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Hey @oriigami, I was your Secret Santa for the @opsecretsanta2019. I hope you enjoy your gift, and have a Merry Christmas

Title: Deliverance Rating: T Characters: Sabo, Koala Summary: It stood to reason that Sabo and Koala would get a cupcake for their first mission. It also stood to reason that nothing would go as planned.

Or, the story of how Sabo got his first bounty.

“Promise me you won’t go off script.”

“I told you already, I promise.”

Sabo fought with an ill-fitting workman’s cap, which despite his best efforts to pummel into submission did not want to sit nicely on his head. It was new and stiff, without any of the give his usual tophat had. He heard Koala give a nearly inaudible sigh. Standing on her tiptoes she swiped it out of his hands, giving him just enough time to bend down so she could force it on, pulling the bill so low it nearly covered his eyes.

And his scar.

“When did you get so damn tall?” she groused.

“I’m perfectly average, thank you very much,” Sabo said. “You’re just short.”

Koala punched his arm a little harder than was necessary, but he got her to smile. A real, honest-to-god smile, and not the strained bastardization she resorted to when she was nervous. “Seriously, Koala,” he said. “They gave us a cupcake of a mission.”

“We’re going in alone. There won’t be any backup this time around,” she pointed out.

Sabo scoffed, “Hack will be a snailphone call away, not that we’ll need him just to make a delivery. Seriously, Koala, we’ll be fine.”

“I will be fine,” Koala corrected, jabbing her finger into his chest. “It’s you they don’t trust not to run off towards the nearest explodables.”

“That was one time! How was I supposed to know that ship was transporting gunpowder?”

“I rest my case.”

She took a step back and looked Sabo with a critical eye. He considered making a quip about how cute she looked dressed up like a little peasant girl out running errands, but decided he would rather start his first solo mission without any conspicuous bruising.

It was a simple enough job, all things considered. The Revolution had gotten wind of a few nasty rumors regarding some upstart nobleman on the Isle of Doulos and sent an agent to infiltrate the household, who was now in need of some extra reconnaissance equipment that Koala and Sabo were to smuggle in to the estate.

“I’m not going to screw this up,” Sabo promised for what felt like the dozenth time. “I don’t plan on having Hack babysit me forever so might as well show them we have what it takes, right?”

“Right.” Koala adjusted his collar before giving her final nod of approval. “Remember, we absolutely cannot blow Bunny Joe’s cover. So no hitting douchebags in the face.”

“I won’t,” Sabo promised for the thirteenth time. He paused. “I mean, unless they really deserve it.”

Sabo set sail to Doulos with a sore arm, but it was worth it to hear her laugh.

Xxx

There had been some question on how the Revolution would smuggle supplies into the mansion of Lord Chandler, the recently turned nobleman who was promoted from the merchant class after performing some kind of service to the crown. Preliminary scouting missions reported an exceptionally thorough snailphone system that covered every inch of the nobleman’s vast estate. Stealth was technically possible, but it would be difficult to sneak around without arousing suspicion.

Further surveillance uncovered a surprisingly simple solution: Supplies from the nearby port city were often delivered by children the same age as Sabo and Koala. All they had to do was get in, drop off a few snails of their own, and get out again.

It wasn’t exciting, or brimming with danger and glory. The Revolution was still treating Sabo and Koala like children even though they’d been around longer than most of the adults, training and studying for the day they could officially join Dragon’s army.

“This is almost embarrassingly easy,” Sabo complained as he carefully loaded a cart left by other agents in the area. Beside him, Koala was readying the donkey that would lead them to their glorious future.

“Would you rather get a free pass?” Koala asked. “There’s already talk about how you get preferential treatment. Boss doesn’t give out one on one lessons to everybody, you know.”

“Talk? From who?” Sabo asked.

Koala gestured vaguely. “You know, people. Is this really the best time to be talking about this?”

“No. And I don’t want any free passes, either,” Sabo said. He took the reigns from Koala and helped boost her into the cart.

“I know that, the boss knows that. Everyone who matters knows that.” Koala’s expression softened, and she placed a calming hand on his forearm. Sabo forced himself to relax, not wanting her to feel the tension that had him all wound up and irritable.

“Yeah, well I’m going to prove it. Yee-freaking-haw.” And with a gentle snap of the reigns, they were off.

It was a pleasant trip, the air of the spring island crisp and cool while the sun danced its way through a cloudy sky. Sabo and Koala picked their way through town and out into the countryside where Lord Chandler’s estate was nestled between rolling green hills, away from the polluted pall of the city and the dirty peasants who lived there. It was about an hour of slow, deliberate plodding on a bumpy and unpaved road, but time with Koala always seemed to fly twice as fast. Their most arduous task was trying to lead the stubborn donkey pulling their cart.

“I think he takes after you,” Koala teased.

“I’d like to see you do better.”

And so she did.

Their first roadblock came at the estate itself. Koala knew better than to lead them through the main entrance, following down a well-worn servant’s path farther back. The security guard manning the gate, a burly man who seemed to have more muscles than brains, looked down at his clipboard and frowned.

“I don’t have any deliveries scheduled for today.”

“We were only called for this morning,” Sabo said. “We probably didn’t make it on your list.”

He flashed his most winsome smile while Koala gave a small nod in agreement. The guardsman’s frown deepened, and he squinted harder at his clipboard as if it would spontaneously give him the answer he was looking for.

“Who ordered the delivery?” he asked after a long moment of thought.

Sabo shrugged. “Some guy named Joe, I guess? We were only told to bring the stuff over to the kitchens.”

He climbed to the back of the cart and showed the guard their wares: A dozen bags of flour, sugar, and other staples, plus a few rarer items imported just that day from a faraway island that they could pass off as the reason for the emergency delivery.

“I don’t know...” the guardsman said, stretching out the know so long it almost became two words.

Sabo was not about ready to have his first mission waylaid by some no-name grunt. He took a deep breath, gearing himself to launch into another argument when he was interrupted.

“What seems to be a problem here?”

Sabo turned sharply toward the new voice. All the color left the guard’s face as a newcomer slid out from the shadows of the gate, seeming to glide across the ground as if he were a glob of human-shaped oil instead of a real person. He wore an expression that could technically be described as a smile, provided whoever was doing the describing was blind, standing very far away, and had never known the pleasure of genuine human kindness.

It took a small measure of effort for Sabo not to recoil in disgust as the newcomer observed both Sabo and Koala through heavily lidded eyes. There was something eerie about his expression, magnified by a pair of the palest blue eyes Sabo had ever seen in his life, so clear as to be nearly devoid of color. His gaze flitted from Koala, to Sabo--lingering a moment his scars--before returning to Koala and staying there. His lips stretched to reveal a few more teeth, and it took every scrap of Sabo’s will not to break his promise and punch him in his big, leering face.

Koala, bless her, feigned a look of desperate pleading. “Please, sir, we just want to make our delivery and go home.”

Only Sabo heard the sarcastic edge in her servile tone. The newcomer took another gliding step, the guardsman instinctively shying away as he got too close for comfort. “Ah, yes. The extra supplies for our guests tonight. You’re early.” He made a motion like he were batting away an annoying fly. “Hurry up and let them in. You’re causing a scene.”

“Yes, sir!”

Koala and Sabo exchanged a look of surprise, but they didn’t have any time for anything else as the guardsman snapped at them, “You heard the man, get a move on! You’re causing a scene!”

The newcomer’s eyes never left them as they made their way toward the kitchens. Sabo could feel him boring a hole into his back even as they disappeared out of sight.

Xxx

For as long as Sabo could remember, he had a cat’s instincts for people. He was able to decipher tells with uncanny accuracy, the little pushes and pulls of body language that said more than words ever did. It was something that came to Sabo naturally, but he didn’t think it was Haki. Dragon had taught him some of that, too, and while the ability to Observe had its roots in the same place deep in his subconsciousness they were not the same.

Sabo was one of the only people in the world who could tell when Koala was only pretending to smile. He could read the minute changes in Dragon’s expression to know if he was pleased or upset. He could look at two strangers and dissect the power dynamics between them after only a few minutes of observation, and he didn’t need a Devil Fruit or any supernatural willpower to do it.

It got him into trouble more often than not, his instinctual gut reactions making him act without thinking, but he never regretted plowing ahead when he knew in his heart of hearts he was right. The Revolutionary Army was in the middle of a war; they didn’t have time to wait around for opportunities that would never open up of someone didn’t force the issue.

“Don’t,” Koala hissed under her breath. “I know what you’re thinking. Do not go off-script.”

“Do you see Joe anywhere?” Sabo asked serenely, the picture of perfect innocence. “I don’t want to lay this stuff out where anyone can find it. Someone should go look for him.”

Before Sabo could move, Koala’s hand was around his bicep, her grip tighter than an iron vice. “I swear to whatever god cares to listen, I will murder you in the most painful way I can imagine. For once in your life, listen to me: There’s someone already here investigating. We know there’s some bad juju here and there are measures in place to take care of it.”

“Not fast enough, by the looks of it.”

He felt rather than saw Koala’s reaction, his gaze straight ahead to the men and women scurrying around Lord Chandler’s estate at the same frenzied pace as a colony of ants whose nest had just been overturned. The servants had their heads ducked low, hurrying from one place to another like they were scared to be caught loitering. No one had the time to make small talk with one another. No one seemed to be happy at all.

“Who do you think the guests are for tonight?” Sabo asked, his voice barely carrying the distance between he and Koala. “There wasn’t anything about that in the report.”

“Maybe it was need-to-know, and we didn’t,” Koala said.

“Or maaaybe something’s going on. Joe really should have been here by now,” Sabo said. “If we stick around much longer someone’s going to kick us out.”

He kicked a pebble at his feet for emphasis. It dinged against the side of the great building Lord Chandler used as his kitchens, the heat of a dozen ovens making the air ripple and haze. He hated waiting out in the open like this. It was hard enough trying not to be conspicuous with his face half-fried. They might as well have flashing signs over their heads saying that they didn’t belong.

“Then I’ll go look for him,” Koala said. “You stay here and guard our stuff.”

“But…”

Koala silenced him with a raised finger. “Do you even know the right staff person to ask?” She allowed him a moment to answer, and when he couldn’t said, “Exactly. Of the two of us, I have the most experience with...this kind of thing.”

Her mouth twisted in a way that meant she had unwittingly dredged to the surface the horrors of her childhood. Koala shook herself slightly, like a dog would to dry off, and immediately her more familiar smile was back.

Sabo hated when she looked like that, more than he hated the possibility of flubbing his first mission. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll be a good boy and stay put.”

Koala’s soft flit of laughter lifted the dour atmosphere of the estate, if only for a moment. “I doubt that.”

She bounded off towards the servant’s entrance, moving with a warrior’s poise and grace. She would have to work on that if they ever went deep undercover; a layman would never notice, but an experienced fighter would and might ask questions they dare not answer.

Sabo was tucking that tidbit in the back of his mind when he saw a blur of color at the edge of his vision. The scarring on his bad eye rendered him nearly blind on that side, and by the time he got turned around the weird man with the blue eyes was nearly at his cart.

“Sorry, sir, we’ll be out of your way as soon as we can,” Sabo chirped in his most simpering tone. “Just trying to find who we’re supposed to drop this off with. It’ll only be a moment more.”

The hairs on the back of Sabo’s neck prickled as he felt the Presence of three others walking up behind him. A quick glance showed that none of them were Bunny Joe, and Sabo didn’t trust the strange man’s smile any more than he had before.

He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, remembering countless lessons with Hack and Koala and Dragon. He couldn’t lose control. Sabo felt his focus narrow as adrenaline hummed in his veins, sharpening every detail to its finest point.

The strange man stood directly in front of him, while three of the estate’s security detail formed a half-circle at Sabo’s back. Blue Eyes was empty handed, but the rest either held guns or wore them at their hips.

“Does there seem to be a problem, sir?” Sabo asked. Too late he remembered that he was supposed to be a normal city boy making a delivery, and the question came out more impertinent than fearful.

It seemed Koala wasn’t the only one who needed practice.

“Walk with me, boy,” Blue Eyes said. “I think I know where to find your friend.”

Sabo took a sharp breath. He had a split second to make his decision, and a not-so-small part of him wanted to fight. The mission was obviously compromised and Bunny Joe missing, and he’d foolishly allowed himself to be separated from his partner with no easy way to get into contact with her.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Koala’s told him to wait. There was no turning back once he decided to turn things into a slug fest. There were still too many questions he didn’t have answers to; if there was a chance of salvaging anything out of the mission, then he should take it. For the Revolution’s sake and his own curiosity.

“Um, okay. Sure thing, boss.” Sabo jumped down from the cart, carefully palming the baby snailphone hidden under the bench as he did so. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shuffled forward with his head ducked low and his shoulders rolled in defensively.

The Blue-Eyed man’s eyebrows crept up toward his hairline. “Hands where I can see them. I’ll not have any funny business now.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but have I done something wrong?” Sabo asked. “It’s just...you see, my sister’s the worrying type, and she’s going to wonder where I’ve gone.”

“I assure you, your sister is in the best of hands,” he said, before giggling at his own poor attempt at a joke.

Blood thundered in Sabo’s ears, and he couldn’t stop a smile of his own, feral and just as unnerving as the one worn by the man who stood before him. Sabo got the satisfaction of seeing something that was very close to fear flash across Blue Eyes’ face, quickly covered by an imperious mask of self-importance.

Sabo was shoved forward while guardsmen came on either side, boxing him in and marching him away from the kitchens, his cart, and Koala. All of a sudden they were alone; the servants had decided it was best to batten down and wait for the storm to pass.

“Who are you?” Sabo asked. “Lord Chandler won’t be happy to see you interfering with his business.”

The man laughed a cruel and terrible laugh, high-pitched and cold like iron scraping against ice. His guardsmen aped him like a trio of trained monkeys, their low guffaws a mocking harmony. Sabo’s stomach sank when he realized his mistake. He should have known an ass of such massive proportions had to be titled.

“The better question is who are you?” Lord Chandler hissed once he regained control of his facilities. He bent close enough to Sabo that their noses were nearly touching and he was seeing double. “Who sent you? Was it El Jefe, or that upstart LeBlanc? I’ll have my answers one way or another; if you’re smart you’ll save me the trouble of beating them out of you.”

“And I told you, sir, I’m just here making a delivery,” Sabo said.

He saw the blow coming in time to turn his head with the hit, but Lord Chandler’s fist still caught enough of his nose to bloody it. Sabo dutifully let his head snap back to sell the hit. He didn’t really know how much to fake it, but erred on the side of caution. The supercilious grin that spread across Lord Chandler’s face as Sabo pretended to writhe in pain told him all he needed to know. The bastard was the kind of man that liked hurting people, and Sabo wasn’t the least bit surprised when he followed it up with a blow to his solar plexus.

This time Sabo didn’t need to fake a wheeze as all the air was forcibly excavated from his lungs.

Lord Chandler rubbed his knuckles. “The first was for your cheek. The second was for making me touch you.” He gestured for his guards. “Come along. I’ve wasted too much time already.”

Sabo drug his feet, making them work for every inch. Somewhere along the way ill-fitting hat fell off of his head and floated gently to the ground, accompanying the trail of blood that would lead Koala to wherever these idiots were taking him.

A curtain of hair fell over Sabo’s eyes and obscured his mad grin. This wasn’t over. Not by a longshot.

Xxx

Sabo had to applaud Lord Chandler’s ingenuity. He kept his prisoners in a slaughterhouse.

He smelled it before he saw it, the metallic stink of warm blood that never went away no matter how often the floors were scrubbed clean. The building itself was unassuming and plain, windowless, made of concrete with a roof of corrugated tin. Sabo was grateful for the island’s mild climate, but once he was forced inside there was no circulation to help keep cool. The air was stale and suffocating, and while the deadly machinery had been removed the long, narrow corridors remained. A true death row.

Sabo could hear other prisoners through the thin walls. He expanded his senses and thought he felt the Presence of fifteen, maybe twenty people in total. Did Lord Chandler have that many enemies, or was he snuffing out competition? His noble title was still sparkling new, after all. Maybe he was afraid of losing it.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years of business, it’s the importance of taking a hands-on approach,” Lord Chandler said in a conversational tone. He rolled up his sleeves past his elbows with deliberate slowness, savoring each moment. “That’s the problem with nobles these days, they’re afraid to get their hands dirty. But I’ve made an effort not to forget my roots.”

Sabo braced himself, not for any sort of blow, but the pain of the pretentious monologue he was certain was coming his way. He was considering saying something rude in hopes of making Lord Chandler shut up and hit him, but was saved the effort by the unexpected ring of the snailphone.

The snailphone that was currently in his pocket.

The snailphone that Lord Chandler did not know he was carrying.

Blue eyes narrowed into slits. “Search him!”

“Left pocket,” Sabo said with a longsuffering sigh.

One of the thugs growled in a way he probably thought was intimidating and forced one of his meaty paws into Sabo’s pants pocket. He looked at the baby snail as if he’d never seen a phone before in his life, causing Lord Chandler to bark, “Well, answer it, you buffoon!”

The guard did as he was told. He listened to the voice on the other end, thick eyebrows growing closer and closer together, and after a moment said, “Boss, it’s for you.”

Lord Chandler snatched the phone out of his hands and shouted into the receiver, “Who is this?!”

Sabo would have loved to hear what was said on the other end, but after a moment Lord Chandler’s face went ghost-white. He thrust the snail into one of his men’s hands without saying a word and rushed out of the slaughterhouse.

“Uh, boss…?”

“See, that’s the problem with doing everything yourself,” Sabo said. “A leader has to trust their underlings to do their job when they’re not around. Unfortunately, you’re just not up to the task.”

Sabo was moving before they had time to even process what he said. He broke out of their hold effortlessly, not even bothering with covering his fist with haki before ramming it into the nearest face. He had a brief moment of yearning for his metal pipe before thrusting the palm of his hand beneath the jaw of another. The third tripped over his own feet trying to run away, and Sabo decided to help him down, palming the back of his head and smashing his face into the concrete floor.

He took a step back, surveying his handiwork. They were all alive and twitching, so he took advantage of the abattoir aesthetic, wrapping them in the chains hanging from the ceiling. The hooks once used when draining blood of freshly slaughtered animals long-since repurposed with iron shackles.

Iron shackles. The idiot didn’t even invest in proper sea stone cuffs.

“Amateur,” Sabo muttered to himself. He wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand and went in search of Bunny Joe.

He found him in the locker, standing over an uneasy group of prisoners. There weren’t enough rooms for individual cells or even chains to bind them all, so they were kept together in one huddled mass.

For a moment Sabo was irritated that Joe hadn’t freed himself of such a pathetic prison. The man himself was talking quietly to a young woman, wide-eyed and trembling like a frightened doe, and Sabo forced his annoyance down. There were some things that were more important.

“Hiya, Joe!” Sabo said cheerfully. “Lovely place you’ve got here.”

Joe whirled around. Confusion flashed across his face, before his eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, hey. You’re the boss’s brat. What are you doing here?”

“Trying to find you,” Sabo said. “What’s going on? Chandler’s goons jumped me ‘n Koala before we had a chance to explain ourselves.”

Joe muttered a string of expletives and drew a hand over his forehead. “He got me early this morning. Must have seen me snooping someplace I shouldn’t and decided to tag you too. I’m so sorry, kid. I’ll get you out of this mess here in a bit.” A pause. “Wait, you said there was someone else with you? Where are they?”

“With a little bit of luck, out causing chaos and mayhem,” Sabo said.

“That’s no good. I need to get you guys out of here before the auction tonight.”

At the word auction the woman beside him burst into tears. Sabo saw her wobble like jelly, before the strength left her legs entirely and she collapsed into a sobbing mess on the ground. Bunny Joe knelt beside her and started rubbing her back in slow, steady circles.

“I’m going to get you all out of here, I promise. I need you to stay strong for me for just a little bit longer. Okay?”

She nodded, and Joe helped her stand with tears still streaming down her face. Taking her by the elbow, he led her back to the other prisoners. “I need to, uh, confer with my colleague for a moment. We’ll sort things out and get you home.”

“This was my home,” she whispered hoarsely.

Her expression crumpled into a look of wretched misery, and she buried her head in her hands. Joe handed her off to another one of the women, an older, matronly-type, his motions stiff and awkward. He returned to Sabo rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortable and out of place.

“I’m no good at this sort of thing,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t just leave them here.”

“Lord Chandler’s hosting an auction?” Sabo said. It took enormous effort not to start shouting, the spark of his previous indignation ignited into a roaring fire of fury and rage.

“An art auction, yeah. It’s his third in the last two months.”

“I don’t get it.”

Bunny Joe sighed, scratched temple and tried to explain. “Chandler was a smuggler, yeah? And a damn good one at that. He opened up all sorts of illegal trade on this part of the Grand Line under the name Mr. Mooneyes.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Sabo said.

“Yeah, well, the king turned a blind eye so long as he got his piece of the pie. That was how Chandler earned his title, and now that he’s got it he’s decided to expand his business.”

He looked back at the people behind him. “Auctions are the perfect way to get dirty money clean, and art is easy because the value of any given piece is so subjective. You know, the eye of the beholder, that sort of thing. I was digging through old records, and nearly every piece sold was going for about B500,000. I thought that was a little suspicious, so I tried to find out who was buying, but Chandler runs a tight ship. Everything’s anonymous, supposedly to protect the buyer and their new investment.”

“So you tried to find out who the buyers were.”

“And apparently got caught doing it,” Joe said wearily. “Sorry, I didn’t think he’d go as far as gathering up you guys. I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

“I don’t need your protection. What I need to know is what’s your plan to blow this out of the water, and what can I do to help. Lord Chandler isn’t going to stay away for long, and my guess is he’s going to bring backup. We need to be ready when he does.”

Joe peered down at Sabo, as if he were seeing him for the first time. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Deadly.” Sabo said. “And here’s our backup now.”

Sabo felt Koala’s Presence before he saw her dance into the locker. She faltered for the briefest moment at the sight of the room before quickly finding Sabo and Joe. She didn’t appear seriously hurt, but it was impossible for Sabo not to see the blood on her knuckles. He wondered who it belonged to.

“I assume that was your work at the entrance? You were always good at tying people up.” Koala said.

“And I assume you were the one who called me?”

“I was surprised when you didn’t answer, but I think it worked out better this way,” Koala said, a look of pure wickedness on her face. “I wish I could have seen Chandler’s expression when I told him someone had knocked out his surveillance system.”

“And Hack?”

“I convinced him to hold off just a little bit longer. He’s at the harbor now snooping around the ships coming into port. Hopefully he can identify a few of the people on Chandler’s guestlist for tonight.”

She brushed a stray hair out of her face and scanned the room, noting each detail with a methodicalness that Sabo was sometimes jealous of. “But that’s enough about me. What’s all this?”

“A slave market,” Sabo said. “Seems like that’s how Lord Chandler is making money these days, with the approval of the crown.”

Her eyes hardened, the bright blue of her irises frosting over with an icy coldness. Her lips pursed together into a nearly invisible line, every muscle in her small body tensing. It was so rare to see her truly angry Sabo had almost forgotten how scary she could be. Bunny Joe took an involuntary step back as fury radiated off her in waves.

“The auction is this afternoon. I don’t think Chandler can afford to cancel. Not with so many VIPs coming in from all over the Grand Line,” Joe said. “But he’ll be ready. How bad did you mess up his snails?”

“It won’t be back up anytime soon,” Koala said tersely. “And I’ve brought you all a present.”

Without waiting for their response Koala turned sharply on one heel and walked back to the corridor near the entrance. Sitting next to the three guardsmen strung up from the ceiling was a man who’d been stripped down to his skivvies and hogtied, his clothes folded neatly beside him. Sabo almost laughed. “Who is he?”

“A visiting prince from the Moorlands,” Koala said. “I assume he came for the festivities later today.”

At the sight of them, the prince tried to yell into his gag. Sabo knelt down and picked up the man’s waistcoat with his thumb and forefinger, holding it away from his body as if it were diseased. “Is there a reason you decided to strip him?”

“He looked to be your size. Had this in his pocket.”

Koala handed him a card written on thick stock paper, the words TICKET OF INVITATION written in fancy script. Sabo took it from her skeptically. “His Lordship knows what I look like.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Joe said. “Everything is done anonymously. They wear masks.”

“It’s in there somewhere, just keep digging,” Koala said.

Sabo found a porcelain carnival mask, white a black domino pattern around the eyes, trimmed in gold. “Oh my god, it’s hideous.” He grinned up at her. “I’ll take it.”

Xxx

The clothes didn’t feel all that different from what he usually wore, albeit in black instead of his usual blue. Koala had even found him a cravat. But Sabo felt stiff, like he was wearing someone else’s skin.

He had to remember to walk like he had a stick up his ass, to look down at everyone else like they were bits of mud to be scrapped off of his polished boots. He stood in the spacious halls of Lord Chandler’s mansion, taking in the marble columns and the shiny crystal chandeliers, the smell of sandalwood in the air.

Even with his invitation he was afraid of someone seeing his disheveled hair, or that a guard would somehow see through the mask to see the imposter that lay beneath. The scars on his face and shoulder itched every time someone so much as glanced at him.

