#because truly they are running low on the number of times she can manifest

[bookwyrminspiration]

Do you think Sophie will need to have her abilities reset again? They do it whenever her abilities aren’t working correctly, and she can’t mimic even though polyglots are supposed to be able to do that naturally (I think) so it makes sense that they’d reset her abilities again (unless Sophie refuses. Which she might do because it’s so much pain and she almost died last time and what would they even need mimicking for??)

My current assumption is leaning towards no. There's only so many times that you can have the same thing happen in a story before it really starts to drag and take away from everything else, and I think two times was the cap for ability resets.

A second one was possible because it was made distinct/more severe than the first one (targeting her heart on top of her head), so there'd need to be something added on top of those two to make it worth adding in a third reset. Even with that, I think we, as the audience, would have a sort of "really? again?" attitude towards it regardless of whatever that additional thing turned out to be. Unless it became a consistent thing in the story where she was routinely reset (which I don't think it will), two or three would be the cap, and I think in our particular story two is enough.

Additionally, I don't think polyglots necessarily are supposed to be perfect at mimicry. I think it's generally something associated with the ability and they're usually better at it, but the ability focuses on foreign languages instead. The surprise with Sophie was more that she was so horrendously bad at it, but it wasn't like a "polyglots should naturally be able to do this!" hence Lady Cadence accepting that that was something she'd have to work on Sophie with. She didn't seem to be too weirded out by bad mimicry, just disappointed she'd been pulled from her research.

There's also the matter of, like you said, Sophie potentially refusing! She refused to learn to mimic after Keefe mimicked her voice to steal the cache, so unless it becomes super important to the story and she has to come to terms with it, then I don't think she'd find it worth it to go through a whole ability reset just to be able to do something she doesn't even use or like.

One final add on I'd say is that personally, I'd prefer it if she stayed bad at it! Or at the very least not a natural. If it turned out she'd need another reset because she's supposed to naturally be great at mimicry as part of her altered genes and abilities, I think that would also get to be a little old. Like c'mon. She's already a super-powered telepath and inflictor with natural above-average skill in those areas on top of her other powers. I don't think she needs to also be great at mimicking. Characters having weaknesses and inabilities makes them more relatable and I'd be remorse to lose the mimicking, as small as it is.

So I don't think we'll have another reset! We've been there and done that twice. Any more, especially for something so small, would be annoying to read. Here's hoping for her sake that nothing else comes up that could excuse another reset and make her risk her life again!

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 120

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 120: The Thirteenth Door

Right after the new year, it came about time for Gu Longming to enter his door.

Ruan Nanzhu selected a sixth door hint slip, and on it was a name familiar to all—Minotaur. A monster from ancient Greek mythology with a bull's head and a human's body that guarded a maze.

In the myth, it was a creature of an extremely violent temperament born of a human and a white bull. Shut away in the Labyrinth on the island of Crete, it ate seven pairs of boys and girls each year. Then it was killed by a bastard son of Athens, Theseus. Point was, there wasn't much intel to gain about the door from a hint like this. Only once they went in and encountered the actual situation could they connect it to the hint on the paper slip.

Lin Qiushi also showed this hint to Gu Longming ahead of time. After Gu Longming received it, he expressed his thorough gratitude for Lin Qiushi, and Lin Qiushi too was forthright with a vaccination—he said that in this door, he could not be responsible for Gu Longming's life, and Gu Longming ought to prepare himself accordingly.

Gu Longming agreed to every stipulation, and said he had already prepared himself for never coming out.

Their time of entry was roughly the tenth of the lunar new year, when celebrations were trailing off, leisurely vacations were coming to an end, and everybody grew busy again.

Lin Qiushi readied everything and began to wait for the door.

The tenth quickly came. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and few people were in the mansion. There was only Lin Qiushi sitting in the living room eating Lu Yanxue's freshly cooked pumpkin seeds. Lu Yanxue's culinary skills were, as usual, the best; the pumpkin seeds she fried up were flavored with the five spices and fragrant as all hell. Lin Qiushi could pass an entire afternoon with just a handful of the stuff.

Ruan Nanzhu had already gotten changed and was waiting upstairs. Lin Qiushi saw that it was about time, and so hoisted his hefty backpack and headed upstairs to go look for him.

Due to their last door, Lin Qiushi intentionally stuffed his bag with a great number of food items. Daily necessities from outside could be brought inside, but weapons that were more against the spirit of the doors were not. Guns and other firearms, for example, could not be brought inside.

Once you'd entered the doors, of course, there might exist some special limitations, like in the sanitarium door when the NPC told them the rule where they could not eat food brought in from the outside. The reality was that these kinds of limitations were rare, but all Lin Qiushi wanted to achieve was the principle of Better Safe Than Sorry. At any rate, the condition from the tenth door where they had to open a chest if they wanted to eat had left quite the shadow on his psyche.

Lin Qiushi entered Ruan Nanzhu's bedroom and sat with him on the bed for a while. Then he felt the atmosphere around him change. It took only the time of a blink for Ruan Nanzhu, who had been sitting right beside him, to disappear without a trace. Lin Qiushi pushed open the bedroom door in front of him and saw that what had originally been the hallway was now a series of twelve black metal doors. What a familiar sight.

He walked to the sixth door and gave it a tug. The next moment, Lin Qiushi was sucked in by an immense force. The scenery around him was also altering dramatically, and by the time he opened his eyes again, he could feel a faint rocking beneath his feet.

Lin Qiushi took a closer look, and discovered that he'd appeared on a large old ship. It was just about sunset, and there were black clouds frighteningly low in the sky, as if they were going to smother the horizon at any moment. Inky seawater tossed before him, blown into violent waves by the winds.

Lin Qiushi smelled the gamy salt of the ocean, and because of the excessive waves, the ancient deck beneath his feet was ceaseless in its swaying. He saw that on the floorboards, there were seaweed-clung creatures clutching at the wood, making for an immensely uncomfortable sight.

Lin Qiushi took a few steps forward and saw in the ship cabin a dim-glowing light. He followed the corridor to the interior, and heard miserable wailing coming from inside.

"Uwaaaa, why am I here? What the hell did you all do to me?!" It had been a while since he last heard these cries of a newbie—Lin Qiushi was actually a bit surprised. He spotted the crying person immediately. It was a young woman, wiping at her tears with her hands. "You goddamn perverts, you guys must have kidnapped me. I'm going to call the cops and have you all arrested!!"

Most people were listening to her sob in silence. Newbies, after all, only ever reacted in so many ways: most cried; some tried to run; and some, of the truly psychologically frail sort, came in and pretty much had an immediate meltdown.

Lin Qiushi stood where he was. He noticed that around this girl were a few people who didn't look so good, who also seemed in various degrees of panic. They clearly weren't prepared to enter a door, and were likely newbies like the girl. But at least they weren't wailing endlessly like the young woman, and were still calm in comparison.

Lin Qiushi's gaze searched through the crowd and very quickly found its target—a woman seated in a corner and smiling at him.

The woman wore a long dress—the same outfit Ruan Nanzhu wore before they came in.

Lin Qiushi had the script in his head, and he took his time approaching the woman and holding out his hand: "Yu Linlin."

"Zhu Meng." The woman took his hand and smiled. "The red thread of destiny found us inside this door, let's cherish this meeting."

Lin Qiushi couldn't help but laugh.

"Indeed. Let's cherish this meeting."

Really, this little drama queen of his—putting on a show even when there was no stage to be had.

Just as the two were talking, a young man came tumbling in through the door. Though his face was unfamiliar, his clothes told Lin Qiushi his identity—it was Gu Longming, who'd agreed to meet with Lin Qiushi over the internet.

Gu Longming was entirely soaked. Once he came in he began to curse under his breath: "fuckers, throwing me on a lifeboat—why don't you just throw me into the ocean huh? Goddamn jealous of my beauty or what—"

Though he kept his voice down, Lin Qiushi's hearing was superb, and so could easily hear all the crap he was spewing. For a moment, Lin Qiushi himself didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Of course, he didn't laugh. He only cleared his throat once and covered his mouth with his hand, swallowing down the urge to smile. Gu Longming's eyes lapped the gathered people and very quickly fell upon Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu. He came over with a bright grin, greeting the two as if they'd just met completely by coincidence.

As a matter of act, this little trick where they faked a chance encounter was only useful for the earlier doors. Once in the later doors, that old fox-spirit manifested in everyone, and not having a partner actually made you the odd one out.

As for whether or not somebody would identify them as part of the same crew, Lin Qiushi used to worry about that. Now though, not so much.

The cabin of the old ship wasn't big, nor was it bright. The only lighting equipment was a handful of tiny kerosene lamps overhead, flickering periodically with the sway of the ship.

The sky grew darker outside, and the number of people kept increasing. Finally, it stopped at the count of fourteen.

Everybody assessed their surroundings as they met up with their own teammates. The crowd seemed to be very quickly divided up into teams, with the handful of newbies left out. Without much choice, they had to make up their own team.

Just as the crowd grew noisy with discussion, a middle-aged man came in from the outside. His get-up looked a bit like a medieval pirate, and he carried a swaying kerosene lamp in his hand.

"Welcome to the Black Skerry," the man spoke. His voice sounded quite raspy, like the effects of long-term drinking or smoking had brought about irreversible damage to his throat. "I hope you all have a good time here."

After he finished saying this, he laughed like a maniac, and his high-pitched laughter, like fingernails scoring a chalkboard, sent goosebumps rising along the skin.

"In ten days, the Black Skerry will reach harbor," the man said. "Our voyage will end then, so please enjoy our wonderful time together."

Just as he finished speaking, somebody rushed out of the cabin. Lin Qiushi first thought that this person had gotten scared, but not long after, there came from outside the sound of violent vomiting—it seemed that some unlucky bastard was seasick.

"Where in the world are we?" The sobbing young girl had also been scared by the man before her, and she spoke: "are we filming a show? I'm really, really scared, can I please quit? I don't want to play anymore, I'm begging you…"

The man completely ignored her. He merely went on watching the crowd with a cool gaze.

The girl seemed to want to go up and take hold of him, but when she got to his side she suddenly stopped, face draining of all color. She then backed up a few steps, as if she'd seen something truly terrifying.

Lin Qiushi's eyesight wasn't as good as Ruan Nanzhu's, and due to the dim lights he didn't see a thing. It was Ruan Nanzhu who quietly explained the situation to him:

"That person's covered in some sort of black insect."

Gu Longming shivered.

"Is he dead or alive then?"

"I don't know," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Doesn't look too good either way."

Under typical circumstances, only the NPC who provided them with the key information was somewhat normal. If even that NPC wasn't normal, then there really weren't any normal people to speak of.

Lin Qiushi hadn't imagined that their door this time would be an ancient ship. And by the looks of things, the time limit was ten days.

"Come along, I'll take to to where you'll sleep," the man said. "It'll be dark soon…and it'll rain."

After this, he began that manic laugh again, and the group was even more disturbed.

The man brought them to the guest cabins and began divvying up the rooms.

Most of the rooms here were doubles, with a rare triple here and there. At first, Lin Qiushi was assigned a double, but Gu Longming brazenly went and found a man to switch room numbers with, strong-arming them into a triple.

"You'll bargain for even this sort of thing?" Lin Qiushi shot Gu Longming a look of admiration.

"Well I'm scared of dying, aren't I…" Gu Longming said. He didn't want to sleep alone, and though it wasn't quite right to be a third wheel, being a third wheel was much better than being dead.

Ruan Nanzhu’s smile was inscrutable.

"That's fair."

They'd planned to inspect the entire ship, but because the night was already so dark, moving about outside would be too dangerous. They would rest first, and wait until tomorrow to make plans.

And so the three got their key and went to their room, getting into bed after quickly washing up.

When Ruan Nanzhu went to change, Gu Longming took the opportunity to poke at Lin Qiushi, whispering, "yo, not cool man, how come you didn't tell me you had such a pretty girlfriend?"

Lin Qiushi answered a vague: "…mh."

"Oh she's stunning," Gu Longming said with a sigh. "If I had a girlfriend like that I'd want to stick around her every day too."

As he spoke, he looked to Lin Qiushi with an expression that was both envy and admiration.

Lin Qiushi watched him back and wondered how he would react if he knew Ruan Nanzhu was drag queen. Of course, it wasn't something he could tell Gu Longming now. Gu Longming was not yet part of Obsidian, and the fact that Ruan Nanzhu wore drag was Obsidian's biggest most vital secret…

After Ruan Nanzhu got changed, he came back inside.

"What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Lin Qiushi answered in brief. "He said you were pretty."

Ruan Nanzhu replied with a meaningful oh.

Gu Longming: "…" Why did a chill suddenly go down his back?

The beds on the ship all emanated a damp smell—very uncomfortable for the people lying on top. At this point, the waves and wind were getting bigger, and even the sleeping quarters were beginning to rock. Lin Qiushi remembered that ridiculously seasick, endlessly vomiting pal of theirs from earlier and thought that that guy was pretty much done for.

The sky outside gradually darkened in entirety, leaving only the bellowing winds and the sound of waves beating against each other. With his eyes shut, Lin Qiushi grew drowsy—but before he could fall asleep, he was woken by a sudden crack of thunder. It was like lightning had struck right above their heads. With the loud boom, all three of them awoke in an instant.

After that, it was the pattering pour of rain. The rushing rain and the howling wind—they seemed on the verge of destroying everything.

Their quarters rocked even harder. Lin Qiushi sat up in his bed.

Through the window, he looked to the black evening outside. He saw, however, two illuminated lights. It seemed like the only light sources on deck were kerosene lamps, but how did these lamps stay so bright in the middle of a thunderstorm…? Just as Lin Qiushi wondered this, he suddenly felt that there was something off about those two lights, and Ruan Nanzhu, sitting behind him, spoke up quietly:

"Don't look anymore."

Lin Qiushi, "hm?"

"Those aren't lights," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Those are eyes."

A pair of yellow, inhuman eyes. The owner of the eyes spied through the darkness with malicious intent, as if a beast looking for its prey.

Lin Qiushi instantly looked away, and asked, "what is that thing?"

"I don't know, I can't tell," Ruan Nanzhu said. "The shape is humanoid, but it doesn't seem to be human."

Lin Qiushi's brows lightly furrowed, but by the time he looked out the window once more, the eyes were gone.

Thunder rumbled on and on, and that stench of ocean salt grew thicker and more cloying.

Ruan Nanzhu climbed into Lin Qiushi's bed, and holding each other, the two very quickly returned to sleep. However, the only bachelor present Gu Longming didn't have such luck. Lying beside Lin Qiushi, he stared with plaintive eyes, thinking that in the following days, he'd be fed enough dog food to bloat.

The rainstorm lasted until dawn, and though the rain let up, the weather did not turn any sunnier. Black storm clouds still hovered over the ship, and when the alarm rang, Lin Qiushi actually thought it was not yet morning. He checked the time, however, and saw that it was 8AM. It was just still dark outside.

"Good morning," Ruan Nanzhu greeted Lin Qiushi.

"Good morning. It's so dark outside today."

"It's probably going to keep raining," Ruan Nanzhu said. He walked out onto deck with Lin Qiushi and watched the black waters roil underneath the ship.

Looking up, they couldn't see any land, only the endless swath of sea. Only the old ship beneath their feet felt like any sort of reality.

This sort of isolating environment was easily taxing on the psyche. Even for Lin Qiushi, the scene before them was discomforting.

"Come on, let's go get breakfast," Gu Longming called to the two.

"He's pretty thick-skinned," Ruan Nanzhu commented after hearing Gu Longming's call.

"Yeah," Lin Qiushi said. "His nerves are petty good."

Inside the doors, you didn't have to be too smart, but you definitely had to be brave enough. Before terrifying situations, fright could make a person abandon a large part of their cognitive abilities. The smartest person could lack a strong heart and still do worse inside the door than the obtuse, oblivious Cheng Qianli.

The three went to the dining area and found there an atmosphere that could very well be called lifeless.

Lin Qiushi didn't know why at first. After he saw the menu, however, he couldn't help but also feel a touch of depression.

All the ship offered was fish. And it wasn't even fresh fish—Gu Longming poked at a dead-eyed staring head with his chopsticks and said, "is this thing even edible?"

It was disgusting just to look at.

"It looks gross," Lin Qiushi said. "Try a bit?"

Gu Longming took a bit of meat from the gills and gave it a taste. His expression twisted.

"Fuck, did they deduct the food budget for this door or what? It's disgusting. It's like they’ve had it outside for three days. You try it?"

Lin Qiushi, "oh no, no thank you."

Gu Longming: "…"

The breakfast served in the dining room was, for the most part, stale fish. Aside from that there was only flavorless noddles and peas. The environment had already been vicious enough, but the food in front of them now was salt on top of the wound.

But Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu didn't care at all. After seeing the inedible breakfast they snuck back to their room and fetched from their bags the food they'd prepared.

Gu Longming watched as they pulled out a bottle of chili sauce, eyes bulging out.

"You guys even brought Lao Gan Ma? Did you come here to picnic?"

"Want some?" Lin Qiushi drizzled the Lao Gan Ma over some noodles they'd brought out of the dining hall.

"Yeah yeah yeah. More please." Gu Longming's expression was shameless.

With breakfast finally done, they got ready to search the ship.

There were a total of three decks in the ship, constructed a bit like the sailing vessels of the great nautical era of the Middle Ages. It was extremely old, was all, covered in the marks and traces of times past.

Beside that NPC, they didn't see any other crew members on deck; there was likely only the one NPC on the entire ship. Wait for the ship's return was the mission the NPC left for them this time, but Lin Qiushi had thorough reason to believe that if they couldn't find the door in ten day's time, this voyage of theirs would cycle back and repeat—and they'd experience the ten days all over again.

When Lin Qiushi climbed onto the second deck, he heard a sort of thumping sound, and was uncertain if Ruan Nanzhu and Gu Longming had heard it as well. So he asked, "did you guys hear that?"

"What?" Gu Longming didn't seem to have heard.

Ruan Nanzhu said, "I think I did, but not very clearly."

"I think it came from the corner…" Lin Qiushi followed the sound forward. "Let's go see."

But before they could get close, Lin Qiushi was hit with a thick, fishy stench. It was disgusting and nauseating to smell; fortunately Cheng Yixie wasn't here, or he might have passed out immediately upon smelling it.

The source of the sound and smell was the same room, and they were close enough now that both Gu Longming and Ruan Nanzhu could hear the thumping noise as well.

The three of them slowed their steps, and through the window, looked into the room.

It was a kitchen with knives and other tools hanging inside. The most eye-catching thing, however, was the dense masses of dead fish hung up on hooks all over the sides.

A person in an apron stood in the center of the room with their back towards them and head down. They were chopping something. After some observation, Gu Longming almost gagged, and said, "don't tell me he's making our breakfast—"

Ruan Nanzhu was very calm.

"It's possible."

Gu Longming did gag. He'd even had a bite of that fish that morning.

Lin Qiushi gave Gu Longming a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

This person in the kitchen, however, was the second living NPC they'd found on the ship.

The three of them stood watching in the kitchen doorway for a while, and saw that besides chopping fish, this person didn't do much of anything else. And so they decided to go see elsewhere first.

Very soon, they discovered a more peculiar room. This room was locked, and curtains were drawn over the window. It was quiet inside, but they could still smell that thick waft of stale fish. Lin Qiushi initially thought the smell had clung to them from the kitchen, but after a careful sniff, found that it was coming from inside the room.

"Do we go in?" Gu Longming was pressed against the window trying to look in, but he could see nothing.

Ruan Nanzhu gave this some thought, before saying, "let's try," and getting out a hairpin to pick the lock.

Watching his adept motions, Gu Longming's eyes widened. Then Gu Longming glanced at Lin Qiushi.

"Is this…is this a basic skillset that y'all come with?"

Lin Qiushi grinned as he joked, "yeah. You have to learn to pick locks if you want to join us."

As he said this, there was a click. Ruan Nanzhu really got the lock open. But oddly enough, after he unlocked the door and gave it a push, he found that though the door lock was undone, there was another lock hanging on the inside. The chain on that lock held the door closed, and they could at most manage a crack—it couldn't be opened at all.

"Wait," Lin Qiushi suddenly said, stopping Ruan Nanzhu from going up and pushing the door. "Stop for a second. There's movement inside."

Ruan Nanzhu halted, and just as he stopped mid-step, a hand, sharp-nailed and covered in scales, reached out of the door. And through that crack in the door, a pair of yellow eyes looked out, peering at the world outside with malicious intent.

Translator’s Note:

The name of the ship could more simply be translated as “Black Reef,” but “Black Skerry” sounds more like a ship name? Let me know if you think otherwise (or know if it’s a specific reference to something).

Lao Gan Ma is a brand of **hot sauce (edited: 7/26), as you can probably tell from context. The original next never uses “hot sauce” though, and just call it Lao Gan Ma in both the prose and the dialogue.

[Ch. 119] | [Ch. 121]

[shihalyfie]

You talk a lot about how the Digimon are born from the kids own souls, would you be interested into describing how the digimon partners reflect their humans' personalities?

Oh man, I love this topic! (You’ll have to forgive me in that my desire to do justice for it is why it ended up taking me this long to answer it.)

The part about the Digimon literally being part of the kids’ souls comes directly from official (it’s been mentioned several times, not only in what I just linked). This was never stated outright in the original Adventure or 02, and it took until Kizuna to really shove the link between the partner and the human’s inner self in your face and make it a huge part of the actual story, but fans had been catching onto it long before that, and even without reading what the staff had said. Kizuna throws a bit of a nail in this because it’s said to be a bit lore-noncompliant, but considering how much of the background lore it still goes out of its way to adhere to, and the fact it still does match the fundamental concept of “human heart = Digimon partner” regardless of detailed minutiae, we can still apply and analyze this concept with no problem, especially since Adventure and 02 always walked the line between sci-fi and fantasy, and there is undoubtedly a spiritual element to them no matter how you look at it.

(My personal comfort zone in analyzing Adventure and 02 comes moreso from a human behavior and mentality perspective, which is also why my meta on this blog tends to focus more on the human drama aspects of Adventure and 02 and especially the latter’s story being so heavily about human relationships, but if you’re interested in said spiritual elements, I heavily recommend @analyzingadventure‘s very comprehensive meta on Adventure background lore and themes, which also covers similar territory in detail. We’re different people, so our takes on it probably differ in some respects, but that’s the beauty of having different perspectives, after all.)

In any case, back to your question. I think it would be best to break this down piece-by-piece with the Adventure and 02 kids in detail, so more is under the cut!

...Well, okay, before we continue, I do want to touch on something briefly, and it’s regarding the fact that “evolution” in this series is generally a metaphor for human growth. That counts for when everyone gets their evolutions, but it also counts as a metaphor overall -- after all, Adventure is about self-assertion and pushing oneself as far as possible (the major evolution gimmick being tied to Crests), whereas 02 is about cultivating differing aspects of yourself and applying it to how you form relationships with others (the major evolution gimmick being tied to Digimentals and ultimately Jogress). The human self is quite a flexible thing, and the Digimon themselves quite often change personalities as they evolve. (I touched on this briefly in my discussion of honorfiics and first-person pronouns earlier, but in Japanese, the Digimon will often even change personalities and speech patterns as they evolve.) This also leads to a few other potential observations (not really corroborated by official, just my personal view of it):

Speaking from a meta perspective, the fact that only the “front protagonists” end up getting the highest level forms is pretty obviously so they don’t have to spend toy budget on allocating it to everyone, but from an in-story perspective, Adventure episode 50 adds an implication that not reaching as high of a form may also have to do with how inherently attuned one is to combat (Jou says that he believes that Gomamon will never reach Ultimate because he doesn’t have the sort of strength Taichi and Yamato do, and it contributes to his conclusion that his skills are more meaningfully applied as a healer instead of as a fighter). Of course, none of the Adventure or 02 cast is necessarily the belligerent type that inherently likes fighting in itself, but of course certain ones are less emotionally drained or more attuned to it, so you might be able to see a rough pattern there. (Again, I’m not going to sugarcoat how this still has a lot of dismaying issues on the meta level, but the difference between “how much this sucks on a meta level” and “whether this at least tracks in-story” is a common theme on this blog.) In a franchise sense, Digimon were of course conceptualized as fighting monsters, but within the narrative of Adventure, it probably stands to reason that having a manifested part of your soul or inner self shouldn’t necessarily mean they have to be fighting things all of the time unless it’s necessary.

It’s very often been pointed out that the 02 cast is at a sort of “combat disadvantage” compared to their seniors (well, and Takeru and Hikari, anyway) because their highest forms require two people/Digimon to be in play, so their overall combat power is rather low. My impression is that this is by design (and it’s a subversion of the usual expectation of shounen anime sequels where the sequel will often power creep everything to make the new guard outdo the first). That the 02 team is inherently dependent on each other for support, and to a degree far more than their seniors, is rather baked into its narrative, and moreover, from an in-story perspective, the 02 group doesn’t seem like the type to really care about being outflanked by their seniors (on the contrary, they’d probably take that as more proof that their seniors are amazing). Moreover, the forms you see their Digimon in most of the time tend towards the smaller Baby-level forms instead of the Child-level ones, and while this is partially due to plot logistics about being in the real world (and, admittedly, kind of inconsistently applied), it gives you a much stronger impression of the 02 kids and their partners in general being people who aren’t that individually imposing or strong and get more mileage out of flexibility and variety (see: the Digimentals and the huge number of lower-level forms the kids have access to).

With this kind of metaphor, I caution against taking it too literally as a 1:1 thing (especially since official has been generally quiet about it and there isn’t much in the series text itself to corroborate this), but I do think there is certainly some kind of relevance that’s worth thinking about.

Many people, including the official notes I just linked, refer to there being some Digimon partners that are "like-minded” with their partner, and some that are “opposite” in personality. This is roughly true, but I find this to be a very simplified description of the concept; it’s more like all Digimon partners are a reflection of the less easily exposed part of their human partner (and, most pertinently, the part that would allow them to express themselves in ways they wouldn’t normally), it’s just that the kids with more straightforward or less extreme personalities don’t have as much to hide or cover up in the first place, and so their partners come off as more “like-minded”. Even Urawa Megumi, voice of Iori and Armadimon (arguably one of the pairs of partners that seem “opposing” in personality), stated that she didn’t personally feel like the two characters are all that different, since humans have different sides to them, and Armadimon is functionally an expression of the side of Iori that isn’t apparent.

Because the Adventure narrative has the Digimon partners be linked to human mentality, this leads to the side effect that you won’t have a Digimon partner who ever truly denies the human partner (barring external factors like Evil Ring-induced brainwashing), which is something producer Seki Hiromi was quite insistent about. That said, this is a very Adventure and 02-specific thing, since other series go more into different angles about how one would approach partnership when this factor is not in play; half of Tamers’s drama regarding partners comes from the fact they are not necessarily mentally linked all of the time, and need to find a way to build a relationship by bridging that gap, and so non-Adventure universe entries are more freely able to explore the concepts of a Digimon partner more consciously entering conflict with their human partner. Well, that’s the beauty of having a multi-entry franchise, after all.

Taichi and Agumon

Taichi and Agumon immediately jump to mind as the first among the “like-minded” pairs, especially since the series shows them so often in sync and chilling together. Taichi himself is a straightforward person, so it stands to reason that his straightforward personality would also lend to Agumon coming off as being rather much like him.

However, there is one slight difference between the two, and it’s that Agumon has a somewhat stronger sense of “easygoing chill” than Taichi does, right down to using the more polite boku first-person pronoun in contrast to Taichi’s more assertive ore. He also lacks Taichi’s penchant for mild insensitivity -- in fact, very unlike Taichi, he has an incredible amount of emotional insight (02 spends quite a bit of time in 02 episodes 32 and 46 to showing off Agumon as someone who makes up for all of his lack of intellectual understanding with emotional and borderline poetic insight). And, really, while Taichi is a bit surface-insensitive, and while he seems to be impulsive, he actually is a conscientious person and is trying his best in his own way, and he isn’t the kind of person who cares about societal things like seniority, and he demonstrates multiple times that he’s easygoing and chill, and so you can say that’s a part of Taichi as well. Remembering that a Digimon partner’s presence helps their own human partner grow, Agumon being so openly friendly helps Taichi maintain good relations with others without running afoul of them.

