#looking at the kidney stone's legs fills you with a certain power

[kris-performs-surgery]

#76

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[kunrendeotaku]

Chapter 10

Interestingly enough, my first thought is how different their hands are. Star has calloused hands, strong and thick-she probably swung around a weapon before picking up that wand. Janna’s hands are different, softer, but not as much as I expected. Maybe she really works hard on the mechanical stuff I saw in her room? I didn’t even know she was interested in that, but I guess it makes sense that she’d have to be the one building most of her more complicated traps.

More than that, Star’s hand is so much warmer. Does she run at a hotter temperature than the rest of us? Is it something else? My left hand is getting sweaty because of it, which makes me nervous enough that the rest of me is sweating soon after. Definitely doesn’t help that we’re stuck in a little closet with a bunch of candles. Star doesn’t even seem to care about the little rejection from earlier, smiling in anticipation at both me and Janna equally. Am I the weird one for still feeling hurt she didn’t take my side…?

Before I can put more thought into it, Janna finally starts doing something. “Janna Ordonia, qui maga Echo Creek. Marco Diaz bellator est ab Echo Creek. Star Butterfly, a procer magicae. Tres vocant inde supplices te. Niotalosed, responde huius vocationem.” I raise my eyebrows as she starts chanting in what sounds like latin. Not one of my specialties-there is a limit to being a straight A student. I’m pretty sure I heard our names in there, though…

“Wait-are we summoning an actual demon? This better not be one of Tom’s pranks.” Star frowns, suddenly seeming a bit unsure she wants to be a part of this. I snort, shaking my head. “I’m telling you, Star. We have plenty of crazy people who chant Latin in their basements on Earth-if they could actually summon demons, the planet would be chock full of em by now.” She seems unconvinced, but then she doesn’t tend to believe me on matters of Earth magic I’ve come to realize. Perhaps she just considers herself an expert, bah.

Janna continues chanting that same thing over and over, and just as I begin to wonder how long I’ll be kneeling on this stone floor I start to feel something...odd. It’s an uncomfortably warm sensation in my chest, near my heart. I’d think it might be some weird heartburn, but I’ve actually felt it before-since this year started, I’d get this feeling sometimes when fighting, and almost always during our heavy meditation sessions. Sensei said it was nothing, and the doctors seem to agree when I got myself checked out. I wonder why I’m feeling it now? I guess it could be since I’m kneeling which is...kinda like how I sit while meditating. Close enough?

Janna’s eyes slowly close and her chanting gets a weird echoey background reverb. A microphone? Her room’s acoustics? But why would it only sound out now? I turn to Star to see if she’s noticed this weirdness, but blink. She’s looking rather odd herself-are her cheek stickers glowing a little? “Star, are you causing this?” I try to say, but my breath feels like it's stolen away as soon as I open my mouth. She turns to me when my hand tightens on hers in a panic, and I see by her own wide eyes and flapping lips that she can’t speak either. Shit. Something is definitely wrong, and it wasn’t Star’s doing this time-at least not completely.

Star and I share a deeply concerned look, gripping our hands tighter. Then we both look at Janna, hoping that my creepy friend hasn’t thrown us completely into the deep end. The burning feeling in my chest gets stronger and stronger, while Star’s cheek marks start glowing like lanterns. Just as things reach the point where I’m certain something is going to explode, a wave of cold black smoke blasts out from the center of the pentagram. It chills my chest, and sets Star’s cheeks back to normal, in addition to blowing out the candles.

Janna, however, is still going-she finishes one last chant before throwing open her eyes, a crazed look and a thin green film of energy over them. “Niotalosed, ostende te!” She calls out, and in answer the weird black smoke that fills the room now congeals once more in the center of the pentagram. It slowly forms the shape of an obsidian skinned monster, with squat toad legs, a human torso, lion’s arms, and the head of what looks kind of like a snub nosed dragon of some sort. Lizard like, with more teeth and horns than any being should have.

“Quid ego faciem exitium?” It asks in a rumbling voice. It seems almost conversational in tone, but its size and the sheer depth of its voice still seems like it vibrates the room. It's at this point that Janna’s eyes lose their power and she falls back with a look of amazement and awe on her face. When she lets go, the circle is finally broken and I’m free to move and speak. “Star! What the heck is this?! What the heck was that?! Janna’s eyes were glowing, and your cheeks were doing something weird!”

I jump towards Star’s side of the room and yank her up to her feet and behind me, then take a defensive stance against the monster. It seems rather amused by my actions so far, though my ability to read the face of a lizard thing is probably not exactly the best. At least it hasn’t tried to kill us yet. “Okay, so, yeah. This was definitely demon summoning. Bogwash, I was hoping for something way cooler from Earth magic.” Star lets out a sigh, clearly quite disappointed. I have no idea how she’s staying so calm with this thing in front of us, and that answer of hers wasn’t exactly complete.

Unfortunately I can’t demand more from her as the demon suddenly starts moving. It has apparently lost interest in us and turned towards Janna. She is staring at the thing like its an angel from heaven, cheeks all aflush and still seeming out of it. Regardless of how Janna managed to pull off an actual demon summoning, or my thoughts on her personally, I can’t let this monster just eat her or something! I dash towards it and slam my fist into the kidney of its human looking torso. That clearly seems to hurt it...but not enough, and possibly not as much as it hurt me. That skin is hard as rock, so my scraped up knuckles tell me.

