#that woman in the yellow dress had the right idea with the binoculars

[javelinbk]

The fans of Shea Stadium, 15th August 1965

The parents

The police/support staff

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 4 - As The Snow Fell

[Thank you so much to everyone that has read, liked and re-blogged the chapters and master list of my fanfic so far, I really appreciate all the support!]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: You’ve barely even set foot into the village and have already had a taste of the unusual residents and otherworldly beings. Is there anyone that you can trust?

Trigger Warnings: Threat, theft.

Soundscape Ambience Suggestions:

Medieval Ruins Ambience

Quiet Tavern Ambience

[Photos are my own]

You woke with a start, the white canvas of the morning sky blinding you as a crow cawed from above. You cast you gaze about bleary eyed, taking in your surroundings. You were back at your camp, but mightily dishevelled, half your clothes on, half off, and various parts exposed to the elements. The last embers of the fire burned, soft wafts of smoke dying down.

What the hell happened last night? You wondered, casting your thoughts back and rubbing your face, feeling almost as if you had a hangover. Fixing your clothes, you turned your attention to your equipment and the camp. Anything that wasn’t necessary to have on you today you bagged back up into your luggage bag and pushed into the hollow of the tree that you had camped against; mostly some clothing, sleeping bag, tarpaulin… you paused as you got to the bow that the Duke had gifted to you, eyeing it up. As much as you felt safer with it, today you would have to try to be inconspicuous, and this weapon was not going to help with that. You stuffed it hastily as far bag into the hollow as you could, hooking it on a knot on the inside of the tree so that it hung safely, completely out of view, and then threw leaves over the bag.

The distance seemed shorter this time going towards the cliff edge that overlooked the village. You took out your binoculars from a pouch on your hip and got down onto your stomach to scout the area. From where you were you could easily see the castle with its spiky turrets in the distance, slightly shrouded by a fine mist at this hour. If it weren’t for the whole situation that you were in and the very obvious unease that this place was already causing you, you’d have maybe even called this gothic monster ‘beautiful’. Leading up to it were many small houses, each made slightly differently to the next, but somehow all similar. Some with thatched roofs, some tile, some metal. You were only at the brink of this village, but you could sense poverty from here, being used to living in a modern world and never feeling like you’d had to struggle too much for food or material needs. Your eyes were drawn to a route that should give you access easily into the village by way of going behind some of the closer buildings, and with a quick sweep, checking that no one was currently about, you decided to go now.

The village had a spattering of snow, less than a foot for sure, and for the most part it had been trodden down and thinned. Coming up to the first house you crouched down behind a small brick wall, which looked as though it had started to tumble over. Again, you couldn’t see anyone here, but you could definitely hear livestock; a pig and maybe some chickens. Peering over the top of the wall towards the house you noticed a washing line, its contents bouncing slowly in the slight breeze. There were yellowed white briefs, a petty coat, bonnets, a dress made out of material that looked itchier than it looked practical, and also a hooded cloak. You pondered for a moment if taking an entire line of clothes to disguise yourself was a good idea or not and then decided against it; you whipped the cloak down, it being very dull and drab in both colour and fabric, with no distinguishing features, and threw the large hood up over your head. It was big enough even to hide your eyes, the swells of fabric wrapping around your arms and body, providing more warmth as well as what you hoped would deter anyone from making too much notice of you. Your boots and trousers were visible, from the knee down, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Nearing the centre, you started to hear the sounds you’d expect to hear in a small village like this. The day was light enough to see everything clearly; a statue of a lady holding a sword and shield. Something about it sent a shiver down your back. It wasn’t that it looked creepy, it just felt… familiar somehow. This looked as though it was perhaps the centre of the village; a woman sat on a bench knitting, a couple of children played with a stick and hoop. That felt weird too. It was the turn of the millennium, and yet here children were playing with really outdated toys. A little way up you could see a hill rising with some gravestones dotted here and there to the left of it. Already you could feel the eyes of the children staring at you and the quiet clacking of the knitting needles had stopped. Keeping your head down, you carried on walking, your feet choosing to take you up the small hill, past the gravestones. You passed a strange wooden shine on your right, not daring to turn your head to look at the details right now, for you’d hoped that they people here might assume that you were one of them thus letting you become invisible. You’d had undercover jobs before that you’d excelled at, but things felt very different here. Every step you took made the feeling of foreboding grow stronger in you. Up ahead was a door depicting two characters, one looked like a woman, the other, you weren’t too sure, but it looked sturdy and as though it might lead to the great castle, so that didn’t seem like you’d be unnoticed if you tried that door. To the right a long alley way, but it looked to lead away from the village, and to the right again the iron gates into the grounds of a small church, with a bubble of people emerging from its doors now. Yes, you had to lay low and try not to turn heads, but you also needed information, maybe if you passed through this crowd as if you were going somewhere you could eavesdrop some clues.

You made your way over and saw a man dressed like a vicar of sorts standing at the church doors while the villagers left, his hands raised in the air and a grin on his face. His eyes were eerily shadowed with darkness, but this didn’t seem to deter his congregation.

“Thank you for coming to today’s assembly to pay our respects to our beloved saviour, Mother Miranda. Volunteers and the Heretic’s Judgement are to be held tomorrow at Mother’s church.”

Just then you accidentally bumped right into someone emerging from the crowd, the impact making you both exhaled audibly, and the villager dropping their item to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?” You asked, seeing her face as she looked up to see whom she had bumped into. You mentally kicked yourself for being automatically nicely mannered when you could have just trundled past. Instead, you stopped to pick up what you saw now to be a small bouquet of flowers, seeing her smiling at you as you handed them to her.

“Oh yes, I’m quite alright.” She said warmly. She looked to be in her forties with grey blue eyes, mousy brown hair and bangs. “Are you?”

You were taken aback for a moment; you didn’t expect anyone to ask how you were. In all honesty you’d been better. “No damage done.” You smiled, making sure to pull the cloak over any item of clothing that might give you away for being from further afield than the next village or so. The church doors had closed, and the rest of the crowd had now disbanded into the rest of the village.

“You look to me like you could do with a hot meal and a warm bath. If you beg my pardon for saying so.” She took a step back and extended her hand. “I’m Luiza by the way.”

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking it. Is this a good idea? You asked yourself, but you couldn’t help but trust the woman.

“I was just about to lay these down in the cemetery, if you’d like to join me Y/N.” Luiza offered, indicating to the small bouquet. There was a look in her eyes, like she was trying to tell you something.

“Yes of course.”

The two of you made your way a little past the church and through some more iron gates, this time into a space that was on a slight slope with a couple of crypts and tombs. Checking around her to make sure that no one else was around, Luiza turned her eyes back to you slowly.

“You’re not from here.” She stated. You swallowed.

“No, I’m from the next town over, I’m passing through to –“

“Please. You’re not from here, your accent, your boots… but your eyes, your eyes are what really gave it away. If you’d ever lived near here, you’d never have the damn nerve to even come.” She waved a hand in the air, and yet looked remorsefully subdued. You didn’t quite know what to say.

You looked down to the ground, shame seeping in as if from the snow at your feet.

“I’m searching for a friend.” You said solemnly. “He’s here somewhere, at least, I think. I think that he came here on a lead; whether he’s here to help someone or it’s to do with something that concerns us… I’m not sure. But he’s been gone a while now, and I’d like to get him back home.” Saying it made it all the more real, and you could feel your throat growing tight. The whole time that you’d been speaking Luiza had listened intently, yet her face remained soft. Something twinkled in her pale eyes, a knowing.

“Do you have a picture, of your friend?” She asked.

“Yes.” You unzipped the RPD bag hanging at your side and carefully pulled the photo from the wallet inside. “His name is Leon, Leon Kennedy.” Luiza took the photo into her own hand carefully, studying it and then handed it back.

“You should come over for some dinner tonight Y/N. See that gate over there?” She pointed back towards the church but the opposite side from which you’d entered. “Through that gate, turn left and all the way up the hill. My husband and I are having goulash tonight, if that might tempt you.”

“With dumplings?”

“I can do them if you’d like.” She smiled, turning away to face a small gravestone. “Come after nightfall but be careful on your way.”

“I will.” You started heading back towards the church and then turned to ask, “Who is it? That you’re visiting I mean.”

“My daughter.” She replied.

You left Luiza at her daughter’s grave and felt your stomach rumble. The last 24 hours had been gruelling on your body, you were cramping with no pain relief, nor for your knee, which was already aching, a reminder of the stress you’d put it through the day before fighting that… beast, and then you remembered; the dream… what had happened? That was the same beast as the one you’d slain. But what, you’d resurrected it? You wondered what it meant, and then you started to recall what had happened after. Your cheeks burned red in an instant, spreading over your neck and ears. Confusion ultimately taking over. Well at least I’m warm now, you sneered at yourself, and then felt another rumble. I need food.

Luiza seemed like she could be a good ally to have here, and something told you that she recognised that picture of Leon; even if she was the only person that would help you out you felt happy that you had at least something potentially to go on. You headed back into the centre of the village, with the intention of heading back to your camp for another preserved snack and then it hit you; the smell of eggs and bacon. It was drifting up from somewhere a little way past the statue to the left and you followed it around without a care.

“The Fat Goose” The sign read above the door. It looked to be a small inn of sorts with a few townsfolk coming in and out, and in seemingly good spirits. You made sure that your hood was pulled back up over your eyes and made your way in. It was like many other humble pubs that you’d frequented here and there, mostly when visiting back home in England. A long bar at the back of the room, a door leading somewhere at the back, and the clientele sat hunched over round tables upon stools, leaning close to the fire, or shouting above one another at the bar itself. It wasn’t the busiest, but it seemed to be where the majority of the village had decided to spend their day if they did not have work to be done. You could see a couple of the villagers did indeed have meals here of all sorts; chicken, bread, cheese, and most importantly eggs and bacon. You could feel yourself salivating.

Keeping your head low you approached the barkeep, the Lei ready in your hand, and slid it across the surface towards him. “Eggs, bacon and ale, thank you.” You pushed your coin over to him. You’d been lucky, upon meeting the Duke he’d brought up local currency and exchanged what you’d made the mistake of purchasing at the airport.

The barkeeper was quietly suspicious, evident in the way that he eyed you up, taking a moment to pause cleaning the tankard in his hands to take the money and gave a nod back.

“We’ll bring it over to yer table.” He said, turning back to what he was doing. You chanced a glance around the room and decided to take a seat at a vacant table by the window. It felt like a safe spot; you could see the door and the bar, but you were also tucked into a corner out of the way, the only light cast by the fire on the other side of the room and a couple of candles over head in brackets.

The ale was with you in no time at all. You’d never actually drank ale before and weren’t expecting it to be the tastiest of drinks, but there wasn’t much choice here. The eggs and bacon shortly followed, filling the room with a smell that made you stomach growl again.

The door flew open and you suddenly noticed the difference between the warmth of the inn with the bite of the outside air. The chill swept into the pub with the figures of two men, both tall and brawny, but one much larger than the other. They seemed to be deep in conversation but trying to keep their voices to a murmur that they could only hear between themselves.

They were dressed similarly; the taller man’s clothes had more of a darker and subdued palette. He had a head of grey hair, and a beard to match, a broad forehead, kind eyes and a nose which looked as though it had been broken at least once. The shorter of the two, but by no means lacking in height had a similar long coat but in more earthy tones. His face was hidden by a dark brown leather hat of sorts, well-worn with a mess of dark hair streaked with grey. The other patrons went quiet as the men entered and then began nodding at them, some even tilting a hat, before going back to their business.

Something began stirring in your stomach and you looked down at your food, maybe the eggs were off? You looked up again, unconscious of being unable to stop watching them, or more specifically, the man with the hat. He definitely felt your gaze right at that moment as he slowly turned his face over his right shoulder to look at you from behind dark, circular shades hiding his eyes from view. Time seemed to stop. He was really looking, and you felt as though you were tumbling backwards down through the biggest chasm carved into the stars.

“Oh boy.” You breathed as the man suddenly turned his head back to reply to something that his towering friend had said, who in turn, then noticed you, glancing over his friend’s head. The feeling in your stomach had grown so intense that it felt as though it had now pummelled its way into your chest too. This felt like danger and sickness all wrapped into one. You had half a mind to leave now, but you knew that not only would that rouse more suspicion, you just also didn’t want to.

“Urias, Karl.” The bartender came over to the two men at the bar, “What can I get you?”

Sometime later a beautiful, red haired girl came to take your plate away. Despite being so hungry when you first came into the establishment, once the men had entered, you’d felt so nauseous that you’d barely been able to manage another bite. You tried to channel your thoughts, calm the storm in your stomach and ease your breathing. You were getting there, managing to ground yourself, but every few minutes your eyes were drawn back to that man, was he Urias or was he Karl? Which name suited him most? Urias sounded strong and noble, well he certainly looked strong. He pulled out a cigar and lit it, suddenly emitting raucous laughter from something that his friend said which shocked you out of your trance; and then he fell silent, starring at the other man so intensely that it scared you.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He asked. The pub fell silent. You were so focused on the scene, as was everyone else that you neglected to notice the way your tankard had started to slowly drift up into the air along with everyone else’s.

“I’m sorry my friend, I am not. I am going to marry her.”

“God fucking damnit Urias!” He bellowed, slamming a fist down on the bar. Everything fell with a bang, ale sloshing over the tables and with that he stormed out of the pub. Urias rubbed a giant hand over his face, the skin gathering in mounds between each finger. The bartender brought over a new tankard, about three times the size of the regular ones and let it thud down in front of Urias.

“On the house, chief.”

Urias took it in his man-paw and without hesitation turned towards you, walking over.

“Are you going to tell me who you are then, fabled traveller. I can tell you come from very far away.” He sounded like how you imagined a talking bear to sound, deep and rumbly. He had a big, square chin, his jaw jutted out slightly, strong teeth, big lips and kind eyes. He poured a little of the ale from his giant vessel into your own, indicating for you to stay put. No one else in the pub seemed to be paying attention, at least not with their eyes, this man must have some hold or power over them.

“My name is Y/N, and I am looking for my friend.” You told him truthfully, face down, but eyes looking up at him. You were scared, for sure, but you wouldn’t let it show. You were here for a reason, you’d come this far, you weren’t going to leave without Leon, and you meant it. You slid the photo across the table to him and he took it tenderly, bringing it closer to his face, all that way up to take a look. He tilted his head to the side.

“Have you spoken to anyone else?” He asked, eyes flitting between you and the photo.

“One other.” You replied, not mentioning who.

