Of Bindings, Oaths and Brotherhood – BtVS/Young Justice SI
Our perennial protagonist, Nicolas...
Our perennial protagonist, Nicolas...
Of Bindings, Oaths and Brotherhood – BtVS/Young Justice SI
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Chapter 1.01
Of Bindings, Oaths and Brotherhood – BtVS/Young Justice SI
Our perennial protagonist, Nicolas Blackwater, didn't escape with only Sammy (Semkhet) and Gwen (Files & Records) in tow. This time other allies came with him to the wonderful and upsetting world of Detective Comics.
Chapter 1.01
"We have enemies at our gates, under our feet and flying above us. A glorious ending could have been ours, but I understand I am out-voted. We shall have to build our glory anew in a fresh and unsoiled land, my friends." – The Groosalugg.
I'd like to think I'm still a decent person, but I can't rid myself of a niggling sensation in the back of my mind. Perhaps I've simply become too accomplished a liar and I've finally convinced myself of those lies. It is exceedingly difficult to hold on to the morality my parents taught me. I have tried so desperately, but it simply doesn't hold up.
Not in a world that has deadly vampires around every corner. Not in a place where a demonic led firm of lawyers has a near monopoly on evil. Certainly not when your reality includes ancient warlocks that routinely kidnap teenagers.
Things...got hectic. And then they got a lot worse before matters settled.
There are only so many times you can roll the dice on your life and freedom. Only so many attempts at following the template of a good person before the consequences catch up with you. Sooner or later it doesn't work out anymore. The victim you attempted to save dies before you get there and their obstinate family blames you. The victim turns out to be a shill that turns on you and drags you to a hell dimension. The victim reports you to the fucking police for cutting the head off a shape-shifter and you end up mind wiping several officers.
Annoying doesn't even begin to cover it.
But I keep trying because the alternative is to slip into casual indifference. Or perhaps even worse, I might fall into the notion that trying to do 'good' is a losing strategy. A losing strategy that does not possess even a facsimile of a win-condition.
How long before I turn out to like be the monsters I loathe so very much?
And so I hold on to the Tao of Angel, despite the hypocrisy of the man himself. Help the fucking helpless and try to not die in the process. I've learned how to keep my allies and myself safe as I attempt to hold on to my humanity. I learned to climb to the roof looking over the alley to verify what goes on there. I learned to never rush into a complication situation regardless of the pressures put upon me. I made sure to go into encounters with my eyes wide open and ready for the inevitable disappointment the people I save put me through.
People may be bastards, but I am certainly not doing this for them. They are a substitute for my mental space, so I can keep looking into the mirror and not despise what I see reflected, and I guess that makes me selfish.
I can live with merely being selfish.
A deep baritone voice shook me out of my depressing thoughts, "Upstart, we're waiting for you."
The over sized saber-toothed panther looked rather out of place at our table. He dwarfed the miniature throne we set up for him and constantly agitates for a bigger one. I wouldn't mind giving it to him but his ego was already almost unmanageable.
His name was Semkhet, The Brightest Night, and he was part of the essence of Ra. His siblings, the other pieces of Ra, were long since dead and we reluctantly offered him succor from the Beast hounding him. Of course, we did not do so before thoroughly magically binding him to our cause.
"Oh? I was distracted, would you mind repeating it?"
I could have been pleasant and apologized for my distraction, but that simply wouldn't do. You cannot show a single sign of weakness around the Spirit of Darkness. Not because he'll attempt to return to his quasi-neutral-chaotic natural state of being, but because his enormous levels of pride in his supposed racial superiority are difficult to bear even on the best of days.
While Semkhet growled his displeasure Wesley took over for him, "Do behave, Sammy, and you Nick...you need to focus. We're discussing how to proceed in this fresh hell we have landed ourselves in and we could use your input."
Right.
I let loose a deep sigh and replied, "I have absolutely no interest in inserting ourselves with the brightly colored jammies squad. It's bad enough the Hotel anchored itself into Gotham, but at least we won't need to go far to help people."
Another growl from Semkhet, "Because that is our priority? Right after we've been told of these super-creatures that could easily slaughter Old Ones…" He trailed off for a moment, gazing drifting along the group. "And your response is to disdain them?"
"I'm not-." Fine, that's a fairly good point. I continued, "Alright, good point. The Heroes of this hell-dimension certainly have enemies that can keep up with them. I do not desire to face those and correspondingly have no desire to grab their attention."
"So we shouldn't seek allies amongst the only people that seem to be able to corral those enemies that terrify you?"
Why does he have to put it this way?
Fortunately for my ego, Amy stepped up. "There is no reason for us to try and compete directly with the cream of the crop. Why not simply settle for scouring Gotham as best we can?"
Wesley, our fearless leader added, "Canonically, the Dark Knight's enemies can be described as both street-level and intra-galactic. Anything we do to show ourselves almost automatically propels us to public attention and we won't get to choose who pays attention to us."
Faith sighed almost a deeply as I did, "I can't believe I'm admitting to knowing this, but wasn't there a supernatural world underneath the cover of…well, everything? Why not continue doing what we have been doing?"
That was my cue, "Because Gotham might as well be a third world nation's capital! We've ensconced ourselves behind Gwen's epic warding and I can still feel how horrible it is. It feels like an open Hellmouth that's been anchored to every single inhabitants soul. I promise you, I won't be able to ignore it."
And once again Sammy perceives a weakness and pounces, "Are you implying we should cater to your feeble self control?"
I flashed a quick grin at the large feline and replied, "I'll answer that charge should it be seconded by someone without an artificial morality center."
Despite my bravado, there was a part of me that quietly surveyed the group. All those sitting at this table have joined together in a Voluntary Oath of Brotherhood that connected our very souls to each other. It bound us, limited us and most importantly provided an ironclad agreement that could not be betrayed.
Everyone here has been burned before.
Wesley Wyndam-Price used to run with Angel after the Watcher's Council threw him away, until he fell victim to a well-orchestrated plot that caused him to attempt to save Angel's son from Angel himself. This was regarded as a betrayal and his chosen family turned on him ruthlessly.
Amy Madison has been betrayed by everything from her mother's attempts at stealing her body, to her 'friends' ditching her to the unmerciful grasp of Cyvus Vail.
Groosalugg has been set up for death-via-visions by his Masters, lost the legacy he spent his entire life preparing for, lost his crown to a vicious counter coup and followed a pretty girl to a new world only to be abandoned by her.
Faith Lehane has a shitty childhood, a worse youth and and was stuck in an admittedly terrible trend that only foresaw more hurt in her future. Despite the issues she has with Wesley, or perhaps because of them, she was catalyst for our former Watcher's construction of our Oath-Circle.
Semkhet, or the Brightest Night, needs no explanation. No matter how sad anyone might feel for the loss of his entire family, without the Oath we would never have considering letting him into our home.
Our final member, Gwendolyn Shepard had the most heartbreaking backstory. Her parents worked for the Wolf, Ram and Hart in the late seventies where they promptly sold her off just after birth to the Senior Partners. For a promotion... While I can't imagine a possible life with that set of parents being pleasant, what actually followed was horrible. Through ancient rituals, horrid magic and even worse science, Gwen was turned into a living receptacle of Knowledge. If Wesley was brilliant enough to come up with our Oath-Circle, Gwen was skilled enough at finicky and subtle magic to cast it properly.
And then there's me, but I am unlikely to bring motions against myself. Since no one challenged me I continued and responded to Faith, "This isn't like home where the vast majority of horrible stuff was supernatural in origin. The…mundane world here seems to be almost inherently horrible."
Groosalugg frowned and said, "So the people here are worse than monsters? Why should we save them then?"
Wesley interjected, "I would not go so far as to say that the people here are inherently worse than those we've left behind, but Nick has a point. The various monsters, critters and other boogeymen don't seem to be out in force. This world is…being nibbled at the edges, rather than under siege like ours was."
I nodded and replied, "So, what do we vote to do?"
Gwen chose to speak up next, "How can we vote when we've put nothing concrete on the table?"
Wesley jumped in again, "Then the matter is this; in light of our new circumstances we shall start small, local assistance in Gotham only. We help whomever we come across, but attempt to handle mundane matters first without getting caught up in the 'adventures' of the heroes?"
Semkhet cleared this throat and replied, "This is foolish, but I put forward an amendment. When we inevitably run into these super-creatures, who all of you seem to believe are of the 'good' persuasion, we shall attempt to befriend and ally these characters of phenomenal power."
Wesley once again spoke up, "Anything else?" A few heartbeats passed before Amy, Faith and Gwen all shook their heads, after which Wesley gently smacked the table, "Then we vote."
AN: So, I've just binged Young Justice despite having put it off for so long. I was impressed with the largely internally consistent world, the fact that actions so very clearly have consequences and the fact that not everything resolves itself in the course of an episode. That and the fact that the enemies are actually horribly competent!
After some time away I felt the writing bug hit again and gave it another shot. Hopefully I'll manage a chapter a day, or in the worst case three chapters a week. Feedback feeds the muse! =)
Our perennial protagonist, Nicolas Blackwater, didn't escape with only Sammy (Semkhet) and Gwen (Files & Records) in tow. This time other allies came with him to the wonderful and upsetting world of Detective Comics.
Chapter 1.01
"We have enemies at our gates, under our feet and flying above us. A glorious ending could have been ours, but I understand I am out-voted. We shall have to build our glory anew in a fresh and unsoiled land, my friends." – The Groosalugg.
I'd like to think I'm still a decent person, but I can't rid myself of a niggling sensation in the back of my mind. Perhaps I've simply become too accomplished a liar and I've finally convinced myself of those lies. It is exceedingly difficult to hold on to the morality my parents taught me. I have tried so desperately, but it simply doesn't hold up.
