#i basically kept shockwaving and guarding against him

[bassforte]

I have defeated Quickman.exe twice….

…I’m in so much pain right now

[kudosmyhero]

Transformers (vol. 1) #5: The New Order

Read Date: January 28, 2023 Cover Date: June 1985 ● Writer: Bob Budiansky ● Penciler: Alan Kupperberg ● Inker: Alan Kupperberg ● Colorist: Nel Yomtov ● Letterer: Rick Parker ● Editor: Jim Owsley ◦ Keith Williams ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● this cover is quite intimidating. how can Shockwave's expression be so scary when he doesn't even have a face to emote? (amazing cover art by Mark Bright) ● wait… is Spidey back? that looked like his head logo ● lots of Autobots hanging by their ankles ● Thundercracker, Starscream, Ravage, Buzzsaw, and Laserbeak are undergoing rehabilitation. ● Shockwave tells a recuperating Megatron that he is assuming command (yeah, we'll see how that goes) ● Megatron brings Shockwave up to speed on the past 4 million years ● the people trying to figure out why the ambulance is speaking ● Megatron actually calling him "Commander Shockwave," but is basically just giving him enough rope to hang himself with. Shockwave is being pretty badass here, though, and he's just catapulted to one of my faves ● 11 Decepticons are all that remain?

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: Having taken over the Ark, Shockwave has strung up all the Autobot's deactivated bodies from the ceiling of the ship and has begun the process of reviving all the Decepticons, and filtering out the poisoned fuel provided to them by Sparkplug Witwicky. The Decepticon requiring the most repair is Megatron, whom Shockwave deals with contempt and informs him that he is taken over leadership of the Decepticons, earning the now former Decepticon commanders ire. Shockwave has also taken a point of monitoring the Earth's television transmissions and learns of G.B. Blackrock's new high-tech oil rig that has been designed by his technologically gifted employee Josie Beller.

While at the Greater Portland Hospital, Buster Witwicky goes out looking for Ratchet and finds him just returning back with a pair of paramedics answering a call. When the medics realize that the ambulance they were riding can talk they are all frightened away. Buster explains to them that his dad pulled through the surgery and informed him that he tainted the Decepticons fuel so that they would lose their battle against the Autobots. Ratchet is concerned however because he is unable to contact the Autobots via radio and Buster convinces Ratchet to let him tag along in case there is trouble. Before he goes, Buster decides to visit his father one more time.

In Sparkplug's hospital room to tell his father that he is going back to the Ark. Sparkplug expresses his disapproval telling him that getting involved with alien robots is not a thing a high school student should do and has him promise that he is only going to say his final goodbyes, Buster promises his father that he will even though it saddens him deeply.

Back aboard the Ark, Shockwave gets all the Decepticons back up to working operation and has the remaining deactivated Autobots strung up on the ceiling. He then gloats to Megatron that he intends to use Optimus Prime's Creation Matrix to create the next generation of Decepticon warriors for him to command in his quest to conquer the entire planet Earth, seizing its energy resources. Shockwave then transforms into a space gun mode and flies off to begin his bid for conquest.

Ratchet and Buster meanwhile arrive at the Ark and are shocked to find Rumble and Frenzy guarding the base. Buster convinces Ratchet to let him slip past the entrance and investigate what's going on. Sneaking inside Buster is horrified to find all the Autobots destroyed and strung up on the ceiling. Rounding the corner he runs into the severed head of Optimus Prime, kept alive by the Decepticons. As Buster looks on in ever increasing horror the head of Prime tells Buster that he is the Autobot's last hope.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Transformers_Vol_1_5)

Fan Art: Shockwave by sakuranez

Accompanying Podcasts: ● Transformers Chronicles - episode 05

● Transformers University - episode 17

[rp-repliforce]

Closed starter

@formerchaoslord

It was an overcast day over Ironedge City. Elegant skyscrapers stood tall over the cobblestone-like pavement, and the streets were interspersed with decorative broad-leaf trees. The air was populated by the occasional flock of birds or swarm of drones, though not all was well and peaceful... (OOC note: I basically ended up accidentally writing a drabble-sized starter here, so I had to put it under a read more. ^^; Don’t worry though - my replies will be way shorter from now on.)

A car laid overturned in the road, and shattered glass was strewn about the pavement. Many white tents were pitched in groups as the air was filled with fearful murmurs of civilians and the occasional crying of a small child. An ambulance pulled up to one of the tents to drop off an injured reploid for repairs and a virus checkup. In the distance, the thunder of combat could be heard. A canon fired, sending a subtle shockwave through the ground.

After a moment, all the guns gradually went silent. It seemed the maverick mechaniloids had stopped coming... for now.

Meanwhile in the infected zone, General listened closely for any sound. He tuned into his electrosense, but he wasn’t able to detect any nearby movement. He activated his com-link.

“All battalions: are we clear?“ He asked, seeking confirmation that there were no more enemies. “Clear.“ Each Captain repeated, one after another. General nodded slightly. “ADVANCE.“ He boomed. The air was filled with the sound of a thousand reploids marching, as well as the roar of hundreds of military vehicles revving their engines. General strode ahead, leading his company forward. Lieutenant Colonel Spark Jackrabbit wasn’t far behind, riding inside a hovering tank.

General knew that the source of the virus shouldn’t be much farther now. His men had completely secured the perimeter of the infected zone, and were now closing in on what he hoped to be the last few pockets of mavericks. If there was any intelligence behind this virus, he suspected they would be guarding themselves with the toughest mechaniloids they could find.

After half a minute of walking and picking off a few stragglers from the previous wave, General suddenly stopped - raising his hand to signal the others to halt. “WAIT - “ He paused. “...I sense something large up ahead... As well as another swarm of mechaniloids. They are approaching us rapidly.” General turned to his troops. “PREPARE TO FIRE!” He commanded. The captain started barking orders to the soldiers and directing them to take positions. The tanks raised their beam-turrets and began to charge up their shots. As the mechaniloid swarm rounded the corner, General could more clearly see what they were up against. Maverick self-driving cars charged out in front. While they weren’t much of a threat on their own, they were filled to the brim with smaller, more dangerous mechaniloids. They were the fastest, so they would be fired upon first. In the center of the swarm was a huge construction mechaniloid that had a body structure resembling that of a giraffe or agile sauropod. As it galloped toward General, it unleashed a metallic scream and thrashed its head, violently swinging the wrecking ball attached to it into a nearby building, causing half of it to immediately collapse. General aimed his rocket-fists toward it, waiting for his moment to strike.

“FIRE!” General bellowed, prompting a deafening explosion of plasma bullets to be released on the swarm. The RPGs made short work of the infected cars and the machine guns quickly took out their contents. A few well-placed rounds of artillery also took out a few chunks of the swarm’s bulk. Yet, the gaps were filled in almost as quickly. General noted that this swarm must have been twice as large as the one they fought previously... General couldn’t allow the giant mechaniloid to get too close to their lines. He knew it would easily devastate their formation, especially with how fast it was approaching with it’s wrecking ball.

“FOCUS ALL FIRE UPON THE SWARM! I WILL TAKE THE GIANT ONE - AS BEFORE!“ General shouted above the chaos.

Once his target was in range, General launched his fists at it, one rocketing toward its head, and the other toward its underbelly. To General’s surprise, it dodged the first and knocked the second out of the air with an incredibly precise strike from its wrecking ball. It seems this one was very high-end... Not wasting a second, he started rapidly firing plasma bubble projectiles at it. It’s plating was damaged, but his attacks did nothing to slow its advance. 

