#THIS IS THE SAME MAN WHO DISEMBOWELS HIMSELF FOR HIS BELIEFS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caiminnent · 4 years

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not designed for the cynical [kylux with side phasma/rey, rated T]

PROMPTS: communication suddenly cut off (@badthingshappenbingo, 8/25) & bed sharing - pet - delivery (@kyluxxoxo)

SUMMARY:

Whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. The job offer he accepts turns out to be far more than he's bargained for.

(This is a low-key Inception AU that requires little to no knowledge of the movie.)

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, except not really, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Related

NOTES: This was written mostly during commute and/or sleep-deprived within an inch of my life and edited under the same circumstances. As such, I don't have the faintest clue what this is, but I love it.

5K || ALSO ON AO3

Hux isn’t prone to worry.

He is prone to stress, and he’s got the blood pressure to prove it—but that’s a necessity of the life they lead. It’s got its uses. Worry, however, is for when you don’t have an alphabetised, colour-coded list of plans for every situation that may arise. Worry is for the under-prepared.

Worry is a waste of time.

Knowing this doesn’t stop the fist around his heart from squeezing tight every time he hits redial and finds Ren’s phone still switched off, however.

Then again, there’s no real reason to worry about it. It’s a perfectly Ren move to go off the radar for weeks on end and turn up three countries away from where he was supposed to be, shrugging off all reprimand like he can’t understand why they’re so angry about it. It’s just what he does—he disappears, then he shows up at your doorstep when you least expect it.

He will this time, too. He promised—he will be back by Hux’s birthday.

----------------

Contrary to the popular (re: Ren’s) belief, life doesn’t stop just because Ren is off doing what Ren does somewhere else.

Even with all the safe houses and personas they maintain all across the world, the unreasonable amounts of money Snoke throws at them to be at his beck and call is more than enough to keep them afloat. Ren would be fine with not taking another independent job ever again; but Hux knows better than to rely on Snoke alone. He’s been burned enough times by fickle employers; he’s not ready to bet on the wrong horse and have to build his reputation up from scratch yet again.

That’s part of why, whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. It keeps him in the game, on the occasion he gets an offer worth considering—and if he doesn’t, he calls it getting a feel for the market and moves on.

Monday morning finds him curled on the sofa, going through the responses on his phone. Most offers he received are below his notice like he expected, some downright insulting—and then there’s the e-mail from Enric Pryde himself.

He sits up so fast he almost knocks over his empty cup.

Among the dreamshare community, the First Order is as revered as it is despised. They reach out to very few and pay three times what they should; but the cost of failure is equally severe, growing proportionately to the project’s worth. Which seems to be a lot, in this case. While he can��t tell from the sparse details in the e-mail whether this Project Starkiller is meant to be a moving city or some sort of weapon—perhaps both, knowing the First Order—he already estimates at least two layers, more likely three, and a special blend of stabiliser for the dreamer and the architect both, who cannot be the same person for this design.

Because they want him on board as the main architect and his dreams never hold steady after the first layer, special blend or no.

Whatever he was looking for as a quick job, this is not it. It’s far more involved and challenging than he could have imagined—and, he’s finding, everything he needed. He could do this for himself. He could work a job he enjoys, instead of running point to Ren or Phasma’s picks all the time to keep them from working with incompetent point men.

Ren and Phasma, who might be working with incompetent point men halfway across the world this very moment.

No. No, he’s not thinking that. His birthday is only three days away. Everything is fine.

----------------

He e-mails back to say he’s honoured and asks for one week to get his team together. Pryde gives him five days and a thinly-veiled warning that there are others who would jump at this opportunity.

Stomach at his feet, Hux throws his phone on the coffee table and gets up to make more tea.

----------------

As expected, research gives him little of substance about the First Order’s operations and nothing at all about the Starkiller, although he finds a low-quality close-up of Pryde to glare at as he sketches out some ideas. They will get binned once he gets his hands on the self-destructing dossiers or whatever ridiculous security protocols the First Order may work with; but it keeps him busy. Better than watching the hours tick by.

When the clock turns from 11:59 to midnight on what is now Thursday, he considers texting Rey to ask if she’s heard from Phasma recently—changes his mind before he even picks up the phone. Ren wouldn’t like it. Hux has been accused of being a control freak more times than he can count as it is; he doesn’t want to add clingy to the list of his unattractive qualities.

----------------

At two in the morning, the doorbell rings.

He is going to murder Ren.

The door had never felt so close or so far as he rushes to it, heart hammering in his chest. He’s going to let Ren in, he’s going to check him for injuries and he’s going to disembowel that infuriating, thoughtless, selfish piece of shite if he’s had Hux fret all this time for no reason—

“Hi,” Rey chirps, looking up at him with damp eyes and a brittle smile. She raises a bottle of whiskey—Phasma’s favourite. “Happy birthday?”

He opens the door wider.

----------------

Admittedly—not out loud; he would never hear the end of it, from her or her cousin—Rey scores high on the short list of people whose company he enjoys. The booze helps, too. They drink in front of the television Hux hasn’t switched off in days and talk about everything but the aching holes in their chests.

She falls asleep on the sofa. He puts a blanket over her and goes to bed.

----------------

In the morning—practically afternoon, if he’s being honest—he tells her about the Starkiller. The plan was to pitch it to Ren first, to see what he thinks before bringing in the others. As it is, Ren isn’t here and none of Hux’s messages has gone through since their interrupted conversation and Hux is going to bloody explode if he doesn’t tell someone.

“I’m not sure, Armie,” she says around a spoonful of breakfast cereal he certainly didn’t buy. “He will never agree to work for the First Order.”

“Why the hell not? He works for Snoke.” Rather happily, in fact. Ren never prepares more carefully for a job than one of Snoke’s plentiful errands, no matter how simple. “Why wouldn’t he work for Snoke’s own company?”

She considers him for a long moment, chewing slowly. “He hasn’t told you the story.”

The implication—accusation—stings deep. “What story?” he demands, pushing his tea away to lean closer. The words held the intonation of capital letters, which means missing information that could potentially blindside them down the line. His respect for Ren’s private business isn’t greater than his responsibilities.

“Not mine to tell,” she says sternly, pinching her lips in disappointment like he should be ashamed to have asked to begin with. “Ask him.”

He snorts. Ren is hardly the sharing type, especially where Hux is concerned. Everything he’s ever learned about Ren has come through other means—and vice versa, he imagines.

She frowns, a question rising behind her eyes. He tenses on instinct. “Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head—and he can breathe more easily again. “My point is, if we’re doing this, we’ll need another forger.”

We. He doesn’t suppress his smile, relief coating his insides. “I suspect we won’t need a forger for this one. A chemist, on the other hand…”

----------------

She doesn’t leave and he doesn’t ask her to. They polish off the whiskey and pretend not to check their phones every ten minutes while binge-watching Star Wars, including the newest releases even their resident space nerd couldn’t finish.

He visualises Ren’s horrified expression when Hux reveals how he and Rey bonded over their shared love for big guns and hot villains in Ren’s absence. Laughter gets stuck in his throat, forming a painful lump instead.

He bids her good night and slinks away into his bedroom to stare at the ceiling.

Barely ten minutes pass before the television switches off in the next room, soft footsteps echoing lightly in the corridor. He turns his back to the door and feigns sleep as it opens and closes—which is a coward’s way, but he’s never claimed to be a particularly brave man. If he were, he would have asked Ren to stop working for Snoke instead of stewing in his misery right now.

Compared to her cousin, Rey’s weight barely shifts the mattress as she climbs in, sliding under the covers without fanfare. He shuts his eyes tighter and allows himself to imagine, just for a moment, that Ren is back.

“I haven’t heard from Phasma in over a month.”

Over a month? Hells, no wonder she sought him out. “Ren and I talked two weeks ago,” he says—realises with a sinking feeling that it sounded like he was rubbing it in. “Closer to three, actually.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much that I could understand. The reception was horrible.” Bits and pieces through constant breaking: Hux, shit, in case, person and, inexplicably, home. “I didn’t get the impression they were in danger—just inconvenienced.” As is often the case with these missions. Snoke’s got a small army of trained private security under his command and he still sends Ren to the most out-of-the-way places.

That Snoke’s hired Phasma as well for this one is a little more concerning, but not overly so. Reckless as they both can be, Ren and Phasma are forces to be reckoned with on the field—Hux would be more inclined to feel sorry for their adversaries.

Rey sighs. “Hope you’re right, Armie.”

----------------

If Mitaka is surprised to see Rey strut about in Hux’s shortest joggers she still needed to fold at the ankles and an old shirt, he politely doesn’t mention it. He and Rey exchange banal pleasantries over coffee and day-old cake while Hux finishes typing up his notes, then they get to work.

Mitaka listens to the briefing with unwavering attention, his fingers stapled in front of him like a front-row student. Like everyone else in their extended team, Mitaka is an experienced, accomplished dreamer—and yet, Hux can’t help looking at him and seeing the fresh-faced cadet Phasma had dragged in ages ago, barely into his twenties and all the more naive for it.

They’ve gotten old—Hux most so.

Once Hux finishes, “If you both are building this time,” Mitaka starts, looking between the two. “Who will be taking point? The Captain?”

Next to him, Rey inhales sharply, her face mostly hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Shame crosses through Mitaka’s face at the realised misstep.

“She’s otherwise occupied,” Hux responds before Mitaka can break into apologies. No need to make this more painful or awkward than it needs to be. “I will be running point as usual, and Rey is here to help with the heavy-lifting.”

Mitaka nods, glancing at Rey with concern before turning to Hux fully. “Where do I sign?”

----------------

They sign a heavily-encrypted stack of documents digitally, sending them through the First Order’s own communication system. The next day, they receive a link to a private cloud service with a convoluted unlock sequence that can be accessed by one device at a time, read-only.

Hux alone works on three different devices.

On the bright side, the project they receive is well-worth the inconvenience. Their objective is to design and build a superweapon out of an extensively described ice planet in the dreamspace, which must be capable of hitting five targets simultaneously and obliterating all affected life forms on them without causing a single non-predetermined casualty. Controlled chaos, if you will. The First Order wants a catastrophe they can tame and leash.

Hux can make it happen.

Whether he can make it happen in eight weeks is a different question entirely.

----------------

Without Ren to drag him away from work, he’s free to divide his waking hours between his screens and the sitting room, which they repurposed into a workshop-slash-dream den. While Hux is a decent architect in a pinch, he could never build the way Rey does—the way she bends the dreamspace to her will and creates cities that feel alive around them. Between the two of them, they have the groundwork laid out within days, quickly moving on to revising the base design according to the specifications in the main file and the numbers Hux runs.

Instead of using pre-mixed batches, Mitaka mixes their Somnacin from scratch on the kitchen table, reworking the formula per the reactions. None he comes up with works to keep Hux’s dreams steady, although a couple seem to ground his control over the dreamspace. Most just turn the dreams into nightmares for everyone involved.

Many of the nightmares are about Ren. Every time they manage to wake up from one of those, he looks at Rey to apologise. She never meets his eyes.

----------------

Unlike the two of them, Mitaka has family to return to and so he does when it gets late, leaving them to eat take-away and talk around the elephant in the room. On the rare occasion they do talk. Even though Hux gets the most shit for his workaholic tendencies, they all are guilty of it in different degrees; most nights are spent hunched over desks or tablets until they come close to shooting each other over the smallest noise or mistake, then they retire for the night.

The bedroom is where the worst fears come out.

“They might need our help,” she murmurs, lowly enough that the words could get lost among the howling wind outside. “They might be injured or—or lost, waiting for rescue. And we would be here arguing about heat transfer.”

“They aren’t.”

“But how do you know?”

He sighs loudly, turning to face Rey. Her eyes are big and eerily bright in the darkness, shining. “Look, Ren and I have been through this before. We’ve got contingencies in place for any kind of emergency—strategies to scarper and regroup as needed, fake identities with paper trail, codes to slip into lines of communication that will find their way to the other’s ear—all of which tied to systems that would alert us both if ever used. So far?” He gestures vaguely to his phones on the nightstand. “Complete radio silence.”

“Well it might be because he’s—”

His stomach lurching, “Don’t,” he bites out. He’s had enough nights contemplating that possibility himself, reasoning himself out of that line of thinking with more effort each time; he can’t handle someone else saying it.

Especially not Rey, whose unfailing optimism has seen them through many a dark spot.

“They will be back soon,” he says with conviction he forces himself to feel. They always do. This is just taking longer than expected.

Rey’s silence rings in the room.

----------------

At the end of the third week, Enric Pryde reaches out to him. His voice is as cold and serpent-like as he looks.

They talk for two and a half minutes—more accurately, Pryde relays his demands for two minutes and rebuffs Hux’s protests for the next half, then hangs up unceremoniously on him.

Fuming, Hux tries to glare a hole into his phone for about as long before going to wake Rey up.

----------------

“What do you mean, they are relocating us?”

Latching his fingers tight to keep from scraping at his already raw palms, “I mean exactly what I said,” Hux grinds out. “They want to move us into some safe house where they will provide us with everything we’ll need for the rest of the project. We don’t have the option to refuse their generosity.”

“They want to monitor us,” Mitaka says on the other end of the line, ever fond of pointing out the obvious. “Can they do that?”

“Would you like to be the one to tell them they can’t?” Hux shakes his head. They are not small fish; but the First Order is big enough to swallow them whole and not suffer for it. He knows to pick his fights. “If you’d like to drop off the face of the earth, now is the time.”

Rey snorts—as much of an answer as Mitaka’s bitter laughter.

“Well,” Rey says, scraping her chair back. “I should pack some clean underwear. When are they coming to get us?”

“As we speak.”

----------------

Before they leave, they make sure to sketch out First Order insignias on every available place. Just in case.

----------------

The safe house is, for all intents and purposes, a veritable villa in the middle of nowhere.

“A little excessive,” Mitaka comments as they tour the place, noting the bolted down furniture and darkened windows, locked conspicuously on the outside. The cupboards and the fridge are well-stocked enough to keep them fed for several months.

There is no mobile coverage.

In fact, there is no wireless connection of any sort. The multitude of devices strewn about in the house are all connected to the First Order’s own network and communications system, which provides access to every archive they might need for the project and nothing else.

The dread coiled in Hux’s guts grows heavier.

So much for his alert systems.

----------------

Progress is much faster with so much information at their fingertips.

Hux is envious of the berths of the First Order databases. Effective as his own methods of gathering intelligence are, his network couldn’t hope to have the same reach as a well-funded PMC—which he could have been a part of, had he not gone freelance instead of corporate after leaving the military.

The idea is tempting, still. He’s ruined for the civilian workforce—has been since childhood, with a father like General Brendol Hux was—but he seeks the structure and order that comes with being part of an organisation. Under different circumstances, he may have considered applying to the First Order after this project.

As their prisoner in everything but name, he wants little more than to be as far away from them as possible.

----------------

Everything they’ll need doesn’t involve a private chef or buffet, but it involves private delivery people who pick up whatever they want, no matter what they want, in a timely fashion. Because they are spiteful opportunists, they order the most extravagant and unreasonable meals they can think of. The food always arrives hot.

Hux marks the potential restaurants for each food item and how long it took to arrive on a small map every time. Just in case.

----------------

Sleeping in the same bed while Mitaka is in the next room feels too awkward, so they don’t. They don’t sleep much in general, either—not with the question of how to power a machine of the Starkiller’s scale without it overheating hanging heavy over their heads. Dreamshare mechanics are a lot more forgiving than their real-world counterparts; if they can’t pull it off down there, they sure as hell won’t make it work topside.

They have to make it work topside, they now know. The First Order wouldn’t have poured so much money and resources into what is merely Pryde’s pet design project.

“They probably have people looking into it,” Rey says, spinning her pen around her fingers with smugness dripping from her expression. He’s not petty enough to dare her to replicate it in the real world, but the thought is there. “Some super high-tech R&D division working on preventing a weapon of mass-destruction from exploding instead of, like, climate change.”

Watching her fingers like the secrets of the universe lie between them, “I don’t think so,” Mitaka responds. “It’s too much of a commitment. I bet they just wait for someone else to figure it out, then steal the designs from them.”

Something flares at the back of Hux’s mind like static, a connection he doesn’t want to make forcing itself into his awareness.

He shakes his head hard to clear it. Even with the dilation, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on things he’s got no control over.

“If you two are quite done gossiping,” he cuts in, smoothing over the blueprints in front of him for effect. “We’ve got work to do.”

----------------

We’re going to take something someone else worked very hard for, was all Ren had said the night before his departure—the only time Hux dared ask about his new job, once it became apparent Ren wasn’t going to say a word about it on his own. It’s such a non-answer that Hux couldn’t tell if Ren wanted to leave him space for plausible deniability or simply didn’t want to tell him.

He still can’t. As a matter of fact, he can’t say for sure Snoke’s job and this project are connected, either; all he’s got is a hunch.

A hunch he desperately wants to see proven wrong.

----------------

Mitaka’s newest blend is the most successful yet. They go down as far as the third level with only minor tremors under their feet—a huge leap of progress, after weeks of the ground swallowing them up whole.

Knowing better than to push their luck, they call it an early night and celebrate by ordering a feast they’ll have to take their time with. With the dinner table and every other horizontal space that could reasonably hold food covered in their work, they sprawl about the sofa set that hasn’t seen nearly enough use over their involuntary stay.

Once their food arrives and Rey realises what he ordered, a soft look crosses over her face. He ignores it. There’s only one place that serves Ren’s favourite food; it makes for a good reference point on his map. It’s not sentimental if it’s also practical.