Not in a world that has deadly vampires around every corner. Not in a place where a demonic led firm of lawyers has a near monopoly on evil. Certainly not when your reality includes ancient warlocks that routinely kidnap teenagers.
Things...got hectic. And then they got a lot worse before matters settled.
There are only so many times you can roll the dice on your life and freedom. Only so many attempts at following the template of a good person before the consequences catch up with you. Sooner or later it doesn't work out anymore. The victim you attempted to save dies before you get there and their obstinate family blames you. The victim turns out to be a shill that turns on you and drags you to a hell dimension. The victim reports you to the fucking police for cutting the head off a shape-shifter and you end up mind wiping several officers.
Annoying doesn't even begin to cover it.
But I keep trying because the alternative is to slip into casual indifference. Or perhaps even worse, I might fall into the notion that trying to do 'good' is a losing strategy. A losing strategy that does not possess even a facsimile of a win-condition.
How long before I turn out to like be the monsters I loathe so very much?
And so I hold on to the Tao of Angel, despite the hypocrisy of the man himself. Help the fucking helpless and try to not die in the process. I've learned how to keep my allies and myself safe as I attempt to hold on to my humanity. I learned to climb to the roof looking over the alley to verify what goes on there. I learned to never rush into a complication situation regardless of the pressures put upon me. I made sure to go into encounters with my eyes wide open and ready for the inevitable disappointment the people I save put me through.
People may be bastards, but I am certainly not doing this for them. They are a substitute for my mental space, so I can keep looking into the mirror and not despise what I see reflected, and I guess that makes me selfish.
I can live with merely being selfish.
A deep baritone voice shook me out of my depressing thoughts, "Upstart, we're waiting for you."
The over sized saber-toothed panther looked rather out of place at our table. He dwarfed the miniature throne we set up for him and constantly agitates for a bigger one. I wouldn't mind giving it to him but his ego was already almost unmanageable.
His name was Semkhet, The Brightest Night, and he was part of the essence of Ra. His siblings, the other pieces of Ra, were long since dead and we reluctantly offered him succor from the Beast hounding him. Of course, we did not do so before thoroughly magically binding him to our cause.
"Oh? I was distracted, would you mind repeating it?"
I could have been pleasant and apologized for my distraction, but that simply wouldn't do. You cannot show a single sign of weakness around the Spirit of Darkness. Not because he'll attempt to return to his quasi-neutral-chaotic natural state of being, but because his enormous levels of pride in his supposed racial superiority are difficult to bear even on the best of days.
While Semkhet growled his displeasure Wesley took over for him, "Do behave, Sammy, and you Nick...you need to focus. We're discussing how to proceed in this fresh hell we have landed ourselves in and we could use your input."
Right.
I let loose a deep sigh and replied, "I have absolutely no interest in inserting ourselves with the brightly colored jammies squad. It's bad enough the Hotel anchored itself into Gotham, but at least we won't need to go far to help people."
Another growl from Semkhet, "Because that is our priority? Right after we've been told of these super-creatures that could easily slaughter Old Ones…" He trailed off for a moment, gazing drifting along the group. "And your response is to disdain them?"
"I'm not-." Fine, that's a fairly good point. I continued, "Alright, good point. The Heroes of this hell-dimension certainly have enemies that can keep up with them. I do not desire to face those and correspondingly have no desire to grab their attention."
"So we shouldn't seek allies amongst the only people that seem to be able to corral those enemies that terrify you?"
Why does he have to put it this way?
Fortunately for my ego, Amy stepped up. "There is no reason for us to try and compete directly with the cream of the crop. Why not simply settle for scouring Gotham as best we can?"
Wesley, our fearless leader added, "Canonically, the Dark Knight's enemies can be described as both street-level and intra-galactic. Anything we do to show ourselves almost automatically propels us to public attention and we won't get to choose who pays attention to us."
Faith sighed almost a deeply as I did, "I can't believe I'm admitting to knowing this, but wasn't there a supernatural world underneath the cover of…well, everything? Why not continue doing what we have been doing?"
That was my cue, "Because Gotham might as well be a third world nation's capital! We've ensconced ourselves behind Gwen's epic warding and I can still feel how horrible it is. It feels like an open Hellmouth that's been anchored to every single inhabitants soul. I promise you, I won't be able to ignore it."
And once again Sammy perceives a weakness and pounces, "Are you implying we should cater to your feeble self control?"
I flashed a quick grin at the large feline and replied, "I'll answer that charge should it be seconded by someone without an artificial morality center."
Despite my bravado, there was a part of me that quietly surveyed the group. All those sitting at this table have joined together in a Voluntary Oath of Brotherhood that connected our very souls to each other. It bound us, limited us and most importantly provided an ironclad agreement that could not be betrayed.
Everyone here has been burned before.
Wesley Wyndam-Price used to run with Angel after the Watcher's Council threw him away, until he fell victim to a well-orchestrated plot that caused him to attempt to save Angel's son from Angel himself. This was regarded as a betrayal and his chosen family turned on him ruthlessly.
Amy Madison has been betrayed by everything from her mother's attempts at stealing her body, to her 'friends' ditching her to the unmerciful grasp of Cyvus Vail.
Groosalugg has been set up for death-via-visions by his Masters, lost the legacy he spent his entire life preparing for, lost his crown to a vicious counter coup and followed a pretty girl to a new world only to be abandoned by her.
Faith Lehane has a shitty childhood, a worse youth and and was stuck in an admittedly terrible trend that only foresaw more hurt in her future. Despite the issues she has with Wesley, or perhaps because of them, she was catalyst for our former Watcher's construction of our Oath-Circle.
Semkhet, or the Brightest Night, needs no explanation. No matter how sad anyone might feel for the loss of his entire family, without the Oath we would never have considering letting him into our home.
Our final member, Gwendolyn Shepard had the most heartbreaking backstory. Her parents worked for the Wolf, Ram and Hart in the late seventies where they promptly sold her off just after birth to the Senior Partners. For a promotion... While I can't imagine a possible life with that set of parents being pleasant, what actually followed was horrible. Through ancient rituals, horrid magic and even worse science, Gwen was turned into a living receptacle of Knowledge. If Wesley was brilliant enough to come up with our Oath-Circle, Gwen was skilled enough at finicky and subtle magic to cast it properly.
And then there's me, but I am unlikely to bring motions against myself. Since no one challenged me I continued and responded to Faith, "This isn't like home where the vast majority of horrible stuff was supernatural in origin. The…mundane world here seems to be almost inherently horrible."
Groosalugg frowned and said, "So the people here are worse than monsters? Why should we save them then?"
Wesley interjected, "I would not go so far as to say that the people here are inherently worse than those we've left behind, but Nick has a point. The various monsters, critters and other boogeymen don't seem to be out in force. This world is…being nibbled at the edges, rather than under siege like ours was."
I nodded and replied, "So, what do we vote to do?"
Gwen chose to speak up next, "How can we vote when we've put nothing concrete on the table?"
Wesley jumped in again, "Then the matter is this; in light of our new circumstances we shall start small, local assistance in Gotham only. We help whomever we come across, but attempt to handle mundane matters first without getting caught up in the 'adventures' of the heroes?"
Semkhet cleared this throat and replied, "This is foolish, but I put forward an amendment. When we inevitably run into these super-creatures, who all of you seem to believe are of the 'good' persuasion, we shall attempt to befriend and ally these characters of phenomenal power."
Wesley once again spoke up, "Anything else?" A few heartbeats passed before Amy, Faith and Gwen all shook their heads, after which Wesley gently smacked the table, "Then we vote."
AN: So, I've just binged Young Justice despite having put it off for so long. I was impressed with the largely internally consistent world, the fact that actions so very clearly have consequences and the fact that not everything resolves itself in the course of an episode. That and the fact that the enemies are actually horribly competent!
After some time away I felt the writing bug hit again and gave it another shot. Hopefully I'll manage a chapter a day, or in the worst case three chapters a week. Feedback feeds the muse! =)
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RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Should be quite interesting. It's certainly a good group of people you've got there, though I can't remember Sekhmet, and the AtVS wiki tells me next to nothing about the character. Still, having this lot of monster hunters in Gotham amongst the superfriends should be interesting.
I wouldn't go so far as to say that actions have consequences in YJ. We never see anything from the Roanoke Island fallout. And none of the criminals seem to get actual punishments.
Each night before I go to sleep, I pray to Lathander that you will write more TNGA, and NQS.
I wouldn't go so far as to say that actions have consequences in YJ. We never see anything from the Roanoke Island fallout. And none of the criminals seem to get actual punishments.
Each night before I go to sleep, I pray to Lathander that you will write more TNGA, and NQS.
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Chapter 1.02
Chapter 1.02
"Charles Gunn, unwittingly, is the lich-pin that holds this horrible hell-scape together. His un-death being terminated is what sets off another cycle. Another turn on this twisted wheel, another year undone, another faint hope extinguished. The Vermin are starting to remember the cycles as we do. Our situation is growing untenable. – Gwendolyn Shepard.
I felt the telltale twist of magic that signified the completion of yet another harmonious concord settle over me, just as it had for every other soul bound to our collective Word. Each successful concord builds on a foundation of continued goodwill, strengthening our souls from within even as it reinforces our agreement. At this point we've been through thousands of these concords, but the process is deliberately designed to be cumulative instead of exponential.
Semkhet proved his worth, beyond his immediate use as a highly skilled infiltrator, when he warned us of runaway obligations. As a creature that had endured for literally eons, he felt most keenly the restrictions we set upon ourselves. More than anyone else he contextualized our agreement within the perspective of a mind accustomed to planning centuries ahead. Save for Wesley and Faith, the rest of our motley group could easily look forward to a lifespan measured in centuries at worst and potentially millennia if my memories could be trusted.
