#the assassin's have a much stronger presence in the world instead of how broken up and scattered they are in the og story

[thebleedingeffect]

Wish I knew how to draw cause I have this whole idea for a idea for an assassin's creed self insert-oc cause I like having fun and it's an super self indulgent idea- BUT I have NO FUCKING IDEA HOW TO DRAW

[rinwellisathing]

A Crimson Lover: Teaser

A Fatal Frame inspired horror AU where Gortash hunts ghosts and relics during his service to Raphael, exploring the ancient, abandoned Bhaal temple.

The Letting Ritual

“To protect himself from being discovered by his enemies, the god Baal commands that people must die. This ritual requires the shedding of a brother's blood. Two people go in and only one person comes out. The blood nourishes the runes in the ceremonial hall and flows into the lower chambers of the temple. The stronger the brother's devotion, the more powerful the ritual.”

-A rough translation of a faded Bhaalist placard outside a crumbling ruin. Sentry watched the dim streets outside the window of his cell. Tomorrow, he and Orin would meet in combat in the sacred arena below the temple. Only one of them would survive. It felt strange to him, being inches from death and still with so many souls left alive on the earth. Since childhood, he had been raised as chosen, told that he was special, that father had a plan for him. By the time he turned fifteen, that plan boiled down to him standing alone among ashes and bones strewn across the barren wasteland that was the world. A part of him knew that this was still father's plan, that the priests had every intention that he be the one to survive and not Orin. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe if he believed it was a fair fight, it would have been alright. If Orin had been older, more experienced in single combat. But she was young, just twelve years old this year, and she was an assassin, ambushing from the shadows. Sentry was sixteen years old and a battle hardened warrior. The fight could not have been more unbalanced in his mind. The cult at large would not have known, COULD not have known, but since he had been younger even than Orin, Sentry had visited another temple in the city, learning about the faith of Ilmater. He had learned the value of sacrifice, of martyrdom. He had taken sacred scars as he'd learned their ways, read of their lord and his doctrine. And now, at the final hour, he was on his knees at the window, his words not meant for his father, but instead for The Broken God. He prayed for guidance, for the best way he could to save Orin.

His wishes were true, earnest....but he couldn't have known the consequence it would have for his family and for their village....

“ Tragedy occurred during the last-minute ceremony. The favored son made a vow to another god and sacrificed himself for his sister. However, she was also unclean due to her poor bloodline. Because of this, Baal abandoned his followers, and the temple and its people were swallowed up by the earth and now live in the gray wastes of Gehenna.” The passage was a rough translation, of course, but what of Raphael's ancient library wasn't? Enver rolled his eyes and closed the book as his hand rested on the goggles he had upgraded recently, lenses which could detect the presence of ghosts and spirits. Raphael intended to send him into the abandoned ruins of the temple of Bhaal far beneath the city where Enver had lived what seemed like ages ago, in order to hunt for artifacts for his archive.

“This ritual required two pure-blooded children of Baal with a deep connection to each other to fight and shed the blood of their beloved brother. Criteria for failure were shedding diluted blood, tainted blood, blood pledged to someone else, or no blood at all. The winner of the battle must be a true child of Baal, who is then chosen and then declared responsible for arranging the necessary rituals. This was known as the "letting go ritual" or "blood ritual."”

It all sounded rather fanciful to the young man, who had very little time for gods or their demands. Still, the texts made sense for Bhaal, a murderous and selfish deity from what Enver knew of him. He smirked, holding back a chuckle as he wondered how much dangerous Bhaalist spirits might be than the ordinary ones which haunted grave yards and more banal and simple ruins. He supposed he would find out since Raphael had demanded that he spend the night in the ruined temple tonight and record anything useful he found in his search for relics.

Mere hours later, he found himself standing in the ruins of an eerie little town beneath the city, his eyes falling upon a burned out hovel just beyond the gate. Well, in for a copper, in for a gold piece. He crossed the street and stepped over the threshold of the old home. The remnants of a life were still set out, albeit scorched or broken for the most part. Dishes and utensils lay forgotten on the table, ruined paintings in blackened frames stared down at him from the walls. One thing caught his eyes, unburned and set upon the charred counter. A piece of parchment, which he picked up to read. “I admit that I am worried about what will happen tomorrow. But I also know that I have to be brave for my sister Orin. I teach her that it is necessary, and that if death allows her to live longer and perhaps free herself from her father and his oppressive rule, I have a duty to her.

It is my blood that dyes the ground of the arena and feeds the runes that run to the realm of the Father of Gehenna. Tomorrow, I will die so that my sister can live. I face my death without fear and know that this is the right thing to do. I regret that I never got to experience love or true friendship after sneaking out of the temple and learning about the outside world, but... a real sacrifice if I don't die with a little bit of regret. Will it be? Orin, if you read this, please run away if you are chosen. Leave this place and find a place where you can be happy. He doesn't care about you or your interests. Be free and live your life. Love, your big brother, Sentry.”

Frowning, Enver looked up from the letter, lowering the goggles he'd spent so long tinkering with back home, flicking down two sets of rune etched lenses and peering slowly and carefully around the room. A tall, slim figure sat at the table, seemingly writing quickly. He was a pale tiefling with dark, jagged tattoos marking his face. His horns curved upward and he had bright eyes. He was dressed in simple black linen clothing in contrast with his pale silvery white hair. The tiefling looked up and Enver noticed he was beautiful, eerily so. He regarded Enver with a gentle curiosity and then simply walked past him. “Wait!” Enver called out to the spirit, reaching out to him even as he faded with each step. It occurred to him that perhaps calling out to the spirit wasn't particularly helpful. It was likely the ghost didn't understand common, the very rough translations of all the text in this place seemed to be an indication that these people lived so long ago, maybe the language wasn't the same.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hi <3 I'm not sure if you're comfortable writing this but I'll try :) Smth where Buckys girlfriend suffers from a lung illness and normally he supports her whenever she feels bad, but one time he's on a long mission where he cant be there when he struggles breathing. Then the other Avengers at the compound take her to the hospital and call Buck who immediately rushes home to be by your side and it's all cute and fluffy in the end? :) Thank you very much <3

Trapped Air

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst on a mission, you suffer with your breathing problems, leaving all to panic as you have air trapped in your lungs.

Warnings | breathing problems, angst, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of torture

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

There had been no call back from Bucky; he was on a mission far away, and deep undercover, and the fact that you had no response did not surprise you, however, it was impossible not to feel overcome with worry.

From what you knew, he was somewhere in Austria with Steve, and most likely irritated by the company of Sam. The thought of them together, waiting for further intel made you smile, and so you sat up on the sofa; the place where you had fallen into a rural slumber late the previous evening. That thought also made you lightly snicker to yourself, and had you grasping your chest in agony at the action.

You adjusted your seat on the sofa, kicking the blanket under your legs as you tried to relax your entire body. To subdue the worry for your love that you had and were experiencing, you and Nat had watched a movie, your head running with thoughts of the danger that your boyfriend was possibly under.

It was no doubt that James Buchanan Barnes, the White Wolf and former Winter Soldier was a fine fighter; he had endured and survived wars, achieving victory in the vast majority of his battles. But still, he was nothing more than a man, with a veil of serum coursing through his veins, and whilst it made him much stronger, he was still sustainable to injury, and worse.

Countless times had you seen him braised in bruises, and kissed along the seam of his scars, and though he had lived through decades, and still appeared unscathed considering the circumstances, he was a mortal man, able to die and it was far too clear for your scared eyes that he wouldn’t be able to survive every fall.

An emptiness peeled away inside of you as you placed the phone down, resting your head upon the arm of the sofa of where you had done so priorly. Taking a deep breath, you wheezed, feeling nothing more than internal pain, and it was not just for your longing to see Bucky again. It was indeed something else, a condition that you had grown used to over the years.

It had taken everything from you; the job that you had so well partook in was diminished to being unsuitable for your health. Being an avenger had once been your only purpose, but it had been the one thing that had broken you. From all the rubble and other pesticides that you had breathed in, it had tampered with your lungs, and made you to be nothing more than a victim, a fallen hero.

The worse thing about being fallen in such a way was that you had not died on the job, instead, you were being tormented every time you watched your friends leave the compound, carrying a duffel bag that had all the necessities that they could possibly need for the gruelling months ahead on the missions that they had been sent on.

Knowing that if you weren’t so inwardly broken and that if that were the case, you could have easily accompanied Bucky and the others on their uncover op made you feel worthless, and disposable. As your chest raked the air that surpassed its roots, it waded a feeling through every limb that was attached to you.

Large gulps from the air machine that was beside you usually helped, but as your brought the medically introverted oxygen mask to surround the lower half of your face, the torturous sensation failed to fade. It remained, stuck in the collapse of your airways, refusing to allow air into your defined bloodstream.

The factor alone had you panicking, and as you went to stand, there was a pounding fire coursing through your head. Your eyes got dreary, fluttering as you reached out to grasp for the side of the seating area to stabilise your steps. But it wasn’t enough, all of your weight leant to one side, and a loud and colossal smash echoed through the room.

You helplessly laid there, having no ability to get up, as the shards of the glass table that had tried to break your fall, and had ended up breaking instead, stabbed mercilessly into the canvas of your back. It made you feel like a dartboard, free to the attempts of anything that put a bet on to try. This was your final fall from greatness, and if you weren’t to survive this, that would be o-

“Y/n.” A voice rushed out, as footsteps scrambled to come to your side. The silouhette of a blurry man knelt beside you, sickened with their own scheme of panic. “Nat!” He called out towards the kitchen, you hearing the pitter patter of her assumed footsteps that were toed in competent heels.

“Clint, what happened?” She asked, but giving him a break to compose his answer as she called warily out for FRIDAY, relieved when the AI answered her order. “Get one of Stark’s cars ready to go to the hospital, inform who needs to know. Y/n’s just had a nasty fall, and I assume more.”

“She was like this when I got in here.” Was the archer’s delirious response. His hands raised your head out of the cracked pieces, gently picking the sharp crystals out of your hair. He was sick with worry, he knew that you were touring a difficult road, one that no one else on the team could fathom to understand, but despite all that, he was still there for you, as were the numerous others.

Wearing his priceless suit, Tony rushed into the room, his brown eyes blown wide as he scoped the scene. “She’s losing consciousness.” Nat informed the pair, focusing on how your eyes barely had the strength to stay open. Your breathing was laboured, and the choke emitting from it was audible, making all witnesses wince from the threatening sound.

“My car is ready, on our way to the ER, give Barnes a call.” He held the keys to his vehicle, swinging them around his finger, as he watched Clint and Natasha hoist you up, and support you through the journey to the front of the compound. Nat stroked your hair as she bit back her own tears, combing tenderly through the slightly bloody tresses to soothe her own present anxiety.

The mission was turning out to be a bust, they were tracking Zemo after his great escape; hence why their departure was classified. It was unknown why the once Baron of Sokovia had fled to the country, but all prior intel had supported the idea that he was searching for a partner to help finish his work, if he were to ever get caught by the American government again.

Bucky hated being away from the place that had slowly become his home. It made him feel lost, but if he wanted to remain within said area to continue his life, he had to follow Fury’s orders, or else the panel that had granted him freedom for all his past actions, may happen to change his mind.

The gig of being an avenger was more of Steve’s expertise, he was loved by the country, and had never tried to break its order down piece by piece. Before he was cleared to join the team, and the debate that lead to Steve and Tony siding against one another, he was nothing more than a tense ghost story.

All knew he was real, but most were too scared to admit that the Winter Solider was an assassinating figure in existence. To everyone’s dismay now, following rule number two, he was no longer HYDRA’s pet weapon. He, for the first time in his life, had some kind of clarity on who he was.

His identity, was James Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, the protector of the world and a renounced ally of Wakanda. And he was happy to be known as such, in a way, the new him cleared his red ledger, and that faded away with that damned red book.

No one had the power to control his mind again, all of his actions were now completely up to him. At first, with the reign over himself, he had been unsure on how to start with this new and invented soldier that he had become. He was no longer taking refuge behind the facade of T’Challa’s country anymore, for he was no a wanted man of the state.

But Sam enjoyed prodding at his ‘cyborg brain’, driving him to certain frustration. Though, it did not matter as much, for he found the peace he had been searching for after that little bit of calm that he had experienced on his hideaway.

You. A retired avenger, that had kicked his ass, and continued to brag about it to this day, when he was under Pierce’s demeaning orders. Though, it saddened him, to have the knowledge that you no longer had the ability to pin him down on a training mat, or throw his best friend’s shield in his silent face.

There was no longer an ignition of strength to fight left within you, you were weak from the condition that had and was holding you hostage in its devastating grasp. The debts of your god deeds had wormed their way through your body, destroying it bit by bit.

Whenever he was away, missing the presence that you had once accompanied him with, he was unable but to do anything but worry about your struggling health. He feared that one day, he would get a call claiming that you had experienced a traumatic accident, and as he sat in the small and cluttered motel room, the vibrancy and life that his phone was off putting had him nervously on edge.

“It’s Fury.” He claimed to his rugged partners, putting the man that had regained control of his empire on loud speaker, awaiting for the patch wearing associate to respond to his acceptance of the call. A moment of silence had him standing, the next, caused him to pace. Steve frowned, well aware that Fury only went silent, and did not barking affirmative orders when something had happened.

That man was an absolute whore for the dramatics, he had even faked his own death on multiple accounts. There was nothing the man could fathom not to do, and this sure as hell, in the name of Goose, was not the first instance he had informed his recruits of shocking factors. Steve remembered when the dark clothed man informed him that he was in the 21st century, and to this day, it remained to be the greatest shock that he had experienced.

The second had got to be the reveal of Bucky’s survival, that heart stopping moment had gone in slow motion, as the soldat whipped his unmasked face around to face his opponents, and he was quickly recognised. You had been there to ease the confusion and the humongous shock that wired his brain. And not to mention, to soothe the wave of emotions, you had prompted at jokes at about kicking his best friend’s fine ass.

That had only been the start to a long road ahead, it had all seemed like your quad of rebelling would go on forever. Sam Wilson was your best friend, and the first to be told of your failure to continue your raids on missions, and to say that he was holding back fountains in his eyes, was a casual understatement. The Falcon had felt angry at himself for not realising the increase in coughs that fled from your sassy mouth, or how quickly you would get tired.

He put some of that blame upon himself, claiming that he should have been the first to notice the signs. It was his idea, before your struggles were revealed to anyone else, to refuse your aid on missions, which lead to conspiracies from the team. For a couple of weeks, the members that you had fought alongside for so long had speculated that you were pregnant,and even Bucky had even began to fall for that idea.

In the end, they had all wished for that to be true, a child would be a gift, whereas instead, you were bestowed with a curse. Sam had offered for you to stay with Sarah and the kids, but upon your insistence, you remained in the compound, organising files and watching cinematic classics for the thousandth time.

But anyone could see, that every time they discussed the missions, of left to endure them, your face fell, appeased by the thought that you’d never share that experience again. They all tried to distract you, Thor had even taken you on a vacation to New Asgard so that you could relax and play video games with Korg, yelling frustratedly at Noobmaster69 as the kid tried to spite your friend and his gaming skills.

That though, had not ended well, and instead, the noise had brought you insufferable pain, and you had to be taken home. But what was home anymore? You hardly felt as though you belonged upon the army of your friends, or the guardians that they were aligned with.

And so, it was very understandable why Bucky was inclined to worry. All his dragged our life, he had watched people die, or awakened from cryo to find them gone, and the split moments that he were required on missions, was another moment that he had lost with you.

He gulped as he waited for Fury to say something, anything! And when he did, he wished that he could go back in time, and stop you from ever having been an avenger. “It’s agent Y/L/N, something has happened...”

It had been hours of no news, and Stark tapped his well dressed foot. He had requested, - no, insisted the best doctors to tend to your internal and external injury, claiming that if your condition was made any worse, he would personally make sure that they never tended to another patient again.

He was not usually one to be so aggressive, but he feared loss, it was a great flaw and attribute of his. Possibly, in some people’s judgemental eyes, he cared too much, but he never thought so. To him, the billionaire was human, no matter what the citizens over the world thought of him.

Sure, he wore an iron suit to protect the world, but beneath all the metal, he had a heart. And he’d be damned sure that he used it, and that it beat for a purpose. Natasha and Clint were either side of him, the assassins on her phone as she read the captain’s well written message.

“They’ve entered the country.” She spoke, referring to Sam, Bucky and Steve. It was a relief that they were going to be here soon, then they’d all look sane in comparison to Barnes. It was doubtful that he was holding himself together well, these hours had been torture to all of them, but he had actually been tortured in multiple gruelling occasions, but it was nothing in comparison to this.

One of the country’s best and devoted doctors opened the door to the room that you were being stabilised in, leading to all eyes waiting outside to stare hopefully at him. It was an intimidating thing, to have three avengers leaving him with one of their owns lives in his hands, he was not a hero. But to them, he was to be, they trusted him and the various recommendations that had suggested that he would be best suited to the deed.

The fact that he was the man in charge in this situation was to be great steak in his career, though, he would never be able to anyone, not even family, that he had saved the life of an avenger. Due to doctor patient confidentially, he was bribed into silence by the philanthropist himself, who was certain that he was fine for paying for the entire service himself.

Money had no importance to Tony, not as his friend was the patient that could have died. The man removed his sunglasses, sternly looking up at the kind doctor with pleading and urgent eyes, wanting to scoop every detail that he could from the eccentric medic. “How is she?”

The doctor gulped, well aware that there was a weight apparent on his shoulders, even when delivering any news. But this, was a whole new experience, he knew that you, the woman hoisted up in the hospital bed, had saved his coursing during the battle of New York. He was grateful, for everything that you had done, but simultaneously, felt the need to be careful with any tactic that he used to save your life.

“Well,” he licked his dry lips, watching as the Black Widow herself stared into his soul, “she’s stable, for now. And it would be okay if one of you went in, she’s currently in the midst of waking up. However, she is going to be unable to give much in the verse of a conversation, the oxygen mask that she’s wearing has to stay on, and it will not be a good if she tries to waste the breath she’s being given to talk.”

He was interrupted by the sound of competent running down the hall, it was as though the men dressed in their gear ignored the no running rule. But it was understandable, seeing as Bucky’s eyes were wild and wide, as he came to a stop and asked what was going on. Clint stood, bracing a hand upon his shoulder, before informing him the details they had just been given. “I think you should be the first to see her.”

Bucky didn’t argue with Clint, and instead, walked into the room, ensuring that he shut the door behind himself. He smiled painfully at the sight; there were so many tubes, and all the surrounding machines were lit up with statistics that he did not understand. Nevertheless, he looked towards the vacant seat beside your bed, and claimed it for his ass that you had once kicked.

Your eyes watched as he looked down upon you, your hands reaching to remove the mask, but he placed his hand upon your own, and replaced them to be upon your chest. “Shush darling, no talking, doctor’s orders.” He spoke, rubbing your cheek with his right hand, feeling the corner of the mask against the inside of his palm.

“Had me so worried doll, thought I was gonna lose you.” At the thought, a grimace presented itself of his woeful face, and to comfort him, you placed your fingers around his own, absentmindedly playing with them as you listened to his sincere voice. “On the way here, I spoke to Shuri, we are going to see if she can help you in anyway, as long as you’re okay with that. Does that sound good baby?”

Fluttering your eyelashes as you looked through their webbed curtain to stare lovingly at him, you nodded your head, ignoring the spiteful pains that emitted from where the glass had shallowly penetrated your scalp. “Alright, I’ll let her know. And I was thinking...” he waited for a moment to continue, being encouraged by the crease between his brow line.

“What if we stay in Wakanda, and we leave all this behind? We can still see people when they visit, and we can just, have some calm to ourselves. No missions, no aliens to fight, and no Zemo to chase. Or I was thinking, we go and live by Sarah, you love those kids, they’re basically your nephews, and we could take boat rides during the middle of the night, and help the people who live there, and...”

At his rambling, you smiled beneath the plastic system that was around your mouth, listening to him talk and talk about your future together. Yes, you missed missions, but you would give all that up for a normal and easy life, with Bucky Barnes.

[carnistcervine]

My Take- Ozai and Kuei Roleswap

Idea borrowed from the lovely @attackfish​

Aight, let's do dis.

Okay, I figure that I should probably at least preface this with some of my own beliefs about the whole nature vs nurture debate. Like, I think it's a mix honestly. You can have a very positive upbringing, surrounded by the most warm and loving of people and be a complete asshole. You can grow up in a terrible household surrounded by hateful people and become a very kind and generous person. But there is also truth and merit to the fact that abuse often happens in cycles, a father abuses a son, who becomes a father that abuses his son. Growing up surrounded by hate makes it harder to open up to others, and often leads to psychological issues that plague one for the rest of their life. You grow up to think that kindness is weakness and that weakness deserves punishment.

Personally, I think we all have an inherent nature that we're born with. Some are more naturally inclined to being bold and brash, some are more inclined to being soft and timid. This nature is like the base, the scaffolding that our personalities are built on. The environments we grow up in, the people we meet, they are all like clay that's added onto the scaffolding. They change the shape and overall look of the sculpture, but cannot change the bases of what lies beneath. And yes, with great effort, one can make vast changes as a person. We are not static beings. A person who's naturally timid can learn to be more confident, but being naturally timid makes it so much harder. There are things about ourselves that we cannot change, the scaffolding of our souls. Instead of changing it, we must learn to work with what we are given and shape ourselves from there.

Now, that only really applies to personality. When it comes to morality; nature, nurture, neither of those matter nearly as much as choice. Ultimately good and evil are choices. We /choose/ to do the right thing. We /choose/ to do what we know is wrong. I firmly do not believe that anyone is born good or evil. I do think that most people try to do what they think is right, there are people who do evil and carry evil intent. Genuinely evil people choose to be evil. People forced into terrible paths by circumstance may be bad people, but any person who would choose the right thing if given the ability is not evil. Again, I don't think evil is an inherent thing, it is a consequence of free will, some people simply choose to be evil.

-Prince Kuei is the second born son to Fire Lord Azulon and his wife Fire Lady Ilah.

-Kuei is a firebender like both of his parents, gifted with some of Agni's life like all the rest of the royal line.

-However, his fire is dim and weak, he is much more timid in nature than his bold older brother Iroh, stern father Azulon, and fierce mother Ilah.

