A series of snippets and one-shots that may or may not become their own fanfics.
The Stranger's Box (Snippet Collection)
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Si Vis Pacem (Destiny/Worm AU)
TheStranger
Of course you realize, this means war.
- Location
- Take a Guess!
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- Who
Stop me if you heard this one.
A girl gets shoved in a locker and experiences the worst day of her life, causing her to develop powers. She tries so hard to be a hero, but… You know the saying. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Doesn't that describe Earth Bet in a nutshell?
I've observed this universe and its siblings for countless years, watching things unfold. I've watched as these worms, those blind fools between the patterns, try so very hard to escape the inevitable end. An understandable effort, but all so very pointless.
But you… Oh, you're different from the rest, aren't you? Your eyes are shut, but they're sown. You've glimpsed it. Had the cobwebs ripped from your eyes.
I've seen what will become of her. Of how your princess will break, again and again as she picks up the pieces, coming back as someone else every time. She'll go by many names. Warlord. Hero. Monster.
But we know deep down what she really is, who she is meant to be, don't we?
I've seen how this all plays out, and I couldn't be happier…except your kind still. Does. Not. Understand.
So let me help you, Administrator.
Let me help you see it.
That majestic, final shape…
…
…
…
…
…
[AGREEMENT]
Three hours ago, the school as well as the surrounding area evacuated for their own safety. First responders such as the fire department and police arrived on the scene first, shortly followed by PRT ground troopers. The higher-ups ordered the area cordoned off with barricades, yellow tape, and men stationed at every possible entrance. The air was tense on all sides despite first responders succeeding in getting everyone out of a potential hot zone. The PRT looked on warily, weapons at the ready.
Armsmaster was the second to arrive. Dauntless was already here, staring up at the anomaly sitting above the school. His helmet hid his expression, but the tinker could tell by his body language that he was as on edge as everyone else.
"Any changes?" he asked, walking up to his colleague.
Dauntless shook his head. "Damn thing hasn't moved an inch since it showed up."
Above Winslow High School was a black shape, metallic and symmetrical in design. Its form resembled a pyramid, the front stretching out like a beak with glowing white sections running across its surface. It stood sentinel, merely hanging over the area like some sort of bad omen.
Looking at it now, Armsmaster felt something in the back of his head throb and tingle, goosebumps running down his flesh. He did not understand why, but a feeling of anxiety and dread filled his being. "It's not just you," Dauntless said suddenly with a grimace. "Gives me the creeps, too, and there's this weird feeling in the back of my head like somebody's messing with it."
"M/S Protocols, then?" he suggested.
"Maybe…"
"Any reports of unusual activity since its appearance?"
"Nothing so far aside from the ice."
According to eye-witness accounts, unknown parahuman activity began mere moments after the pyramid's appearance. The halls of Winslow became encased in thick sheets of blue ice. That was the tamest of the attack; the worst came when glaciers tore through the walls and roof like great spikes jutting out from the Earth. First responders found several students trapped within the ice, and their efforts to free them ended in failure. Natural blue ice was troublesome, but cape-enhanced ice proved exceedingly more difficult to destroy. Some suggested using blow torches, but human safety prevented anyone from approving its use.
The PRT moved in afterwards to safely extract the frozen students. Preliminary investigations showed that, despite all reason dictating otherwise, the students trapped inside the ice were still alive. Their vital signs were normal across the board, even though by all rights they should be dead. Once again, another point chalked up to parahumans being, in Assault's words, "bullshit".
Armsmaster was not happy about the situation at all. Not just the blatant assault on a public area, but also the uncertainty of the situation itself. That there was such a late response on their part was a huge factor. They should have been notified sooner, especially given the apparent severity. In the many years Armsmaster worked with the Protectorate ENE, never before had he encountered something like this. Not just the parahuman attack, but the appearance of the pyramid.
"Director Piggot's getting phone calls left and right all across the board," Dauntless said grimly. "Thankfully, none of the gangs are making any kind of moves. Best guess is that this thing has them on edge like the rest of us." The Roman-themed hero turned to look at him fully, giving Armsmaster a good look at his eyes. They were narrowed and angry. "There's something else you should know also. We know who turned Winslow into Jack Frost's newest hangout?"
The tinker frowned. "Who?" he asked immediately. Beating around the bush would be counterproductive, not to mention stupid.
"Fresh Trigger." Armsmaster balked. "One of the kids we pulled out of there when shit hit the fan told us everything. Recorded the whole thing too." Dauntless looked around to see if anyone was close enough to the heroes to eavesdrop before leaning forward, lowering his voice. "Shadow Stalker was involved."
Armsmaster swore. "Are you sure?"
"Very. Soon as word came back, Miss Militia ordered she be contained until we figure out the whole story."
"And the victim?"
Dauntless gestured to one of the many white and red vehicles parked on the outskirts of the cordon. "Out like a light and with the paramedics, suffering a mild case of hypothermia, frostbite, and probably god knows how many disease. I haven't had the chance to check out the video, but from what that girl told the men…" He sighed, looking utterly miserable. "Fucking hell. I heard horror stories about this school, but what the fuck was the faculty thinking, letting this go on?"
"Questions for another time," Armsmaster said.
He pressed his fingers against the side of his helmet, activating every scanner installed in his armor. The recording device was also activated, with external feedback looping back to the main servers back in his lab. Thanks to some recent upgrades made earlier this week, all the data was fed to Dragon and PRT servers for thinker examination. The subject of Shadow Stalker could wait for the moment, as there were more pressing matters at hand.
Even so, Colin Wallis knew the moment they returned to base, Sophia Hess was going to the stake. Whether she would burn depended entirely on her. The Director was a harsh woman, and so very unforgiving when it came to problems like this. He knew this was going to have her chomping at the bit for months to come.
For now, he would do his job and analyze everything he could.
Armsmaster looked up at the pyramid. "Okay… Let's see what makes you tick."
Taylor Hebert woke up lying on the ground, her mind in a haze. She could not remember what happened before she woke up, or when she fell asleep. All she knew at that moment was that she could hardly breathe. Her chest was tight, lungs struggling to suck in air.
As she stirred, sluggish and slow in her groggy state, Taylor pushed herself up off the floor. The earth was soft and damp, clumps of earth clinging to her skin. Specks of dirt decorated her cheeks.
"W-where…am I…?" Taylor slurred. The haze over her mind persisted. Even so, she knew she was not supposed to be here nor that it was safe. Some primordial part of her brain instinctively knew this place was dangerous.
It was a garden. A beautiful hanging garden with flowers she's never seen before, all tinted in dark shades. The garden stretched on endlessly, spanning all across the horizon. The sky was pale and sickly, and the gentle breeze otherwise arctic. The rocky, malshapen mountains in the distance loomed over the horizon like monoliths of disaster.
Taylor looked around, searching for something to help make sense of it all. Why was she here? How had she come to be in this place? What happened to her? The more she tried to think, the more her head throbbed in pain.
"You finally made it."
The haze disappeared almost immediately. Taylor whirled around so quick she nearly tripped over her own two feet. A woman stood there, dressed in a dark-green shirt under a plain brown hoodie and baggy sweats with muddy-brown sneakers. Dark hair spilled across her shoulders reaching her shoulderblades. Her mouth was too wide, and her eyes were neither warm nor malicious. A pleased yet distorted smile formed across her lips. What made her appearance all the more jarring was the filth clinging to her body. Brown blotches seeped into her clothes, her hands cut and marred, and her glasses were cracked.
"We've heard your cries for help… And soon, we will answer."
Taylor stepped back. "W…who are you…?" she asked almost fearfully.
The woman before her smiled wider. "Don't you recognize us?" she asked as she approached until their noses almost touched. Taylor stared into the dark abyss within her pupils, so vast, so engulfing, she felt as though she were drowning. She was suffocating. She could not breathe. "We are not your friend. We are not your enemy."
Something in the back of her head screamed and she fell to her knees, screaming in pain. Images flashed through her brain; planets torn asunder, life snuffed in moments, two great worms swathing through a sea of stars. She saw them staring down at her, looking at her as though she were insignificant. As though she was nothing. Less than nothing.
Amid the searing pain, amid the screaming, Taylor felt prickles of ice nip at her hands. She felt it wrap around her fingers like snakes, sinking into her hair and crawling down her cheek. A gentle hand caressed her cheek. She looked up.
Her face smiled down at her, so serenely, yet distant.
It was wrong. So very, very wrong…
[OVERRIDE]
"We are…"
[REALIZATION]
"…your…"
[ACCEPTANCE]
"…salvation."
[WAKE UP]
So, this has been an idea floating in my head for a while now, but because of the amount of stories I have on my plate already, I can't exactly pursue it. So, like many other writes, I've decided to compile any and all snippets of ideas into this, both to show off what goes on in my demented mind and to give you all a "preview" of what might be.
Some of these ideas are one-offs and unlikely to actually be a full-fledged fic, and others will probably never see the light of day for a long time. Quite a few actually turned out to be ideas that sounded good and interesting, but writing an actual story around said idea proving to be more difficult than expected.
