JollyHippo's Snippet Thread

[JollyHippopotamus]

Snippet 1: Lamentations of Loki.

I have seven stories and this snippet thread combining to a little over a million words posted, although so far only AO3 and FF has all my stories fully posted.

Plus my Patreon.

So I have brain worms that I haven't made into full on stories yet, here it is in a snippet thread, starting with a Loki/Star wars crossover.

Hope you enjoy.

---

Loki couldn't believe these were the people that had managed to stave off the chitauri invasion. Bumbling buffoons - it made sense in a twisted way however, if he thought about it. Who else would his brot- He violently cut off that thought, tearing it into nothing within his mindscape. When you've called a fool something for a few centuries, it became an unfortunate habit, unfortunately. He'd need to excise that foul habit post haste. He had no brother. Never had one!

So… To get back to it, since he had nothing better to do with his brilliant mind while these apes argued and nattered on. Who else would Thor manage to gain as allies, but another band of insipid hangers on - with no real useful abilities of their own. Some fools to revel with, where Thor could brag about his feats of strength without challenge. A band of fools who's only contribution to the universe was the ability to hit things hard. No cunning or guile amongst them, not really. Even the spies were painfully simple.

They were practically Aesir in their single-minded ability to charge straight ahead at a target with no overarching strategy behind it. Loki felt a certain smugness - even in such a temporary bind he'd found himself in. These avengers were not going to last, they'd do more damage then he, once they indubitably combusted.

Oh, Stark was clever enough, Loki supposed, perhaps he'd become something spectacular if he lived long enough, and didn't sink down to Thor's level, the man had the same glory and attention seeking ways of the golden son of Odin. Loki shook his head mentally, nothing good ever came to such attention seeking pests in the end, luckily Loki had avoided the same fate and made something extraordinary of himself without the need for constant simpering validation.

Loki recognized the spark of genius when he saw it, and Stark had a tiny smidgeon of it. After all, it was hard not to recognize it, with Loki having been a notable genius all of his life. Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised he wasn't an aesir, in the end. He lacked the ingrown simple-mindedness, as well as their charming penchant for knocking their heads against hard surfaces as a solution to all of life's problems - something that ran rampant in that race. Its crown prince being the main example. And lauded for it, as well. Barbarians. No, perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised he was not one of their kin.

Perhaps It was only a matter of his supreme intellect hiding the knowledge of his real heritage - even from himself. To protect himself from such news back when he was younger and less wise to the world. It's the only explanation that made any sense. Loki could not have missed his damnable Jotun heritage for so long, unless he, himself, was hiding it from him. He was the only one skilled enough, after all.

Illusion was his game, his art. And only a master of illusion could pull one over Loki. It's the only thing that made sense. Loki had pulled the wool over his own eyes, to explain away his heritage, the falsities in his relationships with Odin and Thor, out of some misguided youthful hope perhaps, that he'd still end up belonging with them in their gilded halls. Foolish sentiment. Hadn't he seen first hand how quickly Asgard turned on him. How easily Odin sacrificed him?

He idly noted that the mortals were finally done jabbering at each other. He rolled his eyes at the grandiose Captain America striding by, taking his visage for but a moment, mocking him, as was his due, for which the oaf, born of Odin, muzzled him.

He focused in on the Captain, ignoring the oaf. The self deluded man out of time would fit right in with Thor's band, really. The man would never last in such a mortal realm however - he'd shatter without a righteous war to fight, he could never exist in a world of gray - black and white was his worldview, Loki detested such inflexible viewpoints. Loki would have wiped the floor with the man without trying, if he hadn't had his own act to play.

And honestly, he'd barely been trying. The mortals had practically fallen over themselves in their rush to fall for it all. Like he wanted to rule this cesspool of a planet. The mortals were all deeply unpalatable - he'd murder them all within a month if he had to rule these ants and try to bring them into some semblance of intelligence. Even he could not bring this planet up to standards - it was doomed to mediocrity, truly ruled by apes.

This pitiful selection of mortals… They thought they had defeated him! He'd run circles around Thor for centuries. By the norns, Thor still fell for the snake and stab trick, the same as centuries ago! And these humans... Mortals… Thought they'd defeated him. Hah! Absolutely preposterous.

Loki could have simply weaved his illusions and watched the mortals flounder. He'd purposely held back - he'd had no wish to truly let Thanos fleet through, after all. A win for Thanos while Loki was still present on the planet was not a win for Loki. The likes of him would not bow down to a master. And he certainly would not call another one father! He'd already made that mistake once. Family was a masterful illusion - only a weave of pain and betrayal lay beneath it.

No… He'd simply miscalculated, slightly. The ridiculous creature had been stronger than he'd anticipated. He'd be long gone already if it weren't for that miserable green monstrosity, leaving the mortals to scratch their heads as he located a waygate and sought out another part of Yggdrasil.

If anything, these mortals should be thanking him on bended knees. At least now they'd have a small warning of Thanos - not that it would do anything. And hopefully Loki would be long gone by the time the Mad Titan finally made his play. What they believed that a man with a bow, and a woman who's greatest ability lay in seduction and assassination - would protect this wretch of a world from, he couldn't understand. The least Aesir amongst them and yet still terribly transparent to the god of mischief. Skilled for mortals, but not worth anything against the likes of Thanos.

At least Stark might build enough of a defense to matter. For a few minutes. The green beast might even amuse Thanos long enough for everyone to escape - if he didn't bother to bring the Black Order with him. And the Captain… No, he was as useless as the archer and the widow in this scenario. It amused him the entire elevator ride down - to imagine these fools faces when Thanos real armada showed up. If he even bothered with that kind of force. Ebony Maw on his own could likely do most of the work. Certainly Loki could have done it all on his own if he'd wished for it.

These fools were all too much like Thor. Maw would have them wrapped up before they could even start fighting. Thor fell for Loki's tricks when he was playing around - what could he possibly do against the Black Order.

Loki briefly wondered if Odin would come to defend Midgard. Then again - likely Thanos would come for Asgard first… He felt a pang of unease at that thought - and quickly banished it. He was not of Asgard. Besides he'd soon be there - no doubt imprisoned for no real reason. It's not like a few dead mortals made a difference, and he'd done them a favor really - if someone like Maw or Proxima Midnight had been sent, Midgard would already be ashes. Besides, Odin had probably killed his fair share of mortals back in the day, he certainly hadn't been chastised for it. Loki wasn't blind to the fact Asgards golden halls had been built through conquest.

Of course only if Loki desires conquest is it wrong. Aesir hypocrisy. Odin, a greater liar even then he, sometimes called the god of lies.

No… Aesir could kill mortals all they liked. They were worthy. His mind flashed back to that ridiculous enchantment on Mjolnir - that had refused him. Of course, when Odin was the one choosing the meaning of the word worthy…No wonder stupidity and suicidal head on attacks were considered worthy while cleverness and subtlety were not. Bah!

Loki's mind darkened as he was escorted by these pathetic Avengers, a prisoner to this lesser race. He did not look forward to the smug look on that old hypocrite's face. Loki the betrayer. Loki the conqueror. Loki the failure - Odin would say. Loki snarled beneath his muzzle. If it weren't for that damnable beast he'd be gone already and he'd never see that smug old relic again.

Enjoying the rest of his life in some wretched hive of villainy - preferably as its ruler - until Thanos unmade reality. Perhaps if he was lucky, he'd survive even that. He was a survivor if nothing else. That, he'd proven, over and over again.

He briefly noticed the commotion, as the mortals were arguing about the Tesseract, SHIELD trying to get their grubby paws on it. Like they even understood its power - like they deserved it. They - another set of apes, would once again be trying to limit those of glorious purpose, like himself. Out of jealousy, and fear.

His interest piqued when he noticed that Tony Stark appeared to be in some distress - perhaps he'd get to see one of them get their comeuppance already. The mortals of SHIELD panicked around them, allowing Loki the freedom to stand alone in the midst of the chaos - without a sullen Thor holding him by the arm for the moment. As of course, the oaf jumped in to assist. Norns know why, not like he had any inkling of the healing arts.

And of course, the idiot somehow successfully saved Tony Stark - despite having the medical knowledge of a particularly slow rock. Loki despaired at the general unfairness of the universe. Using Mjolnir and a little bit of lightning, he had better odds of frying the mortal's organs than fixing anything, so of course it worked. The universe itself worked against Loki.

There was a loud slam suddenly behind them all - the beast appearing, roaring something, and Loki's eyes widened as he saw a second Tony Stark get thrown across the floor, a briefcase spinning towards Loki's general location. The Tesseract case! Ignoring, for now, the question of time travel or magic involved, (although noting it for later, because WHAT!? Do these fools have any idea how dangerous meddling with time was!? Ignorant inconsequential APES!) Loki immediately took advantage of the situation as the consummate survivor he was. Reaching for the Tesseract. Once again holding the powerful artifact in his hands. What did shackles matter when one held an infinity stone in one's hands?

In one timeline, Loki had immediately disappeared. Here, Loki smugly stood with the Tesseract in his hands for a moment. Reveling in the grand joke of the mortals handing him his own means of escape. Time travel or magic, the means didn't matter - the fools had managed to muck it up - as only mortals could.

Loki felt all powerful as he basked in the blue glow, knowing he had once again won. That his enemies had once again foolishly underestimated him and his glorious purpose.

"Loki! No!" Thor shouted, face wrought in anger and resentment, swinging Mjolnir, and whether due to his recent heart restoring actions, or by pure chance - forced a bolt of crackling lightning towards Loki - instead of sending the hammer flying towards him - as he was only a few feet away. At the same time, Tony Stark, laying on the ground, half out of it - fired a repulsor blast, trying a last gasp attempt at preventing his escape.

In that moment, Loki could not think of a destination - simply willed himself elsewhere, and he was enveloped in the blue glowing essence of the space stone. Just then, the power of Thor and that of an arc reactor - via the repulsor blast, struck the Tesseract in the moment of transportation, just as Loki was disappearing through time and space.

Loki screamed in excruciating pain, even through the muzzle feeling real harrowing fear as it felt as if his entire existence was being ripped apart. And he disappeared in a cloud of blue.

His haunting screams leaving the avengers reeling.

---

Loki was screaming still the muzzle somehow gone, as he was jettisoned from the portal, his entire body in agony from being ripped out of his time and space. His trajectory coming to an ungraceful end as a pile of refuse slowed his travels - until he finally came to a stop, laying on-top of a pile of rotted garbage of some unidentifiable material, trying desperately to hold in any more screams, every nerve in his body protesting.

After what could have been minutes, or hours - Honestly Loki was a little preoccupied with the immense pain, so he couldn't really tell - Some sort of pig headed and half naked being, came close to his location, wearing only a helmet and some sort of leather loincloth. Loki winced as he tilted his neck, watching the creature, he was in no state to do anything, to his frustration. He had no idea on what planet he'd landed, either. At least AllSpeak would allow him to manipulate these primitive beings, until he had the strength to show them their place. Far far beneath him.

He'd also have to find the damn Tesseract. His hands had hardly been in a state to hold on to it when he arrived, spasming in pain as he had been, nor did he exactly have the time or focus to use seidr to place it in his personal subspace holding pocket, so it must be somewhere in this refuse pile. He'd get the pig beings to dig it up for him.

Surely rooting through waste was their lot in life either way, so they'd find it quickly for him.

The pig-being suddenly snorted, looking up at Loki's position above him on the refuse pile. Loki smirked down at him, "I have come - in glorious purpose." He began, speaking grandly, knowing such lesser creatures were easily impressed by grandstanding. And hopefully it would prevent it from asking such questions as - why can't you stand up?

Either his AllSpeak was failing him, or the pig-being simply snorted at him. Loki didn't have time to do more than bristle at the rudeness. Because the pig took out some sort of projectile weapon and Loki was helpless to do anything but rage silently, as a blue bolt of energy impacted him.

As he succumbed to unconsciousness - he swore eternal vengeance on all pig creatures.

---

Loki came to with a start, eyes immediately started searching his surroundings. He was in a simple cell, crude metal bars barring the exit out of the literal hovel he'd been shoved into. Him, a god! Shoved into an earthen hole with no amenities! He sat up abruptly, wincing as some of the soreness of his arrival still lingered in his muscles. Not helped by the stone bed he'd been put on. Not even a pillow, these barbarian pig-beings obviously had no concept of hospitality.

He raised his arms to look over the cuffs that kept his hands locked together at the wrist. Their metallic sheen and electronic lights were a far cry from the ambiance of his accommodations. "Not bad." He mused, moving them to and fro. Experimentally pulling away with his superior strength. Finding that even his strength only slightly pulled the cuffs apart, before they returned to each other with an electric whine. "Magnetic." Loki huffed, gaining an amused smile, as if that was enough to stymie a god. He'd escaped plenty of dungeons in his lifetime. At a rate more numerous than this hovel had ever held within its innards since its conception.

He could feel just the tiniest flame of seidr within him. Whatever had happened during the Tesseract incident, was already healing. Both Jotun and Aesir had above average recovery rates, one of the reasons both races so enjoyed war - when one recovers within a day, one hardly worries about anything below death. Whichever race he counted as, nowadays.

Neither. He decided firmly, resolutely moving his mind away from that quagmire. Concentrating on his seidr. Fanning the flame, closing his eyes as he sat on the stone bench that passed for a bed in these parts. Slowly teasing it out, feeling the flicker of it. It was so weak. Rage almost overtook him, with how Thor had once again put him in a spot with his carelessness, throwing his power around like a toddler. He forced the thought away, however, brow twitching. He needed calm. Calm. He took a deep breath.

Slowly he began teasing his seidr out, breathing in and out slowly, falling into meditation. His eyes flew open in surprise, the recovery of his seidr was proceeding at an alarmingly fast pace. Which… While good… Spoke against all knowledge on seidr that Loki possessed. He'd had a few unlucky episodes in his life where he'd almost burned out his ability to use it - and in the worst case he suffered - it took years for his Seidr to return to him. He'd never experienced anything as excruciating as the Tesseract transporting him here, not even Thanos using an infinity stone to pry apart his mind could compare. The tortures of the Other and Maw were but a footnote in comparison.

So that begged the question. What was going on? He felt confident that his seidr would be fully restored within the month. Which simply was impossible. His entire being had been torn apart and put back together again - he should be facing a decade minimum of recovery, if even a recovery at all.

Loki was, with only perhaps Frigga as the sole exception - the greatest scholar on seidr in the cosmos. He'd studied, cajoled, blackmailed and bribed his way through every scrap of knowledge that existed on the subject. Although he'd only ever used a fraction of his knowledge, due to the pigheaded Aesir belief of the weakness of mages - that it was a womanly pursuit to study magic. He'd suffered enough ridicule for fighting with illusions and daggers - he didn't need to bring out even more magic and lose what respect he'd held.

Loki took a deep breath, pulling his mind away from that useless line of thought. He was no longer on Asgard. Those pigheaded fools did not matter anymore. Pigheaded…. Loki stood up and walked up to the bars of his cell, seeing nothing but a dark hallway with more of this sandy stone structure. "Pig-being, I am Loki, I demand you release me!" He thundered into the dark.

No answer came and Loki growled with annoyance and impatience. He turned around and studied his cell more closely. There was nothing, not even as much as a place to relieve yourself. Which told him these beings either cared not for the health and cleanliness of their prisoners - Or that prisoners did not remain here, or alive, long enough to worry about sickness from improper waste disposal.

He returned to the cell entrance, banging his cuffed hands on the metal, the loud clank echoing down the hallway. "I demand to speak to whoever is in charge! I am Loki… " He grit his teeth with a wroth look, "Of Asgard…" unfortunately such things mattered and he was if nothing else - resourceful enough to use anything to his benefit, as distasteful as it was.

Slowly a metal being came into view, walking oddly disjointedly, the being carrying a tray, Loki waited impatiently as the being slowly moved his way, the metal well worn and dented, the being's eyes glowing, as a contrast from its dull and well worn appearance.

"I am Loki -" He began, only to be interrupted immediately.

"The great Jabba has decided you have worth in the gladiator ring tonight, stay worthy in the name of the great Jabba and you shall prosper." All of it was said in a mechanical monotone voice, before the tray was thrust towards him through a gap in the cell door just large enough for the tray, a simple clay bowl with some brown sludge inside.

Loki took one look at the sludge and laughed, ignoring the tray sliding through its slot in the cell, the slot sliding shut behind it. As well, he ignored the being's continued jammering, choosing to speak up reiterating just what an important personage they mistakenly held. "You can tell this… Jabba, that he has a prince of Asgard in his cell, and if he has any kind of survival instinct, he'll prostrate himself before me post haste."

The mechanical being did not reply, simply continuing his droning spiel of which Loki had missed much to his annoyance, it was likely not important anyway, lesser beings did drone on about the most pointless things at times... " - Your slave collar will be fitted within the hour, then you will be taken to the arena, die gloriously in the name of the great Jabba."

With his piece said, the mechanical being started to walk away. Loki slammed his hands against the cell bars with futility, only managing to gather dust in his bowl of slop, "Slave collar!? Get back here you simpleton! I am LOKI!"

---

Even knowing sustenance would be important, Loki did not entertain eating that… Slop… That was provided for him. He had standards, and he had certainly gone further than a day without eating before, he was made of sturdier stuff than these primitive beings.

Instead, he waited and plotted. He wouldn't allow some pig creature to get the idea that Loki was its prisoner, he certainly would not entertain its delusion that he would be a slave.

Soon enough, came the sound of approaching primitives, the clanking of one of the metallic beings being followed by the shuffling gait of the pig beings. Behind them all was someone new. A being of a sickly color, with twin tails trailing from his bald alien head. How he was related with the pig beings, Loki was unsure, but he had the look of a supervisor of some sort. He certainly was dressed better than the loincloth sporting pig creatures.

Even if the robe and assorted leathers he appeared to be wearing under them seemed basic and cheaply made at best. What primitive world had he arrived in? And how could they afford manacles capable of inconveniencing him for a moment - yet not afford to dress better than paupers?

This is why Loki hated going outside Yggdrasil, the standards were just so low. There was no joy in a cunning plot when one was deceiving beings that just barely discovered bathing.

"You! Do not try anything off-worlder, the great Jabba is very interested in testing your mettle, it would be a shame to bring you to him with broken legs." The twin tailed one hissed at him, showing crooked teeth and a cruel gaze that made Loki feel like he'd returned to the Black order - was dental care truly so hard to achieve with the technology across the cosmos?

"I am Loki, prince of Asgard. This… Jabba, would be foolish to continue to treat me as one of you primitives, I hold a much greater value than you could ever imagine." Loki said, not at all bothered by the threats, that was just how people spoke to each other outside the golden halls of Asgard.

Loki had always found it both cute and endlessly irritating, like a small creature yapping at your feet for attention. It's not like they could ever actually do any of these pathetic threats, Loki was too clever and too powerful to fall to some primitives ploy.

The twin tailed one snorted, chortling out an ugly laugh, the pig creatures snuffling along in guttural laughter, likely too simple to understand anything but following along in their superiors actions, Loki thought. It amusedly reminded him of the Warriors three and their behavior around Thor. That one on the right could pass for the fat one, he was only missing a leg of meat in his hand.

"I'm sorry, did I perchance say something amusing?" Loki asked, a cold smile on his face, his fingers twitching slightly with the desire to wring their necks as their incessant laughter continued.

"The only value you hold, off-worlder, lies in how much of your valuable blood you can hold inside your body and for how long. The great Jabba will grow angry if you don't last at least ten minutes." Twin tails sneered at him, waving the pig creatures and the metallic being inside his cell, "Get that collar on him!" He snarled, kicking one of the pig creatures, drawing out a squeal.

Loki couldn't fathom how they thought he was defenseless just because his hands were manacled. As the metallic being approached with a collar, likely some crude explosive device - Loki slugged its head with a two handed strike, using the manacles themselves for extra heft in his striking power, the head of the metallic being crumpling in a metallic shriek without too much effort on Loki's part.

Definitely not Aesir graded constitution, that had been pitifully easy, Loki thought, sneering down at the dead metallic one.

"Put him down now and get that collar on! That droid was worth more than all your lives!" Twin tails shouted, bringing out a handle from his belt, thumbing a button that brought out some sort of energy discharge that took the form of a whip.

That looked entirely inefficient and wasteful, it would have been far simpler to have it take the shape of a baton or perhaps a sword, a spear for example would be much nicer and so much more useful, he thought. Loki imagined the fool had burnt himself severely learning how to utilize the ridiculous contraption.

Loki had already leaped ahead by this point, his powerful legs giving him enough power to easily traverse the small distance in the cell in the time it took the supervisor to activate his little toy, the first pig creature not even able to lift it's club in defense of its pitiful life before Loki was upon it, clubbing it over its head, the primitive creature showing no more constitution than the metallic being, falling dead to the floor, it's skull caved in.

None of these were comparable to the Aesir, they were ridiculously fragile. Loki wouldn't have someone left to interrogate if he didn't watch his strength. What a bother. He was greatly interested in hearing all about this Jabba… So that he could pay a visit and explain the reality of existence to him. How Loki was above him, and that was all that mattered to his pitiful existence.

The Twin tailed one struck out with his energy whip, shouting expletives at the same time, it was no matter for Loki to kick the remaining pig creature ahead of him to take the brunt of the whip, it's squeal bringing a smile to his face, even as the sizzling sound and the smell of cooking pork made him famished. With a twist if his hands, the pig creature was put out of its misery, Loki smirking at the Twin tailed one as he stalked forward, not concerned in the slightest for the energy whip, he'd seen the speed which the fool swung it at - it was nothing to Loki.

"Get back in your cell, the mighty Jabba can not be denied, you will die screaming and begging on your knees like a worm if you do not obey!" The twin tailed one screeched, the hesitance in the way he held the whip, the smell of fear in the air, the sweat dripping off him - Loki had nothing to fear from this coward. One so used to wielding the whip, he no longer understood how to react when it did not work. When he faced something… Superior.

"I have a better proposal, uncuff me. And I won't have to discover how you differ from other primitives by taking you apart piece by piece - I promise, it's quite excruciating." Loki said genially, strolling forward, his eyes shining with cruel glee at the abject fear he was inspiring.

"Fool! Activate the turrets!" A bellow came over a screeching communication system, Loki winced, spying the rusted speaker at the end of the hallway, how quaint.

Obviously he had nothing to worry about when it came to these creatures' technology.

The twin tailed one pressed a button on his arm, Loki almost upon him, when several turrets popped out of the wall and ceiling, unlike the rusty communication device - these were in much better condition, and all zeroed in on Loki.

"Ah, I might have been… Hasty." Loki said with a commiserating smile at the twin tailed one, raising his hands in the universal gesture for let's just all calm down, "I'm sure we can come to an equitable agreement, my friend, there is a lot I could teach you."

If only I had my seidr…. Loki thought, as the whip swung towards him, Loki stoically allowing it, his gaze burning with promised rewards to come for the indignity. The turrets were all the motivation he needed to stand still. Without his Seidr to weave illusions or shield himself, a simple primitive projectile or energy turret like what he saw before him, could actually be fatal.

This one will die in a way that songs will be written about his fate across the galaxies… He thought angrily, as he felt the sizzle against his skin, refusing on principle to make a noise - this was nothing compared to Thanos.

As the slave collar clicked on around his neck minutes later, he gritted his teeth, having to suppress a knee jerk reaction to rip the despicable beings head off, a vein pulsing in his forehead as he once again resisted his nature. That said …. Torture might be preferable then this humiliation… He thought, seeing the twin tailed one mocking him.

Loki was going to kill every single being that saw him wear this. And then every single being that was involved with creating the situation that saw this happen to him.

Then their neighbors if he found himself flush with time. Revenge wasn't a dish best served cold as some were fond of saying.

For all his cold calculation, Loki burned hot most of the time, and he had a different view on revenge.

Revenge was best served indiscriminately, making enough people suffer that no one would dare to ever again perform the action which led to him seeking vengeance.

Ideally…

Starting with whoever this Jabba was, that dared to presume someone like Loki would serve at his pleasure.

It was only a matter of time… Either his seidr would return, or he'd use his wit and cunning beforehand to find himself at the top.

These primitives' fate was sealed the moment they decided to irritate him.

That's all it was.

Irritation.

Another slash of the whip burned against his back, as the twin tailed one pushed him forward down the hallway.

… Irritation and perhaps a small iota of homicidal rage, Loki amended.

---

The thrum of energy above him disturbed Loki's meditations, one eyebrow twitched as dust and shards of rock fell into his hair.

"They can't even maintain their arena, if one should engage in bloodsport, the least they could do is ensure it is satisfactorily held together." He muttered, the burns from the whip already beginning to heal, the tiny flicker of Seidr within him not able to do much more.

The thumping of feet on rock, roars of the bloodthirsty crowd, the cry of some sort of wild beast in pain, Loki cared not one whit for any of it.

It reminded him far too much of sojourns with Thor. Forced to spend time with barbarians who's only use to the universe was to die amusingly.

Loki looked around the small sandstone warren they'd shut him in, meditation obviously a subpar activity with this much noise from up above.

They'd freed his hands at least, no doubt feeling secure due to the infernal collar they'd placed around his neck, the mere thought of it choking him, even if it wasn't that tight. It was what it represented that so irked him.

He was to be entertainment for lower lifeforms, he, the great Loki, was to be displayed for the unwashed masses, to duel in a battle to the death.

His long fingers stroked the single blade they'd allowed him, longer than his usual fare, made of some material he'd never encountered before. It was the length of a short sword, plain and unadorned, hardly fitting for his status, but he supposed he'd have to make due.

The crescendo of the crowds cries and groans indicated some sort of resolution had come upon the fight outside of his warren. The fools screaming their joy or their anger, likely betting their meager savings on such, as beings did across the cosmos for bloodsport.

Sometimes Loki wondered if he was alone in the universe, truly alone - because surely they couldn't all be like this?

He knew the Vanir were not, but they on the other hand went too far in the other direction. Was there truly no one that balanced on the knife's edge such as he?

Keeping a balance.

As a being of magic and physical combat, of learning and wit as well as brutality, of deceit and brilliance - never content with what is. Always looking for more.

Loki lamented his place as the only clever one in an existence of lower beings attuned only to their next drink, fornication or chance to bash heads.

The slab of stone blocking his warren at the edge of the circuitous arena rumbled.

They wanted a show? He thought…

He'd give them a show!

Even as the stone slowly rumbled to the side, Loki stepped forward, and pushed, his superior strength enough to overcome the simple mechanism that moved the stone, sending it rolling away, the crowd erupting in racocous cheer at the sight.

Loki stepped through, a superior sneer on his face, twirling his sword expertly in his right hand.

The circular arena was a simple pit of sand, there were hundreds of beings raised up beyond the stone walls of the arena, sitting on nothing but slabs of rock. Loki felt a sting of unease as he looked around, even if he showed not one sign of it.

He must be far from home indeed, to see dozens of species he'd never heard of or seen before.

A tower rose above the mere stone slabs that seated the common rabble, Loki faced it, his face going into a rictus of hatred.

That giant blob of a being… That worm! Must be the Jabba that dared to inflict this indignity on his person.

And he didn't even show up in person! Some low tech hologram instead showed the large being up on a viewing gallery on the tower.

… Did this… Insignificant worm, this filthy, unevolved lifeform… Start Loki in the minor leagues of death matches!

How dare he show such insult!

Sending another critical look around the arena, he noted the attire of those present, the lack of proper seats, lack of concessions… These were… Worker drones, they probably barely paid admittance to watch Loki fight.

This was intolerable!

People should not pay a pittance to see the magnificence of Loki! They should be spending their life savings for a simple glimpse! Did they truly not see him for what he was? What kind of backwater planet had he ended up on?

He raised his sword towards Jabba, "Filthy worm! I demand you do better! This hole is no match for I, Loki!" He did a flourish with his sword, raising his arms to the crowd, "Rejoice, you all have had the pleasure of being in my presence, you court only death if this insult continues however…"

He sunk the sword into the sand, staring up defiantly at the worm that had brought him here, "I refuse to accede to this pitiful arena and this lackluster show, If I must do this, I, of all beings, should be your prize fighter." He declared haughtily.

If nothing else, it would get him closer to that worm, so that he could get out of this collar and showcase his displeasure.

The crowd who had been quiet, seemingly lost for words at his grand declaration, suddenly erupted in noise. Loki only had eyes for Jabba, who appeared to be chuckling, his stubby arms pressing something.

Loki felt the beginnings of an electric shock just as some sort of rotten fist sized fruit smacked into the side of his face, thrown from the crowd, the juices and pulp staining his armor, even as the reek almost made him gag - the fact he was falling to the sand, convulsing, likely hindering his ability to vomit in the moment.

"He believes he is strong, let him fight them!" Jabba laughed as he continued to stab the button, Loki glaring up at him even as he convulsed.

The worm would rue making Loki his enemy. Rue!

Another twin tail being, one actually up there in person, asked the hologram something his head bowed in supplication. Jabba roared in laughter, waving his stubby arms. Finally releasing Loki.

"Which ones you ask? Hohoho, let this champion face them all!" Jabba crooned, an obscenely large tongue flicking out to lick his large lips.

Loki twitched as several warrens began opening at the same time. He slowly climbed to his feet, a still twitching hand grabbing the hilt of the sword.

The crowd was still throwing things at him, Loki would ensure he found out the name of this hovel of a town, so he could return and show them his displeasure at a later date.

Right now… He had other things to worry about.

"I may have miscalculated." Loki said slowly to himself, as a dozen creatures took the field, as well as a trio of humanoid beings covered head to toe with funny looking masks on and wielding staffs.

The three humanoids let out some sort of primitive battle cry or mating call, (he was hardly an expert on these simple creatures) before raising their weapons, which gave Loki a slight reprieve as most of the creatures growled and focused on them instead of Loki.

Loki smirked, as always the cunning silent snake benefitted, while the loud boar (Thor) would find himself swarmed.

His smirk fell as the beasts fell upon the humanoids and promptly tore them apart to great cheers of the onlooking crowd, all of the beasts turning his way, two of them who'd homed in on him at first already getting within striking distance.

Yes… He thought, raising his sword. I might have miscalculated slightly.

---

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Having made a Panacea SI that is taking the circuitous route to villainy, I also did a little drabble here of one that's a lot more interested in heading straight downhill.

So basically a crazy Amy from the word go in Worm.

Enjoy, and if anyone wants to pick any of my snippets up and make a story of it, knock yourself out, please ask first though!

---

Amy Dallon, what a character… She took a deep drag of her cigarette, uncaring of the chilly air, the beginning of winter falling upon Brockton Bay, it was coming early this year, it wasn't even Halloween quite yet. She tilted her head upwards, eyes closed, feeling the tiny snowflakes hit her face.

She was supposed to be working right now, supposed to be healing, helping, sacrificing more and more of herself - she was supposed to be a lot of different things…

Mostly very unhappy with everything and everyone, if she remembered things correctly from a grim story once read. She felt a wide grin pulling at her lips, pulling on unused muscles, as she inhaled another lungful of smoke, uncaring of the consequences of her little break. What were they going to do? Stop using her as a healbot?

She snorted, the sound carrying across the empty rooftop, as if!

She flicked some ash off her cigarette, the tiny particles flying away over the edge, she idly wondered what anyone would think, seeing her standing here like this. On the very edge of the roof, with just one easy step the difference between having problems, and problems being solved permanently.

Panacea? Suicidal? Why? Her life was so great! She snorted again, having to hold back a full out belly laugh at that thought, remembering the great deeds the future had held. How great the life of Amy Dallon had turned out.

Yes, she was definitely utterly stable. No doubt!

Well…

She was better than the original, surely? She flicked her cigarette butt away, letting it fall down to the hospital parking lot below. At least she had no intention of sexually assaulting her sister…

The aura was a weak ass excuse from a fucked up girl, using her broken mind to excuse any action, no matter how heinous.

Not that she necessarily had much against some regular heinousness…

"Of all the dingy little hospitals, in all the universes, of all the various bodies and minds of messed up people - I had to walk into this one…" She murmured to herself, almost playfully.

You couldn't get much worse than Worm, if you were to randomly bodyjack someone. But if you absolutely had to pick the setting, Panacea wouldn't have been her first, second, or fortieth choice.

Girl had issues.

And while she could now theoretically avoid some of those…

Amy Dallon was in the center of a lot of shit. And was unfortunately important to the plot.

She huffed, her breath visible in the chilly air, I'm basically dead already, so another life? Why bother with what's going to happen, I can't control it…

She slowly moved back towards the entrance to the roof, picking up her lightly snow covered burqa/superhero outfit on the way, sliding it on. She'd do Cauldron a solid, let them know of Eidolon and his accidental hard on for murdering the world - as long as he looked like a good little hero trying to stop it… What happened after that?

Panacea pulled the white hood with the well known red cross over her head, snow falling down onto the steps as she made it down the stairs, well, the rest isn't my problem, is it?

Unlike the original Amy, she didn't intend to be boring then suddenly batshit. She had a new body, a cool power to play with, and consequences didn't really matter anymore. So maybe not full on batshit - but why not have a little fun? Fuck with everyone a bit…

Whether Endbringers stopped coming or not, they'd all be dead in two years and some spare change anyway. Whatever she'd do while having fun, it would irrevocably alter things, maybe even butterfly away Skitter.

She doubted she could keep canon on track for the absolute ass pull that Khepri was, she'd change too much just by being herself. Nothing said she'd be around for unlocking Khepri, if that even happened.

So maybe things would actually get better? Or maybe they'd all die even harder?

Who knew?

Still…

Two years and some change to do whatever she wanted?

Not a bad deal for someone that died after years of being locked inside their own body, wishing, begging for death rather than the slow withering away of her psyche due to disease.

Watching as her family slowly abandoned her, not able to handle seeing her as she was. An already rotted corpse that just didn't have the decency to die already.

Two years of fun before dying?

That sounded like a great deal! Her grin was no doubt a bit on the wild side, as she exited the stairwell, into the hospital proper, a bit of a pep in her step.

"Uh… P-Pan-Panacea?" A young orderly with dark bags under her eyes drew Amy's attention as she stammered her way into trying to ask something. Looking freaked out about something.

Amy smiled again, trying to set the girl at ease.

She must be doing something different with her facial muscles, she thought, as the orderly squeaked, and ran down the corridor, babbling something.

Well, she hadn't been able to smile for years, so maybe she just needed practice again. She had the original Amy's depressing memories, but this whole body control thing wasn't as intuitive as she'd expected.

Apparently, the original Amy hadn't had a lot of practice at grinning either. She'd have to work on it. It fit with her recollection of the story, Amy had been a bitter little gremlin hadn't she?

She grinned at a cute security guard as she neared emergency intake, where her minder would most likely be hovering, hoping to find her. Inwardly she was frowning as the older man blanched visibly at the sight of her happy grin.

She couldn't be looking that odd, could she? Surely someone saw Amy happy at some point? Otherwise that was just… Pathetically sad.

Before she could ask the man what exactly about her smile was so unnerving, or ask for a mirror, one of the doctors that usually 'worked' with her - for a given value of the word worked - approached her, looking ruffled.

Dr. Martinez was a middle aged latina woman, with a constantly pinched look to her features, her graying hair kept in a bun, but always somehow having frizzy hair escaping and sticking out all over the place, giving her a harried look.

She was also very annoying about following her around, in case her medical knowledge was needed.

Despite the grand total of zero times Amy had needed to ask her anything, what with her power giving her an intuitive feel for everything biological.

"Panacea! Where have you been?" She said hurriedly as she got close, arms full of patients' charts, "God knows you deserve a break, but you have to let us know so that we can find you! What if we had an emergency?"

Amy raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing her arms under her unfortunately modest bust. "Well you do have to use that medical license now and then." She said blithely, walking past the stressed out woman, "This is a hospital, so you could probably do it without me holding your hand." She continued sarcastically as she passed.

Honestly! She wasn't even paid, would it kill them to do some work while she took a smoke break?

Dr. Martinez blinked owlishly at her, before scrambling to fall in step as Amy continued walking, "Panac- No, Amy… Are you okay?" She asked hesitantly.

Amy giggled, finding the woman's worry upon seeing her smiling, hilarious in a way, as none of them had worried when she'd been an obvious ball of angst and depression, "Wow, some teenage attitude is enough to worry you?" She rolled her shoulders, feeling a little bit more settled with her new body the more she moved, "I've repressed myself a lot…" She thought out loud, wondering how on earth the original had managed the stress of trauma medicine while keeping everything bottled up.

Regular doctors burned out all the time, and they didn't have to actually see the damage down to the cellular level of a rape victim when they worked on them. Healing really wasn't a good outlet for Panacea's power - it was just too depressing and self defeating.

She distinctly remembered snarkiness or outright bitchiness at times from the story in regards to her original's behavior. But perhaps it was not so much directed towards the staff where she worked? Pity that. Maybe they'd have left her alone more if she'd done so.

Maybe she'd have clued in to how healing everyone over and over again did nothing good for her…

Dr. Martinez eyed her oddly, but seemed willing to let it go, for the small favor of dumping a ton of work on her, starting to blather on about the charts in her arms.

Apparently the onset of winter hadn't been enough to cool the blood of the absolute blockheads that inhabited Brockton Bay. The charts she was carrying - almost exclusively belonged to gang members.

Amy wasn't sure she even wanted to continue with this hospital crap, but she allowed herself to be led towards said poor gangbangers, all of them suffering from gunshot wounds or broken bones.

BBPD officers were in plentiful attendance, all of them watching the moaning, idiotic, gangbangers attentively, with a mien of grim satisfaction. Said idiots were all handcuffed to their beds, the cops all keeping one hand near their gun holsters at all times even then.

Amy wanted to bang her head against a wall. They put ABB and Empire goons…. In the same treatment room? Why? To not split up the BBPD? That's still moronic. And it said something about the amount of casualties a Brockton Bay hospital could count on regularly, that they had emergency rooms with space to house almost twenty gangbangers in one large room off to the side.

She was kind of glad that even though moving around took a second to get fully used to, mentally, that she remembered everything about using her power. It would be beyond embarrassing to fail utterly at healing in front of all these people.

Too bad she couldn't really test her power's limits. Not with these many witnesses anyway. Although… Could she give the goons super cancer? It's not like anyone here could see into the patient's bodies…

Except… They'd all be dead in two years anyway, so why bother with cancer if she couldn't make it immediately terminal - which probably would get her bitched at, or press ganged into the wards to avoid a charge at the very least.

So something less obviously evil then… Something fun…

"Finally! What the fuck is your bullshit excuse for why you took you so long, bitch!?" An empire goon, absolutely covered in swastikas, bellowed from his bed, his large bulldog-like face squinting angrily in Amy's direction.

She'd like to say he was just unusually aggressive, but her memories told her that a decent amount of criminals she 'had' to heal due to her own messed up code of ethics - weren't exactly pleasant about it. Despite the utter insanity in trying to piss off the healer.

Perhaps the Nazis were a little cocky due to Othala being a good backup for their more worthy members. The ABB members usually weren't as much of an issue as the Nazi's. Or perhaps everyone in Brockton Bay had realized just how much of a pussy Panacea had really been - scared of her own power, of her own mind, of doing anything.

"I was fucking your mom." Amy said automatically in response to the asshole, continuing forward even as everyone in the room literally froze. She eyed them oddly. It was almost like seeing some sort of time power in use, they were all, even the police officers, staring at her. Seriously, she snarked before as the original, she knew she had. So she was a little more openly antagonistic now, so what?

"Figures you'd be a dyke." The Nazi spat out, once he got over the shock, beady little eyes glaring angrily at her, "My mom would fuck you up for even saying that shit!"

"That's enough, Larson!" The grizzled old officer standing next to his bed barked out, having overcome his temporary surprise at Amy's language. He grimaced as he turned towards Amy, "Perhaps best to do him first if you don't mind, he's the leader of this pack of idiots, the sooner we take him out of here the better."

Amy shrugged, uncaring of who she healed first, although she had her own ideas as well, what did she care if she got sued for it. Two year time limit after all until the world ceases to be, appeals would keep that shit away until they were all dead anyway.

Or she'd just go villain, and good luck collecting…

"Do I have your permission to use my power on you?" She asked the Nazi goon, smiling a saccharine sweet smile, that seemed to throw the burly man off, sweat appearing on his brow as he leaned back slightly in his bed as if to get away from her. She'd deliberately changed how she phrased her question too, substituting healing for power.

"....Fine…" He said after a few moments of silence, not nearly as mouthy all of a sudden.

Amy laid a hand on his wrist, her world expanding suddenly, she could see everything, feel everything. It would be so…. Easy… To just tweak something. A millisecond of work, oh she couldn't wait to experiment for real. See what she could really do to someone.

Her mind was already whirling with the things she could do to bacteria, or perhaps she could craft a virus or alter a drug to bypass her restrictions on working on herself. The possibilities were endless.

She was an old hand at healing already of course - following along with her memories, so the gunshot wound in his leg healed up without an issue, she barely had to put any thought into it, she didn't even need to shift any biomass from his oversized gut either, the injury was small enough he'd just need to eat well enough to replace the proteins she'd utilized.

It was a simple few seconds to really change things. Move away from passive heal bitch Panacea - the person who healed the gang that killed her family member, who healed Lung - the unrepentant sex trafficking bastard - without protest.

She heard the gasps across the room, the cursing from suddenly freaking out Nazis in the other beds, the officers rushing to contain them, the laughing from the ABB goons, as she took her hand off the goon, wearing a self satisfied smile.

"What the fuck did you do you crazy bitch!?" Nazi goon number one yelled, horrified, staring down at his hands, fruitlessly pulling at the cuffed one, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

Amy smiled innocently, eyes alight with schadenfreude. "Oh, it seems you have a genetic marker that activated erroneously when I healed your injury, it set off a pigment change. It's unfortunate, but you're healed now, so I have no reason to see to you any longer."

A skin color change isn't an injury, my work is done. She thought with amusement. Panacea didn't do cosmetic work for criminals after all.

The grizzled officer was covering his face with his hand, but Amy could see the large smirk he was hiding, not able to help himself no doubt, a criminal finally getting some just desserts right in front of him. He probably saw these kinds of guys walk in and out of jail all the time.

This time… It would probably be crueler to just release the guy onto the street… Preferably in his own neighborhood… See it from a different angle, that's karma right there.

"A thank you wouldn't be amiss." She chided the now black man, the tattoo's all dissolved as well, while the pigment of his skin changed. Perhaps she should have kept them. It would have been interesting to see a black man with those kinds of tattoos try and make a living in Brockton Bay.

Heh, make a living. Like Kaiser would allow him to walk around after this. She didn't feel an iota of remorse, a dead Nazi was the only good Nazi. It's not like he'd have an issue with beating on a black man any day of the week, so really, he shouldn't have an issue being beaten up as a black man either. Since the color of the skin was all that mattered, right?

She doubted him or his buddies would realize the deeper stupidity in racism out of this, but hey, at least she killed a Nazi without even doing much. She was already doing better work than most heroes in Brockton Bay ever did.

Dr. Martinez pulled Amy away by her sleeve as the entire room erupted in even more noise, the burly Nazi just staring down at his hands in shock as his comrades screamed threats and expletives towards Amy.

Really, how rude, she'd just healed their comrade. A bit of appreciation wouldn't be amiss, right? She flexed her fingers, smiling at the goons, wondering if she could get away with a couple more 'happy accidents'. Dr. Martinez interrupted her however.

"Panacea! What did you do!?" She whispered urgently, eyes flickering between the different officers, teeth gnawing on her lower lip nervously. "You can't just… You can't!"

Amy looked on in interest, focusing on the officers, taking a wild guess where the latina docs nervousness was stemming from. You could tell a lot by the body language of the BBPD. About half of the officers were having trouble hiding their pleasure at the change, or weren't even trying to hide it, a certain smugness there in their movements and expressions. The other half… They were pretty angry on the behalf of an Empire goon for some reason, shooting her some looks. And not the friendly kind of looks.

And wouldn't you know it. The angry half happened to be white. Coincidence, she was sure. Corrupt cops are like the lowest end of problems in Brockton Bay, sadly enough. She thought, not really caring about whether some cops had a beef with her or not. She'd have to piss off Kaiser a lot more before they'd dare touch her.

And if she was wrong..?

Well… She didn't have any compunctions on releasing some super virus cobbled up half assedly if they started aiming guns at her. After all, she'd be immune to it. Her power, like most powers, protected her from any kind of biological effect.

Far as she was concerned, she was Amy first, Amy second - and so on into infinity.

It was remarkably easy to disregard the consequences of killing when you knew they were all likely dead soon anyway. When you knew that your own death was likely in just a few years no matter what you did. Really, a perfect time to be a nihilist.

"I healed him." Amy said distractedly to Dr. Martinez, watching as a trio of officers approached her. The doctor staring helplessly at the now changed man having a quiet breakdown in his bed.

Not so tough now, huh? She thought smugly at him. Not bothering to dial down her smugness as the cops approached her.

"Panacea, you need to fix him." The oldest cop, a man with white beginning to creep up the sides of his military style cropped hair, said sternly, glaring at her with absolutely no compunctions about facing down a cape.

Then again, with her reputation, it wasn't like anyone was actually scared of her.

Yet.

Amy hummed, shaking her head, her frizzy hair falling into her face, she idly swept it out of her eyes, "I mean, I guess you could shoot him again." She mused out loud, pursing her lips. Not even bothering to hide her amusement. "Then I could heal him since he'd be injured, but right now." She smiled beatifically at the cops, "There's nothing wrong with him."

She needed a mirror stat, there was definitely something wrong with her smile, as the two younger men flinched at the sight.

"Turn. Him. Back." The cop said slowly, his two colleagues both stepping forward, looming over her at some unseen signal from the hidden Nazi cop.

Amy scoffed, even as Dr. Martinez nervously backed away, gnawing at her lip worryingly, "I don't do cosmetic work for Empire 88 lowlifes." I'll happily remove your dicks if you keep crowding me though… Amy thought, fingers twitching again, the Shaper shard must be getting off pretty hard with how much her thoughts were spiraling towards what she could change, create, destroy…

The new her wasn't nearly as limited as the depressed bundle of mental problems Amy had been.

Only the fact she'd definitely be birdcaged if she just let loose right here and now - which would ruin all her fun - prevented her from just reaching over and shaping these pricks into something more interesting.

"I could arrest you for assault with a parahuman power." The old cop threatened menacingly as Amy continued to smile pleasantly at him, unbothered. Or he attempted it anyway, he wasn't very menacing to Amy, but she was sure a regular vanilla human would be scared. Dr. Martinez certainly seemed terrified enough.

Pussy. She thought, with a scoff.

Amy gave the old cop some imaginary points in her head though, he was really good at the whole bad cop thing for normies, had all the right body language, the inflection of his voice, his looming presence, the hint of aggression in his eyes. Too bad it was aimed at her, and she couldn't give less of a crap. She tilted her head, smiling toothily, one of the cops taking a step back unconsciously at the sight. "I healed him already. I can't really do anything about him having an allergic reaction to my power, hardly assault."

She somehow got all that out with a straight face. Not even one giggle. The sour looks of the cops made it even better.

Oh, the amount of ways she could mess with people!

"He does not have an allergy to your power." Was grit out slowly by the cop, his teeth clenched together tightly, he was remarkably red in the face as well, apparently he wasn't used to not getting his way, or was just an angry man deep down. Considering he apparently either sympathized with Nazis, or was one, probably a mix of both, leaning heavily on the side of being an angry, angry, little man inside.

Amy could tell just by a glance that he had cardiovascular issues, she didn't even need a touch to diagnose it, she'd seen it enough. Not her problem though, healing everyone was past Amy, not the new and improved Amy.

She was more into healing by excising the rot…

Amy tapped her lower lip with one finger slowly, purposefully taking her time to answer, "Oh, you're also a healing cape? That's pretty awesome, I could use a hand at the hospital." She chirped brightly, fluttering her eyelashes in a coquettish way which was entirely un-Panacea like. I wonder if I can wind him up so far he'll actually arrest me?

She'd never been to jail before, a night or two in lockup might be interesting.

"What, no? I'm not a cape!?" He hissed out. Behind him Amy could see the other veteran officer approaching, having left the newly blacked Nazi thug behind with one of the junior officers. The man was actually crying. Pathetic. Just for a little pigment change… She was sure he hadn't worried about tears when he beat up minorities or a lot worse.

Truly, Amy was karma in the flesh, Brockton Bay could use a good dose of karmic retribution. Earth Bet in its entirety could to be honest. They could use alien supercomputers messing with their brain as an excuse all they wanted, they're still just all dicks.

She was one too, to be sure, but not because of any alien supercomputers. She was one all on her own. She was an honest dick.

"Then how would you know how he would, or wouldn't, react to my power?" Amy asked sweetly, having a blast with this, needling the cop further.

She'd probably get sued, which would piss Carol off.

So…

Bonus!

She idly wondered if she could somehow tailor a virus or something to change the pigment of all the Empire goons in Brockton. Probably too difficult, she acknowledged quickly, there were plenty of white people who weren't racist pieces of shit in town after all.

Still didn't stop the thought from being funny. She could imagine the horrified look on the faces of the likes of Hookwolf or Krieg.

If the PRT called her in to heal any Empire capes… She was definitely blacking them from now on!

Once you go black, you never go back! She thought, giggling inwardly, because it fit. No Empire cape or goon would go to her for healing now. Not voluntarily.

"Goodison? Is there a problem?" Came the mildly censoring voice of the grizzled officer as he walked up next to them.

"Assault with a Parahuman power, sir." Goodison said slowly, his fists clenched at his sides. "Just explaining the situation to Panacea, here."

"Assault? The medical expert said it was due to a predisposition." His eyes flickered to Amy, some humor visible in the depths.

"She's obviously lying." Goodison growled out at his colleague, a sneer twisting his visage, making the somewhat handsome older man - plain ugly.

"I'm not arresting Panacea on your superior medical knowledge, Goodison." The grizzled cop said, shaking his head, he looked towards Amy, "Are you ready to heal the rest of them?" He asked politely. Something shark-like in his smile.

A cacophony of noise erupted again as her healing was vehemently refused by everyone present, even the ABB goons apparently suddenly felt just fine. Willing to heal from their wounds the slow way rather than risk her healing.

She pouted. Meanies, it's not like she'd turn them black… There were plenty of other things she could do after all, it wouldn't do to keep things stale. Besides, it wasn't nearly as funny to turn Asian sex traffickers black… Now turning them into pretty young girls to replace the actual victims of their trade… Food for thought for the future. She smiled viciously at them, the ABB goons getting louder in their vehemence to avoid healing.

"I guess it's not needed." Amy chirped at the officers, a smug smirk on her face, Dr. Martinez looked at her like she'd seen a ghost, before she rushed off somewhere, her patients' charts clattering to the ground.

"Guess not." The veteran officer agreed, sighing in a put upon manner.

Goodison and his lackeys looked apocalyptic, but held their tongues. It was true after all, the patients were all refusing treatment. And there was nothing physically wrong with the black man sharing a room with skinheads and sex trafficking scum, so her hands were tied. Really. Cross her heart and hope to die and everything.

She's Panacea, who wouldn't trust this freckled innocent face…

Amy waved goodbye to the goons, smiling brightly at them, "Keep me in mind for your future healing needs." She called out, barely holding in a laugh.

She walked away with a pep in her step.

Being Amy Dallon didn't have to be suffering.

She could have fun with it.

That thought lasted half an hour.

Then the Protectorate foamed her.

Obviously they hated fun.

Dicks.

---

The Rig, Brockton Bay

Amy supposed she should have seen it coming. She wasn't exactly bothering with even trying to act normal. Because normal Amy was fucking depressing.

Apparently several staff members at the hospital had phoned the PRT with concerns almost immediately, which initially hadn't been taken overly serious, but that changed when Dr. Martinez reported her odd behavior and her 'healing' of the Nazi.

So now she was in M/S screening, sitting in a cell, although a nice enough one, with her own attached bathroom, a nice sized bed and a desk, a monitor built into the wall letting her watch T.V, even if she couldn't choose her own channels.

She approved of the torture methods of the PRT, because surely there could be no other reason than torture to be playing children's shows in her cell. She's sixteen. Not five.

Foaming her had been a bit excessive though in her opinion. It's not like she could have really fought back against the Protectorate. Well… Not without going to excessive lengths anyway.

Unfortunately the shows she was allowed to watch did not include the local news. She would have liked to see what the public perception of Panacea being foamed and brought into the Rig like a prisoner was like.

She was also slightly surprised Carol wasn't here already. Or if she was, she wasn't achieving much. Which again, surprising. Because she sucked as a human being, as a superhero and as a mother, but she was a decent enough lawyer. Figures she wouldn't even be able to use her only good quality.

She didn't really feel bad about her situation. At most, they could berate her for turning someone's pigment black. Good luck proving that was on purpose without another healer. And no, Othala didn't count.

She seriously doubted they'd be able to tell she was a new person, what with her still having all the memories and skills of the old one. Thinkers weren't that much bullshit. And they certainly weren't psychic.

They couldn't afford to alienate her either, so really, this entire thing was kind of… Pointless. At least she kind of got to experience what being arrested was - even if it wasn't the full experience. So that was neat.

If they really thought she was mastered or something, they'd be going at this harder. So they were likely counting on how passive original Amy had been to let all this blow over while pushing her towards the wards. Seeing the opportunity and taking it, like the dumb black and white behemoth of an organization they'd appeared like in Canon.

Good luck arguing that to Carol. Amy was a minor. She'd gladly leave that bullshit to her 'mom' because there was no way she'd shuck her into the wards anyway. She had opinions on the PRT and the Protectorate, there was a reason New Wave had tried to go their own way.

She tilted her head towards the one way window in curiosity, hearing someone on the other side albeit muffled, the window covered a whole wall of her cell, opposite her bed, it wasn't exactly a very private cell with anyone able to watch her, but she assumed that was normal for M/S screening. She could hear the speaker system turn on seconds later. So who's the lucky one that's supposed to 'reign' her back in? She wondered.

The window, which had been opaque, turned clear all of a sudden, letting her see through to the other side, showing Armsmaster on the other side, in full uniform, with Gallant at his side, also fully decked out.

Amy made a face, snorting derisively as she turned away demonstratively.

Armsmaster was literally the dumbest choice for any social fu. And to bring her sister's boyfriend in as well to 'check' her responses? That was just asking for trouble.

"Panacea. Do you have an explanation for your odd behavior earlier this evening?" Armsmaster asked clinically, no doubt scanning her with everything he had, probably already had that lie detector too, although perhaps not fully operational yet.

They weren't quite at Canon yet. Some months to go.

"I'm a teenager." Amy answered back scathingly. "If you find mood swings, being ill tempered and irritable and tired of bullshit - as odd teenage girl behavior…" She scoffed loudly, crossing her arms, eying Armsmaster with open scorn, "Then I guess we have an answer to the question of if you ever honestly talked to a girl." Yeah, bub, I just called you a virgin.

Armsmaster seemed unaffected by her diabrete, instead turning slightly towards Gallant, the silence expectant.

Gallant sighed, looking ill at ease to be included in this. For good reason too, Amy was fairly certain Vicky would lose her crap over this whole situation, especially as she'd make sure to paint herself as the innocent victim to PRT overreach and overreaction when she'd speak to her next.

"I'm not feeling anything odd from her. Irritation, anger, disgust." He hung his shoulders slightly, drooping a bit, "It's… Fairly normal for her." he tried to sound apologetic. Boy scout probably meant it too. Amy gave him the finger, uncaring of his feelings.

She'd probably end up keeping Vicky's boytoy alive as a favor, because Vicky probably was the only one that unconditionally loved her in this world. But that didn't mean she would have to like him.

"You know… I'm a minor. I've asked for my lawyer. Is this all even legal?" Amy stated to the ceiling, looking straight up, kicking her feet in the air from where she sat on the bed. They'd even taken her clothes, giving her annoyingly scratchy ones in exchange. No doubt testing her clothes as well, she briefly wondered with some scorn if Armsmaster had been brought in to scan her underwear.

She should ask him at some point. Preferably one day on the outside, with the press standing nearby.

Armsmaster nodded his head minisculely, "M/S screening has to, by design, override most of the laws you are referring to. Or it wouldn't work to contain the issue."

Amy frowned, she wasn't a law expert for all that Carol was a lawyer. But something about that seemed off. She wasn't sure Armsmaster was telling the whole truth. She eyed Gallant, who squirmed under her sudden focus.

"You're lying, or withholding information, one of the two." She said finally, turning from Gallant to Armsmaster, her eyes narrowed in accusation.

"Let's get back to your behavior." Armsmaster rolled right over her accusation without a hitch, voice still calm, "Why did you change the coloration of Gerald Larson's skin?"

Amy snorted, falling back onto her bed, arms splayed out, sure, because just ignoring my question surely means you're completely truthful, she thought sarcastically. She turned her head in their direction, "Would you believe me if I told you that he had a genetic condition that caused the change when I used my powers?" She asked with quirked lips.

"No." Armsmaster said after a momentary pause, no doubt recording everything through his armor and receiving instructions through his visor. It would explain the brief pauses.

Amy chuckled, turning back to staring up at the ceiling, "Then to your question, my answer is, no comment." She quipped.

"That is not acceptable. We need you to take this seriously, Panacea." Armsmaster said sternly, "You could be facing a charge of assault."

Gallant reluctantly spoke up again after another overbearing glance from Armsmaster. "Amy… This will go easier if you just explain, I'm sure you had a good reason, but we need to know, so they can rule out some things."

"The Gallant knight coming to the rescue." Amy drawled sarcastically, she glanced at him from out of the corner of her eye from where she was laying, "Doesn't it get tiring, Dean? To constantly force yourself to be so nice. Especially when Armsmaster is basically using you, and you're letting him, just going with the flow - who cares if it's legal or not? That's obviously not important."

"I don't have to force myself to be nice, Amy. I care, and I just want to make sure you're okay." Gallant said softly, he stopped closer to the no longer opaque window separating the cell and them, "They just need to know, then this is all over and you can go home." His voice was almost soothing, she could definitely see why Vicky went gaga about him at times. Not her type though. Way too passive.

She needed a guy or girl with balls, someone not afraid to take charge or meet her halfway at least. At least Amy hadn't come out as a lesbian yet, so she could get away with being Bi without drawing attention to more changes.

Amy snorted loudly, uncaring how it made her look, "Uh-huh, just straight home, without seeing a lawyer, without an explanation for my forced incarceration. M/S screening could be used to apply to anything."

"Amy… It is… Uncharacteristic of you to mess up while healing. People are just worried." Gallant tried again, while Armsmaster stood still like a statue next to him. Recording and picking apart everything no doubt.

With Gallant reading her every emotion and writing up a full report after this, like a bitch.

"I think you're full of shit." Amy said causticaly, not even looking at them anymore. "I show a bit of attitude and you guys foam me and put me through M/S screening. No lawyer, no phone call, no one from my family allowed in apparently, because I refuse to believe no one showed up - you don't really believe I've been mastered or something…" She scoffed, shaking her head against the sheets of her bed, "Makes me wonder what you're really after…"

Armsmaster opened his mouth to rebut her, and she just continued on, smirking nastily. "Perhaps you just saw a chance at pushing me towards the wards with some lame threat of arrest. I asked the Nazi whether he'd allow me to use my power on him, he said yes. Case closed."

"It doesn't work like that. You've endangered a man's life, we can't ignore that." Armsmaster stated, sounding a bit colder now. And was that a hint of frustration in your tone, Colin? Amy thought smugly.

"A Nazi. Are you the great defender of Nazis now, Dean?" She said glibly, focusing on the weaker link, inwardly preening at seeing him flinch. Yeah, wait until Vicky hears that one, you fuck!