Security had been tripled, both inside and out of the mansion, but was thickest around the ballroom where the auction would take place. After a moment of consideration Sabo bypassed it. He was distinctly aware that they were running out of time, seconds ticking off the clock in the back of his mind. Following the directions left by Bunny Joe, he walked up a winding wrought-iron staircase to the second level of the mansion. A servant gave him a questioning look that Sabo dismissed with an aristocratic flick of the wrist. He ignored the stammared apology, stomach curling with guilt.

He hated acting like this. Hated more how good he was at it.

Sabo’s foul mood had nearly reached a boiling point by the time he reached the upper foyer. Two guards in white masks stood at attention by rich mahogany doors. At the sight of him they shifted their rifles, ready to raise them at a moment’s notice.

“No guests on the second floor,” one barked.

“But I have an invitation,” Sabo protested.

“No guests on the second floor.”

“I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with,” Sabo said softly. Dangerously.

He was moving before they had time to a look of confusion, twisting a hand into a dragon’s claw. Haki coating his hand black, he struck the middle of the rifle. Wood snapped into splinters under his hand, metal warping and bending with the force of the blow. The guardsman was thrown backward, head cracking against the doorpost. Pivoting sharply, Sabo grabbed a fistful of the second guardsman’s uniform. WIth a roar of fury he hurled him into the door with as much force as he could muster.

The door didn’t break, but the guard did. Shaking his head, Sabo stepped over him and jiggled the handle. Locked. Grinning behind his mask Sabo cracked his knuckles, surveying the door while he rolled his shoulders to loosen them.

One hit to break the lock. Another to blow the door off of its hinges. Mr. Mooneyes himself stood at a table at the center of the room in abject shock, the remnants clattering at his feet. His security was a little better, but Sabo hadn’t spent the past two years training with Dragon to be beaten by a handful of scrubs.

The last man fell before Lord Chandler could make his escape. Sabo grabbed him by the back of the waistcoat and whirled him around, pinning him up against the wall. Somewhere in the scrum the mask had fallen off of his face, and Lord Chandler’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Ha...You won’t get away with this,” Lord Chandler said, gasping for air. He looked down at Sabo with those clear, soulless eyes, a terrible grin twisting his face into something that was more monster than man.

“I think I will,” Sabo said.

“Marines are coming,” Lord Chandler said. “They’ll get you and the girl. No one will come to rescue you when you’re locked in Impel Down. I bet they have her already. I hope they make the little bitch suff--achgh!”

Somewhere along the line Sabo’s hand had found his neck and began squeezing. “I think you’ll find that girl doesn’t need rescued. Now tell me, who are your buyers? Who’s letting the slave trade expand this far from Mariejois?!”

“Hypocrite” Lord Chandler sneered. “Hubris like yours stinks of the Revolution. Where do you think Dragon gets his weapons? His supplies? Men like me...like my benefactor...are the grease that turns the wheel of society. My father always said you need a little bit of shit to make the garden grow, so don’t pretend you’re innocent. What sort of monster sends children out to do his dirty work?”

“What sort of monster puts free men and women in chains for profit?” Sabo spat through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to ask again, who’s the one letting you get away with it?!”

Lord Chandler laughed a dry, wheezy laugh. “Someone bigger and scarier than you. I’ll not breathe a word, boy, to you or your Revolution, so you might as well end this charade and kill me now.”

Before Sabo could answer, the snailphone in his pocket started to ring.

At the sound of it, Lord Chandler cackled like a madman.

“You’re too late, little Revolutionary. You should have known better than to challenge me when the World Government is on my side.”

Sabo kept one hand wrapped around Lord Chandler’s neck as he answered the phone. “What is it? I’m a little busy here.”

“We need to get out of here now,” Koala said. “Hack and I have the ship ready and Joe’s just about got the last of the slaves on board, but there’s half a dozen marine ships coming in hard. We’ll hold them off as long as we can, but they outgun us by...a lot.”

“I’ll divert their attention here,” Sabo said.

Hack’s voice cut in past Koala’s protests. “Sabo, you’ve done enough. It’s time to cut our losses and--”

“I’m going to burn it to the ground.”

Sabo hung up the phone. He looked at Lord Chandler like he were a newly discovered insect he was about to pin onto a specimen board. “I’ll admit, you’re clever. Joe said you have a code during your auctions, a whole system for bidding so that an outsider looking in would have no idea what was really going on. What was it, oil paintings if they were women, acrylics for men, that sort of thing? I have to wonder why even bother with all the subterfuge if the World Government is really on your side.”

Lord Chandler opened his mouth to answer, but Sabo stopped him with a little bit of pressure against his windpipe. “I didn’t say you could speak. See, I’d say you were scared of the Revolution, but you didn’t even suspect us to start with. You’ve got enough goons here and the approval of your king, which makes me think it’s not the local competition you’re worried about. You’ve got too many resources for them to ever be a true threat.”

Sabo leaned closer. “The slave market’s pretty much a one man show these days. You were a smuggler once, right? I’m sure you’ve heard who’s in charge.”

A spasm passed over Lord Chandler, all-but-confirming Sabo’s gut instinct.

“I’m going to give you one last shot,” Sabo said. “Either you come with me and tell us everything you know, or I leave you here for Joker to take care of. You have thirty seconds to decide.”

Sabo dropped Lord Chandler with an unceremonious thud. He kept half an eye on him while making a quick sweep of the room, gathering up any sort of documentation that looked to be important and stuffing it down the front of his shirt.

Everything else he gathered into a pile. Sabo found the nearest candle and carefully lowered the wicking flame. The paper caught, curling to black ash and smoke.

He would have to help it along if he wanted to make good on his promise to Koala, but Sabo figured he could make it work. He turned back to where Lord Chandler sat whimpering in a corner.

“Time’s up, your Lordship. What do you decide?”

Xxx

“Wanted for kidnapping, assault, and impersonating a noble.”

Koala slipped Sabo’s newly-minted bounty from between the pages for closer inspection before handing him the rest of the paper. “I thought you would be happy. Why are you not happy?”

“I don’t know,” Sabo admitted. He propped his head on his hand and scanned the news, trying to read between the lines of lies to find the truth that lay underneath. “It was all...vaguely unsatisfying.”

“You burned down a mansion.”

“I burn down things all the time. I wanted something...more. Something meaningful.”

Koala quirked an eyebrow. “Saving eighteen people from slavery isn’t meaningful?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.

Sabo set down the paper and looked at her helplessly. A bandage covered one cheek from an errant bullet, a result of her staving off the marines long enough for everyone to escape.

He felt himself getting angry all over again, but it was an impotent anger. They’d completed their mission, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

“Lord Chandler’s one man. One. He’s not even that important in the grand scheme of things. How many others are out there just like him, trying to get their piece of the pie because the Government says it’s okay to sell people like chattel? He’s a symptom, not the disease.”

He tried to go back to his paper, but after a few seconds feeling Koala’s eyes boring into his side gave up and tossed it aside. He leaned his chair back on two legs and groaned. “I want to do more. Go higher. Punch more dochebags in the face.”

“And you will.”

Both Koala and Sabo whirled around where Dragon’s massive body filled the doorway. How he managed to be so sneaky in a base full of Observation Haki users Sabo would never know.

“I’ve gone over Bunny Joe’s report. You commended yourselves well, both of you.”

Koala bowed her head. “Thank you, sir.”

“When’s our next mission?” Sabo asked at the same time.

Dragon’s lips quirked in one of his almost-smiles. “Now. It turns out Mr. Mooneyes made sure to get dirt on each of his clients as a means of protecting himself. With this information, we’ll be able to climb a little bit closer to our goals. Now go pack your bags, you leave tonight with the tide.”

Sabo let out a whoop of joy and jumped to his feet, but before he could make a mad dash to his room Dragon placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Patience. A lion may stalk for hours waiting for the perfect time to strike. Our work will not be in vain. The Celestial Dragons will fall.”

Sabo nodded once, sharply. “And I’ll make sure to be there when it happens.”

#opsecretsanta2019 #sabo #one piece #koala #creative-type writes

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thejollyroger-writer · 6 years

Text

Keep Hope Close at Hand - Chapter Six

A/N: Greetings from the Chicago O'Hare airport! My trip has become the hugest fucking mess, but it got you another chapter, so it's all been worth it.

Start at the Beginning: tumblr // AO3

Chapter One: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Two: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Three: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Four: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Five: tumblr // AO3

Tags: @shireness-says @wellhellotragic@flyflyangel@stahlop@superchocovian @kingofmyheart14@drkeldonmd@darkcolinodonorgasm@profdanglaisstuff@pirateherokillian @captainsjedi

-- -- --

Driving back from the station to Mary Margaret’s house, Emma is unsure of what to do. Henry seems to be striking up a fast friendship with Hope Jones, and there is something about her father that she finds so… intriguing.

But it’s not a good time. She has enough problems, enough things to patch up with the father of her own child, nonetheless a stranger from Boston who appeals to her curiosity. But there is something so welcoming to her about Killian, something that seems to draw her in, that she just cannot avoid. Mostly, it scares her. She is her own person, with her own life and her own problems, and she doesn’t need a single father and his absolutely adorable daughter to come and throw a wrench in everything she has been building.

“Do you like living in the city, Hope?” she asks, finding the girl’s bright eyes in her rear view mirror. She’d never been to the city, barely been out of Storybrooke since the wind blew her here when she was a teenager who ran away from her foster family, but they always intrigued her. In the city, she could have been whoever she wanted to be, could have joined the mass of people and been anyone other than Emma the orphan. But she still always stayed in this small town, never leaving the city limits.

“There’s always so much to do,” she answers, her voice rife with excitement. “Me and my daddy go on adventures all the time.”

Without realizing it, Emma’s heart begins to ache, both for herself and for her son. Emma never had a parent to take her on adventures; Henry only has a father that does the bare minimum, spending time with him when it’s necessary, a special occasion, but barely more than that.

“What kind of adventures?”

“Well, there’s a really cool ship museum near where we live where he really likes to spend time, and he takes me out on boats on the water when it’s warm outside. We walk to the park, or to the movies, or to the place down the street that has the best ice cream. On the weekends we go buy lots of fruits and veggies from the farmer’s market, and if there are bands playing on the sidewalks, he always stops and listens and gives them some money.”

It all sounds so thrilling to Emma, much more exciting that life in a small town where every day is the same. She’s never outwardly craved a different life, but hearing Hope talk about the excitement of her life in the city makes her realize that she is doing just that.

“What about your mom?” Henry asks, and Emma is too caught up in her own head to hear him right away, or to see the sly smile that covers her son’s face as he asks the question. She wants to say something to Henry, apologize to Hope for his bluntness, but before she can climb out of her own head and put her words in the right order, Hope has already started to answer.

“I haven't seen her since I was just a baby. My dad and I had to leave to keep me safe from a really bad lady and she couldn't come with, but one day it'll be safe again and we can all be together.”

Her story sounds unbelievable, like a lie that a parent would tell their child in place of a much darker truth. But, somehow, Emma believes her. Somehow, she can tell that Hope is telling the truth, not only that she really was separated from her mother, but that she will be back with her someday.

More than that, she feels like she knows the story, like it’s buried somewhere deep down in her memory but that she’s heard it before. Which is, of course, impossible. She’s only just met them, mere hours compared to the years since it must have happened. Totally, absolutely impossible.

Or, is it?

The rest of her day is a haze, staring at the TV without actually watching it while Henry watching very intently next to her. Every once in a while, he turns to her, reacting somehow to what’s on the screen, and Emma tries her best to play along, but it’s like her mind is stuck. Stuck on trying to figure out why Killian Jones seems so intriguing, so familiar. Why she can’t shake the feeling she’s heard Hope’s story before. Why every time she tries to close her eyes to clear her head, she sees him standing there in his cell, practically falling apart at the seams worrying about his daughter.

Trying to sleep that night isn’t much better. She spends the whole night tossing and turning, and when she dreams, it is of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby girl wrapped up in her arms, of pirate ships and castles and purple smoke, and a man with blazing blue eyes that fades from her memory the closer to consciousness she climbs.

The next morning, her eyes still heavy from her inability to sleep soundly, she walks into the station bearing three cups of coffee from Granny’s in a cardboard carrier. Or, more appropriately, her hot chocolate, Graham’s cappuccino, and a plain black coffee for their guest, who is still asleep in the cell when she enters.

“Anything to report, Graham?” she asks, trying to fight off the yawn that tries to rear its head, but he just shakes his head, taking the cup from her hand.

“Jones here is still asleep, obviously. How he can sleep so soundly on that cot, I’ll never be sure. He’s only got a few hours left before we’re allowed to release him, and I’ve left his paperwork on your desk.”

“Thanks,” she replies, and he grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and is out the door, leaving her alone with Killian.

Slowly, she walks up to the bars of the cell, watching his chest rise and fall with his soft, slow breaths. Not only is he sound asleep on the cot, but he’s laying on his back, the arm with the brace still attached curled up under the pillow and his other hand resting on his chest. How he can be comfortable like that is a mystery to her, but that’s not the thought at the forefront of her mind.

No, instead, she is focused on the his face, the lines and the soft curves stretched out over his features as he sleeps. She notices the specks of red in his beard, the lines of grey visible in the waves of his hair, all as she tries to figure out why he looks so damned familiar to her. She knows it’s not possible; if he’s never been to Storybrooke before and she hasn’t left in almost twenty years, there is no way that they ever would have seen each other before.

But standing there, watching him sleep, she realizes more than ever that he looks incredibly familiar, as if the memory of him is lying in wait to be found at the right moment.

When he starts to stir, she is pulled from her trance with a start, rushing back from where she was standing to take a seat at her desk before he realizes she is watching him. He groans, a noise that comes from somewhere deep in his chest, and raises his arms above his head. Once again, she finds herself watching him, up until the last moment before he pulls his eyes open.

For a moment, he's startled, forgetting where he is. After years of waking up in a bed as opposed to the cot on the ship, the hard surface under his groaning shoulders pulls his memory back to the Jolly — but when he feels the cot beneath him instead of the mattress that his suddenly-aging back has grown used to, he expects to see the bright white wood of his cabin on his ship.

Instead, the dark, bland colors of the jail cell at the police station remind him that he's in Storybrooke, not out on the open oceans of all the realms in the world. Staying put in his spot on the cot, both because he's somehow comfortable and not entirely sure his back would agree with moving so quickly, his arm draped behind his head, brace still strapped around his torso, the first time he's slept with it on for years.

Of course, his attention is drawn to Emma, sitting behind her desk with one headphone in as she pretends to ignore him as best she can — but he knows better, continuing to catch her eyes as they flit away from him. But he maintains her silence, merely smiling at her when she walks over and hands him a cup of coffee. It's been years since he has been able to just stay on a cot, clearing his mind by pretending he can feel the waves churning under him once more.

This lasts for a good part of the morning, a comfortable silence maintained between them.

Until, finally, she breaks, quickly tossing her pencil down onto her desk only to have it clatters to the. floor.

“Why do you look so damned familiar, Mr. Jones?” she asks, her eyes growing wide as her words become louder. “It's impossible for me to have seen you before, but I can't shake the feeling I know you.”

His heart aches for her, and he wants to do is tell her everything, even though he knows she won't believe him. Tell her how much he loves her, tell her about her daughter that she's forgotten about because of the Curse. But he knows he cannot. When the time is right, he knows the curse will be broken and Emma will regain her memories.

But now is not that time.

“I can assure you, darling,” he says, smiling through the bars at her. “I would never forget a face such as yours.”

The words come so easily, the flirty banter that he has gone without for twelve years.

But here again, talking to his wife even though she has no idea that is who she is, he can’t help but flirt with her because he loves her so damn much.

He has questioned for years whether he would ever actually see her again, and having her before him once more, though he wishes he could break the curse, is enough to curb his heart for the time being. Or, at least, it would have to be.

She waves him off, unaffected by him, and manages to ignore him for a few minutes more while she does some paperwork.

But, finally, as she is filing his release papers, she comes to a realization, the same realization David made the day before, and turns his eyes back up to Killian, who is watching her from the cot.

“Your daughter, she’s blonde?”

He waits for there to be more to the question, but when there is not, he agrees, simply nodding his head.

“Like her mother, I presume?”

Killian laughs, finding her engagement ring from under his shirt with the tips of his fingers, but his eyes never leave Emma's.

“Aye, just like her mother, my wife.”

“And she’s still alive?”

At first, the question catches him off-guard, but once he realizes what she must mean, Killian can’t help but smile at the irony behind her question.

“Yes, she is.” He's intrigued by this conversation, finally pulling himself to sit on the cot, even as his whole body fights back. “Why, did my little lass tell you otherwise?”

“Well, no,” Emma says, then pulls her lower lip between her teeth before continuing. “She said that you and she had to leave your wife behind to stay safe from someone, but you’re trying to find her.”

“Hope never really had a penchant for anything other than honesty,” he comments with a smile as he pushes himself up of the cot to walk closer to the bars of his cell, leaning up against them to get as close to Emma as he can. “If you don’t mind my asking, love, what’s with your curiosity?”

She does not answer at first, tapping the end of her pen against her front teeth, which have pulled her bottom lip under them again. Her eyes are lowered to the desk, avoiding his for a moment, before they snap back up.

When she starts to speak, her words come slowly. “I just figured that, given I have the resources, if you needed some help trying to find out where she is, I might be able to help you find some answers.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, and though his eye color on his paperwork is exactly what started this conversation, this is the first time she has noticed just how startlingly blue they are.

In fact, they are almost the exact same shade of blue that she has only ever seen one other place: on her own son. She's not sure what to do with this realization, but it remains in the back of her mind as Killian's words surprise her almost as much.

“While I appreciate the offer, love, I know exactly where it is I can find my wife. It’s just a matter of it being the right time to do so.”

She smiles at him, unsure of what his statement even means, but returns it, a sharp contrast to the seriousness of his voice. Unsure of how to respond to that, she turns her attention back to his paperwork, completing it in just a few minutes.

Finally, she pushes herself away from her desk, smiling gently at him as she unlocks the door to the cell. “You're free to go, Mr. Jones.” She hands him his valuables, along with a piece of paper with an address and a phone number. “The address is where your daughter has been staying.”

“And the number?” he asks, his eyes searching into the depths of her with a question that is so shallow.

He breath hitches in her throat, fairly sure that she might never breathe again when his hand brushes hers as he takes the paper.

“That’s mine,” she says, pulling herself together enough to steady her voice. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

He smiles at her, perhaps the most genuine emotion he has shown since he drove his Subaru into Storybrooke, then thanks her before leaving the station.

After Killian's time in the Storybrooke jail cell, the Jones finally seem to find their place in the town. Much to his surprise, Regina leaves them alone, only running into Killian and Hope in places that are normal for small-town life: the grocery store, the diner.

Killian pays for another week at Granny's bed and breakfast. They spend a lot of time on the Jolly, time on the water that Killian hasn't realized he missed as much as much as he apparently has. But nothing compares to the feeling on the sun on his skin, the salt in the air around him and the sound of the waves crashing against the wooden sides.

He was made to be on the water, a realization that he learned very early in his life. And, though much of the time he was able to spend on the sea was dedicated to piracy because of the darkness of his early years, he was graced with the ability to spend much of his life — his unnaturally-long life — on the open ocean.

And having his daughter beside him, just as excited to learn about the workings of the ship as Killian is to teach her, makes his ability to be on the sea again all the better.

The only thing that could still add to is would be having the rest of his family with him. His wife. His son.

His son, who he has been able to get to know even before the people around him know the truth of his parentage, more than just him, Hope, and Killian. Because over the two weeks that they have spent in Storybrooke, Hope and Henry have become inseparable, fast friends who want to spend as much time together as they can. And Killian will never argue when Hope asks if they can see Henry.

Because seeing Henry means seeing Emma, and even though she may not know the truth, may not know just how important she is to him, she still seems to be warming up to him.

(And Killian has not missed the fact that Neal is almost never present, is never the person who comes with Henry for their play dates, their days at the park and at the movies and then, finally, hopefully today, on the water.

“Please, mom?” Henry asks, turning his face back up to Emma, eyes wide with pleading. “Can we go out on Mr. Jones ship today?”

As much as Killian wants to join Henry's fight, wants to plead with Emma to let him come onto the Jolly. It really is the perfect day, not a single cloud in the bright sky and the sun beating down, particularly strong for Maine.

But when Emma turns to him, asking his opinion through her expression, he can't help but laugh.

“It's a gorgeous day, and it will just be better out on the water.”

She knits her eyebrows for a moment, but then he expression slowly fades to a smile.

“You would say that every day, wouldn't you, Jones?”

He can't stop the smile that begins to take over his face, both in response to her question and to the perfect smile that Emma is flashing at him.

“Of course I would, love. I was raised on the sea, I would choose to spend every day there if I could. But today really is the perfect day to go out on the water.”

“Well, you are the expert, and I can't argue with that.”

“Are you able to join us?”

Emma's smile disappears, her eyes falling to the ground for a moment. “Sadly, no,” she says, then her eyes find his once more. “I have to go to the station. Would you be able to bring him to me when you're done?”

The corner of Killian's lip curls into a flick of a smile, disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, her smile now slightly more genuine, and succeeding in eliciting one from Killian, lingering a moment too long before she turns on her heel and leaves him by the park.

Every part of him wants to reexamine that conversation, wants to go through every look she gave him and decode him, but Henry, still standing beside him, is too excited to allow him to linger for another moment, something Killian is thankful for, saving him from the madness of his own mind.

“Let's go!”

Killian can't argue with that, finally able to take Henry out on the Jolly.

Hope is just as excited to have him there, especially when Killian asks her if she wants to help him show Henry the ropes (both literally and figuratively). Unsurprisingly, Henry is a natural, just like Hope was, and before too long, they are standing in front of the helm, looking out over the open water, while Hope sits down on the lower deck paging through the Storybook.

Suddenly, Henry whips around to face him, his whole face painted with excitement, realizing for the first time that he can ask the question he's been wanting to ask Killian for two weeks now, but has never been able to with other people around. “Have you gotten to read the story book?”

“Aye, I have, though I have quite a few questions about it.”

“You know it's all true, though, right?”

Killian smiles down at the boy, the first person who believes his antics without question, because he knows that they are not antics. “Aye, lad, I was there for quite a lot of it. Pages of my life are illustrated in that book, which just makes it more mysterious to me. If you don't mind me asking, how did you come across it?”

“I got it as a present for my birthday. I didn't open the gifts when people were there, but it didn't have anyone's name on it, so I don't know where it came from. It just… appeared there, I guess.”

None of this makes sense. First Hope dreams about Emma, a face that it is impossible for her to remember, then Henry is magically given a book of stories from the Enchanted Forest and the other realms — stories that Regina has made sure no one will ever remember. Killian is still trying to put the pieces together in his mind when Henry speaks again.

“Have you thought about how you're going to break the curse?”

Killian lets out a breathy laugh. “That's the only thing I've been able to think about since I got here, if I'm honest with you, but I seem to have come up blank. I don't imagine you have any ideas, do you?”

Henry's face lights up, finally able to spill all of the ideas that have taken over his mind since the story book revealed its secrets to him. “True loves kiss! It's how Prince Charming woke up Snow White, so it could be how you wake up everyone here.” Apparently, though, he sees no issue with this, an issue that Killian realizes immediately, having had the same thought before.

“There's only one problem with that, lad?”

“What's that?”

“Your mother is already married. What am I to do, assault her just to make her see the truth?”

This does not seem to crush his hopes; instead, he just seems confused, his eyebrows knitted low on his forehead. “Married? My mom and Neal aren't married.”

Now this is news to Killian. “They're not?”

“No, he's never been interested I guess. She kept telling me that when the time is right, maybe, but I guess the time was never right.” He turns his eyes down to the deck of the ship, seemingly embarrassed by this fact. Though it changes the entire situation, Killian senses the change in Henry’s mood, so he changes the subject.

“Well, that changes the whole plan. It might take some time, but I think we can come up with a plan of action, right?”

Henry smiles up at him, excitement returned back to his face. “You mean, like, a mission?”

“If you’d like to call it a mission, lad, then that’s what we can do.”

“But what should we call the mission? Every good mission has a cool name.”

Killian can’t help but laugh at the boy, at his excitement and dedication to getting his family back together. “Do you have any ideas?”

The expression that covers Henry’s face makes Killian believe he’s been waiting to be asked his question for weeks, and when he bursts out with, “Operation Cobra!”, Killian knows he neither desires nor intends to argue with him.

#my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #khcah #keep hope close at hand #cs ff #cs fics #captain swan #captain swan ff #ouat #ouat ff

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pendergays · 6 years

Text

Welcome To The Dark Side (Priya x MC)(2/???)

Chapter Two: Want (Part 1)

A/N: So as it turns out, Tumblr has a limit on how long your posts can be (🙃), which is why I’m going to have to split the chapter into two and why it ends so abruptly. Don’t worry, the next chapter is airing in like two minutes. It also has smut. Anyway, special thanks to @delphinusbae, @dulcedemigoddessmasse, and @1suicidenotes1 for providing encouragement and feedback!

You’ve always been attracted to the wrong sort of thing. Neon signs in seedy bars, cigarette smoke blown from devilish smiles, that telltale glint you see in someone’s eye when they’re ready to take you somewhere you don’t know if you can come back from. A disturbing majority of the girls you’ve had fall into that category: so forbidden and so gorgeous, you couldn't help but want them. It’s an addiction, plain and simple. And all you can do once you succumb to that addiction is hope the thrill of entwined bodies is worth the empty bed in the morning.