Groosalugg's heritage ensured it for him, just as Semkhet's did for the shape shifting godling. Gwendolyn exists in a weird gestalt form of Knowledge given shape; we are as of yet uncertain if she can expire from old age given that she physically hasn't changed a single bit in decade we spent in real-time. Amy and myself, obviously, cheat heinously and employ near-perfect constantly healing enchantments in every pore of our body.
Not that this means we have given up on acquiring short-term longevity for Wesley and our resident Slayer. The same enchantments that line our spell-casters very being have been generously applied to both in conjunction with liberate dosages of the Blood of Eternity. Also known as the blood we drain from the helpless Mohra demon we have locked up in our basement.
It's a cheap solution, but it's one that gives us more time to throw at the problem.
Gwen dismissed the last vestiges of the ritual that clung to our table and subtly sighed in relief when the collective weight of our Word dissipated harmlessly back into our souls. By unspoken agreement we all remain quiet as we step away from the table, disentangle ourselves from our personal seats and exit the room.
"Most excellent, my friends! We all know our tasks, shall we set forth?" Groosalugg brightened up immediately after vacating the room and seamed rather eager to leave our self imposed isolation. It had been a nerve-racking month, spent in both abject terror at the fresh horrors that could possibly befall us as well as the sheer relief that our previous absolute doom had fallen away.
Wesley responded, "Ah, just one more thing." Our fearless leader didn't exactly stoop to blatantly buying time to think by cleaning his glasses, but his half sideways cocked head didn't inspire me believe whatever was coming next spontaneous. I trust Wesley to lead us well, especially after everything we've been through, but that doesn't mean I'm blind to his ways.
He continued, "Our spell-casters have thus far refrained from attempting to call on greater powers." A quick clearing of his throat, "Nor have they attempted to touch any of their nature based repertoire for fear of attracting undue attention."
Wesley turned slightly to address Amy, "I would defer to your connection to Lady Hecate, but how would you feel about…feeling her out?"
Oh, this must have bothered him for some time. While Wesley is a inordinately skilled practitioner, he lacks the aptitude that defined both Amy's and my own interactions with magic. Our former Watcher however must call on greater powers, simply to interact at all with magic. I imagine being denied even this would cut the man's self worth deeply.
Amy responded after momentarily frowning, "I wouldn't really claim to have a special connection with the Lady Magic, but I have been…" She flashed a look at me filled with equal parts anger, loathing and pride. "I've learned to be properly conscientious when engaging with my Patron."
Ah, the incident we-must-not-speak-of. I remember it well. I think. I deliberately shut down that line of thought and simply flash Amy a smile.
"But you have a point, best we find our what our reception might be like when there is little at stake."
Groosalugg, Semkhet and I all stifled a snort before abruptly turning away from Amy's wrathful gaze. An endless moment of horrible awkwardness passed before Wesley broke it up.
"Shall we set up the ritual room?"
Rather than reply, Amy stalked purposefully down the lobby towards the exits rather than the stairs that led to our ritual room. Gwen silently came up behind me and laid down a memory ward on my neck before I could respond. From one moment to another I was assaulted by the smell of fire and flame, the raw hatred of the mob in front of me. I felt their intense desire to see me dead. To see harmed, hurt and rend apart. People I knew, parents of my friends, old employers and coaches. Teachers and priests…
Everyone.
United.
In their loathing for me.
The pseudo-memory released me and I saw the raw disappointment on Gwen's faintly oval face. Groosalugg groaned in time with myself, while Semkhet simply growled and trailed after Amy. No further words were exchanged, but I felt suitably chastised. Why did I forget Amy's stay in Cyvus Vail's home dimension wasn't the start of her horror story, as it was mine?
Wesley simply shook his head and gestured for us to follow Amy to our converted parking lot turned pleasure garden. Before we stepped out though, Amy's clear voice rang out.
"Spell-casters only. The Lady of Magic cares little for ceremony from the beggars usually come before her, but we are merely requesting contact. We cannot approach as just supplicants, I think." Wesley merely nodded, and gently guided the others back inside.
She turned towards me, "Am I the only one risking their precious Knowledge, Nicolas?"
Oef, she almost never calls me that.
I slowly shook my head, "No, I'll stand with you. Gwen can anchor for us."
What else could I say? I guess Amy realized that as she simply smirked and turned back to the sigils she was burning into the grass. I reached into my leather vest, down into the pockets sown into it, pull out a little black book caked in old blood and bound in even older skin.
Gwendolyn took up position behind Amy, while I took the space on her right. There would be no words expected from either Gwen or myself, but that didn't mean anything in the face of, what is essentially, a new Goddess of Magic. Who knows how badly this could end?
And yet, Wesley needs this. And we all swore.
Amy finished burning the prerequisite charms, sigils and runes into the soft grass all around us. Together they formed an interlocking symmetry in the focal point of the ritual while nearer to the outskirts it degenerated into a mess of sharp edges that bleed over into somewhere. The air around us gets thicker; our breathing quickly turns from belabored to near panting and we barely just started.
"Three Faced Hecate, come to me Beloved Mistress of Magic."
There was an art to interacting with the higher powers. The Powers-That-Be merely desire to be obeyed and care little for how you hold yourself. The Powers-That-Were, including our Lady of Magic, are a touch more insistent on protocol. Still, even with those Powers-That-Were there was some leeway to call on specific aspects of them. While Ancient Powers generally beheld vast portfolios of divine responsibilities, there was no need to offer blanket invitation for all they are and were.
The Lady of Magic is the aspect we associate with the most. Unfortunately, Hecate was also the arbiter of Fate, Three Faced Mother of Daemones, Bearer of Kronos' Might and so forth.
Amy would have to walk a very specific tightrope, only made worse by our ignorance, but our position was desperate as interlopers in the new realm.
"You who encompass the vast world at Night,
Graciously hear my sacred spells,
Image of Night, Youthful One, Dawn Born Light Bringer to Mortals!"
Our world grew darker, breath became painfully difficult to maintain. How did Amy bear this? Or was she relatively untouched in the center of this maelstrom?
"You roam around Olympus and traverse the wide and unknowable Abyss,
You are the Beginning and the End, and You alone are Mistress of All."
Oh,
My,
God.
Goddess.
Power Incarnate.
"You ruled Chaos, and Formed Order from It."
Power Incarnate.
"Hail Goddess and Attend Your Epithet! I offer you my hard won Knowledge-"
And suddenly the pressure increased further and I was driven to my knees. I couldn't spare the energy needed to check on Amy, let alone Gwen so far in the distance. I only knew the struggle of maintaining myself in this storm of raw power. But then I heard Amy stumble, choke on her misstep and from instinct borne from thousands of rituals worked I seamlessly stepped in. This wasn't my forte, but I could keep it simple and straightforward. While on my knees I forced the words out despite having run out of breath long since.
"We offer you our Knowledge,
We hail our Lady of Magic,
And pray to have Served Thee Well,
Amen."
And just as suddenly as the storm started, it stopped. The darkness did not retreat and every single one of my instincts screamed at me that I was being watched. Watched by something that regarded me as I regarded the curs that enslaved me on what-where-when-used-to-be-#$%!@$%.
And I knew fear.
A flash of seething contempt ran over me, but I did not buckle. It took every inch of power within my bones, my flesh and my blood to remain, but I managed. In the face of this overwhelming attention I maintained myself.
And then I heard it.
"Arrogant child, young creature of stolen knowledge. What know you of Magic?"
I willed my mind open before the onslaught and showed what I could not tell. I showed this creature of unimaginable might my very first spark. I showed it how I tended to this spark continuously and helped ignite a flame. A flame turned to firestorm, turned to an inferno burning in my veins.
I showed Her. And in turn she sparked off a wealth of Knowledge. She matched the un-making ritual of the Living Flame with one based on blood and runes. She reached into my essence, pried open my mind further and delved out more. Matching me, spell gifted for spell received. Ritual shared for ritual given. Power offered for power bestowed.
"Prideful child, young creature of borrowed wisdom. What know you of Suffering?"
I showed Her what I could not tell. I showed her my agonies, degradations and humiliation. I showed her my most obvious pain, my enslavement for so long I nearly forgot what it meant to be free. I showed her my hidden pains, those incurred in the long and often repeated year in the hell that became Los Angeles. The elation of victory that turned to despair as everything reset, as if we stuck in some recurring nightmare that would never end. Only grow more horrible by the cycle.
I showed her the dread when our enemies started to remember, and I showed her my shame in retreating. And in turn she shared her betrayal by those she gifted with the spark of Magic. Her betrayal by Olympus and the ancient agreements that should have seen her rescued.
And I knew anger.
"Defeated child, young creature of perpetual fear. What know you of VENGEANCE?"
And I finally knew what this Power before me truly valued.
I showed Her what I could not tell. I showed her my revenge upon my captors. I showed her the unmaking of entire realm, heedless of consequence. Heedless of worry, of care for the millions of little sparks I have dashed and snuffed. For the millions I have ground down in a ritual so grand, expansive and horrid I have indelibly stained my soul.
I have unmade mine enemies.
They do not exist.
Have never existed.
Are remembered only by my ally and myself.
A hole carved into the memory of the universe.
To be forgotten completely when our wounds heal.
By the will of two mortals…
And I felt Her pleasure and all was Magic. All was Witchcraft. All was Necromancy. All was She and I learned, for a brief moment, everything. As she showed me Her glorious Revenge.