So she'd keep him alive if she could, but it didn't mean she needed to work to keep him comfortable. Vicky and him could use another break up anyway.

"Don't try and deflect, Panacea. Gallant is simply here to ascertain that your emotions have not been altered, you are speaking to me." Armsmaster said with some censure, he turned towards Gallant, clippedly ordering, "You may leave, you're a distraction at the moment and you've already achieved your purpose."

Wow, blunt much, Colin? Amy thought, seeing Gallant hesitate for a moment, before he nodded slightly Amy's way, and turned to leave.

"Say hi to Vicky for me." Amy threw out nastily as a parting shot, Gallant flinching on his way out the door.

"That was unkind of you. As was your behavior at the hospital. There is a reason for our concern, Panacea." Armsmaster droned on, Amy had already lost interest really. Nothing new was likely to come up. Not until she was either let go, or Carol badgered her way in.

"An unkind teenager." Amy drawled, "Stop the presses, this is obviously more important for the Protectorate then Lung or Kaiser." She leaned forward on her elbows so she was half sitting/half lying down, eyeing the tinker. "You seriously don't have anything better to do? Either charge me or let me go."

There was a crackle to the speaker system, Armsmaster sighing visibly, but he didn't say another word. Someone else spoke up instead through the system.

"A charge for parahuman assault is already being filed by the defendant in this case." Director Piggot said seriously, taking over the conversation from Armsmaster.

Amy chuckled darkly, "So quickly, huh? Almost like the BBPD was helping him write it up…" She eyed Armsmaster, eyes glittering with distaste, "Or is that your ploy? The PRT is assisting this upstanding citizen?"

"We have not assisted him, no. That doesn't change the facts of this case. You purposely turned a white supremacist black, risking his life." Piggot said bluntly, "While also stirring up trouble in the entire city as your previously trusted healing now comes into doubt."

Panacea had been somewhat of a boon for the city as a whole, she knew. Injuries to heroes and civilians and even the villains to a certain extent - disappearing overnight due to her efforts.

Now, that healing wouldn't be as trusted. Such a loss for me, really. She thought sarcastically.

Amy flopped back down on the bed, a wry smile on her face, "Purposely? That's been proven when? I don't remember saying that?" She needled lightly.

"Do not take me for a fool, Panacea." Piggot said coldly, "I don't care for your reasons on why you did it, I only care about the consequences thereof."

"The Wards program would insulate you from these kinds of charges, the PRT backing you would ensure they would amount to, at the most, a fine." Armsmaster interjected, sounding oddly insistent for him. It was weird, it wasn't like his reputation would really change from her being recruited. What glory was there to find there?

"Minor, remember. You're not getting that one past my mother." Amy said, making a face at having to acknowledge Carol as her parent.

"There are ways to induct minors in trouble with the law even without parental approval - in special cases." Director Piggot said shortly, "You would do well to think on that, this charge will not go away easily, and the reception you'll find in the bay as a criminal will not be pleasant." She warned, Armsmaster nodding along stiffly when Amy glanced over, although he looked slightly uncomfortable.

Probably because of all the lying he's ordered to go along with… Or so she assumed, because no way was that shit legal. Press ganging a minor into the wards without parental approval wouldn't fly in court. If they were an orphan, maybe…

Huh, how legal were the adoption papers for her? Could she technically be considered an orphan if that got unraveled?

"You aren't actually serious? You're trying to make me a ward. Behind New Waves back? Oh… This is hilarious." Amy said, a smile slowly growing on her face, discarding the thought of her adoption papers, it was unlikely to get that far anyway.

She knew Piggot, Armsmaster and the PRT always shot themselves in the foot in canon, but she hadn't expected that reality would quite match that. Either outright lying or telling half truths to sucker her.

Really, how did they see this ending? Was getting Panacea as a Ward, really worth pissing off all of New Wave? She'd been healing their asses either way, so what was the difference? PR?

"It's not a laughing matter, this is a serious charge, you'd do well to consider your options, Panacea. You're held to a high standard due to your ability, the backlash of you being charged with assault will be fierce…" Piggot said, almost cajoling, trying to sound less strict, but largely failing.

Probably because of how much of a bitch she was. She couldn't quite hide all that hatred.

"Good luck making that charge stick." Amy said uncaringly, silence following her statement. She was probably ruining their script. Their belief in how this conversation would play out. Poor them, how terrible for the people that would rather sit and bother her then go out and save some sex slaves.

"Assault with a Parahuman power is no joking matter. The sentence would likely include jail time." Piggot said darkly, trying to press the issue.

Panacea snickered, "Sure. Put me in jail." She said easily, playing with her hair with one hand, entwining strands between her fingers.

Silence deafened the room again as both Piggot and Armsmaster seemed unsure of what to say, her nonchalance completely throwing them off.

"I mean, I'll still do great in jail, I can heal people in exchange for being top bitch in the cellblock." She said flippantly, before she snickered again, "You guys though…. Panacea in jail for healing a Nazi wrong, my healing no longer on tap for the public… Oh, I'll be smiling in my little cell while the PRT gets chased out of Brockton Bay."

She looked up at the ceiling, a nasty smirk on her face, "You see, Director Piggot, you have the situation all wrong. You're not the guys in power in this situation. I am, because given the choice of me or you, most people will choose the one that can heal cancer."

Oh, they wouldn't chase them out of town, not exactly. They'd still need the PRT and Protectorate. But they could chase the one in charge out of town.

No doubt Coil was already rubbing his pervy mitts together salivating over how bad he could make Piggot look over this.

"This behavior is exactly why you are undergoing M/S screening. It is out of character." Armsmaster said suddenly, his tone sure and steady.

Amy smiled sweetly at him, "No, it's the attitude of a bitch no longer giving any fucks, there's a difference."

Apparently they had no answer to that. Or had finally realized they couldn't get anywhere with her. One of the two.

"Now fuck off and let me get my beauty sleep, I need at least eight hours of rest so I can sue you in the morning for attempting to harass a minor into the wards with threats and heavy handed antics, I'm sure you've broken some kind of law by locking me up here without a guardian, lawyer, or Youth Guard or something."

Again the telling silence spoke volumes.

They didn't bother her further that night.

---

PRT headquarters, Wards common room.

"So… Is she mastered?" Sophia asked loudly, the second that Gallant walked in the door.

She was bored out of her mind, forced into console duty in between her mandatory classes on a bunch of moronic rules that hamstrung the heroes. No wonder the town was shit, the rules basically said they had to suck villains off before asking them if they could arrest them…

She hadn't been in a good mood ever since being forced to join these chumps, Panacea's capture being the only interesting thing to have happened - hence her slight interest.

"Stalker!" Triumph said warningly. Sophia simply scoffed at him, leaning back in her seat at the console, still staring challengingly at Gallant, everyone else had their mask off, but she wasn't as comfortable yet. Mostly, she was still plotting avenues of escape, trying to figure out a way to return to being a vigilante, so she didn't want to unmask to these losers.

Even if the PRT already knew her identity, there was no point in her being loose with it.

She'd barely been part of the Wards for a few weeks, and she was already doing her best at making the whole process into a headache. Because if she had to suffer through this - these fucks sure as hell was going to pay as well.

"To be fair, asking if Panacea is mastered is a pretty important question right now…" Clockblocker said, ignoring the dirty look he received from Vista.

Gallant sighed, shaking his head morosely, "She doesn't appear to be… But she's definitely… Irritable." He said diplomatically, sinking down onto the couch, next to Vista and Clockblocker.

Clockblocker snorted, sounding amused. "I'd be pretty annoyed too if I was walking around the hospital and suddenly got a foam grenade to the face."

"Did she really do it?" Sophia demanded of Gallant. Glaring at the boy scout, even if the effect was somewhat diminished due to her still wearing her mask. "Did she purposefully turn a Nazi black?"

Everyone's eyes turned to Gallant, who slumped into the couch, seemingly reluctant to answer.

Sophia didn't care for any societal niceties, bluntly pushing, "Fucking simple question beam boy, yes or no?"

"Stalker… We don't talk to teammates like this. Aren't you doing sensitivity classes already?" Triumph said warningly, even as Vista turned her head to glare at Sophia.

She couldn't care less, bunch of fucking losers all of them, they wouldn't know what to do facing a rapist or a murderer, they'd probably go hide while calling on mommy Militia or something. Fucking useless. All of them were too passive. Reactive. Only willing to move once the villains have already hit.

And fuck sensitivity classes, she was almost ready to turn to villainy just to get out of that pile of garbage. The PRT wanted to defend criminals' feelings and rights. Fuck had she been brought into, team teletubbies?

"Teammates usually answer questions too, right?" Sophia growled out to Triumph challengingly, because she wasn't going to take all the shit for the pretty boy keeping his mouth shut. That shit ain't teammate behavior either.

"Jesus Stalker, dial down the bitch mode just a little!" Clockblocker said, sounding exasperated.

"Clock…" Triumph sighed out, rubbing his face, "Everyone, just… Get along. The day is almost over."

Sophia had no idea how he was the leader of the Wards. Like everyone else here, he had no spine. No killer instinct.

"Yes… It's true." Gallant interjected, finally answering her question. "She pretty much admitted it."

"Wouldn't have expected that from her." Vista said quietly, looking ill at ease.

Sophia touched her crossbows briefly, even if they were neutered now with ridiculous 'safe' bolts, her mind whirling with thoughts on Panacea, maybe she'd understand how Sophia thought, she certainly fucked that Nazi up. Sophia could definitely see the amusement in what she'd done. She grinned darkly underneath her mask as the Wards argued about the issue. Finally, someone else takes it to the bastards…

She eyes the console consideringly, this shit is boring as all hell… I'm basically on probation anyway, not gonna matter if I get in shit right now, what are they gonna do? Make me do more lame ass shit? They won't allow me to patrol anyway…

Her mind made up, she stood up, pushing the chair back, drawing attention from the rest of them as she walked towards the exit.

"Stalker, where are you going, you're on console duty." Triumph asked, half rising from his seat.

She scoffed, flinging a hand towards Clockblocker, "So's that loser, don't see him sitting at the console, so fucking give me a break, I got my period, going to deal with that, wanna fucking assist? Team lead?" She mocked.

Triumph slumped down in the chair, clearing his throat awkwardly, "No, that's alright, Clock can take over until you get back." He said lamely.

Vista was eyeing her suspiciously, but Sophia couldn't care less, the girl didn't have the guts to confront her, maybe if she did, she could actually grow to like her.

Clockblocker got up to replace her, as she neared the exit, whining, "Man, Aegis and Kid Win need to finish patrol soon, I don't want to get stuck at the console!"

She slipped out of the room, going into her breaker state once she entered the bathroom, the one place she was sure had no cameras. Minutes later she was outside, making her way over rooftops. She was registered in the system already, so she should be able to get into the Rig, then it was just a matter of using her breaker state to slip through the cracks of surveillance and make her way down to Panacea's cell.

She was curious, and fucking bored. She wanted to know if maybe the girl was like her, sick and tired of how shit Brockton Bay was, and willing to actually do something about it.

Unlike the other so-called heroes.

---

Amy sighed explosively, hearing someone turn the window to her cell clear again, and she'd just been about to go to sleep too. It had been hours since Armsmaster had left, but she'd had trouble falling asleep, knowing people were likely watching her.

She wondered if Armsmaster was up her ass because Piggot was up his, or if he felt he needed to project leadership since taking over a few months ago when Challenger was killed in an Endbringer fight, he hadn't actually achieved anything since taking over after all. Either way the man was annoyingly competent and way too likely to spot inconsistencies in her behavior if he studied her long enough.

She'd have to play up the bitch be tired of being a doormat angle…

"You just love perving on a teenage girl getting ready for bed, don't you?" She grouched out loud, sitting up in her bed, clad only in a t-shirt and panties. Thankfully no Armsmaster brand ones.

Actually… That could have been funny, just for the look on his face.

She would have liked to wear more to cover up from the camera's and the perverts watching through them, but she just couldn't sleep with something covering her legs, she never could. A difference between her and the original, but hardly one the PRT would notice.

She hoped. Or they had way more knowledge of her homelife then she was comfortable with.

"You got nothing special." Came a sharp snort that made Amy glance over at the screen in curiosity. Because what!?

Shadow Stalker of all people was paying her a visit. She didn't even know she was a ward yet. And either way… She seriously doubted it was because she was allowed to be here. "Well…" Amy said slowly, before beginning to fluff her pillows, making herself comfortable, leaning back and up against them in a seated position. She waved a hand imperiously when she was done, "They've definitely changed their recruitment angle, I approve. A stripper giving me a show sure beats Armsmaster trying - and failing - to emote."

Was Amy an absolutely incorrigible little shit? Yes, yes she was. Besides, it was Shadow Stalker, it was practically a requirement to mess with her. No one liked her.

She kind of did. But that was because she was a bitch, so she identified with her easier. Bitches united or something.

Also she was hot. That helped a lot. She was also like 15, but she was 16 so it was okay. Or was she 17? Stupid fake adoption papers.

Shadow Stalker snorted, crossing her arms, as she leaned up against the window, having to stand sideways to pull it off, all in an attempt to look cool. "You couldn't afford me."

Amy grinned delightedly, what was this? A Shadow Stalker that didn't quite have a telephone pole up her ass yet? "Oh… I don't know…" She said coyly, "I could tune you up, you know, greater strength, healing, roided up immune system, subdermal armor, the whole nine yards… All for the low cost of you strutting your stuff…"

She knew she was likely being recorded. She just didn't care. Her being a biokinetic wasn't going to surprise anyone that had any sense. She still had a good reputation, the PRT couldn't afford to lock her up and throw away the key.

Not at this point. Besides… She had all the Cauldron deets to get herself out of that hole if it came to it.

Shadow Stalker actually laughed at that, it was short, harsh and cold, but it was a laugh. "Fuck, I'm tempted." She said slowly afterwards, tapping the window between them with one finger, "Didn't know you could pull off all that shit, though. Been sandbagging?" She queried sounding honestly curious.

Amy shrugged, faking nonchalance, "I had delusions of normalcy, until I woke up and realized we're all monsters, some of us just hide it better." She raised an eyebrow, a smug little smirk on her face, "Thought you were an independent? What happened? Couldn't hide the monster well enough?" She asked playfully.

"Something like that." Shadow Stalker said, seemingly thinking about something, her head tilted as she studied Amy. "The dude you turned black… Why did you do it?" She asked bluntly.

Considering one of her hands was almost caressing a crossbow handle in its harness, Amy had a fair idea why Shadow Stalker cared to ask. Amy could feel the vigilante turned Ward's burning gaze, even through her hood and her stern faced woman's mask, but in the end Amy just snorted, shaking her head in denial, "Not saying that for the peeping tom's to hear."

Shadow Stalker waved a dismissive hand, "I turned all that shit off before I got here." The way she held her body, and the proud way she said that. Was Shadow Stalker bragging to her? How cute!

Amy smirked, getting out of bed, her bare feet smacking against the cold floor, "Oh, someone's being naughty." She teased, walking up to the window slowly, standing close to it, having to look up slightly to face Shadow Stalker's mask, due to her own lack of height. "You'll get in trouble for that one, Stalker." She warned, not really caring, but feeling interested in what brought this on.

She'd already changed things. And she'd barely done anything.

Shadow Stalker gave her a once over, her gaze unfortunately not lingering on Amy's bare legs or panty clad bottom, disappointing. Amy thought with a pout. "Well, since you're not as ridiculous about the reality of Brockton Bay as the people in this building usually are… I guess I can tell you." Amy said, tossing her hair slightly as she pushed right up to the glass, her nose almost touching it.

"I did it because it was fun! Because he deserves to be beaten to death like he'd no doubt done to others. I did it because he was a Nazi and I was tired of giving them a free pass." Amy said with relish, a thrill running through her at admitting it. The real reason she'd done it. Because she had power, and he didn't. And she'd wanted to use it. Just a taste. A tiny little taste.

Shadow Stalker raised her hands up, taking her mask off, a pretty smirk on her face as she came face to face with her, "Name's Sophia Hess, I always thought you were kind of a pussy, from what I'd heard, but you're alright with me, anyone willing to give it to the Nazis are."

Amy was kind of amazed it was that easy to get the girl to unmask, usually everyone made such a big deal about hidden identities from what she remembered. Was it really such a big deal to her that Amy had gone after a Nazi?

"Too bad they won't let me heal Hookwolf or someone like that, if they're brought in now." Amy said casually, with a disturbing grin on her face, "He'd definitely deserve to be blacked." She backed up a bit and blew Sophia a kiss, winking at her, "Nice to meet you Sophia." She purred.

At least Sophia didn't seem squicked out at her smiles like everyone else did.

Sophia's smirk widened as she loosened her stance, seemingly less tense, "I'm not into chicks, even though your other offer is tempting… I could always use more ways to kick ass." She barked out a laugh, shaking her head, pulling her hood fully off, "Blacked! I like it. Planning on 'Blacking' any other Empire filth?" She asked eagerly, fists clenching at her side, the leather gloves creaking slightly.

Amy pouted, Sophia Hess was absolutely gorgeous, unfairly so. Yeah, she was all hard edges, but that runner's body was working really well for her. And it's not like Amy really gave a shit about canon either, so all that bullying? Not really her problem. Taylor was a character from a story, a really depressing character too, she really didn't care about what happened there. "I'd prefer to do worse…" She whispered out, making a shushing motion, winking again.

Sophia hummed in thought, her eyes sharp and assessing. "You mean that too, huh, I really got you all pegged wrong. They all have, hah!" She shook her head mirthfully, "That's going to make life interesting ain't it?"

"You could always let me out… You're already going to be in trouble as is." Amy needled, smirking challengingly.

Sophia scoffed, "You're Panacea, you'll be out soon enough. I'll get grounded to the console for this as is, and my introduction might get pushed up, but who cares about that bullshit? If I let you out though, I'll be in a cell next, a real cell."

Considering she'd stuck around in the Wards who she obviously disliked and constantly cheated on with unsanctioned patrols, all to get away from juvie - it made sense she wouldn't risk it right now either. Amy was just playing either way, she wasn't actually in a rush, no matter what she projected towards the PRT.

"Fair enough, but maybe when you're off the leash… You could show me a thing or two about being a vigilante?" Amy asked, figuring Sophia might actually know a thing or two about where the goons hung out, saving her the time to track test subjects down.

Sophia twitched irritably, "Don't call it that!" She snapped, "No one leashes Shadow Stalker!" At Amy's deadpanned look, she just breathed out of her nose harshly, muttering something under her breath. "Fine, I don't mind, you're not as naive as the Wards at least." She said trying to play it off as casual, but there was a thread of excitement in her voice.

"Aww, am I your only friend, Shadow Stalker." Amy cooed, putting a hand to her own cheek and smiling mockingly.

"I can get in there and punch you in the face without even opening the door." Sophia said warningly, her eyes sparkling with something dangerous, yet friendly at the same time.

Amy smirked, making a come at me gesture, "Try it, let's see how cocky you are after I give you a cock for the effort!" She threatened lightly.

Sophia paused, jaw dropping slightly, "You can do that!?" She hissed out, incredulously.

Amy nodded, giving Sophia a half lidded look, a devilish smirk playing on her lips, "Sounds like someone's ~interested!"

"Oh fuck you bitch!" Sophia snorted, opening her mouth again, only to be interrupted by blaring alarms erupting around the building.

"Looks like they finally realized you turned off all their recording equipment. That's… Really slow. Bad look for the PRT." Amy said, shaking her head. She smiled at Sophia, "Get out of here while you still can, maybe they won't even realize it was you."

At least it answered something for Amy… They didn't have people watching her 24/7 creepily, or the alarm would have gone off way sooner.

Or… They'd let Sophia think she'd turned everything off, and was actually watching the entire time, and was only interrupting now because they were reaching dangerous territory, talking about escaping and the like.

Sophia scoffed, turning into her shadowy breaker form to ghost through the window, her shadowy form finding itself at Amy's desk, Sophia reappearing a second later, seated on the chair, calm as can be. "I'd rather own it." She admitted, "Besides," She said with a smug little smirk, "M/S screening will be better than console duty with fucking Clockblocker." Her lips twisted into a disgusted grimace, "Or sensitivity training."

"You're such a bitch." Amy said, lips twitching, "I think we'll get along just fine, I think you're overdressed though…" She gestured to her own state of dress, her eyes roaming over Sophia's tight uniform. She wasn't sure exactly why heroes went for skintight bodysuits, but she approved.

"Still not going to fuck you, I ain't interested." Sophia said casually, her eyes sliding towards her, a teasing glint in them.

"Can't blame a girl for trying." Amy sighed, there were far too few bi or lesbian heroes in Brockton Bay.

"Shadow Stalker! Explain yourself!" Came over the speakers, at the same time as several PRT troopers and Assault entered the 'safe' side of the room.

"... I think she mastered me or some shit." Sophia said, pointing at Amy with a shit eating smirk on her face. "It's definitely her fault I'm here."

"You colossal bitch!" Amy laughed, she couldn't help it, here she was being purposefully difficult to annoy the PRT and the Protectorate and confound their thinkers - and Shadow Stalker outdid her in just a few minutes.

Now she was definitely going to be locked up long enough to cause a stir.

---

Assistant Director Renick's office, The Rig.

Carol Dallon was not afraid to admit she despised the PRT on a good day, today was markedly not a good day.

A holier than thou attitude and zero accountability, did not make for a good organization to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. And the PRT encapsulated the worst of such attitudes.

She was sitting in the assistant Director's office, likely because Piggot and Armsmaster had delegated the task of dealing with a pissed off Brandish, she thought angrily, huffing in the empty office, full uniform on for the first time in what felt like ages.

And she was beyond angry. Angry at Amy for doing something so utterly foolish, risking the entire brand of New Wave for a prank that might end in a man's death. At least she hoped it was a prank, the other option was much worse.

She privately admitted she didn't much care if the Empire 88 cretin was killed by his own ilk, but as heroes they could not fall so low as to actually do something like that. And Amy, as Panacea, had broken trust - harmed when she promised healing.

So yes, Brandish was angry. But she'd half expected something like this at some point, so the anger was chilled, cooled by the feeling she'd been vindicated.

What turned that cold anger into a firestorm was the PRT daring to attack Panacea, using con-foam grenades at the hospital, and refusing to allow her representation or the attendance of a guardian until she'd passed M/S screening.

A load of bull, the law didn't work like that. Brandish would know, and Amy should have known, if she ever paid attention to her. Even with the specter of M/S screening one could not just nab minors off the street and hold them.

If the PRT held that power, they could simply lock up and interrogate anyone they wanted under the aegis of - they were acting odd so they might have been mastered.

The PRT had that power specifically for the PRT and Protectorate personnel. People that had signed on the dotted lines in their contracts that they could be forced into M/S screening at any time and had no right to refuse.

That did not extend to independent capes. It did not matter to New Wave. And the PRT knew this. Which told Brandish they were playing games, because they knew they'd be sued for this, and yet they went ahead anyway, willing to take the monetary hit for whatever goal.

There weren't many reasons to hold Panacea… And Brandish would not allow her to become a Ward, she would not allow Amy to lose all sense of responsibility, to lose her head under the PR umbrella of the PRT and Protectorate. She'd worked too hard to ensure Amy didn't fall victim to her own heritage. The PRT and their lack of accountability would just send Amy spiraling into villainy.

Assistant Director Renick looked tired and apologetic when he finally arrived, rushing through the door in a rumpled suit that indicated he'd been called in from home due to this incident. "My sincerest apologies, Brandish, there were some complications I needed to be filled in on before we could meet."

She stared at him coldly, "Complications enough to keep a parent from her minor child for hours, Renick?"

Renick slumped down into his seat, "Yes, actually." He said tiredly, "How much are you aware of in regards to the incident stemming from your daughter's stay with us?"

Brandish wanted to quibble on the simplification of the wording for Amy's illegal incarceration - but she'd already waited long enough, so she powered forward, "She gave a Nazi enforcer black skin." She said stiffly, before staring at the assistant Director with a thin lipped frown. "Then you violently overreacted and assaulted her."

"Velocity may have reacted a tad overzealously to the call, but we did have reason to believe something was going on." Renick said with a note of apology in his tone.

Before Brandish could snap at him, he raised a hand asking for a moment, taking a picture out of a file folder and sliding it across the desk. "This was taken before the incident, and was the first sign of something off, which, compounded with the calls we'd receive later, necessitated a quick response."

Brandish glanced down at the picture and froze, it was Amy, out of uniform, standing precariously on the ledge of the roof of the hospital. The smoke in her hand became secondary (although would not be forgotten) to the fact the picture painted something much worse. "Who took this?" She asked, feeling safer to concentrate on a potential stalker than what the picture could mean.

"A cape enthusiast." Renick said simply, offering no further information, he sighed, rubbing his face wearily, "Not only did several people after that call the PRT to report their belief that Panacea had been either mastered or had something bad happen to her - but then we had the incident with a Mr. Larson as well. It was the decision of the PRT and Protectorate agents on shift to not take any chances with Panacea and ensure her safety immediately."

Brandish reluctantly agreed, although she wouldn't say it. She still intended to sue, although now she was more likely to settle. She looked down at the picture again, and at the odd smile clearly visible on Amy's face as she stood inches away from death. "Has she been mastered?" She forced herself to ask.

Renick grimaced, slowly shaking his head, "Gallant reported everything was normal with her emotions, and we've tested her extensively, there is no biological sign of any alteration, no emotional alteration, and Armsmaster can find no sign of radiation or technological effects - yet the screening is likely to last days to make sure she doesn't change rapidly."

Brandish nodded, feeling off kilter, forced to agree with the PRT like this. "You should have still allowed me to see her, and to represent her before any interview." She snapped, refusing to be on the backfoot any longer in this conversation. "You broke the law by refusing her this. I know Amy wouldn't have waived her right to an attorney." Her eyes narrowed, "And either way she is a minor, so it wouldn't matter, you should have allowed me to be there."

"I'll let the Director or legal department answer those questions." Renick answered, showing his true colors by pushing the matter aside, refusing to accept responsibility. "There is the matter of… The other complications…"

"What complications?" Brandish ground out, an eye twitching in irritation.

"Shadow Stalker somehow got into her cell, afterwards claiming Panacea mastered her in an apparent attempt to get out of punishment. We say apparently, because now we have more tests to run to make sure…" Renick said, sounding as done about things as Brandish was feeling.

"Is that all?" Brandish said with some bitterness, "You allowed a new Ward, not yet introduced to the public, to breach M/S containment, to muddle the inquiry into my daughter, and the spoiled brat is refusing to take responsibility - what a surprise." She glared at Renick, knowing he's just the sacrificial lamb, "Anything else you've screwed up about this entire situation?" She snapped harshly.

Renick visibly winced. "Ah… Panacea refused to let Shadow Stalker go to a separate cell, to the point of promising to attack anyone entering to remove her. She also offered the Director a deal… She promised not to sue or cause other complications during her screening, if she could ride out the M/S screening with Shadow Stalker 'to entertain her'.

Brandish stared at the assistant Director in incredulity, "That defeats entirely the purpose of the screening!" She growled, "Tell me you've separated the two!" She demanded shrilly.

Renick's wince was far more substantial this time, "The Director agreed, she felt there wasn't any other good outcome possible from entering with force."

"Why on earth would Amy do this?" Brandish muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief.

Renick obviously heard, and misconstrued it as a question for himself, answering immediately, "Ah, I believe I'm quoting here, 'I want to get into Shadow Stalker's panties and because of that I need some alone time with her to succeed in seducing her.' I believe those were her exact words…" Renick looked physically pained at having to repeat them, the older man obviously not comfortable dealing with teenagers.

Brandish slumped in her chair, it was hard to argue about M/S screening at this point. What on earth are you thinking Amy!?

Renick hesitated for a moment, wetting his lips, "And… There's also another matter…"

Brandish closed her eyes, resigned to it, "What else? What can possibly top this already?"

"Were you aware that your daughter was a biokinetic more reminiscent of the likes of Bonesaw or Nilbog? She's being quite free with the information on it in our recordings, which goes far beyond the power ratings we have on file, the ones New Wave provided us…" Renick asked carefully.

Brandish knew now why Piggot wasn't here. She was likely at this moment screeching at the Chief Director for permission to Birdcage our outright kill Amy. The bigoted Director was hard enough to deal with on a normal day with her obvious suspicion and distaste of capes - a biokinetic would have her screaming bloody murder.

Brandish knew her ties to Nilbog weren't common knowledge - but she was one of the few in Brockton Bay who had that information. Piggot would not let this go. Was literally incapable of it.

Brandish had known this day would come, when something like this would happen, had planned for it even, but not like this, not with Amy… What on earth was she doing announcing it? Is she trying to get herself killed? Her mind flashed to the picture again, of Amy standing at the edge of the rooftop. She squared her shoulders, while gritting her teeth harshly, preparing herself for the fight of her life.

She would not let the PRT do as they wished. Not as long as Amy was still a member of New Wave in the public's eye.

Her eyes narrowed minutely as she glared at the assistant Director, "As far as you know, she isn't one." She said clippedly. "Anything said under an illegal arrest and with an illegal incarceration, with an illegal recording of a minor that has been refused legal counsel or parental access - will be thrown out of any court. It might as well not exist."

"It's not that simple." Renick said slowly, shaking his head, "That kind of power… It has… Connotations."

"What kind of power? Like I said, nothing that has happened today since you arrested my daughter, legally exists." Brandish said bitingly, clenching her fists to keep herself from doing anything rash, her emotions running too strongly due to her combined dislike for the PRT and for Amy.

What an irony that she's forced to defend Amy when she'd finally show her true colors and could, with some careful work, be cut loose without consequences to the team. She would not let the PRT turn this around on New Wave however.

She would not let this be a feather in their cap, would not let New Wave take the brunt of the fallout.

"Brandish, this can't be put back, the genie is out of the bottle." Renick said, trying to reason with her.

"Try me!" She snapped back.

Everything only went downhill from there.

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Noble Weasley

It's been done to death, which is probably why I never bothered to make it into a story, but here it is for your brief enjoyment, and if anyone wants to take a run with it feel free.

Enjoy,

As usual Harry Potter belongs to JKR and Warner Bros and everyone else that gets a slice, not me though, I is poor.

---

Later on, it was not difficult to pinpoint the moment everything changed.

How the world tilted on its axis - changing the fate of everything. But especially one soul.

In the moment - it felt scary, but not anything out of the ordinary. Nothing suggested everything would change.

But it did.

For ten year old Ginevra Weasley - Ginny to anyone that knew better. It had started as a fairly routine morning. Once again September 1st had come by and left, and she'd had to get up early to feed the chickens - basking in the fresh air and just arriving sunlight as she got lost in her head. Chickens happily feeding away around her.

Once again she had been left behind - this time truly alone. Ron, the last brother she had to save her from the boredom and tedium of everyday life at the burrow - had abandoned her.

Oh, she had her mum, but honestly a year stuck with Molly Weasley and perhaps a few hours with her dad in the evenings, was not something she'd been looking forward to - as much as she loved her parents, she was ten. A silent night at home, knitting - was not her idea of an ideal evening.

Ginny was a mischievous, ambitious and energetic girl. Well used to picking the lock of the shed in the middle of the night and going for a fly - at night - since in Molly Weasley's opinion, a young lady should not perform such boyish escapades as Quidditch.

The benefit of having less brothers around every year had been a markedly escalating improvement in her flying skills, as she suddenly had much more time to sneak around without Fred and George poking their snoopy noses in.

Only her eldest brothers had any inkling of what she got up to, mostly because Bill taught her how to pick locks in the first place - and Charlie, once he got on the Quidditch team at Hogwarts - had taught her to fly, quietly over late nights in the summer - behind their parents back.

But Bill and Charlie were gone now - out of the country for their careers. And Ginny wouldn't admit it out loud - but she was dying of jealousy. Curse breaking and working with Dragons! It sounded more like adventuring than a job - nothing like her dad's tinkering with muggle things for almost no pay.

Fred and George were funny and irreverent and yet so wrapped up in each other that Ginny was on the outside looking in - always part of the family as far as the twins were concerned - but always a other. They did include her in their pranks sometimes, which was fun, but only made it sting so much more when they turned around and excluded her - or made her the target.

At least that had been solved - they didn't dare prank her anymore after this summer, when she'd stolen Fred's wand, learned the bat-bogey hex - cast it on George while the three of them were alone. And then left the wand behind near Fred to get their mother and watched the twins take the fallout for her spell - just another act of shenanigans by the twins, so everyone thought. The twins knew though they never threw her under the Hippogriff, and had even congratulated her on a well played plot - and stopped targeting her.

Ron had been her last companion. Closest to her in age, they'd both lamented being left behind together - both drawing closer as happens when you're the only two kids around. Even if he had a bit of a temper and was stubborn to a fault - Ginny could be stubborn too so she didn't blame him. They'd play chess, run around outside playing games, and build forts together. Ron had even consented to play as Harry Potter for her a couple times in a few games. Always saving Ginny from the imaginary dragon.

And now she was all alone.

She sighed, before a shriek pierced the air, making her flinch and drop the feed bag on the ground. The chickens happily pecked away as she flew back into the house. That had been her mum!

"Mum! What's wrong!?" She yelled as she crashed into the kitchen - finding her mother clutching a burned letter, tears running down her face. A Tawny owl, floo powder still on its feathers, the owl fluttering in the rafters looking put out at all the noise. It looked like it had been tossed unceremoniously through the floo, Ginny didn't even know you could do that.

Although maybe you couldn't, the owl didn't look happy…

"Charlie's been in an accident…" Molly Weasley mumbled as if in a trance. Desperately clutching the letter between her fingers, her knuckles turning white.

Ginny immediately turned to the family clock, gasping loudly, her vision blurring into tears. Under Charlie's name it said - Mortal peril.

Her mum jerked in the kitchen chair unnaturally - wide teary eyes following Ginny's gaze as her breathing came in quick, short, gasping breaths. She groaned, sagging in her chair as she saw what Ginny saw.

"Charlie…." Ginny cried, not knowing what happened but knowing it must be bad. "Mum, what happened to Charlie?" She demanded shrilly.

Her mum didn't answer, just stared at the clock for a minute, barely breathing, before she took a deep breath, "Arthur, he doesn't know…" And then between one moment and the next Ginny could only stare in despair as her mother apparated away - no doubt to go to the ministry after her dad.

Leaving Ginny alone, breaking down on the kitchen floor as all she could do was sit there and stare at the clock. The hand for Charlie never leaving Mortal peril.

---

Ginny never got the full story once her mum returned with her dad, only through eavesdropping did she learn that Charlie had an altercation with another wizard near the dragon reserve - he had protected the dragons he loved so much. And he'd been cursed to within an inch of his life.

She didn't find out anything about his condition, if the wizard had been caught or not, what was happening or if Charlie was going to be alright. She was only ten and her parents refused to share anything with her. It wasn't fair. Charlie was her brother, she deserved to know!

What she did find out - was that she was being packed up and shipped off to great aunt Muriel for at least until after Christmas. Her mum was going to Romania to be with Charlie and her dad was picking up extra work at the ministry to pay for it - leaving no one to care for Ginny.

She couldn't understand, why couldn't she go to Romania to see Charlie as well? Or they could leave her at the Burrow, her dad would be home for meals and bedtime at least - she could look after herself for the rest.

Her protests were unceremoniously discarded without any thought or care put into them. Her mum side-along apparating her to her aunt's cottage within a day of the news. A hurried kiss on the cheek was all she had time for, for her only daughter - before she was dumped at the steps like so much refuse.

Great aunt Muriel had one look at her, sneered, and waved her inside with a wrinkled hand, "Well, in you go, Ginevra. Even raised in a barn as you are, you shan't be allowed to be rude and just stand on my doorstep all night, child."

Ginny openly gaped at her, Muriel was rarely pleasant the few times the family had been allowed around her - but she hadn't encountered anything like this.

"A lady does not gape like some Knockturn streetwalker," Muriel snapped, tapping her not so gently on her head with her cane, "Close your mouth and in with you, child."

Rubbing her head and close to tears - Ginny entered the Prewett cottage. Not the family manse - that had been closed for years since great aunt Muriel was the only Prewett left of the main family. Or so her mum had said the few times the Prewetts had been brought up at home - not often. There were some distant cousins but whether through not enough blood ties - or Muriel's personality - they weren't around, nor part of the inheritance debate.

Ginny abstractly knew that her mum had been a Prewett - but it didn't quite sink in how different things were, until she was shown to her room. Even in this small family cottage, the dark wood flooring and beautifully painted wall murals spoke of wealth. Draperies and busts of prominent family members dotted the space along the hallways to her room - and her room itself, it was three times the size of her room at the Burrow. And that didn't count the walk in closet or the en-suite bathroom.

"Don't get any gold digging ideas - you Weasley's aren't getting a drop of the fortune." Muriel sniffed, "I'm being charitable enough allowing one of Molly's spawn to stay."

Ginny gritted her teeth, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. Charlie might die and her family had dumped her here, she wouldn't be a weak ninny and break down in tears in front of this old biddy - she wouldn't!

Mercifully she was left alone soon after.

She looked around at the finery around her, the gilded mirrors, the expensive looking rug. She'd always dreamed about having more money - even if she didn't really dislike the life she had, her family was enough - but still she'd dreamed.

Seeing it now. Cold and unfeeling. She'd throw it all away for another moment with Charlie. Another moment with her parents.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

The first of many.

---

To her absolute shock - Muriel had arranged tutors for her, somehow, even with the short notice, she'd managed.

To her horror only part of the tutoring would be about magic. Only a few hours a week on basic Arithmancy and History of Magic, as well as some basic theory in Potions. No actual brewing - just memorizing ingredients and their effects with each other and how to handle and process them.

Three days of the week were slotted fully for deportment lessons, how to hold yourself, how to sit and stand and walk, and how it changed depending on the status of the person or persons you were around. Ginny despaired as she was forced through lessons on how to eat and drink, her fingers receiving stinging hexes whenever she'd hold a goblet or a flute wrong. Apparently her posture had been all wrong too. Ginny suspected that Muriel would find everything to be wrong - and the woman did sit in on many of the lessons, making snide comments on her Weasley upbringing.

Ginny found it harder and harder to keep her temper down. If she had a wand - she'd have hexed her tutors by now. If not great Aunt Muriel, although she seemed like the kind of woman to send a nasty curse back.

If deportment lessons were bad - they didn't hold a candle to genealogy lessons. Ginny suffered through endless hours of memorizing the bloodlines of Great Britain up to ten generations back. At her vigorous protests, the tutor had snidely told her that the average pureblood child could recite at least that much by age 7.

Ginny bit her lip so hard it bled, but managed to hold her tongue and not scream at the bigoted moron who taught her. She simply smiled blandly and bent back over dusty tomes and studied. While in the quiet corners of her mind she plotted and schemed for ways to get these pureblood bigots back for putting her through this nonsense.

She was the sister of Fred and George Weasley - she'd find a way…

At least the dancing lessons weren't too horrible. Even if dancing with animated mannequins were disquieting - at least it meant she didn't have to learn with actual boys. Especially as all these pureblood customs and such she was forced to learn - would no doubt lead to such boys being Slytherins.

Her parents would actually die if they found out that Ginny was dancing with the enemy.

As a month went by, her time filled from the moment she woke, until it was time for bed - she never once received word from her family. Nothing from her brothers. Nothing from her parents. No update on Charlie. As she cried herself to sleep at night, at least she could console herself that he was alive. Because surely if he died they would have had to come get her or at least tell her.

The next morning, half-way through October - she was in yet another lesson on pureblood customs, her great aunt Mutiel sitting in yet again - her beady eyes watching, ready to unleash criticism at any moment.

Ginny had hardly slept last night, worried about Charlie - tired of her family ignoring her existence - tired of being forced through lessons no Weasley would ever need.

Honestly, when would Ginny ever attend a high society function? They were blood traitors for Merlin's sake!

Her tutor, a thin reedy man with a hooked nose - a minor pureblood with relations to the house of Crouch, once again looked down his nose at her with a condescending sneer. "Once again, Weasley," He mocked, before shaking his head, sniffing imperiously. "No wonder you're so slow at this, do you even have forks in that broom shed of a home your brood squats in?"

Ginny finally exploded, she'd had enough. Of holding back her temper - of being dragged around like some pureblood doll! Of not being able to fly or have fun, or be with her family. With a wordless roar she stood up, tossing the table to the side, overturning it in a great clash of silverware, and she went for a punch to the gits midsection - having no other way to release her anger right now.

Her eyes widened as with a boom of noise - before she could even touch the man - he was violently flung back, slamming into the opposite wall, cracks spreading from where the man was indented - unconscious. A great gust of wind flowing away from the center of the impact.

She'd been so upset she'd used accidental magic - she hadn't done that in years.

Ginny bit her lip, turning to her great aunt, bracing herself for a thwacking of the cane at minimum. Only from force of will - and recent deportment lessons sinking into her brain - was she able to prevent herself from openly gaping.

Muriel was sitting back in her chair openly cackling so hard that tears were appearing in the corner of her eyes. "Excellent, Ginevra! Who knew you had it in you! There's some Prewett in there somewhere after all!" She cackled delightedly.

Ginny tilted her head just so - as she'd been taught, and narrowed her eyes, "He deserved it." She said haughtily. A hint of nervousness fluttering in her belly.

Muriel grasped her cane, and stood up, still chuckling. "I would say so, he's always been a bit of a ponce that one. Biggest Ravenclaw I've ever seen."

"You… Agree with me?" Ginny said slowly, eyeing her with suspicion, "You say much of the same things…"

Muriel sniffed, "I'm family, as much as I wish it weren't so some days. I'm allowed to point out your flaws - especially as obvious as they are." She looked down at Ginny critically, "Although less in one of you then I would have thought…"

Ginny sort of hated herself for how that almost praise had a faint blush spreading over her cheeks, the tightness in her chest, present ever since she tossed her tutor into the wall - lessening.

"Won't he be mad?" She asked, glancing at the still unconscious man, wedged into the wall. Not that she much cared - he was obnoxious and condescending.

Muriel scoffed, "He'll get his galleons, so he's got nothing to complain about. Certainly he won't be back to teach - I'll take over those lessons."

Ginny gulped, that didn't sound so good. She suddenly wished she could have her tutor back.

Muriel took a few quick steps forward and grasped her chin - staring into her eyes critically." Don't lose that backbone now, child. I think you've had enough of the boring details anyway, I'll teach you the important things. Family only." She decreed, before quickly moving away again, Ginny watched in confusion, wondering why she bothered with a cane when she was obviously strong enough without one. She winced as her great aunt thwacked her tutor hard in the shins to wake him up. That answered that question.

Now what did she mean by teaching her the Important things…

---

The mood at the cottage had changed - as if Ginny had passed some sort of test. Muriel certainly wasn't pleasant still - but she now engaged Ginny in conversation. Asking about her interests and ambitions.

She even allowed Ginny four hours on the weekend to fly. It was on an ancient cleansweep - and only for four hours. But it did a lot in making Ginny feel more charitable to the lessons she still undertook.

Amongst the lessons, Muriel also started talking about the Prewetts a bit. Slowly and carefully, as if she didn't believe in even saying anything. Ginny listened attentively. Family she could understand. Family loyalty was everything to a Weasley.

The days passed and Ginny - while still missing her family - started to not overly mind her stay. Even if some of the lessons were still tiringly dull.

Then came October 31st…

It had been a normal day, even if she had no other tutors coming in for some reason - Muriel had taken the lessons instead and had been spending much of the day on rituals and ceremonies dating back centuries. Things Ginny had always thought were illegal dark magic gatherings - or so she'd always been taught by her mum anyway. According to Muriel they were not illegal - but currently not in vogue either due to recent events. The ministry not banning them per say, but not strictly approving of the practices either.

"They're as much part of family magic as anything else we do, Ginevra." She said seriously as they say at the dinner table after lessons. Her great aunt's house elf served them a scrumptious meal that Ginny loyally deemed on par with her mum, but certainly not better. Just… Different, more refined cuisine. Not better.

It made her feel a little like a princess to sit and eat slowly, these delicious expertly crafted meals, served with all the finery of an ancient and noble house. She knew what her mum would say if she saw her right now - but Ginny was feeling a mite rebellious. If her parents wanted her to eat Weasley made meals, they shouldn't have dumped her off.

"They're not dangerous?" Ginny asked, curious about them despite everything. The more she learned about ancient magical traditions - the more she itched to learn. This was so magical compared to what she saw at home.

Muriel quirked a weathered smile, "Of course they are, Ginevra." She chided, "Magic is dangerous - that's why we celebrate it, pray to it, and offer ourselves to it. So as to receive its bountiful blessing for our families. And for ourselves."

"You make it sound so… Magical…" Ginny blushed a little, she hadn't found the words for it and she had come out sounding like a silly child instead.

"Ginevra, dear. This is magic as it was meant to be, don't shy away from your awe. Embrace it." Muriel said, oddly gently. A tone Ginny did not have much experience with since being dropped off here.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying their meal. Muriel broke it by suddenly slapping a palm on the table, giving Ginny a fright. "We better get ready, child."

"Ready? For what?" Ginny asked warily. Surprises from Muriel rarely turned out pleasant for her.

Muriel smiled wistfully, further taking Ginny aback. "I haven't been to a proper Samhain celebration in years - we're going tonight. Someone in the family needs to learn proper magic before I die."

Ginny's eyes grew wide, she nervously smoothed her hair, "What do I wear? What should I do? I haven't been taught about Samhain! What if I do something wrong?" She asked frantically.

Muriel cackled at her worries, making Ginny grit her teeth and glare at her balefully. She didn't see the amusement in having this sprung on her.

"Britty, bring the girl her clothes for the evening." She ordered, the house elf immediately popping away, just to return seconds later levitating a black box which she gently placed in front of Ginny on the table.

Ginny thanked the elf absentmindedly, earning a scoff from her great aunt who didn't believe in such things. Slowly she lifted the lid, gasping at what lay inside the box. Both hands reaching in and pulling out a dress so black it seemed to repel light, the fabric light and silky and with an otherworldly feel, small red rubies lining the neck and sleeves. "I can't wear this, it must have cost a fortune!"

Muriel smirked, "It was just one of many items in the family vault, Ginevra, gathering dust. Don't trouble yourself with Weasley compunctions." She grinned with delight at Ginny's glare for that comment, "It's yours, and don't forget the mask."

Ginny looked in the box and found a similarly dark mask, the fabric almost felt like liquid as it flowed around her fingers. The grin and sharp teeth of a fantastical cat like being staring back at her. "What is this?" She whispered, slightly in awe at what she held and what she would be seeing tonight.

"That's a cat-sìth mask - a sidhe born, cat like creature - Samhain rituals since the beginning of the magical world have been performed in disguises like this. It began as something to hide from death on the night where the veil between life and death is the thinnest." Muriel explained, looking at the mask fondly. "It continued on as a tradition as magical creatures are unnaturally powerful on Samhain - so taking their visage was another means of protection for ancient wizards and witches.

Ginny wondered briefly if this had once been Muriel's as a little girl - but balked at thinking of the woman as anything under a hundred and moved on to admiring the craftsmanship. "It's beautiful." She murmured.

"It's yours," Muriel said brusquely, not looking at her, "They will both grow as you grow, so keep them with you, just in case you'll celebrate the ancient traditions in the future."

Ginny bit her lip, struggling with her deportment lessons and her Weasley nature - before tossing the lessons aside and throwing herself at her aunt, hugging her, "I'll never lose them and I'll celebrate magic forever, you'll see!"

Muriel sniffed, pushing her away, and brushing her robes, "Well, I'll have to get dressed as well." She said hurriedly, getting up and rushing away.

Ginny giggled to herself as she spun around with the dress in her hands, hugging it to her chest. She might have embarrassed her great aunt a little.

If great aunt Muriel was determined to put some Prewett in her, Ginny thought with a mischievous grin, then it was all fair game to put some Weasley into her. Beginning with hugs.

She put the mask on, marveling at how even if it covered her entire face - she could still see as if she had nothing on at all.

She twirled around with her dress again. She couldn't wait to celebrate Samhain.

Not even once as she got ready did she have any thoughts on the regular Weasley halloween celebrations.

---

Around 10pm Ginny was side-along apparated by Muriel who was wearing a similar looking dress, except more conservative and with a shawl over her shoulders. She'd foregone her usual pink extravagant hat, for a Nundu mask. Ginny privately thought the mask fit her better than a cat-sìth mask ever could. Before arriving Muriel had explained some more about the creatures. Their mischievous and dangerous nature - Ginny felt fit her to a tee.

Ginny looked around in awe as they arrived, they were in a large forest glade, and there must have been close to two hundred people at this gathering. "There's so many…" She whispered feeling slightly self conscious. These people no doubt all knew these rituals by heart - and she didn't know anything.

Muriel patted her on the shoulder, "Not to worry, there used to be hundreds of these gatherings across Britain. Because of the ministry - now they only hold three. I have a standing invitation to this one - a lot of the more traditional families celebrate here."

Ginny watched everything with wide eyes, soaking it all in as her great Aunt led her further into the glade. A massive bonfire was burning in the center of the glade, children and adults both dancing around it. Ginny could see thirteen stone bowls in equal distance from the fire - a furrow in the ground from each bowl and she looked up at Muriel questioningly.

"It's for the sacrifices." Muriel said, peering at the stone bowls. "Oh, they're still doing it properly, I had wondered, with these new times." She sounded approving.

"Sacrifices?" Ginny asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she looked around her, searching for them. The dark stories of her parents playing through her mind.

"None of that nonsense, now, Ginevra." Muriel said sharply, tapping her on the head. "Animals, not people. It's no different than slaughtering a chicken for your Sunday dinner."

"Oh…Alright then. Sorry." She apologized, blushing behind her mask. While she didn't relish watching animals die. She did live on a farm. A sacrifice to magic would if anything be of a greater purpose then a sacrifice for her belly.

Around the edges of the glade there were tables laden with food and drink, smaller fires were everywhere - groups of witches and wizards sitting around them chatting and drinking. All wearing masks and looking quite posh. Even as they sat on logs and rocks and ate with their fingers off wooden plates.

Muriel noticed what she was watching and chuckled. "Nothing artificial here today, child. We're celebrating magic and nature, life and death - the beginning and end of all things. Even our clothing is from magical beasts or plant matter, those rubies you're wearing - created by pure magic." She watched the circle of children sitting around the bonfire and gave Ginny a push, "Socialize, use only first names - it's rude to enquire about family names on Samhain - there are no blood enemies on this night."

Ginny awkwardly walked forward, feeling out of place as she gawked at everything she saw - she could feel the magic here. A new experience for her. It was like a tingling feeling all over her skin - a feeling of her breathing being just that tad bit heavier. A presence in the air.

As Hogwarts was in session only kids her age or under could attend this gathering - Ginny nervously approached, knowing that she might have future classmates in this circle - and her mask did nothing to hide her hair. There really weren't many gingers in wizarding Britain. Still her month of lessons kicked in enough to at least approach with a straight back and confident stride, entering the circle, "Mind if I join you?" She asked, sitting down gingerly on a log at the group's consent - next to a girl with chestnut brown hair and a dark green dress fidgeting on the log next to her, wearing a cat-sìth mask as well, although in a lighter color.

"We match! And where did you get that dress!? It's amazing, I'm sooo jealous, my parents wouldn't let me wear any jewels at all! Anyway my name's Astoria, what's yours?" Her squirming log partner fired off in one breath, hands waving excitedly in the air.

Ginny smiled, relieved, she didn't seem so bad after all, "My name's Ginny, and I think it's an antique actually. My great aunt got it out of the family vault for me."

Astoria bounced on the log, running a hand along the fabric of Ginny's dress all the way down to her knee, making Ginny blush, none of her lessons had covered that! Was it normal for pureblood celebrations to practically feel each other up!?

"Astoria, your sister will have a heart attack if she finds out you broke customs that badly - hands off the poor girl - she's no idea how to deal with you." A boy across from them, wearing an Acromantula mask said, sounding amused.

Astoria scoffed, "Daphne won't hear about it will she, Lysander?" She said threateningly, Lysander, the boy in the Acromantula mask, simply laughed in response. Astoria turned to Ginny again, giggling, "My apologies, Ginny was it? I sometimes act before I think!" She said cheerfully.

"Sometimes?" Acromantula boy coughed out, the group all laughing. Ginny giggled along, it was kind of funny - she never thought the stuck up purebloods she always heard about would be so relaxed and cheerful.

"No harm done, it's nice to meet you, why, we're practically best friends already - since you're getting so familiar with me." Ginny teased gently. Smiling underneath her mask when the group broke out laughing again.

"Deal!" Astoria said brightly, hugging Ginny's side, making Ginny look around the group confusedly. Unsure of what deal she'd struck. How had she even struck a deal - had she missed some hidden pureblood thing between the lines?

Lysander was laughing so hard he was leaning onto the shoulder of the boy in a Hippogriff mask next to him, "You're stuck with her now! Never give Astoria an opening - she's as devious as they come!"

"I'm not devious, I've just decided Ginny is my best friend now." Astoria said haughtily, her nose in the air.

"Do I get a say?" Ginny asked, bemused. Relieved it was something so silly and not an undercurrent she'd missed.

Lysander shrugged, "Sure, you could move to France." He teased, laughing as Astoria tossed a pinecone at him.

"She's been looking for a girlfriend her age for ages, she thinks the Carrow twins are creepy." The boy in the Hippogriff mask said, he nodded towards Ginny, "Well met in magic, my name is Silvanus."

"Well met in magic." Ginny parroted back, finding that she didn't feel silly at all saying it. It felt almost empowering to be so fully immersed in magical culture, her culture. And now she realized that together with touching her - Astoria had also broken customs by being so familiar and not using the proper greetings.

She smirked, if Astoria was from those proper pureblood families she'd always heard about - her parents must be driven absolutely sparse dealing with her. It felt nice to be hugged though, the warmth of Astoria against her made her feel a little less lonely. Having not seen or heard from her family. She hugged the girl back and just sat and enjoyed the chatter. Soaking it all in.

---

Astoria soon dragged her away from the group - excitedly chattering the entire time. Ginny hardly got a word in at all, but she followed along anyway. She was learning a lot just listening - and Astoria was perfectly pleasant to be around so it wasn't like she really minded.

She was dragged to the refreshment tables and handed a smoking goblet of a burgundy red drink - Astoria giggling at her dubious sniffing off said drink before drinking it, it was apparently a spiced fruit juice, a thousand years old recipe that was traditionally served only during especially magical days - or so Astoria explained as Ginny carefully sipped it. Astoria gulped it down in big mouthfuls with the same excitement she had for anything so far.

The spices gave her a warm pleasant feeling that suffused through her, even as she couldn't identify what fruits exactly made up the juice - she was tickled pink by the fact she could drink straight through her mask like the fabric wasn't even there! Even though the Burrow had magic all around - it didn't have such showy or just cool effects as she's seeing here.

She'd barely had more than a couple mouthfuls of the tasty and warming drink, before Astoria slid her hand into hers and dragged her off to dance by the bonfire - a haunting melody had started to play, the fast paced melody the cause of frantic movements from the gathered wizards and witches. Ginny briefly noticed the small band of wizards and witches playing on ancient looking instruments, before she too was swept away in the excitement and heady feeling in the air. It felt odd having such a melancholy tune be so fast paced.

This wasn't ballroom dancing - and despite having no idea what she was doing - Ginny jumped around and danced - doing motions she'd be horribly embarrassed by if she was on the outside looking in. She could feel the spices on her lips still - almost burning, although pleasantly. Her heart was beating wildly, her hair flying around her as she and Astoria were lost in the crowd, both screaming in jubilation at the sky as the beat of the music played in time with the beats of their hearts. Fast paced, thrumming deeply, it was as if the entire glade was one big beating heart.

She was briefly aware of the animals being brought to the outside of the circle of revelers - gasping in shock and exhilarated joy as she felt her magic join with Astoria and with the wizards and witches around her - even great aunt Muriel had appeared next to her, joining her, holding her hand as blood raced through the furrows into the bonfire. Turning the flames pure white. Ginny's entire body was tingling, as the magic within her swelled. She was being swept away in the current, just following along, her magic euphoric.

"We sacrifice in praise for all magic, for the earth, for life and death and the cycle of all things." A wizard called out over the revels. "We honor our ancestors - our magic and theirs, never lost, never forgotten!"

"Never forgotten!" Came the roar of the crowd, Ginny looked around her as the majority of the crowd brought out trinkets of bone from their robes and dresses, holding them aloft. The heady feeling in the air turned more somber - the fast paced thrumming of the joined hearts of the crowd simmering down as if the entire night was holding its breath.

Muriel bent down to whisper in her ear, "Samhain is the night where the veil is the thinnest, dear. They'll throw the bones into the fire one by one and be able to commune with someone on the other side for a short while.'

"We didn't bring anything for that…" Ginny said, watching as the first wizard threw his trinket into the fire - the man seemingly in a trance for but a moment - before he bowed his head and stepped away - allowing the next reveler to step up. "It's not … Really bones of their family is it?"

Muriel chuckled hoarsely, "No, magic in this way grasps the intent - a full sacrifice is not needed on Samhain for simple communication, a gift of bone is enough, mind it has to be a magical creature or you won't succeed in reaching the other side." Muriel patted her on the head, "As for myself I have no one I need to talk to that desperately, and I didn't prepare one for you, as you'd not have taken it well to be handed a trinket of bone before arriving here."

Ginny watched in silence, the magic within her still feeling connected to the group - buzzing and swelling in crescendos - rising whenever a new trinket was sacrificed in the sanctified flames. The haunting melody was still being played - but at a slow mournful pace now. Matching with the slower more deliberate feeling of the magic surrounding them and connecting them.

Ginny shivered, it felt like something so much bigger than her, the longer it went on and the longer she felt it - the less sure of the world and her place in it she was. She'd been raised to believe something that now seemed to be false. Magic was alive - magic blessed them. She wasn't sure what to think.

It took over an hour for the communion with the dead to finish - Ginny breathing heavily by the time it was growing to an end, her extremities were buzzing, she could feel every strand of her hair, she tasted magic on her tongue, she could practically see it around everyone. The building magical crescendo of the night invading her entire being.

Everyone joined into a circle around the bonfire - holding hands, Ginny found Astoria on one side and her great aunt on the other and grasped their hands fiercely. Almost vibrating on the spot - she could feel the magic around them exulting in joy and grief and she could feel tears running down her face even as she smiled. Grief for lost ancestors and family - joy for their magic continuing on in them, the feeling seemed shared between them all - Ginny didn't even participate in contacting an ancestor and still keenly felt the grief and loss - as well as the love and hope, and the promise to continue on.

Without any ceremony or sign - the bonfire shone brightly like a star - before firing a beam of light into the sky, blinding her, by the time she blinked her eyes there was no bonfire in the glade any longer. She turned to ask her great aunt if that was it - when suddenly her magic surged, Ginny's eyes rolling back in her head as the entire group felt the blessing of magic upon them. It felt like nothing she'd ever experienced before - like being smothered in approval and praise, she could feel the ground beneath her toes - taste the air - see beyond the sky into the vastness of stars. She felt beyond powerful.

It was too much and Ginny fell to her knees, gasping for breath - before she passed out she noted briefly that at least she wasn't the only one.

---

Cheers

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Bug Apocalypse,

The obligatory Amy and Taylor join up and destroy the universe starter kit.

Or the Taylor supervillain origin story that's been done a thousand times.

Another drabble I took on and ultimately decided not to make a full story as there's six billion Taylor does bugs - but even harder - stories out there.

Warnings as usual that this is Worm, so it can get wormy, some light torture lots of angsting and the like.