-Some of the sages fear for his health, but physically he is perfectly healthy. And grows up into a fine young man.

-Agni's flame burns ferociously within him, but he fears it, rather embracing it.

-This leads to control issues, and a worsening fear of his own fire.

-Azulon simply ignores him in favor of his fiery older brother.

-While Kuei is sad to be ignored by his parents, he's also thankful for the load taken off his shoulders.

-Without the pressure of Azulon constantly leering over him, he's allowed to fallow in his bending and secretly suppress it.

-However, the personality of a firebender and the power of their flame are not one in the same. And while a strong personality can boost firebending power, a softer one will not dampen a flame. Only limit one's ability to use it.

-As Kuei ages, his inner fire will only grow stronger and hotter.

-And his avoidance of firebending quickly developed into a gradually worsening pyrophobia that further weakens his control of his bending.

-In the absence of a strong parental presence, Crown Prince Iroh looks out for the young Prince Kuei.

-He is warm and welcoming, where Azulon and Ilah are cold and imperious.

-The two grow to be very close, but Iroh is unable to ease Kuei's pyrophobia.

-Especially with Azulon's harsh and cold stance on Kuei's condition.

-To Azulon, and a lesser extant Ilah, Kuei is just a useless second born son who will likely never amount to anything. Better left to wither behind closed doors where he cannot embarrass the family.

-Kuei does eventually find love in the form of Ursa, and they have two kids, Zuko and Azula.

-Zuko is favored by his father, a tamer flame that Kuei can handle.

-However, Azula? He fears her. Plain and simple.

-She is a flame that burns too bright and too hot for him, he doesn't know what to do with her.

-She takes much more after her grandparents.

-She doesn't care for Ursa, and finds her father to be a spineless coward.

-Needless to say, Azula doesn't much care for Iroh either, but doesn't mention as much when she butters up grandfather.

-To Azulon and Ilah, Azula is what Kuei should have been.

-A strong and fierce firebender. A warrior of flame. Not a dim, flickering ember scared of it's own burning heat.

-There is a burning ambition in Azula's eyes. And in her mind, the weariness to be mindful a she carries it out.

-Lu Ten dies just like in canon, and Iroh is reduced to a broken and depressed man.

-Much how Iroh loved and doted on Kuei's son Zuko, Kuei loved and doted on Iroh's son Lu Ten.

-The news of his death crushes him.

-And somewhere deep in the darker corners of his mind, he thinks: if he had been bolder, tougher, meaner, this wouldn't have happened.

-Had Kuei been a ferocious warrior, a soldier fit to conquer, Ba Sing Se would have come down and Lu Ten would have come home alive and well.

-But instead, he is nothing more than a wilting flower sitting in the shadow of firebenders much more powerful and dutiful than he.

-The thoughts, they trouble him, they poison him.

-But he dare not share his turmoil with another soul.

-And you know how he’s slowly loosing control of his firebending? Well, someone will get burned.

-Badly.

-(Probably needless to say, but Kuei doesn't have it in him to assassinate Azulon, and he never bothers the old Fire Lord with any kind of ambitions, so Azulon never orders the death of his children meaning Ursa has no reason either)

-In the Earth Kingdom, deep within the orderly walls of Ba Sing Se, Prince Ozai is born an only child and heir to the earthen throne.

-Strong in both mind and body, he easily masters the element of earth. Only further cementing his place as rightful king of the Earth Kingdom.

-Long Feng is proud of his pupil, he showers him in praise, feeding his overfed ego.

-There is a terrible ambition alight in Ozai's eyes, but being first in line for the throne seems to satisfy it.

-On the surface at least.

-Long Feng sees to it that all of Ozai's wants and needs are met, he's spoiled rotten and acts accordingly.

-He is vain, and proud. Not that his pride is necessarily undeserved, he is also quite possibly the most powerful earthbender alive.

-With the rare ability to silence the earth itself, quelling even the most subtle of vibrations that travel through the ground.

-(And yes, I think that given the right upbringing Ozai could be an absurdly powerful earthbender. He could possibly be a master waterbender even, but he'd struggle with air no matter what, he's too arrogant. Too proud.)

-One of the things that King Ozai gets is an absurdly rare, magnificent, strange, and seemingly impossible creature... a lion. Not dragon lion, not lion turtle, not even bear lion. Just. Lion.

-He names the lion Brutus.

-Brutus is big and scary, but he's actually just a big softie who loves tummy rubs.

-In contrast to Ozai who looks like an ordinary man, but can and will make the earth itself swallow you whole.

-Learning from his mentor, Ozai figures out how to read and manipulate others.

-Long Feng teaches Ozai how to appear like a kind and reasonable ruler while still ruling with an iron fist.

-How to make others think that they want to do what you want them to do.

-Long Feng makes a great chessmaster out of Ozai, who's ambition blinds him to one important fact.

-As big and powerful as Ozai is, Long Feng has been doing this far longer.

-And as is whispered among the Dai Li, he is the King who gives the invitations.

-Maybe it is better this way, after all, a terrible beast of ambition lies behind Ozai's eyes. And an unstable world, ravaged by war, lies beyond the walls and beyond his knowledge.

[askmerriauthor]

Skyrim Civil War Quest Alternatives

Because @techmomma and @askdeserteagle made me start thinking about Skyrim again.

I really dislike what we got in the Civil War quest line.  Mind you, I know I’m not saying anything new here - Skyrim’s been out for ages and we’ve all heard the discussions about how little influence your choices have, and that it basically has no impact on the game world either way.  But I’d still like to consider some alternative outcomes that would’ve been fun to explore and would like to invite y’all to give some ideas as well.

So to start with, we of course have the main three:

Join the Stormcloaks Side with Ulfric and give everyone you don’t like the boot, keeping Skyrim for the Nords and ensuring their religious freedom no matter who they have to crush along the way.

Join the Empire Side with the Empire and rejoin the fractured region under a single banner in hopes of standing unified against the Thalmor, despite an uneasy and extremely questionable “truce” with said Thalmor.

Don’t Get Involved Ignore the Civil War questline entirely.  Go fight dragons, eat entire cheese wheels, ignore the sporadic pockets of conflict between warring factions, be awesome.

See, now the trouble with all these is that there isn’t really any in-depth exploration of the ideas, implications, and consequences that come of your choices as a player.  In terms of overall impact you basically just pick whichever side you like/doesn’t suck as much to your tastes and the end result basically equals out the same.  Skyrim as a whole doesn’t feel substantially different at the end of it all.  Not getting involved, on the other hand, is basically just ignoring game content and also doesn’t yield any impact either.  The Civil War is touted as being this major element of the game yet you can basically ignore it for extremely little difference.  I’d love to see there be notable changes to the setting, the behavior of NPCs, and the nature of Skyrim itself when you picked a side or if you chose to keep out of it and let things play out on their own.  That’s sort of a core flaw for the entire game though; even when you do something really major like assassinate the Emperor himself that should logically have sweeping consequences, nothing actually changes.

Other alternatives I’d like to see are as such:

Negotiate Peace It seemed like we were supposed to get something in this vein but that it got cut from the final production.  In the face of the Dragon threat, the Dovahkiin gets the opportunity to call a ceasefire and bring all the various factions literally to the negotiation table on neutral ground.  Along the way some sleuthing reveals Ulfric is an (unwitting?) asset of the Thalmor, but we never get a chance to present this information!  In the end the whole thing basically goes nowhere - even if you keep everyone civil at the table, it all evaporates as soon as Alduin is dealt with.

The idea of Ulfric being influenced by the Thalmor and said Thalmor intentionally driving the civil war in an effort to weaken the Empire further is just so packed with potential.  It could drive Ulfric to change his ways and rejoin the Empire after recognizing the true common foe or send him further into zealous rage, blaming the Empire for allowing the Thalmor to infiltrate in the first place.  The Empire could have a new angle with which to rally the fractured Holds of Skyrim as they’d have clear evidence the Thalmor had already broken the White-Gold Concordat, or even try to use the revealed connection via Ulfric to counter the Thalmor’s efforts.

Ultimately, the “good outcome” of all this would be to present a single unified Skyrim with all factions coming together, driving out the Thalmor, and setting things up for a big looming confrontation as a new war promises to come soon.

Salt the Earth The opposite scenario to the above.  Instead of negotiating peace, the player has the option to go “you all suck, time for mayhem” and just goes ham on everyone.  The Dovahkiin becomes Public Enemy #1 and destroys not only the leadership of either faction, but the Jarls who support either side as well.  Total upheaval of power in Skyrim.  Since the Thalmor themselves have no core presence in the region there’s no directly harming them, but there could always be the option to wipe out their embassies as much as possible.  Since the Thalmor had a vested interest in seeing the civil war go on for as long as possible, it becomes a question of whether putting a violent stop to it all was a good or bad thing for them.  On one hand, the people of Skyrim will inevitably replace their leadership with a new, potentially stronger/unified force or even potentially rally behind the Dovahkiin as its conqueror/savior.  On the other hand, the Dovahkiin striking such a massive blow against the region on their own makes for a delicious opportunity to conquer Skyrim, hindered only by the threat of said Dovahkiin themselves.  After all, if this lone warrior could crush several armies on their own, maybe it’s not such a good idea to cross them...

Join the Thalmor I personally consider the Stormcloaks to be the “bad guy route” in the story choice, but let’s go even further and make a “really, REALLY bad guy route”.  Whether the player character is a High Elf or simply a useful asset of another race, they have the option of joining the Thalmor and furthering the chaos that is already consuming Skyrim.  Instead of overt conflicts and assaulting bases like we see in the standard Stormcloak/Empire route, this would result in a more subtle approach of infiltration, subterfuge, and sabotage.  Basically if you liked the Embassy Party stealth mission, the whole quest chain would be more of that.  You play all sides against one another and watch them tear each other apart, perhaps with some extra bonus options if you’re aligned with any of the various stealth/knowledge-based factions/Daedric princes.

Join the Forsworn You know who the real sons of Skyrim are?  Well, it’s technically the Snow Elves, but that ship has sailed.  In this case it’s the Forsworn who were forced out of their land by the colonization of the invading Nords.  While the Dovahkiin gets to learn about the history of the Forsworn in some considerable detail throughout the game, there’s nothing to be done with that knowledge.  The Forsworn remain a permanently hostile enemy faction just because.  Let’s go with a secondary route of making friends with the Forsworn and getting them some/all of their land back, be it through negotiation or uprising.

The Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal Regardless of what route you choose, there should always be at least one opportunity (if not several, ideally) to go rogue and turn the whole thing on its head.  Usher one faction to the cusp of victory only to suddenly backstab its leader.  Spend all your time undermining one faction for the apparent aid of a second, only to nip off and betray them both to a third party.  You should always have the chance to just upend everything, especially in the most dramatic and potentially self-destructive manner possible, for the chance of being a total mastermind or chaos agent.

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 20

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Bureaucracy and bending thereof, dealing with trauma, feels, balancing trust, loads more. A/N: Thanks to all of you who like and especially reblog <3 The house-situation is taking a looooot of energy, especially when combined with my tendency to overthink the wrong things, but hey: Ontkruid vergaat niet. THE GIF IS TOTALLY UNRELATED BUT I LOVE IT!

20 - Not so Black ‘n White

The inlaid granite had felt hard under against the soles of your shoes, cold and grey and absolutely not helping with your nerves. When the stone had given way for carpet, that too had been dark in contrast to the naked walls coloured with some indeterminable off-white shade…at least there was a single palm tree in a much too small pot in the room you’d been led to, otherwise Natasha’s hair would have been the only bright colour in the room.

Your throat is dry, but you’re determined not to stop – if you do then you’ll never be able to start again. “It felt like-like an eternity even b’fore the threats and b-beatings and-d-and I messed up.” Tasha’s hand twitches. Want to hold my hand or kill Brock? “I tried to win time…peace…anything, by making up a story ‘cept i- he…” Your hand shakes so hard you spill some of the water from the crickly plastic cup which is empty before the dry knot in your throat has been washed away. “The point is…I can ermm identify and y’know…tes-…-tify…?”

The eyes boring into you are impossible to categorize in terms of colour, but you recognize the glimmer of pity before you have to look away. There’s been no show of emotions while you told of the life you and Brock had shared before things were brought out in the open, barely any frown as you explained how Hydra came and took you, but now…just a broken sentence hinting at your living nightmare.

I don’t want the pity. Everyone at the Compound walk as on eggshells around you, avoiding certain subjects as the let you decide the pace but there’s no pity just room to heal and grow stronger…what agent Ross radiates make you feel ruined all over again. No, worse than that. Guilt surges in the pit of your belly, pushing the shoulders up to your ears as if that could shield you from anything, when in reality nothing of what happened is your fault but the choice of a deranged man working on behalf of a genocidal organisation. Both of whom knows how to get where they want.

“Can I trust you, agent Ross?”

The simple question startles both him and Natasha, the latter sending you a warning look.

“I like to think that you can, yeah.” There’s a simple sort of honesty in his voice, matching the down-to-earth vibe you’ve been getting from him and which you know is one of the reasons your hero has agreed to co-operate to begin with. “We can do this off the books if you want?”

At least Tasha relaxes a little bit when you nod.

…

Whether or not she’s being protective or supportive, Natasha has moved closer to you. It doesn’t prevent Ross from leaning as far across the table as he can without getting his ass out the chair, and you’re secretly thankful for his short stature.

“That’s…either insane or improbable,” he breathes, fingers carting through the now messy hair, “but with all the shit happening the last years…oh fuck me!”

The exclamation isn’t a request or order but still makes you cringe inwardly. It’s Nat’s hands being squeezed so hard the blood flow is hampered and you’re grateful she’s here even if the assassin side of her is plotting ways to teach Ross to back down.

“Let me make this very, very clear,” she states subtly, “if any of this leaves the room without [Y/N]’s consent…”

A smirk dances at the corner of her lips only for you to see when the poor man blanches, his head probably full of all sorts of horrible options for his untimely demise.

“Understood!” A finger slips inside the tie in a futile attempt at loosening it slightly. “Hrm…perhaps we should continue this at another time?”

…   Romanoff   …

Not many people manage to surprise the former spy/assassin the way [Y/N] has today and she almost feels prouder than worried even now as she guides the car through the traffic. Next to her, the astounding woman is sitting with a foot on the seat, an elbow resting on the knee to further support her head. By now there must be dents under the chin from the knuckles because [Y/N] hasn’t moved since they got off the highway but merely been staring out the side window. Squinting at the faint reflection, Natasha can’t see the frown usually visible in times of serious pondering. What’s going on, babe? Talk to me. She’s about to ask for just that when [Y/N] breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry I told him what I can do anyways…” A few dust motes hover in the temporary silence. “Thing is that…that he does the same as you and the others? Which means that he doesn’t…he doesn’t…ask…” Breathing shakily, the girl looks back out the window. “None of you have been forcing me to tell anything. Not about what happened. Not about what I…see.”

Oh. “Ross didn’t either.”

“Nuh-uh.” There’s a small smile obscured by the shaking head. “Bro-Rumlow and…those…they kept pushing, forcing me to tell and it was never enough!”

Natasha knows the reason behind it. Hydra doesn’t have room for values such as personal freedom, individualism, moral, anything else but furthering their cause.

With someone that could potentially tell the future in their hands, they’d been sitting on a golden mine and of course they’d had to dig quick and deep to get as much of the valuables as possible before the treasure trove was whisked away. It didn’t matter to them that said treasure was a person and the mine was her mind.

Сукин сын! Through the sleepless nights and the countless days spent comforting the survivor, even nursing her back to a semblance of thriving, most of the horrors have been revealed although never in too great detail. What has never been said, Natasha has been able to fill in the blanks from simply because she’s seen that kind of world and she knows the messed up rules Hydra plays by. The only comfort in this mess is that Rumlow had never shared the spoils with anyone.

“Sweetheart, it’s your life and I don’t have the right to make the decisions for you,” Nat explains softly, “I promised I’d be by your side and that stands whether or not you want to share your intel with me…us…or not.”

A warm hand slips over on the Avenger’s thigh to give a little squeeze. “I know.” There’s that smile again. “And I appreciate all the room and trust you and the others show me…I really do.” The hands stays, thumb tracing light circles on the denim. “Besides…you’ll come to respect agent Ross in Berlin.”

Huh? No explanation follows, though, and Natasha decides to let the spy in her go unsatisfied and instead hope that [Y/N] will tell more in due time.

The rest of the way to the Tower, where Happy, Stark, and Pepper are waiting, the women chat about the hunt on the remaining Hydra cells.

…   Reader   …

Ever since getting to the safety of Stark and the Avengers the very first time, you’ve been keeping notes about the vision. At first it was short key words on your phone, but the last week it’s been full on recounts in a notebook covered with flappable sequins (navy blue one way and a sparkly rainbow-coloured mix the other), most of the contents naturally being older visions that you try to recall.

Rubbing your left temple in small circles the fingers on the other hand mindlessly trace patterns to break the monochrome surface. Nothing makes sense. You almost whish you were back to the old days where the pain-inducing dreams seemed like nothing more than just freak coincidences and a lively imagination…but then you’d still be with Brock and that’s one nightmare you’d give anything to be without. I thought I loved him…a sour taste echoes in the back of your mouth, the barely visible scars itch. He thinks he still does.

The disconcerting thoughts are broken by the sound of approaching footsteps which can only belong to Happy. He rarely makes it up to the domestic floors of the Tower so when he does, he makes sure to pop by wherever you’re hanging out, brightening your day with one of his full-face smiles.

“Heya!” He allows a box to drop onto the couch so he can stretch a bit. “How’s it going, tiger?”

Meh. “Okay…trying to make sense of my life and shit, y’know?” It’s nice not to have to explain for Happy to get it. The man is empathy incarnate and the nod encompasses that. “Watcha got there?”

As if partially surprised at the box still resting  on the soft seat and somewhat chuffed that he knows something you don’t, Happy pats the cardboard lovingly. “Oh…just a little somethin’ somethin’ mister Stark has asked me t’get him…” Shifty eyes, then he leans closer to whisper: “You’ll see eventually.”

“So secretive, my dear sir!”

“Ay, never betray the trust o’ som’one ye care ‘bout, little girl,” he hums in a horrible pirate voice, “’specially not if they’re a super’ero or assassin or whatnot, if ye get mah drift.”

A slight cough behind Happy makes the poor man blanche. “Wise words coming from a man who’s decided not to go straight to their boss who just happens to be such a hero.”

Even with a sickly green smoothie in hand and an old band t-shirt, Tony Stark’s presence takes over the room. Not in an uncomfortable way, there’s just no denying the imposing alpha-male-thing he’s got going. It makes your toes curl and thighs itch with the need to get away and find Natasha.

[cthulhubert]

Thoughts, not even a review, of Terra Ignota

recently finished Will to Battle.

(Book 3 of Terra Ignota, preceded by Too Like the Lightning and Seven Surrenders. The sequel and finale, Perhaps the Stars, is expected in 2021.)

So I wanted to post some thoughts, not even a review, really.

The take away is that despite many of its major, fundamental features leaving me cold or even actively repulsing me, I overall very much enjoyed reading it.

This is perhaps a higher recommendation than unalloyed praise. The more I like something, the more I complain. For one thing, it's a kind of eustress: the perfect thing has no flaws to catch interest; for another, if I just plain dislike something, I wouldn't spare much thought on it to begin with, much less linearize so many of them into words.

So my mostly negative venting (consisting of immediate and thorough spoilers) beneath the cut

So right off the bat: I HATE the genius serial killer trope; and I detest SFF trolley problem analogs.

I was so irritated by the one-two punch of these big reveals in the first book that I actually let my hold on Seven Surrenders and read several other books in the interim. (I knew I'd be back though, I put a new one on both 2 and 3 next.)

Mycroft Canner... one who believes themself "free" merely because they can kill. It reminds me of something that's stuck in my mind for a long time: a guy calling other peoples cucks because they used alarm clocks to wake up. "I can't believe you let a machine boss you around."

Because I otherwise liked the writing so much, I kept trying to dredge up another layer of meaning to the treatment of Mycroft as torturer-rapist-murderer. For instance: "Oh, so many people around him being sympathetic and liking him is actually the narrative sneakily reminding us that the core trait of serial killers like this is a manipulative personality, which his savant abilities would only feed." Carlyle Foster even brings this up specifically in the scene where we first learn the specifics of Canner's crimes, but of course, their portrayal in that scene (which, reminder, is literally by Mycroft) is of one hysterical and unreasonable.

Palmer did achieve one of most author's highest goals in emotionally transporting me to one of their scenes, but it just really made me wish I was in Carlyle's shoes. To react with, rather than panic, the cold disdain merited by a creature so broken it is wrong about the ways in which it is broken. To spit on them and denigrate their feelings of uniqueness and specialness, arising both from the murders and from their oh so pitiable martyrdom and servitude now. "If only we could mercifully lobotomize away your personality and still use the savanthood modules so unfortunately stapled to them."

Mycroft: "Everybody seems to have one murder they thought was the worst. I thought yours would be []" Me instead of Carlyle, snidely: "Is that a fun game for you, that speculation?"

(In another scene, the Major's sympathy to Mycroft and Saladin as "fellow killers" somewhat raised my hackles; my experience is military people expressing exaggerated disgust for "civilian" killers, perhaps as a way of mental separation between their acts. Though the revelation that the Major is Achilles, with an ancient's attitudes, perhaps ameliorates this.)

As for OS... if you've invented prophecy, there will be heaps upon myriads upon multitudes of miraculous ways to reshape the world before you reach a best value intervention of cold-blooded murder. I was, at least, amused by considering the linear combination of this limitation between the author and the characters. Palmer was quite clever in making sure that the mystical demographic math must be facilitated by humans (and the very odd set-set humans at that).

I admit I hold this philosophy a bit more strongly than my time investment in the fields merit, but I see it this way:

In physics, infinite, friction-less planes in perfect vacuums occupied by inelastic, spherical cows are a useful tool. They approximate things that are theoretically possible, absent the various extra forces.

In ethics, and in any system that is so truly complex, everything you remove makes for a completely different system. None of the elements are basically orthogonal to the circumstances the way air resistance is to a bullet.

These philosophical sorts of thought experiments are, at best, emotional exercises. They are not simplified tools to build a foundation for more complex issues, they're figments born of the phantasmal conditions possible only in the interior of the brain, and too much work with them will only foul both logic and intuition with garbage data.