“Y/A my name is Urias, as you might have heard my friend eloquently let the world know earlier. I am the chief of this village. My brother and I-“ He paused and looked down at his hands. “My brother and I came from a mountain clan, our blood line has been chief there for generations, but we wanted to see more of the world and make our mark, learn trades and earn our keep. We came to this village when we were both merely men grown, that was a long time ago now.” He had a faraway look in his eyes, turning now to look out of the window, it was already beginning to grow dark and a drift of snow had begun to descend once more. “We climbed the ranks here, doing what we could to help protect the village and its population…” He paused again in thought. “To help, however we could. It’s just me now, but I still want that, I still want to do what’s right for my people”

He took a deep drink from the tankard, which now that you were looking at it closely, looked more like a small barrel with a makeshift handle.

“Y/N I will help you however I can, but please understand this; this is no normal village, there are things at work here even I can’t quite explain. Tensions are very high, and an outsider coming in looking for a missing friend,” He tilted his head and gave a small chuckle, “Well, that’s not going to go down so well with some of the villagers, and especially not with the higher ups.”

“You mean Mother Miranda?” You asked bluntly. He swung his head to look you dead in the eyes.

“How do you know her name?”

“I did my research before I came; I don’t know much about her Urias, but I have a bad feeling about her.” Your cheeks burned from being so forward.

He laughed again, “You’re not the only one.” He muttered, casting you a careful sideways glance, taking you in some more. He looked like he was pondering or considering something. “There are a seldom few here that you can trust, so be careful. You can find me at my house, some of the folk they call it ‘the chief’s hut’, or else I’ll likely be here, at least for now.” His mind seemed to trail off somewhere else.

Noticing that night had indeed now fallen you bid your farewell and shook the giant’s paw and made your way outside into the chill of night, thankful for the stolen cloak wrapped around your frame.

You started around the side of the pub, back towards the route that would take you directly to Luiza’s house when something wrapped around your throat and shoved you against the wall. The breath was choked out of you upon impact and your hood fell, your hair falling down in-front of your eyes as you blinked them open, trying to see what had happened. Pain started spreading in your body; the cuts on your torso, your knee blazed and the cramps starting up again like knives. The thing around your throat was a hand, larger than your own but not huge, nails digging into your flesh.

You tried to say something, a warning a threat, but whoever it was, was closing your throat.

“Don’t pretend I didn’t see you making eyes at me in there darling,” A man’s voice drooled. “We don’t see tourists all too often around here, but I’m sure an outsider like you will be carrying something of value.”

You didn’t recognise the face in front of you at all. A man in his twenties, maybe, fairly non-descript with short mousey brown hair and some stubble. He absolutely reeked of alcohol. Your right hand shot instinctively towards your knife and he twisted your wrist anti-clockwise immediately disarming you, shoving you back against the wall with the force of his body and then reaching for any other weapons. Of course, he found the pistols, kicking one aside and holding the other to your temple.

“These will bring me a pretty Lei or two, I’m sure the Duke would be happy to pay me handsomely. What other souvenirs have you got under that cloak of yours?”

You scrabbled against his hands, trying to execute the self-defence you’d been taught for situations such as these. You tried to get to his weak points; wrist, elbow, knee, balls, but he had you at his mercy. The number of tight spots and situations you’d come up against in your time and you couldn’t do a damn thing if someone had you pinned when their strength was greater than your own. Your hands gripped against his arm, legs kicking.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you. Much.” He pressed the cold of your pistol harshly into the skin under your chin.

“No!” You rasped, suddenly being thrown down for a second but caught by something before you hit the ground. Strong, hot arms held you up from falling.

You dared to open your eyes, looking over the arm at the man’s fate. He was sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

“Get the fuck out of here.” A voice rumbled from above you. You looked up. It was Karl. You winced again and the younger man tore off into the darkness without looking back. Your body trembled from pain, cold and something else.

You looked up again. Although you still couldn’t see his eyes you could see some sort of unearthly glow behind the glasses. His skin looked fairly tanned, smooth but worn, tired maybe, and small scars scattered here and there. You were still in his arms, entranced, and so warm.

“Thank you.” You breathed. He swallowed hard and blinked, turning his face away from you, he let his arms drop now that you were on your feet, but you were still close against his body, which now felt so tense. Was he shaking?

“Go.” He exhaled. You faltered, putting a hand to his arm, he flinched, his breathing deepened. “Please.” He shut his eyes. What was this man fighting?

You gulped, stepping back, not understanding, pulling your cloak around you, and stooping to retrieve your weapons.

“Karl, Y/N what’s going on?” Urias lurched out of the pub doors, “What was that commotion?”

A couple of moments passed where you were staring at Urias, holding your cloak to you and expecting Karl to answer, but nothing happened. You turned around to look at Karl, but he wasn’t there.

Urias offered to escort you himself to Luiza’s from there. You told him what happened and although he was furious at what had happened, swearing he’d try to find the culprit and have them punished; he did not seem surprised by Karl’s sudden disappearance. To say you were shaken up was an understatement, but you at least felt safer being with this humungous man of the mountains as you made your way through the snowy night.

Song Suggestion: ‘Stumble and Pain’ by Joseph Arthur

[dragonrajafanfiction]

West African Hybrids

“Hey… Hey! Wake up, we’re almost there.”

Ru’Yi felt a slight nudge at her side and opened her eyes. Her uniform was slightly rumpled. She managed to tie up her hair so it wouldn’t be too frizzy on landing. “Really?” She whimpered in a sleepy disappointment. “That was so fast…”

“Well, the executive department doesn’t like to waste time. So the gear department modifies planes for maximum speed.” Rodney gave her a shy smile, revealing a single dimple on his right cheek. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m alright.”

It was still too dark to see much but, as people began to turn on their overhead lights, she noticed that his eyes were hazel, brown with flecks of green and gold mixed in, hidden behind his dark brown bangs. Everything from his hair cut, to his quiet voice, and hesitant demeanor spoke to his shyness, but now that she got a good look at him, she could tell that he was at least as strong as Brian. He had those same broad shoulders and muscles along his arms. He was also relatively tall, stretching his legs under the seat in front of him.

Around her all the students were always wide awake, shifting and speaking to their seatmates.

Ru’Yi only remembered flying once before. Back when she was fourteen when they were on the island, she had been so excited to take her first flight and she packed all her things early. She even watched videos of 757, 747 and 777 airliners to see how things would be. These massive jets with smiling Flight attendants, a friendly captain speaking over an intercom, and movies built into the seats.

But instead of a large bustling airport, her father and mother took a boat to another island where a sandy flat ribbon of land served as a runway. There were no customs, no shopping, nothing like that. Just a long silver luxury private jet in the middle of nowhere.  

“Why can’t we just be normal?” She had lamented.

Her father answered her question in his usual succinct manner. The nearest airport was nearly a day’s travel away and she would never be able to use it anyway because she didn’t have a passport. He looked at her with a head slightly tilted, like a curious bird wondering what was wrong. The juxtaposition of his serious-eyed stare, his questioning gesture and his shirt with the bright yellow hibiscus flowers would have been funny but she wasn’t laughing.

This was better anyway, her mother had chimed in. They had the whole plane to themselves. There was an onboard chef ready to fix anything they possibly would want to eat, music, movies, games, and a good pilot that her father knew. She also was dressed in a yellow sundress to match her husband’s and together, they looked like the happy globetrotting couple.

 Ru’Yi had relented, but didn’t smile. Deep down, he knew all the kids at school would envy her. They would question how some tour guide could afford a private flight to the United States.

She should be grateful.

Now sitting in the Beluga Aircraft, she realized that this was as close to normal as she could get. At least now, she was surrounded by other people who also didn’t seem to use passports, use airports or pass through customs. They were flying a jet with a jet tucked inside it like a Russian nesting doll and still managed to go faster than the planes she’d looked at as a child. She started to wonder if normalcy was as much as a fantasy to her as dragons were to ordinary people.

Aircraft Carrier, Aido-Hwedo, West Africa Branch.

The calm Atlantic waters broke beneath the unstoppable gun-metal bow of the moving wall of metal that towered a thousand feet high. It was topped with what appeared to be a flat road surface, as though a piece of highway had broken off a steel cliffside and set sail. On the side of this cliff was a name in large white block text a dozen feet high: Aido-Hwedo.

The original name of the vessel was the USS-Enterprise. This aircraft carrier was the one near enough to Pearl Harbor to participate in the famous World War II battle. It had scrambled several of its jets to help, but in the confusion of the sudden attack, many of them were shot down by their own countrymen. Later it saw intense battles of the South Pacific and then other missions during peacetime. But, for all its storied history, it still ended up at the shipyard to be turned into scrap at the end of its life.

According to history, it was scrap. Supposedly, all that was left of the ship was its bell, an anchor and the name plaque. Indeed, the name plaque was removed, but the ship itself moved about on the seas like a ghost of decades past, fighting battles under its new name.

The Aido-Hwedo was the great rainbow serpent that both created the world and sustained Earth’s form from falling to chaos -- A great beast that ate iron and, lacking iron, would instead eat its own tail.

Ordinarily, this floating runway would have been decorated with fighter jets, but for this occasion the landing surface was cleared to accommodate its incoming oversized cargo.

Within the control tower a tall man with skin the color of black coffee watched through his binoculars while a woman sat watching the radar screen. He was dressed in a black naval uniform, decorated with gold tassels. He was still, silent, and tense as he prepared to watch the plane land.

Landing on a flight deck is one of the most difficult things a pilot will ever do. The flight deck only had about 500 feet of runway space for landing planes, which wasn’t nearly enough for the heavy, high-speed jets like the modified Beluga coming in. To land on the flight deck, it would need a tailhook, which was exactly what it sounded like — an extended hook attached to the plane’s tail. The pilot’s goal would be to snag the tailhook on one of four arresting wires, sturdy cables woven from high-tensile steel wire. It would be precision flying at low speed and a high angle of attack. It was the definitive skill that tested Navy carrier pilots. The principle on landing would be to fly the plane aboard the ship at the slowest speed at which it can be done safely, to deliberately stall and drop into the landing.

Despite his confidence in the pilot, Foli Abalo looked through his binoculars with anticipation of a close call. The wire system was checked, rechecked and placed under guard. A back up emergency wire system was installed in case it failed anyway.

“Approach speed 450. Tail hook lowered.” The woman murmured. 

The lights of the plane were suddenly visible as it made its approaching turn. It moved incredibly slowly, stalking the ship like a massive fat shark.

“Speed reduced 350…”

It was the moment of truth. By now, the plane was so low and flying so slow, it had two options, land perfectly on the aircraft carrier or land on the ocean. There would be no recovering from this descent.

“On final approach. Flaps full. Speed 300.”

The roar of the engines was now audible in the tower. It rattled the glass. This plane would take up every inch of the runway and its wings would span the full width of the ship. Compared to the plane, this aircraft carrier seemed more like a sheet of notebook paper.

“Landing in five… four, three, two…”

The plane suddenly dwarfed the runway. The weight of it rocked the carrier. A pair of reverse thrusters built into the engines ignited in front of it. The brake lines caught the tailhooks and screamed under the strain. The plane passed the tower, rumbled further and further to the edge and then stopped completely, its nose peeking over the water.

A smattering of applause echoed throughout the tower. “We did it! We did it! That was the hard part wasn’t it? Get the crew down, have medics on board just in case the force of the stop caused any injuries.”

While the crew scattered, Foli smiled, his teeth a brilliant white, his black eyes twinkling. “Grant… it’s been far too long. How have you been doing my friend? Will you still recognize me? I wonder.” He chuckled.

Foli was one of a set of quadruplets. His mother had two eggs fertilized that day and by luck, both of them divided into two sets of twins. They were all born on the same day and seemed to have the same spirit in them so it was impossible to tell them apart as babies even for the most experienced spiritualist. Normally, the children would be named after the day of the week until they were given their permanent names. As it turned out, they were given the names of their birth order and that was that.

The name Foli meant first son, Atsu meant the younger of twins, Do was the first child after twins, and Dofi the second child after twins. His three brothers were also on this ship, scattered throughout the crew. Those onboard had no trouble telling them apart thanks to the uniform system of the West Africa branch. The gold crown on his hat meant he was the First Officer. But without his hat, it was very difficult to tell for those who didn’t know them well, and it wasn’t uncommon for his brothers to disguise themselves as pranks. He wouldn’t meet his friend today. His youngest brother, Dofi, would meet him instead.

He walked out of the tower where his brother was waiting and passed his his hat. Looking at them was like looking at a reflection. The same curled hair, cut short in the same buzzed syle, the same smile, and broad nose.

It was Dofi’s idea to play the prank. He was always the jokester and the one who initiated play on the ship. Atsu, the Chief Engineer was up to his ears after making the modifications to the ship for this mission. And Do had to stay on watch, keeping a careful eye on the stirring atmosphere just a few hundred miles distant. Although they were all the same age, Foli was expected to be the responsible representative and more was required of him as the oldest brother, even if he was only the oldest by a few minutes. So he wasn’t allowed to be seen playing, drinking or smoking.

Dofi screwed the hat on his head. “I’ll say I stole it.” He said, turning on his heel with a wink and then, pulling his face into a stoic frown, marched straight towards the bridge. When the other crew saw him they quickly pulled up in a sharp salute, thinking he was the captain.

The West Africa Branch had managed to remain under the radar for much of history. Africa had few mountains to guarantee a sufficient amount of steady rains. So great buildings and permanent settlements were mostly confined to the coasts and river valleys. The rest of Africa was forced to follow the shifting weather. The most valuable items one had had to be portable. So the hybrids of Africa were always mobile and moving. They kept their secrets with them in oral traditions, and carried their alchemical knowledge in the form of clothing, necklaces and even scars and tattoos. When the tidal wave of destructive colonization smashed to ruins the cultures of millions and the cutting knife of modern country borders separated allies and grouped them with enemies, and the explosion of civil war blew countries into eternal cycles of poverty, the hybrid life of West Africa was like a serpent, sliding under it all, with a secret network of transportation, communication and trade.

Anjou landed on the shores searching for such treasures. They were aware of him immediately and shied away. After all, those Europeans were nothing but looters and could not be trusted. They offered him fakes in hopes of luring him off their land. He saw through their counterfeits, but showed a surprising amount of restraint and tolerance for their hesitance. After a few years of negotiations, they finally trusted him enough to grant him a single piece of exquisite art that contained the alchemical formula for a special kind of dragonslaying metal. In return, he agreed to keep them secret for seven years. 

Those seven years passed and the promise was kept and the relationship grew a bit more open. They began to send their young men and women to the college. Foli attended along with Grant. Sadly, the death of Anjou was an uncertain time for the College. They didn’t know this “Lu Mingfei” or this “Von Frings”. But Foli knew Grant Baldwin and he couldn’t refuse a request for help from a friend. Grant said he needed people who could keep secrets and no one kept secrets like the West African Hybrids.