Enjoy.

---

Where had it all gone so wrong? Taylor couldn't really answer that question. There were just so many possible answers. If she had to pick one, maybe when her mom had died, because everything had gone downhill after that. Her dad had checked out, so she'd had to learn to take care of herself, in a way her childhood died right then and there. It certainly qualified as going wrong.

Taylor looked at her blood stained fingers with a curious frown, her fingers weren't even shaking, she was supposed to be upset, she knew that. That's a normal reaction. She almost giggled, normal, that's not something that Taylor Hebert could even pretend to qualify as now - if she could have for a long while now, even.

It wasn't normal, to just… Allow everything. Not fight back. Not giving up either. Just allowing it, over and over. Allowing her best friend cum sister, to turn into a nightmare that stalked her everywhere she went, pointing out her flaws, prodding her apart with smug viciousness. It wasn't normal to not rely on her father for help, the authorities, the adults around her, then again it wasn't normal for those authorities to actively assist the monsters either. So who could say what normality was.

She'd been a different person then, she thought morosely, as she hugged her knees, sitting next to her, watching her. Or does she count as a her anymore? Taylor doesn't know what she's supposed to feel, if she's supposed to feel anything or if that is normal?

Sophia, Madison, and… Emma… Taylor had barely survived them, months and months and on and on, neverending, small minor annoyances evolving into a never-ending miasma of dread and self hatred she could never climb out of.

How could she be so weak? Had been a thought she'd gone over many times, until it had changed, until she'd just naturally accepted it, what she was, what they said. She instead just hunkered down, took notes, but didn't do anything anymore, gave up. If not quite on life - then on everything else. Went day by day, accepting her nightmare, dying a little more for everything that happened, but unable to finally stand up, fight back.

What was the point? They wouldn't stop, they'd shown they'd escalate, especially Sophia. And no matter what, she wouldn't get Emma back… Emma who knew just how to hurt. How to twist the knife.

The flute had been… Taylor almost laughed as she sat there, now, it seemed minor, considering things. But back then it had been almost enough to have her finally give up, to just lash out. But she'd ended up continuing on, heartbroken, but steadfast in her belief that fighting back did nothing good.

Maybe it would have all gone better if she'd done it back then. Lashed out, fought back. She'd probably have been expelled, because the trio would have laid all the blame at her feet and had everyone testify on their behalf, but would that have been so bad? Her dad would have been disappointed but… Taylor already knew all about disappointment - it was survivable.

She did actually let out a giggle at that thought. Survivable. Hah. "Maybe you'd appreciate that little joke, Emma?" She sniffled out through giggles, talking to the other girl. Not that it mattered much.

Taylor was a survivor, she must be. She survived the locker after all - although she didn't think all of her had, not really. She shuddered, automatically moving along, refusing to think of that time, the horror, the awakening of her powers at the point when her life was at what she thought was the absolute bottom.

Unfortunately moving past it didn't brighten up her viewpoint. Tears continued falling, it was only days in there before she'd gotten out of the hospital. Alone.

Because her life was a cosmic joke. Her apathetic, barely there, father, had finally shown some care for her existence, rushing to the hospital in a panic when the school called him. (First time the school ever took any action on her behalf, it ironically enough, screwed her, go figure)

He rushed straight down a street where a cape fight was in progress. With predictable results.

Taylor had been discharged early from the hospital so she could attend the funeral. Having to fight hard to not laugh the entire time, standing there, next to her. Who might as well have killed him, by trying to kill Taylor. But in fact, she knew. She'd killed him herself, if she'd stood up for herself, if she'd fought back, if she'd told him and made him listen. The locker wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have rushed into a cape fight trying to get to her.

She'd killed him. With her inaction. Timidity, weakness. Her. She'd done this. Because she hadn't been strong. Because the trio had been right. She hadn't been strong enough. Clung to morality and what was right. Refusing to fall down to their level. It had cost her everything.

She'd now killed her mom by calling her when she'd been driving, and killed her dad, why she'd never killed herself and saved everyone the problems she wondered, it would have been a simpler solution.

If she'd broken, or just listened, or ran away. Any of them. This wouldn't have happened. She'd been a coward. Just taking it all because inaction was safer than any action with an unknown result.

And then came the kicker of it all, the final straw that broke everything. A soft hand had compassionately laid on her shoulder as she stared down at the closed casket being lowered into the ground, the whispered words that damned her even further.

Zoe Barnes telling her that the will gave the Barnes's custody of her. Because she'd stupidly never told her dad that Emma was the creator of her ever living nightmare. That having Jack Slash as her new stepparent would be preferable - her own fault again.

She'd turned, stiff and pale and filled with dread. Seen the absolutely brimming cruel delight that had lit up behind the polite veneer of sadness in her former best friend's eyes at the idea of having Taylor available 24/7.

They'd be sharing a room. Zoe wanted Taylor to have companionship right now, so she wouldn't be alone. Emma had volunteered her room in a syrupy sweet voice, so many promises hidden beneath that only Taylor heard.

Maybe if she hadn't had everything already hit her so close together - she would have been able to hold it in. To just swallow it down again. Like she had before. To just accept that her lot in life was to suffer.

But right then, the only thing she'd thought when she'd seen Emma's smile was one thing.

I'll kill you! A wave of hatred expanding from her like she'd never let loose before.

Her limit had finally been reached, the locker, her dad dead because of her, the prospect of torture night and day forever, she'd finally not been able to take it anymore and lashed out.

Taylor looked around her, before she slowly used a nearby gravestone to lever herself up, knees weak, eyes peering around at the empty graveyard. She needed to get out of here before someone came looking.

For a villain…

Like her.

She was damned now, and she wasn't even sure she felt bad about it. At least the priest had already been long gone by the time her power had activated without her realizing it. It was so new, only days old, and she hadn't even experimented with it, so numb with her dad's death, she hadn't even realized at first she'd used it.

But her power had shown itself quickly, responding to her subconscious and in the moment conscious wish to do harm.

The only victims were the Barnes's at least. A mass of insects, ants, wasps, flies, everything nearby, had, at her thought, swarmed over them, stinging, crawling into their orifices, slicing and biting. By the time Taylor's shock wore off they were already dying.

Taylor had gotten to see something she'd fantasized about some dark lonely nights, even if briefly and never with a real wish to see it. Emma's horrified face, eyes pleading up at Taylor, as she died for her crimes.

Died because of Taylor's weakness, because again something bad had happened because of Taylor. Because she hadn been strong enough.

Revenge only tasted like ashes, or maybe that was the numbness speaking, she still hadn't felt fully human since her dad died.

There was no going back. She should feel bad for Zoe and Alan, she supposed. And Anne, she'd left her an orphan wherever she was that she hadn't made it today. But in her mind she could only think, they'd seen Emma everyday, and never seen the monster, and would have allowed her full access to Taylor.

She just… Wasn't sad they were gone. Just sad for the people they'd used to be back when Emma hadn't been the creature roaming her mind, delighting in every small cruelty inflicted.

She supposed that made her a supervillain in thought as well as deed. Because she knew people should be horrified at murdering someone. Taylor definitely didn't want to kill innocent people. And she wouldn't. She was pretty sure. This had been an accident, more like involuntary manslaughter than anything. But Alan and Zoe were already dead, and she just didn't… Care.

She'd changed in the last few days, from locker to graveyard. Taylor had died twice in a week - metaphorically, she didn't even know who she was now.

And Emma… Taylor once again bent over the corpse, the eyes forever dimmed of light now, the normally cruel turn of her lips instead set in a rictus of horror. She brushed some blood away, or she tried, only succeeding in smearing it across her cheek. "I'm sorry, Emma. For the person you were, and for letting you turn me into this. It's my fault, I should have stood up to you, punched you. Something." She sighed, and stood up, feeling all the insects around her, her weird power, controlling bugs of all things, it was easy to sink into the feeling, her heart felt less heavy, the sadness sank away.

She set them onto eating the bodies, only wincing slightly as she began to walk away. She didn't know how much they could destroy, but somehow she knew that they'd continue to follow her order until it's end, even if she left. She couldn't go back to a normal life now either way. Either the authorities found the bodies or bones or whatever - and would look for her as a murderer. Or they'd find nothing, the bugs having taken care of it - in which case it would be a missing persons case, and they'd still look for her. And if found, they'd wonder why only she could be found.

She'd always wanted to be a Hero. For a long time it was for the same reason any little girl wanted to. For the fame and the idealistic views of heroics. Then, Emma had been transformed, had come after her with Sophia and Madison, and it had been an escape. The thought of becoming a Hero being an escape from her normal life - which was completely down the drain.

Now… She'd murdered people. And although Emma had been a horrible person. She hadn't deserved to be slaughtered by a swarm of insects. Taylor didn't know if it was her dad's death or her power that made her emotions so dull right now, but as she left the graveyard behind, she was thankful.

She didn't know if she could handle being a homeless supervillain murderer if she could feel things like a normal person.

Taylor Hebert was dead, she went into the dirt with her dad, half of her left behind in a toxic locker to begin with.

Whatever she was now, kept walking.

---

Taylor didn't know how villains found a lair, but she couldn't exactly afford to be picky, not with the situation she was in. She already knew that without her dad, the dockworkers association would begin falling apart as the gangs moved in, he'd been the one tirelessly working, helping each and every member, keeping the gangs out by being the ever stubborn and unbribable head of hiring - he had aggressively vetted each potential member and kept track of current members to make sure they didn't stay in the union if they sold out.

He'd put down a lot of work for the union… Taylor tried not to think about how it felt that she'd barely gotten ten percent of an effort from her dad compared to his real child - the union and his efforts for the ferry and the dock revitalization.

God, was it a wonder how she was so fucked up? She'd killed her former best friend and her family over her dad's grave - and she didn't even feel anything. Unless tired counted as a feeling. Resentment filled her as she walked closer towards the docks, her dad's real home.

Brockton Bay was a shit hole by any standard, there wasn't much honest work to go around, she knew that from hearing her dad rant for years now. And without Danny Hebert to fight tooth and nail for the common dock worker. They'd all be gone soon enough, or part of a gang. Maybe that's why he'd fought so hard, because he knew no one else could, or would.

Maybe that's why her feet took her there on autopilot. As she walked, her mind was on the insects that she connected to as she walked through the city. Escaping into the swarm was preferable to being Taylor, so she played with it, ordering bugs to do silly things out of her sight, so she wouldn't be caught if someone figured something out. She'd quickly realized at that point that she could actually sense things through her insect army. Even if it wasn't quite like sight, or hearing. Not human senses anyway. It took some getting used to, but she had time.

Nothing but time now.

Bug control didn't seem like something that would make her last long before some other villain took her out, or a hero took her in if she actually tried to fight, so hunkering down somewhere and researching her power seemed a better bet.

Lung would eat her alive. What could bugs do to that? Armsmaster could probably build some super cool tinkertech bug zapper and take her down in five minutes.

As she kept walking, people paid no notice to yet another dirty teen in a hoodie in Brockton Bay, she thought about her power.

Bug control. She'd seen it could be dangerous. The Barnes's could attest to that. She grimaced slightly at that thought, because straight out murder was how a villain got caught quick. The authorities went after those kinds of villains hard. Unless they were the Slaughterhouse Nine variety.

She had an uncomfortable feeling that the likes of Jack Slash would actually love a cape able to send a biblical plague ahead of them when they terrorized towns across America. Further proof that she'd need to figure herself out and be careful and not run around in spandex and draw attention to herself.

She didn't know much about insects, something which she would need to change. But if she could control them, couldn't she breed them, perhaps? Evolve them? Something that could knock people out? Wasps with knockout stings? Ants that inject a paralysis effect with a bite? It was worth investigating. Because Taylor didn't want to be a murderhobo. And if she was going to be a villain instead of a Hero, ( like she had a choice) she'd at least be as cool a villain as someone with bug control could be.

She had a pretty good grasp of the area around the dockworkers association - and therefore knew of a couple warehouses that were empty, and pretty covered with debris and junk. The kind where no one had bothered cleaning it out, or moving in. A place as good as any for Taylor to bunk down in for now, while she figured things out. The dockworkers were technically within ABB territory, but Lung never really pushed against the surrounding area, it was just warehouses and blue collar workers - apparently not worth anything to him.

Or they weren't Asian enough or something.

Someone would budge in once the dockworkers started to fracture, Taylor bet on the Empire being the ones to do it however. A majority of the dockworkers association were of white working class guys and gals, perfect recruitment material for the Nazi bastards now that her dad wasn't there to stop them by keeping the dockworkers united, and the workers would eventually be desperate enough to look for any work soon enough.

Taylor had been around enough, listening, while her dad had been on the phone at home, fighting with city hall, with big business and with the higher ups in the union. She knew they'd be fucked now without him and his rule lawyering and incorruptible leadership.

She pondered for a moment if she could make a gang out of them all, she was a villain after all, but immediately discarded it. She controlled bugs. She wasn't the type that could become a gang leader like Kaiser and Lung. Far from it. She was probably a support player if anything. The thought was depressing, even becoming someone with superpowers she had to get a Taylor power - not enough to do anything worthwhile with.

She'd have to let go of all those people her dad had protected with his ability to pull jobs out of thin air to keep them barely afloat. She couldn't help them. She couldn't help herself.

She hadn't been able to help herself for awhile now. She felt her depression more keenly the longer she thought about it, what exactly did she think she'd be able to do? Hide away forever in the docks?

She sighed deeply as she walked up to the warehouse in question that she'd chosen. A veritable horde of garbage and junk metal covering the yard, up against the walls of the warehouse. Even the big double doors were blocked by several stacked up junk cars. Taylor knew the way in though, had found it playing around as a kid when her Dad had been taking her to work and she'd snuck off to play hide and seek.

She wasn't as small anymore, but she found that her thin gangly frame fit just as well as a small child through the small crawl space between the rubble and junk. The inside of the warehouse was less junky, filled with darkness and large shapes that she knew was a bunch of empty crates all stacked together.

She felt her way through the darkness, feeling the insane amount of bugs around her in this area, in fact, she'd been surprised in general walking here, how many bugs were around at all times. Feeling slightly icky about it, but wanting something under her head, she formed a pillow of sorts by a cloud of cockroaches ordering them to stay in that position as she laid down, exhaustion beating out the cold and uncomfortable sleeping area and sending her into sleep almost immediately.

---

The first few days were easier than Taylor had expected, but perhaps that was down to how detached she felt about everything. She just couldn't feel anything anymore, she wasn't sure what she'd done, or if it was part of her power, but she just couldn't feel anything very strongly.

She hadn't left the warehouse at all over the last few days, completely focusing on her power. She had no power or running water of course, just a completely dark and dreary warehouse full of empty containers and assorted junk. Thankfully, bugs really did follow her every thought and command. So she'd been able to send them out, part of her mind along for the ride, using their senses.

Her power apparently let her multitask to an insane degree as she continued to experiment with spiders, ants and wasps in her lair, while her marching army explored outside, looking for food and water for her. As she knew her way around several blocks around the area she was in - she easily found the dockworkers association building.

If she still had anyone at all or cared about anything other than her power, maybe she'd feel bad about stealing from her dad's workplace. But as it was, she had eagerly prodded her millions of minions onward, bringing back water bottles and bags of chips as well as a jar of peanut butter for her. Not ideal for nutrition, but Taylor had cockroaches as a pillow, so beggars couldn't be choosers. At least she'd figured out how to make bugs eat dirt and sweat off her body, so she didn't have to waste her drinking water on washing herself - even if it felt disgusting to have creepy crawlies crawl all over her in the process.

Taylor had been a normalish girl at some point. Spiders and creepy crawlies were probably one of her least favorite things, but life was suffering. She got over it.

At least after a few days of gathering up more and more spiders and having them create more the natural way - she had spider silk galore. Much more comfortable to lay on than cockroaches. She'd eventually made a hammock out of the material, her flock of spiders helping her attach it between two metal poles at the back of the warehouse. Fireflies gave her at least a modicum of light to work in even if she had to gather a whole bunch together to make it worth anything.

She'd found that she had a couple blocks of a radius where she could feel and direct any bugs, after a certain point she'd just lose control if she made them move past the boundaries. She wished she had more, but felt she couldn't complain too much, a couple blocks had an insanely large amount of minions for her to use after all.

The bugs would just do whatever if she didn't take control, unless she'd given them an order, than even if she stopped paying attention or let them leave the area, they still continued on with her orders until she gave a different order.

It meant she could technically send bugs outside her limit of a couple blocks - but she wouldn't be able to sense them or change their order again. They'd be outside her control, still following whatever order. Food for thought, but dangerous. If she sent a swarm outside of her sense range, perhaps someone could catch on what she was, or figure it out somehow, because a swarm was much more likely to be caught doing something without her along for the ride to send orders. Didn't matter much for single bugs, who noticed if a fly behaved oddly?

What she really wanted to do for her own abilities - was break into the Brockton Bay zoo to get ahold of some of the more dangerous kinds of insects and arthropods. She wanted to feel safe again. Even if she didn't want to be the kind of villain who killed randomly, as a bug controller what could she do without dangerous bugs?

Brown recluse spiders, scorpions, bulldog ants and fire ants, she wanted them all. But she'd held back. Because she didn't dare leave her warehouse yet, she didn't have enough of a way to defend herself. What if a hero was looking for her? And she didn't have a costume either. Also, she was reluctant to add absolutely lethal arthropods to her swarm - other than the black widows and murder hornets she already had. What if she lost control by accident?

For her own safety she already had the black widows setting up shop high up in the rafters of the southeastern corner of the warehouse, far away from her, ordered to reproduce and not kill each other and continue to spin silk for her eventual costume. With black widow spider silk about as good as kevlar, she figured it was worth a shot to use her own product.

Likewise her group of murder hornets were also given their own little corner, reproducing slowly and well away from Taylor. Her more non lethal bugs worked 24/7 on bringing food to her most important swarm members. Which in many cases involved walking themselves into the webs of her black widows for dinner, which Taylor couldn't help but find funny in a creepy kind of way.

Taylor had figured out pretty quickly what her biggest weakness would be. She had nothing but time after all, sitting in the darkness, just a couple fireflies giving her some light to see by. If she lost her swarm, she had nothing. And picking up more bugs as she moved through the city was something, but it wouldn't be nearly as good, as she couldn't guarantee the composition.

A swarm of cockroaches and flies would do a lot less to protect her than if she could field everything she had. She was a multitasker with her swarm. It was her best advantage, being able to fight with dozens of different plans through millions of different minions at the same time. Attacking and defending from multiple points at the same time.

Something she had practiced over the last few days, if only in gathering her bugs together into a shield in front of her and practicing big swipes of a mass of bugs to push things away from her. She mostly used cockroaches and beetles for it since she knew they had a carapace at least.

It wouldn't do anything against a cape but might work against people with guns.

Fighting for her wouldn't be nearly as effective without a good balance in her swarm. Ideally she needed to set up places across town that held her bugs. Create an area for them to breed and eat and grow and perform tasks for her, independently, just following her last orders until she got into range and could call them into battle. Either that or find a way to control them over a larger area…

That was a pipe dream really. Taylor fantasized about taking the city by storm, cleaning up the gangs. She had time and nothing but time after all.

In the end she was just dreaming, just like the zoo which she couldn't break into, not really. She'd failed at everything so far, she couldn't take that step, really go full villain. Even if she was one by her actions, however accidental. She couldn't just… Be evil.

She continued to play with her power, in the dark warehouse, wrought with indecision.

Her bug minions multiplied more and more by the hour, following their orders loyally as Taylor worked on understanding her power for want of anything else to do.

Another night fell.

---

Sophia was angry, no, she was beyond that. She was filled with hate as she worked her way through the docks, slipping into shadow form to get through the walls of the derelict warehouses, checking one more off her mental to do list.

They'd finally succeeded in breaking that wimp, at least, she'd been pretty sure they had. Emma had been on such a beautiful high the few days after the locker, knowing they did that, they showed that loser her proper place finally. Sophia had felt smug in the knowledge that she'd picked correctly, that Emma was a real predator. The way she'd absolutely crushed her former friend proved it, casting off the shackles of weakness that the little puke had held over her friend proved it. The way the whole school had come to realize it as well proved it.

Sophia and Emma, they were the predators, the whole school knew it, even the teachers backed off from them, Sophia felt like she could have shot one with a cross bolt and probably walked away from it. The power had felt liberating - what with the pussies at the PRT shackling her in her nightlife. The bastards were too afraid to do what was right, taking down the scum in Brockton Bay.

They couldn't do it like Shadow Stalker could, Emma understood it, she'd backed Sophia to the tilt. Been her sounding board, her backup.

And then she'd gotten the call from Emma, the wimps dad had croaked it because of trying to get to the loser's hospital bed after the locker. Just like how Emma had told her she'd killed her mom by calling her when she was driving - she'd killed her dad too, it was too funny for words. Emma had been so happy, Sophia hadn't been able to stop laughing the entire phone call. The government was putting the fucking weak-willed trash girl with Emma! They'd talked about plans half the night, Emma promising to fill Sophia in after the funeral.

Then… Nothing.

Emma hadn't answered her phone. Her texts. Sophia had sent fucking emails, knocked at her door, she even went at night and fucking shadow stalked into her bedroom. Fucking nothing.

Until she finally ran into Anne at the house one evening. Emma's older sister. And found out that they were all missing, and had never returned after the funeral. Then she knew.

Emma was dead.

That fucking loser must have triggered, standing over the grave of the loser dad she'd killed, the guilt finally sending her over the edge.

She knew Emma's dad was a lawyer and everything, they wouldn't just fuck off like that, and with Taylor fucking Hebert too? Nah, Sophia knew. Fucking trigger event, with Emma standing right there. The proper predator, but powerless, something Sophia had figured would change eventually and they'd kick ass together. And now that would never happen.

The wimp must have orgasmed with fucking delight with her luck at gaining powers with Emma right there. And Sophia was going to shove a crossbow bolt up her cunt when she found her, pay her back for daring to cheat and go after a real predator, a rabbit destroying a wolf through pure dumb shit fucked luck.

That's why she was trawling through every shit warehouse around the dockworkers association, no way the loser would go off the reservation, she'd go somewhere she felt comfortable. And through Emma, Sophia knew everything about the piece of shit.

Shadowing through another wall, she couldn't help the hungry grin that flashed onto her face under the mask. She heard a voice somewhere in the warehouse, quiet and mumbling to itself, but a voice that could only be one thing.

She readied her crossbow in anticipation. She always enjoyed this. But this time… This time she was going to take her time.

---

Taylor had started talking to her grouping of fireflies, lacking any better conversationalist partners at the time. Sitting by her hammock, trying to work through what she should do, what kind of villain she could be, without being too much of one. Or maybe the heroes didn't even know? Maybe she could at least be independent?

She suddenly lost her breath as something flew into her out of nowhere, knocking her back, pushing her back against the rusted wall of the warehouse. She cried out in pain as the jagged edges cut into her back. A cry that turned into a shriek as something lanced through her hand, blinding pain shooting up her arm as she stared down at a crossbow bolt through her hand, pinning it to the wall behind her, the still vibrating bolt barely visible in the low lighting provided.

"Yeah, that's nothing yet." A malevolent voice hissed from within the darkness. Slow measured steps sounding out as whoever it was came closer.

Taylor cried out in pain and fear as another bolt flew and another flash of searing pain hit her. Her other hand was also nailed to the wall, her heart beating wildly as she struggled to draw a breath, shock and panic taking her thoughts away, she didn't even think to use her swarm as she stood there, nailed down and crying. "W-why!?" She cried out, "W-who are y-you?"

The figure stepped forward into the light provided by the fireflies, instantly recognisable in her cloaked visage, her black bodysuit with the black painted metal mask revealing her identity. A crossbow raised and pointed straight at Taylor.

"Shadow Stalker!? Why are you doing this, you're a hero!?" Taylor cried out in disbelief. She didn't even really notice as the pain lessened, automatically shuffling it off into her swarm as she focused on the impossibility in front of her.

Shadow Stalker was a ward. A hero. They didn't stake random girls to warehouse walls. Taylor's brain just didn't compute the situation. Even if she knew she was a villain already, this wasn't the response a new villain got.

"Heh." Shadow Stalker scoffed, walking right up to Taylor, pushing the crossbow right up against her jugular, the hero's athletic body pushed right up against Taylor's. "Some people just deserve it, don't you agree?" She growled out, her head raised back aggressively in an oddly familiar way.

Taylor ignored the pain from the hero's body pushing hers, which exacerbated her wounds. Her whole body shaking on its own in a state of shock, and fear. "Wh-What?" She managed to mumble, feeling the sharp tip of the bolt right against her carotid artery. That voice… She recognized it. From her nightmares. But it couldn't be. It wasn't possible!

Still holding her crossbow against Taylor, Shadow Stalker used her other hand to undo the bindings to her mask, letting it drop with a clatter to the filthy warehouse floor. Taylor's heart dropped into her feet at the same time as her brain froze in fear and hatred. Mostly hatred.

Sophia Hess smirked at Taylor, eyes brimming with disgust. "I asked you a question, you piece of shit! You deserve this, right?"

Taylor ignored the threat to her life, snarling at the fake, in front of her, "That's a ward you're impersonating! Are you crazy Sophia? Well crazier?" She knew it was weak even as she spat it out. She'd been shot, expertly, by crossbow bolts. She'd been tracked down, Sophia had come into the warehouse somehow. But she just couldn't, she couldn't just accept it! Because if… if…

"You're really just a dumb queef aren't you?" Sophia chuckled darkly, "This is the real world you stupid bitch, how do you think we got away with putting you in your place, huh?" Sophia leaned closer, so they were nose to nose, her malicious gaze boring into Taylor's, "It's because it was all approved!" She hissed, chuckling cruelly at Taylor's shocked look. "The PRT, the wards, all of it, it's just another form of a gang." Sophia explained, seemingly drawing pleasure in the horror growing in Taylor's soul, no doubt visible through her eyes. "We blow off our steam on little inconsequential losers like you, just as the gangs do on whatever loser they happen to see, it's all the same, the strong prey on the weak, and you, no matter what fucking power you cheated into, are WEAK!" Sophia yelled the last part into her face, spittle flying all over Taylor.

Taylor shook, her hands spasming around the bolts, the waves of bugs making up their surroundings vibrating along with her, "No, no, no! You're wrong!" She shouted back desperately, "Heroes aren't like that! They aren't!"

Sophia's knee came up, stopping Taylor's protests as she screamed in pain, the strike having made her arms jerk as she tried to bend over, cutting her palms up worse, blood splattering around her. Sophia laughed, seemingly having the time of her life, "Well, we are, most of us. Usually not this bad though, you're a special case, I don't usually torture people… Much." She said angrily, grabbing Taylor by her hair and slamming her head back, making her back slice itself on the jagged edges further again.

"But you… You deserve it!" Sophia growled, pulling her hand back, making a fist. Before she slammed it forward, Taylor felt her nose break, heard the crunch, tasted the blood on her lips, even through the ringing of her head as it bounced back against the metal wall behind her. Sophia grabbed her by the neck, Taylor could feel her breath against her lips, the two of them almost close enough to kiss, "You killed Emma, you're dying tonight…" Sophia said quietly, her brown eyes intent as she met Taylor's eyes, "You just don't get it, and you'll die not getting it. Hero, Villain, it doesn't matter that much, it's all about if you have the power to do something, and you… Do-AHHH!"

Sophia disappeared into shadow form jumping back into the darkness, Taylor could no longer see her, not with her eyes. But to the senses of her millions of minions she was still visible, out of her breaker form, rubbing her neck where several wasps had struck, when Taylor had realized she might die if she didn't make a move.

With her eyes closed, she still 'felt' it when Shadow Stalker raised her crossbow bolt to fire. With a thought, a variable swarm of bugs swept up in front of her stacking up behind each other forming a shield that the bolt didn't manage to penetrate as it was let loose. But she'd miscalculated, focused on that first bolt, instead of the person firing it. A second bolt from a second crossbow passed by her focused shield and slammed through Taylor's left shoulder, making her cry out and jerk in position, worsening her wounds again.

At the same time a swarm of murder hornets swarmed Shadow Stalker, who tried to escape into her breaker state, but not before suffering several more stings, the ward stumbling out of the breaker state further away in the warehouse. Taylor didn't hesitate, even as she was still pinned to the wall and with her head pounding she ordered her bugs to pin her down. They covered her face, the cape struggling until she lost consciousness. Finally Taylor called them off, the bugs allowing her mouth and nose free again to let her breathe. She organized spiders to bind her with her kevlar strength silk. She needed to have a clear head when she figured out what to do.

She didn't know why she'd been unable to go back into her shadow state, but she'd take what she could.

Because right now she just wanted to murder her. Really really badly. And she didn't want to make a decision she might regret out of pain and fear.

Getting herself loose was a painful endeavor that worsened her wounds. More spider silk was brought to bind her wounds. But she knew she couldn't treat this herself. With a last 'look' at the tied up 'hero' she made her way out of the warehouse, stumbling down the street away from the docks.

She was barely conscious, allowing her bug senses to lead her as she stumbled on, the blood loss and the hit to her head not doing her any favors. It was in the middle of the night, the hospital was too far away.

She started feeling panic. She couldn't die like this, any other day, fine, she deserved as much, but not from Sophia!

Sophia who'd had the backing of the PRT… No she couldn't think of that right now!

In her senses she found a lone person having a cigarette by a parking garage, she stumbled towards them, but fell on her knees halfway there.

"H-help!" She weakly managed to get out, opening her real eyes, her vision blurry as she looked towards the person able to call her an ambulance.

"Holy shit what happened to you?" She heard like it was said through water, she blinked blearily, watching as someone in a white robe with a red cross approached her, still smoking a cigarette.

No… Panacea? She panicked, she'd needed help, but just a regular hospital, regular doctors, not a hero. She tried to get up again, to get away. Her bugs were sent to watch from the distance, by the roofs of the buildings around them to not make her out herself immediately.

Panacea was kneeling over her a minute later, pushing her down as she kept trying to get up, "Lay down, I'm trying to heal you." She snapped, sounding annoyed.

Taylor had lost a lot of blood, she was losing consciousness, she couldn't be found out here like this, not by a hero. Not after everything she heard from Sophia, not after how they'd fucked her.

She sent a thought into her swarm, bring me back home, don't let anyone stop me! She'd take her chances on healing on her own.

Her swarm, mostly having been at the periphery at the end of the block and the rooftops, began rushing their way as Taylor tried to get up again, weakly pushing Panacea away from her.

"You're not going anywhere until I've healed you!" Panacea growled, huffing in exertion as she half laid over Taylor's body to prevent her from getting up again, one hand holding hers, "I'm healing you now, okay, calm down!"

Make her… Taylor's thoughts grew fuzzy as she began losing consciousness, Make her save me… Home…

Everything went dark.

---

"Hey! Wake the fuck up!"

"Hey…. Please!?"

"Bug girl…. PLEASE!"

"Ugh, what? Stop yelling, I'm up." Taylor groaned, rubbing her eyes, what kind of rude person yells to wake someone up. Person… Taylor was suddenly wide awake as she scrambled forward calling as many fireflies as she had nearby to her position as she looked around for the person that shouldn't be here in her lair.

"Let me out of this!" A girl shrieked as Taylor stumbled out into the warehouse proper from the empty container she'd apparently been in.

Slowly the events before she'd lost consciousness came to her, and she watched through her senses with dismay, sending her fireflies forward to confirm with regular eyeballs Mk.1 what was in front of her.

Panacea was hanging from the ceiling, wrapped head to toe in a cocoon of spider silk leaving only her face and hands clear. And she was none too pleased with her position from what Taylor could see.

"Uh, why are you here?" Taylor asked, wincing right away for asking such a stupid question. Give her a break, she just woke up from nearly bleeding to death or something.

Panacea glared at her, barely visible in the poor lighting, "Because apparently my thanks for healing your scrawny ass is to be kidnapped and wrapped up like the world's biggest spider's dinner!" The way she shuddered through those words indicated that might have been a real worry for the girl, which made Taylor feel bad.

Taylor blinked, feeling confused, "But I was unconscious!" She protested weakly, "You're a hero, couldn't you just… Leave…"

Panacea looked done with life, as she slowly spun around, "I tried that, but then your fucking biblical swarm kept dropping killer bees and black widows on me and I took the hint and stopped fighting back!" She growled out in displeasure. "Which led to me being tied up and cocooned for dinner!"

"My swarm… Brought you here?" Taylor asked, feeling completely out of her element. Murder attempts she was fine with, mostly, or at least as used to them as a girl of fifteen could be with two already under her belt. Talking to a girl around her age was much harder - she didn't have much practice in that.

"Ohmygod! Just let me go!" Panacea shouted angrily, "I healed you already, not that your murder swarm would have let me do anything else at that point, I fucking carried you here under threat of death, I even healed Shadow Stalker…" Panacea glared at Taylor as her spinning brought her around facing the right way in that moment, "Which, what the fuck? You are going to be destroyed if you don't let us go right now, a ward and me?" She glared smugly, Taylor wondered how that worked, as Panacea continued, "Especially me! Now hurry it up!"

"Uh, just give me a minute, this is a bit much for me right now." Taylor muttered as she dragged a hand down her face, not even believing what kind of situation she'd found herself in.

"I need to pee." Panacea deadpanned, as she continued to spin, now facing away again, the girl letting out an aggravated sigh as Taylor didn't answer.

She'd been a villain for less then a week and killed a family in sorta revenge if you squinted, kidnapped and almost murdered a ward, and kidnapped the greatest healer in the world. "This is ridiculous even for me." She said quietly to herself, her bug senses showing no one in the area as she had a look around, half expecting Alexandria to be hovering outside.

As she stretched her senses, she came on a bunch of bugs that were odd. When she connected to them, her entire connection wobbled for lack of a better word. The bugs were all hanging around Panacea.

Taylor suddenly understood exactly why Panacea had swarms of murder bees dropped on her. She could change her bugs, somehow. She wasn't a straight up healer, she could alter biology. "What did you do with my bugs?" She asked, feeling a slight bit of relief, she'd been in a corner, but now. Now she had the beginnings of a plan. If she was right.

".... I don't know what you're talking about." Panacea said with a stubborn confrontational look on her face.

"Wow I'm a bad liar, but that's bad even to me, so really, what did you do to them?" Taylor said, stepping closer, peering up at the cocooned healer. With her bug senses she could feel Shadow Stalker similarly bound further away, although still apparently out of it.

"I'm a healer. Let me go before this gets worse for you." Panacea grunted out, but her eyes were slightly panicky, Taylor recognized it, it's how her eyes used to look in the mirror before every school day.

"I think… You're able to alter biology, you tried to escape by changing my bugs somehow, and that's when my swarm started attacking you." Taylor said boldly, disconnecting completely from the weird bugs, because the closer she got, the more messed up her connection was feeling.

Since she'd have been back at the warehouse where her bugs already had standing orders to protect the place - Panacea healing Shadow Stalked probably counted as danger, and she was taken down, then she tried to change her bugs and got herself strung up as her threat level rose. In a way it made Taylor feel better about her power because it showed the versatility she could have with orders already placed for her swarm. Although she'd have to be careful that they didn't do anything too weird behind her back in an attempt to carry her orders out in odd ways.

Like kidnapping people…

"You think you're fucking smart don't you." Panacea grouched, glaring down at Taylor, "So what, you're still not going to survive the shit storm of New Wave and the Protectorate stomping your ass."

"Probably not." Taylor agreed, fully agreeing that as a new villain she wasn't nearly well protected, powerful or connected enough to survive that kind of attention. She tilted her head curiously, letting a short smug smile appear on her face, "But you'd like it even less being called Nilbog junior or Bonesaw lite." She threatened.

She immediately felt bad about it, the way the girl in front of her paled while looking like she was going to get sick reminded Taylor way too much of herself. Taylor quickly waved her hands in front of herself hurrying to clarify, "All I'm saying is there's a way where you and I walk away from this and neither one of us gets hurt."

Panacea pursed her lips, not looking impressed, but also not going on another tirade. Taylor took that as a good sign, "Come on, all I was doing was bleeding out in the street, I didn't even want to kidnap you, do we really need to fight?"

"What about Shadow Stalker?" Panacea asked after a minute of silence, "You almost killed her, if I had been ten minutes later back here she'd have died."

Taylor grimaced, "If you hadn't noticed, she'd done a pretty good job at killing me, I only defended myself, put her out of the fight." Taylor hated that she sounded defensive, Sophia deserved to be eaten by a swarm if anyone did.

"I did notice, but it doesn't justify you killing her, you were able to stop me without doing it." Panacea said disapprovingly.

"You stopped at the threat of potential harm, Shadow Stalker wouldn't have. She was here to kill me." Taylor snapped, not wanting to be lectured about the person that almost murdered her.

"She wouldn't have, she's a ward." Panacea said with absolute surety.

Taylor couldn't help but laugh, almost sinking to the floor as she laughed and laughed, tears springing from her eyes. If in the end there was more sniffling than laughing, Panacea at least had the decency not to point it out, although she looked very put out to be captured by the emotional and pathetic villain of the week. Or so Taylor interpreted her completely done look.

"Shadow Stalker terrorized me for a year and a half at school, bullying me, ostracizing me, driving me towards suicide." Taylor screamed suddenly, done herself, shocking Panacea with the outburst, Taylor pacing in front of her cocoon suddenly bursting with nervous energy, arms across her own torso as her voice broke, as she continued describing it, "She and her cohorts grabbed together all the hygiene containers from the girls washrooms, emptied them in my locker, then locked me in there!" She raged, hardly noticing the widening of Panacea's eyes or the disgusted angry look she gained for a moment. "She triggered me!" Taylor shouted up at Panacea, "And last night she tracked me down to kill me!"

Panacea took her time to answer, carefully speaking up once Taylor calmed down slightly, "You could report her." She suggested with a hesitant look in her eyes.

Taylor snorted, "That's worked great so far." She said sarcastically, throwing her arms out, indicating the situation they were in.

Reports against Sophia Hess or the trio didn't do shit in school and she must have had some sort of PRT liaison back then, so why would now that Taylor was a villain, change anything.

"I can't let you kill her either." Panacea said, pausing for a moment, sighing, "I don't think you're lying, which makes what she did unforgivable and disgusting, but she doesn't deserve to be executed." Panacea didn't even manage to look convinced in her own words and she must have known it because she pouted silently instead of continuing on.

Taylor groaned, "I don't want to kill her, not really, but I don't know how else to have her not kill me, she's got the perfect power to assassinate someone!" She pointed her finger angrily at Panacea before she could say anything, "And don't say report her to the PRT! I'm not trusting my life to the people that let her get away with it this entire time."

"...I'm not getting out of the cocoon am I?" Panacea said tiredly.

"Not until I know what I'm doing." Taylor said quietly, "Sorry." She added sheepishly.

Panacea sighed, "This won't end well when they find you." She said, but didn't try and argue the point.

Taylor was well aware of how much shit she'd be in if the heroes found her bug filled lair with two heroes spun up like they were about to be bug food.

Fucking Sophia, even outside of Winslow she just had to fuck Taylor's life up..

---

Two days later.

"I can't believe you." Amy said, shaking her head disapprovingly, although it was somewhat ruined by the small smirk on her face as she sat with Taylor and shared a jar of peanut butter.

The cursing and yelling echoing across the warehouse from where Shadow Stalker was being force fed a variety of bugs was the background noise they were listening to. Taylor wasn't wasting peanut butter on that bitch, that was for damn sure.

"It's protein, perfectly good for you." Taylor said blithely, licking her spoon clean before offering it to Amy for her turn at the food. Bugs would keep Sophia fed, Taylor didn't see an issue. And if she made them wriggle a bit extra on the way down… Well, life's a bitch, Sophia could suck it up.

The warehouse was fairly well lit by now, Amy had spent less than three hours in the cocoon before she'd grown bored enough to offer some assistance just to be let out. Taylor had been hesitant at first, and stayed well out of reach, ready for any kind of betrayal. But it had quickly become apparent that Panacea - or Amy as she'd told her to call her, was actually enjoying herself making her fireflies grow larger and with more varied abilities vis a vis lighting.

She now had bugs capable of becoming floodlights, the fireflies themselves the size of her hand. Of course Amy refused to create anything dangerous, but it still thrilled Taylor with the possibilities. And it greatly enhanced her mood to not be stuck in the constant darkness she'd been previously.

"She doesn't make it sound like it's that good." Amy deadpanned, for some reason a bit red cheeked when accepting Taylor's spoon, which she hesitantly used to scoop a glob of peanut butter into her mouth.

"You fucking whore! Let me out of here!" Shadow Stalker shrieked between feedings, she'd been calling Amy names every waking moment for the past two days. Apparently incensed that Amy wasn't doing anything to fight.

Which was pretty stupid because she was a healer, not a fighter. And if Amy started messing with Taylor or her bugs the swarm would descend on her immediately. But from what Taylor had heard all too often from Sophia now, her stupid predator and prey philosophy demanded action.

"You catch more flies with honey." Amy called out, sharing a smirk with Taylor at the roar of incandescent rage that answered her.

Amy had tried to talk to Shadow Stalker for all of ten minutes at the beginning before realizing that if anything Taylor had undersold how unstable she was. She'd ranted about her philosophy and how Amy should just kill Taylor right then and there because she wasn't worthy of life. Taylor had practically seen all support drain out of Amy as the ten minutes ticked by, until the healer had stomped away and refused to entertain the ward any longer.

"People are freaking out, you know." Amy said, the spoon still in her mouth as she looked at her phone, surfing PHO together with Taylor. "They found my car outside the parking garage."

Taylor had been worried the girl would use it to text or call for help, but she'd seemed remarkably relaxed ever since leaving the cocoon and hadn't even tried to send a message. It weirded Taylor out, it was like the girl was reluctant to go back or something. Might explain why she was out driving in the middle of the night. She was allowed to drive to the hospital but apparently Amy in a fit of rebellion had taken to driving around aimlessly.

Luckily for Taylor that night. Or unlucky depending on how this situation would end up resolving itself. Taylor kind of trusted Amy would keep her mouth mostly shut if she just let the girl go at this point.

The problem was Shadow Stalker.

Taylor couldn't let Sophia go. Neither could she kill her or Amy would turn her in. She definitely wouldn't harm Amy so she was kind of stuck on what to do.

"Your parents must be worried sick." Taylor mumbled, brow furrowed, feeling bad about the situation.

Amy made a wishy washy hand motion, "Carol is probably more worried about the bad reputation hit to New Wave for managing to 'lose' me." She said sarcastically, looking forlorn. "Mark probably hasn't noticed if no one's told him."

Notably to Taylor, Amy didn't call them mom and dad, which freaked her out even more. They were a hero team. They were supposed to be good people. Amy was good people, so how…

"Aren't your parents worried? Did you run away from home to become a villain?" Amy asked, trying to change the subject, looking uncomfortable speaking of her parents.

Taylor sighed bitterly, "I killed my mom, called her while she was driving, she crashed the car." She said succinctly, continuing on before she lost the nerve, a hitch to her voice, "And… I killed my dad too… The locker… He rushed to the hospital… Died on the way…"

"Jesus…" Amy said quietly, putting the peanut butter jar down, sticking the spoon in it, before she reached over and pulled Taylor into a hug. "You know that's not your fault, it really isn't!" She insisted, holding Taylor tightly.

Taylor giggled, sounding somewhat unhinged. "Is it bad I can't remember the last time?" She said despondently.

"The last what?" Amy asked almost gently, for her. She'd been fairly brusque in her mannerisms the last two days.

Taylor sniffed a little, "The last time I had a hug. I can't remember it." She said, trying to remember when she'd had an honest to god hug last and coming up blank. It must have been from before Emma turned evil. Maybe even as far back as her mom dying.

Amy's grip tightened as she hugged her even harder, the frizzy haired girl sighing against Taylor's cheek, "You didn't deserve this, you definitely didn't cause any of it, Taylor. You know you don't have to be a villain, you'd make a pretty good hero."

Taylor chuckled, a bitter undertone to it, waving a hand towards the corner where you could still hear Shadow Stalker's cursing. "No I can't. She'll never let me."

Amy paused, hesitating, before something firm seemed to settle in her visage. "What if I could make her not say anything?" She said, licking her lips briefly, the girl herself looking unsure about what she's offering.

"No." Taylor said strongly, pushing the girl away an arm's length so she could glare at her properly. "That's what a villain would do, I'm not making you become a bad guy over me and my pathetic problems."

Amy gave her an intense look, biting her lip, she seemed almost eager. "You're not pathetic, and it would solve everything, you'd be able to just let me go, you'd be able to be a hero." She argued.

Taylor shook her head stubbornly, "I already accidentally killed people, I can't be a hero, so don't do this for me, it's not worth it." She hated revealing how she was already damned, but she couldn't let Panacea be damned with her.

Amy paused, a conflicted expression on her face, "It was an accident, right?" She asked, and upon seeing Taylor's begrudging nod she soldiered on, "I'm sure with my support we could work something out, the PRT allowed Stalker in the wards, we'll be able to figure something out." She sounded confident, but Taylor was pretty sure she had no actual idea how those kinds of things worked.

Taylor was glad they were talking quietly enough Sophia couldn't hear, she didn't want to imagine how much shit Panacea would be in if it got out she was offering to do… Whatever it was she was offering. "No." She said firmly, glaring at her sort of friend/captive. "I won't let you dirty your hands." She said with finality.

Amy scoffed, "You can't stop me." She said smugly, before gaining a look of intense concentration. And Taylor felt it when something changed, Amy had been holding onto one of her bugs and it was changing.

"What did you do?" Taylor asked with trepidation as she felt the new bug take flight, Taylor immediately taking control of it, her mind assaulted with new capabilities.

Amy looked perfectly smug as she sat back, crossing her arms under her chest, "Well, if you wouldn't let me near Shadow Stalker to keep my hands virgin clean." She said, somewhat mockingly, "I changed one of your bugs so it could do the job for me, and then technically I am not doing it, you, the villain is, my hands are clean." She looked so unbearably smug and righteous too. It annoyed Taylor. Were all the hero's idiots?

Taylor appreciated an upgraded bug, she did. But this was just beyond the pale. Did Amy think at all? "Are you insane?" She hissed at the girl, "You can't go around creating mind control on a whim!" It wasn't quite as easy as that, but she could tell from the bug that it had pheromones that would allow Taylor to pretty much addict Sophia to her if she were to take a guess.

Which was very not okay. What the fuck Amy? And Taylor was the villain in this warehouse, supposedly?

Even as she'd said it, Taylor reluctantly sent the bug to get busy with the ladies, Amy had either forgotten in the rush, or never intended to make the bug sterile. And as much as Taylor detested the idea of influencing or controlling a sentient mind - because she considered her own inviolate, it's why she couldn't stand the idea of drugs because they altered your mind - she would still try to spread the bug strain to a couple more, for a rainy day.

Could save her life one day.

Amy shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable now, but still, her eyes were shiny and her whole demeanor was upbeat, like a weight was off her shoulders. "I feel good about this." She insisted.

"This is a bad idea…" Taylor said, but it was also the only one they had for how to solve this conundrum.

She couldn't just let Sophia walk out.

She couldn't let Amy walk out if she killed Sophia.

This bug and it's new pheromone based system would theoretically solve all their problems.

Creating a whole new set of issues.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Amy questioned brightly. Pushing Taylor to use her creation. She was way too into seeing what her stuff could do, it's like she'd never used it before.

How am I the villain? Taylor thought in frustration, looking from Amy to Sophia and feeling overwhelmed.

This won't end well.

---

Cheers

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

The Other Weasley.

So to double down on Weasley self inserts, here's a Percy one.

Again didn't make it into a full story as it's basically been done to death anyway or similarly anyway.

Odd child out rebelling against his parents, this was made before the Ginny self insert, me believing I made Percy a bit too much of an ass.

Hope you enjoy.

---

I have learnt something new today. About the brain. Apparently the brain is not developed enough in a baby to handle processes and memories like an adult. Something I would have thought obvious if I ever spent any time before thinking of the brain functions of babies and small children. Which I didn't.

It has suddenly become quite clear however. Because suddenly out of nowhere, I could remember. My life. My death. The last couple years buried in the subconscious, the brain not able to fully handle my memories and thought processes. And I was sitting in the goddamn Burrow, staring at my mother. Molly Weasley and I was fucking Percy Weasley. It was all a little disorienting to be honest.

"Fuck!" I said with absolute feeling. This is not the life I want. The world I want to be in, not with what is coming. What is my luck even?

The absolute glee on the twin hellions sitting across from me at the dinner table clues me in on the fact I said that out loud. Taking in their age I must be around 8, that's about as far as my thoughts go before my ear is snatched hard, and I'm yanked off my seat. My mother yelling at me.

"Percival Ignatius Weasley! Where have you learned to use language like that!" She snapped at me, twisting my ear slightly.

"Sorry mother, It slipped out, it won't happen again." I say, chagrined. My cheeks are burning as both Bill and Charlie are hiding grins, and the twins are outright cackling at me. From the memories of my life so far, this is definitely an outlier in my behavior. At least Ron and Ginny are too young to tease me.

Molly harrumps, but lets me ear go, with a quick, "It better not." She warns, going back to putting the finishing touches on dinner. I was the well behaved child, so I was apparently given some slack. No way the others would be let off with a single comment. The looks on their faces confirm to me that they're all a little shocked and upset there wasn't more of a show.

It was a real effort to keep my face placid and go through the usual family ritual of the Weasley home. Loud and rambunctious was not really suited to my tastes, nor the original Percy's I suspect. It's not really a wonder he was so quick to walk away. I've only gone through one dinner and I suffered through two pranks from the twins, and some backhanded comments from Charlie on my pedantic and studious ways. Bill didn't dump further on me, but he didn't stop the others either. And while Molly chastised the twins, it really did nothing to stop them, and Arthur's not so hidden chuckles burned as well.

This wasn't even my family, even if I remembered eight years living with them, my previous adult life took precedence, my memories and experiences coming to the fore and enhancing what had already been a personality not too dissimilar from original Percy. An organized ambitious boy. Or man as I was. And I couldn't quite understand how the family dynamic was allowed to be like this without correction. Percy must have been miserable half the time, Hogwarts probably the reason he even made it to an adult before jettisoning his family.

The lack of respect smarted. I knew as an eight year old, I would not generally see respect. But from my own family to see such casual disregard for my feelings… And I knew this was a regular occurrence. It was not quite heartbreaking, as I knew them as fictional characters for more years then I knew them as my only family. Annoying, frustrating, those were perhaps better words.

I politely excused myself from the table, and thanked whatever deity punished me with this life, that at least my studious nature had ensured Bill and Charlie shared a room, and left me one to myself. Strange to feel happy that no one in the family wants to share perhaps. Yet, I was mentally an adult. And the idea of sharing a space with people that constantly prod me for a reaction is not my idea of fun.

I didn't sleep much that night. Thinking about the future. Not so much on the Voldemort and Harry issue. That would sort itself no matter what I did. So I'd best stay away from that mess as much as I could being a Weasley.

No, I was thinking of mine. I have no interest in becoming a ministry bureaucrat. Why would I, when there was magic! Frankly, I'd rather spend my time researching and learning then working a menial 9 to 5. Even a Hogwarts professor job with access to the library 24/7 would be acceptable. Above all, the Weasleys were not my kind of people. I was not a people person, I was withdrawn, sarcastic with dark humor, had a penchant for puzzles and mysteries and a thirst for books that limited personal interaction for most of my life.

I could be polite, which I suppose wouldn't be much of a change from the Percy they knew. That would keep my home life somewhat settled, while I worked to make a better life for myself. I had previously been poor, poorer than the Weasley's who after all had magic to compensate for much. I had worked hard, studied harder, to pull myself out of that poverty. I was not going to spend another life like that. Not when there was magic. I'd find a way.

I finally laid down in bed, sudden jarring tiredness taking control. My last thoughts of the night probably would have been ruminating on how well I could argue against the sorting hat in a few years. Talk him down into Ravenclaw, instead of the Slytherin I feared I'd be.

Now that would really make home life interesting. That would have been my last thoughts…

Except then I sat up as I realized something, scratch that sleep thing. First thing is give Scabbers to Ron. ASAP.

For whatever reason he isn't in my room at the moment. Whenever he appears, I'll be the nice older brother bestowing my 'pet' on Ron. Sorry bud, better you than me I think, not even wanting to contemplate spending the next few years with an adult wizard in my room.

I'm not selfless enough to try and save Sirius either. I'm eight. And can't do magic. Trying to catch Pettigrew right now will probably just lead to him finding Voldemort earlier.

So Ron gets a new sleeping buddy.

This new life is starting out great already.

---

One of the advantages of the large family I lived with, was the ability to disappear. With Arthur at work, Bill and Charlie creating a ruckus, the twins and their antics, and the two young ones in Ron and Ginny. My mother and indeed the rest of the family wouldn't even notice that I spent a majority of my time in my room.

There wasn't a family library to peruse, so I concentrated on different avenues for now. To start with, meditation, to recognize my magic and interact with it, even though I did not try to utilize it quite yet.

There was a reason Hogwarts started at 11. Our magical cores settling down enough to be properly utilized. It could be dangerous before then. I imagine I'd begin practicing trying to use wandless levioso or something similar by 10. It should be safe enough. But I left it alone for now other then recognizing my magic and getting used to it, getting a feel for it. Meditation was also good for trying to build up Occlumency. I had a rudimentary idea of how to go about it. And I did feel much more focused and my memory felt much sharper after a few weeks of emptying my mind, sorting through my memories of the day, and trying to imagine slotting them all away in a library.

Time would tell if it would work, if Occlumency would progress this way. If perhaps a mind palace was possible like so much fanon construed. I did not, nor would I have, an Occlumency text anytime soon. So it would have to do. I certainly couldn't ask my parents. Occlumency was classed as mind magic. I could only imagine the fit Molly Weasley would have if she knew her eight year old son was practicing it.

Summer eventually ended, me keeping a polite distance to my family, them not even noticing. With Bill and Charlie heading off to Hogwarts to my hidden relief. Then it was time for me and the twins to head off to the four hour long lessons every weekday morning, held by an elderly witch for all the magical children around the Ottery St Catchpole area. These lessons explained how purebloods arrived at Hogwarts with literacy and math skills. They were pretty basic. And I was literally bored out of my mind. It didn't help that one witch was teaching kids as disparate as four to ten.

Apparently my boredom showed. I was pulled to the side only three days in by the elderly witch, Mrs Grafton. Probably would have happened sooner if the younger kids weren't such brats, needing extra attention.

"Percival, dear. I've noticed you aren't really participating. How far ahead of the rest of the class have you gotten?" Mrs Grafton asked shrewdly, peering down at me from under her plumaged witches hat, beady dark eyes assessing me.

I shrug, "I'm probably ready for Hogwarts when it comes to the basics." Figuring that was a bit too self assured, I blinked innocently, "I mean I think so, Mrs. Grafton." At least blushing on cue was ridiculously easy as a Weasley.

Considering what literacy, math, history and geography was considered basic to the wizarding world. I was probably decades ahead of my peers. I couldn't exactly say that, or explain how I suddenly knew all those subjects however.

"Well, why don't I give you some parchment work, if you solve it all, I think we can find something better for you to do with your time." She said consideringly.

I was soon sitting at a desk, basic math and logic questions in front of me, simple reading comprehension questions, a small essay on a simple subject, all things any normal child would be able to do as a matter of course. Yet for purebloods this was apparently of Hogwarts age equivalent. No wonder the professors there always complained about the quality of homework.

Mrs Grafton immediately looked it over as soon as I finished. "I'll have to talk to Molly, it would be a waste to keep you in this class " She muttered after a few minutes.

When class ended only ten minutes later, I received some queer looks from the twins as Mrs Grafton followed us home. They were soon snickering to themselves, whispering heads together. No doubt imagining I had gotten into some sort of trouble. I couldn't imagine why they would think that, since I was not them in any manner. Then again the twins like the rest of the family, always only saw what they wanted to see. They were remarkably stubborn that way.

"Amelia? Is everything alright?" Mother said sharply as she walked out from the kitchen door, apron spotted with flour, eyes sharply on us children. Well… Two of them. "What did they do?" She snapped, eyes fixated on the twins.

Mrs Grafton cleared her throat, "Actually, I'm here about Percival."

Mother seems lost for words. "Well," She blusters for a moment. "I can't imagine Percy did something to disrupt class!?" She gives me a once over like she's looking for any strange mutations or extra arms.

"No, not at all. Percival has always been a joy to teach. It just seems he's finished the basic pre-Hogwarts program." Mrs Grafton assures mother with pursed lips. Mrs Grafton had never much approved of my mother's parenting. But then again she taught Bill and Charlie. And now the twins. I was pretty sure I was the outlier as the quiet and polite one.

Mother splutters a bit. "Already? But he still has two years to go!" She wrings her hands, no doubt worried about what they can figure out for me, what with the no money situation. To be honest so am I. The classes were boring, but at least it was more than sitting in my room meditating.

"Well, I thought I had a nifty solution to that. My granddaughter runs the library in Catchpole. She could use a smart young man to assist her, and in return for a few hours of paid help, he could study whatever he'd like with the assistance of my granddaughter." Mrs Grafton explains smartly, nodding along as she speaks, seeming to like her own idea the more she speaks it. She stares mother down expectantly.

Mother hesitates, looking at me reluctantly, still wringing her hands, "Oh, but it's so far… " She begins to shoot it down.

"Nonsense, it's a quick floo trip, and even if the floor system goes down he's literally a hop and a skip away." Mrs Grafton waves away the protest.

"Percy, is so young!" Mother cries out, stepping over and grabbing me, shoving me against her, like I'm leaving suddenly. I take the hug and fervently hope she isn't going to win this argument.

"Nonsense, Percival is a smart young man, it would do him good to earn some extra money, and he'd be able to keep studying and preparing for Hogwarts with my granddaughter watching over him." Mrs Grafton isn't giving up, her beady eyes peering at my mother, intent and stern. "He can't be sitting in my class bored out of his mind, Molly." She chastises.

"I guess. If Percy feels he can handle it, I suppose it isn't too far." Mother says haltingly, grabbing my shoulders and looking down at me.

"I think it would help me prepare for Hogwarts." I say, smiling slightly. Knowing my mother is a sucker for seeing her more reserved child smile. And like that she melts.

"Oh, alright then. I'll go with you tomorrow just to make sure everything is alright." Mother says fondly. She turns to Mrs Grafton, "Would you like to come in for some tea, Amelia?" She asks kindly.

Mrs Grafton shakes her head, "I have an owl to send my granddaughter, and I have to get ready for tomorrow's lesson." Her beady eyes on the twins who have managed to disappear into the background by being quiet for once. "I have a feeling those two will be more trying now." She said dryly. Before turning around and walking away without another word.

Mother shakes her head with pursed lips, then forgets all about me as she goes to lecture the twins. To ensure they give the poor woman no trouble at her lessons. I roll my eyes and go to my room, why she even tries to stop them when she won't punish them enough to actually deter them I don't know.

At least my future wasn't as bleak for the near future. Surely I wouldn't be paid much, but pocket change was still something. And I'd be able to look through an actual library. Study actual magic. If only history books and theory. But still. Magic!

---

Fiona Fawcett was the definition of an extrovert, she was bubbly, friendly and instantly

gained mother's approval upon dropping me off for my first day. They were chatting like old friends five minutes in, despite the fact Fiona couldn't be more then twenty. At least it made my mother feel safe in leaving me to my new job, and opened up hours of freedom to study.