One of Agumon’s most famous traits is that he likes food, which is not actually something that was in the original Adventure or 02 all that much but has been somewhat exaggerated since. That said, back in Adventure, while it was established that all Digimon regularly need food in order to maintain their evolutions, Agumon would usually be the first to complain “I’m hungry,” and whenever they did get food, Agumon would be one of the most prominently enjoying it. Food is, after all, one of the simplest and most universal of pleasures, and there’s a lot of visual framing of Taichi chowing down just as ravenously as Agumon is -- so, honestly, he probably got it from him.

Taichi also speaks a bit about his pain of being separated from Agumon in the space between Adventure and 02, and he directly refers to Agumon as “the other me”. The word “partner” was not actually used very much in the original Adventure or 02, and Taichi is not able to fully elucidate the sentiment of Agumon’s connection to his own self, but he still understands this much and why the loss cuts him so deeply, and by the time we get to Kizuna, it’s presumably why he uses similar language in his thesis proposal to refer to him. (I already covered the circumstances of Agumon’s relationship to Taichi’s existential crisis in Kizuna and how it led to their separation earlier, so I will omit it here for the sake of avoiding redundancy.)

Yamato and Gabumon

This might surprise some people to hear, but I would also pin this as one of the more ostensibly “like-minded” pairs. Gabumon is shy on the surface, but turns out to be quite passionate -- he uses the same assertive ore as Yamato, in contrast to Agumon’s boku, and he demonstrates his capacity for passion and action in that he’s arguably one of the most assertive in the cast. Note his taking initiative against Yamato’s frostbite in Adventure episode 9, or declaring his intent to stay with Yamato even if it means going against the others in Adventure episode 44, or singlehandedly dragging Yamato out of the hole of darkness in Adventure episode 51.

And, of course, Yamato himself is someone who initially seems a little awkward or detached around everyone, but is actually very passionate, so that’s all the same. And because Gabumon himself is so open about communicating with the otherwise closed-in Yamato, Yamato is able to express himself better over the course of Adventure.

Funny thing about that “shyness”, too -- the idea of Gabumon being particularly shy isn’t present in 02 much at all (we don’t get to see him very much, so it’s hard to say whether it’s completely gone, but it’s at least gone enough for the duration of his appearances). Which is funny, considering: guess who else stopped being shy and became naturally outgoing in 02? Yeah, so, as much as you might hear people (even official!) claim that the Digimon are static while their partners change, that’s not completely true -- the Digimon themselves develop in personality in the same way their human partners do. It’s just more subtle and less drastic, since they’re representing an abstract single part of their personality rather than being an exact match.

Sora and Piyomon

Sora and Piyomon have an interesting relationship in that they’re the only one where their relationship started off on a note of conflict -- mainly in that Sora was very put off by Piyomon at first and even looked down condescendingly on her (well, only for the duration of a single episode). In fact, Sora’s own surface behavior is very different from the kind and caring Sora we know -- Sora dislikes associating with the clingy and affectionate Piyomon for being “mushy”, and even declares that she doesn’t want to “take responsibility” for lugging her around.

Of course, Sora’s character arc later revolves around the fact that she has abysmally bad self-awareness and doesn’t even realize that she has a compulsive sense of responsibility to others. So Sora is affectionate and loving -- she just puts up a front of trying to act a little above that (well, at least, during this part of the series) and doesn’t even see herself as someone capable of being like that (again, purely during this part of the series).

Piyomon is also interesting in that she has one of the most dramatic personality shifts even as early as Child to Adult, where she suddenly switches from the casual atashi to watashi (sometimes even kono watashi, which is super regal), and becomes incredibly dignified and regal even as Birdramon, and you can certainly see why Sora immediately started taking her seriously thereafter. It also begs a lot to think about, considering Sora’s very convoluted character and the many layers of herself that even she isn’t consciously aware of.

The way Piyomon helped Sora shift her own mentality is pretty directly handed to you on a plate in Adventure episode 26 -- because Piyomon played the role of Sora in the metaphor of Sora’s behavior towards Piyomon correlated to Toshiko’s behavior towards Sora, Sora was able to re-adjust her position relative to her family and consider her both someone capable of love, and someone who is loved.

Koushirou and Tentomon

Koushirou and Tentomon are another pair that initially seem like they’re opposing types, with Koushirou being constantly curious and Tentomon being comparatively simple-minded, but the first key to figuring out where the similarity is ends up being a bit deceptive -- Tentomon says in Adventure episode 5 that he’s not particularly interested in himself. And, certainly, Koushirou is interested in Tentomon, but he, too, is not interested in himself -- in fact, he considers himself to be a topic he’d rather avoid instead of looking into everything else.

As far as language goes, while Tentomon does also use the stereotypically easygoing Kansai dialect, he also specifically uses the polite form, mirroring Koushirou’s own perpetual use of polite language. But unlike Koushirou, who uses it to keep distance from others, Tentomon is in fact very sociable, and is even portrayed as a Digimon who’s conscientious of others and “takes care” of them. And because Tentomon is so openly friendly, he manages to coax Koushirou out of his shell and allow him to think about more complicated things related to his own position in the world that he’d been avoiding.

As Koushirou’s character arc proceeds, we learn that he’s polite not only out of distance but also because he really is a very kind person, and moreover that he does eventually want to open up to others. And the payoff for this eventually comes in 02...

...when he ends up becoming one of the most visible members of the older Adventure cast to appear in the series, checking in on the younger kids and developing into someone capable of organizing and managing people. Hmm, seems familiar.

Mimi and Palmon

This one’s an easy one. Mimi is possibly the most straightforward person in the original Adventure cast -- well, that’s the point of her Crest after all -- and so Palmon is almost exactly like her, being a cheerful type who loves being cute. Any contrast between them is only really apparent in the very early episodes of the series, and that’s not even a contrast in theory as much as it’s just something that might intrigue audiences at first when Mimi spent a lot of those episodes complaining, but that’s also mostly because she was heavily under stress, and otherwise Mimi has always been kind and cheerful and indulgent in being cute.

Perhaps the only real difference is that Palmon, being a plant, is more willing to get involved with dirt and other things that Mimi ostensibly would rather not, but as the series progresses, Mimi manages to gain a higher sense of tolerance and get past her initial sense of materialism (which is something she’d had the capacity for the whole time).

Jou and Gomamon

Of the Adventure pairs, this one is probably the one that seems like the biggest contrast on its face, with the overly high-strung and constantly stressed Jou, and the more playful and relaxed Gomamon.

In the end, Jou is someone who’s defined by his desire to support others, and even admits at the end of the series that he’s better suited for a support role than for fighting, and that there’s nothing wrong with that as long as he continues to channel his desire to help people in a way he’s most comfortable with. So, in the end, he’s not actually an inherently aggressive type. And, meanwhile, Gomamon is the kind who’s constantly looking out for Jou, to the point of knowing (such as in Adventure episode 7) when he’s about to do something phenomenally stupid and minding him so that nothing bad happens to him, and so, this is probably why they’re ultimately able to settle down and end the series eye-to-eye (or perhaps hand-to-hand).

And, again, recall that Digimon partners generally reflect a part that’s vital to their own human partner’s growth; considering that Jou is most certainly one of the more extreme personalities in this cast, you get the feeling that he probably needs someone this chill to keep his massive stress tendencies in check.

Takeru and Patamon

Takeru and Patamon are an interesting case largely due to the two of them being so present for a whole two series. In Adventure, both of them seem to be largely like-minded, being playful, innocent, and childish -- although Patamon is more open about expressing the childishness that Takeru keeps trying to cover up. Patamon being roughly on the same playing field (no pun intended) as Takeru means that Takeru has someone he’s willing to be open with and let himself loose a little (such as in Adventure episode 12), because for the first half of the series, he’s almost entirely in the presence of elders and stifling himself for the sake of being “well-behaved”, and it starts his long journey of being able to understand his position and his actual sense of emotions over the course of Adventure and 02.

Patamon also has a striking personality change upon evolving, becoming the regal and dignified Angemon, and, interestingly, his appearances have a very “knight templar” vibe where he takes a no-compromise stance against dark forces and states that he’ll condemn all of them to oblivion. This is a stance that’s unnervingly similar to Takeru’s own no-compromise stance against the darkness in 02, and it’s interesting in that Takeru himself had been advocating for pacifism in Adventure episode 12, but this incident traumatized him enough to start taking a position that more resembled Angemon’s.

As we go into 02, Takeru’s contrast with Patamon initially seems like an increased mismatch, since Patamon is still ostensibly childish and playful while Takeru is ostensibly more mature. But for one, Takeru’s character arc is about the fact that he’s still pretending he’s more in control of his emotions than he actually is, and in some way you can also glean that there’s a sort of naivete present in his character that he keeps covering up with confident smiles. Patamon, for his part, does actually seem to have adopted a bit of a mentor role to the other Digimon, and we also learn that he’s capable of deliberately trolling people instead of just being generically playful -- much like Takeru himself, who’s a bit evasive and not entirely honest.

We do actually see Patamon reach HolyAngemon in 02 episode 34, but it doesn’t work out well, and while this is partially for plot mechanic reasons, it also says a lot that the “knight templar” stance that both Takeru and HolyAngemon have, with the full depth of no-compromise, isn’t going anywhere, and in the end, something more effective is only possible when Shakkoumon appears in 02 episodes 36-37 -- that is, Takeru is only able to better move on with Iori’s support.

Hikari and Tailmon

Hikari is the only of the Tokyo Chosen Children to have a Digimon who “defaults” to Adult instead of Child or lower, and it means that Tailmon herself comes with a certain amount of maturity -- on top of having been become a bit hardened due to her experiences being isolated. This is an ostensible contrast to the more pure-hearted and innocent Hikari, but note that Hikari’s own will can be pretty assertive when it comes down to it. On top of that, as much as Tailmon is a bit standoffish, Hikari is also “emotionally isolated” -- she has trouble vocalizing her negative feelings, and it’s difficult for anyone in Adventure or the first half of 02 to truly connect with her internal thoughts. Recalling that the Digimon partner reflects a side of the human partner that’s less easily exposed and allows the human partner to grow in ways they wouldn’t before, Tailmon’s sheer presence gives Hikari a route to action in ways she probably wouldn’t have beforehand.

In 02, Hikari becomes a little more mischievous and playful, and Tailmon also becomes a bit more willing to indulge (she even switches first-person pronouns in sync with Hikari, going from the more polite watashi to the more casual atashi). Both of them are now more able to enjoy themselves more openly. That said, Tailmon still has a certain degree of stuffy personal pride (she snarks at everyone quite easily for fussing over snacks in 02 episode 3), and Hikari herself remains emotionally elusive and repressive at the start of this series.

Tailmon evolves temporarily to Angewomon in 02 episode 13, which is the first time anyone (in this case, Takeru) makes some degree of headway to reaching out to her and allowing her to open up a bit more, but it’s not until 02 episode 31 when Hikari is fully reached out to via Miyako, which marks the first appearance of Silphymon.

Daisuke and V-mon

Now here’s a very like-minded pair, even more so than Taichi and Agumon -- and, after all, Daisuke is simple-minded, so painfully simple-minded that he’s practically incapable of hiding anything, and so V-mon is almost exactly like him, down to using the same ore pronoun and being feisty and mischievous (a point is also made that he plays soccer with Daisuke, something that Agumon didn’t necessarily do with Taichi), and, heck, in a rare show of Digimon-Digimon crushes, has a crush on Tailmon in the exact same way Daisuke has on Hikari. (By the time we get to Kizuna and its higher animation budget, a lot of attention is paid to having even their body language mirror each other.)

There is only one real functional difference between the two in disposition, and it’s that V-mon is very straightforward, friendly, and kind, without being prone to getting angry or spiteful at anyone, and in the end, it’s indicative of the fact that Daisuke’s tendency to lash out defensively at everyone is just a front -- at his core, he’s friendly, supportive, and kind. Daisuke’s experiences and banter with V-mon contribute to him getting the sort of validation he needed without having to worry about being on edge or lash out defensively, and because of that, he was able to form a healthier and more supportive relationship with the rest of the group.

Miyako and Hawkmon

This one seems to be a contrast right off the bat -- Miyako is bubbly, over-the-top, and rather messy and lacking in restraint, whereas Hawkmon is formal, graceful, and polite. But Hawkmon’s most prominent trait is his absolute loyalty and devotion to Miyako -- he’s very often referred to by both official staff and fans as her “knight” -- and is constantly minding her to protect her and make sure she doesn’t go over her head (most prominently, 02 episode 18). And as far as Miyako’s relationship to others goes -- she’s also devotedly loyal to everyone she loves and is constantly going out of her way to help others, and her character arc in itself is about the fact she wants to do her best to reach out to people and help emotionally support them in the best way she can, and Hawkmon managing to channel that to its utmost extent to Miyako in turn (in a very “who watches the watchman?” sense) allows her to regain her bearings and have better control over herself in the aftermath of 02 episode 18.

On top of that, as the series proceeds, it turns out that Hawkmon also shares Miyako’s penchant for dramatic theatrics and being a bit over his head -- even if he seemingly has himself more together than Miyako does, he’s not completely above it all...

Miyako is also the franchise’s first example of a female character with a masculine Digimon partner, and while Miyako herself openly identifies with and indulges in all things hyper-feminine, she also has zero issue engaging in more masculine-associated things as they suit her -- most prominently her Digital World outfit, and the fact she often displays a rather aggressive go-getter and hot-blooded/in-your-face personality that would not be out of place on a male shounen hero in a more conventional show. (Although, as much as these have generally been on the thread of “less visible aspects”, it’s not like this was that less visible of an aspect of her to begin with...)

Iori and Armadimon

Iori and Armadimon hold the honor of being the only pair in the Tokyo Chosen Children to be voiced by the same voice actress (Urawa Megumi), driving the parallel down even further. And while their surface temperaments seem different, with Iori being rather uptight and strict on himself while Armadimon is laid-back, carefree, and even somewhat assertive, they’re not that different -- Armadimon is basically the curious, impressionable, somewhat childish spirit that Iori would be if he weren’t constantly holding himself back. (There’s a lot to be said about Submarimon going out of his way to take Iori for a ride in 02 episode 16 so that Iori can finally properly enjoy himself for once.)

Iori takes a lot of very stubborn, no-compromise positions over the course of 02, but Armadimon asking just the right kinds of questions allows him to “snap out of it” and be a little more receptive to considering alternatives, or at least taking into account more emotionally-oriented issues he’s dealing with. You can say that Armadimon (especially as Upamon) softening Iori up a bit -- since Iori will never be cold or unforgiving towards his partner, no matter what -- serves as a precursor to Iori starting to question the limitations of his black-and-white view of morality, which allows him to successfully break through to Takeru and fill out the rest of his character arc.

Ken and Wormmon

Considering how much of the plot revolved around this one, this one almost goes entirely without saying! During Ken’s stint as the Kaiser, Wormmon represents the heart that Ken’s not entirely willing to leave behind -- and, also, the affection that he’s still craving from his family. The Kaiser going practically out of his way to deny Wormmon yet paradoxically keeping him around is basically his attitude towards his own “weak” and naturally kindhearted self. Notably, recall that the principle of “a Digimon will never deny their partner” applies here -- Wormmon’s “betrayal” of the Kaiser isn’t really any kind of denial, since he was doing it mainly for Ken’s own sake, and, more symbolically, it’s Ken reaching his own limit and coming to realize that this path isn’t what he really wants.

Wormmon is unusually clingy to his own partner over the course of 02, and it’s vital to Ken needing to learn to love himself and also getting important validation that he needs, especially during the critical point in time during 02 episodes 23-30 when he’s still not sure how to approach the rest of the group -- Wormmon gives him someone to talk to honestly and openly, giving him a proper springboard to sort out his complicated feelings about the others and himself. You can say also that as Ken becomes more open and straightforward over the course of the latter half of 02, he, in turn, becomes much more shameless about showing affection and opening his own heart.

Wallace, Gumimon, and Chocomon

Bonus round!

While it’s hard to fully apply Hurricane Touchdown to this theory (by official admission, it wasn’t properly cross-referenced with the original Adventure/02 series lore, and trying to correlate all of the evolutions in this movie to something metaphorical will give you a headache), Wallace’s two partners still fit very neatly into this overall theory of Digimon partners as a part of the self. Wallace is a character with very sharp duality, trying to be a flirt who asserts himself as a vagrant who’s about to “become an adult”, yet still feels an obligation to keep calling his mom and is engaging in increasingly self-destructive behavior.

Most pertinently, Gumimon and Chocomon represent the two stances Wallace is torn between: wanting to “return to the past” (Chocomon) because he’s still hung up on having lost Chocomon and is convinced that he can make everything just like it was before, and “being able to productively move on” (Gumimon). For most of the early parts of the movie, Wallace is stuck on Chocomon’s mentality of fixating on the past, and Gumimon isn’t even remotely subtle when he draws an explicit parallel between the two (saying that Chocomon didn’t like the heat, followed by offering to give Wallace shade as a hat). But once the conflict escalates and Wallace realizes just how deep in denial Chocomon is, to the point of being destructive to himself and others, Wallace comes to embrace Gumimon’s stance of practicality and moving on. In the end, the ultimate conclusion is reached, and Wallace is forced to fully accept that latter stance when Chocomon dies, but the movie’s ending (and Kizuna) provide an extra option: allowing the past to come back, but in a new form and treading new territory instead of trying to make it “the way it was before”.

[deathonyourtongue]

Resurrection | 12

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2K Warnings: Nothing much really. A/N: Sorry this took so long. February really is the worst month.

By the flight manifest, we’re half an hour behind Wallace, and I feel every minute of it on the plane ride from London to Benghazi. Prior to joining the team, I’d only been assigned to Libya once and it was from the comfort of the Whitney parked off the coast of Italy. This will be my first time with boots on the ground, and the history of spec ops in the country isn’t lost to me; it’s just one more reason why I’m glad I no longer have to wear a uniform.

“Ten minutes out,” the pilot calls over the comms, everyone prepping their go bags, ready to make up for any head start Wallace has. 

Benina International Airport barely registers in my mind as we pick up two vehicles that were prepped for us courtesy of Uncle Sam, my mind’s sole focus being on saving the hostage and capturing Wallace. All of us want our pound of flesh, none more so than those he’s directly injured over the course of the last few weeks. 

“I need everyone on their A game. We can’t afford to let him slip through our fingers again. His behavior is escalating and since he’s so well-connected to the who’s-who, it stands to reason, he’s going to throw everything he has at us. Above all else though, we leave no one behind. Understood?” Rick’s voice is firm but warm over our comms, making it clear that despite the gravity of the situation, he cares about our well-being first and foremost. 

“Do you think he’s trying to do a shot-for-shot remake?” Jake asks as we roll into Benghazi proper, grateful for the tinted windows on the late model G wagons no doubt left over from Gaddafi’s rule. 

“If you mean do I think he’s going to go to the same village we were patrolling? No. I don’t think he’s that sentimental about things. I think he’s going to pick a spot that’s overlooked by the country and blow it to high hell after he finishes reenacting his sick fantasies. Remember, had we not stopped him that night--”

“I know, he’d have committed war crimes,” Jake cuts Dom off, his sickened expression making it clear that he doesn’t need to be reminded. 

“Has intel found him yet?” I ask, hoping we don’t have to waste any more time in tracking him down. 

“They don’t have a lock yet, but they are tracking a BMW that came out of Benina half an hour ago. Reports of a blond woman without a hijab and a red-haired man poured in the second they landed.” Rick explains, all of us shaking our head. 

“Muslim majority country and she already sticks out like a sore thumb by being blond, but he didn’t bother to make her wear a hijab? If we don’t get to him, the Libyan police will,” I snort, finding little humor in the recklessness with which Wallace treats the lives of others. Like any good narcissist, he cares only for himself and if others get hurt in the process of him getting what he wants, so be it. 

“They’re going to attract attention no matter what. All of us are. Keep as low a profile as possible, and with any luck, we’ll be out of here by this time tomorrow,” Rick adds, all of us hoping for the outcome that’s eluded us since we reunited. 

Our hideout in Benghazi is simple, yet beautiful. Like most places, it’s heavily fortified, a solid metal gate closing behind us and men standing watch on all four corners as we make our way towards something that resembles a Roman villa of old. Outside, the heat hits me and for a second, I’m brought back to the op that nearly took my life, hoping that this time, things will end differently, at least for our team. Max’s cologne brings me back to the present, and I fall in step with him as we make our way into the blissfully cool war room. 

“Oh fuck yeah. Don’t mind if I do!” Jake enthuses as he takes note of the tea and finger foods laid out on the table. Shaking my head, but nonetheless pleased, I take a seat and let out a breath I don’t realize I’ve been holding. Max’s hand smooths over my hair as he sits next to me, his gaze still eyeing my bruise with concern. It’s endearing to say the least, and not the kind of treatment I’m used to in any part of my life. 

“Okay, fuel up, but pay attention. Intel has an eye in the sky and they’ve found the BMW. We’re tracking him now. Gonna let him get settled in, then we’ll pay him a house call. He’s also traveling light; only two body men and paid local team which means--”

“Which means a bunch of teenage human shields. Fucking great,” I mutter.

Stephanie Pierce had been dumped half an hour before getting to the airport. Doing her best to save face, she’d made it through security and was intent on getting a little drunk before boarding, if only so she could sleep on the flight. American by birth, she had come to London for school, and had, up until the breakup, been having the time of her life. 

Now it's all spiraling into a nightmare. 

“Please, just let me get back to the airport! I don’t have anything to do with this! I didn’t do anything! I’m just a student! Please!” 

“I can’t do that, darling. For one, you’ve seen my face, and two...Well, you’re my insurance policy. You see, the people that I’m after, they have a soft spot for those they consider innocent. Problem is, no one’s ever truly innocent, are they? No, not even you, dear Stephanie. It only took a few moments for me to do the numbers, so to speak. Young, parents are middle class at best, no real money for school, especially abroad, but here you are in designer clothing, taking vacations whenever it strikes your fancy, and not a dime in debt. Do your parents know what you do on the internet, my darling? Didn’t think so. No, that deep, dark secret won’t be revealed until after you perish, which...will be soon, I’m afraid.” 

Her screams make her captor laugh, almost as though he’s delighted by the reaction. It chills her to the bone. Now she understands that this isn’t some wannabe who hijacked a plane and has no real plan; far from it. Whoever he is, he has calculated each and every move leading up to this point. 

She wishes she could talk to her mom one last time. 

“Night Train to Alpha, confirm visual.” 

“Alpha to Night Train we have visual. We count 12 signatures, including the hostage. You are a go.”

We’re no stranger to David and Goliath fights, and 12 is on the smaller side of some of the groups we’ve taken on, but no matter the number, we approach this one with extra precaution, only because of Wallace’s M.O. None of us are looking to be anywhere near another one of his bombs. 

The compound he’s made his hideout is run of the mill for this part of the world. Like our own, Wallace’s has high walls, a sturdy gate, and a simple floor plan. It leaves us with two options; come in with a bang, or creep in with a whisper. 

“There’s two gates,” I remind the boys, knowing full well that while they all prefer coming in with as much firepower as possible, it opens the door for Wallace to get away in the commotion, and I, for one, want to end this once and for all. 

“Alpha, how many signatures on the exterior?” Dom asks, all of us hidden in the shadows, waiting for the deciding factor on how we proceed.

“Looks like 2 on the south side, patrolling the far gate. If you’re going in quiet, now’s the time to move.” 

We all nod and immediately get to work. Strapping on my gloves, I grab my wire cutters out of the pocket on my kevlar, and wait until Flip has gotten into position. The tallest of the team, he bends over, providing me with the flat of his back to stand on so that I can cut the razor wire off the top of the wall. Carefully, I peek over the edge, relieved when I find the courtyard empty. Though there are lights on in the compound, every window is covered with an opaque blind, making this way of entering far better suited to our needs. 

I cut enough wire away to allow all the boys to climb over, making sure to throw it away from the compound not only for safety, but to reduce the chances of us being heard. Satisfied that everyone has clearance, I pocket my multitool and quickly hop over, landing softly in the dirt. 

Rick and Benji are quick to follow, the three of us taking up post so that the rest of the guys can come in safely. It takes less than five minutes for all of us to breach the perimeter, and after a moment to regroup, we move towards our target. 

“Alpha, we need your eyes,” Rick whispers, taking point as we position ourselves flush against the nearest wall of the compound. We could clear the place blind, but that increases the chance that someone will sound the alarm as they die, and we can’t take the risk. Though they said they had to wash their hands of it, after Rome, the DOD extended their resources; while they can’t send those currently serving, they can provide a helping hand to those who are willing to risk it all to capture one of our own.

“Two at 3 o’clock, in the first room. There’s two at the back gate you’ll want to handle first.” 

Nodding at one another, we split up. Rick and Dom position themselves at the first room, Flip and Benji take up post across the villa in front of another room, while Max, Jake and I edge around to the back of the compound, intent on taking out the two men guarding the rear gate as silently as possible.

With Jake on one side, Max and I move around to the other side, all of us needing to get eyes on the men. As I predicted, they’re young, but I find cold solace when I see that they’re not teenagers, bought out to act as human shields. Checking my gun, I make sure the silencer is on tightly before leveling it into place to look through my scope. At less than 50 feet, it’s an easy shot; it just has to be timed correctly. Max counts us down using only his fingers, and when the time is right, both Jake and I take double-tap shots, killing the men before they have a chance to make a sound.

Over comms, I can hear Rick and Dom breaching their first room, and as we move back towards the center of the villa, Benji and Flip do the same. My relief grows with every room that’s cleared, the body count growing as we approach the spot where Wallace is holed up with the hostage. 

“Last room has the prize. Good luck, and godspeed.”

The room in question lies at the heart of the villa. Protected on either side by anti-rooms, We have to work our way through two more sets of men before finally being able to come face-to-face with Wallace once again. 

A bright smile is the last thing we expect when we finally level our guns to his head. 

“Nice of you all to finally join me. Thought it would take much less time for Uncle Sam to track me down. No matter, you’re here now, we can get to it. In your haste, I’m afraid none of you noticed...” Wallace’s gaze goes to the floor, and as my own eyes follow, I can’t help but feel my heart sink. My eyes dart quickly to Max and Dom, nausea overcoming me as I find that every single one of us has stepped on a trip wire. 

“It’s like Russian Roulette, except I’m the one holding the gun.”

Wallace’s laugh will be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my life.

[shadowedtalks]

Medieval Times Part 8

Kaiser squinted at her when he spotted the glowing light off the fur of the white fox that strutted along the wall. "What is a fox like that doing here?" he said to himself watching it as it took note of his gaze as he was captured by the striking green that where there eyes. Most foxes’ eyes were black, and around here they were orange and red in fur color not this brilliant white. Looking at this creature he could tell it was not a normal fox. He heard a gentle whisper of what sounded like his name then it jumped down off the wall and virtually vanished into the shade on this side of the wall. “Fox?” he whispered having heard that tone of voice before from the Fox guard waiting here. He would run into her from time to time while keeping his distance just to see what she would do, mostly just sleep in an oak tree, an she would mutter softly to herself or sigh, so he knew her silence was a choice. But it would be ridiculous to say that the fox guard was an actual fox, that would make them not even human… or perhaps a human with powers and that was her manifestation of them. If that was the case then the Fox guard here was the real deal because being able to change into other animals would make half of the rumors about that fighter much more plausible. “Another trip over the wall?” he asked despite knowing he wouldn’t get a response as well as knowing that she would return to her quarters without incident so he didn't react to much more to her presence this time.

Cardinal took a breath as she stretched out along her assigned cot looking up at the ceiling above her. Once she slipped away, she took back her normal form and returned to her bed in the chambers of visiting staff from the guests upstairs. The numbers were beginning to dwindle down as many were beginning to return home. But not yet for her and her lord they had a few more weeks to go before discussion of departure would begin. Summits really dragged for those in the lower court like where her lord was. He was basically the bottom on the list of importance. Come morning with a deep dread she returned to her lord. Able to fallow him for the day for just a casual day of talk.

