#watches the fire in his eyes flicker from yellow to red. fizzle down to smoke and night.

[figthefruitfaeth]

Hurt - Nine Inch Nails (Bardcore | Medieval Style Cover)

anyway the party’s tiefling bard, eddie, playing this on the eve of the battle against Vecna

[dessam]

A little pre-Weapon XI AU thing centered around the retelling of how Devin died and the half-truths Max likes to spin.

Warnings for violence, blood mention, and backstabbing

Or: if two Plumbers were on a mission escaping a heliokinetic psychopath and one shot the other in the back would that be fucked up or what?

The universe always seemed to get the last laugh in, no matter what Devin was doing.

“Max, he’s getting closer!” 

Whether it was trying to make breakfast only to realize he didn’t have any eggs, or attempting to stop a galactic warlord from consuming stars on the weekend, he was always somehow the butt of a sick joke. 

This joke’s name was Ragnarok, and Devin wanted nothing more than to wash his hands of the monster. He’d also like to wash his hands of the stupid, stupid man in the co-pilot’s seat next to him.

“Ship won’t go any faster, Devin!” Max hollers back.

Rolling his eyes, Devin mutters under his breath: “Have you tried flapping your arms?”

His current partner - a certain Magister Maxwell Tennyson - seems to find the whole bit some sort of joke, and was laughing through their last narrow escape from Ragnarok. Tennyson isn’t at all perturbed by the villain rapidly gaining on them, and a little voice in the back of Devin’s mind pipes up to remind him: you can’t trust a single one of them, not even your partner.

Which, obviously, was a lesson he had known long before he became a Red Spot, but was now a mantra he spoke every single time an incident like this happened. 

Of all the bloody people to be partnered with, Maxwell Tennyson was a name at the bottom of a long, long list of Plumbers that--

“You with me?”

A voice cuts through Devin’s thoughts, and his partner is looking at him from the corner of his eye, grinning.

“What?” He says shortly, on edge.

“I said: Ragnarok really wants what we took, huh?”

Devin bites his tongue, resists the urge to snarl back that it’s his fault they’re in this bloody mess, that they had the element of stealth right until Max had to blunder their escape and alert every being with working cochlear nerves they were onboard Ragnarok’s ship. 

“We couldn’t let him slaughter six billion people just to get his hands on the Sun’s energy,” he says instead, shooting Max a mocking grin. “Not my fault he didn’t like you stealing the key that activated his energy vortex. You’re welcome, by the way, for me bailing you out of there.”

Max’s expression falls immediately, eyes snapping forward and hands tensing on the ship’s controls, all comradery gone. Devin’s partner was never very good at saying thank you.

CRACK

Lurching in his seat with a grunt, the bulkhead rattles around Devin as the nav system sputters and whines before fading, and he watches with dread as glowing instruments suddenly wink out one by one, the ship going dark. 

Next to him, frantically flicking switches and checking the backup system as it flashes a warning red, Max looks at Devin with wide eyes.

“Blast took out our engine couplings, our shields...we’re dead in space.”

Oh so slowly, a shadow overtakes them, plunging their vessel into darkness. 

Swallowing hard, Devin tests the controls, tries to think of their fastest way out of here, all while Max just stares dumbfounded up at the massive ship overtaking them. 

There’s a hissing vhmm from the rear door, and Devin glances back as the massive form of Ragnarok materializes in a blue haze onto their ship. 

Red eyes boring into his own, the warlord sneers at the two Plumbers, back straightened and fists clenched at his sides. 

“Where did you hide my key?” He speaks in a low snarl, lip curling back to reveal ugly yellowed teeth.

Devin shares a short look with Max, sees the gears turning in his partner’s brain.

Fuck this, he decides. 

Standing and drawing both of his blasters, Devin unloads shot after shot at the ship’s newest arrival, and the human next to him takes just a moment longer before standing and unloading the clip of his weapon at Ragnarok just the same. 

Ragnarok seems unperturbed, smoke clearing as the plasmabolts fizzle out, not a scratch on him. Devin growls, lunging behind cover with Max just as a vibrant yellow blast from Ragnarok takes out their ship’s main console with a resounding BOOM!

The blue halogen lights of the backup systems flicker before maintaining, secondary life support still online and running smoothly. 

It does little to calm Devin’s nerves as he presses his back to the offhand weapon’s console, and glances to Max at his side. 

His partner looks pale, staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched and right hand clutching his blaster. Devin watches him reload the clip in one movement without looking, recognizing the confirmed remaining charge of the weapon: seventy-three percent, glowing in luminous green. 

“I’m going to go for the Null Void projector,” he grips Max’s arm for a moment, forcing the human to look at him. “Cover me, understand?”

“Devin, wait--”

But he’s already up, sprinting towards the main weapon rack on the far wall, ducking under another blast from Ragnarok that singes the hair on the back of his neck. Behind him, he can hear Max swear something in terran before more plasmabolts are fired off, and Ragnarok roars in frustration. 

Devin slams his hand on the access panel, snatches the mobile Null Void projector from its rack just as another blast nearly takes him out, the explosion throwing him back against the port window and sending the Null Void projector clattering into the corner. 

“Devin!” Max hollars, lunging out from behind cover and sending another round of bolts at Ragnarok. 

The heliokinetic monster is grinning now, yellow energy glowing in his palms as he slowly stalks towards Max, and Devin has a split second to think before he focuses on an exposed electrical panel inches away.

Bingo. 

Yanking a glove off with his teeth, he grabs one of the loose wires as he stands and lets the raw energy pulse through his body, instantly feeling woozy. 

He only needs a short charge - thirty-five hundred watts should be enough - and the electricity extends from the fingertips of his left hand to the fingertips to his right hand, gathering at his wrist. Devin narrows his eyes, focuses, and fires.

A sharp blast of energy sparks off, lancing out to strike Ragnarok square in the back. 

He screams, sinks to one knee, and Devin grins in triumph, dropping the wire. 

The heavy smell of ozone hangs in the cockpit, and he tries to shake off the last jitters of electricity sparking off his hands before snatching the Null Void projector off the floor, levelling it at Ragnarok’s torso.

“Any last words?” He asks, unable to help the smug smile that crosses his face.

“You will know true suffering, Osmosian,” Ragnarok spits, pupils dots in a sea of dark red and yellow as he stares unblinking back at Devin. “This isn’t over, none of it. As long as you’re alive--”

Devin scoffs, flicks the trigger, and Ragnarok’s words turn to an enraged scream as he’s sucked backwards through the warped portal of the Null Void.

“Blah blah blah, you'll rue the day, et cetera. I’ve heard it all before.” Devin grins, sheathing the Null Void projector and inspecting the dark smear where Ragnarok once stood. 

He can hear his partner stand, and turns to double-check their nav system.

“Computers will need a reboot, but we should still be able to get a signal out for pickup. Could be worse, I suppose.” He sighs, drags a hand down his face, feels the start of a migraine coming on. “Not a bad shot, eh Max--?”

POW!

Blindingly white-hot pain overtakes him as he hears the sound of a blaster go off. Staggering, falling to one knee, hysteria instantly grips Devin’s mind. 

I’ve been shot. Max shot me.

His thoughts are confirmed as he collapses onto his side, glancing up blearily at the shape of his partner, silhouetted by the ship’s overhead lights. 

“I’m sorry, Devin, I’m so sorry. I had my orders.” Max rasps out, crouching beside him, taking one of his hands in his own.

Devin almost wants to laugh, or scream. To tell Max he’s a brainwashed idiot, that things didn’t have to be like this, that he could’ve found another way. Really, he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised at this point.

“Orders, eh?” He chokes out, tasting copper. “So Ragnarok was a distraction, to get me to slip up?”

Max shakes his head, squeezes Devin’s hand.

“No. Ragnarok was...he was supposed to finish you off back on his ship, quick and clean. But if you want something done right…Devin, I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” Devin gasps, agony shooting through his body with each syllable. “Max just, please, promise me one thing.”

His partner squeezes his hand a little tighter, nodding.

“Tell my wife and son I love them.”

Any compassion drains from Max’s face, taken over by horror and dawning realization. 

“Your what.”

Devin grins, finally knowing he got the last laugh in. Fuck you, universe.

[missblissy]

Rebirth (Chapter Eleven)

Alastor x Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven

It was unnecessarily dark. You looked around at Alastor’s bedside and did your best to lighten it up. You moved to a window and began to pull open the drapes, hoping the daylight might help. You were instead met with a red sky with permanent overcast and endless screams that seemed to vanish into silence as you closed the drape back up. So much for that idea…

You found some extra light switches to flip and in an instant the darkness vanished, aside from the shadows in the corners. You found yourself in a room so otherworldly, you weren’t sure it was entirely a room. The walls were decorated from an era long before your lifetime, with the majority of its color in a deep shade of red and black with gold to compliment in details and outlines. Everything about this room shared a reoccurring color pattern. Bookcases littered one corner, making it into a makeshift office of sorts with desks and cabinets as well. A bed stayed in the other corner where Alastor laid now, then a fireplace in another corner and the last one had several doors, however one of them poorly stood out. It looked like a shabby ply wood door you’d find on a hut or a cabin.

Pictures littered more than half of the wall space. Most of them were small and yellowed, with no color to them other than shades of brown. There were pictures of mostly people and larger paintings of places aside from one large portrait above the fireplace. It was large, definitely larger than you. The colors were faded in some places, while the paint had only started to crack in the smallest of fissures. It was like looking in a mirror, you saw yourself painted stoically onto the portrait hanging high above your head.

You took a deep breath in as you stared at your demon self, perfectly captured in oil sitting in a chair with Alastor who was off to the side and standing behind you. You both had smiles, but they were small, baring no teeth and relaxed. You were in a golden gown that looked straight off the red carpets of hollywood. It was long, with embroidered patterns all along the skirt and torso with long lace sleeves. Alastor didn’t look any different than how he did now, the only thing different about you was just your clothes at this point. You looked exactly like the demon staring back at you.

The sounds of Alastor’s soft snores fizzled in the air due to his static nature. You looked over your shoulder at him, watching him sleep for a moment before you looked back up at the painting. A breeze drifted by your shoulder, through your hair and caused the low fire to flicker only slightly more. Did someone open the door? No, it was still closed.

You looked over to the windows, nothing about them changed. As you turned your head, looking around the room slowly, you felt the breeze again…

“Scared yet?” Smoke started to encased you and you nearly screamed before a foggy hand slapped itself over your mouth. How could… smoke have mass? How could you feel it’s wispy skin? In a swirling whirlwind of shadows and smoke, it took the form of a dark body that looked very similar to Alastor’s own shadow… “Forgot little old Eon?” You could see his hollow eyes and mouth from the lack of mist in those areas. It moved and shifted as he spoke, “How are you?”

He moved away, floating wherever he liked while staring at you. It took you a second to respond, the Xanax was still in your system and it made you more and more groggy as time passed, “I’m fine,” You paused, “What do you want?”

Eon flicked a smokey ear and you could have sworn you saw the flash of an earring dangling away, “Clever girl,” He clicked his tongue once then rolled his eyes with a grin, “So smart! Gets straight to business!” He started to float around the room with crossed arms, “But I’m just dropping in, my vessel,” He paused and looked at Alastor’s sleeping figure, “Has taken on a lot of damage it seems. I haven’t seen him passed out like this in years,”

You weren’t sure what to say, “That’s nice of you… I guess,” That made him laugh. You’ve never heard such a hollow and empty laugh before. It was so small, quick and short.

