Fantasy New Oasis: Four Heavenly Kings — The B-Sides

[miki]

Hiachi Ito

CS Link

SCENE:

R B A C P Y D O I L H A S

LOCATION:

July 21, 2022 || Post-Outbreak

DATE:

West District, Tak's Apartment

PARTICIPANTS:

Hiachi, Tak, Dante

Returning Back A Cheese Platter You Don't Own Is Like Having A Sleepover

Her repetitive smacks to the head were promptly stopped by a firm grip on her wrist. At first, she thought it might have been Dante, if he had snuck up behind her. But as her eyes shot open, she knew it couldn’t be true. He was sitting right there, as he had been, in shocked horror. Her look of confusion eclipsed everything else that lingered.

She turned to her side, to look at what had stopped her. Gloved, clawed hands, protruding from shoulders that towered far above hers. Her eyes followed the arm that was attached to the torso, and then to the head that was attached to the torso.

Wolf. She knew Dante had them, well enough. It was his potential. There were two, normally. Chatty ones, but mostly like wolves. The ones like Dagger’s.

But this was different. One humanoid wolf in a trench coat. His head craned against the ceiling, his initial height too great for it. This was something else.

Hiachi’s voice got caught in her throat. She had faced monsters before. Human monsters and real monsters. This wasn’t the same. Monsters threw her around and spat her out, but this one was still. Patient. Not like a predator stalking prey, but a parent firmly waiting for her to take her first steps.

Dante’s words reached her, but they slipped out of her hands. She knew she wouldn’t talk. There was a barrier between those memories and the rest of the world that sat in her throat. Every time she thought of detailing it, explaining why she was so fucked up, she paused. Because in truth, how would she live if that was out there? She’d be acknowledging the worst of her. The worst things that happened to her. And after that, nothing would change. Just another person to carry that weight.

They didn’t need to know. They could guess. And that was enough; enough for her up until this point.

The wolf addressed her again. Mocked her, like a million different monsters she had been face to face with. Tone soft, firm, like the fleeting wisdom from those she couldn’t remember. That gun.

Her tool: her first and last line of defense. A practical joke from Lorette that she never got. That gun was all she had. She wasn’t born lucky: she was born a liability. There were benefits to being able to see as well as she did, but it wasn’t enough to warrant the great pride she had about it. To think, if she had been born normal, she wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Or maybe if she was born to a different mother, in a different country, spoke a different language, had a different face—a million alternate universes. And this particular one was the one: the one where she suffered again and again and again.

She watched as the gun bore into his skull. The fur on his face parted just for the muzzle.

And what if she shot him? What was another? This was the calm: to know that no matter how hard anyone tried, the threat was gone forever. She was a little bit safer. She could sleep a little bit better at night.

Hammer. Trigger. Click!

Hiachi clenched her jaw.

She wanted to get mad. It’s what she would have done. This creature, born from shadow, genetically apex, wouldn’t know the half of it. He didn’t know how it felt to be nothing. To be a maelstrom of misfortune after misfortune. To be forced to crawl when all she wanted was to quit living.

As she sat languid, she felt it. Something building in her chest.

It would have been bad; it got worse.

Something shifted. The mask slipped, if it was a mask at all.

His swollen wounds almost matched her own. Red and scalding. Puffy. That’s the way it had been then. She had been gifted a miracle: as much of a miracle as she could get in that situation, anyway. She was healed to the point where the worst of it was discomfort and a coma. Deep, infected, bloody mental scars, but physically intact, for the most part.

Tak was entirely different. To be frank, he looked fucked. His blood whirred like the drone of oil in an engine. He needed… help, he needed help badly. She knew a little about biology and a lot about machines.

“No, stupid, you’re getting infected blood all over your body…”

To her, everything he said was dumb and childish. So much so that it stabbed at her heart and made her tear up. She hadn’t meant to pull the gun, but she meant every word: he wasn’t allowed to die. She couldn’t get out of this hole alone. Even if he was stuck down there with her, at the very least—

She could feel the precipice again. The edge of something.

Pale green eyes of a demon.

Grin of a demon.

Those weren’t his eyes, his face, but it was too late, too similar. She was back in that alley.