You wake up with a pounding hangover and the first thing you notice is that the bed isn’t empty. You prop yourself up on your arms to look around. Priya’s sitting up next to you, legs swinging lazily off the bed, holding a perfectly round red apple in a manicured hand. She turns to you, a soft smile on her lips. The heavy curtains in her room filter out most of the sun, but the rays that do make it bathe her hair in a halo of soft golden light. “Morning, beautiful,” she says, and her voice sounds a little tired and a lot content. A small smile graces her gorgeous face, surprisingly unguarded. Even though she looks exactly the same as yesterday, there’s something different about her. Something softer, beneath her usual hazy veneer of loud music and louder moans.

She bites into the apple. Juice drips from the corner of her mouth, rolling in lazy drops down to her chin. Something about the action jars your memory. An alcohol-blurred scene flashes in your mind: overwhelming sheer indulgence, her teeth cutting into your neck, how fucking perfect she looked on top of you. And a trail of blood— your blood— tracing a path from her mouth to chin.

Holy shit. You actually did that. You actually let her.

Congratulations, you think to yourself, half-sarcastic and half-incredulous. You not only managed to screw a vampire, but also allowed her to drink your blood. Jesus Christ, who knows how many blood-transmitted STDs you might’ve gotten? It’s not like you took vampire Sex Ed. Shit, were we supposed to use protection? Dental dams?

The sudden flood of mental ramblings combined with your mounting panic exacerbates your hangover painfully. With a pitiful whine, you drop back down onto the bed and roll over until your face is buried in a pillow. It… smells like her. Surprisingly enough, the faint scent of saffron calms you near-instantly, your heartbeat returning to its normal pace. Even the marching band stomping away inside your skull seems to have quieted down.

You feel a warm hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong, darling?”

You don’t know. You can’t deny that it says something about your character that you jumped into bed with a paranormal entity as soon as she asked politely. And then not-so-politely. If this was a regular hookup in a regular bar with a human, you could walk away from the tangled sheets, paint over your hickeys with makeup and never see her again. Easy as that. But this woman is tied closely to your boss, given that they’re both Clan leaders, and if you want to keep working with Adrian you’re probably going to have to see her again.

You suppress a low, self-deprecating chuckle. Wow. Only you could get entangled in some kind of criminal vampire conspiracy mere hours after getting hired for your dream job.

“One-night-stand regret?” Priya guesses near-perfectly, a hint of what could be remorse embedded in the words. You flip over, smoothing your hair out of your face and turning to her. Lying to her… would not be a good idea, especially if vampires have supernatural intuition or something equally BS. So you tell her the truth, and hope you don’t end up looking like juice box by the end of it.

“Kind of. I mean, last night was great. More than great, even.” You pause momentarily to relish in the memory of delirious heat and delicious hints of pain mixed in with mind-shattering pleasure. Your eyes begin to glaze over.... No, wait, fuck! Focus! You shake your head to clear away the remaining cobwebs in your mind, and continue. “It’s just… I don’t know. Sleeping with a vampire wasn’t really on my bucket list, y’know? Especially since you and my boss seem to be kinda, uh. Not close?” You end on a question, feeling like you’re tiptoeing around land mines.

Priya throws her head back and laughs. It’s a nice sound, filled with lazy indulgence and sweet satisfaction. Completely at odds with what she says next. “If you never want to see me again, that’s completely fine.” The words come out casually, smooth and without any trace of hesitation. “More of my human lovers do than not. Of course, then they had to be taken care of by the Council… but I don’t think that’ll be necessary in your case.” She tosses her apple core into the trash can by the door nonchalantly, before scooting forward a few inches toward you. Her eyes are a dark, rich, mahogany color, and they sweep up and down the length of your body in a way that makes you feel like you’re exposed, completely bare for her to see. She’s not smiling anymore. “You can keep a secret, can’t you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping out of your lips not entirely because of self-preservation reasons. You want her to look at you fondly, to smile at you and kiss you and– fuck. Looking for affection from a vampire is dumb. You know that. So why are you still doing it?

The moment you speak, the smile is back on her face, as stunning as ever. When she smiles at you… it feels like the sun itself is beaming. Like everything is right in the world, even if just for a moment. Your breath catches in your chest involuntarily and you have to consciously make yourself inhale and exhale. This... this is bad. You need to get away from this– away from her. She’s not good for you. You shouldn’t want her so much.

(But you do.)

“Good girl,” she smirks, oblivious to your mental turmoil. “Anyway, even if I was going to report you to the Council, I’m sure Adrian would made sure every hair on your pretty little head is safe. He seems to have taken a shine to you. I can understand why.” She pulls your chin up to meet her half-lidded gaze, and you freeze like a rabbit caught by a wolf. Her next words come out low and soft, promising things you don’t understand exactly but want anyway. “If I’m being honest… I’ve taken a shine to you too. I wish I could keep you.”

She sighs, before letting go of my chin and turning away, running slim fingers through her thick dark hair. “Speaking of Addy… he’s awfully concerned about you. As are a bunch of other people.” She opens a drawer in her bed-stand and takes out your phone, before tossing it to you. “It was beeping and ringing the whole night so I put it away. Feel free to go and tell whoever’s stalking you that no, the evil vampiress hasn’t murdered you or done some other horrific thing.” She pauses, then grins wickedly. “Well, to be fair, you went through a lot of “little death”s last night.”

It takes you a moment for your rudimentary high-school French to parse the innuendo, and when you do, you light up a bright cherry-red. Priya laughs at your sheepish expression, but quickly turns serious again. “No, really. You have good friends.” Is that a touch of wistfulness you hear? Jealousy, even?

You don’t have time to try and figure it out. When you turn on your phone, your jaw actually drops– 46 messages and 23 voicemails?! What the metaphorical fuck?! Quickly scrolling through them, you realize the bulk of them are from Lily, though Adrian’s contributed to the rest.

Lily Spencer [11:43 PM]: Where are youuuuu

Lily Spencer [12:26 AM]: Are you getting it on w/ your hot boss? ;)

Lily Spencer [1:09 AM]: No but really where the fuck are you??? I’m legit worried smh

Lily Spencer [1:59 AM]: Are you okay??? Text me “mchanzo” if you need an emergency rescue!!!

39 more messages from Lily Spencer. Tap here to view them.

You groan. Fuck. You can already feel a headache coming on. Combined with your throbbing hangover, that’s a deadly combination. You send off a quick “Don’t worry, I’m okay!” to Lily and then check Adrian’s messages.

Adrian Raines [12:11 AM]: I’m really sorry for bringing you to Priya’s studio. I didn’t know she’d be like this.

Adrian Raines [1:02 AM]: Are you alright? Tell Priya you’re under my protection. She can’t hurt you.

Adrian Raines [1:38 AM]: Call me and I’ll be right there. I was stupid to bring you there. I’m sorry.

You cringe. Well, Adrian didn’t seem to take it too badly, but it’ll still be really awkward when you see him at work today—

Wait.

With an ice-cold, creeping dread, you hurriedly check the time at the top of your phone. Surely enough, the numbers there pronounce your doom: 9:23 AM.

“I’m late,” you gasp in horror.

Sensing your profound distress, Priya cranes her neck over your shoulder. Her eyes quickly flit through the messages, and a wry grin makes its way onto her scarlet lips. “I did tell you Adrian was awfully protective,” she says, a glaze of bitterness souring the otherwise cheerful words. “Though I’m a little offended he thinks I would hurt you. Of course I wouldn’t. You’re too pretty for that,” she remarks casually, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

You swallow and ignore the aching, tantalizing flare of arousal that sparks between your legs. Prying yourself away from her grasp, you send her a withering glare. “It doesn’t matter whether Adrian is protective or not, because he’s going to fire me anyway I’m not there in like three minutes.”

Priya shrugs, leaning back luxuriously on the medley of fluffy white pillows behind her and using only her elbows to prop herself up. A curl of coiffed dark hair falls onto her face, partially obscuring one eye. You swallow, once again hit with the “attractive girl is next to you” hammer. She’s all painted lips and painted nails and bronze legs that go on for days. The epitome of devil-may-care.

Her honeyed voice snaps you out of your reverie. “Look, angel, I don’t mean to be dismissive of your job as accountant– assistant, whatever– but I’m just saying, you’ve been blessed with the kind of beauty that’s rare to come by. An allure that doesn’t stop skin-deep.” You wonder if that’s a double-entendre, given that she spent a good part of last night with her teeth in your neck. She continues, “You’re already spectacular, but with a little makeup and one of my masterpieces, you could be the greatest model New York City’s seen in a while. Besides,” she winks suggestively, “being a model has wonderful benefits. Including but not limited to, hmm, private sessions with the head designer.”

You were wondering where all this flattery was leading up to. As it turns out, it led to complete and utter madness.

“...Priya,” you start, trying to phrase this tactfully and finding yourself wanting, “I can’t be a model. I already have a job at Raines Corp, which is quite frankly in peril because of how not on-time I am.”

The vampire rolls her eyes, taking a pillow and throwing it at you playfully. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. First of all, who cares if you’re late? Besides, Didi already called to say you can take the day off.”

You blink rapidly, uncomprehending. “Didi?”

Priya lets out an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. “Adrian. Keep up. He called me at three in the morning– so rude, I know– and when he was done thoroughly scalping me for defiling his precious little assistant, he said you could take the day off. It makes sense, which is surprising coming from Mr. Bring A Human To Work Day. You should rest.”

A variety of emotions course through you in the span of a few short seconds. Relief at not getting fired less than 24 hours after getting hired, confusion at how many nicknames Priya has for Adrian, and sheer utter disbelief at all the contradictions she’s spewing from those perfect lips.

“Hold up,” you say before Priya can distract you again. “I should rest? Literally two seconds ago you were trying to bribe me into being a model with sex– don’t try to deny it, it won’t work– both of which aren’t exactly relaxing. Where exactly would I be resting between the runway and the orgasms?”

Priya waves you off. “Don’t fret, gorgeous. We’ll have plenty of time to destress in the hours leading up to your modeling debut. But first things first– you need something to eat. Something that isn’t me, at least.”

You sputter and stumble over your words and Priya seems to delight in it, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “You’re so cute when you blush,” she purrs, and you can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest like a flower under the sun. It’s not just arousal, unfortunately. You could understand that– she is, after all, one of the most attractive women you’ve ever seen– but what you can’t deal with is this, this affection. You’re not stupid. You know where this kind of feeling leads. And you absolutely cannot walk down that precarious, woefully wonderful path. Not with her.

(But why not....?)

You know why. She’s a goddamn vampire, for one, and beyond that… she’s perfect. Not for most people, but for you. You’re weak to these kinds of girls, who bite and bruise and touch and take so wonderfully. Dangerous girls, if you had to sum it up in a word. And Priya… she’s the pinnacle of that. Spending the night with her was the dumbest thing you could’ve done. And yet… you already know you’d do it again. You’d keep coming back, as long as she’d have you.

(Fuck. I’m so fucked up.)

--------

Want Part 2

#bloodbound #priya lacroix #priya x mc #my writing #wttds #choices #choices: stories you play #playchoices

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beheadingofmakai · 6 years

Text

“Exorcist” Is A Strong Word

<- Previous Chapter

5:31 AM was not a nice hour to be up and about for Vinn Ingram, but there simply was no other choice. Sure, the cold winds that blow through Mint Hill Street were a very convincing argument to buy a scarf the moment today was over, the uphill walk made paying a taxi very, very attractive even though it was a short walk, and the deadly combination of both made our new Exorcist miss his bed sheets with the agony of a lover who left his sweetheart behind to go to the war, but alas, this was a necessary evil if he ever was to see his workplace at all. At the Seventh Office of the Mythic Affairs Bureau, work hours begin at 7:00 AM, which is a whole one hour and twenty nine minutes our daring star could’ve spent tucked in bed dreaming about sunshine and puppies, but if the last two days were any indication, this was a bad idea, and that bad idea has a name: Bastian Ashfield, his partner.

“Mother fu... Arc damned cold wind... Uphill walk in the middle of... This better be worth it...” muttered the displeased Vinn to himself, making his walk under the purple early morning skies. Two days ago, Bastian raided his apartment and snatched him away to a sudden necromancy case, and yesterday, Bastian once more got him by the cuffs and got him working with a truant demon after an exorcism. These last two days, he’d been roped into all this work without being able to even see his office or meet his other colleagues. For a top scorer like Vinn, this was like a rusty, jagged spoon to the heart, as it was vastly unprofessional from him to not even greet his other seniors at the office just because this hydromancing asshole of a tyrant decided to start paying him house visits. Well, no more! Today, Vinn left far earlier than he was supposed to, as he wasn’t gonna risk a third day of impromptu plate-juggling. Maybe now, finally, he was gonna be able to do things right.

But Arc damn the wind is cold.

“I should almost be... Oh! That over there is the office, isn’t it?”. Vinn perked up and broke into a calm jog, and indeed it was. A four story building, solid and made of brick, with a large sign that read the “7th Office” in bold black letters. It didn’t indicate what it was the office of, just that it was the 7th. Magic and the supernatural is a well kept secret, after all, so whoever stumbled in there by accident would just be told a lie about this being a real estate firm or maybe an engineering firm. At long last, Vinn was going to be able to meet people that hopefully weren’t condescending jerks!

As Vinn approached the building, the door swung open, and what strode out froze Vinn in his tracks. A very tall woman, at least two heads taller than Vinn, with long dark green hair and a somewhat dark complexion, but the prodigious height and the curious colors of the dame weren’t what paralyzed Vinn, it was the long, curved, thick black horns that protruded from her head that did, peeking through holes in her large brimmed hat.

“Hm? Hey there, I haven’t seen you around before” the mountain spoke. “For consultations and filing reports, head to the left desk, and for general questions, the help desk is on the right. We’ll help you in however way we can.”

“...Oh!” finally reacted Vinn, taking his eyes off the horns, hoping he didn’t offend. “Oh, thank you, but I work here, actually, it’s good to meet you, I started two days ago, my name is Vinn Ingram.” Upon hearing this, the woman brought a hand to her mouth in surprise, and immediately smiled gracefully, lifting her hat just slightly so she could take a better look at him with her piercing crimson eyes.

“Ah! You’re one of the graduates! How silly of me, my apologies, I assumed you were a new client. I haven’t seen you around, but, well, I suppose the same can be said for others, hmhm. Well met, Vinn Ingram.” -- the woman bowed with dignity and poise found only on professionals -- “I am Fatima Allanach, Exorcist here at the Seventh. Have been for years now. A pleasure to meet you. I would love to chat with you more, but I need to go out for something rather pressing right now. Which division are you on? I’d love to drop by later to properly meet you when time isn’t a pressing concern.”

“Oh, no no, don’t let me hold you back, the pleasure is all mine!” hastily replied the novice. “I’m in the 3rd Division.”

“The 3rd... That’s... I see, so you must be an intel support, then? Well, have fun with Nicholas, he’s kind of a stick in the mud before 9:30, but he’s very good at what he does. You’ll learn much. Well, farewell, until later.”

With a graceful half-bow and a smile, the large woman in the trench coat walked away, her horns disappearing from sight as soon as she headed to the streets. Can’t be seen with those by civilians, after all. Vinn couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by “intel support”. He was very much a fully fledged Exorcist, and his partner was Bastian, not some “Nicholas”. Well, whatever, he thought, maybe she was just confused and in a hurry. They’d meet later, so no biggie.

Finally at the 3rd floor, Vinn looked up which office was the 3rd Division’s in his briefing e-mail. It was more than a bit daunting when his worst suspicions were confirmed and that large, imposing cast iron door was, indeed, his office. With someone like Bastian on their payroll, however, the iron door made complete sense, unfortunately. “Well, whatever, let’s get to it.”

The already small room behind the iron door was made even smaller by the sheer amount of chaos within. Paperwork everywhere, pizza boxes, the scent of coffee and mana leftovers mixing into what can only be described as a terrorist attack on the senses, and one very bitter-looking blonde man sitting at the very end of the room, surrounded by cabinets, coffee mugs, and his computer, mashing away at that keyboard like it owed him money.

“Uh, he--”

“And why the hell are you here this early again, Bastian! Can I just not have my own little world of-- Huh?”

“Um.”

“Oh.”

The red haired man and the blonde bitterness extract given a human form looked at each other awkwardly for a second, before the latter finally threw a brick and smashed the silence. “...Who, who the hell ar-- Who might you be? This is the 3rd Division, I think you got the wrong door, pal.”

“Uh, hey there, no, I work here. Effective as of two days ago, but it’s my first time showing up due to... Exceptional reasons, I guess. I’m Vinn Ingram, assigned here as of August 4th, a pleasure to meet you, Mister...?”

“No Vinn works here, dude, just go to your office.”

“Um, sir? I do work here, it says as much in this e-mail, I’ve been working for two days now on field.”

“No you don’t.”

“Sir...”

“Dude, come on, I know everyone in this office and-- Hold that phone, what did you say your name was again?”

“V-Vinn Ingram, partner of--”

Whatever came after his last name fell upon deaf ears and was drowned by the loud tik and tak of the keyboard’s cry for help as the blonde man’s fingers struck it with surgical precision. A few seconds of awkward keyboard sounds later, the man’s face seemed to be right out of the cover of a cheap gas station horror novel. “Bastian’s partner? That Vinn?”

“That’d be me, yeah.”

“What the fuck, you haven’t quit yet?”

“E-excuse me?”

Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all: – Chapter 3: Neon War Paint –

“Oh, um, ahem, h-hey, welcome, Vinn, welcome! I just, mm, never really expected anyone partnered with Bastian to last more than one assignment with him. Or less than one, really. I hope you’ll understand, he’s kind of, mm, not a very nice person.”

“Oh, trust me, I could gather that much. But yeah, I’m here, alive and willing still, somehow.”

Molotov cocktails burst green with envy at the explosive laughter the man by the computer just showcased with peerless cacklesmanship. “By the Arc, man, you really went and... I’m Nicholas Dunbar, Seventh Office 3rd Division information agent, assistant, and secretary, an actual honor to meet anyone who somehow survived Bastian.”

Vinn could only sigh, half laughing and half crying internally. “Vinn Ingram, once again, now assigned to this office as that oaf’s partner, the pleasure is mine. So, um, Nicholas, is Bastian just... Like that? In general?”

“He very much is like that in general.” replied the intel agent as he prepared some coffee on the worn, jury rigged coffee maker that had what was very clearly a band aid somewhere on its base. “See, the thing is, you’re the fourth partner that’s been assigned to him, and the only to survive the ordeal without quitting the job or requesting a transfer after... Well, not after, during the first day.”

“And I can see why. I’m here this early because he kept going to my place and roping me into more stuff, telling me he has to test me on this and test me on that, what a prick.” Vinn recounted as he tried to navigate this disaster room of pizza boxes and stray paperwork, making a futile attempt to find his desk.

“Yeah, you’re actually the only one I’ve met, haha. I kinda just assumed you’d be roadkill as well, no offense. You aren’t the top scorer of the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy for nothing, after all. Man, Bastian is real good at this job, one of the best, I dare say, but his people skills just haven’t been the same anymore...”

This last statement perked the novice Exorcist. “Mm? What do you mean with ‘anymore’?” The inquiry clearly changed something in the atmosphere, as Nicholas simply looked down and then at the coffee maker, gripping it by the handle and serving two piping hot mugfuls of coffee, offering one to Vinn.

“I can’t really tell you, man. I hope you understand. It’s kinda personal to him, and I’m not about the snitch life.”

“Ah, no no, sorry, didn’t mean to put you in the spot. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Say, since you’re here early, I might as well tour you through the Seventh, what do you say? Introduce you to the people, show you where stuff is, the works.” offered the intel agent, sipping his coffee, his voice certainly softer than before. This wasn’t an offer Vinn was going to turn down.

“I’d very much like that!”

——-

The Seventh was a sturdy, spacious building. That cramped little hellroom that was the 3rd Division was not indicative of just how impressive and accommodating the rest of it was. Air conditioning, ample hallways, and effective use of space made it easy to navigate through and easy to fit all the relevant facilities. It certainly was a whole different beast from the antiquated brick fortress that it seemed to be from the outside. Nicholas and Vinn made small talk as they passed by the various other offices, most of them empty due to how early it was, heading to the Infirmary in the first floor.

“The Infirmary is open practically all the time, and it’s the first place you go to after an assignment, and the last place you go to before clocking out and leaving for the day.” Nicholas explained as he ringed the bell. “Cordiality is nice, but it doesn’t mean much in general in the Seventh, since we are all about getting the job done first and foremost. However, if there’s anyone you gotta be good with, that’s the Infirmary crew, because these people keep us alive. I think you’ll agree with me when I say you’d rather be on good terms with the people in charge of keeping you alive, yeah?”

“Hah, no argument there. I planned to come here first thing after finding the 3rd Division.” Vinn replied, adjusting his vest as Nicholas opened the door. “Hold on, don’t we have to wait for them to give us the ok?”

“I mean, by protocol, yeah, but as long as you ring the bell, Aria doesn’t really mind if you come in, Mister Stiff.” laughed the intel agent. “Can’t blame ya, though. You are the top scorer of this year’s promotion, so I assumed you’d be kinda stiff, but man, trust me, real work is a lot more... Earthly, if you will. Don’t take all those regulations and strict protocols to heart. As long as you do your job, no one minds.”

Vinn shrugged his shoulders as if saying “I guess”, which only prompted another chuckle from Nicholas. Inside the Infirmary, a woman with two large white wings and a long lab coat checked a clipboard and wrote on a little notebook propped on a desk. “Hey, mornin’, doc!” greeted Nicholas, prompting her to turn around with a pleasant smile and kind eyes.

“Hey, Nick, good day! Hm? Who’s the kid?” the doctor enthusiastically replied as she set down her clipboard. “Oh, one of the fresh meat, huh? Hey, I’m the patch up artist around these parts, name’s Aria, a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Aria, I’m Vinn Ingram, ‘fresh meat’ at the 3rd Division. We’ll be seeing each other.”

“Oh, so you are a new intel agent? You’re lucky, Nick is awesome at his job, just, be sure not to catch him before 9:30, he’s kinda--”

“Oh no no, he’s not mine, Aria.” interrupted Nicholas, a wry grin plastered on his face. “Take a wild freakin’ guess who he is partnered with.”

Aria tilted her head in confusion, looked at him real good, the ol’ tip to toe scan with the eyes, and she realized, given his build, that he was no pen pusher. Those strong limbs were for working out in the field. “Wait, Bastian’s!? No way, but it’s the 6th! Any partner of his should have transferred already! Holy moly, you are some next level shit, aren’t you?”

Nicholas laughed out loud while Vinn simply sighed and pinched his nose. “Yeah, I guess I am fecal matter of the next degree. Man, he really is infamous for this, isn’t he?” The two of them laughed, but before Aria replied, she caught the Nicholas’ eyes, insolence brewing behind them.

“Oh... You wanna do that, huh...? Ok... Hey, Vinn, I applaud your manners for not pointing out my wings.” said Aria. “People usually get impressed by them and sometimes, it get uncomfortable, so hey, nice. But, at the same time, I can’t help but be a bit disappointed, since I am proud of them, as an Angel and all.”

Those last words perked Vinn up. “An Angel, you say...?”

“Yup! Ain’t the Seventh impressive? We practically have a demon in Bastian, so we make up for that with an actual Angel in our Infirmary. Not something many offices can claim, yeah?”

It’s true that those impressive, white feathered wings were the definition of majestic in any dictionary you could find, but Vinn didn’t seem impressed at all. “She’s not an Angel, though.” he declared.

“Oh?” Aria smirked. “I am, though. What proof do you have that I am not an Angel? Are you saying these wings are fake?”

“It’s true that you have not moved your wings at all, so they could be a prop, but no, they are the real deal. However, ‘wings’ does not equate to ‘Angel’. No offense intended, but the palms of your hands are very rugged, and your musculature in general suggests heavy physical work, instead of the more magically inclined personality of Angels. Speaking of your hands, you did a pretty good job trimming them, but I can tell those talons grow up to be very strong, sharp, and destructive. You’re not an Angel, Miss Aria, you’re a Harpy.”

The rapid fire analysis left both Nicholas and Aria dumbfounded for all of five silent seconds before they both broke into laughter. “Oh, wow! This kid is the real shit, ain’t he? Damn, when was the last time, anyone saw through this little prank, Nicholas?”

“Wasn’t it Fatima many years ago? Haha, damn, anyways, that was impressive, I’d expect no less from top scorer of this year’s promotion. Nice job, Vinn.”

The young man was getting a bit flustered with all this praise and attention, but thankfully, before he had to say anything, the bell rang again, and the door swung open, a tall, muscular, blonde man wearing sunglasses walking in shortly after.

“Heyo, doc, I’m sorry I didn’t come before, I came t’ greet ya! Name’s... Oh, Ingram?”

“...Hold on, you’re Daryl. Hello.”

“Oh, you two know each other?” Nicholas inquired, resting against a nearby counter top.

“Yeah!” the large blonde lad replied. “We both graduated this year. Ingram’s the top of the class, so I remember him. Didn’t know ya were here, dude.”

“Likewise. I wouldn’t have expected to meet you so soon after graduation. Good to see you. Which division are you on?” Vinn cordially conversed.

“2nd, the boss woman told me to go greet people already, got kinda mad that I hadn’t yet, so here I am. Heyo doc, and heyo other dude I don’t know, here’s to some good ass work and all that.”