Eon shrugged his shoulders and gazed at you with a sharp and toothy grin, “What about you? Why are you still here?”

“Because I look like this,” You held one of your arms up then gestured to all your new demonic features.

“Oh! That’s what’s different! I could hardly notice!” Another hollow laugh, it was a few seconds longer than the last one, “Is that it?” He asked, “You seem like you might be.... Looking… for something?”

You narrowed your gaze and pointed a look at Eon, “No,” You said quickly, “Stop trying to get in my head,” You walked past him and towards the fireplace. You stood there and held your hands out flat, taking in the warmth of the fire.

“I’m not trying anything,” Eon said with a false sense of innocence, “You’ve been asking questions all day about him,” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Alastor, “You’ve been obsessing over a diary with nothing but him in it,” Eon moved his ever twisting and smoking body into the large chair resting beside the fireplace, “Seems like to me you’ve been given the perfect chance to finally answer all those questions once and for all,” He gave you a look, a smile, a lifted brow and some kind of twinkle in his empty eyes.

“Are you telling me to go through his stuff?”

“Maybe?” Eon shrugged and his grin only grew larger, “I mean, who knows how long he’s gonna sleep like a dead baby? Last time he was out for about a month or so. And the diary can only tell you so much, and Alastor doesn’t want to tell you anything at all.”

He had a point. You looked around the room again, trying your best to avoid eye contact with the portrait. Maybe you could just… look around a bit. Where would you even start? You looked back to Eon, you couldn’t believe you were waiting for his wicked influence to push you further down this hole.

As if he could read your thoughts, he chuckled lowly and got up from the chair, “I’d start with that,” He pointed to the corner of the room that looked like a neatly chaotic office space. Everything was in its place, but there was just too much of everything in the way to make it look any nicer than a cluster fuck of personal items.

The thing that stood out the most to you was a stone bird bath crammed into the corner and wedged between two bookshelves. Other wall shelves hung above it within the corner. They were littered with photos, jars, plates and other personal items. You tiptoed over, like Alastor could hear you walking despite being totally knocked out.

“What is it?” You asked Eon. He was still wandering around behind you, floating here and there like a leaf lost in the wind.

“It’s called a Water Well,” Eon explained smoothly, “It’s what demons used to use before phones were invented. It also can be used for other things as well,”

“Like?”

He chuckled slightly, “Why don’t you touch it and find out?”

You looked at him with a raised brow, “This thing isn’t gonna kill me, right?” Why were you even asking? And why would he tell you the truth? He just shrugged and smiled at you and waited.

You peered into the Water Well, it’s water slowly rippled from within, creating small waves that lapped at the edges of the bowl. You reached out then paused with great hesitation. You were scared something bad was going to happen, and yet at the same time you didn’t seem to care all that much, maybe that was from the help of the Xanax.

Eventually you hovered your hand over the bowl filled with water. You quickly dipped a finger into it’s chilly embrace then yanked your hand away as if you expected to be attacked. Instead you were met with a faint blue glow that sparkled underneath the surface of the water.

Soon you could clearly see the image coming through. You found yourself staring into a one way window. One side was you, peering into the depths of the well, and on the other side was your family. Your mom and your dad. They were in the hospital and you could see them through one of the hospital windows. Your father was sleeping while your mother sat beside him, holding his hand and reading a book with the other. She must have been reading to him because her lips were moving but you couldn’t hear anything.

Suddenly you heard Eon’s low voice right beside you, “Interesting…” He paused then dared to dip his own finger into the water. It quickly changed and you saw the view zooming out. You could see the city, then the state, then the country, then the entire planet. It finally stopped on a picture perfect view of earth in the daylight.

You didn’t understand, what exactly was this Well trying to show you? By that point you were almost certain Eon could either hear your thoughts, or he was just really good at reading facial expressions despite the lack of his own.

“It shows what the heart desires the most,” He explained, “It’s gifted, and the only Well of its kind. It doesn’t show you what your soul wants, nor your mind. The heart is an incredibly tricky manifestation of many emotions, some find it very hard to listen to their heart,” You watched as Eon turned his gave slightly to Alastor.

For the first time you could just make out all the features of Eon’s face. That’s when you took a closer look at this smokey spirit. It was like he was here and somewhere else at the same time. His body was nothing but shadows and fog spinning around constantly as if they were covering up what was underneath. Every once and a while you could see colors peak out from behind the smoke, you could see skin or piercings for half a millisecond. It made you wonder, who was he? Or more so, what was he?

All you could remember was the rushed words Vanderlinde told you not long ago, that Alastor harbored an incredibly powerful spirit from another realm that no one could comprehend. And now apparently his heart desired the earth.

“Who are you?” You asked, your question surprised him enough to float away some and put a little distance between the both of you, “Really,” you went on, “Who is Eon supposed to be?”

He gave you an odd look, then smiled, “Me? You’re asking the wrong person, sweetie,” He tried to brush your question off but you weren’t having any of it.

You shook your head then pointed a finger at him, “No, I want to know who you are before I dig any deeper into this. I know you’ve got something to do with him. If you’re a part of Alastor then I need to know who you are too.”

Eon was fairly surprised by your demands, but he didn’t deny you, “Okay, fair point,” He shrugged then then gave a quick nod of his head, “Alastor summoned me many years ago, when he was alive. He sold his soul to me in exchange for power in the afterlife. All I asked for in return was that he give me more souls, because I do so love eating them!”

“Then what exactly are you?” You lifted a brow at him while looking him over for good measures. He didn’t have any feet, his legs just ended with little wisps for tails when they got too close to the floor. His form was just a black cloud in the shape of a tall limber body. He had a little devil tail that flicked around like that of a cat’s, with his puffy ears to match and sharp toothy grin.

“I’m just a spirit without a body. My soul is attached to Alastor’s by the laws of our contract, but I can’t have his body, because he also doesn’t have one, he’s dead!” Eon smiled at you and shrugged as he started to float circles around you, “That’s pretty much it,” He said, “There isn’t all that much more to know about me,”

“I’m sure there is,” You said with your lips pressed thin, “I doubt you’ll tell me, though,” His laugh only made you roll your eyes, “What about him then? What does his heart want the most, or does he not have one at all?”

“Oh he does,” He nodded his head. Eon wandered back over to the Water Well and stood right beside it. You stood in your spot and watched as Eon snapped his ghostly fingers and you watched a manifestation come to life in his hand.

You inched closer and watched a machine put itself together out of the smoke that was Eon’s palm. It ticked away, humming a pulse and formed into what looked almost like a radio, “It’s very broken,” Eon said with a nod of his head, “There’s not much there anymore beside wires and bolts,” That’s when you put together what he was saying.

“That’s Alastor’s heart…” You walked up to the Water Well and watched as Eon put the radio heart in a dark purple bubble of safety. He let it float around the Water Well for a moment before it slowly drifted in the slow current of the whirlpool. It didn’t take long for you to see a third person view of yourself. When you looked behind your shoulder towards this hidden camera, you were met with a familiar face instead.

Buck, your orange tabby cat was sitting neatly in a chair with his tail resting on his paws. You took a second glance into the Well, then to Buck, then to Eon. As soon as he took Alastor’s heart out of the well and made it vanish, so did Buck. He flew away in a cloud of smoke in the wind, gone from your sight and to God only knows where. It didn’t take you much longer to realize that you were what Alastor’s heart wanted the most.

You weren’t sure how to handle that information. You looked at Eon while you began to run a hand through your hair, “Okay,” You let out a shaky breath, “Who is he?” You looked up at Eon with a wary gaze. He was right, there really wasn’t anything else to know about Eon anymore. Alastor was the one who wanted you.

And Eon was going to point you in the right direction, literally. He lifted a finger and jabbed it to the bookcase behind you. Though he was pointing to the top shelf where several large folders, maybe six or seven total, sat neatly collecting dust. You narrowed your gaze and read the hand written notes on their spines.

1926 (1),  1927 (3), 1929 (9), 1930 (11), 1931 (12), 1932 (14), 1933 (XXX)

Each folder had a year, then a number on it, besides the last one, which also happened to be the smallest of them all. When you looked over your shoulder, Eon was gone, though you knew he was watching from whatever corner he was hiding in.

[jjongasarus]

embers

yellow embers rode upon smoke clouds drifting to the stars, each burning flicker fizzling out before it could pass the canopy of trees lazily cloaking their destination. the smoke, however, filtered through the maze of dewy leaves and chipped bark until the moonlight greeted its sparse body. neither the embers nor the smoke could ever make it to the distant stars, and yet with every crackle of wood the failed journey of their predecessors were forgotten and new embers would ride the smoke to their inevitable demise.

her knees were pulled tightly to her chest, feet angling inwards and toes curling as the heat from the fire warmed them. the forest during this time of night was deathly quiet; only the snapping wood of their fire dared to penetrate the thick silence. even the crickets were unusually quiet, which would normally raise red flags but her body was too exhausted to stay vigilant. her loyalty was like a curse; she’d walked miles through the downpour of a summer storm, the humidity paling in comparison to the force of the rain, though both equally managing to leave her sticky and uncomfortable. though he kept walking, and so did she. under the ruthless blaze of the summer sun she flew through the forest, branches vibrating and leaves swaying in wake of her movement, and under the cool evening moon she’d skinned fish and through the misplaced strands of pink hair, watched for the movement of her enemies. he didn’t complain, so neither did she. the duration of their travels constantly tested her endurance, but her loyalty was like a curse, and wherever he went, she followed. that is what brought her here, exhaustedly watching the helpless plight of fire embers.

she wondered if she was similar. the physical proximity of her star wasn’t as distant, but its light was worlds away. if she was a fire ember, and he was her star, she’d fade into the nighttime breeze that caressed the tree leaves before she’d ever be able to embrace his light. the thought made her knees press a little tighter to her chest, her head bury a little deeper into her knees, and her eyes shift focus from the flames licking the night to the man sitting nearby; one leg extended outwards, the other elevated so his elbow could rest on his knee. his eyes were closed but he wasn’t sleeping, sleep never came to him so early in the night. if there wasn’t a fire, he might even blend in with the darkness of their surroundings, so easily fading from her sight, camouflaging into a background that even the moonlight couldn’t fully illuminate.

she knew that if she was a fire ember, he’d be her star. but she didn’t know what his star was, or if he even had one. if he was a fire ember, perhaps his dim light would separate from the rest, float out of the body of the smoke, and burn a path of its own, a path where the end wasn’t marked by the discouraging distance of an unreachable light, but marked whenever the ember’s light ceased to exist. her smile was pressed against her right knee, blocked from sight. he’d never been one to stay on the path commonly traveled, it was idiotic of her to ever think otherwise. despite this, she still wondered that in the uncommon possibility that he did have a star, what would it be.

“sasuke?” sakura’s chin rose, the beginning of his name having been muffled by her knees. she saw one of his eyes open and look in her direction. he had a habit of keeping his eye that posessed the rinnegan closed, so often times she’d only catch the gaze of one eye. if she caught the gaze of both, she knew something was amiss.

“what is it?” his voice suggested that he was on gaurd. perhaps he thought that she was calling to him because she sensed an enemy. his fingers twitched slightly, the line of his shoulders straightened, his lips tensed into a firm line, and the eyebrow that wasn’t shrouded by a blanket of thick hair grew taut with caution.

sakura shook her head first, the edges of her hair brushing by the soft angles of her jawline. “it’s not an enemy or anything. it’s just a silly question..” her words trailed off as her eyes did the same, returning to capture the motion of the ascending embers. his observant eye followed the direction of her dreamy gaze and settled on the same sight, little yellow sparks dancing through the fog of smoke until both disappeared in the thicket of leaves above them.