Seeing that his time was running out, General started priming his thrusters. He knew that if he took to the air, it wouldn’t be able to reach him. However, his thrusters had to be warmed up before they could even carry his weight. He didn’t want to use his beam attack, but it seemed he had no choice. He charged up for a moment, then fired from both arms at once. Direct hit. The mechaniloid shrieked as its basic plating was melted through, causing it to stop in its tracks and stagger. Seeing his chance for a direct attack, General charged - his titanic strides leaving craters in the pavement. As he crashed through the swarm, many mechaniloids were crushed underfoot while others pelted him with dozens of attacks. However, their various projectiles only bounced off of his thick hyper-metal armor, chipping the paint at most. As he ran, his fists returned to his arms and securely locked themselves back in place in preparation for his next attack. With a powerful burst from his rockets, he took to the air and punched the giant mechaniloid in the side of the face, causing its whole body to rear up and twist away from the sheer force of the strike. It’s face plating shattered, exposing the mechanisms inside. To General’s surprise, it was still alive. To his further surprise, it started to run in the opposite direction. This was the first time he’d seen a maverick mechaniloid with a sense of self-preservation... He would have pursued it, but he realized that would take him too far behind enemy lines, and he knew that would NEVER end well. still, if it was abandoning the swarm, he knew the other battalions nearby could make short work of it. He spun himself back around, and tried to fly back to where his men were holding the line. It seemed they were doing quite well, thanks to Spark Jackrabbit’s leadership no doubt.

Just then, he sensed that the giant mechaniloid behind him had stopped running. He couldn’t look for himself since his limited degrees of head turning prevented him from doing so. However, he felt he still wasn’t quite at a safe enough distance yet, so he kept going. Then, he noticed that the mechaniloid had started to spin. He thought it strange until he realized exactly what it was doing. The whooshing sound followed by the deafening crashes from collapsing buildings confirmed his suspicions... Just as he turned to face it again, it’s wrecking ball struck him square in the ribs, having built up enough momentum from spinning to knock him right out of the air.

The blow sent him crashing into a building, causing rubble to rain down on top of him. While he wasn’t injured, he had the wind knocked out of him, and his side was burning with pain. The giant mechaniloid approached him, limping from it’s injury. Shards of it’s faceplate were still occasionally falling from it’s head, and it made a threatening, low-pitched wail as it drew close. Once it was standing over him, it reared up, preparing to stomp on him.

[pixiebuggiewrites]

Sorry Wrong Number!

Masterpost - Previous - Next - Ao3 link

Chapter 2:  Hawkmoth has really bad designs and perhaps even worse timing

Since it was her off night from patrol, Ladybug was the last one onto the scene. She landed down on a building next to Viperion, who was observing the akuma’s skillset as Kuro Neko played distraction down below them.

The villain of tonight's look was... interesting to put it nicely. They were a boy around the same age as the heroes that seemed to be wearing a slightly oversized purple and blue three piece suit with a not-so-subtle lightning pattern running up the arms. His hair was shock white and seemed to be defying gravity while his eyes were protected by bright blue goggles-possibly where the akuma was residing. More importantly, he seemed to be covered in electricity, which was gonna make it difficult to get any hits in. He also had a laptop with him- another contender for the akuma’s hiding place but most likely just a weapon.

Not Hawkmoth’s worst design, but it definitely wasn't his finest work either. Though to be fair she had run around in spotted spandex for two years before she found out she could change her costume, so those in glass houses she supposed.

Viperion, noticing the team leader's arrival began to fill her in on what they knew so far.

“They're calling themselves ‘Elect-Trick’, keeps sending out shockwaves to try and knock us back which is frustrating but our suits seem to take the brunt of it which helps but Neko’s staff is a no go at the moment since there's no way to know if it’ll conduct the electricity.”

It likely would, something they had found out the hard way during the last weather akuma they had to face. While magical it was still metallic in nature sadly, which meant she needed to also be careful with her yoyo. She still isn't really sure what it’s made of besides magic, but this was not the way she wanted to find out.

“Alright, in that case we’ll continue to keep him away from the Eiffel Tower, it’s likely the akuma’s going to try and use it as a large conductor. I’m gonna head down, stay up here and be ready to use your second chance at the signal.” She instructed

Viperion nodded and went back to watching the fight just as Ladybug swooped down to join in. She was just in time as the akuma had begun to corner Neko, who had no choice but to rely on playing defense while her staff was out of the mix. The two heroes nodded their heads in greeting as Ladybug yoyo-d her cat themed friend over putting the duo back on even ground with the villain, who seemed to be ranting about school elections of all things.

Which would be a probable explanation for the first half of his name.

The two continued to fight back against the akuma, neither side quite able to grab the upper hand. Ladybugs yoyo-as it turned out, did not conduct electricity afterall. And, seeing as it's practically indestructible she was able to land hits on the akuma without getting shocked. But the akuma had realized the issue with Neko’s staff and was using that to their advantage, aiming a decent chunk of their attacks at the cat hero which forced them to go back on the defense.

As the fight had been going for over an hour at this point, the spotted heroine decided to bring out the big guns. After doing a silent signal letting Viperion know to start his timer, she got in position to call on her lucky charm.

But she didn't get a chance to. Just as she went to throw her yoyo in the air, Viperion called out a warning that sent a feeling of dread through her.

“LB watch out, There's an amok headed straight for the computer!”  

Sure enough, there was an all too familiar purple feather floating through the air on track for the laptop that she quickly caught and purified it before it could land. Thank the Kwami for the power of second chance, nobody wanted to deal with a sentimonster on top of everything else tonight.

Keeping Kuro Neko on the lookout for anymore feathers, She finally activated her lucky charm. Throwing her yoyo up she manifests… a slingshot! She could work with that, just needed to find ammo. Looking around her eyes land firmly on the window of a small toyshop.

Bingo!

Having Viperion keeping an eye out in case he was needed temporarily as backup, she sneaks over and breaks the window with her yoyo. Typically, the heroine would feel bad about causing this much property damage but tonight she’s tired and wants to get this over with so she can make a plan of action for the whole ‘Mayura seems to be back’ thing with her team and maybe get at least a couple hours of sleep. Anyways her miraculous cure would fix the window and return the bouncy balls she was actively stealing so no harm done? After finishing committing what was technically a misdemeanor, she made her way over to the roof Viperion was on and handed off the slingshot supplies before making her way back down.

Luckily Neko had managed to keep Elect-Trick distracted enough for the team to catch him off guard. On Ladybugs call Viperion began to pelt the Akuma with rubber balls, drawing his sight away for long enough to tie him up and take his glasses. One cataclysm later, the teen had been successfully deakumatized and she was able to cast her cure, fixing the decent chunk of property damage caused that night. After making sure the teen was okay to get home safe and getting his address for the interview she would have to conduct later, she turned to her team.

“Good work today guys, let's meet back at base in 30.” Her eyes communicated the urgency of the meeting despite the neutral tone of voice she tried to maintain.

From there the teens all departed in separate directions to recharge their powers and head to the team's secret base.

----------

Okay so secret base was a bit of an overstatement. It is a secret place that the team uses as a base of operations but it was less of a Batcave and more of a repurposed hotel room in Le Grand Paris.

Chloe had brought up the idea after one too many close calls with Marinette's parents while the girls were investigating Hawkmoth. They needed a place to discuss hero work safely without having to talk in code but the question was where. Obtaining an apartment would be difficult as all of them but Luka were still underage, not to mention the issue of trying to pay rent without any parental suspicion. Luckily for Chloe, it's surprisingly easy to just claim a hotel room without being questioned when your Father owns the hotel.

And while it was no Batcave, it wasn't anything to scoff at either. The four teens had been able to pool together enough money in the beginning for the basics, which meant that now any small snuck away chunks of commission money, music gig payments, competition winnings, and allowances were all able to go to improving things bit by bit.

The room was already quite nice, having a separate bedroom that they used as a gym and a kitchenette that was kept well stocked with kwami snacks. Then there was the  main area, which had been split down the middle. The first side was dedicated to the investigation and housing Marinette's Guardian materials, While the second half was a hangout zone where they could chat or decompress after any particularly rough fights.

