' of the strange going ons." He explained, before knocking on the door to the house as he pulled the bounty poster out of his jacket.
After a few moments a man with a bushy beard opened the door, eyeing him cautiously, and clearly with a revolver in the hand hiding behind the door.
"Names Grim, I'm a bounty hunter passing through town. Saw this on a board in the sheriff's office." He handed the man the bounty poster, before saying, "I was hoping you could point me in the direction I should be starting my hunt."
"Hmm, thought only one of the town's youngin's would take a shot at that." McKirdy admitted handing him the poster back. "Give me a moment and I'll take you to where me and my boys keep seeing this thing."
"Much appreciated." He nodded, before making his way back to Ghost and climbing up onto the pale horse.
"Sarah, is that you?" McKirdy asked as he stepped out of his house. "What are you doing with this stranger?"
"Couldn't pass up on interviewing a bounty hunter in town, especially not one after some really big game in these parts." Ms. Princeton smiled at the man.
"Hmm, your pa know you're out this way?" McKirdy frowned, walking towards a nearby stable. "Don't think he'd like knowing you're runnin' about with some strange man. Er, no offense Mr. Grim."
"None taken Mr. McKirdy, I'm more than aware I am both a strange and dangerous man that the miss really should leave now that she's helped me find my way to your farm." He agreed, giving the girl a look he knew she'd ignore.
"I'm not letting go of this story that easily." Ms. Princeton told him, firmly rejecting their opinions.
"Not going to be much of a story." He shrugged, hoping this was one of his more straightforward hunts, if for no other reason than to get rid of her so he could eat in peace.
"Right, well, she's a stubborn lass so I doubt that much matters to her." Mr. McKirdy admitted as he climbed onto his horse. "Now come on, last time my boy spotted this beast it was on the north eastern edge of the farm."
"Think you can tell me what exactly it is I'm hunting?" He asked as they set off. "Your poster was a bit vague on details."
"Well that's because I don't rightly know what it is you're hunting." Mr. McKirdy sighed. "At first we thought a coyote or some such got onto our property and was attacking the livestock, but when me and my boys tried to hunt it ourselves we found this two legged thing out a bit into these woods just outside our land. Whatever it was spooked our horses anytime we tried to bring them near it, and when we shot at it the thing just kept moving without a care."
"Don't suppose you or your boys got a decent look at this thing?" He frowned, knowing a few too many too legged things that would scare off any horse that hadn't been trained to deal with the beasts.
"Nah, we would've kept shooting but it let out this roar and started sprinting after us, which is when our horses decided to get us out of the way whether we liked it or not." Mr. McKirdy explained.
"Hmm, well if it just ran at you then usually you just gotta shoot it with the right type of bullet to put the critter down." He told his client, idly noting the now visible woods.
"And I'm guessing you've got the 'right type of bullet'?" Mr. McKirdy asked, eyeing him with a bit of skepticism.
He couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Trust me when I say my gun was built take down a beast far scarier than whatever you've got on your farm Mr. McKirdy." (Just as soon as I find the slippery bastard…)
"Well, if you do manage to kill it you'll get your money." Mr. McKirdy nodded.
"Yeah, hard part is just going to be tracking this thing down." He admitted. "Even if your guns didn't hurt this thing, I very much doubt it stuck around wherever you last saw it. I'm guessing its head will do as proof of kill?"
"It's head?" Ms. Princeton repeated looking up from her notepad. (Has she been writing this whole conversation down?)
"Well if it was a clawed creature, or had a memorable feature I'd cut that off and use it as proof of kill, but sometimes people want the entire corpse which can be a bit trickier if the creature is big enough." He explained, something that even the more mundane hunters would know.
"If you were on your own I'd say yeah, but given how Sarah is with you, I'll accept her word if she says you killed this thing." Mr. McKirdy told him.
"Hmm, I'll still grab the head." He decided with a shake of his head. "Just taking someone's word on it when you haven't witnessed it doesn't sit right with me, especially if it turns out there's more than one of these things out here."
"And if there are more than one of them out there?" Mr. McKirdy frowned.
"I'll hunt each one I see, but I'll expect double if I have to kill more than two." He answered. "I get you know there's only one so if it turns out there's two, I won't charge you for the second one, but if there's more than that I'll need hazard pay to restock afterwards."
"Fair enough." Mr. McKirdy accepted. "Though I should warn you we probably won't be able to pay more than double if you decide you want more than that."
"I'm not trying to bankrupt you, I'm just trying to make a living." (If you can call it that.)
Mr. McKirdy gave him a nod before looking around a bit and pointing a bit further ahead.
"Here's about where we went in to find the critter." Mr. McKirdy said, gesturing towards a bent and twisted bit of wire fence. "Whatever keeps getting onto our land keeps tearing this bit of fencing up. When I put the bounty up I decided it was best to leave it and move the animals to the next pasture early so that I could leave the fence marked and get them away from whatever is attacking them."
"Smart enough idea." He nodded before climbing off of Ghost to get a better look. (There's space wide enough for a single horse to get through, but the thin path means the family's horse tracks have messed up the ground too much to spot anything belonging to whatever I'm hunting. The fact that the wire is barbed adds to it not feeling pain, though the fact that it didn't leave any flesh or blood on the wire when tearing it down is a bit odd…)
"Well?" Mr. McKirdy asked after a moment.
"Nothing that lets me narrow down what I'm hunting." He admitted, taking Ghost by his reins. "Going to have to go into the woods to actually track it down."
"Figured as much." Mr. McKirdy told him. "If you manage to find this critter in the next couple hours the Mrs. can send you off with a plate before supper gets cold."
"That'd be much obliged." He thanked the man, not wanting to point out he probably wouldn't eat something he hadn't prepared himself. "I'm Ms. Princeton here would love to have some of-"
"Nope, I'm not leaving."
He sighed. "Look Ms. Princeton, this is the part where things actually start getting dangerous, and having to protect you-"
A gunshot tore through the air as Ms. Princeton drew and fired in a quick second.
"My Pa made sure I knew how to take care of myself Mr. Grim." Ms. Princeton assured him.
"Surprised you didn't draw that on that fella back in town." He told her eyeing the gun speculatively.
"We were close enough to the sheriffs that I didn't think he'd actually start any trouble." Ms. Princeton admitted.
"Never underestimate stupid." He warned her, before looking towards Mr. McKirdy. "Well, since I can't talk her into leaving, I'll try to have this wrapped up before nightfall and if not I'll pick it up after getting her to you, because it is too dangerous to be around an unknown beast in the dark, gun or no gun."
Ms. Princeton gave him a petulant stare before eventually conceding, "Fine." as she realized he wouldn't budge on this.
"Well then, I guess I'll leave you to it then." Mr. McKirdy nodded before taking his horse and returning towards the farm house.
"So then Mr. Grim, now that it's just you and I, how exactly does a bounty hunter go about hunting their less human prey?" Ms. Princeton asked, guiding her horse through the downed fence as he climbed back on his.
"Well there's a few ways," (most of which I can't use with you here) "but for now we should head deeper into these woods and see if we can't find anything mundane first."
"Hmm, and I was hoping for something more… mystical." Ms. Princeton admitted.
"Trust me when I say my methods aren't exactly 'mystical' in nature." He warned her. (If anything, seeing them might just give you nightmares.)
"Shame, I was hoping for something more… exciting to give my readers in town." Ms. Princeton told him.
"Hunting is a job, same as any other, just a bit more dangerous at times." He explained, before pausing as he sniffed the air. "You smell that?"
"Smell what?" Ms. Princeton frowned.
He sniffed the air a bit more before turning. "This way."
"What exactly are you smelling Mr. Grim?" Ms. Princeton called as he and Ghost sped through the woods.
"Whoa, boy." He told Ghost as he pulled on his reins, slowing the horse down, before hopping off of it.
"Mr. Grim, why exactly did you take off like that?" Ms. Princeton asked as she caught up with them.
He held a hand up and sniffed the air, noticing how much stronger the scent had gotten.
A nearby branch snapped.
Power surged through his mind as the world around him slowed, his reflexes going far beyond that of a normal human, even if just for a few seconds.
He drew his gun and fired a ghastly green bullet from his revolver before watching it impact the face of the man who had stepped out of the foliage and sending its grey matter flying.
As the corpse hit the ground, the world around him sped up as he lost his grip on the energy that had been flooding his mind and speeding him up.
"Fuck, that's going sting." He admitted to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and force back the migraine that trick always gave him, a migraine that grew all the worse when he realized he still hadn't gotten a chance to eat anything yet.
"Mr. Grim, why in tarnation did you just shoot that man?!" Ms. Princeton (loudly) screeched as she aimed her gun at him.
"Take a second look." He told her, motioning towards the corpse. "And I mean really look at it."
Ms. Princeton narrowed her eyes before looking at the corpse and promptly grimacing. "He's covered in wounds."
"More than that, he's half-rotted." He pointed out, kicking the corpse over just enough to show off a few bones sticking out of the undead.
"Is this one of those uh, Deadmen I've heard about?" Ms. Princeton asked, eyeing the corpse with a fair amount of fear as she moved her aim from him to it.
"No." He assured her, before pointing at the bullet hole he'd put in the cruel caricature of a creature. "See how the blood is an almost reddish black color? Deadmen have green blood unless they're actively starving themselves, in which case their blood would still be a brighter red than this."
"So then what was this?" Ms. Princeton frowned.
"It's a Risen Dead." He answered, looking the corpse over. "They're what you get when a Necromancer decides to pump a corpse full of dark magic and puppet them around. Honestly, this one is of a pretty shit quality given how much rot it has. If it had been decently made, even three weeks later you wouldn't be able to tell it was dead until you saw its glazed eyes."
"That's horrifying." Ms. Princeton paled.
"Maybe." He admitted, dusting his hands as he stood up. "At the very least it means whoever raised this either didn't put too much effort into this one, or they're not all that good at the whole Necromancy thing."
"And how do you know that?" Ms. Princeton grimaced, no longer able to keep looking at the dead thing on the ground.
"Professional experience." He shrugged, looking around for the corpse's trail. "My… occupation makes sure I know this kind of thing."
Spotting what he was looking for he started walking deeper into the forestry. "If this is too much for your stomach I suggest you turn back, because things are only going to get darker from here on in."
"You're not taking its head?" Ms. Princeton asked. "You, you said you needed it for proof of the kill."
He gave her a half-bitter chuckle as he paused. "Yeah, but let's be honest this isn't over until I take the head of whoever raised this thing. I suggest you tie your horse's reins to Ghost's and leave them here, best we continue on foot from here."
"Why?" Ms. Princeton frowned, even as she did as he said.
"Undead tend to spook horses if they get close enough to notice them." He told her once they started to move. "Ghost can handle it but I doubt your horse can, so it's best to continue on foot until we deal with this mess."
"You're… You're not asking me to leave?" Ms. Princeton realized after a moment. "I thought you'd tell me to leave, given how adamant you've been thus far."
"If you want to, I won't stop you, but honestly it's now easier for me if you are here." He admitted.
Ms. Princeton narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "How so?"
"If I have to put the necromancer down, having you vouch for me as a witness will keep me from being run out of town for murdering a supposedly innocent man." He explained.
Ms. Princeton gave him a concerned look. "Has that happened before?"
"People want to believe the best of their neighbors and will happily blame the stranger who makes a living killing things." He chuckled before sighing. "Doesn't actually bother me mind you, just wish they'd let me track down whatever dark books they're using before they run me off."
"Meaning that someone else could find those books and start the whole thing over." Ms. Princeton figured, coming to her own conclusions.
"That does happen on occasion." He nodded before pausing as he noticed multiple sets of tracks on the ground. "Good, the necromancer has been regularly recalling their undead before sending them back out. Trail should get easier to follow the closer we get."
"Why exactly would this person want to send their undead out and then summon them back?" Ms. Princeton asked. "Aren't the undead best for guarding a place or attacking a place?"
"Those are their most common uses." He admitted, before clarifying, "Though there are a fair few other reasons, such as 'collecting materials', scaring people off from an area, or if they know a spell I doubt this amateur does scouting out wherever they go."
"When you say 'collecting materials'?" Ms. Princeton paled.
"Corpses." He confirmed for her. "Though they don't have to be human if the necromancer knows any Flesh-Sculpting."
"I don't think I want to know what that is." Ms. Princeton grimaced.
"The name says it all." He told her with a smirk, before thinking about the matter for a moment. "I don't suppose you can tell me what these woods are near can you? Should help me figure out why they're active in this area."
"Oh, um, well there's the McKirdy's farm of course… then there's the Washingtons farm to the east, the O'Leary's to the north, and the Foresters to the west." Ms. Princeton listed for him.
"So there are four properties that border this forest and none of them own it?" He frowned.
"Well that's because the town owns it due to this old mine that dried up a few years back." Ms. Princeton explained.
"A mine that someone probably found wasn't really dry." He guessed, having seen something similar once before. "And if not, then the mine is still probably where this Necromancer is hiding out until they decide to make a bigger move. Don't suppose you know where to find it?"
"From the town maybe since there should still be an old road, but from in the middle of the woods?" Ms. Princeton shook her head. "Best I could say is find the river and follow it to the ravine they built the mine into."
"Well hopefully these tracks will lead us that way." He sighed, deciding to keep his ear out for any running water.
It took over an hour on foot, but eventually they managed to find the river Ms. Princeton had been talking about, and from there the ravine and mine as well.
"Are you sure this is where this necromancer will be based?" Ms. Princeton asked as he lit a lantern they'd found in an office building near the ravine's opening.
"Given how many fresh tracks are in the area, it's a pretty safe bet." He nodded, handing her a lantern. "Real question will be how deep they're hiding, and how many there'll be."
"Shouldn't you grab a lantern as well?" Ms. Princeton frowned as he moved to enter the mine.
"Don't need it." He admitted, letting a little power make his eyes glow.
"That must be useful." Ms. Princeton blinked.
"Sometimes." (Though usually it's just a dead give away of what I am.) "At the very least it means I've got both hands free." He told her, drawing his revolver and making sure it was only loaded with quartz to keep from damaging the mines with his heavier artillery.
"I suppose that can come in handy." Ms. Princeton agreed, watching him curiously. "So how exactly are we supposed to find our way through here?"
He reached into his jacket and pulled out an old map of the mine he'd swiped from the office. "Well, going off of this map I found… This mine spreads out over almost a hundred acres of land, meaning there's a fair bit of space for them to be hiding underground. Especially given how this mine goes more than a hundred feet deep with different levels."
"That's… a lot of space for just two people to cover." Ms. Princeton admitted as they started into the mine. "Are you sure we can handle this by ourselves?"
"Honestly, if I thought it was an option I'd just seal the mine off and let the bastards suffocate inside." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Problem is we don't know if they're actually inside at the moment or just storing their dead here. What's more, depending on how long they've been here they could've mined out a second entrance to escape if things go wrong."
"I see…"
"At the very least there shouldn't be too many dead in here, given how if they'd gathered enough corpses to be a legitimate threat someone would've noticed the missing people or graverobbing before now." He tried reassuring her so he wouldn't lose his witness.
"Well, that's something at least…" Ms. Princeton said in a way that told him how little that did to reassure her.
(Probably shouldn't mention the fact that they could've turned an unknown number of animals into undead without anyone noticing.) He figured, as he glanced into a nearby room to make sure it was empty.
"I'm surprised we haven't seen anything yet." Ms. Princeton told him after some time wandering the mine.
"Probably a small operation…" He admitted, before spotting something just ahead of them. "Though the fact that that light is lit means we're getting close to it."
"I… I suppose it does." Ms. Princeton frowned, looking a little more warily than a few moments prior.
"Ms. Princeton." He started to get the young woman's attention, before offering the map when she looked at him. "Once we see the undead or whoever is behind this I want you to take the map and get out of here, before finding the sheriff and bringing him here."
"And how exactly am I supposed to do that without a horse?" Ms. Princeton asked. "If you recall you had us leave our horses behind."
"If you tied their reins together like I told you, your horse and mine will be waiting outside." He assured her. "Ghost's not a normal horse, and he knows not to let me go too far from him."
"That's… right, you're an Arcane I should just assume magic." Ms. Princeton sighed.
"Sure let's go with that." It was far easier than the actual explanation anyway. "Still need you to stick around until we confirm the necromancer is here though."
"Of course." Ms. Princeton nodded with a bit of determination in her eyes. "If something is going on here I want to get to the truth of the matter."
(Not exactly smart, but it works in my favor so whatever.) He figured, knowing to keep that thought to himself.
"Let's try to keep quiet from here on out. Don't want to alert anyone who is here." He told her instead.
"Right."
As they continued through the tunnels he found that the tension seemed to increase despite the fact that the lanterns on the wall provided them with even more light to work with. Most of said tension coming from Ms. Princeton's nervousness as she seemed to jump at every shadow they passed despite him looking through them before she passed.
He of course didn't share said nervousness if only because a bullet to the head would only slow him down, but her jitteriness did remind him why he preferred to work alone. (Or at least with something a little less lively.)
Eventually they did come across an undead shambling through the tunnel and he had to stop Ms. Princeton from raising her gun. "Too loud. Gunshot will echo through the tunnels."
Instead he creeped up behind the corpse, wreathing his hands in shadows as he moved, before grabbing the undead's skull and twisting in just the right way to break its neck.
With the corpse on the ground he held a hand up to keep Ms. Princeton back in case the thing decided to get back up, but found that whatever magic had kept the thing stitched together had already given out. (This really is shotty craftsmanship.)
"Is it dead?" Ms. Princeton asked.
"Wasn't really alive in the first place." He pointed out before shaking his head. "Used to Necromancers giving their creations Death Rattles, a final attack to kill whatever kills them." (Or that's what the smart ones do anyways.) "Either way this one isn't getting back up."
Ms. Princeton took a closer look at the corpse before nudging it with her boot. "You think this is enough to go get the sheriff?"
"No. Like I said, need to see an actual person here or else it could just be mistaken as a corpse wandering into the mines." He explained, before taking in their surroundings and remembering that the map had forked the mine's path around here. "Hmm, lights are lit down both paths which you want to take?"
"Don't you have some kind of magic to find them, like you did back in the forest?" Ms. Princeton frowned as she pulled out the map.
He shook his head. "Need more open air. Tunnels are too cramped, and there have been too many undead passing through too frequently."
"Then… the right." Ms. Princeton decided, motioning towards said path. "Map says there's a larger cavern in that area. Seems like a better place to store an army than a few dead end tunnels."
"Fair enough." He nodded, once more taking the lead.
"Do you hear that?" Ms. Princeton asked after a few minutes.
"Yeah… keep quiet and stick to the walls." He told her, hearing the same voices she could.
"How much longer is the boss going to have us messing with bodies for him?" Someone asked.
"However long it takes to build a horde to overrun the O'Leary's." A second answered. "As long as that family is around, they'll keep muscling us out of anything in the area."
"I know that."
"Then you also know they have more guns than us."
"Yeah, but there's a dozen of us and how many of them?"
"Depends on if we count everyone that works for them, either way it's more than us. Hence the undead."
"Still don't these things unnerve you?"
"I trust the boss, don't you?"
"I trust him, I just don't trust this necromancer he hired."
(Well that explains what's happening here at least.) He frowned, peeking around a corner and spotting a handful of men through an opening leading to the cavern Ms. Princeton had pointed out on her map.
He heard a faint growl echoing from down the tunnel.
"What has the dog upset?"
"Don't know…"
"Shit." He cursed as quietly as he could before turning to Ms. Princeton. "Run and get the sheriff, I'll hold them down."
"But what about-"
The sound of barking had his eyes widening. "Fuck, get moving now!"
Wreathing his hands in shadow he stepped in front of Ms. Princeton right as a hound tore around the corner before lunging straight at them.
The beast's fangs bit into the shadows shielding his arm as he was forced to stare into the half-rotted face of the undead hound.
He glared over his shoulder at the still present Ms. Princeton. "I said move!"
Ms. Princeton blinked before finally doing as he ordered and fleeing back towards the entrance to the mine.
With her gone he turned his ghastly green eyes onto the beast trying to devour him. "Now as for you…"
He grabbed the top of the hound's maw with his free hand before slowly prying it open enough to free his other arm, at which point he also grabbed the bottom of the beast's jaw and began slowly opening it until the hound's jaw began to crack. Not that that actually stopped him of course.
Tearing the beast's maw in two he saw the unnatural light in the hound's eyes fade and tossed both half of the corpse to his sides.
He inhaled slowly before exhaling as he forced himself back under control. (Right, now that it's just me and them I just need to draw out the necromancer… this is going to suck.)
Two of the men he saw earlier rushed out with their guns trained on him, and he raised his hands into the air.
The men dragged him back to the man cavern and forced him onto his knees after confiscating his gun, leaving him free to count out the eight others present as well as the dozen or so corpses they had standing off to the sides of the room.
"So this is the man who set us back a week's worth of work?" A voice asked after several minutes.
"Yep." He nodded, turning his attention to the man entering the cavern, a tall thin fellow wearing a suit, mask, and top hat like some sort of theater villain. "I should warn ya though, it says something that killing three undead sets you back that far."
(Really wish I had a better plan for drawing this guy out before he can run away.) Unfortunately he'd long since learned that necromancers tended to run very far and very fast while you were stuck slaughtering their horde. (Well, most necromancers anyway.)
The ones that didn't run were the ones you should run from.
"Hmm, was he alone?" The necromancer asked one of the men, deciding to ignore his constructive criticism.
"As far as we can tell." One of the men stepped forward.
"We figure out why he was sniffing around our mines?" The necromancer continued.
"I'm a bounty hunter, one of your corpses has been harassing a nearby farm." He cut in with a shrug. "Was just doing my job and tracking down its source."
"Of course…" The necromancer sighed, before glaring at the man. "Who was in charge of hunting animals with my creations?"
"Louis." The goon answered. "I'll go and have words with him when we're done here."
"If you'd be so kind." The necromancer nodded, before turning his attention back to Grim. "While I understand you were just doing your job I can't just let you walk out of here alive."
(Not really a problem.) He admitted to himself. "I'm guessing you're also not just going to hold me captive until you finish your business here."
"Can't risk you talking, and since you're a stranger don't know if we could just pay you off." The necromancer explained his reasoning, before grabbing at Grim's face. "Though you look like you'd make a good undead."
(You've no idea.) "I'll pass." He told the necromancer with a snap of his jaws. "If a necromancer is going to do any work on me I want a professional."
"As you can see by my little operation I am a professional." The necromancer assured him before snapping his fingers, causing two of the nearby corpses to wander over. "I understand you've no understanding of the dark arts but my corpses are the finest you'll find in the valley."
He glanced at the half-rotted corpse before looking the necromancer in his masked eyes. "Yeah, being the smartest idiot does not mean you are smart."
The necromancer frowned at him. "You clearly have no idea what you're talking about."
"Same could be said of you." He pointed out before gesturing to the corpse. "I mean look at this thing you've clearly only resurrected it by pumping it full of magic and hoping for the best. You haven't even modified its skeletal structure or stitched in animal musculature to try and enhance its physiology, let alone enchanting the remnants' flesh and bones. All in all the only way this would look more amateurish is if you were resurrecting mice to figure the basics out."
The necromancer blinked before taking a shifty look at the other men in the cavern and gaining a deeply offended look.
"You dare criticize my work?! Do you have any idea who I am?!" The necromancer yelled, leaning in close enough that he could see the man's brown eyes through the mask.
"A sad pathetic little man?" He offered as a far kinder alternative to what he actually believed the man really was.
The necromancer struck him across the face. "I am the fucking graveslinger-"
"Pfft-ha-ha-ha!" He couldn't help himself, even as everyone other than the necromancer looked at him as if he'd lost his god damned mind. "No, no, you're not."
"How dare you?!" The pathetic fake growled.
"Oh, oh, I needed a laugh." He admitted, unable to completely stop his laughter. "But have you ever actually looked at a corpse risen by the Graveslinger?"
"That depends, have you ever looked at the Graveslinger's gun?" The necromancer asked, drawing a revolver with a simple enchantment on it -one that resonated with his own Shadows- and aiming it at Grim's head.
"Please tell me you aren't trying to pass that off as the demon's Requiem." As someone who operated as his own gunsmith he felt deeply offended by this (idiotic amateur) trying to pass this piece of junk off as that complex piece of magical machinery.
"The Demon's Requiem?" The necromancer repeated.
"You don't even know the name of the Graveslinger's gun…" He grimaced. "I should've realized that when I saw the stupid top hat and domino mask."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The necromancer growled.
"The Graveslinger has a giant bird's skull for a face." He pointed out. "Half of his bounty posters feature that or at least a plague doctor's mask, so I don't know how you messed that part up. Oh, and the top hat looks stupid on you let alone the Graveslinger."
What he could see of the necromancer's face turned steadily red, and as the cheap knock off cocked the hammer of the revolver, he prepped himself to take a bullet to the head by marking the necromancer for cheap tracking for whenever he woke up.
"Ah, ah, that won't be necessary." A new voice cut in.
"What?!" The knock off snarled before immediately losing all color as he saw who he just yelled at.
He couldn't say he was much better, "Bill?"
"Samuel." A dark haired muscular man acknowledged with a nod. "Been a while."
The necromancer looked between them. "You know this guy?"
"Used to run with his brother back in the day." Bill explained, before giving the necromancer a once over. "And honestly if you're going to claim you're the Graveslinger you really should try to look the part."
"You, you knew…" The knock off flinched.
"Yep, and honestly I didn't care since I just needed a necromancer," Bill admitted before turning towards him. "And truth be told I wouldn't be caught dead working with the Graveslinger."
He blinked before snarling as he realized that if Bill was alive then, "You traitorous bastard!"
Bill gave a fake frown as he shook his head. "Hey, now you know as well as I that my parents were happily married."
"You, you left Arthur to die!" He growled, picking himself off the ground as the edge of his vision began to blur green.
"Ah, and that's how you survived." Bill said before drawing his gun and shooting him in the head. "Well survived is a strong word for a Deadman."
She rode her horse into town as fast as she could, yelling, "Mr. Holiday! Sheriff! Sheriff!" in the hopes of rousing the sheriff.
As she neared the sheriff's office Earl Holiday stepped out, with his Orkin deputy behind him. "Ms. Princeton what in tarnation is going on?"
"The-the mines." She began, trying to get her heart under control after riding so hard. "I was following this bounty hunter, Samuel Grim, for a story while he hunted a monster on McKirdy's farm. We followed it and found an undead, a lot of undead coming and going from the old mines in the woodland ravine. There's a bunch of men in there ordering them around, and we heard something about them getting ready to attack the town in the next few days."
Sheriff Holiday's face grew steadily more severe as he listened to her story before glancing behind her. "Where is this bounty hunter fellow, if he's a real hunter he should be able to tell me what exactly we're up against."
"They caught us and sent some kind of undead hound after us." She explained. "He caught it before it could go after me and told me to run and get help while he tried to slow them down. If we don't get moving now they're going to kill him."
Holiday glanced at his deputy who gave him a nod. "Samuel Grim is the bounty hunter who wanted to meet you earlier today, and he did take a job out by the McKirdy's farmstead."
"Alright, listen up!" The sheriff called out to the crowd. "We've got a band of outlaws with a dark magic user out in the old mine I need any volunteers we can gather to form a posse to hunt them down before they can hurt our town, but remember there is a bounty hunter out that way fighting to buy us time so those of you who are coming need to move quick and those of you who aren't need to go and call for the people who will!"
The towns people quickly began moving either to get their horses or to go spread the word about what was going on, and as she watched everyone moving around she couldn't help but pray that they'd be able to get there in time to save Mr. Grim from whatever was being done to him.
(He was running.)
(The streets were on fire.)
(His home was empty.)
(Blood, ash, and gun smoke were in the air.)
(He had to find his brother.)
(Corpses were everywhere.)
(A man with white hair and glowing eyes stared at him.)
(He found his brother too late for even a final goodbye.)
(The smoke swirled around the man, revealing his true self in black smoke.)
(He drew his gun and aimed it at the man, the monster who killed his brother.)
(The demon crossed the distance between them in a blink of an eye.)
(He glared into the eyes of the demon as it held his gun away.)
(The demon crushed the metal as if it was paper before throwing it aside.)
(He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the demon.)
(The demon turned away, dismissing him as a mere ant to its power.)
(His eyes shot to the gun in his brother's hand, the gun he'd made and gifted him.)
(Picking up the gun he aimed it at the demon and pulled the trigger.)
(The bullet tore through a cloud of smoke as the demon turned to face him, gun drawn.)
(A gunshot rang like the toll of a funeral bell.)
(He hit the ground as breathing became hard.)
(The demon left him to rot, not even bothering to finish him off.)
(He stared at his brother's lifeless corpse, remembering his smile, and his grip tightened on the gun in his hand.)
(Pushing through the pain, he raised his gun and aimed it at the demon even as his vision began to darken.)
(The gun grew heavy in his hand… Too heavy…)
(He tried to pull the trigger but… he couldn't as the gun dragged his hand to the ground…)
(As the darkness creeped in he was forced to watch the demon walk away unscathed.)
(He forced himself to stay awake, even as his brown eyes grew heavy, too heavy to stay open.)
(And as the world faded to black only a single thought ran through his mind repeatedly, as it grew into obsession… The thought, the desire, the need for…)
(VENGEANCE.)
Ghastly green eyes shot open.
"F-uck!" He groaned, more pained by the hunger in his stomach than the ache from where the bullet had torn through his skull. (Shit, must be lower on Ectoplasm than I thought.)
Unfortunately, given how much fear outlaw necromancers had caused, keeping his ectoplasm as low as he did was the only way he could walk through a town without someone putting a bullet in him for having green blood.
(Really, wish I'd gotten rid of Ms. Princeton before all of this, could've eaten something before coming down here.) He grimaced before finally noticing that he was strapped down to a large wooden table.
With a frown he took a look around the room and found himself surrounded by what looked to be the inside of a butcher's shop. (Guess the knock off decided that experimenting on a Deadman was too rare of an opportunity to let them completely off me.)
He pulled at his bindings and found they had no give before trying to wrap his limbs in shadow and- "Fuck!" -immediately regretting it as his head began to spin from hunger, as the hunger in his stomach began to cloud his mind.
(HuNgRy…)
He bit his lip and shook his head as he reeled his hunger back under control. "Right… Note to self… eat the next fucker you see…"
"Ah, you're finally awake." A voice noted, drawing his attention to the knockoff entering the room. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be out given how red your blood was."
"How long… was I out?" He asked, still trying to force his hunger down as his mouth began to water at just how close he was to the (meat.)
"Only an hour, which while not impressive for a Deadman is something for a human." The necromancer told him. "Though whether or not you count as human is up for debate."
"More human than you." He assured the (meat) as he wondered how long it would take Ms. Princeton to get the sheriff and get back. (Hopefully, I can eat my fill before she gets back.)
He shook his head once more.
"Oh, is that infamous 'hunger' you deadmen eating at you?" The necromancer asked curiously. "Tell me what's it like having to eat people to survive?"
"Come closer and I'll tell ya." He promised the (meat.)
"Hmm, tempting but I have other ideas." The necromancer admitted. "You see as a necromancer Deadmen are a special if rare avenue of research for my kind."
"You mean cheap knockoffs?"
The (meat) gave him an ugly(/delicious) look before smiling. "You know the funny thing is with the research I'm going to harvest from your corpse, I'll no longer be making cheap knock offs while having to pretend to be some urban legend we necromancers use to scare up business."
"Urban legend?" He laughed at the (meat)'s idiocy as his head began to cloud.
"Ah, yes, you wouldn't know." The (meat) chuckled. "We necromancers made up the legend of the Graveslinger to drum up fear of necromancers so that people would realize how valuable we can be. Then we all dress up as the Graveslinger pretending to be some kind of myth so that we can have this staggering reputation behind us until we've built up the power and skill to stand on our own two feet."
"The Graveslinger… a myth…" He smirked, knowing just how wrong the (meat) was even if he was unable to remember how he knew.
"Yes." The (meat) nodded sagefully as (it) leaned over him. "Surprising I know but-"
Something inside of him snapped and he felt a burning power flood through his bones, eating him alive even as it gave him enough power to tear through the straps binding one of his arms so that he could grab the (meat) by (its) head and drag (it) close enough for him to bite into (its sweet, sweet, meat.)
The (meat) screamed as (it) tore (itself) free from his grasp, but he couldn't bring himself to care as relief flooded his system and the hunger devoured everything it could from the meager meal he'd managed to claim.
As the green cloud slowly receded from his mind he couldn't help but be thankful for the fact that necromancy tended to cause its users to passively build a greater amount of ectoplasm in their veins than the common citizen. That detail was why he specialized in hunting necromancers, given how a single pound of a stronger necromancer was almost equal to a pound of flesh from an actual Deadman, which when combined with the rarity of Deadmen on the planes in general made them a superior food option.
(Though the magic does give them an odd sort of tangy aftertaste.)
After a moment, while his hunger wasn't completely satiated he found that it was at a point he could think and move freely enough to begin undoing the straps pinning him to the table.
"Hold it right there!" Someone shouted from the doorway, where he found a man -who hadn't just taken a bite out of- pointing a gun at him.
"No, need to shoot." He assured the man raising both of his unarmed hands into the air.
"You, you just took a bite out of, out of the Graveslinger!" The man shouted, hands shaking.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I wish, would definitely be more filling than that cheap knock off."
The man began to pull the trigger of his gun and power flooded through Grim's body as he drew on the meager amount of energy his meal had provided him, slowing the world around him to a crawl.
While in this state he aimed his hand at the man and summoned his brother's gun from wherever they'd left it before pulling the trigger and shooting the man dead with a bullet made of burning ectoplasm.
"Fuck…" He groaned as the world sped back up, leaving him with a migraine as those actions ate through most of what he'd gotten from the bite of the knock off.
Shaking his head clear, he undid the remaining straps before climbing off of the table and making his way to the man he just killed.
He briefly considered taking a bite of the man, but ultimately dismissed the idea knowing that while he probably had some ectoplasm in his veins from being around a necromancer for so long, it wouldn't be anywhere near enough to fill him. (Better off hunting down the knock off. With a chunk of his throat missing he couldn't have gotten far.)
Walking through the mines he found it relatively easy to follow the knock off necromancer via the bloody handprints left here and there on the tunnel walls. (Though he's definitely making it further than I gave him credit for…)
Sniffing the air at a fork in the mines he couldn't help but frown as he caught the scent of gunsmoke lingering in the air beneath the scent of undead rot and the necromancer's blood.
(That's recent…) He noted, turning the way the knock off had run.
Which is when he came across a body with a bullet in its head.
Figuring this was the 'Louis' responsible for letting the undead corpse that led him here out of sight, he ignored it while thinking how there had to have been a better place to leave the body if they were going to execute him.
The second body made him pause however.
(Did the sheriff make it here while I was out?) He wondered, glancing around the darkness of the mines. (Then why weren't these guys more worried about this? Gunshots would echo throughout these mines.)
Unable to deny the fact that something else was going on, he continued moving through the tunnels with notably more caution than before.
(Need to find that necromancer before anyone else. If this isn't the sheriff I don't have anywhere near enough ectoplasm to deal with them.)
Every so often he would pass another corpse, and regardless of if it had been turned into an undead or not, each one he found had been shot to death with a gun that had enough firepower to put fist size holes in some of them.
(Really not liking this.)
Eventually he found the knock off's body amongst the rest, only instead of having bled out to death he seemed to have been shot in the back while running away from something that had been following him.
"Hmm, bet you didn't like whatever did this either?" He frowned, before grabbing the knock off's head and sniffing. "Damn, your plasm is already losing power…"
Knowing he had to move quickly, he manipulated what little ectoplasm he had in his system to try and gather all of the necromancer's remaining power into a single point before opening his mouth and getting to work.
By the time he finally finished he could feel just enough power running through his veins that they had taken on a faintly green tone from the toxic substance keeping him alive.
"Guess that's the best I'm going to get out of you." He sighed, wiping his mouth clean before looking in the direction the necromancer had been running to. "Hopefully, it's enough to deal with whoever is shooting everyone with a silenced gun." (And find that traitorous bastard while I'm at it.)
Steeling himself, he continued towards the source of whatever had gone wrong here before finding himself in a room full of several dozen undead be they made from man or beast, or rather what used to be several dozen undead were now just a mountain of corpses spread throughout the room as black gunsmoke rolled through the room like a fog of war.
Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by all of this carnage was a white haired man in a black suit with a multi-barreled revolver in his hand.
"Hmm, oh? Did I miss someone?" A voice he would never forget asked. "Then again, you do look familiar… Did I just not kill you well enough?" It asked with a tilt of its head.
But most tellingly of all was the mask upon his face…
"If you want I can easily rectify that." It offered as the smoke behind it curled into a demon smiling with a maw full of fangs.
… the mask of a crow's skull.
"Graveslinger." He growled, before raising his gun and firing.
Blazing green bullets blasted through smoke as the demon's body shuddered out of the way. "Oh my. How rude."
"Hold still so I can shoot you!" He snarled at the demon as with one hand he continued to shoot, while he shoved the other into one of his jacket pockets, hoping they hadn't looted him while he was unconscious.
"Hmm, I don't think I will." It told him in a casual tone as if this was all some kind of game.
Finding that they hadn't looted him, he flipped his revolver open and dumped the quartz out of it, not even bothering to catch the small stones as he replaced them with a number of colored gems.
"Ah, I just remembered who you are!" The demon laughed, hitting the bottom of its fist against its open palm.
His next six shots exploded into flame as he aimed at the ground near the demon hoping to hit it even if only via the result of his shots rather than his actual bullets.
The demon appeared next to him in a cloud of smoke, its gun in hand and aimed at the side of his head. "Your Arthur Grim's brother."
Power surged through him as the world slowed around him, allowing him to watch as the demon began to pull the trigger on its gun and giving him just enough time to lean out of the way as a bullet shot through the air in front of him.
"You know I could've sworn I killed you." The demon laughed, spinning its gun on its finger. "After you tried to kill me anyway."
"You killed my brother!" He yelled, unloading another six shots of flame and ectoplasm at the demon.
The demon rushed forward in a cloud of black smoke until its face was mere inches from his own, and he was forced to stare into gold eyes surrounded by black sclera.
"Your brother was a traitorous murderer." The demon said its voice a dead whisper.
He wrapped his fist in shadows before swinging at the demon's face. "No, he wasn't!"
The demon took a step back before grasping his shadow wreathed hand with a set of black claws. "If he wasn't I wouldn't have killed him."
He kicked out at the demon, but rather than forcing it back with his undead strength he found himself being shoved away instead.
"And if you hadn't tried to kill me, I wouldn't have killed you either." The demon (lied.)
"What about everyone else you've killed?!" He screamed, emptying the rubies out of his gun and replacing them with sapphires. "I've been tracking you everywhere you go and you always leave a mountain of corpses in your wake."
"That I do." The demon admitted as if proud of the fact. "Though I'm sure they're all oh so grateful that I did."
"Why would anyone thank a killer like you?!" He snarled, shooting out half a dozen bullets of ice that quickly froze whatever they touched.
"Because it isn't every day you get to kill your own murderer." The demon answered softly.
"That'll be today for me!" He growled infusing as much ectoplasm as he could into his Revengeance Revolver before pulling the trigger and firing a bullet so cold it left a trail of ice beneath it.
"Maybe once I'm done with my list." The demon disagreed, somehow avoiding the shot even if the smokey shadow of its true self was frozen into a statue. "But I can't die until I get my vengeance."
"Neither can I." He scowled, dumping sapphire onto the ground before replacing it with diamonds.
The demon actually had the gall to laugh at that. "You know it's funny… We both became beasts of vengeance rather than dying peacefully like we were supposed to… Kind of defeats the purpose of digging two graves when the one seeking vengeance refuses to die."