“Nicholas, good to meet you, though I am just the tech dude at the 3rd, it’s this lady you oughta pay your respects to. She’s a nice Angel doctor that’ll keep you in this world, no matter how banged up you get.” the intel agent explained, a chuckle already charging up behind his lips.

“Wait, an Angel!?” yelled the shocked Daryl.

“Oh, don’t say that so loud, I get kinda conscious... But yes, I am Doctor Aria, pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll trust my--!”

In a move that shut everyone in the room, Daryl approached Aria and outright kissed her, holding her chin up to better feel her tongue with his. When it was all said and done, Daryl simply took a contemplative hand to his chin. “Ya ain’t no Angel. You’re a Harpy. See, Angels have soft tongues, and kissing them feels like warm honey bathin’ yer tongue, an indescribable feelin’, really. But yer tongue was thick, rough, and strong. It wasn’t warm honey, it was more like a powerful adversary, a tongue to remember, ‘cause it ain’t easy. I like Harpy kisses far more than Angel kisses, there’s that roughness to them that makes them--”

The sound of her palm meeting his face echoed in the Infirmary.

“How dare you...!?” the doctor exclaimed, slapping him across the face.

“Ooph, yeah, see, Angels don’t slap like that, that’s a Harpy’s strong hand, alriOOPH.”

“What the fuck are you doing, dumbaaaaaaass?!”

The sound of his spine singing a melody of pain and regret echoed in the infirmary as his body was lifted off the ground by a single righteous uppercut.

“Yep, just on time, if you’re in the 2nd, then your partner is...”

“W-woah what the hell!?”

With just a single punch, the large blonde man was downed. Behind him, a brawny, tough-looking woman stood with the River Styx in her eyes, shooting ballistic missiles at the battered young man with her glare.

“I take my eyes off you for one second and you’re already doing dumb shit again! I am so sorry, Aria, this one’s on me, I’ll buy you all your drinks next time we go out drinking, ok? Please forgive this good for nothing piece of shit!” the big woman apologized as she stomped on the downed idiot.

“F-Fiona, don’t worry about it! It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t kill him in the Infirmary, please, that’s a lot of paperwork to deal with!”

Lifting him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the imposing woman desperately apologized. “I’ll educate this dipshit, even if it kills me, or if it kills him! I’ll go now, see y...ou? Hey, who’s this kid, Nick? New techie for the the 3rd?”

“Naw, he’s Bastian’s.”

“Cut the bullshit.”

“I am not dumb enough to lie to you, Fi.”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “You’re legit his partner? Woah, some big fat balls of brass, you must have! Well, kid, introductions will have to wait ‘till later, I have a shithead to lecture. Try not to get killed. Let’s go, you imbecile.”

“M-my spine... Let me get it checked first...” begged Daryl like a beefy, floppy sack of wounded potatoes with all the dignity of a headless chicken.

“Oh, sleep it off, ya wuss, let’s go.”

As fast as she came, this tornado of a woman left, leaving Vinn speechless. “Is she... Is she always like that? Who was that? Did that really just happen?”

“That’s Fiona, and yeah, that’s her modus operandi. Leaving the door open is also part of her, but she’s a lovable tower of muscle and alcohol.” explained the doctor, going back to her clipboard. “Be a dear and close it, will you?”

As Vinn approached the door left open by the human cyclone, he spotted her outside, still carrying Daryl, being lecture by a tall, thin man who had an aura of authority and resignation to him. Before him, however, Fiona couldn’t stop bowing apologetically.

“Well, that’s our Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist. Watch in awe as she is lectured by the Chief because her cropped tank top, ‘perfume’ that smells like 6 AM tequila, and habit of carrying coworkers like veggies at market spit in the soup of Officewear Regulations. Heh, this is a daily show by now.” Nicholas elaborated, as if watching a movie while eating pop corn. “You know about Oni, Vinn?”

“Oh! She’s an oni? That explains the strength and the pungent stench of alcohol.”

“Nope, she’s married to one, and he’s helping her with her drinking habits.”

“...Classy. So, that’s the Chief, huh? I’d better go say hi to him now.”

“Woah there, buddy, I’d suggest not. He’s lecturing her right now, but he’s a very busy man, especially in the mornings. Leave him for the afternoon.”

“Is he a hardass or something?”

“Not... Quite, just trust me on this one. Let’s go back to our office, Dani should be here by now.”

“If you say so. Bye, Miss Aria, have a good day.”

“Mmhm. Have a good one, you two, I hope you survive, Vinn.” the doctor expressed with no ill will whatsoever, waving a friendly hand goodbye.

——-

The more one looked at the office, the more it seemed that the door frame was a portal to a different dimension. How could this pigsty possibly be in the same physical plane, let alone building, than the neat everything else? There was a difference now, however: A lone girl sat by another desk.

“It’s weird not seeing you here first thing in the morning, Nick. I was wondering where you went.” she greeted.

“Yeah, was just showing the newbie around. Lookin’ good, Dani.” Nicholas chimed back with Vinn on tow, who politely nodded as if to greet her.

“Oh? New tech g--”

“Bastian’s partner...” Vinn clarified for what felt like the tenth time this morning.

“What!? Bast--”

“Please.” Vinn begged for what felt like the tenth time this morning. It was getting tedious.

“Oh, pfff, yeah, I guess you’ve already gotten your fair share of dumbfounded responses. Sorry about that! I’m Danielle, just call me Dani, though.” the girl responded before moving away from her desk without standing up, traversing through the pizza boxes and paperwork in a motorized wheelchair, controlled by a little controller on the right hand rest. Of note, her left hand and leg were prosthetic. Accompanied with the soft sound of her wheelchair’s motor’s vibration, Dani approached Vinn and offered her right hand, which he shook. “I’m the communications expert here, and since you’ll be working with us now, you’ll need one of these.” Her prosthetic hand held a firm grip on the bag while her regular hand rummaged in it, the sounds of junk and crumpling plastic raising many questions as to what was actually inside the otherwise trendy looking little bag. With an expression of eureka, she seemed to have finally found the desired item, which he proudly offered to the novice Exorcist: A tin can.

“A... Tin can? Wait, now that you mention it, Bastian had one just like this two days ago...” Vinn pondered, as he examined the item in vain.

“Ah! You were there when the Siren was sent in!? That jerk didn’t mention you at all in his reports! I will have some words with him, the nerve!” Dani fumed as she kicked her feet in frustration, nothing new when regarding Bastian and his old tricks. “Anyways, yes, that right there is a prim and proper tin can, but it may save your life.”

“There’s really nothing special about it, though... I don’t sense anything.”

“Eyup, it’s not until I do this--” With a touch of he right hand’s finger, the can suddenly pulsated, Vinn’s head throbbing as a sharp note drowned everything else in the room, only the can’s ‘heartbeat’ audible to him, until a few seconds later, his senses returned to normal, his head ringing like a struck bell no more. “--llo? Hello? Earth to Vinn?”

“Ugh... Yeah, I hear you... What was that? My head felt like it was going to explode for a second.” Vinn replied, clutching his thankfully unexploded head.

“Yeah, happens the first time. I’ve linked the tin can with you. Now, what this does is...” Danielle moved towards her desk again and held a similar, worn out tin can. “Put that against your ear.” Vinn complied, and once he did, Dani put her own tin can against her mouth, softly whispering words that shouldn’t have been audible to anyone, yet were clear as the skies to Vinn. “And now, we can communicate easily!”

“Woah! That’s... I’ve never seen anything like this! So basically, these are like cellphones now?”

“Better than cellphones!” she declared, chest puffed out. “Cellphones can be traced, need time to make a call, need the other party to notice and accept the call, and if you’re underground? Yeah, not happening. Tin cans are the future of communication! Well, among us, anyways. This is Communications Magic, my area of expertise. Keep that tin can on you at all times, and we’ll be able to talk shit about Bastian at all times, seamlessly and with no interruption.”

“Now that sounds like a good time.”

“Well, I’m sure glad you two seem to have kicked it off well!” Nicholas finally interjected. “Now, you did say something worrying, though: You’ve actually been working the last two days, but Bastian neglected to mention you in his reports, which makes my job difficult. Plus, I don’t have your reports, either.”

“A-ah, well, I wasn’t exactly--”

“Exactly allowed near the office, I know, haha, don’t worry, I’m not going to put you on the spot, all this means is that I will grab Bastian by the neck and have him rewrite his reports. His lack of mentioning you meant to me that you had quit, which is... A pattern, really, so don’t worry, you get a few more days to write your reports, but the sooner you have them for me, the better.”

“Ah, that’s why you reacted that way...” Vinn said, recalling Nicholas’ exasperation earlier. “Well, I hope you don’t have a hard time getting him to re-do those... I already know that he’s--”

“A damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with?” a voice behind Vinn chimed in.

“Yeah! That’s exactly what I was gonna sWhere did you come from and how long have you been there?”

“Aww, I’m glad to know that I have a cute widdle pwartner who wuvs me so much!”

As Vinn turned around, he met face to face with the plastic, hostile grin of Bastian Ashfield, a tall, solidly built man with his wavy ponytail resting on his left shoulder as always. “So can I join your shit-talking power hour? I am like a trebuchet full of excrement, ready to sling the highest quality turds, so? We good? Can I join you fine gents in--Hrg!”

That dull sound just now was a piece of scrap metal hitting Bastian square in the forehead. “You big jerk! You were keeping Vinn out of the office for the last two days and you neglected to even mention him in your reports! As both a person and an Exorcist, you are terrible!”

“Oi, who the hell throws junk metal at people!? At least make it something like a plastic bottle, or a--Argh!”

And that dull sound just now was a broken clock hitting Bastian on the side of his face.

“Don’t talk back!”

“Yes ma’am! Please don’t give me a concussion, ma’am!”

“Denied!”

“Alright, hold it, hold it, please! I’ll stop! Quit chucking assorted reclaimed metals at me!”

“...Are these two like this all the time?” Vinn whispered to Nicholas.

“Just when Bastian’s a dick.”

“...”

“So yeah, all the time.”

“I see.”

——-

“...Well, now that we are all here, I suppose a formal welcoming is due... But first... You clever little rascal. You left home really early, just to avoid me, huh?”

Vinn simply glared at Bastian. “I knew you’d try it a third day. Get off my back, already. I humored your two ‘tests’, and not even knowing what my workplace looks like for three days in a row is not exactly professional.”

“...Tests? Vinn, what did this oaf make you do?” Dani inquired, already reaching for the next piece of junk in her little bag.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything terribly cruel. You’ll see in my report later, but basically, the necromancer of two days ago and a case with a stray demon yesterday. Both ended up well, so-- Hey, speaking of, where’s the necromancer?” Vinn asked, having just remembered the rather high profile criminal they brought in.

“Well, I’m not at liberty to say just yet, but let’s just say you’ll know soon enough.”

“Bastian, could you please treat him like a member of our division already?” sighed the girl.

“Oh, no no, Bastian is not being Bastian for once, he really isn’t at liberty to say.” Nicholas interrupted. “All information on the case -- the necromancer herself, the undead horde, and the fact that a Siren was dispatched -- is all confidential. In fact, we should not discuss it at all. He could actually get questioned by the Blackvests if his lips are too loose.”

“Ah, so it is actually confidential... I was curious myself, too, to be honest. It’s the first actual necromancer in forever, isn’t it?” Dani asked as she drank some of her freshly brewed coffee.

“First I’ve seen in active service, and in general.” replied the seasoned Exorcist. “Sure, you get punks who reanimate rats and dogs here and there, and then we have to go in and put the feral critters out of their mindless misery. But one that has actually reanimated humans? And didn’t even bother thralling them? Just letting the do as they please? That’s very weird, no matter how you spin it. Anyways, I am not lying when I say you’ll know soon enough.” Bastian readjusted himself and reached into one of the many seemingly empty pizza boxes, producing a cold slice and chomping on it. “Let’s go back to the man of the hour, now. Vinn, you’ll have to forgive me, but it was absolutely necessary that I test you in the ways I did. You aren’t an idiot, you could see that Exorcists don’t have the best reputation around, and deservedly so.”

The atmosphere in the room changed.

“...Yeah. People feared me. People expected me to throw my weight around. People doubted me whenever I showed any cordiality or kindness. Exorcists really are not liked, huh? This is all very different from the Academy.” Vinn recounted, a disappointed sigh escaping him.

“That’s true, because a lot of Exorcists reign through fear, throw their weight around, and only smile when they want something out of you, or worse, when they already have what they need to blackmail you. The Academy is a bubble, Vinn.” Dani explained, her tone serious. “The Academy will make you believe your duty is just and your methods righteous, but in the real world, you can’t just go in blasting everything and coercing the weak into obeying or paying the price”

“Our duty as Exorcists, and related support parties, is to mete out justice in the Mythic affairs, whether that justice needs to clash against a Mythic or against a Human. We are supposed to be the entity that upholds justice, but a lot of Exorcists, well, they just smoke Mythics. We are supposed to stand up for Humans as much as we are for Mythics, but that’s not how it goes in practice.” Nicholas sadly continued.

“And that’s why I needed to test you.” said Bastian as he propped his legs on his desk. “I told you before, but you need to be able to hold your own in a fight, have the brains to figure out solutions to your problems, and have the heart to actually stand up for Mythics. I -- we -- have no use for yet another kid who slings death around to try and be the big strong Exorcist.”

Despite the shoddy appearance of the office, with the ocean of pizza boxes scattered everywhere and sundry junk adorning every corner, the files were where they needed to be, Nicholas’ computer was impeccable, and whatever actually mattered, was there. Messy as it was, it was the office of those who truly cared about their job, and about those said job entailed. Downing some coffee, Vinn took a deep breath.

“...Crude as they may be, I understand the reason behind your methods. I can’t say I’m mad, since it gave me a reality check I’d rather have now instead of later. It’s only... Fair, really.”

“Well,” Bastian replied, “Whether you are mad or not doesn’t really matter to me, what does matter is that you pass the tests. I was gonna tell you as much earlier today, but you eluded me like a slippery eel, which, I hate to admit, is also a good thing, so yeah, welcome to the 7th Office 3rd Division. I’ll work you to the sinews.”

“That’s just his way of being nice. Please do be patient with him, he’s an idiot, after aaAAAH! Damn! Ow ow ow!” Nicholas snarked before his hot coffee came to life and splashed his face, burning him.

“Maybe don’t insult an Hydromancer while holding a nice, fat cup of hot coffee, dumbass.” laughed Bastian.

“Pfff, well, you kinda walked right into that one, Nick, hehe. Still! It’s good to have some new blood in here, so by all means, welcome! I hope you have a good time! Don’t mind the office’s sorry state, we get our job done.” Dani cheerfully informed.

“Yeah, especially since all the pizza boxes are her doing in the first place, our cute little piglet.” taunted Nick, wiping the coffee off his face.

“He didn’t need to know that!”

“...You already put the order for today’s batch, didn’t you?”

“...I cannot confirm or deny that, Bastian.”

“Haha!”

It was a lively little office with just three people in it, four now, but Vinn could tell there was something different here, something he didn’t find in his time in the Academy, nor out in the field during these last two days.

There was a lot of heart and joy here.

There was anxiety, there were nerves, there was a lot of expectation, from both his partner and himself, but ll of those things, he already knew he was gonna feel. What he didn’t know, however, was how much he was going to crave to be part of this little world, where contact was easy and everyone seemed to get along like this.

And just like there’s a shadow by every light cast, so was there a woe that made his heart throb with a pang of concern: Were his people back home ever going to be able to partake in this?

If anything, this only steeled his resolve further. He left the comfortable wilderness for a reason against the protests of everyone that cared for him for this, after all.

“There’s no way I’m going back empty handed now.” he though to himself, after seeing that the human world is capable of compassion.

——-

Just as the playful banter was beginning to calm down, someone knocked on the big iron door.

“It’s open, come in!” Nick yelled from the back of the office, already submerged in his files and keyboard once again.

“Please excuse me.”

As the door opened, Vinn perked up as he saw that pair of familiar horns, black like lacquered wood, curved with dignity, protruding through the holes of the wide brimmed hat. It was the tall woman from the morning. The dame simply giggled at his surprise, an elegant hand covering her lips.

“Now, why the surprise? I did say I’d come welcome you properly, no? Have you eased into your job with Nicholas yet? He’s a harsh instructor, but you’ve much to learn from someone with his diligence and experience.” she greeted bemusedly.

“Oh, no no, I’m not here as an info agent, I’m an Exorcist, partner with--”

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Fat Fatima!” the brick that broke cordiality boisterously interrupted. “What do you and your five chins want? Don’t remember having any reason to expect a visit from you.”

“Bastian? What the h--!” tried to reproach Vinn, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Just seconds ago, a gallant lady stood by the door, with a welcoming voice, a friendly disposition, and a kind smile. The very picture of manners and helpfulness. Where, oh, did she go? And when was she replaced by a twin with death in her eyes and wicked claws protruded, ready to slash a jugular or six?

“Feh, Bastian... I didn’t come to talk to the wondrous sack of shit that pretends he’s people. Mind going back to your stupid magazines? Me and Nick’s new kid want to do some formal introductions, not that you’d know what those are.” snarled the dame, showing what were very clearly fangs.

“Nick’s got no new kid, shithead. If you mean that kid over there, he’s my new partner.”

“Oh, spare me, I’d think you’d at least give my intelligence some credit. Think of some more convincing lies if you wish to mess with me, Bastian.”

“Uh, hey, Fatima... Yeah, he’s not mine. Vinn’s an Exorcist, and Bastian’s partner.”

“What!? So he’s actually got a new partner!?” This reaction seemed to be popular. “Wait, so does that mean... Oh, uh...” The horned woman seemed to be troubled and wracked with guilt out of the sudden. “...Vinn, was it? I profusely apologize for the trouble I’ve no doubt caused you.”

Vinn didn’t really understand where this came from, and tilted his head just slightly in confusion, trying to think what this person he did not know before this morning could possibly mean by that. “I really have no idea what you’re apologizing for, Miss Fatima, you’ve done nothing but show courtesy to me.”

“Oi oi, so I’m just Bastian and ‘a damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with’, but she’s Miss Fatima? I’m glad to see where your loyalties lie, Vinn.” whined Bastian, a mocking hand to his own chest, as if deeply offended, nay, hurt.

“You said those things, I just confirmed them, geez.”

“Ah, allow me to elaborate...” interjected the horned lady. “First of all, I am the 1st Division Exorcist, Fatima Allanach, a pleasure to meet you, Vinn...?”

“Ingram. Vinn Ingram.”

She smiled graciously. “...As to what I did, well, I am the reason the Siren showed up two days ago.”

“Oh, you bitch! I should’ve figured you, of all people, would just call for them to mobilize all those delicious tax patros to give me a hard time! You could’ve killed me in the crossfire!”

“Oh, put a sock on it, Bastian.” -- all the grace she showed to Vinn was replaced by a vulgar hostility when addressing the hydromancer -- “Both of us know you wouldn’t die from a little Siren... Although I can’t say the same for your new partner. Had I know you had someone else there, I would’ve relented, and for that, I’m sorry. I just never... Thought you’d take another partner after Roderick, you know?”

The rooms atmosphere changed as Fatima’s voice softened with those last words. Even though this was the time for one of those patented Bastian Rude Retorts, he simply produced a cigarette, fiddled with it a bit, and then put it back in the pack. “Neither did I. But, well, here we are. And you, Fatima... It’s fine if you want to give me hell, but putting everything aside for a moment, even if its called for, never use the Sirens. Don’t confuse power for a basis of trust. Those things... Are executioners wearing their own coffins. Don’t forget it.”

“...That’s rich coming from you, Bastian.” Her sharp tongue was unsheathed once anew, albeit with a different, far more bitter fervor. “You don’t get to tell me whether I use a tool or not. Sirens are strong, and they can take care of practically any Mythic situation, small or large scale. It’s foolishness not to use an advantage when we have it.”

“Those things are not an advantage, Fatima. They are indiscriminate, they know only to kill and maim, how can you not see this!? We are Exorcists, it is our duty to--”

“--To utterly obliterate those bastards until they understand their place! How many more Humans must die to their savagery before you get this!? How many more Rodericks do we need in the graveyard before you stop spouting such naive drivel, Bastian?! Had a Siren been there with you that day, Roderick would still--”

“Shows how much you know! We’d both be death, and our assailants as well, leaving us with two less Exorcists and no leads whatsoever! Incredible! Great job! I can see why you are the 1st Division Exorcist clearly, with such a clear head absolutely not full of garbage on top of those shoulders!”

“You have no way of knowing that! When will you see the world for what it is already, you utter--”

“Everybody shut up!”

Nicholas’ voice boomed, drowning any whining in the small office, finally putting a stop to the bedlam.

“Don’t yank the chain, Nick, I need to make her understand--”

“Whatever, do that on your free time! You two schedule a nice, steamy, hot date outside of work hours, meet at a restaurant, order a fine beef steak dinner, and then beat the shit out of each other with it, I don’t care, but don’t go doing this in the office!”

Bastian and Fatima simply looked to the floor, or the ceiling, or anywhere that wasn’t Nicholas’ general direction, like scolded children caught trying to look inside the pot before dinner.

“Geez...” sighed the info agent, settling on his chair again. “Every time, you two...”

As if on cue, the office’s phone rang, Danielle dutifully picking it up.

“...Miss Fatima, did you mean that?” Vinn asked, a certain edge midst his cordiality.

“Hm? Did I mean what, exactly?”

“‘To utterly obliterate those bastards’, do you see Mythics that way?”

“...Oh, please don’t tell me you do share this brute’s view on the matter, Vinn? We are not called ‘Mediators’ or ‘Caretakers’, we are Exorcists. We exorcise, we hunt, we exterminate, that’s quite literally the job description. Things are this way for a reason.”

“And what would that reason be, Miss Fatima?” inquired Vinn without missing a beat, standing up. “What about being a human makes me inherently superior, more ‘people’ than a Mythic? We are not dealing with wild beasts, we are dealing with intelligent, sentient creatures who know love, hate, joy, and sorrow just as we do, who have a culture, traditions, and needs. You yourself are a Mythic, I fail to see the logic in--”

“Oh, the young man will watch his words.” Fatima replied with the same hostility she employs with Bastian, finally dropping her softer tone. “What I am doesn’t mean I should see things one way. It’s because I am a beast that I know exactly how terrible we can be.”

“That’s like saying we should destroy all slides in children's’ parks because one time, a kid scrapped his knee.”

“And only a fool would compare Mythics and slides horizontally.”

Vinn’s face was a mask of utter hatred and disdain for the horned Exorcist. “Miss Fatima, I think it’s about time you le--”

“What!? Y-yes, I’ll tell them immediately!” the communications expert yelled as she slammed the phone back on its base. “G-guys! You too, Miss Fatima! We’ve got a big situation down by Manduco #83493!”

“Dani, calm down. What’s the situation?” Bastian calmly asked, sitting back down and quickly picking up his flasks and other utensils.

“The mass kidnapping from two months ago is happening again! It’s most likely the same perpetrator. It’s going on right now, a laborer that works at that warehouse forgot something, so even though it’s supposed to be closed off today, he went and found a lot of people just... Moving around, as if thralled. The first three divisions are to go there immediately.”

“Thanks, sweetie, that’s all we need. Well, let’s get going, we can’t lose a second.”

“I’ll go get my partner, let’s not waste any time.” Fatima said before disappearing into the hallway.

——-

The dark blue car blazed a trail through the asphalt, going as fast as the worn out engine could manage, a bright red van and a dark green motorcycle tailing them. Inside the car, the grim-looking Vinn double checked his handcuffs and other pieces of equipment, a silence and grimace that didn’t escape the driver’s notice.

“Vinn, you good?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the fakest ‘yeah’ I’ve had the honor of hearing. Look alive, this is a real bad situation. We need all six of us with our heads in the game.”

“Yeah.”

“...”

Bastian could only sigh.

“Oi, Vinn, don’t let what Fatima said get to you. It’s a kick in the dick, but that’s how many Exorcists are. She’s particularly partisan about it, yeah, but it’s better if you get used to it, hopefully manage it better than I do.”

Vinn only responded with a half-hearted chuckle and a few seconds of silence before reviving the dialogue. “I could understand it if it were anyone else, really, but Miss Fatima specifically is... Inconceivably weird. She was very cordial and kind before then, and is a Mythic, to boot, yet, she wants to kill her own kind so viciously? It goes beyond duty-bound hatred, that was just genuine hatred, how could you feel that way towards your own people?”

The usual brashness of the seasoned Exorcist was nowhere to be found, the sounds of the worn out motor filling in for dialogue for a few streetlights before Bastian found the strength to continue talking. “It’s... Complicated. Don’t hate her, please, she’s got her own problems.” Vinn almost fell out of the car upon hearing this. This had to be the first time he heard Bastian talk about someone so softly. He suspected they had a past from the previous conversation, but this only really confirmed it, especially if it was about someone he was just having a flat out shouting contest with moments ago. The dense mood was already suffocating enough, and they had a job to do right now, anyways, it was a good time to change topics.

“...So, these mass kidnappings... Damn, what a creepy name. Two months ago was the first one, right? How come they are deploying Mythic Law Enforcement for it now?”

“Well, last time, authorities had no idea magic was involved, but after investigating the area believed to have been where it took place, based on witness accounts of seeing the victims heading that way, heavy amounts of mana residue were found, suggesting that it was no mere mass kidnapping... Not that mass kidnappings are commonplace, anyway. So, it’s now a MAB affair.”