Tar dripped from the seams of the wall. And she could point at it and say it was so: she was waking, in this blurry haze, but she could pinch herself and it was there. There was no smell, but she saw it falling, dripping from those corners, just had it had drip drip dripped down her arm, face.

What was real anymore? Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe she had died a long time ago, and this was purgatory.

Or maybe she was going fucking crazy. Because that stranger was dead, and he… she killed him. The hero turned to the crazed man, and back again. Between bloodied blond tufts of hair and that limp ragdoll skeleton.

So none of them were here, were they? Just mirages, illusions. Ghosts of her past.

So why were they here? Was it a punishment? For being a coward? For evading death, time and time again?

Hiachi crumbled to the floor again. Mimicking herself. Trying to become small enough as to not exist.

She couldn’t bring herself to pick herself up. She didn’t know what to do. She had made a mistake. She ruined everything by trying to fix herself. She crawled and crept and hid in shadows, and now where was she?

“Ahaha. Ha…”

再び。再び。

“AHAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

God, what was she thinking? He said he’d find her. No matter where she hid, what she did.

I see you.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Play or die.

“No… No…!”

Her tone lurched as laughs turned to sobs. Through her tears, her feeble mind spilled over with madness.

She was so tired. She hadn’t known it before, but she could get more tired. To the point where she wasn’t scared anymore. But she couldn’t rest. When she closed her eyes, everything came rushing back.

Outside of Hiachi’s own eyes, the walls were blank. The room hadn’t changed. But in a waking nightmare, it’s harder to tell real from fake.

Three long gasps, and she paused. She lifted her head to look at the two men, as if she had just realized they were there.

She shot up and jumped over the table.

There was no rhyme or reason she could verbalize. Maybe, if she was truly reliving that moment, needed someone there; instead of Hiachi all alone. Or maybe this was why she came here in the first place; she already knew.

She walked up to the two of them, arms spread wide. They came around sharply, shakily, onto their backs and forced them into her triad hug. Close enough so she could hear them breathe, one two one two one, two, one, separate and tangible.

She kept her head down as giant tears streamed down her cheeks. Her voice warbled out, quiet but poignant.

“...I’m scared.”

Real or fake: it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be alone this time.

Spoiler

Haze- thebigfella

 

[simj26]

Elise Cutter

CS Link

SCENE:

Any Way You Want It

TIME:

Post-Arc 3

LOCATION:

Pitt's Stop Parking Lot, Amestrian Roads

PARTICIPANTS:

Elise, Passeri

ANY WAY YOU WANT IT

They had talked, mostly about nothing in particular, but to Elise, it was more than enough. About their careers, about pasts that hadn't been painful to either of them, about miscellaneous things, guns a musical productions-wise. They talked, until the Princess fell silent, halfway through a particularly lengthy dissertation of the C96. Elise couldn't blame her. It had been a long ride. They had left in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun had just peeked over the skyline of New Oasis. Now, it was behind them, returning to its bed in the horizon, the last rays of light dipping the skies in orange paint. They still had a little bit more to go before they reached their destination.

But it would be best if they took a stop for now. They had already made good enough time, and she wasn't particularly interested in returning to the hellhole too soon. In fact, the more they whiled away their time just talking, the more she held the Princess’ hand, the less reason she wanted to return. To run away, to start a new life, it was a pipe dream, that much she knew, but it was one that she would hold onto.

She pulled the RV to a stop in an open space in the lot. Not many other travellers around. That was a relief, at least. The road to New Oasis never really saw much activity. Especially not in this time of the year. Maybe a Passeri Park concert might fill the place up quick, from all the fans driving from Amestria, and maybe some gamblers and people looking to take in the ecology of New Oasis. People going just to get quick thrills from the casinos, red light districts, and drug dens.

She pushed all of those away from her mind, as she lifted her hand from the Princess'. She stood up, and paused, her eye holding over the sleeping Princess.

Hesitantly, she lifted her hand.

Shows of affection, real affection, were still lost to her. Years and years of biting and gnashing at everything in her way, like a lost, rabid wolf had dulled her ideas of how to show any form of tenderness.