----------------

He knew, from a logical standpoint, that having access to communication systems meant people could communicate with them and vice versa. On account of the fact that Pryde and the delivery people are the only ones to use it, he didn’t particularly care.

When the name Blysma pops up on the main screen, he realises what a gross oversight that was.

Heart at his throat, he accepts the request with shaking hands, grateful that no one is awake to see him like this. “Hux speaking.”

“Hello, Hux.”

Oh.

Oh, the ever-loving—

“Don’t say my name,” Ren adds quickly, as if he sensed that Hux was about to curse his name six ways to Sunday. “Or any other names. They don’t actively monitor your communications, but we’re pretty sure some keywords are flagged. Best not to take any chances.”

“We,” he repeats dumbly. So many questions are buzzing in his head that he doesn’t know which should take priority. “You and—ah, our mutual terrifying friend?”

Phasma’s melodic laughter rings through the other end of the line. Hux’s heart soars.

“Yeah,” Ren says, a little breathy. “Yes, we’re both here. And fine. The job ran late. Where the fuck are you?”

About that… “I don’t actually know,” he admits, the truth of it settling dark and deep into his gut. Trying to map out their location left him with more questions than answers. “Near the ocean. Far north of the city, I think; but we shouldn’t have crossed any borders.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Ren says.

Irritation rising in him, “We were hardly given a tour guide for the road,” he snaps. You should have been there to take notes, is on the tip of his tongue—he swallows the words. Ren is here now, in a way. They’ve found Hux and the others. The insignias must have pointed them in the right direction; but figuring out how to contact Hux through the First Order’s own systems? That’s all their doing.

Taking a long breath to calm himself down, “How did you contact us anyway?” he asks.

“By calling in more favours than your sorry life is worth,” Phasma says, amusement lingering in her tone. He has never been happier to hear her mocking drawl. “So you had better give us something concrete to work with before we decide to leave you to rot there.”

Racking his brain, he takes a deep breath to ground himself. He’s got to focus. However Ren and Phasma managed to get into the First Order’s systems, they are unlikely to remain unnoticed for long. He needs to make the most of it.

The answer is so simple, he wants to smack himself upside the head.

“At noon, we will place an order for three servings of Bivoli tempari from the Hosnian. Track whoever is delivering it. They should lead you to us.”

----------------

He doesn’t tell the others about it. For one, he’s not fully sure his stress-addled brain didn’t make up the whole interaction—for another, they have a check-in with Pryde scheduled at 3, during which they’re going to disappoint him again with their lack of progress regarding the overheating issue. They are on thin ice as it is; he can’t take a gamble on the quality of the others’ poker faces and risk attracting Pryde’s suspicion.

At exactly noon, he contacts the delivery people and relays the order. In his periphery, Mitaka and Rey share a look.

Once he takes his seat again, “I thought the Hosnian was eat-in only,” Rey says.

Hux shrugs. “They said everything you’ll need.”

----------------

He orders something different from the Hosnian at the same time for the next four days, just in case. Mitaka is too polite to protest, despite the cuisine clearly not agreeing with him.

Rey eyes him suspiciously every time but says nothing, waiting for him to come to her instead of forcing an explanation out of him. He appreciates it more than he can put into words. He can only hope she understands.

----------------

Dying in an explosion ten times in a row tends to throw a wrench in group morale.

Unwilling to kill themselves just to wake up in the safe house, they wordlessly agree to wait out the timer. The burnout has settled deep onto their bones; Pryde’s implicit threats after every check-in don’t help their mental state, either. If Ren and Phasma hadn’t made contact, Hux might have considered taking his chances with a desperate escape attempt instead of sticking around to see what punishment the First Order would dole out for their inevitable failure. It might prove the better end, at any rate.

“I am going back to my children after this,” Mitaka says with more conviction than Hux has been able to muster up about anything in months. “I don’t care what happens. I don’t care if they kill me for it—I won’t die without seeing my family again.”

“We are not dying,” Hux reassures him. With three real-world seconds to the scheduled kick, he explains everything—Ren and Phasma making contact, the bare-bones of the plan and Blysma’s carefully vague progress update texts, the precautions they’re taking to keep Mitaka’s family safe should something go wrong.

Mitaka cries silent, happy tears at the news. Rey gives Mitaka a warm smile and pulls him close.

“That’s it,” she tells Hux, rubbing at Mitaka’s arm in sympathy. “I’m not letting her take a job without me ever again.”

Raising a brow, “You would be announcing to everyone in the community that she’s the best leverage against you,” he points out, not unkindly. He understands the sentiment—truly, he does—but it’s woefully impractical. Not to mention the kind of commitment it would take.

Her eyes gleam, smile turning secretive in that way he’s learned not to trust. Reaching into her pocket with her free hand, “I was already going to do that,” she says airily, taking out a small, velvet box.

Ah. Fair enough, then.

----------------

Hux is above lying to his employers.

Rather, he likes to think he is. Dreamshare, sophisticated as it may be at its heart, is an underground science—as such, it attracts a certain crowd. In a community where lying through one’s teeth is a survival skill, Hux knows to look someone in the eye and spin a tale truer than the truth as well as the next crook; he just prefers to tell the truth as long as it will leave his head connected to his body.

As it happens, this is the last scheduled check-in before the deadline. Giving Pryde bad news now would be signing their death warrant.

When Hux reports their success, Pryde smiles. The sight haunts Hux’s nightmares for days.

----------------

Blysma’s communication request comes the night before the grand plan, unscheduled.

His mind racing with possibilities, he grabs the tablet sitting on his nightstand before the notification wakes the others, accepting the request with, “Hux speaking.” As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing left to talk about. Phasma has already laid out all she could of the plan without tipping off the First Order; a recap now would do more harm than good.

If this is about a last-minute change—well. Adaptability is another survival skill in their line of work.

“I missed your birthday.”

Hux blinks at the screen in his hands. “I—yes.” By a couple of months, at this stage. Where did that come from? Surely Ren didn’t realise it only now? “If you contacted me to wish me a happy belated birthday…”

“Of course not. I—uh, I called to hear your voice.” Hux’s lungs tighten, all too aware of his heartbeat. “Since we never finished our conversation.”

Their conversation. The handful of words Hux has been turning over in his head for months, to no apparent meaning or answer.

He’s bloody desperate to ask and finally, finally find out; but they’ve waited this long. They can be patient a little longer. “This is neither the time nor the place,” Hux says, as gently as he’s able, biting down on the instinctive Ren at the end. Now would be the absolute worst time for a slip-up. “Whatever it was, you can tell me tomorrow. In person.”

“That’s just it,” Ren mutters. “The last time I tried to tell you, we kept getting cut-off until signal completely went away and I thought, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a few days, I’ll just tell him then. In person.” He laughs, a breathy, bitter sound. “But then…”

But then Ren couldn’t get back until a few weeks after—and when he did, Hux wasn’t there anymore.

He clears his throat to get out the lump lodged there. “Then you’ll just have to be there this time,” he says firmly—his point man voice. “Because I will be, and I won’t accept any excuses.”

After a long beat, “Yes, sir,” Ren says, a smile in his voice. “See you on the other side.”

“Sleep well.”

#Kylux Summer Fest 2020 #Bad Things Happen Bingo #kylux #Armitage Hux #Kylo Ren #Rey #Dopheld Mitaka #Phasma #Star Wars #Cai does words #finished fics #I know I say this for every fic #but this fic was a ride #I can happily go back to my KBB fic now #not designed for the cynical

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xenoredux · 4 years

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The Legend of Silver Fang - Episode 4: The Gang Wars

If you haven’t read episode 3 yet, you can do so here.

As mentioned before, the major story beats and overarching plot are the same. This is written under the supposition that, in fantasy land, this is a mini series with episodes that run about 2 hours in length each.

Some things to be aware of going in:

This story is violent as shit!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR: Animal injuries, animal death, drowning, cannibalism, disembowelment, illness via poisoning, and other bloody Epic Bruh Moments. Maybe don’t read ahead if dead animals upset you

I was trying to achieve a decent adaptation that combines the strongest elements of the anime and manga. It will not be precisely like either and will occasionally totally deviate from both

This isn’t meant to be “better” then the canon. It’s just the way I’d go about rewriting the Akakabuto arc if I had that level of ungodly power lol

Character designs made to represent several mentioned characters can be found here, here, here, here, and here. Others will be left up to the reader’s interpretation. A link to the next episode will also be provided at the end. If a link isn’t available, the next episode just hasn’t been posted yet!

YES THIS IS THE ONE WITH THE NINJAS IN IT

The first, second, and third platoons are heading to Kasumi Dake. It's an admittedly creepy part of their road trip. The mountain is as misty as its name implies, as is the surrounding, half-dead forest.

To make matters worse/spookier, the once pale blue sky has turned a garish grey, and thunder rumbles as it begins to rain. The Kai Bros confirm they're on the right trail to the mountain, so none of the more crybabyish among them (lookin' at you, Hyena) have an excuse to leave.

Still, it'll be harder to deal with this matter during a storm, so the army huddles together under a rock overhang, being afforded just enough room to keep out of the weather's way. The Kai Bros detail how much of a bullheaded pig Moss is as everyone listens. Akatora says that Old Fattycakes has been trying to cagoule he and his brothers into joining his dogmafia for legit years now, and he just gets madder every time they tell him to get lost.

Unexpectedly, Ben gives a heaping helping of benefit-of-the-doubt to this crimelord, insisting that he's got to have something going for him if he has a huge pack. At the very least he must hold a belief his followers share. Nobody can hazard a guess as to what such an ideology could be, but it gets the dogs thinking.

Cross says this means they should try to handle the situation peacefully if they can, only launching a full blown takedown if Moss proves he's just your run-of-the-mill dictator. The Kai Bros aren't happy to hear the army might go soft on Moss, but they don't complain.

A moment later, Hyena begins to slink away from camp. Great asks where he's going and the Weimeranar twitches, says he needs to take a leak. Hyena says he could always stay under the rock, though he's not sure if he'll be able to keep from wetting himself much longer, and Great is so icked out that he all but tells Hyena in an Italian accent that it's time to take a piss.

Hyena snorts and tells the crew to keep an eye on the group's baby as he might wet himself instead, and he's already gone by the time Gin realizes he was being picked on by a nerd twice his age.

Smith laughs and tells Gin not to take anything Hyena does to heart. He's always been a wormy little guy. That's probably why he falls in behind Sniper so easily. He doesn't have the balls to pull any nasty tricks without his German Nanny around. Gin laughs and tugs on Smith's ear appreciatively.

It would seem as if Smith doesn't know Hyena as well as he thinks, though, because Hyena, though he did stop to pee, is up to some nasty business indeed. He's wandered into the forest, howling gingerly to attract the locals' attention.

He garners a response as a booming, gravely voice tells him to either state his business or get the fuck off his lawn. Several dogs who exude the same energy as smoking bikers with sleeve tattoos encircle him, cornering him against a boulder. As Hyena hyperventilates, he looks up top the boulder and shrieks.

Hyena's gaze meets with that of the biggest, heaviest dog he's ever seen. Shorter then Ben but with twice his body weight, the animal is a hulking English Mastiff mix with a spiked collar and, curiously, a coat mottled with zipper scars from stitches long since healed.

Beside the dog are two others; like bookends, they stand beside him, the leftmost looking like a slender, younger clone of the absolute unit of a dog and the rightmost being a Siberian Husky. There's no doubt about who the big guy is: Kasumi Dake's own godfather, Moss.

Miles and miles away, Hidetoshi leaves the hospital to head to a board meeting. Outside of the hospital, Daisuke is standing in the rain with a colorful, cartoon character clad umbrella. Hidetoshi tells Daisuke he should go home, Gohei's asleep and it's past visitation hours. Daisuke shakes his head and looks at John. The dog tries to follow Hidetoshi into his car but is gently pushed away.

Before Hidetoshi drives off, he gives Daisuke a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry about Gin's disappearance," he says. "We'll find him someday, I promise you that." Before Daisuke can respond, the good doctor has already put peddle to metal.

Daisuke sulks and begins to walk home, seemingly lost in thought. John sighs melodramatically as he wanders through a pet door into Hidetoshi's office. The shepherd's eyes float across the photos adorning the walls, each one reigniting a memory of bloody exploits past. John scoffs about how Hidetoshi - and most of the men in the village, for that matter - have given up hunting, which just goes to show how much of a pack of quitters humans are.

His mind wanders to Gin. He's been thinking of the Akita more and more these days, mulling over their last exchange. If he's to be perfectly honest, John's gotta admit that he's fearful for his sorta-friend's wellbeing.

Enough is enough. All inaction and no killing makes John a dull boy, so it's time to return to the mountains. He'll kill three birds with one stone: make sure Gin is okay, return him to Daisuke (by force if necessary), and maybe kill a tyrannical bear or two if he has time for it. John smugly grins at his totally foolproof plan as he runs out. It's time to become the village hero. It's time to actually make a difference.

The rain finally lets up. Back under the rock the dogs are coming to realize this, and so they begin leaving their resting place. Akatora reminds Ben once more that he and his bros are, like, SUPER willing to kill Moss if he doesn't listen to reason, to which Ben, with his most fatherly of smiles, tells them to start chillin' with the killin'.

But before anyone does anything, Gin points out that Hyena never came back from his pee break. Ben heaves an exasperated sigh. Gin gathers this isn't the first time Hyena's pulled some dumb, inconvenient shit.

Smith mutters about "that goddamn idiot" under his breath before saying he'll do the honors of finding the lost complaint factory. Having begun to strike up a friendship with Smith, Gin channels his inner five year old and excitedly asks Ben if he can go with.

Ben allows the boy he's essentially adopted to run off with his friend and the two young dogs scampering off. Ben chuckles and says dogs Gin's age always need a reason to keep moving. A moment later the group departs.

Meanwhile, Hyena has been filling Moss's head with both disgustingly transparent flattery and heinous lies. The story the little traitor's come up with goes something like this: he's a feral dog living with a nomadic pack run by a dude called Ben. The pack has recently encountered the infamous Kai Ken Short Kings who've tricked Ben into thinking Moss was seeking to destroy all competing packs. This has led to Ben waging war on Kasumi Dake. Poor Ben is just too stupid and smelly to know any better, but he's powerful and dangerous to trifle with nevertheless.

Moss smells a rat - possibly a large, grey, snively one - but he allows Hyena to leave his territory unharmed. He turns to the Mini-Moss at his side and asks what he thinks of the situation, addressing him as Jaguar.

Jaguar is Moss's son from a litter wherein he was the only survivor. He's only 2 years old, just a touch older then Gin is. The youngster puts on a bold face and says that he doesn't believe any pack's leader would buckle to three dogs he dwarfs just to start a random war. Moss agrees, saying that the Kai Bros are too up their own asses to recruit assistants anyway.

That said, the husky at his side, Lloyd, still believes caution should be taken. The little wormy guy might've been lying about the Kai Bros, somehow having discovered their beef with Moss, but there's no saying a large pack of feral dogs couldn't be seeking to do them harm.

Moss decides to send two of his men to spy on the pack and learn more about its intentions. In a parallel to Gin's departure with Smith, Jaguar asks if he and Lloyd may do said spying, his desire being to prove himself to his old man. Moss agrees so long as his son keeps himself safe, and he proudly watches the two slink off into the forest.

Elsewhere, Gin and Smith are trying and failing to find Hyena. Smith's getting increasingly annoyed at the little bugger, cursing and complaining about the inconvenience. Suddenly, both he and Gin smell something coming. It's not Hyena, but someone else. Two other someone elses, in fact. The two run and hide somewhere they won't be spotted to watch their new company.

As Gin and Smith sit atop a rocky ledge, two unfamiliar dogs run by. Smith hazards a guess that they're two of Moss's men as and the two strangers come to a stop. Gin and Smith gasp - Hyena is standing in the strangers' way! Moss's dudes ask what Hyena's still piddlefarting around here for when, in a shocking display of effort, Hyena lashes out and bites the Mastiff in the neck.

Gin and Smith can barely contain themselves - what the hell is this idiot doing?! He's going to get everyone in trouble! Gin can't stand by and let this happen. He's about to spring into action but stops when he notices a dark shadow descending on the group.

The shadow is from an illusive cling-on the pack hadn't realized was following them: General Sniper! The Doberman dives onto Lloyd, landing the perfect blow and snapping the Husky's neck on impact. Lloyd dies instantly, his body tumbling to the ground. Sniper gives a wildly cliche evil laugh. He turns to a confused Jaguar as the Mastiff punts Hyena aside.

Jaguar runs to Lloyd's side and starts shaking him in an effort to revive him. Sniper just guffaws and tells Moss's precious son that his death is necessary for the cause. That cause being, of course, a war between Moss and Ben's packs, a war which will hopefully lead to Ben's demise. He punctuates his insidious plan by slashing open Jaguar's left shoulder, sending the inexperienced dog rolling in the dirt.

Meanwhile, on the cusp of the village, Daisuke is looking around the forest, bow clutched in hand. He's calling Gin's name and murmuring about how his dog had had a strange fascination with the feral pack in the area. Could Gin have come out here? And Daisuke had thought the rain had let up, what is this sticky substance dripping onto his shoulder?

The child turns to see he's being overlooked by a bigass bear with a set of hugeass teeth. As he screams bloody murder, the bear begins climbing down towards him. The animal roars hideously at Daisuke as it approaches.

While Daisuke cowers and falls on his ass, the shadow of a dog passes over him and snags hold of the animal's muzzle. It's John, heroically putting the kibosh on his departure so he can save the shrieking boychild.