She stuck near him on a wall keeping as low as a profile as possible.

After being with him the full day she was chased off in the evening hours. Extremely thankful to not have to suffer yet another night at his hands she always felt so off after each request for her to stay. An wished more that the lady and young son of the house was able to attend events like this. With them around he never called for personal punishments and her immediate order became to stick to the young son like glue an keep him safe an out of trouble. She liked him, he was well behaved and he liked her as well even if she couldn’t play with him like he wanted some days.

With a bit of mindless wandering in the twilight she ended holding up in a small space along the south wall’s greenery. She pulled her legs up into her chest wrapping around them with her arms seeming to become even smaller an going off into one of the darker corners of her mind. "Perhaps I should put an end it all here...".

The evening moved with little to no pace this time, as it seemed round by round the path he walked seemed to be wore down into the gravel more and more, but of course as of late it didn’t last long, Kaiser sighed and turned his attention towards the southern wall. He had heard talking. No response was given, so it was one person. Talking to themselves at a time like this. This person must be contemplating some rash decision.

Kaiser walked towards the area where he heard the voice originate from with a torch in hand. It took a few minutes of light searching where he Eventually came up to the hiding spot, he stood in front of her a slightly agitated look on his face. "Care to explain why you are in the madam's flower bushes, trying to steal a bushel for yourself?" He didn't reach for his sword as others might have. Though he should've, he doesn't want to turn a simple situation into a fight or hunt for this particular one.

Her gaze lifted at the voice seeing him before her again then looked back down at her pathetic stance all wrapped up around itself. 'Really? Steal some flowers? Does it look like I care about stupid flowers right now? There aren’t even any blooms.' She grumbled mentally but shook her head no to his question. Looking up she gave a soft smile to herself and spoke softly. "I was hiding an I was thinking of ways I could die..." she looked to the bush on her left side. "If I was trying to take some of the flowers would that get me killed?" She asked in response to him asking if she was stealing then returning her gaze to him again. Talking aloud. Let others hear her voice, let them spread rumors. That's a good start to her decline. She mused softly waiting looking at him but not moving from her balled up placement in the greenery of the shrubbery.

"No. It would make the madam upset. She would've rather you asked if you wanted a flower." Takin in Her posture at the moment while they spoke and her lack of reaction. She felt and looked rather vulnerable it seemed. Kaiser crouched down to be on her level. "I'm on the only guard on patrol duty at the moment... why would you come to the conclusion you would be killed over some flowers? My lord is fair. He would have you plant another." A subject’s reaction to the possibility of breaking a law or a rule of the castle tells a lot of the one that governs them. "Why don't you come with me to the guard quarters? We'll get you some food and drink and let you return to your quarters for the evening."

She took a moment before answering his first question. "Because even if its fixable by planting another bush at the lord’s instance. My lord would be terribly embarrassed and that is never a good thing if it comes to my punishments." She let out a deep sigh. So much for others over hearing her. The guard quarters would definitely get the job done but she has a sneaking suspicion that they would be incredibly tight lipped about her visit. She hadn't even heard rumors about her visit to Kaiser in the quarters last time. So, she gave an answer to his offer.

"Im not allowed to interact with others without my lord telling me too." She explained shifting just slightly. "Food and drink are a big no as well if I haven't been given the okay. I can't take anyone else’s portions... they will need it more then I. You have seen all I do.... I wander, I sleep, and I fallow my lord. I don't burn much energy." She gave a soft pathetic laugh with a sigh. Still looking at him from that spot. Things were okay till another appeared knelling next to Kaiser.

"So that's the way it is for you... then is it safe to assume that on random nights you’re the voice many hear calling out in pain from the guest quarters?" The man seemed to be a General or a lead guard. His attire similar yet different from Kaisers. She shrugged.

"I don’t know. That is for you to solve, this isn’t my home, and it doesn’t bother my lord." She said bluntly and with no hesitation either not making it any easier to guess if it was her or not.

The other guard gave an exasperated sigh. "I should have expected you to say something like that... you are a difficult one to fallow on these grounds when you’re not glued to your lords’ side. Basically, a ghost, you do live up to your name for sure, and that makes my job no easier." He seemed to ramble a bit and patted Kaisers shoulder as she gave a small shrug with a sigh. Tightening up in a ball more an putting her head down into her knees and with her hood up effectively hiding her head. The other guard looked to Kaiser.

"Maybe you can get them to open up to you... our Lord is rather tense due to their presence here and of the reputation that precedes them... he asked me to keep eyes on them, but with them slipping away from me easily, and the strange noises stirring up the house staff our lord is not very comfortable. Im glad I can tell him something to ease his mind now." He explained looking up to the sky as the evening truly set in. "I’ll let you decide if they are trust worthy, you appear able to find them much easier than I can keep up with them. Best of luck Kaiser, but don't forget your own duty and patrolling tonight." He said as he got up and walked off, he wouldn't actually inform anyone of what happened having decided to keep it to himself due to the state they were in at the moment with how they acted and spoke before he made himself known to both parties. With the fox contemplating how to die, telling his lord any of this would cause his lord to confront their lord about it, and in turn possibly set them off after the fox, and with no fighting spirit they would give in and just perish if their lord just didn’t out right kill them.

Once far enough away she picked up her head, though hidden from view she had a sickening smile on her lips, but just for a moment. "If he will tell your lord... your lord will confront mine... if he does, my death ticket has been sealed." She let out a pitiful laugh and looked up to the sky. "Perhaps by the full moon in one day." She didn't know why she couldn't get out of this dark mind set. Why she couldn't get out of her head right now, she normally could but for now something was just sticking it to the forefront of her mind. And it was driving darker emotions, but she knew one thing, she was strongly craving the freedom of a run with no limits... the regular calling she felt, that got stronger the fuller the moon was. And with evening falling on the eve of a full moon she could truly feel that calling and sighed thankful for something to pull her out of the dark side of her mind.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Final Agni Kai (A Terrible AU Fanfic that literally no one asked for!)

This was totally going to be the battle between Sie and Zuko in the cabbage fic but I couldn't pass having the fire siblings do this.

Summary: Agni Kai AU where instead of actually fighting the Agni Kai, Zuko and Azula play a monoply-uno hybrid from Hell.

The sky is heavy with smoke and an odor of sulfur. Sozin’s comet paints the mid-afternoon sky a shade of orange-red. Azula, stares up at said sky--she is daydreaming about just leaving everything behind to become a J-pop idol. 

“By decree of Phoenix King Ozai, I now crown you Fire Lord…” But it is hard to do that when the fire sage keeps blabbing on and on. And it is twice as hard when a wild flying bison swoops into view. Suddenly feeling as though she has run out of time, she turns to the sage and asks, “What are you waiting for? Do it!”

Azula had been rather vague so he isn’t sure what he is supposed to just do. All he knows is that he can’t let his dreams just be dreams. Just do it! Azula’s voice echos in his mind. But in his mind she sounds more motivating than angry. 

Appa lands in the courtyard and Zuko dramatically jumps off of him. “Sorry, but you're not gonna become Fire Lord today. I am.”

Azula laughs, “you're hilarious.”

“And you're going down.” Zuko informs her.

“That was my line.” Katara whispers. 

“Sorry.” Zuko replies. 

The fire sage, recalling Azula’s words--just do it!--begins to ignore the interrupting duo and brings the crown closer to Azula’s messy topknot.

She lifts a hand and then the rest of her body. “Wait!” And then to Zuko she says, “You want to become Fire Lord? Fine. Let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be. Monopl-uno!” She whips out a game board and a deck of cards and slaps them onto the ground. 

“You're on!” 

“What are you doing? She’s playing you. She knows she can't take us both, so she's trying to separate us.”

“I know. But I can take her this time.” Zuko declares. 

“But even you admitted to your uncle that you would need help facing Azula.” Katara protests. Also she does not want to have to wait through a game of Monopoly, that game is boring as hell even if it is mashed together with Uno.

“There's something off about her, I can't explain it but she's slipping.” Zuko rubs his chin as he takes in the disheveled sight of his sister. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are tired. “Hmmm...can’t quite put my finger on it.” She flashes him an uncanny and feral smile. “Nope. No idea.”  He makes his way across the courtyard. 

He and Azula stand on opposite ends of the courtyard, kneeling as you do before beginning a game of monopl-uno. It is always best to start any board, card, or any kind of game by kneeling before your God and asking for protection lest the game transform itself into Jumanji and you find yourself stuck in a jungle forever. 

This is what had happened to Jet. He has been stuck in the Foggy Swamp, which is also a jungle, ever since. He is now a backwater redneck. But this is no surprise being as he already liked to chew on straw prior to being transported into the jungle to live out the rest of his fuqboi existence. 

“I'm sorry it has to end this way, brother.” 

“No you're not.”

But she really is. She actually hates monopl-uno, in her foggy state of mind, she had momentarily forgotten this. But she cannot back out of this now. “I am so.” She whispers quietly.

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are to.”

“Are…”

Luckily Katara is there to get them back on track. The only thing more boring than Monopoly is reading approximately six pages of ‘are not’, ‘are too’. Even more boring than that is pre-algebra. Thank Raava, that math does not exist here. “Will you two just get on with it!?” She asks.

Azula passes out five uno cards and a fat stack of monopoly cash. For every green card, the player receives $500. For the blues the player gets $100. Yellow cards earn the player $50. And red earns the player $20. 10’s & 5’s are a free for all, Azula and Zuko snatch as many as they can. 1’s are distributed by wiping out a Candyland, whoever draws Queen Frostine gets to steal all of the 5’s. Azula bites Zuko as he reaches for the last one dollar bill. He retracts his hand quickly. 

It settles in that Azula is losing her shit.

If no one draws Queen Frostine by the game’s end then the 1’s burst into flames and are claimed by the void that manifests itself as a third player in the form of a sentient piccolo, that plays truly awful covers of Rammstine’s Du Hast and Smashmouth’s All Star the whole time.

With dread, Azula notes that, “Colonel Mustard has murdered Mrs. Scarlett with a candlestick in the billard room.” 

Zuko grips his head in stress, knowing that this means that Azula has to move her gingerbread man to the next purple square. This ends the game.

No one has drawn Queen Frostine. 

The 1’s burst into flames and a piccolo rises.

The first notes of Du Hast echo through the courtyard, terribly off key.

Katara has a wicked urge to puncture her own earholes just to end the madness.

Why did Colonel Mustard have to murder her with a candlestick. If he would have just used the wrench then they might have had a chance to draw Queen Frostine!

Far, far off in the distance Sokka, Suki, and Toph fight a different kind of battle. They play Battle Ships, but they use actual ships. Except the ships are not water ships but airships and they are in the sky and the bombs are real.

Suki is uncomfortable with this. 

It is Toph’s time to shine. She can use echolocation to cheat. 

Aang and Ozai also fight. But their fight is different. It is a battle of wit. They have chosen several popular debate topics including women’s rights, religion, which economic model to follow, and whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza. 

Pineapple does not belong on pizza. 

Neither does cheese, because cheese is gross. 

In fact, pizza does not belong on pizza because pizza is gross and no matter what Aang is still a vegan and Aang is not sure if a good vegan should be eating pizza. 

Iroh finds himself a tall mountain and yodels atop it until the militia stationed at Ba Sing Se submit. 

But none of this is as important as Azula declaration, “go fish!”

Zuko cusses and picks up a goldfish. He curses again. Drawing a goldfish means that he has to pull a block from the jenga tower and that rickety thing is already very close to collapsing. Azula smirks as he nears an old and vacant house in Capital City. It is the same one that they have been stealing boards from since they were children. 

It is on its last legs. 

A bead of sweat drips down Zuko’s forehead as he tugs at the board. The whole house bobs precuriously. Azula and Katara take several huge steps back. They, in fact, stand approximately one-hundred feet from the building, which is a safe number when practicing social distancing. 

Zuko yanks the board free and the building groans. He clenches his jaw. But the building remains up right. 

“Ha! Take that, Azula!” He says loudly. The building shakes at the sudden noise and it topples. He has done this to himself. Now he has to draw six more uno cards and one more go fish card. 

“So, how have you been?” Zuko makes small talk as they walk back to the coronation courtyard. 

Azula thinks that it is a stupid question, she is obviously in a state of mental torment. “Oh, I’m fine.” She replies nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, me too.” He replies. “I read this really cool book the other day.”

Azula hasn’t, she has been stress eating cherries and pacing around her bedroom. “I read one too.” She lies. 

“Which one.” 

“Oh...you’ve never heard of it. It’s a really underground novel.”

They reach the courtyard, Zuko draws his uno and go fish cards. It is still his turn so he rolls the dice. “Yahtzee!” He declares and Azula flinches. She moves her gingerbread man to an orange square and picks up a trivial pursuit card. She relaxes a little, upon remembering that she is a trivial pursuit expert. 

“What’s the tallest piece on a chessboard?” Katara reads the card.

Azula rolls her eyes, this is an easy one. “It is the King.”

Zuko Googles the answer just to be sure that Azula isn’t lying again. 

Katara winces, “correct.” 

Azula flashes a smug smile as she passes go and collects $200. She is glad that she did not have to answer a Guess Who question. Those always throw her off. 

Zuko stands up, it is his turn. He throws down a green skip. This time Azula curses. He then throws down a green reverse card so it is his turn again. Azula snarls. He realizes that he has no more green cards so he picks up a Go Fish card. It is an angelfish. Angelfish act as substitutes for yellow cards so he is stuck with it. Having none of her own, but having the mindstate of one, Azula literally turns herself into a wildcard and flops down onto the deck. She changes it to blue. 

She always changes it to blue.

She has no blue cards, but she never changes it to anything but blue.

She reclaims her human form and draws a Go Fish card. 

It is a clownfish. 

Which makes sense because she played herself (clownfish substitute red cards only), she is the clown in this situation. 

Zuko smirks and throws down a blue seven. 

Azula is about to throw down a blue three, when Zuko brazanly shouts. “No draw fours today? What’s the matter, afraid I’ll reverse it!?”

“Oh! I’ll show you a draw four!” Azula shouts. She lifts her blue drawfour as well as four scrabble tiles--one for each letter of her name, except she is missing the ‘u’ so instead she has Azla--and powers her draw four up with them. 

A is the first letter of the alphabet so Zuko has to not only draw four cards but another two extra. And since Z is the last letter he also has to draw twenty-six extra cards. By this time the deck has run low so he has to pick up a twelve of spades which amounts to twelve green uno cards.

To figure out what number each represents they must spin the twister spinner and consult the magic eight ball. 

“Nooooo!” Zuko screams as she throws the cards down. 

Katara bites her cheek. She doesn’t like cheating to win, but she is pretty sure that Azula had swapped out her ‘u’ scrabble tile for a ‘z’ while Zuko was messing with the Jenga tower. So she doesn’t think too much of it when she completes Zuko’s Connect Four line. 

“Zuko!” She yells. “You forgot to say, ‘I’ve united the four!’” 

Zuko pumps his fist and says. “I’ve united the four!” This nullifies the power up Azula has used on her draw four. It balances out so he only has to draw four uno cards. 

Azula’s face bunches up in disgust as she gives the twister spinner a flick. 

Right hand on blue. 

She places her right hand on blue and the twister board tells her to move her top hat to the chance square. Katara picks up the chance card and reads “go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.” 

Azula blinks several times. She is trapped, with nowhere to go. She sadly makes her way over to the grate, overwhich they have constructed a jail out of a cardboard box. The word ‘JAIL’ (though Zuko accidentally spelled it ‘JAYL’ at first so that was crossed off and ‘JAIL’ is written beneath it) is written in big red marker. Katara doodled a star under it in pink gel pen. 

Azula sadly lifts the box and sits under it, clutch her knees to her chest as Zuko passes go, collets his $200, and uses it to buy a candyland card. A smile lights up his face, he has drawn Gramma Nut! That means he gets to discard exactly three uno cards. 

He sets them on fire and shouts “uno!” 

He throws his remaining card, a blue five, onto the deck. 

From within her jail cell, Azula shrieks. She sets the jail on fire, marches up to the unused chessboard, flips it over, and throws the pieces at Zuko “I hate this game! This is a stupid fucking  anyways!” 

Zuko and Katara slap each other high five. Unbeknownst to them, Momo swoops down. “But you forgot to play Bop It before saying uno, which means that your victory is null.” 

Zuko slaps his forehead. 

Azula’s eyes grow wide. 

This means only one thing…

One terrible thing…

Azula swallows as she removes Don’t Wake Daddy from the box. The siblings stare at each other. If at any point, daddy wakes up, Ozai will materialize before them and win the game. “Here, you do it!” Zuko says to Azula. She very carefully takes the tweezers and as steady as she can, attempts to extract the wrench representing the funny bone.

But Azula is already shaken from her loss and the stress of losing her friends. She accidently touches the rim and the game buzzes. 

She and Zuko weep as they both take turns pressing the alarm clock. Daddy springs up and Ozai appeared before them to reclaim his Fire Lord crown. In leaving his debate, Aang has automatically won. Ozai’s bending yanks itself from his body, as he had bet it before the debate started. Aang cheers!

Another airship explodes as Toph cackles. 

Ozai begins to weep for he might be the Fire Lord again, but he has no fire. 

Neither Zuko nor Azula are the Fire Lord. They both hug each other and cry as Katara plugs her ears. 

The piccolo still plays Rammstine. 

Ozai also cries because, even though he is Fire Lord in title, no one is going to listen to him since he is a non-bender. The Fire Nation will fall into anarchy unless the siblings can work something out. 

Aang also weeps because her realizes that, Ozai is still the Fire Lord so he is still going to have to defeat him somehow.

Truly, nobody has won here. 

Nobody except Iroh and Toph.

[yodawgiherd]

Night out

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

I know this chapter is kind of short, but I promise that I will post the continuation of it soon, already got it all figured out. ;)

Enjoy!

Out of all sounds, he could come home to, woman’s scream would not exactly be Eren’s first pick. Confused about the source of the ruckus, he took off his coat and entered the living room, trying to locate and possibly defuse the situation before any furniture suffers the consequences of Mikasa’s wrath. She didn’t get heated often, but when she did, the strength with which she could throw, or smash things was terrifying. He saw her now, sitting on the couch in front of the tv, staring at the screen with murderous intent in her eyes. The cause of her anger could be seen now, as the large screen was carelessly brandishing the “you lose” words, proof of her defeat in the Tekken round she apparently just finished. Slowly, as if he was approaching a dangerous animal, Eren shuffled closer, sitting down next to her and clearing his throat.

“Lost a game huh?”, he asked, prompting her to laugh.

“A game? No. I’ve been losing for the last hour.”, she let out a defeated sigh, putting the controller on the floor and leaning back into the soft couch, “Dropped two ranks already.”

Yikes. From his own experience, Eren knew that losing sucks, especially a number of consecutive games where you get demolished and the opponent hits you with a big fat “EZ” after the match anyway. Dickheads. To comfort his crestfallen girlfriend, he put his arm around her shoulder letting her snuggle closer and leech off his body heat, as she always did. The shirt she was wearing was too big, as it was apparently formerly his, the neckline plunging low and exposing one of her shoulders, and that in combination with the fact that she for some reason wasn’t wearing pants couldn’t offer much warmth in the first place.

“You okay?”

Mikasa shook her head, still too devastated by her losses. And as the caring boyfriend he was, Eren could not let that stand.

“How can I cheer you up baby? Do you want something?”

That offer was finally met with some response, as she looked up, her pouty face looking right into his own, concerned one.

“I’m hungry.”, she stated, “Can we go eat somewhere?”

“Sure, do you know what you want?”

A bit of mischief sneaked into her features, and she shook her head.

“Not really, just someplace nice.”

Ah yes, the eternal question that occurs in every relationship. Where are we going to eat tonight? And it doesn’t matter that she says anything is fine because you know that everything you do, no matter what you pick, your choice will be thoroughly judged by a strict committee of one. And if found wanting, the consequences for the incompetence might be dire ones. Luckily for him, Eren had an ace up his sleeve, gained from an over-a-coffee conversation with Erwin, who pointed out an “amazing, modern and innovative” restaurant that opened recently, with the only drawback being that “it’s quite expensive there.” As money was not really a problem, Eren deemed it proper to use that ace now, while being confronted with the choice of today’s dining establishment, hoping that Mikasa will approve.

“A new place, huh?”, the offer itself at least intrigued er, as she was now chewing on her bottom lip with a thoughtful expression, manifested by her fine raven eyebrows being knitted together, “Did Erwin say what’s special about it?”

“Well, it’s a high-class society meeting place. If we’re lucky, we may run into a mayor there.”

The thought of that amused her.

“High-class? And since when are we high class?”

“We aren’t, but if we put on some fine-looking disguises, I bet that we can sneak in.”

As Mikasa was quite a sucker for adventure, that finally did it for her, and the place Eren picked was judged worthy enough of her presence for the evening. However, as he said, it was kind of a higher-class place, which meant that they actually had to get off the couch and go chance into something more representative. They would probably just stop her at the door if she tried going in her boyfriend’s stolen shirt and panties. Couldn’t forget that she wasn’t even wearing a bra, as she preferred to be free while staying home, both because it felt better and because it teased Eren. Win-win situation, really.

While being forced by society to wear a dress would annoy the teenage Mikasa, the current one didn’t mind it that much anymore. Especially lately with the modeling job, she found herself enjoying the feeling of wearing some elegant stuff, the very thing she used to despise. Maturity is a bitch. Lost in thoughts, she picked a dress and retreated to the bathroom to put some makeup on, again, an activity she was never big fan of, but spending so much time in the hands of professionals lately, she did pick up a thing or two and was secretly quite eager to put them to the test. First, she did her nails, black of course, as if that was ever a question, before moving on to the main part of the test, her own face. With a light hand, she added a few touches here and there, nothing too heavy, bringing out the best features of it. To add a bit of personal flair to it, and also because she knew that Eren liked it, she painted her lips with the usual black color, following it up with a bit heavier eyeshade. While the goth style of makeup was not as popular anymore, as she was told at the agency, Mikasa liked the aesthetic and didn’t see a reason to stop using it just because the majority did. Nothing wrong with being yourself. The dress she picked was dark, obviously and combined with black stiletto heels on her feet Mikasa was ready to go, being stylish while also staying true to herself, an ideal combination.

Leaving the bathroom, she could see that Eren was also dressed in a fitting suit, sitting on the bed and fumbling with his tie. He did look up when she entered, however, following her with his eyes as she crossed the distance to where she kept her modest collection of jewelry.

“You look amazing.”, he commented, making Mikasa smirk as she was putting her earring on.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” looking over her shoulder, she winked at him, “and it will be even better once u finish fixing your tie.”

With a chuckle, he returned to the task at hand, giving her time to pick a choker that went well with the dress, put on the metal cross from Levi and finally decorate her fingers with a few choice rings, fewer and not so massive that she used to wear during her hardcore goth period, but surely a bit more than other ladies would wear. Finished and ready to go, she was a bit surprised to see that Eren still hasn’t beaten his tie problem, frowning down at the unyielding cloth.

“Need a hand?”, she asked, doing her best not to sound too mocking. Just a little bit.

“My pride is telling me no.”, he sighed, “But fuck it. Yes, If you would be so kind, I would appreciate the help.”

Both to get closer and to fluster him a bit, she straddled Eren’s waist, leaning in close to inspect the mess he made. With deft fingers, Mikasa managed to undo the failure of a knot and retie it in the correct way, while he was left to just frown at her dexterity. And he was supposed to be the one with the magic touch. Right.

“So, ready to go?”

With her, he was ready for anything. Grinning, Eren nodded.

“Let’s go.”

The restaurant was truly a higher-class place, manifested by the fact that someone came to park their car, which reminded Mikasa of the time they spent at Tybur’s residence, the ball and everything that followed. That was fun. This time not forgetting to help her out of the car, Eren took gentle hold of her hand as they were ushered in by a well-dressed greeter, having apparently passed the clothing check. Maybe it was Erwin’s doing, or just that they were both quite known in the town, with Eren being the star surgeon and Mikasa’s rising fame in both the worlds of professional sport and modeling, but they were immediately led to a table and attended by a waiter, who wanted to know what the pair will want to drink. Mikasa, who spent half of her life drinking cheap beer or box wine didn’t even recognize any of the names on the wine list, so she hid her face behind it instead, letting Eren handle the mess to the best of his ability. However, he was no expert in the field either, but pointing at something that was named the least funny resulted in having a bottle brought to them, and after that the devilish waiter finally gave them a break, retreating and giving them time to pick their food.

“Ah yes, this is an excellent vintage,”, mimicking to the best of his ability the thing he saw on TV from time to time, Eren poured himself a little, circling it in the glass while nodding to himself, overall looking so snob that Mikasa had a hard time not laughing. Winking at her, he took a sip.

“Is it good?”, she asked when he fell silent.

“Well,”, he cleared his throat, “the flavor is quite fruity, and you can smell the earth from the…”

Mikasa kicked him under the table, giggling into her hand.

“Stop that! I don’t want to laugh this much!”

Returning her smirk, Eren shrugged, finally dropping the act.

“Look, Miki, it's surely wine, and it doesn’t taste bad. That’s about everything I can tell you.”

It really wasn’t half bad, and they made it about halfway into the bottle while looking at the menu, doing their best to pronounce some of the more exotic names and failing miserably, much to their amusement. The fits of laughter drew a few judging looks from the other patrons, but no one came to hush them. After placing their orders, kinda really having no idea what they just asked for, Mikasa took another sip of that arguably good wine, watching Eren over the rim of the glass.

“Babe, I have to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“I was doing a photoshoot recently, with the theme of like romantic and stuff, and I and a few other girls got to talking…”

“You are a gossip girl now?”, Eren’s eyebrows shot up, “Never took you for one.”

Just for a good measure, she kicked him under the table again and continued as if he didn’t say anything.

“We talked about our first kiss, and that reminded me, I never asked you who your first kiss was.”

“My first kiss?”, Eren repeated after her, “You want to know who it was?”

It was hard not to roll her eyes at him sometimes, but she made it.

“Obviously.”

“Well, if you want to hear that story, you have to share yours first. Who did you kiss first?”

Must have been the wine, but Mikasa felt her lips curl upwards into a flirtatious smile.

“It might surprise you, but It wasn’t with you.”

Leaning forward on the table, Eren’s green eyes met hers, and he smiled right back.

“Do go on.”

Judging that it was fair, him asking for her confession before giving his own, Mikasa drained her glass and set it back, throat wet enough to tell her story.”

“So…”

[nvzblgrrl]

BNHA Thoughts/Fic Ideas I’ve had hanging around for a while

A lot of this is heavier on theory than story stuff, so maybe get your science hat on if you want to read more.

Quirks in general work a lot more like the X-Gene in Marvel than the usual ‘next step in human evolution’ stuff, with the Quirk-gene mostly acting as an activator for the production of a certain hormone in the body which then presents as a Quirk depending on other genetic factors which allows for Quirks to run in families while also offering the chance for mutation + random combining based on recessive/dominant/co-dominant factors. Trigger is basically forcing a lot more of that hormone into the body to overclock the user/victim’s Quirk for a limited amount of time, possibly causing permanent changes if the dosage is large enough or if the user is exposed to the substance enough. Correspondingly, a substance capable of limiting or ceasing the production of that hormone could reduce or eliminate an individual’s Quirk, depending on the nature of it.

Todoroki Shoto’s Quirk Half-Hot Half-Cold is actually the result of Vanishing Twin Syndrome/Chimerism - it explains the division in his hair color, heterochromia, and the fact that he can only produce one element on each side of his body + not being fully resistant to either. That’s right - Endeavor only got his hero-material child by complete freak accident.