“what’s the question?” his form relaxed in the slightest of ways, his mouth resumed its usual subtle frown, its corners always dipping downwards ever so carefully, and his shoulders eased up a bit, but their line was still broad and ready at a moment’s notice.

sakura had often admired his readiness; during the old days when her hair could tickle her elbows and she wandered within the shadows of her teammates, sasuke’s preparedness to battle at any given second was one of his most handsome characteristics. these days, however, she found it more unsettling the way he wasn’t able to relax. she wanted to be a source of comfort to him, the warm body he could lean against after a strenuous day of labor, a safe space he could retreat to when the sun was too hot or the moon was too cold or even if everything in the world was just how it ought to be, but he still wanted to be within the presence of her scent. in short, she wanted to be his star.

“well..” she began, musing over how to articulate her question without sounding too odd. she pursed her lips slightly, her legs stretching out in-front of her so the soles of her feet could fully embrace the warm of the fire, her hands pressing palm-down on the ground while her head leaned back so she could peer at the stars through the gaps in the trees. “if you had something you wanted to reach, what would it be?”

“something i want to reach?” he reiterated. he was puzzled by the question, and once again his perceptive eye followed her line of sight up through the twists and turns of branches and leaves until he focused on the sprinkles of stars printed across the evening sky.

“mhm. kind of like, a desire. something you want to keep pushing towards even if you know that you might not make it.” sakura wanted to know what it was that could illuminate his darkest of nights, what could shine so bright that he’d fly to it even if his flame would fade in the process.

a few moments passed between them where nothing was said, only the crackling of fire broke the silence that had settled. “i don’t know. i thought it would be atoning for the sins i’ve committed during the war, but even then..”

sakura had been watching him since he began speaking. her eyelids lowered sympathetically, her expression softened tenderly as her head leaned a little to the right, and her heart ached with the desire to give him the world. a hue of orange reflected in the green of her eyes as she shifted closer to the fire, closer to him. the shadows of the twisting flames created patterns against her skin as she crawled on her hands and knees for a few paces until she was at arm’s length from him. she sat leaning on her hip, one hand on the ground balancing her, the other resting on her thigh so her fingers could play with the hem of her shorts as she thought.

“you still haven’t found it, right?” she looked him in the eye, an action that would normally have her heart in her throat and mind in the clouds. but in this moment, the both of them so far secluded from the world that even the crickets couldn’t find them, where their secret conversations could only be carried by a faint breeze, where both their forms were so gloriously decorated by the warmth of the fire before them, and the scattered dots of moonlight above them, where her green could pour into his sea of darkness, she wanted to remain frozen.

“no, not yet.” he sighed, his eye closing for less than a second but within those precious frames of time, he seemed vulnerable, and sakura wanted to dive right in, wanted to peel open his scars and understand his pain. but instead, she continued to watch him from a closeness that still seemed so far away. when his eye opened again he prompted her, “and you?”

“i want to reach you, sasuke.”

the flames had simmered down by now, in need of some stoking to keep them alive. the once passionate glow was now an insecure flicker that could only manage to brighten the space between their bodies. the embers were few and far between, but the ones that did manage to slip through the pieces of burnt wood were brighter than before and drifted upwards with the help of minimal smoke, carrying more than just a glance-worth of light, but light that may be able to actually navigate the maze of trees above.

“you don’t need to. i shouldn’t be a concern of yours.” he closed his eye but his brow furrowed as if he was concerned over his choice of words. his fingers curled into his palm, before tightening enough for the veins around his knuckles to raise against the skin. she could see the tension in his jaw as her eyes traveled along the sharp path of his jawline, and just as her gaze was traveling along the band of his thick eyelashes she looked away. his expression had told her enough, it always had, that she was foolish to ever think that she could be his light.

she wanted to apologize and return to her old spot several feet away from him. she wanted to end their conversation so that they could both get some rest and prepare for whatever lie ahead of them the next day, she didn’t want to deal with rejection. for years she’d chased after him, and for years he’d made her bleed from a wound that never seemed to heal properly. but her loyalty was like a curse, and she couldn’t turn away.

“you’re right…you shouldn’t be, and it’s foolish of me to think any differently.” her eyes lowered and stared at the stitch pattern on her shorts as his eye opened and fixed itself upon her. “but, i won’t let you go until you find it.”

she stood up from the ground then and walked the few paces to where she sat before before lowering herself back down to the ground. she dusted her hands off before stretching her arms up above her head, stretching her sore muscles. she wouldn’t let sasuke’s light fade no matter how far he strayed, even if his star wasn’t her, even if his star was lightyears away, she’d burn with a light so bright that it would keep him going. the fire now was barely burning above the charred wood and the embers had all been trapped between the pile of smoking wood. she laid herself down on the dirt, using her traveling pack to cushion her head.

it didn’t take her very long to drift off into sleep, she had been worn out from their travels that day. her eyes were closed and the strands of hair that had fallen onto her face floated with every breath she took, fluttering back down to her skin when her breathing softened. sasuke’s eye had watched the gradual digression of the fire, and through his periphery, watched her fall asleep.

“sakura..” he murmured despite her not being able to hear, “thank you.”

and as the fire receded into nothingness and their forms blended seamlessly into the background of the cool summer evening, the ember, burning a determined red, wove its way through the thicket of branches, gliding past the edges of the leaves, and emerged from the top of the canopy into the vast new world of the unfiltered sky.

and then, moments too soon, it vanished.

[shidoukanae]

Machinists Chp 2

Summary:

   Machines rule the world.

   This, Yusaku knows.

   He just doesn’t understand why.

    (AU. YusakuxAoi, EmaxAkira. Romance is not the main focus point. Influenced heavily and based upon that one game with machines aka Horizon Zero Dawn. Basically VRAINS cast in the Horizon Zero Dawn world)

Chapter Summary: Yusaku explores a Cauldron for clues to his past. Also, he encounters the Knights of Hanoi and the Machinists along the way.

Type: Multi-chaptered story with the whole VRAINS cast crammed inside.

Genres (this chapter only): Action, adventure, mystery. Warnings for: people being burned in a fire and some violence.

Ao3 version (with notes and musings and a dictionary): here

....I really hate fighting scenes. I’m sure they’re done well enough here but they’re hard to write. In-game, they’re fun to watch and play. In-story, they’re a pain to try and not be repetitive.

*casually tags y’all ‘cause you’ve shown interest in chp 2*: @insanitytragedy @zexal--arc-v--1412

~~~~~~

The Cauldron is protected by Watchers.

Yusaku nocks an arrow and watches, his Strider by his side. The horse-like machine stomps its hooves up and down in impatience, shaking with the need to run off and get loose. He calms it down with a soft click, easing away its distress with the tone of his voice.

The Watchers remain unaware of his plans, beeping and clicking to each other as they follow the tracks they have set in place for themselves. Their singular eyes scan the area, eyeing Yusaku’s Strider with temporary suspicion before retracing their steps. The boy fiddles with his bow, squinting at his targets and musing on how to approach them.

“Two Striders at the entrance,” he tells himself, “and one out on patrol. I need to silent strike the closest one before I can go after the others.”

He moves from one patch of grass to another, crawling across the ground as his first target sniffs at a mouse. The Watcher in question tilts its head back and forth, curiously edging forward as Yusaku clicks for its attention.

“Vreeep?”

He waits. Patience is the key to any silent strike; a much needed skill to survive in a world with robots bent on killing all of humanity. Yusaku’s tolerance of time is what has led him remain alive, giving him the ability to destroy machine after machine in order to come home alive each day.

The Watcher creeps closer. Closer. Closer. It moves at an agonizing pace but its golden gaze does not fail to pay attention. Step after step it comes, caution exercised in every flow of its body. Yusaku exchanges for his bow for a spear and, when the time is right, he strikes.

He moves swiftly, impaling the creature's eye and watching as its curious yellow gaze fades from existence. It crumples in a fizzle of sparks, shuddering, and then collapses on the ground. When any danger of potential electrocution fades, Yusaku picks off a few metal shards from the corpse and pockets them into a spare storage bag. When he is satisfied, he moves back to his bow and points an arrow at the second closest Watcher. It remains unaware of the death of its brethren, chatting with its other friend before continuing on its path. Yusaku nocks an arrow, closing one eye to calculate the place of aim…

And he fires.

The arrow hits one of the two Watchers and both are on instant alert. Blue eyes turn to yellow and they perk their heads up, clicking in startled surprise. The two machines stare at each other, confused and stunned, and then begin to focus in on the area where the arrow had emerged from.

Yusaku clicks to his Strider and the horse-like machine lifts its head to observe its surroundings. Its gaze lands on the Watchers and it rears at their presence, charging forward to attack its enemies. The twin machines squeal as metal hooves shred into their bodies, knocking them over and stunning them as red luminance splashes over the ground. Yusaku slips forward, stabbing his spear into one of them while his Strider finishes the other off with several kicks to the head.

The boy grabs his loot off the machines and then nods to his Strider. It neighs, sparks fizzling off its skin. He avoids touching the areas of damage and grabs at its reins, leading it to the entrance of his destination.

The Cauldron of interest lies in the side of a mountain. It is a strange formation, one where the entrance lays within a triangular section of carved stone that is continuously pressed into the mountain formation. Moss and lichen sprouted on the top create the beginning of a curtain, peering down at him as he approaches the structure.

“How interesting,” Yusaku muses, a hand on his chin as he peers around, “is this what a Cauldron is supposed to look like?”

He presses a hand to a wall and notices how a section of the triangular formation gradually moves from stone to metal. The various parts and structures form a sort of door that leads to a centerpiece – a glowing circle that beckons the use of something technologically advanced.

Yusaku fidgets, grabbing at his back and snatching up his spear. He inspects the sharp-pointed tip and then switches to the blunt end. His eyebrows furrow, pondering, and then he settles the Overrider into the slot of the illuminated blue circle.

Instantly, as if drawn in by the device itself, his Overrider slides into a slot and then begins to hum with power. Yusaku struggles not to drop the spear, trying to keep it in place as it shakes in his grip. He breaths in and out, watching as the strange ‘lock’ to the door pulses with energy and then he’s sent stumbling back as his Overrider is shoved out of the circle.

“Fascinating,” he says as the metal triangle pulls back into a hidden slit to reveal a force field of hexagonal patterns. He looks at his Strider. “Well, let’s go then.”

The machine nickers, rearing up and then stepping back. The blue-haired boy frowns at it, grabbing its reins and bringing it forward. It shakes off his hand, refusing to budge.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, peering at it and the force field. “Can you not go through?”

It hums, shakes its head, and then trots a couple more steps away. Yusaku drops its reins, sighing as he holds out his spear. “Well, alright. It seems I’ll be going in alone this time.”

He moves forward, testing a hand through the force field. He waits, expecting some kind of static shock to send him starting backwards but, when none comes, he moves forward.

Tunnels of metal wires and vents of white steam await him, beckoning him forward as he slips in. His green eyes observe the change in scenery, curious but wary. He notices the traces of blue light that embeds itself into obsidian lines and watches with subtle fascination as they pulse in his presence.

His spear stands in front of him, the tip pointing towards the darkness as he readies himself for any danger that might appear. However, as he continues traversing the passageway, he finds nothing of note. There are no machines, no humans, no animals that linger to threaten his existence. Despite this, he keeps on alert, scowling every time he readies for himself for an attack only to realize all he is hearing is the threat of a spluttering smoke vent.

Eventually, however, he takes note of a brilliant light up ahead. The tunnels are dark and unsettling things, with blue flickering here and there in the form of glimmering dots. Silence reigns, with only his own footsteps to amuse his ears. He creeps forward, edging towards the spectacle of bluish-white light that ends his journey and then nearly scrambles back as he realizes the floor opens up into a cavern underneath him.

“Shit!” he hisses, backing away just in time to avoid a fatal plummet to his death.

Yusaku pauses at the edge of the drop-off, his gaze sliding down into darkness as the cavern reaches far too down for his eyes to read. He can’t see the bottom, can’t see where he’ll end up if he decides to jump down. Still, he pulls out a grappling hook, uncoils it from its curled-up position and then latches the hook of it into place on a nook. He grabs the end of the rope and braces himself.

He breathes.

And then he falls.