The base was also secure, Marinette had put so many spells and protections on the room with the help of the kwami that it might as well be a pocket dimension of sorts. The magical security system of sorts was extremely complicated, being tied to the teams auras in a way so that the only way to even find it without being one of them was to be taken there by Ladybug herself. It had taken weeks to pull off but was well worth it to give her team a place that was safe from the outside world.

Ladybug was the first to arrive this time, having flopped down into a chair at their meeting table as her two friends entered the room and joined her. They all sat there for a moment, processing the fact of Mayura’s return. Of course this would happen when they were down a member, it wasn't a complete surprise that the peacock miraculous would come back into play at some point but it was really bad timing.

“So what exactly is the plan?” Viperion asked, finally breaking the silence.

Ladybug sighed, knowing that their workload was going to increase once again. At least it was close to summer vacation.

“First we need to increase patrols- especially around the typical hot spots, Neko do you think we’ll be able to finish those jars by this time next week?”

The cat hero nodded “They're almost done, we’ll need to test them somehow though.”

The two of them had recently been working on a variation of an object enchantment technique mentioned in the grimoire. The original object was dubious in nature, having been used as a cage of sorts that kwami wouldn't be able to phase through. Marinette was disgusted by the thought, further feeding into some suspicions she had about the old order. As she was ranting about it to Kagami about it, her fencer friend got an idea for a way to repurpose the spell to trap akuma when Ladybug couldn't easily get to a fight. It would also allow them a new way to prevent possessions when Ladybug wasn't actively on patrol.

“That's good. Lastly I need Bee’s new number, I was going to ask you for it tomorrow but I need to give her a heads up to start on a new case file. We also might want to move up our plans to contact the heroes there.”

Kuro Neko quickly jotted down the number on a nearby notecard and handed it to Ladybug. After hammering out a few last details about their new patrol schedules the heroes were all free to head home for the night.

The trip home was uneventful, and she arrived home to see that it was just past midnight. She also noticed that her bath bomb had been fixed! It was sometimes a gamble on if something like that would count as akuma damage so it was a nice victory after the day she’s had.

Marinette quickly put in Chloe's number, eager to get to bed. She sent her blonde friend a summary on what happened and let her know to be on the lookout for an email tomorrow with the information to assemble a case file. And with that, Marinette drifted off to sleep.

She had made a small mistake though. In her tired state the young designer’s finger slipped, putting a 5 where there was meant to be a 4.

Meaning Chloe Bourgeois was not the recipient of her intended message.

Good thing she wrote the message in code?

----------

Across the ocean, Damian Wayne received a strange text message.

--------------------------------------------

Taglist (open!!): 

@queencommonsense

[pixelzprince]

Circuit - Lore Fic

FINALLY!! This lore fic has been about two weeks  in the making now, and finally we can post it!

It’s a bit of backstory regarding Incandescent and Chill (and Wolvesbane, a bit) and the misadventures the thrill-seeking young dragons in the Hewn City get up to - basically an excuse to write a bunch of headcanons for the Shade. And let’s just say, when the most cursed city in an entire Flight territory is way more saturated with magic than usual.. something’s bound to go horribly wrong.

Warnings: Some mild horror themes, unreality/slight derealization/existential crisis stuff, you know. We’re dealing with the 10% More Eldritch Shade here after all. Also, mentions/implications of bullying, eugh.

Probably the darkest thing we’ll actually write out in our character lore, to be honest though things get better after this, it’s just a Not So Pleasant inciting incident-

With that out of the way, onto the show!

"So it's like, a ghost-themed biking group?" Chill had asked on the way to the venue. "Sounds.. kinda forced to me, to be honest." 

His neon friend let out a poorly stifled guffaw, briefly lifting a claw from the handles of her bike to hide her grin. "I don't think you're in any position to say that, Mister 80s band tees."

Chill frowned, clinging a bit tighter to Ink's shoulders as they zoomed through the night aboard the latter's tricked out three wheeler bike; Incandescent's parents hadn't allowed her to get a proper motorcycle, and all Chill had was his old mountain bike, though the Mirror couldn't truthfully say he felt all that safe clinging to the spiny shoulders of a Banescale for dear life on a vehicle meant for one.

Thus, he'd urged her to drive as slowly and carefully (the damage to his "coolness" didn't go unnoticed) as she could manage given her high octane lifestyle - giving them much time to talk on the trip. Plenty of time to sling banter and waste breath meant for more valuable discussions.

"Right, so... you really capitalize on that Halloween aesthetic?" Chill tried again, wording his question carefully to dodge Ink's edgy defenses; for how nice his friend could be, she was like a spring-loaded trap full of retorts ready to snap given the right ammunition. "Everyone thinks you're some sorta cult, but it's just for the rep, right..?"

Ink quirked a wry grin, teeth glinting in the low lights of the city. "Something like that." Her spines rattled with something akin to excitement, making Chill quietly yelp and adjust in the seat to avoid getting skewered. "Reputation's power, right?"

Chill fought the conditioned urge to shoot some witty sarcasm back, though his contemplation was interrupted as the bike came to an abrupt halt, worsened by the sudden prickling of scales against his arms.

"We're here," Ink supplied.

She slid off the bike, radiant scales glistening in the neon lights of the shopping center. Chill barely caught the discarded helmet slung at him, the weight smacking against his chest and knocking the air out of him. He called after her as he fumbled, "Heavy helmet for a hard head!"

Ink gave no indication that she'd heard him, merely striding off towards the parking lot of a nearby pizza place. Chill frowned, disappointed in the lack of acknowledgement. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the childish irritation, before hesitantly beginning to follow Ink.

He kept his head held low, eyes shifting around to observe the creeping murk of the city's almost unnatural darkness; even at only dusk, even with the piercing glow of dozens of light sources (the motorbikes' custom lights, the LED of the storefronts, the subtle hues of his own luminous capsule trait, his overwhelmed mind rattled off) the Hewn City's oppressive night seemed to leech as much warmth and luminescence as it could.

And this was Light territory; a shudder went through Chill as he dared to imagine what Shadow or Ice's expanses looked like at night, away from most sources of radiance.

Slinking past an unrelated crowd congregated by the road (they smelled of pizza, sweat, and ozone, probably some sports team, ugh), the Mirror soon reached his destination, a small group of dragons around his age, some younger, all gathered in the darkest corner of the parking lot.

How convenient.

Some were lazily leaned against their bikes as makeshift lounges, while others stood almost like guards, alert and scanning the area. Chill caught the eye of one of the latter category, a Nocturne with strikingly patterned scales. Their eyes widened as their gazes met, before they scowled and turned away slightly. They muttered something to their companion, a rather anxious looking Fae who was half coiled by the tail around a metal-studded bike just a tad too big for them. The Fae looked almost as out of place as Chill, wearing a brightly patterned hoodie and trying to look tough, though the amusing juxtaposition did little to reassure him.

Just what kind of crowd was this-?

Ink tugged him over, draping an arm over his shoulder in a gesture that, outwardly, may have seemed protective. Chill frowned and glanced up to see the mischievous, "I'm dragging you into shenanigans" grin that betrayed otherwise. He wilted under her conniving gaze, silently resigning himself to whatever hazing or crimes this so-called "biking club" had in mind.

Vandalism? Petty crime? He couldn't say he was up for it, himself, but he hoped whatever the group of off-kilter rebels had planned would at least be fun in the moment. Anything but bike racing, at least...

The wind began to pick up a bit, drowning out some of the quieter chatter around him. He allowed himself to relax, if only a tad bit; perhaps they were just.. hanging out. Loitering was a crime in some places, right? Passive crime, "safe" crime. Chill, figuring that the others had no interest in hanging out with him, distracted himself by counting the treasure in his pockets, wondering if he had enough to get himself a slice of pie. He may have been half Fae, but anyone, enhanced Mirror senses or not, could smell the thick, syrupy scent of apple cobbler wafting through the air from the pizza place.