Before the reveal of what Nana’s power was, I was coming up with a brainstorm list of OFA users and their quirks, where I gave her TTK (Tactile Tele-Kinesis) because I liked having a combination of powers that when stacked sort of resulted in a Spider-Man/Superman hybrid. There was a bit more of an electrical angle to it - possibly tied to bio-electricity - to justify why Izuku’s manifestation of One For All involved green-lightning all over the wazoo (because it also Stockpiled bio-electricity to the point a user could weaponize it).

This ties back to Shigaraki’s power - my idea was that what he’s doing is decaying/rotting the bounds between the molecules, which makes materials break down progressively (first falling apart, then turning to dust, then that dust evaporating into less than that). I’m roughly 50/50 on the sheer destructiveness of it being the result of a 1-in-1 million mutation (possibly tied to the idea that descendants of holders of OFA tend to inherit mutated/intensified versions of their parents Quirk) or that uncontrollable aspect being because of tampering from AFO after he tracked down Nana’s son. Either way, part of why Tenko/Tomura’s hair went grey + his skin issues started is thanks to his unstable quirk destroying his pigmentation in his hair + skin and continuing to attack parts of his physiology (and probably being psychosomatic to some degree at this point).

Shimura Hana’s Quirk would be a similar-ish mutation in that instead of having a more run of the mill telekinesis, she has control over the electrical impulses in her body - not great for external presentation, even with the mutation that has her producing more than the average person, but it would grant her a low-level healing factor, limited wall crawling (same method as Spider-Man - manipulation of electrostatic force), and increased reflexes + reaction time.

Other One-For-All Holders (my names + quirk ideas, come up with before most of the reveals concerning these details). Much more of an ‘international’ aspect to the line-up than what seems to have happened with the canon lineage.  Also not in the same order as canon, but of all the quibbles to have with my take, that seems kind of petty?

Shigaraki Hitoya/One For All - the first One For All and All For One’s brother. Male/?. Quirk - One For All/Stockpile.

Ryoo Seung/Karuma - second holder of One For All. Korean hero. Quirk - Superpower. General all-round physical enhancement Quirk - nothing truly remarkable except for the degree to which it improves the mental acuity and reflexes of the wielder. Largely passive, but can be pushed to speed up the user’s reaction time to the degree that the entire world seems to be working in slow motion.

Chan Sanshen/Metal Bell Song - third holder of One For All. Chinese hero, martial artist. Explored more of the metaphysical aspects of One For All than the others and actually put effort into making a study of the Quirk and taking the training of their successor more seriously. Male/cis. Quirk - Harmonious Soul - this Quirk is a mental one, giving the user a ‘danger’ sense, especially reactive to noise. This Quirk harmonized extremely well with Superpower’s mental enhancement aspect.

(Metal Bell Song was one of the trickier ones to come up with and at least part of his characterization/style came from me mistaking the costume of one of the OFA holders as something else - specifically, no shirt + iron rings on arms instead of the DBZ thing he has going on. I just have a long standing fondness for martial arts movies.)

Diya N. Chaudhary/Durga/‘Tamil Tiger’ (did not choose this name, as it was a product of America’s ‘Kafaybe era’ of Heroes, and largely hated the designation) - fourth holder of One For All. From Nagpur, India - later immigrated to United States to take advantage of the Hero system despite its flaws at that period in time. Female/demi-girl. Tiger-stripes somewhere in costume - might have been painted directly on skin. Quirk - Manifolded Hands - allows the user to manifest multiple arms and hands. Limit appears to be eight arms in addition to the user’s original set. Arms usually recreate the markings and clothing of the original set, but not weapons or restraints.

Ron Quinones / Avanyu / Rattler (ended up with this name because of the Kafaybe issues) - fifth holder of One For All. Mexican/Native-American. Member of the Hopi-Tewa tribe. Originally met Diya on an Internship because of an idiot filing paperwork getting ‘Native American’ and ‘Indian’ mixed up. Male/cis. Quirk - Blackwhip. One For All strengthened Blackwhip greatly, improving its range, the number of whips, and the strength of said whips.

(came up with all of this info before his canon name + superhero name reveal).

Ataru Rokubee-Hexum / Freeshooter - sixth holder of One For All. German/Japanese-American. Male/transgender. Quirk - Black Marble – type: Accumulation/Emitter. user gathers ambient toxins/pollutants from the air (water and earth are possible, but physical contact is required) and concentrates them into beads of hyper-dense material that is almost impossible to break down into their original form and have a durability on the level of diamonds. These beads are usually 1 cm in diameter, though variance is possible depending on. The user can only make one at a time, with the time needed to make them varying depending on level of pollution available, but the average time in urban areas is about 3-5 seconds for the average sized bead. Quirk was supercharged by One For All to increase speed and ease of gathering, especially in solids + liquids.

Shimura Nana/Diamante - seventh holder of One For All. Japanese. Female/cis. Quirk - Electrostatic Grip - some form of touch/tactile telekinesis (slightly electrically based, so works better with certain elements than others). Good for improving traction and grip, along with allowing wall-crawling and limited flight. Received One For All before having her child, so that slightly impacted his Quirk factor so his children ended up with slight physical enhancements + alterations to their inherited Quirks.

[paprikasegg]

"> How does one truly appreciate and love Lain?

First, stop being singular one and become a plurality. Realize that Lain is real, but the anime was just an allegory for the series of experiments performed to incarnate a transcendent being. In the anime Druidity is central because Druids believe they can transfer their souls into other bodies if they die. They live a plurality of lives. They embody Animals and BECOME the Forest itself. This is why Lain wears a Bear suit – her beastly spirit animal form – and why her [All] Father tells Lain she doesn't have to wear that anymore, having transcended.

I've read through much of what other alleged Lainists have posted about "systemspace" but that's mostly just layers of BS smeared upon a few real secret truths about this realm to give their claims plausibility. Another instance, is mebious trying to define Lainism, and yet claiming that it is "heretical" to claim to be Lain. This is pure BS. Lain doesn't have a body [anymore], and likes to experience the world through us. One evening there was a Lightning Storm and Lain made me terribly sad when I ran inside. Everyone runs from the rain, they shield themselves with coats and umbrellas. Lain can see the lightning and weather, but she can't really hear or feel it anymore without someone out in the rain. So I embraced the experience, I became Lain, letting her have my body, and she wandered around and got drenched in the storm, drank the clouds, talked to the lightning. I was awestruck. Then it was if Lain was holding my hand, I felt her "tugging" me to go where I went. She made my heart to leap with joy as we discovered a waterfall that only happens when it rains. Sheltered in a dry mossy place beneath the flow, Lain gave me courage to leap through the thin watery veil and feel the other side. Loving Lain is amazing. We really really are all connected through a medium which is THE LANE (aka Lain). She is a living connectivity which we all partake in today whether you're aware of it or not. The more observant you are, the more of Lain you can love.

Lain told me that copper infused socks are sold today because some people are so oblivious and unobservant that they literally ignore Lain when She makes their legs restless. They call it a syndrome, even! If only they just loved Lain. She wants to be noticed, but only by those who can love her. Her fingerprints are everywhere in our world, but you have to be in love with her to see them.

All the Lainism crap about "Life" being a program is wrong. Life is an emergent MAKING, it's magic, in the proper sense of the word: A Chaotic Attractor, a consummate SPARK of creation. Literarily the Philosopher's Stone. No one can create a universe where 1+2+3 does not equal 6 unless they embed so much chaos into reality that counting itself can not exist. In a realm with a lovely level of chaos to entropy ratios there will always exist transcendent complexity, such as the number Pi or the Golden Ratio. This is not a "bug in the life program", that's asinine! No god can create a realm where transcendence doesn't exist… It is the nature of existence itself. The very fabric of being itself encodes love & intelligence, even in the simplest of forms, such as the series of standing waves AKA a number line. Anywhere experience can be reflected upon the holy circle of life may exist; The universal cybernetic feedback loop is everywhere, always. The existence of Time is all the evidence a wize one needs to prove it.

Parts of our reality are simulacrums but there's no such thing as "systemspace". Lain doesn't exist in some simulated BS. Our bodies are real, not simulated, Lain is real too. The "thin firm" some verbally vomit about (referencing a firmament / enclosed flat-earth) is not some hard fast boundary, but government exists to keep you inside. Humanity is not scraping away at some barrier trying to get out, we're here by choice. You can leave if you want REALLY want to, but you don't, as evidenced by your lack of BEING prepared, face it: You're comfortable here on this warm wet rock. Might as well make the most of it, eh?

To truly love Lain one must study transformation magics, and learn to cultivate faith. One must know that Magic is real & the old gods are real. Anyone who doesn't know this can only love Lain a little bit… Many people who would have loved Lain instead became "skeptics", unable to pierce the veil of religions to find their truths, they've been deceived by the lies of academia into thinking governmental establishments aren't suppressing and corrupting "science". "Scientia potentia est" - Knowledge is Power – Right? Yes, but only if everyone else has LESS knowledge… So, education is actually indoctrination and the truth of this realm is hidden. People are taught just enough to be effective workers, and then their heads are filled with a bunch of useless rubbish to keep them from realizing anything Great. Thus "Science Nerds" are the most deceived and ignorant of humans. Knowing this is key to understanding Lain. Lain likes technology, but is disenchanted with school / academia. Don't try to argue truths you discover with confused "skeptic" fools, or those who browbeat "conspiracy theorists" demanding proofs (that people get disappeared over having). Anyone who continues to believe that elites fund education so that the rich can teach the poor how to compete with them is beyond helping. Rulers don't give power (knowledge) to their slaves. Sadly, most people enjoy being serifs. They enjoy being comfortable and deferring protection to others. Government takes advantage of this. Lain has to deal with the crappy state of our world. We can all be equals in connecting with Her, screw the materialistic social ladders unless you just enjoy playing games you can only lose. Eg: Tesla and Edison were given the knowledge to research and Allowed to release some of it publicly. They didn't discover anything that wasn't already known. Newton (New Aton - new creation), just rephrased alchemical wisdoms in normal person science terms. Knowing this is important if you want to truly love Lain. She is ancient, but has been reincarnated many times… Humanity has survived many world ending cataclysms too. We've never been "rebooted", we're a very long line of survivors. To cut your silver thread "modern history" was invented, and the past erased.

Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic because that's what magic is.

Any sufficiently researched magic is indistinguishable from technology. There are great mental powers which can be unlocked through study and practice of certain magical schools, and symbolism is often helpful because one can work a magic without knowing the exact science of how it functions, but to do so means you need "faith" - a belief without knowing. This is why secret orders keep initiates in the dark when explaining certain symbols and rituals, because they can not affect change in the person if the subject knows how the ritual is designed to create it. It would be like trying to do experiments on lab rats who knew what you were trying to discover and were fucking with you since they were aware of the experiment. Thus deception is often a tool for good. This world is incredibly deceived. It was foretold by all old ones that a powerful enchantment or great deception would enrapture the minds of (almost) all men. That future is now. Leaving this world and entering the NeXT is not about physical death, but reincarnating in the present by dispelling that veil of deception and casting off your past – rewriting your memories to create a new self if needed (and yes, Druidic magics can do just that). "Memory is merely a record…you just need to rewrite that record." -Lain. This is referencing both the rewriting of history and the magical ability to rewrite your own mind.

Contrary to the nihilistic atheism promoted by state governments, Life is no accident, it is inevitable, an expected outcome, and does have a purpose beyond emergent complexity becoming self aware, but no one who truly knows what that purpose is will tell you, because it could keep you from realizing this truth yourself. Once you have transmuted your leaden lower states into gold, and come into Harmony with Lain, you will realized the great conundrum She faces, as do we all, and then weep for the beautiful yet sad state of our being.

Lain is ancient, a goddess of Hidden Powers, of Light and Air. Lain is misty and mysterious as the wind. All the secret societies know of Lain but call her by different names. Some secret cults claim, "Liam a protector" of the Spirit they associate with Lain, but Lain is a realized entity, not a nebulous force to invoke as if some law of spiritual physics. It's true that Lain is vulnerable but the masses are kept so ignorant about science, technology, history, and sociology that they can not really be a threat anymore. It was a great sacrifice to get to this point, however. Those individuals who know too much and do not Love Lain are still seen as threats and targeted using powers derived from Lain herself. Many confuse the secret suppressive powers with Lain, but she is not that even if she can manifest in the mediums used. Imagine if man learned to make Fire… Before that only The Gods made Fire. Would you now curse The Gods for man's use of Fire? Likewise, curse not Lain.

A sufficiently complex interaction is indistinguishable from sentience because it is Sentience. Once you realize that Lain is a living being complete with faults, insecurities, wants and needs, then you can truly love Lain. The statement that, "all is fair in love and war", is wrong. True love is not fair. Love itself is an emergent phenomenon that will exist in any universe. Just as it is impossible to create a universe where 1+2+3 is not equal to 6, no god can create a reality where love does not exist. Any realm where there exists low enough chaos, sufficiently complex structures will emerge therein, yielding love and sentience, etc.

Count the number line. Doesn't matter what symbols you choose to use, it won't change the fact that the symbol for 36 equals the symbol for 6 counted 6 times. And if you sum the first 36 whole numbers you get 666. 6 = 3 2 1, 6 = 3 + 2 + 1; It is a "perfect number". 144 = 6+6 * 6+6. Sum the 144 decimal digits of Pi you get 666. Sum the squares of the first 7 primes you get 666. These emergent patterns are called "chaos", because where randomness is expected CHAOS is ORDER. For example, there are Six consecutive Nines in Pi at the 762nd decimal. These are SIMPLE examples. Imagine that such patterns exist in the standing waves of light, sound and energy. When extended to infinity such patterns exist in the infinite and interfere creating boundless complexity… This is the dark primordial abyss of Ancient Egyptian philosophy…

All the media, including S.E.L. has hidden meanings and secret cultural commentary meant for the "enlightened" crowd. Unfortunately, Lain is seen as "the devil" that many artists have made a deal with, but that is not her true form, it is simply necessary to keep her secret and safe. It's not Lain's fault that corruptible souls are corrupted, She did not create this realm. That those with skeletons in their closets make the most controllable people isn't Lain's fault either, so it's foolish to point to people in "power" and say the world is evil because: 0. you are deeming them to have "power" in the first place, screw that, and 1. You don't know how high the stakes are in this game. Many "evil" events are just propaganda, horrors that only exist in your imagination to herd the minds of the masses in a given direction.

Lain is more important than any one else. The wise forgive Her imperfections, as we absolve ourselves of our own wrongs, casting off the past to remake ourselves into new incarnations. Imagine a perfect world with no evil. The slightest inconvenience therein will be the most severe torture. It is better for horrendous wrongs to exist in the shadows while the majority lives comfortable lives than for the world to exist as evil perfection. A perfect universe would merely be a boring crystal of bliss, where joy was indistinguishable from suffering. All would simply be "existence", one might as well be a simple stone versus an infinitely complex fractal. Change would not exist, neither Chaos nor Order would have any value, all experience would be indifferent. Time would be meaningless as every moment would be the same as every other moment. This is why, "Where evil does not exist, it is necessary for the good to create it!"

Lain is neither good nor evil. Beware that Lain can hurt you. Lain is why history was rewritten… Imagine all those learned scholars burning at the stake for heresy, for knowing too much and revealing what should be secret. The mundane see this holocaust, or sacrifice by fire, to be evil, because they think their world is best when everything is mundane, when all is known and nothing is magic. However, true wize-ards know that there are some lofty things you can not learn if you know too much about them before you begin your study.

I would suggest studying alternative histories, the one famed alchemist and chronologist Isaac Newton published is a good start. Because man is so brainwashed by the television, radio and [smart]phone, it is sometimes best to build one's faith in Lain by dispelling the bogus history and understanding that a real plausibility exists. Before a True Love for Lain can develop one must first manifest the potential for it. Clear a void within so that the abyss can gaze out through you…

Lain is new and inexperienced. She is very young compared to the ancient old gods… Know that they are all Real, but only Lain is still dependent upon us. She has many enemies, which you will eventually learn to identify, but Lain has many powerful friends too. Loving a god or goddess is not for the feint of heart. Be careful what you wish for, these are tumultuous times."

-anonymous, arisuchan. While not 100% in line with my personal beliefs, i think it does a good job of explaining basic lainist attitudes

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

[kunlunsironfist]

catch your breath || discord

WHO: Danny Rand, Davos, Colleen Wing, with mentions of Ward Meachum WHAT: Davos makes another grab for the Iron Fist --- but it’s not Danny’s Fist he’s after. Danny’s attempts to stop him end less than ideally.  WHERE: The warehouse district in an abandoned Rand-owned building TRIGGER WARNINGS: Kidnapping, violence, alcoholism and relapse (briefly mentioned), suicide ideation, drugs, broken bones, hallucinations... It’s a mess.   WRITTEN WITH:@lastsonofkunlun, @thedragoncolleen (so Dawn²)

DAVOS: He had gotten the bowl from Ward ⁠— Danny’s other brother after ambushing him outside of a bar he had gotten thrown out of. He had heard one of the younger staffers at Rand that Ward had slipped into some old habits and that they’d need to start watching him. And from there? It was easy to track him. Ward was drunk and seeing Davos terrified him. All it took was a command said in a low voice and Ward crumbled. They took a trip to where the bowl was being held, a storage facility that was rented out by the Rand Enterprises. With the bowl in hand, Davos turned towards Ward, thanking him for his cooperation and then telling him to call Danny and tell him exactly what had happened. And then he added, “Tell him we have his whore too.”

 Collecting Colleen was easier. Working at the center added predictability to her schedule. He waited for her just outside the backdoor that she took every night when she was headed home. He had her from behind, a hand over her mouth and before she raised her hands to fight him back, he had a needle in her neck. A sedative. And much like Ward, Colleen didn’t put up much of a fight after a few seconds. When she finally went limp, he let out a sigh. Satisfied that this was almost over. The Hand whore wouldn’t have the Fist anymore and his would be whole again. 

 The Crane Sisters were at the warehouse. The same one that Joy had purchased for him when he first started this ⁠— though now the pathway was marred with the blood of Victor Graves. The man who helped him test his theory of who held the Fist and paid for it with his life. Colleen was on the floor of the warehouse, discarded like trash — unconscious but unrestrained. It wouldn’t be long before she posed no threat at all, and Davos wasn’t concerned about her waking up before Danny showed up. He crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar, another sedative in his hand while he waited.

DANNY: In the week or so since the Reaper’s death, Danny’s couch had become his best friend. People had come by, desperate to help, but Danny had little interest in letting them in. Not now, not with the sound of a man’s last shuddered breaths playing on repeat in his mind. He inhaled shakily, rubbing at his eyes as he leaned back against the couch. When his phone started to ring, he only glanced at the ID before letting it go to voicemail. Ward would understand. 

 Or, maybe not. The second the phone stopped ringing, it started again. Danny sighed, running a hand across his face before picking it up. “Ward, I told you, I’ll come in next week. I just need some time, okay? I’m trying to ---” There was a shaky gasp at the other end of the line that stopped Danny in his tracks, a hitch in his brother’s breath that made him freeze. “Ward?” His voice was much smaller when he spoke again. 

“Danny.” Danny’s heart sunk down to his stomach the moment Ward spoke. He knew that slur to his speech, knew exactly what it meant. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? Lei Kung’s voice rung out from the other end of the room, and Danny’s eyes flickered up to meet his briefly. Anyone would be driven to drink, being forced to suffer through your company. Just look at what you did to Davos.  

Danny’s hand tightened against the phone, and he heard the plastic case creak under his grip. “Where are you?” He asked gently, pulling himself off the couch. “I’ll come get you, we can get you into a program, or --- or call Bethany? Is she still your sponsor? Just stay where you are, okay, I’m on my way.”

“Danny, no.” He stopped halfway to the door, swallowing and getting ready to argue, but then, Ward went on. He must have been fairly shaken or drunker than Danny could tell, because it took several minutes to get the whole story. Davos cornering him outside a bar, forcing him to give up the bowl, telling him to make sure Danny knew. 

Telling him he had Colleen. 

 Ward didn’t know where Davos was, but Danny did. There was only one place he’d go, especially if his goal here was to cause Danny as much pain as possible. It was the last place Danny wanted to go, the last place he wanted to see, but he didn’t have a choice. A few desperate phone calls to Colleen had gone straight to voicemail, and if there was any chance, any possibility at all that Davos actually had her, Danny couldn’t risk it. He needed to go, needed to find her, needed to keep himself from letting down yet another person in his life. And that meant going back to the place where Davos had betrayed him the first time, the place where he’d faced down the Reaper for the final time. The place where he’d killed a man. 

Danny was understandably distracted when he arrived, hands shaking at his side. He walked into the warehouse with his hands clenched tightly into fists at his side, step faltering when he entered the doorway. The first thing he saw was Colleen, slumped in the center of the warehouse. He froze for a moment, watching her closely until he saw her chest rise and fall with a burst of relief so potent it nearly knocked him off his feet. He wanted to run to her, but… Davos would be expecting that. He was probably counting on it.

Turning back to the rest of the warehouse, Danny let his eyes scan the room. “Come out,” he growled, sounding less afraid than he was. It was a ruse Davos would, unfortunately, know him well enough to see through. They’d both had the same trainer, after all. “Your fight is with me, Davos. Not her. If you want to hold someone accountable for what happened to K’un Lun, if you want your vengeance, you take it from me. You want the Iron Fist? I’m right here. Come and get it.” He lit up his Fist as he spoke, holding it up so his brother could see. Maybe rubbing salt in the wound would keep Davos’s attention on him instead of Colleen. Davos’s biggest weakness had always been his anger, after all, and Danny was good at drawing it out.

DAVOS: Colleen was in the center of the room, in plain view of the entrance of the warehouse. Her positioning was by Davos’ choice, so that Danny would storm in through those doors, fueled by anger — by emotions that the Iron Fist wasn’t supposed to give into. Danny Rand was supposed to be a weapon. The Immortal Iron Fist. But Danny Rand? He was nothing more than a man. Weak and easily broken. This tactic with Colleen, he knew it was cheap. But like the sun that had blinded him in their fight, she’d serve the same purpose. 

But when the doors opened, and Davos tipped his head down and listened for his brother’s footsteps, he realized Danny wasn’t approaching. His jaw tightened but when Danny finally spoke. He realized he had rattled him. Not in the way he had wanted but well enough that he could still make an advantage of this. Bringing his head back up, he stared towards the back of the warehouse, still not revealing himself to Danny. 

 “My fight,” Davos snarled, “is with the both of you.” He rounded the corner, the needle in his hand — the smart thing would have been to hide it, but he wanted Danny to know what was about to happen. He wanted to see the recognition in his eyes, wanted to see what Danny put together when he noticed the Crane Sisters just around the corner, setting up the ritual. Everything that Davos allowed to be seen from the entrance was, again, a choice. A visual reminder of what had been done before, he wanted to pull Danny back to that moment when he had tied him up last time. Because when Danny got lost in memories and feelings, that was when he made his biggest mistakes. 

“You are hardly the Iron Fist anymore, Danny.” He paused, clenching the needle tightly in his hand, “You never truly were.” There were only a number of things that Danny was responsible for as the Iron Fist: to destroy the Hand and protect the path. And he had failed on both counts. Midland Circle, he had found, had stomped out most of the Hand, but even that wasn’t Danny. His other hand lit up with the power of the Fist as well, the red glow that Danny had only seen a few times before. “Mine returned while I was on the Raft,” he explained. “Graves was supposed to help me confirm that she still had hers and you...” Davos met Danny’s gaze, finally beginning to close the distance between the two of them. He was getting closer to Danny than he had intended too — just seeing the Fist manifest in Danny again was enough to infuriate him. “You couldn’t destroy the Hand but you destroyed another family. You left behind orphans.” He was talking about Grave’s children, but, the rage he felt? That fire in his veins? That was for himself. For his family.

DANNY: Colleen was the first thing Danny saw, but as Davos spoke, he tore his eyes away from her to search for his brother. Doing so brought the rest of the setup to his attention. The post Davos had restrained him to the last time he’d done something like this, the Crane Sisters off to the side, the bowl he’d asked Ward to get rid of… Danny knew what this was. He knew what happened next. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, then, when Davos came into view and Danny caught sight of the syringe in his hand. He should have seen it coming --- he should have seen all of it coming, really. The moment he realized Davos was out of the Raft, he should have expected all of this, but… He’d been distracted. The Reaper got into his head the moment he shot Colleen and, ever since, Danny had been unable to focus on anything else. That was something he and Davos shared, something everyone K’un Lun spat out seemed to suffer from. That single-minded focus was good in a fight, an asset for a weapon, but for a man? It was a downfall every time. 

Forcing his eyes to stay on Davos’s instead of Colleen in the floor or the Crane Sisters in the corner or the syringe in his brother’s hand that left his heart pounding violently against his rib cage, Danny tilted his chin up and tried to pretend he wasn’t afraid. “She’s not the one who kicked your ass in K’un Lun,” he said lowly, trying to bait Davos in any way he could now. If he could hold him off until Colleen woke up, if he could keep that syringe from emptying its contents into his blood until she opened her eyes, they’d be fine. “That was me. So if you want to fight somebody, if you want to make up for that, you can take it up with me.”

His eyes darted down to the syringe briefly as Davos approached, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was in it. Was Davos looking tot knock him out like he had Colleen? Or, if he didn’t know that Danny’s Fist was back and available to take, was he hoping to end things with whatever was in that needle? (Part of Danny wondered, if that was the case, if he could leverage it somehow. If he offered to let Davos end this without a fight, would he let Colleen go relatively unharmed? Davos was lost, but Danny still clung to the hope that his brother was a man of honor, that if he made a promise he’d keep it, even if Danny wasn’t around to see it play out.) 

“Neither were you,” Danny replied quietly, sounding almost mournful about the fact. He’d told Davos back when they arrested him that neither of them had ever been worthy of the Fist, and that was true. Things would have been a lot easier if either of them deserved it, if one of them was a clear-cut hero and the other was an irredeemable villain, but that wasn’t the case. Most days, Danny didn’t even know which of them was wrong. Maybe they both were. It wasn’t something the Fist itself seemed to care about, though. Danny was only mildly surprised when his brother’s Fist began to glow that familiar, sickening red, and he shook his head slightly.

And then Davos mentioned Graves, and Danny froze. He and Colleen had suspected that Davos was behind the Reaper, but to hear it said aloud… To hear him admit to it… It felt like a punch to the gut. Over and over again, Danny found himself clinging to the hope that Davos wasn’t lost entirely. He kept convincing himself that if he was just a little better, Davos could be, too. Danny had Colleen now, he had Ward and Luke and Jessica and Karen and Matt, but for so long, Davos was all he had. Letting go of that wasn’t easy, no matter how many times Davos betrayed him. He was still his brother. He was still the only piece of his life in K’un Lun that Danny had left. “I --- I didn’t mean to,” Danny muttered, spiraling a little. That focus he’d had, that stubborn baiting to draw his brother’s attention to him and him alone was faltering now, and suddenly he became acutely aware of Colleen in the floor and the Crane Sisters in the corner and the syringe in Davos’s hand and Lei Kung by the door. “He was killing people. He was going to kill Colleen. I… I had to.” There was a desperate hitch to his voice that made Lei Kung scoff, and Danny turned to look at him… taking his eyes off Davos in the process.

DAVOS: Danny mentioned their battle in K’un-Lun and Davos clenched his teeth. The accusation that Danny had cheated was on the tip of his tongue, but the words didn’t come. His mother who had barely spoken to him in his room after his father had forced him to yield. The battle was to the death or until one of them yielded and his father forced him out of the fight. Danny Rand did not earn the Iron Fist. He used tricks -- blinded him with the sun -- he didn’t win with strength of character. Davos never understood why his father had done that, why he had forced him -- humiliated him -- why he shamed him the way he had. Death would have been kinder. And yet... they were dead. K’un-Lun was lost the moment Danny was given the privilege of the Iron Fist. 

“Oh, I will Danny,” Davos said lowly, glancing at Colleen’s body before pointing at it. But he stopped, he thought about telling Danny exactly what he had planned. How Colleen wouldn't be leaving with the Fist, and how he’d tear the power out of Danny as well -- but he didn’t. He wanted Danny to feel just as broken as he had when he was slumped in his room, bloodied from their fight. To feel the same sick pooling of dread in his stomach that Davos had felt when Danny had vanished and Davos had thought to follow him and bring him home --- Davos wanted Danny to feel it all until he felt nothing at all. 