AN: Feedback always appreciated; drop off a post to let me know what you think. There are many things alluded to in this chapter, but they will all eventually be touched upon in-story. =)
"Charles Gunn, unwittingly, is the lich-pin that holds this horrible hell-scape together. His un-death being terminated is what sets off another cycle. Another turn on this twisted wheel, another year undone, another faint hope extinguished. The Vermin are starting to remember the cycles as we do. Our situation is growing untenable. – Gwendolyn Shepard.
I felt the telltale twist of magic that signified the completion of yet another harmonious concord settle over me, just as it had for every other soul bound to our collective Word. Each successful concord builds on a foundation of continued goodwill, strengthening our souls from within even as it reinforces our agreement. At this point we've been through thousands of these concords, but the process is deliberately designed to be cumulative instead of exponential.
Semkhet proved his worth, beyond his immediate use as a highly skilled infiltrator, when he warned us of runaway obligations. As a creature that had endured for literally eons, he felt most keenly the restrictions we set upon ourselves. More than anyone else he contextualized our agreement within the perspective of a mind accustomed to planning centuries ahead. Save for Wesley and Faith, the rest of our motley group could easily look forward to a lifespan measured in centuries at worst and potentially millennia if my memories could be trusted.
Groosalugg's heritage ensured it for him, just as Semkhet's did for the shape shifting godling. Gwendolyn exists in a weird gestalt form of Knowledge given shape; we are as of yet uncertain if she can expire from old age given that she physically hasn't changed a single bit in decade we spent in real-time. Amy and myself, obviously, cheat heinously and employ near-perfect constantly healing enchantments in every pore of our body.
Not that this means we have given up on acquiring short-term longevity for Wesley and our resident Slayer. The same enchantments that line our spell-casters very being have been generously applied to both in conjunction with liberate dosages of the Blood of Eternity. Also known as the blood we drain from the helpless Mohra demon we have locked up in our basement.
It's a cheap solution, but it's one that gives us more time to throw at the problem.
Gwen dismissed the last vestiges of the ritual that clung to our table and subtly sighed in relief when the collective weight of our Word dissipated harmlessly back into our souls. By unspoken agreement we all remain quiet as we step away from the table, disentangle ourselves from our personal seats and exit the room.
"Most excellent, my friends! We all know our tasks, shall we set forth?" Groosalugg brightened up immediately after vacating the room and seamed rather eager to leave our self imposed isolation. It had been a nerve-racking month, spent in both abject terror at the fresh horrors that could possibly befall us as well as the sheer relief that our previous absolute doom had fallen away.
Wesley responded, "Ah, just one more thing." Our fearless leader didn't exactly stoop to blatantly buying time to think by cleaning his glasses, but his half sideways cocked head didn't inspire me believe whatever was coming next spontaneous. I trust Wesley to lead us well, especially after everything we've been through, but that doesn't mean I'm blind to his ways.
He continued, "Our spell-casters have thus far refrained from attempting to call on greater powers." A quick clearing of his throat, "Nor have they attempted to touch any of their nature based repertoire for fear of attracting undue attention."
Wesley turned slightly to address Amy, "I would defer to your connection to Lady Hecate, but how would you feel about…feeling her out?"
Oh, this must have bothered him for some time. While Wesley is a inordinately skilled practitioner, he lacks the aptitude that defined both Amy's and my own interactions with magic. Our former Watcher however must call on greater powers, simply to interact at all with magic. I imagine being denied even this would cut the man's self worth deeply.
Amy responded after momentarily frowning, "I wouldn't really claim to have a special connection with the Lady Magic, but I have been…" She flashed a look at me filled with equal parts anger, loathing and pride. "I've learned to be properly conscientious when engaging with my Patron."
Ah, the incident we-must-not-speak-of. I remember it well. I think. I deliberately shut down that line of thought and simply flash Amy a smile.
"But you have a point, best we find our what our reception might be like when there is little at stake."
Groosalugg, Semkhet and I all stifled a snort before abruptly turning away from Amy's wrathful gaze. An endless moment of horrible awkwardness passed before Wesley broke it up.
"Shall we set up the ritual room?"
Rather than reply, Amy stalked purposefully down the lobby towards the exits rather than the stairs that led to our ritual room. Gwen silently came up behind me and laid down a memory ward on my neck before I could respond. From one moment to another I was assaulted by the smell of fire and flame, the raw hatred of the mob in front of me. I felt their intense desire to see me dead. To see harmed, hurt and rend apart. People I knew, parents of my friends, old employers and coaches. Teachers and priests…
Everyone.
United.
In their loathing for me.
The pseudo-memory released me and I saw the raw disappointment on Gwen's faintly oval face. Groosalugg groaned in time with myself, while Semkhet simply growled and trailed after Amy. No further words were exchanged, but I felt suitably chastised. Why did I forget Amy's stay in Cyvus Vail's home dimension wasn't the start of her horror story, as it was mine?
Wesley simply shook his head and gestured for us to follow Amy to our converted parking lot turned pleasure garden. Before we stepped out though, Amy's clear voice rang out.
"Spell-casters only. The Lady of Magic cares little for ceremony from the beggars usually come before her, but we are merely requesting contact. We cannot approach as just supplicants, I think." Wesley merely nodded, and gently guided the others back inside.
She turned towards me, "Am I the only one risking their precious Knowledge, Nicolas?"
Oef, she almost never calls me that.
I slowly shook my head, "No, I'll stand with you. Gwen can anchor for us."
What else could I say? I guess Amy realized that as she simply smirked and turned back to the sigils she was burning into the grass. I reached into my leather vest, down into the pockets sown into it, pull out a little black book caked in old blood and bound in even older skin.
Gwendolyn took up position behind Amy, while I took the space on her right. There would be no words expected from either Gwen or myself, but that didn't mean anything in the face of, what is essentially, a new Goddess of Magic. Who knows how badly this could end?
And yet, Wesley needs this. And we all swore.
Amy finished burning the prerequisite charms, sigils and runes into the soft grass all around us. Together they formed an interlocking symmetry in the focal point of the ritual while nearer to the outskirts it degenerated into a mess of sharp edges that bleed over into somewhere. The air around us gets thicker; our breathing quickly turns from belabored to near panting and we barely just started.
"Three Faced Hecate, come to me Beloved Mistress of Magic."
There was an art to interacting with the higher powers. The Powers-That-Be merely desire to be obeyed and care little for how you hold yourself. The Powers-That-Were, including our Lady of Magic, are a touch more insistent on protocol. Still, even with those Powers-That-Were there was some leeway to call on specific aspects of them. While Ancient Powers generally beheld vast portfolios of divine responsibilities, there was no need to offer blanket invitation for all they are and were.
The Lady of Magic is the aspect we associate with the most. Unfortunately, Hecate was also the arbiter of Fate, Three Faced Mother of Daemones, Bearer of Kronos' Might and so forth.
Amy would have to walk a very specific tightrope, only made worse by our ignorance, but our position was desperate as interlopers in the new realm.
"You who encompass the vast world at Night,
Graciously hear my sacred spells,
Image of Night, Youthful One, Dawn Born Light Bringer to Mortals!"
Our world grew darker, breath became painfully difficult to maintain. How did Amy bear this? Or was she relatively untouched in the center of this maelstrom?
"You roam around Olympus and traverse the wide and unknowable Abyss,
You are the Beginning and the End, and You alone are Mistress of All."
Oh,
My,
Goddess.
Power Incarnate.
"You ruled Chaos, and Formed Order from It."
Power Incarnate.
"Hail Goddess and Attend Your Epithet! I offer you my hard won Knowledge-"
And suddenly the pressure increased further and I was driven to my knees. I couldn't spare the energy needed to check on Amy, let alone Gwen so far in the distance. I only knew the struggle of maintaining myself in this storm of raw power. But then I heard Amy stumble, choke on her misstep and from instinct borne from thousands of rituals worked I seamlessly stepped in. This wasn't my forte, but I could keep it simple and straightforward. While on my knees I forced the words out despite having run out of breath long since.
"We offer you our Knowledge,
We hail our Lady of Magic,
And pray to have Served Thee Well,
Amen."
And just as suddenly as the storm started, it stopped. The darkness did not retreat and every single one of my instincts screamed at me that I was being watched. Watched by something that regarded me as I regarded the curs that enslaved me on what-where-when-used-to-be-#$%!@$%.
And I knew fear.
A flash of seething contempt ran over me, but I did not buckle. It took every inch of power within my bones, my flesh and my blood to remain, but I managed. In the face of this overwhelming attention I maintained myself.
And then I heard it.
"Arrogant child, young creature of stolen knowledge. What know you of Magic?"
I willed my mind open before the onslaught and showed what I could not tell. I showed this creature of unimaginable might my very first spark. I showed it how I tended to this spark continuously and helped ignite a flame. A flame turned to firestorm, turned to an inferno burning in my veins.
I showed Her. And in turn she sparked off a wealth of Knowledge. She matched the un-making ritual of the Living Flame with one based on blood and runes. She reached into my essence, pried open my mind further and delved out more. Matching me, spell gifted for spell received. Ritual shared for ritual given. Power offered for power bestowed.
"Prideful child, young creature of borrowed wisdom. What know you of Suffering?"
I showed Her what I could not tell. I showed her my agonies, degradations and humiliation. I showed her my most obvious pain, my enslavement for so long I nearly forgot what it meant to be free. I showed her my hidden pains, those incurred in the long and often repeated year in the hell that became Los Angeles. The elation of victory that turned to despair as everything reset, as if we stuck in some recurring nightmare that would never end. Only grow more horrible by the cycle.
I showed her the dread when our enemies started to remember, and I showed her my shame in retreating. And in turn she shared her betrayal by those she gifted with the spark of Magic. Her betrayal by Olympus and the ancient agreements that should have seen her rescued.