Fiona had curly blonde hair, with an open and expressive face with big green eyes. Despite only being five feet barely, she had a presence about her that invited people in. I had no idea how she became a librarian of all things, she certainly seemed like a social butterfly. The library constantly had visitors who never seemed to pick up any books. A majority of the male persuasion. It made me feel like I was brought here to spend four hours stacking books so she'd have flirting time alone.

In the end I couldn't really care less. I rarely had enough books to put away to work for four hours. And either way Fiona paid me five galleons a week ( a ridiculous amount). Well it was a ministry run local library, so technically they paid me. But Fiona was literally the only other employee and so was the one handing me the money. It gave me hours to read, Fiona sometimes helping me study when she had nothing else to do. Her chipper attitude was somewhat annoying to deal with, but the effect was mitigated by her being an absolute font of knowledge. She had been a Ravenclaw, and loved books - and she helped me navigate to exactly what I needed. Now if only I could survive the constant flirting. She even did it to me, and I'm eight years old. I don't know what she expects for a reaction. My deadpan silence apparently just makes her see me as a challenge.

I'd be forced to floo home around five pm or face my mother's wrath. But Fiona had no problems with me bringing as many books as I liked home, she knew I wouldn't damage them, not like a regular eight year old might. In fact she encouraged me quite a lot and found me books I didn't even know I might need. Giving me advice on what basics everyone pureblood should know starting out. The things the Weasleys wouldn't know anymore.

I had a definite plan you see. Hogwarts has the biggest library in the world. Yet I'd never get through it all. I wanted more time there. And the plan I cracked was as simple as it was mad. Subjects like History of Magic and Astronomy were purely theory. I would spend the next couple years studying anyway. I would concentrate on covering the entire curriculum of those two subjects. And muggle studies as well because why not, it would be easy. And then take the OWLs and NEWTs before Hogwarts.

It would set me apart slightly, so I wouldn't be seen as just another Weasley. And it would open up more free time, less classes to do, less assignments to do. More time in the library studying whatever I want. It would also have the added benefit of giving me a good reputation with the professors.

The only other change to my life I instituted was a small work out routine. I had been fairly fit in my previous life, and I knew that it could become an easier habit to keep when started young and fairly in shape. Nothing much. Just some running in the early mornings, some flexibility stretches and some pushups and sit ups. Nothing to a crazy amount. A fitter body might help with stamina later for possible magic duels. I wasn't sure. But it was worth keeping fit either way. It wasn't too much of a hardship or took too much of my time. Even if I'd probably never go to the lengths of my previous life, nor join a gym or any of that kind of thing.

And so with my studying, and working out, playing nice with the family. Almost three years passed by.

---

Eleven years old

Beginning of summer

"Are you nervous?" Fiona asked me teasingly, ruffling my hair slightly.

"No, not for the tests anyway." I mutter, giving her a long suffering look as she messes my hair up some more. The stress would come when my family finds out about it. There's a reason Fiona is the one taking me to the ministry. I really doubt my mother would allow me to sit the tests at all.

Fiona puffs her cheeks out in that chipmunk way she has a habit of doing. I roll my eyes, "What?"

"You are way too cool for your age, Perce. You're supposed to be nervous and stuttering." She complains, flicking me on the nose.

"I've already paid for the testing fees, I've studied the material, I know I have it all down. There is no reason to be stressed about the tests." I say calmly.

I had kept all the galleons I had earned, not even buying a single piece of candy, keeping it all hidden for these fees and to get my own wand and supplies for Hogwarts, instead of hand me downs.

A better son would have helped the family with his hidden stash. I simply wasn't that good of a person however. My family probably thought I got knuts or a sickle or two for my work. Underestimating how stupid ministry budgets can be sometimes. Fiona paying me five galleons a week due to the library being overfunded and needing to spend funds to not lose funds.

She even gave me a 20 galleon Christmas bonus every year. She had even offered to pay for the tests when she found out what I was aiming for. I turned that down however. There's only so much you can owe one person. And I already owed Fiona a lot.

"I wish I could have been this calm when I sat my OWLs." Fiona muses with a quirky smile.

"When are you ever calm?" I point out dryly. Even now standing in the hallway outside the testing hall, home schooled kids hanging around waiting to sit their tests, she was bouncing on her feet, moving her head like she alone was hearing a beat of music.

She was also drawing a lot of looks due to said bouncing, several homeschool kids were of the 15-17 age range, and Fiona was the definition of a blonde bombshell, albeit in a small package.

Fiona sticks her tongue out at me, "Careful little red, or I might not come pick you up to bring you back!" She chirps with a teasing laugh.

"You're enjoying this way too much to stay away." I say with a sigh, shaking my head.

She smirks, wide eyed, looking around the hallway. Catching the stares of all the hormonal boys. And some of the girls. "Whatever could you mean?" She giggles, fluttering her eyelashes.

I roll my eyes, leaning back against the wall. It had become incredibly obvious over the last few years that Fiona was an incorrigible flirt. Yet that is all she did. Tease and play and flirt with guys and girls. Enjoying flustering people. It made me kind of glad I would be at Hogwarts for my puberty. I'm sure she'd get me in the summer though. Something to look forward to, I think dryly. Watching students trying to work up the courage to approach my somewhat teacher/friend or whatever we were.

Before they can get up the nerve the door opens. An ancient looking witch peering out at the gathering. "Well come on then. I don't have all day." She calls out croakily.

Finally, I think, turning to enter my first exam, the OWL for History of Magic. A hand on my shoulder stops me and I'm twirled around. Seeing Fiona's gleeful face as she gives me a loud wet kiss on the cheek, "Good luck on the test!"

People glare at me as she happily skips away, a definite exaggerated sway to her hips, and I sigh, entering to take my seat. I do not look forward to puberty, it takes away the intelligence of already logic addled wizards. I'm eleven, she's obviously an adult. Why are they glaring at me like it's something there? Fucking wizards!

My OWL for History of Magic is followed by my OWL for Muggle studies and my OWL for Divination. Yes, I decided to take divination as well, as it turns out it's actually mostly based on theory I could study up on, and then even in NEWTS, It wasn't wand magic, but tarot cards, scrying in a bowl of water, cubomancy and such passive magics which I could easily practice under Fiona's supervision. She had taken the NEWT for the class. So I had decided why not, another easy class removed from the board.

By the time I finish all three I am exhausted. And I already have my Astronomy OWL to look forward to. Plus NEWTS in all four subjects. Fiona looks sympathetic as she picks me up, and slips me a pepper up potion at the library before I floo home, to not worry my parents.

At least the ministry has an actual room with a night sky for the purpose of Astronomy tests, I wouldn't want to imagine trying to sneak to the ministry in the middle of the night without my mother finding out.

The next two days go fine as I work through the tests, feeling very confident I've passed and almost 100 percent confident it was with straight O's. Fiona is there to cheer me on before I start, and to bring me back and keep me awake for when I'm done.

I'll have to remember to do something nice for her one day. I don't know how I would have done all this without her help with studying and her help ferrying me back and forth from the ministry, as well as being my alibi for where I've been. Or just for being my support during all those lonely days of studying. I would have probably gone a bit mad without her there to ruffle my hair, bring me hot chocolate and just talk at me for hours on end.

The day after I finish the exams I try everything I can to convince Fiona to let me do my shopping alone. But she outright refuses.

"If you're going to insist not involving your mother, which by the way is really really dumb and will backfire on you!" She starts cheerfully, her cheeks all puffed out like usual. "Then I'll insist that a responsible adult comes with you!"

"Have you found one yet?" I ask, rubbing my forehead, it's not the worst to have a chaperone for my shopping. It's not like I was planning on anything illegal…Mostly because I wouldn't be able to afford it.

"Rude!" She puffs out, but she's grinning, "I'll have you know that I'm crazy responsible." She lies straight to my face.

She is after all the adult that befriended an eight year old, and snuck him into the magical government at eleven to take tests meant for 15 and 17 year olds behind his parents back.

I give her an unimpressed half lidded stare. I actually know her after all.

"Do you want to shop or not?" She twirls her wand in her hand, eyes twinkling.

"...Sure." I say warily. She was up to something.

"Then let's goooo!" She shouts excitedly. Raising her arm up in the air. She jumps in place for a moment, giving me a dirty look. "Percy! Show some excitement!" She yells at me.

We're in a library, woman! I think, but give a half hearted, "Yay!" Anyway, to avoid being hexed.

She gives me a dirty look, still standing in pose. "Do better then that, or I'll tell on you to your mother!" She threatens, chipmunk cheeks back again as she puffs out.

Sighing I stand in the same pose, arm raised into the air, grumbling out, "Yay, Diagon alley here we come…"

She sniffs, "Acceptable… I guess."

"You are impossible." I say, but unbidden my lips twitch upwards a bit.

She grins widely at me, eyes sparkling, "Aww, the baby grumpy knows how to smile, now my day is complete!" She teases me gently.

"Please can we just go." I say the tips of my ears red.

"Mmkay, don't like puke on me." She warns all of a sudden, before grabbing my arm and suddenly I feel like I'm being stretched impossibly thin, being squeezed through a straw, and suddenly spurted out on the other side. It was not pleasant.

"There's got to be better ways to travel then that!" I heave, falling on my knees. The feeling of side-along apparition absolutely sucked.

Fiona tosses her hair dramatically, "Not the worst ride I've had." She grins down at me, feet already bouncing on the pavement.

"I'm eleven." I say dryly, once I finish heaving.

Her grin, if anything widens, "Yet you understood what I was saying," She tuts at me mock disapprovingly, "How many of your older brothers playwizard magazines have you stolen, hmm?"

"That's really a thing?" I ask, shooting her a disbelieving look. What witch would take her clothes off for money when she had magic.

She pouts, "I'm really disappointed in you, Perce. No naughty mags at all?"

"What conversation are we even having right now?" I get up on my feet, walking away from the apparition point. Just thankful no one else had arrived for that particular conversation.

Fiona comes up beside me, an innocent look on her face, "I'm just seeing to your education."

"Right." I say dryly.

She flutters her eyelashes, "Have you had… The talk yet?"

I side eye her, "I will scream stranger danger." I warn her.

"You're no fun anymore, where is the blushing beet I used to know?" She grumbles playfully, puffing her cheeks out.

"He met you."

She pinches my cheek, "You used to be cute!"

"Can we not?" I say long sufferingly.

"Alright, I'll play nice. It's a shopping day after all." She says with a quick giggle.

Honestly between us I have trouble with deciphering who's eleven and who's twenty four. I think exasperated as we continue down Diagon alley. Even though I've visited multiple times in my life, the sheer magicness of the shopping district still blew me away. The books and movies had not done it justice. You could find almost anything on these cobblestone streets. And it looked cheesy as it was to say it, magical.

"Wand first." I say, feeling myself grow excited. This is what I've always wanted. Coming to fruition. I'll be a wizard.

"The wizard focused on his wand, how surprising." Fiona giggles, but she's already leading me towards Ollivanders.

Part of me feels guilty for depriving my family of the experience. If not for the fact there was a good chance I wouldn't even get my own wand until third year or later. I'd rather suffer their disappointment and have my own wand. It's made obviously clear that nothing matches a wand that actually belongs to the wizard or witch.

Ollivander creeps out of the backroom the minute we enter the store, a little jingle announcing our arrival. A shiver of excitement runs through me. This is it. Where it becomes real.

"Miss Fawcett, not here to blow up my store again are you?" Ollivander can barely be heard as he stays in the shadows of the store. Drama queen I think amusedly.

"I'm almost positive I'm not blowing anything up!" Fiona says cheerfully. Only I can see her cross her fingers behind her back.

"Black walnut wood, 9 inches, springy and with the hair of a particularly playful unicorn. Excellent for charm work, has it served you well?" Ollivander works his creepy routine on Fiona.

"9 inches has always served me long and hard." Fiona answers with a smirk. I groan out loud, she gives me a quick wink.

"Ah, and we have a young mister Weasley in for his wand." Ollivander says slowly, creeping forward, his big almost bulbous eyes staring at me.

"Please don't give her more opportunities to talk about wand sizes." I ask quickly, and accurately it seems, when Fiona immediately pouts. It's not like I don't already know my parents' wands anyway.

"Hmm, let's see, I have a feeling about you, young man." Ollivander says mysteriously before disappearing amongst the shelves.

"Try this, Ebony, ten and a half inches, with a phoenix feather core." Ollivander hands me a wand, surprising me as I've not gone through the measurement or wand hand questions Harry Potter had. Were they not necessary then? I give it a swish only to immediately have it taken away by Ollivander.

"Hmm, not quite right, woods correct, length and core, hmm." He mutters absently and wanders off again.

"Ebony huh? Good for transfiguration and kind of combat oriented, not what I would have guessed for you." Fiona says, eyes roaming over me with a thoughtful look.

"And what did you imagine for me?" I say slightly irritated. Although my interest is peeked, good for transfiguration and combat eh, that does sound like my wheelhouse.

She just giggles at me, putting her wand behind her ear and bouncing on her feet, refusing to answer me as we wait for Ollivander.

He soon returns, looking satisfied. "I think I have a match, Mr Weasley. Ebony, nine inches, rigid, core of a particularly stubborn Hungarian Horntail. Come on, give it a swirl." Ollivander says with anticipation.

I grab the wand and immediately feel it, it's like a rush running from my core up my arm, jubilation over a connection. The wand shoots out a multicolored spurt of liquid. Turning everything it touches rainbow colored.

I immediately close my eyes, "Don't you dare ruin it. Don't say it." I demand, as Ollivander mutters a quick evanesco.

Muffled giggles can be heard in the shop as I sigh, knowing it's coming.

"I'm sorry, Percy, I can't!" She giggles. "I'm too shocked at the reaction your wand had to finally feeling your hands all over it!"

"Is that it?" I say dryly, still keeping my eyes closed, so I don't have to see her red chipmunk face as she giggles away.

"Wait, wait!? I have something for this?" She says snapping her fingers as she can't think of it.

"I'd like to pay now, please." I say quickly. Handing off the required galleons and stepping out of the store, a pouting Fiona behind me.

"I can't believe I missed so many zingers, I froze!" She moans, playfully ruffling my hair. "Great wand tho, Perce! Same length as mine too!"

"Yes, your favorite, I know." I answer dryly. I can't help but hold my wand and just feel it. I can't put it away right now. I can understand why the wand is usually bought last now. It feels like I've gotten an extra limb and I just can't let go of it.

"You can play with it when you get home." Fiona says with a soft smile on her face. Teasing apparently over for now. Probably fond memories of when she was in the same position. She snaps her fingers suddenly, "Damn, I forgot to blow up something in there!"

"I don't have too much else to buy." I admit. "Just a nice quality set of clothes." I didn't want to arrive looking completely out of the poor bin. I completely ignored her tendency for explosions. Not wanting to encourage her to finish the shopping with a bang so to speak. I really didn't want to end the day in Auror custody.

I planned to raid the room of requirement when I got to Hogwarts to hopefully find a good expanded trunk and a wand holster and other extras, to save my limited funds since I have no way to make more for the next few years. It's why I was not bothering to shop for much today, and what allowed me to pool my money together for some good quality robes.

"Nuh-uh, first we're getting you an owl. My treat." Fiona chirps, linking her arm with mine, made easy by the fact that already at eleven I had almost matched her height.

"You don't have to buy me anything, you've already done so much!' I protest, but it's half hearted at best. One, I know she'll buy one whether I agree or not. And two I can't say I am opposed to having an owl. It's part of the whole wizarding experience.

"It's what friends are for." She says firmly. Before giving me a silly little grin, "That and to make fun of you until you puke!"

"I'd hate to see what you'd do to your enemies." I say wryly, shaking my head, I could see Madam Malkin's up ahead. But Fiona led me past, heading for the magical menagerie.

"I date them." Fiona answers my question after a long pause, her face shuttering slightly, before she shakes her head and puts on a grin again. "So what kind of owl will you get?"

I eye her worriedly, having not seen her with a negative expression in the whole time I've known her. Yet I decide not to push, as I have my secrets, so does she. She's enabled me to come as far as I've had. Or I would have had to wait until Hogwarts. "Something that will survive the twins." I finally answered. And sadly that is the most required component.

"So likes biting fingers off, gotcha, Perce!" She chirps, miming taking big chomps out of things.

My lips twitch, "Maybe not quite that violent." But I was tempted. Oh, was I tempted.

She leads me into the store, my eyes on a swivel as I take in the animals, the noise is not too bad, which I attribute to silencing charms on the cages of the loudest animals, because every animal in the store seems determined to hop or fly or slither around. The normal chaos of any magical establishment.

"What about this one?" Fiona says, walking up to a great beast of an owl. It was almost as big as Ron for Merlin's sake!

"No. Just no." I say firmly, walking past it.

She's enchanted by the small tiny owls next, no doubt the same breed who'd eventually be Ron's apology owl. I'd rather have an owl able to carry a package. I stop by a Tawny owl with sharp bright eyes. "You're a clever one aren't you?" I ask quietly. The owl studying me.

"This one, I think." I say out loud. Fiona coming up behind me having abandoned the tiny scope owls.

"Trust you to be boring and choose the most common owl." She says with a sigh, shaking her head.

"I only need one for sending letters and packages, I hardly need a fighting owl." I point out, rolling my eyes at her pouty look.

"A ninja owl would have been cool." She mutters as she heads off to pay for my new owl. I decided to spend a little of my hard earned money on a perch and some owl pellets. It's not too expensive, I'll still have plenty for my clothes. I forgo a cage, my owl can fly to Hogwarts and back, I don't need to transport it in a cage.

It's only when I'm standing outside the store, my perch shrunken down by Fiona that I realize what I have done. I turn to her eyes wide, as I see my not yet named owl take to the sky, no doubt to already find the burrow, owl magic not something I had studied yet to understand how they so easily do that. "When that owl shows up they'll realize I've been hiding things." I groan.

Fiona chuckles, patting my cheek. "I think they would have noticed the wand anyway, Perce. Or the fact that an eleven year old sat several exams, no doubt your father already knows by now."

"I'm not ready for this!" I complain, but without heat. I knew this day was coming. I was mature enough to realize what would happen by going behind their backs. I still decided to do it.

"So let's continue shopping and postpone your…" Fiona took a deep breath and then let out a rumbling, "DOOM!" Looking very pleased with herself.

People were now staring at us, great. I ruefully shake my head. "You're impossible to take anywhere."

"Ooor, on the other hand it's impossibly boooring to go anywhere without me." Fiona said happily. Leading me again, and huh, Twillfigs and Tattings. I suppose that makes more sense then Madame Malkin's for a more quality outfit or two.

The next hour is a whirlwind of chatty women, as Fiona and the saleswitch talk about different fabrics and spells and colors. I sensibly just stand there and wait. Clothing styles are definitely one of the areas I could say I had no knowledge in. In the end I walked out 200 galleons poorer. But I had two school robes of actual pureblood quality, with self cleaning charms, mending charms and able to grow with me for several years. I can't even begin to describe the difference I felt wearing it. The robe was so soft and warm and of such quality.

"You look good in those, Perce." Fiona said quietly as we walked out of the shop. She knew I was apprehensive of how my parents would take it. Not only the exams. But the owl and the new robes and a wand.

"As much as I want to drag it out. It might be time you take me to the library, so I can floo home." I say heavily. She squeezes my arm supportively. Then I go through the horrible feeling of apparition again.

Fiona gives me a quick hug and a whisper of good luck, looking sad, eyes glistening. Then I step up to the floo, use the floo powder and call out loudly, "The Burrow."

When I arrive, I find both my mother and father sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me.

This will go well.

---

"Percy…" My father seems lost for words, staring at me with a pinched expression, looking weary.

My mother on the other hand is already red in the face, and by some miracle, holds back on screaming at me by father's hand on her wrist on the table.

"Father, mother." I say quietly, brushing the soot of my shoulders. "I'm home."

"Why?" Father asks me, "Why did you feel you couldn't tell us, Percy?" He looks pained. My mother twitches, but father pats her wrist and again she settles down.

I hesitate, before I slowly sit down across from them, "Because you would have said no." I lay it out as simple as it is. No excuses, no manipulation.

Father sighs, shaking his head, he looks overworked and tired, "Percy, you can't just decide you won't like an answer and then go around us for it. We're your parents." And we know what's best for you, is the unsaid but still heard undertone.

"I sat the tests at the ministry and I know I passed. So I was capable and you would have denied me that." I point out calmly, although with some bite to the tone. My back straight as I sit in the kitchen chair, refusing to back down.

"Yes. We would have." Father confirms, taking off his glasses with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. Before looking at me with sad eyes. "We do know what's best for our children, Percy."

"Obviously not, if you would have denied me this, when I was obviously fully capable of achieving it." I reply, still managing to stay calm, although I can feel the redness creeping up my neck, it was frustrating me that their argument boiled down to we know best.

"Don't you dare talk to us like that!" Mother finally explodes, "It's that harlot Fawcett that's made you turn against your own parents! Running off to the ministry! With no idea what you're doing!" She spits out, incensed.

"Now, let's ca-" Father tries to de-escalate things, but I see red.

I plant my hands on the table, leaning forward, snarling at my mother, "Don't you dare blame Fiona for my choices! And name calling another adult because you don't like what I chose to do? That's mature! I knew what I was doing the entire time, and I succeeded!"

My father looks shocked, glasses askew as my mother and I both lean over the table red faced, eyes sparking with anger.

"When I found out from Arthur what you had done, I asked a few friends about your Fiona!" Mother yelled, "She was engaged to be married when she was found with four boys, she's nothing but a loose woman, a harlot and you won't be seeing her again!" She's breathing heavily, face fully red. My father is trying to pull her down in her seat again. Unsuccessfully.

How dare she!? How dare she slander Fiona! I think, enraged. I don't believe for a second the story she's concocted. Fiona might be a flirt, but the story did not match with her personality or behavior at all. So someone was spreading a nasty rumor and my mother jumped on the chance to discredit someone she was mad at. Fuck that.

"Fiona is nothing like that. And if you can't believe your own son on that. Then we're wasting time talking here because you've already lost my respect for attacking her." I spit out. Seeing my mother rear back in shock.

My father's eyes harden, "Speaking of respect, Percy. That is not how you talk to your mother." He chided. He turns to mother, his expression softening, "Molly, he's right, that was not correct of you either, to attack Miss Fawcett like that."

"You can't stop me from talking to my friend!" I say my voice hard, as I sink back into my chair. Already feeling drained.

"We've already sent an owl, letting Miss Fawcett know that as your parents we have ended your job at the library." Father says shortly. Seeing my furious look he shakes his head, "I don't agree with the rumors about Miss Fawcett, but she still went around our back with a child, our child. You should not have been taken to the ministry." Father's words are final. My mother snorted angrily next to him, but nodded her head sharply.

"She helped me, she was a good friend when I had no one else, she supported my goals, and you say that it is wrong?" My hands are shaking on the table, I always believed I would be in trouble eventually for this. Yet, somehow I had never expected they would lay the blame at Fiona's feet. I realized now why Fiona had been extra cheerful and up to antics lately. She had known what their reaction would be. She has basically been saying goodbye. My hands clenched into fists.

"Had no one else!? You have your family!" Mother snaps, being cut off from any further rant by my father grabbing her shoulder and giving her a hard look.

I start laughing, my shoulders shaking as I cover my face with a hand, my parents staring at me, one enraged, one with sadness.

"I have my family?" I laugh, I shake my head slowly, removing my hand, staring at them with wide angry eyes. "I'm terrorized by the twins, and nothing is done about it. Bill and Charlie either spend their time making fun of me, or refusing to help me when the twins are." I let out a sharp bark of a laugh, my lips twisting into a sneer, "Father you laugh along with them, and mother you might tell them off, but you never stop them, never really make them stop it, and if I spend my day in my room no one even notices I am alive, no one asks, where's Percy? Is he okay?"

Father looks pained again, his eyes are wet as he stares at me like he's never seen me before. Mother on the other hand is shaking her head angrily. Not taking in my words at all.

"You're exaggerating small childhood pranks to make excuses for your behavior, I won't have it! You are grounded to your room for the rest of summer! And no contact with that Fawcett lady! None!" She shrieks, my father slumps his shoulders next to her but this time doesn't counteract her.

I feel cold and so hot at the same time. Like my emotions can't decide whether I'm searingly angry, or just ice numb. I had expected punishment, I was fine with being grounded. But I hadn't expected these ridiculous accusations against Fiona. Or how my parents would just brush aside anything I had to say. "Fine. May I be excused." I bite out, I give them an unpleasant smile, "I'll start my isolation punishment now."

"No. We still have to talk about the ministry." Father says quietly. Not even looking at me. Mother huffs, but crosses her arms and stares at me angrily.

"What about it?" I ask coldly.

"You've done something no other student has. Gotten OWLs and NEWTs before Hogwarts." Father says slowly, "It has drawn attention. Even the minister himself stopped me to ask about it." Father smiled wearily, or tried to, it looked weak and tired more than anything. "The Daily Prophet will pick the story up, especially if your scores are good."

"They are." I interrupt to say, staring him down cooly. Bottling my rage. There was no point in trying to explain or discuss things with these people.

Father sighs, as mother seems saddened, her anger slowly bleeding out of her. I cock my head, what is the issue here?

"You'll be watched now, son. The ministry will be watching, the press will be watching. The pureblood families will be watching to see if one of the sacred twenty eight is coming back into the fold." My father says flatly. He eyes my new clothes with regret in his eyes. "And they'll see what they want to see."

"It was my choice." I grind out between gritted teeth.

"Oh, Percy." Mother has her head in her hands, "You're too young to realize." She sobs.

"How can we protect you from the world, when you put yourself as a target for everyone." Father says helplessly, pleading with me to understand. "You won't just be another Hogwarts student, this could put you in danger!"

"It was my choice, and I don't regret it, even if it puts me into danger." I refuse to back down. I knew all this already when I chose this path. It was part of why I chose to do it.

"You're a child, Percy." Father chides, shaking his head, "You don't realize the ramifications, the dangerous people that might find you interesting."

"I realize that if you had your way I would be locked away in this house, with no friends, and no escape." I say with a mirthless smile. "Being a child is an excuse for you to put me down, to limit me. I've shown I can handle it. Where's your belief in me?"

"Percy, this is too much for a child to handle." Mother says, wringing her hands, anger having bled away completely, her eyes teary as she looks at me. Father nods slowly, agreeing with her.

I stand up stiffly, "Then we are at an impasse, you believe me to be incapable, I do not. I won't stop excelling so I suppose you'll have to ground me indefinitely." I say coldly.

"Percy, that's not what we are saying. Don't twist our words." Father rebukes me with some heat.

I smile sardonically, "Of course, father. It's fine if I excel… As long as no one knows about it."

"Percy, what's happened to you?" Mother asks sadly, as father deflates at the table, looking lost.

"I'm just a different kind of person then Bill or Charlie." I chuckle, without any emotion to it. "I should have figured I wouldn't be accepted as I am. I never have been, not really." I eye my parents, both of them staring at me like they've never seen me before, both with tears in their eyes. "I have confirmed at least I did the right thing." I twist the knife, "If I had been honest, you would have held me back and forced me into being just good enough." I walk out of the kitchen. They don't stop me.

I fumed silently in my room, I had not seen my new owl, I wondered if they would keep it from me to prevent me from sending letters to Fiona. Either way I would contact her from Hogwarts. They couldn't stop me. Part of me knew I wasn't completely fair to them. They had fostered excellence in their children after all. Normal excellence, prefects, head boys, quidditch captain. Achievements for sure, but ones done by many students over and over again. Apparently me making the paper or attracting ministry interest was the same as joining the death eaters, that I did not agree with, nor see a point in even listening to them anymore once their opinion was made clear.

These are still the same people that treated original Percy with disdain for daring to be different. Who's first reaction to a promotion was to doubt his abilities, talk down to him and accuse him of being a traitor to the family. No one was that quick to jump on a family member if they had belief in them.

Same thing now, I had this coming, whether now or when I excel at Hogwarts beyond a normal eleven year old. They don't trust me because I'm not Weasley enough. If Charlie was in the paper they wouldn't bat an eye. Because they could trust that he would follow their worldview even if he became famous or involved with the pureblood families. No, this is only because it's me, the odd one. The one who's reserved, not as loud, as friendly and open. They see that I'm intelligent enough to pass OWLs and NEWTs, but still put me down as not able, not capable. Because I'm not like them, so they can't trust I'll be a good little Gryffindor.

Well they're right. I won't be.

I take my wand out of my pocket, rolling it in my hand. And they hadn't checked if I had bought a wand as well as new clothes. So this grounding, was more of a thankful relief away from the family.

"Wingardium Leviosa." I whisper, feeling the magic in me, flowing through the wand, feeling the difference the wand movements make. My eyes light up for a moment as my pillow raises into the air. I was doing magic.

I put my wand down, holding my hand out, I had been practicing for almost a year now and hadn't gotten it, but now, having felt the magic flow through my wand. I think I could.

I concentrate, pointing my hand at another pillow. My focus sharpens, my mind razor sharp as I shout the spell out in my head. And the pillow lifts up.

That night as I meditate and continue building on my Occlumency, I can't stop smiling. One wandless spell isn't much, but it's something. Next I would make sure to learn Accio. It would give me an advantage for years at Hogwarts. Because I never doubted for a second that I would go through seven years without being attacked.

Except for the no contact with Fiona part, I regret getting so mad at my parents. This punishment will give me extra study time and time to practice my wand magic. No twins, no older brothers condescending to me. No younger siblings following in their older ones footsteps to make fun of me. Peace. I needed to be grounded more often.

And I had a wand now, the twins better watch out…

---

It soon became clear that they had indeed kept my owl from me. I hadn't even been allowed to name it, the owl kept with Errol while I was kept in my room except for meal times.

I had trudged down on my sixth day of punishment for dinner, to find Bill tying a letter to my owl's leg, calling it Parrot of all things. I had stood there in silent disbelief as my family all acted like this was nothing out of the ordinary. Like of course what's mine is also Bill's. If they had asked to borrow my owl for a letter I wouldn't have minded. They had named it and were using it as a communal family owl without a word to me. No explanation. No question, nothing.

I walked back upstairs, icy cold rage spreading through me, I entered my room. Went into my stash of galleons that I had left. Picked them up and marched downstairs. In my absence, my father had arrived from work and was just sitting down asking for my whereabouts.

"I'm here, father." I say coldly. Stepping up to the table. I toss the galleons on the table before he can reply.

"What is this?" He asks, I can see the tip of his ears reddening, my siblings watching with gaping mouths.

"The money you will make sure to give to Fiona Fawcett." I snap at him, seeing my mother open her mouth, I glare at her so vividly she pauses, shocked.

"Percy, what's wrong?" My father asks, concerned. Seems someone in the room can see how absolutely furious I am.

"That money is to repay her for the gift she bought me, that has apparently been denied to me." I hiss out, incensed at the audacity. My only link to my friend, the only way I could possibly contact her currently. And my family denied it to me.

"Percy, it's still your owl." My father says slowly, like he can't understand.

I stare at him uncomprehendingly, "Mine?" I snap sharply, "I haven't seen it since I got home, six days ago! It's been named! Without any input from me, it's being used, without anyone asking me? And it's mine!?"

Father winces as Bill has gone pale, looking guilty, I ignore both, gesturing to the money. "Since I am not allowed contact, you will ensure Fiona gets her money back. I don't care what you do with the owl now. It certainly isn't mine." I sneer, my mother looks close to another meltdown and my siblings are all staring at me in shock, I swallow any other snide comments, with some difficulty, "I will eat in my room from now on. Good night." And I walk out of the kitchen.

That night, one by one, different family members tried knocking on my door to check on me. Bill coming by the most. I pretended to be asleep. I did not want to hear any more justifications for why my opinion or thoughts were not valued in this family. I was so angry I was glad I hid my wand in my room or I might have hexed my own family.

My one link to Fiona. The only person to treat me like my own person. And I wasn't allowed even that. Whether it was just carelessness over maliciousness didn't matter. It still showed that I was an afterthought. Why bother asking Percy. Just use it. It's just Percy. Who cares?

I was mentally an adult. I shouldn't be having such difficulty. Why did I care? They weren't really my family. Yet … it hurt. The casual disregard for what I felt or thought. No one at that table had for even a second thought that it mattered that they named my owl. That using it without ever asking me was an issue. Even after the blow out I had with my parents a few days ago where we drew our lines on what we felt about respect. I was still not offered even that bare amount. Not even the minimum of asking me if it was okay.

I can't wait to get to Hogwarts. Fuck them all. I'm staying there for all the holidays.

I'd rather the Hogwarts library then this cluster fuck of a family.

---

Finally it had arrived. Even having to come down and open it in front of the rest of the family didn't ruin the elation.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I picked up the second page.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

1001 Ways to Defend Yourself by Dorothea Fawcett.

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Mostly the same as I remembered it. The defense against the dark arts book was new. Obviously I wouldn't have Quirrell as my professor. I wonder, it's a Fawcett that authored the book, maybe my professor is a Fawcett?

"I suppose it's that time of the year again." Mother says wistfully. There's a tension still to her voice, but she attempts to keep it light.

"I probably don't even need to go." I say slowly, thinking it over. I'd rather not have another family argument in the middle of Diagon Alley.

"Of course you have to go!" Charlie says looking shocked, "It's Diagon Alley!"

Father peers at me over the morning paper. "Percy, you'll need supplies for Hogwarts." He says kindly. Only the slightest pinch at the eyes betrays any tenseness.

I shake my head, "Not really." When they look to argue I just give them a tired look, "All my books except defense are the same books as I'm going to get from Charlie when he was a firstie. I already have robes, my supplies like cauldrons and such are going to be handed down because Charlie got a new set last year, so we aren't buying those. Perhaps some fresh stock to some potion supplies at most."

"It's tradition, Percy." Bill says trying to sound kind, but to me it just comes out slightly condescending. "Everyone goes to Diagon Alley when they get their letter."

"We can pick up your potions supplies and DADA book for you, but you'll need a wand and for that you'll have to come with us." Mother says with finality in her voice.

Guess it's time to let the kneazle out of the bag on that one, "I already got my wand."

There's absolute silence in the kitchen, the only noise is the sound of father putting his paper down, staring at me with a complicated expression on his face. "Percy, surely you didn't?" He asks, sounding utterly defeated.

"I was there anyway, didn't see a point in waiting. That aside I had been told at the start of the summer I wasn't getting a new wand!" I explain, sneering as I came to the last point. "You can hardly blame me for buying my own if I wasn't going to get one, can you?"

My parents looked crestfallen, I might have just ruined an attempt from them to patch things up, buying me a wand. So they'd complain about me buying things, but wanted to bribe me into being back to 'normal', how typical.

"Please Percy!" Seven year old Ginny grabbed my hand and looked up at me with big soulful puppy dog eyes, and I folded.

"I suppose even if I don't particularly need anything, it would be nice to go as a family." I said reluctantly. Feeling my heart lighten a little as both Ginny and Ron light up. My parents losing some of the tension in their shoulders.

I had been a big brother in my previous life. And as much as it still annoyed and frustrated me when Ron and Ginny would jump on the make fun of Percy bandwagon. I also didn't blame them for going with what the rest of the family was doing. They could tell that although the twins would get punished, father and mother found their antics amusing. Why wouldn't they join in. I still had a soft spot for them both. And Ginny was definitely clever enough to see and use that to get me to fold when she wanted something.

"I'm going with Percy!" Ginny immediately declares, a stubborn look on her face as she latches onto me.

"If that is okay with your brother." Mother says with a soft expression, sending me a tentative glance.

"I'll watch over the little hellion." I say, ruffling her hair, chuckling at the pouty look she sends me. Her hands immediately going to fix the mess I made of it.

"That's settled then." Father says smartly, looking at his watch, "Weasley's be ready in an hour for a family trip to Diagon Alley." I blink in surprise, he must have taken the day off just to come with us today.

I try to go to my room, but I have a Ginny sized growth attached to me. I look down at her, "What do you want, squirt?"

She bites her lip, "Can I spend time with you until we go? I haven't seen you in forever!" She whines slightly. I don't know who taught her to make her eyes go wide and big like that but I immediately allowed her to come with me to my room. I felt slightly guilty, I had been so angry at my parents and some of the nonsense my siblings got up to, that I had neglected my younger siblings.

As soon as we're in my room she jumps up on my bed excited shining eyes turning my way, "Can you do any magic yet?" She blurts out excitedly.

"You just want me for my magic, huh?" I say playfully, picking my wand up from the desk drawer it was hidden in.

"I'd love you even if you didn't have magic." She says, suddenly serious. Her tiny face looking at me with a stubborn fierce look.

I clear my throat, my ears reddening. "Ah, well, I'll always love you too, Ginny." I say with a small honest smile.

At least this I still have.

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Snippet two of 'Fun Amy'

Currently this is all I have of this particular one, have too many stories to focus on as it is

If Patreon votes for it, sure I'll do another chappie, but they'll probably focus on my established stories.

As usual this is Worm, watch out for language, Nazis, the usual shit.

Also I don't own any of this, Wilbow does, do not sue me, it worn end well for I have no dineros.

---

"Ohhhh, fuck!" Amy moaned out, sweat dripping off her as she rolled over, practically panting, her body sore and aching.

Sophia snorted, easily doing one armed push ups next to where Amy had flopped over on the floor, the bitch hardly even sweating from the effort.

"You're a literal demon!" Amy complained, her arms non-functional, push ups were definitely not something she had any experience with. Fuck you original Amy for never working out properly and pushing it down the line to new improved Amy!

Finding a good way to affect her own self was priority number one when she got out of here!

"You're just fucking weak." Sophia said bluntly, side eyeing her from where she was still continuing her push ups, "Figured the sister of wrecking ball girl would be more fit then this…" She added disparagingly, shaking her head slightly, only the barest sheen of sweat beginning to be seen on her brow.

Amy, through great personal effort, raised her weak and shaky noodle arm, and gave her roommate the finger. Content to lay flat on the ground until her body stopped complaining at her.

Sophia scoffed, switching arms in one slick movement as she continued, "At least you're trying now, seen sense, trying to turn into a real predator…" She pushed herself to her feet suddenly in one swift movement, that Amy wasn't jealous of at all, coming to stand over Amy, smirking down at her, poking her with a bare toe, "Even if it will take awhile… Pudgy."

"I will literally kill you once I catch my breath!" Amy wheezed out, her chest rising rapidly still, her body almost completely unaccustomed to this level of exertion. She worked the hospital route, and while exhausting, and bringing in a lot of steps in a day - it wasn't anywhere near a rigorous exercise routine.

"You're too thirsty too kill me, I can fucking see where you're looking you pervert." Sophia said, rolling her eyes, "If you're wanting to go after the bastards out there like you keep saying, you need to be fit, or funky powers or not, you'll be murder blended by Hookwolf within a week."

Amy thought that was entirely unfair, if Sophia was going to work out in just tiny boy shorts and a sports bra, how exactly could Amy do anything but look? "I know, I know." She grouched, feeling her breath coming back, slowly moving herself up into a seated position, craning her neck to stare up at Sophia, a frown on her face, "And I could probably whip up some flesh eating bacteria, except you know, for metal." She muttered, mind whirling with ideas, that would work for putting Hookwolf down, and would ensure Kaiser was useless as well. Now what would she use to create that? And how would she deploy it where she wouldn't do too much damage? And ho- OW!

She rubbed her head gingerly, glaring up at Sophia, "What the fuck Stalker!?" She complained.

Sophia looked completely unrepentant for someone that had just smacked her one across the head. "You were going into your weird head again, I don't want a super plague while I'm in the same room, thanks." She muttered, crossing her arms under her bust, her visage unimpressed.

"Only a tiny plague." Amy pouted, still rubbing her head, Sophia hadn't pulled that whack by much, hardy bitch…

Sophia shook her head, her hair, put in a simple ponytail, swishing behind her, as she raised a clenched fist, a raised eyebrow on her face as she stared pointedly down at Amy. "You already did that fucking lavender shit," She wrinkled her nose with distaste, "Save any other experiments for when I'm not locked in with you!"

Amy glared up at her stubbornly, "That lavender shit was a great idea! You're just jealous you still stink, while I smell fresh as a daisy!"

Working out was smelly work, and Amy hated being all grungy, so she'd fixed it. Original Amy had already set the bacteria on her skin to deal with sweat and other byproducts to begin with - a consequence of working in a hospital in a damn burqa, her uniform got very humid and hot at times, so Amy ensured there weren't any nasty odors.

Amy had just taken it to its next logical conclusion while bored, waiting for Piggot to try and execute her or whatever crazy thing she'd do at some point, tweaking the process so that not only were there no unpleasant body odors no matter what she did, but she also smelled nice and fresh with a hint of lavender.

Partly because she liked lavender. And partly because she'd asked Shadow Stalker first what kind of scent she hated the most. The glare she'd received when the scent of lavender filled their cell during the next workout session had filled Amy with enough happiness that she hadn't even been too annoyed with the whole workout thing that day.

"I'd rather stink to high heaven then smell like lavender, like a pussy!" Sophia shot back at her caustically, stepping away, her bare feet practically noiseless as she walked towards the bathroom for her after workout shower.

Sadly, she still refused to share. Even Amy's argument of water conservation to save the planet had fallen on deaf ears.

Amy snorted, amused, firing a parting shot to the athletic girl, "You're definitely straight like you say, if you think that's what it smells like…"

"Get new material, your simping got boring on day two, Dallon." Sophia said bitingly, tossing a victorious smirk over her shoulder as she entered the bathroom - having gotten the last word in.

"Bitch." Amy muttered, stretching out her legs, groaning, she was so achy. They'd been here for four days now, and working out was the only thing to really do, except her and Sophia sniping/bitching at each other in a friendly way. They got along scarily well, Sophia had even stopped threatening to choke her after the first day!

Well, friendly in a way that worked for them and as things worked out with their personalities - Miss Militia and Battery had both been by at times and tried to separate what they thought was fights, only to get bitched out from both of them for ruining their fun.

Normal people just didn't understand.

She wondered what was taking so long. By now Piggot should have either been slammed down, or pushed ahead against all advice. Why was it that they were still in M/S screening? No one would really believe she'd mastered Shadow Stalker after all, nor would any tests show herself as anyone but Amy Dallon, even Gallant had obviously thought her emotions were alright, albeit her anger and disgust were directed to them, and not herself like the original.

If they didn't do something by tomorrow… She'd have to get creative.

Maybe start dropping names. Like Cauldron, like Contessa, like Doctor Mother… Yeah I'll reveal shit, step in already Contessa! She thought into the aether.

She heard the shower turn on, and debated briefly on whether to surprise Sophia or not, switching her mind away from the ridiculousness of trying to understand the PRT.

One peek wouldn't hurt, right?

….

Right. Shadow Stalker… Best not invite a punch to the face, not yet.

"The shower head has a massage function!" She shouted out instead, grinning wildly, wondering which unlucky sod was stuck watching the cell today. She hoped it was Miss Militia, she seemed kind of stuck up.

….

"Shut the fuck up Dallon!" Sophia yelled back, making Amy's grin turn positively filthy.

The bitch was totally gonna use it now.

Prime teasing material for later.

---

Same time, the Rig, Director Piggot's office.

"No Emily, let her go." Chief Director Costa-Brown repeated sternly.

Emily Piggot clenched her fists so hard her nails were beginning to pierce her palms, hiding her hands under her desk as she kept her voice cool, speaking to the other PRT Directors over video conference call. "You can't be serious ma'am! She's at least on Bonesaw's level, from what WEDGDG had to say after viewing her recordings… She admitted to altering the bacteria on her skin to an autonomous self replicating degree, which she did seemingly effortlessly, while in M/S containment with no access to anything to utilize other than skin mites! How hard would it be for her to create a plague!?" Emily scoffed harshly, a sour look on her face, "According to the girl herself, not very hard!"

Emily had always been suspicious of Panacea, something about the girl had struck her as insincere from the beginning. Even if she didn't distrust capes as she did, she would have never trusted the girl. There was a reason she hadn't been healed, despite having the world's best healer in town.

She'd rather the pain, inconvenience and early death than put her fate in the hands of a cape, especially one so obviously untrustworthy as Panacea.

And she was now vindicated. Because the little brat was another Nilbog waiting to happen! Why couldn't these people see that!? A teenager with powers of that calamitous strength was scarier than an Endbringer. At least those were somewhat predictable! Teenagers were notoriously fickle and emotional, teenage capes were even worse! One bad breakup and they'd have goblins chewing up the populace, quarantining Brockton Bay just as Ellisburg.

"This is Panacea!" Costa-Brown stressed, a pinched expression on her face, "We'd have riots if we birdcaged her on a possible threat level, she's healed too many people, too many important capes…" Costa-Brown glanced off screen at something, rolling her shoulders tiredly, "Not to mention the girl is sixteen, there's no way we can make this look good, Emily."

Emily growled, leaning into the video screen, eyes flashing with irritation, "So she's helped out at Endbringer fights, so do villains, and we're not rushing to give them excuses for every hero they've saved." How can she think of PR right now!? She bit her tongue to stop herself from bringing it up, knowing it was a losing argument.

For better or worse - definitely worse - PR was king in the PRT.

Director Armstrong, the PRT director from Boston, shook his head, "That is not the same thing, Emily, and you know it." He frowned as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "There is however the fact that she represents a valid threat, Emily isn't entirely wrong, although taking it as far as the Birdcage or a kill order is premature."

Before Emily could furiously seize the momentum to continue to push forward, Director Tagg gruffly interjected on her behalf, "So get a pre-signed kill order in place, have it ready for when she inevitably fucks up, then get rid of her."

It gave her conflicted feelings to have James Tagg on her side, but she'd take what she could get right now.

Armstrong shook his head again, more firmly this time, "This is too premature." He stressed, steepling his fingers in front of him, "The girl hasn't actually done anything yet, all you'll do is push her away, because it will leak, let's not kid ourselves on that, Panacea getting a kill order. Will. Leak!"

"She's already killed one man!" Emily rebutted coldly, glaring at Armstrong's calm visage through the screen, "The man she turned black has disappeared." Her lips twisted sardonically, "Surely no one here believes Kaiser let him go?"

Kaiser could not let a man like that walk around as a visible mark of shame for the Empire. She was only surprised it had taken him this long to do it. If she was a betting woman she would have bet on Hookwolf taking care of the issue on day one.

Director Wilkins, the New York PRT Director spoke up for the first time, her voice cool and collected, "I believe Tagg has the correct idea." She said, inclining her head to said Director gently, "I'm sorry Emily, but the Birdcage or an executed kill order is out of the question, a pre-signed order to let her know not to step out of line is not unreasonable, however." She raised an eyebrow addressing Armstrong, "Is that not how you've dealt with Blasto in Boston?"

It wasn't quite as far as Emily wanted it to go, but better than nothing, she frowned briefly at the idea Tagg had enacted a compromise. The world really was going to hell.

Armstrong smiled wryly, shaking his head, "The situation is different, the two can't be compared equally." He insisted sincerely,"I don't believe Panacea is quite bad enough to be compared to Blasto."

"No. She's potentially worse." Emily jumped in, glaring at the Boston Director. Don't look at her age damnit! Look at what she can do! Capes never don't use their power!

"This discussion is going in circles. There will not be a kill order, pre-signed or otherwise. She will not be birdcaged, let her go, Emily!" Director Costa-Brown ordered with a firm voice, quashing all dissent.

"She'll sue…" Emily complained bitterly, the feeling of ash in her mouth. Her body thrummed with phantom pain as she briefly re-lived the last moments of Ellisburg, flashes of that disaster only making her more bitter as she faced having to ignore a repeat.

"Frankly, with how many rules you've stomped all over with this case Emily. Be glad if all she does is sue. One word to the media, and we're all wading through a pile of shit." Costa-Brown said seriously, "Let her go, now. That's a direct order."

Before Emily could answer, the screen flickered off, the Chief Director leaving the conversation. The other Directors quickly followed, leaving only Tagg behind, the others unwilling to meet Emily's eyes as they fled responsibility.

Nothing new there, she thought uncharitably, she'd asked for reinforcements to deal with Lung or the Empire for years without an iota of resources moving her way. So why would the PRT wake up and smell the impending apocalypse this time.

She had to try, but she couldn't say she'd expected anything but disappointment.

"You've got no choice but to let her go, but you can still put contingencies in place." Tagg stated bluntly, his gaze intense, the other Director the only one to truly at least entertain the idea of action.

"Striking first is the only way to deal with capes like this." Emily said harshly, looking away from Tagg, her cheek twitching as she held back the anger that was waiting to erupt.

"I have a few ideas, if you're willing to listen."

"....Tell me."

---

Alexandria in her guise as Chief Director Costa-Brown twitched irritably as she turned the monitor off, looking off to the side, "You want to tell me why exactly we're ignoring this? Emily isn't wrong… Especially with the girl's personality change, I don't care if she's claiming she's just burnt out and acting out, she's a danger."

Contessa, standing by the window and looking as unruffled as usual, just smiled mysteriously, "I have my reasons."

Alexandria grunted, looking remarkably unimpressed, "Yes, I know. Share them."

"I don't think I will." Contessa said cheerfully, "Door, San Diego Zoo break room."

Alexandria sighed as Contessa disappeared through the portal, returning to her paperwork, part of her mind still thinking on the mystery of Panacea's sudden change - and apparent sudden importance to the path.

"Emily won't last long, she won't give this up." She muttered quietly to herself, annoyed at the amount of extra work a visit from Contessa always managed to bring.

She'd be keeping an extra close eye on Brockton Bay, Cauldron's experiment ongoing in the town or not, she would not allow another Nilbog.

On that she and Emily agreed fully.

---

Amy felt quite pleased with herself as she sat in the back of a PRT van, being driven home, idly tapping away on her returned phone, texting Vicky to let her know she's on her way home, and ignoring the sudden flurry of dozens of texts in return.

She knew her homecoming would likely be both a disaster, and short lived - but it would prove to be entertaining to her either way. All of this was, really. She sent a text to Shadow Stalker, her new bestest friend having begrudgingly offered her number before they split off, Amy going home, Sophia going to be reamed out by her superiors in private.

Good, she thought, remind her why she hates you, makes it easier for me to steal her away.

"If you get tired of being the PRT's basic bitch you can come be my sidekick." She texted, a smirk on her face as she imagined Sophia seeing it first thing when she got out of her disciplinary meeting.

She wondered if she could steal any of the other wards? She tilted her head and hummed in thought, keeping half an eye on the PRT troopers in the front of the van, in case they were actually Coil's and weren't actually driving her home - although she could make that work too in a pinch. No, it's not worth the effort to steal the wards. She decided, her mind flipping through what she knew of the wards.

Only Vista was interesting enough, but would probably need too much effort to convince naturally to be worth it. Of course by one touch she could probably brainwash the girl, but Amy didn't really want to do that, she had a bad taste in her mouth just at the thought. Not out of any ethical quandary - but because of how boring that was.

She could mind control everyone in the bay after some experimentation, she was sure. But what was the point? Where would the fun be in that? Where was the conflict? The adrenaline of facing an enemy, of losing, drawing, winning.

No, I'm going to have fun with it, I'll only master someone if that somehow makes everything more exciting. She decided inwardly, while logging into PHO on her Panacea account - sliding into the thread speculating on her disappearance into the Rig.

She needed to come up with a better name… Panacea was just… Panacea was a basic passive bitch who just did what she was told, went where she's supposed to, and had no fun at all, ever. It wasn't her.

She eyed the troopers again, pulling her hood down somewhat to hide her shark-like smile. Heh, posting this while technically still in PRT custody is delicious… She thought, typing up a statement. Giving it two critical once overs afterwards to make sure she had it down perfectly. You should have just snuffed me in the middle of the night, Piggot.

Post! She crowed to herself as her finger pressed the button, sending her statement into cyberspace - likely killing a career or two in doing so.

She read it in real time as it popped up on her thread on PHO, reactions immediately popping up.

Hello Brockton Bay,

I've just been released from the Rig and I'm on my way home, thank you for all of you supporting me and pressuring the PRT for an answer on my disappearance. I might have disappeared forever if not for you all pushing for an answer, so thank you!

I'm heartbroken and deeply saddened after spending the last four days being treated like a monster, like a villain meant for the birdcage, illegally incarcerated, interrogated and pushed to the brink by PRT and Protectorate 'heroes'.

I've been threatened with the birdcage, even faced the threat of a kill order, the Director of PRT ENE pushing hard to force me into the Ward program or risk life imprisonment or death! (Makes you wonder who else is a ward because the PRT threatened to ruin them otherwise?)

Armsmaster and Gallant were both present during interrogations to push me, Gallant manipulating my emotions to make me more docile, (did anyone know he isn't actually a tinker? But actually a low level master? The PRT have been hiding it by having Armsmaster supplying him with tinkered armor.)

I thought I was doing good, that I was helping the bay, helping the heroes with healing after Endbringer fights. Healing any and all comers, spending my time after school volunteering for free at hospitals in the area. I'm only sixteen so I couldn't do it full-time, but I thought I was helping…

Four days ago my power reacted strangely with a weird genome in a patient, a member of the Empire 88 who I reluctantly healed, as PRT itself demands of me regularly - even as a volunteer I was often unfairly pushed to focus on criminals over civilians...

The patient was not harmed, but due to his reaction to my power changing the color of the pigment of his skin, the PRT and Protectorate attacked me, illegally, striking me with con-foam grenades in the hospital lobby, with total disregard for my rights, and for the civilians nearby who could have been hurt.

They didn't even try to talk to me, Velocity of the Protectorate foaming me in a surprise attack without a word said, they could have just asked me, but they weren't interested in talking or in following the law.

Is it reasonable to suddenly throw a grenade at a sixteen year old, without warning and in a public area?

They dragged me to the Rig without any reading of my rights, without an explanation for their heavy handed actions, treating me with more disdain than the likes of Hookwolf during his last arrest. They locked me up, refused me access to my parents, to legal representation or in fact any outside contact at all.

I'm no expert on the law, but as a minor I can't believe any of that was legal.

I'll also reiterate that Hookwolf had more rights during his last stint of incarceration then I was afforded!

Nazis get lawyers apparently, but I don't?

If not for the new - yet to be introduced ward - Shadow Stalker, breaking the rules to join me in my cell, I would have likely done something stupid in my depressed state from being locked in with no contact other then PRT and Protectorate representatives, who only spoke with me to threaten me.

I apologize deeply to all residents of Brockton Bay, but with the situation as is, with the PRT threatening the birdcage at minimum, simply for what could happen, rather than anything I've done. I can not continue to offer healing at the various hospitals, or offer it to the heroes.

Not with them willing to break any law, without apparently any consequences, leaving me no avenue of protection if they decide to do it again.

I can't risk healing anymore.

Not as things stand right now.

Not when it risks my future or even my life to do so. The PRT is too large of a specter hanging over me for me to be able to continue.

I am a biokinetic, I never went into specifics on my power before due to fearing exactly this from the PRT, and even if I've never done anything like the more infamous people with such skills, the PRT didn't care, they label me a monster either way, despite me never having used my power poorly.

All I ever wanted to do was heal, it's all I've ever been doing.

I'm heartbroken to have to make this decision, but I feel I've been left with no other choice.

Bereft the chance to heal directly I'll try and see if I can't create cures for cancer and similar diseases - if the PRT won't put a kill order on me for curing cancer. Hopefully in creating such cures I can make up for not being able to heal people directly.

My deepest apologies,

Panacea.

Amy leaned back in her seat, letting her phone drop into her lap, quietly laughing to herself. The reactions spilling in were delicious, the majority already screeching hatred towards the PRT for making Panacea stop healing.

She'd had no intention of going back to the hospital anyway, but Piggots open threats against her worked excellently to give her an excuse. Giving Armsmaster and Gallant a black eye at the same time was just gravy.

She foresaw a lot of fights between Dean and Vicky in the future.

She might even bust open the cracks in the Wards with this, depending on how much they were willing to believe in the party line from Piggot. Someone whom they already disliked fairly heavily - versus her, who had healed them several times and never been a threat.

If the Wards read her statement, she doubted they'd be pleased with how things had gone down, they're more stupidly idealistic then the Protectorate.

Her status as a biokinetic would be out now, but her outing the fact said a lot more than if she'd been outed by the PRT. Some would panic as sheep always did, but the majority would only see her good deeds so far and rage at the PRT for their massive overreaction.

It was hard to twist a potential cure for cancer as evil after all. And it neatly laid out that she was still helping people, just on a global scale instead. Comparisons to Bonesaw or Nilbog wouldn't fly right now, she'd never done anything to let the public believe that.

Yet.

The PRT pointing towards the Nazi as proof of concept of her 'evil' would backfire on them. Not surprisingly the majority of everyone, everywhere, did not have any great sympathy for Nazis. Half the people would believe it was an accident, their mind already set on the 'goodness' of Panacea. Especially those already healed and saved by her in the past.

Even the other half, those that believed she did it on purpose, would find a majority quietly telling her good job, seeing the karma in turning a Nazi black, and finding it a much more suitable punishment then 'harming' him.

Either way, it ensured she wouldn't have to waste her time in hospitals any time soon. She had no intention of wasting what little time she had before the world literally blew up on doing busy work.

She saw the van turn onto her street. Her phone practically blowing up as thousands of messages flew across PHO in response to her statement.

She smirked, staring out of the window at her home, wondering exactly how explosive this family get together would be, Show time! She thought with heady anticipation.

Let's see if she could add another post tonight, New Wave kicks Panacea out would be a great headline!

---

"Oof! Vicky let me breathe!"

She'd barely been able to step out of the van before Vicky came flying out the door, squeezing the life of her after intercepting her with a flying tackle.

She was sans uniform, in a simple blue jeans and tank top combo, her eyes wet as she continued to squeeze Amy tightly, "Not ever going to let you out of my sight again, Ames!" She blubbered, before burying Amy's face in her hair as she lifted her off her feet, hugging the stuffing out of her.

"I'm okay, Shadow Stalker kept me company, kept me safe." Amy murmured over her shoulder, her voice tight, as she could barely get a word in, her lungs restricted, pressed up against her sister as she was.

Good thing she wasn't hopelessly in love like the original, or this embrace would have put her brain on the fritz. She wasn't in love, even if she did in fact find Victoria insanely attractive. Huh, is that her aura, or just the fact she's pretty? She wondered, allowing her biological sense to expand from where she was touching Vicky.

Curious to see if the aura was messing with her mind.

Vicky's body and mind was laid bare for her power. The activity in her brain and Gemma suggested her aura was particularly ramped up strong right now, likely due to her emotional state. So that answers why my first thoughts were on loving her before, and her attractiveness. She thought pensively. She supposed it wasn't as bad as she thought though, just a suggestion, one she could ignore - not anywhere near mastering.

So original Amy was full of shit on being mastered into loving Vicky. Go figure.

Original Amy really had a bad habit of talking herself into delusions. Really, she'd done the girl a favor by taking over her body. Whether she was dead or somehow riding along subconsciously, it was a better fate than canon Amy, in her modest opinion.

"Then I owe her one." Vicky said firmly, bringing Amy back to reality, her biological sense dialed down as she focused on the here and now. "I would have broken in by myself, but mom threatened to knock me unconscious until you were back if I went anywhere near the Rig…"

"Gonna put me down?" Amy asked, poking Vicky's cheek a couple of times, the blonde pouting slightly. Too bad Carol had been a party pooper, she might have enjoyed watching Vicky wreck herself through the Rig.

It would have definitely changed things. Brought more chaos onto the playing field.

And made her sister a villain in the eyes of the law.

"No. Last time I put you down you disappeared for days!" Vicky said, a tinge of self recrimination in her tone. "If I had been at the hospital to pick you up early, you wouldn't have been kidnapped by the PRT!" There was definitely some bite to her voice that time.

Yessss. Come to the dark side Vicky. We have cookies, and orgies, Amy thought gleefully.