The crew that would welcome them rolled the tall stairway up to the plane’s door and arranged themselves in a long row spanning its length, hands folded behind their backs, looking like a row of sharply dressed dominoes.

The door finally opened and Grant exited first. He looked out over them and stepped easily down towards the ‘Captain’ who gazed at him with a serious air. For a moment, the two stared at each other not saying anything.

From his perch in the tower, Foli could hear what was being said through the wire Dofi wore. He grinned as he heard his brother say, “Welcome to my ship, Director.”

Grant’s voice, at its most deadpan and dry tone said, “Since when did Foli grow a mole on his cheek? Where is he? Which brother are you?”

Within the tower, Foli tilted his head back and howled with laughter, his joy at his brother’s prank failing was intensified by the fact that his friend still remembered him after all his time. “Which brother are you? Hahaha…” He leaned forward and clicked the PA system and his voice boomed over the speakers attached to the tower. “Good morning, Mr. Baldwin! Long time no see! Hahaha!”

“Was this a test?”

“Yes! And you half passed. For the second half, you will have to find out for yourself which brother is he!”

The rest of the line of crew also grinned but kept their laughter in check as Dofi gave a bow with an elegant leg. “We’ll show your students a good time. They need rest while we prepare the mission.”

The students piled off the plane in a rush, eagerly waving and looking around. Foli watched carefully, making a checklist in his mind of each face. He’d gotten the roster from Baldwin of those approved for the mission, so when he saw a woman get off he straightened with surprise.

He didn’t remember any women being on the roster. She seemed young, her skin was only the color of a latte, but her hair was long, coiled and beautiful. She carefully stepped down to the ground and took her place in line to wait for her luggage.

He turned off the PA. It seemed that Grant had his own surprises. “Ensign… who is the girl?”

The woman at the radar shook her head. She’s not on the roster. There’s no female name on the manifest.

He rubbed his chin. He knew he should trust Mr. Baldwin, but he also knew that he only had so much authority. The School Board would easily overrule him. 

“Find out what you can about her.” He turned. “I will make my way down to the deck.”

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 31

If those fucking things were heading where I thought they were heading; I’m not sure we’d have enough fire power.

Still, suicide mission or not, Steve and I had taken it upon ourselves to right the wrong some dumb kid had started by adopting a space slug.

So; now me, Steve and our impromptu scouts troop were walking through the woods, working on getting our tracking badges by following monster blood trails.

“You positive that was Dart?” Lucas asked Dustin, because apparently the imagination of children had died and been replaced by cynicism.

“Yes. He had the exact same yellow pattern on his butt.” Dustin stated; clearly getting tired of everyone not believing him.

“He was tiny two days ago.” Max pointed out, and I was beginning to wonder why none of these kids had figured that keeping this thing as a pet was a bad idea in the first place.

“Well; he’s molted three times already.” Dustin replied; the picture not sitting comfortably in my head.

“Malted?” Steve repeated; once again sounding the idiot in a gang of thirteen year olds.

“Molted...” Dustin corrected him as if he was the child here.

“It means he shed his skin, dumbass... like a snake.” I informed him; knowing it was best to keep things in simple terms for Steve.

“Well; when’s he gonna molt again?” Asked Max, pointing out the very likely fact that this thing might get even bigger.

“Well; it’s gotta be soon. And when he does, he’ll be fully grown, or close to it. And so will all his friends.” Dustin told us ominously, making that less than metaphorical ticking time bomb a little more real.

“Yeah; and he’s gonna eat a lot more than cats...” Steve commented darkly.

“Wait! A cat?! Dart ate a cat?!” Lucas exclaimed, stopping Dustin dead in his tracks.

“No! What? No!” Dustin blustered, and I could already see where this train wreck was going.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews.” Steve pointed out; once again reaffirming that he was the biggest idiot in the party.

“Mews? Who’s Mews?” Max asked, clearly knowing even less than me about all this.

“Dustin’s cat.” Steve answered, still not getting the point that Dustin was lying to them.

“Steve!” Dustin exclaimed angrily.

“I knew it! You kept him!” Lucas honed in on Dustin as the truth slowly came tumbling out.

“No! No; I... I...” Dustin floundered, suddenly running out of lies to tell.

“He missed me! He wanted to come home!” Dustin finally relented; coming out with perhaps the stupidest thing I’d heard all night, and that included Steve’s outbursts.

“Bullshit!” Lucas shot him down like a clay pigeon, and I was beginning to get real tired of their bickering.

I did not sign up for this.

I didn’t sign up for any of this, really. Steve had dragged me along like his obligatory plus one without an ounce of thought on whether I wanted to be involved with all this bullshit.

And now these kids were dragging up slights long past, because apparently petty wasn’t solely a Hopper trait, and Steve was just standing there like a life sized Cindy doll; and now I had no choice but to play referee and break this shit up.

“Alright! Alright! Alright! That’s enough!” I yelled, stepping in between the two boys, just in case they decided to turn this argument into a cage match.

It didn’t seem to matter; boys so intent on being boys that they elected to continue to ignore me and bicker like fish wives.

“He wasn’t trying to eat us!” Insisted Dustin; and no wonder Steve liked the kid so much, he was a certified idiot.

“Oh; so he was just gonna say hello?” Lucas called indignation, scoffing at Dustin with disbelief; and I was beginning to like this ki—

“Guys!” Yelled Steve, cutting through the arguing like a hot knife through butter, and we all turned our heads to see what the hell he wanted.

I was about to snap at Steve that he wasn’t fucking helping, when a loud screech echoed in the distance.

I turned towards it, listening to the utterly inhuman pitch and already knowing exactly what it was.

Steve gave me that look again, and I knew we were both about to do something incredibly stupid, both of us heading in the direction of the noise; the two boys following in our stead.

“No, no, no. Hey guys; why are you heading towards the sound?” Protested Max, but her complaints fell on deaf ears; Steve, the boys and I heading towards where the tree line became thinner.

We found ourselves at the edge of a overlook, staring straight out at the entire landscape of Hawkins, lit solely by twinkling street lights.

“I don’t see him.” Said Dustin, pointing out the obvious as we looked out on a dark Hawkins.

Lucas lifted up his binoculars, scanning over the town to find the source of the sound.

“It’s the lab...” He said; his binoculars settling on the building in question, rising high above distant tree lines.

“They were going back home.”

—————————————————

Twenty minutes and a very steep hike later, we were finally descending to the lab, traipsing between the trees down to what could possibly be a massacre.

I questioned the wisdom of bringing three thirteen year olds with us to this showdown, but it wasn’t like we could abandon them in the woods; bears and other common critters a very real threat in Indiana woodlands.

“So what’s the plan?” Steve asked as we scaled down a steep hill; illuminated only by torchlight.

“What plan? I thought you were the one with a plan; genius?!” I scoffed; feeling quite sick of everything falling to me when it came to reason and responsibility.

“Come on; Lola. We all know you think my plans are bullshit; so what are we gonna do?” Steve asked; for once admitting his incompetence in the potential face of death.

“Just... keep behind me...” I instructed; really struggling with finding a sounder strategy than point and shoot, and maybe I was turning into my dad.

“That’s it?” Steve asked; his smile of disbelief doing little to hide his genuine nervousness.

“That, and pray we don’t all get eaten.” I muttered under my breath, noticing the trees thinning again and abandoning Steve to scout ahead.

I think I could hear voices; arguing maybe, and I pondered the wisdom in shouting ahead.

Then again; who knew who could be trying to get in the lab at this hour of night,

Probably government, and if there was one thing we didn’t trust in my family, it was men in suits with mysterious I.D.s.

I held back, deciding I’d rather try and asses what we’re facing before running headfirst into a potential firefight.

Steve clearly didn’t share my reservations, already beginning to walk straight out into enemy territory.

“Steve...” I whispered hoarsely, but either he didn’t hear me, or was still pissed off for the genius comment; but either way, what he was doing was near suicidal.

“Hello? Who’s there?” A voice sliced through the darkness, and I swore I recognised it, but was too busy trying to flank a speed walking Steve before he got us all killed.

“Who’s there?” The voice shouted again as Steve led us out of the woods with all the subtlety of a helicopter; bright torch beam shining out into the darkness.

“Steve?” A woman’s voice accompanied the first as we emerged.

“Lola?” The first voice exclaimed, and in the harsh glow of Steve’s torchlight, I recognised who these wannabe intruders were.

“Nancy?” Steve stared dumbfounded at his girlfriend standing just outside Hawkins lab, dressed for some serious breaking and entering.

“Jonathan?” I said; recognising the lanky awkward form stood slightly in front of her, ready to heroically protect her if needs must.

“What are you doing here?” Nancy asked, making a beeline across the grass towards Steve.

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?!” He retorted; his face a mixture of confusion and anger.

“We’re looking for Mike and Will.” Nancy answered reasonably, but I could tell by Steve’s facial expression, he was already wracking up for a fight.

“They’re not in there; are they?” Dustin interrupted, derailing the argument before it could even happen and drawing all our attention back to the lab.

“We’re not sure; why?” Jonathan asked, suspicion colouring his face; only to be whipped away by a loud screech emanating from the lab.

We all turned towards the sound, finally realising that we had no choice here. Kids were in danger and we were the only ones near enough to help.

We already knew what we had to do.

[beheadingofmakai]

Artificial

Nothing important, just a short exercise to get a feel of a character I’ll be using for a tabletop game. Keep this in mind when reading this, as it is less a nuanced story and more “the concept put into practice”. As such, not all information is readily available, and won’t be, as her development will happen through the game proper. It’s a short story about one Lisbeth Elstad, who can be best described as a “walking pharmacy”.

                                                          ---------

“One... Two of them... No peepers from inside the building itself. Regular windows, not polarized, likely bulletproofed and magic-warded, no cameras that I can see, and the surrounding buildings don’t seem to be theirs, but...”

Through the binoculars, a pair of silver eyes scouted through a remote location by the hole in a wall of an abandoned building. This wasn’t the middle of nowhere, this wasn’t some backwater hole, it was merely a less bustling part of Southern California, so the well oiled cogs of society were alive and running just four stories underneath. A werewolf in a suit, running late for his job interview, a harpy rollerblading, carefully using her wings to balance herself while her human friend, wearing a matching neon green sweatshirt, instructed her how to better use her torso to handle the shifts in weight efficiently, smiles on their faces. This wasn’t your old village or the dumps, this was the city, with all the eyes and ears that come with the package. It wasn’t an option for Lisbeth Elstad to draw attention to herself while trying to get into that building by the squalid dead end street. She was unaffiliated with any sort of law enforcement or any sort of organization whatsoever. This was a one woman war running on bread crumbs that were ambiguous and obscure at best. It was less a wild goose chase as much as it was trying to find a tsuchinoko sleeping on a bed of four leaf clovers, neatly across the pot of gold by the rainbow’s end. That was more than enough for her to deem it worth a shot.

“...This stinks. That rat lied to me through his teeth! This info has to be wrong, this place is wide open like the legs of a cheap prostitute, and no matter how much I look at it, this can’t be affiliated with them at all, not with this Olympic gold medal level of incompetence. They were pros, these guys are peanuts at best... And yet...” And yet, she had nothing else to go on. Every clue, every tip, every trail she had followed so far had gone cold. This was all she had left. If she couldn’t find anything here, then that was that, it was back to square one again. Frustrated and resolute in equal parts, the girl put away her binoculars in one of her three satchels and descended the abandoned apartment complex’s stairs. The plan was simple: Get in that building, confirm if they are affiliated with them, and take any information of value by reason or by force.

Lisbeth made her way to the dead end by using the back alleys to call less attention to herself, what with the two-headed wolf pelt poised over her shoulders and all. She romanced the idea of saying, “Oh, this? Nah, don’t worry! I’m just a model on my way to the Rafael Laurel Feral Collection! Please come to cheer on me!” if she were to catch the eye of someone, but quickly discarded this clever ploy, preferring to stick to the shadows. When she was finally in position, she once again confirmed that it was merely two sentries by the door of the so called “Clement & Sibbens Law Firm”, no doubt a front for more morally bankrupt endeavors. They were dressed with security guard outfits, sure, but it was clear simply by looking at them that they were two-bit thugs at best. After a few seconds of pondering, the girl nodded to herself and seemed to have come up with an optimal plan for infiltration. Producing a small brown glass jar and a bottle of water, Lisbeth first poured some water in the jar, and then she extended her palm over the jar. From a hole in the center of Lisbeth’s hand, a pungent dark yellow substance oozed into the jar. “First, we dilute the sulfur mustard a bit...” she muttered to herself, as she was wont to do when working with chemicals, “we stir it a bit to let them coalesce, and after some hydrogen and oxygen...” -- as she murmured, the chemicals she mentioned were injected into the brew through the hole in her hands -- “...we have a very weak variant of mustard gas, high in oxygen, diluted, and without much kick.” As her substance was complete, the girl then dipped her finger lightly into the brew and gently rubbed it against her eyelids, blinking a couple of times. Soon enough, her eyes were red, little tears trailing down her cheeks. Dragging her hand across the ground at her feet, Lisbeth then rubbed her dirty hands across her pale face and, as a finishing touch, with a pristine scalpel produced from her breast pocket, she gave herself a little cut across the cheek. Step one was almost complete! The girl removed her black, pointy hat and her elegant black dress jacket, placing it neatly on the floor on top of her two-headed wolf pelt. The result: A fragile looking girl in a white shirt and black suit pants, eyes red from crying and her face dirty and bloody. She looked like the perfect victim.

                                                         ---------

“...So, how much longer ‘till we change shifts?”

“We’ve literally been here around an hour, man.”

“This sucks, dude, bossman could at least let us bring our earbuds so we can jam out and no die of boredom, there’s nothing fun about standing here for five hours!”

“It used to be seven before we got more whiny kids like you, just tough it out and stop bit--”

“Ahhhh! Someone, please help me!”

The guards’ casual dialogue came to an abrupt end when the shrill screams of a girl flooded their ears. In this comparatively isolated dead end, two blocks away from the bustle and hustle of daily life, this was certainly not common. Their necks craned to meet the source of the voice and, sure as rain, they found it: A girl almost tripping on her own feet, desperately running, heavily panting, eyes red and face stained with tears, blood, and dirt. She looked like a waiter or receptionist, by the looks of her clothes, and was clearly a civilian. 

“Huh? Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright, ma’am?” the more experienced guard asked, approaching her and trying to see what was it she was running from. “Stop yelling, it’s fine!”

“Th-the Veiled...! That Veiled, with big claws and fangs...! He tried to take my blood in broad daylight! Please, please, he’s coming! I escaped by sheer luck, but he’s coming, oh, lord! Please help me!” the woman hysterically explained, clinging to the guard’s broad chest like a terrified rat.