As for what merely fell flat:

While I deeply enjoyed so much of the speculation about cultural changes brought about by technology, and travel technology specifically, the "no proselytizing" law felt quite forced. I can definitely believe such a law would be passed after the Church Wars described, but holding so strong for centuries?

There are all kinds of supernatural thoughts and beliefs people accept, and there simply isn't a neat threshold between those and religion. Even in the counterfactual world where there was one, it would be quite concealed by the sophistry that's metastasized through the entire discussion space around it.

I can think of a dozen questions off the top of my head that they'd have to decide. And while flipping a coin or an attempt at a definitional framework could answer them, it couldn't do it in a way that's strong enough to stand the test of time. Imagine Laurel/Yanny, the Dress, or if a hot dog is a sandwich, but with material-security level of investment in them!

I'm areligious (to put it... mildly) but for personal, psychosocial reasons, when I sit down to eat I spend a moment in mindful gratitude towards the plants and animals that gave their life for mine. Is that religious? Are ghost hunter shows illegal because they're proselytory for any animistic religion? Would acupuncturists be able to work, or is that a daoist superstition? Could my neighbor's still paint the ceiling of their porch haint blue? Are scientists allowed to register trials for psychic powers? Can schools teach the arguments for dualism?

That doesn't even get into the subjects that, in real life, yank out all the stops on linguistic-conceptual inventiveness! Europe has had a pestilential outbreak of sophistry around head scarves! Would the Alliance ban them for being religious garb? If so, would they ban clothing that covers the ankles as Calvinist religious garb? Or that covers the nipples? (Oh wait, showing the nipples is of significance in some religions! can't allow that!) Should they ban clothing that contains unmixed fibers for being a religious display!? They don't seem to do any of these things, but that's just as much a choice about the First Law as doing so.

Someone proposes personhood begins at conception; I claim that this is fundamentally a supernaturalist belief. Is one of us in violation of the first law? If a hive outlaws birth control, how are they investigated for whether this is a cultural or religious condition? What happens when, I dunno, a Cousin run campus has somebody that wants to put Intelligent Design in the biology textbooks? Most people (well including the people pushing it) know that it's religion wrapped in plausibly deniable words. So is that proselytizing, or is someone pointing it out proselytizing atheism?

Speaking of, there's a pretty good correlation of peace and prosperity with movement to non-religioun. It honestly doesn't seem like sensayers should have much work.

But we meet Bridger and his miracles right at the beginning of the book, before we know a thing about the Church Wars etc. And it's obviously a central tension of the story, intended to be coequal with the brewing war, and yet it quite failed to rouse my interest. The book would've been stronger without it.

Perhaps this *is* just a me thing, since my mind has held miraculous intervention as a solved problem for most of my life. If I were convinced of an event's miraculous character, the most parsimonious explanation is in the vein of, "We're in a simulation that's only been running for a week or so, either as a game or as an experiment, and now we're running under different rules than the ones our (artificial) memories imply." The probability of that happening is too low to waste time processing any other ramifications or possibilities ahead of time.

There is another, related layer of enjoyable consideration, which is of course the reliability of the narrator and his evidence. In Will to Battle, our author is revealed as explicitly delusional, suffering regular, presumably PTSD (and/or anti-sleep drug) related hallucinations. I wish I'd had the patience to do a very close read, or to do a second read—especially given the revelation that 9A edited some of the delusions out of the first two books. Diegetic skepticism is a regular part of the narrative. And there are lots of "rhymes" in the text to mundane circumstances. We're told Bridger looks like Apollo and Seine, and shown the artificial, parentless children, Ganymede and Danaë (crafted to be such a degree of hyperstimulus that among other things, Ganymede has an entire school of art dedicated to him). We're shown that perceptions are malleable, with Thisbe's "witchcraft" and Cato's magician like showmanship. We're constantly exposed to griffincloth and know that just its presence at JEDD's assassination spread skepticism. We're told that scientists proclaim Achilles to have Ancient Greek DNA and an adult's bone structure, but we're also constantly shown an incredible variety of artificial animals and related wonders, and told Apollo was a great scientist.

And yet, over and over the narrative rebukes skepticism. 9A endorses most of what Mycroft has written, and if we go so far as considering them (along with, eg, the officialese headings and warnings) as Mycroft's delusions too, we're at the point where we have to step back so far that the unreliable narrator is actually this "Ada Palmer" character, who is writing about things that don't exist in a year we haven't reached yet!

I was bothered that nobody who learned about it seemed ready to express the proper amount of disgust at the extra-incestuous politics of the world leaders, and honestly find it simply hard to accept that their consortium worked so altruistically.

Finally, ultimately, the central themes of the novel, about peace and war and complacency seem awfully poorly considered for the current era, where voting age children have never known a world without an official war, and the just grown generation is the first since the industrial revolution to be poorer and less healthy and more stressed than their parents. Not just this novel, but the world in general seems to be sorely missing the concept of the important qualitative differences between distress and eustress.

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Redemption – Chapter Two

Chapter One

Summary: Your life as an assassin for the mob has always been an easy one – find the target, kill the target. Simple. Everything changes when you fail to kill your new target – Bucky Barnes. 

Pairing: Eventually, Bucky x fem!reader 

Warnings: Violence and sass lmao

Words: 2400

A/n: Okay, I posted Ch.1 of this fic a while ago, I don’t really know what I’m doing with it, if it gets a good response I’ll continue, if it doesn’t I’ll pretend it never happened. Lmao, okay pls enjoy.

C H A P T E R  T W O

‘Life asked death,

“Why do people love me, and hate you?”

Death responded,

“Because you are a beautiful lie,

And I am the painful truth.”’

Recap:

You let your head fall back against the side of the dumpster, unable to care about how disgusting this situation was. You sighed to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to try and stop the tears that were brimming in your eyes. You clenched your jaw in determination, fingers brushing over the gun in your jacket.

The King killed your brother. It’s about time he lost his crown.

You were not ashamed to admit that you had a power nap in that dumpster – a quick pick-me-up for your aching legs and bruised body. It’s not like you had anywhere else you could go. By now, your apartment would be swarming with goons, waiting to see any sign of their King’s beloved assassin. Any place you frequented would be compromised. It seemed this dumpster was the only safe place in the world right now.

You groaned quietly to yourself, gripping the metal edge and pulling yourself up, flinging a leg over the side and allowing yourself to topple out, landing in a crouched position.

The sun was beginning to rise, hiding behind the city buildings and sending streams of pink and orange light through the morning air. You brushed off your leather jacket as best you could, sliding your hand under it to press to what you were pretty sure was a broken rib or two, and beginning a slow walk towards the Avengers tower.

He wanted to kill the Avengers. He knew he would never have control, never have his ‘perfect’ city if the heroes were still around. He wanted them dead and you wanted him dead. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

You got a few strange looks from passers-by as you stumbled towards the tower, though most of them brushed it off, deciding that you were probably homeless and an addict. You kept your head down, and as you walked, some of the pain began to fade, making the limping far less noticeable and allowing you to stand up straight.

The sun hid behind the giant tower – a dark shadowy silhouette in the morning sun. The city was starting to wake up around it, men and women in suits emerging onto the streets, coffee shop lines growing as assistants checked their watches and attempted to steady their pulses.

You slipped into the lobby, trying to imitate the confident strides of the other people who entered. Hopefully, no one would notice the blood on your face and the yellowing bruises splattered across your skin.

“Hi.” You watched as the woman at the front desk gulped down her coffee before turning to face you, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Can- Can I help you?”

“I need to speak to Tony Stark.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark doesn’t deal with people directly – can I put yo-”

“Listen to me. I need to speak to Stark.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I can’t-”

“Look, I’m gonna take a stab and guess that the camera right there,” you pointed at a security camera behind the desk, “runs facial recognition on everyone that walks in and out of this building. If you look at your computer you’ll find a file on me – Y/n Y/l/n.”

You watched as she typed some things into the computer, her eyes widening as she read the file.

“Thought that might be the case.” You shot her a faux smile, “So, if you could pick up that phone, and get me Tony Stark.”

You knew she was probably scared of you now – the information about your ‘career’ could be quite intimidating. You also knew she could easily call the cops instead – but why do that when the Avengers were in the building?

Moments later, you found yourself in a sparse office, high-tech handcuffs secured around your wrists as you waited for Tony Stark to come and talk to you. The cool, metal of the chair slowly adjusted to your body temperature as time slowly trickled by. You stared blankly down at the cuffs connecting your wrists.

The past 20 minutes had been nothing but sitting, fiddling and waiting for someone –– an avenger or agent –– to come to interrogate you. You woefully reminisced on the past few years; the experiments, the torture, the killing. You couldn’t help the disgusted grimace that broke through your neutral expression. You vehemently hated the mob for single-handedly ruining yours and your brother’s life. But there was no one that you despised more than yourself, not even the King of that damned elitist gang. It was your own fault for ever getting involved, and most importantly, you got your own brother killed because of it.

“Andy…” His name just slipped out of your mouth. It was quiet and despondent, and completely contradicted your now stone-cold features. He’s gone, dead, because of you. You killed him. You were still having trouble believing, the scene flashing through your mind repetitively, sending your brain into overdrive. Every possibility, every opportunity you had to save him. If you’d been a little stronger, a little faster, a little better, like you were supposed to be – he’d still be alive.

You slammed your fists onto the metal table, a solid indent was produced on impact and you were sure you broke a couple of fingers, maybe your wrist. You didn’t care; you deserved it, and so much more. You slowly released a breath, stretching your fingers out. You had definitely broken something. A few minutes later, someone finally came in.

Steve Rogers – Captain America was suddenly striding into the room, his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger and confusion as he assessed you. He glanced briefly at the dent in the table and his eyebrows pulled even closer together.

“Warm welcome,” you mumbled, lifting your connected wrists.

“You’re a criminal.” He crossed his arms over his chest and you scoffed quietly at his words, looking back down at your hands.

The door opened again, and Tony Stark stepped in, adjusting the blazer he was wearing over a graphic tee. He gave you a look-over before pulling out a chair from across the table and looking at you curiously.

“Alright, what’s your deal?” He asked, obviously intrigued. “You don’t look like much of a murderer”

“That seems sexist – and I prefer the term assassin” you quirked a brow, daring him to disagree.

“Well I prefer the term ‘smartest avenger’ but it isn’t catching on,” he sassed. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t recall a question.”

“What’s. your. Deal?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” you leaned across the table, mimicking his position.

“Cut the bull crap.” Steve finally interrupted the exchange. “Why are you here?”

You let out a breath of air and turned your head to look at the blonde. You stared at his chest for a moment, trying to think of a way to phrase this. Your eyes shifted up to his, looking earnestly into the bright blue – you knew what you were about to say was absurd, but you needed him to believe you. You let out another sigh, before blurting it out. “Someone’s trying to kill you.”

“That’s ominous” Tony’s voice broke the short silence that followed your statement, refusing to take you seriously. “What’s new?”

“What, and you came to warn us?” Steve was leaning forwards now, his arms uncrossed and resting on the table. His voice was still filled with disbelief, but something told you he would be easy to convince.

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll humour you,” Tony mumbled, leaning back in his chair and raising a perfect brow. “Who?”

You shook your head slightly at his indifference, continuing to talk despite it. “The man I used to work for – guy calls himself ‘The King’”

“That seems pretentious,” Tony interrupted, a smirk on his lips.

“Almost as pretentious as ‘the smartest avenger,” you snapped, glaring over at him. His smirk only seemed to widen.

“Continue the story.” Steve was getting impatient, obviously done with the banter, so you turned your attention back to him, ignoring Stark’s presence for the moment.

“He’s a powerful guy – addicted to control and perfection. He runs all the crime in New York.”

“Why haven’t we heard of him?”

“Like I said, he’s powerful – good at his job and a goddamn perfectionist. He stays under the radar, frames other people, doesn’t go into the public unless he has to.” You looked down at your hands, noticing the mild shake as you spoke. You pressed them down onto the table, wincing slightly when the cuffs pressed against your wrists.“He wants complete control – wants to run this whole goddamn city.” you stopped, shaking your head lightly and leaning back into your chair. “He can’t to that with you guys around.”

“Why should we believe you?”

“Because I want him gone.”

“Why’s that?” Tony finally seemed intrigued. He ran his fingers across the stubble on his jaw, watching you carefully.

“Why do you think? Look at me.” you gestured to your beaten body with your still-cuffed hands. “Who do you think did all this?”

“What did you do to piss him off?”

“I didn’t kill Bucky Barnes.”

Steve perked up at that, his curiosity sparking as a scoff escaped his lips. “You’re the girl – the one that attacked him yesterday.”

“Technically he attacked me”

“Yeah, you were pointing a gun at his head.”

“Wasn’t going to pull the trigger.”

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated to answer, opening your mouth to respond just as Tony interrupted. “What’s this guy’s real name?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’ve worked for him for 10 years and I’ve never heard anyone call him anything other than ‘The King.”

“You seem to really hate this guy – why work for him for 10 years?”

“I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t have a choice?”

You opened your mouth with the intention to snap back some sassy remark, but the door burst open behind you and you were suddenly defying gravity, being thrown against the back wall. All the air escaped your lungs on impact and you coughed, trying to gain back some oxygen.

Your hands, still cuffed, came up to hold onto something, but all that was there was another person’s arms. You held on tightly.

Finally, you lifted your head, finding the eyes of Bucky Barnes.

It was safe to assume he held grudges.

“It’s good to see you again,” you rasped, still trying to bring enough oxygen in through his tight grip. “I have to say, this is almost as pleasant as our first meeting.”

His eyes narrowed and he pressed his forearm harder against your collarbones – at this point, you thought he might be intending to break them. “I should’ve finished the job,” he grumbled.

“You’re not the only person who’s tried to kill me in the last 24 hours – I like to think I’m pretty tough.” Your cuffed hands clawed slightly at his flesh arm, trying to gain some leverage.

Steve was standing up, still behind the table and asking Bucky to let you go. He was ignoring him.

“How’d she get in?” he asked, still staring straight at you. It seemed as though he didn’t want to let you out of his sight.

“I walked in through the front door,” you hissed, looking around the room, attempting to find a way to escape his death-grip.

“Shut up.” He turned away slightly to look back at the two men. “Steve?”

“She walked in through the front door, Buck,” Steve sighed, walking around the table and putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

You could feel your heartbeat speeding up, the fear of suffocation creeping in behind your passiveness. Your mind was moving too quickly –– confusing itself –– you needed to slow down. You needed to breathe.

“Are you kidding me? She tried to kill me 24 hours ag-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you had found your leverage. You pushed his chest back as your foot came up, connecting with his kneecap. His grip loosened and you fell from where he was holding you up on the wall, taking a few quick steps away from him.

“Stop- stop, Barnes,” you held your hands up in surrender as he took a step towards you. “You know I had a good shot. You know I could’ve killed you long before you spotted me.” You backed up further, basically pressing yourself against the opposite wall, “Think about it,” you hissed.

He stopped, eyes still narrowed as he glared at you, Tony and Steve apparently happy to stay silent throughout this exchange.

“We have similar training, you know if I was going to kill you, you’d be dead.”

“So why didn’t you?” he seethed.

“Changed my mind,” you hissed back, still holding your cuffed arms in front of you. “And now I’m here to try and fucking save your cute little team, so if you could refrain from killing me, for two goddamn seconds, maybe your friends can fill you in.”

You stared, wide-eyed at Steve and Tony, rolling your eyes at the smirk that seemed to be permanently attached to Stark’s face.

“How about we fill everyone in?” He suggested, glancing from Steve to Bucky and then back to you. “Team meeting?”

Steve assessed you – your position of surrender across the room, the bruising that still covered your body.

“FRIDAY? Tell the team to meet in conference room 3A. Urgent.”

Bucky looked back at Steve, assessing his direction before finally taking his eyes off you. You took a shaky breath and brushed off the front of your blood-stained leather jacket.

“I don’t trust it,” he mumbled.

“I’m not an ‘it’”

“Let’s let the team decide,” Steve attempted to bargain.

“Ah, some healthy codependency, great,” you mumbled, unable to stop the remark from leaving your lips.

“You should really stop talking.” Steve raised a brow at your constant sassiness. “Bucky keep an eye on her”

When you were close enough, Bucky’s metal arm reached out, clamping tightly around your forearm. You looked down at the shining fingers and raised your brows.

“He said to keep an eye on me, not a bionic limb”

“Yeah, well, if we were listening to what he said, you would’ve stopped talking”

“Touché.”

TAGS:

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@pandalandalopalis

[hellieheat]

Humanity’s strongest soldier. The newspaper Kenny held in his hand displayed this headline proudly, causing him to roll his eyes. The brat was everywhere these days.

When Kenny was first told the story of the street urchin who escaped the underground by joining the Survey Corps only to become the savior of the last living world, he had to fight back the urge to choke. That, coupled with overhearing conversations depicting the “hero of humanity” standing tall and fearsome, made him laugh out loud, knowing these stories to be falsehoods bred by over-idealized caricatures of who this man really was: Levi. “Captain” Levi, he corrected himself with a grimace. It wouldn’t have irritated him quite as much had he not known the Captain for what he was – had he not raised that brat himself.

“Hmph,” the growl that escaped his lips pulled his face into a sardonic smirk. He dropped the newspaper and stamped it into the puddle under his feet. “Captain.” He rolled his eyes so heavily he was sure they might roll back into his skull and therewith in, get stuck forever.

He felt slightly guilty for how exasperated he felt – it wasn’t like him to let that little shit get under his skin. He had long since left Levi behind in the underground, never to look back. Kenny had known full well that the runt could take care of himself. But to fool the world into thinking he was a hero – that pissed Kenny off.

He had seen the turmoil and disease that had surrounded that hovel in which Levi had been born and raised. Had watched that tiny boy grow into a less tiny adolescent and had even been so gracious as to assure Levi’s survival through teachings, trainings and a good beating or two. But once an underground rat, always an underground rat. Kenny knew this better than anyone. You didn’t see Kenny the Ripper trying to pretend he was some kind of savior. That wasn’t a life for which he could ever attempt to strive.

Despite himself, Kenny felt curious. What was it that could possibly have attracted Levi to that pretentious life of a pampered pet for the Scout Regiment? To put his life on the line to defend the masses that would so easily turn on him?The Levi Kenny knew was selfish, conniving and determined to survive. So what had changed? What possible reason could he have for throwing aside his resolve to survive in exchange for pathetic ideals of a world without titans? Kenny thought he had taught him better.

“Did you hear, that Captain Levi took down 10 titans on his own during the last mission?” A woman’s brash voice cut through his quiet ponderings, setting his body aflame with annoyance. For the most horrific of brief moments, Kenny actually thought she was speaking to him. His eyes narrowed into slits as he turned to face her, only to hear her counterpart’s laughing response.

“He’s transforming that Survey Corps isn’t he? No wonder Commander Smith has been keeping him close.” Kenny’s ears perked up that. Commander Erwin Smith. He had heard a good deal about him. The nobles were both perturbed by and enamored of him. He was an enigma in and of himself. That made a little more sense Kenny. Levi was always looking for someone to cling to – someone stronger than himself. He had clung to Kenny. Of course, if given the change, he would cling to another man of power like the barnacle he was.

“I heard Commander Smith found him in the gutters of the underground. Saved his life. And the Captain is so thankful, he hardly leaves the Commander’s side.”

“Tsk,” Kenny’s ponderings were confirmed. The little runt was clinging to Smith for dear life. The commander would probably be glad to get rid of the slug. Amid their drab ramblings, Kenny turned away, sickened by their blathering. He’d heard enough about “Captain Levi” for one day.Besides, he had more important tasks at hand.

The marketplace in Stonehess in which Kenny was perusing was bustling today. Kenny was not one for the crowded commotion of the common people. Though he had been sent to the market on a “mission” for his noble liege, he felt stuffy and uncomfortable, burdened by these average people and their average lives. The problems of the paupers were not worth the discomfort he was being caused by this little assassination mission. As he moved around two stocky men bartering over the cost of corn, he wondered if the famous “Captain Levi” ever had to perform these sorts of ridiculous feats for those pompous pigs he was now serving. Somehow he doubted it. And that pissed Kenny off even more.

One thing Kenny was good at – killing people. He was good at it and he enjoyed it. He wondered if the swine who now kept Levi under their thumbs truly knew what kind of monster they had tamed. He imagined, due to the fame Levi had earned himself from slaying those ugly giants, that they had to have some sort of idea. But to what extent? Did they know the Levi Kenny knew? The one who had fought, cheated, lied and even killed other human beings to survive? Kenny scoffed. Again, he doubted it.

The assassination was just about as easy as he assumed it would be. Killing family men who knew too much was never much of a challenge. It lacked sport. Though he did have to wait until cover of nightfall to sneak into the home – waiting around was the hardest part. Kenny was a man of action.

He didn’t love killing kids though.

His mission had been to kill the father only – but not to hold back should someone else become aware of his presence. They were on Rod’s shit list anyway. What was one less mouth to feed in a cruel world in which they weren’t wanted anyway. Kenny had learned long ago to bypass empathy with pragmatism. The girl had been asleep on the floor in her parents’ room. She had seen too much. He had made sure her death was quick and painless. Nevertheless, it had been sloppier a job than Kenny would have preferred.

As he dried the blood off his hands with his kerchief and climbed out the window through which he had entered, he sighed. His mind was back on Levi again. “God dammit,” he muttered under his breath. Ever since seeing Levi’s name in that paper, the brat had occupied nearly all of his mindless thoughts. The irony of his situation was not lost on him. The day Kenny had met Levi, it would have been just as easy to kill him as it would have been to simply leave him there and never look back. But instead, Kenny had decided to give this cruel world another mouth to feed, another monster to hide in hero’s clothes.Kenny never had loved killing kids. He had not made that mistake since. Silently, Kenny slipped away into the night – mind set, teeth gritted. It was time to go visit his mistake.

Kenny knew where the Scout Headquarters were located though he had never personally visited. Why would he? It stank of idealism and broken dreams. It was, in his opinion, the place where heroes went to die. All except Captain Levi, the man no titan could kill. No titan but me, Kenny thought and smirked. The long black coat he was wearing obscured his form, allowed him to blend himself into his surroundings. He needed to be careful. If he knew Levi, the little man would surely be on high alert at all times, wholly aware of his surroundings and waiting for an attack. It was a mindset created by life in the underground. And a childhood with Kenny the Ripper.