~~~

The bottom of the cavern contains more metal wires and steam, dissuading away his beliefs of a light-filled paradise tucked away from society. The walls press against him in a triangular shape, beckoning him forward and away from the dead end he stands in. Yusaku sighs, pulling at his grappling hook and leaving it behind as it remains firmly stuck.

His feet clang against metal flooring and he edges forward. He looks around, green gaze piercing with the sharpest of scrutiny.

“It’s like a giant machine,” he marvels to himself, placing a hand on the walls and feeling the pulse of electricity beneath. “What created such a thing? It’s almost unnatural…”

Clang.

He pauses, tilting his ears towards the sound.

Clang, clang, clang!

“A machine?” he muses, ducking towards one side of the tunnel and sliding forward towards a corner. Yusaku peers around it and immediately tucks his head back in.

Five Watchers stand in a corridor of silver. Yusaku deliberates, eyes scanning the floor as he looks through the passageway in his mind’s eye. He ponders his options, grabbing for the bombs he’s prepared beforehand and pulling out his bow. The boy looks between the two items, frowning, and then begins to put the bombs in place along the corridor.

He spaces the devices at considerable distances and then nocks an arrow. He edges to the corner and crouches down, peeking out to aim at the closest machine. He draws back the drawstring of his weapon, squints, and then releases an arrow.

“Vreeeeee!”

He captures his audience’s attention and, automatically, three of the five seek to investigate. He clicks, his tongue meeting the roof of his mouth and then he leads them close. They follow the sound of his voice, speaking amongst themselves with little hisses as they prowl ahead.

Bam.

One bomb goes off and machine parts fly everywhere. Yusaku has to duck to avoid a nasty piece of metal from digging into his forehead and takes a leap back as the wave of lash back energy sends him stumbling.

Bam…Bam…BAM!

Red floods the tunnel and the other two Watchers join the remaining duo, spitting and leaping to get at Yusaku. He dives away just in time as four consecutive bombs explode at once. A shard of metal cuts past his shoulder and he winces. The boy runs his fingers along the cut and feels moistness underneath, fingers turning up stained with red.

“So much for getting out of here uninjured,” he sighs, pulling out a scrap of cloth and tying it over the wound. “I’ll need to be more careful next time.”

He straightens himself up and looks at the damage he has caused. Black smolders the walls while metal pieces and sparking wires line the corridor. He picks up a few pieces here and there, inspecting for damage and pocketing away the few items that managed to retain usefulness from the blast. As he does so, he takes notice of something rather peculiar.

“A dagger?”

Yusaku bends down to pick up an odd piece of polished silver, flipping it back and forth with mild interest. His gaze scans the handle, looking for any mark or etching that could give a hint as to its original owner. However, much to his disappointment, all he can find is the emblem of SOL embedded into its side and a single red feather dropping from a string.

“That’s not much help,” he scowls and deposits the item into the pack he has on his bag. “Almost everyone in the kingdom of SOL has a dagger that looks like this.”

The boy moves forward, musing.

“Does this mean someone else has already visited this cauldron?” he asks, pondering as he steps forward. Another Watcher takes note of him and he dispatches it with ease. “But that’s supposed to be impossible…Shoichi said no one in their right mind would...”

He runs his hands along silver wires and marvels at their complexity. Each coil of metal intertwines into a wall, pulsing and humming with electricity as he moves from section to section. The machines of the cauldron take notice of him, gears clicking and whirling as they roll forward to attack. He dances and dodges, tucking away from their attacks only to slay them in the few seconds he has to act.

Yusaku’s trip through the Cauldron is almost uneventful. Aside from the few ambushes he suffers and the various twists and turns to his landscape, he is honestly not surprised by anything else he encounters. If anything, he grows bored, eyes adjusting to the same metal walls and to the same red-eyed machines that wander in his path. By the time he comes to the end of the cauldron, he’s almost surprised to see that the metal walls open up to something more.

Gray transitions to black as the tunnel he stands in becomes a chamber of grandiose proportions. Wires fit behind black walls and tread over black floors to reach a centerpiece of advanced technological properties. A force field much like the one he had seen at the entrance encompassed the center of the chamber, sparking with white light as it enshrouded a secret inside its misty barrier.

“What is this?” he asks, inhaling sharply as he takes a step in, noticing the shape of a machine-like body under the forcefield. “Is this where, perhaps, machines are made?”

Yellow triangles light up underneath his feet. He flinches at the suddenness of their appearance, grabbing for his spear and moving forward. Arms of machines that revolve and rotate poke and prod at the barrier, igniting sparks of electricity that bubble beneath its surface.

“Now…,” he says, strolling forward and inspecting everything he sees before him, “what should I be looking for?”

He approaches the barrier and tests it by nocking an arrow and setting it loose. It fries into a crispy black, scattering into ashes at the foot of the force field.

“Best not to go through there then,” the boy makes an attempt at a chuckle and peers at the three mechanical pillars of arms that move back and forth. A fourth pillar catches his eye, tucked away in the far back. “Ah…maybe there?”

The blue-haired boy slides forward, his senses on all alert as he threads his way through. He reaches the bottom of the high reaching technological structure, inspecting the handholds that lead up to its top with cautious scrutiny.

“These handles…they’re purposely designed to allow humans to climb to the top. Yet, this cauldron is made entirely for machines,” he grabs at one of them and begins ascending. “How very odd. Perhaps coming here was not in vain.”

Yusaku climbs up and up until he reaches the top. There, he alights upon a flat section of machinery with two items of interest. One is of a glowing blue circle that sits at the base of a pedestal – a circle much akin to the one he’d seen at the entrance. The other was a strange device – round, blue, almost similar to the ear microphones of the Old Ones – but it seemed almost out place.

His fingers pick it up and flip it from one side to the other.

To his surprise, it begins to hum.

His hand startles, jumping in surprise but somehow managing to keep the object from falling off the pillar. Yusaku scolds himself for his sudden jump of fright, annoyed that he had let his guard down enough to be scared by a simple noise.

“Still,” he inspects it, “I wonder what this is for? The Old Ones would've used them to listen for things so…”

Yusaku places it next to his ear and listens, tilting his head for any sort of sound or reaction. When he gets none, he tries talking to it.

“Hello?”

“Oi, you there!”

He frowns and looks around.

He hears a laugh.

“Idiot, you won’t see me like that. If anything, you’re just making yourself look stupid.”

“Where are you?” he lets that one sit on the air for a few seconds before he adds: “Who are you?”

“I don’t know. Who am I?”

He snarls in frustration and the voice chuckles.

“Don’t be that way! Put me on and you’ll see what I mean soon enough!”

“Put you…on?” He squints at the device in his hands and holds it up. “You mean this thing?”

“Yes, yes, idiot. That thing.”

He narrows his eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to harm me?”

There’s a snort of disbelief. “Puh-lease. It’s not like I can do anything. I’m just a poor little AI trapped in this stupid device and I need a cool and heroic manly man to do it…although, you’re not anywhere close to that perfect image, are you?”

He holds the device over the edge of the pillar and the voice begins to panic.

“No, no, NO. Do NOT do that. Do NOT drop me. I DO NOT need to be broken like some insignificant piece of trash.”

“…Quite talkative, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, of course I’d be. YOU’RE ABOUT TO KILL ME.”

“Huh.”

“HUH!? That’s all you have to say!? Aren’t you going to ooh and awe over me like any normal person would at my magnificence? Oh, wait, you can’t. You’re already well aware of the machine's sentience, aren’t you, Playmaker?”

His grip tightens on the device and he frowns down upon it. “How do you know that?”

“What? How do I know what? That you talk to machines?” The voice snickers.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Ah. That. Well, I know lots of things. For example,” it pauses for a second too long, “you’re looking for clues to your past, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here now - because you want to know the truth of 10 years ago?”

Yusaku curls his lips.

“How do you know that?” the boy snarls.

Another laugh.

“You talk a lot to your robot friends,” it responds. “Naturally, I hear things.”

He eyes it with the beginnings of both fascination and loathing. “Who are you?”

A sigh.

“We went through this already. Put me on your ear – you’ll see me then.”

Yusaku frowns, his mind warning him against such actions. However, in his mind, he lists three reasons that calm down any wheedling fears he has:

#1 This thing knows I want information and knows I’m Playmaker – whoever’s telling me this must know something about me. #2 If I see the person on the other side, I will be able to see the face behind the voice. If so, I can probably track them down if they run away. #3 The technology of this device is from the age of the Old Ones. Therefore, it is meant to benefit humans instead of harming them.

He places the thing on his ear.

It hisses and splutters and his eyes widen as blue pixels sweep over his vision and form cyan outlines over every single object in sight. The device hugs onto his ear and projects light from its tip, scanning over every item and reporting to him its name and status in white lettering.

“What…What is this?”

“My dear, dear Playmaker,” the voice huffs. “This is what I’m capable of.”

He frowns. “I need more of an explanation.”

“Ah but of course you do. But let me just say this…I’m not human, Playmaker. Therefore, my capabilities are beyond that of a human.”

A distorted shape of black and purple pixels appears in his line of vision. It is an odd and misshaped creature, humanoid in appearance and yet perhaps not. It’s head formed the imitation of a teardrop; it’s fingers and toes with bulbous limbs that screamed more frog than anything human. It had orange eyes, eerie orange eyes that never blinked, never moved, never did anything more than glow with a luminance that rivaled that of the lights in the Cauldrons.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that it? You’re not human? That’s not a good explanation.”

A vein inevitably pops in the creature’s head. “WHAT, HOW DARE YOU!” it stomps its feet like a toddler and then makes a furious gesture at him. “You should be in awe of me! In awe and utter respect of my majesty and coolness and you should be groveling down before me!”

“O…kay?” he turns his attention to the blue circle on the pedestal and pulls out his Overrider. He places the mechanism in place and watches as it whirls with energy. “Still not an explanation.”

The circle fades away and the pedestal falls into the floor, locking into place. The pillar shakes and groans and he finds himself watching as it descends to the floor. “What now?” he asks, gaze sweeping over the chamber.

A giant red outline appear and he stares at it to notice the disappearance of a force field. In it’s place are two Watchers and a creature Yusaku’s only ever seen in passing.

A Fire Bellowback. A large, long, bi-pedal creature with a snout similar to that of a crocodile barrels forward, flames spitting from its mouth. It is almost dinosaur-like in nature with a long, swishing tail of bolts and wires and a sack of transparent white glass that sloshes with green liquid.