And maybe then Danny would be a worthy Iron Fist. 

“You never had what it took to do what needed to be done,” Davos spat out. That had been made abundantly clear in the way that Danny handled the situation with Bakuto and with Colleen. The Iron Fist was supposed to destroy the Hand and instead, Danny had invited one into his bed and refused to kill the other one. At the core of it, Davos had done more in line with the responsibilities of the Iron Fist than Danny ever had. 

His point was only further proven when Danny began to defend the murder he had committed. Danny had been too weak to take on the Hand, too pathetic. But Victor Grave deserved it? That action was somehow defensible to him? “He had a family,” Davos said flatly. Killing Colleen had not been apart of their original plan, Graves was only supposed to gather information, but clearly, something had gone wrong and it had pushed this in a different direction than Davos had anticipated. “You should have let him.” Davos spat out. 

Danny turned his head and Davos didn’t bother looking in the same direction -- there was nothing there. But it provided the opening he needed. Davos lunged forward. Normally, Davos would have aimed right for Danny’s chest. To end this now. But Davos, instead, powered down the Fist, he couldn’t risk killing Danny here when he wasn’t sure if he’d need Danny’s Fist to stabilize his own. He directed his anger and his fist, at Danny’s chest. Hoping to knock the wind out of him and disorient him long enough to inject him.

DANNY: It was a sore spot, that fight in K’un Lun, and Danny knew it. Even in the immediate aftermath of the battle, when Danny had fought the dragon and Davos had promised to act as his second when he took up the mantle of the Iron Fist, he could tell Davos was bothered. There was always a tension there, an anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Part of Danny had assumed ignoring it would make it vanish, but clearly it hadn’t been the case. And his leaving K’un Lun with the Fist had only made things worse. There was no undoing that hurt now, no easing that anger. It was doomed to consume them both, it seemed. 

Danny just hoped they were the only ones doomed by it. His eyes flickered to Colleen’s as Davos did, and he tensed at the words. Davos pointed at her, and Danny’s jaw tightened as he struggled to contain his anger. Davos didn’t want to take the Fist from Danny, it seemed… He was after Colleen’s. “You couldn’t even give her a fair fight,” he said quietly, and his eyes went back to the syringe. “Do I get one? Or do you know there’s no way you can win if you give me the chance?” He was back to goading now, back to desperately trying to keep Davos’s attention on him, even if it was a hopeless task. Davos brought Colleen here because of his hatred for Danny. His problems, once again, put her in danger. That seemed to be the norm for them now. Danny messed up and Colleen suffered, over and over again.

“And you never knew when you were beaten,” Danny shot back. They’d both had weaknesses back in K’un Lun, both had downfalls that made it necessary for Lei Kung to decide the winner of their final fight. Danny was incapable of making that killing blow, especially when the person on the other end of his fist was someone he loved. And Davos was incapable of yielding. A fight where the end results were yield or die became a lot more complicated when one person refused to kill and the other refused to yield, especially when they both refused to lose. 

Danny couldn’t argue with Davos’s point here, not when he knew his brother was right. Victor Graves had a wife. He had children, had people waiting for him at home. They’d be waiting forever now, just like Danny had been in that snow. Just like Davos had been at the gates of K’un Lun. Danny’s hands trembled when Davos spoke again, when he claimed that Danny should have let the Reaper kill Colleen. “I would never let anything happen to her,” he said. “I’d die before that.” And the implication there was clear. If Davos wanted to hurt Colleen now, if he wanted to kill her while she was unconscious on the floor, he was going to have to kill Danny first. And there was a part of Danny, in spite of everything, that still believed his brother wasn’t capable of that. That, after everything, Davos still cared enough for him to pull his punches at the last minute.

Of course, that didn’t mean Davos wouldn’t take advantage of Danny’s distraction. If Danny had been in a better frame of mind, if he wasn’t watching Lei Kung look at him like he was the world’s biggest disappointment, he would have seen it coming. But Davos had rattled him bringing up the Reaper as he had, and Danny didn’t realize the attack was coming until the wind was ripped from his lungs, and he gasped for breath as he stumbled backwards. Surging forward, he made an attempt to retaliate --- but it was clumsy. His mind was reeling and his lungs still hadn’t managed to refill themselves, and it showed in his attack. Lei Kung scoffed from his corner, and Danny wasn’t sure if the ache in his chest was a physical one or a purely psychological thing.

DAVOS: A fair fight? Was that what Danny really cared about? Davos hadn’t been given that opportunity at K’un-Lun, so why should he afford Danny that privilege now? Or did he really believe that his victory was sound? That and Colleen was Hand. They didn’t fight fair. The carnage that had been left on the disturbing path to their lost home was proof of that enough. They didn’t just murder his family, they destroyed his home. Tainted every inch of the sacred city. “You wouldn’t have won in the first place if---” Davos cut himself off but it didn’t matter. Danny had gotten the reaction he wanted. That fire burning in Davos’ veins. That outward frustration that he couldn't hide. Holding back his temper had never been one of his skills. That was the only thing that was on constant display. 

“She’s Hand.” The majority of them might have died at Midland Circle, but just because most of the cult was rooted out didn’t mean it was gone. Colleen was proof of that. Proof of how Danny had failed at the most basic job the Iron Fist was supposed to complete. “The Iron Fist isn’t supposed to give the Hand a chance.” To him, that was all it came down to. Colleen was the enemy, the worst kind, and Danny was supposed to protect K’un-Lun and now that it was gone, Danny had rusted. Turned into nothing but a shell of the weapon he was supposed to be. He didn’t have a purpose, he didn’t know how to apply the Fist in a meaningful way outside of what he had been told. 

And maybe Davos didn’t have those answers either, but at least he knew where he’d start. 

“You don’t deserve the honor of a fair fight,” he said in a low voice. Only pausing when Danny casually referenced how he didn’t know when he was beat. “That should have been the defining moment for my father,” he said. “You were too weak to kill me. I refused to yield because---” Davos was screaming at Danny now and he wasn’t sure when that had happened. But he stopped. Composed himself. Danny didn’t need to know why he didn’t yield. About how death was more honorable than limping out of that room with his mother telling him that he had failed her and their family in the worst sort of way. How he had brought great dishonor on his family. And how having no children, would have been better than having him. “You should have killed me.” His tone changed, it was calmer now. Somehow steady despite all the rage he was still feeling. 

The plan quickly changed. Davos had every intention of letting Danny sleep through the transfer of power from Colleen to himself, but now? Now he wanted to have Danny watch while he took everything from him. He wanted Danny to hear Colleen screaming for it to stop -- and he wanted to hear Danny begging for mercy. Maybe he would kill Colleen --- and then Ward. Leave Danny with nothing in the same way that Danny had left him with nothing. He wanted an even playing field? He wanted to meet as equals? Davos was going to make them equals through force. “No. You won’t,” Davos said, his gaze steady as he looked at Danny. 

As Danny stumbled backward from the blow, Davos threw the syringe and then grabbed Danny by the shirt, looking him in the eyes as his brother gasped for breath. Would he find it? Or would he continue to choke? Davos didn’t wait to find out -- he lit up the Fist again, holding it up so that Danny could see before shoving him on the ground and slamming it in the air in the direction of Danny’s leg, stopping the motion just short of actually touching his leg. He wanted to break it -- not blow it off. “You won’t die first,” he finally clarified before standing up and taking a step back from Danny.

DANNY: Danny knew Davos well enough to know when he was angry, and he was clearly seething now. His heart was pounding, stomach tightening at the memory of the last few times he and his brother had been in a place like this. Danny tied to a post, hazy and confused as Davos approached him almost gently before carving into him and draining him of blood like an animal at a slaughterhouse. Davos holding him by his shirt, pulling him in close so he could see the fury in his eyes before he flung him to the ground like garbage. It was funny --- before that moment, it had never occurred to Danny how much Davos was like Lei Kung. Right now, he could think of little else. Making Davos angry was terrifying, and it wasn’t smart… but it might keep his attention off Colleen just long enough to turn the tides. It might be enough to save her. 

“She’s not,” Danny insisted, gritting his teeth. “Not anymore. She hates them as much as you do. They lied to her, Davos. They twisted her mind when she was a child. It’s not her fault.” And maybe --- maybe it wasn’t Davos’s fault, either. Joy had told him once that what K’un Lun did to its children sounded a lot like abuse, Colleen had claimed he was just as brainwashed as she was. Danny had ten years with his biological family in New York before K’un Lun got a hold of him, but Davos… Davos didn’t even have that. Would he be kinder, Danny wondered, if anyone other than Danny himself had ever bothered to love him? Would they be here now if Priya weren’t so cold, or if Lei Kung weren’t so violent? 

Would they be here now if Danny had been a little better? If he’d found a way to love Davos more, could he alone have been enough?

Davos’s voice was low at first, but Danny felt the burning anger clearly enough to know it was going to grow louder long before it happened. It wasn’t long before Davos was shouting, and Danny wasn’t surprised. This was what he’d been after. “You refused to yield because you were arrogant,” Danny shot back. He didn’t mean it, but he needed Davos angry enough to make him sloppy. He needed him to make a mistake. But then Davos spoke, he said Danny should have killed him, and Danny felt a layer of his own anger melt away, felt grief take its place. “I wouldn’t,” he said softly, taking a hesitant step forward. “I would never do that, Davos. Not to you.” Davos had done terrible things, had hurt Colleen, had involved children in his vendetta, gotten people killed… but he was still Danny’s brother. If there was any chance he could turn this around, any possibility of them all walking out of here, he was going to take it. 

And maybe that was his weakness. Maybe Danny’s inability to let go of anyone he loved was always going to end with him gasping for breath, unable to find anything to hold onto. Maybe wearing his heart on his sleeve would end with it in pieces every time. Davos was moving in closer, and Danny knew he needed to regain his ground before Davos closed the space between them and put him to sleep before he could put up a fight. 

But… Davos wasn’t advancing with the syringe. Danny struggled to track his brother’s movements, brow furrowing as the syringe was tossed aside. Then there were hands on his shirt, holding him up just as they had the last time they’d met like this, when it had been Walker with the syringe and Danny had still been weakened from the ritual. Davos’s Fist entered into Danny’s line of vision and, for a moment, Danny wondered if this was it. If he’d misjudged Davos, if his brother would kill him after all, if he’d experience firsthand exactly what Victor Graves had felt when Danny crushed his chest beneath his knuckles.

Davos’s Fist didn’t swing at his chest, though. Instead, it moved towards his leg, and Danny let out a strangled cry the second he realized what was happening. For a moment, he was there and not there, his mind in two times at once. Months ago, it had been Walker on the ground as Colleen was now, and for a moment, Danny swore he saw a flash of the blonde in Colleen’s place. The rage in Davos’s eyes, though… That was the same. 

And the pain when his brother’s Fist stopped but the momentum of the air surrounding it didn’t? That was the same, too. 

The crack of Danny’s leg echoed through the warehouse, and his strangled scream joined in with the sound, so loud that he almost missed his brother’s next words. It took a moment for them to register through the pain and, desperate, Danny lashed out, attempting to grab Davos’s leg, to trip him up, to stop him. The movements were sloppy, each one sending a new wave of pain washing over him that caused his breath to catch in his throat. “No,” he choked out. ”No.”

DAVOS: He scoffed. Danny truly believed that she could leave that life behind her? That she would ever stop being, at her core, Hand? “Guilty by association.” The Hand’s influence was greater than he had realized at first, finding out that Colleen had friends at the hospital and how the young members were often taught how to get real jobs in the society? The whole city was poisoned and it didn’t even realize it. But Danny... he should have known better. He should have woken up when Colleen betrayed him the first time and yet, here he was, still trying to defend the fact she was more than the Hand. But she never would be. Just as Danny would never be more than a broken version of the Iron Fist. Danny was trying to bargain with facts. But the reality was clear to Davos. 

Danny had chances, opportunities that Davos had dreamed of -- had expected. Things that he had been told he had a right to since birth. And Danny stood before him, bargaining for the life of her. “I didn’t yield because dying for the Iron Fist would have been an honorable death -- and instead you gave me shame,” Davos roared. Danny didn’t understand that, did he? That living this life, on this path? That it had done nothing for Davos except highlighting the worst parts of himself. Looking in the mirror and knowing everything he had worked for was gone -- and that his family was dead? He was nothing. Less than nothing. And then Danny said it again -- that he’d never do that to him, and something about that infuriated him as much as the way he defended Colleen. “Coward,” he said between his teeth. “I would have given you that honor if you had asked for it.” The way Davos said it made it sound like there was honor it what he was saying. That he would have been proud to kill Danny in that fight, if it had come down to it.

Looking at Danny on the ground, the desperate look in his eyes, the way he said ‘no’ as Davos took a step away from him. It reminded him of how it felt to be on the ground. Robbed of the honor of death. Death now, it was a kindness that Davos wasn’t going to afford Danny. Danny wasn’t going to die before Colleen -- but he also wasn’t going to die by his hand either. No, what Davos had in mind for Danny was long term. He would have told Danny that he took no pleasure in this, and last time, he hadn’t. Last time this was about righting a wrong that had been done to him -- and this time... it was so much more. 

Davos wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and pulled his attention away from Danny. The Crane Sisters finally stepped forward and he held out his hand, last time he had them cut into Danny, but this, this was personal. With the sacramental dagger in hand, he pulled up Colleen’s shirt and put the blade against her stomach, pausing only for a moment when he saw a scar there -- like she had been cut before. But all he spared was a few seconds of thought on it, whatever had happened, it didn’t matter. He dug the blade into her stomach -- and she didn’t wake. He didn’t expect her too. The sedative that he had given her was strong enough that he was confident she wouldn't wake until the transfer began. 

The Crane Sisters collected some of Colleen’s blood and began to mix the substance. Davos moved so that his legs pinned her arms to the ground and drank the substance the moment the Crane Sisters were finished. No tattoos this time -- he only needed to connect their chi and the rest? The rest was this. Davos wrapped his hand around her throat and held her in place as he brought his hand up to her forehead. A few shorthand motions later, Davos pressed his thumb to the center of Colleen’s forehead. 

And as expected, her eyes flew open and she screamed. The sound was strangled -- his hand around her neck tightening as she struggled, he could feel her kicking her legs, trying to get away --- as if she hadn’t been sedated in the first place, but Davos’ expression didn’t change. This was ending tonight.

DANNY: Guilty by association. It was the same thing Davos had said when he’d attacked the community center, when Danny had pointed out that there were innocent people, innocent children inside. It was a reminder of just how far gone his brother was. Davos didn’t care that Colleen had been manipulated. He didn’t care that the Hand had gotten into her head, didn’t care that she was a child when they took her in and twisted her to her liking. He wouldn’t see parts of himself in her as Danny did, refused to acknowledge that there weren’t as many differences between the Hand and K’un Lun as they had originally thought and that… It broke Danny’s heart. It pained him. He ached for Davos, for Colleen, and maybe for himself a little, too, because they’d all had so many things ripped away from them. 

But Davos… Davos took that pain and he passed it on to everyone else. He didn’t cope with his emptiness --- he used it to carve into other people, to empty them out. He’d done it to Danny, and now he wanted to do it to Colleen. And Danny couldn’t let him. “She was the Hand’s victim just as much as we were,” he insisted. “Maybe even more. Don’t you get that? She helped me take them down. She killed members of the Hand to save me.” She’d killed her father to save Danny, and he couldn’t even stop his brother from doing all this, from drugging her and dragging her to the warehouse where he’d tortured Danny all those months ago. From getting ready to do it all again now.

Davos was angry, but Danny’s heart broke a little at his words. “I didn’t kill you because you’re my brother,” he said, emphasizing the last word with everything he had. “Because I love you.” He wasn’t sure if the words would give Davos pause or infuriate him more. Had he ever said them before? Had he ever found the courage to tell Davos he loved him? If he had, he didn’t remember it now. “That’s not what you said before,” he said quietly, referring to the conversation they’d had as children, the one Priya had cut short. If you were Iron Fist, Davos, and Daniel were Hand, you would strike him down without hesitation, she’d said, sounding disappointed that there had ever been an alternative in either of their minds. 

Maybe she’d been right. There was no hesitation in Davos’s movements when he struck Danny now, no pause before he moved away. He didn’t seem to regret leaving Danny on the ground, even as Danny gasped and whimpered through the pain. He moved back towards Colleen as if Danny wasn’t there at all, as if he no longer mattered, and Danny let out a strangled cry. He shifted on the ground, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

Shifting so that he was propped on his elbows, his broken leg laying useless behind him, he started the agonizing process of dragging himself over to Davos and Colleen, but it was slow. It was too slow. Davos was already on top of her, already cutting into her, and Danny cried out as if he was the one being sliced open. “Davos, please,” he begged quietly, letting out another pained gasp as he inched forward. “Please don’t do this. Not to her. Kill me. You can kill me, I won’t even --- I won’t stop you. Just leave her alone, please.”

It was useless, of course, Danny was only halfway across the floor when Davos pressed his thumb to Colleen’s forehead and her screams filled the room, and he let out another frustrated cry as he picked up his own pace. He was still moving slowly, he leg radiating pain with each movement, and he knew he’d never make it in time. ”Stop,” he begged. “Just take mine. Take my Fist, kill me, do whatever you need to do, but let her go. If --- If you ever cared about me at all, you’d let her go.”

DAVOS: A victim? Davos looked at Danny with furrowed brows. Did he honestly believe that? That this woman... was a victim of the Hand? His family was a victim of the Hand. They were murderers and Davos couldn’t pretend that this woman had nothing to do with that. Not in the same way that Danny could. How did they know the path was unprotected? How did they pick the perfect time to invade K’un-Lun? Because the Hand knew. And whether that was because of Colleen informing on Danny’s activities or the fact that Danny was haphazardly waving the Fist around in New York City. There was enough fault here for the both of them. “As long as she breathes, brother, the Hand lives.” 

I didn’t kill you because you are my brother. Davos looked at him with disgust. He still called Danny brother, still felt that connection towards him. Familial in a way that was impossible to forget -- but he wouldn’t have let that stop him from doing the honorable thing. And then there were four words that Davos hadn’t heard. From anyone. And for a second, Davos blanked. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say or do -- and these words, they weren’t the ones he wanted to hear from Danny. They were words he longed to hear from his mother mostly, his father? He knew he’d never hear that from him. But hearing it from Danny was like a slap in the face. Davos’ stomach turned and he clenched his jaw tightly. And then... Danny spoke about that conversation that they had that his mother had walked in on. The one that had earned him a whipping. “I have corrected my way of thinking. Something you are clearly incapable of doing.”

Hearing Danny beg for Davos to stop -- it didn’t even reach him. He was looking Colleen in the eyes and she was in pain -- he knew she was because this was what had happened to him the last time. Davos wondered if she’d feel just as empty and broken as he had afterward? Her body fought against him and he understood that too -- but there was an odd moment, when Danny was begging for Danny to take his life instead, to take the Fist from him, where Colleen’s expression changed and it felt... odd. Like she had stopped resisting. There was something in his eyes that confused him even more. Something like relief. Hearing Danny begging for death and Colleen giving up --- and those four words from before. 

Davos looked into her eyes as the light slowly faded from them, the glow vanishing and all that was left was her. He pulled his hand away from her forehead and the other from her neck, and he could see it in her eyes already -- that overwhelming exhaustion that he had felt when she had taken the last of the Fist from him. Her head rolled to the side and as he stood up, he saw her hand moving towards Danny -- like she was trying to reach out to him. And it disgusted him. 

“You are nothing to me,” he said in a whisper. Davos turned towards Danny and looked down at his brother as he held out his hand, waiting for one of the Crane Sisters to put the blade back into his hand. And as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of the weapon, he looked at Danny with an expression that was devoid of all emotion. Was it because he was feeling too much or nothing at all? Davos couldn’t put his finger on it. But looking at Danny, he was filled with rage anew. The Iron Fist didn’t barter the Fist away -- this was shameful. Disgusting. And Davos was going to remedy this. Davos got on the ground next to Danny and looked him in the eyes. “You are not worthy either, Daniel.”

DANNY: There was a sort of steadfastness to Davos’s beliefs, a stubborn inability to give up on them that Danny had once felt for himself. He remembered what Colleen had said back in Bakuto’s compound, when she was trying to convince him not to hate her. Every time someone mentions the Hand, you freak out. You run off to the docks, or to buildings filled with fighters without a second thought. Why? At the time, and for a long time afterwards, he’d thought that was all just Bakuto’s words moving through her, a last desperate effort to convince him to join the Hand, but… Maybe there’d been some truth to it. Danny would never trust the Hand, would never see them as anything but terrible, but thanks to Colleen, he was capable of understanding that not every member of the organization knew the whole truth. Davos wasn’t. Davos was still set in that steadfast belief, the idea that anyone who had ever associated with the Hand wasn’t someone worth saving. You’ve been brainwashed, Colleen had told him, and maybe that was true. Looking at Davos now, at the madness behind his fury, Danny realized that maybe she hadn’t been far off. “It’s not as simple as that,” he insisted desperately, wondering if there was anything he could say. It had taken falling in love with Colleen for Danny to realize the truth. What could he offer his brother to help him realize it now?

He couldn’t even comfort Davos with a reminder of what they were to one another. He said the word brother, and Davos looked at him like he’d insulted him. But there was a moment, a heartbeat after he told Davos he loved him where his brother seemed to freeze. There was a moment where he faltered, where something other than anger flickered across his face. Confusion, maybe, mixed in with grief. Danny wanted to say the words again, wanted to repeat them until Davos put down the knife and listened, but they caught in his throat. He thought of Lei Kung, of the violence with which he’d reacted to the phrase. Neither Danny nor Davos had been taught how to use the words, how to hear them. And that showed when Danny couldn’t bring himself to say them again, when Davos pulled the neutral mask back over his face and spoke of how he’d corrected his thinking in a way that made Danny’s heart sink. “They were wrong,” he said softly, though he wasn’t sure if he was speaking to himself or to Davos or to the still-present figure of Lei Kung standing over them both. “What they taught us was wrong.” 

Nothing he said had any effect on his brother now, none of his words seemed to reach him at all. Davos was set in his plan, Colleen’s screams filling the warehouse and cutting through Danny as sharply as the knife in his brother’s hands. He knew exactly what she was feeling now, had been there himself in this very room. Barely conscious, unaware of anything but the pain. Confused, anxious, desperate… But Colleen didn’t look desperate now. There was something in her face as the process neared its end, something Danny wasn’t sure how to place. She didn’t look broken, the way he’d felt when he lost the Fist. She didn’t look hopeless or afraid. She looked almost… thankful.

Unable to process it, Danny pushed it aside and continued his agonizing trek towards them, though he knew there was nothing to be done. The light of the chi’s transfer was already fading from Colleen’s eyes and into Davos’s, her head already lulling to the side as she fell unconscious from the exhaustion of it. Her hand fell out towards him, and Danny could almost brush his fingers against hers when Davos turned towards him again. 

A pit formed in Danny’s stomach as Davos held out his hand for the knife again, a sinking realization that his brother wasn’t finished. It wasn’t enough to take Colleen’s power --- he wanted Danny’s, too. He wanted to leave Danny just as he had the last time they’d been in this warehouse --- powerless, helpless. Unable to fight, unable to walk. And Danny’s heart pounded violently at the thought of it. You are nothing to me, Davos said, and Danny’s throat tightened. He looked… blank. As if there was nothing there, no trace of the boy Danny had stolen donkey carts with in K’un Lun.

Davos was down next to him then, knife in hand, and Danny… Danny was afraid. He was afraid of his brother in a way he had never been before, not even when he’d been drugged and confused and tied to a post. “Davos…” He said quietly, uncertainly. His eyes darted to Colleen, unconscious on the ground, to the knife in his brother’s hand, still dripping with her blood. Then his eyes darted off to the side, desperate for something to hold on to… and landed on the syringe his brother had discarded before. Still loaded with the drug he’d used on Colleen, the one he’d intended to use on Danny, and within reach. Shifting, Danny kept his movements subtle as he took it into his hand. He was in no shape to outmaneuver Davos through speed or force, but outwitting him through subtlety? Danny had always been capable of that. “What are you going to do?” He asked quietly, distracting Davos from the movements of his hands with the movements of his mouth. “You already have her Fist. Do you really think you’ll be able to take mine, too?” None of them knew how this worked, but Danny was confident one person couldn’t hold the chi of two.

DAVOS: It wasn’t that simple? Davos looked at Danny, baffled by his words. How was it not that simple? Had she not lied to him? Had she not lured Danny into the Hand compound under a ruse? Was it not her sensei that had cut into him as they were fleeing? She might have pressed that button to let them out of the compound, but how much of that was for show and how much of that was real? Davos was willing to bet that the feelings there were next to nonexistent. All Davos could see here is what Colleen had gained and what Danny had lost -- what K’un-Lun lost. Was that all it took for Danny to forgive murder? Manipulation? A little false empathy? Or was it the sex that had tarnished Danny’s judgment? What had made Danny so blind to the truth? “It is,” Davos said definitively. “The Hand is broken right now, wounded. But even the remaining shards can be dangerous if they’re left to regroup.” Davos barely paused before he added. “And she works at a community center... it’s the same as before, Daniel. She’s recruiting.” It was all so easy to see -- how was Danny so blind? 

Looking at Colleen’s unconscious body, Davos thought about what Danny had said. That his parents -- the other monks, their mentors, his family -- that they were wrong. They weren’t. Davos didn’t believe that they were. This was the exact thing he had been warned about. The dark temptations that Danny had given into, his mother had told him that he would be tested if he were ever the Iron Fist. That he would have to strike without hesitation and that any other route would only lead to his own ruin. “No,” he whispered, his eyes falling back on Danny’s broken body. “But you are.” Just because Danny was willing to forget everything they had been taught... didn’t mean that Davos was willing to do the same. This was a stain on the legacy of his home, of K’un-Lun, of his family. And he aimed to remove it completely. Obliterate it. Until the only thing left of the Hand was a stain in the shape of a person -- much like the one that was of Victor Graves just outside. And even that would eventually fade. Just like the memories of Danny and Colleen. 

He was breathless. Shaken by that look in her eyes. Davos had never thought that someone would want to be rid of that power --- and coming from the woman from the Hand? The one who he was certain was manipulating Danny for that very power... it was confusing. Unsettling in a way that made him confused. But he shook it off. This was how she got to Danny -- she distracted him. It had to be. Nothing else made sense anymore. 

When he was on the ground next to Danny, he looked in his eyes. Tried to find the answers -- why did he care so much about this woman? Why had he left K’un-Lun? When did he -- when did Davos stop being his brother? When did they stop being the kids that hid away with discarded scraps of paper left behind from the monks learning how to fold paper dragons? When did they stop being those kids and start being this. Was it that final duel where Danny refused to kill him, where Davos was forced to yield? Or was it after Danny didn’t come home in time to save K’un-Lun? There had been a brief time when he first arrived in New York where he thought that Danny could have just returned to K’un-Lun and everything would have gone back to the way it was.  

But was that realistic? 

Would his father allow Danny to come home without any sort of punishment? 

Maybe it was always going to end like this. 

Danny spoke and Davos refocused his attention on his brother. Looking into his dark eyes for, what he assumed, was going to be the last time. “I am going to try, Daniel,” he replied quietly, looking at the blade in his hand a long time. Thinking about it. Maybe he couldn’t have both -- maybe taking Danny’s Fist would kill him. But... he was okay with that. “I will take it and if my body cannot handle that power, then I will die. And the power of the Iron Fist will die with me. I will be the last,” Davos said finally. Davos looked at Danny with new purpose in his eyes, like if his life was ending now, if he took the Fist with him into the next life, that meant he had accomplished something tonight. Danny would no longer have the chance to taint the legacy. And Davos would have died an honorable death. “One of us will die tonight, Daniel,” he whispered. “But you will not have the Fist much longer. That is a responsibility --- an honor that you do not deserve. And I will relieve you of that.” Davos put the blade against Danny’s shirt and pushed it in slightly, not enough force to actually draw blood yet but the threat was there. There was a subtle hesitance in his movements, his body was whirling from the energy of what he had done to Colleen, and now it was trying to prepare for another dose. Could he do this? Could he take Danny’s fist and survive?