“Ah! Take this left, it should be there... Yeah, lots of cop cars. They must be barring civilian entry to the area. That’s a relief, at least.”

Bastian took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel harder. “Well, ideally, I wanted to ease you into the job with easier cases, help you get to know Stroln as a city, with its Mythic underground world and all, but destiny calls, I suppose. This isn’t me underestimating you, but try to stick with me at all times. I have a stinkin’ feelin’ that this might get nasty.”

“...Got it.”

——-

In front of the six Exorcists, the massive warehouse stood with its service door open, the lock smashed to junk by its foot. The structure was clearly from Pre-Amnesiac times, but well maintained and still in regular usage.

“...I don’t like this. It stinks.” said Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist, assessing the situation. “This is no abandoned joint, the lock was smashed too neatly, and you’d have to be a fool to have such a flagrant vulnerability to your million patros business screamin’ to be exploited like this. What do you guys think?”

“Fully agreed.” Bastian commented. “We oughta have words with the owner or parent company of this place after we’re done here. As Fiona said, this is simply too suspicious. The lock really just looks like its there so they can file a police report on unlawful entry and claim innocence. It’s unlikely for any magic criminal to be so nuanced as to break a little lock, they’d usually go for a bigger door, especially if it’s a mass kidnapping.”

“Correct. They probably didn’t even use this service door.” Fatima added. “They probably opened the big cargo gate over there to get all the people inside, nice and neatly, and then simply smashed this lock to make it seem like they aren’t working with the owners of this place. This whole thing stinks.”

Behind the seasoned trio, the novice partners observed in awe how quickly their would-be mentors were piecing together the puzzle in front of them before even stepping in the building. The duties of an Exorcist include the subjugation of magic-wielding and supernatural criminals, negotiation with such individuals, and all around keeping this secret magical world hidden, but an important part of being an Exorcist is to play the role of detective as well. An Exorcist is, after all, the do-all end-all authority in the world of Mythic Law Enforcement, having powers and duties far beyond their mundane equivalents.

“They look and act like washed up garbage after a cruiser accident on the coast, but seein’ them like this really reminds you they are veteran Exorcists, don’t it?” Daryl commented, breaking the silence between the novices.

“The way your worded that was really weird, but I know exactly what you mean.” Vinn responded. However, standing beside Daryl and Vinn was a third person who had not opened her mouth, simply looking at the experienced Exorcists work their craft and plan out how to advance. Vinn and Daryl both recognized her, and it is precisely because of that that the latter knew they shouldn’t bother trying to include her in the conversation, and why the former, who had zero social awareness back in the Academy, made the mistake of taking the initiative.

“...So, Nadja, I didn’t know you were assigned to the 7th as well.”

“...”

“Miss Fatima’s your partner, huh? Must be good working with her.”

“Interested in her looks, I gather?”

Vinn lifted his arms as if surrendering. “What? No, I mean how professional she is and all that. Anyhow, I don’t think we’ve ever talked, I’m V--”

“Vinn Ingram. Top scorer of our year.”

“Yup, the one.”

“...”

“...Pppffff, that went swimmingly, ya smooth operator.” chuckled Daryl.

“Oh, can it, at least I don’t go kissing girls randomly to determine their species.”

“Yeah, you don’t, and that’s really sad.”

“Hrrg...”

“Alright, coffee break over, kiddos, here’s the plan.” Fiona called suddenly, the novices perking up and giving her their attention. The anxiety of their first real operation, not to mention a rare cooperative operation between different Divisions, was beginning to well up in their guts. “Alright, so, the people are most likely still inside. Bringing a large amount of people here unnoticed, while not easy, is doable, but shipping them all together from here to wherever their destination is is another story. They are most likely waiting for a large transport, a bus or a series of van, maybe a large truck, we don’t know, and they are holding fort inside for now. We don’t know how many men it takes to keep all these people in there, but expect heavy resistance. We’ll go together, but if we need to split for whatever reason, stick to your partner. Questions? I hope not, because we ha--”

“A question.”

“Shoot, Nadja.”

“What level of lethality are we allowed?”

“Ideally, just enough to disable them. We have questions, they have answers. That means you shouldn’t use those things attached to your ankles.”

Nadja’s build was lithe, graceful, like a panther, and that made the large, black devices on each ankle stand out all the more. What looked like the point of a silver stake protruded downwards from the end of the device.

“Understood.”

Bastian spoke up now. “Alright, if that’s it, let’s head in. Keep chit chat to a minimum, and if you must talk, do it as silently as possible.”

——-

Nary a footstep could be heard from the six trained individuals, moving like the shadow of a ghost across the large industrial complex-slash-warehouse. Something was clearly wrong with this place, as the air was stagnant, there were no signs of struggling whatsoever, and every door and window inside, in stark contrast with the service door, was neatly unlocked and undamaged, giving fuel to the veterans’ speculation, much to their dismay. They didn’t have to navigate much until the first shadow of adversity loomed close, by the internal courtyard. It was one at first, and then two, and then three, and then seemingly an endless amount of them, silhouettes walking as if entranced by a wicked siren’s song.

“...! Halt! I see many of them, and they are... You gotta be kidding me... Bastian, look at what they are wearing.” Fatima whispered, pointing towards a little window to their side that led to the courtyard.

If concern had a shape, it was Bastian’s face. “...Large pig masks and red robes. This is bad. Really bad.” Bastian mused, a bead of sweat running down his brow.

“Hm? Hey, hey, uncle, what’s wrong? Didja get cold feet over some costumes? What’s wrOW OW OW!” inquired Daring Daryl with the delicacy of an hydraulic press, as Fiona used one hand to cover his mouth and the other to give him an excruciatingly painful shoulder death grip.

“You beefy sack of crap!” Fiona chastised in whispers. “Flappin’ yer gums when you don’t know shit will only get you a Fiona Massage from now on! The grotesque pig mask and red robes are synonymous with a top wanted criminal, the Hog Priest! This is bigger than we could’ve imagined. Stay on your toes, everyone.”

“The Hog Priest has evaded capture several times, and there’s reports of them being sighted in multiple places at once... I suppose this explains it, though. It’s a legion of them.” pointed out Nadja.

The courtyard had a strange, purplish fog blanketing it, and in it, the pig-masked people wandered aimlessly, sometimes bumping into each other, sometimes tripping and picking themselves up clumsily, and in general, simply drifting along. Some stood still, vacant, some jogged slightly before calming down and clutching their chest, and all in all, it was a miserable spectacle.

“...Something’s wrong.” Fiona warned while putting on a pair of fingerless gloves, akin to those used by MMA fighters.

“Hm? Whatcha mean? They are just bobbin’ and... Oh.”

Daryl’s trap was shut tight once he realized little by little, they had all been stopping, and now, they all stood still, looking directly into the little window where they had been observing the courtyard from. No, not directly into the window, it was directly into their very eyes.

A suffocating, paralyzing, complete silence lasted all of two seconds before the window was smashed, a small canister almost hitting Fatima in the head being the culprit, from which an ominous gas shot from little pressurized holes.

“...Tear gas! Get out!”

In a frenzy, they jumped out of the window, out the gas’ range and right into a courtyard full of pig-headed foes that held pipes, shovels, and all manners of improvised weaponry, looking straight at them.

Not five seconds passed before an alarm siren loudly gave our Exorcists a warm, deafening welcome, sending all of the robed villains into a frenzy.

“Curses! Here they come! Defend yourselves and try to find a way out of here!” Fatima yelled, assuming a defensive stance and blocking a shovel strike with her bare hand.

As soon as the horde began its restless assault, the sinister purple fog that permeated the courtyard intensified, obstructing sight and puzzling the senses with its oddly calming fragrance. It was every man and woman for themselves, Bastian utilizing water to block the weapons and to push his assailants to the ground with immense pressure, Fiona disarming them with expert martial prowess, and Fatima simply utilizing a retractable baton to parry and disarm those who would attempt to harm her. In stark contrast, the novices were expending far more effort in the fight, visibly struggling, not for lack of strength or skill, but rather, because they simply didn’t know how to engage a foe without destroying them. Killing the enemy is easy, but when your duty is to subdue the enemy without killing them or doing enough harm that you’ll ruin their life from there on is an art all of itself, an art that the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy wasn’t keen on teaching. The lacking curriculum was showing all of its weaknesses. That, and a sinister whisper that was invading their mind, which made itself more and more apparent, numbing their reactions, misleading their movements.

“W-what in the world is this...? It’s like there’s a compelling whisper inside of my head... Someone warm and kind, someone I trust, telling me to drop my guard when they attack or to soften my body whenever I try to disable one...!” Nadja said as she unsuccessfully tried to take a shovel away from a masked minion, who simply shrugged her off and shoved her right to the floor.

“Is it the fog? No... It couldn’t be, the fog is welcoming, it’s familiar, a scent of my childhood, it couldn’t...” Vinn lamented, seemingly giving himself up to an incoming lead pipe strike before Daryl pushed him out of the way.

“Oi, you damn idiots! Where’s yer Domunus Tecum!” Daryl chastised, holding off the criminals with his huge frame.

“Domunus Tecum...” “Domunus Tecum!”

The second of the Six Spell of Self Defense, the spell of protection and shielding, a prayer for resilience. No sooner the two novices put their barriers up, their minds cleared and their bodies could move as they wanted them to. The whisper was still in their heads, but it wasn’t compelling and absolute as it was before.

“Just what is this voice? I’m not the only one that can hear it, right?” the exasperated Vinn asked as he used his many handcuffs and his colorful, unorthodox fighting style to subdue attackers.

“Bad news is what it is. Keep your Domunus up and strong, don’t stop pouring mana into it, or that whisper will claim your mind.” Fiona warned, fighting the good fight.

“C-chief! Hold the presses! These guys...!” Daryl screamed suddenly, a robed figure captured tightly in arms, unmasked. “Chief Fiona, these people are brainwashed civilians! Look!”

The face of the woman in Daryl’s grasp was catatonic, to say the least. A vacant expression and half-lidded eyes that looked nowhere, drool and tear lines telling a story that thousands of words couldn’t hope to match. “Oi, we gotta disable them without harmin’ them! They are just meat shields!”

“Shit...! That means there’s one mastermind out there, and they are just exhausting us! Fatima, do you think--”

As if his mind was being read, Bastian couldn’t finish what he was saying before Fatima was right by his side. “--you could use your poison to--”

“Neutralize them? Yeah, if I control the dosage, I can make it so I can knock them out with a sting each, enough to paralyze their muscles and yet not leave any lasting damage. I’ll need some help keeping them off me while I do this to each one of them individually, though.”

“I gotcha!” Fiona proudly declared, rolling to where they were, dodging several shovel strikes. “Daryl and I can keep ‘em corralled while your girl defends you directly, and Bastian and his boy can go for the brains.”

“I agree to this plan, but, poison? What do you have in mind? Do you have enough for all these people?” Vinn wondered, joining them.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, after all...”

With a wild smirk, Fatima leaped high into the air, her arms growing green fur, and a wicked scorpion tail, massive and heavy, protruding from her back, just under two pairs of feathered wings. Where there once was her elegant face now lies a lion’s roaring maw. She was much bigger than before, her impact on the ground sending several masked minions off balance.

“...She’s a Manticore. And a fat one at that, so she oughta have a lot of calories to turn to venom.” Bastian explained.

“STOP CALLING ME FAT, JACKASS.” the massive Manticore Fatima roared, deft swipes of her scorpion tail knocking out minion after minion, barb oozing with venom.

“We’ve got this area, you two! Get going! Whoever’s behind the fog, the whispers, and this mess is no doubt in that building over there. It’s the only structure to have a clear path to the streets in case they need to escape, and where they can survey all of this area!” explained the bruiser Fiona, joining Daryl in trying to corral the remaining minions with their superior physical strength.

“Yeah, we’ll get this over in a second. Let’s roll, Vinn!”

——-

Two pairs of footsteps echoed in the smaller building, dark and permeated with the fog. Bastian and Vinn both had their Domunus barrier on at full strength, the incessant whispers of the once-compelling voice never going silent.

“This keeps getting worse and worse...” lamented Bastian, double checking how much water he had left in his flasks. “Vinn, do not let up your barrier. It could mean death.”

“What is this whispering, anyways? I’ve never felt anything like it, and I don’t think I’ve read on this before.”

“It could be a curse, but there’s not been enough time to set up one of this nature with such an intensity, so what I think is... Vinn, are you familiar with Mindreaders?”

“Of course, those who can read minds and such. It’s theorized that, Pre-Amnesia, Mindreading was highly illegal and dangerous, given how many surviving records there are that explain, in great detail, how to defend against it. It’s considered useless now, since everyone worth a lick of salt in the arcane arts learns how to counter it.”

“Textbook answer, as usual.” -- Bastian chuckled -- “Well, what I think we’re up against right now, and I hope I’m wrong, is a Mindscreamer.”

“A what?”

“Mindscreamer. It’s the opposite of a Mindreader. Instead of being able to read your thoughts, Mindscreamers practically broadcast their thoughts into others by force. Whatever they think, you ‘hear’ inside your head. They can also make it so their thoughts are subliminal and subconscious in your brain, controlling your behavior to a degree. It’s a really damn frightening power.’

“What...?” Vinn couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet, the constant whispering in his brain since the courtyard brawl began proved that these were no lies. “I’ve never heard of Mindscreamers before, what kind of wicked art is this? You’d think it’d be more popular, with how powerful it sounds.”

“That’s the thing: You can’t learn how to Mindscream. Mindscreamers are born, it’s not a skill, it’s genetic and exclusive to certain individuals, but we don’t know much about it. In a way, that means that, yeah, we don’t really have to worry about it falling in the hands of just about any thug, but... It also means we are up against someone very special, and that knows what they are doing. Take this fog, for instance.”

“I noticed... This fog smells like incense, like chamomile, specifically, but it’s actually haunted. It’s Incense Magic, and this is tailored to numb the senses and lower your mental defenses.”

“Clever boy. Indeed, the incense lowers one’s mental barriers, which makes you susceptible to the Mindscreaming. Whoever is doing this is competent, do not drop your guard. This is how they kidnapped all of these people almost effortlessly: They simply made them come ‘of their own free will’ with Mindscreaming... Sick bastards.”

The Exorcist duo kicked open a door in front of them at the end of a long hallway, and inside, an immensely dense cloud of magic incense blocked their sight. The air was stagnant, almost putrid, and there were things in this room. Piercing glares that couldn’t be seen but could perfectly be felt stabbed the two Exorcists as soon as they entered the room. Before long, a couple of pig-masked minions, brainwashed civilians, no doubt, slowly became discernible in the dense purple fog, with bright, neon-like markings making them stand out in the fog. They moved with far more coordination than the courtyard fodder, shuffling around, circling, keeping their distance, never moving too close, but never straying too far from the surrounded agents. Bastian lashed at a cluster with a tendril of holy water, missing the mark completely as they swiftly moved out of the way.

“...The Mindscreamer is in this room. They are being controlled too well, too skillfully. These aren’t like the puppets we fought on the first fl--!”

The subtle whisper of cold steel sliding through flesh cut the older Exorcist off as a knife plunged deep in his torso from the left, a masked minion without any neon markings having made it past his watchful eye as his focus was on the neon marked masks, a pained grunt and a hammer of pressurized water impacting against his assailant punctuating his sentence instead. “Mother fu... Clever bastards...”

“Bastian, are you ok!? Damn, they are using neon marked and non-marked masks! While we focus on the barely visible neon, they come at us with the plain ones. What a cheap tactic...”

“Cheap it may be, but it’s working! Focus on defending!”

Even with In Te Fallitur, the first spell of detection and true sight active, the sheer magic density of the incense made it difficult to see nonetheless, their vision improving just slightly. Assault after assault, the duo was sustaining more and more injuries at the hands of this well utilized assassin horde. Whenever a neon mask moved, two plain masks slid in the gaps of their perception, getting closer and closer, until they could hurt either Exorcist. Their attacks didn’t pack much power against the protected Exorcists, individually, but as the damage piled on, it was clear this was a battle of attrition they were not going to win by any means, especially considering that their enemies were but brainwashed civilians they couldn’t bring themselves to hurt seriously.

“Haa... Haa... Bastian, can you make an intense flash of light somehow? With a flashbang or some small spell?”

“...Sounds like you have an idea... I can, but what do you want to do with it?”

“There’s really no time to explain!” Vinn barked as he parried an incoming knife just in time with a pair of handcuffs. “Just play it cool and shoot it right above that big group over there!”

“Vague ideas are better than no ideas at all, and we can’t keep this up for much longer... Alright, Aureola Oblito!”

As the spark that would soon become an explosion of intense light approached its point of contact, the ceiling above the horde’s densest point, the nimble Vinn Ingram lunged towards its center like a wolf in blood-starved hunt, shoving past the henchmen and women, and defending against pipes and knives. When he finally reached it, he yelled at Bastian, which he considered the signal, and looked down immediately.

“Praemium!”

Upon command, the little spark went supernova, a blinding light engulfing the room immediately, with every meat puppet in the room covering their eyes as if blinded, and yet, the light was rapidly devoured by the fog after its initial explosion. As the light faded, however, a man’s loud scream of pain echoed at the end of the room. It wasn’t Vinn’s or Bastian’s, it was the man who wore a plain pig’s mask in the middle of the horde, a knife sticking out of his arm, courtesy of Vinn.

“...How did you know?” the pig-headed man inquired, and he was immediately sent barreling backwards by a kick straight to the head, also courtesy of Vinn.

“You looked down to avoid the light. All of these people are brainwashed and not conscious, thus, blinding them wouldn’t do a thing to them. We’ve been striking them for a while now, and they show no sign or reaction of pain. You just made them act as if they were blinded, and joined in the act, but you yourself looked down so as to not be blinded, while the rest didn’t. Good try, though.”

“Quickly, stop flapping your gums and actually catch him!” Bastian screamed as he made his way through the now far less coordinated horde.

Vinn complied, but as he approached him, the Hog Priest lashed out with a large dagger, rolling backwards after Vinn stepped back to avoid being lacerated. Before Vinn could make his way to him, however, the Priest and another exact look alike became entangled in a strange dance, with many more plain masked minions joining in, and then, they all ran in different directions.

“...! Shit, clever bastard! There’s no way to tell which one’s the real one!”

“Don’t lose your cool, Vinn! The third one to the right is heading towards that staircase, which likely leads to a room adjacent to the streets, while the one to the far left is going towards a door, likely with the same idea in mind! The others are running randomly, but those two make sense in their retreat! It’s either of them, go after the right one, I’ll get the left one, go!”

“You may be a nasty customer, but damn, you pull your weight, Bastian! Good thinking! Catch him!”

——-

Vinn chased the figure that might be the real Hog Priest ceaselessly, door after door, hallway after hallway, until the figure stopped in the middle of a large storage room with no windows, no doors, no exits. Cornered at last, the Hog Priest simply turned around and faced the Exorcist, the eyes of the disgusting, realistic pig’s head mask meeting Vinn’s green own.

“It’s dead end for you, piggy. Undo the incense and the mind control, and turn yourself in nice and easy. Without your horde, you are out of luck.”

“Hmhm... Haha! Very nice, you... What a cruel mistress luck is, having me do this with you, of all people...” the muffled voice from behind the mask praised, a distinctly softer, different voice from the one before, which didn’t escape Vinn’s attention. “Now, you might be thinking, ‘did I get the right guy?’, and I have good news and bad news for you!” -- the Priest struck a cutesy and quirky pose while saying this, pointing at Vinn -- “Which do you want first?”

“P-pardon...?”

“I said! Which! Do you want! First! Good news or bad news!”

“...Good news?”

The exaggerated Priest lifted his arms in mock excitement, clapping and cheering excitedly with chants of “Woo! Exorcist! Exorcist!” before finally assuming a new pose. “Alright, so, the good news! The good news are that you have indeed caught the Hog Priest, congratulations!”

“...But your vo--”

“--ice is not the same you heard before, right? Yeah, about that... Here’s more good news: There’s two of us! So no matter which one of us you followed, and you followed both of us, there were only winning picks!”

Vinn immediately produced two pairs of handcuffs. “So, two of you, huh...? Well, that’s twice the questions we get to ask then, those are pretty good news.”

“Sadly, I also am obligated to tell you the bad news.” the Priest sadly informed, sticking an hand inside of his robes and producing a baseball bat covered in various, strange runes, pointing it at Vinn. “The bad news is that you die here.” she announced with an arctic voice unlike her variety show host demeanor of seconds before, taking a step forward and sending thunderbolts down Vinn’s spine. It was not the first time he’d been face to face with mortal danger, it was not the first time his life has been at risk, it was not the first time he was faced with a strong opponent. But, it was the first time in Vinn’s life that his body and mind screamed for him to get out of there fast, a primal, visceral flight response that didn’t even pretend to bother with the ‘fight’ half.

The bat came faster than a bullet from above, Vinn managing to block it only by reaction, leaving him wide open to kick to the gut which knocked the air out of him, and a subsequent palm strike to the chin that sent him barreling backwards against the wall. The Exorcist, in a panic, produced his standard issue handgun, pointing it at the Priest.

“You should’ve keep me close. Hands up, Hog Priest.”

“...That’s not even a Shootist Gun, that’s just a regular one. You... You are not taking this seriously, are you?”

Vinn took aim at his enemy’s leg and let loose a round, hoping to incapacitate him, but a simple swipe of the bat deflected the bullet right out of its path, the battered projectile hitting the wall next to Vinn’s head, missing him by a hair. “What the...!?”

“You really are a novice, huh. Should’ve kept to patrols and such, instead of getting roped into this hell. Then again, you yourself willing dropped into the wolf’s maw the moment you decided to become an Exorcist. Is the paycheck of a murderer really that tempting?”

“Not all of us are murderers! We’re trying to change it, we’re trying to heal this rotten system from within, which is more than can be said of mass kidnappers like you, so don’t you try and lecture me about moral codes!”

“Ah, yeah, in the eyes someone that doesn’t know what’s going on, of course it’s gonna look like we are the bad guys. ‘Changing it from within’, that’s some prime, class-A bullshit. You can’t possibly believe that. You’re smart enough to know you are but one good seed among a fetid, infected crop. You won’t fix the harvest by yourself.”

The Priest lowered his bat and pointed towards the door. “Leave.”

“...Huh?”

“You are outmatched. Leave through that door, exit the warehouse through the office sector, and desert the Mythic Affairs Bureau. Never again take on the mantle of the Exorcist, do something else. It’s for your own good. Do this, and I will not take your life. I will even guarantee you safe passage until you are out of Stroln.”

Vinn struggled to pick himself up after the brief but intense beating he sustained, putting his evidently useless handgun away. “...Why are you giving me a way out? What do you mean by a ‘good seed’?”

The disgusting pig in front of him tapped the “ear” of his mask. “A little bird told me that you do sincerely care for Mythics. You helped out a demon yesterday, helped him find a job that allows him to feed on human emotions without harming anyone when you simply could’ve smoked him. You’re a good person in a bad guy’s job, so I’m willing to compromise... No, I want to let you live. We need more people like you in the world.”

The disappointment in the hog’s fake eye was palpable when Vinn took a fighting stance instead.

“...Last chance, Exorcist. I’ll hold back no more.”

“How about you fuck off. I’m not gonna get lectured on morality by someone who brainwashes a bunch of people for a mass kidnapping. I’m through trying to reason with you. I’m done playing sweet. Let’s go for real.”

With a sigh and a head scratch, the hog picked up his bat and assumed a combat stance again. “I really wish we could’ve done this differently, but if you insist... I’ll give you a proper burial, at least.”

“Domunus Tecum!” the Exorcist chanted, renewing his protective spell, but he was not done. “Hostem Repellas Longius!” As he chanted this spell, a faint, red light covered Vinn’s body. Hostem Repellas Longius, the third of the Six Spells of Self-Defense, the spell of hostility, offense, and righteous violence. Simple as they may be, the strength of the Six Spells does indeed lie in simplicity, and with every brick you put on top of a good base, you get closer to making a wall. With attack and defense ready, Vinn put away one pair of handcuffs, holding only one with his left hand.

No more words were shared between the two, and they clashed fiercely in the middle of the spacious storage room, handcuffs meeting bat, the colliding steel singing a frantic sonata to which these individuals who couldn’t be more conflicted danced vigorously. Overhead strike, left swipe, shin kick, neck shot, eye gouge, they tried it all, and none could land. Vinn certainly seemed much different than before, and in a moment of carelessness, the Exorcist managed to grab the bat by the head.

“...! What’s with this grip!? Let go!” the Priest wined, struggling to get the bat back.

“Sure, here you go.”

Vinn’s hand glowed a dim silver and suddenly began vibrating at extreme intensities, the sheer force from the vibrations hurting the Priest’s arm, making her lose her balance from the pain. Using this opening, Vinn threw the bat away and lunged with his hand, grabbing the Priest by the shoulder, gripping hard for just a second before a skillful twirl of the Priest’s arm allowed him to set himself free.

“What was that...? You didn’t have enough time to do any of that weird vibration stuff to me.”

“It’s over, Priest. Don’t use your left arm and just surrender.”

The Priest simply laughed. “That bat thing was surprising, but you didn’t do anything to me. Now I know to watch out for it. I don’t feel bad at all, in fact, it’s like my left shoulder feels even better than before! Sucks to be y--!”