“Wow, not good.” The humanoid creature rubs its chin from the corner of his vision. “You might want to try and get out of here.”

“You think?” Yusaku snaps, rolling away as a Watcher charges at him. He stabs the machine with a spear and then eases away as it turns around to take another bite out of him.

“No. Merely stating an opinion.”

“Got any plans, then? Or are you just going to watch me fight?”

“Well, well, so pushy. Fine. Do you want some advice?”

He slashes at the pursuing Watcher and then ducks as another one leaps for him. It collides with its brother Machine and then collapses them both into a state of stunned confusion.

The humanoid creature seems to be almost impressed. “If you take out the Watchers, you can deal with the Bellowback. Then, the Cauldron should let you leave.”

“And what about my information?”

Flames sprout in front of Yusaku and he rolls away as the Bellowback charges the place where he had been standing seconds later.

“What information?” His companion blinks.

“About the Corrupters – the Machines that seemed to know who I was.”

It blinks again. Yusaku takes out his bow. “Ah. Huh. I thought you were more into playing hero, not chasing after weird machines. Well, defeat the Bellowback and I’m sure you’ll find some sort of answer.”

The Watchers dive again and Yusaku manages to shoot one in the eye. It screams and collapses, body twitching as its life perishes from its body. The second one lashes its tail, head bobbing up and down as it stalks towards the boy. He nocks another arrow, closing one eye and aiming and….

“Playmaker!”

An outline of red flashes in his vision and Yusaku darts away just as the Bellowback appears before him with open jaws. It pauses when it does not feel its prey’s body in its jaws and, disappointed with a lack of a kill, its gaze falls back upon the blue-haired boy. Its jaw opens and red flames pour out, curling upwards as it moves towards him.

Yusaku, trying to ignore the slight wobble in his step, backs away, his gaze held between the giant creature and the small companion it had following its every step.

“You need to get rid of the Watcher!”

“Don’t tell me that,” he growls, aiming another arrow. He fires and it hits…but the Watcher does not go down. Instead, it hisses at him, jumping up and down as it prepares to attack.

“Can’t you do anything more than shoot arrows? You have a spear, don’tcha?”

“…I have bombs.”

“That’d be good! Bombs are good. You’ll be able to take down the Watcher with them. The Bellowback…well, that’s going to take something more.”

He nods, reaching behind his back to pull out the various bombs he’s stored inside. He handles them carefully, eyes cautious and, when he sees the briefest moment of distraction in the Bellowback, he turns away and runs to the other side of the Cauldron.

Shoes pound against metal and he hears the click of the Watcher behind him, sees the red light that paints his backside slipping right in front of him. He takes a bomb, places it down, and then continues running. When he hears no noise to alert him of a successful attack, he drops two more. One goes off and Yusaku manages to avoid its aftermath as he ducks behind a barrier in the form of a five-feet high metal wall. He pauses, sighs, and then looks at the materials he has in his bag as he hears the Bellowback call for his name.

“Oi, that machine will find you if you just sit around sorting your stuff. You shouldn’t rest easy here, you know.”

“I’m aware,” he says, sorting through his various items. “Is there anything useful you can tell me?”

The humanoid creature pokes at a bundle of sticks. Yusaku half-expects it to topple under the thing’s touch but, when it doesn’t, he’s honestly not surprised. “Hey, is this ridge-wood?”

“It is.”

The creature inspects a leather bag of pointed triangles of metal and several canisters of vile green liquid. “And these are metal shards and some blaze, right?”

“…Yes.”

It rubs its chin. “There may be hope to defeat the Bellowback then.”

“How so?” he looks over it.

“Well, my dear Playmaker, have you ever heard of Fire Arrows?”

“Yes, I use them often.” He tilts his head. “But what would they accomplish? They’ll just bounce right off its skin. They’re just as useless as regular arrows.”

“Not at all!” A picture of a Fire Bellowback appears before him and Yusaku nearly startles. “Relax, relax. This is a hologram…You do know what a hologram is, right?”

“I’m not stupid.”

Cluuuuuack.

The Bellowback was getting impatient.

The hologram version of it made a huffing noise.

“Well, look at the areas highlighted in orange.”

Several parts of the machine light up. A canister on the legs, a cargo sac and the gullet of the machine become illuminated with a peach glow. Yusaku observes each area with interest, scrutinizing every inch of the machine with vague curiosity.

“Alright. What about it?”

“These areas are considered highly flammable. They’re hard to aim at but, if you hit them just right with a Fire Arrow, you’ll be dealing major damage to that machine!”

He nods, pressing his back against the barrier and organizing his materials. “I can make about five rounds with the items I have.”

“Do you have a good aim?”

“…You can say that.”

“Then just make them count.”

~~~

There is something wrong in the air.

Blue Angel sits on the edge of a cliff, staring into the sky above. She reaches forward, purple eyes scanning the world around her.

“Do you enjoy watching the clouds?”

She turns to see her partner approaching, a bag of pears in his hands. He offers one to her and she takes it, nibbling.

“No, I don’t.”

“You could’ve had me fooled,” Go Onizuka laughs and sits beside her. “Thinking of your brother?”

“…No.”

“That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one.”

She offers him a bitter smile. “You can read right through me, can’t you?”

“I try.”

They watch the clouds pass overhead. A cool breeze brushes up against them, wrapping around Blue Angel and then moving past. She lets her fingers curl up around its gentle arm and pushes her legs up to her chest.

“It’s beginning, isn’t it?”

Go looks over at her. “You can tell?”

She twists a lock of blue in her hand. “Can’t you?”

“…They’re rather loud about it, aren’t they?”

“Mm. She is panicking right now.”

“Hah, thought so. A newcomer, right?”

“Seems like it.”

She stands up and he follows her lead. They turn away from the cliff and whistle. Two Sawtooths emerge and kneel before them. They mount the machines and then lead them off towards a distant forest.

“Well then,” she says and catches his eyes, “do you think they’ll make it out alive?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs and follows her lead, “will they?”

“Let’s hope so.”

“To the Cauldron, then.”

“Right.”

They depart.

~~~~

Tuck, dive, roll.

Flames burn at Yusaku’s right.

Tuck, dive, roll.

Flames burn at Yusaku’s left.

“Can’t you at least like, I don’t know, TRY to attack it? You’ve done nothing but dodging!”

“It might help if someone would just shut up.”

The humanoid creature shakes a finger at him. “Hey, mister! I’m trying to help you not get killed! The least you could do is show some respect!”

“Said AI that’s trying to help me is also trying to get me killed by distracting me with all it’s chattering.”

“Fine, fine, be that way! Just see you like it when I DON'T help you, mister!"

The Bellowback snarls and rams into a nearby barrier. It pauses, stunned momentarily, and then breathes fire just as Yusaku nocks an arrow. He rolls away, hissing as a small flame ignites on his pants. He pats it down and then avoids another ramming charge.

“Is there any way to disable that fire breath?”

“Oh so NOW you want my help?”

“Do you want to burn up alongside my corpse and become a piece of trash?”

“…Point taken.” It sighs and stares at him. “Alright, aim for the sac in it's neck with one of your fire arrows. If one of them hits it, the thing will have its elemental breath disabled.”

“Alright.”

He knocks an arrow and avoids another blast of flames. He tucks himself behind a metal barrier and then takes in a breath to focus himself.

Concentration.

The Bellowback rears its head, snarling. Yusaku waits, pauses, and then fires. The arrow lands on a spot of transparent glass, amber flames licking at the material until it burns the material away. Fire meets flammable liquid and, in one fell swoop, the machine sets its entire body into a blazing inferno.

“Ssssshkreeeeee!”

It howls in agony, backing away as smoke curls up from its backside. It stumbles, battering itself against the metal walls of the Cauldron as the combustion on its body slowly subsides. When the flames die out, it settles it’s red-eyed gaze on Yusaku, crying out in vengeance.

“It’s pretty weak now,” Yusaku’s companion says. “Aim for its legs. If you hit both the canisters there with your Fire Arrows you should be able to cripple it enough to kill it off.”

“Right. Got it.”

He pulls out another arrow and aims for one leg. The arrow misses just as the machine pulls away and he narrows his eyes, pulling out and igniting another Fire Arrow. He tries again and, this time, he’s successful.

The machine bellows, snarling and hissing as its leg wobbles and its body shakes alongside it. Yusaku aims again and the machine takes yet another hit. Sparks sizzle and the machine collapses to the ground.

“Now, Playmaker! Finish it off!”

He leaps forward, pulling his spear off his back and plunging it into the side of the machine. It splutters in agony, gears grinding before the red light in its eyes fades from existence. Yusaku looks at its corpse, picking away at several different pieces before looking at the black humanoid being that floats in his vision.

“So, what now?” he asks it.

It gestures to the center of the Cauldron. Yusaku’s gaze follows it to the area of interest, eyes landing on a pedestal he had previously neglected to see.

“That structure is the ‘database’ for the Cauldron. It should still contain some useful files for you to extract.”

“Still?”

His companion huffs. “You’re not the only one who has come through here. Only those who defeat the Cauldron are able to earn a piece of the data it holds. No one person gets it all.”

“Who else has come by here then?”

“I wonder…who could they possibly be?”

He narrows his eyes and walks to the pedestal. Upon noticing yet another blue circle he pulls out his Overrider and settles it in the slot of interest. His device shakes with power and, when it finishes, a blue screen with white words appears.

“I am translating the data you got now,” his companion says. “Here’s what the files say. Let me put them into text for you.”

Yusaku looks over the data with interest, watching as words formulate in front of his eyes:

…issing. Six children found. They were…

….chamber…

Test 1…the danger levels are…

…if we can…Link Sense…

-All files past this point are corrupted-

He glares at the information. “That’s all?” he asks in disbelief. “After all that?”

The humanoid creature shrugs. “It’s all I was able to uncover. Unfortunately, as these files have been kept out of date in comparison to the Cauldron itself, I couldn’t translate much without potentially damaging the data further.”

“That doesn’t explain anything though. Six children? What about them? A test, danger levels, Link Sense? What does that have to do with Corrupters?”

“Don’t look at me. I don’t know anything.”

He stares at it.

“Hey, what? I really don’t!”

The ground beneath him shakes. He flinches and then looks beneath him, almost astonished to see a circular piece of the Cauldron floor rise up. “What’s happening?”

“We’re going back up to the surface.”

“I see.”

“Hey, Playmaker?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have a name? Besides just Playmaker, of course?” Orange eyes peer at him in interest.

“Do you?”

"I do!" It rubs a nonexistent nose. “Ai! You may call me Ai.”

“Yusaku. Yusaku Fujiki.”

“Nice to meet you, Yusaku!”