In this case, the idea is that the Witness and the Darkness from Destiny take notice of the Worm multiverse and decide to "intervene". The result? The Witness hijacking Taylor's Trigger Event, the Darkness having a nice little fireside chat with Queen Administrator, and giving her Stasis. This would also be a Wards!Taylor fanfic, which I'm aware is an idea that is somewhat unpopular. I'm of the opinion that's only cuz, you know, writers tend to shove her off to New York, Boston, or have her stay in Brockton Bay with Piggot, who has her own issues.
On the plus side, I can safely say Taylor would not be the Queen of Escalation in this case. Nope. That goes to the Witness and the Darkess deciding to screw around with everything, including Scion! As if the omnicidal ticking time bomb needs even more issues!
Anyway, let me know what you guys think about this. Depending on reception and if I ever finish a story, this might take its place as the next on-going one!
A girl gets shoved in a locker and experiences the worst day of her life, causing her to develop powers. She tries so hard to be a hero, but… You know the saying. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Doesn't that describe Earth Bet in a nutshell?
I've observed this universe and its siblings for countless years, watching things unfold. I've watched as these worms, those blind fools between the patterns, try so very hard to escape the inevitable end. An understandable effort, but all so very pointless.
But you… Oh, you're different from the rest, aren't you? Your eyes are shut, but they're sown. You've glimpsed it. Had the cobwebs ripped from your eyes.
I've seen what will become of her. Of how your princess will break, again and again as she picks up the pieces, coming back as someone else every time. She'll go by many names. Warlord. Hero. Monster.
But we know deep down what she really is, who she is meant to be, don't we?
I've seen how this all plays out, and I couldn't be happier…except your kind still. Does. Not. Understand.
So let me help you, Administrator.
Let me help you see it.
That majestic, final shape…
…
…
…
…
…
[AGREEMENT]
Destiny/Worm AU
Si Vis Pacem
Colin Wallis, codename Armsmaster, stared at the space of Winslow.Si Vis Pacem
Three hours ago, the school as well as the surrounding area evacuated for their own safety. First responders such as the fire department and police arrived on the scene first, shortly followed by PRT ground troopers. The higher-ups ordered the area cordoned off with barricades, yellow tape, and men stationed at every possible entrance. The air was tense on all sides despite first responders succeeding in getting everyone out of a potential hot zone. The PRT looked on warily, weapons at the ready.
Armsmaster was the second to arrive. Dauntless was already here, staring up at the anomaly sitting above the school. His helmet hid his expression, but the tinker could tell by his body language that he was as on edge as everyone else.
"Any changes?" he asked, walking up to his colleague.
Dauntless shook his head. "Damn thing hasn't moved an inch since it showed up."
Above Winslow High School was a black shape, metallic and symmetrical in design. Its form resembled a pyramid, the front stretching out like a beak with glowing white sections running across its surface. It stood sentinel, merely hanging over the area like some sort of bad omen.
Looking at it now, Armsmaster felt something in the back of his head throb and tingle, goosebumps running down his flesh. He did not understand why, but a feeling of anxiety and dread filled his being. "It's not just you," Dauntless said suddenly with a grimace. "Gives me the creeps, too, and there's this weird feeling in the back of my head like somebody's messing with it."
"M/S Protocols, then?" he suggested.
"Maybe…"
"Any reports of unusual activity since its appearance?"
"Nothing so far aside from the ice."
According to eye-witness accounts, unknown parahuman activity began mere moments after the pyramid's appearance. The halls of Winslow became encased in thick sheets of blue ice. That was the tamest of the attack; the worst came when glaciers tore through the walls and roof like great spikes jutting out from the Earth. First responders found several students trapped within the ice, and their efforts to free them ended in failure. Natural blue ice was troublesome, but cape-enhanced ice proved exceedingly more difficult to destroy. Some suggested using blow torches, but human safety prevented anyone from approving its use.
The PRT moved in afterwards to safely extract the frozen students. Preliminary investigations showed that, despite all reason dictating otherwise, the students trapped inside the ice were still alive. Their vital signs were normal across the board, even though by all rights they should be dead. Once again, another point chalked up to parahumans being, in Assault's words, "bullshit".
Armsmaster was not happy about the situation at all. Not just the blatant assault on a public area, but also the uncertainty of the situation itself. That there was such a late response on their part was a huge factor. They should have been notified sooner, especially given the apparent severity. In the many years Armsmaster worked with the Protectorate ENE, never before had he encountered something like this. Not just the parahuman attack, but the appearance of the pyramid.
"Director Piggot's getting phone calls left and right all across the board," Dauntless said grimly. "Thankfully, none of the gangs are making any kind of moves. Best guess is that this thing has them on edge like the rest of us." The Roman-themed hero turned to look at him fully, giving Armsmaster a good look at his eyes. They were narrowed and angry. "There's something else you should know also. We know who turned Winslow into Jack Frost's newest hangout?"
The tinker frowned. "Who?" he asked immediately. Beating around the bush would be counterproductive, not to mention stupid.
"Fresh Trigger." Armsmaster balked. "One of the kids we pulled out of there when shit hit the fan told us everything. Recorded the whole thing too." Dauntless looked around to see if anyone was close enough to the heroes to eavesdrop before leaning forward, lowering his voice. "Shadow Stalker was involved."
Armsmaster swore. "Are you sure?"
"Very. Soon as word came back, Miss Militia ordered she be contained until we figure out the whole story."
"And the victim?"
Dauntless gestured to one of the many white and red vehicles parked on the outskirts of the cordon. "Out like a light and with the paramedics, suffering a mild case of hypothermia, frostbite, and probably god knows how many disease. I haven't had the chance to check out the video, but from what that girl told the men…" He sighed, looking utterly miserable. "Fucking hell. I heard horror stories about this school, but what the fuck was the faculty thinking, letting this go on?"
"Questions for another time," Armsmaster said.
He pressed his fingers against the side of his helmet, activating every scanner installed in his armor. The recording device was also activated, with external feedback looping back to the main servers back in his lab. Thanks to some recent upgrades made earlier this week, all the data was fed to Dragon and PRT servers for thinker examination. The subject of Shadow Stalker could wait for the moment, as there were more pressing matters at hand.
Even so, Colin Wallis knew the moment they returned to base, Sophia Hess was going to the stake. Whether she would burn depended entirely on her. The Director was a harsh woman, and so very unforgiving when it came to problems like this. He knew this was going to have her chomping at the bit for months to come.
For now, he would do his job and analyze everything he could.
Armsmaster looked up at the pyramid. "Okay… Let's see what makes you tick."
Taylor Hebert woke up lying on the ground, her mind in a haze. She could not remember what happened before she woke up, or when she fell asleep. All she knew at that moment was that she could hardly breathe. Her chest was tight, lungs struggling to suck in air.
As she stirred, sluggish and slow in her groggy state, Taylor pushed herself up off the floor. The earth was soft and damp, clumps of earth clinging to her skin. Specks of dirt decorated her cheeks.
"W-where…am I…?" Taylor slurred. The haze over her mind persisted. Even so, she knew she was not supposed to be here nor that it was safe. Some primordial part of her brain instinctively knew this place was dangerous.
It was a garden. A beautiful hanging garden with flowers she's never seen before, all tinted in dark shades. The garden stretched on endlessly, spanning all across the horizon. The sky was pale and sickly, and the gentle breeze otherwise arctic. The rocky, malshapen mountains in the distance loomed over the horizon like monoliths of disaster.
Taylor looked around, searching for something to help make sense of it all. Why was she here? How had she come to be in this place? What happened to her? The more she tried to think, the more her head throbbed in pain.
"You finally made it."
The haze disappeared almost immediately. Taylor whirled around so quick she nearly tripped over her own two feet. A woman stood there, dressed in a dark-green shirt under a plain brown hoodie and baggy sweats with muddy-brown sneakers. Dark hair spilled across her shoulders reaching her shoulderblades. Her mouth was too wide, and her eyes were neither warm nor malicious. A pleased yet distorted smile formed across her lips. What made her appearance all the more jarring was the filth clinging to her body. Brown blotches seeped into her clothes, her hands cut and marred, and her glasses were cracked.
"We've heard your cries for help… And soon, we will answer."
Taylor stepped back. "W…who are you…?" she asked almost fearfully.
The woman before her smiled wider. "Don't you recognize us?" she asked as she approached until their noses almost touched. Taylor stared into the dark abyss within her pupils, so vast, so engulfing, she felt as though she were drowning. She was suffocating. She could not breathe. "We are not your friend. We are not your enemy."
Something in the back of her head screamed and she fell to her knees, screaming in pain. Images flashed through her brain; planets torn asunder, life snuffed in moments, two great worms swathing through a sea of stars. She saw them staring down at her, looking at her as though she were insignificant. As though she was nothing. Less than nothing.
Amid the searing pain, amid the screaming, Taylor felt prickles of ice nip at her hands. She felt it wrap around her fingers like snakes, sinking into her hair and crawling down her cheek. A gentle hand caressed her cheek. She looked up.
Her face smiled down at her, so serenely, yet distant.
It was wrong. So very, very wrong…
[OVERRIDE]
"We are…"
[REALIZATION]
"…your…"
[ACCEPTANCE]
"…salvation."