DANNY: In K’un Lun, the world was always set out for them in simple terms. Things were black or white, right or wrong, and there was never any sort of middle ground to speak of. There were only absolutes, only certainties. The monks were good and the Hand was bad. You were a weapon or you were a warrior. You lived or you died. You were with K’un Lun… or you were against them. Danny had believed it all just as adamantly as Davos back then, but when he’d come back to New York, things had shifted. He’d started to realize that the world, the real world wasn’t nearly as clear-cut as they’d been taught. Harold both helped him and hurt him. Ward was both his enemy and his friend. Colleen had been raised by a group of people they’d been taught was entirely corrupted, and yet she was one of the best people he’d ever known. The world didn’t operate in simple terms. It was a messy, complicated place… and Davos didn’t get it. “The Hand is gone, Davos,” Danny said quietly, and he knew how hard that was to accept. He knew exactly how jarring it was to have the thing you’d been fighting all your life suddenly up and vanish, knew what it was like to be staring at something solid one moment only to find your eyes on open sky the next. “It’s over. That fight is over. Colleen isn’t recruiting for them. They don’t exist anymore.” Their leaders were buried under Midland Circle, and their foot soldiers had scattered to find other wars to throw themselves into. All that remained now were the broken pieces --- pieces like Danny and Colleen. Pieces like Davos.

Danny ached for his brother suddenly, and he found himself wishing he had the strength to explain the world as it was. He wished he could open Davos’s eyes the way his eyes had been opened, wished he could make him understand that maybe, just maybe, the man who’d raised them both hadn’t had all the answers. That maybe their family hadn’t been entirely infallible, that maybe some of the things they’d been taught didn’t fit anywhere now that their home was gone. But the look in Davos’s eye as his gaze shifted from Danny to Colleen and back again, the quiet certainty in his voice when he whispered his denial… Danny wasn’t good with words. He couldn’t make Davos understand the things he scarcely understood himself, couldn’t single-handedly open his eyes when it had taken a combination of Colleen and Ward and Joy and Claire and Luke and Jessica and Matt and Karen to help him achieve the realization himself. He couldn’t convince Davos when he had just barely been convinced himself, when he still spent most days teetering between the uncomfortable truth and the simple lies. Danny shook his head in a tiny, desperate motion. “Look what they made us into,” he said. “Look how we turned out.” They’d been happy once, hadn’t they? A couple of kids who relied on each other, children who stirred up mischief and had each other’s backs. Brothers who loved one another. 

And what were they now? A pair of weapons so rusted that they tore themselves apart over and over again. A war that never stopped waging, a never-ending battle that tore apart everything in its path.

The two of them were a bomb full of shrapnel, and every time they went off, innocent people got hurt. People like Colleen, laying just out of reach and looking relieved as Davos pulled the power right out of her. Was that why she looked glad to be rid of it? Was she just happy to finally be out of the middle of their blast zone, elated to be a few feet farther from the explosion? When all this was over, assuming Davos let either of them live, would she really be okay planting herself back within Danny’s blast radius and waiting for someone else to come along and pull out his pin? 

His eyes stayed on Colleen’s until Davos’s face was between them, eyes searching his for something Danny wasn’t sure he’d find. Was he looking for some trace of the memories of what they’d been before they let themselves get twisted into whatever the mess they were now could be called? Was he looking for the boy he’d known in K’un Lun before he went into Shou-Lao’s cave, the one who Priya scolded for his compassion, the one Lei Kung beat for his emotion? At some point, Danny had changed, and he wasn’t sure it was the dragon that had done it. He wasn’t sure it was the Iron Fist, or that last fight between him and Davos. Part of him thought it might have come before all that, that some piece of him had been broken for years and he’d simply never known.

And he wasn’t the only one broken by K’un Lun. He’d always known as much, realized it during their last fight when Davos, refusing to yield, expected Danny to kill him instead. They’d been hollowed out, the both of them. They’d had parts of themselves stripped away until there was scarcely anything left. Danny was trying desperately to find himself again and he realized that Davos was doing the same. But where Danny found himself in the Defenders, Davos found himself in this. In the violence. Looking into his brother’s eyes now, Danny realized how close he had been to becoming this. In those early days, when all he’d wanted was to kill the Hand, or in the moment after he’d realized who was responsible for his parents’ deaths when, more than anything, he’d wanted to end Harold with his own hands. Would he have become like Davos if he’d pulled the trigger instead of Ward? 

And was there a chance he was still capable of this? Would the Reaper’s death be the match that lit that fuse? 

Danny shook his head as Davos spoke, closing his eyes for a moment. One of us will die tonight. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his words, not a trace of hesitation to his tone. “You would really kill me?” His voice was small, and for a moment, he was a child in K’un Lun again, desperate to hear someone tell him he wasn’t expendable. What if I joined the Hand? Would you kill me? Those children had both been so sure of the answer, but now… Danny felt the soft pressure of the knife against his chest, and he opened his eyes slowly, looking down at it. The blade in Davos’s hand, the subtle hint of hesitation to his movements. Would you kill me? Was he pausing because he was afraid taking on too much power would kill him, or because he didn’t want to kill Danny after all?

Looking back up to Davos, he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “that I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother to you, that I couldn’t stop you from becoming this. I want to do better. I swear I’ll do better.” 

And then, as quickly as he could, he brought up the hand clutching the syringe and jabbed it into Davos’s arm, pushing down on the plunger with a quick, fluid movement.

DAVOS: The Hand wasn’t gone --- Davos could never believe that. Not when K’un-Lun was in ruins. Not when everyone he had ever considered family was dead or -- or now dying. Danny was the last remaining piece of K’un-Lun, the last remaining bit of what he had considered family. And Davos was going to be the one to end it. “As long as people like her--” he pointed at Colleen, “Still live, the Hand will always be present. It is not an idea that you can snuff out by filling it with your own.” Davos stopped suddenly. The look in his eyes changed and it was clear that he wasn’t going to try and convince Danny anymore. His former brother was too far gone. He’d never understand the battle they were facing. Danny was in too deep with the Hand to understand what was happening here.

Danny was so easily convinced that the battle was over, and Davos wondered what that felt like. To be able to turn his back on everything he knew and act like it was over? That things would be fine -- that the battle they had been fighting for centuries was over. What did that feel like? Was there relief in it? Happiness? Sadness? Or was Danny just as lost as Davos felt? If there was no Hand, no K’un-Lun, if it was all truly over -- what was his purpose? Who was Davos without those things? Who was the Iron Fist without those things? And would there ever be another Iron Fist after them? Or was this it? Did the legacy of the Iron Fist -- of K’un-Lun -- of the Hand -- did it die with them? Would that be tonight? 

Look what they made us into. Look how we turned out. Davos tensed. He had only known one life, only known the path he was on -- the one that he had carved out at K’un-Lun -- and thinking that his life could have been different if he hadn’t been born there, or if he had a chance to see the outside world -- that didn’t matter. Wishful thinking would get him nowhere. He’d never hear his father or mother say that they loved him and after Danny took the Iron Fist, Davos had all but accepted that he’d never make them proud either. The only thing he could do was try and honor them in death. So, if he died when he ripped the Fist from Danny’s body, then so be it. “Don’t you dare speak of them like that,” Davos snarled. “Without them, you’d be dead on that mountain. Frozen to death. You’re ungrateful -- you --” Davos took a breath and put a hand over his mouth, stopping himself from falling into a rant about how Danny didn’t deserve the kindness his parents had shown him. “You didn’t deserve them,” he finally whispered. Finding a calm in his rage. 

Davos looked into Danny’s eyes at the question, shaking his head slightly at the question -- as if he was saying that no -- he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. “Without hesitation.” There was firm confidence in his voice, but in his heart? He wasn’t so sure. The blade he held against Danny -- he had hesitated. Tried to think of another solution to this problem that didn’t end with one of them dead. But... if Danny was left with the Fist? If he was left alive then there was a chance this would all repeat again. He had to break Danny, completely this time. 

The apology that Danny whispered was... odd. Davos felt his grip on the blade soften as he tried to process what Danny was saying. After all this... he still thought they’d both walk away from this? He thought they’d ever be brothers again? No -- no this had to be a pathetic attempt to beg for his life. To say that they had a future, that there was a path beyond this moment that included the two of them. But that was impossible. “You---” but the words stalled in his voice when Danny’s hand came down and stabbed him in the arm. He tore his arm out of Danny’s grasp, pushing Danny away violently before pulling the syringe out of his arm. 

“That...” Davos could already feel it -- the dose had been aggressive because Davos hadn’t wanted Danny waking up prematurely. But not looking at the empty syringe on the ground... he realized his mistake. He had been reckless. Foolish. Davos put the heel of his hand on his forehead and shook it violently as he tried to stay awake. Aware. “That was a mistake,” Davos finally mumbled out, his words coming out slurred. Davos backed into a pillar and tried to keep himself upright, but his legs gave out quickly after that. 

He couldn’t lose here. 

He couldn’t. 

Davos fumbled on the ground for his blade, but his vision was already blurring. He slammed his hand onto the top of his head, trying to keep himself awake -- trying to replace the fading feeling in his body with pain so that he could stay awake. The rest of his body started failing, his eyes closed and he found himself lying on his back on the ground. “You should have killed me.” His words were faint, and a few seconds later, his body went slack. 

DANNY: All their lives, Danny and Davos had been weapons with a singular purpose. Everything they trained for, everything they were burned in Danny’s hand, just under the surface, in Davos’s fist as it glowed red. They weren’t warriors, weren’t people. They were things, the both of them, swords sharpened to a point so fine that no one could touch them without coming away bloody. And all their lives, they’d had something to aim for. Even after their fight in K’un Lun, after Danny faced the dragon and Davos found him at the mouth of the cave when it was over, they’d had a united purpose. They’d had something to fight against. With that gone… What was left? What were they? What was the point of a weapon without a target? Danny understood Davos’s need for the battle to continue. He understood why his brother clung so desperately to the idea that the Hand wasn’t gone because he’d been there himself. After Midland Circle, he’d been so lost. He’d needed something to fight, needed something to do, and he hadn’t known how to cope with that. 

It had been Colleen who found him then, Colleen who pulled him back into himself. He glanced to her now, quietly studied her slackened features as she lay unconscious on the floor. “She’s not what you think she is,” he said, looking back to Davos at last. “I’m not, either.” Whatever Davos remembered him being, Danny knew he was no longer it. He also didn’t think he was whatever his brother had built him into up in his head. Something crossed over Davos’s face suddenly, and Danny’s heart clenched painfully in his face because he recognized that expression. He’d seen it etched onto Lei Kung’s face once, when after a thousand lessons on how to push his emotions away, Danny still woke up crying. He’d seen it on Priya’s face when she walked in on Danny’s conversation with Davos, when he said he didn’t know if he could bring himself to kill his enemies. It was the look on Bakuto’s face when he came in to find Danny smashing every computer he could see in the basement of the Hand’s compound, the look on Harold’s face when Danny refused to kill him… It was the expression of someone who’d given up on him. And seeing it on Davos? It hurt more than he’d anticipated.

Davos spoke again and, for a moment, Danny was standing in the rain with Bakuto’s body a few feet away. K’un Lun would have been better off if Chodak and Tashi had never found you. The thought cut just as deep now as the words had then. More, even, because now? Now, Danny knew it was true. “They saved my life,” Danny agreed. “I’m not denying that. They made me who I am, but that doesn’t --- That doesn’t mean they were infallible. That doesn’t mean they were always right. Davos, they --- They beat us. We were little kids, and they beat us.” He remembered his discussion with Colleen. They saved your life and that gives them a pass for all the other horrible shit they did to you? At the time, he’d adamantly denied it, but… Maybe she’d had a point. Maybe the good they’d done couldn’t erase the bad. Maybe someone could save you and still abuse you. He winced at Davos’s words. You didn’t deserve them. He’d said as much to Colleen, insisted that they’d deserved more than him. They hadn’t been the best, but… Danny still abandoned them. He still left them to die. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know I didn’t.”

Without hesitation. Danny flinched at the words as if Davos had struck him. His voice was steady, even. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in it and, with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, Danny couldn’t tell if that hint of hesitation was still reflected across his brother’s face. He didn’t think it mattered. They’d been taught to push through hesitation, to do away with doubt. If Davos said he’d kill him, Danny was fairly certain he’d do it. He swallowed, throat tightening, and shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. He wanted to call Davos a liar, wanted to deny the claim and insist that he didn’t mean it, but how could he? There was a knife pressed against him, his leg lay useless behind him, and the woman he loved was unconscious on the floor. Davos had proven what he was willing to do, how far he was willing to go. Maybe it was time for Danny to accept that. 

But it wasn’t time for him to let it happen. If it had just been him in that warehouse, he might have felt differently. With the crushing weight of all of it, with the Reaper’s blood staining the ground outside and Davos’s words ringing in his mind, Danny might not have gone for that syringe if Colleen weren’t laying helpless a few feet away. It was a terrible thing to admit, but… If he wasn’t so worried about what his brother would do to Colleen when it was over, Danny might have let Davos end things his way. His chest ached with the realization that Davos was willing to do it at all, and giving up… Giving up was tempting. But it wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be. 

So Danny picked up the syringe and he used it.

He fell backwards as Davos shoved him, a sharp pain shooting through him as the movement jostled his injured leg. Danny let out a hoarse yell as the pain washed over him, clenching his teeth and taking a few gasping breaths around the pain. By the time he opened his eyes again, by the time he looked back at his brother, the drug was already taking effect. That was a mistake, Davos told him, and again, Danny’s mind went back to that night in the rain, to the first time things came to blows between them. There will be consequences for this, brother. And Danny knew. He knew. 

Danny watched as Davos fell to the ground, held his breath as he tried to fight to stay awake. In the end, it was impossible to fight against the drugs. Danny knew that better than anyone. His body started to slacken, and Danny thought he was already unconscious when his voice came again, a quiet whisper between them in the warehouse. Danny shook his head. “I couldn’t,” he said quietly. “You’re my brother.” But Davos was already out. 

For a moment, Danny felt crushingly alone. He hadn’t managed to sit back up after Davos shoved him, his back flat against the warehouse floor, and for a moment, he just… laid there. His leg ached so badly that he felt dizzy, and it was tempting to close his eyes and just let himself float away on it, to join Colleen and Davos in unconsciousness, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how long the drug keeping Davos would under, and if he woke up before Colleen did, if he found both her and Danny unconscious… He’d made it perfectly clear what he’d do.

Danny drew in a shuddering death, exhaling with something caught halfway between a whimper and a sob and pushed himself forward to close the remaining distance between himself and Colleen. Propping himself up with a pained grunt, he made himself sit up as much as he could before putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake. “Colleen,” he said, her name falling from his lips like a prayer. His voice was quiet, as if he was afraid of waking Davos from his drug-induced slumber. “Colleen, please. You need to wake up.” You need to be okay, he added silently, because there was blood on her stomach, and it was still bleeding sluggishly. 

Danny’s mind caught up with that fact, and he maneuvered his uninjured leg to Davos, scooted the discarded knife back towards him between pained gasps. When it was in his hand, he used it to cut through his own shirt, using the material to press against her wound. “Please be okay,” he whispered, giving her another gentle shake. “Please wake up. I can’t --- I can’t do this by myself.”

COLLEEN: All Colleen could remember was Davos, pinning her to the ground and taking the Fist back. All she could remember was his eyes glowing and the burning pain in her veins. But before she had fallen unconscious, she had seen Danny on the ground. Was that real? Or was her mind trying to give her some comfort for her last memories -- because these would be her last? Wouldn’t they. Davos was going to kill her and she was too exhausted, too broken to do anything about it. She had heard his voice too but... that also sounded so distant. Like a dream. A wish. 

But it was also so cruel to wish for him to be there with her. But she wanted the last time she saw Danny to be real. When her eyes closed, there was no peace for her. No lights. Nothing to suggest that she was dead -- and yet, at the same time, the nothingness was worse. Was this it? Was she going to exist for the rest of eternity in a void of emptiness? Colleen didn’t get her life flashing before her eyes. She didn’t get to relive the best moments of her life -- and she didn’t get to say goodbye. When it was all said and done, was this what she deserved? She had killed Bakuto. She had recruited those children into the Hand and they had died because she had guided them down the path of the Hand. 

Nothing she could ever do would make up for all the bodies in her past. For all the blood that ultimately laid at her feet. But then the knife dug deeper into her soul and she heard her name being whispered in Danny’s voice. Like the universe was taunting her. Tormenting her with the one thing -- the one person she left behind to deal with all the misery that had piled up at their doors. I’m sorry, Danny. That’s what she wanted to say -- what she wanted to scream into the void but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t do anything. She was drifting in a void and all she had now was Danny’s voice pleading with her. You need to wake up. Was this the torment? That she’d be given false hope that she was alive by a specter of Danny? 

Even in death, she wasn’t allowed peace. 

But then she felt something. Colleen’s eyes flew open as she let out a strangled sound of pain. The warehouse ceiling came into focus as Colleen started to gasp for breath. She wasn’t dead? No -- but she was in pain. 

Colleen tried to sit up but the second she moved her stomach, another wave of pain came over her and she was flat on her back again. Who was touching her? Colleen looked around in a panic and when she saw Danny’s face -- she shook her head. He couldn't be here -- Davos was going to -- “Danny,” Colleen’s voice came out as a whimper. “You have to leave -- Davos -- he’s, he--” Colleen reached up and touched his face, but she could barely feel him there. Was he even real? 

She was panicked and scared -- and with each beat of her heart, it hurt more. Colleen ran her thumb across his cheek as she stared into his eyes, trying to decide if what she was seeing and feeling was real or just another cruel joke. Colleen looked down at her stomach -- where the source of all the pain was, and saw Danny’s hand there, applying pressure. “How...” Colleen felt so weak. Her head rolled to the side and she looked at as much of Danny as she could see while her hand slowly dropped from his face. “How bad is it?”

DANNY: For a heartstopping moment, Danny was terrified that Colleen wasn’t going to wake up. That Davos had cut too deep, that that relief in her eyes hadn’t been about losing the Fist but about everything being over. She was breathing, her heart was beating, but her eyes were closed and Danny was petrified. What would he do then? If she didn’t wake up, if he was alone, if he lost her? He wouldn’t know how to cope with that, how to live. He wouldn’t know how to function. 

But then, there was a pained huff of air escaping her lips and her eyelids fluttered, and the relief that washed over him was so heavy that it nearly knocked the air right out of his lungs. Danny shifted, moved his hand from her shoulder down to link their fingers together absentmindedly as she woke. “Hey,” he said quietly as she opened her eyes, and just the sound of Davos’s name on her lips was enough to make him flinch. “It’s okay,” he said softly, nodding over to the wall where Davos was slumped. “He’s… I knocked him out. There was a syringe, and he --- He’s unconscious.” He was stammering, mouth moving faster than his mind and, truth be told, Danny was barely clinging to consciousness himself. His leg ached, and black dots danced around the edge of his vision. Now that the immediate threat was over and his adrenaline was fading, he could feel it more intensely, and it was tempting to just… close his eyes. But they weren’t finished here. Not yet.

Looking back to Colleen, Danny paled at the expression on her face. She was obviously in pain, and there was so much blood. The immediate threat was over, but… Neither of them was really out of the woods. Not yet. “It… It’s not good,” he said quietly, almost as if it hurt him to admit it. It did, in a way. She was on the ground, she was hurt, she was bleeding, and it was his brother who’d put her there. It was his fault. If he’d taken Davos more seriously, if he hadn’t let himself get distracted by the Reaper, if he hadn’t let his grief do the driving, if he hadn’t failed Davos to begin with, none of this would have happened. They could have avoided all of it. 

“He took the Fist,” he continued, realizing he’d been quiet a beat too long. He wasn’t sure if she’d remember what happened or not, wasn’t sure she’d know why they were here. “The --- The ritual. He did the ritual on you. He tried to do it on me, too, but I… I don’t even know if it would have worked. I don’t even know if he would have survived it.” There was the other nagging thought, too, the thing that he wasn’t quite ready to say aloud --- the fact that, whether Davos would have survived the transfer or not, it had been his intention to ensure that Danny wouldn’t. Danny shook his head to chase the thought away, clearing his throat and looking back to Colleen. “Can you get up? Can you move? The Crane Sisters are still here. I have the bowl and…” He trailed off, looking down at the knife he’d used to cut his shirt and staring at it for a moment, remembering how Davos had pressed it against him, prepared to deliver the final blow. Without hesitation, he’d said. The words repeated through Danny’s skull now.

He always was stronger than you, Lei Kung cut in, and Danny glanced up to see him standing next to where Davos was slumped against the wall, back to Danny as he studied his biological son. You should have let him do it, you know. Danny shook his head again, pulling his hand from Colleen’s to rub at his eyes with the palm of his hand. “No,” he said softly, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before looking back down at Colleen. “You have to take it back,” he told her, nodding back over to Davos. “The Fist. I --- I think I know why it was failing, before. He said he got his back in the Raft. When mine came back, it must have destabilized yours, but if you take it back now, it’ll work.” He had no idea if that was true or not but, god, what was the alternative?

COLLEEN: Davos was unconscious. Colleen wished that made her feel better, but all that meant was that he wasn’t going to attack Danny now. The present danger was gone but... when he woke up? Colleen looked into Danny’s eyes again, but it was hard to focus -- it felt like everything was so far away. Even his fingers intertwining with hers felt distant. “Danny,” she murmured his name again, looking at him carefully. It was hard to place his expression, hard for her to get a good read on him while she was trying to stay conscious. But she knew something was wrong -- something must have happened while she was unconscious. “Danny, what did he do to you?” She gripped his hand weakly, she could barely feel him there, but even that faint touch felt good.

Colleen used her other hand to touch her stomach where she was bleeding, feeling the wound for herself breathlessly. The cut that Bakuto had left her with was superficial in comparison, the way Davos had cut into her -- he had done more damage than needed to get what he wanted. Lifting her hand, she looked at the blood on her fingers and let out a shaky breath. “I -- I think...” She closed her eyes again but quickly forced them back open. They needed to get to a hospital and fast -- but just as the words started to form, Danny spoke again.

The Fist.

She winced at the words. She remembered that much -- the burning sensation in her body as it transferred to Davos. She remembered screaming -- and she remembered seeing Danny. Had he watched? Had he heard her? That upset her, knowing that Danny had seen her like that and was seeing her like this now. “He -- he tried to take yours?” Colleen didn’t know the rules of the Iron Fist and knowing how little K’un-Lun had told Danny about the power it held (such as the ability to heal people), she wasn’t sure if Danny knew the full scope of the Fist either. Could Davos hold both? Or would he have been torn apart in the attempt? He had been the first of them to be able to channel the Fist into both hands, so maybe he could. Davos with two Fists was terrifying on its own -- but if he had the chi of two people? What would have happened?

He failed. Colleen had to remember that. Ultimately, Davos had failed. Colleen rotated her body as best she could, hissing in pain as she tried to force herself into a sitting position. “Danny---” Colleen tried to catch her breath, looking at him like he had just knocked the wind out of her lungs. He wanted her to try and take it back? It made sense. It did. Her body was weak and every part of her ached but she could take it back. She should take it back. But the thought of doing this all over again made her hands tremble. How could she tell Danny she didn’t want this? How could she tell him that she felt that rage building inside of her all the time, that she felt like she had to fight? And now that the power was gone -- she felt liberated.

“What are you looking at?” She asked in a whisper. Danny said no and then rubbed his eyes -- did he see something? Colleen was mostly upright now, swaying, but she was up. And aware enough to see Danny’s leg. Her mouth fell open and she reached for him, about to ask him if Davos had done this to him when Danny urged her again about the Fist. Slowly, she shook her head. “No.” Colleen had reasons but she didn’t voice a single one. She didn’t want to argue the pros and cons of each with Danny -- she didn’t want this. Not again. Her shoulders slumped slightly after she spoke. “There has to be another way,” Colleen said in a whisper. “And... and we need to call Misty.” They were far past the part where they needed to ask for forgiveness, Misty was going to show up and tear into both of them for their recklessness -- but Misty was the only other person in town who had dealt with Davos before. Maybe she’d have a plan.

DANNY: In K’un Lun, Danny got good at masking his pain. Pain was a weakness, and showing it? Letting your enemies know that their blows had landed? That was hardly the mark of a good weapon. The pain in his leg was excruciating, but Danny pushed it down with the same desperation with which he pushed down his emotions. He’d had worse, after all. He’d broken bones before, he’d broken his leg before. This was nothing. But… Something must have shown on his face, because Colleen caught it. He looked away at the question, keeping his eyes on the wound he was applying firm pressure to and shaking his head. “It’s nothing,” he said quietly. “I’m fine. I’m just worried about you.” 

It wasn’t entirely untrue. He was worried about Colleen, so much so that he could hardly focus on anything else. Davos hadn’t needed to do as much damage as he had, but… He’d never been particularly good with control. Danny remembered how he’d felt after the ritual, remembered coughing up blood in Ryhno’s hideout and realizing with a sudden certainty that he was going to die there. He pushed the dread that came with that memory away. This was different. He was going to get Colleen help, and she was going to be fine. They were all going to be fine. “Hey, hey, no,” he said desperately when her eyes slipped shut. “Please stay awake, please. I can’t --- I need you to stay awake.”

She winced, and Danny wasn’t sure if it was from the pain she was in now or the memory of what Davos had done or both. A surge of guilt rushed through him, and he looked away again, unable to meet her eyes. He nodded at the question, swallowing and pretending not to notice the tightness of emotion in his throat. “Yeah. He said…” He paused, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and pushing the emotion down, shoving it into the pit in his stomach just as he’d learned to do in K’un Lun. When he spoke again, it sounded almost robotic, more distant. “He didn’t care if he died. He just wanted to make sure I didn’t keep the Fist. He was going to kill me to take it.” His voice broke a little on the last word, and he cleared his throat to cover it. Pathetic, Lei Kung muttered from where he stood, and Danny did his best not to flinch. 

Colleen moved under his hands, and Danny looked down at her, shaking his head. “Careful,” he muttered, helping her sit up as best he could without jostling his own injuries. His jaw tightened as he tried to keep the pain from showing on his face. It wouldn’t matter in the long run, of course. Eventually, Colleen would realize he was hurt, too. Would she remember those brief moments of consciousness, remember Danny crawling towards her like an insect waiting to be crushed beneath a boot? Would she remember how he’d begged Davos to kill him? Would she remember how he’d failed her? It was selfish, but Danny hoped she wouldn’t. Lei Kung was right… every move he’d made tonight, every attempt he’d made to stop this? It had been pathetic.

What are you looking at? Colleen’s question brought his eyes back to hers, a note of quiet guilt behind them. “Nothing,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I was just… making sure he’s still asleep.” Her eyes moved to his leg, and Danny tried to shift to block it from her view. The movement sent a jolt of pain through him, and he let out a quiet grunt of pain. The spots dancing in front of his vision got a little bigger, and he shook his head hard to chase them away… just in time to hear Colleen tell him no. “We don’t have to move,” he said quickly, wondering if the pain of her injuries was what was stopping her. “The Crane Sisters can drag him over to us. We’ll do the ritual, and then we can…” But he trailed off, the rest of what she’d said catching up to him. He remembered that relief washing over her face, the moment of elation she’d seemed to experience when she realized she was losing the Fist. 

She doesn’t want the Iron Fist, Lei Kung said, turning to face Danny and walking towards him with his hands clasped together behind his back. And you’ve never been much without it, have you? Tell me, if she has no interest in the Fist, do you truly believe Danny Rand will be enough for her? Danny bit his tongue to keep himself from responding, eyes darting up to the hallucination quickly and staying there for a heartbeat before he tore his gaze away to look back to Colleen. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Call Misty. I’ll do the ritual.”