The next thing I know I’m being thrown through the closet door and crash landing on Janna’s bed. I only just barely managed to get my guard up, those lion paws pack a punch. And if it had used its claws… “Hey, that's my friend! Honeybee tornado Swarm!” A yellow tornado buzzing like angry syrup is suddenly visible in the dark closet, after which I see Star flying through the doorway exactly as I was a few moments earlier. Seems she took the hit about as well as I did, though, as she gives me a determined nod once I help her up. “Lets kick this demon’s ass, Star.”

The next few minutes are a blur of bruises, scrapes, lasers, cute animals, and fire. We managed to drag the demon away from Janna to fight it in her room proper, but while we’re destroying all her stuff pretty easily the thing doesn’t even have a scratch. My nascent lizard emotion reading skills tell me it's probably just annoyed at everything we’ve thrown at it. “Janna! You’re the one who summoned it, do something!” This seems to finally knock my weirdo friend out of her daze. I see her walking out of the closet with a book labeled ‘Latin for dummies’ in her arms, and fire in her eyes. Figuratively this time, no weird green magic juicing up my friend, just determination and more than a little smugness.

[tanadrin]

Reordberend

(part 29 of 30; first; previous; next)

Leofe woke perhaps an hour later; Katherine heard her roll over, then a groggy question emerged from the bed behind her.

“What are you doing?”

Katherine finished tying her hair back; it was shorter now, but still too long for this. But she didn’t have time to cut it. She felt with her fingers down the back of her neck, trying to figure out where to press the awl. It was a shitty substitute for a proper neural probe, but it was all she could find at short notice in the hall.

“I’m just--shit!” She pushed it home, and there was a dull thud inside her skull as the emergency reboot protocol started. She pulled her hand back; her fingertips were covered in blood. Nothing for that now, unfortunately. “Just rebooting my cybernetics.”

“Isn’t that a bad idea?”

“Yes. It’s a very bad idea. It’s the sort of thing you only do in life or death situations.” Katherine stood up, and went over to the door, where Hraefn’s shield was leaning against the wall, next to one of her hunting spears. Leofe’s eyes went wide.

“Katherine, what are you doing?”

“I’m going--I’m going after the dragon. I talked to Eadwig. The bird I gave him, do you remember? I took it from the corpse of the second dragon. It’s likely… it’s likely it was a lot less damaged than its brother. And I think, whatever it is, the dragon has some way of tracking it, and wants it back. I think whatever tracking device it has built into it was meant to help recover the memory core, and I think I fucked up by removing it. And I got people killed. And I’m so, so sorry Leofe. I want you to know that. And I want you to tell the others. I’m going to go down to the Lower Settlement, and take the bird back. Then I’m going to go find the dragon. If I can’t find a way to reattach it, I’ll just have to find a way to kill it.”

“Now wait, you can’t--” Leofe tried to sit up, and that’s when she realized Katherine had tied both her hands to the bedpost.

“I’m sorry. You can’t stop me. Stubborn, remember? You can yell, but I don’t think anyone will hear you from outside the hall. And by the time someone comes looking for you, I’ll be in the hills.”

Katherine hefted Hraefn’s shield, then picked up the spear. Leofe’s eyes were wide; funny, Katherine thought she’d be more pissed than surprised at this point. 

“Listen, you can’t--”

“Shh. Leofe. I caused this mess. I came here, I disrupted your people’s existence, I got some of them killed. Before anybody else dies, I have to do everything in my power to make that right.”

“You’ll be killed!”

Katherine looked down at the ground.

“Then I’ll be killed. But at least I tried. Please tell the others I’m sorry. If you can get a message to the outside world--have somebody tell my parents I’m sorry, too.”

“Katherine! Don’t you dare leave without untying me!”

Katherine pulled her hood close about her face, and strode out of the room.

“Katherine!”

* * *

She slipped out of High Settlement and made the two-hour walk to the Lower Settlement in the dark. Eadwig’s house was easy enough to find; the bird was still sitting on a workbench, next to his stoneworking tools. She slipped it into her pocket, and was gone before anyone noticed her. From there, it was another two hour walk back up the valley, and when she was almost at the place where the path turned off toward High Settlement, she turned left instead of right, and headed up into the hills.

It was only then, stepping off the road, that something turned over in her brain, the adrenaline began to fade or whatever, and she started to feel her hands shake. She really should have eaten breakfast. Her mother always said it was important. Don’t go to school without breakfast, dear. Don’t go slaying dragons on an empty stomach.

The little observer inside her head, the little voice that was always watching her actions and critiquing what she did and telling her what she could do better, was screaming at her now, asking her if she was crazy, if she was suicidal, if she was stupid. She ignored it. She might be crazy. She certainly didn’t want to die. There were, in fact, few things in this existence that scared her more than the possibility of it ending, of plunging headlong into the great void of nonexistence, of contemplating what it would be like to be one with Unbeing, to be not, to become nothing. There were times when the certain knowledge of her one day death filled her with an icy cold terror. Today wasn’t one of those days, which was funny. Because she was pretty sure she was going to die.