It was all... so passive. Boring, but pleasant.

Of course, something had to give.

After what seemed like ages of tense stillness, Ink spoke up suddenly, her voice rumbling like a foreboding storm cloud, which Chill felt from where he was currently hugged to her side. Of course, the calm before the storm was over.

Despite everything, her voice was a tad comforting, a familiar sort of "danger" instead of the alarm bells that had initially screamed from every other corner of this place. Chill clung to her subconsciously, glaring out at the others and trying to tune out whatever was said, to just focus on the pure tone... dissociate into the void, or however the halfhearted joke went.

Despite his efforts, a few words slipped by, "Summoning" and "power" and whatnot. Part of the ghost gimmick, he assumed. He shuddered from the sudden, brisk breeze that whipped by, though instead of being hugged closer, he was abruptly shoved towards the center of the crowd.

A yelp escaped him as he stumbled to regain his bearings, his claws painfully catching on some uneven pieces of concrete. He hissed, swaying, before he  glanced around to see what he'd missed in his half-attentive musings. 

When had they formed an actually cohesive circle..? And around him specifically..? He looked back at Ink for explanation, though she averted her gaze. The wind rushed by, now deafening. It'd picked up unnaturally quickly, and Chill soon located its source, a growl ripping from his throat as he once again met the eyes of the Nocturne.

Airborne Parchment?! Where would they get something like that? Instead of using the windbound material for its intended purpose of bringing life to drawn objects, the supposed leader of the group was merely willing forth elemental gales of wind into existence. They didn't seem to have much hold over it, but control wasn't the intention, merely... power.

"What are you doing?!" Chill hollered. He snapped out of his stupor, storming towards the amateur spellslinger. Their eyes seemed to widen a fraction, perhaps in shock, though before more words could be exchanged, their previously awkward Fae companion leapt into action, shooting forth and headbutting Chill right in the stomach.

It wasn't a very hard hit, rather a precise one. Capsule dragons were known for their vulnerable stomach area, and sure enough, Chill reeled back, hardly able to prevent himself from crumpling to his knees back in the center of the circle. He was freezing and burning all at the same time, battered by brisk winds and the uneasy sort of thrum that rippled through the earth itself.

And yet, finally, through the gale, voices rang true. "We've never done this before, true.." It was a tinny, raspy voice that grated on Chill's ears. "But but but!! Someone naïve was needed to call forth the Shade. Call forth, not use as a vessel. He won't be hurt."

"So he's the flippin bait you mean?! Can it with the sugarcoat." A painful shockwave rattled Chill's senses as Ink screamed from somewhere above him. "And you've never done this before? He's a test dummy if anything-"

Her hands are blazing with light, undoubtedly, as she growled, "You said you knew what you were doing."

"Silence," a third, cool voice intercepted. It reverberated much stronger than the rest. "It has already begun. The artifact will draw the Shade near."

The Shade? 

Chill's eyes stung as he forced them open, and he instantly regretted it. His surroundings were awash with too-bright colors, the dragons around him more like blobs of light against the pitch of his surroundings. Alarms blared in the back of his disoriented brain, and he bared his teeth, trying to stand. His claws uselessly scrabbled against the suddenly slick concrete for some purchase, and by the time he managed to stand, he could faintly see something somehow darker than the existing murk rising from the cracks.

Liquid dripping upward, unburdened by the constraints of reality.

And all fell silent, as if the world itself paused to gaze into the void.

He watched it for a moment, himself, mesmerized by its headache-inducing, impossible blackness. It swayed in an inviting, inquisitive manner, hardly blotting out the dull panic slowly igniting in the Mirror's bones. Only the very edges of its fluid form seemed to reflect light, almost like a cartoonish outline that barely detracted from how otherworldly the substance was. 

The Shade..

A quiet, almost breathless whisper shook the stillness, "It worked..."

And Chill's world exploded into white hot pain, impossible fireworks set aflame behind his eyes.

~~~~~

A pulse. A pain. A thrum of negative power. 

A shockwave cuts through the souls of all in the crowd, invasive and calculating and yet erratic all the same. Wild to their perception and coiling and thriving with an intelligence beyond this world. It.. analyzes them, down to the core, samples their magic and minds, and then it's gone. 

The all-encompassing murk seems to draw in all light like an amorphous black hole. It's fluid and yet like plasma, burning and freezing, hollow and yet dense. It moves with a weight that's not quite physical, though fearsome and ancient all the same. Though as soon as the display of eldritch un-energy begins, it stills, settles, coalesces in the center of the circle in a more manageable form.

The summoning worked... or so they'd thought.

The Nocturne stares, captivated. The now useless parchment drops limply from their claws as they breathe, "Oh... Lightweaver.."

Ink breaks the stillness with a snarl, "Orbit!" and in an instant, the Banescale's upon the summoner, a tangle of claws and spikes and conflict. The summoner has no chance to react, the air knocked out of them as Incandescent crushes them prone to the ground and screams in their face, "What did you DO-"

They manage to whisper, "The summoning worked," though their heart's not in it. They cast a forlorn gaze towards the semi-solid insubstantiality. Their poor artifact, perfectly crafted to contain traces of the Shade... lost to this blunder. "At a cost..."

The sentiment sends Ink hysterical. "At a cost?" She devolves into wordless screams, all fight leaving her as she weakly shakes Orbit, who stares into the tearful gaze hollowly. Others break from their frozen state to attempt to break up the fight, life and energy, albeit a tense sort, flooding back.

Life cannot be paused for long, after all. The elements, however dimmed they may be, quickly resume their presence.

Ignoring the halfhearted tussle, the Fae from before hops down from his perch, silently striding past the "fight". His palms flare with magic, bright and cold and merciless, matching the shine of his eyes. Gone is the awkwardness, even in the face of the Shade itself.

The insubstantiality, which has collected into the form of the Mirror that it claimed, raises its "head" slowly, shakily in a false show of weakness. Its eyes, the only spots of light on it, blaze like searchlights, betraying its true strength.

The Fae speaks, that raspy tone adding a hint of menace to his words, "A failure.. another failure." He bares his teeth and snarls, "An expensive failure."

Another? The impossibly lightless plasma inches back, fan-like crests pinning back as it gazes into the wild eyes of disappointment and scorn. The Shade does not know fear... but all this creature knows is the impulse of fight or flight humming in its hollow core.

Something akin to a heartbeat pulses in its "chest". Quick, fearful, hardly present. Move, flee.

The fighting's died down, Ink dragged away from Orbit's huddled and silent form, and all the Banescale does is scream into the sky, into the speckled night. Yet the darkness she screams at is nowhere near the impossibility of the Shade which has claimed her friend.

Fear. The heartbeat stutters. Run.

Elemental ice, wicked and glowing, freezes the spot where the being had been mere moments before. The Fae spits a venomous string of blights, at the summoning, at the lost artifact, at the waste of time. But the residual darkness staining the ground isn't the Shade he'd aimed to erase.

It's already long gone, fleeing through the gaps of reality itself, through the tear from which it arrived.

~~~~~

Find safety.

Get out of there. Away. Far away.

