#and dont forget that kruze's real name is kyran

[keen2meecha]

a creature of despair

There was a ghost haunting the streets of New Demington and everyone knew it.

Not a literal ghost. That would be much more convenient - and much less stressful. Ghosts could be caught, exorcised, shot with rock salt and sent back to wherever they belonged.

This ghost, though.

This ghost had yet to be seen, although the trail of bodies they left in their wake was unmistakable. Some with premortem wounds, some without - but all of them with their throats slashed from behind, and a length of purple ribbon left behind to cover the wound. It was a very specific calling card, but investigators had yet to determine the significance. And this had been going on for months.

Even Amadeus Black was pricklier than usual lately, and that was quite the feat. He was prickly on the best of days, but it took a lot to push him further.

And yet, despite the tension in the air and the worry on TV, Falks’ freshmen class remained as bright and oblivious as ever.

“We should go shopping!” Briony El-Hashem declared.

At the opposite end of the table, Kyran Cinege snorted as he speared his broccoli. Sure, he’d known since he stepped foot in this place that his classmates were idiots, but it was nice to have tangible proof. He looked up to catch Vera’s eye. She was an ice-cold bitch, but they had a certain understanding. She was a lot more tolerable than the others, for one thing. And she didn’t try to be his ‘friend’ - in fact, she seemed to migrate to his side most days specifically because he had no interest in friends.

She also didn’t talk, which meant she didn’t ask questions.

“What about you, dude?” Ibrahim asked eagerly, leaning closer to Kyran - and then immediately leaning back away at the sharp glare he got. “You in?”

“Of course I’m not fucking in!” Kyran snapped. “You’ve either got a goddamned death wish or your idiots - or, more likely, both.”

“Don’t be like that,” Dimas said, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll be however I fucking please. Unlike you imbeciles, I’m not taking my chances when there’s a damn Villain roaming the streets.”

“We don’t know they’re a Villain!” Larue protested immediately. “They could just be a serial killer!”

“Oh, right, yeah, that’s so much better - congrats, Strawberry! You’ve changed my mind!”

“It’ll be fun,” Rocco interrupted, and Kyran choked back a swear. “C’mon, please? We’ll make it worth your while!”

There was only one person who could possibly make it worth his while. He had red-hair and stupid pretty eyes and was currently pouting up at Kyran, said pretty eyes pleading with him. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking-

“Fine, whatever.” He grunted, tearing his eyes away from Rocco. “If it makes you assholes leave me alone for once.”

“You know we won’t! Hey, Vera, what about you?”

“No,” She said flatly, not even looking up from her book.

“Aw, come on, not you too! Please?”

Unfortunately, Vera didn’t have the same weakness that Kyran had. She gave Rocco a flat look, then returned to her book once more. Rocco wrinkled his nose at her, then returned to the others to help the planning of the apparent shopping trip.

Kyran scowled and flicked her book as he said, “Oy, Princess, if I’ve gotta suffer through this bullshit so do you.”

She gave him a flat look, then stood up, shouldered her backpack, and started to walk away. Kyran reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could get far.

“Let go of me,” She snapped, yanking her wrist out of his grip as whirled on him. He was out of his seat and standing across from her in a second, shoulders squared and hands raised. He had seen what she could do with her Gift. She wasn’t going to get the drop on him.

“Guys,” Elora protested uneasily from the table. 

“Shut up, Pinkie,” Kyran told her, not looking away from Vera. “You too, Glasses.”

Zahir snapped his mouth shut.

“I said. I’m not. Going.” Vera gritted out. Despite the tension in her jaw, her hands were loose by her sides.

“And I said you are,” Kyran countered, not letting his guard down that easily. “Because there’s a killer roaming the streets, and we’re pretty much the only ones who can keep these idiots alive if they really insist on leaving campus.”

There was a full tense minute as she stared him down. He was starting to wonder if she would just forgo the Gift and punch him in the nose-

And then she huffed, nodded, and left without another word.

“Was that a yes?” Ibrahim asked into the shocked silence.

 ***

“We’re going shopping this weekend,” Kyran announced suddenly.

Across from him, the devil herself blinked and adjusted her glasses.

“We were discussing your childhood?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got daddy issues, blah blah blah,” Kyran waved a dismissive hand. “Been there, done that, old news.”

“Alright.” Tuliana gave an infuriating smile. “Who all is we?”

“The whole class.”

“Including you?”

“Obv-fucking-iously.”

“Don’t make me get the swear jar out again, Kyran.”

“Obviously.”

“Why did you agree to go? I was under the impression that you hated everyone.”