She should turn back. It was the only reasonable course of action. But the one thing that scared her more than dying at this point was what would happen to the others if she failed. If she couldn’t reattach the bird to the thing, or at least get her to recognize she had given it back, it might keep looking. It might stomp all up and down the Valleys, until it had ground every village to dust, and it might keep going until it broke down. And she couldn’t have that on her conscience. She couldn’t be the one that destroyed them.

So she kept climbing into the hills. As she climbed, she did her best to hack together a self-diagnostic. Already, her head was starting to hurt in an ominous way. But if she had any chance of surviving this, she needed every edge she could get, and barely-functioning cybernetics was better than nothing.

She needed three things, she decided. She needed a way to mute pain signals. A headache was fine. Even a bad one she could live with. But burns, broken bones, anything truly incapacitating, needed to be reduced or eliminated. She also needed to get every last ounce of strength out of her muscles, even if she risked damaging them. She knew if you pushed your muscles too hard you could damage them, and that could cause kidney failure, but it would take a lot longer for kidney failure to kill her than a laser borer, or getting crushed to death. And the other thing she needed was better reflexes. That was probably gonna be the least likely to get working, because it involved core neurological function, which seemed to be exactly the part of her neural lace that was most damaged. But she had to do her best.

Finally she cape to the top of a ridgeline, and leaned against an outcropping to catch her breath. Damn, she thought. I wonder what my friends would say if they could see me now. She’d like to think they’d think she was a badass. They’d probably side with Leofe, though. If anything, she probably looked a bit ridiculous in the heavy coat, with the hunting spear and the shield. Like a squat black shrub with delusions of martial grandeur. She made a mental note, for if she survived this. Tell Hraefn to make her a bitchin’ suit of armor. Something with pauldrons and spikes. Something you could airbrush onto the side of a van.

She thought of a large green pyramid on the ground. The emergency startup sequence for her prosthetics engaged, and her headache got a lot worse. She gritted her teeth. “Neural lace console mode,” she said. A flashing indicator appeared to the left of her vision, and a shimmering, ghostly outline of a keyboard in the air in front of her. She raised her hand and made typing motions.

God, she felt like a dumbass. At least none of the others could see her right now.

Katherine was no programmer, and she was no neurologist. She did remember a few commands from the user manual of the salvaged dragon. Dampening pain signals only took about a dozen keystrokes. A loud warning tone sounded in her ears--well, probably her auditory cortex--warning that what she was about to do overrode almost every safety built into the lace, and its warranty. She hit confirm. Then she did the same thing with the musculoskeletal support system. More loud, horrible warning tones, this time with messages that featured the word “DEATH” in flashing letters. Literally, neon-green flashing letters. Yes, yes. Get on with it. She tried get into the actual neurological support system, but this time a big yellow ACCESS DENIED message stopped her cold.

“What the fuck?”

User access to the neurological support system is denied. Please consult a medical professional if you desire to… god dammit. Okay, so that option was out. She had her wits. She had a weapon. She had a shield. And she had every last ounce of physical strength she’d be able to muster. God, she hoped it was enough.

* * *

An hour later, she crested another ridgeline, and she saw it, hunkered down in a hollow below her. The dragon.

She exhaled slowly. She wasn’t sure what she had imagined. Lying on the valley floor, half buried by the landslide, they had looked so mechanical. Inert. Obviously the work of human hands; and, if she was honest with herself, she had thought that the People’s insistence on calling them “dragons” was kind of stupid. But now she could see why they did. This thing--hunched on four enormous legs, curled around an enormous stone outcropping like a beast of mythology--did not look like a machine any longer. The hundreds of metal plates that formed its skin slid neatly over one another as its head swung one way and the other; the instruments and receivers along its back bristles, like spines or the outlines of skeletal wings, and, yes, there was a furious red glow from deep within its belly. It was enormous--easily two hundred meters long. It moved forward slowly, almost glacially, testing the ground with each foot.

Well then. Maybe she could sneak up on it. Niiiice and easy. After all, somebody had to do maintenance on this thing, right? It was designed with that in mind? Maybe it would let her climb right up on top of it, find a nice hatch she could pop open, and she could drop down inside, plug her brain into a control panel, and press the “off” button. Yeah. That sounded like a great plan.

Katherine took a step forward. She looked down. Something was glowing inside her coat. She pulled it out; it was the bird. The flaw in the middle, that seemed to be where the homing device was. It glowed with a sharp, almost radioactive blue light. Katherine looked down at the dragon.

Well, shit. Its head, if that was what you wanted to call it, was looking right at her. She slipped the bird back into her coat and picked up her spear. She waited to see what it would do next. Metal plates began to slide past each other, and something not unlike a maw began to gape. And there was a grim red light shining from within it.

“Ohhhh fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfff-” Katherine took of sprinting down the ridgeline, as an enormous blast of something hit the spot where she had been standing a moment ago. There was a spray of rocks and dirt, and the force of the blast knocked her forward, but she did not fall. She glanced back over her shoulder, and caught a glimpse of glowing red rocks.