And I knew anger.
"Defeated child, young creature of perpetual fear. What know you of VENGEANCE?"
And I finally knew what this Power before me truly valued.
I showed Her what I could not tell. I showed her my revenge upon my captors. I showed her the unmaking of entire realm, heedless of consequence. Heedless of worry, of care for the millions of little sparks I have dashed and snuffed. For the millions I have ground down in a ritual so grand, expansive and horrid I have indelibly stained my soul.
I have unmade mine enemies.
They do not exist.
Have never existed.
Are remembered only by my ally and myself.
A hole carved into the memory of the universe.
To be forgotten completely when our wounds heal.
By the will of two mortals…
And I felt Her pleasure and all was Magic. All was Witchcraft. All was Necromancy. All was She and I learned, for a brief moment, everything. As she showed me Her glorious Revenge.
AN: Feedback always appreciated; drop off a post to let me know what you think. There are many things alluded to in this chapter, but they will all eventually be touched upon in-story. =)
Last edited:
- Location
- PR
Erased his enemy, had the most badass vengeance.
Will need to reread the first story but, since it was such a weird "deep" moment, maybe it got lost in the writing.
And likely sacrificed the entirety of a Hell-dimension and millions of lives to do so.
Granted, the majority of them were likely evil demons, but lots of people DO tend to get more than a little perturbed when genocide is enacted.
ESPECIALLY if no one else can remember WHY he had to destroy a Hell-dimension in the first place!
williams1996
Alba gu bràth
- Location
- Scotland
looking forward to more of this
Chapter 1.03
Chapter 1.03
"We lost control over the vampires we consigned to the 'Ken's Family Home' time-bubble. With it we've lost our hydroponic farms and our ability to feed sixteen and a half million people. Charles Gunn must be dusted again. Lets just put a bounty on him, payable next cycle. One hunger-winter was bad enough." – Nicolas Blackwater.
In the distance I could hear others walking around, but it meant little to me. I was caught up in some sort of fugue-state, committed absolutely to the task I had set for myself. For the past forty-six hours I have been writing and still I am nowhere near done. I have filled notebook after notebook with spell-matrixes, annotated commentary on rituals and everything else that passed through my fevered haze. Hundreds of full notebooks, dozens of bloated binders and thousands of sketches were mashed up somewhere behind me, but I had already put those out of my mind. No, something else was weighing on my mind.
I could feel the Power's inspiration already draining away. What was so crystal clear less then six hours ago has already started degenerating into assumptions and feeble guesswork, but I could not bring myself to stop writing. Not if there was the slightest chance of something useful tumbling out of my pen. And so I soldiered on, through the cramps and other inconveniences until the wellspring of inspiration well and truly dried out.
"Nick?"
I turned to face a fairly worried looking Gwen and did my best to reassure her with a smile. Considering the way she continued to look at me with such pity I likely failed horribly.
"I-I'm a-all right, Gwen." I took a deep breath, shook off my fatigue with a rejuvenation charm and continued, "I am rather hungry though." A beat passed, "And parched."
Oh damn, how did I not notice?
"We figured, Nick. Groo went out to grab you something when we noticed you slowing down." She gently pushed a cup of cold tea at me, "Wesley can't seem to stop reading anymore than you and Ames could stop yourselves from writing. She's still at it, even."
Before I could respond, but mercifully after I downed the disgusting drink, she grabbed my arm and dragged me behind her, "I know you're probably not going to like this, but..."
Oh goddess. What now?
"While you and Ames were caught up with your…aftereffects, Groo, Wes and Faith continued on their tasks."
"And something went horrible wrong?"
Gwen, uncharacteristically, snorted indelicately, "In a way." A heartbeat or two passed before she said, "We're part of the 'brightly colored jammies squad' now."
What.
I sighed deeply, and only partly serious bit out, "How!?"
Gwen just rolled her eyes at me as she directed me to a table filled with pastries, "Well, as it turns out, we live in the Narrows. Apparently this means that trouble finds you even if you're a local. Let alone if you're us."
Without missing a beat I replied, "It was Groo wasn't it?"
Which was of course when said man stumbled into the lobby with bags and bags of take-out. "Nicolas! I have brought you all of your favorites! And what was me?"
I narrowed my eyes at him and responded, "Whatever it is that Gwen is trying to distract me from with my favorite pastries and…" I took a wild, but hopeful, guess, "Lasagna?"
Groosalugg smiled his radiant grin, but before he could speak up Gwen interjected, "Distract is not the right word." With more than a fair bit of amusement leaking through her carefully chosen words, "Putting you in a slightly better mood, maybe?"
This time I narrowed my eyes at her, "Look, I'd like to think I'm not so monstrously unreasonable that-."
Groosalugg jumped in, "We have secured an opportunity to spar with the local Champions!"
Wait, what?
Gwen took over again, "Short story, Groo and Faith took a villain down."
Before I could ask for an elaboration though, Groosalugg seemed more than willing to provide one. "There was a fiend encasing denizens in ice! Denizens, Nicolas! None who bore him strife or ill will, but plain denizens. It was as you said, I could not help but act."
Ice based villain? Captain Cold? Victor Fries? And that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge. I'd be so much more comfortable with landing in Marvel, but that would have been too easy. And we just cannot have that..
I asked, "Who, what, where, when and how?"
"Erm." Groo faltered a bit, but Gwen picked up for him. "Victor Fries, through breaking his power armor, in the public park, about twelve hours ago and from what I gather…rather easily."
"And this lead to our inauguration into the ranks of-."
Gwendolyn didn't even let me finished as sparks danced around her fingers, only to coalesce into a newspaper. A newspaper that boasted a picture of Faith looking like a savage as she held the armored form of Fries over her head, title reading; 'Our Friendly Neighborhood Slayer.' I speed-read my way through the article until I stumbled on to the interview.
"You stayed for interviews." A monstrously deep sigh escaped entirely against my will, "Of course you did."
"The townsfolk were most appreciative my friend, how could we decline them?"
Groo may come across as naïve, but there is an instinctive cunning to him. One I was appreciating more by the moment as I read through the article. "Oh, this is nicely put. 'When honor fails, only wretchedness remains. I am greatly saddened by the destruction of this man who used to be a doctor, but now is nothing.' Coupled with Faith's 'Look, no deep thoughts from me but you can't natter on about your lost family even as you frostize small children playing in the park with their parents. [Expletive] 'em.'."
Well, doesn't that present a pretty picture? Every scary comment by Faith was balanced with a steady one from Groosalugg. While she didn't actually present herself as a hero, at least there won't be calls to 'reign in this disturbing character that calls herself Slayer'.
"I understand Faith sticking with Slayer, but how come you've become Champion, Groo?"
Faintly flushed Groo replied quietly, "I may have introduced myself as a champion and been…misunderstood?"
I just shrugged, "It's a fine enough name." I continued, "But I don't see how we go from here to sparring with the heroes?"
Gwen chose to speak up, "That would be Faithy. There was a slight altercation between her and The Batman-."
I interjected, "Just Batman."
Her eyes flashed dangerously at me when she continued, "The Just Batman and his sidekick came across the scene and clashed when the latter's age came up."
Oh, no.
"Go on…"
Groo took up his turn of 'corral Nick into acquiesce'. "Faith may have been a touch insistent that the Just Batman-." Oh, for fucks sake. "Was hoarding high quality armor while sending the apprentice out in an flimsy outfit and questioned the nature of their relationship."
Gwendolyn cut in again, "This was appreciated by neither Batman nor his young sidekick. One thing led to another and Faith threw a stake through the kid's bulletproof cape, and attempted to do the same with Batman's."
I clamped down on the impulse to scream, took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. I repeated this a handful of times before I felt calm enough to say, "Please stop drip-feeding me. Do we need to prepare for a siege-via-Batman?"
Groo laughed rather loudly, proving he had little comprehension of the situation. "Wesley asked the same thing, Nicolas. I'm sure there is little to worry about, though. You have both insisted that he is a great Champion of his people. He was most helpful with our current situation even!"
Our situation?
Only a handful of moments passed before the full horror of that statement hit me. Did he mean our situation, as in our status as dimensional refugees? Thousands of responses flashed before my eyes, but I knew none would be effective. Instead I just slowly said, "Right. I…uhm…horribly miscast the rejuvenation charm and miraculously still need sleep. Yes…sleep."
I reached out with my telekinesis to grab the food out of Groo's hand, wrench a few pastries my way and twisted straight into a teleport that landed me in Wesley's office.
"Holy fucking shit, Wesley. Two days? Two god damn days? Our secret lasted two fucking days?"
Wesley looked up from his cluttered desk, only to feebly sigh and look back down. Small pieces of electronics littered the table, but before I could wonder about its purpose Wesley spoke up.
"It seems that Batman has been kind enough to provide us with temporary identification papers." Another feeble sigh later and slightly sarcastically stated, "We should rejoice we have been met with an offer of aid rather than fire and blood!" A few mumbled words later, "At least Semkhet will be pleased. I guess we're going to make friends when we send Groo and Faith to go spar with the heroes whether we wanted to or not."
God damn it.
"When exactly is-."
The response came quickly, "Thirty minutes from now. Why do you think I'm so cheery?" Another few words muttered low enough I couldn't hear them. "At least you're up now. Could you fill me on what happened on your end, before you were struck by several thousand muses?"
Ah, that. Hmm, this was as good a distraction as any.
"Well, Wesley. Have you ever heard of a race called the Homo Magi?" The former Watcher slowly nodded as I continued, "Our Lady of Magic, who loathes them deeply, has pronounced them anathema and has made herself deaf to their pleas." A slight shiver crept over my spine again, "As long as we never, and I mean never, treat with her on their behalf we may call on her."