Back at Kasumi Dake, Gin's had enough. He leaps down from his hiding place and bops Sniper upside the head, smacking him just far away enough to distance him from Jaguar. Smith joins Gin while the brindle scolds Sniper for his heinous deed, fully planning to follow his chiding up with an asskicking.

Smith joins in the Sniper-bashing bonanza by spitting in Sniper's face and telling him he can pull whatever bullshit he wants, he'll never overpower Ben. Hyena tries to intrude and save/stroke Sniper's ego, but Smith just chases him away, offering him a hearty whooping for his treason. Distracted by the injustice taking place, nobody notices as a bleeding Jaguar limps off.

Sniper, flustered with his failure to assassinate the canine equivalent of a 19 year old, throws himself headlong into Gin, ready to rip him to pieces. He's Too Slow, though, and Gin leaps into a nearby tree out of his reach.

A look of fear flashes in Sniper's eyes. He's not afraid of Gin killing him, but instead of his physical prowess. The Boss is also capable of vertical leaping and other anime asspulls. This convinces Sniper once and for all that Gin truly is the Boss's kid. Aight! All the more reason to kill the kid.

"Do you know why they call me Sniper?" he calls up as Gin readies to leap down. "Snipers are known for their accuracy. They never miss." Gin lunges down at the Doberman. Sniper bares his razor sharp fangs. "I never miss."

Gin realizes he's about to be assblasted by the general's teef, so he does a barrel roll in midair fast enough to dodge Sniper's fangs but not his force. He's sent backwards, colliding with a tree and having the wind knocked out of him.

As he struggles to get up, Sniper looms over him and steps on his head. Mr. S begins sadistically cooing at the young dog, promising him he'll bury Gin and Ben alongside each other when they're both dead.

But there's several episodes left for me to write, so of course Smith comes back and boots Sniper out of the way just in time to save Gin's life. A bloodied, battered Hyena follows behind Smith, but he's useless to help his boss now. Smith grabs Gin, flings him onto his back, and, with great effort, runs away. Sniper and his now worthless henchman give chase, hollering about how the two should've been more obedient to their superior. The Spaniel just bails, desperate to get away.

Perhaps too desperate, because he's unable to stop when he realizes he's run into the edge of a cliff. He screams as he and a barely lucid Gin fly over the edge, both of them dropping into the stream below. Sniper and Hyena watch wordlessly as the soldiers disappear from sight.

As the dogs duke it out, Daisuke is still cowering and John is still bear wrastling. Problem is that John overestimated himself. Without an armed human at his back, bears are like twice as hard to kill now. The shepherd tries his best to keep pace with the bear, but he's getting more and more tired by the second. He quickly begins to realize he can't save Daisuke despite his promise to Gin. His eyes sting with tears of desperation.

Just before the bear is about to abandon the puny pooch and start chomping on the child, an ominous howl is heard.

The dog, the bear, and that kid over there gaze up as a muscular, heavily scarred dog leaps to Daisuke's side. Daisuke takes one look at the dog and faints dead away, overwhelmed by all the shit that's happening.

The dog is Riki, better known to John as The Boss, and his ferocious growl and rippling dog pecs alone are enough to drive the bear out of sight. As the bear stomps off to gossip about this event, The Boss Dog turns to John.

The leader's voice drops to a mellow, low tone, and he asks why John's back here instead of with the other soldiers. If he recalls correctly, John was going to follow Ben on his cross-country trip. John snorts disdainfully and says neither Ben nor Muscles McGee here are his leader. Nobody leads someone as hardcore as John.

The Akita Killyou nods thoughtfully, irritating the edgelord before him, before asking what John plans to do now. In a moment of foolish boldness, John spits that he's going to lead the boss's pack now. The battle-worn bitchboy better ready himself, because John's about to steal his position... by force.

Elsewhere in a stream, two other dogs are doing their best to survive. Smith struggles to keep himself afloat with Gin on his back, but he's growing weak. The Spaniel inevitably succumbs to his exhaustion and begins sinking.

As the water floods his faceholes, Gin regains consciousness with a snort. He treads water for a sec and realizes his friend is underwater beneath him. "Smith!" Gin exclaims before diving in. He returns the life saving favor to Smith by yoinking him up by his collar so that his head is just above the water.

After he catches his breath, Smith confides in Gin that maybe dropping 20 feet into a raging river wasn't such a good idea. He feels battered enough that he thinks he's broken something. He urges Gin to let him go, but Gin stubbornly shakes his head no. Smith's eyes widen as a rumbling sound fills his ears. He looks further down the river and sees a wave of foam flowing over a cliff's edge. This stream leads to a waterfall!

Smith demands Gin let go and save himself, but given he's the hero of this story, Gin adamantly refuses, instead clinging to his friend. As the two reach the fall's edge, Gin turns Smith to face upward, shielding him with his body as they fall into the lake below.

Meanwhile, Riki and John stand off in earnest. The Ohu leader has agreed to battle John for rank, and he doesn't seem the least bit concerned about defending his title. This is likely because all it takes to down ole Johnny boy is a single, well-placed smack with the fangs.

As John collapses, the leader stands over him, offering to help him up onto his paws. John refuses to meet the other dog's gaze, but the boss just smiles. He tells John that he'll be keeping his position as leader, but that John is always invited to join his ranks. He'd be honored to have such a powerful spirit fighting alongside him.

John's ego is more then a little hurt, so he just snarls that what the boss and his soldiers are doing is stupid. A ragtag group of mutts cannot bring down a monster the likes of Akakabuto, and he's never going to change his mind about that.

The boss nods, but he must respectfully disagree. His power is hard to overstate - hell, he can scare bears off with a funny look. And yet he knows he couldn't kill Akakabuto alone even if he tried. He says that there's strength in numbers not when a bunch of directionless cowards join forces, but when those who are strong as individuals work together.

John's forehead crinkles before the boss offers him a bow and runs back into the woods. John is left panting beside Daisuke, who he then begins dragging back to the village.

Dusk comes and goes, bringing nighttime with it. The platoons have been waiting for the return of their soldiers, but it's been taking an awful long time for them to return. They'll never meet Moss at this rate. Chutora suggests that Hyena, Smith, and Gin have all died, to which Cross responds by cuffing him upside the head.

The two are about to squabble when Ben tells everyone to knock that shit off, he can smell blood. Everyone is suddenly alert as a stranger with a gash in his shoulder stumbles into view, collapsing not 20 feet from the pack. Everyone rushes to help him as he falls over. He meets Ben's gaze and manages to utter "Are you Ben..?" before losing consciousness.

"Oh shit," panics Akatora, "It's Moss's kid!" Everyone is taken aback. Great asks Ben if he believes Gin and Smith had attacked this guy without permission, but Ben doesn't think so. It wouldn't be like either of them to do something so rash. Akatora insists that all brindles regardless of breed will fight to the death at a moment's notice, really showing his internalized brindlephobia.

Kurotora worriedly wonders aloud if Moss has killed Gin and Smith in retribution. It would explain why they never came back. Cross tries to slow everyone's roll so they stop coming to conclusions while Ben directs the dogs to finally get in line. Whatever's happening, they need to get to the bottom of it, and they'll only do that by meeting Moss. They leave Great behind to keep an eye on Jaguar as they peel off with new purpose.

Somewhere else in the Kasumi Dake river valley, Smith awakens on the shore of the lake covered head to toe in mud. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he realizes that Gin is sitting in front of him. He also looks like he had a deep cleanse day at the spa. Gin is overjoyed to see Smith has woken up. He says that he was worried Smith had died, to which Smith playfully tugs at his ear and assures him it'll take more then some water to do Commander Smith in.

But they can't keep horseassing around. Ben and the pack are in danger if they don't clear up this situation ayy ess ayy pee. The two scamper off to find, well, everyone.

As all this is happening, Moss and his gang have found Lloyd's body, and Moss is, to put it delicately, super fucking pissed. He's appalled at the death of his comrade and sick with worry for his son. The others try to soothe him by saying they haven't found Jaguar's body, suggesting he could still be alive, but Moss is too livid at the idea of his sweet baby boy being dead to care.

Remembering what Hyena had told him, Moss swears death on every single soldier following that bastard Ben. He tells his men to prepare for war as he shakes with rage.

The aforementioned Ben and his soldiers are continuing along when Akatora suddenly tells everyone to hol' up. The Kai Ken has just become aware of a kind of smelly smell, a smelly smell that smells... smelly. Ben's all like "Nani the fuck" when suddenly some bassy-ass voice starts screaming obscenities at them.

Up atop his glorious rocky throne stands Kasumi Dake's most beloved mobster. The dogs are in awe of just how fuckin' CHUNK Moss is as his own packmates surround him.

Moss presumes correctly that the dane at the front of the pack is Ben, and he demands to know what he's done with his son. Cross boldly screams back, demanding to know where their missing soldiers are. Moss doesn't give a response, not even the classic I Asked You First, because he's too busy shoving boulders down from his rocky recliner.

All it takes is a few hard shoves to cause a veritable rockslide, unleashing a torrent of boulders onto the Ohu dogs. Ben hollers for everyone to get out of the way, and nobody needs to be told twice.

The slower and less fortunate of the dogs are crushed like barking insects as the larger boulders collide with them. As he scurries away, Ben notices Cross about to become one of these smushed pups as she's too busy shoving others out of harm's way to notice the rocks tumbling towards her. Desperate, Ben throws himself against her with all his might, knocking her clear out of the path of destruction seconds before he himself is pummeled.

Cross and the other survivors collect their bearings before looking back on the destruction. Cross shrieks in horror at the sight she's met with: a bleeding Ben, his eyes shut and his tongue lolling from his mouth, can be seen lying in the jumbled mess of rock. She cries guiltily out to her beloved as the Kai Bros hold her back.

It's too late for the big man. Angry tears flow from her scrunched up face as Cross's wails turn into growls. That fatass on the hill WILL pay for this.

Back at base camp, Jaguar has regained consciousness, and he's having a pleasant chat with Great about how some little grey shrimp and his bossy German friend have been setting up both his dad and the Ohu dogs to fight an unnecessary war. Great is only a little surprised that the obviously evil Sniper would pull this kinda shit, but he thanks Jaguar for the info anyway.

Feeling better after being able to rest, Jaguar rises to his feet and insists the two hurry to his dad's domain. He'd feel awfully guilty if anyone were killed over this misunderstanding.

Jaguar'd better get ready to get guilted because a handful of soldiers have indeed been killtd. Several bodies can be seen poking out of holes between boulders, including the upper half of the dane in the red necklace. Given she was Ben's second in command, Cross prepares to lead the troops into battle in earnest. Moss is about to do the same, telling his men to kill everyone who wasn't crushed. The two armies of dogs collide, snapping and tearing into each other.

Cross and the Kai Bros lead the charge, though, strangely enough, Moss isn't at the forefront of his own army. Instead he's following behind them, urging them on. Cross sees red at the sight of her man's murderer and lunges at him, chomping down as hard as she can into his shoulder.

Cross is no weakling, but Moss is covered in so much visceral fat and muscle that her teeth don't even draw blood. Moss coughs out a smoker's laugh as he flips onto his side, smushing the Saluki and knocking the wind out of her. The Kai Bros call out to their new commander as Moss grabs her by the throat.

Watching from a hilltop nearby, Sniper grins cruelly at the bloodbath before him. He laughs in a most edgy way as Hyena licks his own wounds beside him, quite a bit less amused at the sight of a buncha people who trusted him getting murked.

Sniper notices Hyena's not feelin' the deadly vibe and tells him in a slippery voice that he should be happy. When Sniper's the new leader of the platoon, then the Ohu army, Hyena will be his right hand dog. Hyena forces a giggle, but truth be told starting a war between two innocent parties feels suckier then he expected it would.

The battle rages on. The Kai Bros desperately call out to Cross, but she's unable to escape Moss's gargantuan, flappy jowls. He begins to shake her like a ragdoll and she snarls in desperation and fright. All hope seems lost until the bark of a young, overpowered dog echos across the valley. The Ohu soldiers look up despite the onslaught tearing into them.

A shooting star crosses the night sky, and at the end of its trail a silver brindle akita leaps into view. Gin flings himself into the scruff of Moss's neck. Smith is following close behind, and he canonballs onto the dog that's got hold of Akatora's leg. Smith hollers for everyone to stop, they've been set up!

The Kasumi Dake pack gives pause, but Moss doesn't. He releases Cross and flings Gin off of him, snarling at the insolent kiddo. Gin tells Moss to cool it, his son Jaguar is still alive.

Gin has Moss's undivided, if disbelieving, attention now. Gin goes on to explain that it wasn't he and Smith who attacked Jaguar and Lloyd, it was this shitty dude and his henchman who the Ohu dogs had once believed to be a friend. Smith backs up Gin's account while Gin looks around wildly to find Ben and make sure he's also aware of what's gone down.

Upon realizing what Gin is doing, Cross gives a cough and hobbles over to him. She has tears in her eyes, and she's unable to articulate what she needs to say.

Gin is about to ask her what's wrong when he sees something out the corner of his eye, something red that stands out against the greys of the rocks. The red, round thing catches a sliver of moonlight. Gin gasps as he realizes what - who - it is.

It's Ben, dried blood smattering his unmoving face, the rock that downed him lying on top of his chest. Gin joins in Cross's desperate weeping. He hadn't know Ben for long, but the mountain of dog and his unceasing patience had made an impact on the kid.

Sorrow turns to rage as Gin sets his sights on vengeance. He turns to the silent crowd, demanding to know who the fuck killed his Army Dad. Moss, totally uninterested in Gin's grief, demands back for Gin to explain where his son is. Gin makes it abundantly clear that his empathy is finite as he lunges towards Moss, catching him by the waddle-like roll of skin under his chin. "I'll kill you!" the Akita screams. "I'll fucking kill you!"

Moss only responds with a laugh that rumbles through his body. He's about to mention how very kawaii it is of Gin to attack him when he suddenly finds himself flipping over. "Huh?" he manages to gasp as Gin turns the old clown upside down. Moss is so heavy that he ground around him shakes when he strikes it, and his mobsters look on in awe.

Moss laughs once more, admittedly impressed, before deciding he's done playing games. He kicks Gin's comparatively small body off of him and sends the young soldier crashing into the side of the boulder that smushed Ben.

Gin wheezes a cough as he glances over Ben's lifeless face. Gin's eyes glaze over with tears once more as he turns to Moss, promising the fat bastard that he'll kill him before the sun rises. Moss accepts the challenge, telling Gin to say that to his face not online see what happens. The two run at each other for like 2 seconds before they hear a familiar voice calling out for its father.

Great and Jaguar have successfully located the gang war. Moss immediately loses all interest in Gin, overjoyed to see his son truly is alive and well. Jaguar's shoulder is caked in thick, black shards of dry blood, but he's otherwise doing okay.

As Moss runs over to embrace his son, Jaguar mimics 2009 internet culture by confirming this whole thing was indeed a trap. And moreover that Akita kid and his friend saved Jag's life after Lloyd was killed.

Moss thanks his kid for the plot summary of the day, but he's not sure that'll end the war now. Grateful though he is for Gin's service, Moss knows that the youngin won't stop til he's avenged Ben.

Gin and Moss are about to face off again when everyone hears a weak, breathless voice. The voice tells everyone to stop, and its request is punctuated with the scraping of rock against rock. Everyone looks to the rockslide as one of the boulders shifts upwards.

The shadow underneath the rock slowly begins to rise, revealing a broad four-legged muscleman with a bloody face and a necklace of red beads. It's Ben! Looking rough but definitely alive, he rolls the boulder off of himself with a growl.

As his friends run over to him the big lug reveals his sense of humor hasn't been crushed to death either by telling Gin all his carrying on had made it impossible for him to sleep.

The Kai Bros tackle their commander as Cross cleans his face of blood. Gin admiringly gazes with tearful eyes up at Ben, and Ben smiles warmly back at him. Moss's mafioso are touched by the scene. Even Moss is a little overwhelmed by Ben's machismo.

As his companions calm down, Ben takes a step towards Moss. The dane doesn't want to be rivals. He sees all dogs as equals. His only enemy is that dickheaded bear back home. Ben bows and makes his intentions clear: he's humbly asking for Moss's assistance. Jaguar backs him up, detailing what Great told him about the Ohu army's noble cause to pummel Akakabitchboy into a much-deserved early grave.

Moss thinks this is a neat idea and all, but if he's going to be falling in line behind a buncha army boys, he's gotta make sure their leader is up to snuff even when injured. He tells Ben he'll join him if, even in this condition, he can kick Moss's ass.

Moss barrels towards Ben, and Ben makes good by doing what Moss asked. He kicks the Mastiff's ass by grabbing his neck and slamming his head into a rock. The Big Boy tumbles away, shaken by the impact.

Just as his men are about to run to his defense, he lets loose another one of his rumbly, gravely laughs. He's seen all he needs to see. Moss lifts himself up and promises Zombie Dog he and his pack's loyalty. After all, Moss is getting to be an old man. Instead of wasting his winter years lazing on rocks and farting himself awake, he'd rather die fighting for something that matters.

"We're not going there to die, Moss," Ben says to the old coot. "We're going there to fight so that we may keep living." As the verbal contract is sealed, both packs form one. The dogs celebrate their new allegiance with a chorus of howls. Gin joins the howling, forgetting about his aches and pains from a long day of getting the shit kicked out of him. As he looks to the shimmering moon above, his rich brown eyes seem to fill with stars.

Unamused by the poetry of the scene, Sniper is still watching Dogfight TV from atop the hill, except now he's pissed. Sniper isn't a decent enough person to understand how two enemies can become friends, and he's shaking with fury to see his lbr pretty simplistic plan crap out on him.