As Kenny approached the compound, he saw candle light burning in the stables – heard voices. Two voices to be exact – a conversation. As he neared the doorway, his heart froze in his chest. That voice. He knew it right away. Though he had never known Levi as an adult, Kenny knew he was listening to Levi’s voice. Levi’s words. He paused in his tracks, paralyzed, afraid he might not be able to move any closer. In that moment, all hatred and disdain for that brat melted away, replaced only by an abject fear. Fear that seeing Levi might break him.

A rush of anger shot through him like a lightning bolt, bringing him back to reality. He was Kenny the Ripper. He was in control of this situation. Pure rage flooded his mind replacing any sentimentality that had pervaded unwillingly. He moved closer and peered through the stable window.

The wings of freedom suited him. Painted on his back like they should have always been there. The uniform suited his small form, though it was mostly obscured by the dark green of the cloak that hung across his shoulders. Levi’s back was to Kenny, most of his attention held by the sleek brown horse through whose mane he was running a brush.

Kenny did not notice the other man until he spoke. His voice was deep and imposing. It didn’t take Kenny more than a moment to realize he was hearing the voice of Commander Erwin Smith himself.

“Levi – it’s for the Corps. If nothing else, your presence will intrigue the nobles into funding our next –“

“My presence there will only cost the Corps more funding, Erwin. Those fuckers are expecting Humanity’s Strongest. That person does not exist.” Kenny smirked hearing Levi’s response, the growl in his voice. He leaned in closer.

“I disagree.” The Commander was leaning back against the corner of the stable, mere feet away from Levi. His posture conveyed a quiet ease. The anger in Levi’s voice did not seem to concern him. Slowly, deliberately, the Commander pushed himself off the wall and moved closer. Kenny wasn’t sure, but he thought he sensed some hesitance. Like watching a man approach a rabid dog, unsure of the dog’s intentions, afraid it may lash out at any moment.

“Tsk.” Levi rolled his eyes and Kenny recognized himself in that expression.

“Levi,” the Commander’s voice was stern but soft. “What are you afraid of?”

Levi’s eyes snapped to his superior’s face. “Afraid of? What makes you think I’m afraid of those pompous, arrogant pigs? I couldn’t be less afraid.”

“That’s not what I asked. I would never be so foolish as to think any human being could frighten you.�� The smirk that crossed Commander Erwin’s face angered Kenny. He wasn’t sure why. “I was merely wondering if there was some other reason you were so against going.”

Going. Going where? Now Kenny was interested.

“I thought for someone as intelligent as you it should be obvious.” Levi’s drawling, sarcastic tone made Kenny’s heart flutter. He almost laughed aloud. The kid had turned into a shorter version of himself. “I don’t want to be anywhere near those self-important bastards. All they want is a show – they want a parade. They want to see the Survey Corps humble itself in front of them – beg at their feet. It’s a disgrace. I want no part of it.” He paused, eyes turned away from the other man’s face. Then, quieter, “Besides, if I lost my temper, we could lose all chance of funding.”

The commander laughed out loud, causing Levi’s eyes to shoot straight back up. “What?” the Captain growled.

Commander Erwin lit up in a broad smile. Kenny wanted to punch his handsome, symmetrical face. “So that’s it then? You’re worried about embarrassing the Corps?”

Kenny saw Levi’s eyes narrow as he watched the Commander’s face.

Commander Erwin placed a gentle hand on Levi’s shoulder. “That won’t happen,” the Commander said. “There’s not a single person I would trust more with this.”

“Then you’re a fool.” Levi’s eyes were cold. But Kenny noticed that he did not flinch away from the Commander’s touch.

“Perhaps so.” Kenny was surprised by the softness in the Commander’s tone. It made his skin crawl. “But I trust you, Levi.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Levi recoiled from his grasp. Commander Erwin let his arm fall limply to his side. He leaned against the stall nearest Levi. “What makes you think I’m worthy of that trust? It’s misplaced.” Did Kenny detect a hint of longing in that voice he recognized so well? A hint of desire to belong, to be trusted? It didn’t suit Levi. And it surprised the hell out of Kenny to hear it.

“The number of Survey Corps lives you have saved proves otherwise.” Though Levi would not meet his eyes, the Commander held a steady gaze on Levi’s face. “The number of times you have saved my own life proves otherwise. The fact that you stayed when you could have left easily proves otherwise.” He paused, watching Levi’s unmoved features. “Now who’s being stupid?”

Levi snarled in frustration but Erwin’s grin never faded. “It’s one banquet, Levi. Mitras isn’t the worst place to spend a singular night.”

A banquet. In Mitras. Kenny made a mental note to find himself an invitation.

“One banquet,” Levi repeated. “One banquet will become two. Two will become four and before you know if, I’ll become your pampered house pet, following you from one pretentious gathering to the next.”

“Are there not worse things?” The commander was teasing Levi. Kenny knew it and Levi knew it. A small smirk pulled at the corners of Levi’s normally placid expression. “Do I have a choice?” he asked quietly.

“Always.”

Kenny rolled his eyes.

“One banquet,” Levi conceded. “But know I’m not happy about it.”

Erwin leaned in close to Levi, his mouth just adjacent to the smaller man’s right ear and should Kenny have been just a little further away, he might have altogether missed the Commander’s words. “I know.”

The commander gently squeezed the captain’s shoulder, giving him a knowing look, before turning on his heel and heading towards the exit of the stable. He paused once more to look at Levi. “Good night, Captain.”

[rk-silverknight]

Farewell

*Here’ my small entry for the Noblesse10 event, hope you enjoy. Author’s notes at the end.*

Fighting and battle, it was something no one really ever willingly signs up for, but for the modified humans it was something that they couldn’t escape from entirely. It was dangerous and violent, unpredictable and lethal to the point that they knew at any moment everything would end, their lives could be taken in an instant and that would be it. Nothing more, it was a reality that they all knew and were willing to accept if fate had decided that it was time to go, after all war doesn’t differentiate from the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes.

He knew the time would come, he always knew, they had all accepted the fact that they would die in battle one day, he just hoped that it wouldn’t be like this but he has no regrets. His family would be safe in the end, they would all be able to go home and even if he couldn’t return with them he was happy that they would. This is for the best. He was careless, he knew he couldn’t take that oncoming blow unscathed, but there was no way he was going to let the others take it either. He had the advantage of having a werewolf’s heart, he would be able to survive, even if it meant only for a few more moments so it was the most logical choice in the end. Did I do the right thing? No, I know I did.

“M-21!”

He heard them, the shouts of his family members, of his companions, but the pain from the enemies attack that pierced through him was immense, though not something new, a heart that was not his from the beginning being pierced right away and although a natural born werewolf would be able to survive such an attack, he wasn’t one he was made. M-21 knew that and still he couldn't stop his body from pushing away his companions and taking the blow instead. His instincts were his driving force, no logical or tactical thought coming across his mind to think of a better solution or plan. He only had mere seconds to move and act fast, his heart wouldn’t allow another of his own to be hurt, not again. M-24 was attacked when they were separated during their first fight against their previous ‘owners’ and M-21 couldn’t be there to protect him, something that he has felt immensely guilty for, but this time he was ready and stronger, he was not going to waste this opportunity to protect his own. He wouldn’t allow it, not while he could still stand and fight, with power or no power.

In that instant as he saw the face of his attacker he also saw it, the black and purple of Dark Speak’s destructive force, being able to sense its power and wrath that matched that of its wielder, of their surrogate father and mentor. One that he fears he is the cause of and a part of him wanted to calm the other down, to tell him that it was okay and he was fine, but that was a flat out lie he knew would hurt the others more. He couldn’t do that to them not after this, still, he couldn’t help but smirk when he saw the Spear engulf the one who struck him, the look on their face as realization hit that this was their demise was more than enough to satisfy him. 

“I told you didn’t I?” he muses, still being able to give his cocky smirk, “if you mess with one of us, you mess with us all, and in the end one way or another you will pay.” His opponent is then gone, being consumed entirely by the weapon, his support being taken along as well.

The next thing he knew M-21 was falling, his vision was already getting blurry and even though the werewolf heart, his heart, was working on overdrive to heal him and save him, he was too tired. There wasn’t enough time to recover, not all the injuries he had sustained at least. It’s okay, this is okay. he repeated in his mind as he awaited the impact from the fall but after several seconds later it never came. Instead warm arms caught him and as he opened his eyes to see who had reached him he was able to see red, those warm and gentle eyes that were so expressive and although M-21 was hoping that he was mistaken he knew that look, he’s seen it before after all although not aimed at him in the past. That look of sadness, of pain and hurt, a look he never wanted to be the cause of since Raizel was one who deserved happiness and freedom more than anyone. He had lived a long time yes, but he was trapped in a cage that took the shape of a manor, a life that didn’t allow him to enjoy it and the wonders that the world had to offer. Now here he was, no longer trapped in the manor and to be able to be free yet here he was holding him and M-21 himself being the cause of this sadness. He lifted his hand, and although it was bruised and bloodied he didn’t hesitate, he gently placed his hand next to the Noblesse’s face, a small smile on his features as he mustered enough strength, “Please don’t be sad Raizel, it’s okay, this is okay. I do not regret my choice, we all knew that there are consequences to our actions, we all knew that one day we may not return home but still we fight. We fight to protect the ones we care about and love, so even though this is now my time, I don’t regret anything.” his strength is fading, he knows this, he can feel it.

“Please continue to live Rai, please continue to smile, and even though I may no longer be by your side, don’t forget me, yeah? I know I was a handful, I was broken and torn thanks to the Union, but you and Frankenstein saved me. You gave me a home and family, you gave meaning to my life and for that I am grateful. I was no longer Union’s lapdog, I was M-21, a member of your family, part of RK, someone whom you all considered family and for that I will forever thank you both. So please, promise me that you will continue to live and smile today and for days to come, deal?” His vision was blurry once more, something he knew was inevitable, he was able to tell that a nod was given and that was more than enough to satisfy him. Raizel was a man of few words after all, but his actions spoke volumes.

His hand begins to fall, he had meant to remove it from the Noblesse’s face but his strength suddenly left him and it began to collapse but before it hit the ground someone else grabbed it. He turned to face a familiar blur of  yellow and blue, “Frankenstein?” he questioned but he knew the answer. He couldn't clearly see his face but he was able to tell that it was him, there was something about his presence that although it was somewhat scary, Dark Spear being the culprit, his own aura and presence was warm and caring. Strict yes, but very caring and gentle.

“I’m reckless aren’t I?” he inquired, though he wasn’t really expecting an answer. He was glad that he got one, “The craziest one from all my kids alright, but that’s who you are. You wouldn’t be M-21 without that short temper and strong will.” M-21 smiled at that, he was glad that the others knew him enough to know what he’s thinking without having to explain anything. He can be cold and stoic to others outside of their home, but to his family he was easy to read like an open book. A trust that only M-24 had but it was now extended to all of the members of the household.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He heard it, the beating of his heart. Damn his sharp senses, how he loathed them sometimes. They were great when it came to battle, being able to sniff out an enemy or an attack before it reached them, even being able to block others strike with the smallest hint be it through sound, smell or move. He could sense it, see it, and he was glad that he was able to use them to help his companions, but now he hated them, he hated that he could hear his own heartbeat slowing down, using the last of its strength to keep him alive even if it’s just a bit longer. He was losing consciousness, he knew he was but he didn’t want to close his eyes, not yet. He was aware that if he did then it would be the last time he closed them, that it would be his time to enter his own eternal slumber from where he would never awaken again, but still he wanted to spend time with them a bit more, just a few seconds longer.

In that silence, he was glad that everyone was there, he can smell their scents; tea, metal, gun powder, food, lavender, dish soap, books and ramen. All the scents that M-21 associated with their crazy home, with his young charge, they were all there. He couldn’t see them anymore, he couldn’t see their faces or meet their eyes but he knew they were there, they have always been there for him even when he had pushed them away more than once, they would remain by his side and not let him deal with problems on his own. He was a broken man, one whom he thinks didn’t deserve all this, one who had nothing to live for until he was given so much; a home, a family, a reason to move forward and to continue living a life. A new start. To live not only as M-21, the Union’s lap dog, but as M-21 who’s also member of their household and one the Raizel Knights. Crazy really, who would’ve thought that the once assassin whose hands were covered in so much blood, who did the dirty work for Union would become a threat to them, maybe not as great as he wished he could be but enough that he became a target. They may have beaten him this time, won this battle, but the war wasn’t over. He wouldn’t be a part of it anymore, but M-21 was more than certain that the others would win, they had to or else the innocents would pay with their lives and that is not something any of them were willing to let slide and go without punishment.

“Hey, promise me one thing you guys,” he began, his vision slowing being covered by black spots that he wish could be blinked away but any attempts being futile.

“What is it M, we’ll keep it, I swear on it!?” voiced their youngest RK member, he truthfully was amazing and talented. Someone who took care of them all and brought a smile to everyone's face with his crazy antics. He was certain that he and Takeo would be okay, they have each other, they all do. Modified humans and Nobles, all being able to live under one roof as calmly and peacefully as their personalities could let them. No matter how much he wanted to continue to stay with them he couldn’t, not anymore. It’s okay, it will all be okay.

“Kick their ass and beat the shit out of them, understand.” he received a mixture of, “Hell yeah”, “Don’t doubt us!”, “Without fail!” and that once more brought a smile to his face but also broke his heart. They were strong, they all were, but he could hear it intertwined with their voices. Sadness, pain, anger, frustration, loneliness, regret.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Thank you, all of you, for everything.” he began once more, he still had a bit of energy left, though his heart was telling him that it was a few minutes at best. Damn, so this is it isn’t it, oh well. At least it was a blast while it lasted, the best choice I made, and it’s all thanks to M-24.

“I’ll be leaving now, but don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I won’t be alone either so don’t worry about me. They're waiting for me, the other M-Series, I have kept them waiting too long, but now it is my time to join them.”

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I leave with many great memories, happy and sad, but overall I lived a life with all of you.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“My family, I will miss you, but please continue to smile. Continue to live and to protect the innocents. Stop the Union so our tragic stories won’t repeat themselves, okay?”

Thump. Thump.

“Apologize to Kentas and Lunark for me too yeah? Tell them I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to our planned training. Maybe in another life though. Watch over yourselves and over the youngest member of our family. Please.” Tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t go back home and read that book with him. I hope he forgives me.

Thump.

“Farewell my family, I will never forget you.” Goodnight, until we meet again in our next life.

“Farewell child, we will meet again in another life perhaps and we will honor your last request. I as the Noblesse swear on it, are we in agreement everyone?”

“Yes Master.”

“Yes Sir Raizel.”

“Yes sir.”

“The war we will not lose, that I swear, and from now on we will have no more casualties.” Raizel handed Frankenstein the body of one of their three kids whom they took in that day. It was hard, it was so hard to not say something to calm the other, but Rai knew that M-21 wasn’t scared or terrified. It was as if he was at peace, now he would no longer be a target for the Union, he won’t ever be harmed. He can now rest eternally, something he deserved greatly after everything he had been put through.

“Frankenstein”

“Yes master.”

“Let’s take M-21 home, we must give him a proper farewell. Understood?”

“Yes master.” this was something that Frankenstein never wanted to do. It was the children's job to bury their parents when the time came, after all the parents are the ones who came first and pass down their knowledge and wisdom to the next generation until their last day, not the other way around. Never the other way around. He can see it, on the look his master gave him as he handed M-21 to him, a silent cry that he was heartbroken and wanted to cry even, but he couldn’t do that here. Not in front of the others, they both needed to be strong for their family, not to mention they need to be there for their youngest member yet, but later on in the private of their own rooms would they be able to mourn their loss.

He held M-21 closer, removing his coat to cover the other with it and try to cover the fatal wound. He really wished that his heart would save him this time life before, that he would be okay and within a weeks rest he could help their family with chores again and they would be training like crazy, he was mistaken. “I promise M, we will watch over everyone back home and we will beat our enemies.” We cannot, will not fail.

“For now, farewell child.”

**AN**:Okay here it is, I hope you like. I kept this a bit open only mentioning a few members by name and leaving clues here and there of others. Also as a side note because it may confuse others, since I do RP as M-21 myself I have an AU!verse where he takes in a young teen who somehow escaped the Union. M didn’t want to let him be on his own since he knows how merciless they can be and decided to take him in. Something he learned form Rai and Frankenstein, he wants to give him an actual life and new start so yes there are mentions of him as well that may be a bit confusing. I am a bad person for thinking this but there’s a part of me that feels, that even though M-21 has this heart and has been saved plenty of times I feel that one day it just won’t be enough. It has saved him, but maybe one day it won’t, and thus I feel this is something that would hurt so much to Rai and Frankenstein. The Nobles themselves enter their eternal sleep, though that is something they are ready for, but in a war where the humans just die. That;s a bit different, you know?? Anyways hope you enjoy in the end. ^^ I will make/write/try to draw other stuff too. :D

Don’t mind any misspelling or errors. Feel free to point them out though. :D

[emordnilap-fr]

Age of Darkness

(1. Age of Prosperity) (2. Age of Fracturing) (3. Age of Turmoil)

Mmmm yeah kids it’s the fourth age now, an Even More Interesting™ (imo) age. And, it’s the age right before the current age, so it’s very very new stuff! **tiny warning: small nsfw reference, not much but i might as well mention it?

The Keepers - Vrensai The effects of the unseen magic around the clan began slowly at first. Tiny changes in behavior, some dragons becoming colder, or snappish, or gradually isolating themselves from others emotionally. Quiet manipulation of those close to them, nearly-unnoticeable changes in some dragons’ appearances, bouts of violence and anger. Most dragons brushed this off as stress from adjusting to the City, but eventually the events of the previous age couldn’t be to blame. Something was wrong, but it was too late to change anything.

Suddenly, the magic revealed itself in the form of possessing Zenturio and driving him mad, causing him to viciously attack fellow dragons (killing Geode in the process). He was imprisoned in the sewers under the City as had been done with Oceana, where he’d be left to descend further into madness. With this development, the clan realised that the “magic” in the clan was, in fact, the Shade. It didn’t take long for deep divides to form after this realisation, as the Shade started taking further control of the dragons affected by Its presence.

Sunset, a highly-affected dragon, drastically changed the clan’s government. The Sects were disbanded and Eiszapfen was removed as Sunset’s advisor, as she made herself the monarch of the clan. She very quickly lost the support of the unaffected dragons, while those Shade-touched dragons now held her in the highest regard. Feuerstern, previously a priest for the clan, became the Shade’s voice, allowing It to use the imperial to preach to the Shade-touched dragons and intensify It’s influence. Eventually, he would take Eiszapfen’s place as Sunset’s advisor. Tension between Sunset and Flechte escalates to the point of violence at times, the two no longer being mates. Sunset and Feuerstern become mates soon after.

Oceana, trapped under the City, becomes Shade-touched herself. Her broken mind is easily controlled by It, and It begins to mutate her body, but her imprisonment restricts her. All she can do is wordlessly call and roar and cry out from her cell. Zenturio had always been Shade-touched, but managed to stay out of Its control until now. It mutates his body as well, though far more drastically than Oceana.

Wren has been living in the shrouded ruins around the clan, where she has indeed be touched by the Shade. However, she can avoid Its influence and instead channels It for her own use. She begins to act as a guardian angel of sorts to the clan, guiding dragons back to the clan and killing the Shade-mutated creatures out hidden in the shadows. Her use of the Shade heavily changes her appearance, and she continues to mutate the more she uses It. 

Fizz tries to find an old friend who’d gone missing, but ended up being caught by a Shade-mutated skydancer. Wren managed to kill the creature and took Fizz under her wing, teaching the fae how to use the Shade without corruption. Fizz undergoes an accidental breed change, while the Shade alters her colors and mutates her. The two continue to act as guardian angels.

The clan’s market area is bustling, and the clan’s wealth grows immensely. The merchants keep a larger portion for themselves than before, while Sunset keeps the rest of the wealth for her own use (”for the clan”). Food is only slightly less scarce. While outsiders are around, the division between dragons are hidden, but outside of the market, tension an hatred grows. Many times, it leads to outright violence. No nests are laid during this age.

Sunset breaks all alliances with other clans, dragon and Beastclan alike. While enemies within the clan are everywhere, outside of the clan, the only enemies are the mutated creatures around their area of settlement. The name of the clan is changed to Vrensai, and the clan’s official symbol is altered.

As time progresses, there becomes a clear divide between “factions”. The corrupted clan members are loyal to Sunset and Feuerstern, while those not corrupted have either become loners (such as Mangrove) or have secretly begun to support Eiszapfen. Uncorrupted dragons plan a coup d’etat of sorts, and some pretend to be corrupted to avoid suspicion. Maelstrom is among these dragons.

Near the end of this age, Flechte, Spiegel, Chance, Feuer, Lehrer, and Soleil are imprisoned in the large communal workshop building, largely out of Sunset’s contempt for Flechte but unwillingness to kill him or allow him any chance to leave the clan. Most of the other industrial workers were imprisoned simply due to the fact that, well, they were in the building. They can still be of use, however, in the form of being made to build things. Maelstrom guards the building. Seven is kept inside as well by Maelstrom, though this is meant to keep her safe.

The Shade is not content; It wants full control over the clan. Sunset’s faction support this. Eiszapfen’s faction plans to revolt. Tension and violence rules. Now, this can’t end well, can it... 

The Enclave

During this age is when the Enclave earns most of its infamy. They carry out operations all around Sornieth, though they remain based in the Shadowbinder’s Forum. What started as a drug ring has grown to include mercenary work, prostitution, mass gambling, organised thieving, and extortion, among things. Allies can be assured safety, while enemies of the Enclave will surely have Hell to pay.

During the previous age, several members of the Enclave left the organisation. This age brings a few new faces to the ring: Stolz, Sucht, and Thebain. The arrival of dragons unaffiliated with the Keepers/Vrensai encouraged the old members, so sure of themselves that they were indeed the best illicit organisation on the continent.

They grow stronger.

The Gravewatchers

Theta is less a leader or ruler, and more simply a kind source of unity. He helps the dragons who’ve come with him deal with their problems, and keeps them all together. The hope that the Keepers would eventually return was a uniting thought among them.