“Whyyy,” she screamed down at the beast. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT. I’m trying to give this BACK to you!” She fished around inside her coat, and then held up the bird, so it could see it.

“Here it is! Take it! Take it and go! Leave these nice people alone!”

The dragon looked at her dully. She had a thought, an insane one perhaps, but she was having an insane kind of morning. She stood up, reared back, and pitched the bird as hard as she could down toward the dragon. It arced through the air, and fell hilariously short, skipping down the slope until it came to rest about half way between her and it.

“There! All yours!” she yelled. The dragon did not look at it, though it glowed as brightly as before. It just started opening its maw again.

“God DAMMIT,” Katherine screamed. She jumped down the slope, just as the boring laser blasted another Katherine-sized hole in the landscape, and slid down the scree toward the bird. She stumbled, fell, rolled, and tried to stand before falling again. The dragon’s head was tracking her, but it was slow. She could hear the machinery inside it whirring from where she was. She finally got close enough to the bird to pick it up, and took of running parallel to the dragon again, hoping she could move faster than its head could turn. Another hideous glare lit up the landscape around her; another blast hurled fragments of rock into the air.

Katherine needed to think, and she couldn’t do that very well while running. And her headache was getting worse and worse and worse and the last thing she needed was a critical failure of her cybernetics while eighteen hundred tons of pain had her classified as Threat Numero Uno. There was a larger stone outcropping ahead; she skidded to a halt behind that, and considered her options.

One, try to get closer. Running directly at it was suicide, but if she could get on its back, she was pretty sure it could not reach her. Maybe then she could get inside. Maybe. Two, try to get away. Ha ha, fat chance, and that didn’t solve her original problem. Three, try to… she looked down at the spear in her hand. Poke it? She considered throwing it away, but she couldn’t bring herself to. God you’re an idiot, Katherine, she thought to herself.

She had to get closer. She glanced around the side of the outcropping. The dragon was opening its jaw again. She took off running. It was a good thing, too; the outcropping exploded into fragments and the borer tore into the side of the mountain like it wasn’t even there. Some big chunks of rock hit Katherine on the back and head while she ran, but they weren’t big enough to knock her down, and the pain suppression was doing its job.

Now she ran down the slope, at a forty-five degree angle toward the base of the monster. Its feet were massive, nearly the size of one of the houses in the village, and the nearest one began rising in the air as she approached, as the creature took another slow step toward her. Crunch. It smashed the earth flat below it as it came down, but Katherine saw what she needed in the glow of another laser blast: an access ladder, reaching down to ground level.

It took a good seven or eight seconds at least between laser blasts. If she could escape one more, she could probably run straight at it and close the distance in that time. She began running parallel to the thing again, this time in the opposite direction; it fired, she pivoted ninety degrees, and fell flat on her face.

She scrambled to her feet; its mouth was already open again. A wild, elemental terror filled her body, and she sprinted blindly; there was another explosion, and she felt something go into her right leg. She stumbled again, but did not fall; but now her right leg was only halfheartedly obeying her commands.

Nothing for it, she thought. Just fucking run.

She made it to the leg just as it was rising into the air again, and leapt up to grab the handhold; the dragon froze, its leg in the air, as if confused, and Katherine scrambled up onto the ladder, and started climbing as quickly as she could with her shield and spear. She remembered where the access hatch had been on the other one: middle of the back, high up, near where the neck met the shoulder-ish part. The dragon’s head swung right, then left; haha fucker, she thought. Can’t laser me now. What she had not counted on was that the motion of the thing’s body made it extremely difficult to keep her grip; even as she came to the almost-flat part of the back, she had to cling to the ladder to keep from being flung off.

Finally, she found the hatch and the access panel. She used the end of the spear to pop it open, and found the neural interface on the first try. Then she saw the readout on the panel.

THREAT ELIMINATION MODE ACTIVE - DO NOT ATTEMPT ACCESS

Katherine froze. She’d heard stories--back before these things were more strictly regulated--of security protocols that could fry neural laces, even induce crippling brain damage. It wasn’t hard, if you had complete, unfettered access to someone’s brain and you were an epic asshole, to do them real harm, or just straight up kill them. That kind of thing was usually banned now. But it hadn’t always been. Katherine frowned. She tapped the physical interface of the control panel.

“DO NOT ATTEMPT ACCESS!” flashed more brightly.

“Fuck you,” she whispered to herself. She tapped it again, to see if she could get some sort of override input to come up.

PROXIMITY DEFENSE SYSTEM ENGAGED

A smaller hatch opened nearby, and something popped up out of it. Something that looked suspiciously like a miniature version of a laser borer. It swiveled to face Katherine.

“Oh come on!”

She let go of her handhold, sliding back down the side of the dragon as a second laser sliced the air above her. The dragon bucked, and she went flying off the side. There was a crunch, and a sharp pain signal, quickly muted, in her left arm. She groaned, and rolled over; the shield was still strapped to it, but her left forearm was definitely broken. She looked down at her leg. Her calf was sliced open, a deep, jagged cut. Her spear had fallen to the ground perhaps twenty feet away, and the dragon was turning, slowly, to face her.