“Dunno.” He flopped back in the cushy armchair and glared out the window.

“These sessions won’t do you any good if you stonewall me.”

He huffed and drew a frowny face on the icy window with his finger, then said, “I… thought I saw her. Yesterday. Up on those mountains or whatever.”

“It’s not… unheard of for people to think they’ve seen loved ones that they’ve lost.”

“So I’m not going crazy?”

“No, we’ve been over this.”

“Even though it’s been, like, a year?”

“There’s no timeline for grief. It happens differently for everyone.” When he didn’t say anything else, she jotted something down on her notebook and said, “Is that why you agreed to go? Because you think you’ll see her again?”

“No, that’d be stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

He scowled and shot her a glare. The worst part was that her serene expression didn’t even waver. In the almost two months he’d been attending Falks, he’d managed to get under every adults’ skin except for two: the headmaster and Tuliana Nagi. The former simply because he hadn’t had enough opportunities, the latter because he was sure there were more annoying things in Hell than him.

So far, at least.

“Maybe…” He returned to the window. “Maybe because it’s what she would have done.”

“Gone shopping?”

“Protected them.”

There was a long beat of silence, then she sighed and rubbed at her eye. She did that sometimes. Their sessions were always at the end of the day, and he was pretty sure she had chronic dry-eye. Her eye drops were in her drawer, but she never used them while they were meeting. Probably because it was impolite or some shit.

“Kyran, it’s not your job to save everyone.”

“It will be soon.”

“Yes, after you’ve been trained.” She dropped her hand and leaned forward. He shifted uncomfortably, but couldn’t seem to break eye contact. “Kyran, you couldn’t have saved her.”

“If I hadn’t left her with him-”

“You didn’t leave him.” They had been through this so many times that she felt comfortable interrupting him, which was infuriating. “You got separated while the museum was collapsing.”

“What difference does it make?”

“You know that it makes all the difference.”

He snarled at her, but had nothing to say to that. She was - probably, unfortunately - right. But if he had just had the instinct to dive back, not forward, if they had lingered just a second longer, or sped up just a little-

“That kind of thinking won’t bring her back, Kyran.”

That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? 

Nothing was going to bring back the one friend he’d ever had.

***

The mall was way too big, and way too loud. The moment they stepped inside, he regretted agreeing to come along. 

It didn’t help that Vera was practically radiating smugness at his discomfort, even as she too winced at the light and the noise and the smell. The rest of their classmates barely seemed to notice the terrible everything of the hellhole posing as a mall. They laughed and shouted and went through store after store after store. Why did a mall even need five separate shoe stores? Wasn’t one enough?

“Capitalism,” Jerilyn whispered gravely to him when he voiced his complaint.

“Fuck that,” He replied, turning away.

“Dude, where are you going?” Ibrahim shouted.

“Anywhere that isn’t here!”

He made it all the way to the boba stand before he realized that he was being followed.

“Fuck off, Princess.”

“You dragged me on this trip,” She replied evenly. “Actions have consequences.”

It was the closest to sarcasm he’d ever heard her get, so he begrudgingly didn’t protest further. The ghost everyone was afraid of preferred secluded areas, after all. They wouldn’t strike in the middle of a brightly lit, crowded as hell building.

“Hi!” The Chinese girl behind the counter chirped at their approach. “What can I get you?”

“What’s good?” Kyran asked, scanning the menu and trying hard not to scowl. His classmates deserved his ire - retail workers didn’t.

“Depends on what you like - the lavender is pretty interesting.”

“Sure, that.”

“Great! And you, ma’am?”

“Er, same thing.”

The girl didn’t notice the hesitance as she put their orders into the computer, but Kyran glanced back as he passed her the money. He’d had his suspicions, of course, but every time she opened her mouth he grew more certain that the weirdo had never had a real childhood.

Maybe they could start a club.

“Here’s your change!” The girl said, dragging him out of his thoughts.

He turned and accepted the coins - and found his gaze drawn to her pin-laden denim jacket. More specifically, the white pin with the thick purple line in the middle.

“Nice pin,” He said, jutting his chin out towards it.

“Huh?” She glanced down, then beamed up at him with excitement. “Thanks!”

“I’ve got a friend who had something similar,” He added, his throat tightening as the words clawed their way out. 

“Oh, nice. I can give you the website that I got it from, if you want to buy them a present!”

“Uh, no, thanks. She hasn’t got much use for gifts anymore.”

The girl snorted, and then the man who was also working at the booth called, “Jing, come help me!” and she hurried away.