Hyena's less angry then he is ridden with anxiety. Since the Ohu dogs are still alive and have recruited new friends who hate both him and Sniper with a passion, he's expecting retribution for the whole war instigation thing. Sniper doesn't speak. He's too busy glaring at Ben, Moss, and the little silver thorn in his side to think of anything but vengeance.

Sniper throws his paws up in the air and decides he needs to disappear til the heat is off of him. As Hyena tries politely and submissively to explain that Sniper will literally never be free of the sins committed here today, Sniper snaps at him.

Hyena rolls onto his back as Sniper commands his underling to continue the ruse and rejoin the pack. Hyena wants to argue, but he wants to live as well, so he keeps his whimpering mouth shut as Sniper plods away. As soon as his silly little stub tail is out of sight, Hyena groans in worry. "Here we go again," he says to a laugh track.

After a few more minutes of screaming at the sky, the dogarmy takes off. The platoon is at least twice as large now, powerful enough to curbstomp most non-bear foes in their way. And so the group fearlessly continues their road trip, running day and night over a 48 hour period. Destination: Iga of the Mie prefecture. Goal: recruit some dogs with uber special skills. Hotel: Trivago.

The dogs quickly reach Mie. Ben mysteriously mentions a particular dog from his past being here, and everyone's automatically like YEAH ITS ASS KICKING TIME. Except hold up, Ben says this isn't the type of guy they wanna fight into submission, but rather speak with. This piques the pack's curiosity, but Ben is too busy reliving memories of past exploits to share. Instead, the Kai Bros decide they've got rumblies in their tumblies, and so it's time to kill some shit.

The three run off to beat a boar onto a metaphorical plate. They're joined by Papa Moss, a guy as big and powerful as any wild boar. The pack applauds the efforts of the deadly dwarves and generous giant as they settle in to devour the fallen piggie.

While everyone stuffs themselves silly, Cross nuzzles Ben's neck and tells him she's glad he didn't actually get curbstomped by a rock. Ben licks her head and agrees that being alive is pretty sweet. That said, if ever the platoon needed a new leader, he trusts that she'd be able to fill his shoes. She'd rather not think about it, so instead she curls up beside Ben and rests her head on his back as he enjoys his share of pork.

Just out of both sight and smell, a pair of eyes watch from the shadows as the Ohu dogs have their fill. The eyes swiftly glide across the way to notice another, much more pitiful pair of eyes focused on the same sight.

The pathetic eyes, the lids around them sagging in self-pity, belong to one anxious, hungry Hyena. He murmurs to himself that life is so unfair, wishing for all the world that he could play some Linkin Park right now.

The stranger in the bushes watches Hyena pout, though they're unable to hear him sniveling to himself about how he'll never find a way back into the ranks. They also watch as a slab of meat falls from the tree directly above Hyena, and their eyes widen. So do Hyena's, but for a different reason. He looks up at the meat's mysterious origin and sees a very strange dog on the branch above him.

The dog is of average size with a muscular build. Her coat is brown with a pale tan underbelly, and atop her scarred head is a fluttery lock of hair reminiscent of a mohawk. In a hollow, airy voice she tells Hyena that the meat is a gift for him.

Hyena spends a single moment thinking WTF The Fuck before the meat seduces him with its juicy goodness. Having had nothing to eat for like three days, Hyena makes like he hasn't eaten in three years and snags it up greedily. It smells weird, but he's too hungry to care.

As he takes his first bite, the Bizarre Tree-Dog leaps from her branch to another. She rapidly takes off and out of view by playing hopscotch in the trees. This gives Hyena a spook, so he snags the meat up and tries to scramble off before realizing that the strange dog is coming back.

This time she's not alone. She and two other dogs of the same unidentifiable breed leap down from the trees and into circle formation around Hyena. Hyena the Cowardly Dog practically pees his no-pants as they inch towards him.

While this is happening the Ohu dogs are allowing themselves to kick back for a moment. Ben figures his mysterious new ally is close, so giving everyone a second to rest ain't a bad idea.

Gin is too excited by the new sights and smells to rest, though, so instead he pokes around curiously. He hears a rustle in the bushes as if something is sneaking away, but he can't see anything. Instead, he hears a new sound just a moment later. It sounds like someone screaming, and that someone sounds like someone he's met - and disliked - before...

Hyena continues trying not to evacuate his bladder as the strange dog approaches him in earnest. She glares at him and asks if the dogs pigging out on pig over yonder are his bros. Hyena says they are, and that they'll kick the ass of anyone who dares fuck with him.

The stranger has to keep from rolling her eyes at the obvious lie as she commands Hyena to tell them this: Maya ("demon arrow") of the Koga Clan is telling them to leave this forest at once. Should they not heed this warning, the pack will face the wrath of the malevolent Koga leader.

The Kogas each do a boss-ass vertical leap into the trees. They're off again, rushing through the leaves as quick as physics will permit. As they go, Hyena finally legit pees himself and just about faints, never having been more afraid of a reminder that trespassing is impolite.

He curls into a shuddering, urine-soaked ball. This is without a doubt one of the worst days of his life. And it's about to get even worse because a dog he's never seen before has emerged silently from the bushes.

The dog isn't one of the Kogas, but instead a red, brown, and white Rough Collie. The animal has a handsome face and a rehearsed-looking gait, walking as if he's trying to impress someone. The Collie stands over Hyena while Yeenee hides his face and his literal pound of flesh. "Who are you?" is all the Collie gets out before both he and his find notice something coming towards them.

It's the Ohu pack, and they're less then happy to see Hyena has returned. Jaguar is especially pissed that the little war criminal dares to show his face again, and he's ready to smack the weenie's head in when Akatora tells him to back off. Nobody is gonna kill diddly shit without Ben giving the a-okay. That said, who is this weirdo standing beside Hyena? Did he bring the little bugger back?

Cross closes the distance between herself and The New Guy (2002) and asks where he's come from while Ben approaches Hyena. It doesn't take a dog the size of a small horse much to look intimidating, but Ben's never looked scarier then when he shows his disapproval of his former comrade.

Hyena insists that he has no clue where Sniper is now, and that he only did what he'd been told him because Sniper had threatened to kill him if he didn't. Moss tells the shivering whelp that he doesn't believe him and that it wouldn't matter if that was true anyway. Hyena was an accomplice to the murder of one of his men and the attempted murder of his only son. The little bastard can never be an Ohu soldier given what he's done.

Alongside all this in a conversation you'd expect to be had over tea instead of the future corpse of a criminal, Cross and Gin politely grill the Collie.

The fancypants's name is Wilson, and he's an old circus performer who's traveled the world. His speech is eloquent, his demeanor is goodnatured, and the dude is clearly ripped under his piles of fur, all of which convinces Gin that he'd make a fine soldier. Gin asks Cross if Wilson can join them, but she's not too sure. She asks why a performing dog is out in the middle of nowhere.

Wilson sighs and looks drearily at Gin, seemingly deep in thought. He had escaped the circus several years ago, he explains. Back then, he'd had a wife named Lean and a son named Londo. His boy was about Gin's age when he was murdered by someone Wilson refers to as The Devil Dog, a cannibalistic cultist monster who Will's owner had tried to train to be a circus dog as well.

The man had been impressed by the dog's unique appearance and flexibility, but the mongrel hadn't liked being bossed around. He mauled the ringleader, killed AND ATE Wilson's family, and escaped back to his followers in the woods. These woods.

Cross seems especially shaken by this retelling of family slaughter while Gin offers his condolences. Wilson kindly accepts Gin's pity, but he insists he doesn't need it. He plans on getting his revenge soon enough, both against The Devil Dog and another unmentioned foe of his. Gin's about to ask what other sinister being has added a hefty dose of trauma to Wilson's backstory when Hyena, weeping like a baby, comes crawling across the dirt to cling to Cross's ankle.

Cross snaps out of her empathetic stupor as Hyena begs her to convince Ben that he's deserving of forgiveness. She reacts as one would to stepping on a piece of gum and pulls her paw away, her face crinkling in disgust.

Even more desperate now, Hyena turns to Gin. Gin's reaction is more volatile then Cross's - he starts growling at Hyena as if ready to attack - so Hyena gives up on finding allies before he has a chance to beg Wilson for backup. Ben pads up to him as the grey dog trembles pitifully.

"Hyena," Ben says, his voice almost unrecognizable with hatred, "you are no longer my subordinate."

Everyone is pretty sure this is Ben's final statement before he whips out his katana and teleports behind Hyena, but he has yet to move. Ben's suddenly bombarded from all sides with suggestions. Jaguar wants to kill Hyena! No, Moss does! No, The Kai Bros do! No, Cross says Ben shouldn't do it! Great agrees, Ben's too good to kill a worm like Hyena!

A loud "Be quiet" is all it takes to silence the platoons' wild jabbering, and Ben is left standing in silence over the deserter.

A moment later and without warning, Ben snaps into action and at Hyena's neck, grabbing hold of him in his powerful jowls. Gin finds himself taken aback. Hyena's shitty, it's true, but Gin's never seen Ben looking so much like a cold, hard killer. Ben's not really gonna splatter Hyena's gutless guts all over the place, is he?

Nah. The dane instead tosses the Weimeranar into a tree, knocking a tooth or two loose and probably causing a few fractures on impact. Hyena wails about the pain he's in while Ben advances on him. Hyena's pleas fall on deaf ears as Ben snarls at him. Hyena is allowed to live... for now. But under one condition: either he brings Sniper back to the platoon to pay for his crimes, or Ben will use his particular set of skills to find and kill both the mastermind and his henchman.

Moss and Jaguar are a little pissed that their would-be life-ruiner isn't rotting in the dirt, but Ben calmly asks them to grin and bear it. It's better to take out an evil and banish his lackey then kill the lackey and lose track of the evil, yeah? The Mastiffs agree, if a bit begrudgingly.

Gin sighs in relief. Ben puts up a tough front when need be, but he wouldn't really kill Hyena. It'd be like kicking a puppy, only somehow less literally.

Before Hyena leaves, he realizes Smith is chewing on his chunk of meat. He whines about starving, so Smith taunts him over how they let him live and yet he's still unsatisfied. Gin's a little too shaken for joking around so he tells Smith to give the dweeb back his Lunchables.

Smith giggles his frat boy giggle and tosses the meat back to Hyena. Sniper's starving steward has gone back to eating when suddenly a dark shadow falls over Wilson's face.

Wilson wastes no time in leaping over the dogs in his way to reach Hyena. He demands that Hyena spit it out, what do you have in your mouth, bad dog, spit it out, drop it, spit it out I said. Just like my dog does whenever I catch him chewing something he shouldn't, Hyena tries to swallow his bounty before someone else can get his icky spit on it.

Hyena is a baka, Wilson says, because that's no regular meat. It's the flesh of another dog.

"GASP" gasps everybody in horror. Even though he only chewed the dog flesh for a second, Smith starts puking up the pork in his stomach. Hyena turns a deep shade of green and looks like he's about to follow suit. A shaken Gin tells Wilson not to joke around, but he knows the Collie isn't lying. Akatora turns accusingly towards a now puking Hyena.

The Weimaraner tries desperately to explain his innocence between mouthfuls of stomach acid. He says in a panic that he didn't know he was cannibalizing - the meat was given to him! Ben starts to regret letting Hyena live as he demands to know who would've gifted some rando a hunk of Roasted Rover when Wilson begins snarling towards the treetops. "It was them," he growls, his eyes burning with hatred. Everyone looks up.

It's the strange dogs from before, the ones with the fauxhawks. Maya gazes down at the confused canines. Then she and her compadres disappear up into the leaves. Determined to get to the bottom of this, Gin superjumps after them, discovering they've swooced just out of view. This catches the dogs off guard, and they begin leaping from branch to branch to get away. Gin's experience in neighborhood parkour comes in handy and allows him to effortlessly keep pace with them.

The rest of the pack follows on foot, trying to keep pace with the flying squirrels/dogs above. Gin's convinced he's almost caught up to the cannibalistic coterie when one of their unseen comrades leaps down on him from above. The dog rabbit kicks Gin in the middle of his back, effectively knocking him from the air and into the dirt. The pack doubles back to make sure Gin hasn't acquired any especially nasty booboos. Gin's alright, but now the squirrel dogs are gone.

As everyone begins discussing what to do next, Ben verbalizes his internal monologue for the audience's sake. Those dogs were 100% ninjas, or at least trained in the art of ninja-ing, which means they must be part of his target's pack. Wilson asks who Ben's looking for, to which Ben replies he came here to find Iga's Akame ("red eye").

Great interjects and, as kindly as one can, accuses Ben of pursuing a cannibal in the hopes of making him a soldier, but Ben assures everyone he wouldn't be looking to add dog-chompers to their ranks. Either Akame's changed since Ben last met him or something weird is going on.

Gin tries to imagine what this Akame could be like. He'd earned Ben's trust somehow, but if his namesake and this recent experience are to be considered, maybe Akame is a red-eyed tyrant who eats other dogs. Gin imagines a bestial dog with a mohawk and two bloodshot eyes leaping from the trees and descending on other dogs, eating them alive.

But there's no time to keep spooking himself because Ben has instructed everyone to get moving. It's time to figure out what the hell is going on.

The pack continues their trek. Instead of shinobi dogs, though, they mostly just find a buncha trees and rocks. Some soldiers are becoming so impatient they're wondering if it's time to interrogate the surrounding foliage when Gin picks up a weird scent. The smell is unpleasant, metallic, and strangely organic. He pursues the smell to find...

The bloodied corpse of a Kishu Inu being chomped on by the ninja dogs AAAAAAAAAA!!! Beside himself with disgust, Gin accidentally gasps a bit too dramatically, and the cannibals turn to face him. Gin snarls and dives towards them. As Ben and Cross come to see what the commotion's about, they see Gin has already launched into a lecture about how these are some very, very bad doggies. Shame on them! Naughty naughty!

"Fuck off, kid," is all one of the Kogas manages to say before the rest of the packup comes in as backup. Wilson meets eyes with of one of the Kogas, his gaze filled with hate. The shinobi smirks, well aware of who Wilson is. As this staring contest takes place, Ben asks the ninja dogs to tell him if they know Akame.

The smug asshole gazing at Wilson thinks fast, saying, "Sure we do. He's our leader. He overthrew Master Kurojaki ("black devil") a while back. We're just following his orders. Ain't that right, guys?"

The Koga looks back over his shoulder at his crew and gives them a slippery smile. The dogs rub their two braincells together long enough to realize what he's doing and they grin back, nodding. They punctuate their unreliable narration by telling the soldiers to leave before bounding away into the trees.

Gin is about to follow them when Ben croaks out that there's no point. Gin follows orders and joins the others in looking to Ben for guidance.

Ben is looking mournfully down at the broken white body before them. The dog is indeed dead. He's covered with bite marks, his innards poking through deep gashes, his fur stained with thick patches of blood. Ben remarks that he's ashamed of having brought everyone here to ask for a cannibal's help, but they must stop this treachery before they can continue their mission. Likewise, they should do a body good and bury the poor sucker. It's the least they can do to make up for the tragedy.

Smith and the Kai Bros begin to drag the dog away so as to lay him to a more dignified rest. As they do, another much more alive white dog watches from the trees above.

He looks very much like the other dog, likely because he is also a Kishu Inu. He gives pause as he sees the Ohu soldiers drag the other whitey away. He mutters to himself about how he's never seen these guys before and that it's probably safe to assume that anyone holding a dead guy is evil. Could they be working with the cultists? The dog's not sure, but he hurries off regardless.

Deeper in the forest, a monument to a forgotten era, a dilapidated human house, stands tall. It's the Kishu's destination, and he leaps to it swiftly. He calls out to his Chief from outside the long abandoned building. "Kirikaze?" a measured voice greets him. "Come in."

Kirikaze ("misty wind") bounds in and immediately begins detailing what he's seen: there's a buncha new kids on the block, a whole assload of them, and after he saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil, he saw said pack with their doglips fastened around the legs of a fallen comrade. He suggests that the pack may have killed the poor little white guy because they're in cahoots with the cult.

The measured voice calls down to Kirikaze from the rafters of the house. The dog it's attached to tells Kirikaze to gather the others, they've got a homestead to protect. If these n00bz truly are a threat then they must be eradicated. As he lays out his plan, the speaker turns his head into a sliver of sunlight. He's a magnificent white Kishu, paler then any of the others. He squints in the ray of light, his purplish-red eyes glistening thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, the fallen fair-furred friend has been buried in a shallow but otherwise decent grave. Ben bows his head over the distended dirt covering the dog and whispers a prayer. Gin, as if reading his mind, asks who Akame was and why Ben wanted to enlist him. Moss chimes in and says that he's not all for blindly following Ben into a cannibal's lair. Ben decides it's time to stop being so ~*~mysterious~*~ and comes clean with a flashback.

Back when Ben was still a hunting dog, the Kai Bros weren't the only dogs his owner nursed back to health. You see, Ben and his master were out playing Rooty Tooty Point-n-Shooty in the woods when they saw a white animal leaping from tree to tree.

Ben's master had thought the creature was a squirrel, so he'd shot at it and hit it. The man and his dane had approached it and found it to be not a squirrel but a Kishu Inu. The dog was a stark white, whiter then any other animal Ben had ever seen. The albinistic dog had been shot in the leg, and he'd looked at Ben as if pleading for sympathy.

Despite the dog clearly being feral, Ben's master took him home to heal him and raise him as a hunter. It's not every day you see a canine leaping through the trees, so the man was pretty determined to keep the albino no matter how much the dog snarled and hid in back of his prison, a tall, wire pen with a sturdy roof. It took a while for his leg to heal up, but within that time the dog - obviously named Akame - confided in Ben and became his friend.