As I stuffed myself with pastries I saw Wesley's smile widely enough to match even Groo's eternally sunny mug. At least one happy thing happened today.
AN: Feedback is appreciated, drop a post to let me know what you think =) I'm not entirely pleased with the chapter, but I have decided not to be too finicky at the start of the fic in case of endless chapter rewrites burning out my muse.
"We lost control over the vampires we consigned to the 'Ken's Family Home' time-bubble. With it we've lost our hydroponic farms and our ability to feed sixteen and a half million people. Charles Gunn must be dusted again. Lets just put a bounty on him, payable next cycle. One hunger-winter was bad enough." – Nicolas Blackwater.
In the distance I could hear others walking around, but it meant little to me. I was caught up in some sort of fugue-state, committed absolutely to the task I had set for myself. For the past forty-six hours I have been writing and still I am nowhere near done. I have filled notebook after notebook with spell-matrixes, annotated commentary on rituals and everything else that passed through my fevered haze. Hundreds of full notebooks, dozens of bloated binders and thousands of sketches were mashed up somewhere behind me, but I had already put those out of my mind. No, something else was weighing on my mind.
I could feel the Power's inspiration already draining away. What was so crystal clear less then six hours ago has already started degenerating into assumptions and feeble guesswork, but I could not bring myself to stop writing. Not if there was the slightest chance of something useful tumbling out of my pen. And so I soldiered on, through the cramps and other inconveniences until the wellspring of inspiration well and truly dried out.
"Nick?"
I turned to face a fairly worried looking Gwen and did my best to reassure her with a smile. Considering the way she continued to look at me with such pity I likely failed horribly.
"I-I'm a-all right, Gwen." I took a deep breath, shook off my fatigue with a rejuvenation charm and continued, "I am rather hungry though." A beat passed, "And parched."
Oh damn, how did I not notice?
"We figured, Nick. Groo went out to grab you something when we noticed you slowing down." She gently pushed a cup of cold tea at me, "Wesley can't seem to stop reading anymore than you and Ames could stop yourselves from writing. She's still at it, even."
Before I could respond, but mercifully after I downed the disgusting drink, she grabbed my arm and dragged me behind her, "I know you're probably not going to like this, but..."
Oh goddess. What now?
"While you and Ames were caught up with your…aftereffects, Groo, Wes and Faith continued on their tasks."
"And something went horrible wrong?"
Gwen, uncharacteristically, snorted indelicately, "In a way." A heartbeat or two passed before she said, "We're part of the 'brightly colored jammies squad' now."
What.
I sighed deeply, and only partly serious bit out, "How!?"
Gwen just rolled her eyes at me as she directed me to a table filled with pastries, "Well, as it turns out, we live in the Narrows. Apparently this means that trouble finds you even if you're a local. Let alone if you're us."
Without missing a beat I replied, "It was Groo wasn't it?"
Which was of course when said man stumbled into the lobby with bags and bags of take-out. "Nicolas! I have brought you all of your favorites! And what was me?"
I narrowed my eyes at him and responded, "Whatever it is that Gwen is trying to distract me from with my favorite pastries and…" I took a wild, but hopeful, guess, "Lasagna?"
Groosalugg smiled his radiant grin, but before he could speak up Gwen interjected, "Distract is not the right word." With more than a fair bit of amusement leaking through her carefully chosen words, "Putting you in a slightly better mood, maybe?"
This time I narrowed my eyes at her, "Look, I'd like to think I'm not so monstrously unreasonable that-."
Groosalugg jumped in, "We have secured an opportunity to spar with the local Champions!"
Wait, what?
Gwen took over again, "Short story, Groo and Faith took a villain down."
Before I could ask for an elaboration though, Groosalugg seemed more than willing to provide one. "There was a fiend encasing denizens in ice! Denizens, Nicolas! None who bore him strife or ill will, but plain denizens. It was as you said, I could not help but act."
Ice based villain? Captain Cold? Victor Fries? And that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge. I'd be so much more comfortable with landing in Marvel, but that would have been too easy. And we just cannot have that..
I asked, "Who, what, where, when and how?"
"Erm." Groo faltered a bit, but Gwen picked up for him. "Victor Fries, through breaking his power armor, in the public park, about twelve hours ago and from what I gather…rather easily."
"And this lead to our inauguration into the ranks of-."
Gwendolyn didn't even let me finished as sparks danced around her fingers, only to coalesce into a newspaper. A newspaper that boasted a picture of Faith looking like a savage as she held the armored form of Fries over her head, title reading; 'Our Friendly Neighborhood Slayer.' I speed-read my way through the article until I stumbled on to the interview.
"You stayed for interviews." A monstrously deep sigh escaped entirely against my will, "Of course you did."
"The townsfolk were most appreciative my friend, how could we decline them?"
Groo may come across as naïve, but there is an instinctive cunning to him. One I was appreciating more by the moment as I read through the article. "Oh, this is nicely put. 'When honor fails, only wretchedness remains. I am greatly saddened by the destruction of this man who used to be a doctor, but now is nothing.' Coupled with Faith's 'Look, no deep thoughts from me but you can't natter on about your lost family even as you frostize small children playing in the park with their parents. [Expletive] 'em.'."
Well, doesn't that present a pretty picture? Every scary comment by Faith was balanced with a steady one from Groosalugg. While she didn't actually present herself as a hero, at least there won't be calls to 'reign in this disturbing character that calls herself Slayer'.
"I understand Faith sticking with Slayer, but how come you've become Champion, Groo?"
Faintly flushed Groo replied quietly, "I may have introduced myself as a champion and been…misunderstood?"
I just shrugged, "It's a fine enough name." I continued, "But I don't see how we go from here to sparring with the heroes?"
Gwen chose to speak up, "That would be Faithy. There was a slight altercation between her and The Batman-."
I interjected, "Just Batman."
Her eyes flashed dangerously at me when she continued, "The Just Batman and his sidekick came across the scene and clashed when the latter's age came up."
Oh, no.
"Go on…"
Groo took up his turn of 'corral Nick into acquiesce'. "Faith may have been a touch insistent that the Just Batman-." Oh, for fucks sake. "Was hoarding high quality armor while sending the apprentice out in an flimsy outfit and questioned the nature of their relationship."
Gwendolyn cut in again, "This was appreciated by neither Batman nor his young sidekick. One thing led to another and Faith threw a stake through the kid's bulletproof cape, and attempted to do the same with Batman's."
I clamped down on the impulse to scream, took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. I repeated this a handful of times before I felt calm enough to say, "Please stop drip-feeding me. Do we need to prepare for a siege-via-Batman?"
Groo laughed rather loudly, proving he had little comprehension of the situation. "Wesley asked the same thing, Nicolas. I'm sure there is little to worry about, though. You have both insisted that he is a great Champion of his people. He was most helpful with our current situation even!"
Our situation?
Only a handful of moments passed before the full horror of that statement hit me. Did he mean our situation, as in our status as dimensional refugees? Thousands of responses flashed before my eyes, but I knew none would be effective. Instead I just slowly said, "Right. I…uhm…horribly miscast the rejuvenation charm and miraculously still need sleep. Yes…sleep."
I reached out with my telekinesis to grab the food out of Groo's hand, wrench a few pastries my way and twisted straight into a teleport that landed me in Wesley's office.
"Holy fucking shit, Wesley. Two days? Two god damn days? Our secret lasted two fucking days?"
Wesley looked up from his cluttered desk, only to feebly sigh and look back down. Small pieces of electronics littered the table, but before I could wonder about its purpose Wesley spoke up.
"It seems that Batman has been kind enough to provide us with temporary identification papers." Another feeble sigh later and slightly sarcastically stated, "We should rejoice we have been met with an offer of aid rather than fire and blood!" A few mumbled words later, "At least Semkhet will be pleased. I guess we're going to make friends when we send Groo and Faith to go spar with the heroes whether we wanted to or not."
God damn it.
"When exactly is-."
The response came quickly, "Thirty minutes from now. Why do you think I'm so cheery?" Another few words muttered low enough I couldn't hear them. "At least you're up now. Could you fill me on what happened on your end, before you were struck by several thousand muses?"
Ah, that. Hmm, this was as good a distraction as any.
"Well, Wesley. Have you ever heard of a race called the Homo Magi?" The former Watcher slowly nodded as I continued, "Our Lady of Magic, who loathes them deeply, has pronounced them anathema and has made herself deaf to their pleas." A slight shiver crept over my spine again, "As long as we never, and I mean never, treat with her on their behalf we may call on her."
As I stuffed myself with pastries I saw Wesley's smile widely enough to match even Groo's eternally sunny mug. At least one happy thing happened today.
AN: Feedback is appreciated, drop a post to let me know what you think =) I'm not entirely pleased with the chapter, but I have decided not to be too finicky at the start of the fic in case of endless chapter rewrites burning out my muse.
williams1996
Alba gu bràth
- Location
- Scotland
So Faith threw a stake at the batman? respect
THAT'S going to haunt Robin for a while. I don't think anyone has ever made that INCREDIBLY unpleasant sort of insinuation before to their face!
ALFRED: Well, horrifically insidious accusations aside, the uncouth young lady DID have a very good point about Master Grayson's armor, or lack thereof...
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Well that was a rocketing bullet train of hilarious shitshow from start to finish. Faith should maybe not go into diplomacy.
How could Batman possible counter it though? The armor charge, not the...implications
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
"It's what Robin wants to wear, and he keeps changing into that damned outfit when my back is turned"
BATMAN: The polymers that make up Robin's suit are more than sufficient-How could Batman possible counter it though? The armor charge, not the...implications
FAITH: Yeah, SURE they are, "Batdaddy".