I tried, she thought to herself. I really tried. At least it will be a quick death. The bird will probably be destroyed. I don’t know what the dragon will do after that. And I don’t know what idiot designed this thing, and what stupid fucking regulatory agency got bribed to approve it, but perhaps maybe then it will back off. And I can’t say I didn’t try.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. Fuck, was this really how it was going to end? She had survived the water and the ice and the darkness and all the rest, just to die in a flash of fire? The jaws of the dragon opened; a red glow filled the air.

It wasn’t even really a conscious decision at this point. Pure instinct. She curled herself up behind her shield, and did her best to make herself as small as possible. There was a terrific noise, a sensation of terrible heat and then--nothing. She looked up. She was alive. She looked down at her shield. It was glowing red-hot in the middle, and there was an awful stench of burned meat where the back of her hand was touching it; she flung it away, and looked up at the dragon.

The mirror finish had reflected enough of the laser to score a deep gash in it, running from the side of its head, back through its shoulder, deep into the machinery of its belly. Its jaw was shattered, hanging limply, even as its head swung left and right, like it was trying to make sense of what had happened.

“FUCK YOU YOU OVERGROWN POSTHOLE DIGGER!” Katherine screamed. She ran over to her spear and snatched it up. She could see, as the beast moved now, the way the machinery in its belly held it up, pistons moving back and forth to balance it, what looked like a supply of hydraulic fluid to move its legs. Most of it was solid metal, nothing she could do anything about, but there was one spot, exposed by the blast of the laser, still glowing from its heat, where she could see what looked like an important tank of something made out of plastic. And maybe, just maybe, she could immobilize it if she could cut it open.

“Okay, asshole,” she said to herself. “One last go.” She broke into a run straight toward the dragon. Its head swung in an arc directly down toward her, as if trying to flatten her into the stones; she turned, avoided it, but her foot caught a rock and she stumbled--but did not fall. As she came up underneath it, it began to move its legs apart, bringing its body down as if to flatten her; but this worked to Katherine’s favor, dropping her target until it was almost directly above her head. She leapt directly up, using every ounce of her cybernetically enhanced strength, and drove the spear home as hard as it could. For a brief moment, she thought it would bounce harmlessly off; but it caught some imperfection in the molded surface, and sank deep inside. The pressurized tank exploded, and a reeking, slick, chemical solution gushed out, drenching her from head to toe.

She fell to the ground, as the dragon loomed over her, and staggered. Something was terribly wrong now; her eyes were burning, and her nose, and the headache from her neural lace felt like it was going split her skull open. She watched the dragon flail for a moment, then slow--then still.

Oh God, she thought. Was it enough? Is it over? Are they safe?

[ten-thousand-paper-wasps]

They were going to rob Duke Enerwaeir blind.

Or, at least, he and Falk were. Morrin was becoming increasingly suspicious of their absences and subsequent newfound wealth, and she couldn't keep a secret, so of course Nells wasn't going to tell her. They all had their roles to play in this gambit. She just happened to be at her most convincing when she wasn't aware she needed to lie.

It was a dress ball, so there was plenty of money to be had, if their hands were quick enough. Naturally, that meant spending an evening looking absolutely delicious.

His immensely gorgeous hunk of Husband was completely slaying it. Zakurr's lustrous, glossy braids were now adorned with tiny, delicate chains. Each of his four horns was buffed to perfection. The length of fur about his waist was shining and soft and it smelled like apples, sweet and spiced.

That wasn’t all, though. Zakurr had put on the boots Nells was ever so fond of. They went all the way up his legs, ending nearly at the top of his thighs. Nells was almost drooling, just thinking about him. Why did he have to go and be all scrumptious?

Nells himself wore a long dress, all dazzling greens and blues. The material shimmered as he moved, with a slit up the side to expose his long, shapely legs. His hair was painstakingly combed out and pinned in place, an elegant waterfall of soft mahogany. He even put on heels.

Falk looked nearly as delectable as Nells did. They wore a tightly fitted top that bared the entirety of their midriff. The center of the chest was cut out, as well, showing off their shape. They also had a pair of expensive burgundy pants that were loose about the hips and tight below the knees. Falk had chosen to keep their regular boots, seeing no reason to forego sensible footwear, opting instead for heavy gold jewelry.

And Morrin! Oh, his beautiful Morrin. She'd granted him a boon, permitted him to fuss over her for an evening. Her fiery, red-gold mane billowed about her like a cloud, sparkling with tiny jewels. Her hands, wide and rough and ravishing, fluttered uncertainly at the hem of her vest, a stately forest green piece of silk and silver. She was dazzling, a diamond in her own right, but ill at ease amongst the upper echelons of nobility.

It made a certain amount of sense, he supposed. Masonaile, where she'd lived all her life, hadn't had much in the way of wealth. Of course she felt out of place here. But, he was pleased to note, she was handling it admirably.

Morrin was shaking hands and trying to dance and blushing up a storm whenever she was complimented. There were pretty people all around her, giving her their attention. He spies Falk moving among them, hands quick and dainty and pockets charmed to be impossibly deep.

Zakurr looks on, using his immense height to keep watch. People buzz around him like mayflies. Two men knock into him on purpose, but one look sends them scrambling.