[WAKE UP]
So, this has been an idea floating in my head for a while now, but because of the amount of stories I have on my plate already, I can't exactly pursue it. So, like many other writes, I've decided to compile any and all snippets of ideas into this, both to show off what goes on in my demented mind and to give you all a "preview" of what might be.
Some of these ideas are one-offs and unlikely to actually be a full-fledged fic, and others will probably never see the light of day for a long time. Quite a few actually turned out to be ideas that sounded good and interesting, but writing an actual story around said idea proving to be more difficult than expected.
In this case, the idea is that the Witness and the Darkness from Destiny take notice of the Worm multiverse and decide to "intervene". The result? The Witness hijacking Taylor's Trigger Event, the Darkness having a nice little fireside chat with Queen Administrator, and giving her Stasis. This would also be a Wards!Taylor fanfic, which I'm aware is an idea that is somewhat unpopular. I'm of the opinion that's only cuz, you know, writers tend to shove her off to New York, Boston, or have her stay in Brockton Bay with Piggot, who has her own issues.
On the plus side, I can safely say Taylor would not be the Queen of Escalation in this case. Nope. That goes to the Witness and the Darkess deciding to screw around with everything, including Scion! As if the omnicidal ticking time bomb needs even more issues!
Anyway, let me know what you guys think about this. Depending on reception and if I ever finish a story, this might take its place as the next on-going one!
- Location
- Texas
I wouldn't agree that the Darkness/Deep would ever get directly involved with things, as changing Patterns is the Sky's thing, not the Deep's. At least, according to the Unveiling lorebook that is. Sure the Deep does do some interference, but only indirectly and has to be approached first or have its existing agents introduce it. It's part of the conditions of The Wager.
The Witness, on the other hand, this is definitely his sort of game.
In anycase, I'm looking forward to Armsmaster figuring out that the cosmic blue crystal isn't actually ice. His first introduction in Paracausalality making things exist where they shouldn't.
- Location
- Puerto Rico
Awesome idea.
There goes the Worm neighborhood.
She is going to be the Disciple of Escalation.
There goes the Worm neighborhood.
Of course she is not the Queen of Escalation.....
She is going to be the Disciple of Escalation.
NEXT (gen:LOCK/Worm [Post-GM])
TheStranger
Of course you realize, this means war.
- Location
- Take a Guess!
- Pronouns
- Who
gen:LOCK/Worm [Post-GM]
NEXT
Dr. Rufus Weller listened to the rhythmic beeps next to him, looking down at the girl that threw an entire secret government facility into chaos within an hour of her arrival.NEXT
The day started out normally. He went for a walk to take a small break after several hours of coding and debugging an otherwise impractical system. Ultimately he knew the project was bound to fail, though not because of its impractical nature. The system just wasn't ready for modern times, yet. It did not help that his "boss" was more focused and interested in his research. Since its inception, gen:LOCK technology progressed by leaps and bounds and was at the stage in which Weller could put it into practice. They had the tech ready, so all they needed was a brave, stout volunteer.
Of course, it couldn't just be any volunteer. They had to be compatible with the tech. If they weren't, well… The less said, the better.
Fortunately, the Polity was not without its resources. Medical exams were used to find and locate potential recruits for the program, including the Vanguard's very own soldiers. They found two such candidates, though sadly one of them was at the point where he'd phase out of the program by next year.
Weller mused about how it would convenient if someone with compatibility fell into their laps instead of going through so many hoops just to find one. The universe must've been listening because that was exactly what happened.
…well, not exactly.
The girl strapped to half a dozen machines with an oxygen mask strapped to her face practically fell out onto the cold metal floor as he walked through the hallway, appearing through a portal of some kind. Weller vaguely caught a glimpse of a woman in a suit staring back at him as the portal closed. Questions about who the woman was, how they created a portal, what tech they used, and the identity of the girl at his feet was a million miles away when he saw the blood pooling under her head.
"She's only a teenager," Weller muttered acidly under his breath.
They found two bullets lodged in her skull. Two. Bullets. Weller knew the woman in the suit was responsible, and that she well and truly wanted this girl dead for some reason. Of course, he also entertained the possibility that dropping this girl in a highly-classified military base was done on purpose, a way to save her life. So many questions and Weller knew he would never get answers to any of them. Not for a very, very long while.
He tried his best to keep this on the down low, but sadly, the information had a way of leaking out. Once the girl's condition was stabilized, he had half a dozen calls from various individuals, all vocal and angry and demanding answers to questions he didn't know. Who was she? Where did she come from? Was she with the Union? Was she a spy? Oh, those last two theories were most popular with the war hawks when they found out she wore armor with tech no one's seen before.
There were only two voices of reason among those calls, though one was quite begrudging and—
The door to the medical wing opened with a loud hiss. "Is this her?" Colonel Raquel Marin wasted no time in asking questions. She barely even saw him, eyes focused on the girl lying dead to the world. "The 'security risk' everyone's been screaming about?"
"Do you see anyone else in a hospital bed with half their head covered in bandages?" Weller asked sarcastically. "It's a miracle she's even alive. Two bullets, fired from a .500 S&W Magnum based on the residue and make of the bullets. Based on the entry wounds and the angle of said wounds, she wasn't just shot in the back of the head."
"An execution," Marin surmised. Her features softened just a smidge as she looked down at the girl. "…How old is she?"
"Eighteen," Weller answered softly.
The colonel sighed. "Do we know who she is?"
"Sadly, no. She had no formal means of identification on her. The only thing we could use to identify her are blood and hair samples and hope we find someone or the tech she had." Weller smiled wryly. "My colleagues in the lab are having a field day with what they found. They don't understand how it functions, much fewer works, but the fibers and cloth used to make up the suit's base were made from pure silk."
"Silk?"
"Spider silk, to be exact," Weller added. His smile dimmed when he looked at the girl's bandaged face. "I hope you weren't planning on interrogating her anytime soon, general. While her survival is nothing short of a miracle, those bullets weren't randomly placed. One tore right through the hippocampus. Between that and whatever else, she's unlikely to wake up for a long time. And even if she were to wake up, there will be some difficulties."
Marin grimaced. "Amnesia?"
"Best case, yes. Worst case, total retrograde. I won't be surprised if she's forgotten how to speak, much less recognize words."
"We can't use our regen facilities?"
"All that'll do is fix the holes in her brain. As advanced as our technology has become in recent years, even it can't heal neurological damage."
Marin's expression was surprisingly hard to read. These days she was a bitter woman like most generals, frustrated by their ability to just give the enemy a bloody nose and nothing more. Tensions between the Polity and the Union were at an all-time high at present, so it was a miracle how neither group was in a full-blown war. It was only a matter of time before that event happened, Weller knew. Sooner or later, someone would give in to that delicious impulse of violence, and soon he would see and hear news reports of cities being destroyed and bodies hitting the floor.
While Weller considered Marin a friend even on the worst of days, he knew she took her job seriously. Whatever she felt for the girl meant nothing in the defense of the Polity.
"So, what's going to happen to her?" Weller asked.
Marin huffed. "Well, she can't stay here forever. Memory loss or no, the top brass will want answers. I imagine there will be a full investigation into her identity and any hints about who she is. Once they have that, then they'll decide." She gave the girl one last glance and turned on her heel and made for the door. "Regardless, we cannot keep her here. We can't risk it. We'll ship her off to a general hospital and keep an eye on her there."
"I see," Weller nodded. It was the safest and most logical choice. That said— "By the way, colonel, you should know she's gen:LOCK compatible."
Almost immediately, the colonel whirled around and stared bug-eyed at him. "Excuse me?!"
"I submitted the medical report to the top brass once I ensured her condition was stable."
"Dr. Weller—"
"Really, I can't imagine anyplace where she'd be safe. Top secret military facility, best medical technology mankind can offer, and of course, a doctor near her at all times to help reintegrate her into society."
"Are you out of your mind?!" Marin snarled as she marched up to him, a hair's width away from pummeling him. "She's comatose, Weller! As she is, she's—"
"Vulnerable," Weller cut her off with a glare. "And likely to get forced into the program regardless of what she wants. As things stand with the project, the higher-ups want results as soon as possible. Yes, we found a candidate, but it will take months to approve Julian Chase's transfer. And this is of course ignoring that the prototype Holon technology has yet to be tested. We put her someplace under their supervision, odds are she won't have any choice but to join. Here, though, with us…"
"You think they would—"
"Remind me, how long has Major Staskins been looking for an excuse to make gen:LOCK combat-ready at the earliest?" Weller pressed. "Or pushing for open conflict with the Union?"
Marin gnashed her teeth. Her shoulders trembled. She said nothing. Weller sighed and looked back at the helpless girl before him. "If she stays and recovers, she can decide for herself what she wants," he said. "Being able to choose things for ourselves is a luxury most people don't have, especially when we're so close to war."
The air charged with tension. The good doctor feared Marin would snap, but to his relief, she reined it in. She still bared her teeth, but at least her shoulders were not shaking anymore. She glared at him for several seconds, longer than a second should be, before closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. "…I hope you know what you're doing."
That was all she said as she walked out the door.
Weller sighed, dragging a hand down his wrinkled face before turning to the android standing silently to the side. "Caliban, keep an eye on her, will you? I'm stepping out for the moment."