"You talk too much." He told the demon as he channeled his ectoplasm through the diamond bullet, purifying into pure energy as he fired it out of his gun.
"Probably, but when you hold back as much as I do you kind of savor the opportunity to speak freely." The demon shrugged. "Speaking of, that is a very nice gun you've got there… Isn't it the one your brother had when he died?"
"Just fucking die already!" He screamed, firing as many shots as he could, completely uncaring of how much of his ectoplasm he was burning through.
"Sadly, I've still got a few people to kill before I can do that. In fact, maybe you've seen the one I'm here to kill-" The demon froze, its eyes shooting to one of the cavern entrances where another familiar face had just entered. "William DeVille…"
Bill froze, taking in the sight in front of him before immediately turning tail and running away.
The demon moved to follow, only to be cut off as he shot at it, actually managing to catch it for once.
"We're not done here." He reminded it.
"What are you doing?!" The demon screeched. "He's getting away!"
"I may have words for him, but killing you is a lot more important given how you're the one who killed my brother." He told it.
The demon stared at him without moving, not even to breathe, before ever so slowly turning its head. "You know he's the reason I caught Arthur."
"What?" He frowned.
"When he saw they couldn't run, he shot your brother in the kneecap and left him to slow me down before I could get the rest of their little gang." The demon explained. "Who knows he may've gotten away that day if not for that, and you wouldn't have had to die in the-"
A gunshot cut the demon off. "Like I said, I'm going to have words with that traitor but killing you is a whole lot more important given how you killed me and my brother!"
The demon once more froze as it stared at him before slowly raising a single hand into the air, its thumb pressed against its middle finger. "So be it…" The Graveslinger snapped. "Grateful Dead."
Every instinct in him screamed that something was wrong as the very air itself was filled with so much magic that seemed to almost scream out a demonic dirge for the dead.
All around him the clouds of black smoke that the demon had left behind rushed into all of the corpses surrounding them as the demon once more turned to leave. "If you really want your own vengeance, I suggest you do your best to survive until I kill William."
"Don't you turn your back on me!" He yelled at the demon as he aimed at its back and pulled the trigger.
The demon didn't even bother with its usual smoke and mirrors as one of the corpses on the ground suddenly leapt into the air and intercepted the bullet that tore a massive hole into it. Only instead of dropping dead like all of the undead made by the knock off this one picked itself off the ground and glared at him with two pitch black eyes as the hole in its chest slowly sealed shut.
"I should probably wish you luck!" The demon called as it walked out of the cavern, a wall of black smoke filling in behind it as all around him dozens of bodies both human and not began to stand.
And he couldn't help but swallow as he realized that not only was he severely outnumbered and surrounded on all sides, but each and every one of them was glaring at him with eyes blacker than death.
"You're going to need it."
He ran through the mines as fast as he could, knowing full well that his very life depended on it.
(Shit, shit, shit, how did he find me?!)
He'd done everything in his power to keep his head down, to keep people from realizing he was the leader of this little band of outlaws, even going so far as to let that cheap necromancer be the face of their little group to keep people from connecting his name to this.
Some would say that given how many people he'd killed over the years and just how dangerous he could be that all of that was overkill and paranoia.
Those people had never seen the Graveslinger first hand.
The first time he and his old gang crossed paths with the Graveslinger he burned an entire town to the ground while unleashing hundreds of undead monstrosities across the town, each rising from seemingly nowhere to tear the city apart.
At the time they hadn't quite realized what they were up against, thinking that this was some necromancer attacking their town in a bout of megalomania, and even going so far as to step up and try to defend the town despite their more illegal activities.
They hadn't realized it until months later, but the demon and its undead hadn't actually killed any of the town folk, seemingly only targeting those who'd been rumored to be of a similar profession as him and his old gang.
And each of those people in the hellish carnage of that night the demon had toyed with each and every last one of them before finally claiming their souls for itself.
When they tried to run Arthur had refused, saying that he needed to find his brother and his family. Michael had decided that if Arthur wanted to stay, then he could stay to buy them all enough time to escape the demon that had been tormenting them for over an hour at that point.
That gunshot was what had led to their gang falling apart in the following days, each going in their own direction.
That was when they found out the demon wasn't there for the town, but rather six people who had made the town their home. Six months later he finally heard about how the demon had burned another town down, going after Sanchez, and then a year later Kate. At which point it became pretty obvious who the demon was after.
He didn't know who they had crossed badly enough to have them summon this demon to kill them, and unfortunately the list wasn't short enough for him to sort it out himself either.
So he'd put his head down and started using other people as the faces of his gang as he worked in the background to try and keep the demon from tracking him down.
Hell, the whole reason he'd let that necromancer pretend to be the Graveslinger was in the hopes of making the real Graveslinger look away, thinking that none of them would go anywhere near where it looked like the demon was active.
(Not that that's worked out for me.) He thought as he darted past a corpse on the ground.
The steps beneath his boots went silent as the grave and a faint humming filled the air all around.
"Shit, shit, shit!" He cursed, as heard the tune that haunted his every nightmare.
Turning around he drew his gun as his eyes darted between the shadows that seemed to dance all around the lantern's light.
"Oh, William, William, William." The demon's demonic voice sang as a pair of eyes glowed in the dark. "I've spent a very long time tracking you down. Six months in this little valley searching high and low for you, and here you finally are."
"W-what do you want from me?" He asked, backing away to the edge of the lantern's light as he aimed his gun at the demon.
"Oh, William, we both know what I want." The demon told him, stopping just outside of the light with its own gun raised. "I want to cross your name off my list."
"L-look I don't know what we did but I'm sure we can come to some kind of deal." He assured the demon. "I mean, you, you want the others right?"
The demon tilted its head considering his offer for a moment. "Tell me, William, are you a loyal man?"
"I'm, I'm as loyal as I need to be." He promised, knowing he could be very loyal if his life was on the line.
"Hmm, and that's the problem." The demon seemed to sigh. "You're as loyal as you need to be… Someone like you just wouldn't get it."
"Get w-what?" He asked, knowing that whatever it was it wasn't good for him.
"You see I am a very, very loyal person." The demon told him. "So loyal, that if someone hurt someone I loved, let alone everyone I loved, I would burn the entire world to cinder and ash to see that person dead." The demon leaned forward enough that he could see its glowing eyes within the crow's skull. "And you William hurt the ones I love, and so…"
Three gunshots rang out.
The first shot the gun out of his hand.
The other two shot out his kneecaps.
"Gaahh!!!" He screamed as he fell to the ground.
"…I'm going to hurt you william." The demon swore on his grave.
"P-please don't." He begged, crawling away. "I-I don't want to die."
"Don't worry, this isn't the end just yet." The demon assured him as it tucked its gun away. "After all, would it really be vengeance if I killed you quickly?"
His eyes widened as the demon spread its arms and began walking backwards as the shadows and smoke began to dance around it.
"No, I'm going to let everyone you've ever killed gets their pound of flesh."
From within the darkness he could make out faces and figures clawing out at him from the ethereal.
The demon raised its hand towards him with a thumb on its middle finger before snapping as it said, "Vengeful Dead."
And the souls of the damned burst forth from the darkness, condemning the one who killed them to join them in death.
He coughed up a bit of blood as he looked around at the numerous corpses surrounding him, before risking one more shot at one he thought twitched.
"Fu-u-uck" He groaned as he felt a stabbing pain lance through his stomach, before leaning over to vomit blood and most of what he'd forced himself to eat throughout the fight.
It was honestly a miracle he'd lasted as long as he had, because even taking a bite out of one or two of the undead who seemed to have a bit more ectoplasm in them, his stomach just couldn't process that much (rotten meat) without rejecting it.
Gasping, he took one last look around the room to make sure everything really was dead before turning towards the entrance with his gun raised as someone whistled.
"Well, I guess Ms. Princeton was worrying about nothing." A man wearing a duster and hat told him.
"Who the fuck… are you?" He half-growled, broken by his labored breathing.
"Name 's Earl Holiday, I'm the sheriff around these parts." The man answered, showing off his badge. "And I'm guessing you're Samuel Grim, the bounty hunter Ms. Princeton told me about."
"I guess I am." He nodded, lowering his gun before running a hand down his face as he tried to focus now that he wasn't in a life or death battle.
"Given how many of these things are in here, you really have done the town a favor Mr. Grim." The sheriff admitted as he walked through the mountain of corpses. "Don't suppose you know what happened to the necromancer who raised all of these do ya?"
His eyes snapped to the sheriff. "Did you see a man wearing a giant bird skull on your way here? He ran down that tunnel before sicking these things on me."
The sheriff frowned at him. "No I didn't. Only thing of interest we found was the outlaw William Deville."
"Where is he?" He asked, taking a stumbling step forward as he forced his body to start moving.
"About halfway to the entrance," The sheriff told him, keeping pace. "or rather what's left of him is anyway."
"Fuck!" He cursed, picking up the pace as he started running through the mines, using his sense of smell to track down the fresh scent of blood, death, and gunsmoke.
After just a minute he found a corpse torn to shreds via a mix of claw and bite marks that left its remains strewn all about. The only reason he could tell this was Bill at all was because the scarred half of his face was frozen in an agonized scream, the other half was so torn up it was barely recognizable without having seen the man in person while he still breathed.
"Damn it!" He spat, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, we're guessing after you threw a wrench into their plans the necromancer turned on ol' Bill here with whatever undead he didn't send after you." The sheriff explained, having kept pace with him.
"No, this wasn't a fucking double cross!" He snarled, realizing that his vengeance was- He shook his head refusing to continue with that line of thought. (No, I might still be able to catch him!)
"He has to be here somewhere…"
Taking off once more and followed the scent of the night air through the mine tunnels as
"The sheriff had to have missed him…"
He rushed out of the mine and into the open air of the night, his eyes darting around in search of the demon.
"No, no, no." (He couldn't have gotten away!)
But all he found were more of the sheriff's men, not one of them looking as if anything was out of place.
"Nooooooo!!!" He screamed, his voice echoing through the night like the voice of the damned.
He walked through his office and took off his tailcoat before hanging it up on a hook and doing much the same with his Wretched Requiem and its holster.
"Ugh, you know you're letting that scum get away." His passenger groaned.
"To be fair we're the reason he died." He reminded his passenger.
"You're also the reason he's a Deadman." His passenger reminded him. "If you just let him die that day we'd both be better off."
"He was an innocent man until we killed him, trying to save him was the right thing to do." He couldn't help but sigh. "Him turning into a monster was because we messed up."
His black eyed reflection scoffed as he passed in front of a mirror. "He became a monster when he chose to hunt you down for vengeance rather than thanking his luck and going back to his family."
"And what does that make me?" He wondered.
His demonic reflection smiled with nothing but fangs. "The biggest and baddest monster around."
"Not something to be proud of." He pointed out.
"The world needs monsters like us to put the other monsters down." The demon inside him argued. "If there's a problem you fix it, and if there's a murderer you kill it before they can kill anyone else."
"Thus becoming a murderer yourself." He sighed, forging his mask out of smoke.
"Second thoughts?" His partner asked, as he gazed into its eyes.
(He could do nothing but watch as the monsters pinned her down and-)
"Never."
"And that's why I chose you." The demon laughed. "You'd see the world burn if it meant killing them. And what is justice but the vengeance of the just?"
Before he could (falsely) argue the bell to the front rang, signaling someone entering the building.
"You can go back to your distractions, we both know you'll get back to your real work soon enough." His partner grinned, before delving back into the depths of his soul as he let the mask disperse into smoke.
"Oh, you'll never believe the story I've got!" Sarah told him as she ran into his office.
"Really? Why don't you tell me all about it?" Wyatt De La Croix smiled as he adjusted his glasses.
---
Side Story: The Graveslinger and The Vengeful Dead
"The man mended and healed by day before nightfell and the dead rose with the gunsmoke of every kill.
For that was the duality of man, as much a killer as he is a healer."
--- Samuel Grim ---
For that was the duality of man, as much a killer as he is a healer."
--- Samuel Grim ---
"So tell me again who it is you're looking for?" The barkeep asked, giving him a look.
"I'm looking for a man in a black suit, and carrying a weird looking gun." Grim repeated for the umptenth time.
"A suit, do you mean a black jacket maybe?" The barkeep tried, scratching at the scruff around his neck. "Don't see anyone but city folk and politicians wearing suits this far out. And even then most people don't want black in this heat."
"Well this man is definitely neither a city slicker or a politician." He admitted, looking down at his bounty poster. "Alright, forgetting about the clothes, what about the gun? Any strangers carrying around a weird gun?"
The barkeep looked down at the gun strapped to his side and gave him a curious look.
He shook his head. "No, weirder than an engraved gun."
"Well, I haven't seen much weirder than a gun engraved with magic." The barkeep confessed.
"Can recognize that?" He frowned, knowing how much harder things tended to get once people realized what kind of heat he was packing.
"Sheriff has a gun like that." The barkeep shrugged. "It's weird but I doubt he's the man you're looking for."
"I doubt that too." He nodded. (Though I should probably check to make sure.)
Someone walked in through the front of the old saloon and while the noise didn't stop completely you could tell that it wasn't quite as joyful as just a moment ago.
Glancing over his shoulder he spotted three men walking through the place.
"Who are they?" He asked more out of curiosity than concern.
"Trouble." The barkeep told him. "Just keep your head down and they'll ignore you."
"Never been much good at that." He confessed before downing his drink.
"A grey haired man, with a magic gun." A man noted from behind him.
Choosing to ignore the man he motioned for the barkeep to refill his glass.
"You know there's a bounty out for a man fitting that description." The man told him.
"More than one bounty, and more than one man fitting that description." He pointed out. "Hells, the sheriff is supposed to fit it if you want to take a look at him."
"Hmm, sheriff has brown hair." The man argued, taking a seat next to him. "Guess you haven't been in town very long if you don't know that."
"Just rode in this morning." He admitted. "Though I was about to go have a talk with him if you wanted to join me."
"I just might, especially if it means claiming the bounty on the infamous Graveslinger." The man told him.
He couldn't help but laugh at that. "You and the Graveslinger? He'd eat you alive… Even with your friends there."
"Oh, and what exactly makes you so sure that the Graveslinger, infamous bounty hunter outlaw that he is, could survive a bullet through his head?" The man asked, and he felt a barrel put to the back of his head. "Especially when his bounty is dead or alive."
"Because the Graveslinger is already dead." He smirked at the man. "He's been shot, stabbed, burned, decapitated, and so much worse, but he's still here. Graveslinger ain't a man you can kill with any old gun."
The man just stared at him, deep in thought. "Then I'm guessing those rumors of him being a Necromancer of some kind."
"More than a little true." He nodded.
The man was silent for another moment. "You know we don't get much in the way of spell slingers out this way. I mean the sheriff has been here a fair while but he doesn't much talk about what all he's capable of."
"Not surprised." He shrugged. "Magic is a hard thing to work, especially the darker things. Better to keep quiet and tell no one, that way when you need bring it out no one is ready for what you'll be throwing around."
"But everyone knows the Graveslinger is a Necromancer." The man pointed out.
"Perhaps, but maybe that just means everyone need be scared of what he's not showing off." He figured, before chuckling darkly. "Then again, turning every man he kills against you is something to be scared of? Tell me, you ever have to shoot your brother down because he's trying to tear out your throat with his teeth?"
The barrel pressed to his head began to shake as the man swallowed, paling considerably.
"Let me give you a tip." He told the man, leaning forward. "Shooting them in the heart or head ain't going to do much to slow them down, you're better off shooting out their knees and torching the corpse before they can get back up."
He stood from his seat. "Then again, you'd have to worry about being shot by the Graveslinger while you're doing that, so good luck surviving that long."
He turned to the barkeep. "How much do I owe you?"
The barkeep swallowed. "I-it's on the house mister."
"Mighty kind of ya." He nodded, before looking at the shaking gun still pointing at him. "I'd suggest putting that away before you hurt yourself."
The gunman practically leapt out of his way, leaving him free to continue through the saloon and out the doors onto the town's main street.
Looking around he stopped a passersby and asked for directions to the sheriff's office, figuring that since he was running low on leads, it was the best place to go next.
Walking through the town's streets, he couldn't help but note the fact that despite being seemingly in the middle of nowhere, it was a fairly large size even if not quite big enough to call itself a city. (But it might just be on its way to becoming one.)
Eventually he managed to find his way to the sheriff's office and walked inside, where he found a large brown skinned orkin sitting at a desk just a size too small writing away at a pile of documents.
(Well, there's something you don't see every day.) Orkin were a warrior race, the idea of them doing paperwork was… laughable at best, and grounds to get stabbed by an Orkin at worst.
"I don't suppose you being the sheriff?" He asked, just a little skeptically because while he wasn't against the idea he knew the leather skinned folk weren't exactly liked by the common man, and he felt one being sheriff would earn a little more hub-bub.
The Orkin snorted at that. "No, I'm a deputy. What do you need the boss for?"
"I'm a bounty hunter passing through. Figured I'd introduce myself and see if he could point me in the direction of either my bounty or at the very least another job." He answered walking over to a bulletin board with a number of flyers on it.
"Anything on that board is an open bounty." The Orkin told him never looking up from the paperwork as he gestured towards the board. "You want to talk to the sheriff, you'll have to wait."
Looking things over, he pulled off a flyer mentioning a sighting of some kind of monster on a nearby farmstead. "How long?"
"Had to ride out to the O'learys, probably be a few hours." The Orkin informed him.
"Don't suppose you've seen any strangers in town wearing a blacksuit and carrying an odd gun?" He tried
"Boss only lets me out when he needs more muscle, says I scare the town folk." The Orkin chuckled as if he found it funny rather than offensive before looking up to meet his eyes. "You soft-skins, always frightened by every little thing."
"Sorry to tell ya I've seen far scarier than you friend." He apologized without blinking as he stared into the Orkin's eyes.
The Orkin smirked before shaking his head. "I'll tell the boss you were looking for him Mr…"
"Grim, and mighty kind of ya." He nodded before raising the flyer. "Don't suppose you can point me towards the McKenny's farm?"
"Don't leave the office so I never bothered learning who lives where." The Orkin shrugged. "Ask someone out there, you humans love to gossip about one and other."
"Fair enough." He sighed, folding the bounty poster and slipping it into a pocket.
Stepping out of the sheriff's office he was just in time to see a large man knock a dark haired woman to the ground. "You stupid bitch!"
With a frown on his face he made his way over.
"It's not my fault you cheated on your wife!" The woman shouted at the man as she picked herself off the ground.
"But you're the one who sent out that newspaper!" The man growled, looming over the woman.
"Hey, now what's this all about?" He asked, stepping between the two. "Can't think of a very good reason for a man to be laying hands on a woman."
"Because of this bitch here my wife left me!" The man spat trying to step around him.
"And what exactly did she do to make your wife leave you?" He couldn't help but wonder.
"I published a picture in my newspaper of an event at the saloon." The woman laughed. "And this idiot was sitting with a working girl in his lap when we took the picture."
"You shouldn't have used that picture!" The man yelled.
"How were we supposed to know you were cheating on your wife?! I don't even know your name!" The woman argued, forcing him to step between them once more as the man moved to strike the woman again.
"Hey, now there's no need for that." He told the man. "Now from the sound of this, the woman here was just doing her job and meant you no harm. Hells, how do you know she was the one to take the photo in the first place?"
"Because this whore is the only reporter in town!" The man answered once more trying to step around him.
"Listen friend, you're making a scene." He warned the man, gesturing to the few passerbyers who had begun to gather round. "If you don't want this to end badly I suggest you back down."
"Are you threatening me?" The man growled, moving his hand to his gun.
"Only if you're threatening the lady." He answered, hands in the air.
They were both tense for a moment, staring into each others eyes before the man started to draw his gun.
Rather than reaching for his own, Grim's hand shot forward and grabbed the man by his shoulder before sparks began to dance from his hand and the man cried out as his body began to spasm, forcing him to drop the gun on the ground.
He held the spell for a moment longer before letting go, and letting the man fall limply to the ground.
"Now then, with that settled-" Someone sucker punched him across the face.
"Get your hands off my brother, witch boy!"
Turning to a second man who'd run out from the crowd, he wiped at the corner of his mouth and found a bit of blood from where his cheek cut on his teeth.
Grim nodded once, before wreathing his hand in shadows and punching the man twice as hard, dropping him to the ground in a single blow.
"These two got any other family that wants to try something?" He asked the crowd, pushing just a bit of magic in his eyes to make them glow.
No one in the crowd stepped forward.
"Good." He told them, letting the glow fade before turning to leave.
Or rather he would've left if the woman hadn't stepped in front of him. "Thanks for helping with that mess."
"Uh, no problem." He frowned before trying to leave again.
"Hmm, you're bleeding from that blow." The woman noted with her own frown as she once more cut him off.
"I've had worse." He assured, trying once more to leave.
"Come on, you should see the town doc about that." The woman told him, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him after her.
"I really don't need that." He argued, pulling his arm free.
"Don't be stubborn." The woman frowned. "With the Doc's magic you'll be healed up in just a minute rather than having to deal with a sore cheek all day."
"Magic?" He repeated.
"What, you didn't think you were the only one with it did you?" The woman asked with a fair bit of sass.
He nearly scoffed, knowing far better than most magic users that while rare they weren't one of a kind. "And where exactly is this doc?"
"Just down the street." The woman pointed.
Nodding he started down the way she'd gestured.
"Name's Sarah by the way. Sarah Princeton." The woman introduced herself, still not leaving him alone.
Aware that she wasn't going to stop he went ahead and answered, "Grim. Samuel Grim."
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Grim." Ms. Princeton nodded, before walking into the middle of the street and continuing on. "Wyatt's place is right here."
He couldn't help but blink as he saw the building or rather what was behind the building. "Your uh, Doc, he's a uh, he's a good doctor right?"
"Oh, that? That's his other job." Ms. Princeton shrugged as if there was no problem with the graveyard behind the doctor's office. "He says if he can't save them, then at the very least he owes them the courtesy of a proper funeral no matter who they are."
"Hmm." (Still ought to make sure he's not a necromancer stealing people's health to heal others.) He'd met a necromancer like that once, and it had been a bitch and a half to convince his town that the man was doing more harm than good with his methods.
Ms. Princeton held the door open for him, waiting for him to follow her into the building that he could just hear two voices arguing inside of.
"And I'm telling you we have no right to meddle in this." A voice with a clean city accent practically growled.
"As doctors we are clearly more qualified to deal with this matter than nurses and midwives." A second older voice with a mix of country and city accents proclaimed.
"As male doctors?" The first voice scoffed incredulously. "Managing menstruals has been a femenine responsibility for hundreds of years, what makes you believe we're more qualified than them to rule on this?"
"Given how we have actually been educated on the health and welfare of our patients, unlike many of our femenine competitors we are certifiably more qualified." The second voice argued as they stepped into the main office.
"The fact that you called them competitors shows that this isn't about health, it's about profits." The younger voice -a pale blonde man in his mid-twenties and wearing glasses- pointed out. "This isn't about doing what's best for our patients, it's about eliminating the competition so that they come to you and you can charge them for what some mothers teach their daughters for free!"
"This isn't just about profits it's also about ensuring that women-"
"That women what Mr. Presley?" Ms. Princeton cut in, making them known.
The apparent Mr. Presley -an older man with balding ginger hair- froze before giving Ms. Princeton a dirty look. "As it looks like you have company, we can continue this talk at a later date Mr. Cross."
"It doesn't matter if it's today or a year from now, I still refuse to be a part of this." The younger man called after Mr. Presley as the older man stormed out of the building.
"Hate that man." Ms. Princeton spat before giving Mr. Cross a concerned look. "What was all of that about?"
Mr. Cross raised his glasses and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "He was trying to convince me to join in some association of his in the hopes of lobbying the state to make it illegal for non-Doctors to help women to um, manage their uh, menstruals." The young man coughed with a mild blush.
"And what right does he think he has to do that?" Ms. Princeton scowled.
"That he thinks women an inferior sex, like so many of my professional colleagues." Mr. Cross answered with his own frown. "You'd believe that educated men would know better, but it seems like we'd be incorrect in the matter."
"Well like you said mothers have been teaching their daughters about that kind of thing for years, so I very much doubt his little group will accomplish much of anything." Ms. Princeton assured Mr. Cross.
"I hope you're right." Mr. Cross sighed before finally noticing him. "Oh, uh, sorry you had to witness all of that. Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
"Think nothing of it." He told the man before explaining that, "The little miss wouldn't let me go without seeing a doctor, and given how you're supposed to have 'healing magics' I figured it wouldn't hurt too much."
"If you think healing magic won't hurt you're sadly misinformed." Mr. Cross warned him. "Though luckily that's usually reserved for the more extreme treatments than whatever seems to ail you."
"It's nothing too bad, just a nicked cheek from a sucker punch." He explained.
"Ah, yes, that shouldn't take too long to fix up." Mr. Cross nodded before gesturing to a nearby doctor's chair. "Why don't you take a seat here and we'll fix you up?"
He gave the doc a nod of his own before climbing into the chair. "You know I'm going to be honest, I thought you doctor types were supposed to have a problem with magic?"
"Many of us sadly do." Mr. Cross admitted, pulling out a small stick with a crystal bound to the end. "But my personal philosophy is that you should use whatever means at your disposal to save those under your care, regardless of what the more scientific community tries to ban."
"Fair enough." He said, figuring that saving people was supposed to be the man's job.
"Now kindly open your mouth would you?" Mr. Cross asked as the crystal in his hand lit up with a light.
Seeing no reason not to, he did.
"Hmm, that must've been some punch to cut your cheek on your teeth." Mr. Cross noted with a frown. "Then again you do seem to have sharper teeth than most."
"Ma used to joke that Pa had a vampire in his family tree, no idea if it's true." He shrugged.
"Well regardless of whether or not it's true I should be able to heal this easily enough." Mr. Cross assured him as he grabbed at his tie where a gem of some kind was held.
Placing his glowing hand near Grim's cheek the Doc began to frown after a moment. "Hmm, there… may be some truth to that vampire story."
"A problem doc?" He asked, more curious than worried since he knew why healing magic didn't like him.
"Yes, you seem a bit resistant to healing magics for some reason. Not enough to stop me from healing you, but enough to slow me down." Mr. Cross explained, as his hand began to glow brighter. "Most likely one of your innate affinities doesn't like my brand of healing, not exactly common but not something I haven't come across before either."
"Probably the shadow magic." Ms. Princeton noted from off to the side where she was watching with a bit of fascination.
"Shadow magic?" The doc repeated.
"I'm Arcane." He offered as way of explanation, even if not entirely accurate.
"Ah, then I suppose that would explain it." Mr. Cross nodded, though after a moment or two the younger man felt the need to ask, "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you do for a living… I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name?"
"Grim. Samuel Grim." He introduced himself. "And I'm a bounty hunter by profession."
"I see…" The doc frowned at the mention of his profession. "I apologize for asking, but given the rarity of magic in these parts I feel it's better to be cautious when a new magic user appears."
"That's just common sense." He fully agreed. "Funnily enough, I'm actually out this way on a hunt for a pretty nasty magic user myself."
"Ooh, is it someone famous?" Ms. Princeton asked from the side.
"In his own way I suppose, don't really have a name for him. Just know he wears a black suit everywhere and carries an odd looking gun." He answered in case either of them might be able to help him out with his big one. "If he's up to trouble he'll also be wearing a plague doctor's mask, but I know he doesn't wear one when he's just walking around."
"Have you heard of anyone who fits that description Sarah?" Mr. Cross asked as he pulled his hand away.
"Mm, not that I can think of." Ms. Princeton frowned. "Though if they're in the area then they're probably involving themselves with the O'learys."
"The O'learys?" He repeated, remembering how the sheriff was supposed to have gone out to see them.
"Yeah, they own one of the largest farmsteads in the region but they've also got a hand in a lot of the shadier business in the nearby towns." Ms. Princeton explained.
"Sarah, you really should stop spreading such rumors around." Mr. Cross sighed. "If you keep up with such talk people might start to think less of your family's paper."
"I know for a fact that they're paying the mayor to look the other way on their business." Ms. Princeton argued.
"Yes, with their taxes." Mr. Cross nodded. "Something they pay more of due to owning more property than anyone else in town."
"Oh, Caleb, you're so innocent." Ms. Princeton told him as she shook her head. "You'd think growing up in the city you'd be more on the lookout for corruption."
"Sadly I'm more focused on injuries and illness." Mr. Cross pointed out. "Things that I can actually do something about if I'm confronted by."
"Well, regardless of whether or not they're corrupt, they're something I can look into if I find nothing else in the next few days." He admitted, not wanting the two to have a full on spat when he'd be stuck listening to it.
"I suppose, given how that is your professional prerogative." Mr. Cross shrugged, before taking a step back. "Unless you have another health problem, then that's about it for your treatment."
He ran a tongue over the cut on his cheek and didn't even taste the half-rusted copper that was his blood. "Huh, that's surprisingly good work."
"If I couldn't heal a simple cut then I'd be no good as a doctor." Mr. Cross argued, as Grim climbed out of his seat before stumbling a step. "You alright?"
"Yeah, just a bit hungry." He confessed. "What do I owe ya?"
"Hmm, well this was a relatively simple procedure so I don't feel right charging you full price." Mr. Cross told him, taking a moment to think about it. "How about ten cents and we call it even?"
"Can't be making too much of a living healing people that cheaply." He blinked, knowing most 'Mystic Doctors' would charge a full fifty even for a cut as simple as his, and that was before accounting for his… medical conditions. (Honestly, I'm lucky I've got my own brand of healing if a bit darker to use.)
"Unlike some in my profession I'm a doctor to help, not to make a profit." Mr. Cross explained as he adjusted his glasses.
"Honestly, he has no head for business." Ms. Princeton added. "If it weren't for his family's money he wouldn't even be able to keep this office open."
Mr. Cross seemed to grimace at that. "While my family was fairly well off, I'd like to think I'm not quite so beholden to their wealth."
"Well I suppose you did move this far out of the way to get away from all of that." Ms. Princeton conceded.
"Nothing wrong with a man wanting to make a name for himself." He pointed out, before handing the doc twenty cents. "Our family is where we start, but we shouldn't let their legacy be the end of our own."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but you really don't have to pay me this much." Mr. Cross told him, looking at the coins in his hand.
"It's not that much, especially since I've got a second bounty in the area that I should be able to wrap up before supper." He argued, forcing the too kind man to accept the money. "Kind and honest folk deserve a better turn if only for how rare you lot are getting."
"I suppose…" Mr. Cross frowned as he accepted the money.
"So you said you've another bounty in this area?" Ms. Princeton asked after a moment. "Surprised there's two bounties out in this area."
"The big one is in this region, no idea where it actually is. The one for today is a small thing on a farmstead." He explained, figuring that this was as good a time as any to get directions. "Apparently the McKirdy farm has some kind of beastie harassing the edge of their property. Either of you know where that is?"
"Mm, yeah, that's not too far if you want I can show you the way." Ms. Princeton offered.
"You don't have to do that." He assured her. "Just tell me which way to take my horse and I'll be able to find my way there eventually."
"Or I can show you the way, and I can get a first hand account of a bounty hunter for my paper." Ms. Princeton countered.
"My profession isn't exactly safe." He reminded her, while glancing at Mr. Cross hoping that given how they seemed like friends he'd talk her out of trying to tag along.
Mr. Cross shook his head. "Yeah, no, she's not going to listen to me."
"No, I'm not." Ms. Princeton admitted with a shameless grin.
(I'm going to regret this…) He sighed, already feeling an ache in his gut.
---
"You're sure this is the place?" He frowned, looking at the fields surrounding a small house with smoke coming from its chimney.
"Yep, this is the McKirdy's farm." Ms. Princeton nodded. "So how exactly do you go about this bounty hunting business?"
"For starters we should probably tell him we're on his property and what for, else he might try and shoot us in the back." He answered, climbing off of his pale horse Ghost.
"Does that happen often?" Ms. Princeton frowned as he made his way to the door. "I mean, wouldn't most want to see who you are and why you're there?"
"If people are actively hiring a bounty hunter then odds are they no longer care to know the 'why' of the strange going ons." He explained, before knocking on the door to the house as he pulled the bounty poster out of his jacket.
After a few moments a man with a bushy beard opened the door, eyeing him cautiously, and clearly with a revolver in the hand hiding behind the door.
"Names Grim, I'm a bounty hunter passing through town. Saw this on a board in the sheriff's office." He handed the man the bounty poster, before saying, "I was hoping you could point me in the direction I should be starting my hunt."
"Hmm, thought only one of the town's youngin's would take a shot at that." McKirdy admitted handing him the poster back. "Give me a moment and I'll take you to where me and my boys keep seeing this thing."
"Much appreciated." He nodded, before making his way back to Ghost and climbing up onto the pale horse.
"Sarah, is that you?" McKirdy asked as he stepped out of his house. "What are you doing with this stranger?"
"Couldn't pass up on interviewing a bounty hunter in town, especially not one after some really big game in these parts." Ms. Princeton smiled at the man.
"Hmm, your pa know you're out this way?" McKirdy frowned, walking towards a nearby stable. "Don't think he'd like knowing you're runnin' about with some strange man. Er, no offense Mr. Grim."
"None taken Mr. McKirdy, I'm more than aware I am both a strange and dangerous man that the miss really should leave now that she's helped me find my way to your farm." He agreed, giving the girl a look he knew she'd ignore.
"I'm not letting go of this story that easily." Ms. Princeton told him, firmly rejecting their opinions.
"Not going to be much of a story." He shrugged, hoping this was one of his more straightforward hunts, if for no other reason than to get rid of her so he could eat in peace.
"Right, well, she's a stubborn lass so I doubt that much matters to her." Mr. McKirdy admitted as he climbed onto his horse. "Now come on, last time my boy spotted this beast it was on the north eastern edge of the farm."
"Think you can tell me what exactly it is I'm hunting?" He asked as they set off. "Your poster was a bit vague on details."
"Well that's because I don't rightly know what it is you're hunting." Mr. McKirdy sighed. "At first we thought a coyote or some such got onto our property and was attacking the livestock, but when me and my boys tried to hunt it ourselves we found this two legged thing out a bit into these woods just outside our land. Whatever it was spooked our horses anytime we tried to bring them near it, and when we shot at it the thing just kept moving without a care."
"Don't suppose you or your boys got a decent look at this thing?" He frowned, knowing a few too many too legged things that would scare off any horse that hadn't been trained to deal with the beasts.
"Nah, we would've kept shooting but it let out this roar and started sprinting after us, which is when our horses decided to get us out of the way whether we liked it or not." Mr. McKirdy explained.
"Hmm, well if it just ran at you then usually you just gotta shoot it with the right type of bullet to put the critter down." He told his client, idly noting the now visible woods.
"And I'm guessing you've got the 'right type of bullet'?" Mr. McKirdy asked, eyeing him with a bit of skepticism.
He couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Trust me when I say my gun was built take down a beast far scarier than whatever you've got on your farm Mr. McKirdy." (Just as soon as I find the slippery bastard…)
"Well, if you do manage to kill it you'll get your money." Mr. McKirdy nodded.
"Yeah, hard part is just going to be tracking this thing down." He admitted. "Even if your guns didn't hurt this thing, I very much doubt it stuck around wherever you last saw it. I'm guessing its head will do as proof of kill?"
"It's head?" Ms. Princeton repeated looking up from her notepad. (Has she been writing this whole conversation down?)
"Well if it was a clawed creature, or had a memorable feature I'd cut that off and use it as proof of kill, but sometimes people want the entire corpse which can be a bit trickier if the creature is big enough." He explained, something that even the more mundane hunters would know.
"If you were on your own I'd say yeah, but given how Sarah is with you, I'll accept her word if she says you killed this thing." Mr. McKirdy told him.
"Hmm, I'll still grab the head." He decided with a shake of his head. "Just taking someone's word on it when you haven't witnessed it doesn't sit right with me, especially if it turns out there's more than one of these things out here."
"And if there are more than one of them out there?" Mr. McKirdy frowned.
"I'll hunt each one I see, but I'll expect double if I have to kill more than two." He answered. "I get you know there's only one so if it turns out there's two, I won't charge you for the second one, but if there's more than that I'll need hazard pay to restock afterwards."
"Fair enough." Mr. McKirdy accepted. "Though I should warn you we probably won't be able to pay more than double if you decide you want more than that."
"I'm not trying to bankrupt you, I'm just trying to make a living." (If you can call it that.)
Mr. McKirdy gave him a nod before looking around a bit and pointing a bit further ahead.
"Here's about where we went in to find the critter." Mr. McKirdy said, gesturing towards a bent and twisted bit of wire fence. "Whatever keeps getting onto our land keeps tearing this bit of fencing up. When I put the bounty up I decided it was best to leave it and move the animals to the next pasture early so that I could leave the fence marked and get them away from whatever is attacking them."
"Smart enough idea." He nodded before climbing off of Ghost to get a better look. (There's space wide enough for a single horse to get through, but the thin path means the family's horse tracks have messed up the ground too much to spot anything belonging to whatever I'm hunting. The fact that the wire is barbed adds to it not feeling pain, though the fact that it didn't leave any flesh or blood on the wire when tearing it down is a bit odd…)
"Well?" Mr. McKirdy asked after a moment.
"Nothing that lets me narrow down what I'm hunting." He admitted, taking Ghost by his reins. "Going to have to go into the woods to actually track it down."
"Figured as much." Mr. McKirdy told him. "If you manage to find this critter in the next couple hours the Mrs. can send you off with a plate before supper gets cold."
"That'd be much obliged." He thanked the man, not wanting to point out he probably wouldn't eat something he hadn't prepared himself. "I'm Ms. Princeton here would love to have some of-"
"Nope, I'm not leaving."
He sighed. "Look Ms. Princeton, this is the part where things actually start getting dangerous, and having to protect you-"
A gunshot tore through the air as Ms. Princeton drew and fired in a quick second.
"My Pa made sure I knew how to take care of myself Mr. Grim." Ms. Princeton assured him.
"Surprised you didn't draw that on that fella back in town." He told her eyeing the gun speculatively.
"We were close enough to the sheriffs that I didn't think he'd actually start any trouble." Ms. Princeton admitted.
"Never underestimate stupid." He warned her, before looking towards Mr. McKirdy. "Well, since I can't talk her into leaving, I'll try to have this wrapped up before nightfall and if not I'll pick it up after getting her to you, because it is too dangerous to be around an unknown beast in the dark, gun or no gun."
Ms. Princeton gave him a petulant stare before eventually conceding, "Fine." as she realized he wouldn't budge on this.
"Well then, I guess I'll leave you to it then." Mr. McKirdy nodded before taking his horse and returning towards the farm house.
"So then Mr. Grim, now that it's just you and I, how exactly does a bounty hunter go about hunting their less human prey?" Ms. Princeton asked, guiding her horse through the downed fence as he climbed back on his.
"Well there's a few ways," (most of which I can't use with you here) "but for now we should head deeper into these woods and see if we can't find anything mundane first."
"Hmm, and I was hoping for something more… mystical." Ms. Princeton admitted.
"Trust me when I say my methods aren't exactly 'mystical' in nature." He warned her. (If anything, seeing them might just give you nightmares.)
"Shame, I was hoping for something more… exciting to give my readers in town." Ms. Princeton told him.
"Hunting is a job, same as any other, just a bit more dangerous at times." He explained, before pausing as he sniffed the air. "You smell that?"
"Smell what?" Ms. Princeton frowned.
He sniffed the air a bit more before turning. "This way."
"What exactly are you smelling Mr. Grim?" Ms. Princeton called as he and Ghost sped through the woods.
"Whoa, boy." He told Ghost as he pulled on his reins, slowing the horse down, before hopping off of it.
