Fandom Soul Eater: F.A.T.E

[Sir Les Paul]

Yutu Tatigat​

"Astor"​

Species Meister (Werewolf)
Location Daedelon Island
Mission An Ancient Quarry


​

Tags: Merciless Medic EmperorsChosen

1127 | January 17th, 2067​

OBJECTIVES​

- Locate and Incinerate Mercenary Bodies (2/5)
- Destroy all Magitech Equipment (2/5)
- Reach the plateau atop Mount Stheno (0/1)
- Signal faction Helicopters to retrieve statues (0/1)
- Defend Helicopters until retrieval is complete (0/1)

"I'm sure we could," Astor said, replying directly to the last comment suggested by Alek, "but, that sounds like massive waste of energy."

One of the advantages of the Jorguün Needles came in the fact they were a set. A set just as effective alone as they were together - for the most part.

"Hoshi," he called, trying to get the attention of the man. Once he did, he tossed him one of the twin swords he was using to stave off the snakes. "Channel your wavelength into it and it will dispel the petty magic of these snakes," he instructed, "and if you can run on the water, then sprint to that armor and drop the thermal grenades on it."

Astor then began to excite his own wavelength, pouring it into the sword he possessed. As he did, the aura of anti-magic it generated became larger and larger. For a Witch, this would be a nuisance, but unable to outright negate a spell. For these meager snakes, it was enough to clear the area. "We have several extra, so dropping a few on a timer shouldn't hurt us," Astor told them, reminding them in case they had forgotten just how well-equipped Aegis left them.

"I doubt we can do much once he's out on the water," Astor said, turning his attention to Alek. "Though it pains me to say it, this might be a time when his speed is more valuable than anything we bring to the table," he added, demonstrating one of his few moments of humility.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

The Missing of the Giant Mountains
Investigative Mission

Local Time: 0610 (6:10 AM) - Date: 09/27/67
Location: Zelezny Brod - Liberec Region - Czech Republic​

Watching the interplay between the party, Jurgen closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, before opening them, as he marveled at the lack of professionalism, use of coercion, and general seemingly lack of respect to the team leader. For her own part, she at least had asked the right questions, so she was not incompetent at the least, some screaming in German would set all of them back into their place, but it mattered not. Events were now beyond his control and the main office was giving him 72 hours and only 72 hours from the agent's arrival to solve the case. But why had the main office entrusted it to them? Were they the stars of tomorrow, or the final page on an embarrassing chapter?

The Hoshi, likely had told them all to shut up, the first werewolf of grey was likely talking to her meister, and the second was taking her boisterous partner from the room, while the leader and the sullen looking fellow actually asked questions. How he hated being in an office position now, climbing and hiking moutains, Ah... yes I should ask.

"First I shall answer your questions, but I have some of my own in turn, call it a man of experience wishing to impart some of his field service history..."

Given the leader had spoken up first, Supervisor Wallner would answer her, pulling up the profiles of five individuals;

First was a busty young woman who looked fair of face by any measures, with a curious dog tag looking device around her neck, East Asian by ethnicity, likely Japanese, Dark brown hair and dark brown eyes finished her, otherwise she was rather unremarkable, zooming out she seemed to favor a leotard under her clothing which was a button up shirt, a harness, skirt and boots.

"Akita Nohori - Age 25, Service History with the DWMA five years. Weapon, Sniper Rifle built upon the PSG-1, Complex Resonance is a given. I will not show the full service history, but she had the ability to compress her spiritual power for long range, pinpoint attacks, to be capable of Armor Piercing, if she has any weakness, it is the fact she "see's" or senses through the scope, so it is possible to find dead zones or get her tunnel visioned, two Star Ranking, on the lower end."

Next was a man, thin framed, 5'11" tall, pale complexation, blue eyes, would not be out of place in a Boy's Pop band, it seemed he was the partner to the gun. Wearing a pristine suit and a gun harness under the jacket, he would blend in with any generic secret service force. Clean cut, and well kempt hair.

"Samuel Janus - Called Walker in Jest, his special feature, if you wish to call it that, is to ground his presence to any solid object via his feet. It is a bit like, personal magnetic field in a way, minus rather than attracting metalic objects or deflecting them, he can polarize his feet and hands with any said surface to cling to it. In effect he can walk along walls and ceilings and scale them with ease, logic dictated he should be able to handle the rough terrain. Average Two Star agent."

Next was a brother and sister pair, or perhaps husband and wife? Why he included both was soon to make sense, and would be confirmed to be the latter, the pair had dirty blonde hair with the male's being slightly darker, both were German judging by the names, and ethnic makeup. Both were a bit older than the other two agents, likely in their early 30's, both seemed to have climbing gear and wore jeans and flannel with boots and climbing gloves.

"Edmun and Glenda Henchel. Two Stars, though, I would say their purpose here and skills are from search and rescue as well as tracking. Weapon and Meister pair, fittingly one is a climbing pick, Edmun that is. The two know the region well, and in terms of special features as some might say, they had no particular spiritual or wavelength related skills. They relied on training and improving their endurance with regards to resonating. They started service at the ages of 17 and 18 respectively and were married 10 years ago." It was towards the end that the mask broke partially. There was a bit of guilt that played across his face, as if to wince at pain. Given the ages of all three, it was more likely than not that he sent them and had a history with them. But whatever it was, he quickly banished it behind the same professionalism he had shown up till now as his gaze hardened.

"Next we have the CIA Witch, Minda Xifeng. Rather young as far as witches go, from my understanding and what the DWMA would share, she is roughly the equivalent of a Two Star agent on the higher end of things, however, it is not her combat ability that got her into the DWMA's CIA." Pulling up the picture, for her in kind she was a young looking woman, with a thin and short frame, likely standing no more than 5'1", dainty and light, wearing a one-piece dress, duster like jacket, black pants, with a leotard like quality to them and black boots. Her hair was raven black and her eyes were blue, her skin a light shade that carried an ethereal quality. Curiously like the first woman shown to the group she had a dog tag around her own neck and seemed to carry around a magic rod, short in size and scope, an oddity for a true witch maybe, but it likely had a reason and it seemed Jurgen had more to say.

"Minda is around 200 years old and was very much separated from her people in some regard, taking to her early life as a mercenary for hire, from the Steppes of Russia to the Jungles of South America. As noted, her skills were not in Combat, though impressive, rather it was her nature of being a commando and for infiltration, curiously preferring to work with Humans and using human weaponry, her spells seem to be related towards masking sounds and visuals via light magic. Of course, she has generic attack spells and the like, seems to specialize in spell circles. Either way, she was as noted, an infiltrator, valuable for tasks I'm sure the Hoshi with you, would understand rather well. When the Peace accords carried through, she quickly rose up the ranks and landed in central. She is rather young and inexperienced as far as the standards of her own kind goes, as to what tier of magic, I was not shared that."

Moving on to the next set of questions, it was about what the last reports were, "Seemingly the CIA was investigating this matter from the same light I am, but rather than send any three stars or additional agents not of the area, they asked for some of mine. For reasons much like theirs, I cannot just send three stars at every problem. I don't have that authority. As far as we know she had sent normal transmissions, her last being a data upload attempt near the area you are going to now. Satellites in the region can do but so much and the data is still being looked through. There is no obvious giant monster and the region is home to a number of dwellings, remote, isolated. My men reported back to me that they had gained information in the town and were following a lead towards the Northeast, the Giant Mountains, you likely see them now, and for some time, but the main region of it is towards what they mentioned. The signals eventually became garbled, though they mentioned a villa. Likewise, communication was lost. That is why we are sending three teams with a focus on combat and tracking."

Then there was the final question, that on what creatures lived in the area, or threats that there could be, that would be easier said that done. "Man has largely pacified this region, most creatures left are largely peaceful. Or if nefarious its creatures that are part of the cycle of life. Fenrir are known to live in the far remote areas, trolls, abominable snowmen, some types of Fae, wood and mountain gnomes of note. Then there is the various species of Fauna such as wolves, deer, bears, goats, so on and so forth, some of whom are magical.

Ah yes, given new realities we are... hmm... Loath to point the finger at them immediately but there are known to be various small groups of Monster Clans, typically some Vampires in ancient Castles, wolfmen caravanners, a few Hill Giants can still be found, but they are largely pacifistic or even live among the townspeople now days, good wood cutters and laborers, though like Ice giants, breeding with the locals has diluted them in terms of what they were. There are even a few Ghosts.

However, the disappearances as I noted are in far greater numbers than usual and from among tourists or from the nearby highways, rather than among the locals."

Waiting to see if there was anything else, Wallner stares at what few of the group were still here.

"My question is, have any of you ever been in the mountains, did you bring proper equipment or know much about the lay of the land? If not, then I suggest speaking with the locals. Carefully, some may know German, Polish, some Russian speakers, a few know English, but by and far they speak Czech."

Given the Train car was a custom job and reserved for the DWMA, the man seen no reason to not speak openly, anyone that could get a bug into it, the lounge they were in, the sleeper cars, hallway or toiletry, would likely already have other ways to listen in to start with. Being closed to the public had its advantages, though they wouldn't be able to get in without the train Keycard, in general it was a high-class private coach. Though, if one wished to eat, they would have to travel to the dining car.


Interactions/Mentions: EmperorsChosen (Elly) Sir Les Paul (Kisei) Merciless Medic (Sara) Pumpkid (Dante) The Regal Rper (Zosar) Haze- (Wren)

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nada Nadia Semyonov -Daniella Ethalyn - Feng Long - Aki Kiyoko - Wes Kraven
NYC - ???​

With Adrian just jumping to his, what would be death without even a shoot, the crew Sergeant laughed, bellowing as he did so with the loud roar of the engines reverberating throughout the airframe, he looked over to Nadia and shrugged. ”Hope that crazy son of a bitch doesn’t misjudge his willpower, or whatever in the hell you all do. Same for the rest of your weapons, you fuck up and get scared, you’ll take your meisters down with you. Keep calm, trust your loaders, trust us, and just jump, fear is the mind killer, let that get to you and your dead as fuck, Newton doesn’t fuck around! Now get off my plane!” A voice cut in over the comm as Nadia motioned for Dani in hand, the Sergeant connecting her rig to the runner, tugging at it a bit.

”My plane, you fucking dinosaur. ”Eh bite me! Also hold the lady downwards, don’t cut yourself, hold her up and you run the risk of tangling or cutting your rigging, then you are fucking dead.” He said to Nadia in regards to Dani’s sword form.

Nadia for her part would be next to Jump. ”Ready? I won’t lie, I’ve never did this before short of the training jump.”

Dani appreciated Adrian’s earlier gestures, but even though his logic was sound, him just jumping out of the window still made her flinch before a hand ran through her hair followed by a groan as she stood up. “Just… yeah, hold me downwards…” Dani murmured as she took a few steps closer and transformed, shooting into her hand. “Or just toss me somewhere if it gets to be a pain I guess… though I’d rather not.”

Feng for her part giggled a little before holding a hand out for Aki, fortunately a handgun was a hell of a lot easier to jump with than a broadsword. Looking at Wes she grinned, “Sure you don’t want to jump on your own? Once they put that hook on the wire, there is no going back. I’ll be going out last if you want to go now.”

“Yeah, no.” Wes shook his head, taking a few steps forward and grabbing onto Feng’s upper shoulder, assuming his weapon form and pressing himself flush against her upper arm. His red string wound itself tightly around her bicep, the end of the string looping around and tying itself into a knot.

“You can handle the jump. And the landing.” And everything that was between those two points, such as having to worry about her chute failing. Which, after her little number earlier, was something he was glad he wouldn’t have to worry about.

Aki on the other hand watched the spiky-haired boy jump out of the plane with no chut, her face revealing that she was clearly considering following suit. While she hadn’t thought about it before, Adrian doing it with apparent glee did make her want to follow along. “Ooh, how bout we race?” She asked as she looked back to the two as if they weren’t hot-dropping into a destroyed city.


With that said the team leader was next to Jump with Dani in hand, seemingly with nothing to say, Nadia jumped as the cord was yanked, pulling the chute at 3000 feet, at least with this one being a Ram-air chute it was more maneuverable than the round-type that would normally be used at a height of 300 to 150 feet… Nadia would have much rather that, she only had the flash training they taught her before this all began. Why they didn’t do fast roping by helicopter was beyond her. Some of these thoughts likely resonated with Dani as the speed they fell at grew higher and Nadia steered the chute, wishing to curse as she did so.

For her part Feng looked at Aki and got use to Wes on her arm as she shot back in her normal gallows humor, ”And they used to say I would never die with a man by my side, don’t worry, I won’t drop you… And Er, Aki, sure you want to do that? You take up a hell of a lot less area than he does, so you’ll be tumbling and spinning the whole way.”

“It’ll be fine! Indestructible, remember!” Aki said, bouncing up to her feet and lightly tapping her chest with her own closed fist. “So, can I?!”

”Eh… You better find me right after, and no matter how sick you get, don’t transform…though, I uh, don’t think this is a good idea…”

‘Eh, just let her do it.’ Worst case scenario, she gets blown off course and they'd have to find her. He agreed with Feng that it was probably a bad idea, but he didn't feel like trying to convince Aki.

Besides, wasn't like he was going to do it. Worst case in his scenario, he hits a wind gust and gets transformed into the world's deadliest Frisbee. No, he was more than fine pressed snugly against someone who could control their fall.

“Yay!” And with that, the blue-haired Demon Gun cheered, zipping to the door and past the military man. She paused briefly at the door, sticking her hand out in a motionless wave. “See you guys down there! Woooooo~!” The final shout could be heard as the girl leapt out of the plane, cheerful as ever.

Feng was quick to follow with the same tug and pull of Nadia, soon the whole team was on the way down and would achieve its landings, Feng purposefully tore the cords from her primary as they got closer to the ground, likely scaring the piss out of Wes as she deployed the back up round-chute from some 160 feet from the ground, taking a quick and save drop into a park of some sort or another, with luck she would be able to communicate and find Aki quickly, given the other should have hit the ground around here much sooner.

Aki was found in a dilapidated building nearby with the collapsed front wall giving clear view into the first floor where the girl was sat against a counter with her head in her knees groaning. “Too many spins… ugh…”

Wes shifted back to his human form, eyes slightly widened from the rush of the jump, as well as Feng's decision to cut her chute before they even hit the ground.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm down, he shot Feng a quick glare before turning back to Aki, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. ”Hope it was worth it.”

For her part Nadia kept the main chute, not having the experience of Feng, who’s experience asked a great many questions, self-resonating, Nadia’s chute got wrapped around either a power pole or some sort of phone tower, or lightning rod, she was not too sure as while slowed down from her rapid descent, she slashed the ropes with Dani and went with the momentum to swing herself into a nearby apartment building, breaking through a wall into a living room, somewhere on the 5th or 6th floor if she had to guess, dusting herself off and throwing the rest of the harness off, Nadia started off by opening communications with her teammates if able and setting a rallying point.

‘...Are we on the fucking ground?’ Dani chimed in as she heard the crashing and thud, clearly having kept her “eyes closed” on the way down.

”Close enough.” She said in a simple reply.

”Its not the first time I jumped from a plane, but ah, it seems Nadia wants us the meet up near her location, lets get moving.”

 

[Pumpkid]

Dante Holiday
Zelezny Brod, Czech Republic
Interactions: Sara Merciless Medic
/ Mentions: Kisei Sir Les Paul The Regal Rper EmperorsChosen Haze-
​

Dante kept his face covered for what felt like forever. The outburst in front of everyone was not a brilliant move. He just felt so irritated around Kisei, especially knowing who he used to be. Having to listen to him as an authority figure ticked him off even more. The thought alone starts to agitate him. Thankfully, Sara’s sudden tug brought him out of his headspace.

“H-hey! Wait, wha-” He couldn’t form words as he fumbled out of the room. He was released almost immediately once out of the train car. He wasn’t sure what was going on, and he certainly didn’t approve of being dragged. Dante takes his arm back and fixes his hoodie. “What the hell is your problem?” He huffed, dusting himself off. Being touched by Sara still did not feel right. It was as if germs would sprout, and infect him then deem him a defect from whatever fictional virus he made up.

“Yes, I am tired,” Dante admitted. “Which I have told you countless times to let me sleep in, but you insisted on dragging me along.” He ceases his movements, freezing still like a deer caught in the headlights at the mention of why Dante dislikes Kisei. What she asked was a loaded question. Memories come flooding as if they occurred yesterday. His anger builds as he recalls everything that has led him to now. It all started because of Hoshi, and it’s Hoshi that has caused him so much grief. If not for them, things would have been different. He can’t turn the clock, but he can damn well pin the blame on them.

He turns to Sara, and snaps, “It’s everything!” He bangs his fist into the wall as he steps closer to Sara towering over her as he glares down with his piercing eyes filled with hatred, deep inside lingers anguish for his former miester. Much like Sara's deduction, Dante held Rory like a vice grip. A child who felt abandoned and afraid to let go of the past. What would be left of him if he accepted what happened? No! It's the Hoshi's fault, and that will forever remain a fact. His rage entered as if a switch has been flipped inside. The one thing that triggers the male.

“I can’t stand that fucking guy. His entire existence sickens me to the core, just being around him makes me want to kick his ass.” He lowers himself at eye level. “What he did, is none of your business, so stay the hell out of it, pup. Got it?” He narrows his eyes making sure she got the memo. He doesn’t like to threaten anyone, but in this case, Dante feels the need to break something whenever his past is mentioned.

Maybe it’s himself he wants to break, the outcome is usually an outburst like a child making a fit. In the heat of the moment, he tries to inflict as much damage to push the person away such as Sara.

Dante turns on his heel and walks away. He needed to cool off by grabbing fresh air. It’s the only way he learned how to calm down by taking deep breaths.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Sara Middleton​

Date: September 27, 2067
Location: Train, Zelezny Brod, Liberec Region, Czech Republic
Interactions: Dante, Elly, Kisei, Zosar, Wren
Mentions: N/A
Pumpkid EmperorsChosen Sir Les Paul The Regal Rper Haze-

Having to keep an ear out for the briefing and most of her braincells at work for Dante was a bit difficult but she managed to multi-task thanks to her coffee this morning. She was glad she pulled him out because she could smell the rising anger from him and there would only be another outburst if she hadn't.

She didn't chastise him for being angry, just stood there with a stone-faced expression, even as Dante let loose and towered over her and said rather harsh things. But thanks to having a ton of assholes as friends or acquaintances - like Noah - and thanks to Nadia's own harsh words, she had very thick skin. All she saw as she heard him speak was someone who was still in pain and wasn't over it. Whatever it was, it had to do with Hoshi in general, not Kisei, which had given her a clue. It must've been something traumatic due to the way he paused, but she didn't expect him to punch the wall. She winced, as she knew they all must have heard that, and his yelling.

She sighed as he vented to her, even though the goal was to push her away. She was all too used to this tactic. So, she spoke up, even as he stormed off she trailed after him to make sure he heard all that she had to say. "I get it. You're hurt, but I was hoping to be quiet about this so you didn't embarrass yourself again. I'm sure they all heard that." Sighing, she continued. "Regardless, Kisei was a Hoshi, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the hallmarks still. I get that's painful. But does that previous identity really matter when we're trying to save lives and a government asset out there? Was that all worth it for our client to see us all as incompetent because of just one outburst? I get we're tired, but that's not acceptable behavior, especially not in front of a client who works for the government of another country who is asking for our help in finding his people."

She took a step forward with the intent to run to catch up to him, then stopped. Something in her urged her to not follow him.

Give him space...

Taking one last sigh, she spoke up again, showing her intentions. "You're still my partner, so I'm responsible for you and your actions, just as Elly is responsible for everyone's actions for being team lead, so she'll likely talk to you later. I'll leave you alone now. Hope you can cool off."

She watched him go, a forlornness to her look. She then turned around and walked back to the room.

She sat down next to Zosar, her mind returning to the briefing. Her happy-go-lucky expression she was known for had disappeared, and her brow was furrowed. "Sorry about that. Lost five hours of sleep, so things are more raw." She gave an excuse for Dante as she replayed all that was said.

She noticed a picture of the Witch, and she asked. "I heard the details, but can you just pass through the last three pictures again? Just so I know who I'm looking for."

So, they were looking for someone who's been an agent for five years starting at 20. That was... quite new. Normally, an agent came about when they were children, starting around 12-16 years old. The fact she started late was because she either didn't know she was a sniper rifle, or she had taken school elsewhere. Her name sounded very Japanese though.

Still, it was sort of odd. If she was someone to look out for as a missing person, why would he give an odd detail such as 'possible to find dead zones or get her tunnel visioned'? It was almost as if this man had an inkling of how she was caught. Someone must have distracted her. Her and her partner were probably good trackers at long range especially with her meister's ability to walk on walls - really reminded her of Gauss, but that didn't stop something from sneaking around while something kept to distract her and her partner. A pincer flanking movement was something her werewolf community did when hunting, usually used to distract a predator while two werewolves on each side went around and attacked from the sides and behind, taking down what would normally be a tough beast and turning them into easy mincemeat.

They didn't just get set upon by mystical creatures. Whoever did this was a hunter and was calculated. They went somewhere they shouldn't and ended up paying for it by getting caught.

The married couple was odd. Why bring a couple hikers? More recon? Did they think something was in the mountains? Or was it to get a vantage point? They apparently knew the region well, so it was likely they were on recon alone or went with the first pair, which was probably what Wallner had implied earlier. They must've been in their late 30s if they've been married and been agents for so long.

Why Wallner brought up that the Witch was a CIA agent was weird. But, after smelling Kisei get piqued by that information earlier, it wasn't hard to see that this was the reason why he spoke of it so openly. There must be something going on that this man wasn't telling them. Granted, she didn't know the significance of its ties to the Witches, just that the CIA used to hunt them, so it was a bit weird a Witch was working for them in the first place.

If this Witch was an infiltration unit sent by the CIA - whether DWMA's own branch or from the country's CIA themselves - it concerned her greatly. Though, Sara didn't know much, other than their projects were secretive. These dog tags were also reminiscent of military. Were they in-service to the military around here and not actually DWMA?

She didn't know, it was a bit confusing. Still, someone must have had something anti-magical, or she was hunted and caught. The way to hunt down elusive prey was to hurt them somehow and let the blood trail lead you to them once they've gone far enough, putting just enough pressure to let them know they were still being followed and make it difficult for them to conserve stamina but not enough to lose the trail - especially if they were faster or had better stamina than yourself. That was a number one rule of being a hunter: conserve your stamina, as having more means your prey is caught.

The last data upload was going to be in the area they were about to be dropped off at. The monsters and creatures that were brought up had Sara's eyebrows raising, but if most were as docile as he says they are, then it really couldn't be them.

The communication was garbled before it was lost. She sighed. Sounded like a jammer, which means that this villa was protected and it wasn't any ordinary villa. Northeast towards the Giant Mountains...

Honestly, it reminded her of Hansel and Gretel.

At the question, Sara nodded. As she spoke, she purposefully didn't speak up about the CIA agent. "Some of my hunting expeditions with my clan - Vena clan - takes me into mountainous terrain. I know one wrong misstep, and you are falling down hundreds of feet depending on how high up you are and even with fortification to our bodies, that's one hell of a tumbling fall. But given the people you sent out, none of them should have fallen. And given the vantage point they had and the long-range skills of the sniper duo and the knowledge of the climbers, they should've seen something coming their way. Whoever found them can think like a hunter - as I've devised a few strategies on how to catch them and the Witch myself from this information, specifically the more outward capabilities that would be knowable just from watching them for a couple hours - and whoever this was probably has communication jammers. It's possible that your people were fine for a few moments to even a few minutes after the signal was lost."

She then tilted her head curiously. "Stealing people from highways is easy, as is tourists. Nobody is going to miss a tourist here. However, being stolen from highways means that they are opening themselves up to being found. There hasn't been any eyewitness reports about strange things on the highways or on the edges?" Even after having left the traincar's cabin, she retained a good portion of this information.

She was so glad she brought sneakers used with greater grip and armor. She then spoke up. "It is highly possible whoever had done this, whoever caught them if we are going by this assumption, likely picked them out from the town we're going to or any nearby towns in this area. Which means we'll likely be watched as we head out there, and not by the locals. A train hurtling across these lands would be very obvious due to its sound, so arriving by train won't do much for us to keep us from being seen, especially if someone's keen on watching for any interesting, foreign visitors. It's something I would do as a hunter - watch the entrance for anyone coming in that would harm my ability to hunt my usual prey."

She then looked at Elly, an unspoken worry in her eyes. She was in Romania, from what Noah told her. The Czech Republic was near Romania. If they're having a debriefing on this, then it's very likely whoever was doing this must have had outside knowledge. The thought it could be the same person Elly tried to catch in that last mission never crossed her mind, but having a good few contacts was crucial to hide from the biggest hunters of them all: Governments, military, and the DWMA.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Ark | Atlantic | Rings: 0/1

The level of damage that had been done here really was a sight to behold on person. It never really got old how much damage could be done to an area when you were looking upon it yourself


His eyes had went from observing the damage to acknowledging the massive avians that were contributing to the powerful windspeeds buffeting the surrounding area. Maria's spell was a relief, it was just a shame that not all could take the benefit it provided wholeheartedly.

Unlike Raph, Ark’s more recent learnings of Arkayis through his own grapevine, had inspired him to keep his distance even more than the time with Egypt had. Yet if things had gotten any more intense of Gauss hadn't stepped in--

A glowing gloved hand came up to Maria’s shoulder and Raphael’s, patting both to get their collective attention as he peered past them at the hunched over form of the Scythe.


“My advice, Arkayis, is to follow your partners warning before you get yourself ejected.” Stated only after Noah delivered that calming zap to the other Demon Weapon. “You may bear your fangs at us but we are a team, as much as you dislike it
You'll have to deal with the cards dealt, and focus on the tasks at hand.” Turning his eyes to Gauss, Ark at.least nodded his head on a sign of respect.

His gloves still glowed. It was, if anyone noticed, a sign he would have been ready to intercept had Arkayis taken it a step past verbal lashings. He’d seen personally the kind of hatred and contempt Rogue Witches had for their own kind and DWMA agents on the field, he wasn't as trusting with the knowledge he had of Arkayis to believe he wouldn't slip up and push it a step further if whatever had him in such a bad mood prior proved to be the best motivation for him to drive off some steam.

The tunes.on his gloves lost some of their luminance if only a little as Ark went on to ask: “Any instructions on how we proceed? I imagine with this kind of damage there's unstable areas and locations that I would need to stabilize, alter and secure along the other tasks the rest of us can do.

Mentions: Merciless Medic

Interactions: RedArmyShogun Shotgunpenguin Meredith
Peckinou Sir Les Paul

 

[The Regal Rper]

Zosar & Wren | Czechia, Duo Trouble

Sensitive ears could never lie. Like a hiss in the air, Wren heard as clear as if Dante were right next to her, whispering--

Fucking idiot​

--Her immediate reaction was inward, reeling into her own skin without letting it fully show through their link.

She felt the words on the shell of her ear like they had grown metaphysical hands and slapped her across the face. Wren’s nose wrinkled, one ear ticking compulsively as she only smiled and cranked her neck, humming to herself, trying to play things off. The street urchin side of her brain was already gauging how hard she would have to pull her strength when punting Dante in the groin— so as not to sink his following generations all the way back to his stomach, of course— while the DWMA agent simply simmered on it, bit back a scowl.

She wasn’t a 12-year-old anymore. Professionally, at least, while they were on this train in front of the supervisor, she couldn’t knock Dante’s teeth out only for a petty insult. Outside of the train, though…well, she was already thinking about it. Though her attention was pulled by Zosar who hadn't reacted. Couldn't because he didn't hear what she did. Picking on her comment.

‘Handsome huh?’ the seductive inquiry he replied with in their psychic link betrayed the rather neutral serious expression on his face. Zosar, honestly, found her remark rather amusing- but he had enough discipline and years of having the ruler to act as a reminder to maintain the decorum of gravity.

‘Yeah. Did I stutter? Ya’ blushing?’ Wren, however, lacked the propriety to keep gravity in mind. A full-fanged, shit eating grin immediately bloomed on her face as she flashed eyebrows at him for a split second. Her face dropped right after, shooting Wallner the same monotone. (not quite) Tactful, pretending to listen.

The text hadn't been looked at. He wasn't about to check personally in the moment and was about to inform Wren politely to check for him since he needed to keep an ear on things and also not get caught looking on his phone. If she could slip away to check and get back to him, that would have been preferable but he didn't get the chance to voice any of that even in the time dilated factor of soul space and psychic links. He was interrupted like they all were by the sudden, loud bang that came from Dante’s fist fiercely striking the table---

Every muscle in Zosar's body tensed immediately. As much as he shouldn't have had a thing to worry about and knew it, DWMA's past failures in recent events, did not register a total sense of safety along his list of other experiences. Wren could tell by smell as much as Sara that the second Zosar heard that bang every muscle in his body tensed, his soul flared and pushed spiritual energy throughout his body and he physically tensed as if ready to move. Would have probably already if self control didn't stop him.

Months back he probably would have been on enough edge on a mission like this to have immediately snapped at Dante the second an opening provided itself when the meeting was over. Instead he fixed the Demon Weapon with a passing glance.

The reaction was wholly uncalled for but he had to remind himself, much like he had in Hawaii with Gauss, that people changed, everyone here in FATE was here for a reason and he didn't need to take these things as offensive as he normally would even if Dante's first impression had went from being advantageous given he was with Sara as a partner, to dangerously low in the faith he had in him.

He didn't say anything to the outburst though. Wren however still had that uncalled for insult to react to now but whatever her reaction might have been, it would be stalled as Sara already dragging Dante out delayed what could have kindled into a full blown argument.