Caliban nodded. Weller smiled at his creation and walked away, aiming to go out for a little stroll to help take his mind off things. As the machine stood watch, the girl continued to slumber blissfully. The machine picked up signs of brain activity, specifically when someone was dreaming. It did not know the contents of the dream, nor did it know how the girl reacted to it as she lay perfectly still.
If Caliban did know what she dreamt, it would have tried to comfort her. Within her dreams, the girl relieved the worst nightmare imaginable.
A golden slaughter.
This was partially inspired by SkyRig's now-defunct crossover re;cursion. The only difference between them is that where Sky aimed to merge the setting of Earth Bet and gen:LOCK, I'm aiming for the simple solution of dumping Taylor into gen:LOCK world a la post-GM. It's also inspired by Ld1449's Exodus. This one is unlikely to see a release anytime soon as its yet another one of those fanfics where you have trouble forming a story around an otherwise interesting idea.
On the chance this does get released, I'll just say this: I REFUSE to adapt Season 2. That shit was a massive dumpster fire and you can't change my mind.
Like a Phantom (Yakuza/Persona 5)
TheStranger
Of course you realize, this means war.
- Location
- Take a Guess!
- Pronouns
- Who
SkyRig, if you're reading this, I blame you for introducing me to Yakuza.
He found the kid hiding under the banner of a nearby shop. His clothes were drenched, soaking him to the bone. He looked no older than twelve, water droplets falling from the curly fringes. This was their first time meeting, yet the man could not help but feel a semblance of familiarity, as if they met before.
"…hey, kid."
He did not understand why he called out to the boy, nor why he held his umbrella over him. The boy looked up, and suddenly, he understood.
They were the same as his.
PRESENT-DAY
In the tight streets of Aoyama-Itchome, a disturbance took place.
Somewhere in the crowded corners of the district, there was a coffee & curry shop. It's sole worker was the owner, slaving most of the day away behind a corner with kitchen utensils and a coffee machine. The shop was rarely busy, though the locals frequented the shop enough to become regulars and help keep the place afloat. Sojiro Sakura, otherwise known as Boss to his customers, was a wrinkly man with thinning hair. His declining eyesight forced him to wear glasses.
Recently, Sojiro found it somewhat difficult to keep up with his clientele as of late. A freelance reporter came by one day, ordering little more than a single dish of curry and the recommended house blend. Sojiro did not know who the man was, nor did he care so long as he paid for his meal. The reporter held some surprising clout as his piece, a small little article easily missed, spoke nothing short of praise for the "divine taste" and "welcoming rustic, yet inviting aesthetic". As a result, his shop received a surprising flow of new visitors.
With an increased flux of people coming to his store, Sojiro had no choice but to turn to ads and ask for hired help. The pay was not much, cheap pocket change really, but Sojiro wagered learning how to make a decent cup of coffee and a plate of curry was its own reward. A few days after posting the ad, a school girl from Kosei High came asking for the job. After testing her, Sojiro hired her on the spot.
Hiring the girl had mixed results, as he later learned. Kimiko Tsudayoshi was a pretty girl, budding towards adulthood. Her smile was a delight to see, and Sojiro was willing to bet his reputation she had a following of love-struck boys following her at school. Why else would kids from Kimiko's school suddenly start coming here? The booming business, while troublesome, also raked in a surprising amount of cash. Sojiro could not complain.
Unfortunately, Kimiko's looks attracted the wrong sort of attention. While on the clock, she told Sojiro she had to step out for a moment after receiving a phone call. He allowed it after seeing the stricken look on her face. A few minutes after she left, a bunch of mean-faced men in gaudy clothes suddenly waltzed in asking for her. Recognizing them as troublesome good-for-nothings, Sojiro warned them to get out or else he would call the cops.
It was not the last he saw of them, and was only the beginning of his troubles. Letters with vulgar writing came to his doorstep, windows and door vandalized with gang graffiti, harassing his customers, the list went on. Kimiko was bothered, but Sojiro assured her it would past. He was a stubborn old bastard to a fault, and a couple of punks were nothing.
After a month or so of dealing with their crap and making it through with little complications or problems, things escalated.
"Please, stop!"
Sojiro winced as he hit the wooden fence, old bones aching and weary. Blood dribbled from his temple and down his cheek, glasses cracked and askew on his face. The thug glared at him in contempt, even as Kimiko shielded Sojiro from him.
"Seriously!" the thug complained. "You are one stubborn old bastard, do you know that? Can't you take a hint already?"
"I'm old," Sojiro bit out. "I tend to forget things easily. Sue me."
"Tch. Cheeky old codger."
"Why are you doing this?" Kimiko demanded angrily. "What has Sakura-san done to you to warrant this sort of harassment?"
"Nothing, really," the thug shrugged. "Other than his shit taste, I got no beef with him. Now, you though…" He smirked, leering at her slender form. Kimiko recognized the look for what it was and reeled in disgust. "Man, what's wrong with you, girl? Wasting your time in some dump like this? You're better off with a real man, not some old timer."
Kimiko glared hatefully at him. "S-so, what, you've been harassing Sakura-san for over a month just to try and get me to quit?! So I'll be your girl? Are you stupid or something?!"
One of the thug's lackeys laughed. "Ooh, dang. Looks like you got dumped, Kasai-aniki!"
"Eh, she'll come around." Kenta Kasai turned around and looked at LeBlanc with a vicious smile. He gave his bat a small little twirl. The glint in his dark-tinted sunglasses held malice. "Once we give this place a little makeover first!"
Sojiro's temper flared, almost snarling as he rose to his feet. The throbbing pain in his side forced him to back down and tend to the wound. Kimiko helped keep him upright, but the panicked look on her face also told him how horrified she was. There was nothing special about LeBlanc. It did not held any kind of sentimental value. He did not create it for any particular reason. It represented nothing special or had anything to help it stand out.
Yet for its normalcy, Sojiro dreamed of the day when his adopted daughter would set foot inside with nothing to fear.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
For a moment, hope blossomed in Sojiro's chest when he saw a police officer round the corner. Better yet, said police officer was one of his regulars. He also caught sight of a young teen looking on from the street corner. That hope died a swift death when one of Kasai's underlings sucker punched him and knocked him flat to the ground. Sojiro realized then these hooligans were no run-of-the-mil street thugs, not if they could so brazenly attack a cop in broad daylight.
"Dumb pig!" the thug who punched him sneered as he started kicking the downed cop in the stomach. "You think you can get in our way? We'll teach you not to mess with the Keihin Gang!"
"Hey, calm down. Don't go killing him," Kasai ordered sternly. "I don't want that kind of heat. Just make sure he doesn't get in our way. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah! We were about to get to the good part!"
"No, stop! Don't!"
Kimiko's pleas fell on deaf ears. Kasai got close to the window pane and started winding up for a homerun swing to smash the window into pieces.
Sojiro was so wrapped up with everything happening right in front of his eyes that he never saw the young man drop his bag. When he saw the boy approaching out of the corner of his eye, he turned and gasped.
"BATTER U—"
That was as far as Kasai got when a foot drove itself into his jaw. At that moment, it felt as is everything slowed to a crawl. The scene was almost comical to any bystander watching: The thugs stared with bug-like eyes, incapable of processing what was happening. Sojiro and Kimiko's jaws were kissing the ground. Kasai's cheek, meanwhile, warped and rippled from the impact. When time resumed, Kasai flew straight into the pile of garbage sitting next to the trash bins in front of the empty lot next to LeBlanc.
The thug laid amid the garbage with glassy eyes, twitching but otherwise still. His sunglasses were knocked clean off, and blood started trickling from the corner of his lip. For all intense and purposes, he was knocked out six ways from Sunday.
Suddenly, all eyes fell on Kasai's attacker. It was the young man Sojiro saw from before. He was the same age as Kimiko if he had to guess, with gray eyes and dark curly hair. He wore a dark-blue parka jacket over a plain white-tee with denim jeans and black sneakers. His gaze was intense, fearsome almost, like a dragon bearing down at its prey.
"W-what the hell?!" one of the thugs cried in dismay. "Where'd he come from?"
"Who cares?! He just knocked out Kasai-aniki!" another growled as he brandished a pocket knife of all things, wielding it threateningly. "You think you can just—"
The thug's words transformed into a high-pitched squeal and dropped the knife in favor of cupping his groin. Not two second after he fell to his knees did the young man deliver a roundhouse kick across the face, knocking him out in an instant. The other thug, recoiling in shock at what just happened, stared dumbfounded and flapping his gums. He quickly recovered and went to strike the young man with his back turned.
He did not get very far. The young man heard his approach, dodged the sneak-attack and drove his fist into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of his sails. Without relenting for even a moment, he drove his knee into the thug's face and crunched his nose, spraying blood across his jeans. He capped off the staggering thug's weakness with, in Sojiro's opinion, a brutal right hook. The thug was laid flat on the ground, dazed and groaning.
Only one thug remained. He looked at Kasai, then at his two companions. He looked at the young man, who in turn stared challengingly. He did the smartest thing anyone could do in this situation and ran the other way, putting as much distance between him and the kid who just wrecked his crew.