The guard immediately stood in front of her, facing the direction she came running from, hand already on his pistol. “A Vampire!? In broad daylight!? Tsk, cocky bastard... Must be a real tough one to not mind the sun! These damn Veiled, sub-human pieces of trash, you take your eyes away from them for a moment and they immediately turn on you! Hey, kid! Come here, back me up, this one’s going to be tough!”

“Wh-what’s it got to do with us, man?!” the terrified underling shot back, clearly no having any of this bee’s wax. “Let her run, his beef is with her, not with us!”

“Idiot, I couldn’t care less about the girl! If he’s hungry enough to hunt in daylight, he may just be desperate and may go after anyone! If he goes inside the office, we’re done for!” chastised the senior. The less experienced guard simply resigned himself, nodding and standing side by side with his colleague.

“S-say, mister guard...”

“Don’t talk to us, we have to focus on that damn Veiled! We drop our guard for a second he’ll-- Urk...!”

“...How come you are just security guards, and yet pack guns? Hmm, mister guard? Why, oh why, would that be?”

The older guard plummeted and began convulsing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, his neck pulsating with veins, scraping at the ground helplessly with curled fingers. Before the rookie guard could react, the girl had already begun dashing towards him. He took a wild swing, a panicked reaction more than anything, which she gracefully ducked under, grabbing him by the shoulders with both hands and hitting him in the crotch with an ascending knee, putting all of her weight behind the attack while pulling herself towards him by the shoulder to maximize this ball-busting critical to infernal heights.

“Grrkk!”

As the guard crumpled, submerged in pain and his eyes spinning, he felt a hand grasp his head from behind, smashing his face against the asphalt.

“Do not make any noise or I’ll pierce your jugular,” Lisbeth explain with a calm, neutral voice. “If you scream, talk, or move in any way that I don’t particularly like...”

Lisbeth deliberately placed her free hand in his field of vision. The pale hand with long fingers, like a piano player’s, had a distinctive feature: A hole in the palm. Then, suddenly, a stake-like spike protruded from the hole, long, thick, and deadly, a single droplet of an indigo substance dripping from the tip.

“You see this? This is my ‘syringe’. You know how it hurts like hell when a bee stings? Well, that’s because of the venom more than the sting itself. You see that dear chum over there undergoing cardiac arrest? He got nice and intimate with the venom dripping from this here syringe, and for the low, low price of your noncooperation, you can join him right this moment, so you’ll tell me and give me what I want, or you can have a hot date with Saint Peter and tell him all about how it felt like when your bodily functions all shot down one by one as your body burned from within. Alternatively, nod thrice if you wish to cooperate and walk away from this one instead.”

And thrice he nodded.

“I want to enter this building. Nod once if I can walk in, nod twice if I need a key or any sort of verification.” The guard nodded once, but Lisbeth simply sighed, not particularly convinced. “I have some nice, nice sodium thiopental on me. That’s nerdspeak for ‘truth serum’, and overdosing you on that will not only get me what I want, but also leave you with lasting neurological damage, so please, be a darling and just dispense the... Uh, spill the... Aw, shucks, what was the term... The beans! Yes, please, deposit all of the beans here, if you would”.

After some silence, he nodded twice and whispered, “the keys are on my left vest pocket. Slow day, so no one is in aside from us, a couple of more guys, and Mister Clement,” his voice cracking once or twice during the sentence.

“And how’s the building’s layout? Any basements? Three paltry floors can’t be all this delightful office has to offer, hm?”

“...Who are y--”

The guard immediately felt pressure from Lisbeth’s spike threatening to bore a hole in his jugular. “Hey, now, love, don’t answer a question with a question. Where I come from, that gets you injected with neurotoxins.”

“...It’s got a large basement, two floors, you can only get there via the elevator. This is really all I know, I just started working here two weeks ago, please, you don’t have to do this!”

“Hmmmm... Ok! I’ll be taking this key, then, now... On your feet. Slowly.”

Taking the key, Lisbeth helped the terrified man stand up, and patted him one the shoulder. “See? I told you you could walk away!” But before the guard could take one step forward, Lisbeth’s wicked thorn found purchase on his left arm.

“Wh-what!? I thought we ha--” but her hand immediately covered his mouth.

“I said you could walk away, but I didn’t specify you’d do so alive. Now, be a darling and make a nice show for me, hm?”

The guard cursed her, or at least attempted to do so, but whatever words he intended to use were lost in his pained screaming as he burst into flames almost instantly. What Lisbeth injected him with wasn’t poison or a neurotoxin, it was something far more sinister, one of the many shames of human ingenuity, a reminder that somewhere out there, a scientist once thought “what if I could make the world burn?”. Napalm, injected directly to the bloodstream. “Why in the world did you think I told you to nod in order to communicate? The moment you spoke, you spoiled our agreement, Not talking was literally the second instruction I gave you,” the blonde muttered to herself.

With deft agility, Lisbeth left the smoldering man to scream and run at his leisure as she hid back in her back alley, the slow chemical painfully, slowly burning him away like the loudest candle in the fair, prompting a group of seven men burst out of the building to pursue the burning sod not long after. As they futilely tried to put out the napalm flames, stubborn as a mule as they are, Lisbeth simply dusted off her coat and her pelt, calmly wearing them again. A black jacket with elegant gold details with matching black pants and boots, a pelt of a two-headed wolf providing a feral contrast to her elegant attire, and a pointed hat, right out of the witches’ tales. From her second satchel, Lisbeth produced her last item: A blank, featureless mask, which covered her face while still letting locks of her cream blonde hair spill in front of it.

As the men were distracted by their doomed companions, one weakly twitching as the poison devoured him from within, the other flailing wildly and making a commotion, Lisbeth calmly walked inside the building unnoticed.

“If they are speaking like that oh so openly about the Veiled, then this might be worth checking out,” a somewhat annoyed Lisbeth remarked, indulging in her habit of conversing with herself.

                                                        ---------

Carpeted floor, old metal cabinets, and steel chairs neatly lined up in front of a TV comprised the interior of the supposed Law Firm. Sure enough, this looked like an accommodating waiting room for consultations and other such licitations. The illusion would hold up pretty well if it weren’t for the rather sizable amount of armed men that stormed out of the building mere moments ago. As fun and wholesome as a man undergoing cardiac arrest next to someone burning to death can be, these are merely distractions and won’t last forever. Understanding this, Lisbeth took a good look at the building’s frame, lightly but quickly knocking on the walls to see which walls were hollow and which were firm, giving knowing nods after each tock tock and each knock knock. With a good idea of which walls were essential and which weren’t in the thankfully simply designed structure, Lisbeth took a deep breath and concentrated.

“...I say, I loathe doing this every time, but you gotta do what you gotta do... Here goes nothing. Can’t afford to skim it with all these guys packing heat” the masked girl murmured as she chatted with herself, halfheartedly laughing. One or two unsuspecting fools were one thing, but seven angry, buff men? Lisbeth shall take a rain check on that, thank you very much.

The veins in the blonde’s arm bulged as her arm was suddenly grew red and swollen, then purple and grotesque, and finally almost black and fully sickening. With some clearly pained grunting, the arm’s mass finally began to subside, and as it did, a clay-like, brick red substance came out of the hole in her hand. “Hurts like hell every damn time...”, she lamented as she spread some of it on the door frame, on the crevasse behind the reception desk, under the rug, and in a couple of other places. On each of the little mounds of clay, she stuck a little pin. Without looking back and while clutching her pained arm, Lisbeth made her way to the elevator. It was an old model with rusty binder-style curtain doors. A little plaque to the left of it read “Authorized Personnel Only”. She simply snorted and pressed the unlabeled button on the bottom of the panel, descending where, hopefully, the truth awaited her.

                                                       ---------

The stagnant air of the dark basement wasn’t the worst aspect of it at all. In stark contrast with the pristine, welcoming presentation of the first floor, this basement was putrid. Crude wooden tables, assorted bottles of alcohol, a dart board (with no bullseyes on it, tragically enough), a table of billiards, and plenty of nasty looking utensils right out of a cheap gore B-movie. For someone with a mask, Lisbeth’s expression sure screamed “disgusted and furious”. It seems no one was home, at least not on this floor, but the same couldn’t be said about the first floor anymore. Footsteps, and many of them, tumbled and stomped above Lisbeth’s head. Calmly producing a small controller-like device, Lisbeth pressed the red button with an “>:)” emblazoned on it, a symphony of explosions and screams filling the air with the harmony of a trap well set and executed. Before she could celebrate, however, an unexpected scream came from the end of the hallway, something between terror and surprise in a beautiful if somewhat grating high pitch.

“Who’s there!? Please, by all means, make a sudden move so I can melt your face off with a clear conscience!” Lisbeth yelled at the source of the scream, receiving no answer. Protruding spikes from both of her hands, she cautiously advanced towards what looked like a cell at the end of a poorly lit hallway. Inside the cell, a little girl with long, thin horns huddled to the corner, terrified, tears streaming down her face. She was very thing and no doubt ill, if her labored breathing was any indication.

“P-please... Don’t... Don’t...”

Lisbeth came to a full stop upon realizing just whose face she threatened to melt off. “Ah, no, wait, hold on, I’m not one of th--”

“Stay away! What did I do to you people!? Why are you doing this to me! I want my mom! Stay away!” snapped the child, throwing a dog’s bowl that seemed to be from where she’d been eating the last few days. The sight couldn’t be more lamentable.

“Jeez... Yeah, of course you’d be wary if I look like this...” Lisbeth muttered to herself, for once cursing her choice of attire. Before she could sulk anymore, however, a light bulb shone above her head. “Hey, hey, I’m not going to get close, I just wanna show you something nice. Look at my hand.”

“...?” the child’s curiosity was roused, and she intently looked at the black-clad girl’s hand. The distinctive glove she wore lacked fabric where the palm is, kind of like fingerless gloves except an aggregate of one hundred times more pretentious. What caught her eye, however, wasn’t the strange glove, it was the hole in the center of her palm. Before she could craft a question about it in her tiny little mouth, however, a gentle jet of cold air blew from it, and soon after, beautiful snowflakes filled the cell. “W-wow! Snow...!? I’ve never seen snow! It’s so pretty! How are you doing that?”

As she produced more snowflakes with one hand, Lisbeth slowly removed her mask with the other, a friendly smile meeting the child’s cheerful expression. “By gently blowing a controlled amount of liquid nitrogen, I can freeze the natural humidity in the air, that is, the small amount of water in the air just enough to cause it to crystallize! In this way, if I manage the output in relation to room temperature and, if applicable, altitude, I can--” but she quickly shut her own mouth when she noticed the horribly perplexed expression on the poor child’s face.

“...U-uhh...?”

“...Magic, my dear friend!”

“Wow!”

Sometimes, less is more.

“My name is Lisbeth. Lisbeth Elstad,” she kindly explained as she approached slowly, until she finally was next to the child. “I have a hypothesis that your name must be really cute, given how cute you are, so would you mind sharing it with me? For science, of course.”

“I’m Marcela Toreca!” the child answered, no longer afraid of Lisbeth.

“Hypothesis confirmed! What a nice name, you little sweetling... Say, I need to ask you a few things, but if it becomes too hard to answer, don’t sweat it, ok? I’m here to more or less dismantle the place. How... How long have you been here? Why are you here?”

Marcela’s face immediately went grim again, tears welling in her eyes. “They... They kidnapped me. Snatched me when I was on the park with mama and papa, I saw them beat them up, yelled at them over something, and I’ve been here for four days. They... They were going to sell me tomorrow, and they, they sometimes would take the branding iron there and--”

Whatever came after that, Lisbeth didn’t hear as she hugged the child close. “Tug on the pelt. Grab it with all of your might and tug on it. Try to rip it if you want. Don’t say anything else, just rip and tug.” And so the child did, gripping the wolf pelt with all the strength her little hands could muster, pulling at it. It wasn’t necessary to make her relive those events anymore. “Marcela, your skin is pretty pale, and I noticed you have trouble breathing. I’m kind of in a hurry here, so I can’t really check you thoroughly, but I have a shot that’ll help you.”

The child shook with a single, potent goosebump. “U-uh, no, I’m fi--”

“You aren’t afraid of shots, aren’t you, darling? My, my, and here I thought I’d show you some more snow tricks, but alas, they are only for brave kids!”

“Uuuh... F-fine! I ain’t afraid of no needle!”

Lisbeth couldn’t help but smile. Producing a long, thin syringe filled with a green liquid from one of her satchels, Lisbeth gently held Marcela’s wrist and extended her arm. “Ok now! Close your eyes and don’t open them no matter what, ok? It won’t take more than a minute.”

With a nod and a smile, Marcela closed her eyes. Lisbeth discreetly put away the syringe and protruded one of her hand spikes, gently pressing it against a vein on Marcela’s arm and pumping her full of vitamins, nutrients, and mild energizers. Then, after retracting her spike, Lisbeth produced a different, empty syringe from her satchel. “Ok, open your eyes now.”

“...Did I do good?”

“Now, don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ve met plenty of kickass kids in my time, but you? Easily the kickassest... Kickassetest? You did great.”

The little horned girl couldn’t help but smile. “Miss... Are you going to get me out of here?”

Lisbeth gestured a cross with both of her index fingers. “Not if you call me ‘Miss’ again! Lis is fine, I’m not much older than you. I’ll get you out of here, but first, I need to finish my own business here. Once I’m done with that, I assure you that no one will hound you again, and I’ll take you back outside. So be good like hydrogen and stay put here until I’m done, ok?”

“No! I-I’ll help you, Lis! Th-that guy has a weird trick! He shot my dad from the front, but the bullet hit him in the back somehow! If you go in alone, he’ll kill you! I’m strong, I’ll help you!” the resolute little Marcela declared, putting up her little dukes.

“...Ah, how am I gonna say no to this? Ok, but on one condition: I have a special potion that will help you become stronger. You can come with me only, and only if you take it. Howzat sound?”

“Fine! Even if it’s another i-injection,” -- Marcela’s voice cracked -- “I’ll accompany Lis! Give it to me!”

“Hmhm! Brave little pancake, ain’tcha? Ok, here’s the potion.”

With a sudden yet gentle and careful motion, Lis’ palm cradled the petite girl’s face, a mildly sweet and ether-like odor blanketing Marcela’s nostrils. The tiny girl quickly collapsed, Lisbeth catching her and settling her down gently. “A jet of chloroform always gets the job done, doesn’t it? Sleep tight, Marcela.”

Wearing her mask once anew, the resolute girl made her way to the staircase at the end of the poorly lit corridor, making sure her footsteps would be silent, the unexplored second basement floor beckoning every violent urge in her already trembling body. Tilting her mask sideways just slightly, Lisbeth nibbled on the tip of one of her spikes, “snacking” on liquid diazepam to calm herself. “Let’s have some words, you and I, Mister Clement...”