In battle, she never made mistakes. In love, she wasn't so sure.

She brushed a hand across the Princess’ face, and leaned in, her lips lightly caressing the other woman's forehead.

Even her skin was soft and kind. “We're here, ‘Seri.”

She waited for the Princess to clear the fog from her mind, before explaining. “We're making a stop here for the night.”

The One Eyed Bandit

 

[Haze-]

Featuring Dante From Devil May Cry

SCENE:

R B A C P Y D O I L H A S

TIME:

July 21st | Post-Outbreak

LOCATION:

West District; Tak's Apartment

PARTICIPANTS:

Takakazu, Hiachi

RETURNING BACK A CHEESE PLATTER YOU DON'T OWN IS LIKE HAVING A SLEEPOVER

He stood, one plate in hand, the sponge barely hovering above it, turned to look at the twined mess of sloppy red bandages unfolding right by his side.

He stood, eyes still, horrified, fuming, watching the play of red-hot skin pulsating like a man-shaped heart left bare to dry out in the sun, just under Tak’s shirt.

He stood, head bobbing to look down at the now shattered porcelain sunk deep into his balled fist. A hanging, thrumming silence loud in his ear, and an emptiness rimmed about with the sound of his own breath and heart quickening. The moment reeked of iron sliding deep between his fingers, sounded like heated, beating skin. The moment sped up with his drumming heart, wheeled by, shot away— then he was back in his body, feeling how awfully impotent he was.

He stood, repeating to himself, like a mantra so mind-numbingly ingrained into the roof of his skull— ‘I wasn’t there to stop it.’ — ‘I wasn’t there to help him.’ —

‘I wasn’t there.’

‘I wasn’t there.’ ​

‘I wasn’t there.’

‘I wasn’t there.’ ​

‘I wasn’t there.’

‘I wasn’t there.’ ​

‘I wasn’t there.’

‘I wasn’t—’​

He stood, felt it, painful, between the eyes. Inside his skull. A knot in his mind that just wouldn't unwind. Criss-crossed so tight it squeezed his brain empty of every thought, every word— he didn't know what to fucking say anymore. A procession of blame. Inaction. Then a cackle, a hoot— a holler, something was funny.

‘It’s like a damn movie…’

A venomous whisper in his ear. Like the drape of snakes circling and coiling around medusa's scalp-- tight like a rope. Intrusive, ever-present, inescapable. A low, growling timbre— voice gruff with a terrible undertone to it. He knew too, he wasn’t there to help either. Together, in this terrible flash in and flash out of guilt, blame, pointed fingers— they found a sense of place for once, they were on the same page. In the same hollowing, empty, angry feeling. The same procession.

The room froze, and he heard the hounds voice flash by like an intrusive thought in his mind.

‘Stripes…He wans’em tatted so fucking bad on his veins that they become his whole being, make ‘im unrecognizable. First drop of blood changes ya’, that what he thinks happens, ain’t it? And it must be what happens, ain’t it? KYE—HEHEHEHEHE….!’

Dante didn’t respond, didn’t dare to. Just stared at the gushing gaps in his hand begin to sizzle closed, his own flesh spitting out the sharp porcelain shards like they were watermelon seeds. Stared at Tak trying to puff out his chest, pretend like he was tough, that he could bear the weight all on his own.

‘He didn’t join over no damn debt, Dante. He probably wants t’be up on some fancy penthouse looking down at everyone. Like all those fucking hyenas throwin’ spare change at little ol’ you to move ya' like a good puppy. Camila…Ryutaro…even that fucker Weiss. All of ‘em looking to step over the other to get to the top— the big finish line…’

‘But that’s his problem. He’s not no damn tiger.’ — The hound wheezed out, cackled dryly, wiped a sleeve under his snout — ‘I mean, look at ‘im…all fucked up like they used ‘im to entertain ‘emselves in that warehouse.’

‘Bloody… Bruised… Beaten…Tch—heh—he’s fucking pathetic, honestly!’

‘That’s what you don’t ‘ave the heart to tell ‘im, right? Can’t lay it on ‘im the rough way…the way that hurts. You know damn well he’ll end up turnin’ up mangled like a used blow-up doll in some garbage bin up north. Just another bloody, bruised, beaten, pathetic corpse.’