Kyran heaved a sigh, then turned to see Vera staring at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Nothing.” Unruffled as ever - she was almost as obnoxious as Tuliana. “I thought you didn’t have friends.”

“I don’t,” He snapped, already regretting the moment of weakness. At least Vera wasn’t the gossiping type. “Not anymore. What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

She said that, but she also kept stealing glances at him for the rest of their little shopping trip. By the time they left, just before the mall closed as the sun was setting below the horizon, he was ready to commit arson just for some kind of release.

The city buildings cast long shadows in the fading sunlight, and his classmates at least had the common sense to lower their voices as they walked. They were still in a populated part of the city, but they were fast-approaching that time where it was too late for the day crowd to still be heading home, but too early for the night crowd to start leaving home.

“Oh, hey, come on!” Briony said suddenly, her voice leaping half an octave in her excitement. “It’s a shortcut - it’ll get us to the nearest stop just in time for the next bus!”

“Wait, I’m not sure-” Zahir tried to protest, but she was already taking off down the darkened alleyway.

Kyran swore and took off after her, and the others followed close behind. 

Luckily she hadn’t gotten far - barely halfway down the alleyway before she stopped, apparently waiting for them to catch up.

“Do you want to fucking die?” He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her around to face him. “We need to stick together, or-”

“Well, well, well. Who is it that’s flown into my web this time?”

Or that.

Kyran shoved Briony behind him and pivoted, searching for the source of the crooning voice. It didn’t sound like it belonged to anyone much older or bigger than them, but it had just enough of an edge to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Oh, could it be?” The voice continued, dancing with delight. “A little herd of Falkers, out and about in the city? All alone, and so late at night - I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Who says we’re alone?” Kyran snarled, putting a hand out to keep his classmates from doing anything stupid. 

There was the sound of sharp metal scraping against stone undercutting a breathy, unsettlingly girlish giggle, and a figure stepped into what little light was left. 

They weren’t what Kyran was expecting. Short, shorter than him, wearing jeans and sneakers and a faded purple hoodie that was missing the sleeves, leaving the person’s brown arms bare. They could almost be mistaken for a normal teenager wandering the streets - albeit a fucking jacked one - if not for the machete in their outstretched hand, resting against the wall of the building. That explained the scraping noise, at least.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Zahir called, earning a hissed shut up from Kyran.

“You don’t?” The person asked, almost sounding disappointed. “But don’t you know? That’s all you Falkers are. Little troubles, that grow up to be big strong Heroic troubles.”

“Back the fuck off now,” Kyran snarled when they took a step forward, raising his free hand in preparation. An explosion in such a tight space wasn’t ideal, but if push came to shove it would be worth it. “And no one will get hurt.”

The person paused and tilted their head. He could see the faintest flash of clever dark eyes studying him. There was something about this person, something hauntingly familiar... 

“Why don’t we make a deal?” They crooned, pushing their hood back. 

They were wearing a paneled black mask over the entirety of the bottom half of their face, but that still left the top half of their face exposed. Golden brown eyes with heavy bags under them, freckles, their dark brown curls shaved in an undercut. A scar through their thick eyebrow. Kyran narrowed his eyes. It was right there, staring him in the face, why couldn’t he figure it out-

“You give me your jacket, and I’ll let you go.”

“My jacket?” He glanced down at the leather jacket he was wrapped up in, worn to comfortable softness and right on the edge of being too small. “No fucking way.”

“Kyran,” Ibrahim whispered urgently.

“I said no,” He snapped, lifting his hand a little higher and curling his finger into the beginnings of a flick. If they made even the slightest of moves, kaboom. “I’m not giving some whacko my jacket.”

“Oh, but it’s not your jacket, now is it?” They said softly, taking another step forward. They were within arm’s reach. He needed to use his Gift, or throw a punch, or run, or something - but he was paralyzed, mesmerized by those far-too-knowing eyes. “You stole it from your friend, didn’t you? That night in the hospital? You chased her out, blamed her for your own damn issues, and then stole the jacket she left behind?”

“How do you know that?” He whispered.

“Oh, I know all about you, Kruze Cinege.”

She - because the only person who would ever call him that was a ‘she’ - smiled and pulled the mask down around her neck. Her nose was broad and freckled, her chin rounded and soft, her lips stretched in a smile he’d seen a hundred times before - but this one was mangled and bitter and empty, a fucked up facsimile of the original.

She’d gotten a haircut, gathered a few more scars, lost the spark that used to make her shine so bright - but she still managed to be unmistakable. 

No wonder they called her a ghost.

“Sofia?”