As the Priest picked the discarded bat back up with his left arm, an explosion of blood gushed from his shoulder, the sheer force of it shredding even the red robe and exposing his flesh, the Priest tumbling to the side and falling to the concrete ground, clutching his bloody mess of a shoulder as he screamed in agonizing pain. “W-what the fuck did you do to me!? Aaaargh!”

“You got confident without even knowing my style of magecraft, and now you’re paying the price. It’s simple in theory: Flux Magic. I know how to control the eb, flow, and movement of mana particles.”

“Haha, what...?” laughed the Priest, still in pain. “That’s... Fucking crazy... So that vibration was just you making a mass of mana vibrate at immense speed... You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“And your shoulder just now was me injecting you with an immense amount of mana, more than your body could possibly handle. Hence, when you moved the afflicted part, it burst like that. You were feeling well because you literally had an injection of energy given to you.”

“Clever bastard, first I see of anyone applying such an otherwise ignored principle of magic emission, Flux, in this creative a way. Hats off to you, friend. I suppose I gotta show my hand now.”

“Wait, if you move with that wound--”

Vinn’s warning fell upon deaf ears as the Priest, left shoulder oozing blood, dashed right against Vinn to renew his assault. Handcuffs parried the bat, but it was nothing more than a feint, Vinn’s stomach catching a knee that made him double in pain. As he tried to get his bearings, the bat’s runes glowed an eerie teal, the weapon bludgeoning Vinn in the side, sending him tumbling.

“Alright, let’s see what we get... Become The Body Of His Innermost Shackles! Terror Ink!”

From within the robes of the Priest, a turbulent torrent of ink exploded forth, covering the bat and transmogrifying it into what looked like a bizarre, serrated hoop weapon. Upon seeing it, Vinn was left speechless.

“Why... Why do you have that...!? That’s impossible!”

One didn’t have to look at the face behind the mask to know that the Priest’s expression was currently a smug grin. “So this is what you fear the most, huh...? Weird weapon. I can’t begin to imagine what its wielder must have done to terrify you so. This is Rorschach Magic, the Terror Ink. Anything inscribed with the right runes and provided with the ink can turn into the biggest fear of whatever it strikes. In this case, this weird... Hoola hoop thingy... Whatever it is. Well, let’s test it, shall we?”

The Hog Priest’s assault was renewed again, slashing and swiping with the bizarre ring-like weapon, one of the ends of the ‘ring’ detaching and flailing wildly as if seeking Vinn with a mind of its own. “Oh! It detaches! So it’s like a bladed whip, too!”

“Put that away! You have no idea what you’re playing with!”

“Nah, I’m good, now please die quietly, or at least making a funny noise!”

The weapon was extremely confusing. It moved with a mind of its own, one end reattaching and the other detaching at seemingly random swings, clearly not the Priest’s doing, wounding Vinn with each tricky, impossible twirl of the notched edges. Vinn, catching him by surprise, leaned forward instead of retreating anymore, as his back would hit the wall any second now, and clinched the Priest, trying to knock his weapon away, his superior positioning allowing him to elbow the Priest right on the wounded shoulder.

“Hraaa!”

“You’re done!”

But as Vinn went for another deadly grip, on the exposed parts of the Priest’s robe, thanks to the earlier bloody burst and the tugging their clinch had brought to their clothes, he saw something that he simply couldn’t comprehend.

Just below the left shoulder blade, there it was, a tattoo that he was sure was the circular object wreathed in something spiky he briefly saw on the girl yesterday. Seeing this, he immediately shoved the Priest and made some distance.

“Ooph! What...? You’ll really regret giving me space to move ag-- Huh?”

“You... Are the girl from yesterday, aren’t you? The one who helped me with Mathanac!”

“...”

“Why are you doing this? It’s you, isn’t it? I recognize the tattoo. You are the same height, too, now that I think about it.”

“...Aha, shit.”

With his free hand, nay, her free hand, the Priest removed the large pig mask and tossed it aside. Behind it was a beautiful girl with striking magenta eyes and shoulder length white hair, her right lock dyed black. A tragically familiar face, with a pained, regretful smile.

Just yesterday, they were hanging out in the streets of Stroln, trying to find Mathanac a job.

“Hey there, Mister Exorcist. Cat’s out of the bag, it seems!”

“Why are you doing this...?” the anguished Vinn inquired.

“Hey now, it’s not like we are lifelong friends or nothin’, don’t get all dramatic on me. This is just... Who I am, really. One half of the Hog Priest, protector of Mythics, and seeker of clarity.”

“What does that even mean? Why kidnap so much people?”

“Mister Exorcist... Vinn. Look, please, just walk away. Pretend this never happened. It’s impossible for you to believe me right now, I understand, but you gotta trust me, we are doing this for the common good. It sure as hell doesn’t look like it now, but this is all for the good not just of Stroln, but of the world. We need these people, and we’re not gonna hurt them or anything! I promise!”

“How can I possibly believe that when every moment since I stepped in here has been a fight to just stay alive?!”

“If Exorcists were the kind of people that you could explain things to, we wouldn’t need to do this! You are decent, Vinn, but you are the exception! Exorcists are a rotten bunch! There’s simply no more time, we need to--”

In the middle of her impassioned speech, an alarm went off on the bulky wristwatch the girl was wearing.

“...Tsk. Vinn, this is my last warning.” she murmured, with softness and honesty, not a hint of hostility to her voice. “You really are a good guy. I could tell from how much effort you put into helping Mathanac yesterday, and with how much respect you treated him. Please, walk away. Retire from the Exorcists, and leave Stroln. It’s going to get ugly, and we need people like you in the coming world, people that will receive Mythics with arms wide open. If we meet again in these conditions, know that I will not show you a shred of mercy.”

“...The coming world? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Good bye, Vinn. And for both our sakes, let’s not meet again until the next world arrives.”

The wicked weapon in her hand suddenly turned black, and then seemed to melt. As the ink peeled from it, its true shape as a baseball bat returned. Pulling a little detonator from the robe’s pocket, the girl smeared some of the neon paint the other masks had across her face and smiled farewell as she pressed it, an explosion nearby blasting a hole in the wall.

——-

Meanwhile, in another room, in another part of the building...

“Isn’t the view up here just divine, Bastian Ashfield?”

“Yeah, I gotta give it to you, man. You’ve gone and given me the perfect scenario, not gonna lie.”

“Oh? Is that so? Would you mind elaborating?”

“I ain’t much of a nature landscape fan, but urban stuff? Cities? My jam. Love ‘em. I also love interrogating domestic terrorists. In some minutes, I’ll be making you spit blood, curses, and answers while enjoying the beauty of Stroln in the afternoon, and that? That’s priceless. If I had a nice, bodacious babe to praise me while I’m kneeing you in the throat, it’d be my second birthday, not gonna lie.”

“Haha! Confidence is really good. Exorcist scum really dream big, don’t they?”

“Damn right we do, and I dream the biggest of them all. So, are we done flirting?”

“Very much so, Ashfield.”

The banter was followed with silent sizing up, not one of the two men moving an inch as they stood on top of the main building’s rooftop. It had been an arduous, lengthy pursuit, but it all came to this. Face to face at last with the wanted criminal, Hog Priest, the Hydromancer was already grinning like a madman. He truly had been waiting for a chance to unwind, you see.

Without warning, a sharp, potent tendril of pressurized water lunged directly towards the Priest like a lance, only to be met with an invisible wall, mana sparks and the sound of magical diffusion concluding with a mass of useless water falling helplessly to the floor. Stretching his arms, the Priest let out a chuckle, hundreds of incense sticks popping out of his robes all over his body.

“What...?”

“Vervain incense, Ashfield.” the Priest explained mockingly. “Very strong magic retardant. For once in your life, splashing water around won’t save you.”

“Incense Magic... Never thought I’d come across someone wacky enough to weaponize it for combat. Still, defense seems to be your only strong point, so I just need to punch through and I’ll be gold.”

“And how do you figure you’ll do that?”

“Well, I could do this, for starters.”

Just as suddenly as the first tendril, two massive jets of water erupted behind Bastian, propelling him with immense speed towards the Hog Priest, getting close enough to use a pressurized water slash that came a hair short of beheading the porcine foe thanks to his reflexes, managing to duck just in time with only the mask’s top being sliced off.

“Woah, man! What happened to that ‘interrogation’? Dead men tell no tales!”

“You can survive long enough without a piece of your face, no biggie.” calmly explained Bastian. “...That incense only protects you against long range magic, huh? Makes sense. The farther magic is from its caster, the less magic emission remains in it. That incense of yours has a heavy enough disruption that spells with little emission remaining in them will not be able to penetrate it, but the emission of my holy water is strong enough to pierce through it if I am close enough... You knew this, however.”

“Astute observation, mister miscreant. How do you figure the last part, though?”

The Exorcist smirked. “You have a pistol hanging by a holster on your right hip under those robes. You intended to keep me away by using it, rendering me helpless to hurt you from afar. And it could have worked, had you actually stopped flapping your gums and actually focused on the fight. You’re not much of a fighter, are you?”

Impressed, the Priest couldn’t help but lift his arms in not-so-mocking surrender. “...Guilty as charged. I’m not a fighter, no. My partner handles the direct combat end of the business, truth be told.”

A vinyl scratch inside Bastian’s head brought him to a full stop. “Wait, partner? Hold on, so the decoy that Vinn went after--”

As shock overcame Bastian, the crafty hog quickly reached for the gun on his hip, but Bastian, seasoned fighter as he is, immediately closed the distance again with two water propulsion jets.

“You got too cocky, shithead!” Bastian boasted, as his arm ascended to direct the water Priestwards, a splatter of crimson blood and the horrifying sound of ripping flesh polluting the air as a scream of agony echoed in the skies above the rooftop.

“...Did I, now, dear Ashfield?”

“W-what the shit...?”

With a loud thud, Bastian hit the floor harshly after being sent flying, a gash on his chest oozing blood. On the other side of the rooftop, the still-standing Priest had two massive spikes protruding from his chest, red with the blood of the Hydromancer they just downed. Removing his robe and torn mask, the Priest revealed short black hair, a scar on the right side of his face, and amber eyes. He looked like he was in his late 30s, with a mostly skinny, not-quite-lanky frame. Most notoriously, he was fully clad in stitched-together leather, crudely put together and of different animals by the looks of it. His jacket, shirt, pants, and even boots, all made of patchwork leather. The spikes slowly retracted back into his chest, seamlessly disappearing into his body, staining his shirt with the blood that was on the horns.

“You jumped the gun, friend, pun absolutely intended. You didn’t even consider I might have a way to deal with you up close.”

The blood oozing from Bastian’s chest slowly stopped, and it seemed to being drawn back into his chest by an unnatural force. “Oh!” the Priest exclaimed. “Your command of Hydromancy never ceases to amaze, Ashfield! Pulling your own blood back inside you with it! I guess it takes grit like this in order to live in the way you have.”

“S-stop talkin’ as if you know shit about me... What the hell was that...? I sense... Necromancy?” panted the wounded Exorcist, still on the floor, unable to move much. That statement made the man’s face shine with joy.

“You have a good eye, Ashfield. This is failed Necromancy... A poor man’s version, a mere counterfeit. Like every other Necromancer out there, I’ll never be a full fledged master of the death. However, I have no interest in that, and just this much control is good enough for me. My specialty is leather, allowing me to temporarily revive and reform any animal from leather, just for a short while, but hey, that’s all I need. Bringing back people is way out of my scope and ability, haha. What you experienced just now were the horns of a bull whose hide I have stitched on this shirt.” With a jolly stride and a confident gait, he approached the felled Hydromancer to deliver the last blow. “It was great playing with you, Ashfield, but you are a big pain in the ass, so I gotta put you out now, see ya!” From his right sleeve, a tiger’s foot materialized, razor sharp claws at the ready, and... Nothing. Nothing happened afterwards, as a spike seemed to have pierced the leather-clad man right through his chest. “...Ah... Haha, curses... You’re right, I’m not much of a fighter...” Bastian simply smirked again.

“Thanks for getting close enough to let me use my own blood on your shirt like that. Love ya.” Bastian had used the blood he had splattered on his assailant to pierce him from point blank range, incapacitating both men. It was pointless to even try to attack each other at this point, as the counter would kill the other.

“Pretty fancy necromancy you got there, friend. Leagues more creative than your run-of-the-mill shithead kid who revives a rat or a feral dog... Asperges Me, Domine.” commented Bastian as he put his hand on wound, controlling the blood so it stays inside while using a healing spell to close the wound.

“Me? Fancy? Don’t lie to yourself, Ashfield. Your Hydromancy is far more interesting. I don’t know how you get away with it, but surely more people have noticed it’s a facsimile, right?” the necromancer retorted, producing a needle from his utility belt and injecting himself in the arm.

“...!”

The Priest missed naught a beat in savoring the shock on Bastian’s face. “Heh, I knew it. You tricky scamp, of course I’d notice. I have plenty of experience and knowledge on spellweaving theory. You, sir, are no Hydromancer.”

“I command water, that’s Hydromancy, so you’re not really making a lot of sense here, amigo.”

“Oh, way too late to try and play it cool, friend. The cat is already out of the bag. Hydromancy is a traditional art of the Shaman school of magic. You befriend a spirit of water, make a pact with them, and with the spirit as a proxy, you gain control over the element of water. You, sir, have no such contract. Hydromancers are rare because it wouldn’t make sense to limit yourself to a single element. If you can make a pact with a water spirit, you surely can do the same with the other elements.”

“There’s plenty of ways to control water, Sir Pig.”

“Yup, and you are employing none of them. A way to bypass the pact with a spirit is to master control of remote mana particle emission, but that would only allow you to project water at short range, and without much potency. There’s far more practical uses of such power, and you make no use of them, meaning you have no such mastery. I can prove you haven’t made a single contract with a spirit of water as well, because you utilize holy water in your Hydromancy. Imbuing water with foreign energies, such as the holy energies of the Arc, is an insult to the spirits, and it would weaken your water, if not sever your pact with the spirit outright. Your water is most assuredly very powerful.”

“...”

“Just what are you, Bastian Ashfield? How come you can use water in the way you do? Could this be, perhaps, some sort of divi--”

“Shut the hell up!”

His wound finally closed, Bastian haphazardly stood up, ready to continue the fight. With a resigned, if not bemused sigh, the incense master stood up as well. “Mm, the drugs kicked in. Alright, let’s go, Hydroboy. Hit me with the best fake water you can muster, haha.”

“Man, props to you, you really get under my skin!”

As round two began, tendrils of water clashed with powerful tiger claws, pressurized jets of water were deflected by a tortoise shell, and a crocodile’s head was stopped from biting Bastian’s carotid artery just barely thanks to water spikes produced at the last second. The two men were evenly matched, and just as their dance was reaching its utmost violence, the large wristwatch on the man’s right wrist rang off an alarm.

“...Time flies when you’re having a blast. Well, Ashfield, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I must take my leave. This has gone long enough.”

Producing a small detonator from his pocket, the man pressed it without any hesitation or explanation -- apparently learning something about not flapping your gums in front of the enemy and just doing what you need to do -- and jumped off the railings of the rooftop, a series of explosion engulfing other parts of the warehouse complex.

“Shit, wait! You!” Bastian yelled as he approached the railings. Looking down, he saw the man safely running down the side of the building. That is, manifesting two long and thick ostrich legs from his back that stepped with such strength that their feet dug into the concrete of the building, safety being able to descend that way. “Bastard! He had it all planned...! I gotta get down there!”

“Adieu, my dear Ashfield! The name’s Balthazar Wharwood! Forget me not! Haha!”

——-

“Fatima, Daryl, help me shield the civilians from the debris! Nadja, go and assess the situation behind the building those two went to, it’s possible they might need your help with their escape if they haven’t captured them yet!”

With a collective “roger!”, everyone got to their task as assigned by Fiona, Nadja’s agile strides quickly getting her inside of the building.

“I gotta say, Chief! Yer pretty cool when ya ain’t drunk off your ass!” excitedly proclaimed Daryl as he helped carry the no-longer hostile, but very much disabled civilians out of the dangerous warehouse.

“If that’s your idea of a compliment, my idea of gratitude will be to knock your lights out with a flawless right hook once we are out of here!” Fiona barked back.

“Keep your heads in the game, please! I cannot carry all of them safely without you to help me, even with this Manticore body!” pleaded Fatima as she carried as many people as she could on her back, safeguarding them with her wings.

Every couple of seconds, a new bomb went off, ever increasing the threat to the people in the premises. With just their limited numbers, they were saving as many people as they could.

——-

As Vinn finally reached the first floor, he made a beeline for the door that leads to the street, coming face to face with Nadja, who came from another hallway.

“Are you alright, Ingram?”

“I’ve been worse, but no time to chit chat, she’s getting away!”

“She? The Hog Priest is a woman?”

“I’ll explain later, but if you see a girl with magenta eyes and white hair, she’s our mark.”

“Acknowledged.”

As the novice duo went into the street, there, in the distance, was the girl in the red robes with the baseball bat, alongside a tall, skinny man clad fully in leather. “...That must be the other Hog Priest next to her.”

“Hog Priest is two people? What a day. I’ll take the man, you go for the girl, since you were fighting her recently, you know what tricks to expect from her.”

They both nodded and dashed with all their might towards the Hog Priest duo, but just as they were reaching them, a line of machine gun fire threatened to fill them with holes, the two Exorcists backing away at the nick of time.

“Ah, just on time, Sir Gatling Knight!” Balthazar greeted with joy, grabbing the white haired girl by the hand and running away towards a black van that awaited them nearby. The girl herself had no words, and just looked at Vinn in the eye one last time, bitterness and disappointment in those magenta eyes, before facing the truck and never looking back.

“Darn! What was that...!? Ingram, back away.”

“Don’t worry, Wharwood...” a muffled, sinister, if uninterested voice finally replied. “I’ll keep them away from you while you run with your tail between your legs.”

From their left side, a tall man clad from tip to toe in riot gear with several ornate engravings, a ballistic helmet with a visor that hid his face, and a cape on each shoulder that draped over the entirety of each arm approached them, a heavy machine gun trained at them casually with just one hand.

“I’ve no orders to kill you, but I can make an exception if you insist on pursuing them.” he announced not as a threat, but as a promise, the green machine gun disappearing behind the green cape, vanishing just like that.

“Move aside. We’ve no time to waste with you while they are escaping...!” Nadja commanded as she rushed not towards the van, but at the man himself. “You can give us answers, too!”

“Wait, Nadja! Don’t!”

But Vinn’s warning came too late. In just the flash of an eye, Nadja lunged at the man with a stake, which he shot out her hand with a pistol he produced out of thin air behind the green cape, making her recoil from the shock. As she fell, from his other hand came a shotgun, which he pressed against her gut and shot, the blood she spewed staining his visor and riot chestpiece.

“G-guah...!”

“N-Nadja!”

“Worthless. You, boy. Don’t make waste more ammo. The van is gone, anyways. You have no more reason to oppose me.” The armored man then simply threw the wounded Nadja at Vinn, turned around, and walked towards a manhole without the cover, presumably where he came from.

“Who are you? Why are you helping them?” Vinn asked as he tried to stabilize the wounded Nadja.

“...I’m the Gatling Knight, and why I help them is none of your business, but mark my words, on my honor as a Knight, if you oppose them, then you are bound to face me again, and if that happens, I’ll shoot you down where you stand. The first time you see me is a warning. The second time is your funeral. Be smart and don’t recklessly pursue your funeral. Now, tend to that fool. Her Domunus Tecum is flawless. If treated, she might survive.”

“...”

“Hoh, that’s a hateful glare, if I’ve ever seen one. Consider this, kid: You attack me now, you will meet the asphalt just as she did. You are exhausted from fighting Sacrifice, so you’re not at your 100%. I take you down now, and both of you die. You take her back, she might just make it. Your call. I can spare a few bullets, if you truly wish to force my hand.”

Cursing under his breath, Vinn had no choice but to carry Nadja back to where the other Exorcists were, as it was pointless to stay here, what with the Priests having escaped and his colleague nearing death with every passing second.

To call this operation successful would be a joke, Vinn though to himself.

“...And what did he mean by ‘Sacrifice’...?”

——-

August 7th 12:01 PM 7th Office’s Infirmary

“...And that’s what happened on my end.” said Vinn, concluding his report.

“I see, we both had a dog of a day, it seems. Damn pigs...” the bed-bound Bastian said with a half-laugh. “...Never imagined the Hog Priest, well, Priests would show up like this and cause this much trouble mere days after you started. You must really be cursed to end with me as your partner and those two wackos as your first foes, bwahaha.”

The younger Exorcist couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, the Academy really didn’t prepare me for this, I want a freaking refund. How are you holding up?”

“Doc says I gotta chill for the rest of today and tomorrow, and I should be golden. Oh, dunno if you heard, but after yesterday, all six of us have been given today and tomorrow as days off to recover properly. Which sucks, because it’s two days I gotta spend cooped up in here. Well, at least the good doc will keep me company, right?”

“I’ll just make it easy on myself and juice you up with so many painkillers that you’ll simply sleep the two days away, honestly.” doctor Aria casually commented from the other side of the Infirmary, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

“Aww, come on, Aria, you don’t gotta be that way.” jokingly commented Bastian. Vinn was somewhat surprised at how well these two seemed to get along. Bastian getting along with anyone was kind of a surprise. “So, yeah, go and take it easy, and... Discard that long face, boyo.”

“...Hm?”

“Oh, don’t HMM me, Vinn Ingram.” the Hydromancer chided. “I know your goody-two-shoes stiff little ass is probably all depressed because of how they got away yesterday. But, the fact is, the operation was successful.”

“...Was it really?”

“It was. We all survived, for starters. Nadja is in critical state, but Aria here is the best Arc damned doctor I’ve met in my life, and that I’ll possibly meet in my life, plus, Nadja’s Domunus was apparently strong enough that a point blank shotgun blast didn’t shred her organs to pieces. That should’ve killed her immediately, and yet, here she is. She’ll recover, I guarantee it. The rest of us were just battered and wounded to varying degrees, but we pulled through. The civilians? No casualties whatsoever. The bombs were a distraction, and none of them were placed anywhere where there were civilians. Fatima, Fiona, and Daryl made sure to evacuate all of them and search several times for more of them. All the missing people have been accounted for. We rescued them, Vinn.”

“...I didn’t consider it this way...”

“Look, man, I know seeing them escape is a kick in the dick, I know, but consider the rest of everything. We’ll get another shot at them, but had anyone died, there’s no coming back from that one. Not all of them are gonna go all flowers and sunshine, and hell, look at you, you are practically unscathed. Compare and contrast with my dumb ass that got saddled in bed. It’s fine, man. You’ll go crazy if you consider anything short of perfection a failure, man.”

“...Haha.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just so freaking weird to hear you be so nice and supportive, Bastian, that’s all, haha.”

“Yeah, and it’ll cost you 5000 patros. I expect them by the end of the month.”

“Hahaha, but really, thank, it helps a lot to hear that” Vinn said with a smile.

“Oi oi, don’t go smiling at me now, save those for nice girls, like the doc here. Hey doc, can I get a smile?”

Aria, without looking at him, just flipped him her middle finger.

“Bwahahaha, yeah, love you too, doc. Alright, Vinn, go enjoy your day off. Trust me, you’ll learn to treasure them.”

“Alright, I’ll just drop by the office to say hi to Nick and Dani and then go home.”

“Good idea. Oh, and Vinn?”

“Yeah?”

“A bit late, but welcome to the 3rd Division. We are going to get revenge on those sumbitches when round two comes, yeah?”

“You fuckin’ bet we will.”

It might not have been ideal, it might have been perilous, but what Bastian said was true, the operation was, ultimately, a success. A mass kidnapping prevented is indeed good news to numerous families, no one can deny that. The day was saved, and while the root of the problem is still alive, it would be foolish to not enjoy this little moment of peace, or so Vinn thought at least. Whatever little moments of peace he might have from now on, he must make the most of them, for he understands that this is merely the calm before the storm.

The girl’s words echoed in his head, particularly the “coming world” she mentioned. Stroln was slowly but surely being submerged in conflict, and with it, the casualties that inevitably come from the crossfire. More than anything, Vinn wanted to prevent that.

The future looked uncertain and bleak for Vinn, but at the same time, he witnessed firsthand how capable the 7th Office was.

As the door closed behind him, Vinn walked away from the Office, ready to rest his body and prepare his spirit for the trials that he knew were coming, and that he knew Bastian and him and the rest of the 7th would deal with.

The world he wants rides on this, too, after all.

“...What a nice day for a nap.”

Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all: – Chapter 3: Neon War Paint – End

To be continued in Chapter 4

#code:exorcist #format:episodic #length:long

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apex-academy · 6 years

Text

Chapter 1: Smite Evil and Other Murder Methods (#24)

Nobody’s gotten maimed by the time my supper’s ready. In fact, things have settled enough for a character-building session to form at one table. I might end up spattering my documents with broth, but I join them anyway.

The conversation isn’t as lively as it had been earlier. It’s harder to get excited with such an oppressive atmosphere creeping in on us. Will game night be enough to shake it off? I’m not convinced, but at least I get some work done for it.

Eventually the crowd whittles down to just me, Aidan, and Aki. Before I can get my character inventory sorted out, Aidan stands.