But where..?

~~~~~

The fragment of Shade rematerializes in the subway. From the darkness itself, it's ejected, the ambient Shadow element of this world rejecting its unnatural presence and leaving it to sizzle in the fluorescent, buzzing lights of the few operational signs in this district.

And yet, it relaxes, collapsing shockingly solidly upon the cold, smooth pavement.

It's silent for once, the normal hustle and bustle of the city having been driven out by recent damages done to this railway. Even the usual stragglers, kids like Ink's club, who normally loiter around the "spooky abandoned subway" for kicks have long since either gone home or to the park to camp out.

Not even the most daring of delinquents would test their luck napping in the hollow depths of the earth. Not in Light territory, especially.

They say Light, for all its pristine brightness, hides something eldritch. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows after all.

Perhaps, this is that something.

With that thought, the insubstantiality lets out a cry.

Get to safety. Hide.

It manages to stand, first shakily onto all fours, then to its hind legs. It limps towards the darkest corner, baking in the light, before it stumbles and trips to its knees again, gasping. The air passes through it, not that it needs to breathe; nonetheless, it curls up and forces itself to inhale and exhale, if only to replicate the life that it'd sensed all around it just minutes before.

Breathe.

It scrabbles at its chest its claws finding little purchase in the slick, incorporeal material making up its form. Frictionless, there's no way to scratch through to tear out the artifact inside, now bound to its metaphorical core.

It’s alive. ALIVE.

Yet the mere contact sends it reeling, light shimmering from within and just barely reflecting off its body, enough to outline its limbs among the tangled darkness, to give some definition to its form.

It’s… I’m real. I'm alive. I'm real.

The tentative balance of energy and nothingness snaps, allows life to win over, if only slightly. He remembers, his eyes glowing not with a pure, absent white like before, but with a blend of violet and fiery hues, a rapidly shifting twilight twinkling in his gaze.

Time releases a breath it'd been holding since the threads of reality first snapped.

They'd summoned The Shade, of all things. They'd tethered it to an artifact, which had tethered itself to him. He could still, if only faintly, feel his own magic humming beneath the oppressive gloom which coated (comprised?) his form, but it was.. contaminated, thoroughly so.

His poor excuse for a heart thumped once more, only seeming to beat prominently when he was struck with powerful emotion. He held his paws to his chest, focusing on that sound, willing it to continue, to prove he was still of the living realm.

Yet the heartbeat stilled soon enough, merely the erratic pulsing of a cursed artifact attempting to keep the Shade in check. To keep things in balance, in control.

The altruistic part of him was glad that such an artifact was now useless to that group. With such potential, to control even a piece of an otherworldly horror... he didn't even want to imagine what it could be used to bring about.

Petty crimes, he at least hoped. Petty crimes deluxe edition, don't get caught.

A bitter laugh escaped him, distorted and crumbling in the umbra. No need to worry about crimes now, at least. Their power... it was his now... it was him now. 

Or perhaps he was its. 

He waved a claw, watched it seem to flicker as if already cutting through atoms in the air with a single gesture, leaving smoky afterimages behind.

As the memories of the past thirty or so minutes flooded back, he realized, he can do just that, he has done just that, slipped out of the physical plane and just moved, perhaps faster than light for a moment, even. 

So that's what teleportation really was.

The childish part of him would've relished in the idea of obtaining cosmic power, like some sort of superhero, though he knows better. His own magic fights constantly within, a storm of elemental energy caught in an endless cycle of extinguishing and reignition, with the artifact in the center, regulating it all.

He's no superhero, and this is no origin story.

He stared at the high, arching ceilings, at the darkness that would've once strained even his Shadow element eyes.

He's no superhero... he's just a circuit.

[adventuresinhermiton]

Chapter 2: Unimpressive Apprentice

< Previous Chapter

“Tell me, apprentice, what kind of magic are you looking to study under Scar?”

Before you even get the chance to respond, Mr. Goodtimes speaks up in response to Virgam’s question. “Well, I’m going to teach them everything I know, of course! I can’t have my apprentice simply focusing on one track. They have too much magic in them to simply keep all of that bottled up.”

Virgam looked unimpressed, rolling her eyes at your enthusiastic teacher. “Scar, you only know one track yourself.”

“I- Well, that might be true, but I have plenty of tomes that I study every day.”

“I’m sure you do.” She picks up a glass set on a side table, a dark liquid barely visible over the rim as she takes a sip. “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to start your apprentice off on something they already know? Work from there?”

You looked over at Mr. Goodtimes, whose eyes were narrowed in thought as he processed this line of logic. You were starting to get the feeling that your self-appointed mentor may have embellished his title a little bit. He seems to come to a decision though as he nods, his ears perking up. 

“You have a point, Virgam. Yes, apprentice!” He turns to you and you stand straighter. “Now then, what do you know how to do?”

You think about what it is you know how to do with your magic. Sure, you’ve tried to do plenty of simply, small tricks. Lighting candles without a source or creating little illusions to watch when you couldn’t sleep. You glance over at Virgam, her hand gently swirling the glass as she inspects your every move. Right, you used to work in a bar and there is one thing you managed to become an expert at.

You walk up to her, taking the glass from her hand with nothing but a confused look from Virgam. You then walk over to Mr. Goodtimes, grabbing the bottom of his robe and pouring the dark drink onto the pristine purple fabric, instantly creating a dark spot that quickly begins spreading.

“Apprentice!” He cried, his ears flattened on his head as he gave you a betrayed look. Virgam’s laughter echoed off the walls. “Why did you do that?”

You hold up a hand, telling him to wait. You look down at the stain, moving your hand to hover over it. Light envelops the stain for a few seconds before it fades, leaving the purple in the same state it had been a few seconds ago. You gesture to it with a flourish.

Mr. Goodtimes’ look of betrayal quickly shifted into a blank expression. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” He giggled, running his thumb over the clean spot and rubbing the back of his neck. “Is, uh, that all you know how to do?”

You drop the robe, shoulders slumping. You raise your hands, palms up, and conjure up a small illusion of a sheep that runs around across your hands. You look back up at Mr. Goodtimes, his expression clearly telling you that he had expected something a little more.

“Do you… know anything else?” 

You drop your hands and the illusion, thinking if your other small tricks are worth showing. You ultimately decide they aren’t and shrug, shaking your head. 

 “Alright, so you know basic spells, that’s good, I guess. Plenty of room for improvement though!” He squints at you, like he had before when he was deep in thought. “Alright,” he says, “how about we focus on more chore-based spells to begin with?”

“You’re supposed to make them your apprentice, Scar, not your maid.”

Mr. Goodtimes sputtered in offense. “Excuse me, I will not make them my maid! I just think it’ll be easier for them to learn some simple utility spells before we move into, say, shooting giant fireballs or raising the dead.”

“Because you can do that?”

“That’s not important.” Mr. Goodtimes grabs you by the shoulders, beginning to push you out of the shop. “So, how soon can you get a staff made, Virgam?”

You are able to spot Virgam rolling her eyes before Jellie rubs against your legs and past you out the door, causing you to almost trip over your feet. “I’ll have one made in a few hours, don’t you worry. Just be careful out there.”

Mr. Goodtimes pushes you out into the bustling village once again, and you bring your hand up to block the sunlight that reflects off the blue crystal in front of you. Once you’re out the door Mr. Goodtimes lets you go, and you watch as Jellie runs off further into the village. You look at Mr. Goodtimes, wondering if he is worried about that at all but he is just looking out over the village with a wide smile. He looks at you.

“Well, my apprentice, since that is taken care of, why don’t I show you around?” Before you have a chance to respond you are being dragged off once again by your arm. “I was born and raised here in this village, you know. Magic runs deep and strong here, aided by the wonderful crystals you see all around you.”

He guides you up a small hill and gestures downwards at the blue crystal in the middle of the village. You can now see two farms, tabaxis like Mr. Goodtimes and Virgam are working in them as well as moving sparkles that you can only assume are some kind of fairies that zips back and forth across the fields. 

“That crystal there helps irrigate our crops. Rain is rare on this part of the island, and hauling water in from the lake isn’t always safe. So the founders of the village found a way to draw this crystal from the ground! It keeps all the dirt nice and moist. The only downside is that it can get pretty muddy sometimes, but that’s why we have stone paths everywhere, so no big deal.”