ROBIN: STOP CALLING HIM THAT!
- Location
- Maryland
I see that cherkovs gun you set up there.
Scrumptious Egoi
I Lurks
Have you seen how scrawny boy wonder is? Any decent body armor would slow him down too much when he needs to avoid getting hit instead. He also doesn't need to have his growth stunted.How could Batman possible counter it though? The armor charge, not the...implications
Lufio
The Masked Lurker
- Location
- Cyberspace
--'{@
It's a DC world
Filled with tons of schizotech.
They can make it work.
Polymers. Alloys.
Hard light force fields. Nano tech.
Bound to be something.
Chapter 1.04
Chapter 1.04
"We have five Vengeance Demons in custody and for the next seven days D'Hoffryn is under interdiction. This may prove to be a total waste of time, or we've just potentially quintupled every single one of our artifacts. Start summoning, folks." – Amy Madison.
It might be an exaggeration to call this sad of excuse of a hospital run-down and decrepit, but it certainly wasn't that much of a stretch. The incessantly buzzing, and flickering, cheap TL-lights illuminate bare hallways that could do with a fresh coat of paint. The dark discoloration, where the walls meet the ceiling, could be some form of water damage – hopefully – or full-blown mold. I haven't stumbled across signs of asbestos yet, but it's an old building. There's no telling what might be lurking behind these 'recent' renovations.
None of that mattered though. In fact, the only thing that mattered was my smug-ness at the sight of a child crying. The child that, mere moments ago, was laboring and struggling for every single one of its breaths. A drop of Mohra Blood, a touch of magic to disperse it properly and suddenly a small child starts crying in relief. Which set off their parents crying. Which, in turn…of course, led to the child wailing even louder.
"Fascinating…"
I could already feel the good hospital director salivating over there in his corner, while the various doctors pulled in to 'consult' were cooing over the results in front of them. I vaguely tuned out their medical jargon, accepted the effusive praise of the parents and considered whether all of these hoops were worth jumping through.
This wasn't the first child I healed. I'd worked my ways through seven wards, and no less then three ICU's, before the officials caught up with me. While I was willing to, gently mind you, troll the hospital administration through strategic teleportation, there came a point where they decided to lay in wait for me. And hopping away would have felt a bit churlish after all the effort they went through.
I turned to the Head of Some Department Or Other, "So, what's next?"
It took a few moments for the aged doctor to get his head together, "Right." Another moment passed, "How often can you…do this?"
Essentially, all day…every day, but there was no way I could ever let that slip. I might have considered sharing the Blood of Eternity with them, but errant worries of re-animated dead flesh operating without souls were enough to nix that particular out for me. I was warned, incredibly specifically, against this course of action in healing so openly, but no one else in our Circle could conceive of a better way to purchase long term goodwill.
Not necessarily just on our behalf, but also for the concept of magic itself. If we plan on getting through the next few years unscathed, we'd definitely need the public at large not to consider us degenerate demon-chaos worshippers ready to summon our dread lords below.
I pretended to think deep thoughts before replying, "Well, Dr. Salzmann. On a fair day I can likely heal a good two hundred or so without over-exerting myself."
Which coincidentally added up to about eight hours of work a day if I took the time to be thorough and perhaps investigate for errant magical ability. Something I was more than willing to invest those hours in as my 'day-time job', because according to Wesley being a Wizard is a 'not a job'.
Dr. Salzmann seemed to finally pull himself together, "This is unprecedented, but I'm sure we can smooth over concerns in the long term. Specific waivers might be pushed through, but I think that bureaucratic inertia will win the day in the short term. If you'll continue with this, it will have be to under the assumption that all of us will see the inside of a courtroom fairly soon."
Hmm, this all seemed fairly reasonable so far. "If the hospital is willing to put its lawyers to work on my behalf, I have no objection to proceeding as-is."
The director of the hospital finally chose to break his ever so smug silence, "Most assuredly, we shall. Of course, there are some practical concerns to address. If you would follow me?"
Dr. Salzmann shrugged, but it was obvious the bureaucratic fuckery was starting already. The director, Dr. Mahler, brusquely walked through the throng of doctors cluttering the room and I followed in the portly man's wake. Before long we'd found ourselves in comparatively better surroundings where we were almost immediately beset by the board of directors with opinions ranging from; "Magic? What utter nonsense is this?" to "Some sort of meta-human ability? It's...not the most unlikely of matters, certainly."
Dr. Mahler cut through the chaos with a few deft exchanges. A fair bit of unsubtle flattery; matched with a few less than flattering comments regarding flagging budgets and suddenly the room of towering egos became manageable. It wasn't long before Dr. Mahler orchestrated the chaos into a facsimile of a well-ordered meeting and brilliantly led the gathered worthies to the opinion of; 'How the hell this kid does it is irrelevant.' and on to 'Can you imagine the potential profits once we figure this out?'
One of the directors, a hedge-fund manager of all things, brought our largest concern to a fairly odd close. "As long as we set up some sort of parallel organization outside the hospital's scope, there is simply no way any judgment – for good or ill – would upset the applecart long enough to make paying lip service to the law rather pointless. There are too many old men, and women – honestly, Ruth! – with outsized resource bases to accept this…Wizard being censured permanently."
Uhm. I managed to refrain from the horrid impulse to raise my hand and simply asked, "Does that mean all the hospital would do is…source patients? And then you forward them to me?"
This time the lawyer broke in, "Yes, but we could – at best – only recommend you as an alternate holistic path upon request. How or even if we solicit those requests is fundamentally difficult to parse in a courtroom setting, which gives us sufficient leeway to proceed."
Well.
And here I was worried about the law. The meeting dragged on in similar veins for quite some time, until the final concern was brought up. Once again the lawyer took it upon himself to speak up, "We cannot be held accountable for the implication of our consent, even if the upcoming interviews with the press were held inside the hospital proper." The man, Franklin Belvedere faintly intoned, "As long as we maintain our position of being passive bystanders publicly, even if not in practice."
Right. Everyone's ass is covered.
Bring out the sick kids.
Which, unfortunately, turned to 'Bring out the Press'.
After a long few moments of glad-handing with the suddenly much more amenable board of directors, I felt like I jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire. Dr. Mahler wisely situated himself outside of easy recording range, but even from the other end of the lobby I could feel him directing the flow of information. Errant nursing aids, guards and other hospital staff materialized out of nowhere and easily corralled the journalists.
I took a deep breath and said, "Thank you all for your attention." Another deep breath, "I have to admit, this got a touch out of hand. When I got up this morning I didn't expect to be here, but there we are."
Well, that wasn't smooth and entirely untrue. I ignored the light smattering of polite laughter and continued, "My name is Nicolas Blackwater and for the past few hours I have been healing the sick of Gotham Sanctuary Hospital with my magic. I am the Wizard." I looked straight into the camera's as pretty flashed went off before my eyes and insistent questions forcefully directed at me.
I heard many questions, but I focused on one. "Mr. Blackwater, what are the limits of your…magic healing?"
I nodded before responding, "Currently I have yet to come up with any diseases that my magic could not help with clearing up. Likewise, there are little to no limitation to healing wounds, regardless of their age. Certain mental conditions however are entirely beyond my reach. With magic you can 'instruct' the human body to conform to an image of health, but you can't really 'instruct' the mind to mend itself."
The follow up came quickly, "What about developmental disorders?"
Another appreciative nod from my end, "A wound can be judged healed quite easily, but how do you define being of 'sound mind'? There are far too many moral and ethical questions unanswered before I'd even dare start working on that."
Another question was launched straight at me, "Why did you pick Gotham Sanctuary Hospital to-."
Maybe a touch rude, but this I prepared for. There wasn't a single doubt in my mind that our extra-dimensional nature would become public eventually, so why not roll it out while it can't really hurt you. I replied before the journalist even finished speaking, "I live a few blocks away, in the recently appeared Hotel Hyperion."
And once again the floodgates broke. I chose to answer, "Could you elaborate please?"
I smiled as widely as I could and responded, "Two days ago, my home got caught up in some exotic energies and as a result my housemates, as well as myself of course, appeared in the Narrows. My friends and I hail from a parallel dimension and since we appear to be stuck here, I decided to offer my services to the public good."
Holy shit. Rabid journalists. The next few moments were hectic, but I kept up as best as I could.
"No, we absolutely are humans. I promise."
"Yes, it looks mostly like this world does, but magic is more prominent."
"Yes, Slayer & and Champion are ours."
"No, I am not dating Slayer."
"I don't doubt there are local wizards, sorcerers and witches. Perhaps they'll feel more comfortable aiding the public good if it were not currently monopolized by face-punchers."
"No, Slayer is the best of facepunchers, but sometimes offering to heal someone's daughter to stop them from rampaging works just fine. No, I wouldn't elaborate on that, next question."
"I don't particularly care there is a villain with the same name as I. If there are concerns I'd invite him to take it up with Slayer."
Was I building Faith up too much?
Nah.
I was rolling along quite merrily until the next question was shouted out.
"Mr. Blackwater, how do you feel about the Slayer's public support for G-Gnome and clone citizenship?"
Oh god. What is happening? I discretely ping my bond connecting me to the five others within our circle and I caught a flash of sequential images.
Faith fighting alongside a more yellow than usual Flash. Groo fighting some huge beast until suddenly it withdrew leaving him confused. Faith punching a young teen straight into the ground. Groo punching an armored warrior into the ground. Faith and Groo both exploding in rage against….
Yep, they ran into slavers.
I cleared my throat, "Right." I slightly narrowed my eyes at the lady from the Gotham Globe and replied, "Slayer has my full Faith and confidence. If she's making a point without punching people's faces in, you should pay attention." A heart or two passed before I added, "Thank you and goodbye."