The local Talonok are still a severe problem for the Gravewatchers. Luckily, Bast, Shadow, and a few other fighters could manage to keep them at bay. It was difficult work... but they managed. Void is... occasionally an issue, though she tends to keep herself in the area on the other side of the old lair. Run-ins are relatively rare.

Small-scale trade with other nearby clans helps this clan hold a small amount of wealth. They remain allied with the Secrets. Food is not an issue, though despite a surplus, no new dragons have joined the clan. (Although there have been sightings of, seemingly, a ghost...) Overall, they’re doing well to sustain themselves.

Geheimnisvoll

Nothing much happens with the clan aside from the joining of Entropy and Manganate. They’re all bitches engaging in illicit activities and doing research. They do a small amount of specialised trade.

Loners

Well... nothing much happens with these guys. There’s a few notable dragons who have or eventually will cross paths with other loners or clans: Valkyrie and Kriegsflotte (two pirates in rival ships), Relay and Jetta (time-travelling Shade-hunters), Heilig (paladin of the Arcanist), and Glory (a lone assassin). 

Side notes!  - i was/am listening to history of the entire world i guess on loop while writing this. it will haunt my dreams. it looped at least 15 times. help.  - ehehEHEHEHE NEXT AGE IS THE CURRENT AGE  - i edited the previous post but i’ll put it as a note here too: the clans are nocturnal! (aside from some loners and Geheimnisvoll) aside from some “daybirds” (like “night owls”), guards, and merchants, the dragons sleep during the day.  - i don’t think i explained something else about the previous post: the toolti for Dayglo Thresh say: “this plant flares to a brilliant glow when magics are worked in its vicinity.” this alludes to the Shade!  - this thing’s like... 1.3k words. end me.   - let me know if something doesn’t make sense or if you have a question! i don’t proofread these, and i’m not usually the best at explaining things ;o;

[deigngerzone-blog]

The Legacy of Cain

Prologue

Warmth. Crimson. Beating. Smashing. Blurring. These are the things I remember most about that day. I have gone by many names. My time on this earth has been plagued by an endless supply of labels being chosen by me so that I can hide who I truly am and what I did that day. I have fought wars, assassinated kings, killed enemies, beaten death. Found love. Sired children. I have lived a thousand thousand lifetimes, each making me more humble than the last. When I was young and made the decision that changed my life, I took for granted the world around me. As I have lived and basked in creations light, I have seen my folly. But is there still time to find redemption?

Part 1: Violence

War is an interesting subject is it not? I have lived a life plagued by the knowledge, that I began the first concept of war. As time went on after that first “war” of brothers, humanity never stopped being incapable of living within proximity of someone better, or even different than themselves. And since that day, humanity as a whole has always shared in the decision I made. If they are “better”, and I can still end their lives, why should they live? “That's how it starts. The fever, the rage, the feeling of powerlessness that turns good men... cruel.” A film that debuted in 2016 had that quote. And it truly sums up how I feel about what war is. War is the culmination of the frustration of humanity bursting forth into the violent killing of more of HIS creations.  

I remember one particular day above others. I remember many days and moments in history, but this day was different. This day the death was ambiguous. On this day, which is considered the first day of a great war between a fledgling nation and its far greater predecessor, a shot was heard that I could not tell who fired. I discovered eons before this that I had a penchant for violence. It is commonly misconceived that killing violence are one and the same, but to me they differ in the sense that one can be by accident, and the other must be of will. When others around me began to fight I only ever grew stronger. The Greeks, among other nations, created an idol of my ferocity. You know him now as Ares the god of war. But this day was different, when the war broke out I thought to myself, which one of these men took the first official life of this war today? Was it a hardened hero of the older nations past war, spurred on to satiate a bloodlust that he can’t describe? Or was it a young man. A child who was afraid and a twitch of fear pulled the trigger of his musket. Perhaps that first shot didn’t even land in the flesh of an enemy, but instead landed in the grass beside the men in crimson lined across from me and mine. All that I know for sure is, that while these thoughts raced through my head, I just kept killing without mercy. Even allies fell before me, though how more allies did not noticed fails me, and yet I never stopped until the field was a wasteland of death. With none but me alive at its epicenter. When I realized the fighting was over, one thought entered my mind. Perhaps I fired the shot.

Part 2: Happiness

It took me some time to find love. After my marking and banishment I found solace with a woman, and she birthed my children whom now cover the earth. But that was not love. As life passed me by, I saw those around me find the love of the creator, as my father and mother had. But their love had passed generations ago. Yet it’s presence lingered for reasons I cannot describe. I know only that it comes from our creator whether we would like to admit it or not. That is why the day I found it came as a surprise. For why would a master who had banished me, gift me with his greatest creation? The answer came in time. Her name is of no consequence. In fact it is one of the memories I have lost to time. I only remember now how it felt to be with her. It was a time of heroes, knights and castles and conquerors and warriors, all of which held no interest to me. Yes I had fought wars and killed men, but only when to do otherwise would place me in a position of capture or submission. I submit only to one man, and the I am had not looked to me in time far too long to be measured. I came upon her in one such instance, while a group of men who had asked me to join them in a quest were battling a beast, which is now considered a fantasy as humans tend to pretend the things they fear do not exist, after we killed the beast and its underlings we raided their encampment. I cared not for earthly treasure and so I stayed behind. My body sustained itself on my curse, and I had no need for nourishment, though I did hunger, a pain and punishment I put upon myself in those days in an attempt to remedy the rift between myself and Elohay. As I watched my companions ransack the home of these creatures I saw something dart towards the trees in an apparent attempt to flee, normally this would not plague me but I was bored and thus decided to pursue in case it was an enemy to be brought down by my blade. As I began pursuit, the cold steel of a blade in my hand glinting in the sunlight, it caught sight of me and fell. I approached nonchalantly, as no enemy could smite me, but their attempts were sometimes amusing. As I rounded an enormous tree, its bark brown and rich as were all in this immense forest, I saw her. The sheen of her rich fiery crimson hair was captivating to me. It matched the color of her wounds, which were considerable. As I approached, my blade fell out of my hand for I was captivated in a way I can not describe. She hissed in apparent anger and fear, and as I had spent enough time with people to gather much about them from simple observation, realized that she could not speak. She must have been captured by these beasts when she was but a babe, and trained to serve them as a slave. Which I abhorred. I approached and she retreated but I made it known to her that I was a friend, which I do not know if I was I only know I did not mean her harm, and she reacted as a child whom had found comfort from a horrific nightmare. I do not know what drew her to me but I only know that it drew me to her as well.

We left, my companions had no need of me as their quest was complete, and this girl had a connection with me I had only experienced once before, and that was only in its breaking that I knew what it was. I taught her my language, which was spoken only by me after an innumerable number of years had killed the only other beings who lived in the earliest days of humanity. What we knew was true bliss and love. Countless times her fiery spirit put her in danger, and countless times I had saved her. Our tales are told to this day in countless forms. A hero, marked and dressed in crimson, saves a princess or a damsel or what have you from a monster of some kind. But the stories missed a detail, as the man of Elohim's creation had made the incredibly foolish mistake of attempting to control the spirit of the woman whom were made to be their parallel. She fought to keep me alive as well. Eventually after years of slaying enemies, hers far greater in the time we spent together, we had a family. I truly was happy. I put away my sword and lived the life of a simple man. Loved, and loving, and without a care. I forgot who I was and what I had done, and experienced forgiveness in love's warm embrace. She cared not what I had done, only that I loved her. This thought plagued me for years to come that I never realized that Jehovah feels this beyond infinite times.

Part 3: Suffering

But time was ever my greatest nemesis, and eventually my curse took its toll. She aged and died, and our children aged and died, and our children's children and on and on. Eventually they cared not for me, and I not for them. But their mother and my companion of life's journey had brought me peace. On the day of her passing I realized that for the first time since that cursed day when I bathed the earth in the blood of my kin, I had lost something I truly cared about. The sky cried for me that day, and I heard or perhaps felt for the first time in too long to account, my Lord’s feelings that day. I wanted to blame the creator, but knew that he cared more for her than I ever could. And that Yahweh felt more for her than I ever could, and felt that same way for my slain kin. This is a day I wish I could forget, as I felt sorrow on a scale that most cannot comprehend. For a time, I did forget it, my body was my instrument and I could work it in any way I wished, and that day was mixed into a multitude of days that I surrender to Kadesh so that I could hide from what I felt. I fell back to old habits, and took the lives of my fellow men once again in the name of freedom, but this time I realized that I only did it so that I could draw others to be like me so that I could hide from Yeshua. It worked as well for me as it did from others who tried hiding as a means of avoidance. But I fortunately not consumed by a beast of the sea for my attempts.

Each day I grew farther and farther from Elohay Mishpat, The God of Justice, and each day I only suffered more. Even though I did not realize it. In these days I recounted my most agonizing suffering to avoid confrontation with my painful memories of lost love. Though my curse dicates I cannot be killed by man, there are certainly those who have tried. I was the first mortal being to see every inch of the creation, and legends had been spawned in my name. Eventually these legends reached the ears of a man from the country of Spain whom believed most foolish tales he heard such as cities of Gold in the new world. He found me and demanded I take him to this place, which did exist but was not meant for the likes of he. When I refused he took me into his “care” and made me a slave. I can not tell you how he bested me, only that my will was broken and I was not in my most formidable mental state in those days. He tortured me in ways far too dark to put onto page, and I experienced physical suffering matched only by the suffering of my spirit for all of my past misdeeds. We reached the new land, and he brought me everywhere he went and tortured me all the way along. Eventually, he left my crippled, bloodied, broken, and useless mortal shell on the top of the steps of an enormous temple in a village which he had slaughtered. While there I hoped for death. For the first time I hoped that I would simply cease. When I was first cursed I felt I was happy for my curse in hopes of being spiteful to my accursor, but knew my true intentions were always known. In this moment I knew them too. I longed for the release of death so that my suffering would end. I had lost my only chance at love, and my mortal body was broken beyond natural repair. I had been harmed before, but never to such a degree and never for this long. I hoped my body would not heal, and that I would finally be able to rest. But there were other plans. I was bathed in a light, and my cracked shell rose up and I was healed. When my bare form landed once again on the steps of the temple, I simply sat. Contemplating my existence for the first time in a long time. I realized my suffering was akin to that of another who had suffered in his mortal and spiritual forms. Any suffering I felt, was incomparable to his. There is a perspective to be found there.

Part 4: Peace

My life has far too many stories to tell. I only wish I could recount them all. Perhaps someday. But for now I must continue with my intention. I found myself in need of peace. I lived a life of solitude in a mountain range covered in snow and trees and the most beautiful of creatures. I came to appreciate solitude and silence. But I never anticipated the sorrow that came with it. Other times when I was alone I was as such by slaying any who encountered me. The sound of death filled my ears each and every day, but there was nothing worth killing here. I needed not hunt, for food was unnecessary, and I needed not shelter as my body seemed unaffected by raw nature. This was true tranquility. Not happiness, but simply -ness. I existed without aim or purpose, and found myself wanting. This made me think on what I sought. My eventual goal was to be rid of this curse, and find true rest, but why? I realized I wanted for the acceptance of my creator. And in all of his creations, I found his presence. I could not be alone because without the creator's works, I am in many ways without the creator. Elah exists in all creation, and when I am not within the worlds the greatest creation, I cannot be truly peaceful. I felt foolish and that I had wasted a few hundred years, but I learned something that could not be replaced.

Part 5: The End. 

My story is being cut short. As I write, my words meld together. In the last days of creation I found the answers I sought. When fire and brimstone rained, and rapture came for humanity, I knew I would be left behind. As the wars raged and all of the revelation of an apostle came to pass, I was left alone on an empty shell. The world was vast and empty and flat. I lived like this, alone, reflecting on my existence, and wondering what came next, when God appeared before me for the first time since that accursed day.

As love stood before me in corporeal form, the landscape changed back to that of the home of my father. The Garden of Eden stood before me. God beckoned for me to join him in a walk. I stood, and was filled with experience that words cannot describe when I met the eyes. We walked in silence, for no words were needed. I felt all of my life stretch out before him as if it were written in the sound of the wind in the grass, as it was examined by my true father, I clung to him as a child. I saw what was seen by the Holy one, and remembered all at once. I remembered her, and love, I remembered the pain of losing my greatest friend. I remember the tranquility of aloneness. I remember the destruction I wrought. The pain I caused. But experienced it as if I were reading a children’s book. Or rather, having it read to me by the great Narrator. The mighty head turned from what was before us to my meager face, and asked what I knew I had to answer before I could truly return home.

“Do you love me?”

As I opened my mouth to answer, my mortal eyes opened and there I stood. My brothers back to me, and a stone in my hand. The blood rushing through my veins as I prepared to make the second fatal mistake of humankind. Tears enveloped my eyes and it fell from my hand and I wrapped my arms around him. His blonde curls smelled of sheep. And I felt love again. He laughed and asked what I was doing but I didn’t care. I only felt his warmth of life. I turned his face to me, and for what seemed like the first time I looked into the face of my beautiful baby brother, and said the words I truly felt in my heart.

Yes Lord.

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 23(Pt2)

Through the cold Vienna roads, the people are horrified to witness the icy cold leader of the terrorist group skating by; freezing the very concrete in her travels. During her frosty ventures, she begins to cool down her icy trails; opting to simply sprint through the streets instead. Can’t have anyone following it all the way back to base; especially those two. It’d be a disaster. Best to simply slip away into the shadows and throw off pursuers before meeting up.

Glancing towards the side of the street, she swiftly dives into the nearest alley she can run to; hiding her icy presence within its equally cold shade. From beyond the brickwork the frosty leader peeks out towards the streets that she’d ran through; finding not a single sign of the police or her teenage pursuers. Succeeding in her escape, Ilana heads deeper into the alleyway shady tunnels; turning comer after corner the further she goes. The cold commander soon comes to the light at the end of the tunnel; revealing beyond its dim glow a nearly empty parking lot.

Among its cracked and torn asphalt stood a lone black car; its side and back windows lined with black tint. Sitting on its onyx front hood be a lone man dressed in a red hood; the smoke from his cigarette flowing out into the cold night air. He soon catches sight of the frosty renegades approach; discarding his cigarette as he rushes back into his vehicle. As soon as he gets in the front seat, the man starts the car; the roar of the engine sounding alongside the door shutting. Glancing in his rear view mirror, the man discover the icy woman sitting comfortably in the back; Ilana letting out a friendly giggle as she greets with: “(Evening Bauer.)” Looking back towards the woman, a warm smile is painted across the mans face. “(Glad to see you back, Ilana.)” “(Save the welcomes for later. Start driving.)” “(Eh, yes ma’am.)”

With those orders, the driver takes a tight grip of the wheel and hits the gas; gliding out of the cracked concrete parking lot. Out from the lot, the onyx car drifts out of the broken streets and into the main roads; cleanly merging into traffic without a hiccup. With his eyes glued straight to the road ahead, Bauer states how: “(I didn’t hear so much as a boom go off. Did something go wrong?)” “(Some kind of government hired assassin came bursting in and foiled our plans. The parliament build was clearing out by the time we subdued him.)” “(So, how many troops are remaining?)” “(The teenager managed to kill over half of my crew before we stopped him.)” “(Teenager?)” “(I say teenager. But he really slaughtered my comrade like a true demon.)” Ilana reassures “(Hmph...Anything else.)” “(I had a little spat with a couple of the assassins cohorts. I managed to lose them in the streets though.)”

Driving out from the clean and shining neighborhood, they soon reach out into far more broken and decrepit territory. “(So...what now?)” the cold commander’s chauffeur wonders. To his question, the icy woman can’t help but let loose a heavy sigh; perching her arm on the car door handle as she looks out to the streets on the side. “(To be honest, I’m not so sure anymore. Over half of my overall crew has either been arrested or killed. I’m beginning to run out of options.)” “(Hey!)” the driver exclaims, drawing the frosty renegades attention. “(None of us can’t lose out on hope in this time of need. What would your papa think if he saw you like this?)” “(My papa hasn’t lived to witness how much worse things have gotten!)”

The freezing woman cooling herself, Ilana peers back out the tinted window; gazing to the city streets on her side. From the few decently dressed citizens simply strolling through the midnight streets, there be far more people dressed in rags and old torn clothing; tempting to shield themselves from the bitter cold. Some of them walk hand in hand with children; leading their young through the freezing concrete walkways of Vienna. “(Sometimes I wonder if there is any use keeping up the fight. Every day, our corrupt government seems grow ever stronger; artificially raising the prices of goods and comonities to line their own pockets.)” Some of the middle class stop to assist the homeless; giving out change, food, whatever they have to help on hand. Others simply choose to ignore their plight, either out of ignorance or selfishness; simply passing by those more unfortunate then them. “(They care not what their absurd inflation does to the people of this beautiful city. As long as they rake in their profits, none of them could care less about the growing homeless rates. Sometimes I wonder if there is any hope left for this country.)” “(You’re father always was a stubborn man. I think he would be proud of you for coming this far and still not stopping.)” Hearing Bauer say such, Ilana gazes away from the bitter cold streets and towards her chauffeur; listening as he continues with: “(Where there is injustice in this world, the rage of the people shall boil. Be it from underneath, or right upon its surface. Though we may perish in our efforts, our actions shall inspire thousands. Slowly corroding the base of those pigs empire and soon toppling them down.)” With these inspirational words, the driver manages to chisels out a small warm smile from his ice cold passenger; Ilana herself simply responding with: “(Thank you, Bauer.)”

Driving across the darkened streets, the car soon pulls over to a more quiet part of the district. The driver eventually comes to a soft stop beside a secluded alleyway; the light from the open door breaking away the shadows as Ilana steps out. Peeking back inside one more time, she orders the chauffer with: “(I will be going on foot for the rest of my return. Drive out through the city to throw off any potential followers.)” “(Affirmative. I will meet you back at home base in the morning.)” Having relayed these demands, the cold commander quietly shuts the passenger door; backing out into the darkness of the alley as she watches Bauer drive off. Once the vehicle was out of site, the frosty renegade sprint deeper into the shadows;  weaving through trash cans and dumpsters so not to make a peep.

The icy leaders escape soon has her facing a dead end; the wall before her sporting cracks and mold through its brickwork. Placing her chilling palm onto the brick wall, Ilana trails her frost right to the buildings rooftop; icy handles protruding out from the coat of ice. The cold renegade swiftly begins her climb up through the frosty ladder; kicking the handles into pieces in her ascent up towards the roof. Having reached the dead ends top, she destroys whatever evidence is left of her ice cold handles; soon sprinting out towards the other side of the roof. Nearing the buildings edge, the frosty leader erects a pillar of ice from beneath her feet; launching her across the massive gap between. Ilana careens above the broken streets below; the people below ignorant of her presence as her shadow streaks past.

Unbeknownst to her however, a third party watches her race through the rooftops from the distance; a trio of teenagers gazing out to the chilling commander atop a faraway tower. “So were just gonna sit here and wait until she runs back to home base?” the blue boy question. “That be our strategy. Once we catch her at home, we’ll dive in and start the second phase.” the purple merc confirms. “Now Tore, you remember the game plan, do ya?” the orange skater wonders. “Pfft, course I do. While Roy and I come out on the front to keep them busy, Mally’ll sneak in from the back and start wreckin their base from the inside.” “Eeeeet, wrong!”Roy harshly denies. “Aww...” “Hey, you were pretty close though. Ya got most of the plan right, just switch Roy out with me.” Mally corrects. “Ding ding ding. Right on the mark, Mal. I’m wanting you two to make as much noise as possible to draw out that cold hard frosty vanilla milkshake bitch while I make my assault through her base’s sexy backside.” Roy elaborates. “Roy, don’t phrase it like that. The implications there are disgusting and wrong.” his sister warns. “What implications?” Tore asks. With a small growl slipping out, the merc tells his siblings that: “Lets just move out.”

Jumping off one more rooftop; the cold renegade slides out from the shadows of an alley; skating through the broken and abandoned roads of the dying neighborhood. Ilana’s icy travels soon has her faced with the decrepit remains of an abandoned school; the chain link fence surrounding it showing years worth of rust. Hoping over this fences, she walks across the aged concrete parking lot; the playground beside it revealing its equipment to be in pieces, few of which remaining in one piece.

The chilling commander places her palm upon the bent steel of the entrance; a small breath leaving through her lips as her gaze slightly drifts down. Raising her head back up, the icy woman finally creaks the doors open; coming inside to the schools desolate and grim ridden halls. The cold renegade is soon met with the barrels of two assault rifles; a pair of guards aiming their firearms right at her head. Both the man and woman look surprised when realizing who she is; one of them exclaiming: “(Boss!? You’re back?)” Both lower their guns as they back away from their icy leader; the woman explaining how: ‘(S-sorry about that, ma’am. We just didn’t expect you to be back so early.)” “(It’s alright Lisbeth, Poldi. I’m glad the two of you remained on guard.)” “(Are you the only one who made it back?)” the man questions. “(For now. I’m sure the others should be back soon. Has anything happened during my absence?)” “(No. The soldiers stationed here haven’t reported any activity and our guest our doing just fine.)” the woman explains. “(Good comrades. How did the rations runs go?)” “(It went smoothly, my lady. We managed to returned with 24 pounds of goods!)” “(Eh, semi smoothly, they would have returned with more. But those that made it back report being ambushed by police.)” Poldi reluctantly corrects. Hearing such news makes their freezing leader lets out a weary sigh, admitting that: “(This the forth time its happened in the past three month. Our food supplies have been getting dangerously low and rations runs are getting increasingly more risky. It won’t be long before we fail to have enough to feed us and our guests.)” Passing by the pair of guards, she ends her report with how she’s: “(Speaking of which, I need to check on how many soldiers we have left. I fear we may have less of them left then we have guests.)”

Just before Ilana could head deeper into the schools hallway; a thunderous bang sounds from outside; all of them swiftly turning back towards the entrance. “(What was that!?)” Poldi wonders. “(It sounded like a crash. A car wreck?)” Lisbeth guesses. “(Not like a car wreck I’ve ever heard off.) Ilana adds. From the entrance door windows, the guards and their chilling commander look out into the parking lot; discovering the blue angel and orange skater awaiting on its cracked concrete. “(Dammit! It’s those two again.) Ilana curses. “(How in Gods name did they find our lair?)” Poldi wonders. “(We should rally whatever troops we have and make a full frontal assault.” Lisbeth suggest. “(No!) they hear their leader deny. Both of the soldiers glance to their captain, hearing the frosty woman declare how: “(Our base has already been compromised as is. We need to work on evacuations immediately. The two of you gather everyone and lead them out towards the back.)” “(But what about you?) Lisbeth questions. “(I will buy you time for as long as possible.)”. Both the guards watch as their icy leader marches past; stopping right at the pair of steel doors and requesting to them that: “(If I do not return, tell Bauer...I’m sorry.)”