He leads you to the edge of the village, and gestures to a large green crystal that is suspended by some sort of structure in the middle of the lake. Light reflects off it, sending brilliant green rays over the already green jungle. The structure around it looks old, and you honestly don’t know how it hasn’t toppled over into the water yet.

"That crystal is really special! It can detect the intent behind magic, and deactivate it if there is any ill will.” He smiles at the shining rock. “It’s kept this village safe for many years now. I don’t want to think about what may have happened without it.”

After a few more moments of staring out over the lake, Mr. Goodtimes turns on his heels and back through the village, leaving you to follow behind. You spend an extra second looking at the crystal, a nagging feeling itching the back of your mind as you do. You manage to shake it away and follow your mentor as he walks up a small hill, between a farm bustling with activity and a small shop packed full of customers. You can faintly smell freshly baked bread, and your stomach growls. You haven’t eaten in a while, with you skipping out on dinner last night and no chance for breakfast this morning, and you’re just now remembering. You almost want to stop and grab some of the delicious smelling bread but you almost lose sight of Mr. Goodtimes while you are distracted and have to rush up the rest of the hill to catch up with him, far past the bakery.

Ahead of you stands a tall tower, it’s shape winding above you in a precarious way that makes you worried it will tip over with a slight breeze. Your mentor is standing in the doorway, beckoning you in. As soon as you do you are caught off guard by the beautiful and intricate decor, the wood carvings in the floor and on the walls absolutely breathtaking. A small round table sits in the middle of the room, with a stove off to the side and a cozy fireplace tucked in the corner. You don’t have time to dawdle, though, as Mr. Goodtimes leads you upstairs.

Lining the walls are tall bookshelves, multicolored spines creating a mesmerizing effect as you try and take in just how many there are. Nestled in between the shelves is a small window and cushion for sitting. You walk over to it, taking in the view. You can see a magnificent tree towering over the rest of the jungle a ways away. You didn’t know trees could even grow that big.

“That’s been there for centuries.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice pipes up as he looks over your shoulder. “No one really knows how it grew, but it’s the oldest thing on the island. People think it’s the source of all the magic but I don’t think that’s true.” 

He backs up, tracing a finger along the spines of a few books before grabbing one and flipping through some pages. He stops on one with an “aha!” before his face falls in annoyance and he closes the book with a pout and puts it back. He turns back to the shelf and grabs another book. This time he flips to the first few pages before flipping further, tapping to a page victoriously.

“Here we are,” he says, “I’ll be right back.” He follows the spiral staircase back down, coming back up a few minutes later, a yellow crystal in hand that he shows off to you. “This is for you, my dear apprentice! It should help amplify your magic until you get better control over it.”

You hold the rock up to your eye, looking through the crystalline substance and at a now distorted Mr. Goodtimes. You smile at him, gesturing a thanks and grasping the crystal tight in your hand.

He opens his mouth again to speak, but is cut off by a loud boom that sends a shockwave through the tower. The sheer wave of energy that has just passed over you leaves you woozy, grasping onto one of the shelves so you don’t topple over. When you’re steady you look up at Scar who is staring out the window with wide eyes. After a few moments he looks back at you.

“That was big.” You give him an unimpressed look. “That was a massive surge of magical energy.” He grabs your arm, pulling you down the stairs, your dizziness momentarily returning at the sudden movement. “Come on, we have to go check it out!”

Something in your gut is telling you that this is a bad idea, but you figure you don’t really have a choice in the matter. As you go through the village now alive with questions of what that was, Mr. Goodtimes leads you back towards the large green crystal. Right before the outskirts of the village, a voice stops you both in your tracks.

“Hey! Scar! Scar’s apprentice!” Virgam’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd and you both look back to see the woodworker holding a staff in her hands. She walks up to you, holding it out. “This is one of my rejects. Since Scar is pretty insistent on dragging you into danger at the first opportunity he was presented with, I figured you’ll need something to defend yourself with.”

You give her a look to be sure, but at her certain stare alongside the knowing glint in her eyes, you grip the staff firmly in your hands. The wood is unsanded and clearly unfinished; it grates against your palms that haven’t gripped anything much rougher than a mug full of beer in the past few years. You can feel the splinters already digging into your hands, but the way the end curls to a messy ball at the top fills the pit of your stomach with excited anticipation. You nod in gratitude to Virgam with a smile. She looks past you to your impatient mentor. 

“And you, be careful. It’s not just yourself you have to worry about now, you know. Their life could very well be in your hands.”

Mr. Goodtimes stands up straighter, hand landing on your shoulder in a firm grip. “Don’t worry, Virgam. I’m sure everything will be fine. We’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

You both wave to the village, and you follow him up a spiral staircase hidden within the trunk of a tree. The smell of sap and damp wood is almost overwhelming, but luckily you’re able to breathe fresh air before long. Mr. Goodtimes leads you out onto suspended bridges above the lake and thicker parts of the jungle, connected by the sturdier looking trees. You look down at the green crystal, blinking away some light that gets reflected into your eye. You stumble forward a bit on the rickety bridge, but Mr. Goodtimes is quick to catch you before you can fall, keeping a steady hand on you until you can confidently wave him off. Silence looms over you both, a thick blanket of something you can’t quite place making your steps feel even heavier than they should be. By the way Mr. Goodtimes’ demeanor has completely changed, you have a feeling that he feels it too.

You grip your staff tighter, ignoring any pinches of pain, and look out under the bridge. You catch a glimpse of purple and black, a stark contrast to the rest of the island around you, but before you get a chance to ask, Mr. Goodtimes has gotten ahead of you and you once again need to hurry to catch up. Soon enough, you exit the bridges as you entered, though a little passageway in the trees and are met with a green pathway in the jungle.

“This way.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice is certain. “We’ve had these tremors come from this place for a while now, but this one was way bigger than any of the others.”

He pulls away some leaves, revealing a massive trench, the bottom fading behind a fog. In front of you lies a stone bridge that leads to an absolutely monstrous tower. Shining metal towers surround it, and it tapers to a point at the top that you can’t see on the upper levels. It’s overgrown and crumbling and you wonder how much it would take for it to fully cave in, and you have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t take much. Despite this, you can’t help but be in awe.

Mr. Goodtimes walks forward and over the bridge, you hesitate but soon enough follow behind, under the gigantic archways into the halls of the tower. It’s dark, only a few remnants of what you assume are lanterns hung from broken and rusted chains from the far up ceiling. The only light is from the other three open arches and some fading torches that had been placed in what you can only assume to be a few hours ago. 

Mr. Goodtimes lifts his own staff, creating a small ball of light that floats above it and illuminates the area more. He looks at you silently, glancing at the ball with an inquiring look. You catch on, fumbling, glancing at your staff before quickly disregarding the thought that popped up in your mind. You grab one of the smoldering torches and, with a flick of your wrist, relight it. You can see your mentor’s smile clearer in the added light.

You can also see the tall centerpiece, stained glass that looks as if it swirls when you move your light stretched up into the ceiling, framed by more of the same crumbling stone as the main structure. Past the glass into what you assume to be a hollow center is pitch black, and it leaves you with an unsettling feeling and you shift your feet on the uneven wooden planks beneath you.

“Alright,” Mr. Goodtimes starts, “let’s split up. I’ll go left, you go right, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer he heads up the left stairwell.

----

Here is this chapter’s decision! https://forms.gle/bVnvg68RHxPTpuap9

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 12 – Repaying Debt

“Are you an agent of Union?”

“I was.”

Takio walked away after drawing blanket over Yuigi’s body. Meanwhile, Yuigi’s eyes were plastered on his ponytail.

“You sound like you know me, but I don’t know you. Based on what you said, I probably don’t remember you. Who are you? Identify yourself.”