‘How’s this, then,’ — The wolf threw his head back on the couch, scoffing at the rising, manic bout of laughter from Hiachi. Dante stood there in the kitchen sink, looking straight down — 'Scoot yer' ass over to the passenger seat, kid. Let ME handle this. Tell ‘im what he needs ‘ta hear.’

‘What, so you can fuck things up even worse than they are now, asshole? Take a hint.’

‘Nah, nah…Y’have my honest to God word, Dante. Promise. I’ve fucked this up—what’we ‘ave— one too many a’ times…but I won’t fuck things up with meatbag and the girl, kid.’

‘You always fuck everything up. You never help. Not you, not those other fucking mutts.’

Their emptiness shattered to a million pieces. The dark corners of the room quaked, growled; the hound only shifted the weight of his resting head over to his other shoulder, clicked his tongue. Then stood up.

‘Yer’ the one who made them up, Dante. All to shift the blame away from yourself, like the fuckin' pussy y’are. It was always big Cerberus...huh? Dante wouldn’t— cooouldn’t — hurt a fly, would’e?’

‘Yer’ just as pathe—’

His barking was cut mid-breath, something wrapped and hooked around his legs around his legs, brought him closer. Like hugging a shadow on the wall, he was dead cold in Hiachi’s arms. Still, a lanky, shadowy hand reached down to brush at the girl’s head, carefully — “That so?” — Three voices, all tender in an attempt at gentle understanding from something that could never understand at all. He stooped lower — “What’re you scared of, girl? Is it scarier than me?”

“K—heh…you poor thing…” — A swish of air, unstitched shadows, and for a spare moment she was holding nothing. The next, Dante’s hand was there holding her closer. He felt her sobs racking her whole body into shivers, wanted to break into a running dam as well, but he stood. Adamant, unshaken; because the two of them were already roughened up enough. Someone had to be composed here, for them. He couldn’t fuck this up.

“We’re here.” — He managed to speak out, swallowing down that knot in his throat, quieting the bundled pressure aching between his eyes. An arm wrapped around Tak’s shoulder — “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

The wolf stood leaning against the sink in Dante’s place, legs and arms crossed, looking straight down at the droplets of fresh blood and shattered porcelain — ‘So I wrapped my arm around her, made sure she knew she was safe…for once.’ — The wolf narrated, coughed out a chuckle. Shuffling his boot to kick three broken pieces back together, back in place. He wouldn’t fuck this up either, not again.

Dante sighed, clapped a hand on Tak’s shoulder, not having enough strength to look at him in the eye, only focusing on Hiachi — “You’re…like a brother to me. Y’know that, don’t you? Asshole…” — He scoffed, at himself, with a melancholic smile that didn’t quite look right on him — “Out of all the damn people in the West, eh…? Just had to be you.”

“You keep messing things up, kept dragging me along for all your selfish bullshit— but I’m still here. I guess I stopped caring about it a while ago. I can’t leave you alone. I don’t wanna check my phone one day and hear your sorry ass wound up dead somewhere because your pride got the best of you, man…get that through that thick fucking numbskull of yours already.”

“You’re not a damn burden for asking for help. That's what I'm here for. You'd do the same thing for me, for fuck's sake,” — He hissed a breath through clenched teeth, squared his jaw. Then, finally, stared at Tak right in his eyes — “So please just let me...let me help you.”

miki thebigfella

 

[thebigfella]

Shishido Takakazu

CS Link

SCENE:

Returning Back A Cheese Platter You Don't Own Is Like Having A Sleepover

LOCATION:

West District, Tak's Apartment

DATE:

July 21st || Post-Outbreak

PARTICIPANTS:

Tak, Hiachi miki Dante Haze-

Returning Back A Cheese Platter You Don't Own Is Like Having A Sleepover

Heavy breath, cold sweat. His tongue moved across his dry lips. He spoke so boldly. Across mental barriers that placed him on the other side.

There was no grass. Nothing cultivated within the soil, dirt and mud was all he could feel. Abstract concepts of the thick sludge that weighed him down and ran through his veins.