Standing patiently outside the parking lot, the two gaze upon the overall condition of the school before them; a whistle escaping out from the blue boys lips. “This poor school ain’t lookin too good. The fading walls covered in moss and ivy. The signs split and broken. The windows cracked and shattered. Even the playground is just in pieces. Just makes a girl sad.” Mally reviews. “The whole neighborhood isn’t doing too hot either. Practically on the verge of falling apart here. Swear one of these buildings could collapse any minute.” Tore includes. “I got that whole vibe from most of the city. From the place where we killed Roy’s informant, to even around the parliament building. It all just seems so...desperate. Not to mention all the homeless people we saw on the way here.” “Yeah. My pockets are struck empty with how much cash I had to give. Maybe serving these ice cold criminals a taste of their own brain freeze will set things right.” “I don’t know, Tore. I’m finding it hard to imagine a small domestic terrorist group could cause all this. Gotta be something else doing this.”

Too focused on studying the broken and crumbled buildings around her, the skater fails to see coming an icy trident lunging at her backside. The blue boy grasp the back of his sisters shirt and pulls her away from the forks path; the trident digging into the wall of the building across the streets. The duo look ahead to discover the renegade leader herself swiftly approaching; manifesting a massive icy hammer in her charge. Both Tore and Mally split off in different direction, evading the chilling commanders freezing smash; Ilana’s mallet shattering on hitting the cracked concrete. In his retreat, the blue angel tosses out a ball of pale light out towards their freezing foe; the chilling woman creating an ice cold shield against the oncoming sphere. Her shield however stands no chance against the angels energy, the chilling captains defense shattering into pieces. Though this fails to deter the cold commander however; Ilana morphing the shields shards into tiny knives and casting them out towards her angelic foe. Tore leaps away from the frosty volley of knives, ascending up into the cold night sky.

Dashing towards the cold captains side, Mally aims her hockey stick at icy adversary’s kidney; her swing caught by the chilling commanders palm. The skaters weapon trapped within Ilana’s grip, she soon finds a line of ice beginning to coat the hockey stick; Mally releasing her weapon before the frost could reach her. She can do little but watch her beloved hockey stick be consumed by her foe’s frost, Ilana’s ice forming out a sharp blade from the top of the skater’s weapon. Having turned her own foe’s stick into an icy scythe, the freezing leader swings her newfound blade back towards its owner; Mally jumping back from her frosty foe’s swing. Her first swing having missed, the chilling captain takes another; swinging her scythe down towards the rollerblader in her charge. With no time to dodge her foe’s downward strike, Mally catches the icy weapon between her hands; the blades chilling cold freezing the skater’s palms. Pinned down from her icy adversary’s push, the skater can do little but hold back the her own descending hockey stick; its frosty blade mere inches from her eye. Right on the verge of plunging her newfound weapon into her orange haired foe’s head, the chilling commander feels something hug her midsection; glancing back to witness the blue angel lifting her off the broken pavement. Taking their frosty foe in his grip, Tore sending her careening out towards the chain link fence; the cold captain smacking against the fences rusty wires.

Finding her hockey stick having left her foe’s hands, Mally casts out her grapple-yo out towards her ice coated weapon; slinging it back towards her side. Though instead of returning it to her own grip; the skater opts to twirl the weapon throughout the parking lot; tossing the hockey stick back towards their freezing foe. “Back at ya!” she boasts. Witnessing her stolen weapon whirl back towards her, Ilana rips off a chunk of the chain link fencing behind her and swiftly coats the wires in a layer of ice; catching the scythe in her own icy web. Before she can retrieve her pilfered weapon from her frosty net, the blue angel charges forth and shatters her web to pieces; the skaters hockey stick flung towards his sister’s side. Beyond the broken net, Tore attempts to grab hold of his frosty foe before she could escape; Ilana evading his grasp and instead grasping his arm. From her hugging hold, the chilling commander spreads her frost through the blue boy’s body; Tore attempting to pull away from her grip as the ice consumes him. Right before the frost could coat him whole, the blue angel begins to emit a bright pale glow through his body; the shine beaming through the ice around him. Soon, the frost crawling across his skin bursts apart in a powerful flash; the light causing Ilana to lose her grip and stumble back. In the chilling captains stumble, the blue angel reaches his arm out towards her once more; grasping her flailing arm and tossing her back towards his sister. “Mally! Head’s up!” Watching their frosty foe careening in her direction, Mally breaks her hockey stick out of its icy shell and races out toward the cold commander; jumping out at her in a deadly pirouette. Their icy adversary closing in, the orange skater strikes her back with a twirling uppercut; the icy leader sent high in the midnight sky.

Ilana sent flying above the parking lot, the blue angel takes aim as he charges an intense light between his hands; soon firing out a ray of pale energy as he declare: “And that’s game!” Careening through the air, Ilana soon discovers the boys beam streaking directly at her; the cold captain sticking her hands out towards the beam while frost coats her palms. Below, the duo witness the blue boys ray explode on contact; the resulting smoke shrouding their frosty foe from their site. “Did it hit?” the rollerblader wonders. Her question is answered when both witness the subzero renegade drop through the aftermath of the explosion, watching as she descend out towards the broken playground on the side of the school.

Finding herself diving out towards the intact slide, Ilana casts down a wave of frost towards the rustic playground equipment; transforming the slide into an icy ramp. The chilling commander manages to glide cleanly across her newly formed frost slide, launching herself out towards the blue angel at breakneck speeds; swiftly coating herself in a thick layer of ice in her travels. Though Tore manages to catch his approaching armored adversary, both him and the cold captain are still sent skidding across the parking lot. They soon smack straight into a broken down car; the impact causing the blue boy to loose his grip and letting Ilana slam herself into him. Her icy coat shattering upon the crash; the frosty leader jumps back, finding her angelic foe lying on the wrecked vehicle, dazed. With the blue boy left stunned, the freezing renegade erects a pair of icy walls between the destroyed car; both their surfaces lined with frosty tipped spears and blades. Just when she readies to clasp the two walls together with a single clap, Ilana feels something wrap around her neck; feeling around to find it be a piece of thin string. It in that moment that she’s flung away from the dazed angel; sent flying through the parking lot and right towards the awaiting skater. Tempting to counter her approach; the cold commander create a pair of spears as she dashes forth; pointing their icy sharp tips out towards the rollerblader. Against her frosty foes spears, Mally acts fast and leaps over the lunging lady; turning back and hammering her hockey stick right into her head. The rollerbladers strike slams Ilana right into the concrete below; the parking lot cracking further upon her impact.

After smashing the icy leader into the pavement, she unravels her yoyo from around her foe’s neck; her gadget returning to her palm. From there, Mally swiftly skates over towards her brother; witnessing Tore dislodging himself from the automobiles remains. “You okay?” she asks while holding her hand out. The blue boy taking his sisters grasp, Mally helps her up out of the wrecked car; Tore answering how: “I’m alright, just some light bruise. Nothing a little healing can’t fix. Thanks for the save, by the way.” Hearing a loud groan echo through the parking lot, both siblings turn back towards their freezing foe. “Don’t thank me yet.” the skater advises. The two watch as the chilling captain picks herself off the broken pavement; Mally adding how: “Something tells me we’re just getting started.”

Rising on all fours, Ilana gazes down upon the small splashes of crimson staining the concrete under her; witnessing droplets of blood drip down from her head. The cold commander lets out a small growl as her fists tremble; uttering how: “(I can’t die here. Not as long as those greedy swine are still in charge.)” Hearing her whispering growls, the blue boy leans over to his sister; wondering if: “Do you know what’s she’s whispering about?” “Nope. Don’t speak a lick of German.” Her clenched palms rising from the blood red concrete, she covers her fists in frost as she she roars aloud how: “(I refuse to perish here!)” Ilana punches her icy hands down upon the broken pavement in her furious declaration, the frost beginning to consume the whole parking lot; both of the siblings backing away from the encroaching ice. The determined leader finally stands on her feet, taking in deep breath before continuing to decree that: “(As long as cold blood courses through my freezing veins, then I shall never stop fighting.)” From the frost surrounding her do countless weapons and animals erupts out from the ground; all of them lunging towards both of the chilling captains foes.

Back inside the abandoned school, both guards race through the decrepit and torn hallways; one of them stopping at the doorway of a room on the side. Within this room, several people inside gaze out the windows; a dozen questions flying through the air. “(The hell is going on out there!?)” “(I keep hearing bombs going off!)” “(I think I see ice creeping around.)” “(You think the boss might be dealing with somebody?)” “(Let’s hope not. That’d mean our base had been compromised.)” “(That’s exactly what is going on.)” somebody speaks out. Everyone in earshot the room gazes out towards the entrance, finding Lisbeth standing out in the doorway. “(So we really are being attacked!?)” one of them questions. “(Afraid so. The boss once us all to evacuate everyone in the entire building. Leaving no one behind and head for the left wing. Let’s move people! Move!)” Upon those orders does everyone inside scramble out into the hallway, the pair of guards watching as the all split off in multiple direction. After they all disperse, Lisbeth looks to Poldi and mentions how: “(We should go and secure the back. They could be planning on slipping inside.)” On those thoughts do the pair of guards sprint further through the school hallway, taking paths different to those they just watched scatter.

The two twist and turn through the moldy halls of the school, making their way out towards the back; soon having the last corner out towards the exit in their sites. One of them turns through the corner, soon met with an unexpected black beam that pierces through her side. “Lisbeth!” Poldi screams out. “(It’s really kind of sad, isn’t it?)” The guard turns back towards the direction of the beam, witnessing Roy stroll closer; the purple merc gazing upon the halls overall condition. “(I bet this place was a real haven for children back in its prime. A place where bonds would be forged from nothing but childish whim and wonder. Just picture it for a moment. Running through the halls with friends. Having fun with one another on the playground. Eating with each other in the cafeteria. Maybe discovering your first crush, even. What a magical time to live through. So joyous. So innocent. So naive. Wouldn’t you think so?)” The merc’s sympathetic ramblings bait out little response from the remaining guard, Poldi simply staring on as he slowly backs away. Noticing this makes the mercs expression turn sour; firing out another black beam from the palm of his hand. Poldi rolls away from Roy’s ray, soon unloading the contents of his clip towards the purple merc. The guards assault rifle proves completely ineffective in harming the intruder, failing to even slow the merc down in his approach. Though poor Poldi attempt to flee from the nearing mercenary, his plans of escape go unfulfilled; Roy grabbing hold of his firearms and snatching it out from the guards grasp. After stealing the guards assault rifle, Roy shoves the barrel right through Poldi’s mouth; the guard choking on its tip. Silencing the guard gurgles, the merc pulls the rifles trigger; the guards insides splattering across the dirty marble floor.

Watching the horrifying scene play out from behind the merc, a lone guard quakes in her boots as she starts to back away towards the corner; Roy instantly turning back towards the retreating gun woman. Witnessing the merc’s smile, the guard sprints as fast as she can; looking back to see the merc’s pursue her with wings sprouting from her back. Though try as she might to outrun her purple pursuer, the black winged angel catches the guard by her leg; sweeping her off the floor entirely. Holding the squirming guard upside down, Roy looks over towards a set of broken lockers; soon violently flinging her into its rustic metal shards. From the impact, the trooper falls to the floor in a bleeding mess; Roy landing beside the guard as she bleeds out. “...Ya know, I can’t help but feel like I’m forgetting something.”

Letting a group of soldiers sprint by, the purple angel senses somebody approaching from around the corner; glancing to his side to witness a trooper wielding a heavy bazooka on her shoulder. The other soldiers rush behind their explosive wielding comrade, the trooper taking aim at the merc’s body while roaring out: “(You son of a bitch!)” Locked onto the purple boy, the soldier fires from her bazooka a speeding rocket; the explosive racing across the desolate hallway. “Shit, I left my bedroom window open, didn’t I.” Roy mentions, sticking his arm out towards the oncoming explosive. With but his only arm, the purple angel halts the rockets advance; catching the explosive in the palm of his hand. The rocket in his grasp, Roy turns the explosive right back towards its sender and chucks it through the hallway like a pigskin; the soldier attempting to run from the returning rocket. Her escape fails to play out however; the explosive engulfing the bazooka wielding trooper in a fiery blast; the resulting explosion filling the hall with smoke. Out from the white shroud, Roy steps out beyond the corner; his senses still reading the fleeing soldiers life scrambling through the halls ahead. “Eh, I’ll just phone Mauricia later to shut it.”

Sprinting through the decrepit corridors of the school, the trio of troopers stop right at one of the halls door; all of them soon scrambling inside. Beyond the old wooden doorway be a musty, dust ridden classroom; all the remains and pieces of the desks pushed to the back. One of the guards keeps his eye out through the doors window, peeking out into the halls that him and his cohorts just ran through: “(I ain’t seeing any sign of him.)” he tells his comrades. Another guard turns towards the shadows of the classroom; hearing somebody inside frantically ask: “(What’s going on out there!?)” “(I can here explosions from outside.)” The trooper approaches the voices of concern; though shaken, he calmly reassuring to them that: “(Everything is okay. We just need all of you to come with us. We’re gonna go out and find another-)” Just before the trooper could finish, they hear the sound of breaking wood from behind; glancing back to witness their purple intruder bursting through the door.

In the midst of crashing inside, Roy snatches one of the doors splintering pieces from the air; jamming its sharp wooden ends into the nearest soldiers eye socket. Watching as her cohort fall in a panicking agony, the other soldier charges forth with the blunt end of her rifle; merc evading her swing and kicking her right into the whiteboard. The solid whiteboard cracking against the her body, the dazed trooper slowly attempts to pick herself off the board; looking back to discover the merciless angel closing in. Her attempts to rise are swiftly put to a violent end, Roy smashing the guard head in with his knee; her blood staining the board pure white surface.

Hoping to end the intruders slaughter, the final soldier comes at the purple merc from behind; tying a thin sash around the purple angels neck and squeezing as tight as his hands could let him. Despite the troopers desperate efforts, Roy feels not a single ounce of the guards choke hold; the sash around his neck ripping in half. The sudden rip makes the soldier fall to the floor, looking back and watching in horror as the merc slowly approaches. “(That’s a pretty weak excuse for a choke hold, buddy.)” the purple angel scolds as he watches the trooper back away. In his retreat, the guard soon finds himself backed against the stone cold wall; digging into his pockets to pull out a small pistol. Taking aim at the merc, his small firearms is smack out from his grasp; the pistol tumbling into the classrooms shadows. Turning away from his lost weapon, the soldier slowly turns back towards the purple merc; helpless to watch as the black winged angel reaches out towards his neck. “(How about I show you how it’s done.)” Roy offers, wrapping his fingers tightly around the renegades neck. The troopers breath starts to leave him against the angels grasp; the guard gazing upon his chokers face to bare witness to his wicked smile.

That smile soon breaks when both of them here the sound of somebody demanding that the merc: “(Stop!)” Glancing back towards the source of the order, Roy finds a bearded man in rags stepping out beyond the shadows; the pistol he smacked aside in his grasp. Scanning down the man, the merc violet eyes widen to find a little girl cowering behind the mans leg; tears of fear pouring down across her cheeks. Bewildered by the site before him, Roy lets go of the guards underneath him; the trooper taking in a much needed breath. Recovering from the angels tight grasp, the soldier turns towards the man and girl; ordering that they: “(Just get out of here and run! I’ll-) Just before he could finish his desperate demands, he feels something grasps the front of his shirt; the merc pulling him face to face with his hardened glare. “(Alright asshole, spill it. What kind of racket are you German terrorists pulling in this depressing scene?)”

Back outside the school, the frost coating the parking lot starts being pulled back; parts of the ice returning the palms which they’ve come from. Grasping the ice beneath her, the cold commander begins to pull out what seemed to be living bulges of frost from the coated concrete; her two foes attempting to approach before the erupt out. Unfortunately, both the blue angel and orange skater prove too late, their icy adversary plucking from the ground what seemed to be two serpent like dragons from the earth; both of these new creations lunging towards both of them. Hoping to evade the approaching serpent, Tore rockets out towards the midnight sky; glancing down to witness the icy dragon ascending after.

Mally meanwhile hops over the dragons frosty bite and grinds across its chilling backside like a rail; the skater ready to swing her hockey stick right into her frosty foe’s neck. Just before she could take her swing, the serpents tail emerges and flings the rollerblader high in the air; Mally losing hold of her weapon in her unplanned flight. Careening up through the cold night sky, Mally acts fast and pulls her grapple-yo out from her pocket; quickly throwing the gadget out towards her falling weapon. While her yoyo does catch her hockey stick from the air below, the skater finds the serpent that flung her into the sky ascending after her; realizing that her weapon won’t make it back to her grasp in time. Instead, Mally swings her weapon out and around the night sky; the rollerblader’s body eclipsing the moons lunar glow. Flinging her hockey stick high overhead, the rollerblader casts down her weapon down towards the rising frost dragon below; her weapon cleaving straight through the icy serpent and splitting it in half. Mally’s hockey stick digs into the concrete below; the dragons remains sprinkling down after.

Rocketing across the starless midnight sky, Tore flees from the pursuing ice dragon; the serpent bellowing out chilling gales out towards the escaping angel. Feeling his snake like pursuers freezing breath creep down his back, he tosses behind him a bright ball of light; the freezing serpent weaves around the blue boy’s blast. The dragon distracted by his pale light, the blue angel takes the chance to lunge forth; charging a powerful glow within a single palm. Up close to the serpents chilling maw, Tore shoves his whole arm down the freezing beasts throat; the blue boy feeling the dragons deathly cold insides. Right as the serpents breath coats the boy’s side.; the blue angel fires down a powerful deadly beam down the dragons inner working; the blast shattering the beast to snowflakes.

Witnessing the remains of her dragons flutter down onto the concrete before her, Ilana draws in the rest of the surrounding frost; forming out from its ice a whole heard of freezing animals around her, a school of icy sharks of which fly out towards their masters foe’s. The carnivorous fish seek out towards both the blue angel and orange skater, Tore of which shakes off the dragons frost and zips after his sister. In her plummet down towards the hard parking lot, Mally finds the slick frosty sharks lunging forth after her; soon hearing her brothers call from the side. “Mally!” Tracing the call, she discovers the blue angel approaching from the side; Tore sticking his hand out towards the descending girl. Just before the oncoming sharks could take a bite of the skater, Mally takes her brothers hand and is swept out of their maw’s reach. Though the pack of carnivorous fish dare not quit their pursuit; the school racing out towards the retreating duo. The rollerblader tosses her grapple yo across the parking lot from her brothers grasp; her gadgets string wrapping around her beloved weapons neck, soon jerked back towards its masters hands.

“You wanna do the honors or should I?” Tore asks his sister. “Don’t worry bro, I’d be more than happy to.” Mally complies. From his hands, the blue angel tosses his sister overhead, the skater landing atop her brothers back. The frosty sharks nearing fast, Mally readies to shatter their heads with her trusty hockey stick; wearing an excited smile across her face. Out from the school, the shark to the front lunges forth, tempting to take a chunk of the girls orange haired head; the skater breaking its head to pieces in a single swing. “That’s one.” Another aims to approach from the side, aiming its chompers right at her stomach; the rollerblader striking the carnivore aside just before it could plunge its teeth into her. “Two!” The final predator of the pack rises above the skater’s helmeted head, divebombing down towards the two in its site. In one strong overhead swing, Mally shatters the descending shark into frosty chunks; the skater cheering out upon her victory: “Three strike! You’re out!”

Having beaten back their pursuer, the angel flies high above the parking lots cracked concrete; taking advantage of the birds eye view to observe their frosty foe. Both of them find Ilana surrounding herself with her own icy cavalcade of animals beast around her constantly on guard as their master gazes out towards her airborne adversaries. “Hey bro. Think that this chilling situation might call for Strat 5?” the skater suggests. “I’m sure on that one Mal, something tells me we can’t just go busting through that zoo of ice sculptures like an enraged polar bear.” the blue boy guesses. “We need to break her defense down from a distance. Maybe if you start shooting them out one by one.” “My beams might do the trick, though they’d be too bright to get in any sneaky hits; especially with it being as dark out.” From her blue brothers warning; Mally looks through the parking lot for whatever could aid their struggles against chilling commander; her site soon locking on the desolate playground aside the school. “You got an idea there, Mal?” her brother wonders. “I think I might.”

Impatient of her foes constant aerial meandering, the cold captain commands a chunk of her army to charge forth; a flock of frosty manta rays flying out towards the duo. Mally jumps off her brothers back to split off from the manta attack, skating across the desolate parking lot pavement in her landing. Ilana sends out a pride of icy lions to pursue the orange rollerblader; their frosty fangs bared out towards their skating pursuit. The packs prey doesn’t prove as defenseless as they think however, Mally putting the breaks on and faces the pursing lions head on. First tackling the head of the pack, the orange skater strikes the chilling cat right up from its chin; the leader shattering to pieces against her hockey stick. Another of them attempt to take advantage of their orange foe during her attack; leaping out towards the skater while she rises from the pack. The icy lion is soon met with the hard end of her trusty grapple-yo; Mally throwing her yoyo out and busting apart the beasts head. The final cat of the chilling trio aims to strike from behind; its claws swiping at the rollerblader’s backside. Its ice cold claws come to a halt upon the skaters hockey stick; Mally swatting away the frosty cat back. Staggering from the knock back, the icy lion can do little but watch as its thought to be prey charges after; the rollerblader breaking the beast apart with one helmeted headbutt. Having destroyed her frosty feline foes, Mally skates across pieces of their corpse’s as she head for the playground.