                                                      ---------

The second floor basement was vastly different. It wasn’t luxurious by any definition, but it didn’t feel cramped, had no cells, and felt more like a little gathering spot with touches of mancave, given the plenty bookcases, billiards table, bar, and other such “classy” entertainment staples, all of which would have had an endearing air were it not for the whole Veiled trafficking. If anything, it’s correct to say this place wasn’t luxurious yet, as it was clear it was slowly but surely being furnished little by little to resemble some sort of mafia underground hangout, the kind wacky and villainous art collectors seem to always have in the movies. At the far end of the spacious basement, on an elevated section, not yet carpeted, a large leather chair with two arms barely peeking on the arm rest were Lisbeth’s goal. That had to be Clement. Controlling her breathing and making sure her footsteps were silent, the girl managed no more than three steps before a voice froze her in place.

“That’s far enough, madame. You seriously didn’t think you’d be able to sneak up on me after detonating bombs on the first floor, right?”

In a split second and with her eyes wide with shock, Lisbeth tumbled out of the way, a bullet grazing her left shoulder from behind, a little grunt escaping her lips. The chair turned around, and sitting on it was a man in his early 30s, slicked back black hair with piercing blue eyes, his exquisite white suit looked less like a legal adviser’s and more like an hedonist’s pajamas, save for the single glove he wore over his right hand, and dung beetles everywhere in the world felt a strange sense of attraction to his shit eating grin. “You made me wait quite a bit, Exter. I hope you have a good reason to have made a mess of my office without a warrant. And here I thought I had made a good network. So, who snitched on me? I bet it was Harland! I always suspected him of being an undercover rat, hah!”

“Hah, don’t lump me together with those wusses. Exter’s aren’t worth the filth stuck to the sole of my boots. I’m here on behalf of no one but myself. I just wanted to have a little chat with you, see? I need to know the legality of disfiguring someone’s face with a lead pipe, Mister Lawman, so please help me out here.”

“...Hold on, you’re not an Exter?” Clement first looked genuinely confused for a second, and then simply let out a guffaw. “Ahahah! Oh, well, slap my ass and call me Cindy! You, you’re here alone? Unaffiliated? Well, that makes things easier.” Without further ado, he pointed the gun at Lisbeth and pulled the trigger. The sound very distinctly came from the pistol, but the bullet struck Lisbeth square in the back, making her lurch forward momentarily before she collapsed with a pained wimper. “If you’re not with anyone, then I have no interest in whatever information I can get out of you.”

“Why, that’s very rude, mister Clement, heh,” the girl laughed as she slowly rose from the ground. none the worse for wear. “At least let me finish talking. I suspected you’d have one of those after a little tip I got from a certain girl, but seeing you fire it confirmed it. That right there is a Rennard DZ87 ‘Mitsuhide’, isn’t it? Also known as the ‘Backshooter’, a popular enchanted handgun.”

Clement simply scratched his head. “Huh... Hey, how come you didn’t die? People usually do when I shoot them.”

“Ballistic gelatin,” explained the girl, tapping her back. “Never go in without some preparation. Put some there when I heard you had a habit of shooting people’s backs. I got some bad news for you, sweetheart, but that gun right there is useless. All the DZ87 does is use basic portal magic to teleport the bullet at the muzzle to a portal behind whatever is on its crosshairs. It’s an effective gun if you’re fighting completely mundane people or rookies, but otherwise, it’s just a gimmicky gun for, as the more crass denizens of the streets would say, pussies.”

“You mean to tell me you carry ballistic freaking gelatin with you everywhere you go? Why not just wear kevlar?”

“Good question! Why don’t you come a little close to good ol’ Lis and find out for yourself?”

The foes locked eyes for some silent moments, and when the calm was over, the storm began. Lisbeth produced some sort of little rubbery object, akin to an uninflated balloon, and pressed it against her hand’s hole, quickly filling it with a light green liquid, and the “balloon” filled, it gradually lost elasticity until it became a perfectly sealed glass orb, full of the liquid. This whole process happened in a second, and without losing any more time, she lobbed it Clement-wards, who dodged the flung weapon.

“Throwing balls versus a pistol? You must be out of your m--!”

Clement had to call a rain check on his very important taunting, however, when he heard the glass orb shatter behind him. The liquid inside the orb, as soon as it made contact with air, burst into a noxious miasma, a toxic gas that threatened to blanket him. Rapidly reacting, Clement leaped down from his high ground, evading the toxic gas, but before he knew it, Lisbeth was already making a rush for him, spikes hungry for his veins protruding from her palms. Clement took aim, and as he was pulling the trigger, Lisbeth turned her back to him.

“What...? Idiot, you could at least try to dodge the bullet instead of giving your back to m--Urgh!”

The gun went off, but the one struck was Clement. As he double over in pain, a swift kick from Lisbeth disarmed him, and another right on the chin floored him.

“Didn’t I explain before? The DZ87 makes a portal behind whatever is in its crosshairs. No one uses Mitsuhides on real combat anymore because of how utterly simplistic, outdated, and unreliable they are. All I had to do was give my back to you while being sufficiently close to you, and the portal, still technically behind me, is generated at a fixed distance, which happens to put you between the bullet and I. Even at the apex of their popularity, Mitsuhides were a side arm, and never a main weapon. You’d use the Mitsuhide with another firearm or weapon to keep your opponent guessing. If the bullet is always going to come from behind, it becomes trivial to deal with it,” the spiked girl explained with a matter-of-fact tone, almost as if dealing with a child. “You’ve never fought anything more dangerous than the parents of the innocent Veiled whose children you’ve abducted, am I right?”

“H-hey now, please! I’m just a lawyer! No need to get-- Hey, you said you wanted info, right? I’ll talk, I’ll talk! Just please promise you won’t kill me!”

Lisbeth’s eyes were looking not at a human being, but at garbage right now. “You’re quite the honest person, are you not? Talk, before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Clement said almost as if worshiping her. “...Hold on, before I start, you might want to do something about that Minotaur over there. She’s looking sickly, and, well, we haven’t fed her in two days,” the host explained as he pointed behind Lisbeth, towards the elevator.

“What!? Marcela, did you wake up alre--”

As soon as she turned around, something cold and sharp like the beak of a scythe found purchase on Lisbeth’s right side, sinking deep into her. She spat blood and fumbled her feet a bit before a kick sent her barreling to the floor, fresh vermilion spilling out of her wound.

“Hey, Miss Lecture, maybe don’t take your eyes off your enemy, dumbass.”

As Lisbeth turned around, Clement dipped his left hand on some of the blood left behind by her and used it to slick his hair back again. It had to be his left hand, after all, because his right arm was currently a massive metallic sickle. Moments later, the sickle turned back into a prosthetic arm.

“A Technomancer!?”

“Yup. That ‘dee zee’... Whatever you called it pistol was just insurance. I do practice some magic of my own, I mean, you’d have to be crazy not to if you’re in this business.” Clement’s jovial explanation ceased immediately after he noticed not as much blood as he expected was flowing “Hm? I thought the wound was deeper, you’re not dead yet. Again. You’re starting to piss me off, girl.” To be fair to Clement, it is pretty frustrating when people won’t die.

Upon closer inspection, Lisbeth was indeed wounded and bleeding but the wolf pelt had not been pierced at all. It was the impact itself more than any slashing damage that harmed Lisbeth. “And once again, she saved me...” Lisbeth murmured, clutching the pelt tightly before standing up.

Clement’s assault continued, his mechanical arm changing shapes to axes and swords and sickles, trying to mince Lisbeth into a pile of flesh and agony, but she kept her body parts where they should be by evading the attacks. However, it wasn’t graceful dodging, it was more akin to a headless chicken trying not to get diced up, something Clement picked up on. It was almost as if Lisbeth was afraid. As Clement advanced on her with a sword-arm, Lisbeth put chairs and other pieces of furniture between them, obstacles that were easily cleft in twain by the Technomancer.

“...Hm? Oh... Oh! I see!” Clement declared, his eyes shining with the light of realization. “You... You are deadly afraid. You piece of shit kid. You clothes made it hard to notice, but now that I get a good look at you, not only are you just a kid, you’re trembling in your boots.”

“...Oh, please, of course my body language is going to be all weird during a life or death situation!”

“No.” boldly interrupted Clement, calling Lisbeth out on her bluff. “That’s not merely adrenaline, that’s fear. I know fear when I see it. When you abduct Veiled, you see fear. When their children are abducted, you see fear. When leave them beaten bloody as you take their children, you see fear. In your body language, demeanor, and words, I see it, girl. I see fear. You can’t fool a merchant of fear in the subject of his trade.”

“S-shut up, I’m two steps away from killing you, what the hell do you know!?” Lisbeth yelled back, losing her cool.

“I understand it, even! Girl, you dispatched my men and casually strolled in because it all went according to your plan. You’re very smart, I’ll give you that, but the moment things went off the rails, the moment things stopped going according to your plan... You panicked. The moment you saw my mechanical arm, your whole facade fell through. You expected a punk ass bitch with a gun, but you found a Technomancer instead. You do not know how to play it by ear!”

“...!” One didn’t have to look at Lisbeth’s face behind her mask to know she had been read like an open book. As if to confirm Clement’s words, Lisbeth filled two more orbs with a white powder and recklessly, or it’d be more accurate to say sloppily, threw them at his assailant. The lawyer simply snatched one of the air with his left hand, while moved out of the way of the other. As it landed on the floor, the orb shattered, causing a small explosion that left a little, short lived fire where it landed. 

“...White phosphorous, huh? It’s what they use in incendiary rounds, if I have my chemistry right. Still, a fire that little means you were very sloppy in producing it. Maybe, the quality of the things that come out of those holes in your hands depends on your focus. Pissing your pants as you are right now, you can’t even make a proper explosion, I’d wager,” Clement summarized, taking his sweet time in purpose to fully indulge in the helplessness of the girl in front him. “What kind of magic is this? I’ve never seen anything like it. You can just make things with those holes? It’s some sort of Conjuration or Alchemy, if I had to take a shot in the dark... It looks more like playing with chemicals more than any real magic. Just some artificial cheap tricks, perfect for an artificial cheap girl who has to fake her bravery! I’ll have plenty of time to see how it all works after I cut your arms off.”

Lisbeth’s response was to throw more orbs, but nothing worked against him in this chaotic state of mind. The plan had gone awry, and Lisbeth no longer knew what to do. Why? How come someone who got this far today was suddenly so inept and incompetent? Why was she suddenly a scared little nobody, when she had been oh so efficient mere minutes ago?

Well, the answer is simple.

“...Kudos to you, kid,” Clement chided, half seriously, half in jest. “It takes balls to do what you did when you are such a massive coward. That mask, that outfit, it’s all out to evoke fear, to make you look big, eh?”

“Shut up!” Lisbeth retorted, producing her spikes and lunging at Clement with a panicked leap, only to meet a metallic hammer-arm face first, her body being flung to a bookcase like a helpless rag doll as her mask clattered against the floor. As she tried to get on her feet, her body simply wouldn’t comply.

“Ahh... Ahh... Damn it, come on, stand...! Hhr...! That’s two or three ribs... Come on! Stand up! W-wait, where is my mask... Where is it...!”

“You know,” Clement continued, talking leisurely as the fight was as good as won. “I didn’t know what I expected behind that mask, but it sure as hell wasn’t an ugly ass kid with tears streaming down her face. I feel like a god damned idiot for having been tricked by you in the first place. As soon as I am done with you, I’m going to take it out on that little shit upstairs. You have only yourself to blame.”

“You...! Why do you kidnap Veiled children!? Is human trafficking that fun!? Are you really that desperate for some cash!?” the furious Lisbeth lashed out, crawling away from him, huddling against the bookcase she was flung against.

Clement simply blinked. “It’s not human trafficking, though? It’s just Veiled kids, no biggie.”

“...What?”

“Oh, come on, it’s just some garbage from the other side that shouldn’t be here in the first place! I wouldn’t do this with an actual fucking person, get real! Its just a Veiled! It’s like cattle! You take the young, and let the old make more young, and then take them again! It’s good business.”

“Good business, huh...? I see, it’s good business. Ripping children away from their parents is good business to you... So we are just good business to you, huh? Good to know, really good to know!”

“Hm? Wh--”

Clement had seen fear plenty of times, but there was something else he was very familiar with: Anger. He saw anger every time a Veiled parent would have their children taken away from them. He saw anger every time a Veiled children would get sold off to the highest bidder. He saw anger every time a helpless parent tried their hardest and was beaten to a pulp by him and his thugs. He knew anger when he saw it, and right now?

Lisbeth’s face wasn’t one of fear, not exclusively. She was afraid, for sure, but there was something far more potent that that in her lithe frame right now, causing it to shake not from fear anymore.

And that was the blistering, white, hot anger that her silver eyes exuded with naught an attempt to curb it.

Protruding her hand spikes, Lisbeth impaled herself and let out a primal scream as her veins bulged unnaturally. Not two seconds later, she less jumped and more exploded towards Clement with far more force and speed than her body type and musculature would suggest, quickly releasing a burst of liquid nitrogen to encase her right hand in a block of ice that smashed against the face of the Technomancer, his world spinning for a second. He swiped back at her, catching her with a well placed right hook, a literal hook, mind you, that should have pierced her real well. And it would have, had it not been for the ice shield Lisbeth quickly made with another burst of liquid nitrogen to intercept the hook. Clement acted fast, however, and used his regular hand to streak a punch right across the girl’s face with all of his strength. Surely, with their weight and height differences, she really should’ve felt this one, right?

Nope.

Unfazed, Lisbeth swung her left hand this time as if to respond in kind, a white phosphorous-enhanced flaming uppercut that connected squarely with his jaw, quickly followed by another meteoric downwards hammer punch from the frozen hand, making him spit blood and a molar.

“S-shit, what the hell! How the hell...!”

“I pumped myself full of steroids and painkillers, darling. You are so, as they say on less reputable streets, fucked right now!”

Clement desperately turned his arm into a blade again and lunged at her, and surprisingly, found purchase, piercing the girl... And then, she grabbed onto the arm, and pulled him closer and closer.

“...! Did you intentionally...!? Wait, wait, are you nuts?! Wait!”

“Nuts? No, just desperate and short on time. Bare your neck.”

Clement’s begging fell on empty ears as Lisbeth’s left hand, swollen and charred with the burns from her own fire punch, protruded that nasty, flesh-hungry spike that quickly found its way to the veins in his neck, injecting something that quickly paralyzed Clement and made him burn from within. Pulling herself away from the arm that was currently running her through, Lisbeth, who wobbled and struggled to walk straight, one hand pressed tightly against her wound, approached his (obviously pretentious) whiskey cabinet, poured herself a glass, and drank it in one shot.