Amy rolled her eyes at her blubbering though, which thankfully her sister couldn't see as she held her still, "If you keep blaming yourself instead of the bastards at fault, I'll give you super acne." She threatened lightly.

Vicky giggled, not taking her threat seriously, she'd have to learn soon that Amy wasn't the passive waif who'd never do something like that to Vicky. But she did end up putting Amy down, her nose wrinkled cutely as she put both her hands on Amy's shoulders, her eyes searching Amy's. "Did you really turn that guy black?"

Amy could have lied, Vicky would have believed her, trusting in her own sister. But really, she didn't see the point. "He deserved it." She said simply, shrugging slightly, meeting Vicky's eyes without a hint of doubt.

Vicky grinned conspiratorially, mirth dancing in her clear blue eyes, "I thought so." She crowed, patting Amy's shoulders, "Way to go sis, I mean it's not punching bad guys out, but it's like poetic justice!"

"Don't encourage her, Victoria." Carol said harshly stepping out th door, gesturing inside with one arm, "Inside Amy." She bit out.

"What a warm welcome…" Amy said sarcastically, patting Vicky on the back as she hesitantly allowed her forward, glaring mullishly at her mother.

"Mom…" Vicky said sounding uncertain even as she continued to glare at Carol, "Aren't you happy Amy is home?"

Carol shook her head, "After everything she pulled, she's lucky she's not in the Birdcage right now. Now inside." She hissed.

Amy smiled bemusedly, laying a hand on Vicky's arm, preventing a blow out. "Of course, I have looked forward to meeting the family again."

They all entered, Carol refusing to show her back to Amy to her visible amusement.

The entire clan was in the living room, Amy waving at Crystal and Erik who both seemed cheered up seeing her free.

She didn't even get to say hi to the adults before Carol began, "What the hell is wrong with you? How could you be so stupid? We're going to be sued now I hope you realize? That's if not even worse now that everyone knows that you're a monster!"

"Mom!" Vicky yelled at the same time as Aunt Sarah stepped in with a sharp, "Carol!"

"Vicky, if you can't stay out of this, go for a fly." Carol ordered caustically.

"But mom!"

"Vicky, GO!" Carol snapped. Vicky looking helplessly at Aunt Sarah who shook her head, then at Amy who smiled at her and made a shooeing motion, telling her to go.

With an inarticulate scream, Vicky tore off, flying out of the house, looking absolutely done with the family, likely flying to see Dean.

That would… Be interesting if he let her know of his involvement.

"So Vicky is gone, so what is it you wanted to say that you didn't want her around for? Something worse than monster?" Amy said, crossing her arms under her chest.

"Amy, Carol didn't mean that." Aunt Sarah tried to interject, only for Carol to talk over her.

"You are a monster. A daughter of a villain, an unwanted child forced on me and now you're finally showing your true colors."

"Carol…" Uncle Neil said as Aunt Sarah grasped her shoulder harshly, whispering something in her ear looking pissed off.

Amy shrugged in a what can you do manner, eyeing Crystal and Eric who looked absolutely flabbergasted and uncertain at the situation evolving.

Mark of course just seemed to be there, just nodding his head along whenever Carol spoke. Useful much there 'dad'.

"You forced her on me in the first place, Sarah, stop telling me to settle down!" Carol snapped at her sister.

Neil and Sarah both backed down, seemingly lost for words at the situation.

Amy just shook her head at how pathetically messed up this entire family was. Honestly she was better off without them.

"So, to recap, I'm a monster, daughter of a villain, Marquis right? I was forced on you, got it all?" Amy said brightly, the entire family staring at her agape at her weird reaction.

She scoffed, "What, how stupid do you think I am? You think I only now noticed Carol hated me? She's made that perfectly clear…"

"So what are you saying that you don't want Vicky around for, mother dear." Amy asked.

Carol took a step forward almost looking like she'll use her power, Aunt Sarah again grasping her shoulder to hold her back, looking disturbed.

"Get out, that's what I want, you're not mine, you never was, get out of my home, you're off the team, go and don't come back!" Carol said harshly, bitingly cold.

Amy just nodded, looking around at the family, seeing everyone kind of looking shell shocked.

"Good talk." She said brightly, and turned around and left, stopping briefly at the door, giving a cheery wave, "Neil, Mark, Sarah, Crystal, Eric, thank you all for your impassioned defense of me being a human being, it honestly moved me to tears." She tilted her head consideringly, "Or maybe I imagined that part. Oh well, must be the monster in me confusing me."

Good thing they couldn't see how hard she was grinning as she stepped out, it would have ruined the whole thing.

---

Amy left the house, not at all bothered with how things went down, she wasn't particularly interested in the status quo of Brockton Bay, and she definitely hadn't been interested in spending the next two years under Carol's thumb, being harassed for anything she did 24/7.

She wondered what would happen once Vicky came back from her 'cooling flight' to find that Amy had essentially moved out. Or been kicked out on the street - whichever interpretation she'd fall under.

There would be fireworks no doubt, she was almost sad that she wouldn't be there to see it. But it wasn't worth sticking around and getting bitched at by Carol for however long it took for Vicky to come back.

Plus this would collect some bonus points towards the turning her sister evil track.

She had better things to do anyway than be blathered at by a shriveled up shrew who'd given up on life already and was bitter at everyone for being happier than her.

She walked down the street, bringing her phone out again, her lips stretched into a self satisfied grin. Freedom, she was a girl on a mission, to enjoy life, to spit in the face of those that wanted to control her. New Wave, just like the PRT would have just been an anchor weighing her down.

As she walked, heading towards the boardwalk for now, she typed up a quick addition to her previous post. The thread already had several thousands of replies in - she was about to blow up the local internet even more.

Hello again, Brockton Bay,

As an update on what's going on, I arrived back home, or what I thought was my home, to get the same treatment as the PRT doled out,

Glory Girl was the only one of New Wave that stood up for me, everyone else passively allowed Brandish to brand me the new Nilbog, a stain on the name of New Wave, and then came the real truth bombs.

Not everyone in Brockton is aware that I was adopted, but it hasn't been kept a secret either, just not advertised. What I didn't know until now, was that Carol Dallon did not want me. She was forced into adopting me by the rest of the family at the time.

She made it clear today that she always knew I would be evil, that I wasn't a member of the family, and that I was not a member of New Wave. Basically leaving me with nothing.

So… Anyone have a couch for me for a night while I figure things out? Because I no longer have a home, a team, or apparently a family. (Excluding Glory Girl)

So…

That's been my day,

If this is how biokinetics are treated, no wonder I'm the only known 'good one' if this is the normal reaction.

Don't worry everyone, no matter how much Director Piggot and Carol Dallon want to make me a monster,

I'll remain me.

Just… Homeless version of me.

Amy hit post, wondering how long before she'd be approached by the various players out there. Would Coil come first, being local and all, or would the likes of the Elite approach her first?

She'd have to disappoint them, she'd turn down working directly for them, but she was open to deals. But first of all, she needed new digs, so she could start exploring her power, make herself a real power in this world. Her posts would give her some breathing room, the public would be coming in mostly on her side until the PRT could begin to switch the narrative - or at least she was fairly sure that's how it would lean for now.

She needed to keep a good reputation, until she didn't need it anymore, just to avoid the complications that could arise from top tier heroes if she was actually classified as a new Nilbog.

She watched as her PM's filled up, offers flying in, most of them the obvious cape weirdos offering their basement - hard no on that.

She didn't need to be tied up in someone's basement and subjected to a number of humiliating things… Unless they were hot.

She recognized one name however, although only from fanfictions that she'd read once upon a time, when she'd been able to at least move her hands, able to read on her own - before she'd deteriorated to the point she needed assistance for even that.

AllSeeingEye. Tattletale. Potentially. The invite to talk certainly held a certain amount of smug I-know-it-all attitude to it that matched her.

Now the question was, if that was indeed her, was it for herself and her plans that she offered, or was Coil making her offer? Or was Lisa just stretching a hand out for a young girl down on her luck, like she would for Taylor?

Either way, Amy thought it could be fun. She sent a PM back, asking for contact details. A phone number flashing into her inbox only seconds later.

She dialed it, speaking up the second the phone call was picked up, "So, Tattletale, what's up?"

There was a second of silence, before Tattletale laughed, sounding delightedly amused, "Now, now, this is interesting." She said, and Amy could almost picture the vulpine grin on her face from the tone of her voice. "You know me, somehow, I can't quite figure it out, but that's interesting, how do you know that?"

Amy eyed her surroundings, keeping her voice low as she continued walking, well aware night was not far away, "Asking me? Aren't you supposed to be able to figure anything out?" She teased smugly.

"Not very heartbroken about recent events, are you?" Tattletale said dryly, slipping right past Amy's dig, before making a querying noise from the back of her throat, "No… You actually wanted this, wanted independence…" She said rapidly as if struck by inspiration, "Holy shit, you planned this, maybe not every step, no, you took advantage of the situation to get what you wanted, but you wanted to be kicked out!"

"I guess you're not half bad." Amy said approvingly, "What else can you get out of what I've done lately?" She asked, curious what a thinker could pull out of her actions.

There was silence on the line, broken suddenly by excited breathing noises that would have drawn Amy's mind to something completely different if she was talking to anyone else. Amy just laughed, having an idea of what exactly Tattletale was figuring out, "I think you might want to wait for a private meeting for anything else." She said leadingly. Knowing Tattletale was unlikely to be unmonitored if she was with Coil, if she was, then it was likely not that long ago that she'd gotten that 'job offer'

"Texting you the address." Tattletale said abruptly, sounding a bit freaked out but trying to play it off as brusqueness, hanging up immediately.

Oops, maybe I shouldn't have hinted about knowing about her situation. Amy thought, before she shrugged, looking up the address she was sent, depositing her phone in her pocket afterwards. She could deal with Tattletale, and Coil didn't really worry her either. He might be a child abducting pervert, but he was one perfectly willing to make deals.

He wouldn't bother with kidnapping Amy if she was perfectly willing to make deals after all, why bother with it if he could already get what he wanted?

And it wasn't like she had a problem with him taking Dinah Alcott either, she wasn't Taylor. With the world ending anyway, why does some girl she doesn't even know, matter? Answer of course is she doesn't. So yeah, she'll work for Coil if it comes up, or kill him, or something else fun, who knows, depends on what's interesting at that moment.

Maybe he'll try and use her to cure Noelle and there could be a few hundred little Amy clones running around. She laughed delightedly, uncaring if anyone saw - because that would be an apocalyptic scenario. Or would they turn good? Maybe worth trying just for shits and giggles.

Tattletale didn't live far from the boardwalk, more towards the Empire territory, which was smart, considering she was a white blonde teenager - she'd get free security from the gang just by walking onto Empire streets.

In ABB territory she'd be too likely to get another kind of security if she was alone. The kind with a cell, a chain attached to a bed, and three square meals of dick a day.

Being able to safely walk the streets was a big relief in Brockton Bay. It no doubt was a load of her mind when she needed to go grocery shopping outside her villain persona - the benefit of being white and cute in a white residential and business area

She also wasn't too far from Coil's territory, which helped her safety for as long as she was useful for the man - in case she needed a quick getaway. Amy was kind of flying by the seat of her pants, not really that interested in long term planning, so Tattletale wasn't really a bad choice as far as who to get in bed with. (Heh)

"Panacea… Kaiser wants a word." Amy jerked her head up at the calm words uttered not far from her position.

Oops, she'd gotten lost in her mind and stopped paying attention to her surroundings, that was annoying. She idly looked down the street to the cape standing there. Victor, not too bad for her, all things considered. He wasn't Hookwolf or Stormtiger, or Night and Fog. Really, he was as ideal as could be for a cape she could tell to fuck off without having to create a plague on the fly for, that would likely be entirely indiscriminate due to time and material constraints.

It's not like America really needed Brockton Bay anyway, it didn't exist in her world after all and that world worked just fine without it.

He was by himself too, which meant either this was a completely coincidental meeting, or they were trying some sort of soft sell. She snorted quietly to herself, they were really shooting high if they thought she could be recruited when this all started with her turning one of their men black. She had a feeling this was simply a meeting of opportunity, she was near their territory after all, and her last post just happened, so unlikely Victor even knew about it.

"Victor." She said politely, continuing to walk, forcing him to make the choice to either step in line to follow her, or to attempt to stop her. Either way, he'd have to touch her if he wanted to stop her, and that would not end well for him.

Victor stepped in causally to walk next to her, just enough space between them to be out of range if she were to attempt to reach over. "New Wave won't be able to protect you from the PRT." He said mildly, "Kaiser just wants to talk, explain his side of things for a young woman that's been fed lies."

Amy felt a smile tugging at her lips, "I guess you're behind the times, is the internet too gay for you guys to use?" She said, being slightly unfair, because she'd just posted her split with New Wave, but seeing the confused body language of the villain next to her was admittedly funny.

"Am I to take it that you're turning down a meeting?" Victor asked, shedding his confusion and focusing on his task.

Amy chuckled darkly, flexing her fingers, side-eying the now slightly tense Nazi next to her. "You want me in the same room as Kaiser? Shooting for a coup, Victor?" Her lips twisted into a vicious smirk, "Because it sounds like you want the girl capable of creating plagues in an enclosed space with your leader."

"...You're a hero…" Victor said, stepping away a couple of extra steps, watching her more warily now.

How cute, Amy thought, laughing lightly, pulling some of her hair behind her ear, giving Victor a teasing look, "~Am I?"

Victor rallied remarkably quickly, "We would happily take you in, we could protect you if you're leaving heroing behind, even if you're a rogue, the Empire would support you, even behind the scenes if necessary."

Amy shook her head, even when almost right out saying it, he still thinks I meant rogue, not villain. How amusing. "Sure, I'll join." She said idly, waiting for Victor to take that in and puff up with achievement, before she continued, "One condition though." She held her hand out, "I can tell if you're lying by touch, so show me you're telling the truth and that I wouldn't be walking into a trap."

Victor eyed her hand warily, different needs obviously warring within him. "You're playing me." He said with sudden realization, voice suddenly rougher then the pleasantly calm voice he'd used up until now.

Amy snapped her fingers cheekily, "Oh well." She said with a quick laugh, "I guess not every Nazi is entirely retarded."

"You don't have the kind of backup to talk like that anymore, New Wave don't fight the Empire for a reason." Victor said forcefully, his body language much more aggressive, even as he kept his distance. "Ask Fleur…"

Amy couldn't exactly walk into Tattletale's apartment with Victor, the girl would never forgive her. She eyed the Nazi contemptuously, She couldn't give less of a crap about Fleur, except she had been family, which meant she wouldn't allow the whole thing to stand now that she was going to become someone. "Oh, I know, but unlike New Wave, I don't fight." She purred, taking a step forward towards Victor. "I'm much worse." She took another step, smile growing wider as she intentionally widened her eyes giving herself a somewhat crazy expression, "You'll never know if that next beer you have was tainted and would turn your guts inside out, if that shower in your apartment has a flesh eating virus inside the pipes waiting to be released. If the very air you breathe will turn against you."

Victor jumped back several steps, getting into a marital arts stance, before realizing how bad of an idea that would be, and halting, ending up in some half frozen stance. "You wouldn't, that's enough to get that kill order!" He snapped, but his voice was strained, the man suddenly realizing what he was dealing with.

Amy laughed, wiggling her fingers at him, "Prove it's me and not some Nazi victim pouring poison into your pipes, if any of you are alive to complain anyway." Her expression turned vicious, her half lidded glare meeting Victor's gaze, "Any of you take Fleur's name in your filthy mouths again near me and you won't even realize you're dead, you'll just all drop one day, without a single word of warning."

She grinned widely, "Bonesaw has a kill order too, a shame though, seems she's still alive anyway… People that messed with her… Not so much…"

Fleur's death had ruined New Wave, and that had nothing to do with Amy. But using her dead family member (even if step family) as some sort of threat against her. No. She wouldn't allow it. They were all still hers. No one touched her things. She took another step towards Victor, changing the bacteria she uses to smell nice, giving it a fluorescent sheen for a few moments, her hand glowing sickly green. "Get out, and tell Kaiser that I'll let him and his continue to live, only if they never darken my doorstep again. You touch anything of mine even for a second, and a biblical plague will come your way."

"We don't take well to threats, Panacea." Victor hissed out, eyes focused on her hands as he backed up slowly.

"Neither do I. Any of you come near me, I'll see it as a threat." She said, changing the bacteria on her skin back to its regular setting, letting the green glow fade.

She eyed Victor, sneering disparagingly, "Why are you still here?" She bit out, turning her back on him, affecting nonchalance, "Run back to your master, deliver my message."

Victor walked away, never once leaving his back to her the entire time, Amy saw it all out of the corner of her eye. Sighing as he walked onto another street.

Picking a fight with the Empire was probably more of that whole, not planning things out problem she had. But really, they'd thought she was ripe for recruiting? She'd meant what she said, if they came after her, she'd eradicate them.

Hopefully they'd be smart enough not to push, but she doubted it would last long. It's her own fault for walking in her Panacea uniform anyway, she should have changed at home before the whole argument.

At least the Empire would have a hard time finding her to bother her. Ditch the uniform, color her hair, and not even her own family would pick her out of a crowd, while Victoria Dallon is well known, Amy Dallon is practically invisible. Small changes would ensure she wouldn't be bothered even if the Empire wanted to start anything.

Her phone dinged, and she fished it out of her pocket, keeping a wary eye on her surroundings so as to not be blindsided by a Nazi again.

Oh it was Sophia, she must have finally been released from the various dressing downs from sneaking into the Rig.

"What the fuck, you're homeless now!!!?"

Amy scoffed, texting back, "Three exclamation marks seem excessive."

Finally she was arriving within sight of Tattletales apartment building, instead of heading onwards she ducked into an alley, just in time to receive another text. Sophia must not be alone, or she'd definitely have called to yell in person.

"That's what you text back? Not anything on how the fuck you ended up with your parents kicking you out!?" Sophia texted back, the frustration bleeding through in her words.

Amy chuckled to herself, fingers flying as she texted back quickly. "Yup, how's life in heroville? You get grounded for the year?"

She put her phone on a nearby dumpster, quickly divesting herself of her uniform. She wore clothes under her uniform obviously, and Tattletale would probably appreciate her not walking into the building in uniform.

She didn't need it anymore anyway. Panacea was dead.

She picked her phone back up just in time for her phone to ding again.

"The other Wards actually defended me to Piggot, it was weird, I only got a month of console duty. Wait, stop fucking changing the subject. Homeless!!!? Where the fuck are you, do you need a place to stay?"

"Nah, someone off PHO offered me their couch. Aww, you and the other wards are going to be bwestest fwiends!"

"Fuck off! And what the fuck, you can't just crash on some random fucks couch, do you want to be raped and murdered? Because that's how you get fucking raped and murdered you idiot! Just come stay at my place, my mom won't give a fuck."

Amy let out a disbelieving laugh, four days of hanging with Shadow Stalker, and now she has a psycho friend begging her to come live with her. Well, at least she had options if Tattletale wanted to be as bitchy as she remembered.

"I'll keep your offer in mind, gotta go meet the murderer who's couch I'm crashing on - unsure if she's a rapist though, I'll check, enjoy braiding your hair with Vista!"

She turned off her phone notifications, putting it away, feeling like she'd gotten the last word.

She poked her head out of the alley, looking both ways, no one out and about that she could see. She walked out onto the street and made her way to Tattletales tenement building.

Time to see how this would go.

At the very least it should be interesting.

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Dungeon Core Coral.


A little snippet I wrote up when I was in a bit of dungeon fics binge,


Figured I might as well put it out here,


Warning I suppose for some hard language and light mutilation - although not shown.


Enjoy



＊＊＊


Picture a stretch of coast, ragged cliff sides being battered by clear almost cyan blue waters. Algae and Corals creeping up the crevices of the cliffs. Bathed in the foam of the constantly high waves.


The beauty of the sea impacting the land is not transferred further inwards, as the land itself is barren rock, not a patch of grass in sight. The land stretching into the sea as if a thick limb separating from the main land. In a few areas the land slopes down into small inlets. The lower ground covered in clumpy sand with spots of algae and various sea delivered detrius.


Now picture in one of those inlets, there is a crack in the rock facade. Now imagine that you could hear screaming. You can't of course. No one can hear it.


That doesn't mean it isn't there…


In fact the screaming and swearing had gone on for quite some time. You couldn't blame him really. Having gone to bed as a normal human being with a normal job and a normal life, he had awoken inside a tiny cave, his entire existence a cyan little orb of a jewel. Well, he was gorgeous no doubt about that. Definitely the best jewel around. It's just… He had been quite attached to his legs, and arms. Other parts would also be sorely missed. The ability to talk had been quite useful too. Screaming in pure frustration and anxiety just wasn't the same when you weren't making any sound.


Now why was he screaming? Well apart from the whole woke up without his body, now existing as a floating orb. Which was a whole thing to be anxious about. He had also been completely gypped in this new beautiful orb life. He was a dungeon core, or at least that was his assumption, he doesn't know what other kind of beings exists as an orb in a cave. Except no matter what he tried to think, yell or force forward, he didn't see a system, status or monster breeding option, any option really. He would settle for a mana bar or count or something, just anything.


All he had. Was a tiny cave, a crack in a wall from which water sloshed in and out. And of course his own astonishingly beautiful self. Which could just sit there, looking amazing. Uselessly. And scream. He didn't know if he's in his own world, another world. If there is a God in this/his world. They/it have not responded to his many many insults of their parentage or sexual habits visavi goats.


Perhaps the gods are goats and are therefore not as insulted as they should be about their mating habits. When one has all the time of the world, one ponders such things.


A sudden gush of a wave, stronger than before sends a whole mess of algae and sea life through his crack, smacking his orb in the face. Do orbs have faces? Who cares! He's the orb here and he's going to say his face was very rudely smacked. The ocean would rue the insult one day. Once he figured out how to do more than scream profanities at it.


If the ocean could her it, the ocean would be feeling those insults keenly, he'd had a lot of time to sharpen his wit.


Suddenly the algae and fish which had landed beneath him started turning into motes of light, and he could feel something. Some sort of pressure at the back of his head. Or orb as it was. Was this mana? Another few waves splashed against him and he felt the pressure build, not unpleasantly, it was just there. This was some kind of bullshit! He'd been there screaming his orb off for however many hours or days, the water had washed in constantly, including fish, debris and plants. And nothing happened. Why now?


He pondered the question, wondering if perhaps a god had heard his pleas/insults. Then disregarded it. As it was, if he had been heard, a positive outcome was less than likely. He wasn't sure if orbs could be smited… or was it smote? Either way he had enough orb related issues to deal with to wonder too much.


Like considering his general shape, was there a possibility that his greatest enemy would be a pickup game of soccer and being mistaken for a ball?


Concentrating hard, he could now feel a constant flow with every incoming wave. The ocean was penetrating his crack (hah, humor!) and was bringing him gush after gush of life, and therefore mana, with every pass. He paused, going over his last thought. That might not be the best way to put it, even in his own head. He really wished he had a face he could rub exasperatedly.


No. No bringing gushing and his face into question in the same stream of thought!


Could orbs even have a sex life? He moved away from that thought quickly, because he had a feeling the answer was, no… And he wanted to pretend he was quite the fetching orb, all in all.


Okay! So for some reason he could suddenly use what he couldn't ten minutes ago. Cool. He had no idea why, but he'd roll with it. Heh, roll. He's an orb... No! Focus! Mana, dungeony things. Work. He knew work. It was that thing you pretended to do because you needed money to eat food and play videogames. So…. How can he go about making it work?


He tried again to pop up a menu of some sort now that he sort of had mana, he thought it's mana anyway. Alas, help is not forthcoming. So he concentrated really hard, staring at the wall behind his orby self and imagining carving a corridor further into the rock. Nothing happened. He imagined it harder. With helpful swear words. The rock wall mocked him with its permanence. It took him an embarrassingly long time to try and touch that swirling pressure that's constantly filling now, that he feels sort of behind his imaginary head. He attempted to direct it to the wall. Thinking very hard of a corridor.


Like magic the rock started parting, no sound being made as tons of rock, just shifted to make space for a large smooth corridor. Yeah that's right rock wall! Take that! He thought at it smugly. Now that he was concentrating on it, he could feel the slight dip in the feeling of whatever it was swirling around his orb unseen. He decided to just call it Mana. No need to be complicated and make up something new, probably was Mana anyway, and he'd look such a silly rural dungeon going about naming it something else. Was there a convention for dungeon cores? Dungeon email?


Dungeon blind dates?


Anyway, back to figuring things out. The dip had been miniscule for the corridor, which had him look at the constant flow of water coming into his dungeon and draining out from it again - flowing through by a crack in the ground at the back of his tiny cave. How much mana was he getting from this? And really, this was kind of all kinds of cheating if he just got a refill every few seconds. He wondered if he had a limit?


Something like a system or notifications would be really swell he thought really hard at everything. Nothing happened of course - everything was very rude. Maybe constant mana delivery is his consolation prize for having absolutely zero help or assistance in figuring things out, and being placed in a completely barren land. One hell of a consolation in that case, maybe he could even do something about the barrenness with no need to worry about mana expenditure.


He'd have to see how quick he ran down to the bottom of his mana if he really started building. See if the mana delivery system he was 'born' with, worked with lots of expenditure. If it did. Well then that would make him a very happy orb! As a human being turned orb. Or core, he should call himself - He wasn't relishing killing humans for mana, which seemed to always be the best way to earn it in stories he remembered. If he had enough mana coming in already, maybe if he was a nice dungeon with lots of resources and pretty things, people wouldn't want to kill him?


Wishful thinking perhaps. Yet worth a try, he didn't want to spend his core life murdering people. He didn't really want to die either, if it came down to it. Hopefully things would work out. Common sense would prevail, it would be stupid to murder a dungeon giving you nice things right? He pondered safeguarding his life on the belief humankind would have or exercise common sense…. Right… A small amount of traps and monsters wouldn't go amiss, he thought - wishing be could sweatdrop, but an orb would look silly doing things such as that.


And if there was a convention, he didn't want to look bad in front of all the other cooler orbs.


He looked at his new corridor. Alright. Time to find out what he could do. First floor. And… He rummaged through his mind, feeling out for what he could do. Most of what washed into him were algae, corals and fish. Let's see how he could turn that into something special.


＊＊＊


It turned out that once he got into the swing of things, it really wasn't that hard to control the space inside his dungeon. Just a thought was enough to send out his mana to cover whatever he wanted changed. And then like magic it would happen.


He'd get these feelings when he did, a slight warmth when what he was doing would work, and a warning chill when something either wouldn't work, or required more mana then he had available. He had decided he wasn't willing quite yet to test and see which of them the chill was or attempt to drain himself that low on mana, even if he kept getting fed more by the ocean. Not until his core was better protected.


It seemed he was either being fed enough, or had a large capacity already filled up. Because he planned to go grand, so the first and likely only room on his first floor he made into a huge cavern. The rock and dirt melting away quickly as soon as he laid a thin film of his mana over it. Somehow he felt that if he ever needed lots of rock and dirt it was there for him to pull out now. Neato.


Now it was time to Bob the builder this shit. Except with magic, so…Not actually like Bob the builder at all.


God… He missed cartoons…


So now he had a miles long and deep cavern. So… Lights right. Lights would be good. Did he have anything that could make light? Trying to think of lightbulbs served up the equivalent of an error message into his brain, he felt an incompleteness, probably a sign he lacked the materials. That's fine. Lightbulbs weren't impressive anyway, he'd just wanted to test it.


He'd have to figure out something else, for now the dark wasn't a problem. He could see just fine. It was him after all. If some people entered right now he didn't particularly want them able to find their way. With a thought his orbiness gently floated to the back of the large cavern instead of right by the entrance.


Hmm.. Maybe he should start with the entrance before he poked around more. He eyed the small stairs coming down from the crack, it really didn't have the proper atmosphere to walk down just three steps. Not very dungeony.


He'd be so ashamed if people walked in right now, it would be like he wasn't wearing any pants.


God.. He missed pants… Or at least the parts that filled them.


With a thought the entrance level and cavern both sunk down, the stairs to the dungeon entrance growing into two dozen steps. He eyed the water still flowing down the steps. He cut several inches of space on either side of the stairs, rock crumbling into nothingness, then created a small space under the stairs and up the back of the walls. A nudge of mana telling the water how to behave had it divert to the sides, come back up through the back of the walls, which opened up near the highest point of each wall in a long thin edge.


This allowed the water to fall back down the wall into the sides of the stairs as two long miniature waterfalls. Creating a nice ambiance of falling water, and although the stairs still got wet from some splashage, there weren't waves of water coming down the stairs anymore. No adventures would die from slipping down the entrance stairs in his dungeon!


Which probably defeated the purpose of a dungeon, but he felt it would be terribly embarrassing to kill someone by something that could be defeated by a wet floor sign.


Still it needed more oomph, the walls slowly changed into brilliant white coral with golden corals slightly protruding from the walls into themes of massive waves impacting a wild explosion of fire, creating a cloud of steam in the middle, a figure only partly visible in the steam, showing a mad toothy grin.


The other wall got the same treatment this time with a kraken crushing a ship in it's grip, little sailors sinking into the abyss where again a non distinct form is shown only that grin completely visible. He added some luminous algae down the walls, and hanging off the ceiling, giving off a sickly green light that just barely lit up the entrance way. With the white walls it was enough light to safely descend the stairs.


You could do a lot with coral it seemed, just using different coloured ones you could paint any picture you wanted.


Lastly he edited the bottom and top of the stairs, sinking the ceiling slightly and adding dripping stone fangs, having fangs and sharp teeth protruding out of the bottom as well, giving the impression of walking into the beasts mouth, lowering the ceiling enough a normal sized person would have to squeeze through the entrance, mindful of the sharp fangs.


Maybe he went a little bit overboard, but he wanted shock and awe didn't he? To really impress people, and maybe scare them just a little, so they would hopefully be less likely to want to do bad bad things to him.


He turned to his little entrance cave, where he had been 'born' and transformed it to just a continuation of the corridor to his large cavern. Smoothing over the crack in the floor. A new tunnel under the stairs leading back out to the ocean to continue the cycle of water flowing in and then leaving again. He wasn't cruel enough to make his first floor a water level. He still had nightmares from Zelda thank you very much.


Water levels were just evil, only a truly evil soul could invent them, so of course it had been gamers and developers that did it.


He looked over his large cavern like first room. There really wasn't much he could do with such limited materials. He wasn't even sure how he'd go about creating monsters yet. Just imagine something and stuff it with mana? Would it be sapient? Could it respawn or would it die permanently if killed. He was reluctant to experiment yet. It would be pretty horrible to create someone intelligent just for them to die days later for nothing. Did they need food? Or was Mana enough? Would they die if he ran out of Mana?


No. Monsters would have to wait. He needed to think more about it. So what could he do? First off, it was all pretty barren and boring looking. He stuck to the coral theme and transformed every surface into coral. Choosing a mix of golden and white coral again to give it a more rich look.


He grew an entire outcropping of corals on the ground, with twisting paths going through them. He felt the coral with his mana, and they were just that, normal coral, he tried to suffuse then with Mana and make them harder to break, it worked to a point. He could feel them getting denser. Then he got that little chilly feeling signifying most likely that he was missing a material to harden it properly. If he had some steel or the like he could probably move it further along. It really proved that materials was going to be the logjam in this whole dungeon thing.


Did this world have Amazon? Did Bezos accept payment in slightly used algae?


He moved along from his outcropping of corals for now. Raising some off the floor into sloping hills and valleys, creating outjutting coral shelves on the walls with small crumbling coral paths leading up to them against the wall.


Maybe he'd carve some caves up there for monsters later, or some puzzle or resource. He carved a groove across the floor, halfway through the cavern, ending in a carved out basin at the left side of the cavern against the wall. Then he punched a hole through the right side high up the wall over the start of the groove and connected it via a dozen small tunnels to the ocean, making it small enough no human could swim through. It also had the benefit of adding more water rushing into his innards supplying him with more Mana. The water rushing through the dozen holes, finishing into one large hole in the wall and falling down in a majestic waterfall into the cut out groove.


He watched as the river filled up, and as his carved out basin filled to the brim and became a lake. He noticed with interest that with no escape tunnel for the water built yet under the lake, the water all flowed into that storage space he could feel somewhere inside him. Useful that. Maybe he'd skip the tunnel funneling water out of him just for this one place. He looked above the lake, to where he had a small shelf of coral jutting out.


He pondered. He had gravity. So could he make gravity his bitch with Mana then? He could with everything else that was inside him. He made a small island of coral grow out of the little shelf. Then cut off the connection and willed the island to stay in place. Covering it with his Mana. Feeling it strain against him. He stubbornly added alot more Mana. Enough that he actually felt the dip this time. The island stopped struggling.


He whooped in joy as it sat up there, a few feet of air separated from the shelf on the wall. Just hanging in the air above the lake. He quickly added another three islands, creating a ring of four islands hanging perfectly in sync with the circumference of the lake, but up in the air. He created a small little island in the middle of the lake. Perfectly in the middle. He'd figure out something fun with that once he had something fun to figure out with.


Really he didn't have much to do, not that he could think of in the moment. So he started just prettying up the place, cutting corals into elaborate trees or pillars against the walls, and other beautifying little edits.


The sea would bring him materials eventually. He'd just have to wait.


Now he didn't have any beer bottles but he could imagine it as he began singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall, lacking much else to do.


＊＊＊


Elsewhere,


The people of the tiny village of Millerton had all turned up in the small town square, it wasn't much of a square, just as it wasn't really a town, village really didn't do it justice either, but you couldn't call a place just some houses and assorted stuff. So the town of Millerton it was. There was just one muddy street through Millerton, so the middle of the street had simply been appropriated for the occasion. As the only village near the Titan's arm - life was hard.


The Titan's arm or as it was sometimes called when children weren't around, Malorn's dick, had been lush and full of farms once upon a time. Now the entire area, a full thirty percent of the kingdom, jutted out into the ocean as just barren rock. And as they were on the edge of that, Millerton constantly struggled to manage a good harvest.


In typical Malorn stubbornness. No one ever even mentioned moving somewhere else, or maybe just putting the village 15 miles more inland. This is where they lived for the past 15 generations, this is where they'd keep living. They'd snap at you that this was proper Millerton mud around these parts and it would be folly to give that up for some strange worse mud, further inland.


Who knew what weird shit was going on with that inland mud after all.


A dirty bedraggled man covered in scrapes and bruises, and yes, mud - was led forward by some men in boiled leathers with swords hanging by their sides. The mark of the kingdom on their chests. The man was dragged in front of the jeering crowd, (All 33 of them) and stood up in front of a young woman and a stern looking man in mud covered armor, once gleaming perhaps, but now having suffered through enough dings and scrapes to be considered well worn. His short cropped dark hair had started to show signs of grey. His dark eyes pierced through not only the squirming filthy man in front of him, but the men holding him and the crowd beyond.


"What is his crime, Sir Rowen?" The young woman asked tiredly, she was an unusual one. Olive skinned with golden hawk like eyes, and long dark hair falling in several long braids behind her. Undoubtedly beautiful, in a scary kind of way. Even then, to the shock of many in the village, she was wearing leathers and a sword. They'd heard she was… unusual. It was all fine for adventurers to prancy about in leathers and waving swords around - but surely not for someone like her.


In Millerton, ladies made due with a ladle or a frying pan, none of this pointy weaponry, it was unladylike. Of course many a woman in Malorn had muttered at some point under their breath, that the reason swords were 'unsuitable' for women… Was because if they had them, there soon wouldn't be many men around. The frying pan and ladle does keep them alive, see. Just slightly more concussed, which all Malorn ladies agree doesn't really make much of a difference from their normal state of being.


The rest of the kingdom when queried about the women of Millerton have one word of advice - no.


Usually followed by going to the nearest religious dwelling and praying for your immortal soul.


The knight in his muddy armor sat calmly on his steed, hands resting on the pommel of his saddle, "Rape, your Highness. He was caught in the act with the innkeeper's daughter… There can be no doubt, several witnesses heard her screams and ran to her aid." Sir Rowen answered with a distasteful twist to his lips. The most he allowed to express himself. The rest of him could have just as well been carved out of stone. In a small community like this, where everyone not only knew everyone, but could probably, while blind and deaf, identify the rest of the villagers by smell alone. Rape was an unusual sort of crime. How he'd ever thought he'd get away with it…


Well… Every village usually had a village idiot, the usually just drowned them nice and young and saved themselves the headache.


The young princess pursed her rosebud lips, her somewhat hawkish nose twitched as if she could smell the foulness of the man. In Malorn, rape was generally punished by death. Usually, the accused never made it as far as a lawman. No doubt if she and her small retinue had not been passing through the man would have been ripped apart. She approved of such justice. It certainly saved money on lawmen. Technically death as a penalty wasn't actually on the lawbook for rape, its just what happened so often that it was generally assumed that the law was as such.


Somehow no one ever seemed to end up punishing anyone for killing a rapist either. One of life's many mysteries. Truly the law worked in strange ways.


"Do you have something to say in your defense?" She finally ended the silence with the query. More for formalities than anything - If Sir Rowen believed in his guilt, he was guilty, as simple as that. The old knight had been the one to look after her most of her life, trained her in the sword and the horse and taught her about justice. She trusted him without reservation. He was known throughout Malorn as a just and incorruptible man. Besides, even if she were to simply wash her hands of this and move on, the village would get their pound of flesh, best to make it all legal like.


The man would still be dead, but everyone would feel all nice and law abiding and like they did a service to the country.


The muddy scrawny looking man spat at the ground and sneered up at her. "Not like 'twas no point, yer already made up yer mind ain't ya?"


"Allow me, your Highness." Sir Rowen said calmly and made to dismount. Executing criminals was no hardship for a man like him. Sometimes she envied the absolute surety he had in everything. Other times, she found it disquieting. To believe so strongly in something that killing did not faze you anymore…


"No." The princess said resolutely, allowing her steed to step forward a few steps, before she expertly slid out of the saddle, patting her mount on the nose gently as she walked by. "Malorn is not a country of the weak." She spoke louder, so the crowd could hear her. "In Malorn… Everyone does their share, we all work until we fall down, and when we die… We go back to work because even death won't stop us from looking after our kin and land" A loud murmur of approval swept through the crowd. If there was ever anything a Malorn could agree on, it was stubbornness.


The old legends told of their ancestors taking the country due to simply out stubborning the rocky surface - showing those stupid rocks what was what.


"Family, Country, Fuck the rest!" Someone in the small crowd shouted, and it could be heard over and over again for several minutes before the princess raised her hand. Silence descended quickly. She was used to the chant, it was somewhat of an unofficial slogan for Malorn nowadays. "This man will not die." She said solemnly. Continuing on before the crowd could descend into outrage. "Malorn needs every hand, every worker. This… Pathetic criminal can still work in your fields."


Said criminal started laughing hysterically. "Ah, 'course the girl dinnae have the balls." He kept chuckling as the crowd sent him angry looks. There seemed a great many felt like they could do without him in the fields. No doubt if she didn't make it clear enough he was punished, they'd 'disappear' him, no matter what decree she made.


That would make her look weak, not something a royal could ever afford - especially in Malorn, where the people mostly follow the crown out of pure spite towards anyone else over any other reasons.


She drew her sword, "Someone grab a torch. He will need it to stop the bleeding." She ordered, heart shaped face hardening as she breathed harshly out her nose. "This man will never rape again! He will be fitted with a magic rune to never leave this village. He will work until his death, he will cleanse his sins in providing for his fellow man until his miserable life ends, so I decree!"


"N-now wait jus' a minute!" The man's face blanched, visible even though the mud. One of the guards in boiled leathers appeared with a burning torch. Looking queasy, the man was young enough he didn't even shave yet. The princess steeled herself. He too would be Malorn to the core after today. You did what you had to, and that was all there was to that. Squeamishness was a luxury not afforded by its leaders - certainly no one else had it.


The princess looked back at her mentor and received a calm nod back. She knew he would take over if she asked. That is why she could not ask. She is of Malorn - you use your own two hands, nothing else. She turned back to the criminal which was now begging and crying as the crowd stood silent and torn between elation and horrification. It's one thing to wish for a man's death, quite another to witness his mutilation. Even then, Malorn to the end, no one ran away, no one avoided bearing witness.


"Remove his trousers. And be ready with the fire." She ordered with forced calm as she raised her sword.


The only good thing Princess Aryn remembered after about the small village of Millerton - Was that she hadn't puked until she was back in her room at the inn, out of sight of the populace. Princesses punishing evil doers was acceptable, one upchucking all over herself was not, and would have spread across the country like wildfire.


She had to remain strong. Malorn couldn't afford any less. Weakness for the royal family meant death for all of Malorn. They were the last defense. The only defense.


She had to be better.


＊＊＊


Malorn Dungeon,


He had no real way to tell time, finessing his floor, spires of coral rising into the air, small bridges of coral criss-crossing between them, none large enough for a man to cross, more decorative then anything - or possible laneways for monsters high up in the air.


He was fully aware of everything inside of him. So when he felt something new wash into him he peered out of himself. And saw it was nighttime, a fierce storm was raging, lightning flashing as big waves crashed into the cliff wall and into him.


He noticed the ship immediately, being smashed into a reef. As he watched, the mast tore off and fell into the water with a monstrous splash. Quickly he carved a large space twenty feet under his entrance, just a cavern not leading anywhere except, because it was inside his boundary, anything that floated in or was pushed in would be his. He couldn't count on the sea washing up enough resources just through his entrance. The odds were too low. He moved further and pushed his new resource sucking cave down to the sea floor. Maybe some curious crabs would wander in and be absorbed. Although he found it odd regular animals didn't need to be killed, just entering him was enough for them to be absorbed into tiny little motes of Mana.


Perhaps this was not supposed to be possible, but technically he wasn't making another entrance, no one would be able to enter, only minor things, resources, animals…


First thing he noticed he received was a floating crate of different mushrooms and fungus, the crate breaking apart and spilling into his gathering space. He wrinkled a non-existent nose. The wood from the crate was good, he had wood now. You'd have to be crazy to use mushrooms however. He firmly decided he wouldn't do anything with those - using mushrooms for anything in a dungeon surely led to insanity.


Maybe he could make it so some of his corals have mushroom qualities so they could be eaten… Would that count as mushrooms? No that way lay madness.


Secondly, some wood floated in his actual entrance, still on fire from a lightning strike or maybe a careless sailor and an oil lamp. He wasn't sure, but he had fire now. Muahaha, he thought. Then he felt very silly.


Good thing no one could see him acting weird anyway.


He kept watching the ship wreck feeling different materials being absorbed with each wave. Fervently hoping no humans were going to be washing up. He really didn't want to eat one. The ship must have been carrying food however - as over the next hour numerous fruits and seeds and grains floated over to him.


Not exactly the first material he would have thought of, but he could work something out. He did luck out on receiving steel and iron through some clips still attached to pieces of barrels and containers that floated in. So all in all the shipwreck seemed to work out well for him. Although he felt bad for the people, he hadn't seen a single person, so they'd probably all drowned.


At least he thought, they died without being eaten. Seeing the frenzy of fins out in the ocean he sheepishly added, by him, not eaten by him. They weren't dungeon food. That was something at least right?


He turned his attention inwards. He had new materials to play with.


Because he did. He didn't notice the small boat bobbing along the waves, before finally washing ashore the tiny beach.


＊＊＊


The first thing he did was soaking his walls with mana and using the steel he had received and he hardened them to a steel quality. He did the same for the coral outcropping in the beginning of his room, so it would be harder to cheat their way through.


It would be forcing people to follow the path not go off wherever they wanted all loosey goosey. He closed in the walls towards the path, leaving just enough room for one person, twinning branches of coral above the path to prevent anyone from just climbing out. He made the large branches hollow, with exits only able to open from the inside. Once he had monsters and he decided to use them, there wouldn't be much room to maneuver away from monsters falling onto their heads in the cramped pathway.


He debated on traps. Hemming and hawing, not really that keen on killing people. He played with some coral over in another part of the room. Suffusing it with Mana, trying to impart conditions on it. After a few tries and a really large amount of Mana, he'd figured out how to layer a trap with a condition. It cost over ten times the Mana, but he had Mana to spare.


In the twisting pathway at the beginning of his floor he had the coral trees and walls and outcroppings grow thorns with sharpened edges strong and sharp as steel.


Not only would this ensure people had to walk carefully through the pathways to not cut themselves. He set them to fire off the thorns randomly if his conditions had been met. Adventurers wouldn't know if they'd be fired at from the sides, ahead, behind, it would be totally random. The conditions he set was that if at any point when entering, the words, kill, shatter, conquer or enslave the dungeon were uttered. The trap and other additions he added would becone active.


He had wished to have an intent based defense, but perhaps because he had not had any people inside yet, it simply didn't work to set up.


Or would cost an insane amount of Mana.


The other additions to his little fun area that was barely one tenth of his floor, was first of all making it more labyrinth-esque. He had the coral randomly grow across the pathway as other corals receded, twisting the pathway around back and forth and forcing people to sometimes backtrack as a new way might have opened all the way back at the entrance.


He imagined a party finally coming to the end of the maze like outcropping, seeing the exit, and a coral wall growing in front of it as another pathway opened just off the entrance. And he might have giggled a little in his head just now at that thought.


Maybe he wouldn't kill people, but pissing them off would be something, wouldn't it?


The second addition was creating his first monsters, although really they were critters more then anything. The algae just didn't give enough light and besides didn't fit inside his maze anyway, so all through the coral maze he created large globes of glass, something he had received through pieces of a broken mirrors coming in from the shipwreck. He filled the inside with water from his Mana space, or he figured he might as well just call it his inventory. Something around here should be proper at least.


He as a Dungeon Core was making the experience proper, like a system should be. Hint, hint.


He dropped in disappointment, still nothing, all the work dumped on just him. Lazy gods.


Anyways. He filled the glass globes with Mana rich water, then created glowing jellyfish inside them. With a snicker he made them slightly mischievous, the critters not having sapience just an inclination to mess with people. The glowing jellyfish were able to turn their glow off anytime, plunging the pathways into darkness.


He set a condition that if any of the globes were destroyed or the jellyfish harmed - all the globes would go dark. The jellyfish able to empty their globes of water on any torch or light they saw as revenge. Forcing brutish adventurers to go through the labyrinth with shooting thorns in complete darkness - a real thorny situation.


He needed someone to riff off, this was getting sad.


Well sadder than being a ball floating around in darkness all alone…


He left it at that. Anymore improvements to the globes and it would just be cruel. Besides, It would only be mean to mean people. Nice, happy people could just walk through his pretty, lit up, coral reef on the ground structure. Well… He'd probably keep the maze part, he couldn't be too easy, people would take him for granted.


After his coral maze he had the small hills he had created, from the top it allowed a good view of the rest of the room, well once there was some light and other things to see anyway. Now what to do with the hills and the slope up to them. Something to make them special.


He had wood now, oak apparently. He quickly populated his slopes and hills with thick woods, no discernible path through, forcing people to have to slip around giant trunks of trees. He created extra branches lower down, to get in people's faces and lower the amount of space for people to squeeze through. Higher up he created a roadway of branches tied together for possible monster habitation, even carving out the inside of trees with exit holes high up in the air.


He sunk his Mana into the forest, the oak trees slowly becoming coral, coloured in every possible color. He kept the pliability of the oak wood, but now colored and textured like coral. Even more Mana was expended, making the new coralwood waterproof and fireproof, as much as he was able. He wasn't sure if there were magical fires that burned hotter or anything. He now had a resource people would clearly want though. Wood that came in every color, very attractive and oceanic as well as water and fireproof.


He turned the leaves golden coloured to go with the aesthetic of the first floor, making them larger and more plentiful to hide the upper monster pathways. making sure the trees with the most garish colors were in the middle of the forest, he didn't want to clash too much after all. He wanted awe, not oh god those two colors together, how could you?


Although he wasn't sure fashion critics did dungeon diving. Most dungeon people probably were considered debonair if their teeth colors matched.


He set the leaves to fall often and fill up the ground, making it slippery as well as falling and blocking the vision of people traveling through. The leaves of course grew back immediately. He chuckled evilly to himself as he turned the ground up the hills into gravel and small rocks, making sure there would be no sure footing anywhere. Minor annoyances, that was his jam.


Speaking of annoyances… He played around with the fruits he had received. Heating them up and juicing them and messing around until he had a tasty syrup that was almost like a mix between strawberries and watermelon, and yes somehow he could taste it when he thought really hard about what the syrup tasted like.


He picked random trees and made them able to secrete the syrup. For people to collect. Or if the same condition had been set as in the coral labyrinth, people would stick to the trees like glue if they touched them. And he made sure it was one hell of a glue.


He kept finessing his trees and beginning area unaware of the passage of time. Soon day arrived. And the storm had completely abated.


In the small rowboat a figure stirred. Said figure could be called many things. Corpulent, a gentleman of a large stature, big boned. His men had mostly called him that fucking fat whale. When they were a few miles away on shore leave. In the privacy of their minds. And while looking furtively around to make sure he wasn't there. And if they could pull it off, in a foreign language just to be sure.


Even then he probably knew about it. He was just that kind of asshole everyone naturally hated.


"Get up you lazy sods!" Said captain roared as he kicked the other two figures lying in the boat. Both who quickly rose with groans and muttered swearwords. Both were wondering if death by storm was preferable to surviving with their captain and regretting many of their life choices.


"I dunno why you lot are complaining for, if the rest of the crew's dead, means more of the money for the three of us, eh? By the sea maidens puckered arsehole you're lucky lads!" He laughed uproariously for a minute, stroking his long greasy red beard. His tiny sunken eyes peered down at his grumpy sailors as they sank back down complaining of pains and aches.


Honestly he couldn't quite remember their names. He'd only bothered really with his first mate's name. And he'd had to kill the scallywag when it became a choice of his chest of ill gotten gains or his first mate fitting on the boat. That and also the chance his first mate might have gotten 'ideas'. The two nobodies' survival had simply been because he needed people to carry the damn chest. "Well up with you! Stop lazing about, you hear me, eh?" He put a hand on his saber threateningly.


It was his favorite one, he'd killed his dear old daddy with it, eventually. He'd taken a couple days, it was family after all.


Job and Tallor the two lucky surviving sailors of the ship the Leering Wench, put their feet on the sandy soil, and stood to attention as best as you could when you felt like you've been on spin cycle awhile, with a man who's only relationship with hygiene was having heard it mentioned sometime in passing, decades ago.


"Yes sir, Captain Rix." They mumbled out warily. Although registered as a merchant ship, and sometimes actually bringing merchandise, like they had on this trip, they were more used to pirating. And they had seen their captain cut his way through too many men to even imagine disobeying. Numerical advantages didn't mean much when your opponent could be counted as at least two people, maybe three after a good meal.


He was also damn hard to assassinate, passing so much gas in his sleep that no one could safely enter his cabin to do the deed.


"The water is too treacherous to attempt to travel inland right now men, luckily I can spot a cave. Grab my stuff, and we can hunker down until the water calms." Captain Rix ordered, standing watch over the two as they lifted his heavy chest and the sacks of food he'd brought along instead of more crew members. He refused to walk on and instead walked behind his men, not out of any cowardice. You didn't make it as a pirate if you were a coward. No, he simply wanted to make sure they didn't dare steal a jewel or coin, or a shank of lamb. He caressed his saber, they'd better not touch the lamb, he thought as they neared the crack.


＊＊＊


The dungeon felt a sudden tingling up his non-existent spine and suddenly the Mana he'd been using to improve his floor with, slipped out of his metaphysical fingers. His vision immediately moving to his entrance where just a few steps in, three people stood gaping.


He had guests! Actual guests at his dungeon! He wasn't ready! He still didn't have pants!


The two thin men were scarred and gangly and dressed in cheap tan trousers and shirts, with ropes as belts and bandanas around their head, holding dirty brown hair back. At least he hoped their hair color was brown… At their feet was a large heavy wooden chest, and a bunch of sacks. He noticed with humans now in his dungeon what they put down wasn't being absorbed. It made sense, even as it made him pout. He wanted whatever was in that chest.


Was he a loot goblin now? Were there tests one could take? Multiple choice questionnaires? He felt like he needed to know if he was one, it would be very important for his future dungeonness.


At least he found out he could understand the language as the beachball on legs in a dirty stereotypical captain's coat and hat, rubbed his hands together in apparent glee, shouting at the other two, "We've hit the motherlode boys! An honest to the sea maidens giant tits, dungeon!"


The dungeon watched with bemusement as the fat one bullied the other two down the stairs. And was that supposed to be swear words? What did a sea maidens anatomy have to do with it?


Did she know people were using her to say bad things? Or was she and her, ahem - anatomy - that well known?


"Captain, this is too detailed for a new dungeon, I'm not sure we should risk it." The taller gangly one said, shaking like a leaf. The dungeon decided to call him Shaggy. The other man cowering behind Shaggy nodded his head rapidly, "Yeah Cap'n, I heard new dungeons are only a hole in the ground not…" he waved at the walls apprehensively, "This…" He finished lamely. Obviously his name was now Scooby.


Surely nothing could go wrong with the Scooby gang exploring his body. As long as they didn't split the party anyway.


He wondered if he was actually Mr. Jenkins under an orb disguise.


The beach ball with a beard turned around slowly, his face reddening. "Now see here, who gave you permission to offer opinions?" He said with a dangerous air about him. "I know me dungeons. This is the shit hole nowhere end of Malorn's ruined dick! Nothing grows here, not since that Sorcerer blew it to bits decades ago!" He spat on the ground.


Well that was rude, the dungeon named him Fatty. Although he did have some interesting information. So he was in a country named Malorn. And the top above him had once had all life eradicated from it. That was a bit scary. He hoped those kinds of people didn't delve into dungeons…


He had a feeling his coral wouldn't do much to sorcerer's that blew up countries…


Fatty had continued talking, "- No way this is an old dungeon or there would be life all around the place and the kingdom of Malorn would be creeping all over it like the sea maiden over a sailors ballsack!" He was sounding very certain about what he was saying, and it made him curious about what effects dungeons had on the land around him.


"Captain, the walls?" Shaggy waved his arm pleadingly at the scenes and waterfall.


"It's a new dungeon cuz I say it is, eh!?" Fatty said threateningly. Shaggy looked like he would protest one more time, but Scooby placed a dirty hand around his mouth.


Fatty rubbed his hands eagerly, a look of avarice on his face. "A dungeon core, even if it's a new one, sells for a king's ransom, after we kill this one and rip it out. I'll be rich boys!" He crowed. Rushing down the stairs.


The two sailors exchanged a look, peering at the exit before both slowly followed their captain down the stairs, carrying the chest and sacks. Eventually placing them on the corridor floor past the entrance, sullenly awaiting orders.


The dungeon really regretted not creating some monsters as he watched the fatty captain crow about ripping his corpse out of here for profit. And very glad he made some traps. He was just now stuck worrying about whether they would be enough.


He suddenly felt his mortality again. There weren't any more traps worth mentioning yet, if they got past his first obstacles - he'd die. He didn't like the feeling. He wanted awe, but he'd neglected safety - there wasn't any reason he couldn't be beautiful and deadly as well. He had enough Mana to set conditions to only really go after the bad ones willing to kill him. Why had he been so careless? If he survived this he'd do better, he swore to himself.


He watched worriedly as Fatty ordered Shaggy and Scooby to leave the chests and sacks behind. They'd grab them on their return - they entered his coral maze and immediately the glowing jellyfish turned the lights off. Plunging them into pitch darkness.


He let out a sigh of relief, at least his conditions worked, he'd been a bit worried.


"Heh, dungeons think they're smart. By the sea maidens great tits they've got it wrong! Boys go back and scrape that glowing shit off the walls of the stairwell, grab a great clump each and hold it up in your off-hands, gimme some light here, eh?" Fatty crowed, looking mighty pleased with himself.


The dungeon, and he really needed to name himself if he survived this! Watched in dismay as his glow in the dark algae was scraped off the walls of the stairwell and continued to glow, since they fed off his Mana. And he couldn't change that because he couldn't do a thing while they were on his only floor. Same as with a name and more deadly traps and monsters… Create a second level for his core ASAP!


Or maybe some damn monsters!


Fatty grinned, showing crooked yellowed teeth with several gaps as he grabbed an offered clump of algae, holding it up as he waved his saber with his other hand. "Swords out boys, let's see if this baby dungeon has any teeth, eh?"


Shaggy and Scooby slowly followed Fatty, apprehensively staring around at the very close walls - with trees of coral with sharp thorns and edges just out of reach. The dungeon had to hand it to Fatty, faced with a path only one man wide, he went first, even when wide enough he certainly received scratches from the sharp thorns.


He felt kind of bad, he hadn't designed his dungeon with people of the more… Big boned bodies in mind. He wanted to be an inclusive dungeon, but he supposed for now it was good, since this fatty actually wanted to kill him.


There was a gurgled yelp and many dozens of plings as thorns fired off by the side of Scooby, practically shredding the man's throat, as well as leaving gouges in his skin with thorns stuck in his sides. The plings coming from the thorns that missed, hit the strong as steel walls of the pathway with a plinking sound.


The dungeon lost awareness of the other two for a moment as the body broke down into motes of light. The feeling was… orgasmic. His mind losing concentration. The Mana he received, while not a great amount, was potent, much more potent than regular Mana. He brought his mind back to focus with great difficulty, understanding why dungeons craved killing. It not only made them more powerful and no doubt the potent Mana was more effective when building dungeon monsters if he were to wager… It also felt amazing and he could easily see getting addicted to that sort of thing.


Addiction was bad. He did not want.


What he found didn't really surprise him, Shaggy was also dead. But he hadn't been absorbed as his feet weren't touching the ground. Fatty was using him as a human shield - and he had to give it to Fatty, he had an excellent sense of danger. He was managing to swerve around and protect himself with his Shaggy shield everytime the thorns fired off. Of course being of a more… Round size. He did receive some thorns, but nowhere fatal. He had some speed to him, considering he had to move before the thorns were even fired to have a chance to intercept them with his shield. And he was making too much progress. He was almost to the exit.


"Heh, you fail, baby dungeon!" The fat man laughed as he could see the exit. The dungeon wished fervently for a new path to arrive, blocking off the exit. Nothing was happening. The fat man kept laughing, tossing the body of his subordinate on the ground where it began to be absorbed. Standing by the exit, the saber pointed at the ceiling. "No mere animal mind can match me, eh? By the sea maidens spread legs I have bested you!"


The dungeon desperately tried not to puke or at least thinking of puking, as he didn't think dungeons could puke, trying to ignore the very nice- no, no it was not very nice, repress, repress - feeling of absorbing Shaggy. He somewhat managed to keep concentration, and sagged - or at least imagined sagging, with relief, as the walls grew over the exit. To the shock of the fat pirate. The maze part of the maze finally decided to come into play, took long enough, the dungeon thought, feeling a great sense of relief.


"What's this, eh?" The shocked captain poked at the sudden impenetrable wall in the way of the exit. "You can't do that! Dungeons can't do corrections on a floor while you're in it!" He shouted angrily, poking the wall harder.


He looked around. The algae in his hand was the only source of light. The dungeon could tell the moment he realized how many thorns he could see. The widened eyes and the swear forming on his lips, before the dungeon violently repressed the feelings he received. Letting out a mental breath of relief as he could feel control of the dungeon return to him. The chest and sacks by the stairwell also being absorbed now that there was no humans inside him. He thought of the three people that had come so close, well more one of them. And was shocked to realize he could feel memories. Knew things about countries he hadn't known existed before. Did he… absorb memories as well? Not fully it seemed as it was all a bit blurry and confusing. But he now knew a lot more than he had a minute ago.