"Mr. Grim, why exactly did you take off like that?" Ms. Princeton asked as she caught up with them.
He held a hand up and sniffed the air, noticing how much stronger the scent had gotten.
A nearby branch snapped.
Power surged through his mind as the world around him slowed, his reflexes going far beyond that of a normal human, even if just for a few seconds.
He drew his gun and fired a ghastly green bullet from his revolver before watching it impact the face of the man who had stepped out of the foliage and sending its grey matter flying.
As the corpse hit the ground, the world around him sped up as he lost his grip on the energy that had been flooding his mind and speeding him up.
"Fuck, that's going sting." He admitted to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and force back the migraine that trick always gave him, a migraine that grew all the worse when he realized he still hadn't gotten a chance to eat anything yet.
"Mr. Grim, why in tarnation did you just shoot that man?!" Ms. Princeton (loudly) screeched as she aimed her gun at him.
"Take a second look." He told her, motioning towards the corpse. "And I mean really look at it."
Ms. Princeton narrowed her eyes before looking at the corpse and promptly grimacing. "He's covered in wounds."
"More than that, he's half-rotted." He pointed out, kicking the corpse over just enough to show off a few bones sticking out of the undead.
"Is this one of those uh, Deadmen I've heard about?" Ms. Princeton asked, eyeing the corpse with a fair amount of fear as she moved her aim from him to it.
"No." He assured her, before pointing at the bullet hole he'd put in the cruel caricature of a creature. "See how the blood is an almost reddish black color? Deadmen have green blood unless they're actively starving themselves, in which case their blood would still be a brighter red than this."
"So then what was this?" Ms. Princeton frowned.
"It's a Risen Dead." He answered, looking the corpse over. "They're what you get when a Necromancer decides to pump a corpse full of dark magic and puppet them around. Honestly, this one is of a pretty shit quality given how much rot it has. If it had been decently made, even three weeks later you wouldn't be able to tell it was dead until you saw its glazed eyes."
"That's horrifying." Ms. Princeton paled.
"Maybe." He admitted, dusting his hands as he stood up. "At the very least it means whoever raised this either didn't put too much effort into this one, or they're not all that good at the whole Necromancy thing."
"And how do you know that?" Ms. Princeton grimaced, no longer able to keep looking at the dead thing on the ground.
"Professional experience." He shrugged, looking around for the corpse's trail. "My… occupation makes sure I know this kind of thing."
Spotting what he was looking for he started walking deeper into the forestry. "If this is too much for your stomach I suggest you turn back, because things are only going to get darker from here on in."
"You're not taking its head?" Ms. Princeton asked. "You, you said you needed it for proof of the kill."
He gave her a half-bitter chuckle as he paused. "Yeah, but let's be honest this isn't over until I take the head of whoever raised this thing. I suggest you tie your horse's reins to Ghost's and leave them here, best we continue on foot from here."
"Why?" Ms. Princeton frowned, even as she did as he said.
"Undead tend to spook horses if they get close enough to notice them." He told her once they started to move. "Ghost can handle it but I doubt your horse can, so it's best to continue on foot until we deal with this mess."
"You're… You're not asking me to leave?" Ms. Princeton realized after a moment. "I thought you'd tell me to leave, given how adamant you've been thus far."
"If you want to, I won't stop you, but honestly it's now easier for me if you are here." He admitted.
Ms. Princeton narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "How so?"
"If I have to put the necromancer down, having you vouch for me as a witness will keep me from being run out of town for murdering a supposedly innocent man." He explained.
Ms. Princeton gave him a concerned look. "Has that happened before?"
"People want to believe the best of their neighbors and will happily blame the stranger who makes a living killing things." He chuckled before sighing. "Doesn't actually bother me mind you, just wish they'd let me track down whatever dark books they're using before they run me off."
"Meaning that someone else could find those books and start the whole thing over." Ms. Princeton figured, coming to her own conclusions.
"That does happen on occasion." He nodded before pausing as he noticed multiple sets of tracks on the ground. "Good, the necromancer has been regularly recalling their undead before sending them back out. Trail should get easier to follow the closer we get."
"Why exactly would this person want to send their undead out and then summon them back?" Ms. Princeton asked. "Aren't the undead best for guarding a place or attacking a place?"
"Those are their most common uses." He admitted, before clarifying, "Though there are a fair few other reasons, such as 'collecting materials', scaring people off from an area, or if they know a spell I doubt this amateur does scouting out wherever they go."
"When you say 'collecting materials'?" Ms. Princeton paled.
"Corpses." He confirmed for her. "Though they don't have to be human if the necromancer knows any Flesh-Sculpting."
"I don't think I want to know what that is." Ms. Princeton grimaced.
"The name says it all." He told her with a smirk, before thinking about the matter for a moment. "I don't suppose you can tell me what these woods are near can you? Should help me figure out why they're active in this area."
"Oh, um, well there's the McKirdy's farm of course… then there's the Washingtons farm to the east, the O'Leary's to the north, and the Foresters to the west." Ms. Princeton listed for him.
"So there are four properties that border this forest and none of them own it?" He frowned.
"Well that's because the town owns it due to this old mine that dried up a few years back." Ms. Princeton explained.
"A mine that someone probably found wasn't really dry." He guessed, having seen something similar once before. "And if not, then the mine is still probably where this Necromancer is hiding out until they decide to make a bigger move. Don't suppose you know where to find it?"
"From the town maybe since there should still be an old road, but from in the middle of the woods?" Ms. Princeton shook her head. "Best I could say is find the river and follow it to the ravine they built the mine into."
"Well hopefully these tracks will lead us that way." He sighed, deciding to keep his ear out for any running water.
---
It took over an hour on foot, but eventually they managed to find the river Ms. Princeton had been talking about, and from there the ravine and mine as well.
"Are you sure this is where this necromancer will be based?" Ms. Princeton asked as he lit a lantern they'd found in an office building near the ravine's opening.
"Given how many fresh tracks are in the area, it's a pretty safe bet." He nodded, handing her a lantern. "Real question will be how deep they're hiding, and how many there'll be."
"Shouldn't you grab a lantern as well?" Ms. Princeton frowned as he moved to enter the mine.
"Don't need it." He admitted, letting a little power make his eyes glow.
"That must be useful." Ms. Princeton blinked.
"Sometimes." (Though usually it's just a dead give away of what I am.) "At the very least it means I've got both hands free." He told her, drawing his revolver and making sure it was only loaded with quartz to keep from damaging the mines with his heavier artillery.
"I suppose that can come in handy." Ms. Princeton agreed, watching him curiously. "So how exactly are we supposed to find our way through here?"
He reached into his jacket and pulled out an old map of the mine he'd swiped from the office. "Well, going off of this map I found… This mine spreads out over almost a hundred acres of land, meaning there's a fair bit of space for them to be hiding underground. Especially given how this mine goes more than a hundred feet deep with different levels."
"That's… a lot of space for just two people to cover." Ms. Princeton admitted as they started into the mine. "Are you sure we can handle this by ourselves?"
"Honestly, if I thought it was an option I'd just seal the mine off and let the bastards suffocate inside." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Problem is we don't know if they're actually inside at the moment or just storing their dead here. What's more, depending on how long they've been here they could've mined out a second entrance to escape if things go wrong."
"I see…"
"At the very least there shouldn't be too many dead in here, given how if they'd gathered enough corpses to be a legitimate threat someone would've noticed the missing people or graverobbing before now." He tried reassuring her so he wouldn't lose his witness.
"Well, that's something at least…" Ms. Princeton said in a way that told him how little that did to reassure her.
(Probably shouldn't mention the fact that they could've turned an unknown number of animals into undead without anyone noticing.) He figured, as he glanced into a nearby room to make sure it was empty.
"I'm surprised we haven't seen anything yet." Ms. Princeton told him after some time wandering the mine.
"Probably a small operation…" He admitted, before spotting something just ahead of them. "Though the fact that that light is lit means we're getting close to it."
"I… I suppose it does." Ms. Princeton frowned, looking a little more warily than a few moments prior.
"Ms. Princeton." He started to get the young woman's attention, before offering the map when she looked at him. "Once we see the undead or whoever is behind this I want you to take the map and get out of here, before finding the sheriff and bringing him here."
"And how exactly am I supposed to do that without a horse?" Ms. Princeton asked. "If you recall you had us leave our horses behind."
"If you tied their reins together like I told you, your horse and mine will be waiting outside." He assured her. "Ghost's not a normal horse, and he knows not to let me go too far from him."
"That's… right, you're an Arcane I should just assume magic." Ms. Princeton sighed.
"Sure let's go with that." It was far easier than the actual explanation anyway. "Still need you to stick around until we confirm the necromancer is here though."
"Of course." Ms. Princeton nodded with a bit of determination in her eyes. "If something is going on here I want to get to the truth of the matter."
(Not exactly smart, but it works in my favor so whatever.) He figured, knowing to keep that thought to himself.
"Let's try to keep quiet from here on out. Don't want to alert anyone who is here." He told her instead.
"Right."
As they continued through the tunnels he found that the tension seemed to increase despite the fact that the lanterns on the wall provided them with even more light to work with. Most of said tension coming from Ms. Princeton's nervousness as she seemed to jump at every shadow they passed despite him looking through them before she passed.
He of course didn't share said nervousness if only because a bullet to the head would only slow him down, but her jitteriness did remind him why he preferred to work alone. (Or at least with something a little less lively.)
Eventually they did come across an undead shambling through the tunnel and he had to stop Ms. Princeton from raising her gun. "Too loud. Gunshot will echo through the tunnels."
Instead he creeped up behind the corpse, wreathing his hands in shadows as he moved, before grabbing the undead's skull and twisting in just the right way to break its neck.
With the corpse on the ground he held a hand up to keep Ms. Princeton back in case the thing decided to get back up, but found that whatever magic had kept the thing stitched together had already given out. (This really is shotty craftsmanship.)
"Is it dead?" Ms. Princeton asked.
"Wasn't really alive in the first place." He pointed out before shaking his head. "Used to Necromancers giving their creations Death Rattles, a final attack to kill whatever kills them." (Or that's what the smart ones do anyways.) "Either way this one isn't getting back up."
Ms. Princeton took a closer look at the corpse before nudging it with her boot. "You think this is enough to go get the sheriff?"
"No. Like I said, need to see an actual person here or else it could just be mistaken as a corpse wandering into the mines." He explained, before taking in their surroundings and remembering that the map had forked the mine's path around here. "Hmm, lights are lit down both paths which you want to take?"
"Don't you have some kind of magic to find them, like you did back in the forest?" Ms. Princeton frowned as she pulled out the map.
He shook his head. "Need more open air. Tunnels are too cramped, and there have been too many undead passing through too frequently."
"Then… the right." Ms. Princeton decided, motioning towards said path. "Map says there's a larger cavern in that area. Seems like a better place to store an army than a few dead end tunnels."
"Fair enough." He nodded, once more taking the lead.
"Do you hear that?" Ms. Princeton asked after a few minutes.
"Yeah… keep quiet and stick to the walls." He told her, hearing the same voices she could.
"How much longer is the boss going to have us messing with bodies for him?" Someone asked.
"However long it takes to build a horde to overrun the O'Leary's." A second answered. "As long as that family is around, they'll keep muscling us out of anything in the area."
"I know that."
"Then you also know they have more guns than us."
"Yeah, but there's a dozen of us and how many of them?"
"Depends on if we count everyone that works for them, either way it's more than us. Hence the undead."
"Still don't these things unnerve you?"
"I trust the boss, don't you?"
"I trust him, I just don't trust this necromancer he hired."
(Well that explains what's happening here at least.) He frowned, peeking around a corner and spotting a handful of men through an opening leading to the cavern Ms. Princeton had pointed out on her map.
He heard a faint growl echoing from down the tunnel.
"What has the dog upset?"
"Don't know…"
"Shit." He cursed as quietly as he could before turning to Ms. Princeton. "Run and get the sheriff, I'll hold them down."
"But what about-"
The sound of barking had his eyes widening. "Fuck, get moving now!"
Wreathing his hands in shadow he stepped in front of Ms. Princeton right as a hound tore around the corner before lunging straight at them.
The beast's fangs bit into the shadows shielding his arm as he was forced to stare into the half-rotted face of the undead hound.
He glared over his shoulder at the still present Ms. Princeton. "I said move!"
Ms. Princeton blinked before finally doing as he ordered and fleeing back towards the entrance to the mine.
With her gone he turned his ghastly green eyes onto the beast trying to devour him. "Now as for you…"
He grabbed the top of the hound's maw with his free hand before slowly prying it open enough to free his other arm, at which point he also grabbed the bottom of the beast's jaw and began slowly opening it until the hound's jaw began to crack. Not that that actually stopped him of course.
Tearing the beast's maw in two he saw the unnatural light in the hound's eyes fade and tossed both half of the corpse to his sides.
He inhaled slowly before exhaling as he forced himself back under control. (Right, now that it's just me and them I just need to draw out the necromancer… this is going to suck.)
Two of the men he saw earlier rushed out with their guns trained on him, and he raised his hands into the air.
---
The men dragged him back to the man cavern and forced him onto his knees after confiscating his gun, leaving him free to count out the eight others present as well as the dozen or so corpses they had standing off to the sides of the room.
"So this is the man who set us back a week's worth of work?" A voice asked after several minutes.
"Yep." He nodded, turning his attention to the man entering the cavern, a tall thin fellow wearing a suit, mask, and top hat like some sort of theater villain. "I should warn ya though, it says something that killing three undead sets you back that far."
(Really wish I had a better plan for drawing this guy out before he can run away.) Unfortunately he'd long since learned that necromancers tended to run very far and very fast while you were stuck slaughtering their horde. (Well, most necromancers anyway.)
The ones that didn't run were the ones you should run from.
"Hmm, was he alone?" The necromancer asked one of the men, deciding to ignore his constructive criticism.
"As far as we can tell." One of the men stepped forward.
"We figure out why he was sniffing around our mines?" The necromancer continued.
"I'm a bounty hunter, one of your corpses has been harassing a nearby farm." He cut in with a shrug. "Was just doing my job and tracking down its source."
"Of course…" The necromancer sighed, before glaring at the man. "Who was in charge of hunting animals with my creations?"
"Louis." The goon answered. "I'll go and have words with him when we're done here."
"If you'd be so kind." The necromancer nodded, before turning his attention back to Grim. "While I understand you were just doing your job I can't just let you walk out of here alive."
(Not really a problem.) He admitted to himself. "I'm guessing you're also not just going to hold me captive until you finish your business here."
"Can't risk you talking, and since you're a stranger don't know if we could just pay you off." The necromancer explained his reasoning, before grabbing at Grim's face. "Though you look like you'd make a good undead."
(You've no idea.) "I'll pass." He told the necromancer with a snap of his jaws. "If a necromancer is going to do any work on me I want a professional."
"As you can see by my little operation I am a professional." The necromancer assured him before snapping his fingers, causing two of the nearby corpses to wander over. "I understand you've no understanding of the dark arts but my corpses are the finest you'll find in the valley."
He glanced at the half-rotted corpse before looking the necromancer in his masked eyes. "Yeah, being the smartest idiot does not mean you are smart."
The necromancer frowned at him. "You clearly have no idea what you're talking about."
"Same could be said of you." He pointed out before gesturing to the corpse. "I mean look at this thing you've clearly only resurrected it by pumping it full of magic and hoping for the best. You haven't even modified its skeletal structure or stitched in animal musculature to try and enhance its physiology, let alone enchanting the remnants' flesh and bones. All in all the only way this would look more amateurish is if you were resurrecting mice to figure the basics out."
The necromancer blinked before taking a shifty look at the other men in the cavern and gaining a deeply offended look.
"You dare criticize my work?! Do you have any idea who I am?!" The necromancer yelled, leaning in close enough that he could see the man's brown eyes through the mask.
"A sad pathetic little man?" He offered as a far kinder alternative to what he actually believed the man really was.
The necromancer struck him across the face. "I am the fucking graveslinger-"
"Pfft-ha-ha-ha!" He couldn't help himself, even as everyone other than the necromancer looked at him as if he'd lost his god damned mind. "No, no, you're not."
"How dare you?!" The pathetic fake growled.
"Oh, oh, I needed a laugh." He admitted, unable to completely stop his laughter. "But have you ever actually looked at a corpse risen by the Graveslinger?"
"That depends, have you ever looked at the Graveslinger's gun?" The necromancer asked, drawing a revolver with a simple enchantment on it -one that resonated with his own Shadows- and aiming it at Grim's head.
"Please tell me you aren't trying to pass that off as the demon's Requiem." As someone who operated as his own gunsmith he felt deeply offended by this (idiotic amateur) trying to pass this piece of junk off as that complex piece of magical machinery.
"The Demon's Requiem?" The necromancer repeated.
"You don't even know the name of the Graveslinger's gun…" He grimaced. "I should've realized that when I saw the stupid top hat and domino mask."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The necromancer growled.
"The Graveslinger has a giant bird's skull for a face." He pointed out. "Half of his bounty posters feature that or at least a plague doctor's mask, so I don't know how you messed that part up. Oh, and the top hat looks stupid on you let alone the Graveslinger."
What he could see of the necromancer's face turned steadily red, and as the cheap knock off cocked the hammer of the revolver, he prepped himself to take a bullet to the head by marking the necromancer for cheap tracking for whenever he woke up.
"Ah, ah, that won't be necessary." A new voice cut in.
"What?!" The knock off snarled before immediately losing all color as he saw who he just yelled at.
He couldn't say he was much better, "Bill?"
"Samuel." A dark haired muscular man acknowledged with a nod. "Been a while."
The necromancer looked between them. "You know this guy?"
"Used to run with his brother back in the day." Bill explained, before giving the necromancer a once over. "And honestly if you're going to claim you're the Graveslinger you really should try to look the part."
"You, you knew…" The knock off flinched.
"Yep, and honestly I didn't care since I just needed a necromancer," Bill admitted before turning towards him. "And truth be told I wouldn't be caught dead working with the Graveslinger."
He blinked before snarling as he realized that if Bill was alive then, "You traitorous bastard!"
Bill gave a fake frown as he shook his head. "Hey, now you know as well as I that my parents were happily married."
"You, you left Arthur to die!" He growled, picking himself off the ground as the edge of his vision began to blur green.
"Ah, and that's how you survived." Bill said before drawing his gun and shooting him in the head. "Well survived is a strong word for a Deadman."
--- Sarah Princeton ---
She rode her horse into town as fast as she could, yelling, "Mr. Holiday! Sheriff! Sheriff!" in the hopes of rousing the sheriff.
As she neared the sheriff's office Earl Holiday stepped out, with his Orkin deputy behind him. "Ms. Princeton what in tarnation is going on?"
"The-the mines." She began, trying to get her heart under control after riding so hard. "I was following this bounty hunter, Samuel Grim, for a story while he hunted a monster on McKirdy's farm. We followed it and found an undead, a lot of undead coming and going from the old mines in the woodland ravine. There's a bunch of men in there ordering them around, and we heard something about them getting ready to attack the town in the next few days."
Sheriff Holiday's face grew steadily more severe as he listened to her story before glancing behind her. "Where is this bounty hunter fellow, if he's a real hunter he should be able to tell me what exactly we're up against."
"They caught us and sent some kind of undead hound after us." She explained. "He caught it before it could go after me and told me to run and get help while he tried to slow them down. If we don't get moving now they're going to kill him."
Holiday glanced at his deputy who gave him a nod. "Samuel Grim is the bounty hunter who wanted to meet you earlier today, and he did take a job out by the McKirdy's farmstead."
"Alright, listen up!" The sheriff called out to the crowd. "We've got a band of outlaws with a dark magic user out in the old mine I need any volunteers we can gather to form a posse to hunt them down before they can hurt our town, but remember there is a bounty hunter out that way fighting to buy us time so those of you who are coming need to move quick and those of you who aren't need to go and call for the people who will!"
The towns people quickly began moving either to get their horses or to go spread the word about what was going on, and as she watched everyone moving around she couldn't help but pray that they'd be able to get there in time to save Mr. Grim from whatever was being done to him.
--- Samuel Grim ---
(He was running.)
(The streets were on fire.)
(His home was empty.)
(Blood, ash, and gun smoke were in the air.)
(He had to find his brother.)
(Corpses were everywhere.)
(A man with white hair and glowing eyes stared at him.)
(He found his brother too late for even a final goodbye.)
(The smoke swirled around the man, revealing his true self in black smoke.)
(He drew his gun and aimed it at the man, the monster who killed his brother.)
(The demon crossed the distance between them in a blink of an eye.)
(He glared into the eyes of the demon as it held his gun away.)
(The demon crushed the metal as if it was paper before throwing it aside.)
(He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the demon.)
(The demon turned away, dismissing him as a mere ant to its power.)
(His eyes shot to the gun in his brother's hand, the gun he'd made and gifted him.)
(Picking up the gun he aimed it at the demon and pulled the trigger.)
(The bullet tore through a cloud of smoke as the demon turned to face him, gun drawn.)
(A gunshot rang like the toll of a funeral bell.)
(He hit the ground as breathing became hard.)
(The demon left him to rot, not even bothering to finish him off.)
(He stared at his brother's lifeless corpse, remembering his smile, and his grip tightened on the gun in his hand.)
(Pushing through the pain, he raised his gun and aimed it at the demon even as his vision began to darken.)
(The gun grew heavy in his hand… Too heavy…)
(He tried to pull the trigger but… he couldn't as the gun dragged his hand to the ground…)
(As the darkness creeped in he was forced to watch the demon walk away unscathed.)
(He forced himself to stay awake, even as his brown eyes grew heavy, too heavy to stay open.)
(And as the world faded to black only a single thought ran through his mind repeatedly, as it grew into obsession… The thought, the desire, the need for…)
(VENGEANCE.)
Ghastly green eyes shot open.
"F-uck!" He groaned, more pained by the hunger in his stomach than the ache from where the bullet had torn through his skull. (Shit, must be lower on Ectoplasm than I thought.)
Unfortunately, given how much fear outlaw necromancers had caused, keeping his ectoplasm as low as he did was the only way he could walk through a town without someone putting a bullet in him for having green blood.
(Really, wish I'd gotten rid of Ms. Princeton before all of this, could've eaten something before coming down here.) He grimaced before finally noticing that he was strapped down to a large wooden table.
With a frown he took a look around the room and found himself surrounded by what looked to be the inside of a butcher's shop. (Guess the knock off decided that experimenting on a Deadman was too rare of an opportunity to let them completely off me.)
He pulled at his bindings and found they had no give before trying to wrap his limbs in shadow and- "Fuck!" -immediately regretting it as his head began to spin from hunger, as the hunger in his stomach began to cloud his mind.
(HuNgRy…)
He bit his lip and shook his head as he reeled his hunger back under control. "Right… Note to self… eat the next fucker you see…"
"Ah, you're finally awake." A voice noted, drawing his attention to the knockoff entering the room. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be out given how red your blood was."
"How long… was I out?" He asked, still trying to force his hunger down as his mouth began to water at just how close he was to the (meat.)
"Only an hour, which while not impressive for a Deadman is something for a human." The necromancer told him. "Though whether or not you count as human is up for debate."
"More human than you." He assured the (meat) as he wondered how long it would take Ms. Princeton to get the sheriff and get back. (Hopefully, I can eat my fill before she gets back.)
He shook his head once more.
"Oh, is that infamous 'hunger' you deadmen eating at you?" The necromancer asked curiously. "Tell me what's it like having to eat people to survive?"
"Come closer and I'll tell ya." He promised the (meat.)
"Hmm, tempting but I have other ideas." The necromancer admitted. "You see as a necromancer Deadmen are a special if rare avenue of research for my kind."
"You mean cheap knockoffs?"
The (meat) gave him an ugly(/delicious) look before smiling. "You know the funny thing is with the research I'm going to harvest from your corpse, I'll no longer be making cheap knock offs while having to pretend to be some urban legend we necromancers use to scare up business."
"Urban legend?" He laughed at the (meat)'s idiocy as his head began to cloud.
"Ah, yes, you wouldn't know." The (meat) chuckled. "We necromancers made up the legend of the Graveslinger to drum up fear of necromancers so that people would realize how valuable we can be. Then we all dress up as the Graveslinger pretending to be some kind of myth so that we can have this staggering reputation behind us until we've built up the power and skill to stand on our own two feet."
"The Graveslinger… a myth…" He smirked, knowing just how wrong the (meat) was even if he was unable to remember how he knew.
"Yes." The (meat) nodded sagefully as (it) leaned over him. "Surprising I know but-"
Something inside of him snapped and he felt a burning power flood through his bones, eating him alive even as it gave him enough power to tear through the straps binding one of his arms so that he could grab the (meat) by (its) head and drag (it) close enough for him to bite into (its sweet, sweet, meat.)
The (meat) screamed as (it) tore (itself) free from his grasp, but he couldn't bring himself to care as relief flooded his system and the hunger devoured everything it could from the meager meal he'd managed to claim.
As the green cloud slowly receded from his mind he couldn't help but be thankful for the fact that necromancy tended to cause its users to passively build a greater amount of ectoplasm in their veins than the common citizen. That detail was why he specialized in hunting necromancers, given how a single pound of a stronger necromancer was almost equal to a pound of flesh from an actual Deadman, which when combined with the rarity of Deadmen on the planes in general made them a superior food option.
(Though the magic does give them an odd sort of tangy aftertaste.)
After a moment, while his hunger wasn't completely satiated he found that it was at a point he could think and move freely enough to begin undoing the straps pinning him to the table.
"Hold it right there!" Someone shouted from the doorway, where he found a man -who hadn't just taken a bite out of- pointing a gun at him.
"No, need to shoot." He assured the man raising both of his unarmed hands into the air.
"You, you just took a bite out of, out of the Graveslinger!" The man shouted, hands shaking.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I wish, would definitely be more filling than that cheap knock off."
The man began to pull the trigger of his gun and power flooded through Grim's body as he drew on the meager amount of energy his meal had provided him, slowing the world around him to a crawl.
While in this state he aimed his hand at the man and summoned his brother's gun from wherever they'd left it before pulling the trigger and shooting the man dead with a bullet made of burning ectoplasm.
"Fuck…" He groaned as the world sped back up, leaving him with a migraine as those actions ate through most of what he'd gotten from the bite of the knock off.
Shaking his head clear, he undid the remaining straps before climbing off of the table and making his way to the man he just killed.
He briefly considered taking a bite of the man, but ultimately dismissed the idea knowing that while he probably had some ectoplasm in his veins from being around a necromancer for so long, it wouldn't be anywhere near enough to fill him. (Better off hunting down the knock off. With a chunk of his throat missing he couldn't have gotten far.)
Walking through the mines he found it relatively easy to follow the knock off necromancer via the bloody handprints left here and there on the tunnel walls. (Though he's definitely making it further than I gave him credit for…)
Sniffing the air at a fork in the mines he couldn't help but frown as he caught the scent of gunsmoke lingering in the air beneath the scent of undead rot and the necromancer's blood.
(That's recent…) He noted, turning the way the knock off had run.
Which is when he came across a body with a bullet in its head.
Figuring this was the 'Louis' responsible for letting the undead corpse that led him here out of sight, he ignored it while thinking how there had to have been a better place to leave the body if they were going to execute him.
The second body made him pause however.
(Did the sheriff make it here while I was out?) He wondered, glancing around the darkness of the mines. (Then why weren't these guys more worried about this? Gunshots would echo throughout these mines.)
Unable to deny the fact that something else was going on, he continued moving through the tunnels with notably more caution than before.
(Need to find that necromancer before anyone else. If this isn't the sheriff I don't have anywhere near enough ectoplasm to deal with them.)
Every so often he would pass another corpse, and regardless of if it had been turned into an undead or not, each one he found had been shot to death with a gun that had enough firepower to put fist size holes in some of them.
(Really not liking this.)
Eventually he found the knock off's body amongst the rest, only instead of having bled out to death he seemed to have been shot in the back while running away from something that had been following him.
"Hmm, bet you didn't like whatever did this either?" He frowned, before grabbing the knock off's head and sniffing. "Damn, your plasm is already losing power…"
Knowing he had to move quickly, he manipulated what little ectoplasm he had in his system to try and gather all of the necromancer's remaining power into a single point before opening his mouth and getting to work.
By the time he finally finished he could feel just enough power running through his veins that they had taken on a faintly green tone from the toxic substance keeping him alive.
"Guess that's the best I'm going to get out of you." He sighed, wiping his mouth clean before looking in the direction the necromancer had been running to. "Hopefully, it's enough to deal with whoever is shooting everyone with a silenced gun." (And find that traitorous bastard while I'm at it.)
Steeling himself, he continued towards the source of whatever had gone wrong here before finding himself in a room full of several dozen undead be they made from man or beast, or rather what used to be several dozen undead were now just a mountain of corpses spread throughout the room as black gunsmoke rolled through the room like a fog of war.
Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by all of this carnage was a white haired man in a black suit with a multi-barreled revolver in his hand.
"Hmm, oh? Did I miss someone?" A voice he would never forget asked. "Then again, you do look familiar… Did I just not kill you well enough?" It asked with a tilt of its head.
But most tellingly of all was the mask upon his face…
"If you want I can easily rectify that." It offered as the smoke behind it curled into a demon smiling with a maw full of fangs.
… the mask of a crow's skull.
"Graveslinger." He growled, before raising his gun and firing.
Blazing green bullets blasted through smoke as the demon's body shuddered out of the way. "Oh my. How rude."
"Hold still so I can shoot you!" He snarled at the demon as with one hand he continued to shoot, while he shoved the other into one of his jacket pockets, hoping they hadn't looted him while he was unconscious.
"Hmm, I don't think I will." It told him in a casual tone as if this was all some kind of game.
Finding that they hadn't looted him, he flipped his revolver open and dumped the quartz out of it, not even bothering to catch the small stones as he replaced them with a number of colored gems.
"Ah, I just remembered who you are!" The demon laughed, hitting the bottom of its fist against its open palm.
His next six shots exploded into flame as he aimed at the ground near the demon hoping to hit it even if only via the result of his shots rather than his actual bullets.
The demon appeared next to him in a cloud of smoke, its gun in hand and aimed at the side of his head. "Your Arthur Grim's brother."
Power surged through him as the world slowed around him, allowing him to watch as the demon began to pull the trigger on its gun and giving him just enough time to lean out of the way as a bullet shot through the air in front of him.
"You know I could've sworn I killed you." The demon laughed, spinning its gun on its finger. "After you tried to kill me anyway."
"You killed my brother!" He yelled, unloading another six shots of flame and ectoplasm at the demon.
The demon rushed forward in a cloud of black smoke until its face was mere inches from his own, and he was forced to stare into gold eyes surrounded by black sclera.
"Your brother was a traitorous murderer." The demon said its voice a dead whisper.
He wrapped his fist in shadows before swinging at the demon's face. "No, he wasn't!"
The demon took a step back before grasping his shadow wreathed hand with a set of black claws. "If he wasn't I wouldn't have killed him."
He kicked out at the demon, but rather than forcing it back with his undead strength he found himself being shoved away instead.
"And if you hadn't tried to kill me, I wouldn't have killed you either." The demon (lied.)
"What about everyone else you've killed?!" He screamed, emptying the rubies out of his gun and replacing them with sapphires. "I've been tracking you everywhere you go and you always leave a mountain of corpses in your wake."
"That I do." The demon admitted as if proud of the fact. "Though I'm sure they're all oh so grateful that I did."
"Why would anyone thank a killer like you?!" He snarled, shooting out half a dozen bullets of ice that quickly froze whatever they touched.
"Because it isn't every day you get to kill your own murderer." The demon answered softly.
"That'll be today for me!" He growled infusing as much ectoplasm as he could into his Revengeance Revolver before pulling the trigger and firing a bullet so cold it left a trail of ice beneath it.
"Maybe once I'm done with my list." The demon disagreed, somehow avoiding the shot even if the smokey shadow of its true self was frozen into a statue. "But I can't die until I get my vengeance."
"Neither can I." He scowled, dumping sapphire onto the ground before replacing it with diamonds.
The demon actually had the gall to laugh at that. "You know it's funny… We both became beasts of vengeance rather than dying peacefully like we were supposed to… Kind of defeats the purpose of digging two graves when the one seeking vengeance refuses to die."
"You talk too much." He told the demon as he channeled his ectoplasm through the diamond bullet, purifying into pure energy as he fired it out of his gun.
"Probably, but when you hold back as much as I do you kind of savor the opportunity to speak freely." The demon shrugged. "Speaking of, that is a very nice gun you've got there… Isn't it the one your brother had when he died?"
"Just fucking die already!" He screamed, firing as many shots as he could, completely uncaring of how much of his ectoplasm he was burning through.
"Sadly, I've still got a few people to kill before I can do that. In fact, maybe you've seen the one I'm here to kill-" The demon froze, its eyes shooting to one of the cavern entrances where another familiar face had just entered. "William DeVille…"
Bill froze, taking in the sight in front of him before immediately turning tail and running away.
The demon moved to follow, only to be cut off as he shot at it, actually managing to catch it for once.
"We're not done here." He reminded it.
"What are you doing?!" The demon screeched. "He's getting away!"
"I may have words for him, but killing you is a lot more important given how you're the one who killed my brother." He told it.
The demon stared at him without moving, not even to breathe, before ever so slowly turning its head. "You know he's the reason I caught Arthur."
"What?" He frowned.
"When he saw they couldn't run, he shot your brother in the kneecap and left him to slow me down before I could get the rest of their little gang." The demon explained. "Who knows he may've gotten away that day if not for that, and you wouldn't have had to die in the-"
A gunshot cut the demon off. "Like I said, I'm going to have words with that traitor but killing you is a whole lot more important given how you killed me and my brother!"
The demon once more froze as it stared at him before slowly raising a single hand into the air, its thumb pressed against its middle finger. "So be it…" The Graveslinger snapped. "Grateful Dead."
Every instinct in him screamed that something was wrong as the very air itself was filled with so much magic that seemed to almost scream out a demonic dirge for the dead.
All around him the clouds of black smoke that the demon had left behind rushed into all of the corpses surrounding them as the demon once more turned to leave. "If you really want your own vengeance, I suggest you do your best to survive until I kill William."
"Don't you turn your back on me!" He yelled at the demon as he aimed at its back and pulled the trigger.
The demon didn't even bother with its usual smoke and mirrors as one of the corpses on the ground suddenly leapt into the air and intercepted the bullet that tore a massive hole into it. Only instead of dropping dead like all of the undead made by the knock off this one picked itself off the ground and glared at him with two pitch black eyes as the hole in its chest slowly sealed shut.
"I should probably wish you luck!" The demon called as it walked out of the cavern, a wall of black smoke filling in behind it as all around him dozens of bodies both human and not began to stand.
And he couldn't help but swallow as he realized that not only was he severely outnumbered and surrounded on all sides, but each and every one of them was glaring at him with eyes blacker than death.
"You're going to need it."
--- William DeVille ---
He ran through the mines as fast as he could, knowing full well that his very life depended on it.
(Shit, shit, shit, how did he find me?!)
He'd done everything in his power to keep his head down, to keep people from realizing he was the leader of this little band of outlaws, even going so far as to let that cheap necromancer be the face of their little group to keep people from connecting his name to this.
Some would say that given how many people he'd killed over the years and just how dangerous he could be that all of that was overkill and paranoia.
Those people had never seen the Graveslinger first hand.
The first time he and his old gang crossed paths with the Graveslinger he burned an entire town to the ground while unleashing hundreds of undead monstrosities across the town, each rising from seemingly nowhere to tear the city apart.
At the time they hadn't quite realized what they were up against, thinking that this was some necromancer attacking their town in a bout of megalomania, and even going so far as to step up and try to defend the town despite their more illegal activities.
They hadn't realized it until months later, but the demon and its undead hadn't actually killed any of the town folk, seemingly only targeting those who'd been rumored to be of a similar profession as him and his old gang.
And each of those people in the hellish carnage of that night the demon had toyed with each and every last one of them before finally claiming their souls for itself.
When they tried to run Arthur had refused, saying that he needed to find his brother and his family. Michael had decided that if Arthur wanted to stay, then he could stay to buy them all enough time to escape the demon that had been tormenting them for over an hour at that point.
That gunshot was what had led to their gang falling apart in the following days, each going in their own direction.
That was when they found out the demon wasn't there for the town, but rather six people who had made the town their home. Six months later he finally heard about how the demon had burned another town down, going after Sanchez, and then a year later Kate. At which point it became pretty obvious who the demon was after.
He didn't know who they had crossed badly enough to have them summon this demon to kill them, and unfortunately the list wasn't short enough for him to sort it out himself either.
So he'd put his head down and started using other people as the faces of his gang as he worked in the background to try and keep the demon from tracking him down.
Hell, the whole reason he'd let that necromancer pretend to be the Graveslinger was in the hopes of making the real Graveslinger look away, thinking that none of them would go anywhere near where it looked like the demon was active.
(Not that that's worked out for me.) He thought as he darted past a corpse on the ground.
The steps beneath his boots went silent as the grave and a faint humming filled the air all around.
"Shit, shit, shit!" He cursed, as heard the tune that haunted his every nightmare.
Turning around he drew his gun as his eyes darted between the shadows that seemed to dance all around the lantern's light.
"Oh, William, William, William." The demon's demonic voice sang as a pair of eyes glowed in the dark. "I've spent a very long time tracking you down. Six months in this little valley searching high and low for you, and here you finally are."
"W-what do you want from me?" He asked, backing away to the edge of the lantern's light as he aimed his gun at the demon.
"Oh, William, we both know what I want." The demon told him, stopping just outside of the light with its own gun raised. "I want to cross your name off my list."
"L-look I don't know what we did but I'm sure we can come to some kind of deal." He assured the demon. "I mean, you, you want the others right?"
The demon tilted its head considering his offer for a moment. "Tell me, William, are you a loyal man?"
"I'm, I'm as loyal as I need to be." He promised, knowing he could be very loyal if his life was on the line.
"Hmm, and that's the problem." The demon seemed to sigh. "You're as loyal as you need to be… Someone like you just wouldn't get it."
"Get w-what?" He asked, knowing that whatever it was it wasn't good for him.
"You see I am a very, very loyal person." The demon told him. "So loyal, that if someone hurt someone I loved, let alone everyone I loved, I would burn the entire world to cinder and ash to see that person dead." The demon leaned forward enough that he could see its glowing eyes within the crow's skull. "And you William hurt the ones I love, and so…"
Three gunshots rang out.
The first shot the gun out of his hand.
The other two shot out his kneecaps.
"Gaahh!!!" He screamed as he fell to the ground.
"…I'm going to hurt you william." The demon swore on his grave.
"P-please don't." He begged, crawling away. "I-I don't want to die."
"Don't worry, this isn't the end just yet." The demon assured him as it tucked its gun away. "After all, would it really be vengeance if I killed you quickly?"
His eyes widened as the demon spread its arms and began walking backwards as the shadows and smoke began to dance around it.
"No, I'm going to let everyone you've ever killed gets their pound of flesh."
From within the darkness he could make out faces and figures clawing out at him from the ethereal.
The demon raised its hand towards him with a thumb on its middle finger before snapping as it said, "Vengeful Dead."
And the souls of the damned burst forth from the darkness, condemning the one who killed them to join them in death.
--- Samuel Grim, The Vengeful Dead ---
He coughed up a bit of blood as he looked around at the numerous corpses surrounding him, before risking one more shot at one he thought twitched.
"Fu-u-uck" He groaned as he felt a stabbing pain lance through his stomach, before leaning over to vomit blood and most of what he'd forced himself to eat throughout the fight.
It was honestly a miracle he'd lasted as long as he had, because even taking a bite out of one or two of the undead who seemed to have a bit more ectoplasm in them, his stomach just couldn't process that much (rotten meat) without rejecting it.