Watching her rollerblading foe streak away, the frosty leader readies to send out another pack of icy animals to pursue her; hesitating when she notices a bright light approaching from her side. Glancing beside her, Ilana finds a volley of bright balls of light careening towards her and her pack; the cold commander scattering her zoo of icy animals away from the oncoming barrage. The leader of the pack herself weaves around the salvo of light; soon finding the angel himself closing in after. Tore kicks out towards the icy renegades; Ilana catching the blue angel’s leg just before he could strike at her chest. In the midst of his failed assault, the blue angel finds a frosty blue buffalo charging right at his side; the icy bovine forcing him to retreat from its master. Tore rises high above the chilling captains pack of cold animals, throwing down a bright ball of light in his rise. The pale ball of power diving down towards her, Ilana erects a whole mess of tentacles from her frost; their tips sporting razor sharp blades. Just when the blue angels deadly sphere was ready to crash down, the captains icy tentacles halts the light in its descent; slashing the angels attack to pieces. The remains of her angelic foes light exploding above her; the smoke quickly clearing to reveal to the blue angel her icy glare. “So long as there is a cold breath in my body, you cannot hope to melt my ice cold determination.”

Out in the desolate playground behind her, the orange skater wraps her yoyo’s string around the remains of a jungle gym. With every fiber of her being, Mally swiftly uproots the piece of rustic playground equipment; sending it careening out to her frosty foes backside. The jungle gym tumbling out towards the freezing renegade, Ilana suddenly turns back and commands her zoo of icy beasts to halt the oncoming equipment in its tracks. “Did you honestly think such a pathetic strategy would get the best of me?” the leader mocks.

The cold commander is caught off guard when discovering the skater herself racing right at her side, glancing back to her pack to find them to far away to defend their master. Though she attempts to evade the rollerblader’s blitz, she nonetheless feels the blunt of her foes hockey stick on her jaw; Mally striking the cold captain right up towards the night sky. Witnessing his frosty foe sent rocketing out, Tore ascends right above the rising renegade; soon dive bombing straight down towards the chilling commander. Her brother chasing after the airborn woman; the orange skater leaps after to join the pursuing assault; the icy woman herself to dazed to stop herself from descending back down. Both siblings begin to approach their plummeting foe; Mally ready to swing her hockey stick right as Tore pulls back his fist. The duo soon pull off their pinching assault right in the middle of the air; Ilana feeling the sting of Tore fist on her face and Mally’s weapon on her stomach. After successful delivering their team attack, Tore and Mally gracefully land aside each other; their foe crashing on the concrete behind them.

The duo gazing upon each other in mix of shock and amazement, both suddenly cheering upon their stunning victory. Their hooting and hollering echoing across the broken city block, the two break out in short, adrenaline fueled dancing. The celebration dying down, the sibling glance back towards each other; Tore admitting that: “I can’t believe we pulled that off!” “I know, right? I didn’t think that the strat wasn’t gonna work for a second! But it did!” Mally cheers. After screaming out one final time, their celebration comes to a calming close; Tore glancing towards the school and wondering aloud: “I wonder how Roy’s doing in there?” “He’s probably just cleaning up in there as speak.” Mally guesses. “Think we should join him?” “Course. We can’t let him have all the fun, can we?”

Upon those words do the duo begin to stroll down towards the decrepit schools front doors; their approach coming to a halt when they hear the sound of struggling from behind. Both turn back to witness their frosty foe slowly rising from the cracked concrete; Ilana legs trembling so much, she struggles to even stand. “Whoa, hard to believe she still can even stand.” the skater tells her brother. “I’m wonder how she’s still alive after all that.” the angel questions. Though her limbs refuse to cease shaking, the weakened renegade inches out towards her two foe’s; the blood coughing out from her mouth spilling onto the pavement. As she limps out to the sibling, her bleeding maw utters out: “(So long...as an icy breath...dwells within my lungs...I’ll never...let you inside!)”

Watching as their beaten adversary pitifully limps out towards them, the duo can help but feel sorry. “Man. This is...It’s pretty hard to watch.” Mally admits. “I know...I’ll make it quick.” Tore mentions; aiming a charging blast at their fallen foe. Right when the blue angel was ready to fire out his searing light towards the broken renegade; both hear the blue boy’s phone go off; Tore quickly pulling out his mobile device and answering with: “Hey Roy, what’s up?”

Her legs finally giving out in her, Ilana collapses onto the cracked concrete below her feet; struggling to pry herself off the concrete pavement as the light in front of her glows. To her surprise however, that light swiftly dims to nothing; the bloodied renegade glancing up to find the blue angel approach. “It’s for you.” he mentions, presenting his mobile device to her. Even though she proves puzzled, Ilana nevertheless takes her foes phone; shocked to hear a familiar voice on the other end greet: “(Hey there, my frosty vanilla ice cream treat. How is it going?)” “(You! My comrades were tasked with finishing you...How did you escape?)” “(Eh, never mind all that right now. I’m just phoning in to brag about knowing what your guy’s deal is.)” “(What?)” “(Sheltering the homeless, stealing food for the poor, going against the rich; got the whole noble robin hood act down and out. Though like I said before, you guys ain’t gonna get anywhere just blowing up a pig pen.)” “(And you think you do?)” Ilana questions. “(Oh believe me, taking out a bunch of random politicians isn’t exactly a good look for you guys either. Now going after the head on the other hand, that might make for a better narrative.)” “(And what makes you think we’re willing to cooperate with a bunch of government hired brats?)” “(Do you think you have better options?)” To Roy’s question, the cold commander gazes up to her teenage foe’s; their bodies overshadowing the descending moonlight. “(What do you say make ourselves a little deal?)” the purple merc offers.

Out near the center of Vienna, the moon shines its lunar glow down upon a massive palace; the window overlooking a wide garden revealing a well dressed gentleman. The slightly girth gent gazes out beyond the tranquility of his garden, taking in the site of the busy highways in the distance; the countless vehicles front lights trailing across the concrete roads. The man blows out a satisfied breath from beyond his prideful smile: “(What beautiful site. The perfect picture of a well oiled machine.)” Turning away from the wide window, the man slowly strolls out towards the desk behind him; further bragging on how: “(Thanks to inflating the prices of goods and services throughout Austria, we’ve trimmed all the fat off our working forces; making our beloved country more productive then it has been in 40 years.)” The man then takes a seat on the comforting plush of his office chair; his eyes aimed out towards the back of the room as he questions: “(Wouldn’t you agree, my plucky assistant?)” From the other side of his desk, a lone lady with a tablet paces back and forth; exclaiming how: “(Quite certainly, my chancellor! The excess labor and price increases has our revenue and efficiency skyrocketing. With this kind of output, we’ll be able to be stock price demands within the next month or two.)” “(Excellent!)” the man chuckles out. Leaning out onto his desk, he snatches the platinum plaque from the front; gazing at it face to read aloud: “(“Chancellor Dieter Burtz”, a well earned title.”)

Right in his moment of pride, a powerful tremor shakes the entire palace; the quaking causing the chancellor to tumble out of his plush office chair. After the trembling soon passes; his assistant rises from the front of the office desk; readjusting her glasses before question: “(What was that!?)” Dieter himself pulls himself up through the windows, glancing outside and mentioning how: “(I don’t see anything out front.)” Just then, the chancellor witnesses a blanket of frost crawl up his window; the ice soon consuming the entire palace from top to bottom. Sent in a flailing panic; the pudgy man rushes back to his desk; fumbling on his plush office chair in the sudden dash. Tumbling underneath the desk, Dieter’s eyes lock onto a small button placed underneath; immediately jabbing his finger onto the button. Pushing this button, he waits for a moment; almost as if expecting an alarm to go off. Hearing nothing but silence, the chancellor nervously keeps tapping the button over and over again; screaming out how: “(Why isn’t the alarm working!?)” “(It’s worse than that.)” he hears his assistant warns. Climb out from under his desks, Dieter looks to the woman fiddling with her phone and ask: “(What do you mean!?)” “(The signal on my phone is jammed! I can’t get a single call through!”) Swiftly digging into his pocket, the chancellor pulls out his own mobile device; discovering his own phone having the not a single signal. “(Why is this happening!?)”

Out from behind the massive palace, a fully recovered Ilana pries her palms away from the castles frosty covered back wall; a chilled breath passing through her lips. “(That should about cover every inch of the palace.)” Declaring this, the chilling captain turns back towards some of her remaining soldiers tampering with a slew of devices; all of which are hooked up to a single black box with three prongs rising from the top. “(Is all of our equipment working properly?)” their chilling captain questions. “(Everything’s fully operational captain. The signal jammer is all hooked up and working properly. No one in that building can even get a text out. He he. And all of you laughed at me for steeling all this stuff a year back.)” “(Well, we all our moment’s of glory every now and again. And ours may be coming really soon.)” Declaring such, all of them look back towards the ice coated castle; the windows showing guards and agents rushing through the halls. “(Do you really think those three kids will deliver on their promise?) one soldier questions. “(We only hope that they do, Gaben. We gambled our lives countless times before. What’s one more time?)”

Racing through the palaces insides; three armed agents in suits race across its polished marble halls; one of which attempting to call for help from their headset with: “(Come in! Is anybody on the other end? The entire palace is shut in and under attack. Answer!)” His calls only draw in nothing but static from his headset; complaining to his other agents: “(Dammit! I can’t even get a single thing out!)” “(Forget the radio! We’ll just head to the chancellor’s office and gather other agents along the way!)”

In their rush through the castle corridors, the three agents enter the huge entrance hall; several decorative horizontal beams hanging over the marble floor. All three of them stop right at the base of the massive staircase when they here somebody bait their attention with: “(Yohoo!)” The trio of agents looks back towards the front door; discovering the purple merc waving to them and asking: “(Don’t want to be the dumb ass tourist here, but you guys know where I can find the main mans office?)” “(Who’s the kid?)” “(Did he get locked in here?)” “(You fools! He asked where the chancellor is. He’s one of the terrorists! Open fire!)” From their comrades demand, the three agents fire their entire salvo out down on Roy; the merc yawning aloud as every single bullet ricochets off his body. “(Kind of a shocker you guys are up and atom this late. Anybody else would be dead tired about now.)” the purple boy explains, soon firing out a sphere of darkness out towards the trio. Though they attempt to evade the merc’s black ball, one of them fails to dodge in time; his legs consumed by the shadowy blast. Watching their comrade’s blood spill out from their blasted legs; the other agents stand horrified of the site; Roy finishing his joke with: “(Ya get it!)”

One of the surviving agents attempt to charge towards the merc that murdered their comrade; soon feeling herself being swept off the marble floor. The agent glances up to see what snatched her from the floor; discovering the blue angel carrying her in an airborne nelson hold. Her gliding trip starts to take a sudden dive when Tore flips over one of the archways near the ceiling; soon plummeting down back towards the hard marble floor. In their rapid descent, Tore throws the agent down like a diving comet; her crash down spreading cracks across the halls polished floor. Her harsh landing fails to do her in however, the guard letting out an agonizing moan as she turns over towards the ceiling. The agents painful groans are suddenly silenced; the blue angel grasping her mouth with a single hand. A bright light quickly begins to fill the downed guards mouth; the blue angel firing a ray right down the agents mouth and blasting her head apart.

The last of the agents look on in horror as he darts his site between both of his comrades corpses; slowly backing away towards the hall they came from. His slow retreat soon turns into a full blown sprint, the guards scrambling out towards the hallway. The poor guy’s escape is swiftly thwarted upon facing the blunt end of a hockey stick; Mally smacking the agent out across the entrance hall. The rollerblader skates off towards the careening guard, outracing the agent in his unplanned flight. She soon skates up through the wall; jumping out towards her approaching foe and striking him upwards. From her second strike; the skater pulls out her grapple yo and casts the gadget up towards the decorative bars above; soon pulling ahead her rising foe. Reaching the horizontal beam, Mally utilizes her momentum to flip right down towards the ascending agent. Diving down at the airborne guard, the skater slams her hockey stick right at the guys neck; the two crashing down onto the marble floor.

Seeing her strike having obliterated the agents neck, Mally gazes towards her purple brother ans wonders: “So how many of these grunt you’d say we gotta deal with?” “Hate to break it to ya, but there’s still plenty more of these throwaway guards scuttling through this Austrian ice block. And while you two are mowing all of them down; I’ll be paying the beloved chancellor a special little visit.” “Ya know, I’m still kinda surprised how you gave up potential billions just to help these resistance renegades out.” Tore elaborates. “Yeah, what kind of deal did you strike with their ironically hot boss?” “Eh, nothing special really. Just a little gift for my girl on our next date.” Roy reveals with a smirk smile. “Wow, Roy. I’m surprisingly proud of you. Thinking with your heart instead of your dick.” Tore admits. “Ya keep that up and you might just make things work with this Roxanne yet…for about a month or two.” Mally adds. “Gee, thanks guys.” the merc sarcastically thanks. Upon saying such, the purple angel sees his siblings give out a pair of heartwarming smiles; soon forming one between his own cheeks. “Now both of you get going.” From this order do both the angel and skates streak down the halls set to the side; Roy himself flying up through the set of red stairs. All three of them fail to realize the legless agent crawling across the cracked marble; leaving behind a blood soaked trail in his drag across the hall.

Both the orange skater and blue angel race across the palaces glittering hallway’s; Tore’s glowing wings reflecting off the floors polished marble. Mally can’t help but shield her eyes from the overwhelming glow; complaining on how: “Jesus! These floors are just practically half made of polish, aren’t they? It’s even brighter than the downtown skyscrapers back home.” “You want me to put my wings away?” her brother offers. “No way. We all need to be on point for this. Ya just never know when the next ambush is around the corner.” Almost like tempting fate, the duo turn the next corner to find a whole slew of agents ready on the assault; their countless firearms aimed right towards the two: “Fuckin hell, mate.” the skater curses out.

The intruders in their site; one of the guards points out and orders: “(There they are! Open fire!)” From that demand does the squad unload their clips out towards the siblings; Tore swiftly getting in front of her sister as the bullets fly by. With his own body, the blue boy shields his sibling against the passing led storm; the bullets doing little but bounce off Tore. While blocking off the barrage, the blue angel fires out beam after beam towards the squad ahead; picking the agents off one by one. With over half of the squad taken out, one of which comes out wielding a massive bazooka; warning his comrades to: “(Stand back! I got this!)” Out from the front end of his bazooka, the guard unleashes a deadly rocket that swiftly careens out towards the two; Tore bracing himself for the inevitable explosive. In her brothers brace, Mally slips from the blue boys backside; skating out towards the oncoming rocket as she exclaims: “Stand back! I got this!”

The explosive closing in, rollerblader pulls out her grapple-yo and tosses it out towards the rocket; successfully wrapping her gadgets string around the payload. With the rocket in her yoyo’s grasp, Mally twirls the explosive across the glittering halls; soon flinging the payload back towards its sender. With their rocket on the verge of returning, the squad attempts to flee for their lives; the explosive proving far faster in the end. From the resulting boom, severed parts of the guards bodies scatter across the hall; their boiling blood splattering across the walls, floor and ceiling. “Yeah, bullseye!” the skater cheers while landing back on the marble. Her brother soon glides past, warning her that: “There’s plenty more where they came from, sis. Better keep up.” With Tore’s taunt, Mally swiftly chases after her blue brother; leaping over the chard corpses in her pursuit.

Through the halls above; Roy streaks across the red carpeted halls of the castle; his site locked on to the right of the palace. From what the old senses are saying, the Austrian bastard himself is stuck flailing around his office like a panicking insect caught in the trappings of this icy web. Should be pretty easy to just bust in and gut the fat pig by now. As long as she doesn’t come out, than we’re all good.

Upon those thoughts does the merc feel a massive crew of agents closing in; their life forces dashing ever closer towards the next. Oh come on. There ain’t no time to deal with this shit. We got a schedule to keep here. With this in mind, the purple merc frantically looks through both sides of the hall; all of the windows on one side coated in a thick layer of ice. Windows are obviously out. Along the other side, the halls walls bared two doors; one of which was far off at the end of the hall behind him. Hearing the approaching squad in earshot, Roy glances towards the other door with a hesitant glare; a sigh leaving his lips as his hand reaches the door knob. Ah for fucks sake. Lets just get this swan dive into emotional hell over with.

Scrambling into the recesses of a dim maroon room; Roy shuts the door behind him; placing his ear against the wood to hear the pack of agents pass through the hall. Once he sensed the squad having left, a relieved breath escapes his lips; that very same breath retracting when he hears a girls voice call to him from behind; “(Roy, is that you?)” Though shaken, the merc nonetheless turns out to the rest of the room wearing a less than pleased glare; responding to the call with: “(Hey there, Romy.)” Lying upon the bed before him be a teenage girl covered under a thick fleece blanket. “(It is you. I’m...surprised you came back.)” “(Yeah, you’re probably not to thrilled to see me after screwing both you and brother and just leaving. I’ll see myself out.)” In the midst of turning towards the door, he senses the girl swiftly approaching; glancing back just in time to witness Romy jump out from the bed. The partially clothed teenager tackles the purple merc down the dark red carpet; Roy brace for whatever punishment she plans to serve him.

The merc opens his eyes when feeling not a single lash on him, gazing over himself to discover holding him a loving embrace; a sort of giggling moan escaping from her lips. “(You’re not mad?)” “(Oh quite the opposite, my purple lover. I’ve never been more excited in my life.)” Declaring this, the teenager plants her wet lips onto the mercs; her saliva dripping down Roy’s cheeks. Romy eventually parts her passionate smooch; further going on her loving rant how: “(Since the night that you took my brother and I’s virginity, neither of us could get it out of our heads; the raw passion we shared between was truly a moment of magic. You’ve opened my eyes to a whole new world; filled with nothing but forbidden love, passionate thrills, and endless pleasure. But...no matter who I shared my lust with, no matter how much sex I had; none of it could come close to compare to the raw emotion the three of use shared that night.)” Faced with the girls lustful smile, the purple merc’s eyes dart across the room; sweat racing down his forehead as he feigns how: “(Eh...that-that great Romy. Uhnn…Say, speaking of your brother, I’m not sensing him anywhere in the castle. Is he out of town or something?” “(Oh, Badule. What an idiot. He flew out of the country, wanting to move on. He pleaded for me to do the same, telling me that you would never come back...But he was wrong, oh so wrong! And now, I have you all to myself.)” Hearing Romy’s blissful giggling slowly morphing into maniacal laughter; Roy’s head backs down towards the maroon carpeting; the merc’s purple pupils shrinking to pin slits.

Back down the Vienna palaces first floor, screams could be heard echoing across the hall; their cries swiftly muffled out by the sound of explosions and cracking bones. One of the explosions wind up burst out into another hall; both the blue angel and orange skater speeding out from the smoking hallway. “Alright! Another bunch of those suited bastards beaten! Which way you think we should go next bro?” Mally exclaims. Hearing not a single response from her blue brother, the rollerblader gazing across the smoke shrouded air for any sign of him. “Bro?” Mally finally finds the blue boy standing across the hall, skating over to discover a starstruck glow in his eyes. “Tore?” “Mally, look...” the blue boy utters. Glancing in the same direction as her brother, the orange skater beholds a massive paper screen surrounded in fine silk curtain; a rows of violet seats standing between them and the big screen. “These guy’s got their own movie theather!” Tore exclaims launching up high in the hall. The blue angel soon flutter down towards one of the seats, landing to lounge on its comfortable felt; a relaxed sigh leaving his lungs. “So, these guys are going through some kind of economic trade’s drought, and best thing they could think to use their tax money on is an overly glamorous movie theater!?” Mally questions. “I know. What a bunch of assholes.”

“I’m beginning to see why Ilana despises her government so much. How many more of their agents do you think we have to deal with?” “Can’t be too many of them left now. The ones that we missed are practically running away from us. Pretty safe to say that Roy’s in the clear to bust into the presidents office.” “Tore, Austrian’s head is a chancellor.” “Eh, tomato tomato, potato potato, same diff. Hey, what kind of movies you think these German gentlemen have to play?”

Its then that the two of them feel the entire theater tremble beneath their feet; the walls around them cracking and curving out towards the big screen. From beyond the sheet, the head of a robotic salamander burst out before the duo; the cockpit window revealing the pilot to be the agents whose legs Roy blew off. “Cool! It’s a 3D flick. I love these.” the blue boy cheers; watching as the mech readies to lunge forth. A yoyo’s string wraps around Tore’s chair, entangling the blue boy in his grasp and pulling him away just before the slams its metallic head into the row of seats. Her brothers seat crashing down beside her, Mally unravels her yoyo’s string around the violet chair; warning her brother on how: “It’s a bit too realistic for my tastes.” Punching the felt seat off himself, Tore leaps out with wings unfolded; landing beside his sister as both ready for whatever the oversized toy has to throw at them.

Both siblings soon witness the robotic lizard lunging forth towards them; the duo splitting away from its rushing charge. From between the two, the mechanical lizard chases after the escaping skater; cracking open its massive maw to reveal it be full of saw blades. Just when the robotic salamander was ready to chomp down onto the orange rollerblader, something swiftly jerks its lower half back. Taking a glance back to its bottom half, the mechanical lizard looks to its tail to find the blue angel hugging it tightly; tugging the entire metal beast back. The oversized lizard quickly lifts its back end, flailing its steel tail in every direction it could. Try as the blue boy might to keep his grip; the tails sleek steel has him slip away; Tore sent careening towards the back of the theater.

From watching the angels crash, a taunting call soon baits its attention back towards the front. “Hey! Ya tacky chrome motherfucker!” Gazing out towards the source of the call, the pilot finds the orange skater blading up the theater's smooth walls; soon leaping away from the wall and diving out towards the cockpit. Try as it might to open its saw blade maw, the metal salamanders foe proves faster; Mally slamming her hockey stick against its cockpit. The rollerblader hammers against the mech’s head hard enough to break its stance; the entire lizard crashing down upon the seats below. From her pounding slam, the skater flips across the theater; landing beside her brother as he pries himself out of the wall. Their lizard like foe rises from the remains of the seats, turning back towards the two and revealing its cockpit to hold not even a single scratch. “Dammit! Didn’t even put a dent in it!” “Well, then why don’t I give it a go.” her brothers offers, soon speeding out towards their metallic adversary.