Akame didn't like the idea of working for The Man (either the individual or the sociopolitical concept), and he especially didn't like the idea of being a house pet while his pack languished in the woods. Without his guidance the other Kishu ninjas would be at a loss for what to do.

Ben was hard pressed to believe this random guy was a ninja solely because he could jump super good, but when Akame stated that his wife had had a litter before he'd left and he'd never gotten to see his children, Ben's heart melted like the cheeseball it is.

Ben had looked deep into the pleading dog's pigmentless, pinkish eyes and decided he wasn't going to orphan any of his puppies. He broke Akame out and escorted him back to the forest. That had been several years ago, and now, if the cannibals were to be believed, Akame was leading a band of murderers.

Ben gives a weak chuckle and wonders aloud if the mohawk dudes were Akame's sons and daughters. Cross looks like she's about to soothe him when Moss interjects that it's cool, man, everyone makes mistakes. It's not Ben's fault his good nature was taken advantage of, not so long as he's willing to put an end to this volatile tomfoolery.

Ben nods, his determination returning to him, and he and the others get back to their favorite activity: running towards an undefined location. But holy canolli, what's this? A gust of wind blows past the pack's noses, sending the eternally intimidating scent of strangers whooshing through their sinuses.

Everyone looks around but they're unable to see where the smell is coming from. All except protagonist Gin, obviously, who is the first to look up. He makes a weird noise in the back of his throat, alerting everyone else to look too.

A barrage of Kishu Inus jump down on top of them, each hollering curses and victorious announcements of triumph over evil or some shit. One of the Kishus screams about Kogas, only confusing everyone further. One of the dogs announces the ninjas' attack move like this is some kinda anime. "Raikaken!" ("thunder blossom blade") she shouts as the wave of white engulfs the army.

The white dogs dip in only once, tooth-smacking every face and ass they can reach. Then they all leap back into the branches before anyone has time to understand what just happened. Flustered, Gin jumps into the trees and calls after them to put up their dukes. Ben instructs everyone else to follow on foot again and the chase begins. Gin calls down to the soldiers periodically to make sure they're following behind.

Watching from a short distance away is an excited mass of Koga dogs. Maya has lead them there to enjoy the show, and she's brought her hubby with her.

The man himself is a unique specimen indeed: the Koga leader is a touch taller then his comrades. He's got a torn left ear and a dark coat of brindle merle. Just between his front paws sits a toddler-age puppy who is clearly his own, the child bearing the same unique markings. The Koga leader grins in amusement, pleased that his cult can kick back and watch as innocents fight their battle for them.

Meanwhile, despite his efforts, Gin is falling behind the Igas. They manage to hurry out of his range of sight and smell, and so he comes to a frustrated stop. As his sides heave with exertion he calls down to Ben that he's lost the lil buggers. Gin leaps down to rejoin the group and explains that he doesn't know what happened, dude, they just up and disappeared.

Smith's face crunches up stoically. He announces that he's not willing to let this go so anticlimactically before he begins sniffing around. The others watch as he takes major nose-hits from the ground and then pauses. He points instinctively at a patch of dirt for a moment before remembering himself and setting to digging. Within moments he manages to unearth something peculiar: one of the Kishus!

The white dude's head is the only part of him exposed, and he's unmoving. "Is he dead?" someone asks. There's a small wave of shrugs. The group quickly assumes the corpse was buried by the cannibals to serve as a midnight snack and they begin to walk away.

Gin follows behind, but he notices Smith hasn't left the presumed cadaver's side. Smith murmurs something about the holedog not smelling dead when one of the "corpse's" eyes opens! The dog snarls viciously and grabs Smith by the collar. As Smith screams and the soldiers double back, the Spaniel is yoinked into the hole and out of sight.

Gin reaches the hole first and notices that it's not just a hole. It's a tunnel, and both the Kishu and Smith have disappeared into it. He tries to leap in and follow, but Ben pulls him out of it by his curly-cue tail.

Gin's insolent about the ass portion of his spine being used as a handle when there's a comrade who needs saving, but Ben says it'd be too risky to follow after them. They're fuckin' NINJAS, my guy, this is clearly a trick they've set up for intruders.

Cross wonders aloud where the tunnel may lead and Ben surveys the area. It takes him all of 3 seconds to realize that oh my goodness there's a house like 50 feet away.

Ben is instantly certain that the ninja bastards live there given no human came out screaming about the massive pack of feral dogs. No doubt the tunnel leads to that building, and that to get to the bottom of this mess the pack will have to go there. They'll have to surround the building's perimeter and then launch an attack.

That said, Ben's a little wary of leaving the tunnel unguarded. Given he previously had his opportunity to go spelunking taken from him, Gin jumps at the chance to explore some hole. Ben tells Gin that he's to WATCH the tunnel, not explore it, as he could be attacked by the ninjas.

Gin pouts as the other dogs go to surround the house, but he still chirps a "Good luck" to them as they take off. As soon as everyone else is gone, Gin gathers all his bravery (and insolence) and dives into the tunnel, still determined to find his friend.

Inside the dirt tube, Gin realizes the Kishus' squirrel-tier leaps are only matched by their gopher-tier digging abilities; the tunnel widens substantially, and it's impressively long. On the other side of it, the dog who 'napped Smith drags him out and under the house.

It doesn't take the dog more then a second and a whiff with his powerful schnoz to realize Gin, in all his smelly post-pubescent glory, is following him. He just shakes his head and makes a brief trek out to a scrape connected to the tunnel. The scrape dips into the lake beside the house, and with one swift motion the dog lifts the single wooden board separating the water from the dig-out.

The water goes roaring down the secret tunnel, which Gin can hear despite not knowing the context. Gin was just thinking that this was all too easy before looking up and reading the above paragraph. Just then, a torrent of water comes wooshing down towards him, flooding the tunnel and knocking him back with the force of a thousand spitting goldfish. He can only manage to cough out a swear before he's carried away.

The other soldiers have taken this time to organize themselves into a nifty little formation around the house, but they come to realize that nobody knows where the littlest recruit is. Cross tells Ben that when she went back to the tunnel to check on Gin he was nowhere to be seen.

Ben's certain the kid has gone down the hole against orders, but there's no time to be upset. Wilson says there's precious little time to save Smith. If Akame really is cannibal chief, he won't keep his men from their next meal for long. Despite his reinvigorated concern for his friend and fellow commander, Ben is wary of leaping into action too suddenly.

Inside the house, Smith is lying unconscious on the floor. Something that feels like another dog's paw (3 guesses as to what it is) touches his face. He slowly opens his eyes.

As the world comes back into focus, he lets out a high-pitched yelp. He's surrounded on all sides by stark white dogs, each one eyeing him harshly. One of them approaches him and he responds by screaming and running into a corner.

Smith starts wailing about how they shouldn't eat him because black and white dogs taste like ass and cause explosive diarrhea when another Kishu, one that was just out of sight, leaps from the rafters right down beside him.

Smith falls into a heap as the newer new guy looms over him. This guy is even paler then the rest; his fur is so pale it seems almost translucent at the edges. The other dogs are clearly annoyed at Smith's bellyaching but this guy just stares at him with expressionless red eyes.

"You're a Western breed, aren't you?" asks the super-white dog, finally breaking the silence. "I've never seen a dog like you before. What are you doing out here?"

Smith chokes out something about traveling to which the dog responds by asking why he and his friends are in this neck of the woods. Smith says that he and his buds are trying to recruit soldiers, which, judging by the super-white dog's reaction, was the wrong thing to say. The Kishu says that Smith's clearly with the Kogas. Smith barely knows how he got here, let alone where this conversation is taking them, so he tries to flee once more.

The neon white dog grabs him firmly by the scruff as he runs past, then slings him back into the corner. As Smith's noggin grows a goose-egg, one of the Kishus leans towards the super-white guy, their obvious leader, and informs him that she and the others are pretty sure that the "soldiers" are outside the manor, no doubt ready to overtake it at any moment.

Neon White tells his pack to ambush the dogs from out the tunnel while he interrogates the hostage. All but the leader depart, leaving a confounded Smith looking on.

The dogs do indeed travel through the flooded tunnel. The gaping Earth-hole is only tall enough to allow for a small air pocket above their heads, so they're mostly submerged. While passing through their underwater subway system, the dogs see the floating, motionless body of a young brindle Akita. Several of their faces crumple at the sight, probably thinking about how war is hell and stuff, before they leave the body behind.

But hey, I'll let you in on a secret: ITS GIN AND HE ISNT DEAD WHODA THUNK. He's just playing aquatic possum while taking tiny, secret gulps of air. He waits until the last of the dogs has swum past before grabbing onto the end of his tail.

The dog seems surprised and he makes like he wants to turn around and face Gin, but there's not enough space to turn back. Gin has hitched a ride out, but he'll no doubt have to contend with the bastards as soon as they leave the tunnel.

Meanwhile, the Ohu dogs have come to the conclusion that Gin and Smith are super, hella dead by now, or at the very least imprisoned, and this stake out has gone on long enough.

Given the commander’s absence, Ben assigns Cross to Smith's place. Then he starts directing everyone on how best to ransack the house. With a nod and an oddly poignant "GO!", the dawgies leap into action, all of them galloping at full speed towards the building.

The Kishus are well prepared for times like these. Several pits in the ground containing live warriors open beneath the approaching hoard's feet, ninjas leaping up from within to snag onto some unfortunate underbellies. Others leap down and out of the trees, cracking skulls with their powerful bites.

Lucky for the Ohu dogs these attacks only slow them down, not defeat them. Ben continues to lead the hoard until it's formed a ring-around-the-rosie of running troops around the house.

But before the soldiers can literally come full circle, Ben yelps in pain and unromantically tumbles head over heels. One by one the other dogs succumb to the same fate, each stumbling blindly and then rolling over. A chorus of pained, confused whimpers rises up as Smith and the lead Kishu exit the house.

Smith calls out to his friends, but the super-white guy stops him, telling him not to take another step unless he too wants to be skewered.

Turns out the ground has been littered with Hishi seeds. Hishi plants are a water grass with distinctly sharp, spiky seeds, and the pack has managed to slice their paws on tons of them. Tens of little doggy footses bleed into the dirt as Smith watches helplessly.

Akatora says that a few seeds shouldn't be enough to down an army, but he feels... like ass. Like, totally sick, and not in a good way. The Kishu nods and explains that, btw, the spikes have been poisoned. A death by poisoning is a deserved one for a bunch of cannibal cultists (which is my band name now, don't steal).

Ben realizes who this dog is and pipes up. "Akame? Is that you? Have you gone mad?" The Kishu's reddish eyes widen in recognition. His eyes dart to the red bead collar around the dane's neck. "Ben?" he says while approaching the commander. "What are you doing here? Why are you helping the Kogas?"

Ben counters by asking why Akame's leading a hoard of cannibals and suddenly everyone understands that a particular plot element has been reused. The good guys have been double crossed once again!

Akame apologetically explains to everyone but the audience that the Igas thought the Ohu soldiers were allied with the Koga cult to aid in their evil plan. That plan being, of course, to slaughter the remaining Iga warriors and overtake their manor. Before he can truly grasp all of this, Ben's stomach starts benchpressing his other organs and he rolls over in pain.

Akame tells everyone not to move, else the poison will spread faster. He sees his own dogs are coming to see what the deal is and barks at them to bring the antidote. One of the dogs, soaking wet, trots up, looking especially annoyed.

Before they go to get the meds, the most annoyed dog swings his curly tail as an exhausted Gin finally lets it go. Gin sputters out water and the Ohu soldiers perk up at the sight of him. Unfortunately, all of them are getting gutpunched from the inside, so they don't have the strength to go meet him.

Ben saves Gin's silver ass by explaining that he's with them. The Igas seem confused that Gin's not a Koga ally. Just then, the wind picks up and blows a now-familiar stink into everyone's noses. A white projectile falls from the trees and smacks one of the Igas in the head. It lands on the ground with an Icky Thump by The White Stripes, allowing everyone to see what it is: the severed head of a Kishu Inu!

Everyone who is able to lifts their heads to the treetops which seems to be the new entry point for all characters. One of the forest's largest trees is covered in the silhouettes of tens of mohawked dogs. On the highest branch stands the leader of the Kogas. Wilson's eyes widen and he squeaks out "It's him... The Devil Dog."

The Devil Dog laughs as Akame utters a SEETHING "Kurojaki." The merle brindle laughs gutterally, congratulating the Igas on their new feat in stupidity. These new guys here? They were innocent the whole time, duh! And their arrival worked out well to distract the Igas while the Kogas formed a new plan of attack. Now the filthy nonbelievers will be destroyed, and their ancient master's home will become the new domain of the glorious Koga clan.

It's only now that Gin realizes the Kogas outnumber the Igas pretty badly. Kurojaki instructs his soldiers to attack the enemy. The cannibals launch themselves tooth-first towards their foes. Kurojaki takes one look at Akame, smiles, and then disappears up into the tree.

Akame knows that the bastard isn't running away, he's just going to go and retrieve his secret weapon. He tells his men to defend themselves, the soldiers, and the manor while he pursues Kurojaki. The albino scrambles away while the others, Gin included, fight on.

Gin tears into the nearest Koga when he notices that one of the Igas, the youngest one, is scared to do the same. The dude seems inexperienced and afraid, not like the other warriors. One of the Igas calls out to him, scolding his little brother Hayato for being such a puss.

To demonstrate how hardcore ninjas have to be, Hayato's ubermasc big bro drags his Koga of choice back into the flooded tunnel, no doubt intending to drown both the brown dog and himself. Hayato cries out to his unnamed sibling, blubbering about how he wishes their father were here to help them. Jinnai, one of the Igas present, tells Hayato to dog up - Akame can't hold their hands forever, and they cannot shame their pops by showing weakness.

Hayato's eyes fill with tears and so do Gin's. Gin has an Epic Bruh Moment and realizes that the Igas are the children that Ben had freed Akame for, and in turn the albino has raised them to defend their home at any cost.

Gin can't help but think of Riki standing on the mountaintop, gazing down at Gin and commanding him into life-or-death battles alongside the other dogs. Would he change his mind if he knew Gin was his son? Hell, what if he DID know and just didn't feel like treating Gin differently? Gin is knocked out of his stupor as the Koga he's fighting kicks him in the face and runs away.

Gin's mind is elsewhere, though, so he hardly notices. Instead, he decides to help poor Hayato. Hayato's actually doing alright at holding his own and it's probably because he's gotten super pissed at his brother's death.

The idea of the day is #diekogascum, so Hayato allows his opponent to chase him to a strange looking plot of grass. Gin squints at the ground for a moment before looking horrified. Before he can tell Hayato to stop, the Kishu plays Follow The Leader with the Koga over the plot. The strange foliage turns out to be debris covering a pit trap. Both Hayato and his adversary scream in agony as they fall into it.

Gin runs over to see what's become of them. He gasps at the sight. Both Hayato and the Koga are dead. The hole is surprisingly wide, and it's filled to the brim with spikes worn to points. Both lifeless bodies slide wetly down the stakes, each leaving some of their guts strung up behind them.

Disgusted by the gruesomely skewered corpses, Gin gallops back to the others. That tears it, by gum. These Kogas are fucking WAY too much shit up, and the only way to stop this madness is to boot them into next Wednesday.

The Kogas are kinda swaying that way too because they've realized the Igas are willing to wipe themselves out so long as they can take some cannibals with them. Despite their greater numbers the Kogas have weaker spirits, and they really don't wanna be kabobbed to death today. The mohawked murderers leap back into the trees with Gin following right behind them.

This time they can't escape Gin's righteous anger as he snags one by the hind leg. Turns out it's Maya, and despite her skillz, she's no match for Gin's moralistic tantrum. He downs her in an instant, sending the two of them crashing to the forest floor.

Maya's got a nasty gash on her face now. Rivulets of blood pool beside her cheek as she lays unmoving. She weakly looks up at Gin and manages to gasp out a question: what the fuck? Also, is Gin one of the shinobis? Gin shakes his head and proudly introduces himself as a bearhound, but it ends up being pointless ego stroking because Maya loses consciousness.

An impressed Akame descends from the trees. He tells his men that Kurojaki has gone back to the Koga marshlands, probably to retrieve his scythe. Gin doesn't know what a scythe is, so he just asks Akame what they should do next.

After Akame explains the need for antidote to the youngster he apologizes for harming Gin's friends. Luckily, as the epic pwnage was taking place, some of the Kishus scraped together some rainy day herbs to cure the Ohu dogs' ailment. Unluckily there wasn't enough for everybody. Ben in particular ain't doin' so hot. He's refused to take even the smallest bite of antidote before all his men are cured.

Akame insists that they need more of The Cure (years active: 1978-present) asap and Gin is totally on board to gather some. There's just one itty bitty issue: the plantidote is a water root that grows exclusively on the perimeter of the Koga's wetland territory. Kurojaki and the Dogchompers will be on high alert given the preceding events, so it'll be an especially dangerous mission. This doesn't sway Gin at all, though he is a little worried at the possibility of a scythe being a machine gun.

The other Kishus here, Jinnai and Kirikaze, elect to also come with. And so he four go on the most nerve wracking field trip ever conceived. As they venture forth, Maya picks herself up off the ground, taking advantage of having been forgotten in all the excitement. Despite her flesh wound, a nasty grin spreads across her face. This is too perfect - the leader of the Igas is wandering right into her hubby's domain. She gives her body a rough shake before she stumbles back to the marsh.