He says nothing more.

~~~

The outside world makes his eyes hurt. The circular floor lodges into place next to a overpass and he steps onto a strip of white bordered by silver rails. His feet wobble as he moves from metal to dirt and he collapses to the ground with a hiss as a throbbing wound begins to make itself known on his leg.

Ai stands in front of him and watches as Yusaku pulls away the bottom leg of his pants to reveal a red gash edged with purple. He winces, grabbing at a bundle of cloth and wrapping it around the injury.

“…Quite a nasty thing.”

“Yeah, it is.” He ties a knot and then manages to stand back up again. He hears doors shut behind him, clicking into place, and he isn’t at all surprised to see the Cauldron closed to him. “But we have to keep moving.”

“Why? I thought the danger was already over with since you finished the Cauldron and all?”

He whistles for his companion. The Strider comes prancing up, neighing in greeting as Yusaku places a hand on its head. He mounts it and Ai’s hologram form lounges on the horses neck.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not.”

Ai tilts its head in confusion.

Yusaku begins to list three reasons.

“#1: Even though I retrieved the data from the Cauldron, I still don’t have all the files. If what you said is true, then there are others with those files. If they’ve discovered I’ve retrieved another one, they’ll most likely want to come after me and steal what I have. I can’t risk that.

“#2: The reason why I went to the Cauldron was to figure out who programmed the Corrupter and why it seemed to know of me. Machines are not supposed to be able to speak or recognize humans and yet that one did. It was said to have come from the Cauldron but, as I found no Corrupters during my time there, it means there is somewhere else I must still find. Staying here will only be wasting my time.

“#3: Standing in front of a Cauldron is a red flag invitation for other travelers to start noticing me more. If people see me here outside the Cauldron, they’re going to get suspicious. I heard from my friend that this place is regarded as sacred and dangerous – no right-minded person would dare tread here. If other people notice me here and now, it’ll only make it harder for me to act as Playmaker when everyone’s eyes are already on me.”

“In other words, you don’t want to stand out.”

Yusaku looks at it and the creature waves back at him rather mockingly. “You’d be right.”

His Strider begins moving forward at a gentle pace, calm and steady as it leads the boy forward into a land of snowy dirt and icy winds. Red-tipped grass glowing with little bubbles of light swishes underneath, inviting them forward as they tread past.

“Sooo, Playmaker.”

“What is it?”

The creature crawls to the top of the Strider’s head. “Why did you become Playmaker, anyways?”

“To fight against the machines.”

“…You’re lying.” Ai points a finger. “There’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“And you wouldn’t be wrong,” he shrugs and urges his mount a little faster. A nearby Grazer pokes its head up, watches, and then loses interest as they disappear from sight. “But I’m not going to tell everything to a machine.”

“Why nooooot?”

“Plain and simple: I don’t trust you.”

“Huuuuuh?” Ai stands up and stomps its feet. “But you just HAVE to trust me! I’m so cool and awesome, aren’t I? I mean, do any of your people get to see cool hologram creatures like me all the time?”

“No, because that would be dumb.”

“Well, excuse you! I have NOTHING wrong with me!”

“Actually, you talk too much, for one.”

“’You talk too much’,” it mimics in disgust. “Yeah, well, maybe you should try talking a little more!”

He offers no response to that and the creature turns its back to him, arms crossed and head high in the air. His Strider seems to whinny in amusement at such an action, shaking its head. The creature sits firm, however, its projection kept almost immaculately in place. In some ways, it almost seemed like Ai actually existed in the physical realm.

Red.

Yusaku yanks on the reins of his Strider and the machine halts into place, skidding its hooves into the dirt. Ai flails in place, arms in the air as it turns around to glare at Yusaku.

“What was that for?”

“Look up ahead.”

Ai squints at him and then obeys. “W-Wait is that a...?”

“Fire,” he confirms, noticing black clouds of smoke appearing from a layer of purest white. Red burns furious, igniting the trees around it with simmering anger.

“But why?”

“I don’t know – there’s no town or city in that area. There should be no reason to…unless…”

“Unless?”

“The Knights of Hanoi.”

“Oh, them?” Ai scoffs. "Bunch of wannabe cultists, if you ask me."

He side-eyes Ai with mild concern. “They’re not something to laugh about. They’re fanatics who worship the machines a little too much but, in the end, they’re just as dangerous.”

“They’re humans though! Nothing some bombs and a few nicely-shot arrows can’t take care of!”

“These humans have control over the machines.”

“Yeah, and? You do too.”

“But there's an issue with that. The problem is – I can’t go into battle unprepared. If I do, I risk my identity as Playmaker being known. I can’t have that information in someone else’s hands as it stands now.”

The humanoid creature makes a laughing sound akin to a bird’s chirp. “That, my dear friend, should be the least of your problems!”

He looks it over and frowns.

“Don’t give me that look! If you look at your hands you’ll understand! I've engaged the mechanism for you, my dear partner!”

Yusaku holds them up and sees not pale-colored skin but, instead, black and green fabric lined with gold. His eyes widen and he moves his gaze all around his body, noticing the same colors splotched all along his arms, legs, and torso. Ai follows his gaze with amusement, chin rested on two propped up hands.

“What did you do to me?” he asks, his lips beginning to curl up in distaste.

“Relax there, tiger. That right there is a special part of my programming – the ability to disguise my master with any appearance other than his own! Of course, it has limited capabilities but this is what it generated for you.”

“So…other people who see me will see this too?”

“Only if you keep the hologram form on. Certain people may be able to see past it, however, and there’s only so much I can do about that.”

“What type of people?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“That’s helpful,” Yusaku looks over his form with modest surprise before urging his Strider forward again. “But, regardless, if this will protect my identity then I can fight them without restraint.”

“And is that a good idea?”

He doesn’t answer.

“…Oi, don’t get yourself killed, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Ai sighs.

~~~

The site of the fire is a clearing in the middle of a snow-touched forest. Already, Knights of Hanoi have gathered. Men cloaked in white robes and faces hidden by metal masks create a circle around an encampment of machines. A cruelly-made prison sits in the center, fashioned from cedar logs and coils of rope. Yusaku spies three people inside – two men and one women with the emblem of SOL on their ragged uniforms.

“They took prisoners,” Yusaku says, pulling out a bow.

“And they’re not alone, either.”

Red pulses in his vision and he sees the outline of a Fire Bellowback and two Scrappers – hyena-like machines - right beside it. He scowls, watching.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?”

“Not yet.”

“…What are you waiting for, Master Playmaker?”

He frowns. “An opening. I’ll need to override one of those Scrappers as a distraction for the other machines. However, I’m going to need to wait until all the Knights of Hanoi aren’t looking to strike.”

“And why are you risking your life to fight them? Do you want to save those prisoners so bad?”

“The prisoners aren’t my biggest concern,” he responds lightly. “If anything, what I’m most worried about is-!“

A loud screeching sound hits his right ear and he winces. Ai panics, flailing about as the noise persists. However, after a few seconds, a blissful silence passes over and he gives a muffled sigh. His gaze falls upon the humanoid creature in front of him. “What was that?”

Ai blinks. “Likely, it means we have some company.”

“Company?” he asks, intrigued, but finds himself surprised as something runs past him.

A Sawtooth.

He bristles with unease, grabbing at his spear and rolling to the side. However, unlike what he expects, the sabertooth-like machine does not pause to glare at him with red eyes. Instead, it carries a figure of blue forward, roaring as it barrels through a blockade of Hanoi Knights.

“…Well, I guess you got your distraction.”

He nods, pointing an arrow at a member of Hanoi. He pulls back the string and lets it go. The arrow flies, striking a headshot and the knight crumples to the ground. The Sawtooth rider – a girl of blue familiarity – shoots up in alarm as she watches Yusaku’s accomplishment, gaze searching for his presence. However, her distraction is shortly-lived as a Scrapper takes interest in her. She snarls, upset, and aims her creature to quickly eliminate the other machine.

One of the knights with heavy armor and a cannon similar to that of a Ravager’s points at the Sawtooth. “Aim for the girl!” he shouts. “Shoot her off that damned machine!”

The Sawtooth rears and snarls, swiping at any arrows that come towards its master. However, in the process of doing so, it fails to see the bomb planted underneath it and is blown back, its rider tossed off.

Yusaku acts quick, darting out from his hiding spot and whistling as he races for the scene of the action. His Strider appears beside him and he mounts it in motion. The horse machine darts forward, plowing through several humans as Yusaku catches the girl in his arms. There’s a slight ‘oof!’ from him as she lands and then he retreats from the scene of the crime. The Sawtooth, having recovered and seeing its master in danger, sprints towards him with an open maw.

“Call your machine off,” Yusaku tells the girl. “I’m not your enemy.”

She eyes him with distrust but, after a few moments of inner debating, she raises her fingers to her lips and makes a specific call. The Sawtooth closes its mouth but pursues close behind with impressive restraint.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Playmaker.”

"Playmaker?" Her eyes widen but she has no time to react as a Scrapper appears in front of them. Yusaku’s Strider rears and then smashes its hooves down. However, such an action is not enough to stop the second Scrapper from knocking into them and sending both humans off the machine. Yusaku curls the girl’s head against his chest and braces himself for a dangerous impact.

Something catches the edge of his collar right before he hits the ground and, aside from a brief moment of choking, Yusaku lands without harm. The boy looks up and sees another Sawtooth standing overhead.

“Get away from Blue Angel,” a voice commands and Yusaku sees Go Onizuka glaring down upon him. Two Watchers pause at the feet of his ride before darting into battle.

“Who?” he asks but the girl in his arms pushes him away and stands to her feet.

“Me,” she tells him, clicking to her machine. The sabertooth creature prowls forward and she mounts it again. “Stand down Go. He saved my life – he’s an ally. His name is Playmaker.”

“Playmaker?” he looks over the boy and Yusaku’s gaze darts to his hands. They are still covered in the hologram image and, despite himself, he breathes a sigh of relief. “This man?”

“How rude,” Ai huffs. “Playmaker, tell him off!”

Instead, Yusaku nods and then gestures to the field of battle. “We have a fight to win,” he says. Blue Angel, having realized their predicament yet again, races off into the fray without another word.

“Do you have a machine?” Go asks him.

He looks over at the Strider that has already been ripped apart by the nearby Scrappers. “…No.”

“Then you should stay away. It’s not safe here.”

“I have a bow.”

Go looks over him for a moment before giving him an understanding grin. “Then I guess you better use it,” he kicks the side of his Sawtooth and races to Blue Angel’s side.

The Scrappers turn to Yusaku. He shoots an arrow at one and it snarls, rushing forward with the crusher-like parts of its mouth spinning. He baits it towards him, watching for the other, and then grabs his spear. When it comes close, leaping to crush his head into power, he ducks to the side and stabs its flank. It howls, parts whining, and then collapses in a shower of electric sparks.

“Wow, you make it look so easy.”

The second Scrapper snarls, moving towards him step-by-step. Its red eyes watch him, scanning him over and over with a pulse of blue that paints over his figure. It was observing him, scanning him with its radar and observing his every weakness.

Yusaku pulls out his Tripcaster and sets down two Shock Wires. The machine takes no notice of the trap, focusing all its attention on the human boy in front of it. Yusaku urges it closer, whistling to gets its attention. It pauses, lifts its head into a howl, and then charges.

An electric shock barrels through its body and the machine convulses as it collapses to the ground. It whines and snarls, legs flailing, and Yusaku dashes to place his Overrider at the base of the machine’s neck. Little hooks pop out of the device, digging into the coils of wire that make up the Scrapper’s existence and plunging light blue electricity all throughout its body. When he finishes, he jumps back and watches as the robot clambers to its feet, shaking itself and then staring at him in anticipation.

“I want you to kill all the humans who are not riding on Sawtooths,” he tells it. “And then the Bellowback if you are able to.”

It makes a barking sound of comprehension and then races off with a howl. Yusaku watches it go, pausing for a second before darting into a section of tall grass.

“…It’s almost amazing how obedient they become after you override them. Much less that they can understand you.”