“...Even your taste in whiskey fucking sucks,” she quipped. Getting four more glasses, she lined them up in front of the poisoned Clement, and filled each with different, strange liquids directly from her hand holes. The first one was electric blue, the next, transparent, like water, followed by a light green liquid, and last but not least, a brown, sludge-like substance.

“Alright, Clement, we’re going to play something I like to call the Apothecary's Game. The rules are simple: In front of you are four glasses. Three of them are poison, but one of them is an antidote to the poison I just injected you with.”

“...What the hell is this?” Clement snarled, unable to move but seemingly able to speak.

“I didn’t give you a full dose of the venom, just enough to disable you... For now, anyways. That dose will turn lethal, given enough time, so your clock is ticking. Now, you can try and pick one of the glasses in front of you, giving you a 25% chance of picking the right choice. Pick wrong, however, and you will have drank a full dose of another poison. The two venoms in you will react really, really badly together, and you’ll die slowly and very painfully. Here’s where it gets fun!” -- Lisbeth cheerfully announced as she fastened her mask back in place, back in-character -- “If you give me information I want, and I believe you, I’ll take away one of the duds. Give me three answers I am looking for, and you’ll only be left with the antidote! Fair, isn’t it?”

“Fair like a gun to the temple, you maniac...”

“That’s rich coming from the child kidnapper. Alright, question one: How did you get this gig rolling? I heard you once worked with one Mister Sibbens, but he doesn’t seem to be around today.”

“...I killed Sibbens.” -- it seems Clement had given up on lying, fearing the repercussions of being caught -- “We originally only took cases that involved Veiled trying to get a citizenship here on the Human World. Sibbens was very much a philanthropist in this regard, and would sometimes not even charge Veiled if they didn’t have the means...”

“And you, of course, didn’t like that very much.”

“Heh, nope, not at all. I studied law to get paid accordingly, not to run a charity, much less one for sub-human freaks. Eventually, I staged his death, pinned the blame on a Veiled, and what do you know? The Exters fully bought into it.”

Lisbeth grabbed the glass with the light green fluid and tossed it across the room. “That’s one dud down. How did you get away with it for so long?”

“I still take cases, see? Veiled cases. I defend them, I vouch for them, I get them their citizenships, and play the part of the hero. I use a system much like the ‘decimation’ of the Roman Army: Every tenth Veiled family that comes, I get my boys to abduct their kids and threaten them to keep silent or risk getting their children killed. Even if they speak out against me, I have a bunch of other Veiled that will defend me, as I got them their citizenship for cheap. Then, I sell the Veiled kids in the black market for high prices. Pretty good system that guarantees no one snitches on you and, if they do, nothing happens anyways... Well, at least until an ugly masked bitch ruined it all.”

Lisbeth, however, didn’t react at all for a few seconds, and simply tossed the glass with the blue liquid away after a short delay. “It’s always money for your type, huh? That’s all we amount to when placed in front of you and your money: Obstacles to be removed, the consequences be damned. Ripping families apart is just so fun to you, isn’t it? Bad whiskey and a tacky mancave justifies it all for you, I gather. Last question: Were you involved in what happened to the White Silhouette?”

Clement looked visibly puzzled. “White... Silhouette? As in, the extremely efficient and deadly Doppel corps? They got crushed mysteriously some time ago, didn’t they?”

Lisbeth nodded. “Were you involved?”

“Not at all, I’m not that big of a player.”

“And do you know who could have done it? Do you have any clues? Any idea of where one could begin to look for answers?”

“I’ve seriously no idea of who could’ve done that... Why do you care so much for that?”

“I’m the one making the questions, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah... But really, I’ve nothing to do with that, nor do I know who could have done it.”

“...Alright.” Lisbeth sighed, grabbing the glass with the transparent liquid and tossing it. “You’ve earned it. Here’s the antidote.” And just as she said that, Lisbeth also tossed away the antidote, the glass shattering against a bookcase, staining several books with the brown sludge. 

“Wh-what the fuck!? We had a deal!”

“It wasn’t a deal, it was a game. I don’t deal with serial kidnappers, and even less with lawyers. Kindly fuck off to the afterlife, please.” As if to call the curtain on this horrible specimen, Lisbeth’s spike dug into his neck one last time, pumping him full of the venom, making Clement undergo seizures as he bled from his eyes and frothed at the mouth, an ugly end for an ugly man.

Examining the elevated section where Lisbeth first spotted Clement, the Alchemist found a computer, conveniently on and accessible. Gripping her silver cross pendant, Lisbeth pulled on its bottom to remove what seemed to be a detachable section akin to a cap, revealing a USB drive. Plugging it into the computer, Lisbeth copied and pasted everything she could find in the terminal to it. Once she was done, Lisbeth copied an executable program onto the desktop, unplugged her drive, and ran the program, bricking the computer in mere seconds.

“...Until I am done going through this data, I can’t know for sure if he lied or not, but it seems he’s unrelated, making this a waste of time for the most part. Well, at least the world is one child kidnapper down...” And as she walked one, one could swear she also said “...And one lawyer down...” under her breath.

Putting the cap on her USB drive, Lisbeth called for the elevator, feebly and barely holding herself together, the kickback from the steroids and the waning effect of the painkillers making her really feel her sustained wounds. “...Better just bear with it... If I keep injecting this stuff, I’ll really OD...”

                                                     ---------

The sky grew pink over the Clement & Sibbens Law Firm office. Bodies and rubble adorned the first floor of the building as Lisbeth emerged from the elevator with the still asleep Marcela in her arms. Carrying her away, Lisbeth noticed, much to her relief, that despite there having been a literal explosion, it seems authorities were not yet in the area. “...The fact that they’ve taken so long to come check this out means they knew this was a front. I wonder how many of the local cops are under Clement’s pockets... Well, were under his pockets. Still, I should hurry.”

As she walked away through the back alleys and away from more populated areas, Lisbeth collapsed, both her and Marcela meeting the ground, unable to go on any longer with her wounds, particularly her broken ribs and the lower left side of her torso, which had been completely run through with Clement’s blade-arm. As much as she produced morphine in her body, she had accumulated far more damage than she could handle. As she lay on the floor, bleeding out, Lisbeth couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief.

It was all so scary. It can finally end. She did her best, right? This much was enough. Time and time again, she ended up in terrifying situations, acting as if she was on top of it all where in reality all she wanted was to scream. The mask looked intimidating, but it was all to conceal her terrified expression and her crying. She couldn’t help crying during battle. These clothes were so heavy, the pelt was so asphyxiating, both physically and mentally, an eternal reminder of who she must avenge.

But none of that mattered now, right? She could go. She could finally rest. She tried her best. Oluwasanmi and the Mercury Witch would welcome her in the afterlife, after so long, right? She could almost see them, the gentle giant and the rowdy witch, arms spread open, waiting for her...

“...Bullshit...”

It was only a matter of walking to the end of the light, where Father and Mother awaited her...

“...They aren’t my parents...”

Mere footsteps away...

“They never found the fucking bodies! They aren’t dead! Until I see the bodies, I won’t--”

Of course it’s never that easy. Even cowards have their pride. Even if a coward hates every moment of it, once cornered, once pressured, they will bare their fangs. It’s not that Lisbeth has nothing to lose, it’s that she lost it all already.

Some might take that as a sign to call it quits.

But Lisbeth isn’t like that.

Lisbeth shot awake, but the blinding pain caused by her sudden movement immediately made her inch back onto the bed. Wait... Bed?

“...Where... Just where am I?”

“Well, good morning, Miss Hero.”

White sheets, a window, medical equipment, and a woman in a suit sitting on the other side of the room. This was a hospital if she ever saw one.

“How...”

“How did you get here? Well, one Miss Marcela Toreca called us from a payphone, emergency call, and told us where to find you. It seems your good deed saved your life.”

“Marcela--! Where is she!?”

“Relax. She’s in the room adjacent to this one, she’s--”

“Malnutritioned and has a case of Plonar’s Disease! If we don’t treat the gangrene on the base of her horns, she might become a vegetable or even die!”

The woman in the suit whistled and clapped. “Well, now, that’s quite the accurate diagnosis. You are correct on all accounts and she’s being treated. You’ll be delighted to know her parents were contacted and they are in there, too. They really want to thank you for saving their disappeared daughter.”

Upon hearing this, Lisbeth visibly sank into her bed. “Ah... Well, that’s good to know... But now, you... Are no nurse, are you?”

The suited woman simply giggled. “Indeed I am not. Miss ‘Lisbeth’, was it? Unless you fed Marcela a false name, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance... Now, on behalf of the California NEST of Exters, I have some questions I’d like you to answer. And please don’t try to, ah, finesse your way out of this one. I’ll tell you right now we have the whole building surrounded.”

“...It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, then,” Lisbeth murmured, clearly displeased.

“Whether that is your name or not is irrelevant, really, because we know something for sure, courtesy of that tattoo on the back of your hand, Miss White Silhouette.”

“...Ah.”

Just now realizing she had been stripped of all her clothes to be put in a hospital gown, that also included her gloves, and with her gloves gone, the Canis Major tattoo on the back of her left hand was fully visible. 

“A genuine article, too. So you’re the sole survivor of the White Silhouette, huh? Well, Miss Lisbeth, we can’t have an ex-Doppel just running around in Exter turf like this, you no doubt understand. Depending on your cooperation, we might be able to reach some sort of compromise. I am sure we can both benefit from this, hmhm.”

Lisbeth could only listen to this office fox flap her gums. With the damage she sustained, she knew better than anyone, better than any of these doctors, that her body would break down should she try anything. It seems the gig was finally up.

It was this encounter that brought the story of “Lisbeth Elstad” to an end and that marked the beginning of the story “Lisbeth Elstad, Exter”, a story about a coward who has decide to face everything to recover what she lost, even if all she can recover is ‘closure’.

But that story is one for another day, for another medium.

[andrewmoocow]

Fooly Falls 2 Ride on Shooting Star chapter 1: Here We Go Again (originally posted on January 23, 2019)

AN: Greetings everyone! While I continue to work hard on the climax for Gravity Soul, I'm just gonna throw this into the ring. Ladies and germs, behold the long-awaited sequel to Fooly Falls! Before we begin, I just want to say that this takes place 20 years after the first story and centers on the twin children of Dipper and Mabel's own son that mainly takes from FLCL Progressive with elements of Alternative and some rewrites I found across the Internet. Now that we got all of this outta the way, let's finally return to the falls.

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"The world must be destroyed before it can become beautiful. This is the world I envisioned." a young girl narrated to herself in the middle of a destroyed town. "This is what I fear the world will become."

The girl strolled through the wreckage in a grey beanie cap on top of her brownhaired head. The rest of her body made it look like she came back from a great battle that she barely survived, rotting & almost falling apart, and out of her forehead was a large horn poking out. "But in this world, only my body is rotting. Becoming decayed. Yes, decayed. Maybe this is what my body could become."

As she continued her march, a collection of giant irons moved towards her from the distance held by equally large hands. "Maybe this is my true self." The girl soon turned and ran away. "But then finally I remembered. I'm still only a twelve-year old girl, not thinking about anything."

The girl continued running as her form slowly began to decompose. "Nothing normal ever happens around these parts. And it can only get weirder from here."

All covered in blood, the girl reached a half-submerged monster who's eye quickly burst open, causing her horn to react.

The girl screamed in terror as her body fell apart more and more, flesh and blood being replaced with metal until she emerged as a white robot with a bright blue visor. And just as the irons moved closer, the robot prepared for battle by sending one of the irons flying-

Gwen Pines suddenly burst from her sleep. Her normally straight brown hair was a mess from tossing and turning in her sleep while her younger brother Tyrone passionately sang along to the song that served as her alarm.

When the song ended, Tyrone looked at his sister with a smile. "Aah! After ten hours of sleep, you are free!" he exclaimed joyously. "It's time to conquer breakfast!"

"Good morning Tyrone." Gwen yawned rubbing her eyes. "Morning sis!" Tyrone exclaimed giving her a good morning hug before he noticed her messy hair. "Hey, what's up with your hair? Did you have that weird zombie robot dream again?"

"Pretty much." Gwen moaned picking up a brush to straighten her chocolate locks. "You ever wonder about the future Ty? You ever fear that you'll lose everything, and then yourself as well?"

"Nope! You're just thinking too far into the future." Tyrone assured her with a playful knock on her head. "Now come on, don't wanna keep Mommy waiting!"

Tyrone grabbed his older sister by the arm and dragged her downstairs to the kitchen, where their mother was already preparing breakfast. "Morning guys!" Wendy greeted them giving Tyrone a hug. "Morning Mommy! Where's Daddy at?" Tyrone asked squeezing his beloved mom tight before he let go. "Dipper's off at the Shack helping Stan again." Wendy answered serving the kids some scrambled eggs. "You wanna go deliver some coffee to him, Aunt Mabel and Aunt Pacifica?"

"Of course." Gwen quietly replied spotting three thermoses on the counter while finishing her scrambled eggs. "You must be as excited to go there today and see our friends as much as I am, right?" Tyrone added shoveling the remains of his serving down the hatch. "There's Ian, Leia, Juan & Jorge, Imelda, Abby, Mr. Soos, Melody and of course, Arnold!"

"Let's just go. I'll carry Dad's and Aunt Mabel's, you get Aunt Pacifica's." Gwen deadpanned preparing to leve their home for the Mystery Shack. The siblings picked up the thermoses of coffee and began heading out the door. "See you later Mommy!" Tyrone called running farther away. "See ya little dude!" Wendy hollered back before she stopped her elder daughter with her old axe. "And you too Gwen!"

"I'm way too old for that. Plus you're basically threatening me into saying bye." Gwen stated. "Okay, you're right on the whole threatening thing, but still!" Wendy exclaimed putting her axe away as Gwen sighed and finally said "Goodbye Mommy."

As a white haired woman in a blue Chevrolet Bel-Air watched through a pair of binoculars from a distance, the twins finally made it to the Mystery Shack where a peculiar yellow Vespa scooter was parked outside. The tourist trap itself looked nicer than it did twenty years ago, albeit the biggest change was the loose S on the sign now hastily nailed into place.

Stepping inside and switching the sign from closed to open, the kids were greeted with a few familiar sights.

Ian Ramirez, a broad-shouldered 17-year old young man with brown hair spiking back downward, a small goatee and a black leather jacket over a Mystery Shack employee T-shirt, was hard at work on getting everything ready.

Ian's sister Leia, an attractive 15-year old girl with her brown hair in a ponytail, an orange question mark symboled tanktop, denim shorts and hiking boots, manned the cash register like their mother before her, texting on her phone with a can of soda beside her.