“Takio, an ex-agent of DA-5.”

Yuigi’s back stiffened for a second. The title was familiar, but she never imagined she would ever hear it again.

“DA-5...?”

“Yes. It’s the one you’re thinking of.”

Takio offered her a cup brimming with crystal-clear water, but Yuigi did not even consider taking it. She was busy rolling her eyes with miniscule control.

The DA-5 was a team created by Dr. Aris, an executive researcher originally under the 12th Elder, the commander of the Cerberus. So in a way, DA-5 was categorized in the same power pool as the Cerberus. So Yuigi would not have been so wary of Takio, if it were not for the fact that things have changed as of now.

“I heard you were dead. No, the 12th Elder and the rest of the Cerberus heard that all agents of DA-5 were destroyed. But how come I’m looking at you?”

“...It’s a long story. And I don’t think this is the right opportunity.”

“If you don’t tell me how come you’re alive, there’s no reason for me to trust you or take that from you.”

Takio could guess what was going through Yuigi’s mind. She was pointing out the fact that there is no reason she would not know that he was alive, unless he turned his back on the Union and hid his status on purpose.

There was another option, of course – he faked his death due to a highly classified mission. In fact, Union’s history is marred with an infinity of classified missions, some of which immensely contributed to Union’s development and growth, proven by the archived records.

Yet, the problem is that termination of DA-5, Takio included, was directly reported to an elder and his lesser executive agents. Even if an agent is on a highly classified mission, the personnel directly in charge of the agent or the one who issued such a mission is bound to be informed that the agent has faked death. Since the 12th Elder and the Cerberus never heard that Takio was actually alive, the chance that he is on a top secret mission is close to zero.

Which means it would not be strange for Takio to see Yuigi raging at him with fists ready to crush his skull. Partially to prevent that from happening, Takio decided to tell her the truth, albeit a bit soon.

If this were a normal situation, he would be basically telling her she has lost her job. However, the impact will be bigger than simply losing a job. And since Yuigi was in the top tier of all modified humans of Union, the impact on her would be equivalent to getting shot by a gun, whispered Takio in his head.

“There’s no need to be so guarded, Miss Yuigi. Or rather, now there’s no reason for you to be guarded against me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Union is now virtually history, Miss Yuigi.”

Takio chose to just pull the trigger, as he determined it would be better to cut straight to the point. As expected, he could see an invisible shockwave blasting through Yuigi from head to toe. He could even hear a ‘bang’ just by watching her twitch.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true.”

“Like hell it is. The Union has been reigning as the gigantic hand above everyone’s head with this planet in its grasp. And you’re telling me that giant hand is no more? I’m not buying... Kgh! I’m not buying it... Until I see for my... Ugh!!”

Yuigi attempted to lift herself, but she fell defeated to the pain as if her legs were being wrenched off her torso.

“Please do not move. I could not provide proper treatment for you ever since I took you from the lab, so you are in no condition to...”

“I may have lost my healing power because of Yuri. I may have gone through hell thanks to Crombell’s experiments. And I may have been frozen all this time. Still, it takes less than half a minute for me to throw you into a dumpster. The only reason I’m letting you talk to me is because you saved me, and you’re about to reach the limit of my patience.”

“I will stop you by force if I have to. And one more thing – you can’t beat me anymore. I’m not the one I used to be.”

Bam!

Yuigi slapped Takio’s hand, targeting the cup he was still holding out. The motion was considerably fast, something not to be seen from a lab rat kept in a freezer after a series of experiments carried out while she was breathing.

The ancestral elders of the Union would burst out of their graves to laugh their rotten guts out if they heard what you just said, Yuigi muttered to herself. She was a member of the Cerberus, and he was an agent of the DA-5. However, she was in no mood or shape to correct him or show him that his words are invalid.

Which is why she opted to separate the cup from Takio’s hand a little violently. Her plan was to demonstrate that Bill Shankly is right – form is temporary, class is permanent – with a blow that he would not have foreseen even if he did not put his guards down.

Unfortunately for Yuigi, her plan did not do the trick at all.

‘What the...?’

A feathery breeze brushed her skin when she withdrew her arm, and the moment she raised her head to find out why, she saw Takio extending a cup of water towards her, as if nothing happened.

“Forgive me, but I cannot let you leave this place.”

To her disbelief, the cup was the very one she just struck, teeming with water.

‘Impossible...!’

Yuigi caught that there was a tiny wave inside the cup and quickly scanned the purple-haired man. She realized her speculation is veracious upon noticing that several locks of his hair exhibited a sign of air current running through.

‘Did he just scoop up all that liquid as I merely a took a breath?’

Yuigi could feel her spine immediately stupefied, for she could not detect his movement at all. Even with the fact that her body is a disaster put into account, the most she could pull off was deducing from the flow of air what happened after it had happened. To top it off, it literally happened right in her nose.

‘Even I can’t move that elusively and nimbly. Not even with my battle suit on. And with neither my healing power nor my battle suit, there’s no way I can take down this guy.’

Hence Yuigi concluded it is better and best to endure the humiliation and wait until her body recovers to a useful level.

“You should first hydrate yourself.”

Sighing inwardly, grateful that she did not blindly pick a fight with him, Yuigi succumbed by taking the cup.

“...By the way, how do you know that the Union has fallen?”

“...I took part in triumphing over Union.”

Yuigi stopped in the middle of her slow drinking. But it did not take long until she resumed drinking, apparently having predicted such a reply from him.

“So why would a nemesis of the Union save me? Am I your hostage?”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have brought you to my teammate’s safehouse if I ever intended to make you a hostage.”

Safehouse?

That was when Yuigi finally studied her surroundings.

She was currently seated on a cot placed at the corner of the room, so well-furnished it was no different from a bed. Nearby she spotted a refrigerator, kitchenette equipment, mid-sized table, and chairs. On the other side of the wall was a set of medical equipment, resembling a downsized imitation of Union’s lab facility. She could even find a small space isolated by a door, which she surmised was a toilet or a shower room.

‘Just who could be the owner of this safehouse? It can actually be on a par with Union’s safehouses.’

While she was scrutinizing her environment, Takio was rummaging through the fridge.

“I bet your stomach is far from settled, but you should eat something. I’ve prepared a meal beforehand. As you eat, I’ll answer your questions regarding Union to the best of my abilities.”

“...Then hurry up. I have tons of things to ask.”

*****

Cerberus : entirely gone.

12th Elder : killed.

All elders of Union : vanquished.

Crombell, Dr. Aris, and Yuri : deceased.

Union : presently slumping down the aisle of downfall.

Takio knew that he needs to provide more details than such 5 lines. For example, the 3rd Elder as of now is an ally-slash-person-of-interest for Frankenstein, and Lunark defected from Union long time ago. Yet if he were to do that, there was no telling if and how Yuigi would retaliate to his team and his allies.

He did not forget that strictly speaking, Yuigi was his enemy.

“...So Aris fell by your hands. And you helped with Yuri’s death. And with Crombell’s annihilation.”

“...Precisely.”

“So is it safe for me to assume one of the pedals that accelerated Union’s demolition-slash-extinction belongs to you?”

Takio kept his mouth shut, and he needed not to say more.

“Do you despise me for it?”

It took less than a second for Takio to regret saying that. What kind of person would not blame the one who rid her of her job?

‘Though in this case, she’s closer to a defeated soldier or a citizen of a perished empire than an unemployed. Since she was one of the top agents of Union, she must have been extremely loyal to the Union, almost treating it as a religion.’

Takio therefore kept his silence, expecting Yuigi to bombard him with every curse available in human language.

“...Maybe. Maybe not.”

He was met with a reply not listed on his catalog of possible responses from her, and he tilted his head, a rare gesture from him.

“But I don’t understand. I learned about DA-5’s eradication prior to Cerberus and 12th Elder’s arrival to this country. Which means you had betrayed Union a long time ago. Why would you show me hospitality after all this time?”

“...I am replaying my debt.”

“A debt...?”

Takio bided his time, hoping she would remember. However, he could witness creases piling up upon Yuigi’s forehead and decided it would be wise for him to drop his expectation and get on with refreshing her memories.

“I first saw you in an unknown facility of Union, before I was given the title of DA-5.”