Gasping, he took one last look around the room to make sure everything really was dead before turning towards the entrance with his gun raised as someone whistled.
"Well, I guess Ms. Princeton was worrying about nothing." A man wearing a duster and hat told him.
"Who the fuck… are you?" He half-growled, broken by his labored breathing.
"Name 's Earl Holiday, I'm the sheriff around these parts." The man answered, showing off his badge. "And I'm guessing you're Samuel Grim, the bounty hunter Ms. Princeton told me about."
"I guess I am." He nodded, lowering his gun before running a hand down his face as he tried to focus now that he wasn't in a life or death battle.
"Given how many of these things are in here, you really have done the town a favor Mr. Grim." The sheriff admitted as he walked through the mountain of corpses. "Don't suppose you know what happened to the necromancer who raised all of these do ya?"
His eyes snapped to the sheriff. "Did you see a man wearing a giant bird skull on your way here? He ran down that tunnel before sicking these things on me."
The sheriff frowned at him. "No I didn't. Only thing of interest we found was the outlaw William Deville."
"Where is he?" He asked, taking a stumbling step forward as he forced his body to start moving.
"About halfway to the entrance," The sheriff told him, keeping pace. "or rather what's left of him is anyway."
"Fuck!" He cursed, picking up the pace as he started running through the mines, using his sense of smell to track down the fresh scent of blood, death, and gunsmoke.
After just a minute he found a corpse torn to shreds via a mix of claw and bite marks that left its remains strewn all about. The only reason he could tell this was Bill at all was because the scarred half of his face was frozen in an agonized scream, the other half was so torn up it was barely recognizable without having seen the man in person while he still breathed.
"Damn it!" He spat, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, we're guessing after you threw a wrench into their plans the necromancer turned on ol' Bill here with whatever undead he didn't send after you." The sheriff explained, having kept pace with him.
"No, this wasn't a fucking double cross!" He snarled, realizing that his vengeance was- He shook his head refusing to continue with that line of thought. (No, I might still be able to catch him!)
"He has to be here somewhere…"
Taking off once more and followed the scent of the night air through the mine tunnels as
"The sheriff had to have missed him…"
He rushed out of the mine and into the open air of the night, his eyes darting around in search of the demon.
"No, no, no." (He couldn't have gotten away!)
But all he found were more of the sheriff's men, not one of them looking as if anything was out of place.
"Nooooooo!!!" He screamed, his voice echoing through the night like the voice of the damned.
--- The Graveslinger ---
He walked through his office and took off his tailcoat before hanging it up on a hook and doing much the same with his Wretched Requiem and its holster.
"Ugh, you know you're letting that scum get away." His passenger groaned.
"To be fair we're the reason he died." He reminded his passenger.
"You're also the reason he's a Deadman." His passenger reminded him. "If you just let him die that day we'd both be better off."
"He was an innocent man until we killed him, trying to save him was the right thing to do." He couldn't help but sigh. "Him turning into a monster was because we messed up."
His black eyed reflection scoffed as he passed in front of a mirror. "He became a monster when he chose to hunt you down for vengeance rather than thanking his luck and going back to his family."
"And what does that make me?" He wondered.
His demonic reflection smiled with nothing but fangs. "The biggest and baddest monster around."
"Not something to be proud of." He pointed out.
"The world needs monsters like us to put the other monsters down." The demon inside him argued. "If there's a problem you fix it, and if there's a murderer you kill it before they can kill anyone else."
"Thus becoming a murderer yourself." He sighed, forging his mask out of smoke.
"Second thoughts?" His partner asked, as he gazed into its eyes.
(He could do nothing but watch as the monsters pinned her down and-)
"Never."
"And that's why I chose you." The demon laughed. "You'd see the world burn if it meant killing them. And what is justice but the vengeance of the just?"
Before he could (falsely) argue the bell to the front rang, signaling someone entering the building.
"You can go back to your distractions, we both know you'll get back to your real work soon enough." His partner grinned, before delving back into the depths of his soul as he let the mask disperse into smoke.
"Oh, you'll never believe the story I've got!" Sarah told him as she ran into his office.
"Really? Why don't you tell me all about it?" Wyatt De La Croix smiled as he adjusted his glasses.
Patreon Side Story: Myths: The Origin of Life, Death, and Madness
A/N: Just a heads up, this side story is shorter than my other ones, but that's because Myths and Legends are supposed to be stories shared in setting rather than the actual events that took place. (And there's more than one myth for some characters.)
---
Myths: The Origin of Life, Death, and Madness
In the beginning there was Nothing, and Nothing was all that existed for eons.
But as these untold eons passed, Nothing began to grow lonely in its nothingness.
So Nothing did the unthinkable and created… something.
This something was the first Creation.
Of course now that there was something there was no longer Nothing, and so in making Creation, Nothing also made its own Destruction.
And in this act of experiencing Destruction for the sake of Creation, Nothingness also achieved the first great change of reality through an act of Madness.
Thus Nothing's great nothingness was filled with Creation, Destruction, and Madness at the cost of Nothing's existence.
But Nothing was okay with this for with this new Creation and the mercy of Destruction, Nothing knew the laughter of Madness.
Though this did leave Creation, Destruction, and Madness alone with each other, for untold eons, which was… a predicament in of itself.
For you see Creation loved to create things more than anything else and in turn Destruction loved to destroy those things more than anything else. The two forming a cycle of Creation and Destruction that would continue on until the end of time, all while Madness watched on in fascination of their warring dance.
At least until Madness grew bored of the same old dance over and over again.
Which is when Madness had a brilliant idea.
And so going up to Creation, the until then passive Madness proposed, 'If Destruction is going to claim your things no matter what you do, what if instead of getting mad you make things with the intention of Destruction claiming them.'
At first Creation had no idea what to make of this absurd idea, after all Life was truthfully upset that Destruction continued to claim their things no matter how many they made. And so it asked, 'Why should I give my things to that one who so wrongfully takes what's mine?!'
Madness merely smiled and said, 'What if your things make more things before Destruction claims them? That way even if Destruction claims them, you'll have another to replace it.'
Deciding that it had no better ideas for how to keep its things, Creation went along with Madness's plan and told Destruction, 'This thing I make now, I will give it to you when I'm done with it.'
Destruction could only stare in confusion, for up until this point Creation had been so angry at Destruction, always berating it for destroying the things it liked, but if Creation was going to let Destruction destroy its things without berating it, then it could wait.
As long as it could still destroy Creation's things in the end of course.
And so destruction watched and waited as Creation with the advice of Madness, created something new… something alive.
And as Creation asked, Destruction continued to wait and watch until this new thing created another thing.
Watching in awe, Destruction turned to Creation -who gave permission- before destroying the original.
Thus Creation became Life, Destruction became Death, and Madness… decided it would be dreadfully boring if all three of them did something as simple as changing their names and remained as simply Madness.
Like this things continued, with Life content to watch their creations continue to make more while Death continued to reap these creations after they'd made their replacement.
At least until Death did something neither Life nor Madness had expected, and waited even longer to collect what was its. Long enough that the older creation made a second replacement, and the first replacement a third.
With a smile on their face Death reaped the first two lives, before waiting for their replacements to produce more and more for it to reap later on. Not realizing that in its patience Death had allowed even more life to be created.
Something both Life and Madness witnessed and loved.
The longer things went on the more of Life's creations lived, and the more things Death could reap for its own, a loving dance of life and death far superior than their previous dance of Creation and Destruction.
Both were happy with this.
And Madness was happy for them.
No, really.
It was.
It's just…
All of the creations were the same, and Madness… Madness was growing bored.
So Madness had a thought, a brilliant, terrible thought.
Madness reached out to Life's creations, ones that had replaced themselves but that Death had yet to reaped, and twisted them and all creations to come after them.
Life and Death watched on in curiosity as these new creations would start off as one thing, change into another, before slowly falling apart.
And in its insanity Madness couldn't help but smile as in this single act it gained the aspects of both growth and decay, allowing it to understand its companions so much easier.
Not that Life or Death cared, since there were still more creations being made, just some were making more than others, and at a certain point there was no longer a reason for Death to put off reaping the creations.
Thus the cycle of Life and Death continued, just with a hint of Madness to keep things interesting.
---
Myths: The Origin of Life, Death, and Madness
In the beginning there was Nothing, and Nothing was all that existed for eons.
But as these untold eons passed, Nothing began to grow lonely in its nothingness.
So Nothing did the unthinkable and created… something.
This something was the first Creation.
Of course now that there was something there was no longer Nothing, and so in making Creation, Nothing also made its own Destruction.
And in this act of experiencing Destruction for the sake of Creation, Nothingness also achieved the first great change of reality through an act of Madness.
Thus Nothing's great nothingness was filled with Creation, Destruction, and Madness at the cost of Nothing's existence.
But Nothing was okay with this for with this new Creation and the mercy of Destruction, Nothing knew the laughter of Madness.
Though this did leave Creation, Destruction, and Madness alone with each other, for untold eons, which was… a predicament in of itself.
For you see Creation loved to create things more than anything else and in turn Destruction loved to destroy those things more than anything else. The two forming a cycle of Creation and Destruction that would continue on until the end of time, all while Madness watched on in fascination of their warring dance.
At least until Madness grew bored of the same old dance over and over again.
Which is when Madness had a brilliant idea.
And so going up to Creation, the until then passive Madness proposed, 'If Destruction is going to claim your things no matter what you do, what if instead of getting mad you make things with the intention of Destruction claiming them.'
At first Creation had no idea what to make of this absurd idea, after all Life was truthfully upset that Destruction continued to claim their things no matter how many they made. And so it asked, 'Why should I give my things to that one who so wrongfully takes what's mine?!'
Madness merely smiled and said, 'What if your things make more things before Destruction claims them? That way even if Destruction claims them, you'll have another to replace it.'
Deciding that it had no better ideas for how to keep its things, Creation went along with Madness's plan and told Destruction, 'This thing I make now, I will give it to you when I'm done with it.'
Destruction could only stare in confusion, for up until this point Creation had been so angry at Destruction, always berating it for destroying the things it liked, but if Creation was going to let Destruction destroy its things without berating it, then it could wait.
As long as it could still destroy Creation's things in the end of course.
And so destruction watched and waited as Creation with the advice of Madness, created something new… something alive.
And as Creation asked, Destruction continued to wait and watch until this new thing created another thing.
Watching in awe, Destruction turned to Creation -who gave permission- before destroying the original.
Thus Creation became Life, Destruction became Death, and Madness… decided it would be dreadfully boring if all three of them did something as simple as changing their names and remained as simply Madness.
Like this things continued, with Life content to watch their creations continue to make more while Death continued to reap these creations after they'd made their replacement.
At least until Death did something neither Life nor Madness had expected, and waited even longer to collect what was its. Long enough that the older creation made a second replacement, and the first replacement a third.
With a smile on their face Death reaped the first two lives, before waiting for their replacements to produce more and more for it to reap later on. Not realizing that in its patience Death had allowed even more life to be created.
Something both Life and Madness witnessed and loved.
The longer things went on the more of Life's creations lived, and the more things Death could reap for its own, a loving dance of life and death far superior than their previous dance of Creation and Destruction.
Both were happy with this.
And Madness was happy for them.
No, really.
It was.
It's just…
All of the creations were the same, and Madness… Madness was growing bored.
So Madness had a thought, a brilliant, terrible thought.
Madness reached out to Life's creations, ones that had replaced themselves but that Death had yet to reaped, and twisted them and all creations to come after them.
Life and Death watched on in curiosity as these new creations would start off as one thing, change into another, before slowly falling apart.
And in its insanity Madness couldn't help but smile as in this single act it gained the aspects of both growth and decay, allowing it to understand its companions so much easier.
Not that Life or Death cared, since there were still more creations being made, just some were making more than others, and at a certain point there was no longer a reason for Death to put off reaping the creations.
Thus the cycle of Life and Death continued, just with a hint of Madness to keep things interesting.
Patreon Side Story: Legends: The Crow Who Feasts Upon The Corpse of War
Legends: The Crow Who Feasts Upon The Corpse of War
Long ago there was a noble, a great lord, who fell in love with the beauty of a young maiden commoner, daughter to a simple farmer and the village's medicine woman.
The only problem was the maiden did not love the noble.
Sadly, the noble didn't care.
The noble sent his men to the young maiden's home to collect his bride to be.
When they demanded the young maiden, the father refused, seeking to protect his child.
And so they ran blade run through his stomach and left his corpse to rot as he was forced to watch them steal his daughter.
When the mother returned home from a day of aiding her fellow villagers, the only life she found was the sole crow already picking at her husband's corpse.
Driven mad with grief, she refused to accept this, the medicine woman dove into her family's tombs in search of some art capable of saving her husband who'd been alive but that morning.
And as the sunset she found what she was looking for amongst images stained in blood.
Delving into these darkest of arts, the woman captured the crow before riding into town and seeking the man who killed her husband, drinking and making merry in a tavern as if he hadn't had a hand in destroying her life.
The woman seduced the soldier, luring him away to a dark corner of the forest.
As the man disarmed and disrobed, the woman took his blade that killed her husband and drove it through the man's heart, staining the blade in the blood of her husband's killer before cutting out his heart.
Moving before the blood could try, she walked to a hastily made grave where her husband's yet to be buried corpse lay.
Using the bloodstained blade she cut open the still living crow, and filled it with the heart of her husband's killer before stitching it shut and using the blade to pin it to her husband's corpse.
As the night grew long, she buried the wretched souls and prayed for the pale lady not to take her beloved away.
And she sat and prayed throughout this cold dark night, until finally with morning's first light a hand burst from the ground, and with it climbed out a corpse twisted and distorted, carrying the bloodstained blade of her husband's killer.
Looking upon the thing she had done, she felt fear filling her soul at the unnaturalness of the thing before her, but as she met its blood red eyes she saw only fear, pain, and confusion on the face of her husband. Thus she embraced the beast with tears streaming down her face as she explained the evil thing she'd done to her husband, unwilling to let him go.
Her husband assured her that this wretched fate was not her doing, and that there was something far more distressing that they must deal with, for the nobel still held their daughter and as much as the fates had damned them, perhaps they'd grant them the mercy of saving their child before the worst could happen.
The wife warned her husband that while she'd brought him back from the darkness, the darkness still lingered inside of him. And while this darkness would grant him power, it would come at a terrible price as it devoured what was left of his light.
'No price is too much to save our child.' The father swore upon his soul.
And so the mother and the father set out for the noble's castle, allowing nothing to stop their desperate gamble to save their child. But as they walked through the village they stumbled upon a party of the noble's soldiers, members of whom the husband recognized from the day prior.
Upon seeing the faces of the men responsible for stealing his daughter away, the darkness in his soul raged forth demanding vengeance for what these wretches had done to him and his family, and like a demon from the darkest depths of hell he raged forth slaughtering them all with the very same blade that had killed him.
As the last of the soldiers hit the bloodsoaked ground, his mind began to clear, and he finally noticed the eyes watching him.
Perched all around him were crows watching him with blood red eyes, and after a moment to count them he realized that there was one crow for every man that he had killed.
From behind him he heard a gasp, and with a turn he found a soldier he had missed with a knife to his wife's throat, demanding that she call back her demon.
With a snarl he pointed at the man and pulled on the darkness within himself, causing murder to rise and decend upon the man ripping the soldier away as the crows devoured him alive.
Despite shielding his wife from the horrific sight before him, the father realized that this was how he was going to save his daughter from an army.
And so as they continued towards the castle he and his crows descended upon every soldier and bandit they could find, adding more and more to their ever growing flock.
All the while unaware of how as his murder spread his form was changing bit by bit, in a way not even his wife could see just yet.
When the father and his flock finally descended upon the noble's castle, some say he unleashed a murder so great that for a moment he blocked out the sun itself, and in turn they devoured each and every man who stood between him and his daughter until he finally found the noble cowering upon his throne.
'Where is my daughter?!' He demanded, his voice echoing with an inhuman growl.
Rather than answering, the noble began pleading with the man turned demon, offering him land, wealth, and women in exchange for his mercy.
In disgust the father drove his killer's blade through the noble's hand, and asked once more, 'Where is my daughter?!'
The noble did not answer him, but instead through the eyes of one of his crows he saw his daughter chained in the castle's dungeon, beaten and bruised with her clothes torn.
Upon seeing such a terrible sight, the father's darkness took over once more as with clawed hands he ripped the wretched noble limb from bloody limb.
With blood still dripping from his maw he flew through the castle, crashing through every door and barrier until he stumbled upon the cell with his daughter inside.
Ripping away the metal bars, he stumbled forward clutching at his daughter so much smaller and more fragile than he could ever remember.
He whispered her name with a gentleness none would expect from a monster, only to receive no response as her dull eyes saw nothing in front of them.
Clutching his daughter close to his chest, he carried her through the castle, uncaring of anything but the fragile life in his arms as he made his way back to his waiting wife.
With tears in her eyes she examined their girl and discovered marks on her body defensive in nature and a blow to her head that had damaged her mind in a way the mother did not understand.
'Can you heal her?' He asked, with a desperation deeper than the darkness lurking within.
His wife shook her head and explained that she'd traded all of her magics to resurrect him, and that there was nothing they could do but wait and hope for her to heal.
And so with heavy hearts the damaged and scarred family returned home, broken but at least together.
But unbeknownst to the father and mother their actions these days would bear haunting consequences across the land.
With the noble dead, others set their sights upon his lands arguing and bickering amongst themselves until the king of the land told them the rumors of the demon who had descended upon their fellow and murdered him so savagely in his own home.
So the king declared that the lands would belong to whichever house killed the demon and stopped it from harming any other noble.
While the nobles gathered their men the father and mother had returned home with their daughter and tried to resume their lives as best they could. With the husband tilling the lands as he had before taking on the changes that made him something other than a man. The wife attempting to heal those she could without her magicks while being ostracized for her husband's monstrous nature. And the daughter bed ridden and unresponsive no matter how much care the mother and father gave her.
Eventually word of the witch married to the demon reached the ears of one of the nobles searching for the one who killed his fellow and the noble sent his best men to the farm to smite the beast.
Upon seeing the man who was not a man they drew their weapons, and the husband warned them, 'Leave and I'll leave you be, but threaten my family and face a murder most foul.'
The men did not listen to this warning, and the husband found a dozen more crows for his flock.
With the death of these men of lesser houses the noble summoned his banner men, unwilling to risk more deaths without seeing the demon dead. And so hundreds of soldiers descended upon the family.
And hundreds of crows filled the forest around their farm, before hundreds more descended upon the noble's castle and saw him as dead as the first.
With so many deaths some of the nobles felt fear in their hearts, but others saw only greed as they saw not one but two dead houses for the taking.
Not willing to stand for this and seeing the growing tensions amongst his nobles the king sent his own men, the greatest knights and mages in the land to deal with the demon.
And while it took several moons, this small army did eventually find and march upon the family's farm much like the noble prior and much like then the father once more issued his warning.
And once more his murder grew.
Only this time he took the head of a king rather than a noble.
With the king dead, the nobles fractured from both fear and greed, going to war with each other to either defend themselves or to lay claim to the throne.
The old crow was willing to let them rage and war amongst themselves, uncaring for anything beyond his wife and child.
Especially since amongst the books of one of the fallen mages the mother had found a method of saving their daughter.
While the wife had lost her magic and the husband was incapable of any beyond his own innate darkness, the wife had discovered that through he could use the magic of a mage by binding himself in a contract of servitude to the mage.
Servitude he was more than willing to enter if it meant saving his child.
And so he sent his crows far and wide in search of a suitable mage before kidnapping a young mage from the battlefield and making them an offer of servitude in exchange for the power necessary to heal his daughter.
This deal was a dream for many a mage, the kind that offered them power and prestige far beyond what many of them were capable of.
Sadly… the mage he had chosen was loyal to his lord and his faith, and attacked the husband's wife as a dark witch for marrying a demon.
While his wife was not outright killed she was cursed to a state little better than their daughter, save a consciousness that lasted but a few moments each day.
And so in his grief and his rage, the father descended upon all the armies of the land, his crows feasting upon the corpse left in the wake of a pointless war, and forcing an end to it as they realized the old crow was more dangerous than anything that could be hoped to gain from the war.
With the end of the war came a tense peace amongst the nobles who had each become their own small kingdom, and the demon who still maintained enough humanity to not slaughter those at least attempting to live peacefully and far too tired to go any further from the family who needed him.
Thus in this peace the father and husband did the best he could to take care of his wife and child in their ill fortune states, despite knowing his best would never be enough to see them well once more. And in this mourning state he lived until eventually one of his crows that had spread far further than he was willing to travel heard something.
A young girl crying.
A young girl crying because she was betrothed in a political marriage.
A young girl crying because she'd been taken from her home.
The father looked upon his daughter and then his wife as he remembered her ill fated idea from so long ago. An idea that while he lacked the skill to perform himself, perhaps he had the will to at least attempt it for someone who needed a savior, much as his own daughter had.
And so the father took control of the crow so far away and made the tearful girl an offer to save her from her fate, in exchange for the power to save his family from their own.
The young girl swallowed before giving her answer.
And thus murder rose through the skies as the Crow Who Feast Upon The Corpse of War descended upon those who held her captive, just as he would for every other young girl stolen from their families when asked.
Long ago there was a noble, a great lord, who fell in love with the beauty of a young maiden commoner, daughter to a simple farmer and the village's medicine woman.
The only problem was the maiden did not love the noble.
Sadly, the noble didn't care.
The noble sent his men to the young maiden's home to collect his bride to be.
When they demanded the young maiden, the father refused, seeking to protect his child.
And so they ran blade run through his stomach and left his corpse to rot as he was forced to watch them steal his daughter.
When the mother returned home from a day of aiding her fellow villagers, the only life she found was the sole crow already picking at her husband's corpse.
Driven mad with grief, she refused to accept this, the medicine woman dove into her family's tombs in search of some art capable of saving her husband who'd been alive but that morning.
And as the sunset she found what she was looking for amongst images stained in blood.
Delving into these darkest of arts, the woman captured the crow before riding into town and seeking the man who killed her husband, drinking and making merry in a tavern as if he hadn't had a hand in destroying her life.
The woman seduced the soldier, luring him away to a dark corner of the forest.
As the man disarmed and disrobed, the woman took his blade that killed her husband and drove it through the man's heart, staining the blade in the blood of her husband's killer before cutting out his heart.
Moving before the blood could try, she walked to a hastily made grave where her husband's yet to be buried corpse lay.
Using the bloodstained blade she cut open the still living crow, and filled it with the heart of her husband's killer before stitching it shut and using the blade to pin it to her husband's corpse.
As the night grew long, she buried the wretched souls and prayed for the pale lady not to take her beloved away.
And she sat and prayed throughout this cold dark night, until finally with morning's first light a hand burst from the ground, and with it climbed out a corpse twisted and distorted, carrying the bloodstained blade of her husband's killer.
Looking upon the thing she had done, she felt fear filling her soul at the unnaturalness of the thing before her, but as she met its blood red eyes she saw only fear, pain, and confusion on the face of her husband. Thus she embraced the beast with tears streaming down her face as she explained the evil thing she'd done to her husband, unwilling to let him go.
Her husband assured her that this wretched fate was not her doing, and that there was something far more distressing that they must deal with, for the nobel still held their daughter and as much as the fates had damned them, perhaps they'd grant them the mercy of saving their child before the worst could happen.
The wife warned her husband that while she'd brought him back from the darkness, the darkness still lingered inside of him. And while this darkness would grant him power, it would come at a terrible price as it devoured what was left of his light.
'No price is too much to save our child.' The father swore upon his soul.
And so the mother and the father set out for the noble's castle, allowing nothing to stop their desperate gamble to save their child. But as they walked through the village they stumbled upon a party of the noble's soldiers, members of whom the husband recognized from the day prior.
Upon seeing the faces of the men responsible for stealing his daughter away, the darkness in his soul raged forth demanding vengeance for what these wretches had done to him and his family, and like a demon from the darkest depths of hell he raged forth slaughtering them all with the very same blade that had killed him.
As the last of the soldiers hit the bloodsoaked ground, his mind began to clear, and he finally noticed the eyes watching him.
Perched all around him were crows watching him with blood red eyes, and after a moment to count them he realized that there was one crow for every man that he had killed.
From behind him he heard a gasp, and with a turn he found a soldier he had missed with a knife to his wife's throat, demanding that she call back her demon.
With a snarl he pointed at the man and pulled on the darkness within himself, causing murder to rise and decend upon the man ripping the soldier away as the crows devoured him alive.
Despite shielding his wife from the horrific sight before him, the father realized that this was how he was going to save his daughter from an army.
And so as they continued towards the castle he and his crows descended upon every soldier and bandit they could find, adding more and more to their ever growing flock.
All the while unaware of how as his murder spread his form was changing bit by bit, in a way not even his wife could see just yet.
When the father and his flock finally descended upon the noble's castle, some say he unleashed a murder so great that for a moment he blocked out the sun itself, and in turn they devoured each and every man who stood between him and his daughter until he finally found the noble cowering upon his throne.
'Where is my daughter?!' He demanded, his voice echoing with an inhuman growl.
Rather than answering, the noble began pleading with the man turned demon, offering him land, wealth, and women in exchange for his mercy.
In disgust the father drove his killer's blade through the noble's hand, and asked once more, 'Where is my daughter?!'
The noble did not answer him, but instead through the eyes of one of his crows he saw his daughter chained in the castle's dungeon, beaten and bruised with her clothes torn.
Upon seeing such a terrible sight, the father's darkness took over once more as with clawed hands he ripped the wretched noble limb from bloody limb.
With blood still dripping from his maw he flew through the castle, crashing through every door and barrier until he stumbled upon the cell with his daughter inside.
Ripping away the metal bars, he stumbled forward clutching at his daughter so much smaller and more fragile than he could ever remember.
He whispered her name with a gentleness none would expect from a monster, only to receive no response as her dull eyes saw nothing in front of them.
Clutching his daughter close to his chest, he carried her through the castle, uncaring of anything but the fragile life in his arms as he made his way back to his waiting wife.
With tears in her eyes she examined their girl and discovered marks on her body defensive in nature and a blow to her head that had damaged her mind in a way the mother did not understand.
'Can you heal her?' He asked, with a desperation deeper than the darkness lurking within.
His wife shook her head and explained that she'd traded all of her magics to resurrect him, and that there was nothing they could do but wait and hope for her to heal.
And so with heavy hearts the damaged and scarred family returned home, broken but at least together.
But unbeknownst to the father and mother their actions these days would bear haunting consequences across the land.
With the noble dead, others set their sights upon his lands arguing and bickering amongst themselves until the king of the land told them the rumors of the demon who had descended upon their fellow and murdered him so savagely in his own home.
So the king declared that the lands would belong to whichever house killed the demon and stopped it from harming any other noble.
While the nobles gathered their men the father and mother had returned home with their daughter and tried to resume their lives as best they could. With the husband tilling the lands as he had before taking on the changes that made him something other than a man. The wife attempting to heal those she could without her magicks while being ostracized for her husband's monstrous nature. And the daughter bed ridden and unresponsive no matter how much care the mother and father gave her.
Eventually word of the witch married to the demon reached the ears of one of the nobles searching for the one who killed his fellow and the noble sent his best men to the farm to smite the beast.
Upon seeing the man who was not a man they drew their weapons, and the husband warned them, 'Leave and I'll leave you be, but threaten my family and face a murder most foul.'
The men did not listen to this warning, and the husband found a dozen more crows for his flock.
With the death of these men of lesser houses the noble summoned his banner men, unwilling to risk more deaths without seeing the demon dead. And so hundreds of soldiers descended upon the family.
And hundreds of crows filled the forest around their farm, before hundreds more descended upon the noble's castle and saw him as dead as the first.
With so many deaths some of the nobles felt fear in their hearts, but others saw only greed as they saw not one but two dead houses for the taking.
Not willing to stand for this and seeing the growing tensions amongst his nobles the king sent his own men, the greatest knights and mages in the land to deal with the demon.
And while it took several moons, this small army did eventually find and march upon the family's farm much like the noble prior and much like then the father once more issued his warning.
And once more his murder grew.
Only this time he took the head of a king rather than a noble.
With the king dead, the nobles fractured from both fear and greed, going to war with each other to either defend themselves or to lay claim to the throne.
The old crow was willing to let them rage and war amongst themselves, uncaring for anything beyond his wife and child.
Especially since amongst the books of one of the fallen mages the mother had found a method of saving their daughter.
While the wife had lost her magic and the husband was incapable of any beyond his own innate darkness, the wife had discovered that through he could use the magic of a mage by binding himself in a contract of servitude to the mage.
Servitude he was more than willing to enter if it meant saving his child.
And so he sent his crows far and wide in search of a suitable mage before kidnapping a young mage from the battlefield and making them an offer of servitude in exchange for the power necessary to heal his daughter.
This deal was a dream for many a mage, the kind that offered them power and prestige far beyond what many of them were capable of.
Sadly… the mage he had chosen was loyal to his lord and his faith, and attacked the husband's wife as a dark witch for marrying a demon.
While his wife was not outright killed she was cursed to a state little better than their daughter, save a consciousness that lasted but a few moments each day.
And so in his grief and his rage, the father descended upon all the armies of the land, his crows feasting upon the corpse left in the wake of a pointless war, and forcing an end to it as they realized the old crow was more dangerous than anything that could be hoped to gain from the war.
With the end of the war came a tense peace amongst the nobles who had each become their own small kingdom, and the demon who still maintained enough humanity to not slaughter those at least attempting to live peacefully and far too tired to go any further from the family who needed him.
Thus in this peace the father and husband did the best he could to take care of his wife and child in their ill fortune states, despite knowing his best would never be enough to see them well once more. And in this mourning state he lived until eventually one of his crows that had spread far further than he was willing to travel heard something.
A young girl crying.
A young girl crying because she was betrothed in a political marriage.
A young girl crying because she'd been taken from her home.
The father looked upon his daughter and then his wife as he remembered her ill fated idea from so long ago. An idea that while he lacked the skill to perform himself, perhaps he had the will to at least attempt it for someone who needed a savior, much as his own daughter had.
And so the father took control of the crow so far away and made the tearful girl an offer to save her from her fate, in exchange for the power to save his family from their own.
The young girl swallowed before giving her answer.
And thus murder rose through the skies as the Crow Who Feast Upon The Corpse of War descended upon those who held her captive, just as he would for every other young girl stolen from their families when asked.
Patreon Side Story: Memos: Sanctuary Internal Reports #1 (From the Computer of Director Nicholas Stone, of the Rosemary Branch)
A/N: This one is a bit weird since it's not so much a story as a collection of short comedy bits. That said, this was an actual Sanctuary Branch you guys could've been in charge of. (Opportunity missed or bullet dodged?)
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Memos: Sanctuary Internal Reports #1 (From the Computer of Director Nicholas Stone, of the Rosemary Branch)
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-Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
-Caleb Cross, Advanced Combat Specialist and Jr. Agent Teacher
-Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
-Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
-Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
-Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
-Francis Cho, Head of PR department
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: Channel 4 Interview
I'll have all but one of the requested personnel available on the given date.
While I understand your desire to show off Cross as part of our rehabilitation program, I feel we should wait until he has properly settled into his place here at the Rosemary branch before allowing him on a wide scale broadcast.
As for the rest of the requested personnel, please get with Faust to schedule time away from their duties for proper coaching for Press Interviews. Given some of the interviews done under my predecessor I feel a remedial course is necessary before every interview going forward.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: Re: Concerns about Cross's position
Regardless of his position as our branch's 'Redemption Case'. One of the points making him eligible for the program was that he turned himself in after endangering a child. As such we feel leaving him in close contact with them will only bring out the best in him.
Should you have any concerns with his actual treatment of the children we can revisit this, but I must ask that you at least give him the benefit of the doubt about his capabilities for teaching the children and keeping them safe.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Re: Weapon Requisition
Your request for specialized armaments has been approved.
While I personally don't believe the additional equipment will be of value with Cross's placement, I do however understand your and the staff's concerns with him after the failure of the previous directors' last three redemption cases.
That said, this does fall into an overlap between your and Parker's departments, so you'll have to talk to her about resource prioritization and just what kind of contingencies you wish to request.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Re: Clinical Trials
Your request to run clinical trials on volunteers has been approved.
Please forward the paperwork to both Faust and Patton regarding who has volunteered, so that their temporary re-positioning can be filed.
Additionally, should Cross apply to these trials please reject him. He has an innate healing factor which would throw your trials off, unless you're trying to find the proper dosing for a Deviant with an enhanced poison resistance.
(Note: Even then he works with children and we should not risk inebriation even if unlikely.)
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
Subject: Experiments
It has come to my attention that my predecessor allowed you to experiment on our lower ranking staff members. I'll be requesting that you stop, because while Dr. Wilson and her division can heal most of the damage done by your division; it still generates an ungodly amount of paperwork for you, me, Dr. Wilson, Faust, and whomever is in charge of the person you experimented upon.
I'm sure we can all agree we have better things to be doing than wasting our time on meaningless paperwork. Especially when the contents of that paperwork leads many people to draw comparisons between you and your father.
As an alternative you may experiment on Cross, his healing factor will undo any damage you do to him that wouldn't immediately have you arrested for crimes against nature. What's more he's enough of a sadomasochist that he won't even complain about it.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Proper Student Self-Defense
Yes, your job is to teach the Jr. Agents how to defend themselves.
This does not mean training a nine year old how to fight, and then unleashing them upon a high school so that they can build quote 'street cred' by fighting kids twice her age. Especially when half of the kids you send them to fight are Deviants or suspected gang members.
And no, the fact that she won all of her fights does not excuse this, nor can you label this as a practical exam.
If you must give the kids a practical test then have them kill and dismember Creeps or robots, or something that won't get us sued while having their parents ask questions about what you're teaching their kids that I'd rather not answer.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Re: Re: Weapon Requisition
Just because I approved your request and said I understood, does not give you permission to test all of your contingencies on Cross. While he may have found it amusing, it was also a massive waste of funds.
The next time you feel the need to try and kill him, use something cheaper like a lead pipe or anthrax in his food. (Note: Don't bother with cyanide; as the name suggests it's one of the main components of his favorite drink 'cyanide and happiness'.)
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: The Cake Incident
While I understand your enthusiasm for making staff feel appreciated by remembering their birthdays and bringing them cake and a home cooked meal, I must request that you no longer drag the entirety of the base into these parties given how it grinds work to a halt.
Seeing as how there were complaints that some members of staff felt they were in a quote 'fucked up hostage situation' of some kind, attendance of such events should be optional so that the staff knows who truly appreciates them and who is faking it. As honesty is the best policy on these kinds of matters, people should know who their real friends are.
Barring that, can you at least not stab someone who insults your mother's recipe by refusing to eat? It makes even more of a mess for our janitors to clean up after the party.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: The Knife
Please don't use knives covered in your coworker's blood to cut and eat cake, especially while making eye contact with said coworker as they bleed out to quote 'establish dominance'.
Or at the very least don't return said knife to the cake after using it. It's unsanitary to make people use the same utensils you've had your mouth on. Next time use your own plate and fork so everyone can enjoy the cake.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: Yearly Calendar Ideas
While I appreciate the value of the yearly calendar as a method of earning both PR credit and financial revenue for Sanctuary, I must veto the majority of the ideas you have put forth.
Largely because I have no desire to see Patton nude, and you know that if he heard about it he would attend regardless of theme to show his support for Sanctuary.
Additionally, I'd rather not subject everyone to the heckling and psychological trauma Cross is bound to subject him to.
Perhaps you should consider some of your previously submitted ideas? I heard last year's calendar was quite popular.
Oh and before I forget, I'm filing an HR complaint with Faust for your comments on how I shouldn't be quote 'afraid to show a little skin'. She said she'll be holding a special seminar just for you this Friday.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
Subject: M.A.D. Harassment Complaint
It has been formally requested that you quit dragging the M.A.D. staff away from their projects so that you may show off your own, and explain why you are superior to those quote, 'cheating dumbass M.A.D.s who need powers to even reach half of my genius'.
Additionally, Faust has informed me that your actions have led to nearly all M.A.D.s requesting transfer to other branches. Fortunately these were all rejected by the branches they were requesting to be transferred to but it does set a worrying precedent.
Namely that they aren't loyal to our branch and may one day snap unleashing a zombie virus or robot uprising in a vein similar to the zombie virus and robot uprising you've accidentally unleashed upon the base in the past.
In which case I will be forced to divert R&D funds to repairing the base and bribing staff not to sue anyone.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Psych Eval
In hindsight this was a horrible idea that I should've stamped out long before you actually attended said eval with an emergency order and appropriately used black mail and bribery.
That said, I would like you to get together with Patton to discuss the merits of psych warfare. I'm fully aware you were manipulating your psychiatrist into having a mental breakdown but your techniques could be a useful tool when dealing with the Deviant threats we can't get a hold of through standard means.
P.S. I'm taking your psychiatrist's therapy bills out of your pay.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Re: Re: Not Treating Patients
While refusing to heal people to teach them a lesson is an understandable prerogative, that outside of a crisis I can allow. Actively harming your patients for being quote 'dumbass motherfucking whore son of bitch's bastard' is however not acceptable.
Kindly resume medical treatment before someone sues for failing to fulfill our end of our health care contract.
(Note: If you really must punish them then I'll remind you that painkillers are not actually guaranteed by our coverage plan due to resulting mental impairment of officers and possible addiction issues.)
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Faust's Cease and Desist request
Faust has formally requested that you stop trying to get her to reveal the dark secrets of her bloodline, and that I point out she is not related to that Faust.
Thus she will not help you in recruiting demons for your efforts in killing Cross.
(Note: If you do manage to sell your soul to a demon, you only have permission to sell your own. Everyone else's belong to me as Branch Director.)
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Taking the kids on a field trip.
When you asked to take the kids on a field trip I thought you were asking to take them into town, maybe a hike through the woods, or even a trip hunting demons somewhere.
I was not consenting to you taking them to another dimension so that you could overthrow a medieval kingdom because one of your students wanted to be a quote 'pretty pink princess' for their birthday.
Do you have any idea how much paperwork you've caused? How close we were to getting sued by the Jr. agents' parents?
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: Party Requisitions
It legitimately worries me about my predecessor's actions that you believe an appropriate requisition request includes, quote 'enough cocaine and hookers to make a Greek orgy look tame'.
Requisition denied.
Also I'll be implementing mandatory drug testing going forward. Your first one is scheduled for right this second.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Drug Test Results
Given how the entirety of the PR department has somehow managed to fail their drug tests, and ironically the negative effects that this would have on our Public Relations should it get out we will be covering this up and burning the files.
Additionally, given the PR Department's apparent love of drugs, Dr. Wilson you now have permission to use them as test subjects for any medical trials you wish to run. Should they complain kindly inform them of what would happen to their careers if this got out.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: PR Drug Seminars
Given how the entirety of the PR department has somehow managed to fail their drug tests, and our inability to replace all of them, we won't be firing anyone. That said, I am requesting that you set up a weekly anti-drug seminar for the entire department to attend every week.
Don't worry if you can't come up with that many seminars, as you are free to record the seminar and repeat it over and over again indefinitely.
Hopefully the repetition will eventually stick.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Cross
Subject: The Drug Testing
While I'm sure it amused you to lace the entirety of the base's water supply with opiates thus getting everyone high, I feel I should make you aware that I'm having Parker apply filtration upgrades to the entire plumbing system and have told her who is to blame for this upgrade.
Honestly, for you this one was more of an annoyance than anything damaging. Especially since we were able to know who was actually taking drugs and not because the opiate you used was not native to this earth.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Cross
Subject: Re: Re: The Drug Testing
That is the problem with choosing the cheap solution over the practical one.