“Miss Kogamino?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I excuse myself early tonight? I’d like to return to my room now! There are a few more builds for the others I need to work on. You’re free to borrow the rulebook, though!”

“...How are you planning to work on those without the rulebook?”

“I have most of the book memorized. And only a small portion is necessary for what we’re doing here, anyway! I’m trying not to make everyone’s first shot at this overly complicated.”

“All right.”

Going back to his room, huh? Is it just for some peace and quiet, or is this about that wardrobe bit again?

“Excellent, thank you! Feel free to return it to me at any time outside of curfew!”

“I’m trusting you with this, so please refrain from making any marks or spilling any liquids, crumbs, or other troublesome things on it! And for goodness’ sake! Do! Not! Dogear anything!!”

“I’ll be careful.”

“All right!! Enjoy yourself! I’m sure you’ll have no trouble navigating the contents! And thank you for your help, Miss Shitanaga! Please be sure to grab something for dinner if you haven’t already!”

WIth that, he zips off.

“Have I eaten yet...?”

“Not while I was sitting here. Did you have anything before then?”

“Mmm. I’m not sure.”

“Maybe you should grab an apple or something, at least. Just in case.”

“Yeah, probably.”

I glance around the cafeteria. A few people are still eating, but they’re sitting as far away from each other as possible. I don’t know if I can stand this crap much longer.

“Hey, Aki? I’ll just take this back to my own room, if that’s all right. I can hang on to my sheet, so don’t worry about it.”

“Oh... Yeah, that’s fine.”

I... can’t tell if she’s upset or not. Probably not?

“Okay, thanks. See you.”

I make it to my room uninterrupted. In lieu of using the actual desk, I flop belly-first onto my bed and spread the rulebook and sheets of paper out in front of me.

“All right... Where was I?”

Looking through weapons and armor and whatever other crap I have to buy. How many types of arrows does this game have?

“Geez... And for armor I have to worry about it being too heavy, too.”

On what level is this not overly complicated? It’s even hard to look things up in this convoluted rulebook. I at least mostly get the hang of it before too long. Or rather, I reach a point where I don’t need to flip around much.

I’ve spent all but 20 gold when the television flickers on.

“Um, hello? It’s not nighttime yet or anything! You can keep doing whatever you’re doing! Well, um, most of you can...”

“I’m going to be adding another school rule...! I-I’d hate to be too overbearing, but I think it’s very important to your safety here, so! Please keep an eye on your student IDs! The rules app will update automatically very soon! A-and it will be effective immediately!”

“Aaaaah, I don’t know what else to say... I’m not used to these extra announcements... U-um, everyone have a good evening?! B-bye!”

The screen shuts off again.

“What was that all about?”

I use my character sheet for a bookmark and sit up. After a stretch, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and fish out my ID. The rules app, huh?

I pull up the list and swipe through all of them. Looks like the same six to me.

What could Monochap be adding? His definition of our “safety” is more than a little skewed, so I doubt it’s anything helpful. Maybe he’ll make us read the secrets when they’re sent out?

“Will there be a test later?”

I’m tapping at the screen aimlessly when the device dings. Displaying another vague notification message, the screen stops to load before returning to rule one.

“Okay...”

I swipe back through. Most are exactly the same. But in place of the “Rules may be added as necessary" bit...

“Rule six. You may not attempt to tamper with your student ID—software or hardware—for any purpose.”

I check rule seven—it’s just what used to be rule six—before swiping back to look at the new one.

“What’s considered tampering, I wonder...?”

At that point, I hear a very loud “FIDDLESTICKS!” from the other side of the hallway.

“..............”

Gee, I wonder who that could have been.

“Maybe I should check on him.”

I could go ahead and bring the rulebook with me. Or I could keep it for the night. He did say he didn’t need it, and I have to have something to do tonight.

I lock the door behind me before stepping over towards Aidan’s. Knock, knock.

”...”

It takes him a minute to get to the door, though he doesn’t ask for my patience this time. He glances at me and runs a hand through his hair.

“Ah. Good evening... Are you done with the rulebook?”

“No, just wanted to drop by.”

“Is, uh, everything okay?”

He laughs sheepishly.

“I should keep my voice down a little, huh? Sorry.”

“But everything is fine, I assure you!”

“I just didn’t work fast enough, I’m afraid.”

I figured.

“Since the jig is up, you might as well tell me what you were doing with your ID.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

He glances around the hallway and sighs.

“I would invite you in, but I must lead by example, so!”

He takes a step over and knocks on Mahavir’s door.

“Yes?”

“Junior Commander Attenborough! Miss Kogamino and I will be having a short conversation in the hallway, so I’d like to ask you to keep your door open in case anything happens! You needn’t listen in on us if you are otherwise occupied!”

”Understood.”

Mahavir sets something down for a doorstop and returns to his room. Leaning on his own doorframe, Aidan turns back to me.

“Okay! Well! I have little of use to report.”

“Since it’s now been firmly established that our IDs have communicative capabilities, I believed it was worth the effort to see if I could establish a connection with the outside. Access the Internet, or broadcast a signal at some noticeable frequency.”

“Of course, I had no reason to believe the electroID could send out anything strong enough, particularly if we’re as far from civilization as the Academy is stated to be!”

“But as it turns out, the only thing wrong with the computer in Mister Ford’s study hall is the power supply system. None of the other hardware was discarded or damaged. So between the computer and the student ID, I thought I had a pretty good shot of producing a strong enough signal.”

“Apparently I was right, or Mister Monochaperone wouldn’t have considered it enough of a threat to ban, but...”

“But it’s still banned.”

“Do we even know what the punishment for breaking the rules is?”

“No, but considering we’ve been placed in a game of life and death, I sincerely doubt it’s anything worth the risk!”

“Makes sense. At least he can’t punish you for breaking a rule that didn’t exist at the time.”

He nods.

“There is one more thing... When the rule addition was announced, I thought I’d try to track the incoming signal.”

“I can hardly pinpoint us on the globe at the moment, but I do believe it was sent from within this building!”

“Within the building? So... You think whoever’s behind this is in here with us?”

“Oh. Or Monochap could have sent it.”

“That’s the thing! I don’t think he could have. Even at the time of the rule change, my ARP scan only showed sixteen devices on this network.”

Time to act like I know what an ARP scan is. At least its function is clear in context.

“Sixteen devices... But there are sixteen students, and each of us has an ID, right?”

“Right. Either Mister Monochaperone is and/or uses one of the devices and someone here isn’t connected to the intranet, or it was one of the sixteen student IDs that updated the rules. I’m sure the same device would have sent out the secret, too.”

“It’s suspicious either way, isn’t it? Wouldn’t someone have spoken up by now if they hadn’t received the secret?”

“Right?! And if anyone was ignoring his or her ID completely, he or she certainly would have checked for the new rule just now! But I’ve heard nothing!”

“Then you think one of us...”

“I wouldn’t say it with certainty at this point, but that seems like the most likely scenario! Especially considering Mister Monochaperone’s behavior when he set out to update the IDs before we even got them... We’ll just have to see what kind of information we can gather from here on out.”

“I... see.”

He straightens up before I can give it much more thought.

“Miss Kogamino!! As I said, this is a very tentative theory! There is no cause for alarm!”

“Alarm, no, but I can’t help but be concerned.”

“Concern is reasonable.”

He suddenly jumps to grab his door, and I flinch back.

“Curfew is now under a minute away!! Please return to your room at this time! Junior Commander Attenborough, you may now close your door as well!”

Mahavir steps over and shuts his own door without a word.

“Okay, see you, I guess.”

“Until tomorrow!”

He shuts the door in my face.

“Guess he’s only polite until his rules are threatened.”

I'll go back to my room, though. After this, I’m not sure how I’m going to sleep.

The mastermind is one of us? Could that be true? Who could it be? Do they have a master key? I don’t see why they wouldn’t...

“But... if they want us to kill each other, they wouldn’t just do it themselves, right?”

Certainly not so soon. I should be fine. I’ll just... Shoot.

I’ll just try to focus on the character sheet stuff. Maybe it’ll wear me down enough I’ll have to sleep.

Here’s hoping.

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#apexplot #apex1 #fangan

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alishbakhanus · 4 years

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19 things every bride and groom forget when planning their wedding

The farm is already reserved, the photographer hired and the floral decoration chosen. The dress is ready, after several tests and some touch-ups. The menu has already been confirmed and the invitations have been sent. The wedding list is going from strength to strength and there cannot be a better destination than the one you have chosen for your honeymoon.

1. Bridal bouquet and rings

The big day has arrived. You have slept a little badly because of your nerves and they are already knocking on your door: hairdresser, makeup artist and photographer. They leave you radiant and you start to put on your beautiful wedding dress, you take pictures with your mother and your sisters, even with that friend who has come to calm your nerves in the last moments. You’re all set to go on your way to the ceremony!

2. Thanks to the guests

One of the things that brides often forget is to thank their friends and family for attending the wedding and for entering a gift on their wedding list. A wedding is your big day but do not forget that it is still a commitment for the guests and a large outlay of money. It is a very elegant gesture to thank each of them, either in person on the wedding day or after it, by email or WhatsApp, according to protocol professionals. You can even choose to send a postcard to each of the homes of your honeymoon guests, it will be a nice gesture!

3. The wedding is up to you

Many grooms want the time to get married and, when it arrives and the long months of planning the wedding begin, they forget that they are the protagonists and those who must take care of all the aspects related to the big day.

You entrust certain tasks to your friends or your closest relatives and “we do it together” becomes your star phrase. Its okay for your mother, sister, mother-in-law and friend to help you with the preparations, but don’t delegate the entire wedding organization to them, don’t forget that the wedding is your thing!

4. Emergency kit for the bride

Each bride must be ready for any unforeseen event on her wedding day, you must be able to face any emergency, alone or with the help of the mother, sisters, friends or witnesses. Do not forget that it is a day of many nerves and very little time to solve unforeseen events, therefore, for what may happen, leave a relaxing herbal tea to calm anxiety in the last moments, a lip gloss for an always perfect smile, a handkerchief for the more than certain tears, plasters for possible scratches from new shoes, a nail file, some spare stockings and a small sewing kit.

Nothing can surprise you anymore! You have all the remedies for possible problems that may arise during the big day. Now nothing can go wrong.

5. A guest kit

Yes, in September wedding you have already prepared but … what about the guests? When planning your wedding it is essential that you take your time to take care of your guests. These are small things that will not take you long and that they will appreciate if a setback occurs.

For example, prepare for them in the services an emergency kit with wipes, bandages, needle and thread, makeup to touch up, hand cream, stain remover and anything else that can help them in the event of a small incident. Between one toast and another, you know…

6. Rehearse your best photographic profile

Don’t forget to rehearse your best face. We all have a profile and a smile ready for the ‘photo moment’. When you do your dress, hairstyle and makeup tests, take the opportunity to take some pictures. Ask your photographer for advice on this topic.

A camera will be what you see the most on the big day and, although it is true that photographs should be natural and spontaneous, it will not hurt to try your favorite pose. For this, the most advisable thing is to do a pre-wedding session, you can face the camera together for the first time and lose your fear. “We always recommend the pre-wedding report, and fortunately, more and more couples realize that it is absolutely necessary,” says the team, wedding photographers based in Ciudad Real. “It is very important that, from minute one, there is chemistry between the two parties: boyfriends and photographers,” they explain. “The connection from us and from them it is much more special if there is a pre-wedding, “they say. Do not hesitate to put the advice of professionals into practice!

7. Indications for restoration

The sweet tables, the catering, the food truck, the recipe and all the surprises with which you will delight your guests at the wedding are exquisite, but be careful! Maybe not everyone likes exotic dishes or cupcakes, some of them may even be allergic or intolerant to some element.

Do not forget to write a specific meeting with the caterer you have hired to discuss these issues in your wedding planning agenda. The catering should guide you on the best for your wedding, what to offer according to the type of guests and their tastes, the season in which the wedding is held and even the place. And offer all this, without neglecting quality, both in the dishes and in the kitchens.

The use of the best technologies and the flexibility of its team are hallmarks of Quality Catering. Your customers will be able to choose from endless possibilities to get the most suitable menu for each type of celebration. They are based on a concept of services that goes far beyond the traditional one, and that they themselves have called “Anywhere Restaurant “, reaching levels of quality that are very difficult to achieve.

8. Donating to the church

In general, the parents are in charge of it, but sometimes the excitement and the nerves that everything goes well causes this to be forgotten. They take care that the bride arrives after the groom, that everything is correct in the ceremony, that they receive the guests, etc. And they forget to make a small donation to the church.

Therefore, the best way to prevent this from happening is for the donation to be made a few days before the wedding celebration or to entrust this task to a friend that you know will not have to be actively involved with the preparations.

9. The dress code

One aspect that is often overlooked for the future marriage is the clothing of guests, family and friends. It is not that you should impose a true dress code, but it would be appropriate to give at least a couple of guidelines in both colors and styles, especially so that they look in harmony with the celebration itself. A good option would be to check the trends in party dresses for guests or how to dress at a day or night wedding .

Another aspect that is overlooked is the clothes that the bride and groom will wear during the preparation in the morning before the wedding. You have to keep in mind that you must wear something comfortable while you are combing and putting on makeup and that it does not pose a problem when removing it to put on the wedding dress.

10. Plan B

Design a plan B, that is, an alternative option. Even if your wedding is in summer or in a place where the sun always rises, like Seville, the weather can always surprise you. If you have thought about holding an outdoor celebration, it would not hurt to consider the option of preparing a covered venue in case the rain appears.

Nothing can spoil the big day! You have to be proactive in an event as important as this! It makes sense to choose a location that lends itself to magical outdoor celebrations and enchanting indoor weddings, if the weather calls for it. Even in the Andalusian capital you have to be far-sighted, therefore, a wonderful place like Real Club Golf has lounges and gardens that blend modernity and warmth in a unique setting. Its jewel is the Room, which occupies an area of 439 square meters, and its capacity varies between 500 people if it is a cocktail, 400 if it is a banquet and 100 if the distribution is school type. There ACS Catering serves, and both teams are merged into one for the best results. Of them, it is worth highlighting the closeness and trust with the couple. “The personal treatment with the client, the transparencies in what was agreed, the range of possibilities to personalize your wedding”, is what defines them as the best option, they clarify.

11. The texts to read at the ceremony

It may not have crossed your mind, but that’s what we’re here for. Don’t forget to personalize the texts that will be read at your ceremony! The wedding is a good time to display feelings and emotions , the best moment for everyone to know what you think and say those things that we keep to ourselves many times. Prepare a text and propose to a family member or friend to read it at your ceremony.

Many are the cases in which the couple have forgotten this and have proposed it to someone at the last moment. For everything to turn out great, the ideal would be that whoever was going to read had a short text prepared in advance and could even customize it to their liking. This way, the ceremony will be more emotional and the guests will always remember it with great affection.

12. Traditions

How could you not think of this? Traditions are very important at a wedding: don’t forget to bring something new, something old, something borrowed, and something blue. Consult with your mother and your friends about the option that they can leave you something that at the same time means a lot to you. It will be great if at that moment you are wearing a little bit of all of them that are such an important part of your life!

For the groom, the tradition is that if he marries during the day, he dresses in a morning coat, and if he does it at night, with a suit or tuxedo. They can advise you on protocol, colors and accessories, the most prestigious multi-brand luxury fashion store for men and women. And its success comes from the fact that it is one of the few tailoring workshops that still work 100% by hand. “Mainly, what the bride and groom seek is to show the best version of themselves. They want to look good with a suit that is contemporary and elegant, but breathes fresh air. In addition, the suit must fit with the concept and type of wedding they have in mind”.

Its experts recommend starting with the suit three months in advance, although they indicate that if “you are looking for something very specific, working earlier helps to find it and define it well.” At this point, they distinguish between the industrial measure and a suit cut and sewn by a tailor: “In the case of ordering the suit from the tailor, the groom, advised by our assistants, will be able to choose all the details he wishes since the tailor will to make for him a unique garment adjusted to his body”.

13. Rest

Yes, although it seems very obvious, no girlfriend does. The stress caused by the wedding days before is so intense that it will not allow you to stop for a single second. Do not be overwhelmed, for this you have been planning this great day for months. It is advisable to rest and spend a day relaxing in a spa, it is the best way to release tension and calm anxiety. Do it!

14. Consider key days and peak times

If, for example, you are getting married on a Friday in the city at 8:00 p.m., it is essential that you notify your guests of the possible traffic jam that they are going to catch. These are crucial hours and days that can make you late for your wedding! Keep this in mind if you do not want to leave the groom standing for more than an hour at the altar.

15. Distribute petals

Even if you want everything to be pink at your wedding and the only thing that falls on you when leaving the church are petals, do not despair! You are not going to get it. Rice, although it is a tradition that many of us want to erase from the map, it is not so easy to get it out of the minds of the guests. For this reason and to make it, above all, a lesser evil, you can distribute petals instead of rice bags. You will be right!

16. Anticipate the presence of unwanted guests

And we are not referring to that neighbor who always looks at you over her shoulder and that of course you have not invited to your wedding and we hope she does not show up, but to those guests that you cannot control.

August, seven in the afternoon, sunshine, farm with pool, floral decoration, delicious snacks and … mosquitoes, wasps, bees and a host of bugs that can ruin that look that you have been planning for so many months with which you look beautiful. Make sure there are citronella candles, insecticidal air fresheners and, just in case, you get bitten by whatever bites you… wear After Bite!

17. Pay attention to bathrooms

Make sure that the bathrooms are clean before and during the celebration, if necessary hire a cleaning service that takes care of the sinks at all times and restocks the kit that you have prepared for the guests. It would give a very bad image if not everything was in order, the guests will come to this space on several occasions to touch up and review their makeup and they could dirty their dress. The same can happen to you with your wedding dress, make sure you are not going to stain yourself in any way!

18. After the party

Another important point is the collection of objects and gifts after the party. You will be so busy that you will forget anything! Have someone collect all the gifts when the party is over and bring them to your home. Don’t allow a single worry on your wedding night.

19. Smile

A wedding is a day full of true love and, although worries and nerves want to overshadow your smile, don’t allow it! It has to be a day to enjoy to the fullest with those you love the most. Don’t forget to smile and be happy!

Now that you are aware of the 20 things you probably would have overlooked before reading this article, don’t forget to check out the mistakes 9 out of 10 girlfriends make and the 23 times you’ll need your best friend on the big day.

Courtesy: best event planner in Lahore

#prewedding weddingdecor weddingseason weddingplanner weddingphotographer weddings weddinginspiration weddingphotography wedding weddingday w

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ngildin · 6 years

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Traditional Jewish Burial: The Only Option

“Traditional Jewish Burial: The Only Option”

Welcome to this, The Chevra Kadisha of Palm Beach County dinner on Zayin Adar. It is very special to see this turnout from our Boynton Beach community. Your presence expresses an understanding that the Chevra Kadisha plays an integral role in assuring “death with dignity.” What the Chevra does is the real “death with dignity.”

A speaker customarily should begin with words of praise – “poschin behodo’uh.” This occasion is no different.

Allow me to thank Congregation Anshei Chesed and its leadership for hosting this special event for our community. We are grateful that you have provided this important platform to recognize and remember the birthday and the yahrzeit of Moshe Rabeinu and an opportunity to acknowledge the work of our Chevra Kadisha and Chevras Kadisha everywhere. Traditionally, this seudah is a community-wide celebration. We celebrate the serious, but holy work of the Chevra Kadisha. So, thank you.

On that note, let me be makir tov the great work done by the Chevra Kadisha who, unassumingly and quietly behind the scenes, has conducted hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of taharas in our community. They don’t ask for any fanfare and they volunteer to do this sacred work.

There are several whom I wish to recognize for their hallowed work – Dov Goldman who is the director of the Chevra Kadisha of Palm Beach County, Mordy Strauss, Hannah Rose, Donna Reich, and Miriam Atalli. Dov and Mordy were especially instrumental in making this evening here possible. Please forgive me if I have left others out, but these are individuals I know who, locally, give selflessly to this sanctified melocho. They, and all others, should be regularly lauded for their commitment and for their sacred efforts, often at great personal sacrifice. Of course, these taharas are also carried out under the jurisdiction of our posek, Rabbi Jay Lyons, who, in Palm Beach County, has done everything possible to promote the good work of the Chevra Kadisha and we thank him and his staff for everything they do on its behalf.

Rabbi Lyons also is the director of the newly opened nonprofit cemetery near Lake Worth (beach) which has the express objective of discouraging cremations by offering lower burial costs.

It was a little over a year ago that I raised the question about a Chevra Kadisha dinner or similar event in Boynton Beach on Zayin Adar. In Teaneck, where I lived for 34 years, virtually every major shul had its own Chevra Kadisha and we would rotate every year to a different shul to commemorate Zayin Adar with fasting, davening Mincha with leining Vayechal, followed by Ma’ariv and a Chevra Kadisha break-the-fast dinner.

To my dismay, none took place last year in Boynton Beach. I connected with Mordy Strauss and we were determined to have one this year. While we knew that BRS in Boca Raton has its own Chevra Kadisha dinner, we felt that this community has certainly grown sufficiently in recent years to justify a Chevra Kadisha dinner of its own its own on an ongoing basis.

One of the primary reasons for holding a Chevra Kadisha dinner each year is an important, albeit simple one. This is an important educational opportunity for the community.

So, I have been told repeatedly that tonight I will be “preaching to the choir.” To an extent, this is correct. However, I believe there is much more we, as a Boynton Beach community, can do to carry our important message farther than ever before.

We have an opportunity as participants in the Chevra Kadisha to raise awareness about a critical mitzvah. We have some distinguished funeral directors here tonight who are genuinely concerned with the needs of the community. However, my theme tonight picks upon one element of the funeral industry that should concern each and every one of us. It is the issue of cremations in the Jewish community. And here, tonight, it is an appropriate forum to raise this matter because we – all of us - can carry this message throughout the Boynton Beach community.

Jews are increasingly choosing to be cremated despite Jewish law and years of tradition. Go up and down jog and other streets in our community and you will see for yourself how Jewish sounding funeral homes promote cremations in big, bold letters on their marquee signs. We travel by these every day. They just blend in with all the other signs around us

Cremating a loved one to me also has another connotation. Did we not lose millions of our brethren to the crematoria just 75 years ago during the darkest era in twentieth century history? To me, and I hope to all of us, the idea of cremation and seeing a fellow Jew’s ashes “scattered to the wind” should be an anathema for that reason alone and, of course, as a matter of Halacha.

Nationwide the statistics for cremation are eye opening. The annual report of the National Funeral Directors Association show that 50.2% of Americans chose cremation in 2016, up from 48.5% in 2015 while 43.5% of Americans opted for burial, down from 45.4% in 2015. It is estimated that over the next eight years, cremation rates will likely exceed 50% in 44 states, up from just 16 states in 2010. Keep in mind that cremations have grown significantly just in the last 15 years. In 2002, the national rate was 28.2%.

It has been reported that the Jewish cremation rate in south Florida is about 16% up from 10% twelve years ago. And these numbers are likely low because unaffiliated Jews may find a non-denominational funeral home or cremation site well under the radar of the Jewish funeral directors.

Let’s also keep in mind why cremation rates are escalating. The primary reason is money. The average cremation with a memorial service is $3,250 while the average funeral is $8,755 in 2017, or between $7,000 and $10,000 today.

There are others that say it is not a financial decision. Some people see the physical cemetery as wasteful. They suggest that it is land that could be used for something else. Others don’t like the thought of being buried. Regardless, as cremation rates escalate in the Jewish community, something must be done.

As many of you may know, the number of cremations in the Jewish community has been a matter that Rabbi Elchonon Zohn has put on the forefront of the Chevra Kadisha agenda. Rabbi Zohn is a national leader in the Chevra Kadisha organization. He is the head of the queens Chevra Kadisha, which covers Manhattan, the Bronx, and much of Florida. He also heads the National Association of Chevra Kadisha.

According to Rabbi Zohn: “among Jews across the country it is 40 percent and it is constantly growing. In Dallas and Houston, it is at 50 percent. In California, it is at 70 percent. In New York, it is less, at about 30 percent. New York kind of reduces the national average.” So, we see that it varies according to geographic regions. This is true for all denominations. But, it is still shocking news for the Jewish community. I encourage you to go to Rabbi Zohn’s web site where you will find all kinds of information about this issue.

Scholars today quite generally agree that cremations probably began in any real sense -- around 3,000 B.C.E. -- and most likely in Europe and the near east. Historically, the practice of cremation on open fires was introduced to the western world by the Greeks as early as 1,000 B.C.E. they seem to have adopted cremation from some northern people as an imperative of war, to ensure soldiers slain in alien territory would have a homeland funeral attended by family and fellow citizens. It also was often associated with pagan rituals where the deceased were cremated on open pyres.

I thought it would be worthwhile to go back to the Torah source to understand why we bury and not cremate.

We know that our Avos and Emahos were buried in the Meoras Hamachpela. Rachel Eemeinu was buried by Yaakov in Beis Lechem. Yosef’s bones were taken out of Mitzrayim by Moshe and Bnai Yisrael so that he could be buried in Eretz Yisrael. Aharon and Miriam were buried on the way to Eretz Yisrael. Yet, nowhere early in the Torah is there a commandment to bury until we get to the Torah source for burying the dead. Interestingly enough, it is found toward the end of the Torah in Devarim, Parshas Ki Seitzei, Perek 21, Posuk 23. It is in a fascinating section of the Parasha indicating that if a man committed a sin whose judgment is death – i.e., he is sentenced to death -and he is hung from a tree, the body shall not remain for the night on the wooden beam (the tree), rather “you shall surely bury him on that day” – Rashi states: “Ki kuhvor tikberenu bayom hahu” – for a hanging person is an insult (curse) to g-d – “Ki killelas Elokim tollui.”