(next chapter)

First of all, sorry for those of you who were waiting for my version of the past between Takio and Yuigi. I originally included that part in this chapter, but the texts got too long, so I had to cut the chapter in the middle. Which means, yes - the next chapter WILL BE about Takio and Yuigi’s past. Hope you will stay tuned!

[actutrends]

Trump takes massive gamble with killing of Iranian commander

” General Soleimani was actively developing plans to assault American diplomats and service members in Iraq and throughout the region,” it included, blaming him for current attacks on U.S. soldiers and the U.S. Embassy in Baghdad. “This strike was targeted at preventing future Iranian attack strategies.”

Iran’s foreign minister, Javad Zarif, implicated the U.S. of “global terrorism” and said it “bears obligation for all effects of its rogue adventurism.”

Even the possibility that the U.S. had actually directly targeted Soleimani– especially on Iraqi soil– sent out shockwaves around the globe, surging oil costs and leading to instantaneous evaluations of the potential fallout. U.S. officials have long illustrated Soleimani as a paramilitary and terrorist mastermind, deemed accountable for attacks on American troops in Iraq and versus U.S. interests all over the world.

” It is hard to overemphasize the significance,” said retired Gen. David Petraeus, who supervised the “surge” of American troops in Iraq in the violent years after the 2003 U.S. intrusion. “But there will be reactions in Iraq and likely Syria and the area.”

Some present and former U.S. authorities, along with veteran Iran observers, said the killing was an escalatory relocation far beyond what they had actually ever anticipated.

” There’s no possibility in hell Iran will not respond,” said Afshon Ostovar, a specialist on Soleimani and author of “Vanguard of the Imam” a book about Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps.

The strike likewise supposedly eliminated Iraqi militia commander Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis, who was taking a trip in the very same convoy as Soleimani. It astonished even some members of the Trump administration who said eliminating the Iranian general had actually not been seriously considered– a minimum of not just recently.

” I can’t think it,” one U.S. official stated. “The instant issue for me is: What’s the next action from Iran? Is this the beginning of a local blaze?”

A previous U.S. official who handled the Middle East said the strike was especially noteworthy since it targeted the leader of a state device, rather than a non-state star.

” We require to be prepared that we’re now at war,” he stated.

A Middle Eastern official said that a retaliation by Iran– understood for its own assassinations abroad– might occur anywhere.

” It could be targets in Africa, it could be in Latin America, it could be in the Gulf, it could be anything,” the authorities said. “I do not think they’re going to take the assassination of among their crucial people and just turn the other cheek.”

Soleimani had actually been leading the Quds Force, an unit of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps that lags much of Iran’s military actions outside its borders. He was a hugely popular figure in Iran, and a regular rhetorical target of President Donald Trump and his aides.

Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, for example, repeatedly singled out Soleimani for criticism as part of the Trump team’s broader anti-Iran “optimal pressure” project. Part of that project included designating the IRGC as a foreign terrorist organization.

Trump’s “optimal pressure” project has intensified in recent months, as the U.S. has clashed with Iran and its proxies. Simply days back, an American professional passed away in Iraq after an attack by an Iraqi militia allied with Iran. The U.S. responded by battle websites held by the group, killing some two dozen militiamen.

Within days, protesters thought to be linked to the Iran-backed militia breached parts of the U.S. Embassy substance in Baghdad. The Iraqi government, meanwhile, condemned the U.S. airstrikes, noting that the militia had ties to its own security forces.

In remarks Thursday that may have foreshadowed the strike, Esper cautioned that the U.S. reserved the right to strike preemptively in Iraq or the area. “If we get word of attacks, we will take preemptive action too to secure American forces, safeguard American lives,” the defense secretary informed reporters at the Pentagon. “The game has changed.”

But the killing of Soleimani was a stunning development, even thinking about how tense U.S.-Iran relations have actually grown under Trump. The president has loaded economic sanctions on Iran’s Islamist program and sometimes threatened Tehran with military action.

Trump also pulled the United States out of the internationally negotiated nuclear deal with Iran, stating it was too narrow and ought to have curbed Iran’s non-nuclear aggressions in the area as well as its nuclear program.

The two countries almost pertained to a direct military clash previously this year after Iran was blamed in a string of attacks on international oil tankers. The U.S. and Iran even downed each other’s drones, but Trump pulled back at the last minute from staging a military strike directly on Iran.

Though he has actually sent thousands more troops to the area, Trump has actually said repeatedly that he doesn’t wish to take part in a new war in the Middle East. The possibility that Iran will feel forced to react with escalatory actions of its own could involve the president in a politically risky fight in the middle of an election year.

Democrats responded cautiously to Soleimani’s killing, however instantly raised concerns about its legality, even as Republicans hailed it as an unalloyed victory.

” Soleimani was an enemy of the United States.

Former vice president Joe Biden, the Democrats’ prominent presidential prospect, stated that while ‘no American will mourn Qassem Soleimani’s passing,” his killing was a “hugely escalatory relocation” that would prompt Iranian reprisals. “President Trump just tossed a stick of dynamite into a tinderbox.”

The death of Soleimani is most likely to have deep ramifications in Iraq and other nations in the area, where Iran has powerful political allies and proxy forces.

The most instant effects will be felt in Iraq, which for many years has actually been a battlefield for influence between Washington and Tehran. Iran has long looked for to press U.S. soldiers out of Iraq, where they’ve kept an existence since the 2003 invasion that fell dictator Saddam Hussein.

Lots of Iraqis are ill of Iranian influence in their country. Current extensive demonstrations have actually included chants versus Tehran and the Shiite clerics who mainly run its religion-infused program.

However Iraq also wants to avoid ending up being ground absolutely no for a U.S.-Iran war, while keeping up friendly relations with Iran to assist its own economy.

” It is just fair for Iraq to make every effort to attain this balance however provided the ‘beef’ between Iran and the U.S. it’s a lost effort,” a previous Iraqi diplomat told POLITICO. The “Trump administration is on a zero-sum mission vis a vis Iran, and expects Iraq to choose one side only.”

Trump’s hard line toward Iran has actually made applause from other Middle Eastern nations, especially Israel, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, which consider Iran an implacable opponent set on manipulating the region in its favor.

Still, Saudi and UAE diplomats in current months have attempted to cool tensions with Iran. And while they’re most likely to shed couple of tears for Soleimani, they might stress over the blowback Iran and its allies can developing in their own nations.

The Pentagon had actually thought about striking Soleimani before, throughout the height of U.S. participation in Iraq, when the Quds Force was providing bombs and other weapons to Iraqi Shiite militia groups that the military estimated killed over 600 U.S. soldiers.

In 2006, according to an Army study of the Iraq War that was eventually declassified, the U.S. military head office in Iraq “prepared a plan to eliminate or record Qods Force commander Qassem Soleimani, who had actually made his method into Iraq for a minimum of the second time” that year, the next time he went to the nation.

However U.S. leaders “eventually avoided doing something about it against Soleimani, enabling the Iranian basic to enter and leave Iraq unrestricted,” says the study. It does not describe why the military did not act upon the proposal or whether it was considered at greater levels, such as at the military’s Central Command or the Pentagon.

U.S. task forces in Iraq did detain some of Soleimani’s Quds Force associates throughout raids later on in 2006 and 2007, though, after the Bush administration approved expanded authorities for the elite troops to pursue Iranian targets in the country.

Those captures showed controversial with the Iraqi federal government, which often gave Quds Force members diplomatic resistance and demanded their release.

While Soleimani’s death is no doubt a significant loss for the Iranian program, it is not likely the judgment clerics and their military aides were entirely unprepared for it.

Ostovar, the Soleimani and IRGC specialist, stated in all likelihood Iran will name a successor quickly due to the fact that its systematic method to their rule is “really strong.”

” He was actually just sort of the forward or outdoors face of the Islamic Republic,” Ostovar stated. “He was the face of their technique, but their strategy goes beyond him.”

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