Then, Falk waltzes, moving from dancer to dancer, to Nells, flushed and panicked. "It's Morrin," they pant. "She's with some ashing young Earl, he's trying to get her alone."

It takes him a moment to process why this is horrible. Ordinarily, Morrin was devastatingly capable. She would have killed him and been done with it. But they were at a ball, and she'd been thoroughly disarmed, spending nearly half an hour pulling out weapon after weapon. There was an entire table just for her things.

She had nothing on her person with which to kill the Earl. Additionally, she was under the impression she mustn't, for reasons of diplomacy. So, he supposed, it was up to their little family to rescue her.

First, Zakurr had to be told.

"Honeybear," Nells commanded. "Get ready crush some skulls. Morrin's got a boy problem."

Smoke on the wind, but she'd let him, too. She would let the Earl do whatever he wanted. Why had they told her they wanted to win favor from the Duke? "Just don’t cause a scene and it'll be fine." She would be terrified of letting them down. She would call it duty.

Harkenship had been a bitter lesson. He could not let her be hurt like that again.

Falk moved the quickest, palming a knife from a serving tray and plunging it into the Earl's kidney, soft and silent. The Earl let out a low gasp and dropped. Morrin's face was a mix of relief and horror.

It was chaos after that. Morrin stomped on the Earl's neck, killing him. His friends moved to kill her, but Nells was faster. His long legs were wrapped around the neck of the biggest one, choking him, while Morrin threw punches hard enough to crack stone and Falk smashed kneecaps with impunity.

The other guests were screaming in terror and outrage, crowding eachother like a swarm of rats. Zakurr took one step toward the fight and they parted before him like a desperate tide.

When he got there, he kicked a Baron to the floor and Falk leapt up for a kiss, drawing Zakurr's strength into themselves and pressing their bag to his bare chest. "Grab our things. I love you."

And Zakurr was off, charging to the low tables to retrieve their weapons. Falk's bag never filled, no matter what he put in it, so he emptied every table in the room before moving on to the Duke's personal valuables. With everyone distracted by the fight, he had plenty of time.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Grab our things," Falk told him, already feeling Zakurr's power roiling in their chest. "I love you."

They slammed a palm to the floor and the ground quaked beneath them. Stone erupted through the floor in angry spikes. How dare he. How dare a mortal Earl try to dishonor Falk's oldest friend? For Morrin, Falk would do anything.

Right now, it meant killing a dozen people they'd only intended to steal from for doing her the supreme insult of defending the Earl. He earned his death. He earned it the second he laid eyes on her and made his move.

Falk was angry, and Nells had a feral smile, and Morrin was going to go home after only bloodying her perfect knuckles. She was too precious to them to be hurt.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Owlsby was disguised as an unfortunately deformed carriage horse. He was getting to be too big to hide, so it only made sense to find new ways to take him into town. The extra legs were hidden under a blanket and tucked up out of sight. Nells convinced him to allow Zakurr to hitch him to a stolen cart. In the right lighting, like now, under the half moon, it was very nearly convincing.

Zakurr tossed Falk's bag in the back and hopped into the seat, letting out a sharp whistle. Owlsby roused himself from his nap as Nells came sprinting out of the building, Morrin tucked under one arm and protesting. As soon as they were safely at his side, Zakurr whistled again, louder and sharper. The building caught fire.

Falk appears in his lap with a soft pop, makeup smeared, with a very unsettled lizardfolk in their arms. Her dress was lovely, if shredded and burnt.

"Falk," he warns, "Did you kidnap her? You know we can't take her with us if she doesn't want to come."

The lizardfolk in question blushes and mumbles that she'd love to come, anywhere in the world as long as it isn't here. Zakurr resolves to ignore it for now and question her in the morning, if she's still around. He slaps the reigns gently and Owlsby takes off for the inn. They can pay the fee and collect their packs, but it isn't wise to stay in town. Not after that.

It would be nice, he muses, really nice, if this could just stop happening. Theft was all well and dandy if it kept them fed, and it did, so Zakurr wasn't about to complain. But he would love it if he didn't have to strike entire towns off of their map when Falk and that idiot elf got a little too greedy.

There was no need to rob every noble at the ball. No reason. And then one little human man gets too handsy when Falk can see him, and now he's dead for it.

True, the Earl had definitely been in the wrong, and sure, he could believe Morrin was glad of his death. But it was something that could easily have been resolved without any blood, had Zakurr been the one to reach him first, and Falk's increasing bloodlust as of late concerned him.

That amulet stank of evil and death, but they refused to take it off for any length of time. Zakurr was willing to bet his fifth kidney that it was to blame. Power was a lure Falk had never been able to resist.

He only prayed his dearest Nells did not become so foolish.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

But That Makes You Family Pt. 2

Genre: Fan Fiction (Animal Kingdom)

Pairing: Craig Cody/OFC

Warnings: Drinking, Death, Sexual Content, Language, Drugs

Rating: R

Length: Chaptered

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Thank you for those who have read or left comments. It’s daunting putting a fic in a new fandom, no matter how many times you do it. 