‘He’s got an attitude on him.’ A look of condemnation played across her features, knitting her brows together. Secondhand embarrassment had her head craned down, eyes toward the floor to avoid Elly’s gaze, even Kisei’s. Blocking out the fact that Wallner was there in the room with them. Just looking at the supervisor’s boots in her peripherals made her skin crawl.

Wren sighed, grumbled under her breath, as if quoting “Fuckin’ idiot...”

‘Y’ sure we can trust this guy? He’s acting like a kid.’ Wren kept her hands crossed; one eyebrow raised. Wholly amused at the sight of Sara dragging the giant man-child to the next cart over ‘Even started talking shit behind my back like I couldn’t hear him. For no damn reason too…it’s not my fault I don’t know what the hell a ‘Sower Crop’ is!’ Her tongue clicked in petty, childish annoyance in the confines of their bridge of souls. Outside, her eyes only narrowed. Her jaw clenched.

She would most definitely consider tripping Dante on their trek up the mountains.

‘Something about Kisei?’ After the bang and the shout, Wren blurted out all of a sudden. Her ears stood stiff, flicking around like antennae pinging for signal ‘He hates his guts, from the way he’s talkin’ about him.’ In her still moment of focus, Wren scoffed as she kept listening to the nonsensical whining behind them, losing the thread completely ‘Did Kisei bang his chick or something? What’s this guy going on about?’

‘Not a clue in the world.’ Came back Zosar's reply. Not like he believed Kisei to be that kind of guy anyway. He had, initially, been willing to give Gauss the benefit of the doubt before their stint the first week of the program after all, even though he already knew about his lecherous past. ‘If he does have history with this guy I feel he would have informed us to be wary’ or frankly should have at the very least to minimize the rest or their reactions to Dante's outbursts, but it was too late now. It was no doubt Elly had the files about anyone she in the team prior to the mission and as a mentor figure Kisei had access to all of them. Whatever this guy's personal issue was, something said it wasn't totally about Kisei. And if they had reason to believe that he had some insubordination issues then the message Kisei had sent about asking them to stay quiet had been a mistake in hindsight. Should have left Dante out of it and issued it to Sara so she could play middleman. None of that really mattered to Zosar like how Wren being insulted did though.

A Weapon partner as he had been taught was your other half, your closest ally in the world. That link between souls was sacred, and part of this mindset stemmed from his father's philosophical beliefs between Meisters and Weapons. Any sense of respect Zosar had for Dante, had diminished with Wren informing him alone that the guy had insulted her for no reason. He was willing to give all FATE Agents some slack given everyone was here for a reason, and in his growing experience, many had various issues that could be narrowed down with enough knowledge on psychology and the right observation but he wasn't about to let disrespectful or rude behavior fly free, not from even Sara's partner. Heat, representing his irritation within their link, instantly rose against the AW but as far as his physical and spiritual state was concerned it never registered. His expression didn't change aside from the raised brow at the closing door and he bore no clear signs of anger. Calm Mind training paid off a little, but so had years of masking his emotions, even if they had only a couple hours of practice with Kisei. Already he hadn't appreciated Dante’s outburst but this new info had turned things personal. And Wren could tell instantly, Zosar had taken offense but was keeping it locked down out of respect for the meeting they were in and the position of Elly and Kisei.

As much as he had accepted his current position and place in FATE and his new crew, he hadn't entirely cleared that anger hurdle from years of received bitterment. Affectionately, not even realizing his own protectiveness, he patted Wren gently on the back as if to draw her eyes back to the topic as Wallner spoke again to address things but in reality it was a supportive gesture as he knew she was also trying to avoid drawing the negative attention of their lead squadmates.

In their link he said with an internal sigh, keeping Sara in mind at least, ‘If he does it again, and you get the chance you're free to talk to him. Not that I would stop you anyway if he went too far. It's obvious he has some anger issues and lacks the decency to keep some things to himself, so for Sara's sake let's not bite him off too harshly unless he pushes his luck. If he does, we'll cross that road when we get there.’

To simply put it was his way of saying he would do something depending on how the situation escalated. What he did really just depended on the situation though. And leaving it ambiguous at least told Wren he wasn't just going to stand there and watch.

In a way he was creating a balance here. One that factored on Dante's situation and at the same time considered Sara, however he also was saying he wouldn't let insults go without answering if it went too far. In part Dante's brashness reminded him of an early Gauss picking a fight with him over petty reasons, and that memory merely made him deduce that if Dante was willing to insult his teammates and talk out of turn the way he had, it was likely the guy had anger issues and had no problems being petty like Gauss had in the earlier start of the program. He didn't feel sorry for Sara, but he certainly knew her work was cut out for her with his experience.

Even behind closed train doors Wren could more clearly make out whatever was being said between the two better than the others and even more so when Dante's shouting made it through.

Zosar ignored it however, focusing on the new list of individuals that Wallner listed to them. Akita being one of the first to earn an eye of interest as the briefer filled them in on her details, and then each one after. Of the group the only ones that really caught Zosar's eyes were Akita and the witch Minda. There was an appreciation for their appearances that even Wren could detect he didn't bother hiding from her compared to his more unexpected interest in their monstrous enemy.

Training on her first calm seal with Kisei had really bore its fruits. She had her head tilt for a second, letting her eyes pass over his face and perch on his shoulders, linger there for a full in and out sigh. Almost confused, puzzled at the feeling of that looming presence of his in their soul link. Shedding the rougher, outer edges of her shell the more she stewed on it.

By all stretch of the imagination, even when Zosar first reached his hand out to her back at Gluttony’s Paramour, it was still taking her aback. Kept bringing up a memory, something she’d repressed of her time with her uncle Luca. Blurred lines, bits she had picked apart and thrown away when her outbreak happened. Zosar was puzzling it back for her to look at, stitch it together, catch the feeling.
She felt whole when he was around; her soul felt right. That alone, for whatever masochistic reason, only made Wren unreasonably angry.

For what felt like five long seconds of introspection, she stood there looking off, trying to both suppress the inward feeling shown in their link and keep it under wraps in her facial expressions. Took enough restraint to separate the mind from the soul that Wallner’s voice as his explanation fell completely muted to her sensitive ears.

How long had it been since she had an actual friend, a confidant?

‘Hey, their eyes are up there, by the way.’ Wren’s focus snapped back to the real world, clicking her tongue and whistling in their link to catch Zosar’s attention. Flashing brows and gesturing with her eyes at the images, arms crossed ‘Horndog.’ She hissed, cutting and narrowing her eyes at him. It got an internal chuckle. The thoughtfulness that clouded her gaze for a while there came and went, a passing, fleeting thing— like she’d slipped into another face as if it were a mask.

Maybe he was just making her all touchy-feely.

As Her eyes skimmed over the information Wallner presented, Zosar decided not to ruin her focus with his unheard sly comment. Her tuned out, wreck of a focus gleaming back to life as she memorized the faces, hanging on their clothes. Visualizing the possible back pain some of those faces held, too. Her head perked up at Wallner’s description of their specific traits, Wren’s attention trained on him as he seemed to flip on and on through his mental notes. Like she were being presented a sprawling menu. She was already picking up their imaginary scent just listening, had it on her tongue. That little smiling jester pivoting and dancing through the empty halls in her mind, coming up with the recipes.
After a bit, her subconscious mind had decided on what to track.

However when Sara stepped back in and she came to sit on Zosar’s left side, he did offer the other werewolf an affectionate supportive touch as he had done Wren. It was the little things after all that accumulated to show you cared. Placing a combat glove hand on Sara’s closest shoulder to give her a supportive squeeze and any eye contact would illustrate he at least was saying he was going to be supportive. Even if they weren't dating he still wanted to be there for her like she had for him.


Wren had her own way of showing moral support, rapping a knuckle and playfully bumping it against the same shoulder Zosar had touched, lacking on the eye contact. Even if they weren’t officially ‘buddy-buddy’ enough to be on fistbump levels of trust. She did bite her tongue, for decency’s sake, when Sara tried excusing Dante.

‘He lost five hours of soul healing sleep??? M’awwe, poor baby.’ Of course, that wouldn’t stop Zosar from hearing it himself. Again a minor bit of amusement, even if his face didn't look it.

As Sara went on to ask her questions, the fact they were dealing with the Intelligence branch of DWMA here was not lost on Zosar. The clear likelihood they might be there for Minda wasn't lost on him. At the same time, a realization struck him: he didn't have a great relationship with the Intelligence branch, if this mission failed, how would that impact him? More importantly, how would the rest of the team look by extension? It was highly unlikely Wallner knew any actual details about any of them aside from the fact they were FATE Agents, but that didn't mean people within Cyrus and Kidd’s circle wouldn't raise eyebrows if a mission relating to a agent rescue and retrieval went awry when someone in the team had probable cause.

Most people by rumor as he knew it, only knew of his role as a spy, people like Elly, Wren, Kisei, Sara, they had more if not most info but they like the DWMA didn't know the role he also played on sabotaging team missions when he was in EAT; those parts he had played had been the most dangerous parts of his job. Of course there had been suspicion after his capture, scrutiny on every mission he had ever been, but the number of missions he had sabotaged while in EAT for his near three year tenure were in the single digits at a mere number of three, where other variables had contributed to those missions extending or taking turns that were unexpected. Mercenaries, rogue agents, or other factors that crossed paths with those teams he had been working with. No evidence to truly corroborate anything that would blame him for a mission going astray. More importantly those missions hadn't been high enough of importance for them to go so far to do a deeper investigation, and the knowledge the Enlighteners had as former DWMA from various branches of the agency made extra caution placed a necessity whenever he had been performing those activities. A little careful skewing and everything else fell in place nicely when he had other members and contacts both in and out there to assist. Right now they were being tasked mainly with helping the branch that had essentially ruined him, and that was not lost on him. Already he knew that FATE Agents weren't beloved across the Branches, the opinion, as research had shown, had gone up publicly but that wasn't all across the board internally. Strategically if things went south, he wouldn't be surprised if the blame rested on them. In fact this realization made him realize that FATE Agents were the perfect scape goats for other branches if they felt like shifting blame. That wasn’t what bothered him though. His complex history with the branch did.

Perhaps it was an overestimation, and Zosar kept that in mind but if things went badly, he wouldn't be surprised if his past got raised. There were plenty of reasons, he now realized, that someone could argue why he would be against helping the Intelligence Branch and perfectly fine slowing down attempts to retrieve an agent out of spite. From the shame of being locked in a dungeon a second time to the minor forms of disrespect and maltreatment of his earlier capture at 17, to frankly allowing rumors about his mysterious links to run out of hand, it was arguable he had plenty of reasons to let the enemy get a hold of a CIA agent if only to spite the organization. All the variables were right here for him to set up disorder in the group. Dante was perfect, he already had a rocky start with Wren and capitalizing on that wouldn’t be too hard. Especially when the guy disliked Kisei and wasn't totally listening to Sara and might not even with Elly. If he pushed things right he could force the mission to end early, and if they got to the enemy side he could sabotage things easily at risk of endangering the others.

Despite these thoughts not making it to Wren through their link, Zosar didn't consider actually acting on them. Repercussions alone would be extreme and even more so he had no interest in hurting the team. There was no motive for him to, no benefit. More importantly, as he mulled all of this, he simply made the decision not to allow his past to influence him here. Had it been earlier in the program, he might have just asked to be removed from the mission or felt slightly irritated, right now though he felt none of that. The contemplative state he felt however might have registered to Wren though especially as the conversation continued with Sara's input.

Sara’s ideas of territory and pack hunting filtered through Wren’s ear and came out spun with a different meaning. She was a mobster at heart, it was fire-branded in her brain. For Wren, it was more about foreign gangs stepping into your own slice of region. ‘Dead rats, roaming the land of the living.’ That’s what Luca used to call them.
“You suggest we stop the train and hoof it then? I don’t think it should be much of a problem if we know how to keep our presence down.” From her experience, you were only considered a ‘dead rat’ if you were caught. The smarter ones always knew how to get around their slice “This train ain’t carrying just us, right? I’m not saying blend in with the crowd, but if they’re watching the entrance like you’re saying, at least moving smart should be enough to keep suspicions shush.”

Her eyes followed Sara’s, landing on Elly’s. A lightbulb lit up above her head, and the suggestion became tangible “Unless they already know we’re coming.”

“Meh.” Wren shrugged “If we’re going by those assumptions, that means they’ll just save us the trouble and show themselves without us having to do anythin’.”

Collabers: Haze-

Mentions: RedArmyShogun EmperorsChosen Sir Les Paul Pumpkid

Interactions: Merciless Medic
​

​

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan - Zelezny Brod, Czech Republic
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Elly felt the hand on her shoulder, though didn't much react physically. She made a slight glance up at him, followed by a stretched smile as if to acknowledge him, before turning her attention back to the screen, an attempt to play it off slightly better than he had. He was right. Not to mention, their trip to Romania had them intersect with a duo from the CIA. They wouldn't just have one tag along for no reason and the man wouldn't have even told them of her affiliation without reason.

'Indeed,' Elly hummed between their link, agreeing with him.

And for a few moments, it seemed as though they were actually coordinating. Elly presumed Kisei was notifying the others via his phone and Zosar spoke up to ask some questions that seemed beneficial. A few, short, wonderful moments before there was an outburst.

Elly's head crooned back slightly, just enough for her irises to stare at Dante who quickly tried to wave it off as sleep deprivation. As bubbly and infectious as Sara was, Elly didn't think she'd break him in so quickly as to be rehabilitated for this mission. However, she did hope that there was some restraint. She needed to nip this in the bud. Thankfully, Sara pulled him out of the room, allowing them to at least complete the briefing. Prior to her eyes turning back, she also saw a flash of irritation and caution from Wren's and Zosar's souls. Perhaps they, too, were simply irritated at the outburst, or maybe they had noticed something she hadn't.

Regardless, when she turned back to the screen, her face was collected as usual. All were two stars it seemed, though they seemed specialized in tracking and subterfuge rather than direct combat. A villa in the mountains which conveniently interferes with communication signals. Additionally, the main targets were tourists and outsiders, which was slightly different from the Baroness's modus operandi given she had the kept most of the local populace around and under her command. If it was just the local fauna, it wouldn't make clear sense that tourists and outsiders were targeted at a sudden, increased rate either, nor did it make sense that they were targeted on highways, well-trafficked areas. It seemed too coordinated.

Contrary to what Sara said, Elly believed targeting tourists could draw more attention in the long-term. The locality will notice neighbors missing sooner, however enough foreigners go missing with their families and states wondering what happened, and the country is not only pressured by relations but also seeks to protect its tourism sector. A note to share later once they could speak in confidentiality.

"That is a wonderful idea. We'll be greatly benefited by the input of the locals," Elly affirmed, glancing back briefly at Sara. She didn't have to use her Soul Perception to note the worry. Nonetheless, she moved onto Wren's suggestion. "That is a possibility. However, I wonder if that would matter. The team was trained for tracking and stealth and they appear to have been discovered. If the abductors are searching for souls, all of ours showing up at the same time would be a red flag whether we walk in the entrance or not... One last question. Did the team impart on you what that lead was?"

RedArmyShogun Merciless Medic Sir Les Paul The Regal Rper Haze- Pumpkid

 

[Peckinou]

Arkayis Misonuka - Atlantic City - New Jersey
Mentions: Gauss Sir Les Paul , Noah/ Raph Merciless Medic ,Chanterelle Meredith The Regal Rper , Maria RedArmyShogun
​

A firm scolding or maybe even a slap on the head at most was a reaction he expected from Gauss after his rant, he atleast held back on throwing a torrent of flames at the wicked witch. What he didn't expect was such a extreme and hostile reaction from Gauss, Arkayis yipped out in surprise as he was pulled back by his collar, and before he could even twist himself around, he felt a strong and warm force strike him on his back. The amount of force was enough to cause Arkayis knock the breath out of him, there was only one instances where Arkayis recalled being struck in a manner and that was when he had lost the person he truly cared for. The strike not only hurt him physically but mentally as well, as Gauss forced him to the ground with a thud the fire within him had instantly subsided before Noah could even manage to shock him with his healing wavelength, and Gausses cold words and the use of his last name in such a manner had completely set the tone in his eyes. A sense of dread had washed over him as he got scolded and threatened by not just by Gauss but Noah as well, giving him a sense of a complete isolation. He was reminded how he was completely alone he was in this instance, back then his sister would always be the one to come in and back him up and he typically did the same as they always had each other's backs. But that could of been the family bond at play or maybe even the fact that he was mostly following her lead and words, and now he didn't even have his sister anymore who would of gave him both the protection or comfort he yearned for. His situation being made even worse with the fact that she was revived as a Golem, seen as a enemy by the DWMA and he was told that she would kill him if she saw them, even though he didn't trust most of the words that were told to him their was still a bit of doubt and dread in his mind.

Arkayis had remained completely silent but and their body was completely stiff, they avoided any sort of eye contact as they looked off to the side, it was as if the fire in him had completely died out, with their spirit broken in a complete instant. Only to be temporary reinvigorated when one of the other Mages opted to deliver his own unwanted rhetoric in, which in term prompted Arkayis to give them a death glare for a moment before looking off to the side again. He would of preferred if that mage kept to his own like last mission, the mutual silent agreement of ignoring each others existence made him somewhat tolerable, but he supposed with all the other witches and mages he had as support along with his own supposed partners detaching themselves from him it had given him the confidence to antagonize him. He wished he was allowed to bathe him in flames but with his current predicament it made that option unviable for many reasons, besides he had felt like he had lost the fire in him at the moment, as if was completely smoldered by a torrent of water.

As much as Arkayis wanted to give a nod of understanding to Gauss he couldn't move his head much and he really dreaded the thought of talking after being treated in such a manner by his own supposed Meister. Instead he would rather wait for Gauss to release them showing no form of resistance, in order to give him the message, though his hate for the witches and Ark for that matter only grew he opted to maintain his own silence for the moment, not intent on trying to earn Gausses wrath again.

 

[Meredith]

Bellamira Ossana & Thaddeus Thales​

​

.

September 23
2067​

Table Of Contents
The Calm Before
The Quiet Drizzle
The Clouds Darken
The Wind Roars
The Storm Passes

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Collaborator(s): Sir Les Paul

.09/23/67 1356
Tintin: coming in hot. Big news. Big mad. Big feels. See you soon

The store was always quiet in the early afternoon.
The gates of hell would soon spill into the café, students escaping from the classrooms and libraries that kept them confined through the day. Fortunately for Bellamira, her shift was almost over–or it would be whenever her manager finally showed up. She wasn’t scheduled for rushes: her hands weren’t quite fast enough to handle the after-school crowd. He was running late, and she had already started to become antsy, shifting from foot to foot as she reshelved a small cart of books.

Admittedly, she had become distracted while she waited. Her gaze was cast into a book laid on the shelf–a young adult novel featuring an intrepid detective and her ragtag group of friends–but a notification echoing in her headphones startled her back into awareness. Her eyes caught the time on her phone before the text. She folded down the corner of the current page and snapped the book shut, tossing it into the pile of her things already together to leave. She then pushed the cart to the far side of the ceiling-length bookshelves that bordered two of the café’s walls.

09/23/67 1359
Bella O kk. almost out

Bella hadn’t been able to discern if her workplace was more “bookstore” or “café”. The room was large and dark, but interweaved with shoulder-height interruptions- with aisles not out of place in a chapters, small tables and booths tucked about the shelves on the right-hand side of the room. On the left was a small coffee bar, complete with stools, opening into a dining corral with four sectioned dividers closer to the door. When the store was busy, the lights were brightened, though admittedly not enough to prevent eye strain. There were small lamps with deeply green glass shades set on the tables–meant to illuminate reading materials–and those tables required constant wiping to prevent damage to the merchandise. Besides this, a small strip of LEDs lit up the shelves at the hint of motion below. They cast the same warm glow as the other lights in the room. Kaycee maintained that this setup helped to preserve older, crumbling novels on the used-section shelves, but Bellamira suspected that her boss simply enjoyed the design.

The thick blinds of the store’s front window were not drawn shut, which ruined the effect but protected her eyes. Mira felt the venue was best visited at night, in any case. There was a general fiction section at the back–mostly containing stories from young or local authors and novels that the proprietor found delightfully strange–but the vast majority of books on the shelves were criminal novels. Thrillers, noir detectives, murder mysteries and benign capers that amounted to no more than property damage, all categorized shelf-by-shelf. The walls were a deep brown veneer that looked like it belonged in a different century, and a (mercifully electric) white fur chandelier hung awkwardly from the very center of the ceiling halfway between the rows of bookshelves and the walkway to the coffee bar. The space felt artificially small because of its darkness–in some uncanny space between cozy and creepy–but the aesthetic of the room made the time she spent inside it somehow more bearable. There was faint organ music playing in the background, though the speakers buzzed at its heights.

Bellamira palmed her phone.

09/23/67 1402
Bella O u remember the place?

She sent him a pin of the location, indicating the store on the corner of a busy intersection not quite three blocks from the edge of the DWMA campus. The Paper Trail. He had been there before, but never during daylight hours. At this, she sunk into the low fainting couch next to her bag, rifling through its contents aimlessly.

It couldn’t have been a minute before the gentle ding of a small bell connected via a chain signified that the door had been opened. It was a delicate little thing, not so terribly loud that it disturbed the atmosphere, but completely manual in such an antiquated way that it fit in with the semi-vintage vibe. It only truly became annoying during the mid-day rush when it rang so frequently that the door might as well have had a buzzer.

”Of course I remember the place,” Gauss said aloud, answering the question Bella had sent him over text–not that his voice was any more lively than a text would have been. It was dull, flat, and lacked his normal if-not somewhat melodramatic energy. Gauss was normally either the life-of-the-party, cutting someone down with sharp words, or being generally obstinate or inflammatory to varying degrees–sometimes playful, sometimes not. Now it was, in a word, lifeless.

The wavelength of his soul reflected a plethora of emotions. Bella, while she was talented, lacked the sheer skill in Soul Perception to see that entire spectrum: it appeared as a muddy mess composed primarily of anger. That didn’t matter, though. She didn’t need to read his soul to read him.

”If your shift had been any longer, I might have just rented the whole thing out and called it a day,” he said, still flat, but at least carrying some of that arrogant if not entitled humor. The irony wasn’t lost on him–that he was effectively boasting his wealth at her place of mundane work. Normally–at least, recently–he would have been more considerate and avoided the comment, but his give-a-damn had recently broke, and he lacked that capacity.

Bellamira’s head turned at the ringing of the bell, and she froze for a moment at the sight of him, quickly gauging the look on his face. Gauss was.. well, Gauss. She wouldn’t describe him as stoic by any margin—generally the opposite—and the set of his jaw along with the monotone inflection was therefore unfamiliar to her. At a glance, the tension in his body was obvious. She shoved the book in her backpack, shouldering the strap.

He was very subdued for “big mad”.

“It shouldn’t be long,” she replied, more off-handedly than she would have liked, “he’s already late.” There was no hint of offense in her voice. In another moment, she might have called him out on it. In this one, the possibility was quickly discarded. This was a Gauss who did not feel in control, and she could tell that he was grasping for it.

Who died? rang through her mind, more loudly than she would have liked.
She pushed herself up from her spot, a few decent paces halving the space between them, but stopped short. Her hand turned to indicate toward the bar stools to her right. “Are you okay?”

Such a simple question… yet he didn’t have an answer. Silence filled the air as he mulled it over. The truth of the matter was that, somewhere deep down, Gauss didn’t think he should be upset; this revelation technically affected absolutely nothing. Not really. He was still a Meister, his father was still his father, his mother still his mother, he still had half-siblings and step-siblings, an odd ex-step-mother and still-current step-mother. In a way, this information changed nothing. Every terrible thing that had happened to him, including the dissolution of his siblings, would likely still have occurred even if this were not true.

On the other hand, a hotly-contested fury filled him. It was primarily aimed at his father, and the hypocrisy of nearly two decades of decisions the man had made: decisions that had trickled down and sculpted Gauss into who he was today. His father had for so long blamed that V and Thea were Demon Weapons for the fact they abandoned him for the DWMA. The demons that danced in the shadows of young, hazy memories that played on repeat: hearing his father condemn their mother for giving them the gene and cursing how much time had been wasted on making V the heir to Thaltek. Or, the indignation of his second son now being the heir.

Viraj effectively divorced their mother for being a Demon Weapon, at that point. Now, it was true that she was a Demon Weapon, but that weak justification didn’t quell his rage. If his father possessed some rare gene that still made him technically a weapon, then all of this intolerance should have been self-hate. It was all just ignorance, anyway.
These thoughts raced through his mind at a million miles per hour when Bella asked if he was okay. He should be, but he wasn’t. In fact, he wasn’t really sure what okay would even look like anymore.

”I don’t know,” he finally answered in a slightly more down-turned tone: one that could only be described as defeated. He didn’t have more to add to it. He wasn’t in the right mindspace to figure out a transition into telling her that he was a Demon Weapon, recessive or otherwise. Nor could he even begin to put into words why that was a problem, if she couldn’t pick up on it to begin with. That’s probably why he went to her first: before Noah, definitively before Arkayis, and obviously before his siblings… of all the people in all the world, the only person that might have known him well enough to piece together how he felt without everything being explained outright was Bella.

Another slow step forward. Mira’s left hand reached out to meet his arm at the elbow, and the opposite gestured, again indicating for him to sit down. ”Okay.” Her voice was calm, but not callous. Her attention was captured by his silence: eyes narrowed, her gaze sought his, belying the concern that evaded her tongue. ”Knowing isn’t.. necessary.”

Her lips tightened, then drew back, exposing her teeth into a grimace that bordered a smile. She could feel the tension washing off of him in waves, the kind of anger and pain originating from problems too complex to be easily solved. ”I’ll be here. You have time–and company–if you’re overwhelmed.” Part of her hated how clinical she sounded. Purely optimistic platitudes were often unhelpful, but statements that sounded somehow more accusatory kept dying on her lips. ”Would you like something to drink?

”No, I don’t think so,” he answered, this time more robotically. It was a default answer. Not something he put a lot of time into. Just something he automatically thought to decline and return to his train of thought.

He did decide to take a seat in one of the overly-plush chairs available. It was the type of recliner that looked incredibly comfortable, but once one sat it in, their rear sank down into the hard, wooden frame that actually made up the piece. An illusion of comfort was what they provided, but they did at least match the mystique of the lounge. At that moment, Gauss didn’t really care about comfort.

”I don’t think I’m overwhelmed,” he told her, the answer to his own self-analysis. He did wonder if that was the situation. If he had taken in too much at once, or if it had conjured too many emotions for him to process. As he thought about it, though, he didn’t find himself believing it was the sheer volume. No–instead, it was how he felt torn between all the directions his feelings were going. It was how his brain and heart and maybe even his very soul didn’t agree on what the right answer or the right feeling was.

”I just don’t think I have the right answer,” he added, trying his best to put into words what he felt and thought, but in truth, feeling like even that came up short. Perhaps it did.

“Right.” Mira followed him at a slight distance, settling cross-legged in the chair afore him. She wasn’t staring at him so intently anymore; instead, her face turned from him toward the street. “Is this about your family?”

”Sort’ve, I guess,” he answered.

He let out a sigh. It didn’t even seem like had inhaled enough air for the length of the exhale he had, but then again, it was probably difficult to tell just how much he was holding in at the moment. What he realized was that his short answers weren’t really giving Bella anything to work with and didn’t really accomplish what he came here to do. One might think it obvious, but in his state, the obvious wasn’t so obvious.

He stopped trying to figure out the best way to explain and decided on the only way he knew he could: in chronological order.

”So, uh… on my last mission, some weird shit happened. It’s not the point here, but, uh… I now have four arms, sort’ve. I’ll show you later,” he told her, still struggling, but his voice had perked up. Now instead of dull and flat, it was at least a little lower and rugged. His cadence had slowed as he tried to figure out the words, but he was going.

”Doctor Davis wants tests done. Simple enough,” Gauss continued, showing a bit more of himself through his choice of words here. His natural showmanship was, well, showing. ”I show up, we get bloodwork done, scanned by this giant machine with a million sensors… then he tells me I have a, uh… recessive weapon gene,” Gauss told her, finally admitting the actual source of all of this strife. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite clear yet precisely what that meant, but Gauss would go on to explain.

”I storm out, get the test redone, pay to have a consultation with a geneticist… but it all means the same thing. Both of my parents had to carry the gene,” he told her, emphasizing the word that truly made this picture painted. By the end, even though he was weaving together a story like had a million times, he reverted back to struggling, almost choking as he got to that final point. Words normally came easy to him, but not these ones.

A weird mission, four arms, and genetic specialists. The breath she’d been holding tight loosed with the tension in her shoulders; hands braced on her crossed legs slipping into a loose clasp. She’d expected much worse. The furrow in her brow remained.

She thought about his siblings, estranged from their father through their association with the DWMA. All of them had ‘defected’, in a way, from their family legacy. Gauss had done the same. But Gauss was different.

Gauss was a meister.

The dots connected. The animosity Gauss had occasionally alluded to between his parents, the contempt his elder siblings held him in. “Holy fuck.” A shake of the head. Her hands came to rest on the table. “So your father doesn’t know...” her voice faltered, ”…or isn’t telling.”

”I’m leaning towards the fact he doesn’t know,” Gauss said, still quick to defend him as most were with their family. In his own mind, ignorance was better than whatever keeping that secret would constitute. Besides, for Viraj to be a hypocrite, he needed to know.

”I don’t think he would see me differently due to it, but that’s not what I care about,” Gauss went on to clarify. His cadence picked up and the anger started to seep into his words, especially in the latter half of that sentence. His words and affect were finally starting to reflect his soul.