“You’re a machine, aren’t you? It shouldn’t be that complicated a concept. The Overrider makes it so that we can command the machines. Why they can understand us though, I wouldn’t know.”

The humanoid creature puts its hands on its hips. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” it accuses.

He doesn’t give it a response, merely nocking another arrow. His machine goes to work, battling alongside the Sawtooths against the members of Hanoi. The Watchers Go had employed earlier had already fallen, corpses on the fray of the battlefield while several knights looted their bodies dry. Yusaku shot at all of them, killing two and alerting the rest. They swooped down upon him, spears raised, arrows readied, and Yusaku grimaced as he was purged from his hiding place.

“Get that rat!” one woman shouted, snarling as he missed a shot at her head. “Kill him now!”

Snarling, Yusaku avoids a spear in his direction, dancing away and grabbing at a pike jabbed in his direction. He pulls it forward and then stabs his spear into the lady’s side. An arrow passes forward, nicking his cheek, and he slices at the unlucky man’s neck to watch him fall. The woman in charge, a brawny knight with eyes burning with the lust of battle, rushes at him. He avoids a blow to his neck by blocking with his spear, tumbling back at the force before regaining himself to kick at her feet. She is not so easily beaten, however, and she jumps back…and right into the flames of her fellow Bellowback ally. Her body incinerates in flames, screams sounding from the depths of fire and darkness, and then her charred corpse collapses as the Bellowback walks past and over to Yusaku.

“That’s not a traumatic thing to see,” Ai remarks, gazing at the bipedal machine that hovers overhead. “Playmaker, please don’t just sit here. You need to run. Like, NOW.”

He rolls away just in time, orange light burning where he had been standing seconds ago. The Bellowback, taking notice, regards him with interest.

“Y….”

It pauses, embers sizzling in its mouth.

“You…”

The boy stares up at it as does Ai.

“You aren’t…”

Ai squints. “You aren’t what?” it asks.

Something screeches and, within seconds, the Bellowback is pushed aside and down onto the ground. Sharp claws shred into the metal machine, ripping through wire and gears until the red light from the creature’s eyes fade from existence.

“Are you alright?” Go faces him with a slight air of worry, urging his Sawtooth mount forward. “I saw that Bellowback approaching and I came as quick as I could. Did it burn you anywhere?”

He raises a hand. “I’m fine, thank you. You should be more concerned about your ally – she probably needs your help.”

“I do?” a laugh and then Blue Angel appears. “The battle’s already finished, though, and the prisoners are released-” she gestures to a group of people who are tending to their wounds and then moves her gaze back to him “- and thus I have no need for Go’s assistance anymore.”

“I...stand corrected then.”

Both girl and boy hop over their machines and approach him. Blue Angel takes the lead, giving the imitation of a curtsy. “Thanks for your help in this fight,” she tells him, “and for saving me. Is there any way the Machinists can repay you for your acts?”

“I don’t need to be owed anything,” he tells them.

Confusion sparks in her purple eyes. “But, surely, you do want something from us, don’t you? Money, power, a place with SOL? I’m sure I could even convince Akira Zaizen himself to let you join the Machinists if you so wished.”

“What I want is something you won’t have,” Yusaku tells her, polite and calm. “There is nothing I want from you. However, I will thank you for the offer.”

“I see,” she frowns and then puts her fingers to her lips. “Well then. Perhaps, maybe, for now, I’ll say we owe you. If there’s anything you want from us, any little favor, any at all, then send a message to Akira Zaizen. He keeps in contact with us regularly and will pass along your words to us quicker than anyone else.”

“I see. Alright, I’ll keep that in mind if you are insistent in repaying your debts.”

Go nods. “We take this very seriously. Not many can earn our respect and trust like you have. Only a special few can take control of machines and, if you are one of those people,” he gestures to the Scrapper Yusaku had tamed minutes before, “then you are certainly one of us.”

“One of you?”

Blue Angel nods. “You went into the Cauldron, didn’t you?”

He’s suddenly on his toes, balancing on a tripwire as they await his words.

“What Cauldron?”

They swim around him, eyes like sharks.

“Why, the Cauldron just south of here,” Blue Angel says with a chuckle. “You saw something special there, didn’t you, Playmaker?”

Yusaku narrows his eyes, resisting the urge to take a step back and retreat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Go looks over him and then to Blue Angel. A secret message passes between them and then he raises his hands. “Alright, alright, if you say so. Regardless,” he turns to his machine and climbs back onto it, “we need to get going now. Can you get back on your own?"

“I’ll manage.”

They pause and, after realizing he’ll say nothing more, they reluctantly take their leave. Yusaku watches them go, waiting until they disappear to set his gaze onto the humanoid creature before him.

“You were oddly quiet.”

Ai shrugs. “What can I say? They’re curious folks – I couldn’t help but hear what they had to say.”

"Huh.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to head home. I’m sure my friend is waiting for me, sick with worry no doubt.”

“You have friends?”

“I do.” He smiles at that. “First, however, I’m going to need a mount to get back home.”

Ai nods and gestures to a nearby field. “There’s a Strider herd nearby. You can override a machine there.”

He nods.

~~~

When he arrives, Shoichi’s gaze is unrecognizable. His friend’s stare is puzzled, confused and yet wary as Yusaku enters the wagon.

“Who are you?” he asks, reaching for a nearby spear. “And why are you in my shop?”

Yusaku takes a step back, holding up his arms in confusion. “Woah, Shoichi, it’s me, your friend – Yusaku!”

The man regards him with a slight curl of his lips. “You look nothing like him.”

“What are you talking about I’m-” the boy pauses as notices his hands and then stares at the humanoid creature in the corner of his vision. “Ai, turn off the disguise. I don’t need it anymore.”

It chuckles at him, seemingly stalling until Yusaku glares at it. The thing hums and then snaps its fingers. Instantly, the green and black fabric that covers his hands dissipates and Yusaku is left with pale skin and his normal outfit of a black cloak and a white shirt.

Shoichi marvels over him with fascination, approaching with awe wide in his eyes. “Yusaku, how did you…?”

He points to the device curled around his ear and shrugs. “I found this in the Cauldron. It allows me to see and do things that aren’t normal. Like, for example, create a disguise made from a hologram.”

“A hologram?”

The boy elaborates. “A projected image put in place of another. It deceives the eye into thinking there’s something there when there’s not.”

“How wonderful,” the man breathes, eyeing the object with intrigue. “I’ve never seen anything like it. That’s amazing, Yusaku.”

“It’s also very annoying.”

“How so?”

“It talks a lot.”

Shoichi pauses. “It can…talk to you?”

“There’s a creature that lives inside it that I can only see while wearing this. It’s a humanoid thing with purple lines and orange eyes. Ai, are you there?”

It appears before him and seems to inspect the man with a huff of disdain. “Your friend doesn’t look all that impressive,” he says. “He looks rather stupid.”

“That’s a rude thing to say,” Shoichi responds with a light chuckle, not at all offended.

There’s a pause and then Yusaku stares at him. “You can hear it?”

“Of course I can. It’s coming from that device on your ear.”

“Humans can only hear me if I want them to,” Ai says, wagging a finger. “And if you trust this man then so do I.”

“You sure are a gullible thing, aren’t you?” Yusaku asks it.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You trust me so easily.”

“I kind of have to,” it points out. “I can’t leave the Focus. I'm stuck here with you, alas.”

“Focus?” Shoichi asks.

“The device your friend is wearing,” Ai says. “I am designed to be a program for it – a guide to whoever wears the Focus.”

“So, you’re a machine?” Yusaku’s eyebrows furrow.

“Nope! Unlike those weird things, I'm allowed to be free of mind 24/7! There's no way a human can control me!”

“How interesting. Yusaku, may I dissect it for a bit?”

“No, you may NOT.”

“I’m asking Yusaku.”

The boy smiles. “Yes, I'll allow it.”

“See he says-WAIT. NO. YUSAKU. BAD HUMAN. DON’T LET HIM TOUCH ME!”

They both begin to laugh and the creature crosses it arms, smarting as they chuckle over its sudden fit of panic.

“Relax,” Yusaku says, holding out a hand and letting the creature sit on it. It huffs and refuses to meet his gaze. “We won’t do that to you. Yet, anyways. You’re still useful, after all.”

“And what is THAT supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said,” he offers up a yawn and looks over to Shoichi. “I’m going to bed. I’m tell you everything in the morning – for now, I need to sleep.”

“It’s all ready for you,” the man says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

“Goodnight, Yusaku.”

“Goodnight, Shoichi.”

He leaves for bed.

~~~

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be staying up this late.”

Akira Zaizen peers up from his flask of coffee to stare at Ema. “And what do you mean?”

She crosses her legs, picking up a scroll from a nearby table and skimming through its contents. “Just that,” the woman says. “Staying up past midnight isn’t good for your skin, you know.”

The man takes a sip and swashes brown liquid in his mouth. “I’m not concerned about my complexion, Ema. I’m concerned for my sister.”

“Ah, right,” she picks up another scroll and runs her finger through it. “Her. The darling little angel who runs around playing hero. I’m quite envious that she’s the apple of your eyes, Akira.”

He leans back in his chair. “Why are you here?” he asks her. “Aren’t you the one who should be worried about your looks?”

“I can’t sleep,” she says, crossing her legs in the other direction. “Plus, you need some company to keep your mind at ease, you nervous thing.”

Akira raises an eyebrow. “I’m nervous, am I?”

She doesn’t even look at him when she says: “Your hands are shaking.”

He looks down and, to his surprise, notices she is right. The flask in his grasp moves left and right, shivering as he holds it. He closes the flash and then settles it on his desk, ignoring the item as a door opens.

“Broth-!” Blue Angel pauses as her gaze lands upon Ema and the girl interrupts herself with a curtsy. “Akira Zaizen, hello.”

“Spare the theatrics, Aoi,” Ema says, merely giving a mysterious smile as the blue-haired girl gazes upon her. “You have no need to restrain yourself in my presence.”

The girl sheds her form, blue hair disappearing into brown and her bright uniform fading into one of black and yellow. Her gaze alights upon the gray-haired woman with distaste. “This information isn’t for third-party members to hear, Ema, so I suggest you head back home now.”

“My, you still don’t trust me?” she places her scroll down and stands up. “Well, if you want me to leave then I will leave.”

“Wait, Ema-” Akira says but the woman holds up a hand.

“It’s fine, I’ll go.” The lady moves towards Aoi Zaizen and then pauses right beside her. “After all, I’ll find out what she has to say eventually.”

She leaves, the door closing behind her. Aoi waits a few minutes before turning to her brother.

“You shouldn’t trust her,” the girl says, taking residence on the chair Ema had been sitting on earlier. She picks through the scrolls and then relaxes when she notices none of them are too-important documents. “She’s a liability to us.”

“You forget though, she’s an important ally too. Her skills are going to be needed in our upcoming plans.”

She sighs. “Are you sure we can’t just replace her with someone else? Maybe with someone a little more…tied down?”

Akira shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Aoi, but I can’t do that,” his gaze meets her's. Her eyes speak of defiance but, after a second, she backs down and allows him to continue. “But, enough on that. What happened? You were supposed to be back by mid-afternoon.”

She fidgets with her skirt. “…Someone else went into the Cauldron today. Cauldron Sigma, to be precise.”

“That Cauldron?”

Aoi nods. “We assume they found what was at the end of the chamber. When Go and I checked it out, it had closed itself up again. However, there were definitely human footprints outside. Fresh human footprints.”

“Do you have a suspect?”