While everyone else is running to the swamp, the Ohu dogs are taking their medicine. Smith is the only one well enough to dole out rations and he's having a heck of a time convincing Ben to take his meds. In fact, he isn't making any progress at all, as Ben just bats anything he's given away with a trembling paw. Ben insists in that fatherly tone of his that Smith feed all of the others instead.

Cross, the Kai Bros, and Wilson all try to share their herbs with him, but even as he grows too weak to speak he continues refusing everything he's offered. A single tear rolls down Cross's cheek as Ben's mouth whitens with foam. He meets her tearful gaze as his bloodshot eyes glaze over.

The sun begins to set on this long, dreary day. But hope may be on the horizon yet. Akame and his crew have entered the Koga domain undetected and have located the antidote! They each dive into the pond and yank the roots up, snagging as many plants as they can carry. Gin smiles in relief only to realize that the worst is yet to come. He and the Igas look on around the pond's edge.

The Kogas have soundlessly surrounded our hapless heros. An ugly, crackling laugh taunts them as Kurojaki steps out of the shadows. A bloody-faced Maya stands smugly by his side. Their infant son stands between daddy's front paws and meets Gin's eyes with an innocent, oblivious stare. Kurojaki takes a moment to survey the invaders in the lake. Between his jaws he grasps a sharp, sweeping blade.

----------

Thank you to everyone who waited patiently for this episode! We’re at the point where some of the biggest diversions from canon will start cropping up, so hopefully they’re enjoyable. And holy SHIT they keep getting LONGER

Episode 5: The Beasts

#ginga #ginga nagareboshi gin #silver fang #hopeanuoli #yoshihiro takahashi #ginga words #rewrite #fanfic

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serendipitioussurvival · 4 years

Text

Bind Me - Yours Eternal

Peter Hale, one of the last three descendants of the former Hale pack in North America, was a suspicious and manipulative man. He survived being burned alive in his home when eighteen others did not, he had enacted the revenge killings of those that had been responsible, and then he had survived being set aflame again. Then he had his throat slashed by his nephew in the middle of a spar session, been shot multiple times by Hunters coming after him, and then the literal disembowelment from Berserkers. As a Werewolf he was able to heal through almost all of this with little to no scar, no evidence to the trials and tribulations he’s faced, but it was because he had been through so much that he was so suspicious and untrusting of the general populous, human or not.

His family had burned because his nephew had been tricked and the pack emissary did not have strong enough wordings of their territory. He had been killed again because his beta had been tricked into thinking that, by killing the alpha that had bitten you, you could reverse the transformation. His nephew had slashed his throat while training because he thought, childishly so, that he deserved the Alpha spark instead of his ‘murdering psychotic uncle’. His Emissary, similarly, failed to have the proper wardings or abilities needed for something so powerful as the Hale Spark, and so the Berserkers had gotten passed the wardings once more and made wine of his insides.

Needless to say Peter rarely ever trusted anyone, let alone anyone that would be in his pack or be his pack Emissary. Especially the pack emissary, it was why he had found himself searching through supernatural lore and texts as to how he could bind another life to his - just as insurance, at the very least. It took him a year before he found anything of note, it was a year well spent for the information he discovered.

Not only could he bind a life to his, but he could summon a being of power that would fit the Emissary role he needed as well as have influence over how his pack functioned. It took him a week to get the desired materials and another to wait for the blood moon. The ritual went perfect, like most of everything Peter did, but nature was cruel to Peter and rarely ever gave him a break.

“A demon,” he blanched, staring at the pitch-black eyes that stared at him from the twig of a female in front of him. “the figurehead of humanity for my pack,” could one kill Fate? He’d try, by the gods he would try because this was cruel, it was too much. Had he truly not suffered enough to have not even a single break? Sure he wasn’t a good man - and he had plenty of deaths shrouding him, but what did he truly do to deserve this? “Is a demon.”

“Buddy, no offense, but between the two of us I’ve got more humanity than you.” his eyes narrowed dangerously, ignoring the way its voice was just a tad husky in its attempts to stifle its amusement. “It’s chill though, I’m not the average demon. So, what’d you summoned me for? You did the ritual so you know about the whole ‘equivalent exchange’ bullshit.” a demon with a mouth, maybe it wouldn’t be truly terrible.

“Our lives are tied until your service to me is complete,” the corner of its peach pink lips curled into a smirk.

“Till death do us part,” the smirk dropped into a frown, “you’re pretty famous in Hell chief, don’t suppose you remember your time in Hell?” he shook his head in answer, “damn, well okay. Anyway, you need an Emissary and, while that normally goes against a Demon’s very nature I’m not a normal Demon.”

“You’ve said that twice,” she didn’t look like much, no horns or tail, no red skin tone - in fact, she was actually quite pale with moles dotting her moonglow skin like constellations - and she - not it anymore as she was most definitely feminine, naked as she was - was at least half his width with maybe an inch on him height-wise. “So what kind of Demon are you?”

“In a long, boring history lesson that holds no true amusement, I’m a Prince.” he eyed her very feminine breasts with a raised brow. “Like I said a, long, boring history lesson. If you ever remember your time in Hell you’ll remember it.” now both brows were raised. “Whatever, want me as your Emissary or should I take your soul again?”

Peter Hale was a suspicious man, he rarely trusted anyone, but this summoned being whom he bound his life to was - legitimately - his last option. She would protect his life with hers, and her abilities would protect his pack, for however long her nature allowed her to because that is what he summoned her for. If she weren’t able to meet at least one of those criteria then she wouldn’t have been able to answer the summons. He truly only had one option.

“I accept.” The summoning rune burned into the ground and filled the air with the scent of brimstone and - strangely enough - sandalwood. When the rune was completely gone the black bled from her sclera, exposing the creamy-white and looking a tad odd with the pitch of her iris until it, too, bled away and revealed gold. Not a whiskey amber, not a wheat brown, not even beta gold - though hers was just a tad lighter - but true, heated gold eyes. “Do I have to name you?”

“What, like a puppy? Fuck off, my name is Stiles.” his brow rose yet again and he worked to temper his anger at the partial lie. “Look, names are power, Peter. If someone were to know a Demon or a Prince’s true name they would hold complete power over them. I’ll tell you it someday, if you’re a good boy.” ah, dog jokes, how tasteless.

“Well then, come with me. I’ll have to get you a wardrobe and identification.” he expected her to want Goth clothing or all black or, or something that insisted what her true nature was. Instead, she wanted worse.

“Plaid? Plaid?! I think not you tasteless creature!” oh he was getting nasty looks from the other customers, “I relented on the monstrosity of a cell phone, I relented on the scentless soaps and shampoos, I even relented on the goddamned gaming consoles, I will not relent for plaid.” when the walked out of the store it was with three plaid button-ups, two overalls, and then six different bags of appropriate clothing befitting the role of the Hale pack Emissary.

Stiles, of course, wore the plaid and overalls first with a triumphant grin and mischief twinkling in her gold eyes, daring him to say anything. She had a healthy appetite he approved of, at least, and more often than not would cook meals for him - she was all too happy to spend his money (and in truth he was all too happy to let her when it evoked a strange, content feeling in him and his wolf) and often made changes to his suite that he begrudgingly approved of.

It took a single month before his pack - a whopping nine people - had situated themselves in Beacon Hills California and finally got to be introduced to the new Emissary.

Peter Hale was a suspicious man, he rarely trusted anyone, but watching her as she surveyed each of his pack before sitting them down made him think that maybe, just maybe he could trust his life to her, and not just because of their pact.

“Alright, Education time kiddos.” Peter was able to hide his amusement from her but not from the other werewolves in his pack. “What’s the role of a pack Emissary?”

“To be our humanity,” a blonde haired blue eyed muscled up American boy answered with an eye roll.

“Wrong,” all sets of eyes shot immediately to her then, “Over time the role has been so convoluted that people actually believe it. One person is responsible for a whole pack’s humanity? What, do I spray you with a bottle labeled ‘Humanity’ when you’re being a bad boy?” he didn’t have to see her face to see the very predator like grin that stretched across her lips, didn’t have to know her as he did to know that she would have the very thing by the end of the day. “No, the role of Emissary is to help in the union between your primary and secondary species.” she crossed her arms and leaned back against the island of his open floor kitchen, staring at each of his pack thoughtfully.

“You,” Erica rose a challenging brow in retaliation to her call out, “What are your species?”

“Human, Kanima, Werewolf.” her sandalwood and vanilla scent spiked with rain at her interest.

“Badass, then you’re a Kanima/Werewolf hybrid. What harmonizes all three of your beings?” Erica Reyes had been bitten and turned by his nephew while Peter had still been dead, and then she had been abandoned when her transformation did not turn out complete. It was Peter when he returned from the dead who had found the genuine connection she had with Vernon Boyd - her now mate - that helped her synergize her wolf and the Kanima inside her. “Close your eyes,” Stiles ordered, softer in tone when Erica’s features remained pinched in confusion. “Start with beliefs, what do you believe so strongly that you can feel the power in your soul hum to?”

“I believe,” she started after a moment or two passed, frustration waning just slightly, “that the family you're born into is not the one you have to stick with, that you can choose your real family.”

“Good,” god but her tone was soft and it made his knees weak with the affection pouring out of Stiles - affection from a demon. “Now think of people, pick two, at least two and do the same.”

“My mate,” Vernon Boyd, the muscled statue of a man to her right squeezed her hand affectionately. “and my Alpha.” Peter was not preening, he was not, not from his favorite telling him that he was what helped keep her in balance. “They both showed me that I was enough, that I could be a badass without being a monster.” Then, softer, “and that I could kill without being damned.”

“Good,” Stiles nodded, “a lot of people mistake killing as a sin.” a perfectly groomed eyebrow rose on the cherry haired goddess standing beside the couch. “Need convincing? Okay. You’re being raped and you kill your rapist. Are you going to Hell for taking the life or Heaven because it was in self-defense? Were you righteous in your killing because it was a piece of shit soul or must you repent and pray for forgiveness? Don’t like that scenario, pops is beating your mother within an inch of her life and you hit him over the head with a lamp, a frying pan, whatever. He dies and you’re only seven or eight, are you going to Hell? Will you be forgiven?” she rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “Killing is situational, you can kill to survive and still not go to Hell.”

“What about the rapist or the dad?” Malia Hale, Peter’s estranged daughter, perked from her position on the floor.

“Oh, the rapist is definitely going to Hell. The Dad is situational too, despite a lot of controversies.” she waved her hand again as if to clear the air and smiled at Malia. “What are your species?”

“Human, Werewolf, Coyote!” her energy was adorable, her naivety brought a strange warmth to Stiles’s scent that reminded him far too much of simpler times when he was younger. “I spent ten years as a Coyote so I’m still learning human things.”

“Ah, but it’s because of your time as a Coyote that your human side will be strong. Coyote’s naturally fear humans and larger prey, so you’ll always be cautious. Most humans are too trusting, and your werewolf will bridge the gap of inclusion and pack sense that your Coyote lacks and will help harmonize your human.” If his daughter had a tail it would be slamming against the ground in pleasure, “Do you still have trouble with your shifts?”

“Yes,” a short nod from Stiles.

“Am I right in assuming that you don’t shift to your coyote regularly anymore?” a confused nod, “Okay, next full moon is in about a week?” she looked over to Peter as he nodded. “Alright, Malia, a night before the full moon you and I are going to go on a hunt.” two sets of alarmed gazes set upon her then, “There’s a forest nearby with plenty of large prey. You cutting off your Coyote so suddenly will make it restless, it’s not used to the human, nor is the human to the Coyote.”

“What if I can’t shift back?” he hated how small her voice got when she was uncertain. No daughter of his - though he only knew of her as his daughter for the past year - should be so unconfident in herself.

“You will.” maybe it was the certainty in Stiles’s voice that drew reluctant agreement from Malia, or maybe it was the sole fact that she had an unwavering belief in her as the Emissary that had convinced her. Maybe it was both, whatever it was, Peter truly appreciated it. He found himself relaxing little by little as she went down the line of his betas until, at least, she got to Lydia Martin - a Banshee that was, reluctantly, a part of his pack - and Scott McCall - his Beta who had a hand in one of his deaths.

“Neither one of you like what you are, whatever you are.” a deep sigh, then a rolled wrist, indicating they go ahead and tell her their species as everyone else had.

“Human, Reluctant Banshee.”

“What, no seriously? You’re a Banshee and you hate it?” another perfectly manicured eyebrow raised in question. “Okay, put it this way, you’re not the spectral banshee who eats frontal lobes, you’re part human, so you have it so much easier than most. Let me guess, it’s morbid how you can tell when someone’s about to die?” a short, agitated nod. “Have you done any research into Banshee lore?” another, more agitated nod. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you believe the ‘If a Banshee wails for someone’s death then it can’t be avoided?’ rumor?”

“Rumor? Quite a few mythoi have stated much the same.”

“Right, well quite a few mythoi say Werewolves full shift frequently and walk on humanoid hind legs like some eight-foot-tall dickery.” Lydia’s lips pinched into a frown, “Also, knotting? Not a thing less one of you is full shifted, shame though that is.” Isaac and Vernon spluttered in embarrassment at the sudden fact. “You not responsible for the deaths you scream for, you just announce them. You’re a Medium, and most times - if you hone your abilities enough - you can commute with the dead and feel the death of someone hours before it happens. Might give you enough time to save them, might give you enough time to figure out if they deserve to be saved.”

Lydia said nothing more though she clearly was thinking over the new revelation thoroughly. It appeased Stiles enough that she moved her gaze to Scott and frowned, clearly not liking something she saw. “Hold your hand out,” he looked warily to his Alpha and did so only after he gave a hesitant nod. “I’m going to draw a drop of blood, something’s wrong with your wolf.” It was said so Peter could tell her to stop if he disapproved, not for Scott’s benefit.

He knew for a fact that she had gotten Malia to use her claws to pierce the flesh of his finger was just so she could be included, he just wasn’t expecting the reluctant anger that seeped into his veins when she drew the finger to her lips and encased the tip in her mouth. It was unhygienic, it was abnormal, it was - now she was doing the same to him with a pensive furrow to her brow. How she had gotten his finger to bleed he had not seen nor did he care in the face of her tongue curling around his digit and retreating. Peter was not a teenager, nor did he have an uncontrollable sex drive, but her mouth tested that control in ways that threatened to unravel him.

“Oh,” she breathed, wicked delight and murderous glee permeating her scent like blood and wine. “You’ve had a tail re-entering California, Peter. He’s priming your little wolfling for madness,” she turned to a confused Scott once again, “ have you been taking any new medications, drinking blood, smoking something different?”

“No?” her brow rose in a challenge at his unsure answer, “I haven’t had to use my inhaler since I turned, I don’t drink blood, and I can’t get high. I was poisoned with wolfsbane once but that was almost a year ago.” he rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat agitated and now knowing why. “I’ve noticed a new smell in the Clinic but Dr. Deaton said it was a new incense to -” realization hit him the moment it hit Peter, the moment it hit them all. “-to calm my wolf. He uses it every day a week before the full moon.”

Scott was firmly against killing anyone, least of all Deaton, so Peter had Stiles, Malia, and Jackson do a ‘patrol’ around the clinic and his home. Jackon was the one to find the evidence Stiles needed, Malia was the one who brought it back to him, and it was Jackson and Stiles that… dispatched, the good Dr.

It made page five news, beloved Veterinarian dies of a heart attack in his sleep. It was a surprisingly tame death for a Demon - or of what he expected from a Demon - and had bred a surprising alliance-turned-friendship between Jackson and Stiles.

Peter was a suspicious man, he rarely trusted anyone, but all that faded away when the two emerged from the forest, naked as blue jays with bloody jaws and adrenaline coursing through their veins a week later. He began to think that he could trust Stiles and cemented the very ideal when his daughter, for the first time in a little over a year, faced no trouble with her control on the night of a full moon.

They continued to live together - it was easier for her to protect him if she were directly near him - and have meals together - she was a good cook and he was never one to deny quality food - for months. The pack thrived, Malia was able to shift at will and Cora, his niece was able to finally get a good workout group going with most everyone involved. Most of them began their first year in college while others, like Cora and Jackson, remained independently wealthy, passing most of their free time by investing in certain businesses - Cora even started a job as a fitness instructor and started teaching classes at the local gym.

He had a demon for an Emissary and his pack was thriving better than they ever had, even before when his sister was the Alpha and Hale Pack was near forty strong. Stiles, he found, was a quick wit with humor that matched his in intensity. She enjoyed reading - the few times she managed stillness - and sparring, Jackson, Cora, and Erica being her opponent more times than naught. She liked most types of music and enjoyed teasing him by singing along out of key with every song he tuned the radio station to - he had been alarmed and mildly impressed when she even went with the Opera playing over the classical radio station.

She grew restless easy though, rarely ever slept (‘Don't need it’ she explained irritably, ‘four hours or so every two days is all I need, acclimating to this plane is more difficult than I gave it credit for.’), and was an absolute child when it came to curly fries or bacon cheese fries. She killed without remorse - he’d never been so turned on as when she drove her hand up under the Omega’s rib cage and crushed his heart with her hand - and had the shittiest taste for movies and comics.

She was also kind - surprisingly so given her species and nature - and remained ruthlessly honest - traits he (and his pack) were growing to appreciate. They knew where they stood with her, they knew the extent to which she would go to protect them, and just how brutal she would be if they were injured stupidly. She took to sparring with Peter when their free time extended and scoping out potential betas to assist in the building of his pack.