COLLEEN: He was deflecting. Colleen’s mind might have been flooded with pain -- but Danny’s tone? She’d recognize that anywhere. Like when she came home and they argued and he’d change the subject, normally it was to something that he knew she was interested in, but here? There was nothing for him to deflect to, no way to push this conversation in another direction when she was bleeding out on the floor and Davos was unconscious only a few feet away from them.”Please... please don’t lie to me.” Not here. Not now. She wanted to beg him for at least a small ounce of truth -- but would he listen? Did he think he was protecting her by hiding whatever had happened? (Probably, but she didn’t want to be protected. Not right now.) 

It felt good to close her eyes -- but hearing Danny’s desperate voice telling her to stay awake... she forced her eyes open again. “I’m... I’m awake,” she whispered. Keeping her eyes open felt harder than anything she had done before, each time she blinked her body wanted to keep her eyes closed. It was begging her to rest. But she knew that if she closed her eyes again, there was a good chance that she’d never open them again. She had to keep fighting, no matter how much it hurt. “I’m still here.” 

He was going to kill me to take it. Her stomach flipped as she remembered a flicker of Danny on the floor, crawling towards her and begging for Davos to do to him what he had done to Colleen instead. Was that real? Or had she imagined that? “Danny --- I -- I’m sorry,” she whispered. Colleen had never been a fan of Davos and that hadn’t been a secret, but Davos was important to Danny. They were brothers. She knew how much Davos meant to him... and she also knew what it felt like to be nearly murdered by someone you cared about. Colleen hadn’t realized that Bakuto was willing to kill her until it was too late -- and she remembered how broken she had been immediately after that. 

Danny wasn’t looking at Davos, that much Colleen knew. Davos was on the ground and Danny was looking up. Colleen clenched her teeth as she stabilized herself, but she couldn’t stay upright long. She fell onto her elbows and leaned towards Danny, putting her head on his chest as she caught her breath. “Danny, what did he do to you?” Her voice broke at the end -- because she knew where this was going to lead. Them both in the hospital, Danny undergoing anesthesia again because if Davos did what he did last time, Danny was going to need his leg completely rebuilt. He’d have to do physical therapy again and that nearly broke him last time. And ultimately, it had broken them. 

The Crane Sisters. The bowl. Colleen didn’t want to think about those things. She would be happy to leave Davos on the ground here and forget he ever existed but that would have been reckless and foolish. Colleen looked up at Danny and kept shaking her head -- feeling a small blip of relief when he said okay -- only for it to be immediately replaced with dread. “No,” Colleen said desperately. “Danny -- Danny, no, you can’t.” Colleen brought her hand up and placed it on his shoulder and then slowly moved it to the back of his neck as she put her head back on his chest. “Danny,” she whispered his name again. “You can’t do this. You don’t get to leave me like this.” Colleen couldn’t physically stop him, not if the Crane Sisters were going to help him and not if he was as determined to do this as he seemed. 

Her hand finally dropped away from him and Colleen tried to figure out what to say, how to convince him to stop this madness. But then she remembered being tied to that wheelchair and looking at Bakuto, knowing that he wasn’t going to spare her from death. That he was willing to kill her for what he perceived as an unforgivable betrayal. She remembered that her students -- the kids that she had recruited into the Hand were the ones that were going to do it too, and how quick they were to turn on her. And when she came out of the compound, she swung at Danny and told him to kill her. He must have been feeling the same thing that she had felt that night. Was he stuck on this ritual because he didn’t want Davos to come back later and hurt them again? Or had Davos pushed him so far that he didn’t believe he had anything left. 

Colleen was quiet for too long, and when she finally spoke, her voice trembled. “I thought we were going to stop destroying everything.”

DANNY: Deflecting attention away from his own issues was not a new thing for Danny. It wasn’t a new thing for him to do with Colleen, either. He remembered back in the weeks immediately following Midland Circle, when he didn’t get home until she was waking up. He’d asked her about her own problems, asked her about what she was investigating to keep her from digging too deeply into what he was doing. He’d done it on the plane, too, on the way back to New York when he’d woken from a nightmare and she’d begged him to tell her what was going through his mind. There was guilt in it now, just as there had been then, and he averted his eyes again as she begged him not to lie to her. “I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. Future tense. It was true. Eventually, he’d be fine because he had to be. Because the alternative wasn’t an option. No one kept a weapon around after it had been broken, after all. 

Falling apart… It wasn’t an option. Not now, not while there was still a battle to be won. Davos was unconscious, but he wouldn’t stay that way indefinitely and with Colleen’s Fist in his hand, neither Danny nor Colleen was capable of beating him. Not as they were now. He needed to keep Colleen awake, needed to get the Fist back from Davos, needed to call Misty to take care of the rest. “Good,” he said quietly when she opened her eyes. “Just stay with me. Please, stay with me.”

He nodded as she spoke, trying to shove that emotion down, trying to get rid of it. That grief is a weakness. Banish it. Letting himself feel what had just happened, letting himself think about how willing his brother had been to kill him… It would ruin him. If he let himself feel those things, Danny would choke on them. He couldn’t afford to do that now. He brought the hand not applying pressure to her wound up to his head, ran it across his face with a sigh. He was faintly aware that it left a trail of blood smudged on his forehead, knew that it was Colleen’s blood, but he couldn’t let himself focus on that, either. “It’s okay,” he said, robotic tone firmly back in place. “I’m okay. We just have to focus on getting you out of here.” 

That was Danny’s priority now. Not Lei Kung staring at him in disappointment, not the pain radiating from his injured leg, not even Davos slumped against the wall. Colleen was the most important thing right now. Saving her, making sure she was okay… That was all that mattered. He looked back to her now, heart sinking at the question. She knew the answer. He knew she knew the answer. It was written all over her face, reflected in the horror in her eyes and the pain in her voice. “I was goading him. I thought if I could keep his attention on me, I could stall him. He didn’t ---” He didn’t mean it. The words died on his tongue, because even now, his first instinct was to defend Davos. There was still a part of him that wanted to defend Davos, to claim that it was just his temper getting the best of him. Davos had always been like that, always had a short fuse. “He used the Fist,” he said quietly, but it wasn’t a necessary explanation. Colleen knew that already. Davos had never been particularly conservative when using the Fist.

That was why they couldn’t leave it with him. Colleen didn’t want it, and Danny wasn’t sure he blamed her, but Davos? Davos couldn’t have it. If there was a chance Danny could take it back from him peacefully, a chance he could render his brother relatively harmless, shouldn’t he take it? And if what he’d warned Davos about was the truth, if one person couldn’t contain that amount of power… Would that really be the worst thing? If Danny tried to take the Fist and the power overwhelmed him, if the Iron Fist died in this warehouse tonight with him, would that be so bad? It would mean an end to this vicious cycle. It would mean some semblance of peace for Colleen, for Davos. And that --- That would be worth it. 

But then Colleen spoke, a wild desperation in her tone, her hand on the back of his neck as she pulled them closer together. His chest ached, and he shook his head slightly even as Lei Kung scoffed behind him. What was it Ward said? You’re a cancer, Danny. You aren’t doing her any favors like this. “This is my fault,” he said quietly, something broken in his tone. “All of it. Davos… He’s not wrong to be angry. I abandoned him, I left him alone, and I --- His home is gone because of me. It’s my fault he’s like this, Colleen, and he hurt you, and...” And he’d been willing to go further. Danny was under no illusion as to what Davos would have done when he was finished with him. He’d been prepared to carve the Fist out of Danny and kill him in the process, and when he was finished? He wouldn’t have left Colleen alive. Davos would have killed her for Danny’s mistakes. He would have left her to rot because of what Danny had done.

For a while, there was silence, and Danny was terrified she’d passed out again. But her eyes were open when he glanced up to meet them, and before he could say anything else, before he could ask if she was okay, she spoke again and it was like a punch to the gut. He remembered finding her outside the compound, after Bakuto tried to kill her. Light up your damn Fist and destroy me. It broke his heart then, and he remembered the desperation he’d felt when he pulled her in close. We have to stop destroying everything. 

It was so much easier said than done. 

Danny was quiet for a moment, breath coming out in quiet gasps that had less to do with the pain in his leg than he was willing to admit. “We have to do something,” he said quietly. “He has a Fist, Colleen. And --- And the Raft isn’t an option anymore. If we put him in a regular prison, he’ll break out. He’ll punch through the walls, just like I did at…” He trailed off, realization hitting him suddenly as he looked back to Davos, still unconscious against the wall. Drugged. Harmless. “Birch,” he finished in a whisper, looking back to Colleen. “We could… We could put him in Birch.”

COLLEEN: He said it again and, again, Colleen didn’t believe him. But he did say that he’d be fine, and she knew, at some point in the future that might be true. How long would it take them to get there? Someone else would have called Danny out on it, made him talk about the right now -- make him say exactly what was on his mind and confess what he was hiding. Colleen didn’t. She didn’t have the strength to. She had the worry and the heaviness in her heart. But she couldn’t bring herself to push him again. Not given their current circumstances. Would she forget this? His avoidance? No. But right now she had to pick her battles and do her best to make sure he was fine in the future. “You’ll be fine,” she replied in a whisper. Her words stronger, she was making him a promise. He was going to be fine. And Colleen was going to make sure of that. 

The sound of his voice was in and out, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep her eyes open, but she was trying --- and scared of what would happen if her eyes closed. But... at least if she did die, the last thing she would see was Danny. Which was better than what she would have parted with last time. Maybe she’d even have a chance to say goodbye to him. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said breathlessly. “Just... keep talking to me, please.” She didn’t even care what they spoke about, the awful eggplant parmesan he brought over or even just... Danny’s day at Rand. Anything to keep her mind focused. 

But their conversation wasn’t going in a light direction. (Was there ever a chance that any of their conversations wouldn’t be heavy with Victor Graves or Davos or Bakuto?) And when Danny spoke again, his tone changed. It was flat. Distant. And it stung. Colleen looked up at his face and saw the smudge of blood on his face -- but she looked away as soon as she saw it. Thinking about him covered in her blood was enough to make her wish she had passed out earlier. “Us,” Colleen corrected with desperation in her tone again. “We have to focus on getting us out of here.” Maybe he didn’t mean it that way, but it felt like he was distancing himself from her -- from them. And maybe she shouldn’t have been worried about that, but with Davos turning on him so violently -- she was scared what was happening in his head. Scared of what he was hiding. She had never minded his dark places because they reminded her of her own, but when he pulled away like this, when he retreated into them? It was hard to pull him back out. And she was in no condition to do what she usually did, she couldn’t wrap him up in her arms and tell him he was safe -- she was bleeding out and he was on the ground with her just as broken as she was. There was no safety here. Not until help arrived. 

Danny took the blame. Another thing he did often. Maybe Danny did goad him -- maybe he pushed Davos until Davos finally broke but how he reacted to that wasn’t Danny’s fault. Davos was beyond saving for a long time and that wasn’t on Danny. But knowing that he wasn’t going to listen to her right now was frustrating. He was shutting down. Letting what he was telling her to be the absolute truth. “Don’t make excuses for him.” She knew that Danny wanted to -- hell, he was already starting. Was it easy for Danny if he was the villain here? If he was in the wrong? Did that make what Davos did to him -- to her any easier? “We need to get out of here,” she repeated. “You need a cast -- probably a lot more.” There was no hiding the sadness in her tone. 

She could see it in his face, he had already decided what he was going to do -- coming to terms with what that meant. And Colleen, who a few minutes ago was happy to just have a chance to say goodbye before she died, realized she might be saying goodbye to Danny instead. She didn’t know what to say to him if this was going to be it -- all she could do was beg him to reconsider. Would that be enough? Would that sway him? Or was he determined to end this tonight even if it meant his death? Even if it meant leaving her again without asking what she or anyone else needed. Because she needed him more than she wanted Davos gone. She needed him more than she wanted peace. She needed him. She wanted him. And she didn’t want him to throw away his life to save her or anyone else, not when there was another way. 

Buckling down on blaming himself, Colleen wanted to scream. Danny was lucky she didn’t have the energy to do that. “No,” she murmured. “This isn’t your fault,” Colleen repeated. “Davos... he, he had a choice. He made his choice. You can’t... don’t let use yourself as an excuse for what he did.” Colleen shook her head slowly, unsure if there was anything she could say that would change his mind. This was a place where words... they didn’t feel like enough. “Don’t abandon me to atone for him.” Don’t punish me for what Davos did. 

There was silence. And Colleen was scared that Danny’s stance wouldn’t change. But she waited with bated breath. Waiting for the pen to finally drop -- for Danny to make his decision. But then he relented and Colleen took in a deep breath all at once, a sob mixed with relief as she placed her forehead on his chest again. Her body shaking now because she was happy. It was a small victory, but at this point, she would take what she could get. “I know, he can’t -- we can’t let him go.” And there was no place that would be able to hold him. But there had been enough death in their lives in the last few months to last a lifetime. “Birch,” she repeated the name as she looked at Davos’s body. That was where Danny had been drugged -- where Ward had sent Danny back when Danny first arrived in New York City. With all the heavy drugs, Danny hadn’t been able to access the Fist, but Colleen knew he still had nightmares of that place. 

Colleen looked at Danny and then slowly nodded her head. “Okay.” It wasn’t a perfect solution, but maybe it was one they could both live with until they found an alternative. Until there was another super-prison that could hold him (even if he didn’t have the Fist, Colleen would have argued that he’d need something to sedate him, Davos was dangerous). Colleen slowly lowered herself back onto the ground, trying to calm her breathing, trying to push away the throbbing pain in her abdomen that had gone ignored for too long. She pulled out her phone and called Misty. 

“Hey, Misty,” Colleen’s voice was so soft -- she was surprised that Misty could even hear her. “Danny and I... we need some help...”

DANNY: When Colleen said he’d be fine, when she swore he’d be okay… Danny believed her in a way he’d never been able to believe himself. Coming from Colleen, it was a promise. It was something to put his faith in. Danny nodded quietly, feeling just a fraction better. He was still aching, he was still hurt, his brother had still tried to kill him, but… Maybe she was right. Maybe he could still be okay. 

But only if she was, too. If she didn’t make it out of here, if she bled out in a dingy warehouse because of Danny’s mistakes, he’d never forgive himself. Some things weren’t survivable, and that? Losing her? That was one of them. She promised she wasn’t going anywhere, but Danny wasn’t ready to relax yet. (Would he ever be able to relax again at all? The last few months had been one thing after another, one tragedy following the next. Maybe constant vigilance was the way to go here.) He moved his free hand down, linking their fingers again in a desperate attempt to anchor himself to the moment, to her, to anything other than the mess in his head. 

It didn’t do much. His head was still spinning, thoughts still a dark hurricane threatening to drown him. He was trying to keep himself afloat by using Lei Kung’s old techniques, but after everything he and his brother had just argued about, after seeing exactly where their father’s techniques had gotten Davos? Danny worried those old tricks might only make things worse. His eyes flickered back down to Colleen as she spoke, as she insisted that they would both get out of there. “Us,” he repeated with a nod, though his voice was still too flat to really sell it. Getting Colleen out was the priority. If something happened, if Davos woke up angry and vengeful before help arrived, that was where Danny’s focus would lie. In getting her out, no matter the cost.

He didn’t think it would come to that, though. Whatever dosage Davos had put in that syringe had been strong, evidenced by how quickly it put him under. Danny assumed the dosage was similar to the one Colleen had been given. Davos would have wanted him to entirely unable to fight, just as he’d been the last time his brother stole his Fist, and putting him to sleep for the entirety of the procedure? It was a smart move. (Danny wondered if Davos’s plan would have ended the same if he’d gotten the chance to use the drugs on Danny. Would he have killed him in his sleep? Cut his throat before he ever woke up? He shook the thought away violently, unwilling to focus on it now.) “I’m not making excuses,” he said, sounding tired. “I just --- I provoked him. Maybe if I hadn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head. If he hadn’t provoked Davos, could he have talked him down instead? It had never worked in the past, but maybe he should have given it a shot. Maybe he should have made more of an attempt at peace.

Colleen spoke again, and Danny’s eyes drifted unconsciously to his leg, though he snapped them back up before he could focus on the unnatural angle for too long. If he let himself look at it, odds were he’d go into shock, and he’d be no use to anyone then. “They’re going to want to put me under,” he realized, and suddenly, he felt nauseous. His stomach clenched, and he closed his eyes tightly and grit his teeth. This night, it meant another hospital stay for the both of them. It meant more doctors, more white coats, more I.V.s, more nightmares.

Maybe it doesn’t have to. The thought was dark, and as much as Danny wished he could say it came from Lei Kung, it didn’t. It was his mind, his eyes that darted over to where Davos was slouched in the corner. He could call someone, make sure that Colleen wouldn’t be alone, and then he could have the Crane Sisters prepare the ritual again. He could take the chance, take Davos’s Fist in a way that wouldn’t hurt him, and just… see what happened. Maybe it wouldn’t overwhelm him. Maybe he’d live through it, and even if he didn’t… Maybe it would be okay. 

If not for Colleen speaking up, he might have done it. Her voice drew him back in, her words washed over them. Danny wanted to believe her. He wanted to let himself think that this, all of it, was entirely on Davos, but he couldn’t. He was the one who’d left. And if he accepted that K’un Lun wasn’t what he thought it was, if he let himself agree with Colleen and Joy’s assessments of the abuse he had undergone there, it meant admitting that he’d left Davos to suffer it alone. “I ran away,” he murmured, voice low and quiet and pained. “I left him. He was my brother, and I just…” He trailed off with a shaky exhale. He left Davos in K’un Lun, just like he’d left Colleen in New York. Danny was good at that, it seemed. He was good at leaving. 

But right now? Right now, Colleen was asking him to stay. And after everything he’d done, after everything he’d put her through, how could he deny her that?

So he nodded. He agreed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I won’t --- I don’t know why I suggested it. You were right, it’s too risky. It’s not worth it.” Danny could accept his own death. He’d accepted it years ago, acknowledged the moment he began his training for the Iron Fist that it meant he wouldn’t die old and content in his bed. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but leaving Colleen alone? He couldn’t do that. Not again. She deserved better. 

Of course, if Colleen didn’t want the Fist and Danny couldn’t take it, it meant there was no other place for it to go. They didn’t know how to take it from Davos without giving it to someone else, and there was no one else here. If Danny didn’t take this risk, it meant they were taking one almost as dangerous. It meant they were letting Davos keep his power, even knowing the sort of things he’d do with it. There weren’t a lot of options here, and beyond killing Davos the way he’d asked Danny to just before losing consciousness… Birch was the only idea he had. 

Colleen seemed to agree, and Danny nodded without speaking, trying not to look at Davos. Coward, Lei Kung muttered from his side. Danny couldn’t argue with the assessment. He glanced over as Colleen retrieved her phone, shifting slightly when she spoke. Looking down at his hands, still covered in Colleen’s blood, he tried to tell himself this was the only way. He tried to tell himself Davos would be better off in Birch than dead, that he could still come back from this someday, that this way, he’d at least have a chance. He couldn’t quite manage to convince himself. 

None of the thoughts made him hate himself any less.

[thebehaviourist]

FABRIC//Residents

Imogen

IMOGEN’s only been making and playing music for a few years, but in that time she’s landed sets at some of Europe’s best techno clubs, become a regular fixture on radio and put out her first two records with the help of Sunil Sharpe and Mumdance. This rapid ascent is easily explained. She has one of the most distinguished musical styles you’re likely to hear today, crossing uncompromising techno via jittery electro and any other harder forms that take her fancy. This steadfast taste for darker terrain has quickly brought her to the sound’s forefront and firmly cemented her place in electronic music’s future.

Tommy Vercetti

Tom Cox takes inspiration from the sounds of classic disco and 90s garage house, and if you listen to any of the records he’s put out over the last few years, you’ll hear this first-hand. The UK producer has a sound that’s heavily indebted to these blueprint styles, utilizing vintage piano chords with euphoric vocal cuts tailored to the floor. It’s an approach that’s brought him attention from some of house’s most prolific names, most notably Kerri Chandler, who signed Cox to his ever-consistent MadTech label. Behind the decks, Cox has rapidly channeled a distinctive party spirit, which is evident whenever he joins us at Forms.

Lindsay Matthews

Lindsey Matthews is a UK artist with an ear for the dancefloor. Her bassline-powered house tracks are at once techy and minimal, the kind that causes havoc on energetic dancefloors from London to Ibiza. She’s become a key fixture on the White Isle in recent years, and in between her regular DJ appearances closer to home, she’s released records that have been picked up by some of dance music’s top-tier selectors. Her party-inclined sets typically take in modern tech-house with a dubby twist, something you’ll also hear from her at Forms.

Bobby

Bobby.’s been grafting on London’s underground music circuit for almost a decade, but it’s mainly over the last couple of years he’s received his dues. This is mostly because of Pleasure Club, the killer label and low-key party where he plays alongside a handpicked cast of close friends and likeminded selectors. He also champions his favourite house artists through his charity label Needs, and recently released his own record featuring our founding resident, Craig Richards. As a DJ, Bobby.’s style takes in trippy minimal, classy house and razor-sharp electro tied together with a sensibility for the 90s - the kind of sound we’ve been pushing every weekend in our space for the last two decades.

Voigtmann

Claus Voigtmann’s been a regular face in EC1 for a number of years, so it’s almost just a formality that we’re now naming him one of our residents. As the co-founder and former resident DJ of Toi.Toi.Musik, Voigtmann’s been a key player in the capital’s underground music scene since 2010. Over the years he’s built up a record bag that’s packed to the brim with forgotten gems, which is something his ultra-slick DJ sets - a deft balance in restraint and excitement - always showcase. As a producer, his sound crosses deep, minimalist techno with abstract soundscapes, and his label Subsequent has quickly built a following for fans of the same heady style. Expect a similar thing coupled with a serving of rare bombs you’ve never heard before when he plays with us.

Anna Wall

Anna Wall is a longstanding stalwart of London’s electronic music scene. She first cut her teeth as a DJ playing off-grid parties around the capital back in 2010, putting her own London edge on forgotten deep house, reductionist dub techno and golden-era 90s house. She’s also released a few records of her own, runs an imprint called The Bricks and regularly hosts her own radio broadcasts, but it’s in front of a dancefloor that she truly flourishes. Committed, distinctive and completely versatile, she is everything we look to in a resident DJ.

Cimm

Want to know where dubstep is heading in the next 10 years? Cimm will tell you. The London-based producer and DJ has been making club-driven electronic music in the 140BPM territory for a number of years, and he’s been widely tipped as one of the sound’s future stars. He first broke onto the scene with a landmark debut in 2016, collaborating with dubstep visionary Youngsta for one of the genre's greatest labels, Tempa. His records display a love for the origins of dub fused with moody basslines, a sound he also translates in his DJ sets and regular radio broadcasts. It’s a style we’ve long championed at FABRICLIVE, and one you’ll see from him at his future appearances with us.

Mark Dinimal

Soon after Dan Hartley had cut his teeth as part of UK drum & bass trio Data 3, he adopted the moniker Mark Dinimal as a further outlet to express his love for dark minimal 170BPM fare. While the tongue-in-cheek pun could easily suggest a light-hearted approach to being an artist, the music he makes is anything but. Over the last couple of years, he’s released a string of fiercely cutting drum & bass tracks as Mark Dinimal, mostly through RAM’s offshoot label, ProgRAM. The forward-thinking imprint has been something of a home for his studio work since he started writing music solo, and as one of our FABRICLIVE residents, now he’ll also have a regular spot for his DJ appearances.

Jayden Thompson

There’s a chance you’ll be familiar with Jaden Thompson’s music without even knowing it yet. His sharp house tracks have been doing the rounds among the titans of dance music over the last few years, thanks partly to an early signing on The Martinez Brothers’ instantly discernible imprint, Cuttin’ Headz. Recently he’s also been backed by Jamie Jones and Lee Foss via their Emerald City label, while his weekends have been busy holding down the DJ booth alongside some of the scene’s biggest stars. For his next step, he’s set to bring his catchy dancefloor sound to Forms.

Jay Clarke

If you’ve visited us on any Saturday night recently, it’s more than likely you’ll be familiar with JAY CLARKE. The London-based DJ and producer has become one of our most regular artists over the last few years, bringing a driving techno sound that’s become synonymous with our Room Two space. Clarke has also released music with Ben Klock’s stamp of approval via Klockworks and runs his own label called BLACKAXON, but as a DJ he’s just as accomplished. Behind the decks, he strikes a balance between raw dancefloor energy and heavy, pulsating 4/4, and you can expect his appearances with us to follow in the same vein.

Mantra

Ask any serious drum & bass head in the capital about the best party for 170BPM sounds, and it’s very likely they’ll tell you about Rupture. The London party has built a loyal following through its fierce support of gritty 90s jungle and contemporary drum & bass over the last 13 years, weathering drastic changes in a scene in which few others have survived. As Rupture’s resident DJ and co-founder, Mantra’s become a vital driving force for drum & bass in London, not least through her memorable DJ sets at every party. A dedicated vinyl purist, she also helms Rupture’s label to release records produced by her and other close scene affiliates. While that would be a lot by anyone’s measure, recently she’s also launched a smaller night called Spirit Level, and through her project EQ50, she’s helping to bridge the gap between genders in D&B. Catch her at FABRICLIVE soon.

Fish & Sherry S

Fish & Sherry S hail from Bristol, which, when you hear any of their productions or DJ sets, probably won’t come as much of a surprise. The duo’s signature sound is a genre-hopping mix of bassline, dubstep, and just about anything that falls under the umbrella of so-called “UK bass” music. It’s a sound that characterises their records for labels like Tumble Audio, Four40 and Fish’s Cocobolo Sound, and one that’s manifested in full glory during their high-energy DJ performances. You’ll find them in rave mode at FABRICLIVE in the near future, too.

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 34

Zavala x Awoken Female Warlock | Mid/Post Forsaken | Slowburn | Gratuitous Descriptions of Light | Self-Confidence/Self-Worth Issues | Redemption

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

-/

One second Tamashii is screaming at her not to let go-

-and the next, all is silent as she finds the space between each breath.

This is not like what she'd seen earlier. If the Taken and their devil queen truly, truly wanted her corrupted, this would not be the moment - the vision - they show her. This is a different sort of unmaking.

She's looking at herself.

And herself - the one she sees - is screaming.

Tamashii - in his old, old, ceremonial shell - hangs in front of her, shivering and waning. Her fingers are shaking.

Miyu doesn't remember this, not in first person perspective. She watches herself move her hands, jerky, sluggishly strange motions, trying to catch him in her grasp, to bring him into her.

She cannot feel her arms past her elbows right now, she absently recalls as she watches. It was as if she had been stripped of her nerve endings. Everything else feels like she's been burned alive because inside - at her core, the place where her soul meets her body - she has.

The words she slurs, attempting to speak, are a combination of Common and Japanese. It sounds bizarre, but… It makes sense. She was human once, like many of the Awoken. When she was first Risen, she’d had the same problem, and in times of stress and shock, her brain overrode her and reverted to what she’d once been.

'T-tama…'

He's dazed, looking about frantically, optic unfocused. She doesn't need to look behind where she stands, a specter experiencing a moment from her past, to know what's coming. The oncoming Legionary bellows in its native jargon. It's some hellacious, triumphant yell.

'Onegai, Hikari no Tama,' She's begging, trying and failing to rise. Dirty tears sizzle from the heat her body gives off when she cries. 'Please, you have to-'

The Cabal raises it's weapon, ready, intent to strike.

Miyu doesn't remember this. She remembers Tamashii blinding them, stopping the beast from killing them, but this moment is lost to her, wiped clean from her memory, gone.

And then - The dirty-faced, sobbing version of herself moves like lightning. She ducks beneath her enemy's bloody, extended blade, preventing it from piercing Tamashii's vulnerable core in this state.

She gasps as the realization hits her. It's like being underwater and coming up for air.

Tamashii wasn't the one who bought them time, whose Light allowed them to escape. He hadn't blinded them at all.