Also, we've discovered the various strippers and prostitutes you smuggled out of the base for Cho, and I'm making you responsible for teleporting them back to their homes because no, all american sex workers do not come from vegas or reno like you seem to think.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
Subject: Re: Re: Your Father
While I understand that you can't control him, and that he was with Sanctuary long enough to have a backdoor into all of our security I still must request that you at least try to keep him away from the office.
I already have my hands full dealing with you six lunatics, I don't need a seventh.
If you want you can ask Cross to strand him in another dimension? Even if he has a contingency that should buy us all a few months of peace.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Romanov
I don't care if you claim he's a time traveler stuck in his younger-self's body, quit giving alcohol to the minor, because he is still legally a minor!
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Necromancy
It has been brought to my attention that you are currently in search of a Necromancer to resurrect dead sanctuary soldiers so that they may quote 'keep fighting the good fight' and have several notes.
First, I appreciate the lengths you are willing to go to for your men and applaud you for trying to ensure they survive whatever comes their way in this hazardous field. (Or partially survive anyway.)
Second, if you can't find a certified Necromancer, please do not try to have your secretary study the dark arts to become a Necromancer. We both know how much paperwork you generate and how likely she is to turn said dark arts on you. (And yes that would be just you since I gave all secretarial staff a raise my first week here for putting up with everyone.)
That goes for all currently uncertified staff who currently do not know Necromancy, amateurs practicing the dark arts are why we have to put down so many undead outbreaks and demonic invasions. And I'm sure you don't want either of those happening in our secure classified facility after the last incident.
Finally, Faust wishes for me to inform you that if you were to succeed in resurrecting a deceased member of staff their contract clearly states they would be released from the remainder of their contract with full compensation of their remaining time.
So if you decide to continue your search for a Necromancer, please make sure the people you plan to revive actually wish to continue working for us after the fact so that we don't bankrupt ourselves on people purposely getting themselves killed and resurrected to get out of their contracts early. That's how the Gravston Branch got itself shut down.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Patton's Necromancy Plot
While I am surprised that you are offering to help one of your co-workers with a personal project that would help improve the base, I must sadly inform you that he has withdrawn his permission request after discovering an entire section of the Sanctuary employee contract revolving around what to do in case of resurrection and the benefits given there-in.
I'm proud to see your rehabilitation coming so far though.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Patton's Necromancy Plot
It just occurred to me that the only reason you agreed to help him is because you were hoping to trigger a zombie outbreak in base so that you could justifiably kill the co-workers who annoy you.
Sadly this was banned after the Badger City incident.
(P.S. I retract my pride in you.)
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Missed Check-Ups and Drugs
While I understand the necessity of physical checkups in our line of work, especially given the many esoteric substances and such we come into contact with, I must formally request that you quit drugging and kidnapping anyone who misses their appointments.
This is making it significantly harder to squash the unprecedented rumors that you are drugging anyone who refuses to listen to you. Something that as I've informed Cross -the only one of who would possibly do such a thing- in your presence, such a thing could see all of us being reprimanded by Sanctuary's higher ups. (As well as being forced to attend one of Faust's many seminars.)
As an alternative perhaps you could send the people who miss flyers explaining the horrible things that can happen to them should such conditions go untreated?
I'm sure if you make them nightmare inducing enough most of the staff would comply with your medical requests. (If you need help contact Cross, he's fairly good at painting images of people in agony.)
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: The Music
Kindly quit hiding speakers in the medical bay set to play the chorus to 'Dr. Feelgood' whenever Dr. Wilson walks into the room.
While I can appreciate the irony of the song in reference to her, she is getting sick of it and is even more stab happy with her needles than usual.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: New Soldier Uniforms
I have no idea why you thought these would get approved but shirts are and always will be a mandatory part of all Sanctuary uniforms. As are pants.
And no I don't care if showing off the soldier's six-packs will do our PR wonders, we're here to fight monsters, arrest super criminals, and research other worlds. Not to be government funded strippers.
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From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross; Ripley Parker
Subject: The 'Alien' incident
I don't care if it is her name sake, you two are not to go to another reality and kidnap an alien so that you can play out the docking bay scene. Especially not a parasitic alien that grows within its host's body before breaking free and rapidly growing.
Additionally:
-Parker you are to dismantle the power armor before Patton gets his hands on it, because he has been asking for it and of the three of us Cross is the only one insane enough to hand it over.
-Cross you are to make sure that every alien you brought on base is either returned or killed before we are forced to shut down the base for yet another outbreak.
(Note: That is not permission to kill any Sanctuary personnel. If someone is infected, send them to medical. Dr. Wilson knows how to extract the parasites without casualty.)
-Out of curiosity did you leave the elder Parker in that dimension? It would make this little event worth it, even if he only disappeared after the fact.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: Field Missions
It has come to my attention that you have been tagging along on a number of Cross's field missions, and some of the other agents have begun to worry. Most notably due to the fact that you keep coming back to the office covered in blood and injuries while wearing a manic grin.
Now this is something I would normally expect from Cross, but the fact that you are the one acting like this makes me wonder if he is perhaps being a bad influence on you.
That said, according to Cross's reports you have proven largely effective as a field agent and are probably the only person he doesn't actively insult in every single report. So if you are allowed to continue to join him on these missions though I must ask that you kindly ride out your blood high somewhere your coworkers cannot see you. Or at the very least wash off the blood first.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: All
Subject: The incident.
I would like to believe after this latest garbage fire we can all come to an agreement that Cross should not be allowed to manage or host any public event ever again.
Because while yes, Cross's base assholery is equal to that of the rest of the chief officers of this branch, and yes, he has taken surprisingly well to his role as teacher for the junior agents.
None of that changes the fact that he revels in causing as much mayhem and chaos as possible for the bureaucracy or agents of order. Something I might remind all of you we are a part of despite your best efforts to prove otherwise.
Which is why I will personally ruin the career of anyone who helps Cross in any incident that results in me having to give my higher ups a report with any of the following words: midget, sodomy, dragon orgy, drunk twelve-year old, burning rednecks, robot sex, santa stripper, traumatized serial killer, interdimensional strip poker, zombie prostitute, or resurrecting jew.
And if I ever have to use all of those words in a single report ever again, I am rigging this entire base to a nuclear reaction and taking all of you with me.
---
Memos: Sanctuary Internal Reports #1 (From the Computer of Director Nicholas Stone, of the Rosemary Branch)
---
-Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
-Caleb Cross, Advanced Combat Specialist and Jr. Agent Teacher
-Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
-Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
-Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
-Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
-Francis Cho, Head of PR department
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: Channel 4 Interview
I'll have all but one of the requested personnel available on the given date.
While I understand your desire to show off Cross as part of our rehabilitation program, I feel we should wait until he has properly settled into his place here at the Rosemary branch before allowing him on a wide scale broadcast.
As for the rest of the requested personnel, please get with Faust to schedule time away from their duties for proper coaching for Press Interviews. Given some of the interviews done under my predecessor I feel a remedial course is necessary before every interview going forward.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: Re: Concerns about Cross's position
Regardless of his position as our branch's 'Redemption Case'. One of the points making him eligible for the program was that he turned himself in after endangering a child. As such we feel leaving him in close contact with them will only bring out the best in him.
Should you have any concerns with his actual treatment of the children we can revisit this, but I must ask that you at least give him the benefit of the doubt about his capabilities for teaching the children and keeping them safe.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Re: Weapon Requisition
Your request for specialized armaments has been approved.
While I personally don't believe the additional equipment will be of value with Cross's placement, I do however understand your and the staff's concerns with him after the failure of the previous directors' last three redemption cases.
That said, this does fall into an overlap between your and Parker's departments, so you'll have to talk to her about resource prioritization and just what kind of contingencies you wish to request.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Re: Clinical Trials
Your request to run clinical trials on volunteers has been approved.
Please forward the paperwork to both Faust and Patton regarding who has volunteered, so that their temporary re-positioning can be filed.
Additionally, should Cross apply to these trials please reject him. He has an innate healing factor which would throw your trials off, unless you're trying to find the proper dosing for a Deviant with an enhanced poison resistance.
(Note: Even then he works with children and we should not risk inebriation even if unlikely.)
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
Subject: Experiments
It has come to my attention that my predecessor allowed you to experiment on our lower ranking staff members. I'll be requesting that you stop, because while Dr. Wilson and her division can heal most of the damage done by your division; it still generates an ungodly amount of paperwork for you, me, Dr. Wilson, Faust, and whomever is in charge of the person you experimented upon.
I'm sure we can all agree we have better things to be doing than wasting our time on meaningless paperwork. Especially when the contents of that paperwork leads many people to draw comparisons between you and your father.
As an alternative you may experiment on Cross, his healing factor will undo any damage you do to him that wouldn't immediately have you arrested for crimes against nature. What's more he's enough of a sadomasochist that he won't even complain about it.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Proper Student Self-Defense
Yes, your job is to teach the Jr. Agents how to defend themselves.
This does not mean training a nine year old how to fight, and then unleashing them upon a high school so that they can build quote 'street cred' by fighting kids twice her age. Especially when half of the kids you send them to fight are Deviants or suspected gang members.
And no, the fact that she won all of her fights does not excuse this, nor can you label this as a practical exam.
If you must give the kids a practical test then have them kill and dismember Creeps or robots, or something that won't get us sued while having their parents ask questions about what you're teaching their kids that I'd rather not answer.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Re: Re: Weapon Requisition
Just because I approved your request and said I understood, does not give you permission to test all of your contingencies on Cross. While he may have found it amusing, it was also a massive waste of funds.
The next time you feel the need to try and kill him, use something cheaper like a lead pipe or anthrax in his food. (Note: Don't bother with cyanide; as the name suggests it's one of the main components of his favorite drink 'cyanide and happiness'.)
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: The Cake Incident
While I understand your enthusiasm for making staff feel appreciated by remembering their birthdays and bringing them cake and a home cooked meal, I must request that you no longer drag the entirety of the base into these parties given how it grinds work to a halt.
Seeing as how there were complaints that some members of staff felt they were in a quote 'fucked up hostage situation' of some kind, attendance of such events should be optional so that the staff knows who truly appreciates them and who is faking it. As honesty is the best policy on these kinds of matters, people should know who their real friends are.
Barring that, can you at least not stab someone who insults your mother's recipe by refusing to eat? It makes even more of a mess for our janitors to clean up after the party.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: The Knife
Please don't use knives covered in your coworker's blood to cut and eat cake, especially while making eye contact with said coworker as they bleed out to quote 'establish dominance'.
Or at the very least don't return said knife to the cake after using it. It's unsanitary to make people use the same utensils you've had your mouth on. Next time use your own plate and fork so everyone can enjoy the cake.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: Yearly Calendar Ideas
While I appreciate the value of the yearly calendar as a method of earning both PR credit and financial revenue for Sanctuary, I must veto the majority of the ideas you have put forth.
Largely because I have no desire to see Patton nude, and you know that if he heard about it he would attend regardless of theme to show his support for Sanctuary.
Additionally, I'd rather not subject everyone to the heckling and psychological trauma Cross is bound to subject him to.
Perhaps you should consider some of your previously submitted ideas? I heard last year's calendar was quite popular.
Oh and before I forget, I'm filing an HR complaint with Faust for your comments on how I shouldn't be quote 'afraid to show a little skin'. She said she'll be holding a special seminar just for you this Friday.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
Subject: M.A.D. Harassment Complaint
It has been formally requested that you quit dragging the M.A.D. staff away from their projects so that you may show off your own, and explain why you are superior to those quote, 'cheating dumbass M.A.D.s who need powers to even reach half of my genius'.
Additionally, Faust has informed me that your actions have led to nearly all M.A.D.s requesting transfer to other branches. Fortunately these were all rejected by the branches they were requesting to be transferred to but it does set a worrying precedent.
Namely that they aren't loyal to our branch and may one day snap unleashing a zombie virus or robot uprising in a vein similar to the zombie virus and robot uprising you've accidentally unleashed upon the base in the past.
In which case I will be forced to divert R&D funds to repairing the base and bribing staff not to sue anyone.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Psych Eval
In hindsight this was a horrible idea that I should've stamped out long before you actually attended said eval with an emergency order and appropriately used black mail and bribery.
That said, I would like you to get together with Patton to discuss the merits of psych warfare. I'm fully aware you were manipulating your psychiatrist into having a mental breakdown but your techniques could be a useful tool when dealing with the Deviant threats we can't get a hold of through standard means.
P.S. I'm taking your psychiatrist's therapy bills out of your pay.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Re: Re: Not Treating Patients
While refusing to heal people to teach them a lesson is an understandable prerogative, that outside of a crisis I can allow. Actively harming your patients for being quote 'dumbass motherfucking whore son of bitch's bastard' is however not acceptable.
Kindly resume medical treatment before someone sues for failing to fulfill our end of our health care contract.
(Note: If you really must punish them then I'll remind you that painkillers are not actually guaranteed by our coverage plan due to resulting mental impairment of officers and possible addiction issues.)
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Faust's Cease and Desist request
Faust has formally requested that you stop trying to get her to reveal the dark secrets of her bloodline, and that I point out she is not related to that Faust.
Thus she will not help you in recruiting demons for your efforts in killing Cross.
(Note: If you do manage to sell your soul to a demon, you only have permission to sell your own. Everyone else's belong to me as Branch Director.)
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Taking the kids on a field trip.
When you asked to take the kids on a field trip I thought you were asking to take them into town, maybe a hike through the woods, or even a trip hunting demons somewhere.
I was not consenting to you taking them to another dimension so that you could overthrow a medieval kingdom because one of your students wanted to be a quote 'pretty pink princess' for their birthday.
Do you have any idea how much paperwork you've caused? How close we were to getting sued by the Jr. agents' parents?
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: Party Requisitions
It legitimately worries me about my predecessor's actions that you believe an appropriate requisition request includes, quote 'enough cocaine and hookers to make a Greek orgy look tame'.
Requisition denied.
Also I'll be implementing mandatory drug testing going forward. Your first one is scheduled for right this second.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Drug Test Results
Given how the entirety of the PR department has somehow managed to fail their drug tests, and ironically the negative effects that this would have on our Public Relations should it get out we will be covering this up and burning the files.
Additionally, given the PR Department's apparent love of drugs, Dr. Wilson you now have permission to use them as test subjects for any medical trials you wish to run. Should they complain kindly inform them of what would happen to their careers if this got out.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: PR Drug Seminars
Given how the entirety of the PR department has somehow managed to fail their drug tests, and our inability to replace all of them, we won't be firing anyone. That said, I am requesting that you set up a weekly anti-drug seminar for the entire department to attend every week.
Don't worry if you can't come up with that many seminars, as you are free to record the seminar and repeat it over and over again indefinitely.
Hopefully the repetition will eventually stick.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Cross
Subject: The Drug Testing
While I'm sure it amused you to lace the entirety of the base's water supply with opiates thus getting everyone high, I feel I should make you aware that I'm having Parker apply filtration upgrades to the entire plumbing system and have told her who is to blame for this upgrade.
Honestly, for you this one was more of an annoyance than anything damaging. Especially since we were able to know who was actually taking drugs and not because the opiate you used was not native to this earth.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Cross
Subject: Re: Re: The Drug Testing
That is the problem with choosing the cheap solution over the practical one.
Also, we've discovered the various strippers and prostitutes you smuggled out of the base for Cho, and I'm making you responsible for teleporting them back to their homes because no, all american sex workers do not come from vegas or reno like you seem to think.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ripley Parker, Head of R&D
Subject: Re: Re: Your Father
While I understand that you can't control him, and that he was with Sanctuary long enough to have a backdoor into all of our security I still must request that you at least try to keep him away from the office.
I already have my hands full dealing with you six lunatics, I don't need a seventh.
If you want you can ask Cross to strand him in another dimension? Even if he has a contingency that should buy us all a few months of peace.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Romanov
I don't care if you claim he's a time traveler stuck in his younger-self's body, quit giving alcohol to the minor, because he is still legally a minor!
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Lance Patton, Head of Soldier Operations and Deployment
Subject: Necromancy
It has been brought to my attention that you are currently in search of a Necromancer to resurrect dead sanctuary soldiers so that they may quote 'keep fighting the good fight' and have several notes.
First, I appreciate the lengths you are willing to go to for your men and applaud you for trying to ensure they survive whatever comes their way in this hazardous field. (Or partially survive anyway.)
Second, if you can't find a certified Necromancer, please do not try to have your secretary study the dark arts to become a Necromancer. We both know how much paperwork you generate and how likely she is to turn said dark arts on you. (And yes that would be just you since I gave all secretarial staff a raise my first week here for putting up with everyone.)
That goes for all currently uncertified staff who currently do not know Necromancy, amateurs practicing the dark arts are why we have to put down so many undead outbreaks and demonic invasions. And I'm sure you don't want either of those happening in our secure classified facility after the last incident.
Finally, Faust wishes for me to inform you that if you were to succeed in resurrecting a deceased member of staff their contract clearly states they would be released from the remainder of their contract with full compensation of their remaining time.
So if you decide to continue your search for a Necromancer, please make sure the people you plan to revive actually wish to continue working for us after the fact so that we don't bankrupt ourselves on people purposely getting themselves killed and resurrected to get out of their contracts early. That's how the Gravston Branch got itself shut down.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Patton's Necromancy Plot
While I am surprised that you are offering to help one of your co-workers with a personal project that would help improve the base, I must sadly inform you that he has withdrawn his permission request after discovering an entire section of the Sanctuary employee contract revolving around what to do in case of resurrection and the benefits given there-in.
I'm proud to see your rehabilitation coming so far though.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: Re: Re: Patton's Necromancy Plot
It just occurred to me that the only reason you agreed to help him is because you were hoping to trigger a zombie outbreak in base so that you could justifiably kill the co-workers who annoy you.
Sadly this was banned after the Badger City incident.
(P.S. I retract my pride in you.)
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Ramona Wilson, Chief Medical Officer
Subject: Missed Check-Ups and Drugs
While I understand the necessity of physical checkups in our line of work, especially given the many esoteric substances and such we come into contact with, I must formally request that you quit drugging and kidnapping anyone who misses their appointments.
This is making it significantly harder to squash the unprecedented rumors that you are drugging anyone who refuses to listen to you. Something that as I've informed Cross -the only one of who would possibly do such a thing- in your presence, such a thing could see all of us being reprimanded by Sanctuary's higher ups. (As well as being forced to attend one of Faust's many seminars.)
As an alternative perhaps you could send the people who miss flyers explaining the horrible things that can happen to them should such conditions go untreated?
I'm sure if you make them nightmare inducing enough most of the staff would comply with your medical requests. (If you need help contact Cross, he's fairly good at painting images of people in agony.)
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross
Subject: The Music
Kindly quit hiding speakers in the medical bay set to play the chorus to 'Dr. Feelgood' whenever Dr. Wilson walks into the room.
While I can appreciate the irony of the song in reference to her, she is getting sick of it and is even more stab happy with her needles than usual.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Francis Cho, Head of PR department
Subject: Re: New Soldier Uniforms
I have no idea why you thought these would get approved but shirts are and always will be a mandatory part of all Sanctuary uniforms. As are pants.
And no I don't care if showing off the soldier's six-packs will do our PR wonders, we're here to fight monsters, arrest super criminals, and research other worlds. Not to be government funded strippers.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Caleb Cross; Ripley Parker
Subject: The 'Alien' incident
I don't care if it is her name sake, you two are not to go to another reality and kidnap an alien so that you can play out the docking bay scene. Especially not a parasitic alien that grows within its host's body before breaking free and rapidly growing.
Additionally:
-Parker you are to dismantle the power armor before Patton gets his hands on it, because he has been asking for it and of the three of us Cross is the only one insane enough to hand it over.
-Cross you are to make sure that every alien you brought on base is either returned or killed before we are forced to shut down the base for yet another outbreak.
(Note: That is not permission to kill any Sanctuary personnel. If someone is infected, send them to medical. Dr. Wilson knows how to extract the parasites without casualty.)
-Out of curiosity did you leave the elder Parker in that dimension? It would make this little event worth it, even if he only disappeared after the fact.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: Madeline Faust, Head of HR and Jr. Agent program
Subject: Field Missions
It has come to my attention that you have been tagging along on a number of Cross's field missions, and some of the other agents have begun to worry. Most notably due to the fact that you keep coming back to the office covered in blood and injuries while wearing a manic grin.
Now this is something I would normally expect from Cross, but the fact that you are the one acting like this makes me wonder if he is perhaps being a bad influence on you.
That said, according to Cross's reports you have proven largely effective as a field agent and are probably the only person he doesn't actively insult in every single report. So if you are allowed to continue to join him on these missions though I must ask that you kindly ride out your blood high somewhere your coworkers cannot see you. Or at the very least wash off the blood first.
---
From: Nicholas Stone, Rosemary Branch Director
To: All
Subject: The incident.
I would like to believe after this latest garbage fire we can all come to an agreement that Cross should not be allowed to manage or host any public event ever again.
Because while yes, Cross's base assholery is equal to that of the rest of the chief officers of this branch, and yes, he has taken surprisingly well to his role as teacher for the junior agents.
None of that changes the fact that he revels in causing as much mayhem and chaos as possible for the bureaucracy or agents of order. Something I might remind all of you we are a part of despite your best efforts to prove otherwise.
Which is why I will personally ruin the career of anyone who helps Cross in any incident that results in me having to give my higher ups a report with any of the following words: midget, sodomy, dragon orgy, drunk twelve-year old, burning rednecks, robot sex, santa stripper, traumatized serial killer, interdimensional strip poker, zombie prostitute, or resurrecting jew.
And if I ever have to use all of those words in a single report ever again, I am rigging this entire base to a nuclear reaction and taking all of you with me.
Patreon Side Story: Sanctuary D.A.R.C.- First Day on the Job
Sanctuary D.A.R.C.- First Day on the Job
"Okay, first day on the job, nothing to be afraid of." She told herself as she stood outside of her new workplace. "Sure, I'll be working for Sanctuary but this is just supposed to be archive work. Absolutely no Deviant attacks, and no risk or danger."
This was the fifth time she'd had this conversation with herself… in the last hour, but probably the twelfth time today, and fortieth time this week.
Honestly, if she had a better option she'd be working anywhere else, but after she lost her last job -Due to an accident involving her handsy boss and a hot cup of coffee.- she was in a desperate way to get a new job. Which is why when the employment agency she went to offered her a secretarial position with archives she so readily leapt at it… without reading exactly who she'd be working for.
That wasn't to say she had a problem with Sanctuary given how they helped with criminal Deviants, Creep invasions, and a number of other problems that she knew the Heroes' Guild couldn't handle on their own. It's just that she knew that the Heroes' Guild, Sanctuary, and even the Hunter's Association all ended up in situations that were just a little too dangerous for her. But perhaps if she was lucky, the fact that she was simply working as an archives secretary would mean that she could avoid all of that.
(Too bad I've never really been lucky…)
"Uh, you alright Miss?" A voice asked, drawing her attention to a young red haired man in a black Sanctuary holding the building entrance open. "You've been pacing out here for a good twenty minutes now."
"O-oh, I'm sorry!" She squeaked, looking up the stairs at the man. "It's just, um, today is my first day and… I'm a bit n-nervous is all…"
"Ah, you must be Ms. Graham!" The man smiled with a snap of his fingers before adjusting his glasses. "I've been waiting for you!"
"Y-you have?" She blinked, before realizing. "You're the one I was supposed to meet!"
"Ah, yes, Philo Erston at your service." The red head nodded while offering his hand. "I'll be your direct supervisor for your stay here at the Sanctuary… archives."
She stared at the man, standing a good three meters away from her and not taking a step closer as he offered his hand.
"Um…"
Philo just continued to hold his hand out, his smile never faltering even as this moment dragged out for an uncomfortably long time.
(It might be easier if I just…) She walked up the stairs before taking her new boss's hand.
"Fantastic to meet you!" Philo told her with a firm shake of her hand before rentering the building and waving for her to follow. "Now come along it may be your first day but we've a busy day ahead getting you settled in and introducing you to our co-workers!"
"Uh, right… So, um, I'm supposed to be your secretary here?" She asked, spotting an empty desk just ahead.
One that Philo promptly passed in favor of a nearby elevator while waving to a large nearby man reading a newspaper. "We'll be heading down to the archives now Ralph."
"Mm-hmm." The man -Ralph- nodded, turning the page on his paper.
"That's Ralph, he's the lobby security slash secretary. Doesn't say much but is a big supporter of the printed press." Philo informed her as she followed him, before adding in a whisper. "He adds them to the mulch pile for his rose garden."
"I see…" She nodded, only slightly put-off as the elevator doors closed. "I'm guessing this means I'm going to be the secretary for the actual archives then?"
"Quick on the uptake, I love that!" Philo snapped his fingers at her with a smile, before pressing a button on the elevator panel. One that was notably below the lobby.
"Um, are we going underground?" She couldn't help but ask with a frown.
"Ah, yes. The majority of our facility is actually underground with the upper floors being more generalized office work, collecting files that other branches send us." Philo explained. "Once we've gathered whatever we need from said branches we store it a fair bit underground for security reasons."
"That… makes sense." She admitted. "Though it does make me a bit nervous about being so far underground."
"I believe most people get used to it after a week or so." Philo tried to assure her. "Once people realize that the building is made of reinforced Deviant metals, has three separate internal air and water filtration systems each, a green house capable of feeding an army indefinitely, and the ability to survive a nuke and the fallout wasteland for years to come."
"That's extensive…" She noted.
"To be fair this facility has been around since the rift riots, when people were convinced the world was ending, and it's only been upgraded since then." Philo shrugged. "Honestly, our budget had to be spent on something, and even our branch's field teams are deployed sparingly. So base upgrades were considered the best direction for everything to go."
She simply nodded, before looking around for a floor indicator of some kind, only to find none. "Um, we've been on this elevator for a while."
"Yes we have." Philo nodded in agreement.
She waited a moment for him to continue before asking, "How far underground are we going?"
"About five more meters as of… now." Philo answered as she felt the elevator slow to a stop before the doors opened to a white and gray hallway leading to a pair of doors at the end.
"That um, that didn't really answer my question…" She couldn't help but point out as her new boss started down the hall.
Philo blinked, giving her a curious look. "It didn't?"
"No? It didn't?" She answered a little unsurely.
"Hmm, you'll have to improve your spatial awareness if you're going to stay here." Philo told her, as he held the double doors open. "Otherwise you're going to get lost and the last thing you want to do is take a wrong turn from miscellaneous paperwork to eldritch horrors from beyond the stars."
"Eldritch what from the where now?" She asked.
"There you are." Someone growled, interrupting Philo just as he opened his mouth.
"Ooh, you have no idea how funny your timing is on that one." Philo smiled, a scowling dark haired man in a black and silver coat similar to his own.
"Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you for the last three hours!" The newcomer practically hissed through his teeth.
"Oh, I was upstairs waiting on our newest recruit here, Ms. Graham!" Philo explained with a flourish of his hands towards her. "She's a very experienced secretary who will be an invaluable aid in keeping everything here under control."
The dark haired man gave Philo a flat look before running a hand down his face and turning towards her. "Look I don't know wh-"
"Oh, Ethan don't you know a gentleman is supposed to introduce himself to a beautiful young lady before engaging in a mastication of words?" Philo interrupted. "Really where are your manners?"
"My manners don't really matter when-"
"Of course they matter!" Philo scoffed with a shake of his head. "But if you insist on being so rude I'll introduce you myself. Ms. Graham, this is Ethan Levi, one of our few field agents here in the archives and also one of this branch's first employees."
"Really?" She couldn't help but ask, given how with what she knew she was pretty sure the archives had been around for at least twenty years and the guy in front of her couldn't have been more than thirty on a bad day.
"Oh, don't let his youthful appearance fool you, his Deviancy keeps him from aging like the rest of you." Philo told her in a conspiratorial whisper that she was pretty sure Ethan could still hear. "In fact he's looked like this for as long as I can remember."
"You can barely remember what you had for breakfast this morning." Ethan sighed.
"Cereal."
"Eggs, there was an incident with the milkman and milk wasn't drinkable." Ethan corrected. "Dry cereal is what you had as a midnight snack because you were banned from entering the kitchen at night and someone left a box on the counter."
"Oh, right." Philo blinked. "But I still had them early enough to count as my first meal of the day, which makes that breakfast!"
Ethan rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to her. "Just ignore the idiot, he doesn't know what he's talking about. Also I'm like twenty-seven and pretty sure I'm aging at the same rate as everyone else… at the moment."
"You sound a little unsure there." She had to point out.
"There is some weird Deviant stuff out there." Ethan pointed out in turn.
"Fair." She admitted, figuring that that was more true for Sanctuary than most. "Either way you seem a bit young to be the oldest employee for this place."
"Technically I was the branch's ward after some junk with Asylum went down." Ethan shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes.
(And that sounds like a landmine if I've ever seen one.) She internally grimaced, only able to think of a few ways a kid would be transferred from Asylum to Sanctuary instead of any of the organizations literally designed to help children.
"Since I was part of the original junior Agent program it just made sense to stick around after I aged out." Ethan continued unaware "And after doing my prerequisite years in the junior program the tests themselves were easy."
"Especially with your friend cheating for you." Philo threw out.
"That's no different than an Arcane summoning their contracts." Ethan frowned almost defensively. "Besides it's not like I could tell them to leave after they showed up, and the proctors all knew they were there so it still counts."
"Your friend?" She repeated in askance.
"That's um, not something I really go around talking about." Ethan admitted evasively. "It's kind of classified and I'm not sure you're qualified for that stuff yet? Then again you are down here so maybe you are?"
"Of course she is, she wouldn't have a job here if she hadn't proven herself trustworthy -or gullible- enough." Philo waved away.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" She frowned.
"That you're an extremely trustworthy individual based on your lack of a criminal record, the fact that you didn't whistleblow all of your old bosses secrets after your falling out, and that we've already done a full background and mildly invasive psychology check on you to make sure you won't go exposing state and federal secrets." Philo broke down for her.
"Oh, uh, I thought that's what you meant." She nodded, just barely noticing Ethan narrow his eyes.
"So uh, Ms. Graham…" Ethan began with just a touch of suspicion. "What exactly were you hired for again?"
"Oh, I'm-"
"Our newest Archive Secretarial staff, like I said." Philo interrupted wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "After all, let's face it, as much of a scatterbrain as I am, we could really use someone to help us keep all of our paperwork in order and keep me from having so much… friction with the director above."
"That's a polite way of putting it." Ethan said, not losing an ounce of suspicion. "Pardon me, but uh, where exactly were you posted before moving here?"
She opened her mouth to tell him about the old firm she used to work at before watching a spark of red lighting dance along the floor and down a nearby doorway.
"Um, what was that?" She couldn't help but ask as she felt a pool of dread building in her stomach.
"What was what?" Ethan frowned, glancing over his shoulder.
Before she could mention the strange lightning the room gave a faint shake.
"Oh, that can't be good." Philo blinked looking around curiously.
As if to agree with him there was a faint alarm followed by a voice over the intercom informing everyone that, "There is a Class-D security breach in the Cursed Artifacts Containment. I repeat there is a Class-D security breach in Cursed Artifacts Containment. Please remain calm and continue as you were."
"Should we be worried about that?" She asked, feeling just a little panicked.
"Only if it were a Class-C or higher." Ethan assured her. "Class-D means a containment door was broken by someone doing something stupid, but nothing dangerous has actually gotten loose."
"Yet." Philo pointed out. "Ms. Graham did say she saw something odd, perhaps you should investigate that while I finish helping her get settled in. It wouldn't do for something to have snuck into Cursed Artifacts and us not notice until inventory pops something up as missing."
"Right." Ethan sighed, starting towards the same hall she'd seen the red lightning disappear down before pausing and turning back to them. "Actually, wouldn't you be better suited for that given how you've got the whole magic sense and have every anomaly in the base memorized."
"Ms. Graham still needs to be… read in on certain things, and besides we both know I'm better at… defending a target than you are." Philo explained with a look she couldn't quite decipher.
The fact that Ethan grimaced meant he could decipher it though, and that he didn't care for what the look was saying. "Fair."
With that settled it was once more her and Philo standing in the middle of the rather large -what she guessed was an- atrium.
"Do you, uh, do you think we're in danger?" She asked Philo as he motioned for her to follow him in the opposite direction.
"Not at all." Philo admitted with a blunt disregard. "Truthfully, Ethan and I have this rapport, and his self-given job as my second is largely to keep me from doing anything reckless. Hence why he is so interested in you as my newest hire. The boy really needs to learn how shaking things up can make a long long life interesting."
"He's your second?" She frowned. "But you said he was a field agent?"
"Yes, as am I." Philo nodded.
That gave her a bad feeling. "Um, if you're my supervisor, shouldn't you be part of the archives, like me?" She was very much not a field agent.
"Oh, I am. Our status as field agents is largely for retrieval of Deviant Anomalies that need to be stored or researched." Philo explained. "Your job is still mostly going to be taking notes, scheduling meetings with whatever Sanctuary branch calls us in, and organizing the vile evil that is paperwork…" Philo stopped to give the air in front of him a melancholic gaze. "I miss when paperwork was one ink written letter instead of a two hundred page series of forms."
(What am I even supposed to say to that?)
Philo suddenly shook his head before looking at her curiously. "What were we talking about?"
"My uh, my job here?" She answered a little unsurely.
"Right." Philo nodded, taking a look into a room empty save two chairs and a table. "Ah, this one should do for what we need."
"Uh, what do we need?" She asked, following Philo into the room as he took one seat and she took another.
"Someplace to do the vile paperwork." Her boss told her before pulling out a bundle of crumpled paperwork from his jacket and frowning at it.
There were a handful of red sparks from his hand as the paperwork completely smoothed itself out. "Sorry about that. I quit carrying around suitcases after that time a minor void creep hitched a ride inside of one and decided to play face hugger the next time I opened it."
She couldn't help but shudder at the idea of that happening to her, and proceeded to eye her own suitcase with a grimace. (Note to self leave the case at home from now on.)
"Anyway, these are the standard NDAs stating that you will be handling state and federal secrets, and the standard 'you will be sued into oblivion if you aren't whistleblowing a crime' clauses." Philo casually informed her.
While not the most experienced with legal matters, she had dealt with a few NDAs at her previous job and she could tell that these seemed a largely standard affair despite the less than nice way that Erston had put it.
Which is why she had no problem signing them. (After thoroughly reading them of course.)
"And here is the actual employee contract, including all of your pay and benefits. Pay starts at twenty-five dollars an hour, with a minimum dollar raise each year upon contract renewal. You get three weeks of paid vacation, with an all expenses paid trip to one of several locations. Two weeks of sick leave, to be used at your discretion. Full medical and dental coverage for you and your family if you use in house doctors. Oh, and you also get up to six months of paid maternity and or paternity leave alongside full childcare up to twelve years of age." Philo told her, listing out quite possibly the greatest employee package she'd ever had.
She told him as much as she shakily read over the entire contract, stating that her contract was on a yearly renewal basis and that she had to work forty hours a week with extra hours being over time and a right to refuse if her weekly hours totaled fifty or more.
"Admittedly, it would be better if we had that one clause that bankrupted the Gravston branch…" Philo sighed as he shook his head. "I warned them that would happen, I mean just look at how many people are eligible for it here? Everyone in this base would've used it at least three times by now. Personally I would've just put restrictions on it but apparently the director decided to just gut it overall given our special facility status and the changes he can make to the contract because of that."
(Well if it bankrupted a branch I can't blame the big boss for removing it.) She admitted to herself, unable to get upset about some unknown benefit that she wasn't getting when there were so many other benefits to replace it.
And so -unaware of her new boss's manic grin- she signed her name…
"Yes!" Philo cheered before pulling the paperwork from her and making it disappear in a flash of light as he told her, "No takesy backsies!"
"Uh, what?" She blinked.
"Ha, suck it Abraham! I've stolen another one of your employees!" Philo yelled while flicking the ceiling off with both of his hands.
"What?" She repeated in confusion.
The door to the room slammed open with a panting Ethan in the doorway. "Shit Philo we need you! The containment breach broke a Hellgate Artifact and-"
Whatever the Sanctuary agent was going to say was interrupted as he was tackled out of the doorway by something large with fangs and claws.
"What?!" She repeated once more, though in panic this time.
"Ah, so that was what that shift in the local Anima was." Philo nodded cheerfully as if hadn't just watched one of his employees get attacked and mauled.
"W-what's going on?!" She asked, stumbling out of her chair and away from the door as another monster appeared in the doorway, its mouth a snarling mess of fangs and its body a scarred and disgusting shade of pink. "W-what is that thing?!"
"Oh, it's just a regular Tuesday cosmic breach." Philo happily informed her as he stood up from his chair. "And this is a Hell Creep of some kind, perfectly harmless!"
"One of those things just killed Ethan!" She screamed.
"Ha! Killed Ethan!" Philo laughed as he picked up his chair. "That's a good one!"
She couldn't help but let out a keening noise as she watched her new boss beat a monster to death with his metal chair, sending bits of blood flying all over the wall and himself.
Once he was finished he tossed his chair to the side and peeked out the door frame, "Can you believe she thought they killed you?!"
"Fuck you!" A voice that sent a primal chill down her spine yelled as half of one of these Creeps went flying past Erston as he ducked back into the room.
"Now that's just rude!" Philo scoffed with a shake of his head. "She had no way of knowing just how capable you are!"
"I… wasn't… talking… to her…" Ethan gasped out as he stumbled into the doorframe, not a single injury on him.
"Ah, I see… still rude of you though." Philo informed his fellow agent before turning back to her. "Come along Ms. Graham, we've got work to do."
"W-what?" She blinked, before shaking her head. "Why should I go anywhere with you?!"
"Because it's your job?" Philo pointed out curiously. "You're my secretary, you're supposed to follow me and take notes so that I remember all the worthless little details I forget about while I study things."
"B-but I'm not a soldier!" She had to remind him. "I'm a secretary!"
"Yeah, but you've still taken the field courses." Ethan told her, pulling out his gun and offering it to her. "Even if you've never used them, you should know how to fire a gun and stick with us."
"What field courses?!" She half asked half panicked.
"The ones Sanctuary gives all employees, including the non-combatants?" Ethan answered with a touch of confusion. -Which was still a lot less than what she was feeling at the moment.- "You're a Sanctuary Secretary aren't you?"
"Today's my first day!" She told him.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "There's no way you'd be starting out with the D.A.R.C. branch if it was-" His eyes went wide before shooting to Philo. "What did you do?!"
"I acquired us a new Secretary by stealing Abraham's newest addition." Philo informed him smugly.
"No-no-no." Ethan shook his head before turning to her. "Where did you work before coming here?!"
"I-I was at a law firm!" She yelled, his sudden panic doing nothing for her own.
"Oh, fuck!" Ethan cursed before turning around and shooting Philo in the chest, repeatedly. "You. Fucking. Idiot! Why. Are. You. Like. This?!"
Philo stumbled back, as red electricity crackled around his chest before brushing it and several bullets away. "Truthfully I blame my father for making my primary method of survival a dark art and forgetting to put in a safety filter to keep it from driving me insane."
Ethan took a deep breath before slowly letting it out.
He then shot Philo in the dick before reloading his gun.
"Right, okay… going to have to clean up this mess." Ethan turned towards her and flipped his gun around, offering it handle first. "You know how to use one of these?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Then only use it if a thing jumps you, because then you can't miss. If you stay next to us that shouldn't happen." Ethan told her, shaking the gun until she took it from him.
Once she did Ethan clapped his hands together and pointed them at her. "Alright, quick explanation. Thanks to the idiot's petty grudge you've been hired to a highly classified, only supposed to transfer in -not be hired to- branch of Sanctuary revolving around collecting, identifying, and containing Deviant Anomalies."
He paused here upon seeing her confused look before sighing.