Zooming out towards the robotic salamander, Tore first takes a punch out to its side; toppling the metal beast on its stomach. Following that strike, the blue angel ascends high above the downed salamander; rocketing down towards the cockpit like a descending comet. In the angel’s drop down, the robotic beast rolls out of the blue boys dive; Tore leaving behind a crater in his crash against the theater floor. Tore gazes beyond the crater to witness the metallic lizard flipping itself back on its legs; the beast lunging back in the fray with its metal mouth wide open. The angel rises out of the mech’s sawblade bite, flying high above and charging a bright light between his palms; the blue boy taking aim out towards his metallic foe’s head. Unleashing the pale light; Tore fires out a powerful beam down towards the mechanical salamander; the beast blocking the blast with its tail. The blue angel watches as all the energy from his beam is sucked right into the tails end, the light dimming to reveal the tip of its tail open; a strange device encapsulating the blue boys power. Perplexed by the metal salamanders machinery; Tore watches as the beast wags its tail in circles; the mech soon whipping out a wave of pale power from the tip of its device. Caught off guard by the lizards attack, the blue angel is struck by the wave of light; the boy sent crashing into the side of the screen. Tumbling to the bottom of the theater, the blue boy quickly starts to rise from the wooden floor; warning aloud how he: “I can’t even fire a single beam at it!” From the wreckage of the seats, the metallic salamander opens its saw filled maw wide and charging out to the blue angel.

Back within the confines of the maroon bedroom, Roy scrambles across the bed with the amorous Romy after his tail. “(Come on, Roy. Why are you playing hard to get now? Don’t you want to drown in each other’s bodies?)” “(I’m not really in the mood for swimming right now.) the merc frantically informs. “(Oh, but why the cold feet all of the sudden? We both partake in such scandalous pleasures without so much as thinking of the consequence. So why stop now?)” the partially clothed woman questions, soon leaping out towards her pursuit. Roy instinctively evades Romy’s lunge; the girl slamming her head against the wall; the merc backing away as she glares at him unfazed. “(It’s cause I’ve got a relationship going and I really want to make it work.)” The mercs response breaks the woman amorous stare; the confused face letting out a loud laughter. Her cackle quickly dying down, Romy admitting how: “(That’s priceless.)” “(What is?)” Roy soon feels her finger push against his nose, elaborating how: “(If I know the kind of person you are, then it’s no doubt that you’ve already cheated on them, haven’t you?)” To the lady’s question, the merc can’t help but avert his eyes; Romy gasping with: “(I knew you did. Face it. Having a relationship is nothing but fantasy for the both of us. Why even try to make one work?)” Such a question draws out nothing from the mercs mouth, his gaze simply dropping down towards the red carpet below. “(Beside, what difference would it make to cheat on them again?)” the girl asks, wondering back towards the bed. Roy looks on as Romy leaps onto her comforting bed; spreading herself before the purple merc and begging to him to: “(So take me now, you lustful purple beast; let’s go as long as the night lasts!)” To the amorous woman presenting herself before him; countless drops of sweat drip down across the merc’s face; one of his legs approaching the bed while the other retreats for the door.

In her dash across the brightly lit theater hall, Mally charges out towards her mechanical foe; taking aim at one of the salamanders front legs. The metallic lizard lunges out of her the rollerblading intruders assault; the skater swing missing entirely. This miss fails to discourage her; Mally acting fast and casting her grapple yo out towards one of its hind legs; her string wrapping around the heavy metal limb. Pulling away from the retreating lizard, she tugs back using the momentum of her retreat; hard enough to topple the beast upside down and exposing its stomach. Tore takes the chance that his sister gave him and divebombs straight down, crashing straight onto the salamanders metallic stomach. The angels descending blow creates a deep dent into the robots middle; some of the wiring inside weaving out from the cracks of the metal shell. Their metallic adversary limbs go completely limp; the steel salamander seemingly being defeated on the spot. Jumping out from the dent that he made, Tore lands on the mechs metal jaw; celebrating with jazz hand. “Bada baaa!” Watching as her brother dances atop their beaten foe’s body, Mally lets out aggravated sigh as she shakes her head.

From her irritated sigh, the skater looks back towards the seemingly defeated salamander; noticing its legs rotate back onto the ground. “Tore, watch out!” she attempts to warn her blue brother. The boy suddenly stopping his dance atop the robotic lizards jaw, glancing back towards his sister with a: “Heh?” That very same jaw suddenly opens wide, tossing the angel out towards the salamanders rising backside; its tail waging up as the boy careens back. With a single swipe from the mech’s tail, Tore is sent flying across the theater once more. Right on the verge of crashing into the wall, the blue angel feels something wrap around his waist; a yoyo string jerking him back towards his approaching sister. Mally unravels her grapple yo from around her brother, swiftly informing that: “I think Strat 27 might be a good pick here.” “Are you sure? Roy’s isn’t even with us.” “It’s the only one that might work right now. We’ll just have to do it without him.”

Upon this swift discussion, both watch as their lizard like foe crawls up the theater wall; climbing across the ceiling and dropping down towards the duo. Their metal foe descending down, Mally swiftly flees from its drop; her brother standing his ground and sticking his arms out towards the diving salamander. The blue angel halts the heavy weight mech’s drop down; Tore holding the oversized lizard above his head. His caught foe struggles from under his grasp, the blue boy keeping the heavy mech balanced above him as he watches his sister roll out towards the back of the theater. Once he sees Mally skate up towards the roof, the angel crouches down with the full weight of his metallic foe; leaping into the air and hurling its heavy metal towards his sister. The orange rollerblader soon springs from the theater wall, leaping out towards the careening lizard. Flying towards the steel salamander, the airborne skater has the cockpit in her sites; Mally ready to take another swing out to the reinforced glass. Putting every ounce of strength into her swipe, the rollerblader strikes the cockpits glass hard enough for the blow to echo loudly across the theater. Mally discovers in her swing that her hardened blow served to crack the cockpit by a smidgen, a frazzled growl escaping from between her teeth as she bounces back. Between the two of them, the metallic salamander is the first on its feet; going after the dropping rollerblader as soon as it lands. The skater can do little but block the lizards oncoming charge; soon tackled straight across the theater. Sent flying back from the mech’s head ramming, Mally crashes right into the back of the halls; shaking off the blow to find herself stuck in its wall. Witnessing her metallic foe on the approach, the skater attempts to pry herself out as the lizard nears; managing to only pullout her left side. Alas, this fails to give her much reliable escape from the steel salamander; watching as the mech opens its saw blade filled maw.

Right when the machine was ready to swallow the skater in one bite, the blue angel comes in from the side and knock the beast back with one kick. The overgrown garden lizard quickly recovers from the unexpected blow; retreating from the angel by climbing up across the wall. Tore turns his gaze away from the salamander, glancing over to find his sister prying herself free from the wall. Landing beside her brother, Mally looks to her brother with: “Thanks bro. Thought I was gonna be part of a Germanic meat pie for a minute there.” “Don’t thank me yet, sis. We still got ourselves a scaly son a gun to deal with here.” On that note do both of them gaze out towards the retreating salamander; watching as he descends from the ceiling on the other side of the theater; its cockpit aimed squarely towards the duo. “Man, this guy’s don’t when to quit, does he? He should be dead by now.” Tore complains. “We don’t have to kill it. We just have to keep it occupied long enough for Roy to get to the chancellor.” Mally reassures.

From the other side of the hall, both siblings witness their lizards like foe charge out towards them; the duo lunging after in response. Both Tore and Mally dash towards the oncoming steel salamander; ready to come at their metallic adversary with all they got; unable to hear a ceiling break from above. Dropping down from the hole in the roof, their purple brother descends down towards the lizards back; slamming the salamander right onto the broken rows of violet seats. Both Tore and Mally watch as the black angel leaps off their grounded foe; Roy landing right before his siblings. “Roy! Sweet slamdown, man. Top notch!” Tore cheers. “Why are you even here? I thought you were going for the Chancellor’s office.” Mally wonder. “Yeah, I kinda sensed you guy weren’t really moving through all that much and figured. Hey! Why not change game plan one more time?” Roy explain. “Whatdya got in mind?” his blue brother ask. “Skipping the subtly here, we’re gonna beat the shit outta that over glorified tax dumpster and plow through this place together, you two in?” To the merc’s altered strategy, Mally can’t help but wince at the idea; criticizing on how: “I ain’t really too sure there, doesn’t really sound like the smartest of plans...what the hell? I’m in.” “Oh hell yeah. Can’t wait to tear through this place like the gingerbread house on Christmas eve.” “So it was you! It took me two days to put that thing together! You know how much flour I had to go through!?” his sister accuses.

Out from behind the angelic trio, the steel salamander rises from the remains of the violet seats; opening its saw blade mouth wide in front of the three. The giant lizard lunges its maw out towards the trio; all of them splitting off from its steel lunge. The purple merc glides back towards the theater screen; questioning out loud: “So guys, what strat you think we should use to finish this scaly motherfucker? I’m thinkin strat 27.” Skating around the massive metal menace, Mally barks at him how: “Roy, what the hell is wrong with you!? We’re not here to level the whole city!” Gliding towards the back of the hall, their blue brother suggest how: “How bout we go with strat 8? That’s always a classic.” “Eh, true. But we don’t have any pickle juice on hand.” the merc reminds him. “Plus, the guys in a cockpit. It might not work. Me thinks the best one to use in this case be Strat #13.” the skater mentions. To their sisters suggestion, both of her brother’s smile; Tore mentioning out: “We haven��t done deadly #13 in a long time.” “Hell yeah! A favorite of mine! Let’s waste this bitch!” Roy shouts.

From the trio’s agreement, Tore is the first to lunge out towards the scaly beast; the blue angel zooming out towards the salamanders cockpit. Their metallic foe evades the blue boys fly by strike, standing on its hind legs and lifting its head up high. While the iron lizard stands high, Mally takes the moment to swerve around its back limbs; winding her grapple yo’s string at its legs top. As it drops its head down, the mech’s pilot is takes aback when he finds the purple merc right on the cockpits reinforced glass; punching the shell as he taunts with: “(Knock knock, bitch!)” The cracks spreading across the pilots only shield, he controls the salamanders head to flail about; the merc holding on as his scaly foe squirms. During the salamanders fit, the orange roller blader twirls across its dented body; weaving her yoyo’s string around the lizards middle. The robotic beasts flailing eventually flings its purple pest off its head; Roy sent flying across the theater.

Tore manages to catch his purple brother before he hits the wall, both Roy and him soon turning their attention out towards their steel scaly foe. The duo notice their sister leaping off the salamanders dented hide, tossing her grapple yo out towards them. First to catch their sisters string, Tore darts out in the opposite direction from his purple brother; swiftly approaching a theater balcony. Landing upon the indoor perch, the blue boy quickly wraps the gadgets string across the balconies columned sides; weaving the yoyo through the balcony. Once finished on his end, Tore tosses the grapple yo towards the other end of the theater; his purple brother catching the gadget in his single hand. Roy glides across the theaters stone columns, wrapping his sister string through their stone. Having enveloped the pillars in the grapple yo’s string, the purple merc flings the gadget back over towards the steel salamander; Mally leaping out from behind its head and snatching her yoyo back. The salamanders head jerks out towards the rollerblader, opening its maw and tempting to bite the skater whole. Mally evades the lizards chomp, encircling around the metal beasts through in her dodge; her grapple yo’s string weaving around the steel neck.

Finished encircling the salamanders iron neck, the orange rollerblader leaps away from her metallic foe; jumping out towards one of her strings suspended by the wayside. Grasping her suspended string, Mally drags it down towards the bottom of the theater; pulling on both it and her yoyo as hard as she can. With the skaters grapple yo entangled around the trio’s iron cold adversary, the string surrounding it tightens round its steel shell; soon immobilizing the giant lizard in the skaters web. With every single ounce of strength she has left, Mally keeps the heavy weight salamander grounded on the theater floor; grunting aloud: “C’mon guys!...Can’t hold it down forever!”

Their sister queuing the angel’s to move in, both Tore and Roy meet above the entangled salamander; Tore hugging Roy’s waste as the twirl in the air. Upon the duo’s graceful pirouette, the blue and purple angel aim their palms down towards the iron lizard; their arms side by side forming as one. From their hands do the two combine their power, a swirl of light and darkness churning along their palms. The mixing energies start to grow together, forming a dense power of rainbow light and pitch black shadow. Out from the swirl shoots out a powerful twilight beam that descends down towards their trapped foe; though the lizard below is far from helpless. It’s free tail lunges out towards the oncoming light, unraveling to reveal the energy sapping device from within; the device absorbing the duo’s beam just before it should strike its body. “What the hell is that!?” Roy screams. “Just keep shooting!” Tore demands. As the lizards sapping tail keeps absorbing the angels power, the air around the device starts to distort; flashes of light and darkness drifting across the theater hall. Eventually, Tore and Roy’s beam begins to be too much for the salamanders tail to stand; the backside of the iron salamander enveloped in a powerful explosion. The massive boom sends out a short, but intense quake across the entire city of Vienna; a power wave of light and darkness surfing across its skies.

With her brothers having finished, Mally opens her eyes to the theater before her; the entire inside completely reduced to ruins. Before her lie the remains of the steel salamander, the lower half of its body reduced to smoldering and smoking metal. Her angelic brothers soon land in front of her, both of them greeting with wide smile; the skater soon forming a grin of her own to them.

All three of them soon here a metallic screeching sound from behind; the trio glancing back to witness the mechanical beast limping out towards them. Both Tore and Mally ready for the next round, taking their stances against the approaching beast. They soon lower their guard when Roy looks at them, relaxed; a single hand gesture telling them to do the same. Glancing back towards the metallic salamander, all three of them watch as the lizard fails to support itself any further; finally collapsing on the theater floor. The reinforced glass soon opens, the legless pilot inside dragging himself out from the cockpit; digging out a pistol from his suit. He struggles to aim his firearms as the purple angel strolls near; Roy kneeling down before him with a smug smile. “(So...still think all that taxpayer money was worth it?)” the merc jests. This final question is that last thing the agent hears before his site blinks out; the last of his life fading into oblivion.

Slowly rising from the hard wood floor of his office, Dieter lets out a painful groan; his hand place firming on his back: “(Ah, my back. What was that boom for a second there.)” “(My chancellor, look!)” his assistant exclaims. His gaze going out towards the woman, the head man soon finds her pointing over towards the door; the ice coating its wood shattered to pieces. “(The door’s free!)”. Waiting not another moment more, the fat man sprints out towards his way to freedom; his assistant following his frantic lead. Just before either of them could touch its doorknob, the door before them explodes; the boom sending the two back flying back.

Rising from their rough landing, both of them gaze towards the resulting smoke; witnessing the trio themselves stroll out from the shroud. “(Evening, you Austrian bastard swine. To what horrid fate may I grant upon you?)” Roy offers. “(You three!? A few brats are turning this palace upside down!? Do you have any idea who you’re messing with!?)” the chancellor barks whilst swiftly approaching. Interrupting his rantings, Tore fires out a beam of light out towards the chancellor; the ray hitting the fat mans shoulder. “Man, I can’t stand listening to these loud and entitled types.” Grasping tightly to his bleeding shoulder, the chancellor slowly gets off the rad stained hardwood, continuing with: “(You’re making a huge mistake. You even try and kill me, the whole Austrian government will be after you.)” Hearing his threat, the purple merc dashes to the Dieter’s front and informs that: “(Well then, its a great thing we won’t be the one’s sending you on a one way trip to Satans tortuous sex dungeon, isn’t it?)” “(Yo...You’re not?)” “(Nope.)” After answering the mans question, Roy points his hand out towards the office windows. The merc fires out a beam of black out towards the frozen glass; shattering both it and the ice coating it in a pitch black blast. The window leading outside destroyed, the roars and barks of a mob reaches everyone’s ears, the merc taking his hold to the chancellor’s suit neck and dragging his ass out towards the hole leading out.

Roy holds the corrupt Austrian leader out on the other side of his broken office wall, the man himself discovering what awaits below. “(They will.)” Within the palace’s garden stood an entire mob filled to the brim with angered renegades and homeless; their vengeful eyes locked to their dangling prey. Midst their enraged shrieking and screams stood the cold captain of it all; Ilana cast out her cold glare out to the chancellor’s own. “(Since the day you changed their fate, their rage has boiled for you’re blood; their vengeful steam spreading across the entire country. They’ve all come together from far and wide to take part in your execution.)” Finding the hungering mob reaching out beneath his feet, Dieter can’t help but let out a frightened gasp. The chancellor turns back towards the purple merc, pathetically begging that: “(Please. Don’t do this! I-I can give you anything! Fortune beyond you’re wildest dreams, islands you can only hope to have, political power beyond you’re statues. Just wake me up from this nightmare!)” Roy thinks over his promise for a meager moment, taking in the possibilities of his word. “(Gee, that honestly sounds like a real good- Nope!)” Denying the offer, the chancellor’s hopeful daze dissolves in an instant; feeling the merc pull him back.

Finally, Roy lobs the Austrian leader down towards the awaiting mob below; the people underneath spreading away from the descending swine. The chancellor crashes onto the cold hard concrete walkway of his garden; opening his eyes to witness the surrounding mob lunge for him. With punches and kicks, with bats and knives; every single member of the mob takes their unbridled rage out on the corrupt chancellor; Dieter feeling every sting, bite, and blow from the storm surrounding him. After they serve their fury upon him, the crowd all scatters aside, leaving the man beaten and bleeding on the concrete. In his agony, the bruised official watches the mob surrounding him stand aside and lets out a shaky breath. His sigh quickly retracts when he feels a cold chill underneath him, a pillar of ice lifting him off the garden path. The column soon makes him face the cold commanders icy gaze, her glare proving colder than the frost coating him. The beaten politician can’t help but watch in horror as Ilana’s palm reaches out for his eyes, the last thing to come out of Dieters mouth be a chilling scream.

From the office above, the trio watch through the hole in the office as the icy renegade finished executing the chancellor; the frost flying out towards the night sky above. After the show was over, the orange skater mentions that: “Well, that was fun. How bout we head home?” “Alright, I can’t wait to get back in my warm bed.” Tore adds. “I’m afraid we might have to put our leave on hold for just minute.” Roy declares. “How come?” Mally wonders. “Cause someone else came to watch the bastard be put on ice, ain’t that right, Duun?” the merc answers turning back towards the office door. Both of his siblings do the same, discovering a lanky, well dressed man awaiting beyond the destroyed doorway. “Quite the master of perception, aren’t we Mr.Donavan? Seems that every word in your dossier was on point after all.” “Wait, so you’re the one the posted the job?” the orange skater questions. “Indeed I did, milady. I originally posted the job so that Mr. Donavan would slaughter the terrorists and homeless they were sheltering; ultimately pinning the attack on the chancellor as a way of getting him impeached. But this...Oh this is so much better. Having such an embarrassment of a leader swiftly be executed instead of slowly burning off his reputation was a wonderful surprise.” “Sound like you’re pretty happy with out thing’s turned out. Does that mean we still get paid?” Tore wonders. “Sadly, I’m afraid I cannot. This recent political disaster might set my reputation back away’s if I don’t use my money to make the news outlets keep quiet.” Raising her hockey stick out towards the newcomer, Mally questions: “You really expect us to have gone through all this shit without a reward?” “Oh ho ho, don’t you three fret once. For I have another proposition that you’d be more than willing to accept.”

Duun offer draws out wonder and confusion from the trio, all of them looking to one another with questioning stares. Tore then gazes back towards the newcomer, asking the tall gentleman: “What else do you have in mind?” “If you do want the money so badly, you could take it. Or I can make sure that your more than aggressive actions actions here tonight not go noticed by the worlds public eye.” Roy suddenly lunges out towards the newcomer upon his offer, grasping the neck of his suit tightly as he gives the man a threatening glare. “You planning to rat us all out?” Unfazed by the merc’s violet eye’s, he calmly adds out: “Oh, don’t worry. I have no plans to throw you to the wolves...But they might.” Duun then points out towards the corner of the office; Roy glancing where his finger is aimed to find a security camera partaking in a view of the entire office. “I imagine how difficult it might be living out your lives a hunted political criminals.” the man foretells. To the newcomers proposal, the purple angel can’t help but let out a maniacal laughter; both of his siblings looking to one another in worry. His chortling soon dies down, Roy looking back at the man with a smile; settling his deal with: “Well played, you conniving bastard, well played.” The merc lets go of Duun’s suit and offers his hand as he says out: “You got yourself a deal.” With that, the newcomer shakes purple angel’s hand; the tall gentleman replying with: “Excellent, Mr.Donavan. Certainly a proposal you won’t forget.”

From their agreement, Mally rolls up to their sides, asking the newcomer: “Hey, not to barge in on this; but what’ll happen to Ilana and her crew?” “Hmm...I could give them a head start to escape. I suggest you three do the same.” “Whelp, you heard the man. Let’s biggedy bolt outta this bitch.” Roy suggests. With the mercs orders all of them follow their purple brother towards the hole leading outside; stopping right at the hole when they hear a voice call out with: “(Roy wait!)” Both Tore and Mally look towards the source of the sound; a less than pleased expression unfolding upon the merc’s face. “God dammit.” Rushing out from the blasted doorway, Roy’s amorous ex comes out from behind the gentleman; the man himself exclaiming: “(Sweetie, what are you doing!?)” To the nearly nude womans appearance, both of the merc’s siblings look on in shock; Tore proving perplexed while Mally flushed bright red. “(Why won’t you take me, my beloved purple pancake!? I wan’t to feel you again!) “(Honey, get back to your room!)” Duun orders, grasping the girls shoulders. The merc grabs both his siblings attention; demanding as he jumps out the window: “Come on!” Although caught off guard, the two follow their purple brother down to the garden below; racing around towards the palaces backside. “Uh, Roy. What was all that about?” Tore can’t help but question. “Nothing much. Just a part of my past that I wanna leave behind.” Roy answers.

All three of them soon glide away from the bright city of Vienna; the stars above soon returning to the sky overhead. “So, was taking us along as bad of an idea as you thought it was?” the blue angel wonders. “Mmm...not really. Might have had a pretty rough start, but I think things smoothed out in the end; even if we didn’t get any cash. The two of you did pretty alright.” “So, does this mean we can tag along on your other assignments?” Mally questions. “Ah...Maybe so.”. The mercs confirmation makes both of them loudly cheer out; their screaming echoing across the peaceful night sky. “I can’t wait to see what kind of zany escapades we’ll get ourselves into.” Tore gushes. “I hope we’ll get caught in high speed pursuits! I wanna blaze through the traffic filled highway on my skates!” “And I wanna fight off a billion powerful assassins! Dodging and beating them everywhere in a frenzy!” From his siblings hopes, Roy can’t help but let out an exhausted groan; the three of them flying out through the midnight sky.