He was a suspicious man, but he trusted Stiles to protect and care for him, both as his summoned companion and his friend - gross sentimentality aside. Opposing packs were cut down if they refused to leave and remained hostile, treaties were made with dire consequences should the laws be broken, and Hale pack grew from nine to eighteen. A whole year and his pack had doubled, adding to its already unique ranks a Hellhound, a thunder Kitsune, a human bounty hunter turned Enforcer, two humans, a Chimera who could turn invisible, another werewolf/werejaguar chimera, two werewolves, and a human emissary in training.

A whole year of her rarely ever being injured and decimating his enemies where they stood before the first Angel appeared in an attempt to smite her. He had watched in horror as it pressed its palm to her forehead and blood began pouring from her orifices. The Angel didn’t get to question why it wasn’t smiting her around the fist she’d shoved up from the soft side of his chin and crushed the brain of its vessel. She was gasping when the vessel dropped to the ground and angel wings burned into the ground, then she was ripping the corpse apart, flinging tissue and chunks of flesh here and there, painting her perfect skin in blood red.

She stopped only when her hair hung limp, soaked with blood, and looked as if she had been dipped front first in a blood pool. Her pitch-black eyes met his from where she had frozen him with her abilities and released him, giving him just enough time to catch her before she fell unconscious.

In the year he had her at his side she had only ever had to tend to his wounds thrice, each time were ones she had inflicted during their sessions. Never once did he have to tend to her, not until now. Never once did he get the chance to really feel the bond that had formed between them until now, it staggered him how weak she felt. It took all of three seconds of thought before he opened their bond up completely and let her draw on his strength to heal.

Peter was a suspicious man, but not of her. He trusted her, he liked her. It was hours later when she was cleaned and rest in his arms in his bed that he truly gave himself time to think of her. Her taste in clothes wasn’t completely abhorrent, he could and did trust her, she complimented him in nearly every way, and he did like her. Romantically? Perhaps. Sexually? Her body was alluring of that there was no doubt. Could Demons be monogamous?

Was that what he wanted? He had used to dream of a partner such as her, one who he could depend on and be depended on in return. One who met him wit for wit, who took his anger and cold fury and fanned it to flames or extinguish it with just a look or a word. He could love her if he didn’t already.

“ ‘m naked,” she murmured earlier the next morning just as he was stirring awake himself. “ ‘m naked in your bed.” she dug her nose deeper into his chest and inhaled long and hard, “you smell good.” his laughter made his chest rumble against her that turned a tad deeper when she pulled herself flush against him.

“Be my mate.” he hadn’t meant to blurt it out so childishly. He had imagined using her candles for a candlelit dinner of her favorite dishes that he prepared, perfect suit and maybe even a ring. This though… though wasn’t all that bad of a comparison, he supposes.

“You really don’t remember your time in hell,” she murmured, chin resting against his chest while she looked up at him. When he rose his brow at her not-answer she rose to her elbows and traced his brow line with her fingertips. “We Princes are given our choice of the souls being tortured in hell, our own personal playthings.” she hesitated, gold eyes glowing impossibly warm as they stared into his sea-blue ones. “You were there maybe two days and were sassing your tormenter, I was bored and you seemed funny. We spent three months getting to know one another. You’d make me laugh, would come up with nicknames for the other Princes or demons that came and went. You tried to leave me twice and I ripped you limb from limb,” he shivered and clutched harder at her hips when she straddled him, pensive expression deepening.

She wasn’t lying, he shouldn’t have found her penchant for murder and violence so sexy.

“About a week before you left you told me your plan, that you’d be resurrecting soon, but that you’d found me ‘surprisingly amicable company, for a demon’.” he grinned when she tried to mock his tone. “You asked me to be your mate then,” she took his hand at her hip and drew it under her breast, pressing the palm flat against her ribcage. Her lack of heartbeat had always amused him, but now- “ask me again.” she was about to do something life-changing.

Peter Hale that was would’ve refused, he would’ve suspected her intentions and would’ve never wanted her to be his mate. Peter Hale now, though…

“Stiles,” he was acutely aware of the way her skin broke out in goose flesh, “Will you be my mate?”

“Yes.” with her answer came a thud from her ribcage, with her answer the bond connecting them as a summoner and the summoned twined with their pack connection and then was reinforced with the mate bond, connecting them in ways no one would ever be able to break. “My name,” glossy sea blue eyes rose to meet her warm gold ones, both of them breathing heavily as the air around them crackled with energy. “Is Mieczyslawa.”

“Mieczysława,” he breathed then suffocated her with a kiss, firm hands gripping her jaw and the back of her head. He tried, many times, to release her from their summoning contract, only for her to refuse so ardently that he never again tried.

“I’m not going to Heaven, Peter, and neither are you, this contract… we’ll be together in hell, just as we once were, only you’d be a Prince too.” being with her in death as they were in life? It sounded like Heaven to him. Three months later she became Mrs. Hale, two months more and she was heavily pregnant. Their firstborn son became a Demon/Werewolf hybrid that they lovingly referred to as their little Demon Wolf became one of the most feared and respected Right Hand of Hale pack.

There’s a tale, passed down from the thriving Hale family, that if one were in desperate need of help one only had to ask for Stiles or Peter and they would appear. Their love story is a fairytale, their ending a new beginning, their story hope for their descendants and a report of amusement to other demons. It was for this that a sullen sixteen-year-old was chanting with tears in his eyes in the forest far from his home, dying even in the skin he was in.

The runes lit the same moment the teen fell to the forest floor, balling. He had been ruined, fouled by another werewolf of an allied pack, and he could tell no one.

“Hello,” his great-great-grandmother greeted, kneeling before him with a kind, maternal smile. “I know,” she hummed when he launched into her arms, wailing into the night. “Don’t worry, Derek, Peter is taking care of the rest.” The next day word had spread that an entire pack had been decimated per the old treaty that had been signed in blood. What had been taken from Derek had been repaid in flesh and blood and he knew that his great-great-grandmother and grandfather were responsible and he wept.

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boarchasers · 6 years

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One For Another

((This needs the Read More, so I guess we’ll just have to deal with tumblr’s broken formatting.))

lycannalla:

Character Exploration Challenge I

Think back to a pivotal point in your character’s story. It may be them deciding to leave home, or deciding to join a guild. Maybe it’s a tragedy that put them on the path they’re on now. Whatever it is, consider what would happen if they didn’t make that choice or the opposite happened. Where would they be now? How would they be different? What would be the same?

It wasn't hard to find the tent. The Nord inside might have been a hunter, but when it came to his camp, stealth was out of the question. A wolfhound was stretched out beside the fire, snuffling occasionally, and the sound of metal scraping on wood, accompanied occasionally by cursing, came from under the canvas.

Canvas was something of a misnomer, too. This was not, as tents went, a luxury example. It was barely a tent at all. A deep red cloak was held up by a pair of sticks and tied to a convenient pine tree and that, essentially, was that. Apart from some furs to sleep on, the only covering for the ground underneath was a thick mat of pine needles. They deadened the footsteps of anybody approaching. In theory. Frithjofr couldn't sneak through an empty, unlit cave in the middle of the night. He got as far as the fireplace before the dog jumped up and the scraping noise stopped.

'Who's there?'

The hem of the cloak was pushed back and a sullen, suspicious face, covered in a thin beard, looked out. When it saw the dog bouncing around Frithjofr's heels, it broke into a smile.

'Uncle Frith!'

''Lo. Minnel sent me up to look for you. Everything all right?'

'Just practising my carving. I'm not as good as Hjolrin.' Haaki held up the lump of wood he was working on in rough, hardened fingers, complete with a fresh scar across the knuckle. 'Um, it's supposed to be a fox.'

'Better'n anything I could do.'

'Sit down. I've got some potatoes I can cook.'

Giving Dog one last scratch behind the ears, Frithjofr settled himself on his knees beside the fire, scuffing up his leggins with soot. Haaki scraped some of the embers from the fire with his boot and dropped a couple of potatoes on them before sitting down himself. As soon as he was down Dog trotted over and rested his head in his master's lap. Haaki fondled his ears idly and asked,

'Why did Minnel send you? I'm fine. I'm not a kid any more.'

'You'll always be a kid to her.'

'Nobody ever goes looking for Hjoll, and she and Brandy're older than him, too. It's not fair.'

Haaki prodded the potatoes with a stick, and jabbed at one so hard that the skin burst. He swore under his breath, glanced guiltily around, and when Frithjofr didn't comment, did his best to poke the inside of the potato back inside. There was clearly something else on Frithjofr's mind. After picking up a stick of his own and twirling it between his fingers a few times, he said,

'Uh, 's not just about checking up on you.'

Haaki's hand stopped stroking Dog's head.

'It's about the Legion. Isn't it?'

'Uh. Aye. She wanted me to try 'n talk to you--'

'I know she did. You won’t change my mind.'

Unbidden, both of their heads turned, just for a second, to look at the cloak tent. There was an old, faded stain at one end, over where the chest would be if someone was wearing it. Haaki looked back to the fire first.

'She's worried,' said Frithjofr. Haaki concentrated all of his attention on the disembowelled potato.

'It wouldn't happen to me.'

'Could happen to anyone.'

'The war's practically over now.'

'It was practically over when--'

'You're not going to stop me. Minnel's tried and Brandy's tried and Hjolrin's tried and now you've tried, but I'm going to go anyway. It's... it's a point of honour, isn't it? You said you wanted to be in the Legion once.'

'Nah, said I respected the Legion. 'S different. I can't tell the pointy end of a sword from the other one. What good'd I be?'

'I'm trained. I'm good with a bow and better with a crossbow.'

There was a long silence, filled with Dog's sniffing and a log shifting in the fire. It wasn't until Haaki removed the potatoes and handed over the one still intact that Frithjofr said,

''M not gonna stop you. I just want to know you know what you're leaving behind. Somebody'll have to look after Dog--'

'Hjolrin will.'

'--and Finnr'll miss you. So will everyone. They've already lost one brother, one uncle. I mean, 'm not a Boar-Chaser, not properly, but I know how important you are to each other. That's obvious even to me. Minnel still keeps his shield on the wall. Hjolrin never talks to anyone since... y'know. And Brandy's always telling me he's going to sell his books, but he never does, and y'know why? Because you hold onto each other. They don't want to lose him for good and they don't want to lose you.' Frithjofr bit into the potato and mumbled around it, 'That's all I got to say.'

---------------------------------------------------

Frithjofr and Minnel deciding to leave for Cyrodiil is a pivotal point for every Boar-Chaser, so it seemed appropriate (and efficient) to use it for this prompt.

The first and most obvious result is that neither Minnel nor Finnr are killed by legionnaires, and Frithjofr doesn’t get into his various troubles. Instead he continues to help out on the Boar-Chaser farm, eventually moving into a small house of their own a little further west on the Whiterun Plains. There’s no Burd, and no nirngoats; they live a fairly humdrum and unremarkable life, raising Finnr amongst his family.

This leads to Frithjofr becoming a much calmer man. He has better control over his thoughts, and is less prone to amble into danger, but he’s also less sympathetic to people in difficult situations. His morals haven’t been challenged in the way they were during his Cyrodiil adventures. He continues to believe that Stealing Is Always Bad, never having experienced the desperation some people are forced to and with the constant presence of Trond (initially - we’ll get to that). Generally speaking, he’s not quite as sympathetic to people on the fringes of society, be they common thieves or followers of Sheogorath. He never meets a considerably number of his current friends, and if he does, the consequences may be quite, quite different - Tortulja and Luth, for example, wouldn’t find him so sympathetic, nor as endearingly stupid, and his close friendships with them would never have the chance to grow.

His cowardice is less likely to change, although the Boar-Chasers are quite insistent about what it means to be a Real Nord. Most of the time, if they will allow it, Frithjofr remains content to stay at home with Finnr while Minnel takes care of anything remotely courageous.

Having someone like Frithjofr around to compare himself to boosts Trond’s confidence further (as if it needs it). Knowing that his sister will still be around to help the family, and without the resentment the circumstances of her death fostered, Trond tries for the Legion again and this time, with the Civil War creating a constant demand for new troops, gets accepted. Unfortunately, unlike guard work, there’s no option of ducking into the nearest alley away from danger when things get rough. He’s struck down by a Stormcloak shortly after joining. His personal effects are sent home and divided among the remaining Boar-Chasers -- his shield goes to Minnel, his books go to Brandrel, his sword goes to Hjolrin and his cloak goes to Haaki.

With Minnel’s help, Brandrel survives his fight against the bear. The Boar-Chaser farm becomes his responsibility when Minnel moves out with Frithjofr, and he does a much better job at caring for it than Hjolrin, Trond and Haaki do in the real timeline. As much as Trond’s death upsets him, he tries to channel all of that emotion into his work, leaving no time to pursue his amorous interests in Rodda Cold-Tree (or anyone else, for that matter) but creating a thriving farmstead.

On the more definitively negative side, Hjolrin retreats into himself, as he does in the real timeline, but even more severely. Neither Minnel nor Brandrel are as skilled at bringing him out of himself as Trond was. Without Trond there running his mouth to fill any awkward silences, Hjolrin is even less likely to attend any social events, and he’s rarely obliged to since Minnel is still the official head of the clan. He’s never introduced to Arlain, and spends the majority of his time alone in his camp, isolating himself even from his family. Haaki is the only person who ever really talks to him, and in this world Haaki is usually busy pursuing his own independent hunting work.

Because without the same purpose Minnel’s death gave him, and not having been as close to Trond, it takes a while for Haaki’s innate passion for Vengeance!™ to manifest itself. He evidently maintains his stubbornness (and his personal belief that the world is unfairly biased against him), and his dedication to his family is just as strong, too; the difference is that this time he has more support, and from his favourite people, in dealing with the loss. He completes his apprenticeship with Hjolrin and, at his brother’s insistence on being left alone, sets up his own camp in the woods. He can be hostile to unexpected guests in case they turn out to be part of a Stormcloak scouting party, who will not find any sympathy from him.

Eventually, however, his nature gets the better of him, and his anger over losing a brother festers. This time, rather than run off to the Stormcloaks, he aims for the Legion, instead. He proves luckier than Trond. His ultimate fate would depend on the canonised outcome of the Civil War, but he is moved from infantry to archery, where he serves with honour until the war’s conclusion - not having the ulterior motive of hunting down Frithjofr means he never has any reason to desert. The psychological scars warfare leaves on him are nothing compared to his current path - in the end, it makes him a more disciplined, reasonable person, who better understands the fortunes of war and why Trond was taken from him.

He never spends time in Windhelm. Happily for him, this means he never runs into Hlenil. Unhappily, he never meets Sibby, either - and without his rebellious, adventurous side, it’s questionable whether she would show the same interest in him even if they did meet. Much like Frithjofr, Haaki doesn’t develop a lot of his closest friendships, either, and never adopts Splendid (the dog or the religious zeal).

#TESCharacterExploration #thank you lycannalla for the motivation to write something again!#lostnord #minnel #brandrel #hjolrin #trond #haaki #april fool's day seemed an appropriate time to post about events which never happened #story

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kiss-my-freckle · 4 years

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2x7 Rewatch: Yakimono Flame-grilled food.

Miriam's processing looks a lot like Will's when he was framed. I'm not a fan of the actress, but her character gave exactly what I expected having been held and manipulated for two years. She can't trust what she believes.

"I keep having angry, imaginary conversations with Jack Crawford about that." If only Alana stood up for Will then as she stands up for Hannibal now.

Had Chilton confessed when Will told him to, he would've stood a better chance. Since Gideon spoke of Hannibal being smoke, Will seems to like using the reference. His release from the institution offers the basis of my belief in my episode 6 rewatch post. "Because he wants to be my friend." That scene when Hannibal brought the crime photos of the bailiff to Will. A great start, but wanting it isn't enough. Will has to want it in return. There's a part of Hobbs that he's missing as they run counter. Will has plans to catch him, but things change somewhere along the way. I'm hoping to find it. What Will expresses upon his release likely feeds into that. Jack first because he's there. Will hadn't even left the building and he's already being asked for help. It's great to own up to mistakes, but trust goes both ways. Will taps the cage to make a point. "You didn't have to find me, Jack. You just had to listen to me." Like Hannibal when he turned himself in. "I wanted you to know exactly where I am, and where you can always find me." It's not the finding, but the listening that matters.

They head out to the property where Jack found Miriam. Will stands stuck on the first well. "I feel fluid, like I'm spilling." He sees the glass Beverly was placed in, the jars containing her blood. This feels purposeful, the first thing he sees after his release. His time in the mental institution has made it easier for him to replay crime scenes in the presence of others. The close-up filming of the flowers is gorgeous. He visualizes the replay in Hannibal's office. Knowing who the Ripper is allows Will to see him. It's the heart he has in his hand and places in the body. "I sowed the seeds and watched them grow. I cultivated a long chain of events leading to this. All of this has been my design." Will speaking of the scene as Hannibal spoke of him. "If you followed the urges you kept down for so long, cultivated them as the inspirations they are, you would have become someone other than yourself." That's why this is my favorite crime scene. It's a gorgeous display, far from field kabuki. Will tells Jack that he can't trust Miriam or the crime scene.

Alana is next. An amazing, heartfelt expression. "Because you didn't believe me? Or in me? Because you let me question my sanity, my sense of reality?" He's speaking of their friendship and how she made him feel, she's speaking of her lover as if he's supposed to care about that. But... relationships tend to blind people. "From me, or for you?" I love this line. She claims there's no excuse for what Will did. I'd have to disagree. She doesn't understand it until she's in that position herself, had no problem helping Margot kill her brother. It wasn't just Will's trust and friendship, it was Abigail. She meant everything to him, and he thought Hannibal killed her. With Abigail, family didn't feel foreign, like a bowl of salad on the side. That's what drives him through much of this. He plans to catch the one that caught his surrogate daughter.