"Basically weird shit that sometimes crops up but can't be dealt with by simply burning it, killing it, or disenchanting it." Ethan simplified for her. "We've had a containment breach, meaning one of the things we contained is no longer contained and is instead summoning a bunch of minor demons to our world. In order to stop it we need to get the idiot to said anomaly so that he can seal it shut. If you want to survive you're going to have to stick with us, because our boss blew all the door money on the containment vaults, meaning the doors to these rooms are very breakable and these things smell fear. Questions?"
She let out another keening sound.
"That's what I thought." Ethan admitted with a grimace.
"Oh, come now Ms. Graham there is nothing to fear! I mean even if you die we have some of the best Necromancers on pay to resurrect you within the hour!" Philo helpfully told her.
Her keening grew even louder.
"I really wish you understood why dying is considered a bad thing…" Ethan groaned.
"Truthfully, I've never gotten why everyone is so worried about it." Philo confessed. "I mean death is so… temporary."
"Not for normal people." Ethan reminded him, before walking forward and crouching in front of her. "Okay, I understand that this is all-in-all not a good day for you."
"I don't see why not, I mean she has a new job with fantastic benefits."
"... You mind if I borrow this real quick?" Ethan took his gun from her shaking hands before shooting Philo in the dick… again.
"Rude."
"Anyway, like I said I promise you you'll get out of this alive, but I really do need you to stick with us, can you do that?" Ethan asked her, once more offering his gun.
(No I can't…) She told herself gently shaking her head, before forcing herself to take the gun and shakily forcing herself onto her feet. (But it's not like I have a choice…)
"Alright, just keep calm and keep up, okay?" Ethan said steadying her with a hand on her shoulder and a nod of his head before turning back to Philo. "We're not that far from the Anomaly but it's been open enough that a fair number of the base's guards have probably been put through the grinder by now."
"Oh, then we really should get to work or else Sasha will blame us for letting the seven minute timer run out." Philo told them, merrily wandering out of the room as if they weren't in the middle of a demonic invasion.
As they followed him out of the room, and she watched him happily walk past another monster completely uncaring of the way it turned towards him with a snarl…She completely understood why when he snapped his fingers and a bolt of red lightning caused the monster to explode in a blast of gore and flame.
"Like I said, we'll keep you safe, just stick close to us." Ethan assured her once more as he trailed after his fellow agent.
(Oh, this is a bad idea…)
But not having any other options she followed as well despite her growing anxiety.
"Welp this is a right and proper mess." Philo noted as they entered the atrium to find a number of guards shooting at a small of horde of monsters crawling out of the hall Ethan had gone through earlier.
"You and your friend want to do anything about it?" He asked Ethan after a moment.
Ethan glanced at her for some reason. "I'd rather stick with Ms. Graham and make sure she's safe."
"Oh, I'm sure she'll be fine, she seems like the resourceful sort!" Philo smiled, while casually catching one of the creatures by the face as it lunged at him before making its skull explode and splattering them all with blood.
"Yeah, but I doubt she has your Alchemy or my… circumstances." Ethan argued, wiping the blood off of his face. (While she was shaking just a little too hard to do anything about the blood on her own.)
"Hmm, I suppose that's true." Philo admitted before stomping the ground as several monsters broke past the guards and rushed them, only to be frozen in a flash of ice. "Do you mind? We're having a conversation, and this is so terribly rude of you!"
"Ah." Ethan snapped his fingers. "It's a gentleman's job to escort a fair lady to make sure no, uh, ruffians can bother her."
"Oh, quite right!" Philo nodded with a shocked face before giving Ethan a smile. "Jolly good show old boy! You escort Ms. Graham while I clear us a path to the Anomaly!"
With that established Philo started towards the horde of monsters, red electricity dancing around his body as he walked.
"That guys is such a fucking idiot…" Ethan groaned as if he was in pain. "I really wish he wasn't the most experienced magic user in Sanctuary."
"H-he's the most e-experienced m-magic user in S-Sanctuary?" She asked, that question somehow, the only thing piercing through her mind at the moment.
(Well, that and the fact that Philo had twisted the metal floor into a series of spikes impaling over a dozen monsters with it. Something she was actually trying not to think about.)
"That thing about never aging? Yeah, he's been active since Memento was running around in the seventies." Ethan told her as if she had any idea what that meant beyond Philo apparently being over fifty years old despite his youthful appearance. "I know for a fact Asylum had him locked in a cell somewhere with a null Anomaly locking his magic down. Guy would not quit singing French bar songs for hours on end…"
It idly occurred to her that (Philo and Ethan were probably locked in the same Asylum prison…) Not that that did anything to improve her current situation.
"Oh, do keep up you two!" Philo called from ahead as he returned the floor to normal in a dance of electricity, somehow turning the Creeps to cinder and ash as he fixed the spikes, though doing nothing for all of the blood on the floor. "Watch your step, floor is a bit slick."
She glanced down at the heels she'd worn to work.
"Yeah, you're, uh, going to want to invest in some boots." Ethan told her after following her gaze. "You want me to, uh, help you?"
She shook her head. "I um, I'll figure it out…" (Or break my neck… I could do that too I guess…)
By some miracle she made it through the blood with only one or two brief losses of balance, and only a few glances towards the various dead bodies littering the atrium (that everyone else is ignoring!)
"Hey, I remember this!" Philo laughed as he stared at a small (music box?) with smoke pouring out of it. "This is that old music box that little Lovecraftian girl corrupted with the mists! Wasn't that one of our first cases together?"
She felt her eyes itching.
"Yeah…" Ethan shivered, apparently remembering something unpleasant. (Don't worry I'll be right there with you after today!)
"Oh, come now I know it's embarrassing when a child gets a crush on you but all you had to do was explain she was far too young for you!" Philo told his fellow agent.
"You do remember she's a two hundred year old eldritch horror pretending to be a child?" Ethan pointed out dryly.
(Alright, I can see the problem there…)
"I thought she was only fifteen?" Philo blinked curiously.
"No… That's the other eldritch eight year old…" Ethan sighed, before smirking. "The one that got adopted by that one guy who set you on fire and tried to feed you to his kids when that didn't work."
"Ah, yes… him." Philo frowned, before whispering "I am not an all you can eat buffet…" in an offended tone.
(Okay, I am seeing a lot of problems there…)
"There's a reason that city is black listed, lots of crazy in there." Ethan told her upon seeing the look on her face before looking behind her and swatting the air. "Stop that."
"Stop what?" She asked, wiping her eyes and finally getting rid of that itch.
"Uh… nothing too important… I hope."
"Well, that's not ominous at all…" She told him rather bluntly.
"Hmm…" Ethan opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off as something punched him hard enough to take his head clean off.
She froze watching Ethan's body fall to the ground as a massive hand retracted itself to a large figure with several arms, a dozen eyes, and no mouth.
"Ah, seems we were a bit late in stopping the boss creep from getting out…" Philo told her as he pulled her back completely unbothered by the death of his partner.
She just stared at him.
"No problem." Philo clapped with a smile. "All we need to do is close the music box and everything it summoned will fade away like a bad dream… I feel you would've laughed at that if you realized these Creeps are in fact eldritch mental constructs very similar to a Wonderlander's Dreams and thus… the joke isn't as funny when I have to explain it."
"That thing just killed Ethan!" She couldn't help but scream.
Rather than being chastised Philo had the gall to laugh. "Ha! Killed him! Even the second time that joke is so funny!"
"It's not a joke!" She yelled at the mad man in front of her.
Philo blinked before putting a hand on her head and turning it towards Ethan's body… as it picked itself off the ground and stood with a sluggish posture.
"I just realized you didn't know he can't die." Philo told her as he removed his hand. "That's what happens when you befriend a lovecraftian horror that doesn't want you to… Well that and the tentacles."
"Tentacles?" She repeated, before watching a dozen of pitch black -(no darker than black)- tentacles burst out of Ethan's neck. Tentacles that quickly extended to wrap around the massive boss creep that had removed his head.
"His friend uses his corpse as a door to our plane of existence whenever he dies, bleeds, or feels any pain really. We were quite thorough in testing all of that." Philo assured her as she watched in morbid fascination as the massive creature that had to crouch to stand in the hallway was violently forced through Ethan's neck, without his body changing size in the slightest. "We also found out that it has a fairly voracious appetite."
Once the massive boss creep had been fully consumed the tentacles began retracting, leaving only a handful that proceeded to coalesce into a spherical shape before slowly taking on the shape of a human head and paling until it replaced Ethan's head completely undamaged.
"Well with that taken care of…" Philo walked over to the music box and picked it up before walking back and putting it in her hands. "Why don't you close it? Think of it as a celebration for your first day in Sanctuary's Deviant Anomaly Research and Containment branch, otherwise known as the Archives!"
She glanced down at the box before looking around at the blood and gore filled base around them, as well as the disoriented and newly resurrected Ethan, and remembered Philo's words on this being a 'regular Tuesday' in addition to his 'sued into oblivion' comment.
At which point she couldn't help but realize that, (Mistakes have been made…) as she closed the music box.
--- Emily Graham ---
"Okay, first day on the job, nothing to be afraid of." She told herself as she stood outside of her new workplace. "Sure, I'll be working for Sanctuary but this is just supposed to be archive work. Absolutely no Deviant attacks, and no risk or danger."
This was the fifth time she'd had this conversation with herself… in the last hour, but probably the twelfth time today, and fortieth time this week.
Honestly, if she had a better option she'd be working anywhere else, but after she lost her last job -Due to an accident involving her handsy boss and a hot cup of coffee.- she was in a desperate way to get a new job. Which is why when the employment agency she went to offered her a secretarial position with archives she so readily leapt at it… without reading exactly who she'd be working for.
That wasn't to say she had a problem with Sanctuary given how they helped with criminal Deviants, Creep invasions, and a number of other problems that she knew the Heroes' Guild couldn't handle on their own. It's just that she knew that the Heroes' Guild, Sanctuary, and even the Hunter's Association all ended up in situations that were just a little too dangerous for her. But perhaps if she was lucky, the fact that she was simply working as an archives secretary would mean that she could avoid all of that.
(Too bad I've never really been lucky…)
"Uh, you alright Miss?" A voice asked, drawing her attention to a young red haired man in a black Sanctuary holding the building entrance open. "You've been pacing out here for a good twenty minutes now."
"O-oh, I'm sorry!" She squeaked, looking up the stairs at the man. "It's just, um, today is my first day and… I'm a bit n-nervous is all…"
"Ah, you must be Ms. Graham!" The man smiled with a snap of his fingers before adjusting his glasses. "I've been waiting for you!"
"Y-you have?" She blinked, before realizing. "You're the one I was supposed to meet!"
"Ah, yes, Philo Erston at your service." The red head nodded while offering his hand. "I'll be your direct supervisor for your stay here at the Sanctuary… archives."
She stared at the man, standing a good three meters away from her and not taking a step closer as he offered his hand.
"Um…"
Philo just continued to hold his hand out, his smile never faltering even as this moment dragged out for an uncomfortably long time.
(It might be easier if I just…) She walked up the stairs before taking her new boss's hand.
"Fantastic to meet you!" Philo told her with a firm shake of her hand before rentering the building and waving for her to follow. "Now come along it may be your first day but we've a busy day ahead getting you settled in and introducing you to our co-workers!"
"Uh, right… So, um, I'm supposed to be your secretary here?" She asked, spotting an empty desk just ahead.
One that Philo promptly passed in favor of a nearby elevator while waving to a large nearby man reading a newspaper. "We'll be heading down to the archives now Ralph."
"Mm-hmm." The man -Ralph- nodded, turning the page on his paper.
"That's Ralph, he's the lobby security slash secretary. Doesn't say much but is a big supporter of the printed press." Philo informed her as she followed him, before adding in a whisper. "He adds them to the mulch pile for his rose garden."
"I see…" She nodded, only slightly put-off as the elevator doors closed. "I'm guessing this means I'm going to be the secretary for the actual archives then?"
"Quick on the uptake, I love that!" Philo snapped his fingers at her with a smile, before pressing a button on the elevator panel. One that was notably below the lobby.
"Um, are we going underground?" She couldn't help but ask with a frown.
"Ah, yes. The majority of our facility is actually underground with the upper floors being more generalized office work, collecting files that other branches send us." Philo explained. "Once we've gathered whatever we need from said branches we store it a fair bit underground for security reasons."
"That… makes sense." She admitted. "Though it does make me a bit nervous about being so far underground."
"I believe most people get used to it after a week or so." Philo tried to assure her. "Once people realize that the building is made of reinforced Deviant metals, has three separate internal air and water filtration systems each, a green house capable of feeding an army indefinitely, and the ability to survive a nuke and the fallout wasteland for years to come."
"That's extensive…" She noted.
"To be fair this facility has been around since the rift riots, when people were convinced the world was ending, and it's only been upgraded since then." Philo shrugged. "Honestly, our budget had to be spent on something, and even our branch's field teams are deployed sparingly. So base upgrades were considered the best direction for everything to go."
She simply nodded, before looking around for a floor indicator of some kind, only to find none. "Um, we've been on this elevator for a while."
"Yes we have." Philo nodded in agreement.
She waited a moment for him to continue before asking, "How far underground are we going?"
"About five more meters as of… now." Philo answered as she felt the elevator slow to a stop before the doors opened to a white and gray hallway leading to a pair of doors at the end.
"That um, that didn't really answer my question…" She couldn't help but point out as her new boss started down the hall.
Philo blinked, giving her a curious look. "It didn't?"
"No? It didn't?" She answered a little unsurely.
"Hmm, you'll have to improve your spatial awareness if you're going to stay here." Philo told her, as he held the double doors open. "Otherwise you're going to get lost and the last thing you want to do is take a wrong turn from miscellaneous paperwork to eldritch horrors from beyond the stars."
"Eldritch what from the where now?" She asked.
"There you are." Someone growled, interrupting Philo just as he opened his mouth.
"Ooh, you have no idea how funny your timing is on that one." Philo smiled, a scowling dark haired man in a black and silver coat similar to his own.
"Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you for the last three hours!" The newcomer practically hissed through his teeth.
"Oh, I was upstairs waiting on our newest recruit here, Ms. Graham!" Philo explained with a flourish of his hands towards her. "She's a very experienced secretary who will be an invaluable aid in keeping everything here under control."
The dark haired man gave Philo a flat look before running a hand down his face and turning towards her. "Look I don't know wh-"
"Oh, Ethan don't you know a gentleman is supposed to introduce himself to a beautiful young lady before engaging in a mastication of words?" Philo interrupted. "Really where are your manners?"
"My manners don't really matter when-"
"Of course they matter!" Philo scoffed with a shake of his head. "But if you insist on being so rude I'll introduce you myself. Ms. Graham, this is Ethan Levi, one of our few field agents here in the archives and also one of this branch's first employees."
"Really?" She couldn't help but ask, given how with what she knew she was pretty sure the archives had been around for at least twenty years and the guy in front of her couldn't have been more than thirty on a bad day.
"Oh, don't let his youthful appearance fool you, his Deviancy keeps him from aging like the rest of you." Philo told her in a conspiratorial whisper that she was pretty sure Ethan could still hear. "In fact he's looked like this for as long as I can remember."
"You can barely remember what you had for breakfast this morning." Ethan sighed.
"Cereal."
"Eggs, there was an incident with the milkman and milk wasn't drinkable." Ethan corrected. "Dry cereal is what you had as a midnight snack because you were banned from entering the kitchen at night and someone left a box on the counter."
"Oh, right." Philo blinked. "But I still had them early enough to count as my first meal of the day, which makes that breakfast!"
Ethan rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to her. "Just ignore the idiot, he doesn't know what he's talking about. Also I'm like twenty-seven and pretty sure I'm aging at the same rate as everyone else… at the moment."
"You sound a little unsure there." She had to point out.
"There is some weird Deviant stuff out there." Ethan pointed out in turn.
"Fair." She admitted, figuring that that was more true for Sanctuary than most. "Either way you seem a bit young to be the oldest employee for this place."
"Technically I was the branch's ward after some junk with Asylum went down." Ethan shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes.
(And that sounds like a landmine if I've ever seen one.) She internally grimaced, only able to think of a few ways a kid would be transferred from Asylum to Sanctuary instead of any of the organizations literally designed to help children.
"Since I was part of the original junior Agent program it just made sense to stick around after I aged out." Ethan continued unaware "And after doing my prerequisite years in the junior program the tests themselves were easy."
"Especially with your friend cheating for you." Philo threw out.
"That's no different than an Arcane summoning their contracts." Ethan frowned almost defensively. "Besides it's not like I could tell them to leave after they showed up, and the proctors all knew they were there so it still counts."
"Your friend?" She repeated in askance.
"That's um, not something I really go around talking about." Ethan admitted evasively. "It's kind of classified and I'm not sure you're qualified for that stuff yet? Then again you are down here so maybe you are?"
"Of course she is, she wouldn't have a job here if she hadn't proven herself trustworthy -or gullible- enough." Philo waved away.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" She frowned.
"That you're an extremely trustworthy individual based on your lack of a criminal record, the fact that you didn't whistleblow all of your old bosses secrets after your falling out, and that we've already done a full background and mildly invasive psychology check on you to make sure you won't go exposing state and federal secrets." Philo broke down for her.
"Oh, uh, I thought that's what you meant." She nodded, just barely noticing Ethan narrow his eyes.
"So uh, Ms. Graham…" Ethan began with just a touch of suspicion. "What exactly were you hired for again?"
"Oh, I'm-"
"Our newest Archive Secretarial staff, like I said." Philo interrupted wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "After all, let's face it, as much of a scatterbrain as I am, we could really use someone to help us keep all of our paperwork in order and keep me from having so much… friction with the director above."
"That's a polite way of putting it." Ethan said, not losing an ounce of suspicion. "Pardon me, but uh, where exactly were you posted before moving here?"
She opened her mouth to tell him about the old firm she used to work at before watching a spark of red lighting dance along the floor and down a nearby doorway.
"Um, what was that?" She couldn't help but ask as she felt a pool of dread building in her stomach.
"What was what?" Ethan frowned, glancing over his shoulder.
Before she could mention the strange lightning the room gave a faint shake.
"Oh, that can't be good." Philo blinked looking around curiously.
As if to agree with him there was a faint alarm followed by a voice over the intercom informing everyone that, "There is a Class-D security breach in the Cursed Artifacts Containment. I repeat there is a Class-D security breach in Cursed Artifacts Containment. Please remain calm and continue as you were."
"Should we be worried about that?" She asked, feeling just a little panicked.
"Only if it were a Class-C or higher." Ethan assured her. "Class-D means a containment door was broken by someone doing something stupid, but nothing dangerous has actually gotten loose."
"Yet." Philo pointed out. "Ms. Graham did say she saw something odd, perhaps you should investigate that while I finish helping her get settled in. It wouldn't do for something to have snuck into Cursed Artifacts and us not notice until inventory pops something up as missing."
"Right." Ethan sighed, starting towards the same hall she'd seen the red lightning disappear down before pausing and turning back to them. "Actually, wouldn't you be better suited for that given how you've got the whole magic sense and have every anomaly in the base memorized."
"Ms. Graham still needs to be… read in on certain things, and besides we both know I'm better at… defending a target than you are." Philo explained with a look she couldn't quite decipher.
The fact that Ethan grimaced meant he could decipher it though, and that he didn't care for what the look was saying. "Fair."
With that settled it was once more her and Philo standing in the middle of the rather large -what she guessed was an- atrium.
"Do you, uh, do you think we're in danger?" She asked Philo as he motioned for her to follow him in the opposite direction.
"Not at all." Philo admitted with a blunt disregard. "Truthfully, Ethan and I have this rapport, and his self-given job as my second is largely to keep me from doing anything reckless. Hence why he is so interested in you as my newest hire. The boy really needs to learn how shaking things up can make a long long life interesting."
"He's your second?" She frowned. "But you said he was a field agent?"
"Yes, as am I." Philo nodded.
That gave her a bad feeling. "Um, if you're my supervisor, shouldn't you be part of the archives, like me?" She was very much not a field agent.
"Oh, I am. Our status as field agents is largely for retrieval of Deviant Anomalies that need to be stored or researched." Philo explained. "Your job is still mostly going to be taking notes, scheduling meetings with whatever Sanctuary branch calls us in, and organizing the vile evil that is paperwork…" Philo stopped to give the air in front of him a melancholic gaze. "I miss when paperwork was one ink written letter instead of a two hundred page series of forms."
(What am I even supposed to say to that?)
Philo suddenly shook his head before looking at her curiously. "What were we talking about?"
"My uh, my job here?" She answered a little unsurely.
"Right." Philo nodded, taking a look into a room empty save two chairs and a table. "Ah, this one should do for what we need."
"Uh, what do we need?" She asked, following Philo into the room as he took one seat and she took another.
"Someplace to do the vile paperwork." Her boss told her before pulling out a bundle of crumpled paperwork from his jacket and frowning at it.
There were a handful of red sparks from his hand as the paperwork completely smoothed itself out. "Sorry about that. I quit carrying around suitcases after that time a minor void creep hitched a ride inside of one and decided to play face hugger the next time I opened it."
She couldn't help but shudder at the idea of that happening to her, and proceeded to eye her own suitcase with a grimace. (Note to self leave the case at home from now on.)
"Anyway, these are the standard NDAs stating that you will be handling state and federal secrets, and the standard 'you will be sued into oblivion if you aren't whistleblowing a crime' clauses." Philo casually informed her.
While not the most experienced with legal matters, she had dealt with a few NDAs at her previous job and she could tell that these seemed a largely standard affair despite the less than nice way that Erston had put it.
Which is why she had no problem signing them. (After thoroughly reading them of course.)
"And here is the actual employee contract, including all of your pay and benefits. Pay starts at twenty-five dollars an hour, with a minimum dollar raise each year upon contract renewal. You get three weeks of paid vacation, with an all expenses paid trip to one of several locations. Two weeks of sick leave, to be used at your discretion. Full medical and dental coverage for you and your family if you use in house doctors. Oh, and you also get up to six months of paid maternity and or paternity leave alongside full childcare up to twelve years of age." Philo told her, listing out quite possibly the greatest employee package she'd ever had.
She told him as much as she shakily read over the entire contract, stating that her contract was on a yearly renewal basis and that she had to work forty hours a week with extra hours being over time and a right to refuse if her weekly hours totaled fifty or more.
"Admittedly, it would be better if we had that one clause that bankrupted the Gravston branch…" Philo sighed as he shook his head. "I warned them that would happen, I mean just look at how many people are eligible for it here? Everyone in this base would've used it at least three times by now. Personally I would've just put restrictions on it but apparently the director decided to just gut it overall given our special facility status and the changes he can make to the contract because of that."
(Well if it bankrupted a branch I can't blame the big boss for removing it.) She admitted to herself, unable to get upset about some unknown benefit that she wasn't getting when there were so many other benefits to replace it.
And so -unaware of her new boss's manic grin- she signed her name…
"Yes!" Philo cheered before pulling the paperwork from her and making it disappear in a flash of light as he told her, "No takesy backsies!"
"Uh, what?" She blinked.
"Ha, suck it Abraham! I've stolen another one of your employees!" Philo yelled while flicking the ceiling off with both of his hands.
"What?" She repeated in confusion.
The door to the room slammed open with a panting Ethan in the doorway. "Shit Philo we need you! The containment breach broke a Hellgate Artifact and-"
Whatever the Sanctuary agent was going to say was interrupted as he was tackled out of the doorway by something large with fangs and claws.
"What?!" She repeated once more, though in panic this time.
"Ah, so that was what that shift in the local Anima was." Philo nodded cheerfully as if hadn't just watched one of his employees get attacked and mauled.
"W-what's going on?!" She asked, stumbling out of her chair and away from the door as another monster appeared in the doorway, its mouth a snarling mess of fangs and its body a scarred and disgusting shade of pink. "W-what is that thing?!"
"Oh, it's just a regular Tuesday cosmic breach." Philo happily informed her as he stood up from his chair. "And this is a Hell Creep of some kind, perfectly harmless!"
"One of those things just killed Ethan!" She screamed.
"Ha! Killed Ethan!" Philo laughed as he picked up his chair. "That's a good one!"
She couldn't help but let out a keening noise as she watched her new boss beat a monster to death with his metal chair, sending bits of blood flying all over the wall and himself.
Once he was finished he tossed his chair to the side and peeked out the door frame, "Can you believe she thought they killed you?!"
"Fuck you!" A voice that sent a primal chill down her spine yelled as half of one of these Creeps went flying past Erston as he ducked back into the room.
"Now that's just rude!" Philo scoffed with a shake of his head. "She had no way of knowing just how capable you are!"
"I… wasn't… talking… to her…" Ethan gasped out as he stumbled into the doorframe, not a single injury on him.
"Ah, I see… still rude of you though." Philo informed his fellow agent before turning back to her. "Come along Ms. Graham, we've got work to do."
"W-what?" She blinked, before shaking her head. "Why should I go anywhere with you?!"
"Because it's your job?" Philo pointed out curiously. "You're my secretary, you're supposed to follow me and take notes so that I remember all the worthless little details I forget about while I study things."
"B-but I'm not a soldier!" She had to remind him. "I'm a secretary!"
"Yeah, but you've still taken the field courses." Ethan told her, pulling out his gun and offering it to her. "Even if you've never used them, you should know how to fire a gun and stick with us."
"What field courses?!" She half asked half panicked.
"The ones Sanctuary gives all employees, including the non-combatants?" Ethan answered with a touch of confusion. -Which was still a lot less than what she was feeling at the moment.- "You're a Sanctuary Secretary aren't you?"
"Today's my first day!" She told him.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "There's no way you'd be starting out with the D.A.R.C. branch if it was-" His eyes went wide before shooting to Philo. "What did you do?!"
"I acquired us a new Secretary by stealing Abraham's newest addition." Philo informed him smugly.
"No-no-no." Ethan shook his head before turning to her. "Where did you work before coming here?!"
"I-I was at a law firm!" She yelled, his sudden panic doing nothing for her own.
"Oh, fuck!" Ethan cursed before turning around and shooting Philo in the chest, repeatedly. "You. Fucking. Idiot! Why. Are. You. Like. This?!"
Philo stumbled back, as red electricity crackled around his chest before brushing it and several bullets away. "Truthfully I blame my father for making my primary method of survival a dark art and forgetting to put in a safety filter to keep it from driving me insane."
Ethan took a deep breath before slowly letting it out.
He then shot Philo in the dick before reloading his gun.
"Right, okay… going to have to clean up this mess." Ethan turned towards her and flipped his gun around, offering it handle first. "You know how to use one of these?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Then only use it if a thing jumps you, because then you can't miss. If you stay next to us that shouldn't happen." Ethan told her, shaking the gun until she took it from him.
Once she did Ethan clapped his hands together and pointed them at her. "Alright, quick explanation. Thanks to the idiot's petty grudge you've been hired to a highly classified, only supposed to transfer in -not be hired to- branch of Sanctuary revolving around collecting, identifying, and containing Deviant Anomalies."
He paused here upon seeing her confused look before sighing.
"Basically weird shit that sometimes crops up but can't be dealt with by simply burning it, killing it, or disenchanting it." Ethan simplified for her. "We've had a containment breach, meaning one of the things we contained is no longer contained and is instead summoning a bunch of minor demons to our world. In order to stop it we need to get the idiot to said anomaly so that he can seal it shut. If you want to survive you're going to have to stick with us, because our boss blew all the door money on the containment vaults, meaning the doors to these rooms are very breakable and these things smell fear. Questions?"
She let out another keening sound.
"That's what I thought." Ethan admitted with a grimace.
"Oh, come now Ms. Graham there is nothing to fear! I mean even if you die we have some of the best Necromancers on pay to resurrect you within the hour!" Philo helpfully told her.
Her keening grew even louder.
"I really wish you understood why dying is considered a bad thing…" Ethan groaned.
"Truthfully, I've never gotten why everyone is so worried about it." Philo confessed. "I mean death is so… temporary."
"Not for normal people." Ethan reminded him, before walking forward and crouching in front of her. "Okay, I understand that this is all-in-all not a good day for you."
"I don't see why not, I mean she has a new job with fantastic benefits."
"... You mind if I borrow this real quick?" Ethan took his gun from her shaking hands before shooting Philo in the dick… again.
"Rude."
"Anyway, like I said I promise you you'll get out of this alive, but I really do need you to stick with us, can you do that?" Ethan asked her, once more offering his gun.
(No I can't…) She told herself gently shaking her head, before forcing herself to take the gun and shakily forcing herself onto her feet. (But it's not like I have a choice…)
"Alright, just keep calm and keep up, okay?" Ethan said steadying her with a hand on her shoulder and a nod of his head before turning back to Philo. "We're not that far from the Anomaly but it's been open enough that a fair number of the base's guards have probably been put through the grinder by now."
"Oh, then we really should get to work or else Sasha will blame us for letting the seven minute timer run out." Philo told them, merrily wandering out of the room as if they weren't in the middle of a demonic invasion.
As they followed him out of the room, and she watched him happily walk past another monster completely uncaring of the way it turned towards him with a snarl…She completely understood why when he snapped his fingers and a bolt of red lightning caused the monster to explode in a blast of gore and flame.
"Like I said, we'll keep you safe, just stick close to us." Ethan assured her once more as he trailed after his fellow agent.
(Oh, this is a bad idea…)
But not having any other options she followed as well despite her growing anxiety.
"Welp this is a right and proper mess." Philo noted as they entered the atrium to find a number of guards shooting at a small of horde of monsters crawling out of the hall Ethan had gone through earlier.
"You and your friend want to do anything about it?" He asked Ethan after a moment.
Ethan glanced at her for some reason. "I'd rather stick with Ms. Graham and make sure she's safe."
"Oh, I'm sure she'll be fine, she seems like the resourceful sort!" Philo smiled, while casually catching one of the creatures by the face as it lunged at him before making its skull explode and splattering them all with blood.
"Yeah, but I doubt she has your Alchemy or my… circumstances." Ethan argued, wiping the blood off of his face. (While she was shaking just a little too hard to do anything about the blood on her own.)
"Hmm, I suppose that's true." Philo admitted before stomping the ground as several monsters broke past the guards and rushed them, only to be frozen in a flash of ice. "Do you mind? We're having a conversation, and this is so terribly rude of you!"
"Ah." Ethan snapped his fingers. "It's a gentleman's job to escort a fair lady to make sure no, uh, ruffians can bother her."
"Oh, quite right!" Philo nodded with a shocked face before giving Ethan a smile. "Jolly good show old boy! You escort Ms. Graham while I clear us a path to the Anomaly!"
With that established Philo started towards the horde of monsters, red electricity dancing around his body as he walked.
"That guys is such a fucking idiot…" Ethan groaned as if he was in pain. "I really wish he wasn't the most experienced magic user in Sanctuary."
"H-he's the most e-experienced m-magic user in S-Sanctuary?" She asked, that question somehow, the only thing piercing through her mind at the moment.
(Well, that and the fact that Philo had twisted the metal floor into a series of spikes impaling over a dozen monsters with it. Something she was actually trying not to think about.)
"That thing about never aging? Yeah, he's been active since Memento was running around in the seventies." Ethan told her as if she had any idea what that meant beyond Philo apparently being over fifty years old despite his youthful appearance. "I know for a fact Asylum had him locked in a cell somewhere with a null Anomaly locking his magic down. Guy would not quit singing French bar songs for hours on end…"
It idly occurred to her that (Philo and Ethan were probably locked in the same Asylum prison…) Not that that did anything to improve her current situation.
"Oh, do keep up you two!" Philo called from ahead as he returned the floor to normal in a dance of electricity, somehow turning the Creeps to cinder and ash as he fixed the spikes, though doing nothing for all of the blood on the floor. "Watch your step, floor is a bit slick."
She glanced down at the heels she'd worn to work.
"Yeah, you're, uh, going to want to invest in some boots." Ethan told her after following her gaze. "You want me to, uh, help you?"
She shook her head. "I um, I'll figure it out…" (Or break my neck… I could do that too I guess…)
By some miracle she made it through the blood with only one or two brief losses of balance, and only a few glances towards the various dead bodies littering the atrium (that everyone else is ignoring!)
"Hey, I remember this!" Philo laughed as he stared at a small (music box?) with smoke pouring out of it. "This is that old music box that little Lovecraftian girl corrupted with the mists! Wasn't that one of our first cases together?"
She felt her eyes itching.
"Yeah…" Ethan shivered, apparently remembering something unpleasant. (Don't worry I'll be right there with you after today!)
"Oh, come now I know it's embarrassing when a child gets a crush on you but all you had to do was explain she was far too young for you!" Philo told his fellow agent.
"You do remember she's a two hundred year old eldritch horror pretending to be a child?" Ethan pointed out dryly.
(Alright, I can see the problem there…)
"I thought she was only fifteen?" Philo blinked curiously.
"No… That's the other eldritch eight year old…" Ethan sighed, before smirking. "The one that got adopted by that one guy who set you on fire and tried to feed you to his kids when that didn't work."
"Ah, yes… him." Philo frowned, before whispering "I am not an all you can eat buffet…" in an offended tone.
(Okay, I am seeing a lot of problems there…)
"There's a reason that city is black listed, lots of crazy in there." Ethan told her upon seeing the look on her face before looking behind her and swatting the air. "Stop that."
"Stop what?" She asked, wiping her eyes and finally getting rid of that itch.
"Uh… nothing too important… I hope."
"Well, that's not ominous at all…" She told him rather bluntly.
"Hmm…" Ethan opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off as something punched him hard enough to take his head clean off.
She froze watching Ethan's body fall to the ground as a massive hand retracted itself to a large figure with several arms, a dozen eyes, and no mouth.
"Ah, seems we were a bit late in stopping the boss creep from getting out…" Philo told her as he pulled her back completely unbothered by the death of his partner.
She just stared at him.
"No problem." Philo clapped with a smile. "All we need to do is close the music box and everything it summoned will fade away like a bad dream… I feel you would've laughed at that if you realized these Creeps are in fact eldritch mental constructs very similar to a Wonderlander's Dreams and thus… the joke isn't as funny when I have to explain it."
"That thing just killed Ethan!" She couldn't help but scream.
Rather than being chastised Philo had the gall to laugh. "Ha! Killed him! Even the second time that joke is so funny!"
"It's not a joke!" She yelled at the mad man in front of her.
Philo blinked before putting a hand on her head and turning it towards Ethan's body… as it picked itself off the ground and stood with a sluggish posture.
"I just realized you didn't know he can't die." Philo told her as he removed his hand. "That's what happens when you befriend a lovecraftian horror that doesn't want you to… Well that and the tentacles."
"Tentacles?" She repeated, before watching a dozen of pitch black -(no darker than black)- tentacles burst out of Ethan's neck. Tentacles that quickly extended to wrap around the massive boss creep that had removed his head.
"His friend uses his corpse as a door to our plane of existence whenever he dies, bleeds, or feels any pain really. We were quite thorough in testing all of that." Philo assured her as she watched in morbid fascination as the massive creature that had to crouch to stand in the hallway was violently forced through Ethan's neck, without his body changing size in the slightest. "We also found out that it has a fairly voracious appetite."
Once the massive boss creep had been fully consumed the tentacles began retracting, leaving only a handful that proceeded to coalesce into a spherical shape before slowly taking on the shape of a human head and paling until it replaced Ethan's head completely undamaged.
"Well with that taken care of…" Philo walked over to the music box and picked it up before walking back and putting it in her hands. "Why don't you close it? Think of it as a celebration for your first day in Sanctuary's Deviant Anomaly Research and Containment branch, otherwise known as the Archives!"
She glanced down at the box before looking around at the blood and gore filled base around them, as well as the disoriented and newly resurrected Ethan, and remembered Philo's words on this being a 'regular Tuesday' in addition to his 'sued into oblivion' comment.
At which point she couldn't help but realize that, (Mistakes have been made…) as she closed the music box.
Patreon Side Story: Sanctuary Dossiers: Punk Squad #27
A/N: Originally this one was going to be just the dossiers, but after writing them I decided to add a little short about the team pulling an op. Just to see them in action.
Sanctuary Dossiers: Punk Squad #27
Unit Purpose: A criminal counter unit, specializing in the physical dismantlement of organized crime groups featuring mechanically oriented M.A.D. support and technologies.
Current Unit Size: 4 (3 Field, 1 Support)
Unit Restrictions: Due to former and possible criminal elements of the unit, no unit is allowed anything beyond C Rank Cyberware without prior authorization of the supervising Director.
Unit Threat Clearance: [Reductive B Rank] Unit is authorized to pursue any criminal organization on a city wide scale up to [C Rank] without prior clearance from their local director. If under the supervision of their Director, unit possesses a skill level capable of pursuing any [Upper B Rank] threat to the local region.
"Is everyone in place?" She asked over the comms as she looked over the building blueprints on her computer.
"I'm set up on my end." A female voice answered.
"In position." A half-synthetic male responded.
"Just waiting for you, beautiful." A(n over)confident voice assured her.
"Alright, just one last review and will kick things off." She told everyone as she began uploading images onto their various AR huds. "This is a simple interception job. While there will be two gangs present, each with about half a dozen bodies, we are specifically going after the Cyberpunk outfit who should be fairly obvious with their modifications. So if you're forced to choose who to go after, then pick them."
"So same old same old."
"We do reviews for a reason." She reminded her most troublesome co-worker as she uploaded a specific photo. "We have fairly good reason to believe that this is the M.A.D. outfitting this group, and that she will be present for this meeting. Above all else we need to take her off the board."
"Visual confirmed. I'll extract her the moment the opportunity arises." The synthetic voice promised, once more reminding her who was her most professional co-worker.
"And I'll snipe the cars just to be safe." The team's other female cheerfully added, perhaps not as professional as the other (but at least she's trying to be helpful.)
"Good." She nodded, before checking their mapping once more to make sure everyone -More specifically Cobbs.- was actually in place, and upon seeing the trouble maker hadn't drifted off somewhere she went ahead and gave the order to, "Go ahead and knock."
"Showtime." He laughed with a roll of his shoulders as he walked up to the warehouse this arms deal was taking place in and proceeded to knock on the door.
With his cybernetic eye he watched the various yellow figures that the Ninja's optics had flagged, -The appearance of these images only mildly disorienting despite only appearing in a single eye.- as they sent two of theirs to investigate who would oh so brazenly interrupt their meeting.
Idly, he wondered if he was the only one to realize this whole plan could be executed in about five minutes if everyone just stealthily rushed the meeting. Even if they limited themselves to non-lethal means the whole thing would be an easy gig. (Too easy. You've got to love when the 'safe' plan is also the 'fun' one.)
The door was forced open ever so slightly, and a -unaugmented- man stepped out, clearly hiding a handgun just inside the door.
"Who are you?"
There were a few ways he could answer that as he began working his magic on the man in front of him, but ultimately he decided to go with the 'audacious' answer of. "I'm a cop." Which was a blatant lie, even if he did work for Sanctuary. (I'm more of a… indentured employee at this point.)
"Cobbs…" Dulce groaned over the comms, likely developing a headache that he would happily offer to help her deal with after the gig was over, regardless of her inevitable rejection. (Really, whoever she dated before must've been a terribly selfish lover to make her think so little of my abilities. Even before I use my… abilities.)
He couldn't help but laugh at that thought, even if it was only mildly funny.
"Oh, think you're funny?" The guard asked him.
"Yes, but honestly it's more the brain damage keeping me from filtering my responses properly." He admitted, because really was upset that he'd lost his poker face. (It was the only thing Charlie couldn't beat me at.)
"W-what?" The guard blinked in confusion, and unknowingly giving him an opportunity.
"Look, clearly I am a highly suspicious individual as I am sure the other guard behind this wall-" he tapped the yellow silhouette in his right eye's vision "-would agree. So why don't you bring me inside so that your bosses can try -and fail- to interrogate me."