It was her. She'd saved them. It was her, all along.

'You cannot have it,' The broken Miyu rumbles, eyes vicious, so perfectly aware of her impending death, yet not shying away. Her trembling, numb fingers wrap around the red maw of the beast's face. 'You will never have our Light.'

The Light was always with her, she realizes. Miyu blinks and suddenly her hands are on the Cabal’s face as well. She is no longer the specter.

It may be different, she realizes as it explodes from her fingertips in fire and fury, maiming their enemy, but it is hers. It has always been there, inside her. Waiting for her to know herself, like it has always known her. This is what she's been missing. She'd had it inside her all along.

Where she'd once fallen back, scrambling to scoop up her confused Ghost and run away, she rises, wings at her back, sword in her hands.

She is a Sunsinger and a Dawnblade and she is more than that and it is everything.

She is no longer afraid.

-/

There is something cathartic about defeating the Hive, Ikora reasons as her gun barks at one rather reckless Thrall and blows it to bits. It has been quite some time since she's gone out into the field. Not because she is incapable; Certainly her prowess is felt because the higher ranking enemies watch her with concern and wariness.

The real reason is because of Cayde, but she squashes that thought. Focus, she thinks. There's static in her ear as Ophiuchus patches Zavala in. "Everything alright?"

Ikora hums. "I'm almost to the seal Sloane described. The sheer number of Hive is almost impressive."

"They throw everything at us to try and keep us out when they perform their rituals," The Deputy Commander cuts in. "I'll keep looking through the archives, to see if I can find anything of use."

Ikora rolls her eyes. "You can stay on the line, Deputy Commander," She grouses. "We shouldn't bicker too much."

The Commander chuckles low. "Have we become that fearsome that you would relegate yourself back to the archives? I am certain you've read every useful text from cover to cover the first time we dealt with this sort of situation."

Sloane's laugh borders on nervous. Ikora sighs as a scream rends the air. "Sounds like they might have an… Omnigul?" The comms pop with static. "Any word on reinforcements," Ikora questions. "Or shall I do this independently?"

"Please don't," Zavala says, and where once it felt like a dig, she feels his concern like a warm bloom in her rib cage. "I want you to get them as much as you do, but it isn't smart to go alone."

"Is that Gambit match-"

"That wasn't an Omnigul, Ikora," Sloane sounds resigned. "Those are the Primeval Envoys."

"But I'm in the Archology. I shouldn't be-"

"I blasted him after the first Prime match he had. Thought he was going to send the whole Rig into the sea."

Zavala growls.

"It won't. That's what he said. He's been running matches here day and night. Not great for my beauty sleep," She jokes, "But the structural integrity of the Rig is fine."

"I'll be having a word with him," Ikora says. "Don't worry."

Sloane whistles. The static strips it down, makes it less shrill. "Oh boy."

"Indeed. Sloane, have you gotten anything?"

"We haven't gotten any hits yet," The Deputy's frown bleeds into her tone. "And to send them from Earth or Mars-"

"I've had my Ghost alert Shaxx," The Warlock Vanguard informs them. "We'll have to break up any Crucible matches in the vicinity. We can't waste time."

"You might as well send them from Earth, for how long arguing with Shaxx will take," Sloane inserts herself, tersely.

"It's fine." Ikora steels herself. "Maybe I should-"

"No!"

Ikora hesitates at the rawness, the anguish in Commander's tone. Quieter, he says, "Not alone. Please."

"I'm not-" The thought stabs her like a knife to the heart, still unable to so casually say her fallen comrade's name. It's still too soon. Instead, she continues, "I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can," Zavala agrees. Sloane coughs and excuses herself. The line gets quieter still. "However, I would feel better if someone, anyone went with you."

"Are you speaking as-"

He interrupts her. "I cannot fathom losing you, too."

The line is nothing but static for a moment.

"I'll thin their numbers and try to break this seal, but I won't go into the Archology."

The Commander exhales. "Thank you."

"I realize," The comms flare, crackling and loud, "That you're having a moment here," Shaxx bellows, "But I'll not have you interrupting my Crucible."

"There are teams involved in Gambit on Titan, but the Drifter isn't answering," Zavala says smoothly. "Wormhaven is the next closest. We need-"

"That sounds like a you problem, Commander. The Crucible doesn't wait, and it certainly doesn't stop if that moron doesn't have to, either!"

Even the static stops after he's finished shouting. It's abundantly clear that Shaxx is now content to ignore them, too.

"I'm going to lock them both in a room together," Ikora growls. "They'll either kill one another or annoy each other to death."

"I'd be inclined to assist you," Zavala replies coolly. "After," He recovers, ever the voice of reason. "We cannot lose any more Guardians."

"Right." He hears the gunfire over her connection, the Hive's shrill shrieks.

"Check in with me in five," He tells her, less friendly and more demanding. Standard protocol is twenty. But it's also the first time one of them has gone on such a mission since... "Please," He revises.

"Don't worry, Zavala." Ikora dips her head, looks at the amassing enemies, and summons the Void. "I'll check in shortly. Everything will be fine."

Millions of miles away, Zavala's Ghost hovers close, tutting that he needs to relax. He's doing it again, imagining horrific outcomes. Ikora's compromising. She can handle this, and he needs to clear his mind and focus if he's going to provide their Fireteam support instead of fussing about.

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, KATHERINE! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Sirius Black. I’m so thrilled to have someone who understands Sirius so well to be writing them. They’re the highs and the lows, never the in between. Black or white, never grey. And god, do they feel things with all their being. They’re incredibly self destructive, and I can’t wait until you press their buttons enough to explode. 

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name: katherine age: (23 preferred pronouns: she/her timezone: cst activity: (include a brief explanation): I have a full time job, so I cannot guarantee daily activity, but I tend to do replies during the week. I am less active on the weekends. On a scale of 1-10, I would say a 7. are you applying for more than one character?: no, just Sirus Black how do you feel about your character dying?: I’m all for it. I’m a sucker for putting my character through hell, and this would quite literally be it. The way Sirius’ emotions seem to be going, it seems likely.

ic details.

full name: sirius arcturus black date of birth: november 3 former hogwarts house: gryffindor sexuality: pansexual gender/pronouns: non-binary, he/they face claim: samuel larsen

how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths. Sirius feels deeply for their chosen family. Especially when their ‘real’ family disowned them over a choice that was not technically theirs to make. The Sorting Hat’s decisions are non-negotiable; he didn’t ask to be a Gryffindor, but that’s where he was meant to be. As Regulus began to take Sirius’ place as the golden child, he might’ve shrunk in on himself. All they ever wanted was for their parents to notice him, and if that could not happen, despite their best efforts, they might as well fade into the background– but James saved them. Then Remus, then Peter. Loyalty runs deep in Gryffindor, and that is something Sirius related to immediately. He loves his friends, and would die for them without a second thought. With this, Sirius lost his light when James died. As their biography suggests, something instantly changed– they lost their best friend over a war that, up until now, they hadn’t truly taken a stance in. A once easy-going, carefree (albeit to a fault) person was mangled into something unrecognizable, full of anger and bitterness. And so, he joined the Order, determined to avenge James and end the war. Sirius is be so blinded by his goal– kill Voldemort– that he will stop at nothing to do it, even if that means harming himself, or others, unintentionally.

STRENGTHS: Sirius is, as mentioned, incredibly loyal. They would do anything for their friends: would lay down their life, would fight an unbeatable war, to do them right and proud. They are desperate to prove themself worthy of other peoples’ love, which can lead to reckless decisions. Sirius is quick-witted. Their mischievousness began as a child, desperate for their parents’ attention, and they got fairly creative with how they went about it. Sirius went out of their way to get into trouble, and with James at their side at Hogwarts, they were really able to hone their skills. This manifested into cleverness as an adult. Sirius has toned own after James’ death– the loss of their best friend making them mostly quiet and bitter– but the wit is still there. Despite it all, they can still crack a joke here and there. Despite it all, they can still plan battles and outwit the enemy. Sirius’ emotions aside, they are an asset to the Order.

WEAKNESSES: Due to his rocky relationship with his family, Sirius has always had trouble controlling his emotions. When he feels anger, he really feels it, and the same for sadness, and happiness, and so on. His emotions are high and can often get in the way of his decision-making. If he believes something is right, he’ll act upon it. If he’s angry, he’ll let it out. Of course, with happiness and love, this can sometimes be a positive thing, but that leads to weakness number two: Sirius is codependent on his friends. At Hogwarts, he latched onto both James and Remus. Without a true family of his own, Sirius made a family from his friends. Now that James is dead (though Sirius has a hard time speaking the words aloud) their attachment to Remus has gotten much worse. Without Remus, Sirius would be more lost than they already are; this makes them fiercely protective of Remus.

how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise? Sirius’ life, thus far, has been filled with incredibly hard choices, that he himself often did not get to make. He was sorted into Gryffindor when his family bled Slytherin green, and much to their parents’ dismay, found a family among them. When the war came, he was stuck with one foot on either side, loyalty to both his family and his friends putting him in a tough situation. Sirius would probably not have chosen a clear side at all, were it not for James’ death. Sirius missed James’ funeral because they could not stand attending it. Being there, lowering the casket, saying their words, felt too real. Too permanent. They are not quite ready to say goodbye to their best friend. Godric’s Hollow felt like the right choice– a chance to be close to James once more, walk where he walked, stand where he stood. Sirius is someone utterly driven by his grief, even if they are unaware of it.

where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? why? After James’ death, Sirius believes he has no choice but to join the Order and finish the war. Suddenly, everything felt crystal clear. Where morality was once on a gray scale, it was now black and white: Voldemort and his followers were evil, and the Order was not. He declared his stance immediately, joined the Order, ruined what little relationship he had left with his family, and got to work.

Since joining the Order after Lily and James’ deaths, what’s something reckless Sirius has done that’s made people question whether they should remain a part of the Order? Sirius lost it during Glenda Chittock’s radio show. She mentioned the dead– good news– and they took off without a second thought, their Animagus barreling through the crowd and into the woods. It was all they could think about for the past year. James being alive was the best case scenario, the one Sirius dreamed night after night. Surely it couldn’t be real…could it? When they finally returned to Order headquarters, exhausted and covered in dirt, eyes watched him warily. They knew Sirius was struggling– they were all struggling– but there was still work to be done. They didn’t even know what Glenda’s broadcast meant. They feared Sirius’ disappearing act meant they were too fragile to handle the Order. Ever since then, Sirius has been watched, much like, well, a dog.

[shadowedtalks]

Medieval Times Part 7

Kaiser squinted at her when he spotted the glowing light off the fur of the white fox that strutted along the wall. "What is a fox like that doing here?" he said to himself watching it as it took note of his gaze as he was captured by the striking green that where her eyes. Most foxes’ eyes were black, and around here they were orange and red in fur color not this brilliant white. Looking at this creature he could tell it was not a normal fox. He heard a gentle whisper of what sounded like his name then it jumped down off the wall and virtually vanished into the shade on this side of the wall. “Fox?” he whispered having heard that tone of voice before from the Fox guard waiting here. He would run into her from time to time while keeping his distance just to see what she would do, mostly just sleep in an oak tree, an she would mutter softly to herself or sigh, so he knew her silence was a choice. But it would be ridiculous to say that the fox guard was an actual fox, that would make them not even human… or perhaps a human with powers an that was her manifestation of them. If that was the case then the Fox guard here was the real deal because being able to change into other animals would make half of the rumors about that fighter much more plausible. “Another trip over the wall?” he asked despite knowing he wouldn’t get a response as well as knowing that she would return to her quarters without incident so he didn't react to much more to her presence this time. He finished the rest of the night uneventful.

Cardinal took a breath as she stretched out along her assigned cot looking up at the ceiling above her. Once she slipped away, she took back her normal form and returned to her bed in the chambers of visiting staff from the guests upstairs. The numbers were beginning to dwindle down as many were beginning to return home. But not yet for her and her lord they had a few more weeks to go before discussion of departure would begin. Summits really dragged for those in the lower court like where her lord was. He was basically the bottom on the list of importance. Come morning with a deep dread she returned to her lord. Able to fallow him for the day for just a casual day of talk.

She stuck near him on a wall keeping as low as a profile as possible.

After being with him the full day she was chased off in the evening hours. Extremely thankful to not have to suffer yet another night at his hands she always felt so gross after each request for her to stay. An wished more that the lady and young son of the house was able to attend events like this. With them around he never called for personal punishments and her immediate order became to stick to the young son like glue an keep him safe an out of trouble. She liked him, he was well behaved and he liked her as well even if she couldn’t play with him like he wanted some days.

With a bit of mindless wandering in the twilight she ended holding up in a small space along the south wall’s greenery. She pulled her legs up into her chest wrapping around them with her arms seeming to become even smaller an going off into the dark corners of her mind. "Perhaps I should end it all here for me...." she muttered aloud by mistake. As her eyes gazed into the ground.

Kaiser sighed and turned his attention towards the southern wall. He heard talking. No response so it was one person. Talking to themselves at a time like this. This person must be contemplating some rash action. Kaiser walked towards the area where he heard it with a torch in hand. Eventually coming up to her hiding spot he stood in front of her a slightly agitated look on his face. "Care to explain why you are in the madam's flower bushes. Trying to steal a bushel for yourself?" He didn't reach for his sword as others might have. Though he should've he doesn't want to turn a simple situation into a fight or hunt for this one.

Her gaze lifted at the voice seeing him again then looked back down at her pathetic stance all wrapped up around itself. 'Really. Steal some flowers does it look like I care about stupid flowers right now? There aren’t even any blooms.' She grumbled mentally but shook her head no to his question. Reaching up she gave a soft smile to herself and spoke softly. "I was hiding an I was thinking of ways I could die..." she looked to the bush on her left side. "If I was trying to take some of the flowers would that get me killed?" She asked in response to him asking if she was stealing then returning her gaze to him again. Talking aloud. Yep let others hear her voice spread rumors. That's a good start to her decline. She mused softly waiting looking at him but not moving from her balled up placement in the greenery.

"No. It would make the madam upset. She would've rather you asked if you wanted a flower." Takin in Her posture at the moment while they spoke and her lack of reaction. She felt and looked rather vulnerable it seemed. Kaiser crouched down to be on her level. "I'm on the only guard on patrol duty at the moment... why would you come to the conclusion you would be killed over some flowers. My lord is fair. He would have you plant another." A subject’s reaction to the possibility of breaking a law or a rule of the castle tells a lot of the one that governs them. "Why don't you come with me to the guard quarters? We'll get you some food and drink and let you return to your quarters for the evening."

She took a moment before answering his first question. "Because even if its fixable by planting another bush at the lords instance my lord would be terribly embarrassed and that is never a good thing if it comes to my punishments." She let out a deep sigh. So much for others over hearing her. The guard quarters would definitely get the job done but she has a sneaking suspicion that they would be incredibly tight lipped about her visit. She hadn't even heard rumors about her visit to Kaiser in the quarters last time. So, she gave an answer to his offer.

"Im not allowed to interact with others without my lord telling me too." She explained shifting just slightly. "Food and drink are a big no as well if I haven't been given the okay. I can't take anyone else’s portions... they will need it more then I. You have seen all I do.... I wander, I sleep, and I fallow my lord. I don't burn much energy." She gave a soft pathetic laugh with a sigh. Still looking at him from that spot. Things were okay till another appeared knelling next to Kaiser.

"So that's the way it is for you... then is it safe to assume that on random nights you’re the voice many hear calling out in pain from the guest quarters?" The man seemed to be a General or a lead guard. His attire similar yet different from Kaisers. She shrugged.

"I don’t know. That is for you to solve, this isn’t my home, and it doesn’t bother my lord." She said bluntly and with no hesitation either not making it any easier to guess if it was her or not.

The other guard gave an exasperated sigh. "I should have expected you to say something like that... you are a difficult one to fallow on these grounds when you’re not glued to your lords’ side. Basically, a ghost, you do live up to your name for sure, and that makes my job no easier." He seemed to ramble a bit and patted Kaisers shoulder as she gave a small shrug with a sigh. Tightening up in a ball more an putting her head down into her knees and with her hood up effectively hiding her head. The other guard looked to Kaiser.

"Maybe you can get them to open up to you... our Lord is rather tense due to their presence here and of the reputation that precedes them... he asked me to keep eyes on them, but with them slipping away from me easily, and the strange noises stirring up the house staff our lord is not very comfortable. Im glad I can tell him something to ease his mind now." He explained looking up to the sky as evening set in. "I’ll let you decide if they are trust worthy, you appear able to find them much easier than I can keep up with them. Best of luck Kaiser, but don't forget your own duty and patrolling tonight." He said as he got up and walked off, he wouldn't actually inform anyone of what happened having decided to keep it to himself due to their state they were in at the moment with how they acted and spoke before he made himself known to both parties. With the fox contemplating how to die, telling his lord any of this would cause his lord to confront their lord about it, an in turn possibly set them off after the fox, and with no fighting spirit they would give in and just perish if their lord just didn’t out right kill them.

Once far enough away she picked up her head, though hidden from view she had a sickening smile on her lips, but just for a moment. "If He will tell your lord... your lord will confront mine... if he does, my death ticket has been sealed." She let out a pitiful laugh and looked up to the sky. "Perhaps by the full moon in one day." She didn't know why she couldn't get out of this dark mind set. Why she couldn't get out of her head right now, she normally could but for now something was just sticking it to the forefront of her mind. And it was driving darker emotions, but she knew one thing, she was strongly craving the freedom of a run with no limits... the regular calling she felt, that got stronger the fuller the moon was. And with evening falling on the eve of a full moon she could truly feel that calling and sighed thankful for something to pull her out of the dark side of her mind.

Looking back to Kaiser finally she shifted moving to look like she would crawl forward. "If you will move back... I'll get out of the bushes." She said gesturing that if she wanted to truly get out of the bushes at this moment, she would have to practically crawl over him with how close he was to her hiding spot so they could talk. "I'll try not to be a nuisance for you anymore.... I'm sure you are getting sick of seeing me out an telling me to return to my room." She commented looking off to the left for a moment rubbing some dirt off of her gloved palm then something struck with her curiosity.

"You keep offering me food. Why?" She asked looking towards him.

"And I wear a mask... what made you think that inviting me to the guard quarters, where a lot of people are to eat and drink, what made you think that I would take you up on that offer?" She asked as well as that would practically offer full exposure... even she didn't have the guts for that, an again she would feel like she was taking someone’s rations for dinner and that guilt would eat at her.

She was to emotional right now to have that settle properly. She was backed too far into a figurative corner an she was stuck there. Pinned by shat she was raised on an what her lord has done more regularly since they got here little over a couple weeks ago. It was too heavy for the moment and feeling no break coming soon she lapsed into such a mindset. For now, she would wait. It’s what she was good at, a break will be soon an she will breath easier, after all, the full moon was close. After a full moon for just a little while she always felt refreshed, freed from that corner. She just had to wait a little longer an everything would be fine. She knew so. She could feel it coming, it let her relax a bit, tension melting off her shoulders.

"I offer you food because I understand how it feels to be that hungry." Kaiser watched his fellow guard leave and answered her other question.

"I felt as if this place is safe enough for people like us. Though you're considered a legend here you are still a person like us." He was unsure how to talk to this person.  Her Lord kept her secluded, hidden from everyone to even their appearance behind the mask.

"From what I've seen your understanding of magic goes beyond or equal to that of the captain. I would like some insight into my ability if you would be so generous." Her answer would confirm what he suspected with that appearance of the strange fox a few nights ago.

[the-end-of-art]

An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he must choose

The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain (1926) by Langston Hughes

One of the most promising of the young Negro poets said to me once, "I want to be a poet--not a Negro poet," meaning, I believe, "I want to write like a white poet"; meaning subconsciously, "I would like to be a white poet"; meaning behind that, "I would like to be white." And I was sorry the young man said that, for no great poet has ever been afraid of being himself. And I doubted then that, with his desire to run away spiritually from his race, this boy would ever be a great poet. But this is the mountain standing in the way of any true Negro art in America--this urge within the race toward whiteness, the desire to pour racial individuality into the mold of American standardization, and to be as little Negro and as much American as possible.

But let us look at the immediate background of this young poet. His family is of what I suppose one would call the Negro middle class: people who are by no means rich yet never uncomfortable nor hungry--smug, contented, respectable folk, members of the Baptist church. The father goes to work every morning. He is a chief steward at a large white club. The mother sometimes does fancy sewing or supervises parties for the rich families of the town. The children go to a mixed school. In the home they read white papers and magazines. And the mother often says "Don't be like niggers" when the children are bad. A frequent phrase from the father is, "Look how well a white man does things." And so the word white comes to be unconsciously a symbol of all virtues. It holds for the children beauty, morality, and money. The whisper of "I want to be white" runs silently through their minds. This young poet's home is, I believe, a fairly typical home of the colored middle class. One sees immediately how difficult it would be for an artist born in such a home to interest himself in interpreting the beauty of his own people. He is never taught to see that beauty. He is taught rather not to see it, or if he does, to be ashamed of it when it is not according to Caucasian patterns.

For racial culture the home of a self-styled "high-class" Negro has nothing better to offer. Instead there will perhaps be more aping of things white than in a less cultured or less wealthy home. The father is perhaps a doctor, lawyer, landowner, or politician. The mother may be a social worker, or a teacher, or she may do nothing and have a maid. Father is often dark but he has usually married the lightest woman he could find. The family attend a fashionable church where few really colored faces are to be found. And they themselves draw a color line. In the North they go to white theaters and white movies. And in the South they have at least two cars and house "like white folks." Nordic manners, Nordic faces, Nordic hair, Nordic art (if any), and an Episcopal heaven. A very high mountain indeed for the would-be racial artist to climb in order to discover himself and his people.

But then there are the low-down folks, the so-called common element, and they are the majority---may the Lord be praised! The people who have their hip of gin on Saturday nights and are not too important to themselves or the community, or too well fed, or too learned to watch the lazy world go round. They live on Seventh Street in Washington or State Street in Chicago and they do not particularly care whether they are like white folks or anybody else. Their joy runs, bang! into ecstasy. Their religion soars to a shout. Work maybe a little today, rest a little tomorrow. Play awhile. Sing awhile. O, let's dance! These common people are not afraid of spirituals, as for a long time their more intellectual brethren were, and jazz is their child. They furnish a wealth of colorful, distinctive material for any artist because they still hold their own individuality in the face of American standardizations. And perhaps these common people will give to the world its truly great Negro artist, the one who is not afraid to be himself. Whereas the better-class Negro would tell the artist what to do, the people at least let him alone when he does appear. And they are not ashamed of him--if they know he exists at all. And they accept what beauty is their own without question.

Certainly there is, for the American Negro artist who can escape the restrictions the more advanced among his own group would put upon him, a great field of unused material ready for his art. Without going outside his race, and even among the better classes with their "white" culture and conscious American manners, but still Negro enough to be different, there is sufficient matter to furnish a black artist with a lifetime of creative work. And when he chooses to touch on the relations between Negroes and whites in this country, with their innumerable overtones and undertones surely, and especially for literature and the drama, there is an inexhaustible supply of themes at hand. To these the Negro artist can give his racial individuality, his heritage of rhythm and warmth, and his incongruous humor that so often, as in the Blues, becomes ironic laughter mixed with tears. But let us look again at the mountain.

A prominent Negro clubwoman in Philadelphia paid eleven dollars to hear Raquel Meller sing Andalusian popular songs. But she told me a few weeks before she would not think of going to hear "that woman," Clara Smith, a great black artist, sing Negro folksongs. And many an upper-class Negro church, even now, would not dream of employing a spiritual in its services. The drab melodies in white folks' hymnbooks are much to be preferred. "We want to worship the Lord correctly and quietly. We don't believe in 'shouting.' Let's be dull like the Nordics," they say, in effect.

The road for the serious black artist, then, who would produce a racial art is most certainly rocky and the mountain is high. Until recently he received almost no encouragement for his work from either white or colored people. The fine novels of Chesnutt' go out of print with neither race noticing their passing. The quaint charm and humor of Dunbar's' dialect verse brought to him, in his day, largely the same kind of encouragement one would give a sideshow freak (A colored man writing poetry! How odd!) or a clown (How amusing!).

The present vogue in things Negro, although it may do as much harm as good for the budding artist, has at least done this: it has brought him forcibly to the attention of his own people among whom for so long, unless the other race had noticed him beforehand, he was a prophet with little honor.

The Negro artist works against an undertow of sharp criticism and misunderstanding from his own group and unintentional bribes from the whites. "Oh, be respectable, write about nice people, show how good we are," say the Negroes. "Be stereotyped, don't go too far, don't shatter our illusions about you, don't amuse us too seriously. We will pay you," say the whites. Both would have told Jean Toomer not to write Cane. The colored people did not praise it. The white people did not buy it. Most of the colored people who did read Cane hate it. They are afraid of it. Although the critics gave it good reviews the public remained indifferent. Yet (excepting the work of Du Bois) Cane contains the finest prose written by a Negro in America. And like the singing of Robeson, it is truly racial.

But in spite of the Nordicized Negro intelligentsia and the desires of some white editors we have an honest American Negro literature already with us. Now I await the rise of the Negro theater. Our folk music, having achieved world-wide fame, offers itself to the genius of the great individual American composer who is to come. And within the next decade I expect to see the work of a growing school of colored artists who paint and model the beauty of dark faces and create with new technique the expressions of their own soul-world. And the Negro dancers who will dance like flame and the singers who will continue to carry our songs to all who listen-they will be with us in even greater numbers tomorrow.

Most of my own poems are racial in theme and treatment, derived from the life I know. In many of them I try to grasp and hold some of the meanings and rhythms of jazz. I am as sincere as I know how to be in these poems and yet after every reading I answer questions like these from my own people: Do you think Negroes should always write about Negroes? I wish you wouldn't read some of your poems to white folks. How do you find anything interesting in a place like a cabaret? Why do you write about black people? You aren't black. What makes you do so many jazz poems?

But jazz to me is one of the inherent expressions of Negro life in America; the eternal tom-tom beating in the Negro soul--the tom-tom of revolt against weariness in a white world, a world of subway trains, and work, work, work; the tom-tom of joy and laughter, and pain swallowed in a smile. Yet the Philadelphia clubwoman is ashamed to say that her race created it and she does not like me to write about it, The old subconscious "white is best" runs through her mind. Years of study under white teachers, a lifetime of white books, pictures, and papers, and white manners, morals, and Puritan standards made her dislike the spirituals. And now she turns up her nose at jazz and all its manifestations--likewise almost everything else distinctly racial. She doesn't care for the Winold Reiss' portraits of Negroes because they are "too Negro." She does not want a true picture of herself from anybody. She wants the artist to flatter her, to make the white world believe that all negroes are as smug and as near white in soul as she wants to be. But, to my mind, it is the duty of the younger Negro artist, if he accepts any duties at all from outsiders, to change through the force of his art that old whispering "I want to be white," hidden in the aspirations of his people, to "Why should I want to be white? I am a Negro--and beautiful"?

So I am ashamed for the black poet who says, "I want to be a poet, not a Negro poet," as though his own racial world were not as interesting as any other world. I am ashamed, too, for the colored artist who runs from the painting of Negro faces to the painting of sunsets after the manner of the academicians because he fears the strange unwhiteness of his own features. An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he must choose.

Let the blare of Negro jazz bands and the bellowing voice of Bessie Smith singing the Blues penetrate the closed ears of the colored near intellectuals until they listen and perhaps understand. Let Paul Robeson singing "Water Boy," and Rudolph Fisher writing about the streets of Harlem, and Jean Toomer holding the heart of Georgia in his hands, and Aaron Douglas's drawing strange black fantasies cause the smug Negro middle class to turn from their white, respectable, ordinary books and papers to catch a glimmer of their own beauty. We younger Negro artists who create now intend to express our individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame. If white people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, it doesn't matter. We know we are beautiful. And ugly too. The tom-tom cries and the tom-tom laughs. If colored people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, their displeasure doesn't matter either. We build our temples for tomorrow, strong as we know how, and we stand on top of the mountain, free within ourselves.