”I haven’t told him. Or my siblings. I don’t know if I’m going to, but I also don’t know if I can keep this to myself,” Gauss admitted, which was also a rare thing. He wasn’t opposed to losing a fight. Bella had seen him go through various opponents in karate matches. When he lost, he just trained harder so he could win later. What he was opposed to was his own weakness, a fact he often used to drive himself to do better. The fact he was admitting he might not be able to do something was so far out of character that he might have come across as a wholly different man.

Whether this was who he always was, or the results of his therapy, that part was unclear.

“You have time to think about it.” The statement weighed heavier than she intended. It was difficult to contextualize, when his family was so large and somewhat personally unfamiliar to her, what implications this might have for everyone’s relationships. Gauss and his siblings, Viraj and his children.

Uncomfortable or not, this was progress for the meister in front of her. Overt concern about his siblings, feelings of inability, the moral conflicts of secrets kept. She was proud of him, even if it wasn’t at all the time to say it. Proud of him for expressing it.

“You say you don’t think he’ll see you differently…” she started, less certainly, “…and yeah, maybe that’s true. But what about the kids?”

She didn’t mean to imply discordance, but her mind went there immediately. Realistically, this meant that any of the younger children could be weapons, providing that their mother had the same gene. Gauss couldn’t possibly know if she did or not, but Mira was still more concerned about the siblings living at home than those already into their careers. A frown pulled at the edges of her lips.

Gauss had already been considering his siblings. The youngest, Ray and Navi, were the ones that might be the most affected. He didn’t question their safety, at least not physically. Viraj was many things, but violent wasn’t one of them. In fact, towards his siblings, he was comparatively tame. It was his wives, assistants, and caretakers that often received the brunt of his rage–mostly the spouses.

His father was prone to, if anything, verbal and financial abuse. Even if he was going to do something, Navi and Ray were far too young for him to refuse to support them financially. His middle siblings, too, had legal protections and assurances installed into their mother’s divorce settlement. The real question was whether or not Viraj had it in him to put another generation of children through the ringer for failed expectations.

Bella truly didn’t know how perfectly she swung that hammer when she hit the nail on the head. The question she posed was one of two that were at the forefront of his mind. In theory, Ray seemed to like the idea of being the Thaltek heir. But then, so did Gauss in the beginning. He would have been Thaddeus Thales, CEO and owner of Thaltek, Inc., but his Magnetic Wavelength emerged and his interests drifted elsewhere. Now he knew that rare wavelength type was likely a byproduct of his recessive weapon gene. The fact that Ray had the potential to possess the gene–and thus a unique wavelength of some kind–meant he might go down the same path.

A million thoughts had already run through his mind. Perhaps his father was getting too old to keep up his struggle for an heir. Perhaps he would turn to one of his daughters instead. Shifting ownership of the company was a last-ditch resort. His father had, in many ways, softened with age. Even if his older siblings didn’t know it, Viraj had given them some silent kindness, even at his age still trying to produce a child to inherit the company. It wasn’t impossible, but if he kept doing it, he might end up with people fighting over the inheritance upon his death–and Thaltek could suffer.

His mind was crawling closer and closer to the point of just shutting down and becoming numb to the thoughts. In the past when this happened, he would go on a bender. Women, drugs, booze–whatever it took to distract him from the thoughts. If there was ever a moment testing his progress, it was now. He wanted a clear answer, but the reality was, there happened to be no clear answer. It was grinding his gears–and eventually, they would slip.

”I doubt it’ll be an issue for a few years at least… but if they get an ability or are weapons, I can’t honestly say,” Gauss admitted, the melancholy in his voice dancing in a heated tango with frustration–it wasn’t quite clear which was in the lead. ”They’ll be safe–there is that,” he added, believing that to carry some weight. It was some solace, he thought.

He stammered for a moment, trying to come up with words. Trying to piece something together, but he couldn’t find the words or even a coherent thought he wanted to share. It took another second before he could finally, truly say something. Even then, the defeated, exhausted expression on his face remained while he spoke.

”It.. It feels like I should do something with this information,” he said, finally sharing the source of his internal conflict. He felt obligated to act.

”I ju… just don’t know what that something is,” he added, further complicating his desire.

The silence had been longer than Mira would have liked. She shifted in her chair—more flat than comfortable—but her pinning gaze didn’t give him a reprieve, even as he considered her question, clearly struggling. Some of the tension in her back and shoulders loosed at his assurance that his younger siblings would at least be safe. This was the bare minimum, but that minimum was often far from guaranteed.

“I’m tempted—“ she started, but reconsidered, tried again. “It could be bad if you talk to them and not your father. Or if you talk to them first. But…”

A sigh. “My instinct is that you should tell Vi. On the other hand, it’s going to hurt them both to know…” A clipped pause. “-And it could come back to bite you if they’re especially bitter.”

“I don’t know. It’s just that so many circumstances have set you against each other. But, look, you’re not going to be able to reconcile without sharing some truths.” And not while they still see you as an extension of your father.

Her fingernails scratched across the underside of the tabletop, one after the other. She tried to grasp for something more to justify her perspective, mired in personal experience and once-misplaced loyalty

“I guess the question is, what do you want to happen?”

Bella had several good points, not that Gauss immediately agreed. He wanted to confront his father and get some type of answer before he opened up the floodgates. Besides, if he told his older siblings, it would be V and then V would tell Thea. Like Hell Gauss was telling this to Thea himself. Still, the proposition of a counterpoint naturally made one reconsider a thought.

Then she continued on about reconciliation and asking him what he wanted. This wasn’t the Bella he remembered from years back. Of course, that Bella did a lot of dumb, dangerous shit with him, including illicit substances and broken laws. That Bella also ended up refusing to talk to him for the better part of two years. Both of them had grown since then. And, in a way, this distracting thought had its own way of helping–if only for a moment.

How she sounded, what said, the way she was approaching this.

”Bell’, uh… I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uhm…” he said, trailing off with a new lack of assurance in his tone. It wasn’t as if he was confident before, but now his lack of it was plain as day. ”...you kind’a sound a whole lot like Salem right now..” he admitted, not even with a jabbing or joking element to his voice. He meant it.

Colour rose in her face, forming a deep contrast of burning red and purple blush. In some ways, it was mortifying to be called out for mimicking her brother, but from Gauss it felt less accusatory. “Sorry. He’s got a way of getting into my head.” She admitted sheepishly. Her right hand moved to play with the dangling length of her earrings.

A sound from the back of the store, a person pushing through the curtain hung on hooks just too big for the curtain rod. Mira slipped off the chair. She took a step forward, then another, lowering her lips toward his ear—
“We should go do something fun, anyway. Get your mind off it.”

The same grin she always had when she thought she’d said something funny. She pulled back, catching his eyes, fire burning in her cheeks but somehow more painfully in her chest. Her hand squeezed his shoulder. For a moment, she was frozen. Thinking about this newer kind of transparency, certainly, but at the forefront the last time she’d kissed him and really meant it.

This really wasn’t the time.

There was a lot to take in following his comment. He had expected some type of backhanded comment. Given her relationship with her brother and short-tempered nature, the comparison was one he thought would be volatile–honest or not. What he got instead was a blushing Bella and the type of proposition he would expect from a gold digger.

Gauss tilted his head, pondering the scene. In the years he knew Bella, he wasn’t sure if he had ever seen her blush like that while sober. Sure, red faced and angry, or perhaps in a moment of physical fatigue, but never a reaction like that. In all these years… she was never quite this forward.

He tried to recall some memories, but between the ones faded by drugs and the silent treatment, he just couldn’t conjure one. He was sure, at least in the beginning, that she might have had some more traditional feelings, but those were never vocalized. It wasn’t their style.

His brain tried to push through this bog, but he was struggling. It was a lot to process, it was entirely unexpected, it was a wild deviation from their norm, and worse, he couldn’t figure out why.

Why would anything about this situation cause that response? What did he do? Was she trying to do this for him? To improve his mood? Surely, she wouldn’t think so lowly of him after all his progress, but that was somewhat all he could rationalize. Perhaps it was a failure of his perception or his own limited ability to actually, deeply empathize with others, but he couldn’t fathom a world where something he was doing here and now was attractive to Bella.

It just didn’t exist.

Y-You don’t have to… for me,” Gauss said, stumbling after his slightly prolonged period of thought. He wasn’t sure what she meant, he wasn’t opposed to it, either. But, between his pride and his progress, he wouldn’t allow a situation where Bella would do anything absurd or lascivious for his sake.

A laugh. Her gaze hardened. She squeezed his shoulder once more, gently, and voice still low found meter again after her silence– “I’m not soliciting you. Not–damnit.” This was more familiar. Hard at the edges, the smile showing teeth. She thought about justifying herself, the long pause. Instead, a hard expulsion of breath. She pulled back. “It’s…”

Her eyes caught the form of her manager, Roy, coming in through the back. Her hand raised in a greeting, but mostly to alert the boy in front of her to their presence. “In the best way, Gauss, it’s easiest to remember why I like you when you’re caring about people.” A single finger raised, a just-a-minute.

Gauss didn’t tilt his head as much as he twitched in place, somehow drawing his skull back in the most shallow of gestures as opposed to actually moving it along its normal axis. His eyes squinted for a moment with the muscles right above his cheeks in that faint flex that made his stare just that much more obvious. All because of one simple word Bella had selected: soliciting. That word itself elicited a whole train of thought for the man.

Solicitation went hand in hand with prostitution. Now, despite all his flaws and dubious past, Gauss had never actually paid for the act. That said, he had provided ample goods and unique opportunities of such high valuation that it might-as-well have been. Regardless, he took a solid amount of pride in the fact that he had never purchased said services outright. With that one word, Bella put that into question. Except, she didn’t. Gauss had a brief spark with another Fate Agent, but that had since been quenched. Realistically, anything physical between him and Bella was more of a factor of timing, their current mindstate, and if Salem was being a particular pain in the ass at that specific point in time.

No, no, no… no. That wasn’t the type of solicitation here. If anything, Bella was being an emotional prostitute. That thought sat with him a second. He had a twisted, somewhat chauvinistic and probably quite toxic perspective of men that indulged in sex work, though he had no direct qualms with sex work itself. It was more of an issue of his ego and status. Regardless, that whole thought was directed towards the more physical aspect of things. That wasn’t the situation.

Gauss was genuinely almost taken aback and somewhat upset by the thought of Bella being an emotional prostitute for him. It wasn’t until an odd set of logic clicked in his brain: that Salem, as a therapist, was effectively just an emotional prostitute. Salem had already refused to do any formal therapy with Gauss (probably for the better), but also… with Salem, there would be a clear exchange of monies or something else of high value. That wasn’t the case with Bella.

And, just like that, Gauss parsed this internal conflict without allowing it to become a major problem. A workaround to what might have been problematic terminology in regards to his ego.

”I, uh…” Gauss started, but stopped. He realized the explanation for his extended thought process was too long to put into succinct words. Then, also, that anything he had to say about Bella’s last comment would also be quite lengthy, given it bordered on the realms of romance the two rarely acknowledged.

He gestured towards Roy, the manager, using his left hand with an unfolding motion, leaving it in a semi-open, palm-up position. ”I can wait until you finish up, B’,” Gauss told her. It was more composed, mostly because he was pretty confident that buying himself time was a wise decision. It was difficult to argue with that logic.

Her eyes widened–some flicker of vulnerability at his non-answer–but she bit back the swell of sudden feeling that another time would have been expressed as anger. She wasn’t going to fight with him. It was a sticking point for the pair: his propensity to sideline his feelings, her need to express her own. She didn’t know what she expected of him. This had clearly been emotionally exhausting enough, and yet here she was, making things as complicated as always.

“Yeah. Won’t be a minute.”

Return

The Calm Before
It was, in fact, several. She spoke to Roy as he took up his position at the counter, giving him a rundown of the order she’d put together and what might be missed, and having him sign off on the extra time on her sheet. She disappeared into the back, making her way into the employee’s washroom. She washed her face. Changed clothes– out of plain black dress pants and into a pair of jeans the same color. The tank top in her bag was a deep blue-purple, satin-like, two halves of the garment meeting in a front-center seam that ran from the center of her neck down to its tucked-in hem.

It did not take long to redo her makeup. Soft blush in a purple tone that matched the top, applied lightly. Thick black eyeliner, but only about the top of the eye. A purplish lip tint, but no lipstick. Most extravagant was her eyeshadow–almost black, with a bit of crushed golden glitter–but even this was put on much more lightly than if she was to go out. She’d brought it to work, after all.

Roy paid Gauss little attention, barring the occasional glance. He was the kind of person that kept to himself overtly, but was always listening just a little too closely for comfort, the sort that Mira kept far away from her personal affairs. Today, he had his own distractions to worry about. This was preferable. On this day, Gauss had no intention of becoming one more distraction for the man.

Bellamira was much more composed when she reappeared, backpack about her shoulders. She checked her phone as she moved toward Gauss. It was almost two-thirty, and she was ready to leave.She made her way back into the center of the room, coming to a stop just between him and the door. “Where to, then?”

Still sitting, Gauss acknowledged Bella with an immediate look. Not exactly a glance, either. His golden eyes were fixated on her. Not necessarily scanning her head-to-toe, checking her out as many might call it, but definitely assessing her new look. Well, new to the moment. It was fairly standard for her, but she wore it well.

”I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Gauss answered flatly. He remained sitting. He wasn’t being obstinate, but they hadn’t really decided what to do at this juncture. And, worse, with a man like Gauss, a walk in the park and an international flight were equal possibilities.

”Is this your normal post-work aesthetic, B’, or is this just because you have me on your arm for the evening?” he asked. His tone did perk up, no longer nearly as flat. Syllables and vowels finally had some life to them, but it still lacked his normal nearly antics and dramatic gesturing that bordered on histrionic. If anything, this new mellower attitude came across as fairly normal for most. Normal just didn’t look normal on Gauss.

The question took her off guard.This entire interaction had taken her off guard, if she was being honest; it had shaken up the comfortable insulation between the pair and made her somehow more aware of him. She hadn’t expected the shift in tone, and wasn’t prepared for it like she usually was.“I-” her voice seemed to quiver, but in just a second, she was back on point. “It’s not far off,” she retorted, “except I didn’t just throw it on top. Lucky you.”

A huff, performative. Her arms crossed, hiding her still somewhat shaky hands. “There’s even heels in the bag, if we end up somewhere nice.” This was slower, sardonic, somewhat antagonizing. Mira’s eyes glinted, gaze finally moving to catch his. Her face still felt hot.

There was something about Bella behaving like a bashful schoolgirl instead as opposed to her normal angst-prone, hard-to-get self that Gauss just couldn’t resist. It wasn’t as if he was willing to forget all his troubles, but he wasn’t against distracting himself from dealing with them by enjoying Bella as she was. He smirked, a short-laugh in the form of a soft snort perked up, and he just kept his eyes on her.

”By nice, do you mean like… the Duchess, Deathsteraunt, a flight to France, or the cuffs on my bed rail?” he asked her, smugly, intentionally increasing the class of his suggestion, right up until the sudden left turn at the very end.

She was watching him carefully as he spoke. She knew that he was watching her. They were watching each other, in a game of appraisal, playing at the very edges of the known ruleset. The first suggestion clearly caught her attention–a slight inclination of the chin as she looked down at him, defiant to his posturing though not discounting the suggestion–but at the last, a quiet note of indignation came with a quick expulsion of breath. Her nails bit briefly into her arms above her elbows–suppressing a shiver that she knew he would see–and her gaze flickered from Gauss to check on Roy behind him, who was (mercifully) not paying attention.

Bellamira’s lips parted before she had a response to give him. In the back of her mind, the thought occurred to her that this put her obviously on the back foot. That he could see it. Generally speaking, Mira felt on equal footing with Gauss. Back-and-forth quips were common between them– and when she felt like she truly couldn’t respond, she tended to escalate– but this was a behavior she had worked to correct. Slowly, the barriers between them had lessened. Much of this was owed to her slowly-growing sense of self-control. But if she let it slide–if she fawned over him–was she any better than–

She shoved the thought away forcibly. “Gauss,” she started, too quickly – “They’re only pleather.” Her voice was not as hard, not as confrontational as she would have liked.

In all her consideration, what Bellamira hadn’t thought of is just how her reaction might have sparked that primal part of Gauss–the one that did so love the chase. If she did, he couldn’t tell. No, instead, Gauss was falling into a trap he wasn’t well-equipped to escape. The push and pull of the conversation, how Bella seemed to both fight and struggle not to. Or, was it the other way around? Did she struggle not to give in? Again, Gauss couldn’t tell. In fact, at the moment, he didn’t care.

Bella was factually a person he trusted implicitly (despite knowing he probably shouldn’t), but also an ambiguous force of sex, romance, friendship, ideological conflict, guilt, and even growth. In a moment like this, when needed to vent and support, his dynamic with Bella meant that could come in plenty of forms–some more useful or less healthy than others.

What Gauss felt with the back and forth was a scratch to a long-forgotten itch. A challenge, almost. A calling. It might have been true that she was slightly contrarian; claiming to have heels for some place nice one moment, then denouncing them as pleather the second. What Gauss saw was a situation that required nuance. If she had considered classy frivolity but would not settle for it at its highest level, it meant one of only two things: she had a specific venue in mind… or she needed some convincing.

For Gauss, that either meant testing his charisma or understanding the riddle she set in front of him. Whether she knew it or not, that type of riddle was in fact something that could at least temporarily distract Gauss from his worries.

He smiled for the first time since he arrived. Her flushed cheeks were apparent with her skin tone, though less so through her make-up. Gauss did not get rosy and even when did, his dark skin hid it better. What was hard to hide for the man was the air he put off. How a smile and softened facial features shifted his sullen, stoic look into one more recognizable as the saint of fun times he tended to be. The argument if his soul was genuinely magnetic was hardest to deny in a moment like this when a slight return to norm brought it and its pull back to life. Then again, it might have just been the connection the two had developed over years; a type of relief or elation in seeing him pulled out of his stupor.

Gauss leaned forward in the chair. He could feel the boards in it shift as they supported his weight. His hands pulled inward from the arms of the chair to interlace with each other over his abdomen. In this new position, his head had to tilt back and yet again, those golden eyes fell on Bella, this time slightly more prominent though the light-brown lashes he had. A simple gesture: he was no longer passively relaxed in the chair, but actively engaged.

”Bellamira Ossana,” Gauss said, stating her name in a half-teasing tone as if to reprimand, ”you should know, with eyes like yours–blue like freshly-found turquoise–no one will care if your heels are pleather.”

His smile turned into a smirk. He then added with a defiant tone, ”I sure as hell don’t.”

The edges of Mira’s lips turned at the compliment, threatening to pull into a smile, but she held them in place. Her stance shifted. She had a bad habit of resting on the balls of her feet—likely due to the overwearing of tall heels—but, in rocking back to her soles, she both found a sort of stability and brought the pair to a more even level.
It wasn’t that it felt strange to look down on him, per se. He was only a couple of inches taller than her, and in heels, the difference was negligible—if not in her favor. No, this movement was not a reaction of discomfort: it held the same significance as Gauss’ motion. I’m listening.
“At least not until they get scratched.”

This was softer, not as biting, but still pointed. It wasn’t meant to disregard the compliment, but perhaps to minimize it–less of an objection than a continuation of the bit. Her shoes being cheap was of no real object, but it did emphasize the disparities between them, and was almost meant to allude more towards her own feelings of being some kind of embarrassment to him.
Her hand turned out from its pivot point at her elbow, flipping palm-up through the gesture, and coming to a rest extended parallel to her shoulder. “Anyway—we have a few hours to think about dinner, unless you’d like to call in a reservation.”- This was a neutral statement. She didn’t mean that he should—they had mostly grown out of those games—but instead to affirm that she would go if he did. This was an acceptance, but an ambivalent one, perhaps quite the kind Gauss was looking for.

For the life of him, Gauss wasn’t sure what Bellamira was trying to communicate with her comment. It neither came to him naturally at first or over the following moments as he attempted to parse what she said. Instead, it fell to the wayside as a series of words whose meaning went over his head. The confusion it caused managed to derail some of the momentum he was building.
”You’d be with a Thales, B’,” Gauss replied, a flat tone, fairly matter-of-fact,”you wouldn’t need a reservation.” If not for how true it was, such words would have radiated toxic levels of arrogance. History–history that Bella had experienced first hand in her escapades with Gauss–validated his claim. An offhanded mmhm confirmed it.

Gauss stood, more relaxed, loose now. Her reaction to his excitement did quell it. That, and the confusion around the comment she made about her heels. He figured she was speaking metaphorically given something as material as shoes were something he could easily replace. In context, however, he couldn’t put together the pieces that would paint the picture of her own insecurity.

He never saw her that way. Bellamira might not have known it, but the egotistical prince of the magitech empire never actually saw himself as her better, in part due to his own self-loathing. Either way, his new-found empathy didn’t extend so far that he could deduce she felt some kind of shame or embarrassment being around him–or at least with him in those types of places.

He exhaled, drawing up blanks in terms of formulating a plan. Between his new bland lifestyle, attempts at self-control, relatively foul mood, and the brakes put on his momentum, he just didn’t have the creativity or willpower to figure out where to go or what to do. It’s also not like he actually came here to romance Bella; he was no knight in shining armor here to sweep her off her feet. He was just… a guy with a fucked up family.

”I don’t care where we go: Death City, the Bahamas, doesn’t matter to me,” Gauss told her plainly, ”I came to talk to you.”

“I’m glad you did.”
That quickly, the adversarial tone between them slipped away. There was a flicker of guilt in Mira’s chest—that she’d put him out—but this was not hard to discard considering his state maybe ten minutes before. Her arms unfolded. A tentative step toward the door left her half-facing him, but he retained her attention.
“Let’s just head back to your place. Or mine, if you’re concerned about being heard. Like I said, we have some time before worrying about dinner— I really wouldn’t mind sitting down for a bit.”

She pushed the door open, bell chiming daintily, and held it for him as she stepped outside. “Salem’s out till prob’ly six-ish, but I was planning on giving him some space tonight. Grabbed a room at that cheap motel up by the school and everything.”

Gauss followed. The more time that passed since he lost his momentum, the further he fell right back into that dark place he was in.
”My place is fine, though: I haven’t told Noah or Arky the news yet. Let’s keep it that way,” he answered, neutral in his tone. His word choice might have been a bit aggressive as it was less of a request and more of instructions, but given their partnerships were professional, the line between stern and rude was somewhat blurry. Mira nodded. She’d had no intentions of mentioning it, but had wanted to give him the option of greater privacy if he felt it was needed.

”Is it the SAD or some other trigger for your brother?” Gauss asked, shifting the topic over to Salem. He could have and even considered asking just what others might have heard at his place, but the spark just wasn’t there at the moment. The idea came, but the effort was non-existent. Instead, a more normal and less flirtatious topic was the best he could do. Not that it was fake, but that under most circumstances, if he had to choose between flirting with Bella or asking about her brother, he would most definitely choose the former–barring some tragic accident.

“It, uh—“

A grimace. Bellamira didn’t like sharing Salem’s business. As a rule, she pleaded ignorance to his affairs in all but the most compelling of circumstances. He was a highly private person, and she loathed to share more about him than he would share about himself. But this was Gauss. He’d known Salem for almost as long as his sister had, by rights, in that early phase where Salem felt the need to meet (and worse, know) all of her friends. They got along generally well–at one point, Gauss had been a welcome presence at their dinner table, and arguably he still was. Her brother didn’t object to speaking to Gauss about ‘life topics’. Mira thought he felt there was value in offering some guidance. All of this informed her decision to keep talking.

The two turned at the corner onto another semi-commercial street. In the warmest parts of the day, this meant the noise of open patios and traffic within small boutiques, but the streets themselves didn’t feel busy. “It’s actually the ninth anniversary of his divorce.” Another pause. “I mean, it’s the day Amelie served him the papers.”

Her eyes wandered toward the rapidly degrading wares of a roadside florist—what hadn’t been brought inside was wilting under the autumnal heat. “He’s still pretty messed up about it.”

”That’s some deep shit,” Gauss responded flatly. Not rudely or coldly, just a simple response. Not a lot of emotion, neutral at best. In part because he knew the topic was sensitive–for both them really, though obviously more for Salem. Also, because he knew there was jack shit that he could do to help Salem. The moment Gauss got a whiff of the issues Salem kept bottled up, he decided to steer clear. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t that Gauss was averse to gender fluidity. Instead, his acceptance of it was such that he didn’t care. It took no effort from him to oblige her brother’s introduction as “Salem, or Doctor Ossana, if you’d like.” He took at face value what someone told him and moved on. There was a solid chance he had slept with any number of trans women in his life and just didn’t know it. He still didn’t care. In turn, though, it was hard to deal with the nuances of a situation like Salem’s when he didn’t feel strongly about it. He could understand why Salem would be upset, but Gauss was a man that always struggled with empathy, and a situation as complex as that of Salem Ossana only highlighted that.

”Thinking about it, I don’t know the dates of either of my father’s divorces…” Gauss announced, but paused, having a realization hit him mid-sentence. He came to a complete stop, lifted up his arm and hand to gesture for her to do the same. He quickly scanned for street signs, then pulled out his phone, let his thumb dance on the screen, and eventually typed in some information.

”If we’re going back to my place, let’s get a ride,” he said, explaining his abrupt behavior. But, then, it made sense. The Lush Coffin was in fact a hot minute away on one of the furthest Eastward fringes of the residential district alongside most of the other posh new-development housing. As nice as it was, its placement on the near-outskirts of town was an inconvenience.

It was instinctual to check behind them when he called the pair to a stop, and she scanned the streets, but catching sight of the street signs behind them herself Bellamira realized that their ‘walk’ would be at least an hour’s hike. She was accustomed to walking around the core of Death City. Truly, Salem’s apartment wasn’t much more than a half hour’s walk from anywhere she wanted to go, work included. “That’s probably a better idea, yeah.”

Her tone was wry, but directed as much at herself as to him. They’d made their way onto a transitory strip, a space of office buildings and cheap fast food establishments. Concrete planters with elevated trees were interspersed along the sidewalk, but there were no benches to be seen. She hopped up onto the ledge, letting her feet swing with the residual motion.

Mira pulled her own phone from her pocket. She had a short list of notifications, but only one she cared to check.

09/23/67 1423
Salem: I’ll be home late. Order something in if you want it.

She thumbed out a brief response.

09/23/67 1434
-->Salem: I’m w Gauss. Going to his place. Love you, ya?

She hesitated. Typed out stay safe. Deleted it. Shoved her phone back into her pocket, attention directed back to Gauss.

“You been feeling good about FATE?” This was another potentially loaded topic, but one she cared to hear about. It had been good for him–but that didn’t mean the program wasn’t a source of stress.

The answer to that question turned out to be fairly simple: after a while, being a Fate Agent didn’t really feel much different than when he was a normal one. Only the early stages of the program felt terribly punitive. His wealth, privilege, and large changes to his bachelor lifestyle all might have helped round over the rough edges the program had for some others.

Then again, there was the fact the whole program had turned partially into a social club.

Gauss went on to answer a few more mostly-menial questions. The pleasantries, really. This time was mostly used to go over his most recent missions. Given that the driver was a corporate one for Thaltek, secrets would remain in the car. Bella was given a quick run-down on several bits of his previous missions. He actually started in reverse order, mostly because he wanted to talk about the new arms he had. He didn’t dare conjure them in the car, but by the tone of the conversation, he was pretty sure he would have to prove they existed.

Finally, they arrived at the pull-through parking lot of the Lush Coffin. There wasn’t exactly a parking lot. Well, there was, but not by the building. They had valets for that. It meant Bella and Gauss could just hop out of the car and into the building, but not before Gauss would show her the two new arms he could just manifest from his black. They made their way to the large water fountain as per his instructions, just in case the fire became a problem.

There and then, Bella did in fact see what most closely resembled a feat of magic. Two arms from just under his shoulder blades spawn from his back, though they were more like cylindrical tubes of flame that extended out several feet further than his actual arms with tendrils that splintered off into fingers, appearing vaguely in the shape of a hand, though with nowhere near the actual detail of one. Afterwards, Gauss tucked them away.

Now that Bella had a more accurate visualization in mind, Gauss regaled her with a more detailed description of their fight with the Kraken Witch–or whatever the Hell she was. Aside from their brief bout of flirtation, this was easily the most excited she had seen him: regaling her with the details of the fight. How he flung himself into the air like a slingshot or how the Witch had to blow herself up to escape. His energy was infectious. She pressed him with questions when she felt they were appropriate, but gave him the space to tell his story.

The timeline continued to flow backwards. He went over his plan with the plasma ball and being in Malta eating up the trip in the elevator. It wasn’t until they got to his room that he brought up what might be the next most absurd thing: the fact Gauss managed to sweet talk a thirty-foot-tall killer sphinx into joining the DWMA.

”Yeah, yeah. An actual Sphinx. Probably the last one there is. I was just trying to buy time ‘cause it looked like we were fucked, but it turns out my rizz was on point,” Gauss boasted. He gave a bit of a humblebrag shrug, tilting his head over to Bella. An expectant look on his face, as if praise was necessary. All the while he stretched out his hand to activate the biometric lock on his door.

A ringing laugh. Her head shook, inclining toward the floor in response to his boasting, but the grin remained when she glanced back up at him. The door unlocked, its internal latch disengaging audibly. “I’ll admit, if nothing else, that your rizz is on point.” Mira’s tone was light–somewhat sarcastic, but not at all surly–and natural at that. It was good to see this kind of light in his eyes. She offered him a wink, slipping under his arm and giving the door a light shove before stepping in in front of him. She spun on her heel–rubber flats squeaking against the floor–and took a few backwards paces into the entryway to give him space. From here, she kicked off her shoes, the tips of her feet displacing the seal around her raised heels one after another.