Rashi explains further why burial is necessary. “Zilzulo shel Melech hu,” it is a degradation (disgrace) of the king, “sheh odom osui bidmus Deyokno,” for man is made in the likeness of his image” – “VeYisrael heim bonov” and the children of Israel are his children. Rashi offers a perfect analogy. He gives a moshol. This can be compared to twin brothers who resembled each other. One became a king while one became a thief or a bandit and was hung. Whoever would see him hanging would say “the king is hanging.” Hence, the need for burial. The gemoroh in Sanhedrin on 46b goes into further detail and explains through agadeta and much discussion how we arrived at the halachic requirement for burial which stems from this Posuk in the Torah. The Shulchan Aruch also is very clear about how the actual body should be placed in a casket, or even directly into the ground without a casket, as well as various customs surrounding the burial. Cremation is absolutely forbidden in Jewish law in addition to being a travesty to the dignity due to the deceased. As I said before, how we treat the dead is a matter of “death with dignity,” not only during the dying process. Nor is burying the ashes a fulfillment of the mitzvah of burial. This matter is discussed in detail in Igros Moshe by Harav Moshe Feinstein z”l and in the Yoreh Deah.

So, tonight, we are here to remember, to learn and to pay tribute to all of you and all those who have undertaken the responsibilities incumbent on a Chevra Kadisha. While I did not partake in the mitzvah of a tahara, I did act as a Shomer for various individuals when I lived in Teaneck, NJ. Some folks I knew; others I did not know. Shemirah is an important mitzvah too.

When I was up north there were many ways to help the Chevra Kadisha – babysitting services, bringing the seudas havroah to the bereaved, setting up the mourner’s benches in the Shiva home, providing the candle that remains lit during the Shiva period and so on. Here in Boynton Beach the responsibilities are less complex. Either you can be a Shomer and watch over the deceased for a period of time; or you participate in the tahara. Watching requires no skills; conducting a tahara requires some training and this can be arranged.

There are many acts of kindness we do in life – but, perhaps, the ultimate is the chesed shel emes – an act of kindness you can do for someone after their life.

If you are not part of this sacred Chevra and you have any questions about what you can do for the Chevra Kadisha in Boynton Beach, please see Dov Goldman, Mordy Strauss or Donna Reich. I would also urge you to speak to Rabbi Lyons and anyone directly involved in this ultimate act of goodness and kindness to learn how you can be of help whether through shemirah or through a tahara. Thank you.

About the speaker: Norman B. Gildin is a resident of Boynton Beach and for 34 years was formerly a member of the Chevra Kadisha at Congregation Beth Aaron in Teaneck, New Jersey.

#ChevraKadisha NationalAssociationofChevraKadisha JewishBurial TraditionalJewishBurial

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f05erxay-blog · 5 years

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sheminecrafts · 5 years

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Facebook announces Libra cryptocurrency: All you need to know

Facebook has finally revealed the details of its cryptocurrency Libra, which will let you buy things or send money to people with nearly zero fees. You’ll pseudonymously buy or cash out your Libra online or at local exchange points like grocery stores, and spend it using interoperable third-party wallet apps or Facebook’s own Calibra wallet that will be built into WhatsApp, Messenger, and its own app. Today Facebook released its white paper explaining Libra and its testnet for working out the kinks of its blockchain system before a public launch in the first half of 2020.

Facebook won’t fully control Libra, but instead get just a single vote in its governance like other founding members of the Libra Association including Visa, Uber, and Andreessen Horowitz who’ve invested at least $10 million each into the project’s operations. The association will promote the open-sourced Libra blockchain and developer platform with its own Move programming language plus sign up businesses to accept Libra for payment and even give customers discounts or rewards.

Facebook is launching a subsidiary company also called Calibra that handles its crypto dealings and protects users’ privacy by never mingling your Libra payments with your Facebook data so it can’t be used for ad targeting. Your real identity won’t be tied to your publicly visible transactions. But Facebook/Calibra and other founding members of the Libra Association will earn interest on the money users cash in that is held in reserve to keep the value of Libra stable.

Facebook’s audacious bid to create a global digital currency that promotes financial inclusion for the unbanked actually has more privacy and decentralization built in than many expected. Instead of trying to dominate Libra’s future or squeeze tons of cash out of it immediately, Facebook is instead playing the long-game by pulling payments into its online domain. Facebook’s VP of blockchain David Marcus explains the company’s motive and the tie-in with its core revenue source, telling me “if more commerce happens, then more small business will sell more on and off platform, and they’ll want to buy more ads on the platform so it will be good for our ads business.”

The Risk And Reward Of Building The New PayPal

In cryptocurrencies, Facebook saw both a threat and an opportunity. They held the promise of disrupting how things are bought and sold by eliminating transaction fees common with credit cards. That comes dangerously close to Facebook’s ad business that influences what is bought and sold. If a competitor like Google or an upstart built a popular coin and could monitor the transactions, they’d learn what people buy and could muscle in on the billions spent on Facebook marketing. Meanwhile, the 1.7 billion people who lack a bank account might choose whoever offers them a financial services alternative as their online identity provider too. That’s another thing Facebook wants to be.

Yet existing cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin and Ethereum weren’t properly engineered to scale to be a medium of exchange. Their unanchored price was susceptible to huge and unpredictable swings, making it tough for merchants to accept as payment. And cryptocurrencies miss out on much of their potential beyond speculation unless there are enough places that will take them instead of dollars, and the experience of buying and spending them is easy enough for a mainstream audience. But with Facebook’s relationship with 7 million advertisers and 90 million small businesses plus its user experience prowess, it was well poised to tackle this juggernaut of a problem.

Now Facebook wants to make Libra the evolution of PayPal . It’s hoping Libra will become simpler to set up, more ubiquitous as a payment method, more efficient with fewer fees, more accessible to the unbanked, more flexible thanks to developers, and more long-lasting through decentralization.

“Success will mean that a person working abroad has a fast and simple way to send money to family back home, and a college student can pay their rent as easily as they can buy a coffee” Facebook writes in its Libra documentation. That would be a big improvement on today, when you’re stuck paying rent in insecure checks while exploitative remittance services like charge an average of 7% to send money abroad, taking $50 billion from users annually. Libra could also power tiny microtransactions worth just a few cents that are infeasible with credit card fees attached, or replace your pre-paid transit pass.

…Or it could globally ignored by consumers who see it as too much hassle for too little reward, or too unfamiliar and limited in use to pull them into the modern financial landscape. Facebook has built a reputation for over-engineered, underused products. It will need all the help it can get if wants to replace what’s already in our pockets.

How Does Libra Work?

By now you know the basics of Libra. Cash in a local currency, get Libra, spend them like dollars without big transaction fees or your real name attached, cash them out whenever you want. Feel free to stop reading and share this article if that’s all you care about. But the underlying technology, the association that governs it, the wallets you’ll use, and the way payments work all have a huge amount of fascinating detail to them. Facebook has released over 100 pages of documentation on Libra and Calibra, and we’ve pulled out the most important facts. Let’s dive in.

The Libra Association – Crypto’s New Oligarchy

Facebook knew people wouldn’t trust it to wholly control the cryptocurrency they use, and it also wanted help to spur adoption. So Facebook recruited the founding members of the Libra Association, which oversees the development of the token, the reserve of real-world assets that gives it value, and the governance rules of the blockchain. Each founding member paid a minimum of $10 million to join and optionally become a validator node operator (more on that later), gain one vote in the Libra Association council, and be entitled to a share (proportionate to their investment) of the dividends from interest earned on the Libra reserve users pay fiat currency into to receive Libra.

The 28 soon-to-be founding members of the association and their industries, previously reported by The Block’s Frank Chaparro, include:

Payments: Mastercard, PayPal, PayU (Naspers’ fintech arm), Stripe, Visa

Technology and marketplaces: Booking Holdings, eBay, Facebook/Calibra, Farfetch, Lyft, Mercado Pago, Spotify AB, Uber Technologies, Inc.

Telecommunications: Iliad, Vodafone Group

Blockchain: Anchorage, Bison Trails, Coinbase, Inc., Xapo Holdings Limited

Venture Capital: Andreessen Horowitz, Breakthrough Initiatives, Ribbit Capital, Thrive Capital, Union Square Ventures

Nonprofit and multilateral organizations, and academic institutions: Creative Destruction Lab, Kiva, Mercy Corps, Women’s World Banking

Facebook says it hopes to reach 100 founding members before the official Libra launch and it’s open to anyone that meets the requirements including direct competitors to like Google or Twitter. The Libra Association is based in Geneva, Switzerland and will meet biannually. The country was chosen for its neutral status and strong support for financial innovation including blockchain technology.

To join the association, members must have a half rack of server space, a 100mbps or above dedicated internet connection, a full-time site reliability engineer, and enterprise-grade security. Businesses must hit two of three thresholds of a $1 billion USD market value or $500 million in customer balances, reach 20 million people a year, and/or be recognized as a top 100 industry leader by a group like Interbrand Global or the S&P.

Crypto-focused investors must have over $1 billion in assets under management, while Blockchain businesses must have been in business for a year, have enterprise grade security and privacy, and custody or staking greater than $100 million in assets. And only up to one-third of founding members can by crypto-related businesses or individually invited exceptions. Facebook also accepts research organizations like universities, and non-profits fulfilling three of four qualities including working on financial inclusion for over five years, multi-national reach to lots of users, a top 100 designation by Charity Navigator or something like it, and/or $50 million in budget.

The Libra Association will be responsible for picking recruiting more founding members to act as validator nodes for the blockchain, fundraising to jumpstart the ecosystem, designing incentive programs to reward early adopters, and doling out social impact grants. A council with a representative from each member will help choose the association’s managing director who will appoint an executive team, elect a board of 5 to 19 top representatives.

Each member including Facebook/Calibra will only get up to one vote or 1% of the total vote (whichever is larger) in the Libra Association council. This provides a level of decentralization that protects against Facebook or any other player hijacking Libra for its own gain.

The Libra Currency – A Stablecoin

A Libra is a unit of the Libra cryptocurrency that’s represented by a three wavy horizontal line unicode character ≋ like the dollar is represented by $. The value of a Libra is meant to stay largely stable so it’s a good medium of exchange since merchants can be confident they won’t be paid a Libra today that’s then worth less tomorrow. The Libra’s value is tied to a basket of bank deposits and short-term government securities for a slew of historically stable international currencies including the dollar, pound, euro, swiss franc, and yen. The Libra Association maintains this basket of assets and can change the balance of its composition if necessary to offset major price fluctuations in any one foreign currency so that the value of a Libra stays consistent.

The name Libra comes from the word for a Roman unit of weight measure. It’s trying to invoke a sense of financial freedom by playingon the French stem “Lib” meaning free.

The Libra Association is still hammering out the exact start value for the Libra, but it’s meant to somewhere close to the value of a dollar, euro, or pound so it’s easy to conceptualize. That way, a gallon of milk in the US might cost 3 to 4 Libra, similar but not exactly the same as with dollars.

The idea is that you’ll cash in some money and keep a balance of Libra that you can spend at accepting merchants and online services. You’ll be able to trade in your local currency for Libra and vice versa through certain wallet apps including Facebook’s Calibra, third-party wallet apps, and local resellers like convenience or grocery stores where people already go to top-up their mobile data plan.

The Libra Reserve – One For One

Each time someone cashes in a dollar or their respective local currency, that money goes into the Libra Reserve and an equivalent value of Libra is minted and doled out to that person. If someone cashes out from the Libra Association, the Libra they give back are destroyed/burned and they receive the equivalent value in their local currency back. That means there’s always 100% of the value of the Libra in circulation collateralized with real world assets in the Libra Reserve. It never runs fractional. And unliked “pegged” stable coins that are tied to a single currency like the USD, Libra maintains its own value — though that should cash out to roughly the same amount of a given currency over time.

When Libra Association members join and pay their $10 million minimum, they receive Libra Investment Tokens. Their share of the total tokens translates into the proportion of the dividend they earn off of interest on assets in the reserve. Those dividends are only paid out after Libra Association uses interest to pay for operating expenses, investments in the ecosystem, engineering research, and grants to non-profits and other organizations. This interest is part of what attracted the Libra Association’s members. If Libra becomes popular and many people carry a large balance of the currency, the reserve will grow huge and earn significant interest.

The Libra Blockchain – Built For Speed

Every Libra payment is permanently written into the Libra blockchain — a cryptographically authenticated database that acts as a public online ledger designed to handle 1000 transactions per second. The blockchain is operated and constantly verified by founding members of the Libra Association who each invested $10 million or more for a say in the cryptocurrency’s governance and the ability operate a validator node.

When a transaction is submitted, each of the nodes runs a calculation based on the existing ledger of all transactions. Thanks to a Byzantine Fault Tolerance system, just two-thirds of the nodes must come to consensus that the transaction is legitimate for it to be executed and written to the blockchain. A structure of Merkle Trees in the code makes it simple to recognize changes made to the Libra blockchain.

Transactions on Libra cannot be reversed. If an attack compromises over one-third of the validator nodes causing a fork in the blockchain, the Libra Association says it will temporarily halt transactions, figure out the extent of the damage, and recommend software updates to resolve the fork.

Transactions aren’t entirely free. They incur a tiny fraction of a cent fee to pay for “gas” that covers the cost of processing the transfer of funds similar to with Ethereum. This fee will be negligible to most consumers, but when they add up the gas charges will deter bad actors from creating millions of transactions to power spam and denial-of-service attacks.

Currently, the Libra blockchain is what’s known as “permissioned”, where only entities that fulfill certain requirements and are admitted to a special in-group that defines consensus and controls governance of the blockchain. The problem is this structure is more vulnerable to attacks and censorship because it’s not truly decentralized. But during Facebook’s research, it couldn’t find a reliable permissionless structure that could securely scale to the number of transactions Libra will need to handle. Adding more nodes slows things down, and no one has proven a way to avoid that without compromising security.

That’s why the Libra Association’s goal is to move to a permissionless system that will protect against attacks by distributing control, encourage competition, and lower the barrier to entry. It wants to have at least 20% of votes in the Libra Association council coming from node operators based on their total Libra holdings instead of their status as a founding member. That plan should help to appease blockchain purists who won’t be satisfied until Libra is completely decentralized.

Move Coding Language – For Moving Libra

The Libra blockchain is open source with an Apache 2.0 license and any developer can build apps that work with it using the Move coding language. The blockchain’s prototype launches its testnet today, so it’s effectively in developer beta mode until it officially launches in the first half of 2020. The Libra Association is working with HackerOne to launch a bug bounty system later this year that will pay security researchers for safely identifying flaws and glitches. In the meantime, the Libra Association is implementing the Libra Core using the Rust programming language since it’s designed to prevent security vulnerabilities, and the Move language isn’t fully ready yet.

Move was created to make it easier to write blockchain code that follows an author’s intent without introducing bugs. It’s called Move because its primary function is to move Libra coins from one account to another, and never let those assets be accidentally duplicated. The core transaction code looks like: LibraAccount.pay_from_sender(recipient_address, amount) procedure

Eventually, Move will be able to create smart contracts for programmatic interactions with the Libra blockchain. Until Move is ready, developers can create modules and transaction scripts for Libra using Move IR, which is high-level enough to be human-readable but low-level enough to be translatable into real Move bytecode that’s written to the blockchain.

The Libra ecosystem and the Move language will be completely open to use and build, which presents a sizable risk. Crooked developers could prey on crypto novices, claiming their app works just the same legitimate ones, and that it’s safe since it uses Libra. But if consumers get ripped off by these scammers, the anger will surely bubble up to Facebook. Even though it’s tried to distance itself sufficiently via its subsidiary Libra and the association, many people will probably always think of Libra as Facebook’s cryptocurrency and blame it for their woes.

Libra Incentives – Rewarding Early Businesses

The Libra Association wants to encourage more developers and merchants to work with its cryptocurrency. That’s why it plans to issue incentives, possibly Libra coins, to validator node operators who can get people signed up for and using Libra. Wallets that pull users through the Know Your Customer anti-fraud and money laundering process or that keep users sufficiently active for over a year will be rewarded. For each transaction they process, merchants will also receive a percentage of the transaction back.

Businesses that earn these incentives can keep them, or pass some or all of them along to users in the form of free Libra tokens or discounts on their purchases. This could create competition between wallets to see which can pass the most rewards on to their customers, and thereby attract the most users. You could imagine eBay or Spotify giving you a discount for paying in Libra, while wallet developers might offer you free tokens if you complete 100 transactions within a year.

“One challenge for Spotify and its users around the world has been the lack of easily accessible payment systems – especially for those in financially underserved markets” Spotify’s Chief Premium Business officer Alex Norström writes. “In joining the Libra Association, there is an opportunity to better reach Spotify’s total addressable market, eliminate friction and enable payments in mass scale.”

This savvy incentive system should massively help ratchet up Libra’s user count without dictating how businesses balance their margins versus growth.

Using Libra

So how do you actually own and spend Libra? Through Libra wallets like Facebook’s own Calibra and others that will be built by third-parties, potentially including Libra Association members like PayPal. The idea is to make sending money to a friend or paying for something as easy as sending a Facebook Message. You won’t be able to make or receive any real payments until the official launch next year, though, but you can sign up for early access when it’s ready here.

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None of the Libra Association members agreed to provide details on what they’ll build on the blockchain, but we can take Facebook’s Calibra wallet as an example of the basic experience. Calibra will launch alongside the Libra currency on iOS and Android within Facebook Messenger, WhatsApp, and a standalone app. When users first sign up, they’ll be taken through a Know Your Customer anti-fraud process where they’ll have to provide a government issued photo ID and other verification info. They’ll need to conduct due diligence on customers and report suspicious activity to the authorities.

From there you’ll be able to cash in to Libra, pick a friend or merchant, set an amount to send them and add a description, and send them Libra. You’ll also be able to request Libra. It’s also likely that Calibra will offer an expedited way of paying merchants, liking scanning your or their QR code.

Privacy – At Least From Facebook

Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg explained some of the philosophy behind Libra and Calibra in a post today. “It’s decentralized — meaning it’s run by many different organizations instead of just one, making the system fairer overall. It’s available to anyone with an internet connection and has low fees and costs. And it’s secured by cryptography which helps keep your money safe. This is an important part of our vision for a privacy-focused social platform — where you can interact in all the ways you’d want privately, from messaging to secure payments.”

By default, Facebook won’t import your contacts or any of your profile information but may ask if you wish to do so. It also won’t share any of your transaction data back to Facebook, so it won’t used to target you with ads, rank your News Feed, or otherwise earn Facebook money directly. Data will only be shared in specific instances in aggregated, anonymized ways or due to a request from law enforcement.

In case you are hacked, scammed, or lose access to your account, Calibra will refund you for lost coins when possible through 24/7 chat support. Given Calibra will likely become the default wallet for many Libra users, this extra protection is essential.

For now, Calibra won’t make money. But Kevin Weil, the head of product for Facebook’s blockchain team, tells me that if it reaches scale, Facebook could launch other financial services through Calibra that it could monetize.

Today, Facebook is coming together with 27 organizations around the world to start the non-profit Libra Association and…

Posted by Mark Zuckerberg on Tuesday, June 18, 2019

A Global Coin

If Facebook succeeds and legions of people cash in money for Libra, it and the other founding members of the Libra Association could earn big dividends on the interest. And if suddenly it becomes super quick to buy things through Facebook using Libra, businesses will boost their ad spend there. But if Libra gets hacked or proves unreliable, it could cost lots of people around the world money while souring them on cryptocurrencies. And by offering an open Libra platform, shady developers could build apps that snatch not just people’s personal info like Cambridge Analytica, but their hard-earned digital cash.

Facebook just tried to reinvent money. Next year, we’ll see if the Libra Association pulls it off.

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technicalsolutions88 · 5 years

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Facebook’s audacious bid to create a global digital currency that promotes financial inclusion for the unbanked actually has more privacy and decentralization built in than many expected. Instead of trying to dominate Libra’s future or squeeze tons of cash out of it immediately, Facebook is instead playing the long-game by pulling payments into its online domain. Facebook’s VP of blockchain David Marcus explains the company’s motive and the tie-in with its core revenue source, telling me “if more commerce happens, then more small business will sell more on and off platform, and they’lll want to buy more ads on the platform so it will be good for our ads business.”

The Risk And Reward Of Building The New PayPal

Now Facebook wants to make Libra the evolution of PayPal. It’s hoping Libra will become simpler to set up, more ubiquitous as a payment method, more efficient with fewer fees, more accessible to the unbanked, more flexible thanks to developers, and more long-lasting through decentralization.

How Does Libra Work?

By now you know the basics of Libra. Cash in a local currency, get Libra, spend them like dollars without big transaction fees or your real name attached, cash them out whenver you want. Feel free to stop reading and share this article if that’s all you care about. But the underlying technology, the association that governs it, the wallets you’ll use, and the way payments work all have a huge amount of fascinating detail to them. Facebook has released over 100 pages of documentation on Libra and Calibra, and we’ve pulled out the most important facts. Let’s dive in.

The Libra Association – Crypto’s New Oligarchy

Facebook knew people wouldn’t trust it to wholly control the cryptocurrency they use, and it also wanted help to spur adoption. So Facebook recruited the founding members of the Libra Association, which oversees the development of the token, the reserve of real-world assets that gives it value, and the governance rules of the blockchain. Each founding member paid a minimum of $10 million to join and optionally become a validatory node operator (more on that later), gain one vote in the Libra Association council, and be entitled to a share (proportionate to their investment) of the dividends from interest earned on the Libra reserve users pay fiat currency into to receive Libra.

The 28 soon-to-be founding members of the association and their industries, previously reported by The Block’s Frank Chaparro, include:

Payments: Mastercard, PayPal, PayU (Naspers’ fintech arm), Stripe, Visa

Technology and marketplaces: Booking Holdings, eBay, Facebook/Calibra, Farfetch, Lyft, Mercado Pago, Spotify AB, Uber Technologies, Inc.

Telecommunications: Iliad, Vodafone Group

Blockchain: Anchorage, Bison Trails, Coinbase, Inc., Xapo Holdings Limited

Venture Capital: Andreessen Horowitz, Breakthrough Initiatives, Ribbit Capital, Thrive Capital, Union Square Ventures

Nonprofit and multilateral organizations, and academic institutions: Creative Destruction Lab, Kiva, Mercy Corps, Women’s World Banking

Facebook says it hopes to reach 100 founding members before the official Libra launch and it’s open to anyone that meets the requirements including direct competitors to like Google or Twitter.

To join, members must have a half rack of server space, a 100mbps or above dedicated internet connection, a full-time site reliability engineer, and enterprise-grade security. Businesses must hit two of three thresholds of a $1 billion USD market value or $500 million in customer balances, reach 20 million people a year, and/or be recognized as a top 100 industry leader by a group like Interbrand Global or the S&P.

Crypto-focused investors must have over $1 billion in assets under management, while Blockchain businesses must have been in business for a year, have enterprise grade security and privacy, and custody or staking greater than $100 million in assets. And only up to one-third of founding members can by crypto-related businesses or invidually invited exceptions. Facebook also accepts research organizations like universities, and non-profits fulfilling three of four qualties including working on financial inclusion for over five years, multi-national reach to lots of users, a top 100 designation by Charity Navigator or something like it, and/or $50 million in budget.

The Libra Currency – A Stablecoin

A Libra is a unit of the Libra cryptocurrency that’s represented by a three wavy horizontal line unicode character ≋ like the dollar is represented by $. The value of a Libra is meant to stay largely stable so it’s a good medium of exchange since merchants can be confident they won’t be paid a Libra today that’s then worth less tomorrow. The Libra’s value is tied to a basket of bank deposits and short-term government securities for a slew of historically stable international currencies including the dollar, pound, europ, swiss franc, and yen. The Libra Association maintains this basket of assets and can change the balance of its composition if necessary to offset major price fluctuations in any one foreign currency so that the value of a Libra stays consistent.

The Libra Reserve – One For One

The Libra Blockchain – Built For Speed

Transactions on Libra cannot be reversed. If an attack compromises over one-third of the validator nodes causing a fork in the blockchain, the Libra Association says it will temporarily halt transactions, figure out the extent of the damaage, and recommend software updates to resolve the fork.

That’s why the Libra Association’s goal is to move to a permissionless system that will protect against attacks by distributing control, encourage competition, and lower the barrier to entry. It wants to have at least 20% of votes in the Libra Association council coming from node operators based on their their total Libra holdings instead of their status as a founding member. That plan should help to appease blockchain purists who won’t be satisfied until Libra is completely decentralized.

Move Coding Language – For Moving Libra

Using Libra In The Wild – Calibra

Privacy – At Least From Facebook

Today, Facebook is coming together with 27 organizations around the world to start the non-profit Libra Association and…

Posted by Mark Zuckerberg on Tuesday, June 18, 2019

A Global Coin

Facebook just tried to reinvent money. Next year, we’ll see if the Libra Association pulls it off.

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furiousconnoisseurcomputer-blog · 6 years

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