Well, either way he really didn't want to get in the habit of eating people. It just… No. He'd rather not.


＊＊＊


Malorn, Royal palace.


The fork clanged loudly as it fell down onto the plate. Eyes were politely and nervously averted around the long dinner table as Princess Aryn stared daggers at her father King Malorn - the 24th of his name.


"Say that again Father. I dare you!" The golden eyes of the jewel of the kingdom of Malorn - were filled with an intense anger. Those that knew her well could see the immense hurt boiling inside. At the other side of the table Sir Rowen closed his eyes with a deep troubled sigh, forehead wrinkled. The most expression anyone had seen from him in a decade.


That's when a foreign prince had managed to fall off the wall, land on a rake, which pierced his bottom - the lad somehow surviving it to simply run into a cart carrying a supply of rakes, all of them spilling out, the prince running into them over and over until someone took pity and helped him. That day Sir Rowan's lips had quirked momentarily.


Jadrian Malorn the King of Malorn ran a hand through prematurely white, coiffed hair. Tired golden eyes with dark bags under them staring down his willful daughter. He'd been handsome once. Before his father had the nerve to die and force him into this position - he still pissed on his grave every year for that. He'd shielded Aryn as much as he could. He couldn't any longer.


"You will be married, six months from now." He said tiredly. He didn't even flinch as the butter knife went sailing past his ear and lodged half way into his long backed chair. The knife vibrating for a few moments as everyone pretended they'd seen nothing. They'd sold off all the ornate furniture during his grandfather's time, so some scratches and dings now would hardly make much of a difference on the bedraggled look of the palace. In Malorn, people and the land were more important then useless frippery. It was bred into them.


"You promised me. You promised I'd never be sold off!" Aryn hissed at him with shining eyes, tears held back no doubt to avoid making even more of a scene. It is after all why he'd broken the news in front of witnesses - less chance of regicide, he definitely wouldn't wish this throne on someone he loved. He sagged in his chair, broken promises only one of the few distasteful things he'd had to contend with to keep them safe. Maybe not well off, but they were alive and unharmed. For a given value of unharmed.


"You know why I need to break that promise, Aryn." He said firmly. She was already twenty. Any other father would have married her off years ago, certainly one in the position he was in. He had done everything he could to stave off the necessity to do this. His late wife had begged him not to before her death of the plague. Begged him to save their daughter from marrying into the line of their enemies. He'd be breaking the promise to her memory too. He could see Aryn composing herself, the initial storm, locked down. He sighed and waved to their loyal retainers and family members, "Leave us." A secondary reason for their presence had been to ensure the rumors would spread fast, and everyone would know to not anger Aryn in the next few weeks to months.


Poor they might be, but they were awash in loyal and leal men and women. The room was cleared in minutes with mumbled respects and soon the large oaken double doors closed, with a ring of finality in them. Sir Rowen the last one out, wrinkle still in his forehead. Aryn finally let tears fall as she grasped her red dress in a white knuckled grip. Jadrian could feel his heart breaking as he walked over and pulled her into his arms. No doubt soon she would rage and hate him again, and he would deserve it. He held onto her like it was the last time. His own tears running down his short beard and onto her head.


For once he hated this damn country and the necessity to keep sacrificing so much to keep their people safe.


If only they had a dungeon like their enemies did, something to kick life into these desolate lands again.


＊＊＊

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

This was probably the first thing I began writing back when I first started to poke around a bit.


A Uzushio revival story, at this point more of a short story as I'll probably not continue it anytime soon.


Perhaps some of you will enjoy it at least, or perhaps even take it over if it takes anyone's fancy.


Fair warning - it's 26k long.


Enjoy!


＊＊＊


Reincarnation was not something he had ever believed in. Which made it all the more ironic that he of all people had been reincarnated. Not only did he get a second life, but he had been born in the world of Naruto. An amusing anime he had once watched for a while due to its new and interesting concepts.


How he wished he had been born to a world the anime had described. A mostly peaceful village, at least for a time… A benevolent dictatorship that seemed for the most part able to protect its citizens. He had only followed the anime until the time skip, losing interest soon thereafter, but despite an invasion from Orochimaru, Konoha hadn't seemed that bad.


Now, hours away from his home's destruction, he didn't feel as wistful of Konoha. Their allies were a no-show as the forces of Kiri, Iwa and Kumo were all descending on his home. Uzushiogakure.


Having been born just a couple of years after the end of the first war, as the son of the first Uzukage, called such although he wasn't so recognized in the elemental nations due to Uzushio's smaller stature. He had been a determined and devoted child, desperate to grow stronger.


He didn't know what fate Uzushio suffered, other than that the only Uzumaki mentioned in the anime was Naruto, jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi, living alone in Konoha. A Konoha that had the Uzumaki swirl on their flak vests. He'd known that his village no longer existed at that point. He had hoped he'd have more time. That at least they had lasted until the third Shinobi war. Maybe by then he'd have been able to put more in place.


More protection for his beautiful home. The white watchtowers that overlooked the ocean where he had spent so much time as a child, gleefully watching the orcas, the summons of one of their clans protecting their coast and playing in the water to amuse the children.


The eternal gardens, crafted by clansmen to be living art, sealed into its forms forever, an entire garden of artform in flora, a truly wondrous sight. The giant trees criss-crossing Uzushio, its branches another highway for their Shinobi, a gift from the Shodai Hokage upon marrying Mito Uzumaki to solidify their alliance.


The canals that flowed through their village, bringing the smell of the ocean, the sound of the waves all over Uzushio, water in their souls, the ocean the bringer of life for which Uzushio came from. All for naught now.


Konoha wasn't coming. All his plans except for the last resort were in too early stages to truly protect them. He was only 16, his father willing to humor his son had allowed some of his ideas to be put into motion. Allowed him to occupy several of their seal masters despite how needed they were for other work. He had thought he still had years... He couldn't imagine that Uzushiogakure would be destroyed when little Kushina had just been sent to Konoha, still a likely two decades away from having Naruto.


And now here he stood. On the first watch tower of Uzushio's coast. His sensing ability was strong enough he could feel the raging storm of chakra signatures coming towards them. Iwa and Kumo from the north and west, Kiri from the east and south. The chaotic signature of Jinchuuriki amongst them. One village they could repel. Two they could survive perhaps, while heavily diminished. Three was the end of the Uzumaki as they knew it.


"It's my fault." He croaked out, tears falling down tanned sunny skin, red hair plastered to his face from the water that fell from the sky as if already mourning Uzushio.


A large hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Squeezing it. "No, this couldn't have been predicted, son, as Uzukage, the blame for not protecting our people falls on me. " The weary voice of his father failed to absolve him of his own failure. He shook his head mutely, staring in horror at the horizon. The death that came for them. And for what? For what purpose?


Uzushiogakure had not been an offensive threat to any of the other villages. They simply defended themselves, their alliance to Konoha similarly was one of trade and defense. If no one attacked, Uzushio wasn't liable to cause any harm to any of them, other than perhaps in providing seals for Konoha. Even then none of the seals given to Konoha held a candle to real Uzushio seal work.


Uzushiogakure were protectors! Artisans! They didn't take on the kind of dirty missions the other villages did. They protected, built, crafted. What justice was there in being doomed to be destroyed because you didn't sink to the same evil the rest of the world did? What had happened to Hashirama's vision!


"If only Konoha would come!" He cried out, "Father why wouldn't they come! Why are they leaving us to die!?" The Konoha he had seen in his previous life had not seemed such a bad place. Loyal to their friends and preaching team work, how could they abandon their allies? Growing up on stories of Hashirama, of the peace loving Senju - feeling the soothing chakra in the mokuton crafted trees in Uzushio, he couldn't even imagine how Konoha would betray their loyalty like this. Had they not supported Konoha since their inception, had they not given them their princess Mito-sama, had they not sacrificed little Kushina-chan for their alliance? Why? Why were they not coming?


Uzumaki Arashi, his father and Kage, sighed heavily, stroking his graying red beard, a nervous habit of his that he had always teased his father about before. Now it just felt… Sad. That his last moments with his father would be more ingrained in his mind than all the habits and traditions they shared together.


"Even with your last resort leaving us less forces to defend with, by saving them instead, we still stand strong enough, especially with your diligent work on traps and Ninjutsu seals." His father mused out loud.


The waves crashing into their island sounded like wailing cries, as if even the seas cried for their coming passing.


"While we are lost to this force, we will no doubt make them pay a heavy toll, perhaps as much as ten of theirs for each of us. Perhaps Konoha see's a chance to gain an advantage in this second war at our expense, weakening their enemies enough they'd be forced to accept a peace treaty, or weakened enough Konoha can defeat them and dictate terms. With Senju Tobirama dead and Sarutobi Hokage, there is no more Senju loyalty, who knows what the new Hokage is thinking…" The Uzukage didn't even sound upset as he explained the logic behind their destruction.


As if a non-senju being Hokage for the last almost two decades would suddenly invalidate our alliance, the Senju had diminished under Sarutobi, but surely Uzushiogakure were still of worth to the leaf.


"I can't accept that, my whole life I have worked for Uzushio to survive, I won't accept that!"


Arashi smiled proudly, even as his eyes drowned in regret, drawing his son into a hug. "And thanks to you, Uzushio will live on, my son. Do not despair, you have saved us. We, the older generation, will go to war, proud and happy in facing death, knowing you all will be safe. That Uzushio will never die."


"You'll die…" he whispered into his father's chest. This second life, this amazing village and family he had received, this amazing man who had taught him more then a lifetime had taught him before. It wasn't fair! They didn't deserve this!


"Kaido… You are everything a father could want for a son. I love you, don't ever forget that, do not mourn me too harshly, You are the heart of the storm, you have the soul of the ocean." The Uzukage repeated what he had told him since he was a small child, before gently pushing him away, laying a hand on his heart, tears in his eyes even as he smiled proudly. " Take care of our people Uzumaki Kaido, Niidaime Uzukage-Sama." He turned away, his chakra violently churning with emotion. "ANBU take him to the vault."


Kaido couldn't even speak as he was rushed to the underground vault - whose creation had taken him the last 4 years and several seal masters to perfect. A last resort, a way to preserve Uzushio in the worst case scenario.


Their culture, their knowledge, their people. Once the vault was sealed, it would be its own pocket dimension for a decade, unseen and unapproachable by anyone else. Even other Uzumaki… Even with how hard they had worked though, the vault only had enough space for a third of the shinobi population of Uzushio. While managing to save half of the civilian population. Maybe all the Shinobi could have been saved, if Uzushio was such a cruel place as to sacrifice its entire civilian population.


As it was, the clans of Uzushio sealed their knowledge in the vault together with its children and a few adults for each clan to raise and teach said children and youths. The rest of the older generation would fight for every inch of Uzushio and make their enemies bleed. Even when the enemies eventually won, there wouldn't be any substantial loot for the bastards, Uzushio's secrets lost to them. Ready to rise from the ashes and rebirth their village.


As Kaido was dropped off to the vault, he stumbled inside full of tears, shame and guilt. He had future knowledge, Kami, why couldn't he have prevented this? If only he had started a few years earlier!


The vault began its sealing off sequence. The last of the Uzumaki seal masters were all safe in the vault, their expertise needed to keep their location secure for the decade, needed to teach them all, needed to secure the new Uzushio once they all came back. They had ten years to train, to work together, to prepare for their return - to never let Uzushio die. As he could feel the warping of chakra preparing to seal them off, his chakra sense could feel the first echoes of battle as the three major villages hit the shores of Uzushio.


"You will all pay…" he swore, before the last of Uzushio disappeared from the elemental nations.


＊＊＊


Unknown to the survivors, several days later, thousands of Shinobi lay dead, each of Iwa, Kumo and Kiri, having lost a jinchuuriki as well as Kumo losing the second Raikage to the wrath of the Uzukage.


The temporary alliance left the ruins of Uzushiogakure, dissatisfied at finding nothing but blood, basic trinkets style seals and whatever weapons and seal work they could loot of the bodies of the dead. Hardly worth the thousands dead and the loss of a kage and 3 jinchuuriki.


While the second shinobi war would rage still for several years, this loss of forces would let Konoha take advantage of the weakened villages to force an eventual peace. The loss of forces suffered by the allied villages making Kiri withdraw and Iwa and Kumo together be at a level playing field with Konoha, even Suna joining in to attack both Konoha and Iwa didn't change the war effort, the God of Shinobi and the soon named Sannin turning the tide in Konoha's favor.


As Uzumaki Kushina cried herself to sleep in her new village with her new status as a prison and human sacrifice. Konoha celebrated their victory, applying the Uzumaki swirl to their uniforms to honor their fallen "allies". No more words were spoken of Uzushiogakure, Konoha practically wiping out history in their academy, the Hokage burying their duplicity whether through shame or practicality.


Maybe if Tobirama had lived, Uzushio wouldn't have fallen. No one would ever know, Sarurobi Hiruzen would soon be labeled the god of Shinobi as Uzushiogakure's sacrifice allowed Konoha to win as a lone village against several enemies. Solidifying their reputation as the strongest village and Sarurobi's reputation as the strongest Kage. Whether by design or not, the Senju slowly eroded, disappearing completely from Konoha except for the lone Senju Princess Tsunade. To the world, Senju and Uzumaki were both practically extinct.


For the first few years many would attempt to pillage the bones of Uzushio, until the traps, the unpredictable whirlpools and storms and the lack of loot ended the practice for even the most reckless of hunters. Uzushiogakure quickly fell to the annals of history, no one paying any more attention to the island or its ruins.


Which is why no one noticed when after ten years exactly after the invasion, a portal swirled into being by the remains of what once was the Uzukage tower in the center of Uzushiogakure.


"Ten years… Let's begin." Uzumaki Kaido said, the sadness in his heart was only beaten by the absolute rage he felt, as he looked out over the ruins of his home, the bones of the fallen laying there like trash.


Behind him Shinobi rushed out, seal masters and their escorts all quickly heading to all corners of the island and Uzushio itself. To plant seals to hold up the illusion that Uzushio was gone, and to draw the whirlpools and storms around their home country into attacking anyone that approached the island.


Let them think a vengeful god or spirit is protecting the ruins - they'd find something much worse when Kaido was ready. Uzushiogakure would not rest, would not grow complacent, would not depend on allies. They would never again be destroyed, never again broken. This time, their enemies would feel it. The Uzumaki were back.


"The Storm is coming for you" Kaido promised with gritted teeth as his people continued to pass him by, entering the hellscape that was their home, that contained their families and clans remains. "And there will be no mercy." He no longer cared about that silly anime he had once watched. Uzushiogakure was his home. He would not allow anyone to ever threaten it again, and if Konoha got in his way…. He'd destroy them.


＊＊＊


The first few days were hard on them all. The Shinobi sent out to search the island to find if any civilian settlements existed or perhaps surviving farming communities, had it easy comparatively. They simply had to search for if there was pre-existing infrastructure or people for providing food from the land to Uzushiogakure still around.


The people that remained had to deal with going through the remains of their people... No demolition or rebuilding could be done while their people's bones were spread around the village. Nor would anyone be willing to work on such a thing before they had paid proper respect to their ancestors and buried their remains. Work that took a lot of man hours for their sensors, as no one was willing to bury enemy scum amongst the bones of their people.


Only their best sensors could still feel which bones were native to Uzushiogakure, of which he himself was one of the best. His protection detail was not pleased at him walking around the ruins and identifying remains, bodies could be trapped after all. Luckily being Uzukage meant no one could stop him.


It was emotional and painstaking work. Made even worse by the inability to find his father's signature on any of the remains. The fire of his rage was fed even more as he postulated that his father's body had been taken as some sort of war trophy... It took several days to gather up the remains of their fallen, done with utmost care - they would be burnt to ashes together in the presence of their people, their sons and daughters and a monument built to honor their sacrifice.


As for the enemy remains, they were deposited in storage scrolls, Kaido wouldn't let something useful be destroyed. Maybe one day he could return the bodies, raining them over their shit-stain villages…


The ceremony for their fallen lasted all night, the pyre kept burning as prayers were said, tears fell, and revenge was sworn. The ashes were collected and sealed inside an ocean coloured crystal basin right in the main square.


Several clan members with crystal release from the Tokoro clan, created it, ensuring it was hard enough to be almost impossible to destroy. Uzumaki seal masters further strengthened the structure. Flares of chakra could be felt by all the people standing outside the main square as the Tokoro beautifully crafted a Uzu kunoichi and Shinobi, standing back to back over the basin, ocean waves lapping at their feet, protectors of Uzushiogakure. All around the statue slabs of crystal came into being, rising up. The light shimmering from the ocean blue crystal structures making the main square seem as if underwater.


Kaido stepped up to the first slab, head bowed in solemn prayer. "We will always honor them. The sacrifice they made. Their last stand to protect our home and our children. Forever they will stand here, watching over Uzushiogakure." He used chakra to project his voice to reach everyone. "Uzumaki Arashi… We remember you, rest in the safety of your people." As he spoke, his father's name was carved into the slab of shining crystal by the Tokoro clan member.


Kaido stepped back and waved his protection detail forward. Normally their identity would be hidden, but ten years together in a seal space made hidden identities pointless.


A purple haired kunoichi reverently touched the crystal slab, tears running down her face. "J-Junichu Tochiro… Junichu Inoko. I will always remember." As the names were carved the people of Uzushio watched in solemn silence, as one by one, the survivors immortalized their fallen family and comrades.


Only those out protecting their coasts and searching the island were missing, they'd all get to perform the same ritual upon returning. Kaido would make sure the space had greenery and benches and fountains to give the space some life, the monument being raised in front of the Uzukage tower and in the main square - making sure that one day, once Uzushiogakure had foreigners traveling to it's soil for trade again, that no one could ever miss the monument or its meaning. That no one could ever forget what three monstrous villages had done on this soil.


It took well into the morning before every name was carved, Kaido didn't move for a single moment, watching and listening as his people cried and mourned their relatives and comrades like that night ten years ago. Feeling their hearts settle just a little bit, to have their ashes laid to rest, their names forever remembered.


He was bullied into a small nap by his guards at that point, he had so much that needed doing, sleep was not something he could afford to spend a lot of time on. His guards disagreed vehemently and he negotiated down to 4 hours of sleep before returning to work. They had a lot of resources to gather if they were to live and rebuild.


＊＊＊


Thanks to storage scrolls they did have a large amount of equipment and supplies available. They wouldn't live well until farms and fishing could be set up properly, but they wouldn't starve either. The biggest problem lay in materials… They'd recover some in the demolition of most of the village, being able to repurpose some of the materials - however it wouldn't be enough to rebuild an entire village on its own.


Ten years was a lot of time, and they had been very motivated to design a village that would be pure murder on any invaders - while still having the Uzushio aesthetic and cultural significance attached. Demolition of all standing structures would be necessary for the rebuild, especially as his Shinobi created tunnels deep under the village for emergency evacuation, as well as storage vaults, and quick response avenues for ANBU. It would be slow going as earth nature was one of those which his Shinobi had the fewest of. Water and Wind being the more common one, with lightning next, followed by fire and earth.


Kaido sat in a tent just off the main square, receiving constant reports on the demolition as well as the process of setting up a tent village for the population for now. Getting reports on the work the seal masters were performing on the coast, as well as reports on the survey of the island.


They wouldn't be able to get things done without gaining some method of getting building materials from the mainland. Unfortunately, although they had a small segment of Senju who had been married to Uzushio citizens, enough to have a Senju clan in Uzushio now, none of them had the mokuton skill. Which would have been damn helpful right about now… He thought irritability.


They were helpful in digging out the planned tunnel and cave system deep underground - as they for the most part did have an earth affinity. And their loyalty had been appreciated, Konoha's betrayal having made the Senju swear loyalty to Uzushiogakure as they had been equally horrified by the betrayal. With the death of both Hashirama and Tobirama, their loyalty to Konoha had been shaky to begin with as they intermingled with Uzushio. When the betrayal and invasion came, the Senju as well as the Yamanaka, who had 9 people of the clan in Uzushio, had been allowed into the safety of the vault, dependent on an oath of loyalty. One they had no problem swearing, absolutely dismayed that Konoha would leave them and their ally to die.


Of course Kaido didn't just trust their word for it. Each of them had accepted a seal on their bodies that prevented betrayal - A seal that eventually had been applied to every member of Uzushio including the civilians. No one wanted any chance of failure, any weak point exploited, anyone tortured to expose them. Kaido had reluctantly agreed in the end, having felt the foreigners seal was for safety, but that inking the entire of his village to a loyalty seal was a step too far. In the end, he was talked into it, his inner circle arguing that all steps to protect themselves were needed. That betrayal could not happen, that it would possibly destroy them before they were ready.


The seal was the only reason he was thinking of deploying Shinobi to the mainland. If captured and tortured, they could not reveal anything about Uzushio. It's unlikely any of the other villages would be able to undo the seal work, and in the worst case scenario, if captured, the Shinobi would be able to use the seal to self-destruct.


He stopped hesitating, and glanced to the corner of his tent where one of his ever present guards was invisible, using her water affinity to completely refract light and gain almost perfect invisibility. It only showed a slight shimmer at high speed movement, otherwise it was almost impossible to detect. "Get me Yamanaka Hattori and Senju Tokara." He ordered calmly.


Only due to his chakra sensing could he sense the woman acknowledging the order and disappearing out of the tent. He smiled lightly, oh he couldn't wait until the other villages got a taste of that jutsu, fearing constant assassination from the Uzushio Shinobi would serve them all right. Not that they were really in the assassination business. Not for contracts anyway, village safety was another thing.


Within minutes the requested Shinobi arrived and kneeled before him with a quiet and respectful, "Uzukage-Sama" being uttered.


Yamanaka Hattori was a man in his early forties, the oldest of the Yamanaka in Uzushio. Tall and lanky, his blonde hair cropped short, he had turquoise eyes with deep bags under them. The man had managed to father 6 children during their ten years of hiding, so it really was the man's own fault that he now looked constantly sleepless.


Senju Tokara was his complete opposite, short and slim with dark hair, mischievous eyes and a boisterous personality. Only 17 she was a competent Jounin, if somewhat childish in contrast to Hattori's quiet professional attitude. She had a very strong fire affinity which would work well with Hattori's well developed wind affinity.


"We need information. We're ten years out of date. We don't know if the nations are still at war, who's fighting who, and what the threats facing us could be. To add to that, we can't rebuild properly without being able to buy materials. We have the resources to buy, but we can't afford to draw attention to ourselves." Kaido explained the background of what their mission would be, taking in Hattori's quiet acceptance and Tokara's bouncing eagerness.


"Hattori you're familiar with the land of Fire, and Tokara has the looks and feel of a native. I need you both to go into the land of Fire, remaining undetected - and scope out the situation. If possible, travel to the capital and negotiate trade with the merchants there. I will leave it up to you Hattori, in making up a cover that will stand scrutiny."


Hattori pursed his lips, "If we remain within the civilian sphere, we should be able to remain undetected. However if there is a war going on there will likely be Konoha Shinobi in a greater number even in the civilian cities. What are our orders if we attract their attention?"


Tokara mock punched the air sending off a jab and then another, bouncing on her feet. "Easy old man, we give them the one, two, just pow!"


Kaido chuckled, "It is good to see you're eager Tokara. In essence you are right." Kaido turned to Hattori, expression closing off as he knew the order he was about to give was likely painful for the former Konoha Shinobi. "Konoha can not know we have returned. If at any point Konoha Shinobi tries to detain you - they must die."


While the loyalty seal prevented things like releasing information about Uzushio or betraying or sabotaging the village. It didn't force anyone to obey every word out of their Kage's mouth. Tokara was only 7 when Uzushio died, she hardly had any memories of Konoha at all. Hattori on the other hand spent most of his life there before marrying a Uzushio civilian he met while on a diplomatic posting to Uzushio.


Hattori bowed his head solemnly, "If it becomes necessary I shall do so Uzukage-Sama. You do not have to worry, my family is Uzushiogakure through and through, I will not hesitate."


Kaido nodded with a fleeting smile, "I know you'll both do Uzushiogakure proud. Mito will give you the rest of the mission details at the administration tent." Uzumaki Mito, perhaps living under unfair pressure to live up to her namesake, was one of the more skilled Shinobi in the village, and most trusted.


She was running the administration as well as being the Uzumaki clan head in Kaido's stead due to his Kage position. All this at the age of 24. Sadly she was part of the older third of the Uzumaki alive, if one discounted the seal masters who's fanatic devotion to their art made them unsuitable to such a thing as being a clan head. Over half the Uzumaki left had been small children when the invasion happened.


Kaido and Mito were both excellent combat fuinjutsu users, but they paled in comparison to the knowledge and skills of the true masters of the art. They were the reason Uzushiogakure had been able to hide their survivors for ten years, they were the reason they'd still be able to hide now, giving them time to rebuild. Their seals whipped up the storms and oceans around Uzushio, their seals created the illusion of a remaining ruined village.


These were the masters that had, at the end of the warring clans era, in the birth of the Shinobi villages, created the legendary weapons of Kiri's seven swordsmen. Something that had made Kiri's betrayal hurt all the more.


How many of their people had fallen to the legendary weapons their seal masters had innovated? One day there would be a reckoning Kaido swore, but now, there was no time for thoughts on revenge. He had reports of arable farm land to read, updates on the building of fishing boats, the demolition of the village, the digging of tunnels and a thousand other things. If he didn't have shadow clones he'd probably be buried with no way out and no time to make decisions on everything. Their tiny administration was not enough to take over any of the drudge paperwork, having enough to do with just keeping everyone fed and healthy and writing up missions. Mostly C and D rank at this point.


It would be months before even a basic infrastructure was built, no one willing to rush the build or the seal work. Everyone making sure that any future invasion would be entirely thwarted.


"Wait… did the paperwork triple?" Kaido looked suspiciously at his pile of paperwork that had seemed to have procreated without anyone entering the tent. He groaned, "Why anyone would willingly choose to be a Kage escapes me." He muttered, reaching for the next report.


＊＊＊


2 weeks later


Kaido thrummed his fingers on the table, waiting for the last of his inner circle to arrive. The tent was barely large enough to fit them all. Not at all appropriate for a clan head meeting, nor a war council. They had to make due with what they had, however - at least some of his subordinates had found a decent rug and a table large enough for the meeting. He'd feel ridiculous as a Kage if he couldn't even seat everyone.


"Late as always." Senju Hikama muttered shaking his head, the Senju clan head, one of the oldest in the village at 44 scratched his scarred face, dark eyes sharp, with a face only a mother could love - with his nose showing the signs of having been broken and healed incorrectly several times. His clan was one of the smallest in the village with only 58 people in it. 38 of those born in the last decade.


"You're just impatient cuz you're so old, Hikama." Yamanaka Inohana mocked teasingly. The 25 year old was the prodigy of the new Yamanaka clan, Uzushio style. Taking over the clan head position from a relieved Hattori, who had too many children to take care of to want to also deal with politics and paperwork.


The beautiful Yamanaka kept her blond hair in a sensible braid, poisoned senbon placed throughout, she also wore a set of coloured beads in Uzushio tradition when not on a mission, the other popular accessory being actual sea shells in their hair. Her cute face hid extremely intelligent turquoise eyes and a devious mind.


Even with Hattori's efforts the Yamanaka were the smallest clan in Uzushiogakure with 28 members, 19 of those being under ten years old. Even though the clan was small, Inohana was probably one of the top 5 Shinobi in the village when it came to deadliness.


"Brat," Hikama, said long sufferingly. "Show some respect in front of the Uzukage."


Inohana winked at Kaido with a teasing grin, "Uzukage-Sama likes me more than you, Hikama, that's why I can have fun, and you sit there with a frown all the time. Dontcha know your face can get stuck like that?" She finished, feigning concern.


"Uzukage-Sama just finished puberty, I'm sure it's not your shining personality he was so attached to Inohana." Uzumaki Mito said dryly, although her lips twitched slightly as her eyes shifted to Kaido. She made a cupping motion in front of her chest with a raised eyebrow, making Inohana give out a tinkling laugh.


Inohana was without a doubt not only the most beautiful kunoichi in the village but the curviest as well. And she knew it and loved using her womanly wiles against everyone in her sight. Kaido had spent several years a blushing stuttering mess to Inohana's and Mito's delight.


Kaido covered his face with his hands. "This is why Kage do not grow up around their advisors. For Kami's sake, Mito, I'm 26."


"Of course Uzukage-Sama." Mito said innocently. Mito had the customary red hair of the Uzumak, messily made into a haphazard bun, hair sticking out everywhere, she also wore beads interwoven in her hair as most Uzushio women did. She had a lithe 'differently sized' build that made her look younger then her age. Kaido did not use the word short or small, never those words. Not even in his mind.


The Uzumaki were the second largest clan with 206 members. They would have been the largest, except they'd also have had the largest number of members that stayed behind to fight. They'd once had triple the number of members, Uzushiogakure being primarily an Uzumaki village.


"And this is why people should be on time for meetings, to avoid these talks." Tokoro Mamoru, the clan head of the crystal release clan, spoke up, leaning his chin in his hands. The young man, only 22, still managed to be one of the oldest of his clan left alive. The Tokoro had never been particularly plentiful, only 26 of them had gone into the vault, the baby making in preparation for the future the reason for the larger size of the clan now. He had silver hair that he for some inexplicable reason kept in a ridiculous man bun hairdo, a hawk-like nose and equally sharp brown eyes. He led a clan with 82 members.


They'd all had been forced to limit some of the amount of babies made due to size constraints in the pocket dimension, or they'd all likely have even more children.


"You know you love me, Mamoru-kun." Inohana giggled, "I bring some class to the table."


"I think you have a different definition of class then the rest of us." Hikama muttered, earning an agreeing nod from Mamoru and a pout from Inohana.


Kaido sighed irritatedly and glanced towards his Jounin commander who had kept silent during the light teasing going on. "Well, Shinji, any idea when your clan head will grace us with his presence?"


Kawigaza Shinji was a mountain of a man, with short blueish dark hair and almost seven feet tall and all muscle. A taijutsu and kenjutsu beast that terrified lesser Shinobi with ease with his stature, scarred face and cold green eyes. It was hard to imagine that this demon of a fighter held a keen strategic mind and excellence in logistics and subterfuge. The Kawigaza clan was special in the way that there wasn't really anything special about them.


"I'm not his keeper, Kaido-Sama." He rumbled, lips pinched, his clan head was always causing the Jounin commander stress. The whole Kawigaza was really, it took a special kind of dysfunction when the Uzumaki clan wasn't the largest troublemakers in the village.


Back when Uzushiogakure first was built - which really, screw you Konoha - Uzushio were first! Just because they didn't draw in a dozen clans didn't make the village lesser!


The Uzumaki had lived in Uzushio for generations already, turned from just a clan compound to an actual village with civilians and clans a generation before Hashirama. Never recognized as such due to their focus on crafting and being artisans, instead of assassin's and butchers.


Much of the vaunted landmarks in the capitals across the elemental nations were once built by Uzushio shinobi. Of course because of this they weren't considered a proper village until after Konoha was built. Absolutely ridiculous, but such was the power of Hashirama's charisma. The world just agreed he did it first because who would argue with him?


Around the time Hashirama and Madara began making googly eyes at each other, Uzushio had already begun training civilians wanting to be Shinobi, refugees and clan less ronin or Shinobi wanting a proper home. Still the clan mindset had been strong. And thus the creation of the Kawigaza clan.


Lumping all the ronin, civilians and clan-less Shinobi into one clan together for safety and shared concerns - although eventually the practice stopped and there were now hundreds of clanless Shinobi in Uzushio, born to civilians but joining the academy and becoming Shinobi.


Still the Kawigaza clan - although with no bloodline to set them apart - had kenjutsu traditions from the ronin, they had tricks and jutsu developed by their own members and taught only to their own members. Expertise in trapping, tracking, taijutsu and kenjutsu. Even some handy Genjutsu capable members.


Every new jutsu or technique one of their clans members created, was added to the whole and allowed to be learned by all members. The Kawigaza were the largest clan now by far, with over 300 members, they tended to plateau at Chuunin or tokebetsu Jounin however. Their few Jounin though, tended to be monstrous, Like Shinji, and the still absent clan head.


Shinji currently was the only person in the village who could possibly take Kaido out if the circumstances were favorable to him and he had a bit of luck. There were several A-ranks amongst the survivors, including all the clan heads. Kaido, Mito and Shinji were the only S-ranks currently. And even then it was all in supposed skill, almost everyone in Uzushio now lacked combat experience. There was only so much you could perfect your skill in friendly spars instead of deadly combat.


Finally the tent flap was pushed aside and the last one called for their meeting arrived, Kawigaza Kitama. Short and bald with a small graying mustache, a round nose and beedy blue eyes, he looked comical next to the giant Shinji. Yet Kitama had led his clan for the last 4 decades, and while perhaps the weakest of all assembled due to reduced abilities because of his age, nearing his sixties - he had what they all lacked. Experience. Of helping to run a village, a clan, fighting in a war. All of it.


"Thank you for joining us so promptly, Kitama." Kaido said sternly, the older man just squinting at him with a frown. "We have assembled to discuss the situation in the elemental nations as reported to me by Yamanaka Hattori's first report."


"Aww, I missed the dove summons arriving, they're so cute, totally not appropriate summons for uncle Hattori. He should pass them on to me already." Inohana complained, laying her head down on her arms, sinking down onto the table with a dreamy sigh.


"So who's at war with who?" Kitama scoffed, groaning as he slid into a chair. "Never get old, it's not worth it." He muttered, as he usually did. And as usual, they all ignored it, Kitama was an obsessive complainer.


"Konoha against everyone apparently." Kaido said, feeling somewhat bemused. Because really, what were they doing? Had their leadership all gone mad?


"Of course they are." Kitama grumbled. Mito and Inohana shared a wide eyed look, both surprised, while Kaido could see that Hikama and Shinji's minds were working fast. Mamoru was mumbling to himself, mostly expletives.


"Even Konoha can't survive that. You're leaving something out." Shinji said, crossing his arms. "Konoha does not have the ability to survive all the major villages attacking them."


Kaido nodded slightly, "It is a strange kind of war. Iwa and Kumo both fight Konoha, but aren't exactly happy allies. Suna is fighting Iwa, but is also skirmishing along the border with Konoha, although full war there hasn't arrived as they are both fighting Iwa and Suna doubtlessly prefers Konoha waste manpower on killing Iwa nin."


"You didn't mention Kiri." Mito pointed out, looking disturbed at the current state of affairs.


"Kiri's apparently being…Weird." Kaido paused for a moment, having made no headway of what's going on with their closest adversary. "They have attacked both Konoha and Iwa, as well as had run-ins with several minor villages. Yet there are also reports of different Kiri teams fighting each other, no one on any side seems to know what Kiri is going to do next."


"That's good for us, but also makes it imperative we do not get found out. Or Kiri will focus entirely on us as they aren't completely embroiled in the mainland." Hikama said sourly. Any mention of Kiri usually brought out bad feelings with all of them, for good reason.


Fellow daughters and sons of the sea, and they had betrayed them…


"Although war is bad for the nations, it is actually good for us. This general confusion and war between all major villages will help hide our movements." Mamoru pointed out.


Inohana wrinkled her nose, "Or really bad for us, because everyone will be paranoid as hell, and we'll have a hard time moving around without attracting attention and losing Shinobi, no matter where we operate, they will think us the enemy infiltrating their land."


Mito rubbed her forehead, "What is Sarutobi doing!? How has he fucked up this badly!" She exclaimed with pure frustration. Konoha might have betrayed them, but they had been a sister village, they still held some feelings for the village. Or the ideal of it they had believed in.


Kaido's face grew dark, as he tried to find the words for the rest of the disgusting report. "Sarutobi has done a lot worse than embroiling Konoha in a continent-wide war." He growled furiously.


The ambient chakra in the tent grew cold as all his comrades, his friends, prepared themselves for what could possibly be worse than an all out existential war.


"The Senju are practically extinct." Kaido said bluntly, soothing his churning chakra by force, as he felt the spike in Hikama's chakra and the disbelief and sorrow. Kaido bowed his head slightly to the Senju clan head, "I am sorry to be the bearer of this kind of news, but according to the report, only Senju Tsunade remains, and she has abandoned Konoha. For reasons unknown."


Or maybe she had simply caught on to the Senju eradication and left before her sensei did her in. Kaido didn't believe for a second that the Senju could fall so low without Sarutobi being involved.


"How…? Hashirama and Tobirama would come back from the grave and wring that monkey's neck if they knew! How could Sarutobi manage to get every Senju killed! At the very least when they dwindled he should have stuffed them into the clan compound and put round the clock ANBU on protection detail!" Kitama hissed out between clenched teeth, chakra almost visible in the air as the old man raged. The old man being the only one among them to have actually met both Hashirama and Tobirama other than Hikama.


"Tsunade-chan, I don't blame her for running away. To feel that you're the last, to have outlived everyone… How broken she must feel." Hikama said with horror, Inohana reaching over to squeeze the man's hand, turquoise eyes sympathetic, her empathic abilities no doubt feeling the deep pain in the now only Senju clan head.


"There is more…" Kaido spoke up reluctantly. Not missing how Shinji closed his eyes in reluctance and how Mito's chakra stilled in disbelief. The way Hikama, Mamoru and Kitama braced themselves and Inohana started sending out a soothing wave of chakra, leaking understanding, comfort and camaraderie.


"Konoha… Has betrayed Hashirama's vision completely." Kaido began, himself struggling with the bad news all around that Hattori and Tokara had found. "Hatake Sakumo, was found dead by his 5 year old son, having committed suicide, due to being frozen out, ridiculed and shamed by the entire village. The Hatake name now less then dirt in Konoha"


"Sakumo…" Kitama turns his head away, his voice filled with emotion, "What could he possibly have done to deserve that?"


"He didn't, you and I both knew the man, Kitama, he could not have been more of an exemplary Konoha Shinobi. The man should have been Hokage." Hikama gritted out between clenched teeth, having gone from grieving to furious.


Kaido gripped the table so hard his fingers cracked the wood, "He was shamed because he chose his teammates' lives over the mission!" He watched the absolute shock and rage in his subordinates eyes. "He did what any Konoha Shinobi following Hashirama's will would have done! The village that was born in hope for peace, and preached teamwork as the ultimate pathway - and Sarurobi allowed him to be pushed to suicide for saving his team's life!"


"That man needs to die." Kitama said flatly, hands in fists as Inohana worked overtime to keep everyone somewhat calm, the rage boiling under the surface.


"We can't." Shinji said simply, shaking his head. "Uzushio comes first." The way he clenched his monstrous fists showed that the man wished he could say otherwise.


Kaido nodded slowly, looking each of his subordinates in the eyes. Acknowledging their pain at feeling loss once again, this time the complete loss of the vision that had made them sister villages. "Uzushio comes first." He said seriously, "One day, there will be a reckoning, when we can stand on our own." He promised, removing his fingers from where they were indented into the wood.


"What about Tsunade?" Mito said after a few minutes of silence, as everyone came to terms with the new reality.


"What about her?" Kaido asked, feeling drained, to have his view of Konoha so further shattered, the feelings of his friends making it so much more real than just reading a report. The village he had once felt so attached to in another life showing it's true self, the reality so incredibly disappointing.


Hikama sat up straight, hope radiating from him, "Tsunade-chan thinks all the Senju and Uzumaki are dead! We could bring her here!"


Shinji immediately shook his head, "Our only hope for survival is to remain hidden for another minimum of five years, preferably ten. There is too much of a risk that she'll alert Konoha."


"She's one of us, she's Senju and Uzumaki!" Hikama protested fiercely, face drawn and fists shaking. Hearing about the death of the Senju had shaken the man hard.


Kitama sunk down in his chair, as if to hide from his friend, "We can't trust Konoha, not this new Monkey deviled Konoha, and that means we can't risk it." He said grimly. "It was bad enough they betrayed us, at least we could have still counted on them being, well, them. Teamwork and peace and all that, now it seems they want war with every comer, kill their own people for being loyal to their team, and drive even their strongest and loyal Shinobi out of the village. How can we trust them?"


Inohana gave Hikama a sympathetic look, "I would love to have Tsunade here, she's a role model for any kunoichi and she's family. Maybe in a few years." When it's safe, went unsaid.


Mamoru sighed, head resting on a fist, eyes closed. "I can't speak as to Tsunade, so I'll defer to whatever Uzukage-Sama decides."


Every eye turned to Mito who bit her lip, she shook her head, eyes a bit glossy, "We're not like Konoha, we're family. Tsunade is family - We should bring her here." She said softly, earning a thankful nod from Hikama.


Kaido thought it over. He knew what an absolute boon to the village the Sannin could be. Yet she'd also be a risk, not only in the possibility she'd turn them down and inform Konoha. Which by itself was very risky in the middle of the third war.


The fact Uzushio might at some point find themselves not on Konoha's side if they continue to devolve under Sarutobi was an issue. Tsunade might have left the village, but he doubted she'd be all that happy if Uzushio and Konoha ended up opponents. Yes, her medical knowledge was an amazing advantage, yet Uzushio intended to remain hidden for years more, perhaps once they were safer, once her skills could be useful, the risk would be worth it.


He sighed and gave Hikama an apologetic look, "I am sorry, but she is too much of a risk at this time. We can revisit after the village has been rebuilt and the defenses finalized."


Hikama gave a stiff nod. Kaido knew the older man would understand the logic of it, once his emotions had calmed down.


"To move things away from Konoha, somewhat… Hattori has managed to create several contracts in the capital for lumber, stone and building materials." Kaido could see the change in the room as everyone professionally put away their feelings from the emotional discussion and focused on business.


"He has remained undetected?" Shinji wanted to know. His eyes focused and sharp.


"He did several smaller contracts over a period of a week using different personas, contact information and methods of payment for each, to avoid drawing any attention from Konoha Shinobi." Kaido replied, "He believes he has so far avoided detection, but the pickup will be the answer to that most likely." Perhaps due to the war the Shinobi in the capital would be more focused on defending against attack or infiltration than anything else... Forces did tend to stretch thin in war.


"If Konoha has any brains, purchases of large amounts of building materials by any unknowns within the land of Fire would be tracked." Mamoru pointed out, frowning, no doubt thinking Konoha was more difficult to predict now that their every move was such an antithesis to the Konoha most of them had known or heard stories about.


If they had no problem getting rid of their own Shinobi, what was their policy on civilians? Would they torture and interrogate them? Sick Yamanaka's on them?


"If they don't have eyes on the pickup, they will in the future after it gets reported several large orders of building materials got picked up by storage scrolls." Mito pointed out dryly.


Shinji scratched his chin, "That won't be as much of an issue as you think, the mission requested a large enough amount to build half the village on its own, we can avoid the land of Fire for any other purchases in the near future." It would make things more difficult, but it would have never been very likely they could get all they needed from one location. The risk of discovery would be too great.


"Besides, my uncle is probably ordered to mind wipe everyone after purchase?" Inohana asked cheerily, seeing Shinji and Kaido both nodding, she continued, "So no tracks leading to us, if Konoha investigates it will seem like an inside job."


"If they're being mind wiped, why are we bothering to pay them in the first place, we could use those resources." Hikama asked tonelessly, having regained some equilibrium.


"We won't be like the others." Kaido said firmly. "We are protector's first and foremost. Yes, for safety reasons we will need to remove their memories of dealings with us. We will not leave them to lose their business by not paying them." Uzushiogakure had been different from the rest, although they now had to face reality and be more martial and defense conscious, they would not stoop to the level of villages like Kiri. And perhaps now… Konoha even.


"We can't afford to take the ideal of a protector too far, this is how we got destroyed in the first place." Kitama warned, playing devil's advocate as was his habit in council meetings.


Mito gave him an irritated look, "Kaido-Sama knows how to balance the needs of the village, aren't we already training every child to fight, building a village so focused on the defense a Bijuu would run away rather then approach our walls?" Perhaps an exaggeration as not much could stop a Bijuu, but if all went to plan they would be the hardest village in the elemental nations to attack or infiltrate.


"You don't need to defend me, Mito. Everyone here knows that we are all working for the same goal." Kaido chided his clan member.


Mito bowed her head deferentially but still held a stubborn look on her face and stared down Kitama until the older man rolled his eyes and looked away.


"The question is, should we move forward with these purchases as is? Or provide backup to Hattori in case of discovery." Kaido laid it out there. Although he was in every way a dictator whose word was law. He preferred to make decisions - when possible - through advice by his closest circle, to prevent getting stuck on only following one solution and never hearing any others.


"If they are discovered, any backup would just risk losing more Shinobi. If they aren't discovered then there isn't a need for backup." Shinji said laconically.


"My uncle appreciates your undying support." Inohana said with a roll of her eyes, "I know my uncle, I say they're fine as they are." She finished with a shrug and a bob of her head.


"No objections?" Kaido asked, seeing none he nodded to Shinji, "Send his summon back with approval to finish the mission, reiterate that worst case I'd rather have them back alive then the supplies." It would be a heavy blow, but they could not afford losses right now either.


"It will be done Uzukage-Sama." Shinji acknowledged.


"Let's pivot to our own circumstances, Shinji, what does our current forces stand at?" Kaido ordered, already knowing the numbers but needing to go over with his council how to improve their dire situation.


Shinji closed his eyes and sighed, leaning forward slightly, his chair creaking as he shifted his massive weight. "The good news is that the baby boom have ensured our future is looking brighter than a worse case scenario, if we can survive a decade and a half to two decades." He stated calmly.


"Yeah, everyone's been fucking like crazy, I can't tell you how many times I've walked in on some action." Inohana said cheekily, "Not alot of room in that seal space, eh Mito?" She smirked at the Uzumaki with mirth dancing in her eyes.


Mito blushed and sent an absolute death glare against the Yamanaka.


Kaido pinched his nose, feeling a headache oncoming, "I do not want to know, continue Shinji."


"Currently with clan Shinobi we stand at around 700 clan Shinobi, with over half of those being under 12 years of age and only counting as potential Shinobi. As for non clan Shinobi the number is slightly higher at around 800, again with the assumption that 40-50 percent of that number, those counting as children, will graduate to become Shinobi. Count in the estimate that perhaps 300-500 civilian children will pass the academy over the next decade and we land at a total around 2000 Shinobi within a decade and a half. That is if we avoid being discovered and don't lose people in large numbers to war."


"That's… Not enough." Kitama said tiredly. It would be more than Uzushio had during their destruction, but wouldn't match a major village.


"It's not half bad." Mamoru said, trying to be positive, "Better than what we are, and more kids will pop out during that time and some will certainly graduate early, so it will probably be a higher number."


"The major villages have peacetime forces of around 4000-5000 Shinobi. Counting all their career genin and paper ninja into the count." Shinji stated. "War always lower the numbers somewhat, but the major villages have always been able to fill numbers back up quickly due to their larger populations and number of clans."


"We can't be safe at 2000, and a decade and a half is the most optimistic outlook on how long we can remain hidden, based on the other villages being busy with war for probably another few years at least and then licking their wounds for another half decade to a decade." Kaido said seriously. "We need ideas on how to safely boost that number by at least 2000 Shinobi." Ideally the quality of their seals and protective measures meant that even while shorter on manpower then most of the five, they'd still be on a level playing field.


Inohana let out a breath, "Never an easy task." She whined a little bit, but her expression was thoughtful.


"Boosting our forces runs into the problem of how to have them gain experience while we're in hiding." Hikama pointed out, "It's all well to have 3000 or 4000 Shinobi, but if we're not running missions, how will we pay for them, equip them, blood them?"


"That's another thing we need to work out, yes. I know we all had tentative discussions on these things in the seal space, but now we need to actually come to a plan that can be implemented." Kaido said calmly, meeting the eyes of his closest advisors.


"Absorb another minor village." Kitama stated bluntly. "There is no other possible way to gain the amount of Shinobi you're thinking about."


"That is not an easy task, nor one well suited for staying hidden. A minor village disappearing will be noticed." Shinji said but noticeably, he did not disagree.


Inohana tilted her head making a humming sound, "You know, with the loyalty seal, it wouldn't be too hard to integrate another Shinobi force. Especially if the leadership could be convinced to come somewhat willingly."


"What village would give up their home that easily?" Mito scoffed, the one looking the most skeptical about the idea.


Inohana stuck her tongue out at Mito as Mamoru tapped his fingers on the table, speaking up, "It is not impossible that in this war one or several minor villages could find themselves on the brink of destruction and find the hidden nature of Uzushio a benefit, not to mention the sealing knowledge we possess that the major villages are willing to kill for."


"It's just as likely the fact that 3 major villages were willing to kill us for it is what will scare any minor village away from the risk of joining us." Hikama stated, but he looked thoughtful, "That said, if we could find out the status of some… Takigakure might have suffered mightily being allied to a Konoha that keeps drawing in enemies and not being able to protect an ally. For one we could point out that we were once an ally and Konoha did not protect us from invasion."


"Think smaller." Shinji said quietly, "Unless much has changed, Taki was not that far behind the major villages and also had a jinchuuriki. In all likelihood unless war has severely decimated them, they would outnumber us, and refuse to become subordinate to Uzukage-Sama."


"If we all believe that an attempt to draw in a minor village might be a worthwhile task to attempt, we'd first have to send out a lot more Shinobi on spying missions to find out the lay of the land in the actual Shinobi villages." Inohana said seriously. "This is not something possible without very good information and quickly. A minor village disappearing during war will have the major villages pointing fingers at each other, after the war it's more likely someone would actually investigate and follow the trail."


The meeting continued for hours and much was agreed on in the end. The minor villages would be spied on to ascertain if any would be able to be bribed or coerced into joining forces.


Incentives were laid out in future tax reforms for when the village was on its feet, to continue the baby boom among their Shinobi during a time where most of them wouldn't face deadly missions and had time at home. As for giving their Shinobi experience, it was reluctantly agreed to pose as a mercenary company, something mostly staffed by non clan Shinobi and Kawigaza clan members.


Bloodline abilities were too noticeable. They'd offer their services to minor villages plagued by the war, gaining experience without hopefully having too many losses - as well as using it to scope out the other minor villages. And lastly Yamanaka Inohana offered her services in infiltrating Konoha, to find out the status of Kushina, their Shinobi forces and the effects of the war on Konoha.


Dangerous times lay ahead. Uzushiogakure would stand strong.


＊＊＊


Two weeks later.


Hattori and Tokara had been successful in their mission and had returned without any Shinobi aware of their coming and going from the land of Fire.


This meant the construction could kick into high gear in the areas already demolished. The western corner of the village, having been demolished first, was the site that would be rebuilt first. The tunnel and cave system already finished underneath the district - allowing for the civilians and Shinobi to work together to build housing, and finally get some of their people out of their tents. The Shinobi were more adaptable, but for the civilians it was hard to not have their homes and businesses, now that they were back in Uzushio and could almost taste it.


As before, Kaido was on scene in kage bunshin form, the real him too busy with paperwork and security and mission concerns to be present and assist.


He was currently walking in the new canal system criss-crossing the western district, using his ability to form seals just by touch with his chakra to stabilize the canal and make it practically impossible to touch with Doton, either to move through, or to sabotage - hardening the rock immensely as well as blocking chakra usage through the stone.


The canals had once upon a time been their last line of defense, a water affinity being the strongest amongst much of Uzushio. So ready-made waterways throughout the village would ensure their Shinobi always had water for jutsu on hand. It had backfired when they had been invaded by Kiri Shinobi however. The only village where a water affinity was more common than Uzushio.


Ten years of working on the issue amongst others had led to an innovative seal. One Kaido applied every few meters in the canal - it was tied into the seal every citizen of Uzushiogakure had on their body, civilian and Shinobi alike.


The water flowing through these canals could only be manipulated by someone who's chakra was attached to the Uzushio seal. An invader would never again turn the ocean against them inside Uzushio. The seals were powered by natural chakra, taking it in and then releasing it again having been empowered by the short duration it held the mystical chakra. Tests had shown that taking in natural chakra without releasing it back would affect nature adversely - as well as risk the seals malfunctioning due to a saturation of nature chakra. It really was a genius seal, proving once again that the Uzumaki could do anything with a seal once they put their mind to it.


Once the canal was sealed he flared his chakra, and Shinobi at the coast destroyed the last foot of rock holding the ocean back from the tunnel that would funnel the water to the canal. Civilians and Shinobi alike cheered as the rushing ocean water filled the canal, Kaido lightly jumping up to end up standing on the water as it slowly settled into a slow lapping movement as the canal filled completely. He closed his eyes, taking in the familiar smell of salt water, the movement of the water against the walls of the canal. He could almost picture Uzushio whole, as it was back then.


He almost wished there were enemy infiltrators ready to try and use the ocean tunnel to sneak into Uzushio. The seals that would be placed at the mouth of the tunnel would incinerate anything living or even not living. (Thank you Tobirama for creating that creepy as fuck Edo tensei so even death wasn't final, you fucker!) Anything that was over the size of plankton would be destroyed entering the tunnel.


With a sigh the kage bunshin left the newly built waterway and headed to the coast. While the civilians mostly worked on the housing, he and his Shinobi had a more important task ahead, starting the build on the outer wall, and rebuilding the watch towers.


He felt great pride seeing homes being built, already the walls were being carved in the culture of their people, great reliefs of pods of whales, barrier reefs and frolicking dolphins, savage looking sharks and dancing crabs. Once painted it would feel like home again, wildly colorful, not a boring spot in sight, flags and colored strips of fabric flying from windows again, curtains of beads instead of doors leading into restaurants and bars, inviting and welcome.


He slowed down on his way to the location of the first section of the wall as he felt a speeding kunoichi come his way, chakra intent on interception.


"Report." He barked as she came into speaking distance, fearing bad news. Seeing the dusty and sweaty kunoichi showing signs of recent tears.


"Uzukage-Sama, it's the eternal gardens… Toriko-Sama requests your immediate presence."


At least it isn't an actual emergency situation then. He thought, feeling somewhat melancholy at the thought of the eternal gardens. A place where tourists from all over the elemental nations had flocked to, where Uzushio's artisans had created something extraordinary.


And it was all ruined in the invasion. The mokuton trees that had risen high above the village were all gone now, the craftsmanship of mokuton created art in the gardens - either stolen or desecrated. And there was no more Hashirama to return that splendor to them, it was lost forever.


"Lead me to Toriko." He spoke finally. A quick hand seal creating another clone to continue on towards the wall. They'd both have less chakra than ideal now, but worst case, the original could create more clones if he had to disperse.


The eternal garden lay to the south east, closer to the center of the village. It was a matter of a few minutes of shunshin to arrive at its entrance. Kaido waved off the kunoichi as he arrived, noting Uzumaki Toriko waiting at the entrance. The white haired seal master and artisan having been sent to take stock of the damages. Kaido was curious what would entail being called in instead of reading about it in a report.


"Tell me it's good news." He said without preamble as he walked up to the stocky Uzumaki.


Toriko's bushy eyebrows were drawn together as the man looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "Uzukage-Sama, for once I am glad to say it is good news!" The man was almost vibrating on the spot.


"What is it then?" Kaido asked, hope blossoming in his chest. Could something have survived of their heritage after all?


"It's better that I show you, Uzukage-Sama." Toriko said and immediately started walking into the gardens.


Kaido followed, somewhat annoyed at his subordinates' lack of explanations recently, but willing to let it be due to their excitement and hope in returning to their home. His mood darkened as he walked through burned and butchered sculptures, destroyed fountains and rubble.


His breath hitched as he walked by the destroyed glass waterfall, a beautiful piece of crafting and seal work that had created a multicolored festival of lights as water passed through the hovering glass panes - and creating beautiful haunting melodies through the glass wind chimes and beads that were woven throughout, striking different tones depending on the rush of water and the changes of weather.


A masterpiece created in the beginning of the gardens, in the then Uzumaki compound over 400 years ago. They had the knowledge to rebuild it, but would it ever be the same? The magic would be lost. He tore his head away from the broken glass pieces and the burned seals and followed after Toriko, towards the center of the gardens.


"We were looking for anything that survived, not having much luck to be honest." Toriko mumbled, shoulders hunched somewhat as the man stared solemnly back at the destroyed glass waterfall. He took a breath, then walked forward at a greater clip. "When we reached the center we thought it was all lost, it looked like the earth had exploded, been turned over and destroying everything."


"I gather that you found something." Kaido said tightly, walking in such destruction, inflamed his anger.


Toriko gestured to the large earth mound they were coming up to. Several Shinobi milling about looking teary eyed. "What we thought was upturned and exploded earth. Was a protective dome." He said, a slight hitch to his voice. "The center is still intact!"


Kaido almost stumbled, "What!?"


Toriko hastened his steps further, leading Kaido to a tunnel that had been painstakingly opened up, Kaido could feel it now that he was getting closer. That chakra signature. He took a deep breath. This was… Honestly incredible news. "Someone must have gone through some effort to make it seem like the site of battle instead of a means of protection." He said softly. One of their people had managed in the last - to protect one of their most important symbols.


"One of our people could do no less." Toriko said reverently, eyes on the centerpiece.


Kaido followed Toriko into the center of the dome. Taking a long deep breath. Feeling the chakra in the Hashirama trees surrounding the center piece. Their only surviving trees now. The soothing chakra in the trees were a balm on his soul. A reminder of home as it was, the trees were added some 40 years ago, but the centerpiece was centuries old.


A circular pool of crystal clear liquid, natural energy somehow collected into a liquid form, figured out from studying the seals - centuries old that was covering sides and bottoms of the pool - the birthplace of the art of sealing.


Crystal sheets from the Tokoro clan of old hovered around the pool, reflective as mirrors, ethereal light shining from them. In front of the pool stood a pedestal with a touch stone, the stone worn with time, yet never crumbling. This miracle that had been the centerpiece of the eternal gardens. An Uzumaki creation so amazing that even now hundreds of years later their seal masters couldn't create something comparable.


Toriko hung back respectfully as Kaido walked forward and with a shaking hand touched the touchstone. Immediately there was a hum in the air, a feeling like electricity passing through him. The pool lit up, the mirrors sinking down until their bottoms touched the liquid natural energy. The crystal showing swirling mist for a few moments until they changed. And Kaido could see his father. It was the two of them laughing and teasing as his father had been teaching him to fish, and he had been impatient, a youthful energetic brat. He snorted as he saw his younger self get his hair tousled and then unceremoniously shoved into the lake as his father laughed uproariously. Hearing his father's laugh again, his voice. His hand trembled on the touchstone. No greater gift had Uzushio received then for this to survive being despoiled by their enemies. He stepped away, the memories disappearing as the pool reset.


He turned to Toriko. "Set up a guard rotation, let people know they can make an appointment for time in here. We can't deal with the rush of every citizen at once." He shook his head in amazement as he stared back at the pool, chest heavy with emotion. "Everyone will get a turn. Everyone that wants one."


This was a good day.


＊＊＊



The clone working on the walls wondered what could possibly be going on at the eternal gardens, even from here at the exterior of Uzushio he could feel the other clones chakra fluctuating.


Either way he had his own work to do. They were only doing 100 meters of wall at a time due to the complicated process they were using. They could slap up an earth wall like Konoha and slap some seals on it, sure. Kaido didn't want to go in that direction. It's what Uzushio had before. It was not enough.


Also, Uzushio would once again - when they stepped out into the light, be known as artisans and craftsmen. It required something special. Something that together with the beauty of the rest of Uzushio and the craftsmanship of their sealers, their blacksmiths and artists - would bring civilians and merchants and Nobles in droves to the village. Perhaps even the various Daimyo would visit. The money from tourism and Nobles making up for the shortfall in Uzushio not taking genocide or assassination missions.