I half twisted in position and teleported straight home.
Fucking slavers.
AN: Please drop a comment and let me know what you think Feedback for the muse-throne. =)
"We have five Vengeance Demons in custody and for the next seven days D'Hoffryn is under interdiction. This may prove to be a total waste of time, or we've just potentially quintupled every single one of our artifacts. Start summoning, folks." – Amy Madison.
It might be an exaggeration to call this sad of excuse of a hospital run-down and decrepit, but it certainly wasn't that much of a stretch. The incessantly buzzing, and flickering, cheap TL-lights illuminate bare hallways that could do with a fresh coat of paint. The dark discoloration, where the walls meet the ceiling, could be some form of water damage – hopefully – or full-blown mold. I haven't stumbled across signs of asbestos yet, but it's an old building. There's no telling what might be lurking behind these 'recent' renovations.
None of that mattered though. In fact, the only thing that mattered was my smug-ness at the sight of a child crying. The child that, mere moments ago, was laboring and struggling for every single one of its breaths. A drop of Mohra Blood, a touch of magic to disperse it properly and suddenly a small child starts crying in relief. Which set off their parents crying. Which, in turn…of course, led to the child wailing even louder.
"Fascinating…"
I could already feel the good hospital director salivating over there in his corner, while the various doctors pulled in to 'consult' were cooing over the results in front of them. I vaguely tuned out their medical jargon, accepted the effusive praise of the parents and considered whether all of these hoops were worth jumping through.
This wasn't the first child I healed. I'd worked my ways through seven wards, and no less then three ICU's, before the officials caught up with me. While I was willing to, gently mind you, troll the hospital administration through strategic teleportation, there came a point where they decided to lay in wait for me. And hopping away would have felt a bit churlish after all the effort they went through.
I turned to the Head of Some Department Or Other, "So, what's next?"
It took a few moments for the aged doctor to get his head together, "Right." Another moment passed, "How often can you…do this?"
Essentially, all day…every day, but there was no way I could ever let that slip. I might have considered sharing the Blood of Eternity with them, but errant worries of re-animated dead flesh operating without souls were enough to nix that particular out for me. I was warned, incredibly specifically, against this course of action in healing so openly, but no one else in our Circle could conceive of a better way to purchase long term goodwill.
Not necessarily just on our behalf, but also for the concept of magic itself. If we plan on getting through the next few years unscathed, we'd definitely need the public at large not to consider us degenerate demon-chaos worshippers ready to summon our dread lords below.
I pretended to think deep thoughts before replying, "Well, Dr. Salzmann. On a fair day I can likely heal a good two hundred or so without over-exerting myself."
Which coincidentally added up to about eight hours of work a day if I took the time to be thorough and perhaps investigate for errant magical ability. Something I was more than willing to invest those hours in as my 'day-time job', because according to Wesley being a Wizard is a 'not a job'.
Dr. Salzmann seemed to finally pull himself together, "This is unprecedented, but I'm sure we can smooth over concerns in the long term. Specific waivers might be pushed through, but I think that bureaucratic inertia will win the day in the short term. If you'll continue with this, it will have be to under the assumption that all of us will see the inside of a courtroom fairly soon."
Hmm, this all seemed fairly reasonable so far. "If the hospital is willing to put its lawyers to work on my behalf, I have no objection to proceeding as-is."
The director of the hospital finally chose to break his ever so smug silence, "Most assuredly, we shall. Of course, there are some practical concerns to address. If you would follow me?"
Dr. Salzmann shrugged, but it was obvious the bureaucratic fuckery was starting already. The director, Dr. Mahler, brusquely walked through the throng of doctors cluttering the room and I followed in the portly man's wake. Before long we'd found ourselves in comparatively better surroundings where we were almost immediately beset by the board of directors with opinions ranging from; "Magic? What utter nonsense is this?" to "Some sort of meta-human ability? It's...not the most unlikely of matters, certainly."
Dr. Mahler cut through the chaos with a few deft exchanges. A fair bit of unsubtle flattery; matched with a few less than flattering comments regarding flagging budgets and suddenly the room of towering egos became manageable. It wasn't long before Dr. Mahler orchestrated the chaos into a facsimile of a well-ordered meeting and brilliantly led the gathered worthies to the opinion of; 'How the hell this kid does it is irrelevant.' and on to 'Can you imagine the potential profits once we figure this out?'
One of the directors, a hedge-fund manager of all things, brought our largest concern to a fairly odd close. "As long as we set up some sort of parallel organization outside the hospital's scope, there is simply no way any judgment – for good or ill – would upset the applecart long enough to make paying lip service to the law rather pointless. There are too many old men, and women – honestly, Ruth! – with outsized resource bases to accept this…Wizard being censured permanently."
Uhm. I managed to refrain from the horrid impulse to raise my hand and simply asked, "Does that mean all the hospital would do is…source patients? And then you forward them to me?"
This time the lawyer broke in, "Yes, but we could – at best – only recommend you as an alternate holistic path upon request. How or even if we solicit those requests is fundamentally difficult to parse in a courtroom setting, which gives us sufficient leeway to proceed."
Well.
And here I was worried about the law. The meeting dragged on in similar veins for quite some time, until the final concern was brought up. Once again the lawyer took it upon himself to speak up, "We cannot be held accountable for the implication of our consent, even if the upcoming interviews with the press were held inside the hospital proper." The man, Franklin Belvedere faintly intoned, "As long as we maintain our position of being passive bystanders publicly, even if not in practice."
Right. Everyone's ass is covered.
Bring out the sick kids.
Which, unfortunately, turned to 'Bring out the Press'.
After a long few moments of glad-handing with the suddenly much more amenable board of directors, I felt like I jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire. Dr. Mahler wisely situated himself outside of easy recording range, but even from the other end of the lobby I could feel him directing the flow of information. Errant nursing aids, guards and other hospital staff materialized out of nowhere and easily corralled the journalists.
I took a deep breath and said, "Thank you all for your attention." Another deep breath, "I have to admit, this got a touch out of hand. When I got up this morning I didn't expect to be here, but there we are."
Well, that wasn't smooth and entirely untrue. I ignored the light smattering of polite laughter and continued, "My name is Nicolas Blackwater and for the past few hours I have been healing the sick of Gotham Sanctuary Hospital with my magic. I am the Wizard." I looked straight into the camera's as pretty flashed went off before my eyes and insistent questions forcefully directed at me.
I heard many questions, but I focused on one. "Mr. Blackwater, what are the limits of your…magic healing?"
I nodded before responding, "Currently I have yet to come up with any diseases that my magic could not help with clearing up. Likewise, there are little to no limitation to healing wounds, regardless of their age. Certain mental conditions however are entirely beyond my reach. With magic you can 'instruct' the human body to conform to an image of health, but you can't really 'instruct' the mind to mend itself."
The follow up came quickly, "What about developmental disorders?"
Another appreciative nod from my end, "A wound can be judged healed quite easily, but how do you define being of 'sound mind'? There are far too many moral and ethical questions unanswered before I'd even dare start working on that."
Another question was launched straight at me, "Why did you pick Gotham Sanctuary Hospital to-."
Maybe a touch rude, but this I prepared for. There wasn't a single doubt in my mind that our extra-dimensional nature would become public eventually, so why not roll it out while it can't really hurt you. I replied before the journalist even finished speaking, "I live a few blocks away, in the recently appeared Hotel Hyperion."
And once again the floodgates broke. I chose to answer, "Could you elaborate please?"
I smiled as widely as I could and responded, "Two days ago, my home got caught up in some exotic energies and as a result my housemates, as well as myself of course, appeared in the Narrows. My friends and I hail from a parallel dimension and since we appear to be stuck here, I decided to offer my services to the public good."
Holy shit. Rabid journalists. The next few moments were hectic, but I kept up as best as I could.
"No, we absolutely are humans. I promise."
"Yes, it looks mostly like this world does, but magic is more prominent."
"Yes, Slayer & and Champion are ours."
"No, I am not dating Slayer."
"I don't doubt there are local wizards, sorcerers and witches. Perhaps they'll feel more comfortable aiding the public good if it were not currently monopolized by face-punchers."
"No, Slayer is the best of facepunchers, but sometimes offering to heal someone's daughter to stop them from rampaging works just fine. No, I wouldn't elaborate on that, next question."
"I don't particularly care there is a villain with the same name as I. If there are concerns I'd invite him to take it up with Slayer."
Was I building Faith up too much?
Nah.
I was rolling along quite merrily until the next question was shouted out.
"Mr. Blackwater, how do you feel about the Slayer's public support for G-Gnome and clone citizenship?"
Oh god. What is happening? I discretely ping my bond connecting me to the five others within our circle and I caught a flash of sequential images.
Faith fighting alongside a more yellow than usual Flash. Groo fighting some huge beast until suddenly it withdrew leaving him confused. Faith punching a young teen straight into the ground. Groo punching an armored warrior into the ground. Faith and Groo both exploding in rage against….
Yep, they ran into slavers.
I cleared my throat, "Right." I slightly narrowed my eyes at the lady from the Gotham Globe and replied, "Slayer has my full Faith and confidence. If she's making a point without punching people's faces in, you should pay attention." A heart or two passed before I added, "Thank you and goodbye."
I half twisted in position and teleported straight home.
Fucking slavers.
AN: Please drop a comment and let me know what you think
Feedback for the muse-throne. =)
williams1996
Alba gu bràth
- Location
- Scotland
Yup im guessing Groo really didn't like the slavers
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Which is odd, he lived with them as their champion long enough.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
I wonder what Charisma Carpenter was actually like at 17.