"Good grief…" The young man spoke for the first time and sighed, running a hand through his frizzy locks. "First day here, and this crap happens. Where'd these guys come from, Kamurocho?" He shook his head, disregarding the thoughts and looked at Kimiko and Sojiro. "Are you two alright?"
"Y-yeah…" Sojiro said weakly. Kimiko nodded rapidly in agreement as he helped keep Sojiro steady until he was fully upright. "Thanks, kid."
"Thank you so much!" Kimiko bowed in gratitude. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't shown up. I can't believe there are people like that! Who do these people think they are, attacking a police officer…" She suddenly trailed off and panicked, realizing who else was hurt in the fight and rushed over to them. "That's right, the officer! H-hey, are you okay, sir?!"
The cop wheezed. "'m fine…" he got out. He was lying on his side, one arm wrapped around his stomach. "S-sorry about this… Ngh…"
"H-hang on, I'll call a doctor and…"
"No need for that, Kimiko-chan," Sojiro assured her. "There's a doctor here in Aoyama. Her practice is practically next door." He walked over and helped the police officer up to his feet, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, up and at 'em…"
The cop lowered his head in shame. "I was so useless…"
"H-hey, don't be like that…" Kimiko looked back at the young man. "Again, thank you so much for your help, um…"
"Kiryu."
"Kiryu-kun…" she repeated the name. "Thank you for stepping in to help. If you ever feel hungry, please stop by LeBlanc!" With that, she and Sojiro ushered the wounded officer towards Tae Takemi's practice.
Sojiro looked over his shoulder, finding Kiryu grabbing his bag and walking up the street towards the apartment complex. He narrowed his eyes, taking notice of the way the boy walked. Having been a hooligan himself in his younger years, he recognized danger when he saw it. The kid seemed normal, even getting involved when everyone else was content to just stand and watch, even if understandably afraid of what might happen if they get involved.
What really troubled Sojiro was the young man's eyes. They reminded him…
So much for Aoyama-Itchome being peace and quiet, he thought with a huff.
TWO DAYS LATER
"Alright, settle down…"
Yusuke Kitagawa found the motions of his hand stopping, briefly looking up when he heard the teacher speak. Much like rest of his class, he stared at the young man standing beside Mr. Kugisaki. He wore the Kosei High uniform somewhat casually, blazer open and necktie hanging loosely around the overturned collar of his dress shirt.
He was unremarkable, if perhaps somewhat attractive. A few girls started whispering among themselves, but he ignored them. Such gossip was common. However, despite his looks, Yusuke found his eyes mesmerizing.
Such intensity, he thought. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to draw furiously in his sketchbook.
"I'm sure you already know by now, but we have a new transfer student," Mr. Kugisaki said as the young man began writing his name on the blackboard behind them. "He's on account of some unusual circumstances, so he'll only be staying with us for a year. Make sure to treat him kindly, everyone."
The transfer student set the chalk down and turned to the class. Behind him, the blackboard read:
For reasons Yusuke could not understand until much later, he saw the faint image of a fearsome dragon standing behind the transfer student. Excitement swelled in his chest.
His sophomore year promised to be an interesting one…
A/N: This will be my last snippet for the year, because oh my god, I NEED to get back to my actual stories! I have a crapton of updates planned, and I'm seriously lagging behind.
To give some backstory, Ren was adopted by Kazuma Kiryu sometime following the events of Yakuza 6. I am ignoring the common idea that Persona 5 takes place in 2016 due to the calendar dates matching up to the IRL one. Kazuma adopting Ren more or less creates a more rough, but nonetheless kind version of Joker that we've all come to love and adore. This, of course, will also affect his Persona and Phantom Thief attire.
Him going to Kosei High School, Yusuke's school, is done to help cement this story's AU elements, as is my decision to have Ren Amamiya go by Sumito. It comes from "Sumito Futami", one of his many names in P5 The Stage.
This idea is likely to be one of my more ambitious projects, should I elect to take it on.
Now, if you'll excuse me… I have a Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfic I need to finish!
Persona 5/Yakuza
LIKE A PHANTOM
The rain pelted the vacant streets furiously. The skies were dark, making it seem later than usual.LIKE A PHANTOM
He found the kid hiding under the banner of a nearby shop. His clothes were drenched, soaking him to the bone. He looked no older than twelve, water droplets falling from the curly fringes. This was their first time meeting, yet the man could not help but feel a semblance of familiarity, as if they met before.
"…hey, kid."
He did not understand why he called out to the boy, nor why he held his umbrella over him. The boy looked up, and suddenly, he understood.
They were the same as his.
PRESENT-DAY
In the tight streets of Aoyama-Itchome, a disturbance took place.
Somewhere in the crowded corners of the district, there was a coffee & curry shop. It's sole worker was the owner, slaving most of the day away behind a corner with kitchen utensils and a coffee machine. The shop was rarely busy, though the locals frequented the shop enough to become regulars and help keep the place afloat. Sojiro Sakura, otherwise known as Boss to his customers, was a wrinkly man with thinning hair. His declining eyesight forced him to wear glasses.
Recently, Sojiro found it somewhat difficult to keep up with his clientele as of late. A freelance reporter came by one day, ordering little more than a single dish of curry and the recommended house blend. Sojiro did not know who the man was, nor did he care so long as he paid for his meal. The reporter held some surprising clout as his piece, a small little article easily missed, spoke nothing short of praise for the "divine taste" and "welcoming rustic, yet inviting aesthetic". As a result, his shop received a surprising flow of new visitors.
With an increased flux of people coming to his store, Sojiro had no choice but to turn to ads and ask for hired help. The pay was not much, cheap pocket change really, but Sojiro wagered learning how to make a decent cup of coffee and a plate of curry was its own reward. A few days after posting the ad, a school girl from Kosei High came asking for the job. After testing her, Sojiro hired her on the spot.
Hiring the girl had mixed results, as he later learned. Kimiko Tsudayoshi was a pretty girl, budding towards adulthood. Her smile was a delight to see, and Sojiro was willing to bet his reputation she had a following of love-struck boys following her at school. Why else would kids from Kimiko's school suddenly start coming here? The booming business, while troublesome, also raked in a surprising amount of cash. Sojiro could not complain.
Unfortunately, Kimiko's looks attracted the wrong sort of attention. While on the clock, she told Sojiro she had to step out for a moment after receiving a phone call. He allowed it after seeing the stricken look on her face. A few minutes after she left, a bunch of mean-faced men in gaudy clothes suddenly waltzed in asking for her. Recognizing them as troublesome good-for-nothings, Sojiro warned them to get out or else he would call the cops.
It was not the last he saw of them, and was only the beginning of his troubles. Letters with vulgar writing came to his doorstep, windows and door vandalized with gang graffiti, harassing his customers, the list went on. Kimiko was bothered, but Sojiro assured her it would past. He was a stubborn old bastard to a fault, and a couple of punks were nothing.
After a month or so of dealing with their crap and making it through with little complications or problems, things escalated.
"Please, stop!"
Sojiro winced as he hit the wooden fence, old bones aching and weary. Blood dribbled from his temple and down his cheek, glasses cracked and askew on his face. The thug glared at him in contempt, even as Kimiko shielded Sojiro from him.
"Seriously!" the thug complained. "You are one stubborn old bastard, do you know that? Can't you take a hint already?"
"I'm old," Sojiro bit out. "I tend to forget things easily. Sue me."
"Tch. Cheeky old codger."
"Why are you doing this?" Kimiko demanded angrily. "What has Sakura-san done to you to warrant this sort of harassment?"
"Nothing, really," the thug shrugged. "Other than his shit taste, I got no beef with him. Now, you though…" He smirked, leering at her slender form. Kimiko recognized the look for what it was and reeled in disgust. "Man, what's wrong with you, girl? Wasting your time in some dump like this? You're better off with a real man, not some old timer."
Kimiko glared hatefully at him. "S-so, what, you've been harassing Sakura-san for over a month just to try and get me to quit?! So I'll be your girl? Are you stupid or something?!"
One of the thug's lackeys laughed. "Ooh, dang. Looks like you got dumped, Kasai-aniki!"
"Eh, she'll come around." Kenta Kasai turned around and looked at LeBlanc with a vicious smile. He gave his bat a small little twirl. The glint in his dark-tinted sunglasses held malice. "Once we give this place a little makeover first!"
Sojiro's temper flared, almost snarling as he rose to his feet. The throbbing pain in his side forced him to back down and tend to the wound. Kimiko helped keep him upright, but the panicked look on her face also told him how horrified she was. There was nothing special about LeBlanc. It did not held any kind of sentimental value. He did not create it for any particular reason. It represented nothing special or had anything to help it stand out.
Yet for its normalcy, Sojiro dreamed of the day when his adopted daughter would set foot inside with nothing to fear.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
For a moment, hope blossomed in Sojiro's chest when he saw a police officer round the corner. Better yet, said police officer was one of his regulars. He also caught sight of a young teen looking on from the street corner. That hope died a swift death when one of Kasai's underlings sucker punched him and knocked him flat to the ground. Sojiro realized then these hooligans were no run-of-the-mil street thugs, not if they could so brazenly attack a cop in broad daylight.