“…Playmaker.”

His eyes bores into her, prodding. “Playmaker? You met him?”

“We met him at a Hanoi encampment,” she doesn’t miss the way his hands curl into fists or the way Akira looks like he’s holding back a lecture, “and he saved me when they knocked me off my Sawtooth. The Machinists are in his debt now, brother. I told him to come to you if he has a request or favor of us.”

“I see,” he says, his gaze fixated on the desk in front of him. “I will keep that in mind. However, did you not try to recruit him?”

“We tried,” she gives a shrug. “He refused.”

A breath in. A breath out.

“Well. I guess there’s nothing we can do then. Has she told you anything else?”

Aoi touches her ear, pulling back a lock of brown and twisting in between her fingers. “No, nothing past what we already know. The machines are organizing, as we suspected. That, and Hanoi is becoming more active.”

“Have you gotten in contact with the others?”

“Their messengers all say the same thing. I’m afraid there’s not much we can do at this point but search for answers.”

He sighs and stands to his feet. “Very well then. You are dismissed for now, Aoi. Go. Rest. Tomorrow we will discuss our plans again.”

She nods, leaving her seat to depart through the door. Go awaits her there, much to her surprise.

“Still up?” she asks him. “I thought you wanted to get some rest.”

“Just thinking,” he says. “About Playmaker.”

“Ah. Him.”

“Isn’t it a bit too coincidental that he showed up?”

“You thought the same?”

Go nods. “He came from the direction of the Cauldron. I saw him when we came in, the footprints from that place led up to him. I didn’t get a good look at his ear in the dark but it’s possible that…”

“Yes,” her fingers brush underneath strands of brown to touch at an item pressed against her temple. “He’s one of us, most likely. That, or he helped out the one who did.”

“He overrode a Scrapper.”

She remembers the strange, hyena-like machine that had come to their aid in the midst of battle. Scrappers weren't a normal machine the Machinists over-rode so it was almost a surprise when such a robot appeared before them. “That he did. Perhaps, next time, we’ll confront him about it.”

“I doubt he’ll show himself to us.”

The girl looks at him. “Then we’ll flush him out,” she says softly. “Talk to the merchants, the travelers. We’ll be looking for someone out of place at the scene of the most intensive action. And I think I know where to start: the last place of civilization he was seen at.”

“Den City?”

She smiles at him. “You got it.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.”

They depart.

~~~

Bubbles.

Murky water presses against Yusaku.

His breath is stolen.

In the darkness, amber eyes meet jade.

[mattyrambles]

k e l s e y

Clouded eyes - heavy, red. Dilated pupils - blown out to the point where there’s only a glimmer of blue, ebbing beneath inky depths. Smudged eye makeup, dark. Waves - loose across her face, sparse tendrils of electric blue, dark brown. Glints of silver - her nose, center of her lower lip. And her lips are gorgeous, she is gorgeous. A wide smile - teeth, laughs. Everything is silent, an underwater buzz. Cold - her fingers, spanning along my cheek. A certain electricity. Everything slow - movements lagging, unfocused blurred vision. Slow motion, underwater. Electricity - radiating off her, surging through her veins, seeping out of her fingertips, soaking into my skin. Jagged breaths. Alive. Penelope Clarke.

Fingers - curling around her wrist, a sharp jerk. Slow. Underwater. Her face turns, curls spiraling, and electric blue strands seem to linger in the air, floating. Intoxicating, blue. And my eyes follow - trailing over the fingers wrapped around her, white knuckles, flannel shirt, his face. Vexation.

“Penelope, what the fuck did you give her?”

Too loud, a break in the underwater haze. Sharp, ringing. And it loops in my head - soundtracking the image from barely ten minutes ago. Penelope, pushing something pink between my lips, welcoming with no hesitation. Her mouth, my ear. A shiver - cold skin, warm breaths.

“Light it up, baby.”

Echoing, overlapping with his words.

Unfocused, features bouncing - a fleeting worrisome glance, him. Hazel - darkening behind the rims of his glasses. Silence - dull buzz, resuming, relief. And I slump further against the wall, limbs fuzzy, watching him. His eyes flickering from me to her, eventually settling, her. He’s annoyed. An expression I know all too well. Memorized how his eyebrows furrow and lift sardonically, how his lips curl around accusations and unmeant insults. But he’s beautiful, still. Matthew - Matty - Healy.

A sudden shift - her mouth on his. A heated engagement. His hands pull her closer, hers trail up his arms, shoulders, tangling through his hair. Sparks following their path, effervescent. They fit together, almost perfectly. Refocusing - highly defined, how their mouths mould faultlessly, how his teeth tug at metal, her lower lip. A flawless collison,one that should prove detrimental, thunderstorms- entirely different forces, warmth merging with cold.

Penelope was cold, Matty burned.

Albeit - everything’s burning now. Too fast, too bright. Lights, bodies, drugs. Blurring, bouncing. And the room spins and whirls, and the buzzing rings louder. There’s lights, a lot of lights, too many. Draped around the room, wall to wall, tones of blues, and reds, and greens, and yellows. Christmas. Yet, now they hover in the air, a push and pull. Glowing, glinting, breathing.  Rhythmic, slow. 

And it’s almost enrapturing, it’s almost Penelope. 

Penelope is fascinated with light, lights. Shadows candles throw. Captivated by colours, from the blue spiraling through her hair, to the tones of purple when tongues mesh over vodka slushies - blue, red. It’s an almost hypnotic infatuation. Sunlight, moonlight. She documents it all - her garage, from the pink skies of sunrise, the glowing oranges of sunset, the silver liquid of moonlight, to the eerie luminescence of stars. Paint splattered - walls, canvases, scraps of newspaper. It’s safe, it’s alive. An illusion of false security. All perception of time faded there, between walls that all the lux in the world seemed to pass through. 

Now - her voice breaks through the static, a scoff, something about how George is going to kill himself. George. A name that rings equally loud, almost equally as intrusive as hers. Lights - more erratic, the glowing turning to sparking, too bright, too fast. Intensifying when she speaks, and the more they grow - the more my lungs cave in, and breaths become shallow, catching. Vision blurring - and lights burn along with my lungs, and I need to leave. But - it’s a futile endeavour, frozen limbs. Hypnotic. Penelope. 

It’s a sudden warmth the saves me. Or maybe it’s cold. Something between. Seeping through my top, a borrowed one, Penelope. Wetness - my skin. Although it’s the shrill sound the resembles a jumbled expression of apology that finally tears me away from the lights, from her. A familiar face - blurred around the edges, doe eyes, green. A vaguely nervous expression - flickering over his shoulder. Matty. Penelope. Mine flicker to the now half empty beer bottle, his hand. Vision jumping. Adam Hann. 

A hand - my shoulder, faint, fuzzy - asking if everything’s alright. A question I try to nod to in reply, answer. But tongue heavy - mouth dry, cotton wool. A sigh - colours bounce, jitter, and he’s muttering something about fresh air. But I don’t want to leave, don’t want to breathe. 

Gone - a shout of Matty’s name, piercing through the fog. A bubble of sudden commotion, and there’s a click, shift somewhere in the back of mind. A pang of disquiet.  

“Touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” 

Matty.  Nocuous. Focusing - bodies, giggles and provocations. Sparks emitting. Brash - a familiar voice telling him to go on then. Not an uncommon occurrence. Ross MacDonald. 

Eyes flickering - Penelope, a scowl, fingers tugging at Matty’s jumper, curses filtering through the air. Adam - pulling away Ross. A thud, heart thrumming, and her fingers grasp his jaw, forcing him to look at her, lips back on his. 

Blurring, lights.  

Dimmed lights - Penelope’s kitchen, empty. Deserted minutes ago, bodies piling out the back door, garden, and I can only assume that’s a sign midnight is approaching. Things are better - the fuzziness wearing off, clouds dispersing. But my heart still thrums, blood rushing in my ears, limbs trembling. 

Black marble, kitchen island - smooth, cool against skin, my cheek. Fingers - idly tracing patterns across the surface, black clouding. Cold - winter air, backdoor ajar. Clamorous sounds, boisterous noises drifting - fizzles, crackles, fireworks. 

Content - watching, listening. The background is nice, safe. And I about trying to find Matty, or Penelope, both - for a minute, but the idea drifts, another firework, laughs. 

Time lapses - clock on the wall echoing, echoing off walls, vibrating through the floors, soothing. Comfortable, despite the too tight top, too short skirt, the stink of spilled beer. For once - a moment, it feels right, it feels like I should be here. 

A break - serenity, a laugh resembling my name, one I’d pick out anywhere. Penelope. A blur - fingers lacing through mine as she passes, her other hand linked with Matty’s. Hurried sounds of, “Kelsey, c’mon.” 

Stumbling - endeavouring to keep up, Penelope’s back garden. Alive, bouncing with sounds, vibrant voices. Bodies. Night air - spiraling colors, reflecting in sapphire. Penelope. And everything seems to glow and glitter, explosions of blues, and pinks, and reds. Spiraling kaleidoscopes, Penelope - a hint of awe, entranced, fingers tightening around mine. 

A rush - a countdown beginning, tongue still refusing to curl around words. Penelope, arm draping across my shoulders, fingers remaining entangled. Numbers - echoing, my ear. Breath fogging, hers, mine, chasing patterns. 

And then there’s an explosion of sounds, screeches, colours, and ‘Happy New Year’s’ - the haze of the high parting, and everything’s suddenly too loud. Sound resurfacing. 

Eyes flickering - bodies entangled. Matty, Penelope - half entangled. Lights, colours - illuminating skin, chasing patterns. Lost. 

Until it’s sudden, warmth - my lips, Penelope’s mouth. Quick, a barely there kiss. But - there’s electricity surging, and a lingering taste of night air, tequlia, kaleidoscopes, and Penelope.  Lips - trailing the same taste, synergy, my ear. “Happy Birthday, Kels.” - ensuing a rush of shivers, my spine. Merging with fire. 

Colours, electricity - dying down, mirroring the dying buzz through my veins. Losing a few bodies, louder music, buzzing of dull conversations. Liquid silver - the moon, full. The wall - cold stone, bare skin. A lot colder now, a chill in the air. Matty’s coat, fur - wrapped tight around my shoulders. His smell lingering. Content.

A familiar sound, one that speeds everything up again, sets a thrumming against ribs. It’s a laugh, a cackle. Gaze drifting up - and he sits down, his thigh near touching mine, pulling a girl down alongside him, and for a second I almost think it’s Penelope, but then remembering Penelope’s not blonde anymore. He likes blondes. And I’m not sure if that subconsciously fueled the decision let Penelope spiral tones of blonde through my own hair. Although it hasn’t succeeded with catching his attention yet. 

A beer in one hand, half finished joint in the other - a habitual prop. And when his head shifts to glance over,  a smirk curving his lips, deep brown eyes seeming lighter, moonlight reflecting. Smoke curling through the air. 

An unforeseen action - an arm, my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug. Tired limbs - giving in, my face squished against his chest, and he smells of weed, and beer and there’s a hint of Matty. A rumbling, through his chest, throat - a rasped voice, said through a smile. “Happy New Year, Kelly.”

Kelly. I suppress an eyeroll. My tongue still not grappling words, so I don’t bother correcting him for the millionth time by now. Of course he still hasn’t grasped that my name is Kelsey, not fucking Kelly. And of course he is all too blissfully ignorant that it’s not only New Year’s, but my birthday. 

George Daniel.