“You know, I’m glad you’re good after all that. You’ve had a hell of a trip.”

Return

The Quiet Drizzle
Despite the numerous times Bella had entered his apartment, she always neglected some of the admittedly-absurd niceties it had. In her defense, it took Noah and secondly Arkayis quite some time to get used to them, too. It wasn’t common to have a UV drawer built into a genkan for shoes. In fact, it wasn’t common in most of the West to have a dedicated genkan at all. It wasn’t something he would bother to gripe over, though. In his current or any mood, for that matter.

”It’s certainly not like it was before the program,” Gauss commented, his cynical tone bordering on sardonic. Her shoulders hitched in an unspoken laugh.

Then Gauss glided right past her, though not without giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze with his hand. That hand of his–it was nimble. Danced like a bag in the wind, but that dance was definitely guided. It was a soft touch, just enough to be acknowledged. In a different circumstance, it might have been mistaken for an unintentional graze… but Bella knew better.

His hand was offered in such a way that it was easy to reach out, and she grabbed it. She was tugged playfully behind him toward the kitchen, and let her hand slip from his as they neared the counter, moving around the island opposite to Gauss. From here, her ankle caught one leg of a nearly-hidden stool tucked under its lip, yanking it forward with a low scraping noise. She sat down. Spent a few moments stretching out her arms and back.

Gauss went through several quick decisions before committing to his next act: pulling out the large drawer of his island to reveal a hidden deep freezer. Within it was an abundance of organized boxes and from those he pulled out one of the many. It wasn’t the type of boxing one saw on a supermarket shelf, but it read clearly enough what it was: prosciutto-wrapped, brie-stuffed cherry peppers with a demi glace. This wasn’t a terribly uncommon sight, though. These were effectively just a more affluent version of the frozen boxed snacks one could acquire at any convenience store. Bella learned forward, checking the label, and, satisfied, held her silence.

Their convenience was certainly kicked up a notch. All Gauss had to do was pull the bag from its box revealing a ceramic plate already in it. From there, he tore along a dotted line, popped it into the large, unnecessarily fancy wall-in oven all-in-one everything device his father built the kitchen around, then scanned a code on the original box via a stationary laser scanner also built into the wall. From there, the oven did everything.

Well, almost everything. He actually did need to pull out a pan to warm up the demi-glace, but unless Bella requested it, he was going to ignore it.

What mattered was that he needed some calories in him.

After that little display, he gestured up to the dark-wooden cabinets above him. Their center panels were clear, being made of stained glass held together by brass edging. Fancy as all hell, but what was more important were the aged liquors behind it. Of course, his fridge did possess some more frivolous liquors to be consumed cold. It wasn’t actually the liquor he was interested in, though he didn’t clarify that. As bad as it was, it was still a touch early to hit the bottle hard. Instead, there was an assortment of fairly nice wines up there. Some not even terribly expensive; a practice he picked up on a long time ago due to the tendency of people to feel guilty over drinking the more extensive bottles.

”Anything?” he asked. Neutral, not imposing, though it did possess a flair of his theatrics. In all reality, he was just trying to be a good host. He didn’t want to nor did he care to get Bella drunk. Not that they hadn’t in the past. However, he wouldn’t deny her or risk the faux pas of partaking without an offer.

Mira’s gaze followed his hand, though she understood the question implicitly. There was a moment of hesitation; she waved him off. “Nah, we’ll get some wine with dinner.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want it. In fact, a nice bottle of light red wine sounded wonderful after a day at work–but they’d have more opportunities, and it was still early, and she didn’t need to end up trashed before eight o’clock. Still, she shifted in her chair at her own refusal.

“Actually, is there any of that raspberry water I like?”

Raspberry water. Raaaaaspberry water. What the fuck was she talking about? When did he serve raspberry water? Was that something he had? Was it a mix packet?

He had to think over the question. Such a simple act, but it absolutely stumped him. He had no idea if he had said water. He knew most of the inventory in his whole kitchen, too. It was set up to be cycled through via an app on his phone, so he always had fresh produce and ingredients. If there was some refreshment he knew Bella would like, he would have kept it on standby. As it stood, he was drawing an absolute blank.

It left a quizzical look on his face. Not quite dumbfounded, but close.

”Do you mean the hard seltzer?” he asked, unsure. It was the only thing he could think of that he had with raspberry flavoring.

There was a reciprocal pause. “Maybe?” It was something carbonated, for sure, sort of raspberry and blackberry and orange. Thinking about it, it might have been straight up infused water–just some fruit she’d chopped up and thrown together with some sparkling or tonic water. “Grab me one of those in the meantime.”

She slipped from the stool, turning to open the fridge. Pawing through the crisper, she pulled out a small assortment of fruit, pawning it off to the counter behind her as she picked through. An orange and a lime. Seven or eight blackberries, which she threw in with the rest of the raspberries. “And a cutting board, would you?”

He wasn’t even sure if he had hard seltzer in his fridge. It wasn’t generally his drink of choice, but then, he might have had it on order if Bella went for it before. Lo and behold, a quick check of his refrigerator, and that theory was proven correct. The right door opened to reveal shelving with several 20oz (600ml) cans, one of which was a purple berry mix. If anything was going to be raspberry, it was that.

Gauss grabbed her the can and sat it down on the glossy surface of the island. Given she was right by it, she probably could have found it herself, but her focus seemed to be on the fruit. Not a point he felt like making. Instead, he just continued on with her requests. Cutting boards in his kitchen were stored in a fairly interesting way: each the drawers above the island had another knob and one could pull on said knob to reveal a matching, wooden cutting board. His knife set was right out in the open, too; it stood proud as a twenty-four piece german steel collection sitting on his countertop. With those, though, he didn’t even need to move to reach them.

With that magnetic wavelength of his, he could jerk a set of five-inch utility knives over to him and sit them down on the cutting board without incident.

Once he was done with those requests from Bella, he moved on to his own tasks. Procuring two wine glasses from his cabinet and a dark Caribbean rum for his own enjoyment.

”There should be some pineapple juice in there,” Gauss commented, hoping Bella would take the hint and grab it. Afterwards, he returned back to the cabinets for a stainless steel shaker. Not that he could move on to the next step until Bella was done in the fridge; its door dispenser was his only source of ice.

Mira shoved the rest of the fruit back into the crisper, grabbing the pineapple juice around the cap with two fingers, and turning back to the counter while she closed the fridge with her knee. “Got it.” She grabbed the fruits–in one hand, the orange and the lime, in the other the box of berries–and brought them to the sink. From here, she washed both her hands and the fruit. Settling by the cutting board on the other side of the counter–out of his way–she first began working on the orange.

She cut about three-quarters of it into thin slices, shoving them to the side of the board, and then cutting two with wider chunks of peel. These, she removed the fruit from, slicing around its edges. From here, she stretched out the peel with her fingers, carving any remnants of white from its inside. She used the flat of the knife to hold it steady, twisting tightly with pinched fingers. Holding one of the pair up to the light to examine it–satisfied that it has not been nicked with the knife–she tossed both garnishes to Gauss’ side of the counter.

She grabbed the lime, intent on cutting it in the same way. For a while in the kitchen, both were off making their respective drinks. Gauss had acquired ice in his shaker, added the mix of rum, but stopped entirely to watch Bella cut her fruit. Her movements were precise and careful. He had seen her do this before with her finger as a scalpel, but regardless of whether it was her blade or another, she could use it well. Perhaps not in a fight, but there was something beautiful about it not being about a fight.

There was something beautiful about it just being a simple moment in a kitchen, doing mundane things, irrelevant of their lives in Death City and his status as an agent. And, in this moment, in this light, there was something beautiful about her. There was always, really; he’d seen it himself a thousand times over before. Right now happened to be a gentle reminder of it.

”Mira,” he said, interrupting her slices into the lime. Her attention diverted, knife laid down on the board. She looked up at him with an easy smile. “Yeah?”

He waited just a moment. Just long enough for their eyes to connect and her to finish setting down the knife and be in the moment. Surprise, you see, was something that worked best when well-timed. A fraction too soon and the moment was too hectic to enjoy. Too late, and it could be missed. Patience was a powerful thing, and Gauss knew the value of a second.

”I just wanted to see your face a little closer,” he answered. A lower tone, smoother like an aged liquor. It may have lacked his enthusiastic nature, but it wasn't dry of his energy. It was just saturated in a different way.

He moved forward to her, bridging what little actual gap was between them. He was never forceful–not that there hadn’t been rougher times in their past. This happened to be a gentle one. His right hand floated upwards before he moved in too close, and once it was well within her vision, he moved it forward to the side of her face, near her ear, weaving his fingers into her hair at the edge of her face.

He only smiled, though. He was close. He could have stolen that kiss, or tried. But he had learned to be respectful. Over their last few interactions, her emotions were scattered. Never really consistent with what she wanted. He knew what he wanted, but knew it was better to let her decide. She never had to question. She was the answer.

There was a long, soft exhale as he embraced her. She studied his face, so close to hers: earnest, gentle. He’d become used to letting her lead, somehow; it had not at first been something she’d expected from him. It was in these kinds of private, intimate moments that they enjoyed each other the most.

Her eyes closed for a moment. She breathed in the scent of his cologne, something that never really seemed to change. When they opened again, she’d made her decision. Her left hand—damp, really, from the fruit—snaked under his arm and hooked around his shoulder as she leaned in to take the offered kiss. The other ended up on the back of his neck as she went back for a second—finally, breathlessly, pulling back to meet his gaze again. Still hanging on.

“Gauss-” there was a slight pause. Something that had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks, but that was hard to say anyway. Something that was hard to commit to. “-you know that I love you, right?”

And it was true. For all the times they’d fought, there was another she held close to her heart. She remembered making pizza in this kitchen with a small group of friends–before Thaddeus had to wander off to some social engagement with his father while he was in town–sending him off with flour still on his suit-collar as Viraj rapped impatiently at the door. Elias had been absolutely covered in it, leaving sword-shaped imprints in powder all over the couch before they left. There were others, of course—but this came to mind first as she felt his shirt dampen under her touch. They were getting better. The bad was rare, and good moments like this more and more common. Neither of them could fix the other, but that wasn’t in any way the point.

There were few words that, when put together in any order, in any language, would have given Gauss pause and even (if only briefly) taken his mind off of his current situation. Bella had found seven and managed to put them in perfect sequence. There was a saving grace here. Gauss had a lot of experience with those words. Specifically, hearing those words from women. They had been thrown at him what must have felt like a hundred times over.

Except, when Bella said them, he felt that she meant them.

That fact didn’t halt him from knowing what he had to do. He had to act quick. He couldn’t stumble, fumble, forget, or otherwise fail here. His reply had to be perfect and timely. This put him on the spot.

The man genuinely had never considered how he felt before. At least, not like that. He wasn’t even sure if he could love. At least, in the way his therapist had described. It wasn’t that Bella didn’t deserve love, either. It wasn’t some impossible task. It was that Gauss as an individual had never come to terms with whether or not he could be a truly loving person. The type of man his father never seemed to be. It wasn’t like his older brother had given him proof his bloodline was capable, either.

This fell to him. This was a decision he had to make in the heat of the moment. He had at best a few seconds and his brain had entirely forgotten about his genetics as he processed this situation with the precious few milliseconds he had to make an appropriate answer. Anything longer and he was absolutely sure Bella would interpret it poorly–and that could go sideways real fast.

Bella forced Gauss to compile everything he knew about love in just a moment.

”That’s… probably the first time I’ve ever believed someone when they said that, B,” he replied. It was a genuine answer. Vulnerability was present in his voice, it was soft and malleable. Higher-pitched and even for a moment almost effeminate, near the point of breaking.

That reply bought him a few more of those precious moments, he hoped.

”I don’t know what kind of love it is–or if I should even say it–or Hell, even if I deserve yours…” he said, his voice almost squeaking as he spoke in a quick, nervous cadence. This was an admission, really. Not that he was ever hiding it, but that he had come to a decision, and this was his answer.

”...but I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I love you, too.”

Half of a laugh turned over in her chest (almost a squeak, really), out in a rush along with the unsteady breath she’d been holding, directed only by the tilting of her face from his. Her grip around him tightened— the same clutching embrace she so often employed when she saw friends back from missions, the same that she had offered him at the beginning of their
reconciliation. This time, though, she kissed him– first at the side of his neck, and again just underneath his jaw as she pulled back. Ice met amber, twinkling under the kitchen lights.

She was smiling, and couldn’t stop smiling, either; the blush that had belied her hesitation earlier lit fire to her face. Her hands slid down his back–coming to rest lower, in the small of his back. There were some few tears tracking down her face, but she hadn’t noticed them before. “We’ll figure it out.” Her voice was soft, but still somewhat strained.

Relief. Relief was what washed over Gauss when Bella finally reacted. The microseconds it must have been before the final syllable of his sentence and the release of her breath felt like an eternity. It felt like ten quintillion stars had the chance to explode out from the primordial nothingness of life, burn their brightest, then die and decay. When her grip tightened, he was fairly sure he knew what it meant. Then, she kissed him. That was when the relief of a thousand galaxies hit him.

Because if that went to Hell, he had no idea how to salvage it from the inferno.

Of course, Gauss did enjoy her lips on his skin. It was a sensation he’d felt a hundred times before, but the spark from it innervated him in a whole different way. A combination of the relief of the situation, the vulnerability of the moment, his own unrelated personal stress, and of course the sheer gravity of the words they exchanged. It made the sensuality of the moment transform into something he wasn’t entirely familiar with.

He felt her hands on him and he responded in kind, letting his right hand over her hip. He wanted more, he did, but a single sound brought him back to reality. The ding of the oven. The gentle reminder of the outside world was enough to make him snap back and realize just how much he was losing himself. The truth was, he had completely forgotten about the food, the drinks, the ice, seltzer, wine, and anything else that surrounded him.

Now, he became hyper-aware of all those things. Not that he cared about wasting, or that he was against picking Bella up by her waist and carrying her over to his bedroom. Not that. Just that with the reminder of his surroundings came the reminder of the fact Bella was over in his apartment at all. With that came remembering why. And, that “why” led him right back to the situation he was in. It was sobering.

”I guess we’ll have to,” Gauss responded, his voice light, almost broken, somewhat dry. ”I do wonder who will be more surprised, though… my therapist or your brother–the therapist,” he added, peppering the moment with a bigger dash of reality. He didn’t exactly mean to ruin the moment, but he had been working on another, more positive behavior: making sure if he was intimate, it was a thought-out decision instead of just acting on a whim or urge.

The smile broke, and her hands slipped from his back–also in response to the oven–running down his arms to his hands. There was a laugh, rolling and dark. She squeezed his hands, fingers briefly intertwining, and took in a deep breath. Pulled away, back toward the sink, where she washed her own again to finish off with the fruit. She was thinking about the implications of his statement before she responded. She didn’t take them negatively. They were careful, and she could appreciate that. Drying her hands–stepping back toward him–she replied.

“Did I ever tell you–when I first came to live with my brother, I used to tell him he didn’t really love me. That he didn’t know me enough to love me, and I knew he didn’t really want to. Y’know what he said to me?”

While Bella decided to take the time to share her anecdote, Gauss elected to attend to the stuffed peppers. Not that they would actually get burnt. The oven was set to an air fryer mode for them, but that was neither here nor there. The ding it made already dissolved the tension between them and this particular snack happened to be one of his favorites. It was better fresh, but the flash freezing method he had them delivered fairly solid results.

He pulled out another cutting board to set the ceramic plate on, protecting that counter top. With that step complete, his golden eyes darted back over to Bella, then down, inviting her to partake. He certainly did, picking one up–still a touch too warm for comfortable consumption–and biting in anyway.

Her gaze leveled with him again, dish towel in her hands. Playfully, she flicked him with it, the same shoulder she’d been leaning on–not hard enough to hurt, just to emphasize her point as she passed him and took back up her spot at the cutting board. “He told me that love isn’t something you feel, it’s something you do. That you can feel lots of things–affection, lust, whatever–and that doesn’t mean that you put in the effort to love someone.” There was a held pause. The dish towel twirled in her hand, and she thumped it down on the counter beside the cutting board, again taking up the knife. “At the time, I told him that was some frosh hippie shit. But he might have a point.”

This was more rational. A lot of the tension between them had dissipated–firstly, because her fear of rejection had subsided, and secondly because she’d become aware again that his ice was quickly melting. Besides, they would have plenty of time–and she didn’t need to start hanging on him this early in the day.

”You have, in fact, told me that before,” Gauss answered, deciding her question wasn’t so rhetorical–if it was meant to be. In reality, though, his answer was only a half-truth. She had told him that a few times before with the purpose of the story varying depending on the context and her mood at the time. Such was the dynamic she had with her brother, though.

With his first pepper finished, Gauss returned his focus to his drink. While the cold condensation around his stainless steel shaker was already dripping onto the counter, his ice was fine. It would only dilute his drink slightly, really. He first poured in his pineapple juice, then his dark rum in roughly equal amounts. As opposed to the overhand shake seen in plenty of bars, Gauss picked up the cold steel and shook it back and forth on its horizontal axis pretty roughly.

The clanging of ice on metal was a familiar sound, but annoying nonetheless.

”The first time was quite a few years back,” Gauss went on. He wanted to make her feel heard. He knew that was a thing of hers. Actually, it was a thing for plenty of women, but his experience told him it was a high priority for her.

”I think… It was a New Years party. Or, maybe just one of the days following it. Hard to remember through the booze and coke,” he explained, prying these memories from the vaults of his substance-addled memories. ”Those details don’t matter. What I remember is you and I got into an argument over who had it worse with their brother. Then you dropped that bombshell,” Gauss said, a tinge of frustration in his voice. He just had to trudge through the mud of that memory as best he could.

”Needless to say, you won,” he admitted, ”and, worse, I don’t think you even went home with me that night.” The knife hovered over the last of the fruit: blackberries, halved and thrown back into their bin one by one. Her brows drew–silence, not upset, but straining to unearth this memory from a dozen others. She knew the weekend he was talking about, at the very least. They’d started from some other friend’s apartment– she’d been upset with him in the days before, but a common gathering place required putting some problems aside, and they gravitated towards each other as they were wont to do.

“I don’t remember it all that well.” This was true and untrue. She remembered the first half of the night. They never did much in the way of addressing their issues, at the time. She’d slid onto the couch next to him at some point, with a fair few shots emboldening her, and the friend that had brought her having insisted on going home. It was a combination of intoxicated and unsupervised, which had been somewhat of a staple in both their arguments and reconciliations.

She must have passed out at four or five in the morning, with a hell of a headache from a line too many (really, for Mira, any at all), but both Gauss and a few others she hadn’t seen much in the years since were still there when she stirred–probably not more than an hour or two later. Still going. To his credit, Gauss had never left her passed out anywhere. In this case, the energy in the room was gradually dying, but it wasn’t unlikely that a good portion of the students dodging their dorm supervisors and parents while hungover would hang around through the day. She remembered asking for a drink. Taking a sip of one not unlike the one he was making, gagging.

Mira remembered arguing with him, the feeling of heat in her face, probably spurred by a concerned text from Salem–or at least, according to his memory, that would make sense. Some things needed inferring, and she trusted Gauss enough to believe that he was telling her the truth when it came to sharing memories of the past, or at least the truth as he remembered it. Frankly, their recollection didn’t have to be perfect. She’d come to terms with that years ago. What their memories needed to be was agreed upon, so that they could be responded to. Worked through, even.

The knife fell again, perhaps harder than it needed to. Finishing with this, she dumped a small bit of each fruit into her wine glass, grabbed a pitcher from a cupboard by the sink and filled it with water along with the rest. “I remember that I fought with you, at least. And that I didn’t go home with you. I went home trashed, and I heard about it for months.” There was a pause. Her voice was strong–not quiet, nor shaky, nor timid–but there was a kind of fatigue about the words.

This was probably positive, considering that she and Gauss did not make it a common habit to talk about the past, though this had become an occasional experience in the past few months– but in some ways, she resented the fact that he remembered so much more of their experiences than she did. Though their habits were similar–and similarly unhealthy–they sought different end objectives when it came to over-indulgence. Gauss wanted to ride the high, to make it through the night, to feel good and forget the doubts lingering in the back of his mind. Mira desired the opposite: to quiet the loudness of thoughts that very actively hurt. While Gauss was snorting coke, she was in the bathroom popping pills to put her down.

One of those things was—if only slightly—more conducive to “remembering” than the other.

“What actually sticks out to me the most from that weekend,” she admitted, “was the stupid secondary argument we had when I got pissy and decided to leave. I was going to walk home, but you kept insisting on calling me a car.” From here, she moved to put the pitcher of water in the fridge. If she came back tonight–which was feeling likely–it would be good to go. “Because I didn’t have enough money left on me for a taxi. But I was hellbent that I wasn’t going to take anything from you, so Simon gave me the cash.”

From here, she grabbed the seltzer. Cracked the can and took a long sip, finally looking back at him as she slid the wine glass across the counter, and filled it from her can. “And I remember going fucking ballistic when I tried to pay him back a couple days later and he wouldn’t take my money because you already had.”

A shrug. With the glass in hand, she stalked forward to stand beside him. Grabbed one of the peppers, taking a small bite. It was good, but rich. She glanced up at him again, gauging his reaction. She didn’t know whether to bring this thought to its conclusion, or if it even really had one.

”If you want a piece of honesty,” Gauss responded, following immediately after her last comment. Everything she said triggered something in him. Maybe a memory or maybe just a part of him that he had forgotten about. In either case, it was something he hadn’t brought up since the beginning of this therapy. Something his therapist didn’t reference often because it wasn’t really a problem area.

”I did that for everybody I was around… guy, girl, Witch, werewolf, and anything in between,” he admitted, and it really did feel like an admission. That whole story between them was personal and he was painting it in the light that he did it for everyone. In a way, he felt bad. He didn’t mean to stall the wind beneath her wings, but he had been pushed into transparency so many times that it felt more right to explain it all. Instead, there was a nod.

She had her hard seltzer. He popped the steel cap off his mixer and poured it into a glass through the holes in the strained cap. There was an immediate smell of pineapple and some spice filled the air from this, somehow even drowning out the stuffed peppers. It had to battle with the burning, berry-scented carbonation that floated just below her nose.

Gauss took a quick sip. It was good enough.

”I don’t remember that second fight as much… a lot of people have been pissed at me for paying for things over the years, B,” he explained, just spilling the facts of the situation. There was almost a sadness in his voice as he really felt he was undermining the situation, but he kept going. He was pretty sure she damn-well knew she was important to him.

”I think maybe we remember what mattered more to us at the time… you, this sexy, hotheaded stoner chick, surprised me out of the blue. You put me in my place at a time in my life where I was riding the high. And, I guess I took some of your agency and independence by forcing some unwanted support. I was just another thief to your identity,” Gauss said, painting them both in the poorer light that was their past. An exaggerated sigh, rolling. Her hands raised simultaneously in a motion of either emphasis or frustration–some of the seltzer spilling from glass to shirt to floor. Her teeth grit in annoyance at the glass in her hand as it righted, interrupting her first words.

“I mean, that’s the thing. You would have done it for anyone. Like, probably even just one of my friends. That’s what–” Her head shook a few times, minutely. Another long breath, this one not performative. Took a sip of her drink, and put it down on the counter in front of her. The scent of the rum was overpowering. “It drove me crazy that you’d treat me like anybody else when we were both pissed. It’s not like we had a shortage of reasons to be angry at each other.”

“Most of them pretty trivial, if I’m being honest.” Some of them weren’t. That was another topic. She took another bite of the pepper. Chewed for a long moment, hand moving to cover her mouth. By the time she’d swallowed it, she had to mind the way she wanted to say this. It was a sensitive kind of topic, but not one she wanted to avoid. “But I think sometimes I wanted you to hate me, like that would mean I’d actually got to you. I’d show up still holding some grudge, and if I didn’t start with it it’d come out anyway. And you’d ride it out until I exhausted myself and we moved on.”

There were many occasions when they’d fought, but Mira knew that she was the one who held grudges. The one that shut down communication. In the past, there hadn’t been all that much communication–at least not of the sort that solved long-term problems or exercised much mutual understanding–but in a way, she’d resented that he didn’t share her anger because she’d deserved it. She hadn’t cared much about his playboy attitude, or the lack of emotional intimacy between them, but what she perceived as a lack of investment. She’d be upset for days. He’d bounce back the next morning.

“It was pretty fucking stupid.”

”I don’t think so,” Gauss responded after a brief delay. He waited to make sure Bella had no more to say. He didn’t want to be rude, but also, some of their worst fights happened because he interrupted at an inopportune time. Experience was a great teacher.

”You’re doing this thing,” Gauss said, staring down into the half-empty glass he had been sipping during her explanation. This was a pattern he saw not just in Bella, but in plenty of people. It was something he had learned to recognize. ”You’re calling things trivial and minimizing them… you probably harp on yourself over them, too. Maybe even think you were stupid then,” Gauss continued, his tone staying pretty neutral while he dropped some heavy facts.

”I think you wanted to feel important. You knew what I was doing… you met plenty of people that ended up being just a flavor of the week. You wanted to take control and refuse to be.. that,” he shared, and as he did, his cadence picked up and he spit words out quicker, hoping if he could get his point across quick enough, it might avoid an eruption–

”--and that’s not stupid, B.” He told her, punctuating the claim with a small elevation in voice.

”Because there’s a flipside. When every little thing is too important. When every little thing becomes a life-ruining fight. V and Thea staying at the DWMA–if that weren’t so damn important to my dad, I wouldn’t be where I am now,” he told her, remaining almost theatrical in how he was delivering these points. Not by some overzealous flailing of his arms, but by the melodramatic tone of his voice and how he was pouring some bass and depth into his words.

”Even now… I got this gene and it shouldn’t be important, but it is. It should be a trivial thing, but it’s not. It affects so many things that shouldn’t matter, but do. If I just said it was stupid shit, I’d still be snorting coke and drowning my memories,” Gauss told her. He couldn’t keep going, though. He couldn’t keep up that tone or that intensity. His voice started to crumble, cracking in brief moments where its pitch uncontrollably shifted. His eyes told the whole story, fighting back tears. There was probably more, but he stopped. He couldn’t keep up that momentum without actually breaking.

The rest of the pepper was abandoned to the plate. Her hands were shaking, and they met her arms above her elbows, shoulders hiking defensively. His words were hard to listen to. There were several reasons why. Her past behavior was a primary one: it felt pathetic, mortifying to recall, and though she wanted him to know, it was hard to confront it herself. The fact that he validated her was almost worse. She’d beaten herself up, frequently, for her unrealistic expectations. They had been the crux of her hesitation in admitting these more current feelings: the fear of wrongfully assuming a real mutual desire from their entanglement. Her lips pressed together, hard.

But he had a point. About small things—small things that were symptomatic, anyway—often being larger minimized problems. They seemed to fester, to aggravate into an incomprehensible pain. He was right that shoving them down only perpetuated the problem. That it hurts the people around you as well. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t ready to hear it, that she was still just as avoidant as ever, still an addict with a bad track record that didn’t want the hurt that came along with trying to fix things. But looking at him in the kitchen—her face pale, tears in both their eyes, seeing the pain writ on his face—she knew that that avoidance wasn’t going to cut it.

“I wanted you to care about me. Positive, negative, whatever.”

Her tone was uncertain, but she wasn’t, not about that. It was more of an explanation–an agreement–than something that needed to be validated. One hand raised. Hesitated in the air just afore her. Withdrew before finally coming to cup his jaw from chin to ear. Her thumb stroked along his cheek. By the time she spoke again, it was somewhat more composed.

“I think you’re right that it’s a lot easier to be angry or avoidant. To obscure things… and that that just keeps them going.” Her hand slipped up to stroke his hair, pushing it on one side out of his face.

Really, she was talking about herself. The urge to grab her shoes and haul ass—or to lock herself in the bathroom until things blew over—was strong. It took willpower to resist it, but this wasn’t the kind of conversation you could do over. “So on the one hand, I don’t want to pretend things sucked less than they did, or that all of it was petty shit, but at the same time…” She trailed off, briefly, working to regain her metered stride. “I put together my fair share of our battles all on my own. And I don’t want to fight with you, Gauss.” This was where her own voice really faded. Thaddeus had expressed guilt to her before. She’d reciprocated in a more abstract way, but hadn’t taken responsibility for her actions, not really. When words came back to her, they came out somewhat raw, dry, but she pushed through.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Because it was fucked to put you through all that. And.. even more than that, I’m sorry for being all caught up in it right now, when you’ve already got so much on your mind.”

Recalling the look on his face when he walked into The Paper Trail, caught up now in his teary eyes–had she ever seen him cry?–Bellamira almost regretted dropping the second emotional bombshell of the day. She could see obvious parallels between her relationship with Gauss and his with his siblings, not to mention the complicated relationship she had to her own brother—and while they needed to talk about this kind of thing, this was a time when he was already vulnerable.

There was a lot to take in. Gauss was a man of logic–at least, for the most part. Everything he did was thought out. There was almost-always a desired outcome or at the very least a set of preferable outcomes. Achieving those outcomes was the sum total of the situation he was in at any given time, the motivations of the other parties he was with, and his reactions to anything they said or did. It was a simple formula. It was one that had served him well.

It was one that was crumbling apart at the moment. Logic and reason were giving way to emotion and intuition.

Gauss reached his hand up to the one that was caressing his face and wrapped his fingers over hers. Not really to stop her, but to acknowledge her. Embrace her. And, to add a small pause in the intimacy of the moment in favor of an exchange of words. Gauss was going to tell her something unfiltered. Words without calculation or consideration; just his thoughts as they were.