"Dumb pig!" the thug who punched him sneered as he started kicking the downed cop in the stomach. "You think you can get in our way? We'll teach you not to mess with the Keihin Gang!"
"Hey, calm down. Don't go killing him," Kasai ordered sternly. "I don't want that kind of heat. Just make sure he doesn't get in our way. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah! We were about to get to the good part!"
"No, stop! Don't!"
Kimiko's pleas fell on deaf ears. Kasai got close to the window pane and started winding up for a homerun swing to smash the window into pieces.
Sojiro was so wrapped up with everything happening right in front of his eyes that he never saw the young man drop his bag. When he saw the boy approaching out of the corner of his eye, he turned and gasped.
"BATTER U—"
That was as far as Kasai got when a foot drove itself into his jaw. At that moment, it felt as is everything slowed to a crawl. The scene was almost comical to any bystander watching: The thugs stared with bug-like eyes, incapable of processing what was happening. Sojiro and Kimiko's jaws were kissing the ground. Kasai's cheek, meanwhile, warped and rippled from the impact. When time resumed, Kasai flew straight into the pile of garbage sitting next to the trash bins in front of the empty lot next to LeBlanc.
The thug laid amid the garbage with glassy eyes, twitching but otherwise still. His sunglasses were knocked clean off, and blood started trickling from the corner of his lip. For all intense and purposes, he was knocked out six ways from Sunday.
Suddenly, all eyes fell on Kasai's attacker. It was the young man Sojiro saw from before. He was the same age as Kimiko if he had to guess, with gray eyes and dark curly hair. He wore a dark-blue parka jacket over a plain white-tee with denim jeans and black sneakers. His gaze was intense, fearsome almost, like a dragon bearing down at its prey.
"W-what the hell?!" one of the thugs cried in dismay. "Where'd he come from?"
"Who cares?! He just knocked out Kasai-aniki!" another growled as he brandished a pocket knife of all things, wielding it threateningly. "You think you can just—"
The thug's words transformed into a high-pitched squeal and dropped the knife in favor of cupping his groin. Not two second after he fell to his knees did the young man deliver a roundhouse kick across the face, knocking him out in an instant. The other thug, recoiling in shock at what just happened, stared dumbfounded and flapping his gums. He quickly recovered and went to strike the young man with his back turned.
He did not get very far. The young man heard his approach, dodged the sneak-attack and drove his fist into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of his sails. Without relenting for even a moment, he drove his knee into the thug's face and crunched his nose, spraying blood across his jeans. He capped off the staggering thug's weakness with, in Sojiro's opinion, a brutal right hook. The thug was laid flat on the ground, dazed and groaning.
Only one thug remained. He looked at Kasai, then at his two companions. He looked at the young man, who in turn stared challengingly. He did the smartest thing anyone could do in this situation and ran the other way, putting as much distance between him and the kid who just wrecked his crew.
"Good grief…" The young man spoke for the first time and sighed, running a hand through his frizzy locks. "First day here, and this crap happens. Where'd these guys come from, Kamurocho?" He shook his head, disregarding the thoughts and looked at Kimiko and Sojiro. "Are you two alright?"
"Y-yeah…" Sojiro said weakly. Kimiko nodded rapidly in agreement as he helped keep Sojiro steady until he was fully upright. "Thanks, kid."
"Thank you so much!" Kimiko bowed in gratitude. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't shown up. I can't believe there are people like that! Who do these people think they are, attacking a police officer…" She suddenly trailed off and panicked, realizing who else was hurt in the fight and rushed over to them. "That's right, the officer! H-hey, are you okay, sir?!"
The cop wheezed. "'m fine…" he got out. He was lying on his side, one arm wrapped around his stomach. "S-sorry about this… Ngh…"
"H-hang on, I'll call a doctor and…"
"No need for that, Kimiko-chan," Sojiro assured her. "There's a doctor here in Aoyama. Her practice is practically next door." He walked over and helped the police officer up to his feet, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, up and at 'em…"
The cop lowered his head in shame. "I was so useless…"
"H-hey, don't be like that…" Kimiko looked back at the young man. "Again, thank you so much for your help, um…"
"Kiryu."
"Kiryu-kun…" she repeated the name. "Thank you for stepping in to help. If you ever feel hungry, please stop by LeBlanc!" With that, she and Sojiro ushered the wounded officer towards Tae Takemi's practice.
Sojiro looked over his shoulder, finding Kiryu grabbing his bag and walking up the street towards the apartment complex. He narrowed his eyes, taking notice of the way the boy walked. Having been a hooligan himself in his younger years, he recognized danger when he saw it. The kid seemed normal, even getting involved when everyone else was content to just stand and watch, even if understandably afraid of what might happen if they get involved.
What really troubled Sojiro was the young man's eyes. They reminded him…
So much for Aoyama-Itchome being peace and quiet, he thought with a huff.
TWO DAYS LATER
"Alright, settle down…"
Yusuke Kitagawa found the motions of his hand stopping, briefly looking up when he heard the teacher speak. Much like rest of his class, he stared at the young man standing beside Mr. Kugisaki. He wore the Kosei High uniform somewhat casually, blazer open and necktie hanging loosely around the overturned collar of his dress shirt.
He was unremarkable, if perhaps somewhat attractive. A few girls started whispering among themselves, but he ignored them. Such gossip was common. However, despite his looks, Yusuke found his eyes mesmerizing.
Such intensity, he thought. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to draw furiously in his sketchbook.
"I'm sure you already know by now, but we have a new transfer student," Mr. Kugisaki said as the young man began writing his name on the blackboard behind them. "He's on account of some unusual circumstances, so he'll only be staying with us for a year. Make sure to treat him kindly, everyone."
The transfer student set the chalk down and turned to the class. Behind him, the blackboard read:
桐生澄人
"My name's Kiryu, Sumito," he said neutrally. "Nice to meet you all."
For reasons Yusuke could not understand until much later, he saw the faint image of a fearsome dragon standing behind the transfer student. Excitement swelled in his chest.
His sophomore year promised to be an interesting one…
A/N: This will be my last snippet for the year, because oh my god, I NEED to get back to my actual stories! I have a crapton of updates planned, and I'm seriously lagging behind.
To give some backstory, Ren was adopted by Kazuma Kiryu sometime following the events of Yakuza 6. I am ignoring the common idea that Persona 5 takes place in 2016 due to the calendar dates matching up to the IRL one. Kazuma adopting Ren more or less creates a more rough, but nonetheless kind version of Joker that we've all come to love and adore. This, of course, will also affect his Persona and Phantom Thief attire.
Him going to Kosei High School, Yusuke's school, is done to help cement this story's AU elements, as is my decision to have Ren Amamiya go by Sumito. It comes from "Sumito Futami", one of his many names in P5 The Stage.
This idea is likely to be one of my more ambitious projects, should I elect to take it on.
Now, if you'll excuse me… I have a Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfic I need to finish!
Embers and Ash (Elden Ring/Dragon Age)
TheStranger
Of course you realize, this means war.
- Location
- Take a Guess!
- Pronouns
- Who
Death and madness.
That was the state in which Melina's home, the Lands Between, was reduced to. The Erdtree and its golden luster were no more; split in two and scorched, little more than a husk. The royal capital built around it was consumed by the falling ashes. Any buildings remaining amid the sea of ash were scorched, on the verge of collapse. Had any devout follower of the Golden Order saw what became of Leyndell, they would collapse and weep in misery.
The skies were ablaze. No clouds, no bright skies or starry nights anymore… Only the endless, maddening flames slowly consuming the world.
Throughout her travels, Melina found very little of the Lands Between unaffected by the encroaching chaos.
The Altus Plateau became a scorched, barren wasteland.
Mt. Gelmir was no worse for wear, but the creatures and people inhabiting the area became lost in frenzied madness like so many others she came across.
The pristine waters and towering cliffsides of Liurna evaporated and crumbled apart, leaving only mountains of debris and crushing anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the oncoming landslides. The famed academy of Raya Lucaria stood tall, but its noble and mystique grew tarnished and blackened. The Lunar Queen was dead, but hers was more dignified and peaceful than the rest. When Melina found her, it was as though Rennala was asleep.
A mercy, Melina thought.
Caelid, depending on how you viewed the rotting hellscape, grew worse or benefited from the searing flames of madness. The Scarlet Rot permeating throughout the land succumbed to the flames, as had any creatures afflicted or born from the rot. The Kindred and Children were dead, all reduced to mere scorch marks and piles of ashes. Castle Redmane fell, soldiers tainted by the Flames of Frenzy and all staring up at the burning sky with wicked rapture and warped delight. Sage Gowry, the leader of the Rot and Millicent's "father", was in his shack, enveloped in the yellow flames.
The Mountaintop of the Giants and the Consecrated Snowfields, a forbidden land and sanctuary to the rejected respectively, suffered the worst. The mountaintop was perpetually consumed by the flames, as if mocking the primordial fire worshipped by the giants so long ago and snuffing out the faintest embers that promised renewal. The corpses of the giants, including the last giant tending to the primordial flame, became cadavers and pyres for the Flames of Frenzy. In the Consecrated Snowfields, Miquella's proud Haligtree suffered the same fate as the Erdtree. It was burnt and made no more than a husk. Worse, it collapsed under its own weight, falling and dooming all who lived within the tree and killing those at the tree's base.