Catch Up Here

California was hot, hotter than Olivia remembered. Lack of shade around the patio table was a contributing factor, she was certain of it. Back and forth, back and forth. Craig's eyes followed Olivia's pacing; she reminded him of a caged tiger at the zoo. Pacing, anxious, waiting to lash out.

He could have started this conversation with less hostility, which would have greatly decreased his chances of Olivia wanting to punch him in the throat. Craig counted his lucky stars that she didn't bother to carry a gun.

Throwing insults at your child's mother, while high, wasn't one of  Craig's brightest moments. Back and forth, her flip flops slapped across the stone patio with each step. A scuff when she turned and moved back in the previous direction. Olivia chewed her bottom lip, tense and needing to slowly unwind before she spoke.

"Sit down."Craig pointed at a chair.

"No."

"Sit. Down." He was a fool to think he could boss her around.

"No!" snapped Olivia. "Don't tell me what to do."

Leaning against the glass top table, Olivia tipped the beer bottle to her lips, frowning when nothing came out. Resting on the edge of the table, she snarled when Craig rested against the table next to her. How dare he come out here demanding things and then acting like it was nothing.

J and Deran had given up watching from the window, a quick glance through the door revealed the kitchen was empty. Relief washed over Olivia, when the tears came the less audience the better.

"What happened to your head?" Craig pulled a few strands of hair between his fingers. Her once dark locks were now an off shade of purple. There was nothing better to say.

"I needed a change." Olivia swatted his hand away from her head.

"It looks different, I sort of like it." He sank down into a chair, swiping his own locks away from his eyes.

"I don't care what you like, Craig." Olivia moved away from him.

Leaning back in his chair, arm stretching out for her, Craig made a feeble attempt to grab her arm. "Are you fucking serious, Livvy? What the fuck is your problem?"

Pausing mid step, Olivia stood frozen, a laugh rumbling in her chest. Loud and ringing off the walls it hit Craig like a sharp knife. He'd heard that laugh before. A signature anger filled amusement.

"Really? You have the balls to ask me that? You're asking me what my problem is? You know what my problem is. The real question is what's yours?"

Tattooed arms folded across his chest, Craig smirked. A look of amusement and torment crossing his features. Sometimes, when Olivia thought of this exact look, she wanted nothing more than to punch him. To knock that cocky smirk right off of his face. Ironically it was the same look that had taunted her until he'd got her into his bed.

Craig Cody had a power that was worse than any drug that Olivia had ever tried. One glance at that cocky smirk and women fell over themselves to be near him. Once they got close and got to know him, they changed their minds and ran for the hills.  Olivia had often thought about Craig, as a whole, about how he made people run away. If he cleaned up, got way from his mother, and this life – he could have potential. Years of day dreams had left her wondering if Craig were to walk away, would they be different? Could he be somebody she'd allow in her life, all the time?

"I'm sorry." Craig's words were nearly shocking.

"You're what?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come out here looking to argue." He sighed, shifting around to lean his head against the back of the chair. His long legs splayed under the table, making him look ridiculous. "I panicked. You show up out of the blue and like the last time, I assumed you were pissed off."

"If I were pissed, I wouldn't have waited until we were alone to talk." Olivia shrugged.

Craig knew Olivia well enough to know that. If she had been looking to start a fight, she would have done it the second Pope walked in, giving her as many witnesses as possible. J was still green, she had no guarantee the kid would take her side, if anything went back to Smurf.

"I'm not mad." Olivia gave in, sinking down into one of the chairs. "And I didn't show up out of the blue, I came with reasons."

Funny.

That's what she had said the last time, right before she began yelling at Craig for being a useless dick head, dead beat who was trying to buy her off. Craig had came out of that with a black eye and a large scratch down the left side of his neck. At 5'6", Olivia didn't have much on Craig's towering height or strength, an advantage was her speed.

She was quick and Craig had made the brutal mistake of underestimating that. He learned his lesson, when Baz pried the screaming brunette away from Craig, still swinging.

"Reasons?" Craig echoed.

Eyebrows quirked, Craig reached across the table to a pack of cigarettes that had been left behind, picking a smoke from the pack he offered one to Olivia. Refusing the rush of nicotine, she watched as Craig lit the cigarette and took a deep inhale. Licking his lips, he rested the cigarette.

Smoke billowing as he spoke. "What reasons? Something that can't be done over a text, must be big."

"I um, I..." Olivia inhaled deeply, trying to steady her mind. Even now Craig had this damaging and dizzying effect over her. Pushing her hand through her purple hair, moving her bangs away from her petite face. "I wanted to talk to you, because there are some things that need to be cleared."

"So what is it?" Craig shrugged. "Do you need money? Corbin needs a kidney?"

"I don't need money, Craig. You know that I've said it a million times. I'm not taking stolen money." Olivia used her best mom glare to tell him he was being less than reputable. As if Craig had ever received a real mom stare, one that didn't come after threatening to shoot him at least.  

"Whatever, can't say I'm not trying."

"I send those checks back for a reason, you know. I don't want your money and I'm not taking a handout from Smurf. I don't want to owe her a damn thing." Olivia was something else. The amount of money she could have collected in the last eight years, Craig knew it was enough for anybody to live comfortably. She had pride. "Corbin has started to ask questions."