“Stay away from me!” That's what he wanted to scream. He said it was him looking out for them, it was liberation, freedom from what would only drag them down. A dreamless drifter who only had the fall awaiting him, he had always been an urchin, a scrounger left to scour the streets for purpose, he has been content to do it all on his own until…

The wounds still stung, that time he had welcomed it into his heart, the role models, the masculine figures some part of him always sought, the one his grandpa or his mechanic couldn't fufill. The connections he had formed with both of his older brothers only to be left with the one dismantling the only place he saw purpose, and the other betraying the both of them without a care. It had broken his spirit, it had hurt him. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of that time hurting more people, running through women and thrashing around. He had healed for a moment, when she had come into his life, but when he joined the Tigers like he always thought was his purpose he realized how fleeting dreams were.


He has gone silent. The frustration had turned inward, everything he tried to ignore, to snuff underneath the concept of bigger aspirations and desires, to taint the idea of mediocrity and stagnation to ensure his thoughts always looked above and never below, how he continued to step forward and act like he was making any progress.

It was the moment, when he felt those arms, that everything had a moment to stop. The space he had deemed infinitesimal had been crossed, he felt the warmth of someone else's body heat, the contrasting chill of the different temperatures between the three of them mixed into the hot freeze of a cold sweat. The rise and fall of the diaphragm, and the beating of hearts.

How long had it been, since he had last felt something like this? When had he last allowed himself to feel the comfort of security, to rest on his laurels, to appreciate what surrounded him in the moment.

It had been years. He had grown so used to everything falling apart, everything changing, the moment he got used to something it would disappear. So he decided he would rather push it away first at some point. Surely even these lazy days would come to an end, by either his death or a sudden upheaval, the lack of anchors would let the world keep spinning with minimal change.

He wanted stability, he wanted control. That's why he sought power. To him the only answer to become someone of worth was in the pathway of infamy.

Tak didn't openly reciprocate the group hug. His free arm was left to go to his face as he let out a deep breath, “...It's hard…y'know?” He openly voiced, his hand falling limply back to his side, his eyes opened and bore back into Dante's stare. There was a light in his eyes, after all this time it almost seemed impossible for him, but he was left with clarity.

“Going your whole life feeling invisible, having nothing, and suddenly being surrounded with so much shit. Then you get worried and start throwing stuff out. Just a whole fuckin cycle ain't it?” Tak chuckled lightly, humored as he thought back to what he said earlier with a shake of his head, “Christ, next time just punch me in the damn face will ya? What kinda asshole invites someone over and then starts snapping out?”

Tak's brow abruptly narrowed however, raising a finger to jab it into Dante's chest, “You owe me for that dish by the way, that was one of my grandma's my mom's gonna be pissed.”

Words he usually stilled, the past he tried to ignore came bubbling to the surface. All he could think about right now was the wish he was back in his childhood home.

With a groan he grasped Hiachi by the face, and promptly pushed her away, “You're all sweaty and crying! You left a damn stain on my shirt.” He pulled away the part of the shirt sticking to his body in a display, “Eugghh.”

He wiped his hand off onto Dante's shirt like it was a towel before stepping away from their little trio to walk up back towards the table, he stuck his hand into the paper bag and brought out a burger and fries. He tore open the white wrapper as he plopped himself down on the couch, basically shoveling the lukewarm burger in his mouth with a handful of fries, putting his meal down on the table he went to reach for the remote, leaning back as he started to flip through the channels.

“You guys wanna watch anything? I only got the locals though,” Tak glanced over his shoulder, not too worried about his wounds or the entangled veins coming from his heart as he crossed one leg over the other.

“Before you start goin’ like ’We need to take you to a hospital,’ it ain't happening. There's only two people who can help me and one of ‘em works a 9-5, and his geriatric ass is probably asleep,” he stopped to take of his burger, continuing with his full mouth, “You might as well get comfortable.”