"Cobbs, you are an idiot." The team ninja told him, before asking the team spitfire. "McGee, you have your shots lined up?"
"Yep. Just waiting on Jason to piss someone off." Mags assured their ornery teammate. "Shouldn't take long."
[Ah, thanks for the compliment Mags.] He messaged the team chat, knowing it would pop on everyone's optics… (and rub in the fact that I'm the only one who can mentally send those.)
He quickly spotted the M.A.D. they were here for and couldn't help but give a very appreciative once over. "Ooh, I am loving the cybergoth look. Photos really don't do you justice beautiful."
Rather than taking the compliment, the M.A.D. gave him a disgusted look. (Which I get, some people don't like strangers complimenting them.) He really did need to work on that filter thing, he usually held off on flirting until he knew someone would be receptive.
"Who is this idiot?" The other crime boss asked.
"Says he's with the cops." His escort answered, unaware that he himself was compromised already.
"Technically, I work for Sanctuary." He clarified. "And this is actually the start of a raid on this place."
"A raid?" The (sexy) cybergoth scoffed. "You by yourself?"
"You two mind saving his ass before he gets himself killed?" The sweet, Dulce asked with no small amount of frustration.
"You lot are vastly underestimating me." He told both his teammates and the criminals holding him at gunpoint as he aimed a finger gun at a nearby cyberpunk.
The world around him slowed to a crawl as his neural accelerator kicked on and began applying a faint strain on the entirety of his nervous system.
A bit of focus on each guard and he had access to the software said cyberpunk was running on his tech. While he lacked the abilities of an actual hacker, between his tech and his natural abilities he was able to… nudge the programming in a way he felt only his siblings would be able to understand if he tried to explain it. And with a few other nudges in key places he switched his accelerator off and said, "Bang." just as the cyberpunk spasmed and dropped to the ground.
"Shit, he's a Deviant!" One of the men yelled as all eyes fell on him, people attributing the faint bang to his powers rather than to McGee shooting out the engine on one of the cars.
"Ah, ah, careful if you don't want to drop too." He called out, with a grin as he waved a second finger pistol around solely for show, despite not needing it to drop half the room.
His eyes roamed the forces below as unseen fingers curled around the hilt of his blade, just in case the idiot needed backup, before he could get an opportunity to go after the primary target.
(Thirteen units in play.) He counted below.
The primary target backed away from Cobbs as the guards surrounded him, and Tadashi took this as the ideal opportunity to kick back off of the support beam he was perched upon, faint sparks of electricity dancing around his feet as the electromagnetic fields shifted to propel him further.
With a backflip to shift his momentum he landed unseen behind the M.A.D. who had foolishly placed all of her guards between herself and the dual Deviant she thought the only threat of the night.
As he stood the target backed into him -one hand on the door of the car- and would've turned to face him if he hadn't immediately wrapped an arm around her throat, pinning her mouth shut and lifting her an inch off the ground. "Let's keep the noise to a minimum."
Loosening his grip ever so slightly so her feet were on the ground, he kept a hand on her jaw as he dragged the M.A.D. back a handful of steps before throwing her in the trunk of the car, still open from the weapons deal. Reaching inside he withdrew the only weapons case they'd yet to unload before slamming it shut just as the M.A.D. began to scream.
(Twelve…)
A gangster turned towards him but saw nothing as his stealth module continued to distort the light around him into a near invisibility. "Hey, where'd the boss go?"
He set the case on the ground out of sight of the criminals as they began splitting their attention between the idiot and their missing boss.
A few quick swipes of the smaller monoblades attached to his fingertips and he found the tech blade inside. A relatively simple thing compared to some of the other blades he'd… confiscated over the years, but the electrified blade could prove a suitable non-lethal alternative to his normal blades.
Retracting his claws, he lifted the blade from his case and stood just as one of the gangsters came closer to investigate the banging from the trunk.
The moment the target was in range he turned the blade on and used it to tase the criminal into submission, propping the man up to keep his compatriots from immediately realizing something was wrong.
(Eleven…)
"What the hell was that?" A second asked, as a few of them turned to investigate the car as they lost interest in Cobb's idiocy, as the fool seemed to be negotiating a takeover of the arms deal with the other gang's leader.
"Conflict escalation imminent." He warned everyone over the comms as the men drew nearer and his stealth module began to run low on power. "Beginning in five… four… three… two… one."
As he became visible to the world around him, he shoved the man he'd been propping up backwards, all but throwing the criminal into another and sending both toppling into the ground.
Not hesitating he stepped forward with his new blade and slashed the dull edge into a third criminal's side, pushing the man into the car as he tased him.
Seeing that the fourth had drawn his gun and was beginning to take aim, he took a step back with a spinning flourish before delivering a roundhouse kick to the third criminal's chest with a metallic leg and throwing a knife into the fourth's shoulder causing his bullet fire to spread wide.
(Tch… Ten…)
"Just so you know this is your only chance to surrender." He warned the criminals as more of them turned towards him, purposely leaning on the synthetic sound his mask filled his voice with to intimidate them. And if that didn't work he was sure the fact that he was using the blade to tase the criminal on the ground would've done something.
(Nine…)
"Uh, is the cyber-ninja with her guys or what?" Cobbs asked, taking a step back with his hands raised. A gesture that would seem submissive to anyone who didn't notice the man's glowing blue eye dashing between the criminal cyberpunks in the room, likely hacking and defanging any threat they may pose.
"You think you can take all of us?" The remaining gang leader asked, pointing a gun at Cobb's head, something the fool seemed only mildly interested in. "Now that we can see you we can just gun you two down."
With that said, they were in something of a standoff. An admittedly one-sided standoff given how he was fairly certain none of their guns were of a high enough caliber to damage his suit and as much as he may be a fool, Cobbs was a rather notorious hitman before Sanctuary flipped him. One that likely already had a kill method established for half the people in the room should things escalate beyond non-lethal.
Meaning that if he wanted to get out of this without any real bloodshed, he'd have to de-escalate things.
Of course, because he was the only competent member of his field team, the moment he realized this was also the exact moment when McGee decided to leap through a window, guns blazing.
After taking out each of the cars' engines with her rifle -which was more of a cannon if she was being honest- she gave the warehouse a once over as she broke her rifle's power circuit by removing its firing chip. With normal eyes all she would've seen was the outside of a metal and brick building, but thanks to her optics she could clearly see AR overlays of everyone in the building.
Aware that no one could move her rifle without at least a few physical enhancements, she left it on the rooftop as she pocketed the firing chip and stood up before attaching her shotgun to her back as she watched Dashi seemingly use some guy as a meatshield.
"Conflict escalation imminent." The team ninja warned over their comms.
Not needing to know anything else about the situation, she gave the building another once as she began backing away from the roof's edge, double checking that she'd gotten the distance right even as gunfire went off inside of the building. (Yeah, I can make that.)
Taking a running stance she inhaled and wiggled her ears, flicking her Overheat system on as the cybertech in her body began running at max power. With this boost running through her system she shot forward faster than an olympic sprinter, before kicking off the roof's edge and launching herself into the air as said edge crunched beneath her boots.
Seeing that she was going to make her jump, she readjusted her legs to hit the skylight steel plated boots first as she grabbed her shotgun by the grip and felt the circuits in her hand sync the device with her Overheat system. In the corner of her vision she noticed her weapon's energy meter flicker on as she fell through the air, glass falling all around her.
With an ease only possible due to the modifications to her legs she landed on one of the cars in a crouch, crumbling its roof beneath her weight, before bouncing onto her feet with a feral grin as she aimed her shotgun at the nearest gang goon.
"Sup bitches!"
Everyone froze at her (suitably) dramatic entrance.
Except for Jason who used the distraction as an opportunity to steal a gun being aimed at his head, and breaking his assailant's jaw before snapping his fingers and dropping two cyberpunks in the back as he shot a regular goon.
(Damn, he's got the cold blood.)
Refusing to let her moment be stolen, she proceeded to shoot the goon she was aiming at discharging a blast of electricity through the air that -through an M.A.D. process she was still trying to crack- bled most of its voltage into concussive force, sending her victim flying.
As she leapt off of the wrecked car she spotted Dashi rushing another goon on his end with an electric blade that was distinctly different from the blunted blade Sanctuary had authorized for this little outing. (And he complains about me and Jayce breaking the rules!)
She used her annoyance at that bit of hypocrisy to kick one of the goons in the chest -which from her resulted in several broken ribs and a two foot flight- before shooting a cyberpunk and watching as the electricity caused the man's cybertech to glitch and spasm out.
(Ugh, hate that feeling.) She couldn't help but grimace, less in sympathy and more in memory of when she'd accidentally zapped herself while building her gun using a stolen bit of sparktech.
In that moment of distraction, a second cyberpunk rushed her, a glowing blade shooting out of the woman's arm as she tried -(and failed)- to cut her baby in half, only to knock it out of her hands instead.
"Not so cocky now, huh, pipsqueak?!" The woman laughed, either not noticing or caring that she was one of the only two -(Nope, Dashi is choking that guy out, make it the only one of)- the cyberpunk's people still standing.
"Yeah, no." She scoffed, before weaving around the woman's blade, picking her up off the ground and throwing her about thirty feet away into the metal wall, where the cyberpunk then proceeded to fall another ten feet to the concrete ground. "She'd probably been better off leaving me my gun."
"Please, we both know you could've just stood there and tanked her until she tired herself out." Jason joked as he patched up the goon he shot to avoid dealing with the paperwork killing someone would've caused.
Idly, she wondered if she should be as okay with that knowledge as she was. (Then again, as long as they're not civilians I don't honestly care too much.) Dashi and Dulce were the team's moral compasses, she was just the heavy hitter.
(Thinking of…)
"Alright, Dulce go ahead and send in the clean up crew." She told the nicest member of their unit. "Everyone is down, and we can keep them down as long as we've got to."
"Good to hear, the police will be there for their guys in a few minutes and our guys will be there for ours in the same." Dulce told them over the comms. "And biometrics say nobody was hurt too! Good work, guys!"
"Ha! It was easy." She assured the team medic. "These chumps had nothing on us!"
Jason whistled drawing her attention, before whispering. "Kill your Overheat before she notices."
She gave her competitive wingman a thumbs up, having once more forgotten about that and knowing it would kill her cool factor if Dulce was the one to remind her, but another wiggle of ears fixed that problem for her as the mechanical bits of her body began to vent the heat she'd built up.
Dulce gave her a laugh over the phone, "Alright, I'll see you guys in a bit then."
"And with that your inhibitor chip is back in place." She told her patient as she took a step back.
"Ugh, hate that we have to do this after every op." Jason groaned, rolling his shoulders and making the metal on his spine shift with a smoothness that she wished her tech could replicate. "I mean when are they going to trust me enough to leave me be."
"You're the one who broke the law." She reminded their resident redemption case.
Jason scoffed. "And I brought down one of the most infamous and dangerous crime lords in the country when I turned myself in! What more do they expect from me?!"
"You know that whole thing would be a lot more impressive if you actually told us which crime lord you took down." Mags pointed out, as she tossed Jason his shirt. "Also put this on."
"What? Not liking the show?" Jason asked, gesturing to his vaguely visible abs with a smirk. "What about you Dulc? You like it?"
She rolled her eyes at Jason's flirting, having long since realized the man was simply an unrepentant flirt. (Really wish he'd realize I'm just not interested in dating anybody.) She was simply too busy between her job and taking care of her son.
At the very least he stopped when she went from amused to annoyed, which is more than she could say for any of the other pendejos trying to get in her pants.
"It's actually pretty obvious who it was if you're paying attention." Tadashi told them as he put up his own gear, sounding much more human without his mask.
"Really who is it?" Mags wondered, leaning forward excitedly.
An emotion that she liked to think she did a much better job at hiding given how much secrecy everyone at Sanctuary who knew seemed to have about the whole thing. (Which is another point against dating someone with criminal connections that dangerous.)
"Classified." Tadashi smirked as he closed his locker.
"Boo!" Mags frowned, kicking at the air in a disappointment they both felt.
"If they redacted it on his file, then I'm not going to be the one to go spreading it around." Tadashi shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning against his locker, though his eyes never left Jason's as the two had a silent conversation. "All that matters is he helped take them down in the end."
"Appreciate that." Jason nodded before slipping his shirt back on, apparently done with his flirting for the night.
"So everyone packed up?" She asked, given how she was the one who was supposed to lock up the truck that made up their mobile ops center.
"Yep."
"I'm good."
"Affirmative."
Everyone sounded off before making their way to the exit, though Mags did turn around once she'd hopped out of the truck. "Hey, since you've got the little man a sitter tonight, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a couple drinks? You know a girls' night?"
"You know what, sure." She smiled at the closest thing she had to a sister before pointing a thumb at the truck. "Just let me lock up real quick."
"Sure thing!" Mags smiled back like the adorable puppy she was.
(Turning back to the truck, she did not notice said puppy giving the resident criminal a taunting pair of middle fingers after scoring something date-adjacent from their mutual crush.
Hamato as the only one uninterested in the love triangle merely rolled his eyes at the trio.)
Name: Dulce Flores
Deviancy: M.A.D.
Combat Classes: [Medic] [Overwatch]
Unit Role: Primary medical physician and M.A.D. for any maintenance the unit's cyberpunks may require. Due to not being a field unit, Agent has also taken a minor role as team Overwatch.
Background:
-Being born to immigrant parents, Flores pushed through a number of economic and racial hardships before entering medical school and obtaining a nursing degree. During this time she became pregnant with a child, she carried to term despite her strenuous class work.
-After graduating Flores's status as an M.A.D. was discovered when assisting with a failing operation, she sparked out and took over correcting the problems and saving her patient's life. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances she lost her job at the hospital due to breaking several minor laws in taking over the surgery without a valid medical license.
-In the following months Flores lost the majority of her savings as no other hospital would hire her. Near the end of this time it came to light that the person she'd lost her career saving was [Name Redacted] a Sanctuary officer at the time, who offered her employment as thanks for saving their life.
-From there Flores was eventually assigned as the primary handler and doctor of Agent McGee, followed by Agent Hamato upon the formation of Punk Squad 27 and eventually Probationary Agent Cobbs a few years later upon his assignment to the squad.
Psych Profile:
-Subject is goal oriented, with a notable priority being given to taking care of her son. What's more given her repeated stints of poverty throughout her life, she seems to have attached her family's financial safety with her stability as a Sanctuary medic, making her easily the most loyal member of the unit to Sanctuary as a whole.
-Possesses a minor savior complex requiring her to help people who have been physically injured, a complex that typically results in her sparking out and achieving the peak of her M.A.D. abilities. As such it is recommended that she always retain a Medic role in whatever position she is given so as to maximize her Deviancy's potential.
Notable Equipment:
-Standard Sanctuary Medical M.A.D. kit.
Notable Abilities:
-A low ranking M.A.D. with a focus on mechanical medical technologies.
-Given her status as an M.A.D. with surgical potential, Flores is fully capable of performing Cybertech surgery while lacking the ability to upgrade said tech beyond their default parameters.
--(Note: Exception to this in the case of life support Cybertech, but given the non-offensive nature of this tech, risk of upgrades is deemed fully acceptable. Even encouraged if it generates loyalty towards Flores within the unit.)
Name: Margaret 'Maggie' McGee
Alias: Mad Mags McGee
Deviancy: Cyberpunk
Combat Classes: [Bruiser] [Blaster] [Marksman]
Unit Role: Functions as both long and short range Artillery unit, either picking hostiles off at a distance or engaging in melee when a heavier hand is needed.
Background:
-McGee's early life was relatively normal, coming from a middle class family in a decent neighborhood with a housewife mother and an office worker father. The only notable exception to this normality was her elder brother, a mid-ranking M.A.D. who kept his awakening secret from the rest of the family as he played around with his abilities.
-Things changed when on a road trip the family was in a car crash, injuring their entire family, rendering their parents unconscious and the youngest McGee in a critical state. Under the stress of these events Margaret's brother sparked out and began operating on her in an attempt to save his sister's life. An attempt that succeeded if in a flawed way.
-Due to a lack of resources, the Cybertech implanted in McGee was unstable and while life saving suffered from system wide rejection. Thus by the time the family received proper medical care she required even more Cybertech to survive than had been initially implanted. So much so that McGee's natural biological growth was impeded to the point where she required constant adjustments to at least partially simulate said growth.
-In the following years the McGees received more and more attention for their Deviant children, until eventually their local gang [Redacted] attempted to pressgang them into joining. An event that led to the fatal wounding of Margaret's brother, which served as a breaking point for her psyche. One that led to her slaughtering the entirety of the gang from within their primary base, an incident that would've led to her arrest due to the number killed if not for the intervention of Sanctuary and the offer of employment.
Psych Profile:
-[Flagged] While subject is largely stable, she has demonstrated a tendency to *Snap* under extreme stressors, causing her to react with increased aggression and violence. Given the high limit of this stress the problem in itself is largely manageable, seemingly only triggering as a PTSD survival response, likely developed during either the incident that turned her into a cyberpunk or the one that brought her into Sanctuary's employ.
- Possesses a notable sense of body dysphoria, whether this is from before or after her initial modifications is unknown but has led to her undergoing constant modifications to try and 'fix' whatever part of her feels wrong after prolonged downtime. She most often describes this as her parts feeling like they're 'the wrong size'.
--Note: Given how the subject has successfully been tricked into believing the problem has been 'fixed' after being rendered unconscious with no actual modifications it is recommended this method be repeated to avoid degrading the subject's physical health with constant cyber modifications.
Cybertech:
-Synthetic Organs (Lungs, Liver, Right Kidney): Several of subject's organs have been replaced with cybertech, which while not possessing any esoteric functions do have increased functionality beyond baseline human.
-Sub-Dermal Plating: Subject has a series of fiber plating applied 'underskin' over various points of her body, allowing her to survive bullet and knife wounds with minimal internal damage.
-Reinforced Skeletal Structure: Subject's skeletal structure has been reinforced at various points with metallic plating and pins so as to reinforce it to the point where the user can be hit with a car and suffer little damage to their skeletal system.
-Reinforced Tendons: A special set of augmentations have been applied to the tendons within the subject's arms and legs allowing them to generate significantly more force than normally plausible for her muscle mass.
--Note: These tendon's have been further reinforced during maintenance on the subject's skeletal structure, further increasing force generation while offsetting the significant increase various augmentations have caused to their weight.
-Hand Plating And Cybernetics: Subject's hands have been virtually rebuilt, being more cybertech than organic at this point, allowing them to integrate with compatible tech upon contact as well as giving them heavier weighting similar to in-built brass knuckles.
-Over Heat System (B Rank): A system of cybertech laced throughout the body enabling the user to overclock all of their systems for enhanced functionality at the cost of rapidly raising their body temperature.
--Note: Safety Limiters will forcibly disable cyberware into a venting period should they believe the user's Heat level has risen or stayed too high for too long.
-Full Optics: Standard optics array with full spectrum vision and an adaptable AR scanning and information hud.
Notable Equipment:
-Custom Tech Scatter gun: A short range gun capable of firing powerful electrical pulses, inflicting increased damage to any electrical equipment hit. These shots can be charged for additional firepower at the price of consuming a greater amount of energy per shot.
-Custom Railgun Rifle: An extremely high powered miniature railgun capable of building power to fire rounds through several inches of solid steel plating.
--Note: The sheer weight of this gun makes its deployment highly impractical for any users without some form of strength enhancement, regardless of its overall firepower.
-Custom SMGs: A custom set of SMGs capable of firing rubber rounds thus offering a non-lethal option of rapid fire mid combat. These guns also possess internal tech allowing them to integrate with Agent McGee's Over Heat System allowing them to be fired with increased speed and power at the price of straining an internal motor.
-Custom Made Explosives: A set of custom explosives adapted from scavenged sparktech, generating a number of esoteric and/or elemental effects. Explosives possess internal hardware allowing them to function as grenades, motion based mines, or remote triggered explosives.
--Effects Agent McGee is known capable of replicating are: Cryo, Burn, Electrical, Concussive, Tether, Flash, and Chem Smoke.
-Blast Proof Jacket: A custom weave jacket made from several M.A.D. acquired materials allowing the jacket to both spread and dampen impacts across the jacket's entire surface while also maintaining a resistance to both heat and electrical conductivity.
--Weakness Note: Despite jacket's near indestructibility the materials that comprise it do not allow for the easy escape of heat, thus making it relatively easy for the wearer to overheat in the proper circumstances. Such as the use of Agent McGee's Over Heat System.
-Coolant Jacket: A custom weave jacket made from several M.A.D. acquired materials allowing the jacket to reduce and maintain a temperature in the seventies even when external temperatures pass the hundred degree mark.
Notable Abilities:
--Mechanical Engineering: While herself not an M.A.D. subject has been around them for so much of her lifetime that she has developed an advanced understanding of engineering beyond what is commonly taught. As such, the subject should be treated as a low-level M.A.D. with a focus on mechanical engineering.
Name: Tadashi Hamato
Alias: Yamamoto Yoshi (Criminal Identity)
Deviancy: Cyberpunk
Combat Classes: [Infiltrator] [Scrapper] [Scout]
Unit Role: First response infiltration and scouting, marking and eliminating threats before hostilities can begin before following up with physical support.
Background:
-Originally a young detective Hamato's professional career mostly consisted of an undercover operation against a criminal group through connections to his more criminally inclined brother, in exchange for clemency for said brother. Over the course of several years, Hamato's department mapped out the entirety of the criminal operation as well as their connections to several other local criminal elements, resulting in hundreds of arrests.
-On one such operation, Hamato was caught in a car bombing alongside his brother resulting in his brother's death as well as severe damage to the entirety of Hamato's body. At this point Sanctuary intercepted Agent Hamato at the hospital, having mistaken the younger Hamato as his brother who had become an asset in dismantling a Deviant trafficking ring after learning about Tadashi's own undercover work.
-Taking into account Hamato's extensive record, the Sanctuary Director offered him a deal for full body augmentation in exchange for helping bring down the operation that had killed his brother and hospitalized him. An operation that they succeeded in bringing down the initial ring, but not the group of Deviant arms dealers actually responsible for ordering the hit.
-Using this incident to officially transfer into Sanctuary, Agent Hamato was eventually assigned to Punk Squad #27, where he used his extensive experience in both criminal and law enforcement activities to help dismantle numerous operations alongside Agent McGee and Flores. All while continuing to comb through each organization's records for any connection to the group that killed his brother.
Psych Profile:
-[Flagged] Subject possesses a near obsession with solving the case that resulted in his augmentation, and will devote all extra resources to said case. However, the subject has shown no trouble focusing on other cases, working to complete them with the greatest efficiency possible so that he may return to his primary case without delay.
--[Mild Resolution]: Having been forced to work with the more chaotic members of the unit, the subject has realized that completing a job correctly is more important that completing it quickly if only because the review process will consume twice as much time as saved.
--Sub-Note: Despite becoming better, it has been observed that subject has been a part of a concerning number of Agent training simulations for any skill or weapon he believes will be useful in pursuit of his goals. It is recommended that these hours be limited if only to preserve subject's health in the long term.
-Subject seems to have fully adapted to cyber augmentations, despite both the recentness and thoroughness of these augmentations. While not exactly flaggable in itself, it should be noted that the subject may be suppressing actual reactions via obsessive pursuit of their goals.
Notable Equipment:
-Monoblades: A series of confiscated M.A.D. built blades of various makes and modifications, designed to cut through virtually any material.
-Cybersuit: Grants protection from small caliber rounds and blades, as well as protection from manipulation of EM fields. Custom slotting on the torso holds several dozen throwing knives and shuriken.
Cybertech:
-Limb Prosthetics, with Full Replacement of Right Arm.
--Monowire Reels: A set of fifteen meter wire reels, capable of retracting with enough force to pull users' entire weight.
--Blade Slotting: Right arm possesses a number of slottings for hidden blades.
--Electromagnetic Footing: Augmentations to legs allow the user to run faster as well as cling to metallic surfaces for an extended period of time.
-Stealth Module: Modifies user's innate EM field to bend light granting near total invisibility.
--Warning: Prolonged use can lead to trouble focusing as EM field manipulation is known to cause intense migraines.
-Modified Hearing Aids: Restores hearing to peak, with adjustable volumes for hearing beyond human.
--Full Optics: Standard optics array with full spectrum vision and an adaptable AR scanning and information hud.
Notable Abilities
-Powerful understanding of the operation of criminal organizations.
-Highly developed martial skills including but not limited to: Stealth, Hand to Hand, Swords, Knives, Chain Wire, Combat Claws, Handguns, Rifles, Throwing Stars, Kunai, and Explosives.
Name: Jason Cobbs
-Real Name: [Redacted]
Deviancy: Psychic/Cyberpunk
Combat Classes: [Adept]
-Priority Classes: [Puppeteer] [Slaver] [Tactician] [Marksman] [Infiltrator]
Unit Role: A jack of all trades, capable of passably functioning in any standard situation and regularly applies a wild card factor to turn ops to the unit's advantage.
Background:
-Once a member of the infamous [Redacted] crime family, Jason Cobbs spent his formative years developing a criminal education before eventually becoming one of his father's primary assassins via a mix of precision based kinetics and telepathics. (Note: Subject has claimed guilt of several crimes that he was not a part of, likely to obscure the guilt of other family members.)
-Over the years Cobbs father became increasingly abusive towards him and his siblings, with several of the family's largest setbacks being due to Cobbs sabotaging his father so that the man would focus on the crime syndicate more than his children, several of whom intelligence reported as missing during this time. (Note: Cobbs has admitted to aiding several of his siblings in escaping their father.)
-One such act of sabotage was discovered, resulting in Cobbs fleeing cross country as the entirety of the crime family was brought down upon him, including the siblings still loyal to his father. During this time he reconnected with his sister, [Redacted] who aided him in triggering a raid on his father's primary base so that they could infiltrate and eliminate the man.
-After being captured in the wreckage of the raid, Cobbs was discovered to have suffered from a bullet to the head with his survival only clinging due to his psionic healing factor. During his ensuing medical treatment Cobbs agreed to joining Sanctuary in exchange for clemency of himself as well as his more innocent siblings for their parts in their father's organization.
Psych Profile:
-[Flagged]: If reunited with any member of his family will inevitably return to criminal behaviors for the length of said reunion. Though given previous interactions, the subject will return to base unrepentant in the face of any punishments he may be given.
-Projects a lackadaisical persona to the world, but contains a deep understanding of tactics and criminal operations. Whether this personality is a mask or truth is unknown.
--Note: Subject has mentioned trouble filtering his verbal responses since his neural augmentations, whether this is truth or an excuse is currently unconfirmed.
-Has repeatedly shown reckless and mildly suicidal behavior. While the actual depths of this tendency is currently unknown, the fact that he willingly took a bullet to his head during his conflict with [Redacted] paints a general disregard for his own life if it accomplishes his greater goals.
Notable Equipment:
-Psycho-Reactive Rings: A set of rings that react to and retain nearby psionic energies, thus allowing the user to increase their physical output by coating their hands in Psi-Energy.
--(Note: Only usable by Deviants with Psionic abilities.)
Cybertech:
-Neural Accelerators [Prototype, Estimated Rank: B]: Can accelerate neural processing, enabling rapid deployment of psionic abilities and thought processes.
--Warning: Unit causes neural damage after prolonged use, and while negated in the long term by psychic status, overuse of psionics can cause rapid damage overwhelming the innate neural healing factor of psychics.
-Custom Optics [Right Eye]: Full Spectrum vision and standard AR augmentations, alongside personal biometric monitor of personal brain function.
-Prosthetic Fingers on Left Hand: No Special Functions.
-[Redacted]
Notable Abilities:
-Psionic Abilities
--Precision Kinetics: While lacking the raw power seen in some kinetics, subject is capable of manipulating small objects to the point where any pebble can be seen as a bullet in his hands.
--Telepathics and Psychology: Subject has an extreme understanding of human psychology, which when combined with his telepathic abilities allows him to easily manipulate anyone who isn't actively guarding against both of these venues of attack.
--Technopath: Due to unique neural connections formed with Cybertech, the subject has developed previously lacking technopathic abilities. Essentially allowing him to 'Hack' any technology he can see or form a connection with via psionic ability, thus bypassing most standard defenses.
---Note: Given how technopathic abilities are linked to his psionic abilities, the amount of power he has to devote to 'Hacking' an object is proportional to the complexity of an object's programming. Meaning that even if he can bypass most security, this ability can be circumvented with the proper redundancies of devices thus forcing him to burn through his own mental resources.
Notable Weakness
-Due to augmentations, subject suffers from the common weakness of all Deviant Cyberpunks in that his base pool of Deviant energy has been notably reduced from his pre-augmentation levels.
--Note: While subject claims his deficit is around 20% of his original pool, previous records indicate that this deficit is closer to 50% with the difference likely being an attempt to control his perceived threat level.
Special Handling Note
-Given the recentness of subject's augmentations as well as the unwillingness of them, he has been assigned to Punk Squad 27 due to the similar circumstances of the other two agents in an attempt to form camaraderie between the three, while also accounting for the years of loyalty that the other three agents have had with Sanctuary.
-With any luck these factors combined with the subject's clemency deal and known loyalty factor will result in a secondhand loyalty to Sanctuary, thus negating any possible flight risks he may pose.
-Should this prove insufficient subject's threat level and previous crimes have placed a retroactive Kill Warrant on file, should the Director in charge see the need to use the [Redacted] implanted in his [Redacted].
---
Sanctuary Dossiers: Punk Squad #27
Unit Purpose: A criminal counter unit, specializing in the physical dismantlement of organized crime groups featuring mechanically oriented M.A.D. support and technologies.
Current Unit Size: 4 (3 Field, 1 Support)
Unit Restrictions: Due to former and possible criminal elements of the unit, no unit is allowed anything beyond C Rank Cyberware without prior authorization of the supervising Director.
Unit Threat Clearance: [Reductive B Rank] Unit is authorized to pursue any criminal organization on a city wide scale up to [C Rank] without prior clearance from their local director. If under the supervision of their Director, unit possesses a skill level capable of pursuing any [Upper B Rank] threat to the local region.
--- Dulce Flores ---
"Is everyone in place?" She asked over the comms as she looked over the building blueprints on her computer.
"I'm set up on my end." A female voice answered.
"In position." A half-synthetic male responded.
"Just waiting for you, beautiful." A(n over)confident voice assured her.
"Alright, just one last review and will kick things off." She told everyone as she began uploading images onto their various AR huds. "This is a simple interception job. While there will be two gangs present, each with about half a dozen bodies, we are specifically going after the Cyberpunk outfit who should be fairly obvious with their modifications. So if you're forced to choose who to go after, then pick them."
"So same old same old."
"We do reviews for a reason." She reminded her most troublesome co-worker as she uploaded a specific photo. "We have fairly good reason to believe that this is the M.A.D. outfitting this group, and that she will be present for this meeting. Above all else we need to take her off the board."
"Visual confirmed. I'll extract her the moment the opportunity arises." The synthetic voice promised, once more reminding her who was her most professional co-worker.
"And I'll snipe the cars just to be safe." The team's other female cheerfully added, perhaps not as professional as the other (but at least she's trying to be helpful.)
"Good." She nodded, before checking their mapping once more to make sure everyone -More specifically Cobbs.- was actually in place, and upon seeing the trouble maker hadn't drifted off somewhere she went ahead and gave the order to, "Go ahead and knock."
--- Jason Cobbs ---
"Showtime." He laughed with a roll of his shoulders as he walked up to the warehouse this arms deal was taking place in and proceeded to knock on the door.
With his cybernetic eye he watched the various yellow figures that the Ninja's optics had flagged, -The appearance of these images only mildly disorienting despite only appearing in a single eye.- as they sent two of theirs to investigate who would oh so brazenly interrupt their meeting.
Idly, he wondered if he was the only one to realize this whole plan could be executed in about five minutes if everyone just stealthily rushed the meeting. Even if they limited themselves to non-lethal means the whole thing would be an easy gig. (Too easy. You've got to love when the 'safe' plan is also the 'fun' one.)
The door was forced open ever so slightly, and a -unaugmented- man stepped out, clearly hiding a handgun just inside the door.
"Who are you?"
There were a few ways he could answer that as he began working his magic on the man in front of him, but ultimately he decided to go with the 'audacious' answer of. "I'm a cop." Which was a blatant lie, even if he did work for Sanctuary. (I'm more of a… indentured employee at this point.)
"Cobbs…" Dulce groaned over the comms, likely developing a headache that he would happily offer to help her deal with after the gig was over, regardless of her inevitable rejection. (Really, whoever she dated before must've been a terribly selfish lover to make her think so little of my abilities. Even before I use my… abilities.)
He couldn't help but laugh at that thought, even if it was only mildly funny.
"Oh, think you're funny?" The guard asked him.
"Yes, but honestly it's more the brain damage keeping me from filtering my responses properly." He admitted, because really was upset that he'd lost his poker face. (It was the only thing Charlie couldn't beat me at.)
"W-what?" The guard blinked in confusion, and unknowingly giving him an opportunity.
"Look, clearly I am a highly suspicious individual as I am sure the other guard behind this wall-" he tapped the yellow silhouette in his right eye's vision "-would agree. So why don't you bring me inside so that your bosses can try -and fail- to interrogate me."
"Cobbs, you are an idiot." The team ninja told him, before asking the team spitfire. "McGee, you have your shots lined up?"
"Yep. Just waiting on Jason to piss someone off." Mags assured their ornery teammate. "Shouldn't take long."
[Ah, thanks for the compliment Mags.] He messaged the team chat, knowing it would pop on everyone's optics… (and rub in the fact that I'm the only one who can mentally send those.)
He quickly spotted the M.A.D. they were here for and couldn't help but give a very appreciative once over. "Ooh, I am loving the cybergoth look. Photos really don't do you justice beautiful."
Rather than taking the compliment, the M.A.D. gave him a disgusted look. (Which I get, some people don't like strangers complimenting them.) He really did need to work on that filter thing, he usually held off on flirting until he knew someone would be receptive.
"Who is this idiot?" The other crime boss asked.
"Says he's with the cops." His escort answered, unaware that he himself was compromised already.
"Technically, I work for Sanctuary." He clarified. "And this is actually the start of a raid on this place."
"A raid?" The (sexy) cybergoth scoffed. "You by yourself?"
"You two mind saving his ass before he gets himself killed?" The sweet, Dulce asked with no small amount of frustration.
"You lot are vastly underestimating me." He told both his teammates and the criminals holding him at gunpoint as he aimed a finger gun at a nearby cyberpunk.
The world around him slowed to a crawl as his neural accelerator kicked on and began applying a faint strain on the entirety of his nervous system.
A bit of focus on each guard and he had access to the software said cyberpunk was running on his tech. While he lacked the abilities of an actual hacker, between his tech and his natural abilities he was able to… nudge the programming in a way he felt only his siblings would be able to understand if he tried to explain it. And with a few other nudges in key places he switched his accelerator off and said, "Bang." just as the cyberpunk spasmed and dropped to the ground.
"Shit, he's a Deviant!" One of the men yelled as all eyes fell on him, people attributing the faint bang to his powers rather than to McGee shooting out the engine on one of the cars.
"Ah, ah, careful if you don't want to drop too." He called out, with a grin as he waved a second finger pistol around solely for show, despite not needing it to drop half the room.
--- Tadashi Hamato ---
His eyes roamed the forces below as unseen fingers curled around the hilt of his blade, just in case the idiot needed backup, before he could get an opportunity to go after the primary target.
(Thirteen units in play.) He counted below.
The primary target backed away from Cobbs as the guards surrounded him, and Tadashi took this as the ideal opportunity to kick back off of the support beam he was perched upon, faint sparks of electricity dancing around his feet as the electromagnetic fields shifted to propel him further.
With a backflip to shift his momentum he landed unseen behind the M.A.D. who had foolishly placed all of her guards between herself and the dual Deviant she thought the only threat of the night.
As he stood the target backed into him -one hand on the door of the car- and would've turned to face him if he hadn't immediately wrapped an arm around her throat, pinning her mouth shut and lifting her an inch off the ground. "Let's keep the noise to a minimum."
Loosening his grip ever so slightly so her feet were on the ground, he kept a hand on her jaw as he dragged the M.A.D. back a handful of steps before throwing her in the trunk of the car, still open from the weapons deal. Reaching inside he withdrew the only weapons case they'd yet to unload before slamming it shut just as the M.A.D. began to scream.
(Twelve…)
A gangster turned towards him but saw nothing as his stealth module continued to distort the light around him into a near invisibility. "Hey, where'd the boss go?"
He set the case on the ground out of sight of the criminals as they began splitting their attention between the idiot and their missing boss.
A few quick swipes of the smaller monoblades attached to his fingertips and he found the tech blade inside. A relatively simple thing compared to some of the other blades he'd… confiscated over the years, but the electrified blade could prove a suitable non-lethal alternative to his normal blades.
Retracting his claws, he lifted the blade from his case and stood just as one of the gangsters came closer to investigate the banging from the trunk.
The moment the target was in range he turned the blade on and used it to tase the criminal into submission, propping the man up to keep his compatriots from immediately realizing something was wrong.
(Eleven…)
"What the hell was that?" A second asked, as a few of them turned to investigate the car as they lost interest in Cobb's idiocy, as the fool seemed to be negotiating a takeover of the arms deal with the other gang's leader.
"Conflict escalation imminent." He warned everyone over the comms as the men drew nearer and his stealth module began to run low on power. "Beginning in five… four… three… two… one."
As he became visible to the world around him, he shoved the man he'd been propping up backwards, all but throwing the criminal into another and sending both toppling into the ground.
Not hesitating he stepped forward with his new blade and slashed the dull edge into a third criminal's side, pushing the man into the car as he tased him.
Seeing that the fourth had drawn his gun and was beginning to take aim, he took a step back with a spinning flourish before delivering a roundhouse kick to the third criminal's chest with a metallic leg and throwing a knife into the fourth's shoulder causing his bullet fire to spread wide.
(Tch… Ten…)
"Just so you know this is your only chance to surrender." He warned the criminals as more of them turned towards him, purposely leaning on the synthetic sound his mask filled his voice with to intimidate them. And if that didn't work he was sure the fact that he was using the blade to tase the criminal on the ground would've done something.
(Nine…)
"Uh, is the cyber-ninja with her guys or what?" Cobbs asked, taking a step back with his hands raised. A gesture that would seem submissive to anyone who didn't notice the man's glowing blue eye dashing between the criminal cyberpunks in the room, likely hacking and defanging any threat they may pose.
"You think you can take all of us?" The remaining gang leader asked, pointing a gun at Cobb's head, something the fool seemed only mildly interested in. "Now that we can see you we can just gun you two down."
With that said, they were in something of a standoff. An admittedly one-sided standoff given how he was fairly certain none of their guns were of a high enough caliber to damage his suit and as much as he may be a fool, Cobbs was a rather notorious hitman before Sanctuary flipped him. One that likely already had a kill method established for half the people in the room should things escalate beyond non-lethal.
Meaning that if he wanted to get out of this without any real bloodshed, he'd have to de-escalate things.
Of course, because he was the only competent member of his field team, the moment he realized this was also the exact moment when McGee decided to leap through a window, guns blazing.
--- Margaret 'Mags' McGee ---
After taking out each of the cars' engines with her rifle -which was more of a cannon if she was being honest- she gave the warehouse a once over as she broke her rifle's power circuit by removing its firing chip. With normal eyes all she would've seen was the outside of a metal and brick building, but thanks to her optics she could clearly see AR overlays of everyone in the building.
Aware that no one could move her rifle without at least a few physical enhancements, she left it on the rooftop as she pocketed the firing chip and stood up before attaching her shotgun to her back as she watched Dashi seemingly use some guy as a meatshield.