Sitting forward in his chair,  Craig lazily flicked the cigarette into the butt can and rubbed his hands against his jeans. "What kind of questions?"

"The normal questions a nine year old boy asks, when he's ever met his dad. Where you are? Who you are? If you know he's alive or if you love him."

Craig would be a liar if he said this wasn't hurting, anybody with a heart would be crushed hearing this. He had never met his son, not because he hadn't tried. Every time the topic came up with Olivia, one of them blew up and took off.  Arguments followed and it seemed to be a pattern that they had yet to break.

What had she told him?

What did anybody tell a kid who asked that sort of thing?

Craig knew what Smurf had told him about his father, none of that bullshit had helped. Thank God that his son had a far better mother than he did. Olivia was a good mother, Craig knew it.

"What...what do you tell him?"

Never had Craig felt so scared, make that terrified, to hear an answer.

"He knows that you're not around, because your life is complicated." Olivia hurriedly answered. "He knows you're just...busy."

"Busy?" Craig scoffed. "You are keeping him away, because I'm busy?"

"I'm keeping him away, because I don't want him anywhere near Smurf. I don't need him to end up like J or Lena. It's nothing personal. I want more for him, is all."

"What have you told him?" Craig felt his heart in his throat. "Other than I'm too busy?"

"I've never said anything bad about you, believe it or not. If you're worried that I make you out to be some monster, I don't." Olivia's hard shell was softening.

As a single mother raising her child, protecting him from the chaos and plague that was the Cody family, Olivia was as honest as she could be with her son. He knew that his father's life was complicated, code for a royal fucking mess. Corbin also knew that his father had a big heart and if he could be there, he would.

Sometimes, Oivia had told her son, people can't be with us but they still love us.

She'd never deny that Craig loved his son, to some capacity, despite having never seen him in person. If Craig didn't care, he would have completely detached and moved on.

"He knows that he has cousins, uncles, but that's about it. He's uh, our last trip out..." Olivia wished she had a drink to ease this blow, at the very least she wished Craig had a drink. "He's met Deran, only the one time. I wasn't planning on it, but we were at the beach and Deran was there."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

What kind of sick joke was this? She could introduce her son, his son, to fucking Deran but Craig wasn't even allowed to see him?

"This is fucking bullshit, Livvy. You know it!" Craig jabbed a finger in her direction. "He's my son. Why would you do that? Huh? And Deran that fucking asshole, what right does he think he has?"

"You can't be mad at Deran, he didn't do anything intentionally. It's a big fucking beach, Craig. Adrian was the one who came over and started talking to me, I doubt Deran would have even bothered, once he saw that I was with Corbin."

Craig pushed his hands through his hair, his dark curls falling like soft strands of silk over his fingers. Olivia closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"So what Deran came over, told him he was his uncle and then what?"

"They hung out for a bit, we grabbed lunch at the pier and that's about it.  Deran didn't say shit." Olivia defended her friend and choice. "After, when we got home, I told Corbin that Deran was his uncle. Once in a while Deran calls and they talk on the phone. Look, Craig, I've always turned you away not because I don't want you to know him, but because I'm scared of what will happen if you get too close."

"Fuck. Fuck!" Craig cursed loudly. An angry growl rumbling through his chest. "Where is he? I want to see him."

"At my mother's. I'm not bringing him over and you are not to go near him! Do you understand?" Olivia glared at Craig, the look in her eyes told him that she wasn't jerking him around.

"He's my kid, why can't I meet him? He's almost ten and I've never laid eyes on him. What kind of mother does that?"

"You know why. I don't want him to be part of this. He's a good kid, Craig. He goes to a really great private school, he's an amazing baseball player, he takes art classes and..." Olivia paused, biting her bottom lip. "He doesn't need this."

Corbin may be a Cody, despite his lack of knowledge on the topic, it didn't mean he had to be part of this. For once it would be nice if someone in this shit show of a family went into the world and did some good.

Everybody had their weaknesses, Olivia was no exception, she knew what happened when you mixed with this family.  

Growing up, Olivia had always done the right thing. She rarely broke the rules and was practically a model citizen. During her teen years things had grown rough, her parents divorced when she was twelve, her father moving back to Connecticut leaving her and her younger sister in California. At fourteen, her mother remarried, like any teenager Olivia had hit a rebellion that would end up taking another six years to blow over.

The final act of her rebellion was getting pregnant, while it wasn't intended, things happened and Olivia was stupid enough to let life play out however it damn well pleased.

If she could keep her son bubble wrapped a little longer, she would.

"What are we going to do?"Craig lazily bounced his knee out of agitation.

When Craig got nervous the need for a hit or two grew, clenching and un clenching his fists he sniffed hard and did his best to wait for a solution.  Their relationship was so much easier to take, when Olivia was wild and crazy. Back when she was the one with the pocket full of blow and the itch for a good time, Craig missed that chick.

"Do you want to meet him?" Olivia turned sharply.

"What the fuck kind of question is that? Of course I do."

"Then we'll set it up. Give me a few days, I'll work something out. But I want to make it clear, because I am letting you meet him doesn't mean you get to stay in the picture."

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