A gamble he rarely took.

”B’, we could go on and on in circles for days about what we did wrong and forgiveness. I could say I probably deserved it, you counter with that I didn’t deserve it from you, and we could talk about the cosmic ethics of if karma cares who hurt who,” he said, almost exasperated in his tone. His head slightly tilted as he spoke and there was a half-cracked sound of defeat that echoed from him.

He went on.

”I think everyone has to decide if they forgive someone and really if they even just want them around at all–or, ever again–or… whatever that means to them,” he went on, trying to piece together what he meant from several half-formed, disjointed thoughts, ”because I’m well-aware they didn’t forgive me–they told me how much they hate me to my face. Or, how they never want to see me again.” He put it together. The apologies and accountability he had been pushed to perform.

”I forgave you long before I ever asked for forgiveness,” he admitted, that half-broken voice cracking once again, ”never in a million years did I think you’d want to see me again when I asked, either. I don’t even know if I wanted you to, because if my hopes were up, it might have hurt that much more.”

”But the point is,” he said, changing tone entirely and cutting into his own speech with a more assertive phrasing, ”that I do want you around. Or, I want to be around you–whichever way matters most. When you get in your feels, I don’t want you to feel like you need nine million layers between you and that thing because that’s just nine million layers I have to dig through again–and death knows I will. I don’t know if you’re scared to love or feel a fuckton of shame or guilt–you’ve never told me which it is–but… fuck I hate to say it, I do, but I don’t care. I want you here with me and I want to stop searching for some shallow replacement every time you run off,” he told her. It was direct. It was blunt. It was nothing like how he normally spoke. And, it was completely off topic from why he came to her to begin with. But, it was the topic she pushed. It was an answer for] her.

Her attention seemed to shift from him at first–despite the fact that she was listening, really listening–her face turned toward the floor. There was a lot to take in, even when he’d only started to talk. They’d spoken about forgiveness before, but at that point she hadn’t been able to discern whether she really forgave him. She’d wanted to try to have him around–had that urge to keep trying–and now, she’d say she cared, enough to admit her feelings to him in the kitchen.

This conversation had become more than she’d expected. If she was being honest with herself, she’d expected something more noncommittal: an I know, or something that would similarly piss her off, but that she’d push through because she meant it, and because she wanted to assure him that this was, at least, stable, when everything else was not.

But here he was. Answering questions, reassuring her. That any bitterness he held had been set aside. That she had his forgiveness, too, something she knew implicitly but had felt she did not deserve. That the distanced pursuit since their reconnection–one that he had started, but she had encouraged–was a result of genuine want and feeling. That he wanted to care for her– no, that he wanted to love her. He wanted her to allow him to love her, and he was afraid of her pulling back again.

That had been evident for months.

There were many things Bellamira could say about the Gauss now in front of her. He’d made strides in considering her feelings, and many more in getting along with the people around him. It was night and day, really–because even if he upset her, or she upset him, there could be earnest dialogue about it. A sense of accountability. At the same time, he hadn’t expected her trust: her own sense of agency had been preserved over and over again. He’d been patient. She’d had time to figure out her feelings–and, really, she’d decided that the chase was getting old. There was a natural fear he would lose interest, but something had been telling her this time could be different—and she believed it. Logically, that was forgiveness.

Knowing his feelings was something different from hearing them. It was validating, even if digging into them hadn’t really been her goal. Her features softened– knit eyebrows and downturned lips transformed into something gentler, more vulnerable. Despite this, she took the time to think before she spoke. Here was another inversion of roles. Gauss, emotional, and Bellamira, weighing her options and their possible results, taking the time to reason them out. Somewhere between her admission and the following conversation, her own point had been lost. It was recoverable, though. Recoverable without hurting his feelings more than her full fifteen seconds of silence probably already had. Thaddeus wasn’t the type to blow up without some kind of real instigation.

And, for once, she knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Hey eyes met his again, hand relaxing against his skin. Her gaze was resolute. She broke this brief bit of eye contact as she reached past him, the stem of her glass sliding comfortably between her middle and ring finger. Bringing it around him, she took a slow sip. Her mouth was dry, and the seltzer didn’t really help. It was dry, too.

“I want to stop running away from you.” At first, their reconciliation had been slow. She’d had periods for answering and not answering, though she hadn’t left him on read for any more than a week or so. It had been emotionally draining, at first, but had gotten better as they began to trust each other again. “I think that’s what I mean when I say that I love you. That I want to practice loving you–as an action, or a method, or whatever Salem would call it–I want to care for you and I want to let you care for me. I want to be a stable presence in your life, not someone you think might slip away at any second.”

There was a deep breath as she stepped to his side. She filled her glass from the can of seltzer again, and exchanged the can for the plate on the counter, head tilting towards the couch. “Because I know you care about me. You’ve shown me that over and over again.”

She didn’t step away from him, despite her suggestion to move into the living room. “I just need you to know that I want to be here. Even when I shut down. If everything with your family goes straight to Hell… I’ll be there. If I could be anywhere, I’d choose to be here with you every single time.”

Gauss couldn’t bring himself to continue with his simple cocktail of rum and juice. He didn’t even think to reach for the stuffed pepper. He only listened. When the conversation began, he was already frazzled and frantic. Since then, the topic had drastically changed. The road to get there was full of twists and turns. It was a roller coaster of emotions and topics, new admissions and confessions, forgiveness and passion. It was intense, thus by nature, draining; consuming just as any flame had to be in its attempt to stay alive.

Her hand rested on his cheek. For once, she was warm; she normally wasn’t. Their normal spark was there all the same. She wasn’t always this sweet, affectionate soul she was now. It was something she had grown into. It was a pleasant change, but being pleasant didn’t keep it from burning away some of his social energy.

He waited through the silence. He listened to her. His brain formulated half-thoughts about how this would work. He would still be an agent. He would still go out on missions. Could she handle that? How long he would be gone, how dangerous it would be? He doubted she would return to the field, and even if so, doubted it would be with him. He wasn’t even sure if he could properly fight with her. All of that paled in comparison to the question of if this exchange meant they were formally dating.

Questions for another time. For now, they would remain half-thoughts.

”Then be here. Move in, if you want,” he suggested, then stopped. He stepped forward into the living room. It was a simple step down from his kitchen and over the transitional flooring. The whole suite in this area was fairly open. He didn’t continue speaking for a moment as he mulled over his words. ”Or… I guess just bring some things over and register yourself to unlock the doors… I know Salem’s place is closer to work and school,” he added, giving her a more thoughtful and honestly less intense suggestion.

There was, in fact, a huge difference between moving in entirely and essentially being given a key to his place.

He wanted to go on. To tell her she could just convert a whole spare bedroom to be hers. To show her that even if she did shut down and wanted to run off, she didn’t have to literally run off. She could have her own room, her own bed, her own space. She could carve out her own little nook and make it hers. Thing was, those words weren’t coming to him. What he wanted and what he needed were drifting apart.

Return

The Clouds Darken
”I don’t know if my family situation will get worse. I really feel like I need to talk to someone about it,” he told her. He was almost exasperated in admitting it. His internal battle to support her had crumbled away to his own issues. He was strong for a while, but he could only be so for so long. ”Obviously, I’m talking to you, but I mean like… someone involved,” he explained.

”I feel like I should either talk to V or my father, but I don’t even know who I’d call first,” he admitted, spilling his own frustration out for her to see.

Mira followed him into the living room. Set the plate and her drink on the coffee table, palming the rest of the pepper she’d only started. They were starting to cool, but not cold yet. She hadn’t reacted much to his suggestion she moved in–only a raised eyebrow–but they could talk about that later. He’d taken her words resoundingly literally. Even if she did move in, it was doubtless that she would stay at Salem’s when they were out of town, or generally to do the things she tried to do with her brother like making dinner, but that wasn’t the point.

She sat down as he started talking about his family, pulling her feet up cross-legged, sideways on the couch to face his presumed seat. Her hand moved through her hair, a tick she must have picked up from her brother. Her own heart rate was deescalating. She was glad for it, in that her initial point had been that she wanted to offer him support, and that the rest of their divergence–no matter how important–had obscured something he was so upset about. She’d been considering his situation on their way to the apartment, weighing the course of action she wanted to encourage. At first, she’d felt that he should talk to Vi. Based on her own experiences, that was what felt natural—but now, she was less sure.

“No, that.. makes sense. Your feelings can’t really be resolved by talking to me, but I can try to help you reason them out.” She sounded like Salem again, but her tone was markedly different, still smoothly marked by their emotional intimacy. Popping the rest of the pepper in her mouth–hand covering it as she chewed–she found the rest of what she wanted to say. “But the core question in there–who you should call–it’s all about what you want from it.”

She waited for him to sit before she continued.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. Your brother clearly cares for you–you used to be close–but you’re in a, like, really long-term state of conflict. That’s probably…“ --she searched for the word–”…multifaceted.”

“The weapon thing is a sore spot. Like, it’s the root of your issues with Vi, or at least your dad’s. His reaction to this could be… pretty bad. Like, in terms of consequences.”

A bit of a pause. Where this was going went against most of Mira’s anti-authoritarial instincts. “On the other hand, the worst your father can really do is… be angry. He’s not going to confront Vi about it. I know you’re worried about the kids, but…”

She didn’t know how to say this tactfully, but it had to be said. “He’s remarried—and both of your parents had to have the gene, right?”

She said words, but none of them really offered the reassurance he was looking for. It was not that she was without logic, though she was slightly off-base in that he had been on decent terms with V for years. Unlike Thea, he and V operated on mostly radio silence and pleasantries when they did cross paths. Actually, that was part of what bothered him so much about this scenario.

While none of this was ideal, it was stable. It was functional. It had been functional for years. This was the first thing in ages to rock the boat. That is what concerned Gauss the most.

”I think…” Gauss replied, stalling not unlike Bella when she searched for a word. In this case, it was because he couldn’t find a replacement for one and ultimately just settled: ”...that I have failed. Failed to explain that I feel like I should do or say something here, but I don’t actuallywant to.”

It took Mira a moment to process this.

Her stance shifted. Her right leg broke from its crossed position, foot flat on the couch cushion in front of her, and her fingers interlaced just below her knee. This gave her a pause in which to think. There were several possible reasons why he might not want to talk to them. The first, and possibly biggest, was the chaos he could sow. This was a guess she was willing to bet on, and it added a new and unanticipated dimension to their discussion. It would make sense that Gauss would struggle with the distinction between things he should and things he wanted to do. A lot of his therapy had been centered around exchanging wants for obligations. This reeked of feelings of obligation, but it wasn’t clear to her if what Thaddeus thought he should do was the right decision, if he should actually push through with it.

“Do you feel… guilty about that?”

”B’, there is guilt from all directions. Guilt if I do and it blows up, guilt if I don’t and ignorance reigns supreme,” Gauss answered, his cadence hastening and his response pouring out like a shaken soda pop prematurely cracked open.

”I could lose all my support–which is fine, I guess–but I could make it worse for my siblings, too. This isn’t just reopening old wounds, it’s making them deeper. I don’t know if it’s even worth it to hurt my siblings that much–if that’s what happens,” he went on, spewing the internal dialogue that had been consuming him.

”But, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the truth comes out sooner or later no matter what. Even the biggest corporate cover-ups get unraveled eventually. Even if I kept this to myself, if it came out later that I knew, it could just… make shit worse,” Gauss admitted; or, more so, explaining how he was rationalizing the urge to do anything at all. ”Thea hates me. V only trusts me tentatively. If they learned I kept this from them, it’d probably burn whatever remaining trust was there for the rest of our lives,” Gauss told her.

These were all fair points.

She assessed him for a long moment. Considered reaching out to touch him, even, but disregarded the thought. It was more than likely that Gauss would reach out for physical comfort if he wanted it. Hands on knee as her anchor point, Mira leaned back, her eyes searching the ceiling as if looking for some kind of answer within it. This was something she often did when deep in thought, but usually less awkwardly.

This feeling of pressure in her hands stirred a sort of euphoric feeling, a physical memory of rushing air and pivoting shoulders. She’d always felt free on the rings, trusting in the strength of her body to keep her suspended between two flexible points in the air. There was nothing complex about it. It was physically taxing. It had been difficult to learn. It could be dangerous, and she’d injured herself doing it.

Despite all of these things, it was simple. It was an activity that allowed absolute agency. One in which it was solely up to Bellamira to hold or fall.

The core problem in attempting to offer Gauss advice was in his lack of agency, stemming from the complexity of the situation. Thaddeus hadn’t chosen to come across what could cause so much chaos. He also had precious little control of the outcome. He had his choices to make, of course, in terms of who to inform and if he wanted to at all, but he couldn’t determine what came of his words or silence.

Her posture straightened as her attention fixed on him again, a visible snap in focus. “If you keep it quiet, well... The status quo is preserved, but the ~lingering dread~ remains. If you go loud, there’s a resolution, but maybe not one that helps anyone. How likely is it that they actually figure it out?”

A ding. A notification pushed through Gauss’ phone. This wouldn’t have been a problem or interrupted the conversation normally, but there was a telltale fact about this particular ding that filled Gauss with existential terror before he even checked it. His phone was on silent. He received a notification anyway. It wasn’t the sound of a DWMA emergency broadcast, either. That was a different sound and Bella would have received it as well. The only person in the whole world that could send him a message despite his phone being on silent… was his father.

In all his panic, this was a possibility that he had entirely overlooked. His father likely had various ways of picking up information. He didn’t even need to check it. Once the puzzle pieces fell together, the image was too clear to ignore. The Lush Coffin was built by his father. Half the tech on him was built by his father. Even his phone was a custom build to resist magnetic pulses. In all his time at the DWMA, there was never any evidence that his father used these things to spy on him. Then again, as of late, Gauss did allow a team of his father’s to assess his progress and development.

”That’s him,” Gauss said flatly. His sun-kissed face turned as pale as it could given his natural complexion. His eyes almost shook inside his skull. It was not just panic; it was fear.

His phone dinged again.

And, like that, the stakes were raised exponentially.

She was beside him in an instant, closing the space and settling between the cushions of the couch. She leaned against him–not hard, just as a way to be physically present. Her left hand reached under his arm to rest flat against his back. Its palm stayed in place, but intermittently, her fingers brushed against his back in a steady stroking motion. Her own heart was hammering in her chest.

This could be bad.

What that text said depended on what Viraj actually knew. It was possible he had access to Gauss’ medical records. This might be the best case scenario. If he’d paid someone off to tell him important information, this could be a pre-emptive message. If he was–or they were–being surveilled, things could be a lot worse. He could have simply been alerted to what happened in Gauss’ appointment. This was a better option. He could know that they’d been debating what to do, whether or not to talk to his siblings. This was a worse option.

If he was aware of everything that had been exchanged in the apartment? Well, that was just fucking mortifying.

This train of thought was rapid-fire. It took no more than five or six seconds for her to parse the options and another five to judge their likelihood. This didn’t seem like the kind of information Gauss’ father would sit on. It had gone unaddressed until after their moment in the kitchen. To her, this implied surveillance to the fullest extent, the absolute worst option.

No, no. Actually, the worst option was one in which they were being surveilled, and that Viraj had stopped whatever he was doing to find an opening in their interactions himself. Assuming he was tipped off soon after their conversation at The Paper Trail, there was an hour where anything could have happened. If he’d just received a call about it–that was doable. If he’d heard it himself…

There was no point in stewing in her own paranoia.

Her attention returned to Gauss. He was still, frozen. Stuck in his head. She wanted to hold him tightly, to try to reassure him—but wasn’t what he needed, and wasn’t what needed to happen. Nothing was getting better until this was dealt with.

When he didn’t move, her other hand went for the phone in his pocket. The motion was slow, fingers grazing down his side, but there was nothing intimate or playful in her touch. She wanted him to know that she was going for it. Somehow, she doubted he’d contest her–but then, she’d never made a habit of grabbing for his phone.

She didn't even look at it. Instead, she held the phone face-down between them over his lap, either for him to grab or for her to flip over and unlock. Her voice was even, soft. It took no small amount of effort to keep it that way.

“Who’s reading?”

This was a game they occasionally played. It was a way to pass off the anxiety of opening up a text that was going to be upsetting. Usually, Bellamira’s phone was the target. There were several answers with precedent. “Me” if he took the phone from her. “You” if he didn’t. “Nobody” if he wasn’t ready yet. In a way, it was an attempt to exploit something familiar. An attempt to normalize the situation, painting it in the same light as simpler conflicts in the past. This was almost purely a stress response, but maybe not an inappropriate one.

What Bellamira did not know about Viraj was that he was not one for games. Patience was also not his strong suit. The moment she took the phone from the paralytic Gauss, Viraj decided to be a little more direct.

INCOMING CALL:
Viraj Thales​

It illuminated the holographic projector across the room. Gauss did not use a normal television. His was a unit with a screen that would act as a backdrop of the new era of three dimensional holographic projections. The DWMA used them, corporate entities used them, but they weren’t actually that standard for regular civilian or day-to-day use. Of course a household made by Thaltek would have one.

Two things happened in this instance. Gauss stopped being Gauss. He became Thaddeus Thales. The second was that any amount of agency they thought they had vanished. Whatever decisions that once existed were no longer theirs to make. Who to contact if anyone at all, when, how, what to say–all that anxiety no longer mattered. Viraj stripped it from them. A blessing and a curse, really.

Gauss looked over to Bella. All her physical reassurance was for naught in this scenario. No amount of warmth from her skin could pull him out from the cold abyss that was a familial interaction. His eyes rolled over to her to look at her, dull though they may be. Those golden orbs were now hollow, lifeless, powerless. Not a look he wore often.

”We should answer that,” he told her, flat and defeated.

There was a nod. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and she stared down at the phone ringing in her hand. Bellamira actually still had two options. The first—whipping his phone at the wall, buying some time, and apologizing later—would have, at another time, been the preferable one.

But she didn’t want to fuck this up, and they were already on the third ring.

Against her better instincts, she flipped the phone in her hand, glancing up to Gauss. She took in a deep breath and picked up the call. She sank into Gauss, arm slipping down his back and resting lower, out of sight. This was no longer a way to comfort him—rather, to steel herself for what might yet come. She forced a tight smile onto her face. Her eyes settled on the projector expectantly.

Return

The Wind Roars
“Hey Mister Thales.”

Her words were quick, rushed. As if she thought she could turn this into a normal conversation if she only spoke fast enough. Unfortunately, she could not. The image of Viraj Thales was thrown up into the projector back screen in full color and high fidelity. Even now, somehow, the man seemed to look down on them from his business office.

His office suite was grossly luxurious. Even the chair he sat in–a custom-made item from the Kittinger Company of Buffalo, New York–was worth more than some economy cars. His partners-style desk itself was worth more than some luxury cars. There existed nothing in the frame where he sat that was not engraved with the intricacy of a master craftsman or the impossible detail of micro-CNC work.

”Greetings, miss Osanna,” Viraj responded dryly. In truth, he didn’t have any particular issue with Bellamira. His son had plenty of flings; beyond that, it wasn’t uncommon for the Thales merchants to have their plentiful concubines. In short, Viraj didn’t care about his son’s taste. Still, a neutral standing often came across as negative. And, with a man like Viraj, that was an easy interpretation to make.

”Bellamira–a genuine question for you,” he went on, his cadence just as quick as hers and his command of the situation even greater. Even if it came from the fact there was an implied power dynamic here and he was the veteran male, some of it was in fact his own skill in oration.

”Do you happen to know, perchance, what my least favorite trait of your generation is?” he asked. A simple question, though an impossible one. ”It is actually one that neither my eldest son or daughter possess, but that young Thaddeus unfortunately is rife with,” he added, ”as are you.”

“I don’t, sir, but I might be able to guess.”

Her intonation slowed. She didn’t sound sarcastic. Bellamira had her moments, but she was only really disrespectful to authority figures when she was already irate. She was generally neutral. Neither overly respectful or disrespectful. Gauss had seen her this deferential before, but only on the phone with her own father—many years ago now.

This was a situation in which playing along was paramount. It felt like there was a heavy coat about her shoulders, stuffed with sand instead of down. The suffocating feeling of dread. She’d successfully taken the heat, but now that she was in the hot seat she almost wished she hadn’t.

“Both of us are impulsive, irreverent, and sometimes tone-deaf. Do any of those hit the mark?”

Her words were level–in some other inflection or situation, they might have sounded like a joke–but somehow, she didn’t think he’d laugh.

”You should not be so quick to belittle yourself–be the commentary true or not,” Viraj replied. As he no longer needed to match pacing, his tone, cadence, and overall approach to conversation slowed down. Every syllable was emphatic, as if every word he said was meant to be the one stressed by a thespian. If anything, he found her self-depreciation annoying. Unlike some, it was not some cute trait or sign of humility to him.

”I digress. Your guesses all happen to be incorrect,” he told her, flatly.

”No, children, my issue with your generation is how non-confrontational you are. You waste so much of your young lives concerned about the outcome of an action that you tolerate its torture for far longer than necessary. Had your generation been the one to encounter the last great plague, or Death-forbid the Kishin, I fear humanity would be lost,” he said, finally admitting his exact issue with them. His words were steeped in judgment and condemnation, like tea made so strong it became bitter.

His first remark gave her pause. Self-derision was a strategy she had learned and used as a way to direct the angle of incoming verbal abuse. Viraj broke her expectations by refusing to stoop to such a level—at least for now. Bellamira didn’t know Thaddeus’ father well, so she was effectively operating from an outdated textbook on an adjacent topic, informed by her own experience.

His tone didn’t scare her. They would have made another person freeze, but to Bellamira? This was almost friendly. Concern—no matter how derisive—was something she could accept despite the unfurling of indignation in her breast.

“I understand your point, but…” there was a moment of hesitation in which she feared unleashing the gates of hell. She leaned forward to set Gauss’ phone onto the table, disguising her silence. “…respectfully, I disagree.”

For the first time, she broke eye contact with the projector. Her face turned to look at Gauss, eyes flicking up to his, before she moved to rest the side of her face against his chest. A soft sigh. Her attention turned back to Viraj.

“I’ve hurt plenty of peo(ple by acting)–” she continued, her words fading into the background with a faint overlap with what followed.

“–with all due respect,” Viraj replied, raising his voice while cutting into the explanation as if a judge to overrule it, ”I did not ask for your argumentation, nor do I care for it.”

”Aside from that, miss, consider the context: I stated what my least favorite trait of your generation is. For you to claim you disagree would imply that you know my own tastes better than I,” he continued, further dissolving the retort Bella made.

Her eyes lit, incensed, but Mira’s teeth grit together. She wasn’t going to cause problems, not yet, but it was damn tempting.

Viraj lifted his head from its even, neutral position and cantered it over to one side. A call like this, holographic in nature, made gestures such as this a little odd. He was directing his attention to Thaddeus, but it did not translate perfectly as the angles of the graphics were ever so off.

”Wisdom, my son, is the sum total of mistakes made in your life. Your mother–I loved her. Perhaps more than any other woman I’ve crossed paths with. I never questioned that love until I felt that I had lost you and your siblings. I may not approve of your choices, but I will do as any father should and offer my advice: you should not bleed onto those who did not cut you,” Viraj said, specifically to Thaddeus, and with a massive shift in tone. While condemnation was the thread that held together his exchange with Bella, Thaddeus received a slower, deeper tone with a flat amount of genuine sincerity.

His words, as cliche as they may be, held a fair amount of weight in the situation. The entire reason Thaddeus had run to Bella was to share this news–this drama–about his family. He was upset and hurting, his heart aching with the ongoing echo of his teenage trauma, and that was what he reached out to Bella with. He was, as Viraj put it, bleeding onto her. In his mind, the mistake was in the same vein as how he allowed his frustrations with the children to affect his relationship with his wife. Was it perfectly analogous? Perhaps not. But, then again, when was the last time Thaddeus had done something sweet or romantic for Bella?

”Again, I digress. If my grievance with you is the avoidance of confrontation, now that you are present, what do you infer should be your next logical step?” he asked, though rhetorically. A social marionette, pulling people like puppets, trying to drag them to the specific topic he wanted to address. He was not so blunt as to do it himself.

Her ears were ringing.

It was a culmination of his interruption and what followed. She barely noticed the veiled dig at her. In fact, while she heard his last point, she was no longer listening.

Because if Viraj loved his wife until he’d lost his children, and he felt he’d lost his children to the DWMA, then she had the answer. Viraj knew. What she was going to do with that was only really a matter of impulse. He gave her an opening for the accusation, and she took it immediately, voice hard and almost growling.

“Well, we sure as hell don’t need to break the news.”

Those last words from Bella were little more than punctuation for what Viraj had said just prior. His father had said everything he needed to. He set the stage for the conversation. It didn’t take an elite detective to see it. There was no Victorian etiquette or Shakespearean design here. The man wanted to make a statement, then push the topic. Thaddeus was sure his father wouldn’t stop until the topic came to a logical conclusion.

Bellamira might have had the initial exchange with Viraj, but Thaddeus was already playing the mental chess game. She had pieced together that Viraj knew what they knew. What mattered more than that was determining when he knew it, how he acquired that information, and what his intentions were. Moments ago, the two thought they had the element of surprise in that this information would merely be sprung on V or Viraj, exciting an immediate reaction. Viraj had all but murdered that thought.

There were a few things Thaddeus could determine immediately. His father wanted to address the topic, not ignore it. Furthermore, he didn’t seem immediately upset by it. The most logical ways he could have found out would be a medical records update, an audio feed from inside the apartment, or an audio feed from the additional behavioral analysts enlisted. In every scenario, that meant his father knew about the recessive weapon gene.

His father was calm and knew about the gene. Furthermore, his father mentioned his mother in such a calm, almost endearing way. Shifting gears to inductive reasoning, it was a fair assumption that Viraj likely already knew this. That piece of information allowed all of the remaining pieces to begin falling into place. If his father knew about the gene, he had likely utilized that information already. He had mentally and emotionally coped. There wasn’t enough information to determine exactly when that was, but it had to have been quite some time. Which meant that his father called right this minute once he learned that Thaddeus knew of the gene and was deciding what to do about it. His father either wanted to intervene to avoid an even larger mess or to quell the current frustrations. Perhaps both.

”How long have you known?” Thaddeus asked flatly.

Viraj smirked. He could tell. Thaddeus was his son, after all. He wasn’t entirely hopeless.

”Well before Ray was born, Thaddeus. Daphne does not possess any variant of the gene,” he answered.

”So, it’s impossible for them to be Demon Weapons,” Thaddeus surmised.

”And extremely unlikely either has an ability like yours.” Viraj actually did not mean to come off as accusatory, but he couldn’t help it. He did.

Silence now punctuated the moment.

It hit Bellamira how much Viraj had sacrificed in his attempts to find an heir. Her own parents had tried again, when they didn’t get the outcome they wanted, alienating both of their children in the process. But Gauss’ father, apparently, had just kept going.

She didn’t have the words to express how fucked that was, at least not in a way that wouldn’t sidetrack the conversation or force Viraj to shut her down to continue it. Instead, she closed her eyes. Fed into the silence.

It was not unlikely she and Gauss would discuss all of this after the fact. Preferably, silently and privately.

”This certainly does bring up a lot of questions,” Gauss remarked, half-heartedly. He was fishing for an answer.

”None that matter. Thaddeus--my son-- I assure you that if I believed this information or for that fact anything I could do would either mend bridges with your siblings or at least result a net positive for you during your career in Death City, I would have done it by now,” Viraj answered, cutting right to the point. He didn’t take the bait as much as he barged through the door with answers.

”While they have been few and far between, every effort I have ever put into mending relationships has been rebuffed. Your brother at best acknowledged my congratulations at his promotion, but your sister was quite… vicious when I tried to show any support. I do fear further worsening the situation,” Viraj explained, providing a dry but factual insight as to what attempts he made over the last five years. He was stoic, statuesque, and doing his best to pour out these words in an even, controlled tone.

”So, yes, I held this secret, but in truth, it was no secret at all. I didn’t intend on hiding it as much as I saw no way to share it without causing more seemingly irreparable damage,” Viraj said with the first waver in his voice since the call had started. It wasn’t much, barely a falter, but there was guilt hidden between his words.

Bellamira had the momentary feeling that she should not be present.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t welcome. Viraj (fairly reasonably) probably didn’t want her there, but she wasn’t sure she cared what Viraj wanted, at least not in comparison to his son. There was a feeling of sinking anxiety in her chest; she could only hope that he would not shun her for having shared in this with him.

But there was a moment, too, when she understood what Gauss saw in his father. The complexity of a man who cared in the most pragmatic way. It was hard for her to listen to, but she felt she had to say something.

“I know my opinion doesn’t mean shit here,” she said quietly, “but I believe that.” She wasn’t sure if she said it to benefit Thaddeus or his father. She wasn’t sure if it mattered.

”I am not so arrogant as to reject an understanding when I see it,” Viraj responded, ”I imagine you have withheld many things from your brother for similar reasons. Not to deceive, but having weighed the outcome of the truth to be lesser than the problems it could cause.” Somehow, though, when Viraj said it, it felt accusatory in nature even if the reality was they had done the same thing. Worse was the realization that she and Viraj had done the same thing.

“More times than I can count.”

Her free hand combed through her hair as if she might find an answer within it. The attention made her uncomfortable. If she’d been disregarded, she could have lapsed into silence. But, for her now, there was more to this. An aching feeling in her chest.

Fuck, I don’t want to call my parents. Salem would be pissed. No, not pissed. Just upset. Probably not even with her—but it would hurt him. It would be just another thing to keep from him, and it was likely to just make things worse. She bit her lip, hard. Found herself back in the moment. “You almost make me want to call my parents. But… Salem’s more important to me.”