It did mean that it would probably take years to finish the entire wall to achieve the effect he wanted. They started with an earth wall, and did indeed add seals for durability and the usual. Then the Tokoro clan members came into play covering the wall in crystal. Again seals for durability and chakra absorption and such were placed. Also several highly complex seals that would interact with the outer portion of the wall instead of the crystal. Kaido watched as his Shinobi carefully utilized water release against those high level and very expensive and experimental seals.


There was a muted cheer as the water began to swirl along the outside of the wall, until it was several feet deep, the crystal underneath shimmering in the churning waves of moving water that kept moving like the ocean along their wall. If their seals worked as theorized the water would be immune to further jutsu manipulation, was chakra absorbing and would shred anything that entered it.


Several Tokoro clan members slowly inserted crystals covered in seal work into the churning waters. The seal work was to empower the chakra absorption properties of the water. No one would climb up these walls, and theoretically it would take several dozen S-rank jutsu at one portion of the wall to chance destroying it. Which would also need to mean their barrier department was all dead. The other point of a moving water defense was the fact it was liquid - and if one section was weakening it could literally be moved around by the barrier team and water from another section, fully empowered, took its place.


He nodded to the Shinobi next to him and soon several fireballs flew against the water. There wasn't even any steam as the jutsu was immediately absorbed by the glowing water, the light fading as the chakra was dispersed from the site of the attack.


They'd have to test it more of course, much more. But it looked good. Their plans the past decade were all coming together so nicely. Even if they had years to go before it would all be built up properly.


Being a Kage definitely had its disadvantages, how he wished he could do a real mission like Inohana. Have the blood pumping due to the excitement and risk of discovery. Perhaps getting to fight an enemy Shinobi? But Kage does not get to have the excitement of a Jounin… It really was unfair.


Whelp, more walls to build, more seals to place, work, work, work and no fun.


Being the clone of a Kage sucked!


＊＊＊


Inohana was utterly terribly inconsolably bored out of her fucking mind. Getting into the land of Fire undetected, piece of cake. Traveling towards Konoha as a wide eyed pathetic looking civilian refugee, easy. There were plenty of them to hide amongst. Inohana wasn't overly picky about things but… Really, next time she'd pick another infiltration means, the smell, oh kami the smell!


The Inuzuka clan could probably be destroyed just by sending them against the sad little train of refugees moving deeper into the land of Fire from some border dispute that had totalled their village. There were rivers on the way, why couldn't people wash their bodies and clothes once in a while? She might be permanently nose blind now.


She'd faked disease and been left behind once she was behind the likely outer limit of regular Konoha patrols, the outer limits patrols would be more frequent and heavily staffed with veterans then the ones closer to Konoha, which would have a mix of clan rookies and genin, easy pickings. Taking to the trees and putting on a Konoha headband, she did look like a Yamanaka after all, being one, so she'd use what she had. It would give her precious seconds if one of the inner patrols would have caught her. Which at least would get her blood pumping some.


Just… They hadn't. She had been sitting in a tree for days now, flitting back and forth between different resting spots about 12 miles away from Konoha. Waiting to find someone from a patrol that she could impersonate to get into the village. Once in, she could look like herself and draw no suspicion, everyone just going, oh, a Yamanaka.


But she doubted any of her clan's old registration numbers would be enough to get her through the likely stringent security at the entrance to Konoha. She'd need a patsy to mind walk, and impersonate, preferably one returning from a mission. And no one had been coming through for days! More importantly, because of this she hadn't had a bath for over two weeks now, with the refugee train and now this.


Dipping into a river quickly sooo didn't count as a proper wash. Kami her hair will take weeks of pampering to get back to its luster. Not to mention the lack of companionship, Inohana was a people person, she'd also probably not gone this long without getting laid for years, so that was definitely annoying. The positives of being in an enclosed space for years with not much to do other then train or fuck.


She pouted as she supped on squirrel, chakra tightly held and almost completely unnoticeable even as her chakra sense gently stretched out to find anyone. Like literally she'd take anyone at this point. She'd even impersonate a Hyuuga if she could get out of here. She'd have to find a big stick for her butt first, but it's a forest, she'd manage.


She tilted her head and imagined the mission report. Dear Uzukage-Sama, I successfully infiltrated Konoha thanks to butt stuff. She huffed at herself in amusement taking another bite of her not very tasty meal. She'd totally write it like that too if only she could be sure Mito got to read it first. The Uzumaki clan head was adorable when she blushed. And she was so used to Inohana now she rarely did, half the time joining in on her teasing of Kaido-Sama.


She perked up as she felt chakra two miles out and approaching. Team of three… She closed her eyes as it usually helped her sensing to focus entirely on her chakra. Likely Chuunin, possibly one genin, two Chuunin - due to a much weaker chakra signature in the third. Two fire affinities, likely the Chuunin as the lower signature does not ping a developed affinity at all. So likely genin then for sure.


She slid down her tree and moved to intercept the team casually, finishing her squirrel so as to not leave anything behind. Her mind focused and sharp, eager to begin and beyond ecstatic she could finally get out of these woods. It wouldn't matter if none of these Shinobi were ideal. She'd make it work.


The three were coming down one of the roads leading to the main road to Konoha. Whatever mission they had been on had definitely not been peaceful. She clocked both Chuunin males with injuries, a broken arm on the blonde one, several bandaged wounds and a significant limp on the dark haired one. And would you look at that? The little genin was a Yamanaka. 14 maybe, not as injured as the others, probably support, long distance Genjutsu, definitely not a medic with those injured comrades. And very underdeveloped muscles and chakra coils. Was she along as a bed warmer or what? Had her clan completely dropped the ball in Konoha?


She dropped down from the tree onto the road ahead of them, a stern look on her face. A subtle henge had changed some aspects of her face and body, making her more slim, jaw more defined, nose more prominent. "Identify yourselves!" She barked authoritatively. Little Chuunin and genin so used to jumping when yelled at.


"Ah, Yamanaka-san? Has something happened? We usually don't need to show identification until the main gate?" The blond Chuunin asked sheepishly, and with some worry. Probably assuming Konoha itself had suffered an attack if security was tightened.


The little Yamanaka was looking at Inohana suspiciously, probably wondering why she can't recognize me, Inohana thought wryly. Or if she's actually the bed warmer, wondering if she's out of a job…


Inohana put on a suspicious look and took two quick steps forward, "Failing to identify yourselves will lead to your detainment." She said flatly. She did the superior look really well. It was all in keeping her eyes cold, her tone steady and strong.


The blonde Chuunin looked unsurely towards his Chuunin comrade and she struck immediately. Senbon taking him in the neck immediately paralyzing him, his limp body falling to the ground as the Yamanaka squeaked in shock.


The dark haired Chuunin tried to draw a kunai, Inohana already too close, a long leg snapping up under his chin, throwing his head upwards with a crack to his jaw, before he could attempt anything else or even think of a kawamiri she'd already twirled around and slit his throat. One hand reached out with the blunt end of her kunai right after and braining the Yamanaka with it. Her limp body falling uselessly to the ground.


A quick application of Doton and the body was buried ten feet underground. Any Inuzuka or Aburame would find it if they came along the road, that's fine, she'd be long inside Konoha by then.


She grabbed the girl and the paralyzed Chuunin and took to the trees, heading for the little safe area she had made, seals preventing any chakra from being sensed. Within twenty minutes she arrived, having taken it fairly slowly, sensing for any other patrols or returning Shinobi the entire time.


She tied the girl up completely in ninja wire just to be on the safe side, and then took a comfortable seat, to mindwalk her little Chuunin captive.


Oh what a bad bad boy, the girls only 14 and you're 27, you pervert. She thought tsking in his mind as she dug up everything on current Konoha procedures, passwords or chakra pings needed to enter, finding it pathetically lax, only needing their identification number and a chakra ping in the correct sequence for this month. Once she had that and the mission information she left his filthy, filthy mind and slit his throat clinically. Although the Yamanaka wasn't a bed warmer and actually was Genjutsu support apparently, it hadn't stopped the man from perving on her and making advances. No great loss there. She felt she was doing Konoha a favor, really.


She turned to the Yamanaka, cooly regarding her features. There were ways to hide the chakra emissions of a henge. Most of them were very unpleasant. For one she definitely wasn't going to be wearing the girl's skin. Just yuck. Her uncle's stories about Orochimaru just furthered her belief that Konoha was all kinds of ways of fucked up. She dove into the girl's mind, casually batting away her genin level Yamanaka mind defenses. It was cute, but she got better then that when she was like 8, so the girl was just kind of pathetic.


The girl's mind confirmed what the Chuunin had about sign in procedures. She also took the time to have a gander for where the Yamanaka compound was, what she knew of its members, guard rotations and where their elders lived, and their archives were located. Sadly the girl had no idea about the archives. Oh well, she'd make do. The Yamanaka in Uzushio were missing a lot of the information the clan had gathered over centuries. She might as well go shopping if she was going to be hanging around.


She left the girl's mind and without a care slit her throat as well. They might have once been family. But Inohana had seen what Konoha had wrought in Uzushio as a child through their betrayal - and the war coming to their home due to Konoha's warmongering. She'd read the reports that were coming in on the horrible things Konoha were doing to its own people.


She had no sympathy for an enemy and these Yamanaka that cowered behind Sarutobi and let atrocities go by without lifting a finger were no family of hers. Sending girls like this out during a war and children as young as 6 and 7 proved beyond any doubt that Konoha deserved her disgust.


She used the girl's blood and formed seals carefully. A blood henge would only work for a few hours when the sacrifice had been fresh. Still an unpleasant jutsu, but needs must. Minutes later the whole camp was buried with the bodies, the seal tags removed, and Inohana moved towards the gates of Konoha to report mission success but two unfortunate casualties. In the end her crying cute little genin face had the Chuunin guards let her in with no issues. The ANBU she could feel watching over the entrance had completely lost interest the second she had performed the chakra ping to the correct sequence. The sloppiness of this village would certainly make it easy for her. She sneered inwardly, doubtlessly they counted on the barrier corps to notice if there was an infiltrator. The barrier constructed by Uzushio…


Too bad for them the blood henge mimicked even chakra signatures. And without Uzushio expertise she doubted they'd be able to ever fully understand or upgrade the barrier. She'd have to remember to report to Uzukage-Sama how easy it would be for Uzushio shinobi to take advantage of that fact in the future.


Once she never showed up at the Hokage tower or the Yamanaka compound - no doubt someone would figure out that they had been fooled somehow. It wouldn't be too hard for Konoha to find the bodies. If they moved fast enough their Yamanaka might even be able to pull her henged appearance from the corpse's minds. For experts like the Yamanaka Jounin, it would be obvious she was henged, and they'd assume enemy nin using a henge to take on a Konoha clan's appearance. No one would suspect a real Yamanaka, no one would think an infiltrator would continue to henge as a Yamanaka either. And of course she no longer wore a henge at all. So if they looked for one she'd come across as 100 percent native Yamanaka. Sometimes it was just too easy.


Once she was sure she wasn't followed, she simply dropped the blood henge and moved forward as just any random Yamanaka one might see on the street. Infiltration success.


＊＊＊


Senju Tokara really really wished sometimes that she wasn't so impulsive or nice or a sucker for an adorable face. It's what made her so super awesome and kickass. But it also landed her into so much hot water with Hikama-jiji and Kaido-Sama. She had a feeling she was going to end up yelled at. Alot. Like reeaally a lot.


To begin with she was kind of technically supposed to be in the land of Fire, on her way to Takigakure, but there had been a bunch of buzzing Aburame annoyances everywhere she went, so she took to the ocean to avoid all that.


And she might have possibly ended up in the land of Water. Which was like, oops. Also she had totally maybe had to kill a couple kiri nin who noticed her enter their borders. So… That was bad. Not unfixable but she'd definitely get the tired, just why, eyes from Hikama-jiji.


Then on her way out of the land of Water she'd gotten slightly turned around due to all the chakra laden mist and all the fighting going on. And she'd accidentally headed further in instead. Even the civilians were fighting each other and the Daimyo's forces. It was super weird. Maybe the information would make her bosses less mad at her though. Kiri was just messed up.


And well there had been sooo many poor starving kids, she'd really had no choice at all. Which of course led to her current tiny little problem. Hiding in a village not too far from the hidden mist village, occupying a warehouse with almost 40 children in various states of seriously not okay.


So her mission to spy on Takigakure Shinobi patrols and caravans to try and figure out how they're doing in the war was kind of totally a failure right now.


That… And she was in a bit of a tiny bind. She didn't feel like leaving the kids to die. But she was definitely noticed and she could feel the signatures slowly starting to encircle the warehouse. Decisions, decisions. She tapped her head with a frustrated scowl. Think Tokara! She scolded herself.


"Miss… You should just leave us behind." Came the all too serious and dead tone of a small child behind her. His clothes were threadbare and his face gaunt. Purple hair falling limply down, covered in sweat and grime.


Ignoring the grimy hair, Tokara squatted down and grinned at the kid as she tousled the hair, ignoring his face scrunching up. "Sooooo~ cute~" She sing-songed. She pushed his cheeks together, "No kid should be this grumpy!"


"You'll die. And we'll die anyway." He said, an annoyed furrow in his brow. Trying to push her hands away. Tokara squished his cheeks an extra two times just cuz she could. Alright, that does it, Imma gonna make this kid smile even if it kills me! Uhhh, hopefully Uzukage-sama doesn't kill me…. Tokara thought as she stepped away from the kid and winked at him. "Nee-san is going to do something pretty cool, so pay attention!"


She sped through the seals, having used a canine to spread blood onto her fingers, no doubt the enemies would come quicker now that she would be spending a whole quarter of her chakra stores. "Kuchiyose no jutsu!" Seal script spread across the warehouse floor and in a poof of smoke a huge Orca almost fully white with just patches of black around the eyes appeared. And flopped down onto the ground sending a reproving look Tokara's way.


"Tokara-chan… What have we told you about summoning us outside of water." The orca spoke with the air of someone who had to often repeat themselves.


The kids all huddled behind her as she laughed nervously scratching her head. "Can't be helped, Tono-sama! Got all these kids that need me!"


The orca summon sighed, but thankfully didn't spend time arguing with Tokara, as she could feel the Shinobi moving in. "Quickly now cutelings, go inside the Orca."


The kids, starved and half dying, did not move. Watching the orca in trepidation.


Tokara huffed, "Come on, she's a summon, she has like a ton of space in her belly."


"I think that's what they're worried about." The grimy purple kid said in a deadpan.


Tokara sent a spread of shuriken, defly parrying a spread sent towards the kids from the other end of the warehouse. "It's the Orca or these guys!" She shouted, sending fire chakra blaring through her fists as she punched a hole through the Kiri Shinobi that tried to move in close when she defended the kids.


The kids finally started moving, as mist started seeping into the warehouse, a loud chuckling voice projecting throughout the space. "That's some fire affinity you have… Leaf ninja."


Tokara frowned, well if they thought she was a Konoha ninja that was better than what she was. Hopefully she didn't like, make Kiri go after Konoha or anything. Oh she was so going to be in the shit for this. D-ranks for like a year. She groaned quietly, keeping half an eye on the kids, half of them having made it inside her summon.


She should have trash talked or something, what a time to suddenly not be a blabbermouth as the Kiri Shinobi suddenly attacked, and she was busy throwing weapons, sliding under swords and disabling joints and knee caps, trying to not get caught in one place too long.


A quick fireball bursting out of her mouth dispersing her immediate opponents. She huffed, feeling several nicks where she got cut. But knew she had put at least three Shinobi out of this fight. And with the fire chakra she used, they'd probably die if they didn't get treated quickly or had an amazing water affinity.


The Shinobi who had talked walked into sight chuckling, "So you have some bite, little leaf."


"Wow, a fat ninja." Tokara said wide-eyed. Putting a hand to her mouth in shock. The Shinobi was heavyset with long reddish orange hair, green fangs tattooed on his face and an ugly bulldog like face. He was wearing a regular gray Kiri Shinobi uniform and had a large wrapped sword on his back.


Said fat ninja twitched, eyes enraged. "Do you know who I am, you little shit!? I am Fuguki Suikazan of the seven swordsmen!"


Tokara gave an awkward applause after a few seconds of silence. "Good for you?' she said not sure if she was supposed to know who he was. Like, she knew about the swords and everything. But were the guys using them famous? She'd never heard of any of them as Kage or anything. So they couldn't be that strong.


"Kill this bitch!" Fuguki growled as several more Shinobi moved forward. Forcing Tokara to spend more chakra than she'd liked on forcing her legs to move faster, being a fist fighter really didn't put her in a good position against a bunch of kenjutsu users. Hence why she was supposed to be in the land of Fire, which didn't really do swords much.


Tch! Situation's not looking good, She thought as she twisted in the air to avoid two sword strikes, one striking low, one going high, her body twisting almost unnaturally in the air in between them, striking out with a finger blaring fire chakra and exploding out the Kiri ninja's knee cap at the same time as she kicked the other ninja in the face - rolling off the cement floor and barely avoiding some sort of water drill jutsu perforating her head, strands of hair shorn off as she bounced back up.


A bloody knee cap rolled past her as the bleeding out Kiri ninja wailed and was ignored by all the combatants. There's only two ninja left now, besides Fuguki, who would be a problem whenever he got involved, she could literally feel his chakra and he wasn't even doing anything with it, it was that potent.


Warily eyeing the confident Fuguki and determining he seemed to be in no rush to help his men, she flashed through hand seals as the three remaining ninja rushed her. A veritable fire storm erupted in front of her, a dense wall of fire, slowing down two of her opponents as they jumped back to not get burnt.


Tokara immediately fell on the ninja that had been trying to go around to take her in the back as the other two rushed her front, engaging in a vicious taijutsu fight, needing to end this quickly before the other two realized she had used a Genjutsu and not blown her entire reserves on a big ass fire jutsu. She'd need her chakra for Fuguki if she was to stand a chance.


She smiled with bloody teeth as she took a strike to the mouth but managed to crush her opponent's throat in return. And just in time. She could feel her Genjutsu unraveling and the telltale sounds of sandals on cement heading her way. She was glad this kill team only had Fuguki appear to be a Jounin, the rest must be Chuunin, because no Jounin ever would make that much sound on approach. Maybe that's just her Uzushio sensibilities talking.


She dodged a strike to her throat by a hair's breadth, punching the flat of the sword forcing the man's arm upwards, having to abandon her killing strike against his now open ribcage as his remaining comrade shunsined behind her, slashing towards her back the second he came out of the high speed movement. She revised her earlier thoughts to maybe borderline Jounin, that quick reversal out of a Shunshin wasn't small potatoes. And she was going to pay for it now.


Suddenly the grumpy kid was at her back, and she took the opportunity, as much as it galled her to potentially lose the kid, and killed her opponent with a chakra enhanced punch to his chest, putting enough chakra in there to push his sword back, breaking his arm and continuing on, crushing his sternum.


She then twirled around desperately, furious at the kid for possibly dying for her and trying to be fast enough to prevent it. Blinking in surprise as the blade sliced into the kid only to have him turn into water, wincing as it still cut into her, opening a wide gash in her back and side as she twisted, but not penetrating deep enough to get her kidneys. The Kiri Shinobi snarled in anger as Tokara got over her surprise and pain and without hand seals fired a fire jutsu into his face. Yuck, melty.


The kid reformed with a stubborn look on his face. Obviously a Hozuki which, oh boy. She was going to be in a heap of shit. "Get to the summon now!" She shouted at him, creating an earth wall just in time to protect both of them as Fuguki practically rushed through it, his bandaged sword smashing it like it was nothing.


She picked the kid up by his collar and threw him away as she dodged the sword, letting out a shocked breath as she felt it suck up her chakra, stumbling a bit as she rolled away, tossing three kunai to limit his avenue of attack.


The sting in her side made her wince in pain, the constant blood loss not making this easier for her. She bit her lip, she needed to either finish this fast or somehow get time to treat her wound. Somehow I don't think I'll get either. She thought, mind flitting between plans and finding none that enthused her.


"You stand no chance against Samehada you brat." Fuguki said, sneering as he walked slowly forward. Tokara warily watched him, crouched low and thinking fast. He was slow and overconfident, but yikes that sword sucked! Jutsu would be pointless unless she got him by complete surprise. Genjutsu would unravel by Samehada, and wasn't that a surprise and a half to run into, Taijutsu was literally impossible as Samehada would shred her or suck her dry. She didn't do Kenjutsu.


"I notice that you say I can't defeat your sword, instead of saying I can't beat you, fatty." She said, immediately cursing herself and her big fat mouth. Her chakra reserves were pretty big, but a major summons, several jutsu, the extra cost of a seal-less jutsu and having her chakra sucked up - hadn't left her in optimal condition.


"I'm a veteran, you won't force me into a mistake with insults." Fuguki growled, eyebrows twitching and his face red. He then eyed her summon who couldn't use any jutsu with the children in her belly. And Tokara knew she had to move, and really, a veteran? He wasn't much older than her! She'd have one chance to save her summon - which would also save the kids. And all in all, that wasn't such a bad death. There just wasn't a way for her to win this fight, she braced herself.


As he laughed cruelly and rushed towards her summon with Samehada raised and ready to devour, she put as much chakra as she could afford into a shunshin, even knowing this was a trap meant for her, she couldn't let him drain her summons chakra and risk the kids, even if it was her life.


She felt her chakra draining fast on arrival out of the shunshin and she gasped out in pain, her coils protesting as she held Samehada back with two kunai crossed. Being pushed to her knees by the much stronger Shinobi. Tears coming into her eyes as the excruciating pain of her own chakra coils being sucked dry.


"You're dead you foolish kunoichi, we all know your weakness for comrades, leaf scum!" Fuguki leered, pressing down further. Taking enjoyment out of her suffering. Through blurry eyes, Tokara saw movement and prayed to the sage, let it work please!


"And I have your sword occupied." Tokara snarled viciously, blood dribbling down her lips as she spat up at Fuguki, trying to keep all his attention. Relief hitting her at seeing Fuguki's brow tighten in confusion, before Tono bit his head off, blood spraying into the air as Samehada fell to the ground and Tokara collapsed bonelessly into the puddle.


"Eww…" she complained, mostly to keep herself from sobbing in relief. Grateful that it worked, because no matter how she looked at it, she was going to lose that fight. It wasn't even close, she was going to die. So she wasn't dead, so that meant everything was just peachy. Only nightmares yay, she thought tiredly.


"Are you okay? Tokara-chan?" Tono asked, not able to move very well on land, really she was lucky Fuguki ended up close enough to her head for a quick bite. And Tokara knew she'd owe her summon sooooo much TLC for this.


"Absolutely, I'll just uh… lie here… For like ten hours." Tokara groaned, feeling absolutely depleted. If this is what chakra exhaustion felt like, then she was really glad she was a Senju and normally didn't have any issues in that department. She had never felt her coils protest like that, it felt like being turned inside out to be honest and she really didn't want to ever experience it again.


"You're an idiot." The deadpan Hozuki kid complained. Before poking her head gently with his foot. "I'm not picking you up." He decided. Which really, he was like 5, and she was a beautiful fully grown kunoichi, how did he expect to do that in the first place. Kids were just so cute. She wanted a hundred of them. Unfortunately Uzukage-Sama had forbidden her from reproducing until he retired. Also, "Why the FUCK aren't you in my summons yet you little brat!" She yelled at him, possibly not looking very authoritative slumped in a big puddle of blood.


"Because you were losing." He said matter of factly, "I wanted to see if you'd lose your head." She groaned, Kiri people were just the worst!


"Can you use chakra?" She asked with another tired groan. She rolled her eyes as the kid just stared at her, he could turn into water so he probably could since like birth or something. "Fine, fine. Go into my pack, ugh, it's all covered in blood, gross. Do you know what a storage scroll looks like?"


"Like a scroll, probably." The kid snarked, and she really wanted to say something but that's the most alive he'd sounded so far and it was absolutely adorable. He rooted around in her pack completely nonchalant about the blood and pulled out her storage scroll. Kiri people were kinda gross, she decided.


She eyed Samehada, at least if nothing else she'd return a weapon created by the Uzumaki sealmasters and blacksmiths. "Put it on that freaky sword and pulse your chakra once."


The kid eyed the sword warily, which okay, she definitely understood. But did what he was asked, and she slumped down in relief when it worked. She definitely did not want to try and drag that thing with her. Good luck to whatever poor bastard had to use that. And if they ever came near her with that sword she'd totally run the other way. After nutshotting them.


"Anything else?" He asked sarcastically.


Tokara studied her own state and hummed, before giving the kid a bright grin. "Please drag me into my summon." Clasping her hands together and making her eyes go wider.


"Ugh." The kid scoffed, having to use both hands to drag her by her arms into her summons. When they were both safely ensconced, her summon poofed into smoke. Another summon would be sent to Uzushio to have another summoner call for Tono and deposit them all on Uzushio soil. Oh, and she possibly, maybe, needed to fix herself a bit before she bled to death too.


Tokara reeaally wouldn't mind staying with her summons a few days first. Her report this time was going to be… Complicated…


And a Hozuki… like the second Mizukage who probably killed bunches of Uzumaki, at least it had been the third who took part in the invasion since the second had been dead for a while by then. Like pretty much all the seconds died around the same time, which was weird. Yeah, she might be doing d-ranks for a lot longer than a year. Maybe the fact it was the third who was a complete butthole would give her a break for the Hozuki thing.


Now if she could only come up with a really good reason for the whole accidentally in the wrong country thing….


You know… this was all really those Aburame's fault. Fuck Konoha, really.


＊＊＊



Kaido, or more correctly his clone, surveyed the land in front of him. He had gone out with one of the teams that were readying the island of Uzushio itself for habitation and a return to farming and living. The scouts had predictably reported that there were no living souls on the island upon their return. Whether Kiri, Iwa and Kumo killed them all, or brought home civilians in hope one would have enough Uzumaki blood, he didn't know.


It did mean that the small villages and farms that dotted Uzushio needed repair, and preparation for more of Kaido's diversification strategy. He had pondered the invasion, once the anger and grief had gone from a boil to a simmer. He'd decided that Uzushiogakure had been too isolated. Allied with Konoha, yes. But barely an afterthought to the various Daimyo for anything but the occasional vanity project they paid so handsomely for.


Uzushio had no real ties to the daimyo other than as occasional contractors. No ties to the mercantile sectors of the world that moved billions of Ryo each year. The noble courts and the civilian business sectors, even just the everyday civilian in their neighbors didn't care for or know their name.


He was already working on making Uzushiogakure not only the most well defended, but also the most beautiful and attractive village, to bring in the fickle Nobles. To make Uzushiogakure their favorite vacation spot.


He'd worked hard with their seal masters to develop more mercantile seals. Ones he could sell, ones civilians could use. Something he could use to forcefully bend trade routes to see Uzushiogakure as a natural stop. He had continued to push his people to not let go of their artisan ways in their grief and anger. Knowing crystal figurines and even such things as crystal goblets and plates would sell, that artwork by crystal release would sell.


That the rugs, weaves and colorful, artful banners they made would sell. And now that they had some Yuki picked up from Mist, the eventual potential for ice sculptures sealed to last forever, bringing in more revenue to the village and more merchants and nobles. All these were just one small cog in a wheel. To bind merchants, Nobles, the daimyo, and yes, even regular civilians to his cause.


The civilians would hear about the fantastic beauty, art, music and food of Uzushiogakure. That their Shinobi were protectors, not assassin's. Their entire culture would seep into the lives of other nations, and as more stories spread, as Uzushiogakure's literature spread, more people would wish, hope, think.


This was not a democratic world. Yet… How much further ahead of the rest had Konoha risen on the laurels of being the "nice" Shinobi village? If the daimyo favored Uzushiogakure for its beauty and culture, if the merchants wove Uzushio into a vital part of their trade networks. If civilians everywhere idealized Uzushio. Then half the battle was won.


Even Kage have to work with public opinion and Nobles to some extent. Allying again to crush Uzushio would not be an easy task this time. The defenses would be daunting enough. He intended to make sure Uzushiogakure's products, food, music and art, spread so far and wide, even the Shinobi would not want to destroy them. He had the advantage of a different world of memories to add to it all.


He'd already taken the time to adapt several pieces of literature under a pen name, once Uzushiogakure came out in the open, Uzushio literature would be a thing. New foods, new music and instruments. He'd even crafted a sporting event for Shinobi specifically which he knew would draw in the adrenalin junkies and the nobles who so loved to bet on anything Shinobi. Well he had stolen it wholesale to be fair. Blitzball would be interesting as a Shinobi sport. Maybe eventually a way to peace it the other villages got drawn in to try and compete.


All of this was why he was inspecting land. Potatoes and grapes both existed in this world, and were both heavily underutilized. If he could draw in the Shinobi it would be with spirits. Alcohol was probably the second largest expenditure in a Shinobi's entire life, behind equipment. Uzushiogakure brand alcohol, whiskey and the like, would just be another of the little cogs making it that much harder to even think of destroying them. Kaido had ten years to just think up more ways of protecting his people. There was nothing he wouldn't do, no avenue he wouldn't find to ensure they would never again suffer the threat of complete eradication. Potatoes and grapes were just tiny small parts of those plans.


Besides, he'd gone almost three decades without fries or a baked potato. What was the point of having unlimited power over a people if you didn't indulge in a bit of a satisfactory personal project.


He smiled in satisfaction as he saw his people repairing farms, preparing the soil. It was a small step. They didn't know it yet, but these small steps would do more to protect Uzushio in the coming years than their walls would. The best way to avoid a fight wasn't to be so scary no one would fight, inspiring that kind of fear made it more likely someone would lash out. No, removing their will to fight you is how you ended a fight.


They wouldn't be toothless, they'd gladly take their revenge where they could get it as long as it didn't inspire another continent wide war. They were still Shinobi. Yet, their village wouldn't be made just to do that. They wouldn't exist just to make money to slit throats.


Uzushiogakure was going to become the beacon of what a peaceful prosperous shinobi village could be, enjoying art, sports and music when not doing missions. And hopefully just as Konoha dragged the world out of the warring states era, Uzushiogakure would drag them all out of this wasteful mentality of willing to destroy anything and everything just to call yourself the strongest village.


Kaido would gladly kill the likes of Onoki if he could. He wouldn't sacrifice his village on that altar of revenge though. If he never got revenge, if that would be the cost of protecting Uzushiogakure, he would take it and swallow his hatred. For the future generations.


＊＊＊


"Inoichi-kun, to what do I owe the pleasure?"


Yamanaka Inoichi grimaced as he stood awkwardly at the door of his elder cousin, he hated having to do these kinds of things. His father had insisted that he'd needed to get used to it if he was ever going to take over as clan head. And he agreed with the necessity, he just hated it.


"Ikana-baasan, could I come in for a minute?" He said delicately, noticing her raised eyebrow and tired sigh. The problem with being Yamanaka was that you were too skilled in reading people's faces and chakra, Ikana-baasan no doubt already knew exactly what he was here for.


Inoichi followed her into the kitchen, debating how exactly to begin this conversation. Raising an eyebrow seeing two cups of tea prepared already, surely she hadn't known he would be coming?


Ikana-baasan noticed his confusion and smiled slightly, albeit sadly. "Ah, one of my granddaughters that have been on diplomatic missions for years now has finally returned to the village, it's her cup, not yours." She raised her usually bent back slightly and huffed, "No matter what anyone says Inoichi-kun, we aren't psychic." Her lips twitched as she shuffled to sit down.


Now that he was focusing on it, he could feel another signature in the house, clearly Yamanaka in flavor. He hadn't known about Ikana-baasan having more granddaughters but if she had been on foreign missions for years it's likely her file had been buried.


"Ino is dead I take it?" She said in a shaky voice as Inoichi sat down across from her. Her weathered face was resigned, eyes already accepting. Ikana-baasan had already lost her kids to the second shinobi war, and now 6 grandkids to the third already. There was talk about limiting Yamanaka presence on the battlefield as their mortality rate was increasing substantially.


Inoichi sighed and nodded his head wearily. "Someone used her face to infiltrate the village after her mission, a scouting team found her and her teammates bodies about 12 miles outside Konoha shortly thereafter."


Ikana-baasan stiffened, hands shaking slightly. "Torture?' she asked, struggling to keep it together.


Inoichi shook his head quickly and reached forward and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it gently. "No. It was quick." Seeing her skeptical look he kept eye contact, reiterating, "I wouldn't lie about this, it was quick, she didn't have time to suffer."


"Baasan? What's wrong, I could feel your chakra from upstairs?" A female voice cried out as another Yamanaka rushed into the kitchen, long blonde hair still wet from the shower. Inoichi blushed and looked away, Ikana-baasan's granddaughter was absolutely beautiful and only wearing a thin robe that with her body still being wet from the shower did not adequately cover her body.


He concentrated on the table keeping his eyes low as the granddaughter consoled her grandmother, some tears falling. He felt supremely uncomfortable, not only because of the situation, but because he had a very observant mind which frankly had observed way too much about the kunoichi and now he couldn't stop picturing it.


"Ah, Inoichi-san? Would you like a cup of tea?" The younger Yamanaka asked sweetly.


Inoichi briefly looked up, noticed the swell of her breasts pressing against the thin fabric and the outline of nipples and red faced brought his gaze down to the table again, mumbling a quick assent.


Kami, he felt like such a tool, ogling ikana-baasan's granddaughter while here to inform her of the death of another. Maybe he wasn't ready to be a clan head yet. He heard the clinking of a cup, but refused to look up, not wanting to be caught staring again.


"Here you go, Inoichi-san." The Yamanaka girl said, and he could definitely hear an amused tilt to her voice. He felt resigned, of course she had noticed. Yamanaka after all. He quickly took a sip of the tea, trying to hide his embarrassment. He frowned. The tea tasted… he dropped the cup, his fingers suddenly losing feeling. He looked up in shock seeing Ikana-baasan sitting perfectly still and unseeing, and the Yamanaka kunoichi smirking at him. "What?" He managed to say through half paralyzed lips before darkness took him.


Yamanaka Inohana giggled as the heir to the Yamanaka clan fell over. She ran a hand down her wet hair, honestly, men were too easy. Show some boob and they didn't even notice what you're doing to the tea.


It had been easy to find an elder who lived on their own and rarely had visitors. She'd had several to pick from, and then she had stumbled across one who's granddaughter she had just killed. She figured someone high in the clan hierarchy would eventually show up to inform her of the kid's death. So she inserted herself in her life. It was a day of careful work to seamlessly become family to the old woman. Inserting memories and feelings of familial love. Aching heart for the poor granddaughter never home due to diplomatic missions to far away lands.


Honestly it was almost too easy. The treasure trove of information on clan history and jutsu she had found in the old woman's head was just the cherry on top. And now she had the clan heir. Who knew what juicy secrets he would have. She crouched down, uncaring of how her robe opened completely, she opened Inoichi-kun's eyes and performed the hand seals to invade his mind, no doubt his defenses would be an actual challenge for once.


Several hours later Inoichi left the house of his elder cousin with a pep in his step. He had spent longer than he had planned to, but after breaking the news to Ikana-baasan he had sat down to talk with her granddaughter Inohana-chan. And time had just flown by. He touched his cheek and blushed. The beautiful kunoichi had even pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before he left and asked him to not be a stranger. He resolved to find a reason to come visit again tomorrow. He rubbed his forehead slightly, a sudden headache making itself known. Probably too much tea, he hadn't been able to say no whenever the cute Inohana-chan had offered him a refill.


Watching her get up and turn to make it had certainly shown him that she definitely kept a well trained and firm body. His father would definitely tease him, and his teammates would be a pain if he told them. As he walked out of the Yamanaka compound to head off and see his team he decided it was best he kept Inohana-chan a secret for now. It must have been a good decision because he felt his headache lessen and his steps felt lighter as he continued on.


Back in the house he had left, said Inohana-chan couldn't stop giggling, the amount of information she was able to pull out on Konoha, the Torture and interrogation division and even on the Akimichi and Nara clans due to his closeness to his teammates had been an incredible find.


That's not even mentioning his almost complete knowledge of the Yamanaka compound, its defenses and seals and his knowledge of where they kept their archive. At this rate she might even give him what he desired and fuck him, because honestly she felt he deserved something for giving her literally everything Uzukage-Sama would want and more.


And he wasn't too bad looking either. She did have an itch to scratch, and it would be easier to get him to access the archives if he was subconsciously happy with her. And he would definitely be very happy after a roll in the sheets. She giggled again, as Ikana-baasan sat stiffly in her chair, staring ahead unseeing, her mind locked down whenever Inohana had no need of her. Now she just needed to get eyes on Kushina-chan and this mission was practically over.


Konoha was just too easy.


＊＊＊



Sarutobi Hiruzen was tired. He was tired of war, of death, of losing comrades and friends and family. Yet, he still was needed in his position. Maybe soon he could retire, after the war. There was a promising Jounin… And there was always Orochimaru, although his withdrawal from the rest of the forces lately and his obsession with research was beginning to give him doubts.


He looked out the window smoking idly, this informal meeting with his teammates and Danzo coming to an end. One of his ANBU was giving a report he was barely paying attention to while appearing to be listening intently. There was a temporary lull in the war as everyone tested the boundaries and figured out what the next step would be.


"Repeat that." He said suddenly, surely he hadn't heard that correctly.


ANBU Crane didn't show any sign of discomfort as his monotonous voice repeated his words. "The Jounin commander received a note from Kiri an hour ago demanding the return of the sword Samehada, of the legendary seven swords of Kirigakure."


"And why are they demanding this from us?" Hiruzen asked, eyes sliding towards Danzo questioningly. Root did operate in the land of water. Danzo shook his head minutely. So not him then. Possibly. It was hard to tell with his old rival nowadays. Yet… Stealing one of the swords of Kirigakure, while they were beset with enemies, didn't seem like Danzo's style.


"The note claimed a Konoha kunoichi stole the sword and disappeared within an Orca summon." Crane reported, disappearing in a swirl of leaves as Hiruzen made a motion with his hand. Eyes meeting Danzo's lone one. Both Homura and Koharu seemed unsettled. They all knew when they had seen Orca summons last.


"No Konoha Shinobi has that contract." Danzo said with a scowl.


"Is it possible they have found a new summoner? It could possibly be another Kiri Shinobi, they are having troubles at home." Homura mused out loud stroking his beard.


Danzo looked skeptical but kept quiet as Koharu scoffed and answered. "We can count out it being an Uzumaki, they would have definitely mentioned that. Going after one of the swords and using a summoning contract likely looted from Uzushiogakure. This has a rebel faction of Kiri written all over it."


"You think they're bluffing us?" Hiruzen asked, "Why admit losing one of the swords. The strongest one at that if they weren't confident we held it?"


"They're simply trying to take advantage of our situation. Refuse them." Homura said simply. Koharu nodded along with him. Danzo said nothing but disagreement practically wafted off him to Hiruzen's senses.


Uzushiogakure was Hiruzen's greatest shame. How his sensei would turn in his grave if he knew his students' failure. When they had learned of Uzushiogakure's pending attack his students had begged him to be allowed to go. Hiruzen knew that with the forces involved the death toll would be catastrophic. So he saved his students from the massacre and sent Danzo with his root forces and a battalion of regular forces under his command to aid their ally.


When Danzo returned to report that they had been too late and could only kill some straggling looters he could literally feel Tsunade lose her will, with the death of her brother and fiance it was too much and she left within a few years.


Orochimaru turned manic, retreating from his comrades, only coming out for missions. And Jiraiya…. Became a complete man whore, spending less and less time in Konoha.


All of them had great ties with the Uzumaki. Not to mention the Senju that had been stuck there for the invasion. Danzo had saved what relics or knowledge he could from Uzushio and his forces had returned, tight-lipped about what they had seen. It hadn't helped any of his students' mental health to see the Senju practically eradicated in the first two years after the death of the Uzumaki.


Hiruzen still didn't know how every mission with a Senju on it had ended so catastrophically. Eventually he had been forced to protect the last dozen with ANBU and refused to send them on any more missions. Only to find the ANBU team and the Senju slain, in the heart of Konoha without anyone having noticed a thing.


It's one of the only times he and Danzo had been of the same mind. Furiously turning over every stone and leaf they could to try and find the culprits. Which in their zeal had only gathered Konoha more enemies and had led to the start of the third war so soon after the second had ended, and they had never found out for sure who had killed the Senju. Although some ties to the Uchiha had been found. Hiruzen didn't believe it, it was too convenient, but his rival had been watching them with suspicion ever since.


Hiruzen dismissed his teammates soon after. Just him and Danzo in the office. A hand seal from him and his ANBU protection detail left the room and silencing and anti-byakugan seals lit up and sealed his office. "You don't believe it was an internal Kiri spat." He asked simply. Neither did he, his experience as Hokage said that it just didn't fit.


"Whatever the Uzumaki did to destroy it, none of their proprietary sealing knowledge or summoning scrolls were looted. We would have seen the Orca summons sooner if Kiri had them." Danzo said assuredly, and with some bitterness leaking through. Hiruzen sadly figured his rival was more upset about losing out on the plunder then the death of their ally in this case. How had they grown so different from being such idealistic kids?


"You think it could be a surviving Uzumaki?" Hiruzen asked, probing his rival. Danzo received a lot of information from his network, and sometimes Hiruzen felt that he barely saw a third of it. And dragging information out of Danzo was always time consuming and irritating.


Danzo seemed to think about it before shaking his head slowly. "No… An Uzumaki would be too noticeable, besides, whatever survived the invasion was hunted down religiously." He tapped his cane on the floor firmly. Sure of his answer. "One of their non-clan members most likely. Hidden all this time, and holding onto the summoning scroll."


Hiruzen nodded slowly, it seemed more likely. "One with a fire affinity perhaps, since Kiri seemed to believe it was us." He paused, "Perhaps not even that. It's logical to assume that if no contract was found in Uzushiogakure, it could be with its allied village." Not that they had been much of an ally in the end… He did not look forward to facing Arashi-kun and Mito-sama in the afterlife.


"Perhaps." Danzo answered. "We must respond." He pointed out calmly. Eye focused on Hiruzen's with intensity.


Hiruzen sighed, they had too many enemies to gather more, but they literally didn't have the sword to appease Kiri with. War made monsters out of them all. "You have free hands in the land of water." He said finally with a heavy voice. Root would ensure Kiri was too much of a mess to intervene on the mainland for a while.


Danzo being Danzo didn't even seem pleased. He just nodded slowly. No doubt plans upon plans already running through his mind. Hiruzen might dislike some of his methods. But without Danzo he would have never been able to run these wars. Root was a necessary evil.


"Turn their squabbles into a civil war." Hiruzen ordered with a heavy heart. Knowing he was ordering the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians. Yet as Hokage he had to weigh his own people's lives higher. And they could not afford Kiri allying with Iwa and Kumo.


He couldn't wait to give this hat up.


＊＊＊


Junichu Yui was unused to being away from her Kage for this amount of time. The purple haired kunoichi with the severe face of a consummate professional and muscular stocky scarred body of someone who worked hard to be the best they could be, was usually part of the Uzukage ANBU protection detail.


Her high affinity for water jutsu had been too useful for the latest bunch of assignments however and she had been sent out. She must have annoyed someone, because she had been sent all the way to the land of snow. Her mission had been to find and then spy on their hidden village. A minor village that had never been of any consequence on the international stage.


Yui had been sent due to her high water affinity enabling her to hold the water refraction jutsu for hours at a time. Becoming practically invisible, only high speed movements revealing a tell tale shimmer. With seals to hide her chakra presence and religiously washing with scent blocking soaps - the likelihood she'd be found out was extremely low. She did note that the freezing temperatures did appear to force her to put more chakra into the Jutsu, something to make note of to those at home in case others who could use it were ever sent to a similar climate.


The village hidden in the glaciers had been pathetically easy to find. Due to the climate, much of the food was imported and there just wasn't any good way to hide all those supply trips. Perhaps if they had acquired sealing knowledge to use storage scrolls for all of their supplies they could have avoided detection.


Yui was getting the idea that Uzumaki sealing was very different from what the rest of the world was capable of. As it was she had simply followed a caravan of food supplies to a hidden entrance in the mountains. Her jutsu had become necessary at that point. Not because of the escorts of the caravan who were only genin after all.


It was because of the fact that the hidden village was underground and the entrance was a tunnel - which made it unlikely she could infiltrate without having to silence any guards if she hadn't had her jutsu. As it was she had to silently creep through the tunnels having to pause and hide periodically from patrols and Shinobi exiting for missions.


When she finally made it inside she was somewhat disappointed in what she found. Although there were perhaps 500 Shinobi in total and three times as many civilians in the village, their level was… Unsatisfactory. Going by chakra levels was not always reliable, but unless they had several masters at hiding their chakra, the village had less than a dozen Jounin. The majority of their forces felt like genin or low Chuunin at best.


Further spying revealed nothing spectacular about their Shinobi. Some jutsu use she had never seen before, utilizing snow and ice and a few bloodline users that probably could be something if properly trained. It wasn't anything that would keep any other minor village from crushing them. Their isolated spot was probably the only reason they still existed.


They should be fairly easy to intimidate into folding into Uzushio. Albeit not very useful for years of retraining. What they did have however Yui had found, was a very interesting research department, staffed mostly with civilians, with a few Shinobi on staff to provide chakra and test inventions. They were working on a chakra armor that would absorb Jutsu, from what she could gather it barely worked on D-ranks right now, but the fact they'd made it work at all without specialized sealing knowledge was impressive. They had also invented something no Uzumaki seemed to have ever thought of. A sealing press. A machine that could press the sealing ink of an exploding tag into sealing paper, and get it right every time and at a speed that beats any sealing expert.


Yes it was just exploding tags, she doubted it would work for too many complicated seals. Yet, it was impressive. And the Shinobi did not realize at all what they had. From what she'd gathered, after Uzushio fell, sealing tags of any kind rocketed in price, including the simple exploding tag.


Uzushiogakure could sell exploding tags to every village in the nation with this kind of press, undercutting their own village sealmakers, outproducing them and being able to sell it for cheaper too. Killing sealing as a profitable skill in the other villages. Forcing them to utilize Uzushiogakure for their sealing needs. Making Uzushio indispensable. This was huge. She'd need to report and they needed to assimilate this village now. Before they realized what they had.


She stole away in the night, one of the prototype seal machines stolen with her, a manufactured accident ensuring no one was aware one had been stolen and that they thought it destroyed.


If they could improve on the design to make simple barrier tags, smoke tags, medical seals… There would be no second invasion. The elemental nations would need them too much to dare. She felt elation as she rushed back home, Yui would be able to make Uzukage-Sama smile. There had been so many years with just a grim resigned feeling from her Kage, now there was hope, she prayed this would brighten that hope into a bonfire.


They needed their Kage more than anything. He had kept them together through the horror and heartache of losing everything and everyone. He would be the greatest Kage in the nations. She swore it. Picking up extra speed as she moved homewards.


＊＊＊


It had been two months since they decided on a course of action and here they were again. Things were looking up, there was more hope and positivity all around with the western district being almost fully rebuilt.


None of their Shinobi had yet to die in their spying missions or supply runs. There had been hiccups of course, but all in all it was a much more relaxed atmosphere as they gathered again, to go over the latest developments. Everyone had a cup of sake in front of them, and they sat in an actual building this time. Only Yamanaka Inohana was still missing due to her infiltration of Konoha. They had her reports however. Kami, he loved being an Uzumaki and being able to get reports from those of his people skilled enough in seals to utilize them to send reports directly on active missions.


"I suppose since we are all relaxed and have had some drinks it is time to bring up the mission report of Senju Tokara…" Kaido said, starting the meeting and having to hold back a smirk at the aggravated sighs of both the Senju clan head Hikama and the Jounin commander Shinji.


"She achieved the return of Samehada, and recruited two Hozuki and four Yuki amongst the orphans she sheltered." Mito the clan head of the Uzumaki said mildly, peering at them all over her cup of sake. Of course her support had nothing to do with the fact that she absolutely adored the young Senju girl.


"She killed one of the seven swordsmen on Kiri soil, displayed her abilities to the Kiri survivors she left behind, showed off the Orca summons, risking our discovery and was a literal hair's breadth away from dying instead." Shinji countered with a displeased frown.


"You forgot the fact she was in the land of water when her mission was supposed to be in Takigakure." Kitama pointed out with a snicker, the older man finding the whole thing hilarious. He'd always had a soft spot for Tokara. Which Kaido had to admit he had as well, when she didn't irritate him to the point of homicide.


"Mistakes were made, you can't complain about the results." Mito argued with a pointedly raised eyebrow. "Samehada returned" She stressed. "Two Hozuki and four Yuki taken from Kiri and added to our future arsenal."


Mamoru, the clan leader of the Tokoro clan frowned at her, "You shouldn't talk about kids like that." He chided uncomfortably, understandably, as his clan currently constituted two thirds of kids one third of teenagers and adults.


Hikama scoffed, "You're lucky so many see them as future weapons, instead of seeing children of invaders." Hikama had been the one least impressed with Tokara's report. The girl hadn't been let out of the Senju tent encampment since she returned.


Mito shrugged, "They've taken the seal." As far as she was concerned they were one of their own now. And although she felt for both Tokara and the children, she was a clan head and kunoichi first. And she couldn't argue against how useful the Hozuki and Yuki would be in the future. Uzushiogakure was by the ocean, the hydration and ice bloodlines were perfect for their own defenses.


"Only the fact Kiri had suddenly decided to explode and start killing themselves is stopping me from requesting the girl censured for her carelessness in risking compromising our return." Shinji said testily, the muscular Jounin commander had already banned the girl from any missions to the land of water for the next decade. He'd also begrudgingly added a completed S-rank mission to her file. Infiltrating a hostile nation, killing one of their most important Shinobi, returning a national relic, as well as bringing 6 bloodline capable children with her back. He honestly wanted to class the damn mission SS if they had such a rank.


"That is what we are here to discuss…" Kaido broke in, the mission was done, what had happened had happened. Now what they were to do next needed to be dealt with. "With the land of water falling into disarray do we try to take advantage?"


"Absolutely not!" Hikama said, slamming a palm down on the table for emphasis, "Uzukage-Sama, we were already almost discovered. It is simply not worth the risk!"


Kaido calmly nodded to the Senju clan head showing he'd take his opinion under advisement. His eyes slid to the rest of the gathering.


Kitama scoffed, leaning back in his chair, resting his creaky bones; he'd no doubt joke, if it wasn't a serious council meeting. "I'd say it's foolhardy business if I wasn't already sure you've made up your mind already."


Mamoru shook his head, "This has bad idea written all over it." Yet he leaned back in his seat and didn't argue against it.


Shinji kept quiet, but his displeased frown showed his opinion and he had no doubt already tried to argue the question in private.


Mito smiled, saccharin sweet. "I'll follow whatever Uzukage-Sama wants of course." She tapped her sake cup with a well manicured finger. "If Inohana was here I'm sure she'd say the same, just with more innuendo."


Kaido nodded, "Normally I would agree with the majority opinion on this subject. However things have changed drastically in the last two months." He held up a finger, "One, there is never going to be a better time, Kiri is killing each other, clans attacking clans, civilians attacking clans, clans attacking civilians. The confusion is perfect to obfuscate our presence." He held up a second finger, "Two, we need more future Shinobi, skilled shinobi. And the land of water is currently mass producing orphans, including those with bloodline abilities." He raised a third finger, "Three, with Yui's discovery in the land of Snow we now have a tool that would make us indispensable to enemy and ally alike if our presence was discovered early. This war they are fighting across the elemental nations would make us better suppliers then enemies, for a time." He raised a fourth finger, "Fourth, with Kiri in disarray and Konoha fighting on several fronts, two major villages are already taken off the field as likely enemies if we are exposed early, we can likely count out Suna as well due to geographic location and their tiff with both Iwa and Konoha keeping them busy. This leaves only Iwa and Kumo as likely enemies. Both are fighting a war, both will remember the losses they took against us if we are exposed. The signs are all lining up for us right now, if we wait, this war could finish and we'd have lost our opportunity."


"Well said, Uzukage-Sama, and of course there is the chance that any action in Kiri will be taken as enemy action from the other major villages or as rebels. And not as the dead Uzumaki village." Mito said, providing support.


"Well, you can't argue with that," Kitama stated bluntly, although Hikama's and Shinji's expressions said they would if the decision hadn't already obviously been made. "Now more to the point, what exactly are we going to be doing in water?"


"Recruiting." Kaido said simply. He waved a hand towards Tokara's mission report on the table. "We need Shinobi in the future, we have the teachers to train them, we need those orphans, if they have a bloodline all the better. If not, we'd still make something out of them. And loyalty won't be a problem, even if we didn't have the seal, kids being saved from being starved, raped, abused and killed is going to be loyal to us to begin with. As an added bonus, we are strong in water affinity, so we won't have much issue teaching children from the land of water, their affinity is even more common there than it is for us."


"You've failed to mention how the population will feel about an influx of natives from one of our destroyers. Especially clans such as Hozuki." Hikama countered, still not sold on the idea.


Kaido acknowledged the Senju clan head with a tight nod, he wasn't wrong on that being a possible complication. "It will need to be monitored, the fact these will be starving kids being brought over and not adult Shinobi will mitigate that somewhat."


Mamoru ran a hand over his hair, sighing explosively, "Well, if it all works it's all well and good. It wouldn't hurt to eventually have another clan or two. We need to be careful on a timeline here, the population needs to know before we're bringing hundreds of brats over. There needs to be preparations, our medical division will be strained."


"Our supplies will be strained as well, we just moved our Shinobi off rations, they will not be well pleased to go back to them because of a bunch of mizu orphans." Hikama said icily.


Kaido would have to come up with something to throw the Senju as appeasement. Learning their clan had died in Konoha, refusing them the chance to go after Tsunade, now prioritizing foreigners. He could ill afford to alienate the Senju. Hikama was a steady man but a prickly one. He would not take constant failure to be heard well.


Shinji nodded, "Plans have been drawn up by the Strategic intelligence division for a one month, two month and three month plan. They have stressed that if put in motion, the three month plan before implementation is the most likely to achieve the effect we want with the general population and avoid a strain on supplies and medical personnel."


"Uzukage-Sama, is there any need to implement a timeline sooner then recommended?" Mito asked, as everyone around the table, grudgingly in Hikama's case, seemed to lean towards the longer wait time.


Kaido thrummed his fingers on the table as plans flitted through his mind. "No," He decided. "Kiri won't have peace for at least a year or two at the earliest. The timeline of 3 months is fine." And to be honest, he didn't think Kiri would settle down after that either. But he couldn't count on it for a strategy either.


"What about the swords? Or an opportunity to raid Kiri itself for its secrets?" Kitama asked with a shrewd look on his face. The Kawigaza clan would be the most impacted beneficially by adding more jutsu to the village, having no bloodline abilities. And on average being very skilled Kenjutsu users, were the most likely recipients of the seven swords.


Shinji made an aborted movement to protest, but Kaido stopped him with a raised hand, "That will not happen." He said firmly, allowing his Jounin commander to relax slightly. "Kiri has lost the strongest of the seven swords. Anytime we would see a possibility of acquiring another, it would doubtlessly be a mirage, a trap, to try and catch those that stole Samehada. That is what I would do in such a situation." He explained to Kitama who looked slightly mullish.


"Any infiltration or attack on Kiri itself might band them together and stop this civil war. The risk is not worth it, we're already risking too much." Shinji finished for his Kage with a firm voice.


Kitama acknowledged the point and they all enjoyed some sake and refreshments for a few minutes before moving on to the next topic, everyone already drawing up plans in their head for what to inform their clans of about the influx of orphans and the further plans for the land of water. While Kaido thought of what he could offer the Senju to soothe Hikama a bit.


"Now… The land of snow and their minor village." Kaido said slowly, shaking his head wondering how they had never thought of an automated seal press. Sure, someone had to still be there to insert chakra into the process, but it was still many times quicker than drawing up a seal tag.


"We need to take them in, the sooner the better. By force if necessary." Mito said sharply, surprising the others at the table. "Oh, don't give me those looks, the things they're doing with chakra armor and this seal press is absolutely revolutionary, and it's mostly civilians working on it. We absolutely can not allow any of the other villages to take this opportunity from us!"


"Teaching civilians chakra theory and letting them put their ideas into motion, no village would have ever thought of something like it, not even us." Mamoru said with a chuckle, "I guess they didn't have the manpower to have their Shinobi waste time being researchers."


Shinji lent forward, "I have already sent feelers out to civilians within Uzushio with expertise in sciences. Our research and development division has already enthusiastically supported this after seeing the work the seal press is capable of."


"Is that necessary if we are to incorporate the hidden glaciers research department?" Hikama asked, having always been a warrior first, politician second, he had never put much stock in sciences, civilian or Shinobi.


Mito pursed her lips, "it might lead to an overly large research division for a while, but our own citizens might have ideas that hidden glaciers have never thought of because of our own unique experiences with seals."


"Everyone is getting ahead of themselves, hmm?" Kitama said jeeringly. "I for one would have fought to the death happily rather then see defeat, or even imagined joining another village. What says we achieve anything but hidden glacier's destruction and some cowed prisoners forced to work for us?"


"A valid point." Kaido said, "This is why I intend to enter negotiations with their head ninja myself, on location."


He smiled wryly as every single one of his inner circle predictably exploded and all made strong objections. Coming up with a multitude of reasons why he should obviously not ever go into hidden glacier personally. Eventually he put his foot down and quieted all objections, he was the Kage. And he would be going. This was too important now to risk failing.


The seal press itself was too useful a tool to fall into enemy hands. He'd put the entire village to the sword himself if he had to take that step, as much as it felt like a betrayal of who they were. They could not allow such a useful machine to become common practice.


Already their own researchers had been able to build another press able to make a basic medical seal. All their Shinobi would be able to carry multiple medical seals with them on missions. And for a cost of practically nothing. This was revolutionary. This was worth he, himself, risking himself, to ensure success. Besides, he couldn't let Inohana have all the fun!


＊＊＊


Inohana hummed cheerfully to herself as she copied the scrolls in the Yamanaka vault, in the deepest part of their archive, holding their clan secrets from now to centuries back.


There was something deliciously naughty about walking around naked in the innermost sanctum of a clan compound. Her fingers covered in ink as she kept making copying seals to seal away another copy of a Yamanaka scroll.


Most of the Yamanaka were gone as there had been a push from Iwa into the land of fire, Inoichi had been left behind due to a "training injury" which was simply Inohana injuring him to the point of him staying out of the front, to be her key to the inner sanctum of the Yamanaka.


The poor guy was sitting against a wall, pants down, a silly smile on his face. Trapped in a Genjutsu where he believed they were still going at it. Inohana was a dutiful kunoichi, she'd only gone back for another round twice.


Okay so maybe it was three times, she thought with a mischievous smile on her face. If they didn't execute him for treason he'd make some girl very lucky one day. All his memories of her had already been changed to make Inohana take on the dusky skin of a kumo native.


Which really wouldn't look good for the poor guy falling in love with her. Letting her into the clan compound and the archives because she could suck dick would really really not look good for him. Oh well, not her problem anymore. She twirled around in excitement, hugging the last scroll to her naked chest. Then sealing it away. She'd completely nailed this mission. She'd verified Kushina-chan was still alive, definitely was the new Kyuubi jinchuuriki and was currently a Chuunin. And unfortunately seemed very loyal to Konoha, with a good relationship with a Konoha Jounin and close relationship to Sarutobi.


She got dressed quickly, before crouching down and giving Inoichi-kun a pat on the cheek. "I hope they don't kill you, I had fun, sorry for you know, fucking you over." She left the archives, wrapping the water jutsu around herself that turned her invisible, just as a precaution, she wouldn't try and exit as an impersonator this time. She slowly walked to the very edges of the Yamanaka compound before sinking into the earth with an application of Doton chakra. Moving slowly to the edges of the village.