Chilton makes a solid point. Will hasn't told Jack about his memories because he told him that his memories were meaningless. As Hannibal said, "Words are living things. They have personality." Hannibal told him the same thing, that he can’t rely on his memories. Chilton believes Hannibal used the same technique on MIriam that he used on Will. "You and I are part of his design. He wanted you to be free. He wanted me to be free too." Miriam tells Will that he's not done. And here I am, back at the scene I couldn't wait to rewatch. Will's return, picking up where they left off. Hannibal again, speaking of Will's aftershave. Will is sexy in this moment. He makes mention as I did, Hannibal's crime scene speaking to him loud and clear. "Righteous!" Will is so much like Jack. Hannibal continues to deny his role. "No, I'm not innocent. You saw to that." Love this line from Will. "Don't you want to know how this ends?" Love this line from Hannibal. Will isn't gonna kill him, there's no proof he's the Ripper. "A subject's mental process betrayed only by the expression on their face." While Miriam looks like she remembers, she doesn't. Hannibal likely used the drawing she found to change the memory of it. "When you wake up, your only choice will be to run." Chilton had his chance, but didn't take it. Foolish to think Miriam's memories would help him. Hannibal hands them everything they need to prove Chilton is the Ripper. A cop disemboweled. The Wound Man. Gideon no longer eating his Last Supper. Chilton shows up at Will's house. Not really an agent, being framed himself, and knowing Hannibal is the Ripper. Of all people, Will was the right person to turn to. I love his calmness and Chilton’s excitement in this scene, it’s hilarious. I love his calmness when Chilton pulls a gun on him. How he laughs and tells him he's not a killer. Jacks scenes are staged. He needs to make it look real, to make it look as though he believes Chilton is the Ripper.

Hannibal kept Will’s standing appointment open all the while he was gone. He didn't truly let him go. That's why Alana’s viewpoint changes. She was just filling the void. Will shows up fresh and ready to bait. "I have to deal with you. And my feelings about you." What Gideon learned simply by listening. Hannibal tells him that the friendship they had is over. It wasn't a friendship, friends don't abuse friends. "Where shall we begin?" Hannibal has no idea how this is gonna end.

Trains. Because of Will, Gideon and Chilton knew too much, and Jack was taking food from his party because he started to listen. The crime scene allowed Jack to locate Miriam, who was already manipulated into believing she was taken by Chilton. Gideon put in the hospital to serve two purposes, freeing Will and framing Chilton. Framing Chilton then removed his need to kill Jack. Hannibal's relationship with Alana was all Hannibal had, now he thinks he has everything - everything he had when he first framed Will. From one frame to another, believing in Will’s guilt to believing in Hannibal’s.

Consideration to season three flashbacks with Gideon, it’s important to place them here given their story direction. “It's only cannibalism if we're equals.” The point of baiting Hannibal. “There is a power differential between psychiatrist and patient.” They’re not equal until they’re equal. Gideon making himself tastier before Will makes himself tastier. “Won't be long until someone's taking a bite out of you.” Hannibal was eating Will without his knowledge. “I find knowing to be far more powerful.” Will not being in control and feeling powerless. “I think you more in control now than you have ever been. You found a way to hurt me." He’s not in control, not yet. “I'm just fascinated to know how you will feel when all of this happens to you.” What Gideon learned simply by listening. He warned Hannibal what was coming. Alana warned him as well. "But people are not instruments. Whatever it is you're playing, Hannibal, you have to listen very carefully to what you're creating.” It's not the finding, but the listening that matters.

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daghewardmillsquotes-blog · 5 years

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Examples of Tyrants and Bullies (Gibbor)

There were giants (nephilim) in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men (gibbor) which were of old, men of renown (SEM).

Genesis 6:4

Three different types of creatures were produced when angels interacted with human beings:

1. Giants; 2. Famous Men; and 3. Tyrants.

This chapter deals with the tyrants and bullies. There have been many tyrants and bullies who have lived through the centuries. Many of these people were either possessed with devils or were simply the Gibbor. The Gibbor were a type of creature that was produced as a result of the combination of angels and human beings. If they were Gibbor, it means they were half human and half supernatural.

The crimes against humanity, the brutality, the wickedness and the lack of compassion, all reveal paranormal behaviour coming from super para-humans created by a combination of fallen angels and human beings. Indeed, it is possible that many of these bullies and tyrants were not really “people”. When they had unbridled power, they mutilated, murdered, tortured and tormented any one they wanted to.

Some of these people were super-human hybrids, simply a mixture of fallen angels and human beings. This is probably the only explanation for the inhumanness and the complete absence of feelings that some of these bullies and tyrants exhibited.

Below, I am presenting just a few of the tyrants and bullies that our world has endured. I have so many examples of bullies and tyrants, but for certain reasons, I have left out most of them.

This list is just a sample of a few bullies and tyrants. Some of these bullies and tyrants may have been super human hybrids. I can assure you that there are millions of people who are inhumanly wicked. There are many people from history who have lived as super human bullies and tyrants. There are also many people in our present world who clearly show signs of being para-normal. Perhaps, many of these wicked tyrants and bullies are actually the “Gibbor”. It is very possible that some of them are superhuman combinations of fallen angels with human beings. As you read a little about them, you can decide for yourself whether they were normal human beings with normal feelings and compassion, or if they were superhuman. Read the accounts of each person that I have culled from historical accounts and educate yourself on a few of the types of human beings that have lived in our world.

Today, Christians not only have to deal with people that are oppressed with the devil and possessed with evil spirits but also with people that are half-devil and half-human!

Please note that I am not saying that the following people were half devil and half human. I am saying that it is a possibility that they were half-devil and half-human. It is best for you to judge for yourself and decide whether you think they were half devil and half human or not.

1. Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus (12 - AD 41) (Caligula) Caligula was a Roman Emperor who ruled for four years. He is remembered for the most awesomely disgusting, insane and luridly depraved crimes against humanity and morality.

He began by ordering the murders of anyone who had ever crossed him, or even disagreed with him on mundane matters. He had a very good memory. He exiled his own wife, and proclaimed himself a god, dressing up as Apollo, Venus (a goddess), Mercury and Hercules. He demanded that everyone, from senators to guards to guests and public crowds, refer to him as “divine” in his presence.

He attempted to appoint his favourite horse, Incitatus as a priest and consul, and ordered a beautiful marble stable built for him, complete with chairs and couches on which Incitatus never sat.

Once, at the Circus Maximus, the games ran out of criminals who were used to entertain the crowd by fighting with animals. The next event was the lions, his favorite. He then ordered his guards to drag the first five rows of spectators into the arena, which they did. These people were all devoured for his amusement. A citizen once insulted him to his face in a fit of rage, and Caligula responded by having him tied down, and beaten with heavy chains. He made this last for 3 months, having the man brought out from a dungeon and beaten, until Caligula and the crowds that gathered were too offended by the smell of the man’s gangrenous brain, whereupon he was beheaded.

Another man who insulted him had his entire family, publicly executed one after another in front of a crowd. The man and wife were first, followed by the oldest child and so on. The crowd became outraged and began to disperse, but many stayed to watch. The last of the family was a 12 year old girl, who was sobbing hysterically at what she had been forced to watch. A member of the crowd shouted that she was exempt from execution as a virgin. Caligula smiled and ordered the executioner to rape her and then strangle her, which he did. Caligula’s favourite torture was sawing. The saw blade filleted the spine and spinal cord from the chest down to the crotch. He also relished chewing up the testicles of victims, without biting them off, while they were restrained upside down before him.

He publicly had sex with his three sisters at banquets and games, sometimes on the table amid the food. He was finally murdered by the Praetorian Guard and some senators when he left the Circus Maximus after the games. His body was left in the street to rot, and dogs finally ate it. Was this man a normal human being? Did he have any normal feelings of compassion? Could Caligula have been one of the bullies and tyrants the Bible describes as the “Gibbor”?

2. Emperor Nero (54 – 68 AD) There was a Roman Emperor who ruled from 54 - 68 AD. He systematically murdered every member in his family. He poisoned, beheaded, stabbed, burned, boiled, crucified and impaled thousands of people. He often raped women and also cut off the veins and private parts of both men and women. He is said to have kicked one of his wives to death. He ordered his mother to be stabbed and clubbed to death. He was a strange mix of paradoxes; artistic, sporting, brutal, weak, sensual, erratic, extravagant, sadistic and bisexual. This man did not want to be blamed for the burning of Rome and charged Christians for that. Because of this, Christians were covered with the skins of wild beasts, and torn by dogs. Other Christians were crucified. Others were set on fire, that they might serve for lights in the nighttime.

Sometimes Christians were covered with wax and other combustible materials, after which a sharp stake was put under their chin, to make them stand upright, and they were burnt alive, to give light to the spectators. Was this bully a normal human being or was he a Gibbor? Was he possessed with devils! Was Emperor Nero half-human and half-demon?

3. Ivan the Terrible (1530-1584) Ivan was a man who ruled Russia in the sixteenth century. He was the first ruler of Russia to assume the title of Tsar. In 1570, Ivan was under the belief that the elite of the city of Novgorod planned to defect to Poland, and led an army to stop them, on January 2. Ivan’s soldiers built walls around the perimeter of the city in order to prevent the people of the city escaping. Between 500 and 1000 people were gathered every day by the troops, then tortured and killed in front of Ivan and his son.

In 1581, Ivan beat his pregnant daughter-in-law for wearing immodest clothing, causing a miscarriage. His son, also named Ivan, upon learning of this, engaged in a heated argument with his father, which resulted in Ivan striking his son in the head with his pointed staff, causing his son’s (accidental) death. Ivan the Terrible had his own personal torture chamber. He forced hundreds of parents to watch their children tortured and killed. He made bears and wolves eat hundreds of people.

He personally killed and tortured people with his long and hard staff. He gave orders for people to be beheaded, strangled, hanged, blinded, burned, stabbed, boiled, disembowelled, buried alive, impaled and fried. He often watched the executions, some of which were as long as 15 hours. Was this man a normal human being? Did he have any human compassion? Why was he so wicked? Did he not have feelings as normal human beings do? Was he actually a super human tyrant?

4. Emperor Commodus (161-192 AD) Commodus was a Roman Emperor who ruled from 180 - 192 AD. His brutal rule led to civil strife that ended 84 years of stability and prosperity within that country.

He started performing as a gladiator and slaughtering many people. He adored the gladiatorial games, so much so that he personally entered many of them and fought alongside the gladiators, who were all criminals and slaves, etc. This severely offended the entire Empire, especially the Senate. The fighters who came into the arena with him just had wooden weapons, whilst he was well armed. He slaughtered many people in a bid to display manliness. When his expensive lifestyle nearly made the imperial treasury bankrupt, he replenished it by accusing his senators of treason and having their property seized.

Commodus once ordered all the cripples, hunchbacks, and generally undesirables in the city to be rounded up, thrown into the arena, and forced to hack one another to death with meat cleavers.

He especially enjoyed killing animals, and killed 100 lions in one day, to the spectators’ disgust. In addition to the crippled, Commodus would slay exotic animals, such as lions, ostriches, hippos, elephants, and giraffes. He killed three elephants singlehandedly in the arena, beheaded an ostrich and laughed at the senators attending, brandishing the head and motioning that they were next. He speared a giraffe to death, an animal which the spectators did not see as fearsome at all.

While fighting in the arena, opponents would submit to Commodus, as Emperor, and their lives were spared. However, in private practice fights, Commodus would slay his opponents. The Romans were outraged when Commodus would order wounded soldiers and amputees into the arena to be slayed. Non-military citizens who had lost their feet due to injury or illness would be tied together for Commodus to club to death. This horrified the Roman people.

The senators conspired to have him killed, and poisoned him, but he threw it up. They then sent in his favourite wrestler, a gladiator named Narcissus, who strangled him in his bath. His reign lasted 12 years, from 180 - 192 AD. Was this man a normal person or was he superhuman?

5. The American Cannibal

There was an American killer and cannibal. He was known for rape, murder and dismemberment of his victims. He murdered at least 17 men and boys over a period of thirteen years. He raped his victims and often dismembered them before killing them. Sometimes, he even ate parts of his victims. He put some of the corpses of his victims in acid-filled vats in his apartment. He severed the heads of his victims and put them in his refrigerator. He was said to preserve all of parts of the corpses of those he killed. In fact, some skulls were found in his closet. Was this a normal man or a Gibbor?

6. The Grave Looter

A certain man who lived in America in the 1900s was known for outrageous acts. He was a killer and was found guilty of the murder of many women. He would also rob graves and keep body parts. He even made bowls out of human skulls and upholstered chairs with human flesh. He also made a belt made out of human nipples. He killed people, he scattered their body parts all around the town. He used to live with his brother and mother and was very devoted to his mother. When she died, he started visiting cemeteries to unearth newly buried females. He would cut off some parts of the corpses as trophies and return the rest of the corpse to their graves. Could this have been a normal man or was this a Gibbor?

7. The Ejaculating Murderer

There was a certain man who became famous in his city for the wrong reasons. He murdered 53 women and children. In the seventies he lured a nine-year-old girl to an old house and attempted to rape her. When the girl struggled, he stabbed her to death. He ejaculated in the process of knifing the child to death. From then on, he achieved sexual arousal and orgasm through stabbing and slashing women and children to death. Was he a normal man or was he a Gibbor? Why did he ejaculate whilst killing a child? Are these normal feelings to expect from human beings?

8. The Murdering Wife and Mother

In the nineteenth century there was a woman who lived in England. She killed three of her four husbands to collect on their insurance policies. She also killed eleven of her fourteen children. She used arsenic poisoning to kill them, causing severe gastric pain to her victims. This woman lacked human kindness and love that is expected towards a husband and children. Was she a normal woman or are we dealing with something more sinister?

9. The Clown

There was a American man who was both a serial murderer and a clown. He first assaulted two teenage boys sexually and sentenced to 10 years in jail. After he was released on parole for excellent behaviour he proceeded to kill 33 young men. He then buried their bodies in his yard, in his house, or in the river near his house. Because he was a clown, no one thought he was capable of such wickedness. What kind of person kills 33 people and buries them in his house? Was this wicked clown a normal human being or was there something more sinister about him?

10. The Werewolf

There was an American man who was known as “the Werewolf”. He was a man who molested over 100 children and more than five adults. He whipped his victims till they bled, cut up parts of their body, drank their blood and also ate parts of their bodies. He even sometimes roasted parts of the bodies and made stew, which he ate. He had sexual obsessions, including coprophilia, urophilia, paedophilia and masochism. He even inserted needles in his own pelvis for sexual pleasure. Was this apparently harmless looking man a Gibbor?

11. The Acid Bath Murderer

The Acid Bath Murderer was an European who killed people and dissolved their bodies in acid. He lured his victims to a place, killed them and then dissolved their bodies in sulphuric acid. One day, he had a sudden need for blood. So he hit his employer in the head with a blunt instrument, slit the man’s throat, got a mug, took some of his employer’s blood from his neck and drank it. He then dumped the body in a barrel, which he filled with sulphuric acid. He even forged papers in order to sell possessions of his victims and made substantial sums of money from those he had murdered. Was he a normal man or was he a Gibbor?

12. The Asian Charmer

There was an Asian who killed as many as one hundred boys during an 18-month period. He found the boys on the street and charmed them into his confidence. He then drugged them, raped them and strangled them. After he killed them, he cut up their bodies into pieces and put them in a vat filled with hydrochloric acid. Once all of the remains were liquefied, he then dumped the remains into the sewer. Did this man have normal human feelings? Did this man act like a normal human being?

13. The Female Guard

There was a lady who was a guard at a concentration camp during a War. Her hobby was collecting lampshades, book covers and gloves made from the skins of specially murdered concentration camp prisoners. She had a lady’s handbag made out of the same material. She continually tortured and killed so many people at the concentration camps that she was referred to as “the camp murderess”. She would specially select prisoners with distinctive tattoos and these prisoners would be killed and their skin tanned.

She exploited her sexual appeal by parading around the camps on a horse, with a whip, and if any man so much as glanced at her she would have them whipped and shot on the spot. Was this a normal woman? Where was the kindness that we expect from a woman and a mother? She was a bully and a tyrant in the concentration camps! Was she also a Gibbor?

14. The African Butcher

There was an African tyrant who did more than to murder those he considered his enemies. He subjected his victims to intense barbaric acts, even after they were dead. Several of the dead bodies of his victims that were dumped in the mortuary were terribly mutilated, with livers, noses, lips, genitals or eyes missing. Some would have both legs and arms amputated with the legs sown where the arms should have been and the arms also put in place of the legs. When given an instruction to murder someone, this tyrant would say, “Give him the VIP treatment” which meant, “torture him before you kill him.” This African butcher ordered killings of high-ranking officers whom he considered to be his opponents. He also ordered mass killings of members of the police, prisons and other civilians. Did this man have normal human feelings? Did this man act like a normal human being? Was he super human?

15. The African Cannibal

There was an African head of state who came to power through a coup d’etat. He ruled with an iron fist, torturing and killing political rivals and cutting off the ears of thieves. Accusations of cannibalism were widespread. These accusations were triggered by photographs released in an European magazine that apparently showed a fridge containing the bodies of schoolchildren. It was also claimed his political rivals were cooked and served to visiting foreign dignitaries or fed to lions and crocodiles in his personal zoo. At his lavish coronation he spent millions of dollars to exalt himself as an emperor. Did this man have normal human feelings? Did this man act like a normal human being? Was he super human?

by Dag Heward-Mills

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