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Passeri Park

SCENE:

Any Way You Want It

TIME:

Post-Arc 3

LOCATION:

Pitt's Stop Parking Lot, Amestrian Roads

PARTICIPANTS:

Passeri, Elise

Any Way You Want It

"...'Lise?" Passeri stirred slowly in her seat. She wasn't sure exactly when she'd drifted off to sleep, only that it had been between one of Elise's words and the next. Now, the arid landscape that made up the transitory territory between New Oasis and the Amestrian mainland was dyed a deep shade of orange, pock-marked by cascading shadows cast by a scattered shrubland that extended as far as the eye could see.

"Mmm... I was right. This is a nice way to wake up..." Her words broken up by a long yawn, Passeri rose to her feet and pulled Elise into an unthinking embrace. Her head nested into the other woman's shoulder, and she let her still sleep-dusted eyes wander out the window, drinking in the unfamiliar sight of the Amestrian countryside. For as much of the world that she'd come to see after the advent of her career's success, the bulk of it had only ever been bustling metropolises, never too dissimilar to the city that she called home.

It was something new, a sight like this.

"How far out are we? I don't think I've ever actually been to this part of the country. On ground, at least..." She had probably, technically, seen this landscape before, but only through tiny, high-flying porthole windows where all of it had been reduced down to splotches of colour and shadow below. Just as you couldn't see a city from just its skyline, you too couldn't see the countryside just from how it looked on a map. She knew that already, but seeing it in person- Or maybe just with the right person- compounded to her just how stark that difference was. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd just sat and appreciated a sight like this.

"Well... If we're here for the night, do we have any plans? What did we even bring to do? As much as I'd be happy to just stay like this all night... It'd be a shame to not take advantage of things." The change in scenery and the lack of prying eyes both. She didn't even want to imagine how many articles would've been popping up on gossip blogs tomorrow morning if she'd held onto Elise right in front of a window like this back in New Oasis. It was even more liberating than she'd thought it would be.

"So..." Gently, she perched her fingers beneath Elise's chin and pulled her into a kiss, returning the one which the other woman had used to rouse her. She spent a few moments like that, indulging in their closeness, her fingers brushing over her skin and the cool leather of eye patch, before pulling far enough away from her to meet her eye to eye. "Let's make the most of it, okay?"

simj26

 

[Haze-]

Featuring Dante From Devil May Cry

SCENE:

R B A C P Y D O I L H A S

TIME:

July 21st | Post-Outbreak

LOCATION:

West District; Tak's Apartment

PARTICIPANTS:

Takakazu, Hiachi

RETURNING BACK A CHEESE PLATTER YOU DON'T OWN IS LIKE HAVING A SLEEPOVER

He was hanging on the words, until,

A finger shoved into his ribcage; he followed it down sheepishly with his eyes.

The room stood stubborn, cold, still, sank only to the sound of his heartbeat and the passing wheels hugging tarmac out in the street. Stillness, quiet, following in-between that aching sensation nudged down the middle of his chest, caught in a thoughtless, wordless now. Either he’d convinced Tak to put down whatever walls he’d put up, reeled him back in, or he was just being shown some pity for his god-awful attempts.

Maybe it was Hiachi. Maybe he hadn’t done a thing. Either way, he was in the suddenness of the now, feeling the knot in his chest slowly begin to unwind. The room became less tense. He sighed, hung his head, bit back a smile before he made things more awkward than they already were — “If you hadn’t scared me with all that dramatic shit you just did that plate’d still be here alive with us,” — He patted a hand on the tears smeared on his shoulders, once, twice, feigning annoyance — “I’ll buy you a new one, she won’t notice a thing. Or we can just super-glue it back together and— I don’t fuckin’ know…blame it on the neighbor’s dog or something.”

A hacking fit, followed by cheerful laughter booming in his ear — ‘One down. One left.’ — He put on a voice, threw an accent up as if he’d had the voice tucked into his pocket this whole time. Spat out something he’d heard only once from an old tiger he’d worked with when he first started — ‘You’ve got the grounds ta’ be a pro in this, kid.’ — Wouldn’t forget his fat ass sitting at the flattened plush seat of a diner, like he were melting into it, nor the grease stain on his shirt’s collar from the burger he was taking bites out of on mid-convo.

'Funny.’ — An eyeroll, inward. The mutt was right on one thing, he couldn’t deny that.