And finally three boys sat down having a conversation. The first boy with dirty blonde hair was Arnold; age 10, the adopted son of their aunts Mabel & Pacifica clad in a purple sweatervest, black trousers with brown shoes, braces and a gold Northwest ring. The other ridiculously dressed two he was telling a story to were 11-year old twins Juan and Joseph, or Jorge as he preferred to be called.

"So then what did she do?" Juan asked getting more invested in Arnold's story. "Well, then she tried to pull a giant robot out of my forehead!" Arnold skittishly answered. "I had no idea I had those inside me, especially the one she found which then ran off into the night!"

"That is so awesome!" Jorge roared in excitement. "What was she like?! How hard did she hit you, what did she say, what were her measurements?!"

"Guys, you two are getting weird!" Arnold exclaimed. "Though not as weird as that skirt you're wearing Juan." He then brought attention to Juan's current fashion choices. "It's not a skirt, they call it a kilt in Scotland! Tons of men wore it, especially back in the old days!"

"Thanks for the history lesson Juan, but I'm asking you to please cover up underneath there!" Arnold added. "At least Jorge's wearing pants along with the sunglasses, fedora and clogs!"

"Morning you guys!" Tyrone interrupted their discussion. "Yo, Ty-die! Good to see you bro!" the brothers greeted him loudly followed by the three performing their secret handshake. "Let me guess, the joe's for your old man? He should be downstairs working with Ford." Juan stated pointing to the vending machine that served as a secret entrance to a hidden laboratory under the Shack.

"Morning little dudes!" Leia said getting up from behind the counter to tousle Tyrone's fluffy red hair. "Oh, greetings twins." Ian added wildly gesturing to the two. "You need any help with that coffee?"

"Sure, you know where Aunt Mabel is?" Tyrone replied handing of the thermoses to Ian. "Yes, she and Pacifica are upstairs with Dad helping Stan start his day." Suddenly there was a creaking noise followed by a yell. "Hey Ian, can you be a good dude and come upstairs please? Mr. Pines fell down again!"

"I'll be sure to bring it up to her." Ian declared taking two of the thermoses away and leaving the room. "Coming Dad!"

"So what's on your minds today guys? Other than tastes in fashion." Gwen asked the three boys. "We were just discussing some strange woman that attacked Arnold last night and tried to pull something out of his head." Juan answered just as the door opened. "What strange woman?"

A blonde woman with eyes completely hidden behind a pair of glasses stepped into the gift shop. "Excuse me, may I speak to one of the employees?" she asked monotonously. "I'm an employee here!" Leia answered. "Welcome to the Mystery Shack miss, how may I help you?"

"I am in town today to conduct a social experiment on the local youth." the woman explained. "Tell me your age young lady, along with the four young ones with you."

"Name's Leia Ramirez, age 15." Leia introduced herself shaking her hand. "This little gentleman Tyrone is nine years old, his sister Gwen is twelve, their cousin Arnold is ten and my little bros Juan & Joseph are eleven."

"Marvelous." the researcher said in dull excitement, drawing scribbles on a clipboard. "Now before my experiment can proceed, I'd like to ask you, as a selection of children part of our modern youth, a question. What in your estimation is the most important thing to you? Yes you, the weakest links in our society." she surveyed while Gwen quietly examined the text messages on her phone. "Yes, you over there with the pompadour?"

"I don't know." Juan answered showing how he was just as confused as everybody else in the room by adjusting his sweatband.

"Correct answer." the woman declared. "Not having clear or distinct answers for any question and feeling fulfilled through triggered animalistic sexual urges, that is the only life you know as youth with absolutely no skill to convince us otherwise."

"What is she on about?" Arnold asked arching an eyebrow. "I don't know, some philosophical crap." Jorge answered as the researcher went on. "It has been exactly one week to the day that I have first arrived in this small Oregon town and I must say, you are all eligible." Soon she opened a laptop that she pulled out. "Now, let the exam begin."

Gwen stared blankly at the laptop showing her some rather obscene activity between a teacher and his student while the other kids formed a line behind her. "So this is her idea of research, basically showing us porn?" Arnold whimpered while Tyrone snacked on some popcorn behind him. "I may not see it from here, but at least I can still hear and enjoy."

"Uh Ian, Leia? What's going on up here?" Mason Pines, better known to everyone as Dipper, asked returning from his studies behind the vending machine to catch everyone in the act of the woman's experiment. "Hey lady, she's only twelve!" he shouted taking the laptop away. "You shouldn't be showing her that!"

"And why do you object? Do you plan on looking at this yourself?" the woman asked snatching the laptop back from an embarrassed Dipper while his bearded face turned crimson and the other kids resisted the urge to laugh.

"What in the name of Sam Hill is all this about Dipper looking at porn?!" an aged Stanley Pines roared as Ian, Mabel Pines and Soos & Melody Ramirez wheeled him into the gift shop.

"Hi Greatkle Stan! This science lady is showing us this stuff for some reason. She said it's to make us react or something." Tyrone chirped handing Dipper his coffee. Gwen then switched to another video, again eliciting no reaction. "Would it kill you to have even the tiniest reaction to this?" the scientist asked just as emotionless as her test subject. "You don't want to wait until you're over the hill to this adolescence, do you?"

Gwen soon began to get up. "Fine, I've seen all I need to." the mystery visitor snarked. "Which one of you is next?"

"He volunteers as tribute!" Tyrone shouted raising Arnold's arm for him. "Eh, I don't need to test you Arnold." the woman shrugged. "Now hold on lady! If you want to test on any more of these impressionable youths, you'll have to buy something first!" Stan declared as Gwen went downstairs to the elevator behind the vending machine and went down to the third floor.

She entered the lab that her great-granduncle Stanford Pines once used to conduct his research on the odd town of Gravity Falls, now covered in dust & cobwebs with the portal he had created still dismantled and rusting. "Uh, Great-Grunkle Stanford?"

"Oh hello there Gwendolyn! How do you do?" her genius great-granduncle exclaimed shaking his great-grandniece's hand. "Never thought you would come down here all by yourself. Usually someone like Tyrone, Arnold, Ian, your father or your aunt would accompany you. So what brings you to my lab?"

"I wanted to talk to you about a nightmare I had." Gwen answered. "What do you know about giant clothes irons?" she asked, sending chills down Ford's crooked back. "G-giant clothes irons?!" the elderly author shivered racing to fish out a copy of the Gravity Falls Gossiper dating back two decades ago. "Never thought I would pull this out, but here goes."

Ford then began to read. "Gravity Falls Gossiper, date August 2012. 'Aftermath of the Oregon Fooly Cooly of 2012.' Town recovers from mass havoc caused by crazed motorist and her robot companion. According to Commander Amarao of the Department of Interstellar Immigration, this young lady broke into the home of local con-artist Stan Pines and declared herself his maid. In the chaos that ensued, space birds, bass guitars, alternative rock, robots, all-powerful time-stopping megalomaniacs, sexual innuendos and reversal of gravity were involved."

"Did that actually happen Stanford?" Gwen asked. "As much as I hate to say it, but yes." Ford answered resignedly. "We all thought we either decided to forget it ever happened or maybe it didn't occur at all, but your visions of clothes irons in your dreams now leads me to fear the worst. Medical Mechanica is at it again."

Far across town, the Medical Mechanica plant stood idly as always, in the process of reconstruction as it groaned, letting off steam.

When Gwen returned to the surface after her conversation with Ford, she began helping out the Ramirez family with the tourists alongside Tyrone and Arnold. However two in particular stood out, one was a red-haired man in a ballcap while the other was an old man with an eye-patch.

"Hey princess, can I get any idea on the next tour?" the one-eyed senior asked. "'Scuse me miss, but do you have any of those fur-covered trouts in stock." the other man added. "Can you help me choose what to but Gwennie?" another tourist said.

"Old tourists, am I right?" Imelda Ramirez, the second daughter of Soos & Melody wearing a purple dress, flower barrette and a worn-out expression, groaned. "It's so glad that out of everyone in our little circle, I relate to you the most." she complimented. "Only replace the nihilism with being overworked from being the Shack's financial advisor, watching over my baby sister Abby when my parents are too busy and having to deal with my eldest siblings."

"I love it when Gwen has that attitude around us." the eyepatched elder remarked serenely. "I just adore it when we're looked down upon by her judging expression." the third tourist added. "Same here." Suddenly the eyepatch man received a list of future tour times from Imelda before she returned to Gwen's side. "And the little one is pretty fiery too. So much pressure on her shoulders and keeps a cool head no matter what."

"I guess it's a hardknock life for someone like me who has to deal with Mr. Overdramatic, the party-girl and those two." Imelda snarked before her baby sister Abby pulled on her skirt with a finger painting in hand. "Hold on one second my friend, I must give a thorough analysis on a finger painting." she added speedwalking away like Marvin the Martian.

"Thank you so much for the help you guys. Maybe someday you can get your own jobs." Melody thanked the three Pines kids while patting her pregnant stomach. "Perhaps your first can be watching over our expected newborn. Still in the dark on whether it'll be a boy or a girl."

"If it does turn out to be a boy, it should have a cool name like Darkside or Steppenwolf!" Tyrone exclaimed just as the twins' mother pulled up to the Shack in a logging truck. "That must be Aunt Wendy. See you guys tomorrow." Arnold said opening the door for his aunt while his cousins walked outside. "But maybe you won't need us to watch over your baby. You ever thought of hiring a nanny?"

"Would really love to, but Soos and the kids aren't too big on all the choices since they're not practically perfect in every way." Melody answered stepping outside as well before the plant began to wheeze. "Still don't know what gave Stan the idea to turn that old place into a tourist attraction." Wendy commented. "Even makes the same sound, which always meant something crazy was going to happen."

Indeed something insane was on the horizon as Gwen's grey beanie began vibrating atop her head. "Uh hey Gwen, you okay?" Arnold asked before the bobble on top of it began glowing red as a car approached.

A blue Chevrolet Bel-Air came zooming towards them, and in the backseat sat a dark-skinned woman with white hair in a ponytail wearing a green tube top with a short lavender jacket, a strange orange-rimmed visor covering up a pair of red stripes vertically crossing over her eyes, a white belt with a silver heart buckle, a pair of black leggings underneath a matching skirt and white boots. By her side was a Fender Jazzmaster guitar as she got closer to Gwen specifically.

"KYAAAAAAH, EVERYBODY RUUUUN!" Arnold screamed at the top of his lungs shoving everybody except his cousin out of the way, and as a result she was hit by the Bel-Air & sent flying, her beanie coming loose from her head as well.

"Gwen!" Wendy shouted rushing to her daughter's side while Tyrone & Arnold gaped in awe of what just happened. "That was a close one. My apologies." the woman stated hopping out of her car. "A little bit more and she would've overflowed."

"Overflowed?" Melody wondered as the mystery car driver inspected Gwen. "That's strange. I'm sure it was a fatal hit." she examined. "Unfortunately to all of you, this young girl is going to be fine."

"The only thing that's more unfortunate is how you nearly killed her!" Wendy shouted angrily. "Can you do that on me too?" Tyrone squealed in excitement as his sister got back up. "Oh hey sis, you were victim to a hit and run!"

Gwen shook her head before she turned to find the woman trying on her hat. "Hey, that's mine!" she shouted. "Why would you wear something like this in the summer?" the woman pondered when Gwen demanded it back. "Just hand it over and leave us alone!"

"Where did you get this hat?" the woman asked her. "It looks like something you get out of a store, but it seems bizarre in origin." Gwen then took her beanie back and put it back on. "I just found it one day, when I was like seven."

"I don't think you should wear that, it doesn't suit you." the woman commented. "Shielding your thoughts from the future like that, must be your thing. When you hit pause on the world like that, your body slowly begins to rot away. Is that what you want to happen to you?"

Gwen suddenly began having flashbacks to her earlier nightmare while the woman returned to her car. "Sorry for being so out of the loop, but what's this about pausing the world and bodies rotting away?" Melody wondered. "Just so you know, I take full responsibility for your daughter hanging on by her life." the woman said before she turned to Gwen while putting on her shades. "Oh and by the way, careful of the woman on the Vespa. For your own good."

As the mystery woman drove off into the sunset, Arnold suddenly raced to his cousin's side. "The nerve of that crazy lady! Why does she think running people over will save their lives?! And what is she on about a woman on a Vespa?!"

"Who was she? And what's with her?" Gwen added morosely. "Even if she's kinda like a criminal, you have to admit she's got a cool car." Melody stated trying to look on the bright side. "Maybe I should have a word with the rest of the fam about her."

Later that night, Gwen sat in her bed gazing at her computer while Tyrone slept like a baby in his. "There's nothing I want to be. There's nothing I want to do." she silently monologued to herself. "I don't even have an image of what I want to be. I have nothing. All that exists is zero."

Suddenly she saw more flashbacks to her nightmare which caused her to quietly freak out and smack her keyboard. "Mmm, I am wood. Stupid." Tyrone mumbled in his sleep while snuggling his plush pig Waddles II. Suddenly the sirens of Medical Mechanica began blaring leading Gwen to gaze out the window. The girl saw nothing, except for a robot that burst through it and searched for her.

"S-sis? What's going o-" Tyrone yawned spotting just what was going on. "Don't worry, I'll save you!" he cried grabbing onto his sister's leg as the robot tossed them outside.

"Gwen, is everything alright sweetheart?" Wendy called turning on her & Dipper's bedroom light. "Mom! Dad!" Gwen cried for her parents before she and Tyrone made a run for it.

Meanwhile Dipper looked out the window to see what was going on until he spotted the cybernetic creature running amok and the spotlights on Medical Mechanica. "Oh God, here we go again!" he fretted rushing to the phone to call his beloved sister. "You reach Mabel Pines! Can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message-"

"Mabel, this is no time for your fake voicemail messages! My children are in danger!" Dipper shouted frantically on the other end. "Also, were you camping out by the phone just for that?"

"Yeah pretty much." Mabel replied earnestly. "Can you please go back to bed Mabel?" the Pines sister's wife Pacifica yawned grumpily. "Can't talk babe, gonna save my niece and nephew!" Mabel stated. "Good, and bring the scrapbook too!" Dipper ordered. "I think it's finally time we talked."

Later, Dipper pushed open the garage door to find a familiar Vespa resting near his car. "Been working on fixing this old thing for ages. Never took it for a spin until now." he muttered pulling out an Oxton brand cigarette to light up. "She left us one like her own when she left twenty years back; in case we changed our minds, until Stan broke it trying to escape some former old friends. Guess now must be a good time."

"Hey bro-bro, I made it!" Mabel cried hugging her brother from behind. "And I brought the scrapbook, just like you wanted!"

"Good, now let's save my kids." Dipper declared before the two hopped on the Vespa and sped off, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke behind them.

Meanwhile, Gwen and Tyrone continued running from the giant robot that was continuing to pursue them, tearing up various cars in its path until one made Arnold fly off its back and into Gwen's arms. "Gwen, Tyrone?! What are you doing so late?"