She didn’t really know if she wanted feedback on that, or just to let him know he’d had at least some impact. She didn’t know why she cared that he did.

”I imagine Thea feels quite the same way with V’,” Viraj responded, allowing a slightly sullen tone to color his words for the first time.

Gauss wanted to speak, but he could read a room. His father needed a moment. The silence that followed was not an invitation as much as it was a genuine moment of reprieve.

”Even then, the two fight–or so I hear,” he went on, not really progressing his point forward. He realized this himself.

”I cannot speak for your parents. I also will not lie to you and state that all parents behave a certain way. I know that is not true,” Viraj began to explain, his words almost a type of legalese. Litigation wasn’t his concern, though. Much like Thaddeus, Viraj was setting up a statement to avoid argument.

”Any parent with love for their child would feel some pain and remorse in hearing that they care more for their sibling. There is no harm in caring deeply for your sibling; no, the pain, child, comes from the contrast in how we see our loved ones,” Viraj explained, ”if I was asked which of my seven children is my favorite, it would be an impossible question. I would even hesitate for those half-blooded children born of my former wives. Ray may be the heir, but time has taught me that no child of mine is on a pedestal above the others.”

”Had I known that from the beginning, well… even I cannot predict how different our lives would be,” Viraj admitted. Slow and dry. He wasn’t wavering as he did before, but that was a difference of bracing. This time, he knew his words would have an impact and prepared for it.

Thaddeus was not so strong. He had heard his father say similar words in the past, but never so well thought-out or intimate with the topic. More so, he had never heard his father say these words in front of another soul. Bellamira being present as a witness to these confessions was something he never knew he needed until he had received it. For the second time this day, tears rolled down his cheeks. This was the impact Viraj had prepared for.

Bellamira reacted physically first, as she was prone to.

She straightened from her position leaning into Gauss, arm sliding up his back. The hand that had rested against his chest moved in slow circular motions, a comforting sort of gesture, as her other pulled him in by the opposite shoulder. She didn’t try to dry his tears. They were welcome to flow, set free by the release of a weight he had been carrying, and she didn’t dare to interrupt them for fear of stemming their catharsis.

Mira entertained two trains of thought nearly simultaneously. They were as layers of motion in the river: above, swift tides whisking debris along the surface, and below a darker tide mixed with mud and silt and stone that slowed the water’s progress. On the surface her thoughts were most brisk and attentive. They first had urged her to comfort Gauss, and she’d let the tide pull her to that conclusion. But she wanted to do more than comfort–she wanted to understand.

She worked backwards through the moment: she wanted to take the time to parse it fully before she reacted based on her own impulses. It took effort to tread that water; she thought it was important to do so. Her takeaway was this: If Viraj would acknowledge that the favoritism he’d displayed caused this rift, to express this kind of regret, and in front of her no less, then that indicated a significant amount of remorse. Of guilt.

Of course, he’d said as much himself. That his personal prioritization of his children has caused significant problems. That their lives could have been different, in the light of different choices. His meaning was not obscured. It was not cagey or half-realized. This was not an apology, but it was an explanation. An explanation that sorely needed to be aired.

But she could not help but be tugged down by the undertow. His words echoed through her mind. She blinked rapidly, trying to ward away the tears welling at the edges of her eyes. In a way–not even a particularly abstract one–she was stuck on the other end of the same conflict. The way that he’d bridged their struggles, moving from her unwillingness to call her parents because of Salem to his own fractured relationships with his children, well, he may as well have filled her pockets with rocks in her attempt to be impartially supportive despite the suffocating wake of his words.

Bellamira’s father had been trying to contact her for months. There was no reason for him to do so at this point, if not for a sense of regret, at least on the behalf of her mother. She was no longer on a path of success towards their aspirations: his efforts might have redoubled when she had joined FATE, but they hadn’t ceased after she left the program. They wanted to talk to her, not to the child they had prepared for the academy, and she wasn’t ready to deal with that.

The problem was, Bellamira knew she’d taken after her parents: she possessed both their best and worst traits. Her mother’s conflict aversion and situationally intense spite and her father’s propensity to rage and poor impulse control were all qualities that Salem had thrown in her face in some of their ugliest moments. One of her most engrained traits, coming from both sides, was how damn stubborn she could be when she’d made a decision. Salem had worked to forge himself into the fundamental opposite to all of these traits, though he was just as stubborn. In his distancing from her parents, he neglected to remember her father’s unwavering devotion, her mother’s way of wearing down emotional barriers. Salem spent a lot of time building emotional barriers.

A frown pulled at the edge of her lips. My mother, my father, not ours. Her train of thought looped back around. The core continuing conflict between them all–Salem and Bella, Vi and Thea and Gauss–could be explained as extensions of the favoritism that drew their parents to treat them so differently. The direction of these familial rejections had simply reversed over the years due to maltreatment and, inversely, solidarity. Gauss was caught in the middle of a rift that he had no part in causing–but Bellamira had no advice to give him, no resolution on offer. Her relationship with Salem had come at the cost of the one with her parents. At the time, it had been necessary. Here, it was not.

The thought hit her that, if love was something you did, it was not something that either of their siblings felt was done for them by their parents. It was something that Vi and Thea, that she and Salem, had done for each other. Viraj described a different kind of love: one that transcended emotional distance, anger, guilt, or regret. It hit her that this kind of love was distinctly–though not uniquely–parental. Salem would walk through the gate of Death for her, which felt natural considering their close relationship, but she knew her father would do the same despite their estrangement. She knew he would do the same for Salem, even after all of their conflict–though her brother would never admit it. She could assume Viraj would stride forward, too, for the sake of any of his children. This kind of love was not conditional, not based on actions or inactions. It wasn’t something you could do. It just was.

Return

The Storm Passes
It had probably only been ten or twenty seconds since Viraj had stopped speaking, but it felt like it had been at least as many minutes. To his credit, he gave them a moment to breathe. He might have been impatient, but he wasn’t callous. The hand on Gauss’ chest stilled. She gazed back towards the projector. Her eyes were limpid and wet, but no tears yet spilled onto her cheeks.

She wanted to explain any of her thoughts. To rationalize the connection, to express understanding, to acknowledge this epiphany in any real and personal way. Instead, she offered a wry smile. Her voice came out low, but not strained.

“It seems we’re on different sides of the same fence.” A stilted pause, an uneven number of beats long, just long enough to be uncomfortable but not long enough to be properly dramatic. “But I don’t know how to take down those barriers without fucking up everything they’re supporting. And I guess you don’t, either.”

”I have sought advice from minds both wise and well-educated and I have came to a similar, but broader conclusion: no one knows how to rebuild something without first destroying it,” Viraj replied, almost defeated. While he didn’t show it nearly as much, he too was emotionally drained. More so, what he shared was a condensed fraction of the actual time he spent with therapists, specialists, and so on all giving counsel on how to potentially help his fractured family.

All disappointed him. No advice he was ever given inspired faith that it would help more than it would hurt.

”Let us circle back to perhaps the true point of this conversation,” Viraj said, still defeated, but smoother in tone, clearly using the skills of oration built over years of providing verbal demonstrations and leadership.

”You are now stuck in the same dilemma as I,” he told them. Simple. Matter-of-fact, even. The defeat was gone and now was a type of dry acceptance.

”You are torn between opposing forces. On one hand, a feeling of obligation to your siblings and the societal pressure of honesty. On the other, being aware that at best the information will change nothing and at worst it will be fuel for fire that burns at our familial ties,” Viraj continued, churning out a rhetoric regarding his own struggle he had with the truth. A struggle he thought Thaddeus would now have.

”As… appalling as this dilemma may be–and it is as it has been a plague of both guilt and remorse–I believed it would still be an easier burden to bear than to concern yourself with both the reaction of your siblings and myself,” he explained, returning to that genuine tone he had earlier. It was just easier for him to be curt with Bellamira than his own son and that happened to be who he was talking to.

Thaddeus hardly missed a beat once there existed that slightly elongated pause that indicated the end of the speech his father gave.

”Why did you do this to us?” he asked, plainly, sharply even as it was a direct and precise question, ”and, I don’t mean the vague answer of preserving our family lineage or the company,” he explained, only sharpening that question more so the scar it left could not be ignored, ”I mean what happened, father, to make you think that this was all okay. That it would ever be okay.”

If one thought Thaddeus was throwing the same type of tantrum as Thea, they would be wrong. Thaddeus’ voice did not just waver, it was faltering at every vowel. He was breaking down more and more as if the Great Wall of China were to be reduced to piles of dirt and stone. His once great confidence, charisma, ego–all gone. In place left a devastated little boy, barely past his preteens.

Viraj made the mouth gesture to create an ‘I’, but he said nothing. His jaw floated there unhinged. He didn’t have words. Or, maybe he did, but second thought them before birthing them into the world. It wasn’t clear. He tried once, twice, thrice more to make a sentence, to utter a word, and failed to even make a sound so audible the microphone could pick it up. This man, this great orator and leader of the technological world, was made speechless.

His mouth closed.

He inhaled deeply, held his breath, closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and waited. Then he exhaled before refocusing onto Thaddeus through the call.

”I have an answer, but it doesn’t feel like enou–”

”--just say it and I’ll decide if it is enough.” It was the first time anyone had spoken over Viraj like that in years. It was the first time Bellamira had ever seen anything even remotely like a backbone from Thaddeus when it came to his father.

”It is how my father was and his father before him. I know you didn’t get to meet him, but your great-grandfather and grandfather were practically the same man that said the same things,” Viraj explained, doing his best to put into words what generational abuse added up to but entirely failing because was just plain not raised to be a man of either empathy or sympathy.

And, right now, that wasn’t enough for Thaddeus.

”Th-Tha-Th-The-Th… that’s it?” Thaddeus replied, as if in disbelief it was that simple. Or, more accurately, rejecting the simplicity of it all. ”That means you knew what it was like. It had to have been the sa–”

It was Thaddeus' turn to be cut off.

”–it wasn’t. I took over Thaltek a year before becoming a father. Your mother was in the hospital with Thea when the first outbreaks of MIBVI happened. The world was burning and I tried to help put it out. I repurposed Thaltek to help the DWMA as best I could. I poured so much of our fortune into the pandemic that had it not been for Magitech, we would be destitute,” Viraj explained, allowing some of his own anger and frustration to slip out into his words.

He allowed himself to share some of his pain.

”And, Magitech, what a gamble that was. But, my father–your grandfather–was insistent that the Thales legacy always bet on the newest technology,” he continued, just transitioning from one topic to another as if releasing decades of vented steam, ”I doubt you even remember half of what I taught you about the Thales legacy. The legend is that we are descendants of Thales of Miletus, one of the great sages and an alleged founder of Greece. The Thales line has had trade and influence across Eurasia for thousands of years. And, we did it by being the educated, opportunist, self-centered men of preservation that our fathers teach us to be.”

”I’m sure you think lowly of me for what I’ve done, but when I grew up, I recall my grandfather condemning my father for marrying my mother–an Indian girl. He hated my name: Viraj. He hated that it wasn’t a proud Greek name. He hated that my father didn’t marry a proud, Greek woman. He hated it so much that he pushed me to marry your mother, a truly proud, Greek woman that stole my heart by rejecting me countless times. You’d never believe it, son, but I fought for her over two years of courtship,” he admitted, continuing to pour out details of his past. Thaddeus had never heard them.

Thaddeus was partly in awe. Normally, he had been somewhat numb to the physical affections and reassurance that Bella was providing him, but now it was providing her insight. She could feel how he transitioned from anger and rage and grief now to outright confusion and almost sympathy. That was until it just all went blank. He no longer knew what to think.

Viraj still wasn’t done, but he was changing gears.

”No, it was not the same. When the world was falling apart, I sent your brother and sister there under the guise of training when the reality of it was that it was for their safety. From the pandemic and potentially me sending our family under. Then they wanted to stay when there was finally hope for a cure… then you wanted to leave after you found out you were special… and suddenly, when MIBVI was all-but cured and I could come up to breathe for the first time in years, my family was gone. I missed out on some of your best years,” he explained, exasperated.

”I was upset. It is easy for you to judge me just like it is far easier for me to look back and see how foolish I was for feeling anything other than relief that you three survived when literal millions did not. But, consider that I had spent years surviving by doing what I was taught by my father. And, when I was hurt, the only defense I had… was what my father had taught me,” he explained, his words hitting like a confession from a war criminal. He knew it was wrong, but as wrong as it was, it was also fact.

And that was the backdrop to it all. The pandemic had changed many families for the worse–most obviously through their lost members, emptied clans, traumatized military and civilians alike–but it had also prevented that which was already broken from getting better. It was an often unspoken factor, not quite taboo, but difficult both to navigate and internalize without really cognitantly experiencing it themselves. One that changed everything, but that was such a constant it was rarely questioned.

This conversation, unlike the prior silence, seemed to happen very fast. She didn’t really have time to move at Gauss’ upset–no, she’d frozen at the tone of his voice. At the anger rising in his soul. Hawk eyes watched the pair, as if she could moderate the pain disseminating between them, both adversarial and shared. She couldn’t, of course. She could only watch.

So she listened. Took in the information that was being shared, made connections where she could. All of it made sense. She hated to think it, but it made sense, in the same way that Salem’s drinking and her father’s rage made sense. The widespread PSAs highlighting post-traumatic stress and intergenerational trauma (to name only a couple), which had become common from the later years of the pandemic, focused on maintaining sound minds as part of sound bodies. This did not at all negate MIBVI’s effects on almost everyone around them.

There certainly wouldn’t have been much time to heal from pre-existing intergenerational trauma in the midst of all that, especially in such a stressful position. If a coping mechanism worked, it worked, no matter how shitty. That was the state of the world at the time.

Viraj’s pause was not a place for her to step in, but it was the time she needed to unfreeze, to refocus. The hand on Gauss’ back slowed to a stop. She focused on calming her mind, finding a place to set down the chaotic thoughts and feelings knotted into a ball around her heart. It was like respooling tangled thread, methodological, a nearly physical sensation of organization. It took only a moment to do. It was a reflex, but not one that she could yet engage in periods of extreme personal stress. This pause, this lull, gave her the reprieve she needed to get her shit together.

Bellamira let the warmth from her hand seep into his back. It was no attempt at soul communication, but a pulse of her more serene state, a drop of water into a roiling river. She didn’t know what else to do.

That single drop turned out to be so insignificant that Thaddeus did not even notice it. If Bellamira perhaps had the skill her brother did with the Healing Wavelength, she could have made a difference. As this situation was painted on the canvas of life, however, there her serenity hardly amounted to the slightest change in hue.

The Thales were not often emotional creatures. Thea was the lone exception with a willful fire in her inherited from her mother, sparked perhaps by the fire Prometheus granted her Greek ancestors. Thaddeus was more stoic. He spoke out of line and in anger, but now in the face of stone-cold logic and unfortunately valid explanations, his feelings and thoughts collided. His despair and sympathy danced to the beat of pathos and logos competing in cadence like two tribal war drums trying to outmatch the other. All while ignoring the fact their purpose was to unify those listening, not provide them an unreachable, exhausting tone.

No matter how he rationalized what he was told, the anger and frustration still existed. The longer the pause went on and his thoughts went a million miles per hour, the more he understood the plight of his father. Yet, that time did not provide his heart the same favor. The mind was an easy thing to convince, but the heart was not one that could be repaired so quickly.

”Then I am glad,” Gauss responded dryly, ”that I did not let you teach me to be that way.” With that said, Gauss reached for his phone and ended the call. The projection of his father shrank away and the room fell silent. In truth, he did not mean to offend or hurt his father more, but he could not keep himself composed in that conversation any longer. He did not hate his father, but he hated what his father represented. He hated the teachings and traditions of his patrilineal line. He hated what it apparently meant to be a Thales.

The relief that she felt when the call disconnected… despite the fact that Gauss’ father was almost certainly angry, it stopped this, the escalation. The river slowed. Her eyes narrowed at the phone on the table, willing it to stay silent. Finally, she turned to him, disregarding the room.

The pain came from him in waves.

Her hands found shoulders, and she squeezed them gently. Leveraging from her feet on the couch, guided by his shoulders, she hopped from her seat to sit in his lap. She didn’t try to kiss him, to minimize his feelings and suggest something else. The thing was, Bellamira had always been better at physical intimacy and comfort than emotional support. It was a language she spoke fluently.

He might have pushed her away—and she wouldn’t be offended—but now that there was no other stimulus to muddy her mind, she wanted him to know she was focused only on him.

“Is there…” she lapsed, struggling to produce the words. It wasn’t that they were difficult to force out: it was that she didn’t know what she should say. What could help. In another moment, Bellamira would have strove to prove that she was listening and cared, but in this one she did not have to. Thaddeus was well aware that she cared about him: he knew a version of her that would have fled when the phone rang. Her support was something already on offer; already, in a way, being used. She had nothing else to give him.

“Can I help, somehow?”

His eyes burned. He hadn’t cried this much in years. Even as a child, he rarely shed a tear. Tears were signs of weakness and a Thales should not show that weakness. Yet now, the impression of his father in that hologram was blurred by wet tears still hovering around his eyelids. The irony of tears being what blocked his vision of his father in the last few minutes of the call was not lost on him.

Gauss did not push Bella away. He also did not embrace her. He appreciated her effort and physical support, but he knew not how to express that at the moment. In truth, one lone thought conquered the battlefield of his mind. That was if his father could not solve this problem with all his wisdom, wealth, and time, that he–the son–had no hope of doing so, either. The anger, the spite, the hurt–all of it right now was secondary to the fact that Gauss was coming to terms with the fact there was no solution. No solution to the animosity with his siblings–the hate from his sister–no solution for the carrying the secret of his gene, no solution that pulled his family even remotely back together.

He was lost.

He finally turned his head over to Bella, tears still flowing so freely that the shift in position changed the path they took down his cheek. He found her. Her eyes, often so pointed and cold to a world outside, warm and wide for him. Her hands on him, supporting him in the gentlest of ways. Her presence–her very soul–there as if a torch to keep the dying flame in his lit if ever it went out.

”I don’t think, B, that there is anything anyone can do, honestly,” he admitted, defeat and futility infesting his words and writhing through his dry, growled voice.

”But I still want you to stay,” he told her selfishly, knowing it was so often a fight for her not to flee.

The thing was, that flight response had been discarded when she’d decided against introducing his phone to the projector’s backdrop.

“Well, I… I meant it when I said I wanted to be here.” Mira’s words were soft; she punctuated them with the cracking of a smile in her marble lips. Her eyes brightened, in contrast to his, dark and reflective with the tears that still fell down his cheeks. She leaned forward, pressed her lips against his forehead, paused. Pulled him into a tight hug.

“Besides, the hard part’s done. I may as well spend the night.”

Return

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Kisei☆Hoshi​

Deadsoul​

Species Death Golem
Partner Eloise Keegan
Rank Two-Star

Location Zelezny Brod, Liberec Region, Czech Republic
Mission The Missing of the Giant Mountains
Status Irritated

​

Tags: EmperorsChosen The Regal Rper Haze- Merciless Medic Pumpkid

Kisei was suddenly taken back to his time in Paean. Information on the original program was quite scarce. It was a common misunderstanding that the Paean Program was merely the Dall Island Incident, but there was more to it. The program might not have been as fleshed out as F.A.T.E. was, but there were trial runs and a handful of evaluations done after. It was during Dall Island and the few missions that followed that Kisei, then Midori, saw perhaps the most dysfunctional agents he had ever met. In fact, few of them could have or should have even truly been considered agents. Some were rabid dogs that needed a muzzle. Some possessed wildly dangerous variations of abilities. Some were just desperate. That program was proof enough that you couldn't just put a leash around your problems and force them to stay in line.

Despite all of his experience, though, Kisei didn't actually know what the decision making process was behind the scenes. His role was to guide when he could and evaluate all that occurred. The Paean Program was a band-aid solution; he was sure of that. The current program required upwards of years of therapy, physical and spiritual rehabilitation, and often even additional, specialized training before agents became field ready. It was day and night from the "toss a collar on them" solution years earlier. There was thought, structure, and steps. Even now, the group was in its second stage. Instead of strict supervision under a mentor, they went out on missions with a designated leader. Most of them had proven their mettle.

Then came annoying little fuckers like Dante.

Dante reminded Kisei of the hot-headed dipshits in the previous program. Hopeless idiots that thought they were hot shit, completely ignorant of the fact no single individual or even set of partners could do it alone. Sure, there were missions that required few people, but in the grand scheme of things, those were minimal. Outside of the Fate Program, dedicated teams were called squads and were comprised of eight to twelve people with a dedicated squad leader. Then said squads were put into groups of four and called a platoon. Platoons were often what were sent for large threads, like Ao and Astila in Belgium. Dante with his big mouth and bigger ego made it pretty obvious he hadn't put together that he wasn't as valuable as an eight man squad or a forty-man platoon. Even if he was a Spellbreaker, that remained true.

The only man in the entire DWMA that got away with acting like a one-man army was Herakles, and that was a combination of his impossible strength and a media image he maintained. If he were to be sent on a real mission with actual danger, that bold façade would fall real fast. If the biggest chad in the DWMA knew when to stand down, Dante had no excuse.

That was the difference he saw between them. Dante was an insecure little boy that hated him for his last name. Kisei disliked Dante because the cocky little fucker was making an ass out of himself.

All that to say, it wasn't as if the rest of the group was doing much better. Sara didn't follow the texted instructions, either. He would reprimand her later. Wren followed suit soon after. At the very least, it seemed Zosar was trying to stay in line. Wren was also newer to the group and likely followed in the footsteps of Sara, but nonetheless spoke out of turn. Normally this wouldn't be such an issue, but the agents did need to follow orders. The involvement of the CIA on foreign soil was a whole issue in and of itself that needed taken seriously, but it was forgivable for them not to truly grasp that as is.

Unlike the comrades he currently had no small amount of contempt for right now, Kisei knew there was a time and place for all issues. It wasn't the worst place to discuss a plan of action, but it certainly didn't look good to show such friction within the group. He doubted it inspired their host. Instead of addressing it and worsening the situation, Kisei merely made a simple suggestion to Elly through their connection: 'how about you scold the knucklehead after and I'll talk to the werewolf twins about following orders?'

Meanwhile, Kisei did actually have a question of his own to ask Wallner, and given he was the one that knew the situation, it hardly felt it was a hypocritical act to speak without running it by Elly.

"Would you happen to know where each individual went before they vanished? Or, perhaps with whom they might have had a discussion? The goal would be to retrace their steps. Hopefully find something concrete instead of chasing hunches or working on assumptions," Kisei asked, formally and politely, though the dig he took at some of the commentary made at others was hardly hidden--even by the language barrier.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

The Missing of the Giant Mountains
Investigative Mission

Local Time: 0615 (6:15 AM) - Date: 09/27/67
Location: Zelezny Brod - Liberec Region - Czech Republic​

With some inner amusement, the man could only picture the screaming that would take place after the vid link was killed. Though at least the series of questions he was met with in rapid succession were of interest, though it did leave him with the bother of translating it all. Running a single hand across what looked to be a motion pad, the images were brought up, splitting the screen into four quarters, with each meister and weapon pair, himself and the witch.

Turned his full attention towards Sara, or where she would be on the screen, his face broke out into the tiniest of grins as he let each image come into focus, before going back to himself alone. "I must say you have an interesting imagination. Not that you are wrong, but I considered this before setting up that train. Indeed, there could be a great hunter, or the town is compromised, however, there are reasons I believe this not to be so and some misconceptions I wish to clear up."

Holding up a single digit on the right hand he continued to speak. "One, these mountains are not like those that your clan prowled, these are... Hmm, more compact? The terrain varies wildly in terms of verticality and the abruptness of how it can come to be, bends and depressions are very common, point of fact over sixty percent of the region is wilderness, woods, rock and waterways are fairly common. And we have found no signs of Jammers in our initial passes with aircraft and satellite, it is more likely that the rough terrain of the Zelezny Brod region's natural interference is at work, plus the rather large deposits of heavy metals under the surface.

Secondly, their last means of communication was scouting a villa, rather than some great hunter getting the drop on my men, I find it far more likely that they simply ran into something they could not beat in this remote area, internally. There is also the stone walling of the DWMA's CIA, none of these figures or even the tourists have went missing inside of the city. Though to put it into perspective, normally twenty to thirty people go missing in the region annually, currently we are sitting at one hundred and twenty.

I am afraid I have none too detailed of a report, I tend to give men and women under my command a bit of autonomy, I set up set times to communicate findings, in which time I confer to their requests or get a situation report in brief. So, it is with confidence I can say they were not taken in town. If people were watching them, well that I cannot say. Thirdly, we normally learn nothing till after the kidnappings happen. Whoever is doing this tries to act secretly, or if it is that Bloodsucker, if I had more information than that, I would have not asked for you in the first place. No offense. Either way it stands to reason if climbers and a sniper team were taken, it likely was not in a ranged confrontation."

"As to witnesses, as I said, we tend to learn about it later, these roads aren't heavily traveled, though I will say, nearly all of those who have been taken have been in good physical shape, young in age, as in the twenties or were taken in groups. Given the abandoned nature of the vehicles we believe the occupants left willingly... Or at least willingly enough to open the doors and walk out. As to complaints and the like, I did say mysterious figures and groups had been seen wandering the range at night, briefly, normally by the time the local Polizei arrive it is gone."

Next, the other werewolf was quick to speak up, with questions of her own, though brief. Nodding to the affirmative, he even went as far as to pull up the passenger manifest. "We cannot afford to just put a whole train on the payroll to travel like the Orient Express but given the significant expanse of rail lines in Europe, and the limited space for airfields and helicopter pads, we have arrangements made with most national and EU rail services to have private and secured cars that can be connected at any major city of any nation that allows it. So, it allows for the deployment and briefing of forces across much of mainland Europe with ease and a train is faster than a car for the most part outside of the autobahn. The train is carrying about 75% capacity in terms of passengers, most will not be departing here, but are continuing into Russian territory or taking another line from here to Warsaw. As to stopping the train if that is what you all truly wish, you need only pull the emergency stop cord located in the main cabin and near the exits, I shall smooth things over with the railway, though I do suggest you all brace when you do it."

Given the composition of this group was mostly American, he was not about to start a discussion on the efficiency of public transportation and the operation of railways. He had done this many times before to no result, so with that thought in mind, his attention shifted to Elly, then her partner, the Hoshi. Both of their questions and statements could be handled together, at least they seemed to be on the same page, more or less.

"That is some of the only information I do have as matter of fact. Though as I said, if it were more detailed, I would not be dealing with the main branch at all. The CIA as I said is loath to share anything, in all honesty I find it likely whatever they found, they wished to be someone else's headache. Or the agent simply did not report in, other than a brief communication upload attempt in the region of Liberec. My own men, I set up exact communication schedule when communication satellites are directly overhead. The last communication they made was two hours before that. If Jamming was at play, we did not detect it, or it was used briefly."

Knowing that was likely not pleasing, he continued; "However, I do have a communication from before that. That being they had established a lead on the Agent's disappearance from a Hills Giant that lives in the city, his given name was Harbert. Family name, he was not willing to give, worked as a woodsman in the town, seemingly stood nine feet tall and looked like the occupation would suggest, red beard and hair, in his upper 20's or lower 30's, his people have long intermixed with humans, predominately male, they just have enough of a genome left to keep the height from 8 to 12 feet by Imperial measurements.

I don't have a video file to go with it nor a report on what they learned from him minus that they would be in the woods and communication would be spotty outside of the usual reporting time. But they attempted the communication either way an hour early and be it from jammers or bad luck, the last transmission was largely unintelligible, minus clear reference of a villa and the Northeast. It could not have been outside of Liberec at the least, they only had their legs to carry them across the region.

Speaking of I'll be on station every three hours till 2100 hours, then back on air at 0500 hours. We have Satellite passes for sure during those hours, though inside of the city, normal cellphone towers should allow you to speak with me, it's in the wilderness that the situation changes.

If there is nothing else, your train arrives in ten minutes. If you wish to jump off, now is the time. Otherwise contacting the local Constable or trying to find this Harbert is your best bet. He seems to have known a little English at least, given he could not speak German and my men were not so good at Czech as he was at English."

With that, Wallner waited silently seeing what the team would deciding and making sure there were no further questions. If not, the train would be pulling into the station at once and the investigation would begin from their side of things.


Interactions/Mentions: EmperorsChosen (Elly) Sir Les Paul (Kisei) Merciless Medic (Sara) Pumpkid (Dante) The Regal Rper (Zosar) Haze- (Wren)

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Adrian Hackney​

"The Maiden"​

Species Human
Partner None
Rank Fate Agent

Location JFK International Airport, New York City, NY
Mission Colossal Combat
Status Excited

​

Tags: RedArmyShogun EmperorsChosen Shotgunpenguin

While the group didn't dawdle in jumping long after Adrian, they did get the unique experience of watching him free fall. Unlike themselves, he was only the air a minute or two total. One would reach terminal velocity in twelve to thirteen seconds. Thus, the Demon Weapon got to experience free fall at terminal velocity for well over a minute. His experience would have been wildly different than that of the others with the exception of Aki. Unfortunately, by the time she was out the door, Adrian had already completed the better part of his jump. Unlike the others, however, her descent through the air was so rapid that focusing on the other free-faller, now just a blurred spec in her vision, was hardly a priority.