Hadn’t fucked up just yet, Dante.

He was tip-toeing his way around a floor littered with broken eggshells. No, it felt more like minding the weight of his step above a frozen lake, looking down at the ice cracking with every useless attempt, at the chilled waters stirring beneath. He’d never been good with words. Never been good at keeping relations afloat; not one’s where he had to put the effort in, show that he was there and he cared. He was damn good at running ever since he was some street rat trapped in the north district, it was all he knew. He ran from his dad, mom, Nina, Damian— never took a moment to stop beating the legs and look back; realize that he’d left them all behind.

Already ran far too deep into that tunnel, hoarded his excuses, dropped a few of them on the way, won’t see the light from where he came from ever again. But he could still try to raise his pathetic head up to look at the light pouring in at the end of it, have the mindfulness not to sprint to it alone. Not this time. Wouldn’t leave them behind.

He didn’t move an inch from where he stood as Tak went to take his burger. Dante just stood there like a statue, dead still, only half-reciprocating the hug with a hand on her shoulder, waiting for Hiachi to let go, take as much time as she needed to settle her nerves down — “So we’re just having an impromptu movie night now? You're gonna fuck up my sleep schedule.” — He blew out a sigh through his nostrils, — “Y’were wide t’ hell awake when he called ya’…practically started kicking yer’ feet when y’ picked up the phone.” — already feeling the mental fatigue build up — “Shut the fuck up.”

It was all too sudden to be forgetting everything that’d happened. Too soon, too forced. But maybe Tak just wanted to move on from it, from any mention of it, focus on something else— and frankly, Dante couldn’t blame him for faking it. He would play dumb too, if it meant calming the both of them down.

“Just sayin’…” — The wolf shrugged, sauntered over to drop on the couch next to Tak, kick his feet up. A set of clawed fingers moved to pull the wolf mask up to his nose, another set reached down to snatch a greasy fry from Tak’s plastic bag, pop it in his mouth.

Dante groaned, shook his head — “Aren’t you supposed to have a car engine inside you or somethin' like that? If you’re like any of my pa’s old beaters, I might just fix you up myself if things gets worse.” — He rode a hand up over his head, scissoring empty air on its way there, glaring at Tak with a deadpan — “Just need a good wrench and to split you open for a while.”

“Like one a’ those operation game toys that’re cut open n’ squeal at ya’ when y’ touch 'em in the wrong organ. Sounds fun, ‘on’t it?”

He glanced down at Hiachi, nudged her shoulder to get her attention — “Try to eat something at least, will you? I’ll stop being a pain in the ass after y’ take one bite out of your burger…” — He slowly, almost curtly, tried slipping away from her, shoving his hands into his pockets. Drawing breath, huffing it out through his nose as he walked over to one of the bags, reaching in — “Ice cream machine was ‘broken’,” — and pulling out a small, multi-colored plastic cup. ‘Eddy’s Ice Cream’ labeled and plastered on a peeling tag on top of the lid — “So you’ll have to settle for whoever the fuck Eddy is.”

He held it between his fingers, showing it off to her like it were a national treasure before presenting it: — “Shorebay.” — Butchering the name.

“That shit’s just plain ice cream…what’s the point in givin’ it another name.”

“Listen,” — Dante set the sherbet down on the table, turned to look at Hiachi. His expression twisting, brow furrowing. Barely knew what to even say — “If you wanna talk about things…We’re both here to listen.”

‘Y’ think words alone’re gonna cut it?’

‘Girl’s a fuckin’ mess— got blood on her hands n’ now she’s shitting herself because it won’t wash away easy. Y’ can spell it out to her in any language y’ want, wont matter. Too far gone to make sense of the words. Too busy hiding ‘er bloody hands behind her back to even notice y’ said a word.’

‘She doesn’t fit right in all this. The tigers. Y’know that, don’t you?’

‘The dog whining and whimpering over its kill ain’t better than the one that kills for sport. She’s gotta learn that someday. That, or take her sorry ass out of the city 'fore she ends up dead.’

His jaw clenched; mouth pressed to a thin line — “Won’t force you to talk if you don’t want to either.”

miki thebigfella