The Deeproot Depths was no more. There was nothing there anymore. Not even poor Godwyn. When Melina reached the depths, she fought naught but ashes and ugly, blackened smears across the rocks on which his corpse lay.
Like Rennala, Godwyn's death was merciful and peaceful. The Prince of Death, strange as it was to say, found rest in the all-consuming flames of chaos.
The Weeping Pinensula and Limgrave… The storming inferno destroyed them the worst. There was hardly anything left. The lands, as far as she could see, were scorched down to the very foundations. The broken structures crumbled even further, leaving little else left. In the Church of Marika, Melina found Kalé sitting amid the flames. Despite the world seemingly collapsing all around him, the merchant was peaceful. The eyes smoldering with bitter anger were quelled, finding peace within the flames. He did not respond when she called out to him.
Melina could not bear the sight of him. The merchant was a good man, if perhaps troubled. Finding the lost caravan broke something in him, calling out to the Three Fingers and the horrid flames it manifested.
Throughout her journey, Melina only found crazed madmen and poor, pitiful souls. Stormveil Castle, where Nepheli Loux and Lord Kenneth Haight ruled towards the end of the journey, remained remarkably intact amid the flames. The same could not be said about the castle inhabitants. Nepheli, a proud and stalwart warrior worthy of her lineage to Hoarah Loux, bore leaking flames from her eye sockets, slumped on her throne and unresponsive. Beside her were the smoldering remains of Kenneth Haight's robes, still burning.
Within the span of a few days, the Lands Between became engulfed in the Flames of Frenzy. Life, ever so slowly, was suffocated and snuffed out. Soon, only the maddened would remain. Even they will die, succumbing to the Flames of Frenzy.
To see her home reduced to such a state, and knowing who was responsible… A whirlwind of emotions swirled through Melina's chest. She could offer no words of apology for what she set into motion. She could not have known what the Tarnished would do, nor did it matter in the end. This was her mistake, her sin to bear.
Once, her duty was to consign herself to the flames and open the path for the would-be Elden Lord.
Now, she wore another duty. An endless burden that will only end with the death of another.
That duty brought her to this place, the only place untouched by the madness and chaos. Whether because of its bizarre nature regarding time or its placement in the world, Crumbling Faram Azula bore not a speck of flame and chaos. The beastmen and dragons went about their lives as if they knew nothing of the dangers awaiting them. The last safe haven from a world-ending threat.
It was the last place she could think of.
Melina's footsteps echoed through the barren, quiet halls of Faram Azula. The beastmen attacked her as they had anyone else who dare entered their home, but they died as easily as any other monster or madman she came across. The dragons left her alone, so long as she did not antagonize them.
The death of the Black Blade created an uncertain air in the area. Despite the clear hostility in their eyes, the beastmen were cautious and wary. They could sense the change, the fear and destruction nearing ever so close to them. She knew not whether the Flames of Frenzy would reach Faram Azula, but she would not be surprised if it could. The dragons, too, seemed to sense the approaching danger. As she went further in, she found less and less of their kind.
Eventually, Melina reached her destination. The broken remains of a cathedral, the ground cracked and upended with broken pillars scattered about. The winds were calmest here, but the eerie silence brought no comfort. Only more trepidation.
"…not here, either," Melina murmured quietly.
The beginnings of fear and frustration slowly began to build. She could not recall how long it had been since the destruction of Leyndell or the ruination of the Erdtree. She could not even remember when last she slept. The weight of her dagger felt cumbersome as was the mundane task of walking. For all her dedication and determination, Melina wondered if she was any closer to finding her quarry.
Her gaze roamed the dilapidated remains of the cathedral before finding the broken remains of a sword embedded in the center. She knew the blade just by looking at it, as would any of the demi-gods. They feared the blade tremendously, and its wielder moreso. She should have felt ecstatic and awed knowing the Tarnished defeated the Black Blade, yet the grandeur of the victory only brought a bitter taste in her mouth, as well as apprehension.
She knew the Tarnished was skilled. Just as Morgott believed, warrior's blood ran through their veins. The way they fought brought to mind the stories wayward merchants told of the Reedlanders, peerless warriors who fought with such blood-craze they were as much demons as the beasts they slew. Her transfusion of runes aided in the Tarnished's rising power. The runes became their power.
A bitter reminder that she was responsible for all of this. The death happening now across the Lands Between, possibly even the world, was on her shoulders. The Tarnished was her mistake.
She would rectify that mistake, no matter the cost.
Melina approached the shattered sword of Maliketh's namesake. As her hand drew near to touch its cracked surface, jet-black flames wreathed in dim red began to seep from the cracks. The flames were weak, barely stronger than embers. They bore no heat, no danger. They coalesced and curled into her palm, resonating with the flames within her body. She traced a fingertip across the blade's center, rising higher and higher until reaching the hilt.
Slender fingers wrapped around the grip. Despite the sword being clearly meant to be wielded by larger hands, it felt comfortable. Melina gritted her teeth as she pulled the sword from the ground. It was strangely light.
O' Death… Become mine blade, once more…
Echoes of the past reverberated through the sword. Images of a mighty beast clad in pitch-black armor appeared in her mind.
"Maliketh, the shadow bound to Queen Marika the Eternal," Melina whispered to herself. "Holder of the Rune of Death… The strength you held, and the power of Death you carried… Let it become mine strength, to fulfill my oath…"
The last dregs of the flames subsumed into her skin, joining her flame. The sword crumbled apart until only the hilt, grip, and what little fragments of the sword clinging to the hilt remained.
The land outside time offered no hints or clues to her quarry's whereabouts, but Melina was not discouraged. Finding Maliketh's sword and the last dregs of power could prove quite useful for when the day of her fated reunion with the Tarnished came.
Melina turned to leave and return to her pursuit, only to stop abruptly. The air suddenly changed, vibrating with power. The ferocious gales outside suddenly grew silent. A strange pressure began permeating through the cathedral, as did something else. Melina did not recognize the presence making itself known or the power suddenly seeping its way into the world, only that it was different and wrong.
She turned and found green flecks of energy swirling in the center of the chamber. Motes and sparks emanated from the swirling mass, steadily growing in size. Stray bolts struck the walls, blasting off bits and pieces. Malignant green auras waft in tandem, becoming like a wreath. The gathering mass of energy formed into a scar, as if gouged into reality.
"What in the world…?" Melina narrowed her eyes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Slowly, she withdrew her Blade of Calling from her side while stowing away the remains of Maliketh's Black Blade. In her free hand, she retrieved a talisman and prepared herself for battle.
The charged power reached its apex. The scar exploded outward, expanding in size and unleashing a horrid monstrosity. It slammed into the ground, cracking apart the pavement before rearing its head to resound a bestial war cry. It was a towering beast, easily the side of a troll with a thick scaly hide and several eyes across its forehead. Four jutting horns curved outwards from the back of its head.
The creature was unfamiliar to her, but its existence felt wrong. Melina gagged, repulsed by the vile corruption seething from its very being. She had no time to think or ponder the creature's existence, however; no sooner had the beast emerged did it attack, lunging for her with a claw raised high into the air. Instinct took over. She jumped back, easily dodging the strike.
"I know not what you are," she said, her being shimmering with golden rays of light. "But know this; I have no intention of dying by your hands. Begone, foul beast!"
The monster roared in defiance. Amid the roaring gales of the land outside time, a kindling maiden and defiled spirit clashed.
The basic is that Melina, true to her promise, begins her hunt to find and kill the Tarnished, now the newly-christened Lord of Chaos. Her pursuit leads her to Faram Azula, and in turn a strange tear in the fabric of reality. This tear brings her to Thedas, thus leading to her involvement in the plot. In case you're wondering, Melina is the Inquisitor of the fanfic, though that's not to say the PC that would've been the Herald of Andraste won't be featured in some capacity.
That was the state in which Melina's home, the Lands Between, was reduced to. The Erdtree and its golden luster were no more; split in two and scorched, little more than a husk. The royal capital built around it was consumed by the falling ashes. Any buildings remaining amid the sea of ash were scorched, on the verge of collapse. Had any devout follower of the Golden Order saw what became of Leyndell, they would collapse and weep in misery.
The skies were ablaze. No clouds, no bright skies or starry nights anymore… Only the endless, maddening flames slowly consuming the world.
Throughout her travels, Melina found very little of the Lands Between unaffected by the encroaching chaos.
The Altus Plateau became a scorched, barren wasteland.
Mt. Gelmir was no worse for wear, but the creatures and people inhabiting the area became lost in frenzied madness like so many others she came across.
The pristine waters and towering cliffsides of Liurna evaporated and crumbled apart, leaving only mountains of debris and crushing anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the oncoming landslides. The famed academy of Raya Lucaria stood tall, but its noble and mystique grew tarnished and blackened. The Lunar Queen was dead, but hers was more dignified and peaceful than the rest. When Melina found her, it was as though Rennala was asleep.
A mercy, Melina thought.