Quickly, the two became fast-moving specs in the vision of their teammates as well. The difference being that Adrian was more keen on experimenting with widening and narrowing his body to reduce drag, thus increase his speed. Unlike Aki, he had the forethought to try and aim himself. Realizations also swept across most of the group. New York was fucking massive. This Kaiju truly had done very little to destroy it. In fact, it's rampage was fairly well isolated to the specific stretch of shore it emerged on. Large though it may be, it didn't seem at any real risk of destroying the entire city. The area they were landing actually had no real damage on it, aside from a few car crashes caused in the panic. The image that the movies instilled for a kaiju attack seemed pretty far separated from reality.

Which led to a whole different issue. Aki and Adrian were now demons falling to the ground at terminal velocity where the ground area itself wasn't actually that bad. This was just blatant destruction of property that was allowed under the misconception there was truly terrible destruction below. Not that Adrian gave Nadia any time to tell him no.

There was an argument to be made that dropping Adrian from the plane would have been a weapon in and of itself. While true that he was indestructible in his weapon form, the area around him certainly wasn't. He quickly realized the same things the others probably did in that there wasn't a good landing spot that would cause minimal damage to property, city or private. So, he decided that instead of destroying someone's apartment, car, house, or business, he was going to aim for a side street.

When he landed in his Iron Maiden form, there was little left of the four-lane street he landed in. An Iron Maiden his size and weight going at his speed in his direction was going to create an impact comparable to about a fourth of a tomahawk missile, except that force didn't go entirely outward. It went straight down into the ground, leaving a crater, breaking the pavement for a good five or six feet beyond his impact zone, and sending out a pressure wave that set off dozens of car alarms and shattered windows panes like it was nothing.

First on the ground also meant Adrian was the one to wait the longest. Between the continued flight of the plane and the drift form the chutes, the others were half a dozen blocks away in the entirely wrong direction they needed to go. It made for an annoyingly long walk when the call was made to regroup. In fact, Adrian did not actually make it to the designated point Nadia sent his way as a pin on the Maps app on their phones. He instead was stopped by a regiment of twenty-plus various men and women in white clothes, almost robe-like in appearance but shorter akin to a tabard, with an odd texture not dislike fine carbon fiber. The golden cross on each tabard gave it away, though. These men were the same group as the ones he had met back in California.

Leading them was a man of completely different aesthetic. Dark brown hair as messy as could be, nothing ornate in either clothes or jewelry, with a dark-tan across his body that was nearly impossible to miss given all he actually wore was a black, sleeveless t-shirt. If not for the fact the men in tabards essentially stood at arms for him as he cut off Adrian from his intended path, it would have been next to impossible to determine he was even connected to them.

"Now-ah, I don't reckon you got anythin' to do wi'that'ah.. big hole in-the ground o'er yonder, do ya?" he asked, polite as could be, but with the clear implication that knew factually Adrian made it.

Put simply, Adrian wasn't quite making that meet-up so soon.

---

Meanwhile, the group of five led by Nadia had their own unique encounter. Difference being, they were not surrounded by a mere twenty of the acolytes in tabards. No, instead, what they encountered was a group yet again similar in appearance to the one encountered in California, donning thick plate armor that was not a steel or metallic coating but instead almost a ceramic white. Each one of them seemed to have souls intertwined with each other, connected loosely not by threads, but almost as a fog. None had a weapon drawn, but they were outfitted with swords and rifles of all kinds. These knights flanked the group on either side left and right, making no attempt to conceal their presence. Fighting wasn't their immediate intent as it seemed, but this was a definite display of force.

Beyond those first initial few in armor, more and more of those with the white and gold tabards arrived. All connected in this strictly human, spiritual fog, and numbering well over one hundred at this point.

Yet again, all of these individuals stepped to the side once their leader made an appearance. With blue hair, a distinctively smarmy expression of superiority painted on his face, dressed in more linen-like white robes over a tight fitting series of ceramic plate armor, and wielding a staff that seemed to have his spiritual energy coursing through it, this leader of theirs was no immediate joke. Each and every member in the fog of spiritual energy that connected to each other also fed into him and as a result without any effort in actually utilizing his spiritual energy, he was easily on par with a three-star Meister amplifying himself. Surrounded by over a hundred of his subordinates, it was if staring at a blue-haired Starwulf.

He approached, drawing nearer. The group was stopped by this sudden crowd, or at least as surrounded soon by the crowd, on their way south to Adrian while he doubled back north. The goal was to meet in the middle while heading toward each other and plan; this would minimize time with the only trade-off being that Adrian would end up running twice over. No real loss. This blue-haired man and his apparent army, however, intercepted and did so quickly. Somehow he could look at them with his cold, deadpan expression while simultaneously looking down on them in disgust. If his eyes could speak, they would be spewing hateful comments, painting each of those in front of him as blasphemous peasants.

Before the blue-haired man spoke, one of the knights acted as a herald, announcing, "Slava Isusu Christu."

He finally spoke, his tone dry and as cavalier as one would be expect, "Slava Isusu Christu," repeating the chant.

Once completed, sharp blue eyes scanned over the group. His upper lip curled, almost snarling at his assessment of the group. "One of you of the unwashed masses must be the leader here. Step forward," he demanded, offering them no courtesy or greeting.

"Your DWMA had no clearance to drop your sordid lot within the city. This airspace is not theirs to do with as they please," he added, spitting venom in his accusations at the organization. It may have even been technically true; no one had informed Nadia or the others if their plane in fact had permissions to drop them. They were more so informed that it was going to occur, then placed on the plane. Then again, at the same time, a massive monster attack did cause common sense to describe the situation as what one might reasonable call 'extenuating circumstances'. In either case, it was clear the cleric of blue hair was no friend of theirs nor likely a pleasant time to begin with.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Maria Mayer - Atlantic City - New Jersey​

Glaring at the Weapon and his outburst, Maria said nothing, taking the measure of Arkayis, running her hand across her face as she was given when something bothered her, she quickly stopped as the rest spoke up or intervened, of note was the Meister. She was a bit surprised by this, however, things could not be so easily forgotten.

Arkayis, Arkayis Misonuka. Your sister tried to kill me and did three others, your hate of magic likely has a reason, but I had my misgivings about you from the start... You are a threat... I must cooperate, but I shall never make the mistake of turning my back on you. You are a dog that lost its handler... Still, you are an ally for now... Though I wonder how you would react if I informed you, I was part of the effort that drove her off?

While she did not think Gauss acted for her of note, so much as them, she would turn her attention to the rest, giving a nod at Raph. "The wind indeed is from the birds, Albatross. The spell I casted on us all is a shield against some types of wind magic and influence. I had cast it so we could openly speak over all of this, however, it seems I should have offered beforehand." With a wave of her right hand, the spell dissipated around Arkayis and Arkayis alone, given his obvious issues with it. He was now left to the mercy of the elements; his Meister and fellow weapon partner could speak to one another telepathically, so even if his communications verbally were to be disrupted, he wouldn't really miss much.

"The reason for the birds being here are rather obvious and the monster fish remind me of parasites or brood from nature documentaries. Though, what are we here to do? My use will be limited unless I can find a proper workshop with tools, be they manmade or magic." She said, turning her attention to Gauss, leaving the matter with Arkayis to lie.

Interactions: Merciless Medic (Raph-Noah) Meredith (Chanterelle) Sir Les Paul (Gauss) Peckinou (Arkayis) The Regal Rper (Ark)

 

[Meredith]

Chanterelle Dubois

& Raphael Valerias

Ten feet to the side of the road, and already they had found conflict. Her ear piqued at Maria’s call to announce her spell–Chanterelle had not looked back, eyes scanning out over the coast as she walked down the sidewalk towards the rest–and it gave her pause, step faltering as she felt the effects of Maria’s magic.

What would compel a witch to call out a spell, if not as an expression of theme?

The answer was, of course, Arkayis. She’d been spoken with, tersely, about the fact that he was dangerous. That she would do best to keep her distance. ‘Weapons are always dangerous,’ she’d replied after a moment, just as dryly, ‘but I’ve been getting along fine.’ This was the wrong answer for her mentor, but the witch weathered her frustration quietly. It was a reasonable lecture. Her comment had come as a consequence of the early morning, and the irritation of being assumed to be a problem with Arkayis, should his temper show. It was a regressive statement, automatic in its derision. She did not attempt to defend her words, instead focusing on her intended actions. ‘Please, I–by no means do I intend to fight with him. Er–at least, not as adversaries. Maybe he’ll learn something through our cooperation.’

It was a way to smooth over her faux pas.

The encounter ran through her mind at lightning speed as she came to a stop. She couldn’t have been any more than eight or ten feet from the trio, with Maria coming in from behind, Ark and Raph only slightly behind them. He was already spitting mad. Du dumme hexe was nearly self-explanatory. Her reflection on his situation could not halt her reaction. The string of curse words stopped her feet, but she didn’t look away from him, didn’t respond. Her lips were set harrowingly straight. She felt a tug in her chest, something darker than lone fear in response to his insolence, itchy fingers tingling with thorns–

And he was yanked back, practically off his feet, into the hands of his angry meister.

His yelp startled her from her trance.

The pressure in her breast eased. With it came her breath, indiscernibly held in the wind between them. This was relief from a blooming rage. It was validation–the setting of immediate consequences for the threats implicit in the weapon’s hatred. It made the situation feel markedly less unsafe, despite the introduction of violence. There was a clamoring of voices, of Gauss and Noah’s reprimands. Ark’s came next. She understood their intentions, even if the blood rushing in her ears obscured their words. Her fingers uncurled, wooden pinpricks breaching the fabric of her gloves as they relaxed at her side.

Raph stepped up behind her, closer. Said something about the birds. It didn’t take her attention from the trio, or even really register in her mind. Because the second feeling–the one that came after that relief–was fear.

Would she have escalated if it had not been done for her?

Not from that alone. Probably not–hopefully not–at all. But that feeling, that rage, that fear, it was very real. It was terrifying that, for a moment, she did not feel in control.

Chanterelle was sure her face was pale. The rest of the mages were utilitarian, largely unphased by the incident. Interested in what they should be doing. Maria picked up on Raph’s thought. Albatrosses. She and Ark were focused on petitioning Gauss, on the tasks they were sent to accomplish. All of this was well and good, but it did not address the weapon being held under duress, the ticking time bomb in front of them all.

It took two steps back to see her proven allies in her peripheral vision. Her hand snaked around Raphael’s wrist, elbow to elbow, stepping sideways into him. Her body turned, eyes seeking his. This put her back to the trio, which did nothing to ease her anxiety. Responding, Raphael angled his body towards her, as if preparing to shield her from any further offense. He looked back at Chanterelle, a reassuring smile lightening his expression.

Her grip tightened. She used it to leverage more subtly onto her toes, gaining just a bit of height, enough to make their words private between their posture and the wind.

“I could hurt him.”

Her words were harder than he had ever heard her voice. Clipped and slow. It was evident she didn’t want to, at least from the haunted look on her face, but the tone of her voice made it clear it was a very real possibility.

There was a glimmer in his eyes as she said that, and the smile he still had seemed a lot more dangerous. He whispered back.

“I know. I want to.” His voice held a more gruff sound. “But I can’t make this about me… I would be no better than him.” He winced, feeling his chest hurt. His friend just got insulted, and his best friend was offended at this insolent weapon’s ideas; he felt like he should do something, and it was killing him that he wasn’t able to. His chest now had a perpetual itch, and he scratched at it. He patted her arm, hoping to give her some solace. However, he felt rather agitated by Ark’s own comments, a bit of himself only pacified that Maria wasn’t getting involved like he was and even gave some insight to the animals ahead and her own usefulness. While Ark’s words were nice to hear, they were unneeded- unnecessary.

He made a low comment to Ark. “Not your weapon, man. Let his partners take care of him. You’ll make it worse.” His attention then turned back to Chant, making sure she was okay, his expression like that of a protective brother’s.

Her soul—or her heart, she wasn’t sure—had begun to hammer in her chest. This was reactive, and it was natural. Her pupils would dilate, but other than a buzzing in the brain and the resulting light sensitivity, she would be fine. She knew this. She also knew that Raphael was right, undoubtedly right; just as he did not want to make this about him she did not want to make it about her.

“It feels…” She didn’t have the right words. She settled for good enough. “...like combat, in my body, but I needn’t fight.” Her voice held some authority. Still slow, but self-assuring. The trio were handling this themselves. Her intervention was, for now, unnecessary.

“Yeah, that’s a panic attack, or something like it. I get those quite often. It’ll pass.” He reassured her, squeezing her forearm with his other hand.

“Okay.” Her eyes shut, and she nodded, heels sinking back to the ground. She didn’t let go of him, instead taking a moment to listen and breathe. Their exchange had taken no more than fifteen seconds, but time had seemed to slow with the conflict afore them. She stared down at the pavement and tried to will her mind to clear while she waited for further instructions–or something she had to react to. Their objective would soon be set. So would the resolution of… this.

The Garden Witch​

Species Witch​

Rank: Fate Agent​

​

Location: The Steel Pier, Atlantic City, NJ.​

Mission: Kaiju Cleanup​

Status: Substantially Unsettled​

​

Merciless Medic The Regal Rper
Peckinou RedArmyShogun Sir Les Paul

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan - Zelezny Brod, Czech Republic
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

'Sounds like a plan, I think I can reach an agreement with Dante,' Elly trailed off between their connection, otherwise agreeing with his plan.

Turning her attention back to the briefer, the extra information proved useful. So it was likely just the natural properties of the area that interfered with signals rather than a man-constructed jammer. The city also seemed to be rather safe with the abductions only occurring outside. The fact groups were targeted was odd, though. Animals and creatures often avoided groups for sake of efficiency of hunting, unless they were desperate. At least they had some leads from this starting out, given Elly's improvement over the time since Romania, she should be able to figure out the group's bearings fairly well.

"We'll stay the course to the station and disembark there," Elly declared simply, glancing back for any follow-up questions. Given they had already spoken it would be odd if they suddenly forbade it or snapped at them. When none appeared to have anything, Elly turned back to Wallner. "We'll check in as new developments arise," She told him before the feed cut off.

With that, Elly sat her cup down and stood up with a slight stretch before turning to the rest. "Alright then. We'll reconvene in a bit," She stated simply as she strolled past the four towards the room's exit. "If you don't mind, Sara, I'd like to go have a chat with Dante... In the meantime, you all may want to check your messages."

With that, Elly stepped out of the cabin and peered around. It was a special train, so there weren't a lot of souls to sort through. Finding Dante's was rather easy, getting some fresh air at the back of the train, it seemed. With a smile, she pulled the door open and peeked around it. "Ah, there you are," She mused as if she hadn't been following his soul all he way here. "Have some time for a chat?" Again, less of a question given they were on a train and she had his only route blocked aside from jumping off. Still, her tone and expression were calm and friendly.

Pumpkid Sir Les Paul Merciless Medic Haze- The Regal Rper RedArmyShogun

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Thaddeus Thales​

"Gauss"​

Species Human
Partner Noah Wiley, Arkayis Misonuka
Rank Fate Agent

Location Atlantic City, New Jersey
Mission Kaiju Cleanup
Status Focused

​

Tags: Peckinou Merciless Medic RedArmyShogun The Regal Rper Meredith

His point had been made. He released his magnetic grip on Arkayis and withdrew the arm of Shiva he was using to hold the weapon in place.

Still, he wasn't exactly in a pleasant mood.

Almost every single one of them had something to say. Of course they did, but there was gravity in the fact they still deemed it necessary to say regardless. It wasn't as if any of them spoke in hushed voices or candy-coated their commentary. If they did, it was just barely. Perhaps some of it wasn't as severe as Gauss thought, but his mood was already soured by the outburst. It jaded everything that came after.

In a way, he was frustrated with everyone present - aside from Noah - in a similar vein as he was Arkayis. He told Arkayis that as his partner, he represented him. That feeling was not exclusive to Arkayis, though. Gauss was made team leader and he felt, in a way, that each person on the team and their interactions was a reflection onto him. An often forgotten fact about Gauss was his perfectionist tendencies. His high standards, intense drive, and demand for competence and adequacy colored a lot of his behavior, though it was far worse before his therapy. In the moment, though, his wires were frayed. The insulation that might have acted as a social buffer for his teammates was gone. The events of the days prior left him emotionally drained and unfortunately he was not so skilled at compartmentalizing those feelings.

"I think it would be wise to remember everyone present is in this program for a reason - or several," Gauss announced, his tone almost gritty and terribly stern.

"Arkayis has a condemnable opinion of all those magically-inclined. That much is undeniable. But, we are not judge or jury. We will not poke or prod. We will not goad him. My actions were harsh, yes, but they were reactionary to his own. They set the tone for the fact I will not tolerate the intolerant. Those tantrums and threats are unacceptable, but I will also not allow the intentional triggering of his temperament," Gauss continued, pouring every ounce of his natural charisma into the gravity he wanted his words to have. He wanted to ground everyone present.

With contempt in his eyes, Gauss did scan over the group. He couldn't really side with them either. Even words said with good intent only worsened the situation, like those of Ark. Witches and Sorcerers naturally sounded condescending, but that trait was magnified here. "Besides that, there is no honor in kicking a caged dog," he spat.

Gauss then inhaled deeply.

He knew he had to transition away from this friction and farce.

"Even if we wanted to slaughter the birds, we can't even reach half of them. It seems that they are feasting on the flying fish. Not only that, the swarm is the most immediate threat to lives on the coast. If they are essentially flying piranhas, eliminating or otherwise stalling them is our most logical course of action. My judgement call is that the immediate preservation of life is our highest priority," Gauss said, shifting his tone to one with far less spite and more natural authority. Still, there was a certain disparaging lack of energy in his tone. Such was a combination of dealing with Arkayis and his own personal matters.

"Unless there is an objection or actual constructive input on the priority, my instructions are to relocate to the beach and do all we can to safely deter the swarm. I would prefer a non-lethal approach as we don't know their value to the ecosystem, but if that impossible, lethal force is approved," he told them, coldly, but efficiently outlining both the parameters he was allowing, his rationale behind his preferences, and attempting quash any arguments moving forward.

He was hardly likeable at the moment, but there was an appreciable trait in his clear communication.

Meanwhile, the beach itself was at best a hundred foot of tan-brown sand and roughly three or four blocks of city before that. Some commute here was require, by foot or other means.

"Noah, Arky--transform," Gauss said, outstretching both of his hands for his weapons to enter.

GM note: The fish swarm is fodder, but huge. There are tens of thousands of fish in it. All characters are free to deal with it as they see fit. Furthermore, I will allow an "extended" post for those that want to demonstrate their characters attempting different means or non-lethal techniques. There are several non-lethal and lethal clear conditions, so be creative.​

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nadia Semyonov - New York City
September 26th​

No plan survived first contact with the enemy, in this case time, other agenda and the sheer and seemingly ever-present incompetence of the DWMA. It was one thing, a very dangerous thing to conduct air drops in an urban area, it was one thing to depend on her and Dani to hopefully kill that monolithic beast. But it was a whole other matter to have done all of these things without coordination or seemingly approval. Taking measure of this Knight that informed them as of much, if she picked off his minions and leveraged her and Dani's abilities, she might could take him. As a bonus they even found Adrian, but it was not in Nadia's nature to just take such things lying down.

It was far more like her to insult the man and fight him if it came down to it, but she decided to try something a little new. Approaching at the commander and motioning for Dani to join her, Nadia remained with her new smile and stared at the man approaching and motioning for the rest to keep back where they were. Upon reaching close enough distance to casually speak and putting her hands on her hips, Nadia stared at the other with a bit of amusement.

"Ah, but I took a bath before coming here. Now who are you to ask who I am? Though ah, you didn't even bother to address that, but such is the nature of the little brother." She said with her thick Russian accent in reply to the little exchange that had just played out, pointing that while what was said was Slavic, it was not Russian.

"As to permission, this is not your airspace to decide who is allowed in, Holy Man. Every inch of ground was paid for in the Blood of the American Military and judging by the fact their covering Jet Fighters didn't blast us out of the sky... Well, that puts some holes in your theory that we aren't allowed. As if that were true, I would be the one with a few extra holes. We also have that same lovely little bit of Amnesty that your side does as shocking as that may sound.

We do not need nor ask for your permission to be here. I am Nadia Semyonov, member of the DWMA and leader of this detachment. I am here to fight that monster, and for me that is the only enemy here. Though maybe you and your Church have another idea of just what Monster needs fighting? If not, then we can work together or we agree to stay clear of one another. Now, who are you? Or is manners and curtesy not part of your duties?"