"We're just running from that thing!" Tyrone exclaimed pointing to the machine. "Could it be the same one the lady got outta you?"

"I have no idea either!" Arnold replied just as they passed the junkyard. "Wait, I got an idea! We can hide in here!" he said jumping out of her cousin's arms and climbing over the fence. "Come on!"

The three of them rushed to the nearest ramshackle hut that seemed like it hasn't been inhabited in years and hid indoors. Meanwhile the Bel-Air owner drove around town in search of the robot. "It's started to move, but which is it?"

"Didn't some crazy guy use to live here?" Tyrone asked quietly knocking on the metal wall. "Yeah, Professor McGucket! He's still living in the old Northwest Mansion, right?" Arnold followed up when Gwen shushed them both. The tentacled machine continued lumbering about searching for the three kids.

"Much like you guys, I have no idea what that thing is. I was only walking home and then it just showed up." Arnold said hyperventilating. "You were out this late too?" Gwen asked. "I had things to do!" the anxious cousin replied. "Though I feel like that thing came from my head."

The outside noises soon stopped, followed by the trio exiting the hut. "I think we may've lost him." Tyrone panted, glad that they were still alive. Gwen on the other hand got another flashback to her nightmare as the robot suddenly reappeared to attack once more. "Dangit, spoke too soon!"

"Oh good grief, what the hell's going on?!" Arnold screamed before the robot extended an arm in an attempt to grab Gwen, but her cousin took her place and tossed around the air before being smacked to the ground. "Hey robotman, you got the wrong Ahnold!" Tyrone challenged in a thick Austrian accent while picking up a nearby fencepost to fight with, but Gwen received more visions of a potentially grisly fate in the cards for the two boys.

Terrified, Gwen began groaning in pain as something acted up in her head while her beaning began glowing. Nearby, an orange-haired woman watched through some binoculars with a grin but then took notice of the Bel-Air and Dipper & Mabel speeding toward the junkyard.

In the nick of time, the mystery woman from earlier crashed her vehicle into the robot and revved her bass up like a chainsaw before giving it one fatal smack. The car skidded back onto the ground and the woman touched down with it. "I see now, that's how it is huh?"

"Don't worry sweetheart, we're coming!" Dipper cried as he and Mabel arrived too late, finding the robot already taken out and an unconscious Arnold being interrogated by a strange lady. "Aw man, we missed it! I was so ready to give that thing tetanus!" Mabel groaned in disappointment. "And who's she?"

"Hey, where is she? The one who pulled that out of you?!" the woman shouted shaking Arnold's body. "Is that you Great-Grandpa Auldman? I can see a light." Arnold groaned. "DON'T GO INTO THE LIGHT ARNIE, YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!" Tyrone screamed just as Dipper grabbed his arm. "Answer me! You were hit, weren't you?" the woman continued. "Was it a woman on a Vespa?"

"V-Vespa?" Mabel stuttered turning to her brother, who just nodded and pointed at the scrapbook still on the seat of his motorbike, while the woman picked Arnold up. "Uh, hey." Dipper piped up. "Who are you? And is Arnold going to be okay?"

"I'm going to do what I can for his wounds." the woman said. "Now you two get the kids home safe." She began to walk away with Arnold over her shoulder when Gwen stopped her. "Wait a minute!"

"Oh by the way." the woman smiled taking off her shades to gaze at the other Pines with her red eyes. "That thing does look good on you. Nice."

As the woman drove off with Arnold by her side, Gwen looked at herself in a broken piece of glass to discover a red horn growing on her head. "Kinda reminds me of when I was your age." her father calmly declared putting a hand on her head. "Mabel, scrapbook."

"You got it Dips!" Mabel exclaimed handing Dipper an old scrapbook of summer memories from when they were Gwen's age. Blowing some dust off the cover as he sat down on the ground, he opened it and flipped to a section marked with an old photo of them with their great-uncles, Soos, a pink-haired young lady and a robot with a TV for a head. "Kids, we'd like you to meet Haruko Haruhara."

"What a funny name!" Tyrone commented sitting down on his aunt's lap. "I still remember when we first met her. We were searching for the grave of some ancient evil when she popped outta nowhere and beat Dipper with her guitar!" Mabel explained. "Then she decided to move in with us and become our live-in maid, though she barely did any maid work."

"What did she do instead?" Gwen asked. "She took our on all kinds of crazy adventures, like when we found a robot named Canti being worshipped as a god by Wendy & her friends, or the revenge trip she went on with Stan!" Dipper said flipping to photos of those times. "And let's not forget baseball!"

"But then we would learn about a Pirate King Haruko was searching for from this guy with big eyebrows. She wanted to find him to become super-powerful and also had a crush on the guy." Dipper added. "It turned out this weird dog thing Ford found played an important part in helping these Medical Mechanica guys smooth out everything, turning everyone into mindless zombies."

"You mean like in the movies" Yeah, definitely wouldn't be pretty!" Tyrone remarked. "So who was this Pirate King? Is it anything like that old pirate show Mr. Soos sings about?"

"Nope, this guy was far different!" Mabel answered. "He was a big space bird that had the power to steal entire solar systems! But Dipper, with help from Canti, was able to control his awesomeness which got Haruko super mad."

"But when all was said and done, she decided to ditch Earth to continue searching for him and even offered to bring us along." Dipper narrated flipping to one last page of a picture of him as a boy holding a bass guitar and gazing into the sky. "We declined so she left us her guitar and a Vespa in case we changed our minds. We thought that would be the last we would hear of her, until one day when we were just 18."

"Can you believe that we're literally adults now Dipper?!" an 18-year old Mabel exclaimed to Dipper as they rested on the rooftop of their Piedmont home. "The world around us has been changing so much! We have our own loves now, Soos & Melody have their first kids and the Stans are still out at sea."

"It's pretty scary, isn't it? To think that it seemed like yesterday when we first arrived in Gravity Falls." Dipper replied. "And all the summer adventures we had there too like fighting Bill, meeting the 8 1/2th president, that merman guy, the Society of the Blind Eye," Suddenly Dipper spotted something glowing red in the night sky. "Is that an Aurora Borealis?"

"Aurora Borealis in this part of the country at this time of day?" his sister skeptically responded. "It might as well be fireworks, or some other natural sky thing or-"

"Or she finally did it." Dipper declared standing up. "Who finally did it?" Mabel wondered before she finally realized what he was talking about. "Oh. Gotta say, for a complete maniac, she sure was determined. I'll give her that."

Meanwhile far above the Earth, Haruko had finally found the fearsome Pirate King Atomsk. She reached her hand out and at last absorbed him into her being. The Vespa Woman began shining a bright red just like the solar system thief before her body started acting up and the power of Atomsk split her in two.

Back on Earth in Gravity Falls, the Stan twins looked to the stars at the event taking place before their sixty-four year old eyes while the other Vespa Haruko had left behind rested on the side of the Mystery Shack.

"Whoa." the kids gasped in unison. "I really hope we can meet that Haruko! She sounds really cool!" Tyrone cheered bouncing up and down before Dipper stopped him. "I admire your enthusiasm son, but I suggest you stay far away from her if she has come back her." he cautioned. "Beneath her wily personality is a sociopath who can manipulate anyone to get her way. It happened to us, and we don't want it to happen to you."

"But what about that other lady with the glasses that took Arnold away? Could she be connected to Haruko as well?" Gwen wondered. "Maybe. She does use a guitar as a weapon like her." her aunt answered just as the twins began dozing off. "Aw, looks like you're both tuckered out."

"I'll take them both home." Dipper stated picking them both up and walking to the Vespa. "Same time tomorrow at the Mystery Shack?"

"You bet broseph." Mabel agreed. "See you in the morning light." With that, the twins parted ways back to their homes, Mabel to break the news about Arnold to Pacifica and Dipper to put his own children back to sleep.

The next day at the Mystery Shack, it was business as usual. However the robot from last night was still fresh in the minds of Gwen, Tyrone, Dipper & Mabel, especially the latter two who were being chewed out by Pacifica in regards to Arnold. "So you're telling me some psycho woman in a Bel-Air just kidnapped him, in the middle of the night?!"

"I'm so sorry this happened honey, but that lady did say she would take care of him." Mabel defended themselves. "But hopefully he can come back."

"Was that robot the same one she got outta Arnold's head earlier?" Juan asked Tyrone across the room. "I have no idea. But then just as my dad and aunt came to save us, this lady with the guitar beat it up all Quick Draw McGraw-like!" Tyrone explained. "And then Gwen got this horn on her head that Daddy said was like one that he got when he was her age."

"Wait, a horn? Is she turning into a rhino or a unicorn?" Jorge wondered. "Is your dad part unicorn too?!"

"Pretty sure he's not, but he and Aunt Mabel did talk to us about some lady they met who's connected to her horn." Tyrone said. "And she may or may not be connected to that lady who brained Arnold."

"That's good to know, but who is she?" Jorge asked, just as curious as his brother. "Where did she come from, why is she here?"

"No one knows for sure," Dipper suddenly butted into the children's discussion. "But Ford and I intend to find out!"

Just then Melody and Soos stepped into the gift shop. "Morning everyone!" the current proprietor of the tourist trap exclaimed. "Hey, can we pull Gwen and Tyrone aside for a bit? There's someone who wants to see them."

"Sure, you can take 'em. Just bring them back in time for the tourist rush!" Dipper accepted before Pacifica pulled on his jacket collar. "Oh no you don't Dipper, I still have some choice words for you about Arnold!"

As the former heiress let loose on the author's apprentice, Soos & Melody took the twins into the kitchen where a familiar face wearing a maid outfit was doing the dishes while breaking them. "Remember her? She decided to work for us as a way to say sorry for running you over Gwen!" Melody said. "Now say hi Jinyu."

The maid turned to the twins with a plate in her hands. "I'm Jinyu." Julia Jinyu stoically introduced herself. Despite the collected vibe she gave off, she then immediately snapped the plate in two.

"Morning everyone." Arnold sheepishly greeted while his face was covered in bandages, causing the Ramirez brothers to show concern. "What happened to you Arnold?!" Ian cried whirling his arms about. "You look like you've gotten into a freak accident!" Juan exclaimed. "Give us all the details."

"Well it all started last night when I was taken by a giant robot that was also chasing Gwen & Tyrone." Arnold explained. "We then hid in the junkyard where we were saved by this lady in a car who ran Gwen over earlier that day. After all that everything was kind of a blur, but I can tell you it was insane."

As Arnold finished, Gwen & Tyrone, Stan & Ford and the researcher from yesterday all entered the shop. "Well this is just one big coinky-dink." Stan commented. "We all managed to enter the room at the same time."

"And there's also something up with both that woman over there and the maid Soos hired." Ford added. "Both of them seem so familiar."

"Today, as you start on your understandably disastrous day as modern-day youth, I as someone who is the clear winner in life structurally, would like to present to you something very important." the female scientist declared grabbing everyone's attention, even other tourists getting an early start.

Gwen on the other hand paid no attention to anything except her text messages, which started as one person claiming he should have his chance at a girl now. "The this and that on how to live in the universe. All of you already know about it, as all days of your lives are like a test. Yes, you over there?"

"Uh..." Juan stammered puzzled. "Wrong answer." the woman continued. "I figured something out recently. Instead of preparing a concrete answer to random questions, I have come to the conclusion that there is no real way to live. Not for those of you who exist contently by only jerking your animalistic sexual urges to fulfillment, and you who have absolutely no skill to convince us otherwise."

Soon the messages started a stream of spelling errors that turned into a bizarre message of "FLCL." Gwen just muttered "fooly, cooly." as the scientist went on. "I gave so much, but there is very little output. I have no use for the tiny pieces of scumbags that have been toyed with. Listen to a genius: I have no desire for you all to wind up as nonexistent youth."

"What is she on about?" Stanley whispered. "I have no idea to be honest, but can you notice the subtle change in her voice?" Stanford answered. "Familiar, ain't it?"

"What I want is for all of you to become adults on a cosmological scale!" the scientist suddenly exclaimed, her change in tone startling everyone. "You don't need wings to go venture out into the universe. Who would ride a four-wheeled car with wings anyway? You must not be that kind of adult."

The other pairs of Pines twins became even more suspicious as she continued. "Do you hear me?!" the woman shouted as her pitch became more recognizable. "YOU DON'T NEED FOUR WHEELS! YOU ONLY NEED TWO! Like a bottom-feeding fish in a pond, gathering underneath a weeping willow tree! There's a lot of gravity underneath ALL OF YOU!"

Soon the messages turned into an endless stream of people saying FLCL despite Gwen not realizing what it meant. The woman started rambling in gibberish and made her declaration. "SO STAND UP! BE AS ADEQUATE AS YOU CAN!" A COMPLETE MESS!" She grabbed at her own face and tore it off like a mask, revealing the face of the Vespa Woman Haruko Haruhara underneath. "BORN TO BE MILD!"

The crowd started roaring, though emotions were mixed. The vast hypnotized majority were elated to see her, but the Pines were less than thrilled. Arnold, Gwen and Tyrone were stunned to finally meet that feared Vespa Woman, especially the latter two after their discussion with Dipper & Mabel last night, but the older twins were full on terrified.

"WHAAAAAT?!" Dipper and Mabel screamed with their eyes widening, jaws dropped and snot dribbling from their noses. "OOOOOOH MY GOOOOOOOD!" Stan exclaimed pressing his hands to his face. Ford on the other hand didn't scream at the top of his lungs, but rather stuttering at the sight of that girl back in Gravity Falls before collapsing in shock.

"That's right, the real one's finally appearing." Haruko announced with a sly wink and a grin.

And that is the first chapter of Fooly Falls 2! I hope you all enjoyed how I've adapted FLCL Progressive with my own flair to it along with the new major characters I created. Speaking of which, I've also got my imaginary list of voice actors for them.

Gwen Pines: Stephanie Sheh (Mamini Samejima, Orihime Inoue)

Tyrone Pines: Barbara Goodson (Naota Nandaba, Rita Repulsa)

Arnold Pines: Justin Briner (Izuku Midoriya, abridged Cloud Strife)

Ian Ramirez: Doug Erholtz (Jean-Pierre Polnareff, Squall Leonhart)

Leia Ramirez: Barbara Dunkelman (Yang Xiao Long)

Juan Ramirez: Danny Pudi (Huey Duck, Brainy Smurf)

Jorge Ramirez: Bobby Moynihan (Louie Duck, Panda)

Imelda Ramirez: Monica Rial (Tsuyu Asui, Bulma Briefs, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa)

Abby Ramirez: Grey DeLisle (Lily Loud)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to work on the next chapter of this, start thinking up the finale of Gravity Soul and hide from some particularly vitriolic shippers. See you all again!