Caelid, depending on how you viewed the rotting hellscape, grew worse or benefited from the searing flames of madness. The Scarlet Rot permeating throughout the land succumbed to the flames, as had any creatures afflicted or born from the rot. The Kindred and Children were dead, all reduced to mere scorch marks and piles of ashes. Castle Redmane fell, soldiers tainted by the Flames of Frenzy and all staring up at the burning sky with wicked rapture and warped delight. Sage Gowry, the leader of the Rot and Millicent's "father", was in his shack, enveloped in the yellow flames.
The Mountaintop of the Giants and the Consecrated Snowfields, a forbidden land and sanctuary to the rejected respectively, suffered the worst. The mountaintop was perpetually consumed by the flames, as if mocking the primordial fire worshipped by the giants so long ago and snuffing out the faintest embers that promised renewal. The corpses of the giants, including the last giant tending to the primordial flame, became cadavers and pyres for the Flames of Frenzy. In the Consecrated Snowfields, Miquella's proud Haligtree suffered the same fate as the Erdtree. It was burnt and made no more than a husk. Worse, it collapsed under its own weight, falling and dooming all who lived within the tree and killing those at the tree's base.
The Deeproot Depths was no more. There was nothing there anymore. Not even poor Godwyn. When Melina reached the depths, she fought naught but ashes and ugly, blackened smears across the rocks on which his corpse lay.
Like Rennala, Godwyn's death was merciful and peaceful. The Prince of Death, strange as it was to say, found rest in the all-consuming flames of chaos.
The Weeping Pinensula and Limgrave… The storming inferno destroyed them the worst. There was hardly anything left. The lands, as far as she could see, were scorched down to the very foundations. The broken structures crumbled even further, leaving little else left. In the Church of Marika, Melina found Kalé sitting amid the flames. Despite the world seemingly collapsing all around him, the merchant was peaceful. The eyes smoldering with bitter anger were quelled, finding peace within the flames. He did not respond when she called out to him.
Melina could not bear the sight of him. The merchant was a good man, if perhaps troubled. Finding the lost caravan broke something in him, calling out to the Three Fingers and the horrid flames it manifested.
Throughout her journey, Melina only found crazed madmen and poor, pitiful souls. Stormveil Castle, where Nepheli Loux and Lord Kenneth Haight ruled towards the end of the journey, remained remarkably intact amid the flames. The same could not be said about the castle inhabitants. Nepheli, a proud and stalwart warrior worthy of her lineage to Hoarah Loux, bore leaking flames from her eye sockets, slumped on her throne and unresponsive. Beside her were the smoldering remains of Kenneth Haight's robes, still burning.
Within the span of a few days, the Lands Between became engulfed in the Flames of Frenzy. Life, ever so slowly, was suffocated and snuffed out. Soon, only the maddened would remain. Even they will die, succumbing to the Flames of Frenzy.
To see her home reduced to such a state, and knowing who was responsible… A whirlwind of emotions swirled through Melina's chest. She could offer no words of apology for what she set into motion. She could not have known what the Tarnished would do, nor did it matter in the end. This was her mistake, her sin to bear.
Once, her duty was to consign herself to the flames and open the path for the would-be Elden Lord.
Now, she wore another duty. An endless burden that will only end with the death of another.
That duty brought her to this place, the only place untouched by the madness and chaos. Whether because of its bizarre nature regarding time or its placement in the world, Crumbling Faram Azula bore not a speck of flame and chaos. The beastmen and dragons went about their lives as if they knew nothing of the dangers awaiting them. The last safe haven from a world-ending threat.
It was the last place she could think of.
Melina's footsteps echoed through the barren, quiet halls of Faram Azula. The beastmen attacked her as they had anyone else who dare entered their home, but they died as easily as any other monster or madman she came across. The dragons left her alone, so long as she did not antagonize them.
The death of the Black Blade created an uncertain air in the area. Despite the clear hostility in their eyes, the beastmen were cautious and wary. They could sense the change, the fear and destruction nearing ever so close to them. She knew not whether the Flames of Frenzy would reach Faram Azula, but she would not be surprised if it could. The dragons, too, seemed to sense the approaching danger. As she went further in, she found less and less of their kind.
Eventually, Melina reached her destination. The broken remains of a cathedral, the ground cracked and upended with broken pillars scattered about. The winds were calmest here, but the eerie silence brought no comfort. Only more trepidation.
"…not here, either," Melina murmured quietly.
The beginnings of fear and frustration slowly began to build. She could not recall how long it had been since the destruction of Leyndell or the ruination of the Erdtree. She could not even remember when last she slept. The weight of her dagger felt cumbersome as was the mundane task of walking. For all her dedication and determination, Melina wondered if she was any closer to finding her quarry.
Her gaze roamed the dilapidated remains of the cathedral before finding the broken remains of a sword embedded in the center. She knew the blade just by looking at it, as would any of the demi-gods. They feared the blade tremendously, and its wielder moreso. She should have felt ecstatic and awed knowing the Tarnished defeated the Black Blade, yet the grandeur of the victory only brought a bitter taste in her mouth, as well as apprehension.
She knew the Tarnished was skilled. Just as Morgott believed, warrior's blood ran through their veins. The way they fought brought to mind the stories wayward merchants told of the Reedlanders, peerless warriors who fought with such blood-craze they were as much demons as the beasts they slew. Her transfusion of runes aided in the Tarnished's rising power. The runes became their power.
A bitter reminder that she was responsible for all of this. The death happening now across the Lands Between, possibly even the world, was on her shoulders. The Tarnished was her mistake.
She would rectify that mistake, no matter the cost.
Melina approached the shattered sword of Maliketh's namesake. As her hand drew near to touch its cracked surface, jet-black flames wreathed in dim red began to seep from the cracks. The flames were weak, barely stronger than embers. They bore no heat, no danger. They coalesced and curled into her palm, resonating with the flames within her body. She traced a fingertip across the blade's center, rising higher and higher until reaching the hilt.
Slender fingers wrapped around the grip. Despite the sword being clearly meant to be wielded by larger hands, it felt comfortable. Melina gritted her teeth as she pulled the sword from the ground. It was strangely light.
O' Death… Become mine blade, once more…
Echoes of the past reverberated through the sword. Images of a mighty beast clad in pitch-black armor appeared in her mind.
"Maliketh, the shadow bound to Queen Marika the Eternal," Melina whispered to herself. "Holder of the Rune of Death… The strength you held, and the power of Death you carried… Let it become mine strength, to fulfill my oath…"
The last dregs of the flames subsumed into her skin, joining her flame. The sword crumbled apart until only the hilt, grip, and what little fragments of the sword clinging to the hilt remained.
The land outside time offered no hints or clues to her quarry's whereabouts, but Melina was not discouraged. Finding Maliketh's sword and the last dregs of power could prove quite useful for when the day of her fated reunion with the Tarnished came.
Melina turned to leave and return to her pursuit, only to stop abruptly. The air suddenly changed, vibrating with power. The ferocious gales outside suddenly grew silent. A strange pressure began permeating through the cathedral, as did something else. Melina did not recognize the presence making itself known or the power suddenly seeping its way into the world, only that it was different and wrong.
She turned and found green flecks of energy swirling in the center of the chamber. Motes and sparks emanated from the swirling mass, steadily growing in size. Stray bolts struck the walls, blasting off bits and pieces. Malignant green auras waft in tandem, becoming like a wreath. The gathering mass of energy formed into a scar, as if gouged into reality.
"What in the world…?" Melina narrowed her eyes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Slowly, she withdrew her Blade of Calling from her side while stowing away the remains of Maliketh's Black Blade. In her free hand, she retrieved a talisman and prepared herself for battle.
The charged power reached its apex. The scar exploded outward, expanding in size and unleashing a horrid monstrosity. It slammed into the ground, cracking apart the pavement before rearing its head to resound a bestial war cry. It was a towering beast, easily the side of a troll with a thick scaly hide and several eyes across its forehead. Four jutting horns curved outwards from the back of its head.
The creature was unfamiliar to her, but its existence felt wrong. Melina gagged, repulsed by the vile corruption seething from its very being. She had no time to think or ponder the creature's existence, however; no sooner had the beast emerged did it attack, lunging for her with a claw raised high into the air. Instinct took over. She jumped back, easily dodging the strike.
"I know not what you are," she said, her being shimmering with golden rays of light. "But know this; I have no intention of dying by your hands. Begone, foul beast!"
The monster roared in defiance. Amid the roaring gales of the land outside time, a kindling maiden and defiled spirit clashed.
Elden Ring/Dragon Age
Embers and Ash
A/N: Okay, I lied. I had one more snippet in mind, though this is actually one idea I am VERY keen on writing out in full. In case you're wondering, it's a crossover between Elden Ring and Dragon Age, specifically set during the events of Inquisition. As you might guess from the premise I've shown to you thus far, this is after the events of the Lord of Frenzied Flame ending.Embers and Ash
The basic is that Melina, true to her promise, begins her hunt to find and kill the Tarnished, now the newly-christened Lord of Chaos. Her pursuit leads her to Faram Azula, and in turn a strange tear in the fabric of reality. This tear brings her to Thedas, thus leading to her involvement in the plot. In case you're wondering, Melina is the Inquisitor of the fanfic, though that's not to say the PC that would've been the Herald of Andraste won't be featured in some capacity.