While the DWMA may have mixed opinions on what she had just done, she was not prodding the man but a little, but she would not back down nor explain herself to him, to do so would lead to his damnable Church taking command of the situation, which was rather interesting that they only did this after the US Military took significant casualties as far as she could tell.

~~~~

Feng Long - New York City
September 26th
​

For her part, Feng Motioned for Aki to get ready as she held her free right hand open with her left hovering above the second Magictech gun she had paired with, not knowing if Wes would have the time and chance to link up back into his weapon form, Though it was possible to use her shield and both guns, the former Triad didn't much fancy having to fight these men, but killing a knight would be something new to her. Narrowing her eyes, she waited for the first sign of hostilities or for the leader to call for them to act, it was curious to observe though.

Those men had something akin to their cross-resonance skill. Hopefully the Church would see reason, though she wouldn't mind if this all went south, they considered her people to be pagans and heretics for the most part. Buddhism and Christianity were masters of their own. Never mind her following of Confucianism and Taoism. Still, she decided to speak up in kind; "Eh, if it's all the same, are people here that need saving and that B Tier Movie Monster to kill."

Interactions: EmperorsChosen (Aki) Sir Les Paul (Adrian) Shotgunpenguin (Wes)

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Maria Mayer - Atlantic City - New Jersey
September 26th​

Having heard what Gauss and the rest had to say, in some regard Ark had pushed a bit much, she was the one he had offended. And for now, she had a job to do. It was a shame, he wanted them removed, ideally alive. Though given what the fish seemed to be eating it would have been risky to send in her darling just now anyways. But these constant back-to-back missions were beginning to be too much, she had a list of things to get done and no time to actually do them. It mattered little that the DWMA mission planners seemed insistent on taking away her mobile workshop or her darlings. They were running them all ragged and sooner or later it would affect things that could not be repaired with wood and metal, and not just for her. And she was not of mind nor ability to mend the flesh and spirits of her comrades in arms.

She had enough time to recover most of her mana, to carry out basic repairs, and, well, that would have to do for now. Whatever issues this Arkayis had aside, and her teammates with him, she would pay it no mind for the here and now. She had nothing to add to his own request of a constructive input. None of them likely had seen these before or worked with aquatic creatures, well, not that these monsters could be called aquatic, short of superficially at least. Throwing them back to the water or letting them live might not be the best solution, it would been more sensible in her mind to capture one for study and then deciding the fate of the rest, but the DWMA seemed to want a solution now. For all the talk on the Ecosystem, what if these creatures weren't from it and just ate their way through the local fishing industry? Well, it would not be her problem to deal with.

Ending her Air Resistance spell as soon as they broke up into smaller detachments or solo, she could not keep the spell up on all of them, at these ranges, nor set out to do what she was about to do. Moving her Alicia to a damaged building where she would be out of the way and safe, if not intimidating to any wandering civilians that decided to loot. Taking her broom and displacing herself into the sky, she would make to maneuver, using a mixture of her Wind Blast and Wind Explosion spells, Maria attempted to herd and drive the flying fish back towards the sea, or up to the waiting birds, having given some thought in just killing those, she was sure Gauss would not approve, shifting her efforts purely to corralling and driving the fish back towards the sea while trying to keep her blasts high up enough to keep from damaging the surroundings more.

All things considered, they should have sent someone that specialized in beast taming or water elemental affinity would have been much more useful. Her spells were more akin to destruction or enabling her own creations to do more. Casting a glance at the others down below, Maria was curious what, if any progress they had made.

Interactions: Merciless Medic (Raph-Noah) Meredith (Chanterelle) Sir Les Paul (Gauss) Peckinou (Arkayis) The Regal Rper (Ark)

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

Wes Kraven
Streets of New York
September 26th

Mentions: EmperorsChosen , RedArmyShogun , Sir Les Paul ​

---

Wes walked alongside the group with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets as they made their way to the meeting point. He rolled his shoulders slightly, trying to relieve the slight discomfort from the weight of the harness. He had shrugged off his chute back in the building they found Aki in, not having any reason to keep wearing it, but he still felt like there was a slight pull after the fact. Letting out a sigh, he took a moment to look around the city as they moved.

He expected more devastation, collapsed buildings, giant footprints carving a path down the road, all of the classic signs that a giant monster had rampaged through the area. Instead, all there was were a few cars that swerved off the road and crashed, the occasional broken window, and what looked like a hastily scribbled patch of graffiti. The evacuation must have happened before it could reach this point.

It’d probably be a lot closer to what he was thinking when they started getting closer to where it emerged from. If was being honest, he kind of preferred the city the way it currently was. Not destroyed or damaged obviously, but empty and calm. It was quiet, aside from the sound of those around him, and he didn’t feel like he was going to be swept away in the flow of a crowd.

Wed tried to avoid cities as much as he could back when he was making his way around the country. Too many people, everything was more expensive, and some places had laws against busking in public areas. He preferred visiting the smaller towns outside of the city, far enough away that a single night in a motel wouldn’t drain all of his savings.

Unfortunately, small towns weren’t the best place to try and busk for a living. Which meant he would usually have to suck it up and catch a bus into the city, get himself set up, and try to stay on tune while not ripping his ears off from the overwhelming cacophony of souls.

It was soft at first, soft enough that he could have mistaken it for one of his teammates humming to themselves. But as they continued to move towards the meetup point, it slowly grew louder and louder, with more and more souls popping up on his radar.

At first ten, then twenty, then thirty, the number of souls just kept rising and rising until there were about a hundred or so souls that he could make out. Eventually the source of the souls revealed themselves, a group of people wearing armor that wouldn’t have been out of place in a museum. Each of them were armed with various weapons, but that wasn’t what caught Wes’s attention.

No, what caught his attention was the blue haired staff wielder, and how his own soul signature almost drowned out those of the surrounding knights. It wasn’t like that time in Hawaii, where that red haired guy’s was powerful by itself. In the blue haired man’s case, it drowned all of the others out as if it were getting boosted in a weird way, almost similar to resonance.

Except it wasn’t any kind of resonance that he knew about, it was too one sided. While souls intermingled and bonded, he could still pick out the individuals soul signature during resonance. Here though, it was difficult for him to distinguish anything in the overwhelming choir that was before them. And a choir it was, as although the hundreds of souls each held their unique sound, they all seemed to meld into one source, that being the blue haired man before them.

But instead of their soul energy being regulated and returned by the man, it was as if it was constantly being circulated in a self-contained system. Like a hundred batteries all sending power to one source, the only returns the knights were getting were from the soul energy that wasn’t being given to the leader.

The man stepped forward, regarding the group and speaking something in a language Wes couldn’t understand, before switching to English. He seemed less than thrilled at their presence, for whatever reason, as Nadia stepped forward and responded.

“Little brother?” He half-whispered to Feng and Aki, cocking his head and looking between Nadia and the man. He really couldn’t see any resemblance, not to mention the difference in hair color. Unless one of them dyed their hair, or maybe the guy was adopted? Wes didn't think he looked that much younger than Nadia, but who knew when it came to things like this.

“Yeah, can we like, not with this?” He said, vaguely gesturing to the assorted knights and possible step and or adopted brother in front of them. If this was a family spat then Nadia could deal with it herself, or better yet they could deal with the Kaiju themselves, take some of the load off of their shoulders.

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan & Dante Holiday
Zelezny Brod, Czech Republic​

Dante stops in his tracks, giving a chance to hear Sara out. He didn't know why. Usually, he would storm off regardless of what anyone has to say. Maybe he wanted to hear her, maybe it's due to the therapeutic techniques. He has mellowed a bit, and it’s done him some good, but his anger said otherwise. Perhaps it’s the slight connection he has for the werewolf on their first day of training? She understood how he felt? Then she shouldn't have asked about Kisei in the first place. Her keen senses could at least pick that up. ”I’ll embarrass myself however the hell I want.” He retorted.

When she brought up Kisei and Hoshi in the same sentence, the back of his hairs stood up. He didn't expect her to piece it together so quickly. Personally, it’s infuriating how clever she can be from minor context clues. She really needed to learn to back off on the topic. Who gives a damn what the people on the train cart thought? They were asked to do a job and all Fate agents were merely tools, nothing more. If they expected him to be well-behaved all the time they were sorely mistaken. Dante never much cared for anyone’s opinion, not even the government’s. As long as he gave results that's all that mattered, and that is exactly what he plans to do.

Of course he would end up biting his own tongue when she places a different perspective of why they were assigned. Did they really ask for their help or is it because they have no other options? Yet, Sara truly believed in her words, and what they were doing. He could feel it too. In the shortest amount of time he has known her, he could tell Sara is straightforward, optimistic even. Or rather, naivety. It’s not far-fetched that she would consider everyone’s feelings. He perks at the sound of her footsteps, but they stop shortly after. Why did she stop? What did she attempt to do? Alarm bells went off until she answered. That's right, they were partners now. No longer a lone wolf. Somehow that was reassuring.

As soon as Sara rejoins the others, Dante lingers as if actually reflecting on her words before stepping out for air. He admires the view even at a rapid pace. He leans against the wall staring off into space as he decides on some breathing exercises. He closes his eyes.

’Breathe in, hold it and breathe out. Count to three. One…two…three…exhale. One…two…three..exhale.’

His shoulders gradually begin to drop. He opens his eyes left alone with his thoughts.

With that, Elly stepped out of the cabin and peered around. It was a special train, so there weren't a lot of souls to sort through. Finding Dante's was rather easy, getting some fresh air at the back of the train, it seemed. With a smile, she pulled the door open and peeked around it. "Ah, there you are," She mused as if she hadn't been following his soul all the way here. "Have some time for a chat?" Again, less of a question given they were on a train and she had his only route blocked aside from jumping off. Still, her tone and expression were calm and friendly.

As forewarned, Elly approached Dante. Something told him he wasn't going anywhere until she finished whatever she set out to do. Being the one responsible for the squad, he was either going to be reprimanded or be interrogated. How annoying. All he wanted was to be left alone. He knows what his job entails. Just be a weapon, and follow orders. His best course is to stay quiet and listen, or tune her out is another alternative. Dante gives no answer assuming she will go on and speak her mind anyway. He keeps his eyes on the horizon.

Elly didn't appear put off by the silent treatment. She simply walked completely through the door and shut it behind her. She took some steps so she stood beside him against the railing. “Now then, I know you don't much care for the ninja…”
She trailed off. “However, we need to get on the same page… The last mission we were on was disorganized. We were all fatigued, partially injured, and then made to deal with Fae. Now, everyone sort of did their own thing, and that resulted in us almost getting killed by magic dog beasts.”


She paused her story to glance out at the scenery as he was before she looked back to him. “We need to work in conjunction with each other. Kisei ticked me off quite a bit during those two missions, but we still worked together as we needed to in order to get the job done… That means we need to save any chest-bumping for back home, make sense?” Elly finished, seemingly surprisingly lightly.

“If it's easier… think of any remark from Kisei as simply relaying my orders.”
Elly leaned a bit more against the railing, tilting her head a bit as if trying to worm his way into his field of vision with a mischievous smirk. “After all, you don't hate me do you?”

While Elly didn't particularly scold him the way he had expected, he appreciated her efforts to approach him in a civil fashion, yet that did not convince Dante of anything. He more so got the gist of what she wants him to do during the mission for it to go smoothly and avoid a repeat of the last assignment. One thing she didn't know is Dante wasn't one to compromise a job though he does tend to get ahead of himself at times. He scoffs at her attempts to change his outlook toward Kisei.

He irritably clenches his jaw, and grits his teeth. ”That’s not gonna happen.” No one could possibly understand his distaste for the man except for Kisei himself. If he blabbed about it, he supposed they counted too. It’s not something you forget easily, granted it’s been a decade. He should be over it. There was more to it than even Dante couldn't decipher, but he prefers to bottle up whatever the problem may be for fear of forgetting. He couldn't listen to anything Kisei said even if he tried. It felt like a trigger every time. He knows he has to get around it, he just wished it wasn't so soon.

Dante glares at Elly assuming she was trying to manipulate the situation. ”I hate everyone, and that includes you for affiliating yourself with him.” He admitted, though his tone held no malice. It was neutral. He disliked everyone and everything equally. No one was special in his eyes. He returns his gaze to the scenery.

Elly’s smile remained, though it thinned and her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him. She leaned back against the railing and hummed and bit, as if mulling over his words. “Everyone? My, that does sound exhausting… No wonder you’re so tense all the time~!” She said cheekily, reaching out to pat his arm a few times. However, as the final pat ended, she left her hand on his bicep.

’But, that isn’t a reaction I didn’t expect, Elly spoke through their shared connection this time. ’Now, before you yank yourself away, let me explain something to you–And you don’t want this spoken aloud.’

“I can understand you dislike Kisei, and I won’t ask you to like him,” Elly spoke, seemingly swapping between their soul connection and verbal.

’See, I have something called Super Soul Perception. Are you familiar?’

Dante jolts at the sudden touch not because he was frightened, but because of the contact. His nose scrunches in disgust. The only thing running through his head is,

’Ewe! She's touching me. Gross, gross, gross.’

Worst of all, she began to invade his space. That's right. He had forgotten people can do that. It’s so weird and invasive. He stupidly responded out loud rather than follow the brunette’s lead. ”That you have a bigger soul than others? Which means you have a bigger ego?”

Elly giggled a bit at that. “Unfortunately, no to the first and my ego is well-grounded I think,” She replied simply.

‘Soul Perception is what allows us to detect the souls of others. Super Soul Perception is a more advanced form. You can't read someone's mind…. But even with normal perception, you can train to tell emotions and feelings through the soul. I for example can even break Soul Protect--that's something witches use to pass their souls off as human. I digress though.’

Giving him a break from hearing her voice between the link, she spoke again out loud. “See, Dante. I really would like to not have a near-death experience if I can avoid it, and I think you would too. That means we have to listen to each other even if we don't particularly care for the other person at that time.”

‘What I'm getting at, is that I know you're more of a sweetheart than you let on. I can see whenever your soul flutters with excitement, skips in true anger, deflates in sorrow. So, if you insist on squabbling to the team's detriment, I have to make a choice.’ While that was perhaps a compliment in some respects, Elly’s tone carried a smugness to it that made it clear she wasn't trying to butter him up or appeal to him. ‘I could ground you like a child. I could also ruin that angry delinquent reputation. I'm sure Sara alone would drown you with hugs.’

An odd threat, but a threat nonetheless. Elly beamed up at him with an unchanged smile. “So we should get along, at least for the mission's sake, mm? There are lives relying on us after all.”

Ah, so that's what it means. Did that include–yep, it did. She can see through his facade. Oh, sweet Death! She knows! Alarm bells go off envisioning everyone seeing him as a total loser. The worst kind of humiliation in his opinion. A faint blush forms across his face at the fact that he’s not as much of a threat as most Fate agents. As Elly listed her abilities, the more Dante hated being in a team full of perceptive folks. His entire tough guy exterior crumbled and he didn't even get a chance to start. Crocodile tears run down his face as he thought,

’What a cruel lady. Demon!’

Even as Elly threatened him, he was still in his own head to really care, but in a way it did the job. At least she wasn't touching him anymore. He dusts any germs away from his arm until he is satisfied. When he brought Sara into the conversation he couldn't help, but freak out. He shoots Elly a scowl and instinctively grips her collar. “First of all, I am no sweetheart. Second of all, leave Sara out of this.” He growled. She may not have used the werewolf as another threat but adding her to the topic was enough for him to snap. Something inside of him urged him to react, to protect. With Elly’s gift, certainly she can see how conflicted and protective he has gotten just from one training day. It doesn't make sense to get attached so quickly, but that was not the case.

For as long as Dante has lived, he has tried to keep people at arm’s length for their safety. Sara is no exception. Being her partner is still difficult for him to grasp. When that connection was formed. All of her pain was overwhelming enough to just want to help her in any possible way he can, but he doesn't feel worthy enough because he knows who he is. In a way he was practically begging her not to drag her into his mess. His problems, his punishment are his alone to deal with, not hers. She already has enough crap to deal with.

Dante parts his lips to say something then scoffs,

’Sweetheart, huh?’

He releases the brunette steps away to collect himself. He leans on the rail, head propped on his hand returning to the scenery in front of him. He supposed he was kind. He just didn't want to believe it. Not yet anyway. He was done with the lecture. She came to say her peace. If she wants an answer, he’ll give it to her. ”Sure, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not gonna risk making a fool of myself on the field. I have my own reasons that have nothing to do with what you said.” He admitted.

Elly’s expression didn’t alter much as he grabbed his collar. She simply stared up at him with the same thin smile. Just as she had said, even now she was reading his soul. It stalled in shock for a few moments before it flared as she mentioned Sara. So the wolf had managed to get to him already. Elly had faith in her charisma, but that was pretty fast even to her expectations.

“No?” She chimed back smugly.

However, the threatening moment was quick to pass and her eyes trailed him as he resumed looking off at the scenery. “Glad to hear it~.” Elly didn’t really care about the warning or transgression so long as it prevented another Carys incident. The meister’s expression almost soured just thinking about it.

Straightening her collar, Elly took some steps closer to the door, though paused as her hand reached out to grasp its handle. “After all, Sara’s probably relying on you the most of all as your meister,” She added as she opened the door. Despite his claim of hating everyone, his response when she mentioned Sara said otherwise. “We reach the station in ten minutes and we still need to collect our thoughts on what we’ve learned thus far, so don’t dally too long~.”

And with that, the demon-lady stepped through the door to give Dante some peace and make her way back to the others.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

North of JFK Airport, New York City, New York
GM Post​

1149 | September 26th, 2067​

"Caelum ignosce..." the blue haired man announced, his tone conveying exasperation in solely how he said those dead, Latin words.

"Your ignorance is astounding, but such is expected from those that follow a false idol," he spat, his words venom, "your tainted hands are those of the devil. Even if you tried with the best of intentions, you lay with Satan himself in your blasphemous crusade. You will do nothing but bring more destruction and sin."

This is when a new, unique phenomenon occurred with the group. Wes by far could pick up on it best. In fact, Wes could hear the very conviction in the words from this blue-haired figure. He meant every word he said with whole heart. In fact, in the entire life of the Demon Weapon, he probably could not recall a single instance where someone spoke with such fervent and absolute belief in their words. Nadia was known for being stubborn at times with an admirable strength of will, but even it was not as unbending as this. Which only made the following sensation that all five of them would feel even more odd. It was spiritual pressure. As words poured from the mouth of this man, the fire inside each of the knights and priests around him only burned that much more intense. Their passion empowered the fog of spiritual energy that connected each one and in turn the man speaking, but that was not the concern. The concern was that a new, unfamiliar burning sensation came into existence. As if the cloud of spiritual energy itself was causing some odd, chemical reaction between itself and the souls of each individual present. It also did not affect each individual the same. Dani and Aki were affected worst with a sensation that was already well past discomfort and into the realms of mild pain. Feng fell somewhere in the middle while Nadia and Wes might have, at worst, found it a mild discomfort.

Either way, it was entirely different than the spiritual pressure they felt in the past. Even the Weeping Woods that were home to the Leshy did not impose such a caustic experience.

"You talk of a war your alleged God took no part in. You talk about jets as if the sky itself hasn't been shut down by the creature. You act as if we arrived here by flight when we did not. You talk of amnesty, but do not realize it only applies if we believe you are doing no harm. You act as if you can do something to a creature that your betters could not," he continued, his tongue a knife in a verbal onslaught against the DWMA and the response Nadia gave in specific.

As he spoke, he continued inspiring his subordinates and in turn only made that burning sensation grow worse.

"I care not for your name and I care not to share mine with degenerates such as yourself. You are those that would dance with Pagans and Witches. You are those that make a weapon of an impurity caused by the Devil's spell craft. You are vile and pathetic - " he told her, " - which is why I ask you leave. You will do no good here and your perverted souls only put at risk the greater population. I can see already two of you are touched by the devil himself; madness, you call it, but it is so much more."

EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun Shotgunpenguin

 

[Meredith]

Chanterelle Dubois

With the Winds

As so came the resolution.

Her grip on Raphael loosened as Gauss began to speak. By the time he finished outlining his expectations of their behaviour, she'd let go, retracing the step she'd taken toward the sorcerer. The heavy feeling in her chest had begun to focus. It did not leave her, but searched for purpose. There was something snakelike to her: coiled, primed, ready to strike.

Chanterelle knew better than to give in wholesale to this feeling. It could be useful in moderation. Knowing that they would be moving on their feet reassured her that the fear that had pulsed through her body was not wasted.

While the stabilizing magi-chemical injections she received twice weekly out of the field could safely lower the resting concentration of the poison in her blood, a flooding reflexive impulse could in moments return her to her natural state. It would bottom out to the "new normal" in a few hours, but repeated spikes would kill the drug's effectiveness altogether. She wasn't expected to maintain a low-level state in the field, but this lingered in her mind. Spikes seemed reasonably more effective than constant high-level output, but they were not without consequence, either. She expected a hell of a headache.

Narrow, dilated eyes studied Gauss intently. He was right to be frustrated, but she did not like feeling as if she was being talked down to. Then he provided an objective. Better, he provided an outlet for her frustrations. Her stare broke at his request for input, mostly because she assumed he didn't really want it, and she was going to give it to him anyway.

"I intend to take up the right side of the beach, as close to the edge of the swarm as possible. From this point, I'll attempt to angle my attacks into the swarm, ideally pushing them back toward the water. I would suggest that you come up from the opposite edge, for two reasons."

"The first is simple: if we can cap off the swarm, and cut their access to the beach elsewise, we will control the field wholesale. We should have enough bodies to do so." Her voice lacked any kind of obvious emotion. It was utilitarian, but clear. If there was anything Chanterelle specialized in, barring her magic, it was battlefield control.

But she was no thespian, and she was not one to mince words. "The second is that you should not be in range of my work."

There was a tight smile. Something had occurred to her that she had thought about several times before the mission, but that had taken a backseat since. "In completely dire straits, however," Her chin inclined to Noah, regardless of his form. It might be misconstrued as addressing Gauss, but she now made a point of specifically recognizing weapons for their own abilities and contributions. "I might be convinced to provide a sort of ground for Noah's electricity."

Noah was interesting to her. Spores spurned from the smallest drop of blood were explosive in scale. Their shimmering, lingering particles could be curated to act as a conduit for devastating amounts of energy, conducting the impetus force and exploding into an impact of mana that fed her creations nearly uncontrollably in its dissipation. Lightning was the only element that she had ever successfully conducted in such a way, but it had been a naturally occurring expression of the element drawn to her ground. Noah was a fascinating possibility of a symbiotic interaction between wavelength and magic. She'd spent some time theorizing in the wake of the explosion at the tournament, but hadn't found a way to broach the subject without sounding like a researcher looking for a subject. They hadn't really crossed paths again.

The fact of the matter was that the spell she held as her highest achievement was nearly untestable outside of the field. Each of its components came as naturally as breath, practiced and practiced again, but Chanterelle did not have the magical capacity to produce both what was essentially a mana bomb and a spark powerful enough to set it off. If it worked, it would be highly destructive. If it didn't, that spark could still be highly dangerous.

"Just food for thought."

A wave of her hand, and she turned, sizing up the distance between herself and the beach. She could have spent a moment devising some novel form of transportation. The use of her creations as a means of propulsion was not foreign to her, whether through actions of pulling or pushing, but she felt no desire to do so for this amount of distance.

She took off at a run without so much as another glance towards the others. This was an easy reminder that she was not fully human. Though she hardly reached the speeds that a powerful weapon or meister could achieve, she easily fell close to the top of the human spectrum, not only an experienced runner but also one effectively pumped full of stimulants. Her feet beat against the pavement, striking loudly at the midfoot. It felt good to run like this; not just around a track or through endless expanses of sand but on hard terrain with obstacles to her path (and, further, with purpose). What Chanterelle lacked in speed she made up for with experience. The debris only slightly slowed her. She was used to roots and other flora catching at her feet, and furthermore, had no reservations about grabbing onto large interruptions (such as the edge of the roof of a van that had at some point been introduced to one of the storefronts along the path) to climb or roll over them, though the latter was of course preferable in the interest of speed.

By the time her feet touched sand, her eyes cast upwards to scan the sky, steps faltering. Her breathing was heavy, but not uncomfortably so; on the other hand even Chanterelle had to admit that her calves burned. She caught sight of Maria, mercifully close to the middle of the pack, and grinned. The other witch was already hard at work. She checked that her working space was clear. From here, she picked up speed again, taking her forewarned and predilected path toward the right side of the swarm. There would, perhaps, be outliers behind her when she took up position--but she had full faith in her abilities.

She maintained a twenty-foot distance from the swarm. From here, she gathered mana with her stabilizing breath, giving way to tingling fingers. Her mind focused. The first spell she cast was wide-scale: brambles erupted from the sand, growing rapidly out from her, bridging the distance between her and the fish. They would inevitably notice her, but she worried little about this. If any came close enough to threaten her, either a face full of spores or wooden stakes ripping through their bodies would halt them soon enough.

These brambles were rudimentary. They rippled across the field, from her to meet the water, though they were taller in the ten feet directly to her side. With an inclination of her hand, she thrust another line into the approximate edge of their numbers. They were not impervious to being eaten, nor were they particularly toxic, though they shared trace amounts of the poison implicit in Chanterelle's constructions. There was no reason to strain this from them, and no reason to enhance it. The spell would have been an automatic motion, if not for its reach.

Their purpose was threefold. Firstly, these thorny brambles would contract when they were touched, slowing anything that tried to consume or pass through them. This was the reason the brambles separating Chanterelle from the group--and those isolating the swarm from the rest of the beach--were both thinner and taller than the rest. They had room to condense. The ground-cover, however, had a different purpose. These were smaller, more tightly packed. Their thorns did not grasp into the swarm or attempt to ensnare them. They were created most clearly to protect a more vulnerable, and more dangerous, element underneath.

The second spell was more difficult, but due to sheer scale as much as complexity. A hard pushing motion of her hands--indicating the angle of attack, towards the others, towards the ocean--gave way to the spawning forms of foot-wide puffballs growing rapidly in a concentrated web through the thicket. These forms would quickly find maturity, exploding into puffs of highly abrasive spores in the order they matured, first toward her edge of the group where they had originated and popping in a dedicated line. They were not controlled, but created with an effect triggered upon their maturation. These were one of her specialties, innate, but she knew that the mana used in their casting was not insubstantial. She could feel it coursing through her body, almost coming --literally coming-- alive with her intention.

In theory, any fish that succumbed and plunged into the thicket might act as a barrier to a premature release of spores whisked away too quickly in the wind. This was the secondary purpose of the brambles, which innately had the same effect, particularly once their inner surface area was cluttered with the debris of the rapidly rotting fungus underneath. By somewhat softening the blows of the whipping winds with organic material, which would hopefully carry her spores through the air without completely dissipating them, she hoped to provide an even flow of extremely unpleasant stimulus from thick fog originating in the undergrowth. She didn't really intend to kill them, but had no reservations about them suffocating if the substance stuck in their gills.

It would be preferable if she were able to drive them off. From here, she wove the same kind of mushrooms into the undergrowth, but these more sparsely and in looser rows. These she held on a row-by-row trigger: waiting to set them off as the spores dissipated, first to drive the fish away from the edges of the bramble 'fence', and then to follow behind them towards the water. A substantial dialing back of scale in terms of sheer volume, but certainly a more finesse motion. If she had to try again, if the winds were still too strong, she could attempt to produce a stickier version of the spores. This quality didn't matter to her in the moment, as it would make them a worse directing deterrent--but they would be heavier in the wind.

Casting like this filled her with elation, though she would hesitate to openly express that now.

The Garden Witch​

Species Witch​

Rank: Fate Agent​

​

Location: The Steel Pier, Atlantic City, NJ.​

Mission: Kaiju Cleanup​

Status: At Work, At Play​

​

Merciless Medic The Regal Rper
Peckinou RedArmyShogun Sir Les Paul

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nadia Semyonov - Daniella Ethalyn - New York City
September 26th​

Nadia found this all very irksome, and then it seemed the Holy Man’s friends were getting involved, trying to pressure and force them out, it seemed he had some idea of what touched them, though she herself did not believe in any devil, she barely believed in any sort of god. And in anycase, this man has said far too much and was trying to strong arm with no response expected, asking them to leave.

A whole lot of nerve and Nadia was past the point of entertaining him, though it seemed he was now speaking a bit of Latin, a Catholic was it? Well, she would have some words for him. More than a few really.

“Ah, so the Devil is what guides us? How curious, though I must ask where is your God now? What is the expression, God is in his Heaven, all is right with the world?” Glaring at him she spoke with Venom, pressing against his presence and flaring her own wavelength, and communicating openly as her eyes shifted to the ones behind him that had initiated this and were now empowering the arrogant man. Unfortunately for him, arrogance was second nature to Nadia and not even a meeting with her devils could drive that out.

"In the name of your God, Souls were attached to trees and driven mad up in North of Saint Petersburg, the madness they had spread corrupted and decayed a natural spirit that would have protected the area. In the name of your God, your men in Los Angeles fell utterly to the madman that professed loyalty to the devil, your men did little more than get in the way and it was DWMA reinforcements who cleared up the aftermath and solved the problem.”

Dani opted to let Nadia try her new diplomacy and ‘happy face’, at least until the assholes insisted on puffing out their chests. She clicked her tongue in annoyance as her eyes narrowed as she waited for Nadia to finish, the sickening feeling the guy was giving off putting her in a progressively poor mood. “Yeah, those guys also were less of smarmy pricks and didn’t waste time trying to fuck with us,” She remarked crudely. “Fact of the matter is, you losers couldn’t do anything to the giant lizard, else it’d be gone. The fact that we’re here means that either we hit harder or have something you don’t that will hurt it… Course if you wanna be a scumbag and let people die because you hate the DWMA that fucking much, go ahead. I’m sure the people would love seeing their fucking heroes ditching them for their dumbass pride.”

“He’s a man of faith.” she said off handedly. ”Your men are blocking my way from my other. We shall be going nowhere. Us being here is not by chance, and I won’t bother addressing the rest of what you said. Unfortunately, I have no young choir boys for you to have a private discussion with. Wes, Feng, Aki, Dani, Chain Resonance. I will have this oppressive air of theirs stamped out around us. Then we shall be on our way, unless the Church wishes to see if they can kill us before I can slaughter the cheerleaders to put the Father below equal footing. We have a job to do. Respectfully, we decline your offer to leave. And we will be leaving if your men would get out of the way.”

With that, Dani shifted into weapon form ahead of the Chain Resonance. Though, she still wasn’t all that experienced with it and the fact she hadn’t worked with the others before made it all the more awkward. Still, Dani put forth the effort of resonating with Nadia and trying to link with the others. Though something wasn't right and the resonance would cut short.

(OOC note, 2nd half of this interaction to be posted shortly from the team's pov.)

Interactions: EmperorsChosen (Aki) Sir Les Paul (Adrian) Shotgunpenguin (Wes)

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Feng Long - Aki Kiyoko - Wes Kraven - New York City
September 26th
​

Now this was interesting, the chanters and whoever the hell those five were meant some serious business, though all this talk on devils and sin and the pain whatever they were doing was reaching some of the rest two things stuck out to Feng as she spoke out;

“Two? Only one of us has madness here, unless you mean he’s on the other side… Still, what if they are a demon? Western religion always so black and white, in China and our Story Journey to the West, demons were among the enemies and the heroes, and celestials among the enemies.”

Aki had for the most part recovered from her nausea on the way over, though the energetic girl was still rather deflated, in part from that and the burning, sickening feeling from their aura. <”What are these nutjobs on about…”> She murmured with a minor pout. Aki hadn’t performed much work in the west, so the Paladins and their like she was mostly ignorant of. Seemed more or less like the cults she was somewhat familiar with. “Are they really picking a fight with us when there’s a giant monster stomping around the city…”

Wes, for his part, wasn't as tuned into the pissing contest unfolding in front of them as Nadia and Dani were. Nor was he listening to his partners talk about the nature of good and evil in terms of different religions. Instead, his focus was more internal as he tried to keep his legs from hoofing it away from the area as fast as he could.

The chorus of souls around him, from the blue haired man to the men at arms that were surrounding him, were rapidly growing to an almost deafening degree. With each spiteful stroke of the man's tongue, the sound only grew louder, and louder, until the sheer vitriol seemed to bleed into the sound of his soul itself. Now, Wes wasn’t very religious, but if he were his ears would have probably caught fire from how much they burned from the man’s verbal and spiritual assault.

The spiritual pressure wasn’t as heavy as it may have been on the others, but what he was hearing more than made up for the difference. The hair on the back of his neck stood ramrod straight, and his usually lidded eyes were for once wide open in alarm. Nadia’s command to perform chain resonance fell upon his almost deaf ears, despite her clear sign for him to act.

And for once, he would argue that his hesitancy to act was more than justified. He didn’t know if they could win against the blue haired man, even with chain resonance. For the first time in a long while, his mind was firing on all cylinders, trying to weigh whether he would even be able to resonate properly.

’How?! How is he unleashing all of that spiritual energy without resonance?! Can I even match that going all out?’ His teeth ground painfully against each other, finding it difficult to think with the spiteful sound still searing its way through his system. [color]’it’s been so long since I’ve even done chain resonance. What if I can’t do it? What if everyone gets hurt because of me?’[/color]

“Stop!” He shouted, a tinge of fear in his voice as he held his hands out in front of him, using his own wavelength to heighten his voice as if he were speaking through a megaphone. He wasn’t going to risk it, he wasn’t going to get people hurt because he was too lazy to actually keep up on his training. “Everyone just, calm down.”

”<They are Fanatics, blind by faith and possibility a cult really. They believe they have run and say. They will call us heretics now, they just have enough cultists to go “See we are not a cult now! A lot like the Yellow Turbans.”>” Feng said, watching with some interest as Wes seemed to have an existential crisis. Giving Aki a pat on the head, she turned her attention to Wes in full, at his outburst, though he was not totally wrong, she could tell that Nadia was already a bit pissed with this defiance, based on the nasty glare she was giving him.

”Wes, calm yourself as well… If you think you can draw water from the stone, then try.” Turning to perform a bow as if to ask for forgiveness, she waited for Nadia’s immediate reaction, which seemed to be a dismissive snort. ”You likely have less than a minute to make your case.”

Aki hummed a bit at that, her eyes drawing to the rest of the chorus. Nadia said something about killing them and weakening the blue-haired guy. She wondered if they were giving him power. Perhaps it was like Chain Resonance. However, Wes caught her attention shortly thereafter. Mimicking the gesture of Feng, she approached his side and patted his arm a bit. “It’ll be okay,” She told him simply. While the feeling they gave off also made her sick and a bit wary, Aki was perhaps too used to the feeling to be immobilized by it. ‘The Yellow Turbans lost after all. If they’re some kind of cult, I don’t think they can match our experience and training… and Nadia seems to have a plan as well. Plus there’s the tail lady… And I’d be pretty surprised if they try to fight the DWMA in the middle of all this,’ She added, seemingly having enough sense to say all that through their link before stepping closer to Feng in case she needed to transform.

”The what?” He asked, having absolutely zero idea what the duo were referring to. Still, for the absolute daggers that Nadia was throwing his way and the still ear burning chastising from the blue haired man, he had to at least try and plead his case. But it wasn’t like he could go shouting out that he thought they were outmatched. He’d probably find Nadia’s partner stabbed through his chest before he’d even finish his sentence.

Taking a step towards Feng and Aki, he placed a hand on both of the girls shoulders, speaking to them through their soul ink. ’Listen. I don’t know if we can fight this guy, as much as she thinks otherwise.’ He nodded his head to the white haired meister, before continuing. 'The amount of spiritual energy he’s outputting, it’s insane. I don’t-‘ His face fell slightly, a tinge of anger flashing in his eyes before being replaced once again by a look of panic. [color]’I can’t match that. And even if I could, I’d be too exhausted to do anything after. We’d still have a giant monster to deal with.[/color]


’I don’t think she wants to fight him, so much as do a show of force to make us more trouble than we are worth, also he’s getting it from them. Its what their church does, the followers link prayers and chants to the spirit, it reminds me of Chi, but different. Nadia is likely going to tear your head off when this is done, what do you suggest we do? We can’t leave.’ Feng said in turn using the same connection. ’From what I’ve heard, they don’t consider weapons like you and Aki to be humans.’

‘Either way, we were sent here to do a job… Can we really just turn around because some weirdos told us to?’ Aki asked with a tilt of her head. ‘Besides… they look organized… Usually cults and splinter groups like this don’t get to that level by attacking the local forces head on. I mean… attacking the Shinigami’s forces in the middle of a disaster just seems super dumb, and if they were that dumb they’d probably be all dead by now.’

Listening to his partners, he really, really hoped that Feng was right about Nadia wanting to call their bluff and nothing more. He also hoped that Aki’s insight into the fighting tactics of cults proved accurate, even if he did wonder how she knew so much about cults. Shaking his head, he spared another look at Nadia before turning back to the duo in front of him. ’Alright, fine. If it’s a show of force, I’ll do it. Get ready, and hope that we can puff our chests out better than they can.

Having said that, he gave the duo a nod before transforming into his weapon form. The cord wrapped itself around Feng’s arm, leaving enough slack that he hung slightly from her forearm. Breathing a sigh, he held onto it and tried to drown out the stinging chorus, ears twitching as it searched for Nadia’s and Dani’s wavelength.

He reached out, slowly extending his wavelength to connect to theirs, while attaching to Feng’s and Aki’s. And as soon as he found the other duo's wavelength, he wished he didn’t. He was met with a sound that was worse than the overwhelming pressure from the group before them, if that were even possible. It was like someone was tearing apart metal inside of his head, every second a twisted and horrific experience that made him nauseous.

’Agh! He cried out in their shared soul space, his connection to his own partners wavering slightly, spiking and plateauing before being brought back under control. 'It’s too loud! How am I supposed to work with this?!” It was the second worst sound he’d ever heard, topped only by the soul shattering pain and screeching of rejection.

With that said, Feng actually did draw her pistol and motioned for Aki to transform, but she did not level the weapons just yet, turning her focus towards what she deemed the weakest of the Knights, she speaks up;

”Go easy yes? We all have nice laugh over this, monster to kill. Your men stop messing with our spirits, and a few of you back away. No need to find out who’s religion is real. And I’m not asking. I promise on the name of the Han, on the name of China and the spirits of the Ancestors, if this continues, it will lead to something many will regret. I apologize on the behalf of the boss, but we got places to be.” She said in her thickly accented English. Fortunately, Nadia with her attempted show of force disconnecting, had made not efforts to resonate just yet, but to call the situation a tense Mexican standoff would be apt, the guns just had not been drawn just yet.

Aki transformed into Feng’s open hand upon being gestured. Dani for her part ceased any beginnings of Chain Resonance upon the reaction of Wes. Thinking on it, her wavelength was fairly loud and conflicted with sound wavelengths, so it probably wasn’t the best call.

Interactions: EmperorsChosen (Aki) Sir Les Paul (Adrian/NPC's) Shotgunpenguin (Wes)