"Conflict escalation imminent." The team ninja warned over their comms.
Not needing to know anything else about the situation, she gave the building another once as she began backing away from the roof's edge, double checking that she'd gotten the distance right even as gunfire went off inside of the building. (Yeah, I can make that.)
Taking a running stance she inhaled and wiggled her ears, flicking her Overheat system on as the cybertech in her body began running at max power. With this boost running through her system she shot forward faster than an olympic sprinter, before kicking off the roof's edge and launching herself into the air as said edge crunched beneath her boots.
Seeing that she was going to make her jump, she readjusted her legs to hit the skylight steel plated boots first as she grabbed her shotgun by the grip and felt the circuits in her hand sync the device with her Overheat system. In the corner of her vision she noticed her weapon's energy meter flicker on as she fell through the air, glass falling all around her.
With an ease only possible due to the modifications to her legs she landed on one of the cars in a crouch, crumbling its roof beneath her weight, before bouncing onto her feet with a feral grin as she aimed her shotgun at the nearest gang goon.
"Sup bitches!"
Everyone froze at her (suitably) dramatic entrance.
Except for Jason who used the distraction as an opportunity to steal a gun being aimed at his head, and breaking his assailant's jaw before snapping his fingers and dropping two cyberpunks in the back as he shot a regular goon.
(Damn, he's got the cold blood.)
Refusing to let her moment be stolen, she proceeded to shoot the goon she was aiming at discharging a blast of electricity through the air that -through an M.A.D. process she was still trying to crack- bled most of its voltage into concussive force, sending her victim flying.
As she leapt off of the wrecked car she spotted Dashi rushing another goon on his end with an electric blade that was distinctly different from the blunted blade Sanctuary had authorized for this little outing. (And he complains about me and Jayce breaking the rules!)
She used her annoyance at that bit of hypocrisy to kick one of the goons in the chest -which from her resulted in several broken ribs and a two foot flight- before shooting a cyberpunk and watching as the electricity caused the man's cybertech to glitch and spasm out.
(Ugh, hate that feeling.) She couldn't help but grimace, less in sympathy and more in memory of when she'd accidentally zapped herself while building her gun using a stolen bit of sparktech.
In that moment of distraction, a second cyberpunk rushed her, a glowing blade shooting out of the woman's arm as she tried -(and failed)- to cut her baby in half, only to knock it out of her hands instead.
"Not so cocky now, huh, pipsqueak?!" The woman laughed, either not noticing or caring that she was one of the only two -(Nope, Dashi is choking that guy out, make it the only one of)- the cyberpunk's people still standing.
"Yeah, no." She scoffed, before weaving around the woman's blade, picking her up off the ground and throwing her about thirty feet away into the metal wall, where the cyberpunk then proceeded to fall another ten feet to the concrete ground. "She'd probably been better off leaving me my gun."
"Please, we both know you could've just stood there and tanked her until she tired herself out." Jason joked as he patched up the goon he shot to avoid dealing with the paperwork killing someone would've caused.
Idly, she wondered if she should be as okay with that knowledge as she was. (Then again, as long as they're not civilians I don't honestly care too much.) Dashi and Dulce were the team's moral compasses, she was just the heavy hitter.
(Thinking of…)
"Alright, Dulce go ahead and send in the clean up crew." She told the nicest member of their unit. "Everyone is down, and we can keep them down as long as we've got to."
"Good to hear, the police will be there for their guys in a few minutes and our guys will be there for ours in the same." Dulce told them over the comms. "And biometrics say nobody was hurt too! Good work, guys!"
"Ha! It was easy." She assured the team medic. "These chumps had nothing on us!"
Jason whistled drawing her attention, before whispering. "Kill your Overheat before she notices."
She gave her competitive wingman a thumbs up, having once more forgotten about that and knowing it would kill her cool factor if Dulce was the one to remind her, but another wiggle of ears fixed that problem for her as the mechanical bits of her body began to vent the heat she'd built up.
Dulce gave her a laugh over the phone, "Alright, I'll see you guys in a bit then."
--- Dulce Flores ---
"And with that your inhibitor chip is back in place." She told her patient as she took a step back.
"Ugh, hate that we have to do this after every op." Jason groaned, rolling his shoulders and making the metal on his spine shift with a smoothness that she wished her tech could replicate. "I mean when are they going to trust me enough to leave me be."
"You're the one who broke the law." She reminded their resident redemption case.
Jason scoffed. "And I brought down one of the most infamous and dangerous crime lords in the country when I turned myself in! What more do they expect from me?!"
"You know that whole thing would be a lot more impressive if you actually told us which crime lord you took down." Mags pointed out, as she tossed Jason his shirt. "Also put this on."
"What? Not liking the show?" Jason asked, gesturing to his vaguely visible abs with a smirk. "What about you Dulc? You like it?"
She rolled her eyes at Jason's flirting, having long since realized the man was simply an unrepentant flirt. (Really wish he'd realize I'm just not interested in dating anybody.) She was simply too busy between her job and taking care of her son.
At the very least he stopped when she went from amused to annoyed, which is more than she could say for any of the other pendejos trying to get in her pants.
"It's actually pretty obvious who it was if you're paying attention." Tadashi told them as he put up his own gear, sounding much more human without his mask.
"Really who is it?" Mags wondered, leaning forward excitedly.
An emotion that she liked to think she did a much better job at hiding given how much secrecy everyone at Sanctuary who knew seemed to have about the whole thing. (Which is another point against dating someone with criminal connections that dangerous.)
"Classified." Tadashi smirked as he closed his locker.
"Boo!" Mags frowned, kicking at the air in a disappointment they both felt.
"If they redacted it on his file, then I'm not going to be the one to go spreading it around." Tadashi shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning against his locker, though his eyes never left Jason's as the two had a silent conversation. "All that matters is he helped take them down in the end."
"Appreciate that." Jason nodded before slipping his shirt back on, apparently done with his flirting for the night.
"So everyone packed up?" She asked, given how she was the one who was supposed to lock up the truck that made up their mobile ops center.
"Yep."
"I'm good."
"Affirmative."
Everyone sounded off before making their way to the exit, though Mags did turn around once she'd hopped out of the truck. "Hey, since you've got the little man a sitter tonight, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a couple drinks? You know a girls' night?"
"You know what, sure." She smiled at the closest thing she had to a sister before pointing a thumb at the truck. "Just let me lock up real quick."
"Sure thing!" Mags smiled back like the adorable puppy she was.
(Turning back to the truck, she did not notice said puppy giving the resident criminal a taunting pair of middle fingers after scoring something date-adjacent from their mutual crush.
Hamato as the only one uninterested in the love triangle merely rolled his eyes at the trio.)
---
---
---
Name: Dulce Flores
Deviancy: M.A.D.
Combat Classes: [Medic] [Overwatch]
Unit Role: Primary medical physician and M.A.D. for any maintenance the unit's cyberpunks may require. Due to not being a field unit, Agent has also taken a minor role as team Overwatch.
Background:
-Being born to immigrant parents, Flores pushed through a number of economic and racial hardships before entering medical school and obtaining a nursing degree. During this time she became pregnant with a child, she carried to term despite her strenuous class work.
-After graduating Flores's status as an M.A.D. was discovered when assisting with a failing operation, she sparked out and took over correcting the problems and saving her patient's life. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances she lost her job at the hospital due to breaking several minor laws in taking over the surgery without a valid medical license.
-In the following months Flores lost the majority of her savings as no other hospital would hire her. Near the end of this time it came to light that the person she'd lost her career saving was [Name Redacted] a Sanctuary officer at the time, who offered her employment as thanks for saving their life.
-From there Flores was eventually assigned as the primary handler and doctor of Agent McGee, followed by Agent Hamato upon the formation of Punk Squad 27 and eventually Probationary Agent Cobbs a few years later upon his assignment to the squad.
Psych Profile:
-Subject is goal oriented, with a notable priority being given to taking care of her son. What's more given her repeated stints of poverty throughout her life, she seems to have attached her family's financial safety with her stability as a Sanctuary medic, making her easily the most loyal member of the unit to Sanctuary as a whole.
-Possesses a minor savior complex requiring her to help people who have been physically injured, a complex that typically results in her sparking out and achieving the peak of her M.A.D. abilities. As such it is recommended that she always retain a Medic role in whatever position she is given so as to maximize her Deviancy's potential.
Notable Equipment:
-Standard Sanctuary Medical M.A.D. kit.
Notable Abilities:
-A low ranking M.A.D. with a focus on mechanical medical technologies.
-Given her status as an M.A.D. with surgical potential, Flores is fully capable of performing Cybertech surgery while lacking the ability to upgrade said tech beyond their default parameters.
--(Note: Exception to this in the case of life support Cybertech, but given the non-offensive nature of this tech, risk of upgrades is deemed fully acceptable. Even encouraged if it generates loyalty towards Flores within the unit.)
---
---
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Name: Margaret 'Maggie' McGee
Alias: Mad Mags McGee
Deviancy: Cyberpunk
Combat Classes: [Bruiser] [Blaster] [Marksman]
Unit Role: Functions as both long and short range Artillery unit, either picking hostiles off at a distance or engaging in melee when a heavier hand is needed.
Background:
-McGee's early life was relatively normal, coming from a middle class family in a decent neighborhood with a housewife mother and an office worker father. The only notable exception to this normality was her elder brother, a mid-ranking M.A.D. who kept his awakening secret from the rest of the family as he played around with his abilities.
-Things changed when on a road trip the family was in a car crash, injuring their entire family, rendering their parents unconscious and the youngest McGee in a critical state. Under the stress of these events Margaret's brother sparked out and began operating on her in an attempt to save his sister's life. An attempt that succeeded if in a flawed way.
-Due to a lack of resources, the Cybertech implanted in McGee was unstable and while life saving suffered from system wide rejection. Thus by the time the family received proper medical care she required even more Cybertech to survive than had been initially implanted. So much so that McGee's natural biological growth was impeded to the point where she required constant adjustments to at least partially simulate said growth.
-In the following years the McGees received more and more attention for their Deviant children, until eventually their local gang [Redacted] attempted to pressgang them into joining. An event that led to the fatal wounding of Margaret's brother, which served as a breaking point for her psyche. One that led to her slaughtering the entirety of the gang from within their primary base, an incident that would've led to her arrest due to the number killed if not for the intervention of Sanctuary and the offer of employment.
Psych Profile:
-[Flagged] While subject is largely stable, she has demonstrated a tendency to *Snap* under extreme stressors, causing her to react with increased aggression and violence. Given the high limit of this stress the problem in itself is largely manageable, seemingly only triggering as a PTSD survival response, likely developed during either the incident that turned her into a cyberpunk or the one that brought her into Sanctuary's employ.
- Possesses a notable sense of body dysphoria, whether this is from before or after her initial modifications is unknown but has led to her undergoing constant modifications to try and 'fix' whatever part of her feels wrong after prolonged downtime. She most often describes this as her parts feeling like they're 'the wrong size'.
--Note: Given how the subject has successfully been tricked into believing the problem has been 'fixed' after being rendered unconscious with no actual modifications it is recommended this method be repeated to avoid degrading the subject's physical health with constant cyber modifications.
Cybertech:
-Synthetic Organs (Lungs, Liver, Right Kidney): Several of subject's organs have been replaced with cybertech, which while not possessing any esoteric functions do have increased functionality beyond baseline human.
-Sub-Dermal Plating: Subject has a series of fiber plating applied 'underskin' over various points of her body, allowing her to survive bullet and knife wounds with minimal internal damage.
-Reinforced Skeletal Structure: Subject's skeletal structure has been reinforced at various points with metallic plating and pins so as to reinforce it to the point where the user can be hit with a car and suffer little damage to their skeletal system.
-Reinforced Tendons: A special set of augmentations have been applied to the tendons within the subject's arms and legs allowing them to generate significantly more force than normally plausible for her muscle mass.
--Note: These tendon's have been further reinforced during maintenance on the subject's skeletal structure, further increasing force generation while offsetting the significant increase various augmentations have caused to their weight.
-Hand Plating And Cybernetics: Subject's hands have been virtually rebuilt, being more cybertech than organic at this point, allowing them to integrate with compatible tech upon contact as well as giving them heavier weighting similar to in-built brass knuckles.
-Over Heat System (B Rank): A system of cybertech laced throughout the body enabling the user to overclock all of their systems for enhanced functionality at the cost of rapidly raising their body temperature.
--Note: Safety Limiters will forcibly disable cyberware into a venting period should they believe the user's Heat level has risen or stayed too high for too long.
-Full Optics: Standard optics array with full spectrum vision and an adaptable AR scanning and information hud.
Notable Equipment:
-Custom Tech Scatter gun: A short range gun capable of firing powerful electrical pulses, inflicting increased damage to any electrical equipment hit. These shots can be charged for additional firepower at the price of consuming a greater amount of energy per shot.
-Custom Railgun Rifle: An extremely high powered miniature railgun capable of building power to fire rounds through several inches of solid steel plating.
--Note: The sheer weight of this gun makes its deployment highly impractical for any users without some form of strength enhancement, regardless of its overall firepower.
-Custom SMGs: A custom set of SMGs capable of firing rubber rounds thus offering a non-lethal option of rapid fire mid combat. These guns also possess internal tech allowing them to integrate with Agent McGee's Over Heat System allowing them to be fired with increased speed and power at the price of straining an internal motor.
-Custom Made Explosives: A set of custom explosives adapted from scavenged sparktech, generating a number of esoteric and/or elemental effects. Explosives possess internal hardware allowing them to function as grenades, motion based mines, or remote triggered explosives.
--Effects Agent McGee is known capable of replicating are: Cryo, Burn, Electrical, Concussive, Tether, Flash, and Chem Smoke.
-Blast Proof Jacket: A custom weave jacket made from several M.A.D. acquired materials allowing the jacket to both spread and dampen impacts across the jacket's entire surface while also maintaining a resistance to both heat and electrical conductivity.
--Weakness Note: Despite jacket's near indestructibility the materials that comprise it do not allow for the easy escape of heat, thus making it relatively easy for the wearer to overheat in the proper circumstances. Such as the use of Agent McGee's Over Heat System.
-Coolant Jacket: A custom weave jacket made from several M.A.D. acquired materials allowing the jacket to reduce and maintain a temperature in the seventies even when external temperatures pass the hundred degree mark.
Notable Abilities:
--Mechanical Engineering: While herself not an M.A.D. subject has been around them for so much of her lifetime that she has developed an advanced understanding of engineering beyond what is commonly taught. As such, the subject should be treated as a low-level M.A.D. with a focus on mechanical engineering.
---
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Name: Tadashi Hamato
Alias: Yamamoto Yoshi (Criminal Identity)
Deviancy: Cyberpunk
Combat Classes: [Infiltrator] [Scrapper] [Scout]
Unit Role: First response infiltration and scouting, marking and eliminating threats before hostilities can begin before following up with physical support.
Background:
-Originally a young detective Hamato's professional career mostly consisted of an undercover operation against a criminal group through connections to his more criminally inclined brother, in exchange for clemency for said brother. Over the course of several years, Hamato's department mapped out the entirety of the criminal operation as well as their connections to several other local criminal elements, resulting in hundreds of arrests.
-On one such operation, Hamato was caught in a car bombing alongside his brother resulting in his brother's death as well as severe damage to the entirety of Hamato's body. At this point Sanctuary intercepted Agent Hamato at the hospital, having mistaken the younger Hamato as his brother who had become an asset in dismantling a Deviant trafficking ring after learning about Tadashi's own undercover work.
-Taking into account Hamato's extensive record, the Sanctuary Director offered him a deal for full body augmentation in exchange for helping bring down the operation that had killed his brother and hospitalized him. An operation that they succeeded in bringing down the initial ring, but not the group of Deviant arms dealers actually responsible for ordering the hit.
-Using this incident to officially transfer into Sanctuary, Agent Hamato was eventually assigned to Punk Squad #27, where he used his extensive experience in both criminal and law enforcement activities to help dismantle numerous operations alongside Agent McGee and Flores. All while continuing to comb through each organization's records for any connection to the group that killed his brother.
Psych Profile:
-[Flagged] Subject possesses a near obsession with solving the case that resulted in his augmentation, and will devote all extra resources to said case. However, the subject has shown no trouble focusing on other cases, working to complete them with the greatest efficiency possible so that he may return to his primary case without delay.
--[Mild Resolution]: Having been forced to work with the more chaotic members of the unit, the subject has realized that completing a job correctly is more important that completing it quickly if only because the review process will consume twice as much time as saved.
--Sub-Note: Despite becoming better, it has been observed that subject has been a part of a concerning number of Agent training simulations for any skill or weapon he believes will be useful in pursuit of his goals. It is recommended that these hours be limited if only to preserve subject's health in the long term.
-Subject seems to have fully adapted to cyber augmentations, despite both the recentness and thoroughness of these augmentations. While not exactly flaggable in itself, it should be noted that the subject may be suppressing actual reactions via obsessive pursuit of their goals.
Notable Equipment:
-Monoblades: A series of confiscated M.A.D. built blades of various makes and modifications, designed to cut through virtually any material.
-Cybersuit: Grants protection from small caliber rounds and blades, as well as protection from manipulation of EM fields. Custom slotting on the torso holds several dozen throwing knives and shuriken.
Cybertech:
-Limb Prosthetics, with Full Replacement of Right Arm.
--Monowire Reels: A set of fifteen meter wire reels, capable of retracting with enough force to pull users' entire weight.
--Blade Slotting: Right arm possesses a number of slottings for hidden blades.
--Electromagnetic Footing: Augmentations to legs allow the user to run faster as well as cling to metallic surfaces for an extended period of time.
-Stealth Module: Modifies user's innate EM field to bend light granting near total invisibility.
--Warning: Prolonged use can lead to trouble focusing as EM field manipulation is known to cause intense migraines.
-Modified Hearing Aids: Restores hearing to peak, with adjustable volumes for hearing beyond human.
--Full Optics: Standard optics array with full spectrum vision and an adaptable AR scanning and information hud.
Notable Abilities
-Powerful understanding of the operation of criminal organizations.
-Highly developed martial skills including but not limited to: Stealth, Hand to Hand, Swords, Knives, Chain Wire, Combat Claws, Handguns, Rifles, Throwing Stars, Kunai, and Explosives.
---
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Name: Jason Cobbs
-Real Name: [Redacted]
Deviancy: Psychic/Cyberpunk
Combat Classes: [Adept]
-Priority Classes: [Puppeteer] [Slaver] [Tactician] [Marksman] [Infiltrator]
Unit Role: A jack of all trades, capable of passably functioning in any standard situation and regularly applies a wild card factor to turn ops to the unit's advantage.
Background:
-Once a member of the infamous [Redacted] crime family, Jason Cobbs spent his formative years developing a criminal education before eventually becoming one of his father's primary assassins via a mix of precision based kinetics and telepathics. (Note: Subject has claimed guilt of several crimes that he was not a part of, likely to obscure the guilt of other family members.)
-Over the years Cobbs father became increasingly abusive towards him and his siblings, with several of the family's largest setbacks being due to Cobbs sabotaging his father so that the man would focus on the crime syndicate more than his children, several of whom intelligence reported as missing during this time. (Note: Cobbs has admitted to aiding several of his siblings in escaping their father.)
-One such act of sabotage was discovered, resulting in Cobbs fleeing cross country as the entirety of the crime family was brought down upon him, including the siblings still loyal to his father. During this time he reconnected with his sister, [Redacted] who aided him in triggering a raid on his father's primary base so that they could infiltrate and eliminate the man.
-After being captured in the wreckage of the raid, Cobbs was discovered to have suffered from a bullet to the head with his survival only clinging due to his psionic healing factor. During his ensuing medical treatment Cobbs agreed to joining Sanctuary in exchange for clemency of himself as well as his more innocent siblings for their parts in their father's organization.
Psych Profile:
-[Flagged]: If reunited with any member of his family will inevitably return to criminal behaviors for the length of said reunion. Though given previous interactions, the subject will return to base unrepentant in the face of any punishments he may be given.
-Projects a lackadaisical persona to the world, but contains a deep understanding of tactics and criminal operations. Whether this personality is a mask or truth is unknown.
--Note: Subject has mentioned trouble filtering his verbal responses since his neural augmentations, whether this is truth or an excuse is currently unconfirmed.
-Has repeatedly shown reckless and mildly suicidal behavior. While the actual depths of this tendency is currently unknown, the fact that he willingly took a bullet to his head during his conflict with [Redacted] paints a general disregard for his own life if it accomplishes his greater goals.
Notable Equipment:
-Psycho-Reactive Rings: A set of rings that react to and retain nearby psionic energies, thus allowing the user to increase their physical output by coating their hands in Psi-Energy.
--(Note: Only usable by Deviants with Psionic abilities.)
Cybertech:
-Neural Accelerators [Prototype, Estimated Rank: B]: Can accelerate neural processing, enabling rapid deployment of psionic abilities and thought processes.
--Warning: Unit causes neural damage after prolonged use, and while negated in the long term by psychic status, overuse of psionics can cause rapid damage overwhelming the innate neural healing factor of psychics.
-Custom Optics [Right Eye]: Full Spectrum vision and standard AR augmentations, alongside personal biometric monitor of personal brain function.
-Prosthetic Fingers on Left Hand: No Special Functions.
-[Redacted]
Notable Abilities:
-Psionic Abilities
--Precision Kinetics: While lacking the raw power seen in some kinetics, subject is capable of manipulating small objects to the point where any pebble can be seen as a bullet in his hands.
--Telepathics and Psychology: Subject has an extreme understanding of human psychology, which when combined with his telepathic abilities allows him to easily manipulate anyone who isn't actively guarding against both of these venues of attack.
--Technopath: Due to unique neural connections formed with Cybertech, the subject has developed previously lacking technopathic abilities. Essentially allowing him to 'Hack' any technology he can see or form a connection with via psionic ability, thus bypassing most standard defenses.
---Note: Given how technopathic abilities are linked to his psionic abilities, the amount of power he has to devote to 'Hacking' an object is proportional to the complexity of an object's programming. Meaning that even if he can bypass most security, this ability can be circumvented with the proper redundancies of devices thus forcing him to burn through his own mental resources.
Notable Weakness
-Due to augmentations, subject suffers from the common weakness of all Deviant Cyberpunks in that his base pool of Deviant energy has been notably reduced from his pre-augmentation levels.
--Note: While subject claims his deficit is around 20% of his original pool, previous records indicate that this deficit is closer to 50% with the difference likely being an attempt to control his perceived threat level.
Special Handling Note
-Given the recentness of subject's augmentations as well as the unwillingness of them, he has been assigned to Punk Squad 27 due to the similar circumstances of the other two agents in an attempt to form camaraderie between the three, while also accounting for the years of loyalty that the other three agents have had with Sanctuary.
-With any luck these factors combined with the subject's clemency deal and known loyalty factor will result in a secondhand loyalty to Sanctuary, thus negating any possible flight risks he may pose.
-Should this prove insufficient subject's threat level and previous crimes have placed a retroactive Kill Warrant on file, should the Director in charge see the need to use the [Redacted] implanted in his [Redacted].
---
Punk Squad #27
Punk Squad #27
Halloween Event (Pt. 6): Stealing the Girl (and not getting punched in the face...)
A/N: Frack, I did not mean to take this long…
---
Halloween Event (Pt. 6): Stealing the Girl, (and not getting punched in the face…)
(I can't leave her here even if that thing chases me.)
"Fuck." He cursed himself before rushing over to the unconscious girl and picking her up in a princess carry. (Thank you super strength,) "Alright, this probably isn't going to be a fun trip for you but-"
A roar from the side drew his attention to the Burning Man clumsily climbing into the VIP room.
"Yeah, that." He nodded, as the world turned black and white. "Ooh, ooh, I know what this means!"
Turning around he took one step with the girl in his arms and found himself ramming shoulder first into the VIP entrance door, causing him to spin on his heel as he hopped out of the office on one foot while looking at the Burning Man unleash a torrent of flame at his previous location.
"Ha! Not today bitch!" He mocked, adjusting his grip on the girl to give the Deviant a pair of birds.
Of course because he wasn't looking where he was going, he ended up slipping on the first step of a set of stairs. "Oh shit."
He held the girl's head to his chest as he fell and banged his way down the (pointy) metal stairs. "Ouchies…"
(You see this is why we don't mock until after we're safe.)
"Come on, I wasn't looking… I totally should've walked on air right there!" He frowned, picking himself up and planning on blaming the girl's new injuries on the Burning Man.
(Rule of comedy kid: Bitch slapping the arrogant asshole is always funny.)
"Point, point." He conceded to himself, just as the door to the VIP room was thrown open by burning mass of muscle and malice. "Speaking of bitches, let's run like one."
Turning around he darted through the inky blackness once more and found himself at the entrance to the train station, and for once did not harm himself in some way because of this sudden transposition.
"Okay, think I'm finally starting to get the hang of that." He told himself, not stopping to see if the Burning Man was following him. (Because obviously he is.) (Duh.)
He felt an odd twisting inside of his head, one so powerful he found himself slipping on the ground and slamming into the dirt face first as the girl tumbled out of his arms.
"F-uck! Don't need one of these right now…" He groaned, feeling a familiar dampness beneath his nose. (Shit. Okay, I think I know what went wrong right there.)
"Really, because I don't!" He spat, pushing himself off the ground.
(Don't worry I've got it covered.)
"F-uck…" A coughing sound drew his attention away from his own Madness and to the side where the girl had gained something resembling consciousness.
"Okay, you're, uh, you're conscious again." He told the girl. "That's good."
"Wh-what the fuck… happened?" The girl asked, her gaze concerningly glazed.
(Yeah, she's not going to be walking like that.) He grimaced, before moving to pick her up once more. "Right, sorry about this but we're still in the middle of running from-"
The Burning Man roared once more as the Deviant caught sight of them the train station's entrance before leaping on top of one of the nearby trains.
"Don't interrupt me!" He yelled back at the massive wall of flame and muscle that honestly kind of scared him, but (I'm not going to admit that to anyone.)
(You admitted it to me?)
(Fuck off.)
With that said, he turned on his heel and proceeded to flee from the Deviant (that totally doesn't scare me) while trying to figure out, (how the fuck do I do the teleporting thing?! It can't require the black and white thing can it?!)
(If it's what I think it is then no it doesn't.)
"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?" He hissed through grit teeth.
"Run away?" The girl offered weakly, getting a smirk out of him even if she didn't mean to.
"Finally." He sighed in relief before focusing on a nearby train and letting the inky black consume him as he felt a growing heat at his back. One that disappeared as he found himself atop a train and away from the Burning Man for another moment. "Yes!"
His cheer caused the Burning Man's blazing red eyes to snap to him.
"No!" He cried before leaping off the train on the side opposite the other Deviant. "Leave me alone!"
Rather than simply letting him get away like any even remotely considerate person would, the Burning Man decided to ignore his plea and continue to follow him. By crashing through the train in an explosion of flame that sent half of the train whipping through the air.
"Oh shit!" He cursed, before noticing one of the flying train cars' doors were open.
Thinking quickly, he leapt into the air, aiming himself at the open train car where upon entering it he kicked off the car's currently vertical floor to launch himself out the door on the other side where a backflip let him clear the last little bit of the wreckage before it could crush him beneath several tons of burning steel.
"Please tell me you saw that!" He laughed upon landing.
"Saw wha?" The girl blinked, still clearly out of it.
"Oh come on! No one saw that?!" He whined, wishing to impress his badassery upon someone.
The Burning Man erupted into flame with a screaming roar as the Deviant pulled himself from the burning metal.
"You know what, on second thought I'm okay if no one saw that." He assured the massive Deviant as he once more turned tail and ran. "Go back to what you were doing." He paused. "Before you were chasing me I mean."
"Think he was… kicking my ass…" The girl groaned.
"Well, what he was doing before that!" He told her. "I'm pretty sure he was trying to murder rich douchebags, so he can go back to that. I'm completely okay if he goes back to that. I want him to go back to that! He clearly made him so much happier than this raging mass of 'Oh Cheshire he's going to murder us!' that he's got going now."
"You were… more confident before…" The girl noted in a way he hoped her concussion would make her forget.
"Before I wasn't aware I was highly flammable, nor was I running on an empty tank with my powers going wonky." He explained in a perfectly calm and reasonable manner as he gave into his instincts and dropped to the ground in a slide as a massive fireball flew overhead.
(Wait, empty tank… That's it! Drink a Malice Vial!)
He blinked as he suddenly realized why he couldn't seem to trigger his weird ink power outside of the black and white time. (I'm out of ink… Fucking idiot!)
As he hauled himself back to his feet he shoved a hand into his jacket and pulled out a vial of his regular Malice before biting the cap off and downing the entire thing in a single shot.
Within seconds of the sweet coppery strawberries hitting his tongue, that sweet sweet symphony began playing its swing inside his head and he knew he was going to come out of this in one piece.
"Heh-ha! Now we're dancing, darling!" He laughed, hopping to his feet and pulling the girl to hers.
"Don't feel like dancing…" The girl told him
"Ah, that's a shame. Girl as beautiful as you deserves a dance or two." He assured her, before turning his attention towards the Burning Man charging them. "Though with men this pushy, I get why you're not in the mood."
The Burning Man raised a fistful of flames into the air, ready to make them smash and burn before their world went black and Deviant's fist cratered the ground.
"Really, a gentleman knows that 'No.' means 'No!' my good sir!" He yelled down from atop a nearby train where he sat before turning to the girl seated next to him. "I don't know what's wrong with this generation. They've no class."
"How'd we… get up here…?" The girl asked, looking around in a daze.
"Same way we got over here." He explained as they appeared on a train top closer to the edge of the train yard.
"I don't feel good…" The girl told him, still unable to stand up as she leaned against him.
He nodded in sympathy having had his ass kicked a fair number of times as well. "Yes, well we've just got to get you home, and with a bit of sleep you'll be right as rain, darling."
A pillar of flame erupted into the air as another roar filled the train yard.
"But first let's put a little more distance between us and ya' stalker." He told her, before focusing on a nearby rooftop and hoping he could make the distance with his new power.
At first it felt like something was missing, like the instinctive aspect of his power just couldn't seem to grab onto the space he was looking at, but then the world turned black and white and something seemed to click as he felt something inside his power stretch a little further than before.
The world around him seemed to stutter and the edge of his vision seemed to take on this odd pattern of white dots on black, before something snapped and both he and his companion of this fine evening found themselves on the rooftop in a world of color.
"Hoo-boy… Might've pushed that power a little too far that time…" He confessed, feeling an odd strain across his entire body and familiar dampness beneath his nose. "Should probably keep it to a shorter distance from now on…" He told himself as he dabbed at his nose, knowing that he was usually pretty quick on the uptake with this sort of thing.
A glance over his shoulder showed a glowing figure bashing through the trainyard, too far for him to make out any kind of detail. A fact that would be twice as difficult for the Burning Man given how he was a bright light looking into the darkness of night.
"Now we should be safe." He nodded to himself, before a too wide grin grew on his face. "Meaning..."
He coughed into his fist before stamping a boot on the roof's edge, giving the Burning Man two middle fingers, and sticking his tongue out in a raspberry. "Na-na-na-na! Can't touch this, bitch! My ink's too slick, my skills too sick, and you're just a prick with a little dick!"
With that important task completed he turned his attention back to his companion, who promptly threw up on him.
He looked at the sick looking girl, and then his vomit soaked pants, before inhaling deeply and slowly letting it out as he decided that, (Yep. This is about par for the course for me.)
---
Halloween Event (Pt. 6): Stealing the Girl, (and not getting punched in the face…)
--- Joshua ---
(I can't leave her here even if that thing chases me.)
"Fuck." He cursed himself before rushing over to the unconscious girl and picking her up in a princess carry. (Thank you super strength,) "Alright, this probably isn't going to be a fun trip for you but-"
A roar from the side drew his attention to the Burning Man clumsily climbing into the VIP room.
"Yeah, that." He nodded, as the world turned black and white. "Ooh, ooh, I know what this means!"
Turning around he took one step with the girl in his arms and found himself ramming shoulder first into the VIP entrance door, causing him to spin on his heel as he hopped out of the office on one foot while looking at the Burning Man unleash a torrent of flame at his previous location.
"Ha! Not today bitch!" He mocked, adjusting his grip on the girl to give the Deviant a pair of birds.
Of course because he wasn't looking where he was going, he ended up slipping on the first step of a set of stairs. "Oh shit."
He held the girl's head to his chest as he fell and banged his way down the (pointy) metal stairs. "Ouchies…"
(You see this is why we don't mock until after we're safe.)
"Come on, I wasn't looking… I totally should've walked on air right there!" He frowned, picking himself up and planning on blaming the girl's new injuries on the Burning Man.
(Rule of comedy kid: Bitch slapping the arrogant asshole is always funny.)
"Point, point." He conceded to himself, just as the door to the VIP room was thrown open by burning mass of muscle and malice. "Speaking of bitches, let's run like one."
Turning around he darted through the inky blackness once more and found himself at the entrance to the train station, and for once did not harm himself in some way because of this sudden transposition.
"Okay, think I'm finally starting to get the hang of that." He told himself, not stopping to see if the Burning Man was following him. (Because obviously he is.) (Duh.)
He felt an odd twisting inside of his head, one so powerful he found himself slipping on the ground and slamming into the dirt face first as the girl tumbled out of his arms.
"F-uck! Don't need one of these right now…" He groaned, feeling a familiar dampness beneath his nose. (Shit. Okay, I think I know what went wrong right there.)
"Really, because I don't!" He spat, pushing himself off the ground.
(Don't worry I've got it covered.)
"F-uck…" A coughing sound drew his attention away from his own Madness and to the side where the girl had gained something resembling consciousness.
"Okay, you're, uh, you're conscious again." He told the girl. "That's good."
"Wh-what the fuck… happened?" The girl asked, her gaze concerningly glazed.
(Yeah, she's not going to be walking like that.) He grimaced, before moving to pick her up once more. "Right, sorry about this but we're still in the middle of running from-"
The Burning Man roared once more as the Deviant caught sight of them the train station's entrance before leaping on top of one of the nearby trains.
"Don't interrupt me!" He yelled back at the massive wall of flame and muscle that honestly kind of scared him, but (I'm not going to admit that to anyone.)
(You admitted it to me?)
(Fuck off.)
With that said, he turned on his heel and proceeded to flee from the Deviant (that totally doesn't scare me) while trying to figure out, (how the fuck do I do the teleporting thing?! It can't require the black and white thing can it?!)
(If it's what I think it is then no it doesn't.)
"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?" He hissed through grit teeth.
"Run away?" The girl offered weakly, getting a smirk out of him even if she didn't mean to.
"Finally." He sighed in relief before focusing on a nearby train and letting the inky black consume him as he felt a growing heat at his back. One that disappeared as he found himself atop a train and away from the Burning Man for another moment. "Yes!"
His cheer caused the Burning Man's blazing red eyes to snap to him.
"No!" He cried before leaping off the train on the side opposite the other Deviant. "Leave me alone!"
Rather than simply letting him get away like any even remotely considerate person would, the Burning Man decided to ignore his plea and continue to follow him. By crashing through the train in an explosion of flame that sent half of the train whipping through the air.
"Oh shit!" He cursed, before noticing one of the flying train cars' doors were open.
Thinking quickly, he leapt into the air, aiming himself at the open train car where upon entering it he kicked off the car's currently vertical floor to launch himself out the door on the other side where a backflip let him clear the last little bit of the wreckage before it could crush him beneath several tons of burning steel.
"Please tell me you saw that!" He laughed upon landing.
"Saw wha?" The girl blinked, still clearly out of it.
"Oh come on! No one saw that?!" He whined, wishing to impress his badassery upon someone.
The Burning Man erupted into flame with a screaming roar as the Deviant pulled himself from the burning metal.
"You know what, on second thought I'm okay if no one saw that." He assured the massive Deviant as he once more turned tail and ran. "Go back to what you were doing." He paused. "Before you were chasing me I mean."
"Think he was… kicking my ass…" The girl groaned.
"Well, what he was doing before that!" He told her. "I'm pretty sure he was trying to murder rich douchebags, so he can go back to that. I'm completely okay if he goes back to that. I want him to go back to that! He clearly made him so much happier than this raging mass of 'Oh Cheshire he's going to murder us!' that he's got going now."
"You were… more confident before…" The girl noted in a way he hoped her concussion would make her forget.
"Before I wasn't aware I was highly flammable, nor was I running on an empty tank with my powers going wonky." He explained in a perfectly calm and reasonable manner as he gave into his instincts and dropped to the ground in a slide as a massive fireball flew overhead.
(Wait, empty tank… That's it! Drink a Malice Vial!)
He blinked as he suddenly realized why he couldn't seem to trigger his weird ink power outside of the black and white time. (I'm out of ink… Fucking idiot!)
As he hauled himself back to his feet he shoved a hand into his jacket and pulled out a vial of his regular Malice before biting the cap off and downing the entire thing in a single shot.
Within seconds of the sweet coppery strawberries hitting his tongue, that sweet sweet symphony began playing its swing inside his head and he knew he was going to come out of this in one piece.
"Heh-ha! Now we're dancing, darling!" He laughed, hopping to his feet and pulling the girl to hers.
"Don't feel like dancing…" The girl told him
"Ah, that's a shame. Girl as beautiful as you deserves a dance or two." He assured her, before turning his attention towards the Burning Man charging them. "Though with men this pushy, I get why you're not in the mood."
The Burning Man raised a fistful of flames into the air, ready to make them smash and burn before their world went black and Deviant's fist cratered the ground.
"Really, a gentleman knows that 'No.' means 'No!' my good sir!" He yelled down from atop a nearby train where he sat before turning to the girl seated next to him. "I don't know what's wrong with this generation. They've no class."
"How'd we… get up here…?" The girl asked, looking around in a daze.
"Same way we got over here." He explained as they appeared on a train top closer to the edge of the train yard.
"I don't feel good…" The girl told him, still unable to stand up as she leaned against him.
He nodded in sympathy having had his ass kicked a fair number of times as well. "Yes, well we've just got to get you home, and with a bit of sleep you'll be right as rain, darling."
A pillar of flame erupted into the air as another roar filled the train yard.
"But first let's put a little more distance between us and ya' stalker." He told her, before focusing on a nearby rooftop and hoping he could make the distance with his new power.
At first it felt like something was missing, like the instinctive aspect of his power just couldn't seem to grab onto the space he was looking at, but then the world turned black and white and something seemed to click as he felt something inside his power stretch a little further than before.
The world around him seemed to stutter and the edge of his vision seemed to take on this odd pattern of white dots on black, before something snapped and both he and his companion of this fine evening found themselves on the rooftop in a world of color.
"Hoo-boy… Might've pushed that power a little too far that time…" He confessed, feeling an odd strain across his entire body and familiar dampness beneath his nose. "Should probably keep it to a shorter distance from now on…" He told himself as he dabbed at his nose, knowing that he was usually pretty quick on the uptake with this sort of thing.
A glance over his shoulder showed a glowing figure bashing through the trainyard, too far for him to make out any kind of detail. A fact that would be twice as difficult for the Burning Man given how he was a bright light looking into the darkness of night.
"Now we should be safe." He nodded to himself, before a too wide grin grew on his face. "Meaning..."
He coughed into his fist before stamping a boot on the roof's edge, giving the Burning Man two middle fingers, and sticking his tongue out in a raspberry. "Na-na-na-na! Can't touch this, bitch! My ink's too slick, my skills too sick, and you're just a prick with a little dick!"
With that important task completed he turned his attention back to his companion, who promptly threw up on him.
He looked at the sick looking girl, and then his vomit soaked pants, before inhaling deeply and slowly letting it out as he decided that, (Yep. This is about par for the course for me.)