The seals she had for avoiding the barrier corps were enough to avoid anything but a dedicated Hyuuga staring straight down the ground. An unlikely occurrence as the village had most of its competent Shinobi out fighting now, ANBU and Uchiha military police stretched thin in looking after the village.


She frowned as her head poked out into a dimly lit corridor. She was well enough underground that there shouldn't be any tunnels. There had been nothing on the classified maps Inoichi-kun had been able to get her, nor on any of the Yamanaka maps of the underground that were in the archives.


She crawled through completely and fell to the ground, landing on light feet, sending out a sensing probe with the tightest leash on her chakra. Wriggling her nose at the weird sensation she got back. There didn't seem to be any Shinobi around. There was definitely something in the room at the end of the corridor however. She bit her lip, she carried a treasure trove of information on Konoha and on the Yamanaka's, could she risk poking her nose into something else right now and possibly get caught? In the end her natural curiosity won out and she crept forward carefully.


The sight of the room almost had her vomiting right there. There were rows and rows of tanks, dead toddlers and babies in every tank. Dissection tables spaced here and there with rotting carcasses of children. Inohana moved through the space with horror, Konoha was doing this? Why? What in the name of the sage could be worth this? She looked around for any files or papers to explain this lab, but found nothing. Then she felt it again, that which had drawn her to the lab. A faint signature of something.


She moved slowly, a hand resting on her kunai pouch. Eyes flitting back and forth, expecting something horrible to leap out at her. What she found was worse in a way. She stumbled, eyes wide, her heart beating fast in her chest. She felt sick. Horrified. Angry! There in a tube in a dark corner, a still living small child, a tree growing out of his shoulder. Konoha was experimenting on children! On Senju children to bring out the Mokuton! Hikama would… Oh dear. Hikama would want to start a war over this…


She huffed, to be honest, she kind of wanted the same right now. Is this what Konoha had done with the Senju, turning them into experiments for the Mokuton, discarding those that didn't work? Disgusting.


She would have to change her escape strategy. It would be much harder now, a small child needing possible medical care coming with her had not been part of the plan. But she could not leave him here in some kind of stasis, waiting for Konoha to notice one of their experiments succeeded. She couldn't leave him behind. He was Senju. He belonged in Uzushio.


She had work to do. And she'd need a lot of seals to cleanse this entire lab in fucking fire so Konoha never could get anything out of this horrendous lab again.


＊＊＊


The planning for the trip to the land of snow had started immediately and with every step scrutinized heavily and every scouting report received about the elemental nations gone over with a fine tooth comb.


No one wanted to risk the journey drawing attention from any of the 5 major villages. So the party had to be small and fast moving. Yet at the same time they could not risk losing their Kage due to being overwhelmed by numbers if they encountered a war party.


Kaido mostly sat and did paperwork bemused at the frantic stress his subordinates were building up over the situation. Unless he ran into someone like Orochimaru or one of the Kage - he doubted he would risk losing his life on this journey. And he had a fair few surprises that he felt would take him over the top over Orochimaru for sure and one or two of the Kage, perhaps. Either way the likelihood of running into Orochimaru when he wouldn't be anywhere near the land of fire, or one of the Kage randomly being out and about, was absolutely minimal, and really all this worrying was unnecessary.


He wondered if he should tell them he'd already picked his bodyguards for the mission or let them continue going over files while stressing about affinity compatibility and chakra reserves, who was their best medic with field experience and such.


He highly doubted hidden glacier would be a problem. Their homebound nature while yet remaining almost completely secluded from their own nation hinted at a village more interested in research and their own development than in international renown and missions.


As far as his spy had been able to discern, hidden glacier did not even participate in any of the Chuunin exams. He had enough to offer to catch their interest, security and safety to lure them in. Threats of the war coming to their door soon, worst case the warning that if they couldn't have glacier they'd leak their location, an empty threat as he'd destroy them himself before allowing their knowledge out.


There would of course be the usual ninja paranoia, but glacier was mostly genin and Chuunin with a large civilian population for such a hidden location. The population had a lot more say then in the normal dictatorships of the Shinobi system. Basically he'd bribe the shit out of them if he had to. This wasn't a village with 40-50 years of traditions like the major villages, as far as they could tell hidden glacier had been created some 20 years ago. Quite an advancement they had made in research in such a short amount of time compared to what other villages had managed.


And soon they would be his…



＊＊＊


Well that was long, hopefully one or two of you managed to get through that slog and didn't hate it.


Cheers

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

So another snippet that I'd whipped out when I was following Naruto fanfiction a bit, the ever so common - let's take over Uchiha Sasuke SI fic.


Of course I twisted just a little my way, since I do dislike doing anything normal. Although the whole Konoha was mean to the Uchiha plot point has been done to death - sorry for the common trope!


This SI gets a little deluded, completely falling into the idea of Uchiha culture and history and honoring them, so a little bit of a fanon nerd and weeb.


It starts with some description of the Uchiha Massacre, so some light graphic descriptions be aware.


Hope someone finds it enjoyable as a little snippet.


＊＊＊


Uchiha Sasuke, or what used to be classified as Uchiha Sasuke and is now… Whatever I count as - stood lost, staring blankly ahead at the house in front of me. The compound is silent as a grave, fitting indeed, as everyone is indeed very dead.


The blood stains might have been cleaned up, the bodies removed. I could still see it all if I bothered to look around, like ghostly after images. Itachi's parting gift ensured I forever remembered every stroke of his blade, every clan member's death, the place of their murder, every stain…


My young cousin who was barely able to walk, stabbed through without mercy as I saw life bleed out of his eyes… The old couple that would sneak me food, beheaded without care while begging for their grandchildren's lives - dying with the horrible knowledge their kids would join them.


The beauty and horror around me in the sprays of blood that were painting the walls and ceilings of my clan's living space - it was like a simple painting almost - after the 200th or so repetition, the stroke of a master artist, the spray hitting just so, painting an image for me.


What am I even thinking, no wonder Sasuke was so incredibly fucked up. Fuck Itachi! I think angrily, although it's a distant anger, emotions are hard right now…


I had barely been able to function after awakening from the nightmare, the feelings and terror so fresh, even though I hadn't technically gone through it myself, thankfully.


I don't know how I got here, but I am extremely thankful I got here after Sasuke was mindraped. I was still confused and terrified and reeling from the emotional overload waking up…


I had refused to answer the probing questions of nurses and doctors and eventually, as my intransigence became worse - questions from what I recognized as members of torture and interrogation.


My tiny fists clenched and my breathing picked up as I remembered being forced to suffer through another violation, this time as me, a Yamanaka peering through my head, trying to find out what I knew. Itachi and his crimes were vastly more important than my mental wellbeing, despite the fact he'd been officially sanctioned.


The Hokage still had no issue making me suffer, it seemed.


Somehow, to my no doubt perceptible relief - none of my previous life was discovered, or so was my assumption as there was no trip to T&I for me on my first day, that is always good, right? Not being tortured on day one, if one discounts the mind invasion…


The Hokage had come by soon after and tried to smooth things over, acting genial and saddened, or perhaps he even was - but I still knew he'd pluck my eyes out himself if he thought at any point it would serve Konoha better.


It's hard to forget just how many people he killed in his lifetime, how many villages he wiped out - or gave orders to have them wiped out down to the last child… It doesn't exactly bring comfort to think of.


They might claim to be the nice village but it's mostly a position they can take because they've annihilated enough other villages to show the strength to call themselves anything they wanted.


Konoha comes first in everything. I am nothing in comparison - same with everyone else in Konoha.


Unless I was his darling Orochimaru, apparently what's best for Konoha doesn't cover his favorite student…


Orochimaru didn't exactly hide his peculiarities very hard, he didn't have to, Sarutobi didn't even notice he was in Root, or if he did, he somehow didn't care, or blame Danzo when Orochimaru went nuts - but of course Danzo got a free pass always too.


At that point I couldn't have cared any less what he was saying. I was busy dealing with the most annoying thing about these memories, these feelings…


I wasn't really Sasuke after all. Somehow Uchiha Sasuke had died inside the Tsukiyomi and I had taken residence in his head, not even remembering how I died or got here - but with a life and memories from another reality. Which was jarring with the memories and feelings from what used to be the Uchiha Sasuke.


A character from an anime… How is this even my life right now? And of all the people I'm slotted into… It had to be the head of snake bait Sasuke, mind rape my mind again nii-san, pretty please, Sasuke.


Someone who's basically going to be buttfucked by S rank ninja for years. Lovely, just… Lovely. So yes, Sarutobi Hiruzen's fake or real sympathy wasn't really high on my list of priorities right now. Luckily, complete disregard for polite conversation was seen as a natural consequence of being mind raped, so I was left to be soon after.


Or it could be it was seen as quintessential Uchiha behavior, either way it worked, and it was all I cared about.


As soon as all the tests and poking and prodding of nurses and med nins were completed, I requested to be allowed to leave the hospital and go home. I needed to think, to freak out, and preferably not be near any more Yamanaka.


An ANBU dropped me off soon after, and that's where I stood now. Not at my own home, Sasuke's home. The incompetent ANBU had dropped me off at Sasuke's/my cousin Shisui's home… I suppose I'd have to really just start thinking of myself as Sasuke, I didn't need a split personality developing by trying to be a separate person, for all I know with chakra that would actually happen. Just look at Sakura and whatever the hell Inner was.


Did I want another me inside my head? One based on the original Sasuke…? Yeah... Hell no to that!


Eventually tired of just standing there I let a tired breath out and moved forward. At least I had no memories of my family being cut apart in this house. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise.


My hand tensed as I opened the door, Shisui had died right before the massacre… I leaned my head against the door frame, would picking this home have consequences?


Surely Danzo and the Sandaime wouldn't be looking into every little detail of what I chose to do? Would picking Shisui's house show a difference from deciding to brave the main house? I personally did not have any problems with the main house - Sasuke would have gone through hell if that's where he chose to stay though.


Even with his memories and feelings resonating strongly in me, I felt I could handle it… Eventually. The memories would stop right? Of blood flashing across my face, of the thousands of sounds made upon a thousand deaths... As the last Uchiha I probably should be in the clan head's home if I was staying in the compound…


It was probably expected anyway.


I turned and trekked away, memory leading my feet on the familiar path. I might be a bit paranoid, but I knew what a bastard Danzo was, I knew Orochimaru would probably be getting reports on me soon enough, and the Sandaime wasn't much better.


His treatment of Naruto really seemed a lot like a plot to train him to be loyal to the Hokage and the leaf no matter what, through isolation and idolization of the Sandaime.


There's just no way not a single family in all of the leaf, nor a single Shinobi in all of Konoha, couldn't have taken him in. That mass refusal could only happen if people were ordered not to.


It wouldn't even have to be a clan Shinobi - if the whole Jinchuuriki under the power of a clan thing - was the excuse why none of the clans could help him. Keeping the jinchuuriki loyal to the Sandaime and Konoha above all else worked out perfectly in canon with an almost completely isolated Naruto. I refuse to believe someone called the god of Shinobi and the professor - just happened to achieve that accidentally.


Besides he already counted as an asshole for fucking up the whole Uchiha clan thing so badly. And yes, for me, personally, being left alone was a blessing in disguise as shitty as it all was - it didn't make it any better handled.


I needed to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do now and deal with the fact I am now Uchiha Sasuke. Privacy was really welcome at the moment as wrong as it was. Letting a traumatized, mindraped seven year old - go live in the home his brother murdered his parents in - without any therapy, assistance or caretaker, was just unconscionable.


I guess in the fucked up thinking of the Shinobi world, I was considered a big boy now that I've gone through my first massacre, so just living on my own is cool. Fucking old ass monsters with no empathy or care. Again, I prefer it due to my situation, but boy is it ever fucked up.


I entered my home and my body almost on autopilot went into a quick prayer. Ameratsu guide their souls in heavenly fire. Susanoo give me strength to carry on and make my clan proud, Tsukiyomi bless my eyes so that I can avenge us… I prayed as I entered the main hallway.


The three gods all Uchiha believed in, that they had always followed since their inception. The gods that had blessed them in fire, gave them the Sharingan. I would have to ask where the bodies were stored… There were rituals involved in the death of an Uchiha, ones I had been taught since I was old enough to walk. To give their bodies and souls back to our gods.


I shook my head, snapping myself out of that little episode, feeling like some loose cobwebs were being shaken out of my brain. I definitely needed time to settle into my new body and life - if that kind of thing could happen in places that resonated strongly with my memories.


And I don't remember anything about gods in the setting from my old point of view, although I suppose it wasn't very important possibly for the canon mess, and Sasuke wasn't exactly deeply conversational with anyone ever. Unless it was a rant about power. Yet here and now I remember Sasuke being taught by Mikoto and taken to the shrines by Itachi.


Well the bodies were probably missing some eyes… But I should get those rituals done, if nothing else in honor of the real Sasuke who's body I somehow stole, even if he was an asshole. In my new/old memories, the rituals of the clan and the worship - were all pretty important and intrinsic to the whole clan culture. The least I could do was to continue them.


My lips curled, I'd have to ask for a meeting with the Hokage after all. This was going to go well…


＊＊＊


I had expected to be stonewalled for a while in seeing the military dictator of the village, after all they did just have an emergency, even if only a rare few knew it wasn't Itachi going insane - but a kind of official order.


The Sandaime let Danzo get away with anything, so as far as I was concerned, it was official and with Kage approval, since he did jack to actually get rid of Danzo for 'treason' - then it wasn't treason was it?


I probably should have waited to feel more in sync with my emotions and memories before I went to see someone I heavily disliked, and someone responsible for things that were anathema to the memories and feelings of Sasuke.


What can I say? Being transferred into another body with the memories of a massacre, did not make for a settled mind in the end.


…


"What do you mean it was already taken care of!?" I bite out between clenched teeth, staring at the old man sitting behind his desk, staring at me over steepled fingers. I was gripping the chair I was sitting in so hard I could feel wood cracking. To say my tone wasn't polite - was an understatement.


"I am truly sorry Sasuke-kun, but no one was sure if you were ever going to wake up again, your clan was all cremated, there was a village wide mourning period with the funeral." Sarutobi Hiruzen explained sadly.


I didn't trust a word out of his mouth or the projected sadness. No doubt Danzo told him he'd take care of it and old buttbuddy Sandaime happily let the problem out of his hands - like all the other fucking problems he ever saw.


"It's written in the agreement between the Senju and the Uchiha that only Uchiha are allowed to perform the burial rites for the clan." I shouted, eyes wild as I stood up suddenly, knocking my chair down, my emotions going wild, my dislike of the Hokage not helping me rein myself in as I was flooded.


I should have waited, I wasn't ready, the influx of emotions and memories were too much!


I screamed at the Hokage. "It's done for every Uchiha! They are laid on a pyre at the shrine for Ametaratsu. The Uchiha send them off in fire, as is our right from birth, given to us by the gods as we return to them in death! You had no right!" As I finish, my breathing is heavy and blood is trickling from my hands from how hard my fists were held, nails cutting into me.


I could feel myself start to calm down slightly as I desperately tried to hijack myself emotionally and stop before I did something even dumber than shouting at the Hokage. I wasn't Naruto, I wouldn't get a chuckle and a ramen feast. I needed to stop this!


And figure out if this flood of emotions and memories state - was temporary, or a continuous situation…


The Hokage calmly listened until the end before narrowing his eyes slightly, a feeling of imminent death pulling me completely out of my emotional state. I knew killing intent, Itachi had taught Sasuke very well in his torture in Tsukiyomi and I remembered it all.


I still scowled at the Hokage, unwilling to bend completely even with control back, but definitely regretting not waiting a few days, my shaking limbs and sudden silence the only sign of my weakness.


The only thing worse than pissing off a military dictator, was being a wuss when faced with the consequences, so I stood as tall as a seven year old boy could, suddenly very thankful it was the Sandaime and not Danzo in the chair. As much as I thought he was a shit Hokage, he wouldn't execute a kid for yelling.


"You've gone through a great deal, I understand your emotions are high right now, it cannot change things. What is done, is done. I signed the order myself." The finality of that statement hit hard, showing no care, no regret.


I almost shook in rage, but this time I was prepared and managed to hold on to my emotions, the fear helped, as I knew what he was capable of. I stood in silence as the venerable old Hokage slowly cleaned out his pipe, before adding some leaves to it and clicking his fingers to create a spark of flame.


He puffed away in the silence as I just stood there, shaking. The utter irrelevance of my existence compared to Naruto - or hell, any of the clans, of my clan's power laid bare in front of him. This old man could do whatever he wanted. I had no power in this world whatsoever…. Yet.


"Can I have the ashes at least." I finally managed to press out, somewhat politely, between thinned lips, a scowl still in place. I knew the eyes were stolen, but I could at least have honored the bodies… Now… Maybe the ashes would be enough, it would have to be enough. Sasuke believed in this culture… This lifestyle his clan had existed in for hundreds of years, long before there even were villages. I owed him at least this respect.


The Hokage shook his head slowly, "I am afraid everything has been disposed of already. Their ashes are buried under a new memorial stone commemorating the Uchiha." He didn't even look apologetic now, just watching me under bushy eyebrows, calculating. Reading my reactions, plotting out my whole future no doubt.


I bit my lip so hard blood ended up running down my chin in a thin trickle. I wanted to shout. I wanted to rail against the old bastard who had desecrated my clan's rights to their proper rites. Ruined my chance of in some way honoring Sasuke and his family. Somehow I hadn't just replaced Sasuke I knew now, there was still a part of him there, we were one.


I wondered in the dark recesses of my mind if the quick cremation and dumping of the clan's ashes was just a slight against the clan - or a part of the cover for robbing their bodies…


Me keeping the ashes wouldn't have revealed the eye theft, they could even have fake ashes and I wouldn't have known. Making a monument for a clan that had planned a coup stunk like mockery more than anything, and just what, dumping their ashes in a pile under a stone plinth in some far off training ground?


That's all the Uchiha deserved? Either way I couldn't say so, I'd already pushed too far by losing it in the first place, even if it was likely in character - especially if this bullshit happened in canon. I simply bowed my head stiffly at the frowning Hokage and walked out.


My clan, adopted or not, however you wanted to call this situation, had helped create Konoha. And all they got was their legacy and rights stomped on… With a memorial stone with their ashes dumped like garbage beneath it, a final insult.


I had been lamenting about how it was a wonder Sasuke wasn't more fucked up with how shittily things were dealt with. Now I was wondering how the fuck he made it to graduation without wanting to burn the village down.


＊＊＊


A few days later,


The good news was that after a few more days I finally felt seamlessly in control of my own body, both sets of memories and my emotions and chakra. Allowing me to fully be Sasuke without any more unplanned temper tantrums.


It also allowed me to finally, as the overtaking personality, dull the memories of the massacre. As horrific as it was to remember, it took some of the horror and emotional impact out of it to no longer feel the emotional connection to the people dying. I'd still honor them by being the best Uchiha I could be… Mostly to survive the shitshow that would come for me, but also because they honestly deserved better than what they got.


Other things only spiraled worse over the next few weeks. When I tried to hire teams for the maintenance of the Uchiha district I was informed the clan assets were frozen - I was given a regular orphans stipend instead.


The first time the check was given to me I stared at the shinobi who delivered the news in disbelief. The Uchiha clan was a wealthy clan after all. Centuries of being the highest paid, most sought after fighters meant they had much in both liquid and material wealth. The amount of riches in art, artifacts, cloth and jewelry we had was staggering.


That hadn't disappeared just because we joined in Konoha's creation. The audacity to after everything else, also withhold my clan's assets from me, just pissed me off further. Not even do the minimum to appoint a steward to manage it, just completely freezing it, leaving me with nothing but an empty district I couldn't take care of.


I totally understand not giving a seven year old a blank cheque, but to not have anyone oversee any of it at all, just let the district be, to rot and fail. That's just more pettiness - more of the same idea to put down the Uchiha because they could, the kind of thing that had led them to plot a coup in the first place, this disregard of their wish that they mattered or belonged.


I was told that although I technically was the clan head as the only survivor, I wouldn't be able to touch the assets until chuunin at minimum, or as a 16 year old, whichever came first.


When I pushed for an answer I got the expected, by order of the Hokage parroted back at me. I wondered if they hoped I'd get myself killed when I became a ninja, automatically reverting the fortune and the district to Konoha with the clan's extinction.


Eventually I had grudgingly admitted to myself there was such a thing as too much paranoia. After all, they could easily sneak in at night and dispose of me and just claim Itachi returned to finish the job if that's what they were after.


It was probably Konoha bureaucracy behind it all, now used to fucking the Uchiha after a couple years of it - and simply continuing it without an order to stop, now that the clan was practically gone. Or it was Danzo fucking with me to make me desperate. If I was really Sasuke from canon, this would have all definitely turned me into the angsty angry little fuck he was.


Whatever part of him that resided in me now, that I had subsumed, I felt sorry for.


The orphan stipend was enough for me to eat and clothe myself, although not generously in either case. I had a whole district to worry about however. I ended up being forced to beg my academy sensei to teach me how to make sealing scrolls.


With the tragedy of the massacre and my top student credentials luckily working for me in convincing the man, even if I was still off from the academy for the rest of the month.


My Sharingan, awakened in the massacre, was used for the first time, not to copy jutsu but to copy seals, to perfect calligraphy to the point I could safely create storage scrolls. The first few weeks of my solace spent going around the compound, sealing art pieces, family heirlooms and weapons, banners and weaves detailing Uchiha fights of old, anything worth keeping really. Since I couldn't afford the money to keep the district in shape, nor the time to do it myself. I saved everything important in the scrolls.


I hid the scrolls away in each of the shrines to Ameratsu, Susanoo and Tsukiyomi. In spaces that were only visible to those with the Sharingan. Denying access to outsiders with sealwork way above my understanding - In the end, only the shrines, my house and the nearest training ground, would be maintained.


All of it was done by myself, Konoha entirely uncaring and distant. I wondered whether they had discussions on taking the whole district from me too, if people like Danzo had argued for it, who had argued for me? I wondered. The clans perhaps? As a just in case, if they ever ended up in the same situation, no doubt. Doubtfully such a decision was done for my benefit.


I made sure to pay my respects to the gods every night before bed, I'd need all the help I could get, and why not? The Uchiha have believed in them for hundreds of years, and until now it had worked pretty well for them. And I was alone... I carried the entire Uchiha legacy on my shoulders. And I knew how fucked the world was going to be shortly. I'd need to be stronger then Sasuke had managed in canon. And considering how fucked that all had ended up being - that meant insanely strong.


＊＊＊


I quickly ran into some problems in trying to get stronger - the Academy for one was pretty much useless. It was moving at the pace of what the civilian born could handle - no more early graduations available after the massacre.


Just in time to deny me the chance of course. I just took yet another hit with bitter acceptance and continued to work myself to death every evening - after having wasted my time all day on history and taijutsu practice. Fighting against twig civilians, who wouldn't have given a four year old Uchiha a workout. Working on lessons I was already so far ahead in, compared to most of my classmates, that it made the lessons themselves pointless.


Thanks to the Sharingan, I could enter the Uchiha clan archives, which had their repository of scrolls on everything from history and journals of Shinobi from the warring clan era - to scrolls on Ninjutsu, Genjutsu and Taijutsu and other Shinobi arts.


For one brilliant moment I had thought I had everything I needed handed to me. It quickly became clear why Sasuke had never been able to use most of this in canon.


I could use barely anything from it. The information stored was of skills so above my level that I could barely even understand it, most assuming a level of capability in its reader that made understanding the scrolls impossible without first obtaining the skills necessary to understand it.


I didn't have the advanced chakra theory, affinity theory and chakra system knowledge to even begin to try some of the jutsu, definitely didn't have the chakra capacity. I concluded that lower level jutsu and knowledge was meant to be taught in person, only higher skills were saved in the archive.


Why save Genin level skills for posterity after all, everyone gets taught that anyway by their family. All of this would be helpful once I was a Jounin, but was hardly helpful now. I found a couple scrolls on chakra control exercises and meditation, as well as scrolls for the Uchiha Taijutsu style - the interceptors fist.


That however, was it for immediately useful knowledge. I'd have to dig deeper into the chakra theory scrolls when I could understand enough to get anywhere with it. I of course knew about tree walking and water walking and in these first few weeks I conquered both.


And of course I kept training at it everyday to continue to hone my chakra control as well as to grow my capacity, by constantly using my chakra. It still felt stifling, I knew I could do more then continued chakra control and physical exertion - yet I was being hindered and pushed down.


I had the Sharingan of course, which opened up another avenue of getting stronger, but I doubted the Hokage would take kindly to me going around copying jutsu and Taijutsu styles.


Considering the insults that had been thrown at the clans feet already - I did not hold hope for a good response if caught out. The limitations were binding me, forcing the district to eventually rot - forcing me to stagnate.


It was like they were testing me to see how much I could take before I would lash out completely. It would really piss me off if this was all some convoluted loyalty test, to see if I'd settle down into a good little orphan Uchiha. Or if I was going to lose it and strike back. I guess canon me just become an antisocial asshole instead of fighting back or figuring a way around all these insults.


The Sharingan was too valuable of a tool to discard, I needed to use it. Spying on genin teams training would be too risky however. I knew there was no chance of me evading a Jounin yet. Not to mention any potential ANBU spies keeping an eye on me outside of the compound.


In the district I was safe, I had activated the boundary seals that told the Uchiha when someone else entered their district. So I'd know if someone spied on me at home. It was based on chakra of course, which wasn't always a perfect system. That said, surely a Jounin or ANBU level shinobi wouldn't have gotten that far on Genin level or below - chakra. So I'd still be warned if someone strong entered the compound. They'd hardly send civilians to spy, they'd stand out in this dead district too easily.


It had taken me an embarrassingly long time to come up with a somewhat acceptable solution. The Academy had finally been good for something… They had all received a short lecture on the Genin corps - the backbone of the village system. The soldiers that performed all the drudge work, courier duty and many desk bound duties of the village.


It had been an offhand comment from my sensei, about the Genin corps not being able to train as easily as the rest of the forces - due to having the last pick of training grounds. A subtle hint to his student to push them to be better than a future Genin corps member. A meaningless push, since it was practically pre ordained which clan kids would get a Jounin - with the rest of the chaff never getting that far and wouldn't be seen again. So most likely ending up as dropouts or transfers to the Genin corps.


It gave me an idea. So the next day after the academy was finished and I had dodged a Naruto paint bomb without even trying - ignored several requests to walk me home by creepy girls… And yes, no matter how I look at it, 7-8 year olds should not be as creepy about "love" as these kunoichi - to be - girls are.


I made my way to the Chuunin administration office, not to be confused with the Hokage tower administration office. That's where the mission desk and all the important stuff was. This is where the low level bureaucracy started long before you could even get to the Hokage tower with a request. Manner by the career desk Chuunin who got a promotion based on their paperwork skills more then anything else. If anywhere dealt with the Genin corps on a leadership basis - it probably started somewhere here, or the paperwork for it did at least.


Entering the building reminded me of the first time I ever entered the DMV. It was bland and boring, purposefully generic looking with a multitude of desks, lines and people who looked like they'd do anything not to be here.


Mostly civilians were lined up, as this is where you went to request those ridiculous D-rank missions. These paper pushers would write up the mission, outline the parameters and take payment, and then send the scrolls off to the Hokage tower for the mission desk to look over, approve and then use to torture Genin. Or I suppose to give Genin corps members something to do for some money.


I made sure to line up in a queue for administrative purposes, and then waited a soul crushing hour and a half before I finally made my way to the front, a pale kunoichi with washed out blond hair and dark bags under her eyes giving me a skeptical look. I couldn't exactly blame her. Not many seven year olds had business with administrative issues.


"Can I help you?" She said somewhat condescendingly with a raspy voice of someone that either smoked a lot, or fucked up a fire jutsu in the buildup process.


"I need a meeting with whoever oversees the Genin corps." I said firmly, but politely, making sure to maintain eye contact.


She looked at me skeptically, tapping a nail on her clipboard. She pursed her lips, "Need is a big word Uchiha-san. The Genin corps does not deal with academy students."


"I have a proposal for them, and I will need to speak with whoever is in charge." I reply back, trying to remain polite even in facing her obvious condescending attitude.


She rolls her eyes and sighs, "Whatever, it's not my problem in the end." She mutters, she leans her head on her hand as she puts her elbow down on the desk, looking tired and stressed, "Look kid, you'll need to see Haruka for anything to do with the Genin corps alright, it's not my department." She waves a hand lazily in the other direction down the desks, towards a spindly Chuunin with glasses with another long line ahead of him.


I grit my teeth and bow my head slightly, "Thank you for your assistance." I mumble out. Leaving before she can answer me or before I can ask her why she can't be a little more helpful.


This turns out to be the nicest interaction I have over the next four hours as I get shuffled from desk to desk, sent to a Genin corps member who in no way runs the division - who then sends me to a Chuunin who sends me back to the first Chuunin I spoke with. Who then tried to send me to frigging Nara Shikaku who as the Jounin commander does technically count as the boss of all the Shinobi… But I seriously doubt he runs the Genin corps personally. And I also severely doubt any chances of me getting in to see him, Uchiha name or not, especially with a request that so obviously has nothing to do with him!


I'm ready to start sending out some fireballs when a cute red haired kunoichi in her late teens and wearing a Chuunin vest, stops me and tells me that the councilor in charge of the Genin corps will see me now.


I follow the kunoichi into the Hokage tower, making me twitch slightly as apparently I had underestimated the importance of the Genin corps commander. Maybe I would have gotten further sooner if I had just bugged the mission desk about it. I'm led to a door on the second floor and the kunoichi stops me with one hand and gives me a serious look.


"Now I don't know what you want or why he is humoring you, but you'll treat Homura-Sama with respect, understood?" She says sharply, giving me a smile at my quick nod. She opens the door as I realize I've gone into deeper waters then I had imagined. When I had heard the word councilor I hadn't imagined it would be one of the 'three'. Those always vilified in fanfiction council members and the Hokage's closest advisors. Why was Mitokado Homura in charge of the Genin corps? And was this good or bad for me?


…


The meeting lasted all of three minutes, I was given permission to negotiate with Genin corps teams for use of the training grounds in my compound, so I got what I wanted..


It just felt weirdly easy in the end, and it didn't sit right with me…


＊＊＊


Two days after the meeting I had offered the Genin corps four of the more distant training grounds in the Uchiha compound, the ones at the edge. Allowing them to enter the compound only for travel back and forth from the training grounds - and only the Genin corps. This gave me people to spy on with my Sharingan that I could hide from, no Chuunin or Jounin to catch me.


Besides, even if they did… They'd see it as unofficial payment for the free use of training grounds anyway.


Granted they weren't exactly the cream of the crop. But every Genjutsu or Ninjutsu I could grab ahold of was precious. And while lacking in massive ninjutsu reserves, the Genin corps had by necessity of less personalized teaching - gone the extra length in weaponry and Taijutsu. I learned every trick of how to throw weaponry perfectly, how to maneuver wire with chakra, my Sharingan taking everything in perfectly. The brutality of the trauma of the massacre plus my dimensional transplant having awoken the full, three tomoe Sharingan.


It was not something I could use for long, but long enough was good enough for now.


The Genin corps might not be Itachi's level. Yet for the most part, those that actually utilized the training grounds were more like bargain bin Chuunin than Genin. Just lacking the opportunity for promotion given to those clan born or Jounin taught. I learnt a lot just listening as the Genin chattered - some in their twenties, full of tricks and cheats they shared with their younger corps members. They handled most of the actual work in Konoha proper and the outlying communities. They learned many ways and small jutsus that simplified things, whether for travel, hiding, working or training.


Maintenance… That was the Genin corps. Sewer system, courier runs, archives, guard duty, and desk jobs in all the departments of Konoha. Even including hospital work minus the nurses and doctors, all Genin corps. At times I was too exhausted to use my Sharingan, my young body unable to keep it operational for very long, then I'd just listen. I'd take in the tips and tricks of veterans that had to scrape for every jutsu, for every mission or advantage. I learnt more from a few days in the training grounds than I had for the entire academy year.


I didn't have the chakra to really do much with any jutsu learnt anyway, so for now, I was happy with the ability to gain any knowledge that made me better than I was the day before.


And each night, no matter how exhausted I was, I'd light some candles for my family's souls, my gods, and for the promise that one day… Itachi… and the Hokage… Would pay. This I swore as my nails dug into his palms so hard that my blood dripped, another offering for Ameratsu, Tsukiyomi and Susanoo.


It might not have been my family in reality, not my gods.


But they were now.


＊＊＊


With my immediate need for training and improving myself, temporarily sated with the Genin corps solution - and whatever paltry information the academy slowly dished out piecemeal…


It was time to turn my attention elsewhere. The Hokage, out of pure spite for talking back to him or as some absurd loyalty test, had ensured I couldn't afford to maintain the compound.


The artifacts and other Uchiha heirlooms might be safe, but the buildings and the beautiful gardens that made this compound, Uchiha. It would be destroyed by neglect if I had to wait a possible 9-10 years to gain access to the clan finances.


I usually took to thinking on the problem as I practiced my Taijutsu, allowing myself to think as my body flowed through katas. I couldn't fight the Hokage on his decree... No one had stood up or defended the Uchiha, or even noticed their death until it was over. Which I found very suspicious, like impossible to explain suspicious - even the Hyuuga never saw a thing? Everyone wasn't in on the conspiracy surely...


No one had come in to defend me from losing control of the rites or the clan assets, for all I knew, the other clans were in on it and hoping for a nice big payout if I had any 'accidents' in training, or when I became a Genin.


So asking for help was out. The idea of going hands out, begging, to another clan… It repulsed me, it would show just how far the Uchiha name had fallen. I refused to allow that, someone needed to watch out for my family or the only thing still existing of theirs, the reputation.


I might be an imposter, but this was all I literally had…


I absolutely refused to demean my adopted ancestors more than they had already suffered. So I can't fight the Hokage, I can't get help from the clans… I grimaced as my muscles protested the limits I was pushing my body through. How I wished I could just relax and have some Mochi. But I couldn't… Because… Kami's sake Itachi, did you have to kill even the granny with the best sweets in Konoha!? Great, and now I was completely distracted.


Sweets on my mind taking over everything else. I guess I am still young…


I blew my bangs out of my face and distastefully realized I'd have to cut my hair soon. I started on my cool down routine, the orphan stipend wasn't plentiful - Yet, now that I had it on my mind, I really wanted something sweet.


"Just this one day." I muttered to myself as I went to have a quick wash - dressing myself afterwards, making sure the Uchiwa fan was proudly displayed. Konoha wasn't allowed to forget about my clan, even if I had to shove it down their throats everyday.


As always, walking around the compound just darkened my mood. The eerie silence... The spots where I clearly remembered relatives and civilians, Kami Itachi, why the civilians? How were they part of the coup? Killed by my lovely idiot of a brother... The blood had been cleared off but I could still see it in my mind, even as it didn't feel as real now.


I still hurried my steps, feeling as if the weight of his dead clan was pressing down on me. Their souls stuck until revenge could send them on. I soon arrived at one of the only non-Uchiha bakeries I'd ever visited. (Sasuke had anyway) It was just a small shop front at the bottom of an apartment building. Shisui had bought me some sweets from here once.


I sighed as I heard a commotion inside, hesitating at the door. I wanted something sweet, something to offset the taste of blood that always seemed to linger in the back of my throat in the compound. Yet… People, I thought uncharitably. I sighed and entered anyway, a little bell jingling as I did.


I tried to ignore the arguing as I picked out some cheap sweets I felt I could get away with this month - sending a few frowning glances at the commotion. An older white haired man with a weathered face, and with a gradually reddening face at that, was swearing and shaking his fist at a plump middle aged man.


He was just smugly standing there, as two girls tried in vain to calm their father? Employer? Realizing everything could be training I looked more closely, taking in the body language and actions. The one girl looked to be early twenties, plain by Uchiha standards, brown hair tied into a bun haphazardly, well worn apron, sensible clothes, rough fabric, patches. Meant to be worked in. Muscle definition in arms suggested baker, the light touch of one of her hands to the arm of the old man suggested familial relation rather than employee. I scrunched my nose up, or it indicated a really inappropriate relationship, I couldn't discount it as of yet.


The other girl seemed at most a few years younger than the first. Similar eye color and hair, although better taken care of, less worn - there were some similarities in facial structure that led me to believe she was a younger sister to the first woman. Just a touch of makeup, well taken care of nails, soft hands, style of dress more stylish and put together, more approachable. Likely runs the storefront.


As I practiced analyzing the civilians I walked closer to the counter to deposit my small hoard of sweets, and I twitched in annoyance as absolutely no one paid any attention to me.


This body's dead father could enter any room and immediately draw the attention of its occupants. I however couldn't even catch the attention of civilians when attempting to buy something in their own store. Was it a tallness thing? Or was I just not Uchiha enough? I moved to clear my throat when the old shop owner exploded on the other man.


"You can't do this Kentaro! Your father and I had a contract, we were practically family!" He spat out, looking absolutely incensed.


The other man, Kentaro obviously. Did not drop his condescending look as he simply raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "My father put too much stock into a dying culture." He looked around the shop, sneering at the bright colors and whirlpools across the walls. "Your problem, Hisuke, just like my father's, was this farcical adherence to Uzushio, which no longer exists!"


"Uzushio will never die as long as we keep it in our hearts, your parents understood this. Kentaro you were raised in the Uzushio quarters for Kami's sake!"


I had a brief flashback to memories of listening to some of the Uchiha elders' bitter complaints about the Hokage - when a swarm of refugees had descended on Konoha from Uzushio in the past ages ago, and as one elder had put it.. The poor, half mad masses of an inferior village got dumped into the district just outside the Uchiha clan compound.


I shook my head briefly, annoyed with myself. I'd wandered into the Uzushio district and hadn't noticed, despite the bright colors, murals and banners depicting the sea and the whirlpools everywhere. The homes and apartments and shops were all painted in reds and blues and other vivid colors. I needed to always be vigilant. I promised myself I would not zone out so pathetically again.


Kentaro scoffed, "Yes, the Uzushio quarters." He mocked. "The one…In Konoha, in case you haven't noticed."


"Father, no!" The older of the girls pulled back on Hisuke's arm, before the man could respond physically and no doubt worsen his situation.


Kentaro just shook his head, "Get with the times, we're Konoha now. No more swirls, water dancing or day of the dead. Those of us with sense have abandoned those old traditions. Assimilated into Konoha… And we can't be dragged down by you and your kind any longer. Your contract is terminated. And that's final!"


Hisuke, now held onto by one arm each by both girls, was shaking, he was that angry. I watched on dispassionately, annoyed that this was taking so long. I could feel the spark of an idea taking root. Would it work? My mind immediately started thinking of all the ways it could fail. And all the ways it was the solution to my problem.


This all worked its way through my brain quickly and before anyone else could continue the argument I piped in, "So you're getting evicted? That's great!"


Four pairs of eyes stared at me, mostly in surprise, they really hadn't noticed my presence at all.


"Do not make fun of my father!" The younger girl snapped out, cheeks flushed with anger.


I blinked and tilted my head slightly in confusion. "Ah, that might have been taken the wrong way. I just mean your eviction could potentially be beneficial for me."


Damn that didn't come out any better, talking to people is hard!


"Boy, out of respect for your recent loss I'm not tanning your hide, but you better have a point to this!" Hisuke growled.


I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling a bit flustered. Everything I was saying was coming out wrong. "I have an empty compound, including several bakeries or shops. One that will be a ruin in a decade, unless I find willing tenants to take care of the buildings in return for using them for cheap - until the Uchiha clan is repopulated." There, that was better I thought..


"Uchiha-Sama, my family has lately become one of the largest owners and developers of real estate in Konoha, we'd be honored to deal with this issue for you." Kentaro said quickly, a greasy smile pasted on his face.


"Kentaro…" Hisuke rumbled, a disgusted look on his face.


I scoffed loudly with derision, "I have been here for the last ten minutes. Not an inch of Uchiha land will go to a betrayer who'd turn his back on his family for money, I was talking to them, not you." I turned away from the disloyal man, turning to the small family of three. "Well?"


Hisuke grunted, "We don't have the money to start over new, young Uchiha." He admitted sourly. "Someone's been bleeding all the old country folk dry…" He sent Kentaro a piercing glare.


I couldn't care less about money, my stipend would ensure I was fed and clothed. I'd get the clan's assets when I became a Chuunin anyway. "What if your yearly rent is 1 Ryo? All I'd need from you is to keep the building you're living in, and the shop you're using, in good condition, and to keep it as is, preserving Uchiha land."


"Ah… Sorry Uchiha-kun…" The younger girl said hesitantly. "I don't mean to sound cruel. How are we to make a living?" I could hear the unsaid, when there's no one living there, that the girl hadn't dared to say.


I gave Kentaro a considering look, making the man perk up. "It sounded to me that this disloyalty spread to more than your shop, I would be willing to take in anyone else you know that have had similar issues. This would populate the shops and buildings again, same requirements. I want… I need the compound to stay in good condition." Kentaro's face grew darker and looked more sick than condescending, the longer I spoke.


"Child, you realize this would open up your clan compound? Yes, I believe any of us would find it agreeable to keep the aesthetic and repair of your land in good condition, but it would no longer act as a clan compound, for at least two decades. People would wander in and out, to shop or to visit. Can you handle that?" Hisuke said, in a much kinder voice, the redness having faded from his wrinkled and weathered face.


I inwardly shuddered at the idea of any civilian or Shinobi just wandering in, to shop, or to spy. I'd keep my house and Shisui's and the best training grounds, that would have to be enough. I couldn't fail the clan by letting their compound fall to ruin, or risk Konoha waiting for exactly that and then have the Hokage declare it all to be torn down for new development based on its dilapidated condition. "Yes, " I answered firmly, staring up into Hisuke's steely blue eyes. "For my clan, I can handle anything."


"I accept then, and I know dozens of people that would take the opportunity as well, no doubt more soon enough." Hisuke said, then with a measured look at me, he bowed his head slightly, "Uchiha-Sama." His daughter's following his lead.


Kentaro, who'd watched this entire interaction while looking increasingly more sweaty, spoke up again. "Hisuke, you can't go spreading this to everyone in the district! I can't compete with 1 Ryo in rent!" He argued with a wheedling tone to his voice.


Hisuke looked at him with a sad look in his eyes, "Your father would not have lost anyone no matter what rent someone else was offering. You've made your bed, now begone from my shop, it's still mine until the end of the month and you are not welcome here any longer."


Kentaro looked like he wanted to say more, but swallowed the words, likely understanding there was nothing he could do here. And rushed out of the store.


Hisuke looked after him and sighed deeply. "Sakura, go spread the news before that eel manages to lock them into a new contract by offering them a ten percent discount on their rent."


The younger daughter nodded her head firmly, "Right, I'll have word out in no time!" She declared, giving her father a kiss to the cheek, a hug to her older sister and a mumbled Uchiha-Sama to me, before she rushed out the door.


I put a hand on the sweets I had laid out on the counter, "I did actually come here to buy these, if it's still possible." I asked politely. Not sure now how to act with, where they vassals? Was I just a landlord?


Hisuke gave me a half smile and a kind look, "I think all things considered they're on the house."


＊＊＊


I had underestimated how desirable not only an offer of low rent was, but to live inside the compound was - even if it was clear from the beginning they'd all have to move out at some point decades ahead.


Although the Uchiha clan by the time they died had numbered just a few hundred, they had been more plentiful in the past, especially before the construction of Konoha, the clan compound reflected that size. And there was room for almost 2500 souls within the compound.


Once word got out, I was flooded with requests. Having only set out to take in those prior refugees that understood family and loyalty, I was chagrined to find out that I'd still have half the compound left to fill after I, with the help of Hisuke and a lawyer friend of his, set up the contracts and interviewed the Uzushio remnants.


It was a simple contract as I didn't need much from the residents. Keep the Uchiha property pristine and in the condition it is in, and do not do any major renovation without my permission. And they were all aware that once Uchiha were being born again, their contracts would be voided to make room on a case by case basis, with no avenue to protest or remain housed on Uchiha land without my approval.


Considering how long it would actually take to repopulate… Most people probably figured they'd be dead by the time they'd need to relocate…


Unfortunately, now every civilian with an eye on marrying their daughter to me, or every bum looking for a cheap place to live - was sending in applications. I hadn't been able to do more than his mornings warmup Katas for a week!


Currently I was sitting in the garden behind Shisui's house, dark bags under my eyes, sipping on tea as I went through applications with Hisuke and his daughters Sakura and Honoka.


"I recognize this one." I said, soaking in the warmth of the tea, the aroma refreshing me from this hell I had consigned myself to. "Uzumaki Naruto. It's that idiot from my academy class."


Hisuke stiffened slightly and I, who had been endlessly watching body language and micro expressions over the last week caught it immediately. "Don't tell me the idiot pranked your shop or something." I sighed, putting the application in the maybe pile casually.


I knew they likely knew about the Kyuubi, but I couldn't let them know that I knew.


Hisuke slowly reached over and moved it to the reject pile. I glowered at him through the steam from my tea. "I might not like the idiot, but I'm pretty sure he's an orphan, it wouldn't be the worst idea to have him spend his free time keeping things clean around here."


I don't particularly want him here, but it's interesting to see despite your heritage how you're denying him…


Hisuke looked severely conflicted as he chewed on his lip. I took it all in with interest. Raising an eyebrow in a silent question.


Hisuke hesitated, before slowly speaking. "If you place Uzumaki… In the same area as the Uzushio survivor's… You might see some heavy push back from the Konoha government." He said finally.


I hned thoughtfully. "Uzumaki was a Uzushio clan wasn't it?" I asked mock-curiously.


Hisuke winced, "Yeah… Yeah that's why!" He started slow and then rushed through the words like he'd been thrown a lifeline.


I let it go for now but took a mental note to pay more attention to Naruto to see if I could do something there, probably not as much as invite him over to live… The Hokage would definitely get involved in that.


"You have a lot of applications from the Genin corps." Honoka said sorting a pile, presumably entirely made of Genin corps applications.


I made an annoyed face, "They're already using the training grounds." I complained.


"Genin is probably more preferable then most civilian applications you have received, Sasuke-Sama." Sakura piped in. Her pile consisted almost solely of rejections.


"They'll also put more holes in the wall." I said, so done with this entire thing. Why had I thought opening up the compound was a good idea again?


"You know you don't have to fill to capacity. If you allow some of the Genin in, you could have their contract stipulate that they are responsible for maintaining the leftover empty buildings." Hisuke suggested. "With a hundred or two hundred Genin to fill out with what we have already you'd only have a couple hundred spots left empty. You could then fill them at your leisure while we and the Genin share the burden of keeping everything maintained."


I grimaced, not wanting to deal with it. "Fine, just, you do the interview and pick the Genin, or do a lottery for all I care. If they mess up they're out. I haven't trained properly for a week! And I have the Academy again in another week. I can't keep spending time on this." I finished somewhat mulishly.


Hisuke sent me an understanding look. I didn't like it very much, it was the kind of yes, you're seven years old and I expected this tantrum eventually - kind of look. I glowered at him.


"Before you go, a letter from the Hokage arrived this morning." Sakura cheerfully piped in with, blushing slightly as both myself and Hisuke glare at her. "I forgot!" She protested, she quickly slid it over to me who sniffed in annoyance and opened it, expecting protests and threats over opening up the compound.


I read it once. Twice. Thrice. And I still can't make any sense of it. I squinted at it as if to decipher any hidden meaning.


"Bad news?" Hisuke asked with forced casualness. I can see that he's somewhat tense. I can appreciate that someone other than me can see that the third Hokage is an absolute monster.


I frown at the letter, "No… I don't understand. It's congratulating me on helping those who have less, and for letting go of ghosts and opening the compound for the people of Konoha." It doesn't make any sense to me. The Hokage was the one who gave me no other choice if I wanted to keep the compound from deteriorating, what is the meaning of this… Praise? Where's the hidden insult? The trap? "I don't understand this." I finally admit.


"Isn't that nice?" Honoka asked, looking between the two of them confusedly.


"If the Hokage says you're doing good, then you're all set, Sasuke-Sama!" Sakura cheered.


Hisuke and I both gritted our teeth at the same time, Honoka rolled her eyes at us, "Honestly father, how have you infected Sasuke-Sama with your irrational dislike of the third already!?"


"It's not irrational." Hisuke grumbled, at the same time as I bit out, "There's a trick somewhere in this letter, I just have to figure it out. Maybe if I use the Sharingan…"


Hisuke joined me in another read through of the letter as Honoka and Sakura locked eyes and managed to roll them at the same time, with amused little smiles on their lips. Boys!


＊＊＊


That's a wrap!


Cheers

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Just a snippet that came to mind. An SI where not a single part of the snippet is from the self inserts view. Worked on during lunch breaks and the like.


People in Brockton Bay are both having a much better - and much much worse time.


This is Worm, so warnings for possible death, destruction, depressing and disgusting shit and Nazi language.


Standard disclaimer - Worm belongs to Wildbow, it is not mine, I am simply playing in the kiddie pool.


＊＊＊


"Ames, please, I didn't mean to hurt him this bad, I promise it's the last one." Vicky begged, holding her hands together in a praying pose, her lower lip slightly trembling.


Amy sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Yeah, that's what you said about the other four, the last one would have died if I hadn't gotten there in time, Vicky." Yet even as she said it, she moved towards the thug bleeding out on the pavement, a partially crushed rib cage the sight of Glory Girls over eagerness. "Shit, Vicky, this one would have died too! You have to stop this!" She groaned, kneeling down, not bothering to ask the unconscious man for permission to heal.


Vicky floated dejectedly a few inches off the ground, rubbing one arm self consciously, "Yeah… I just don't know my own strength sometimes." She chuckled self deprecatingly.


"Panacea, Glory Girl. Mind explaining this situation?" A sharp voice rang out.


Both girls' heads snapped up to the entrance of the alley, where several fully kitted out PRT troopers stood, rifles pointed down, but available, as they assessed the scene, their full head coverings giving the girls no idea what they thought of what they saw.


Victoria flashed a brilliant smile, her aura coming to the forefront full bore, love me, "Heya guys, just found someone heavily injured and got Ames to come save 'em, business as usual!"


"Don't let us stop you, Panacea, the victim looks in dire straits." The lead PRT trooper said, all of them relaxing markedly after the blast from Glory Girl, she was a trusted hero after all.


Amy quickly laid a hand on the thug, using some of the biomass from his heavy gut to repair his injuries, purposefully not healing the man fully, not wanting him to regain consciousness right now and finger Vicky as the one that injured him. "All good, he won't even need the hospital." She lied, giving Vicky a dark look, promising reprisals for putting her through this.


Vicky notably winced, but turned back to the PRT troopers, floating closer, a winning grin on her face, "All good, you guys sure had a good response time, but we took care of it." She laid some praise down, even as she continued to lay her aura a bit thick. Amy was right, she definitely needed to control herself, this had been a close one!


"Glory Girl, stand down." A quiet but stern voice called from above them.


Vicky and Amy both flinched and looked up to the edge of the rooftop over the alley, finding Miss Militia crouched up there, her eyes hard, and was that disappointment?


"Hey MM!" Victoria said, giving a hesitant wave, "Sorry, but stand down? What do you mean?"


PRT troopers now appeared at the other end of the alley, their rifles were no longer pointed downwards, both girls swiveled their heads to the first couple soldiers, to find them also hefting their weapons in their general direction.


"What the hell? Brandish is going to sue you into the stone age if you keep pointing those at us!" Amy snapped, nervous sweat rolling down the nape of her neck, her hand reaching for the thug again, to erase the evidence.


A rubber bullet rang out, hitting the pavement in-between them, making Amy withdraw her hand, even as Victoria flew to her side, hands up, "Whoa, Whoa!" She called out, face enraged and scared in equal measures. "What the hell!?"


"Panacea, do not attempt to touch the victim without authorization again." Miss Militia said, heavily, her hand now holding a gun, and it was pointed at them. Her gaze turned to Glory Girl, "Stand down, and put your hands on your head." She ordered, with finality.


They'd seen such a business-like and stern mien on the Protectorate hero before, but only when she was dealing with criminals, not them.


"Jesus, what the hell is this?" Vicky snapped, her aura flaring out, the jostle of rifles audible - as the PRT troopers stepped back a step.


"Vicky… Just do as she says, don't make this worse..." Gallant's voice came from above them, the ward coming to stand next to where Miss Militia was crouched, Dauntless also visible in the air above them. He sounded reluctant and weary, but he still stood against them.


"What… What the hell is this!?" Vicky shouted up at Gallant, Amy nervously watching the PRT troopers that had them surrounded.


They might have been able to fly off and get back home and do some damage control, somehow… But not with Dauntless up there as well.


Miss Militia straightened up, and her gun never wavered once, "We received a tip, about a hero potentially committing manslaughter…"


Amy felt her heart sink into her stomach, at the same time as Vicky actually had her feet hit the ground as she forgot to float in her shock. "W-what?" She croaked out.


Miss Militia shook her head, "Girls… We've had this alley under surveillance since Glory Girl flew off to get help in covering this incident up. We know you almost murdered this man, we know from your own words you've done this before and covered it up, and we know you lied to the PRT when they arrived on the scene. According to Gallant, you, Glory Girl, then attempted to use a Parahuman power on PRT troopers to influence them - which is assault with a Parahuman power. That's not even mentioning what Panacea has possibly done to the victim that made her try to heal him a second time."


Miss Militia gave Amy a judging look, "Your healing has been well documented, there shouldn't be a need for a second pass, unless you deliberately did something or left something undone, as a way to cover up your crimes, perhaps?"


Amy gulped as Vicky slowly saw the situation that was in front of them, and slowly put her hands on her head, tears in her eyes as she stared up at Gallant. They'd been entrapped. And Vicky's boyfriend had been in on it.


Amy couldn't feel happy for that relationship breaking apart though, as she put her own hands on her head, PRT troopers moving in to arrest them.


Carol… Is going to blame me for all of this… She thought woefully.


＊＊＊


The Rig, Brockton Bay.


Sitting in an actual interrogation room was a new experience, one Amy really could have done without.


She thought the handcuffs cuffing her to the metal table was a bit much, it wasn't like she was really dangerous. She could be, but she wasn't like that, would never do that! This was just… To protect Vicky…. She hadn't done anything bad!


She couldn't even convince herself, her self loathing pointing out that everything Carol had ever said about her had come true. How she'd not only become a criminal, but had brought Vicky down with her. If she'd just stopped her the first time, refused to heal the man whose arm she'd broken - she would have never kept escalating.


When the door finally opened, after two hours of waiting - which had been after another five spent in a cell, she was initially relieved, then she sank in on herself even more as she realized it wasn't Miss Militia or even Armsmaster…


Director Piggot herself had come to interrogate her.


She kept her head down as the Director slowly sat down in front of her, laying a file folder on the table.


"Surely you have some spine in you, girl? Raise your head." Piggot said clippedly, arranging some papers that she'd taken out of the folder.


Amy raised her head, sullenly glaring at the woman, "I'm not saying anything without my mom here." She said stiffly, knowing that Carol would be even angrier if she spoke to the PRT without a lawyer present.


Piggot raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "That is your right, you don't need to speak then, just listen."


One by one she laid out photos, each one was of a man she recognized, one of the thugs she'd had to heal. She bit her lip to stop herself from speaking up and further incriminating herself. Carol would fix all this, lawyering was what she did.


"That's three counts of simple assault with a Parahuman power, two more of assault that could have been a murder or manslaughter charge if not for your efforts to cover it up." Piggot said conversationally, tapping the pictures, one by one, slowly.


"You already know the charges Miss Militia brought up for your arrests, what you may have failed to realize is that you face a charge of assault for each of these victims, not only an accessory charge." Piggot continued mercilessly, her gaze judging and full of distaste.


Amy had always known, hearing about it from the wards and from Vicky - that Piggot disliked Parahumans, but it almost looked like she was afraid of her, even handcuffed to the table as she was. She couldn't fathom why. Reluctantly she spoke up, the silence after Piggots last statement getting to her, "I didn't hurt anyone." She mumbled, hands clenching in their caged positions.


Piggot chuckled harshly, "And did you ask all of these gentlemen whether they desired your healing? Or did you force it on them and then threatened harm to them if they told anyone?" Her smile was vicious as her voice dripped heavy with sarcasm, "Forcing your power on someone in anything but lawful dispensation of your duty, is in every way still assault, no two ways about it."


Amy froze, not realizing they knew so much, but of course if she had the men's files, they'd actually found them all, and talked to them. This was beginning to look really bad. "Where's my mom?" She asked slightly hysterically.


Piggot smiled, Amy had seen sharks on the discovery channel that had friendlier smiles, "Brandish left thirty minutes ago after reaching a plea deal for Glory Girl."


Amy's entire world came crashing down, her thoughts moving as through molasses, a ringing sound all she could hear. "Oh." She said simply, realizing she'd been all but abandoned, cut loose, blamed for everything. What else had she expected?


She didn't know how long she sat there, stewing in her own fears, some tears falling as she realized just how little she could count on her family. Vicky, how she loved her! But… She'd done this to Amy, and she'd be getting bailed out… it wasn't fair!


"Besides…" Director Piggot broke the silence, sliding a paper over towards Amy, "It turns out your adoption was illegal and more akin to kidnapping, so Brandish is facing her own situation with the law." The vicious pleasure in the director's tone would have taken Amy aback, if she didn't have a head full of not so complimentary thoughts of Carol herself right now.


She couldn't help but look down at the papers, "Amelia Claire Lavere…" She mumbled, dazed.


Director Piggot rose, "I'll let you think on things, you'll be escorted to your cell momentarily, there will be a few things left out for you to read, I would study them religiously, they're your only way out."


Amy barely heard her, her eyes focused on the innocuous paper, Amelia Claire Lavere…


＊＊＊


An hour later, The Rig, Director's Office, Brockton Bay.


Sarah Pelham didn't know what to think, she didn't know what to do…


When Carol had come to get her, leaving the Rig to come talk to her - she hadn't had any idea of what exactly was happening, having only received a text letting her know that the girls were in custody.


And that it didn't look good…


Now she knew far more than what she liked. Oh Victoria…. How could you… And to drag Amy into it as well… She lamented, sitting in front of Director Piggot, Carol at her left. Her sister had already made a deal with the PRT in regards to Victoria before arriving home to explain things to her, and to drag Sarah back to the Rig with her, the entire team hanging in the balance.


Carol finally broke the silence, the Director not even looking at them as she typed away at her computer, "You wanted to discuss a way forward, Director Piggot?" She asked coldly, her distaste for the militaristic Director no news to either of the other women.


Director Piggot nodded sharply, hitting a key with some extra force, papers beginning to print out, "Yes, some reorganization is in order due to recent events." She said, turning their way, a look of reproach on her face, "Your absolute failure in keeping Glory Girl and Panacea within the bounds of the law puts you in a difficult position." Her lips quirking slightly, with a flash of smugness, as she continued, "Not to mention the optics for your team for illegally adopting a child you kidnapped from the villain whose home you invaded."


Piggot shook her head, no pity or mercy to be found in the depths of her gaze. "No wonder you didn't take it to the Empire after Fleur died, you would have been hypocrites, having broken the unwritten rules yourself already, especially if any of the gangs knew."


Sarah closed her eyes, so that's how it is… She thought with defeat, shaking her head even as Carol snarled back at the Director.


"We've ridden out public discontent before, we can do it again!"


Sarah continued to shake her head, almost wanting to weep, but controlling herself, she was the team leader of New Wave, she wouldn't break down here of all places. "Carol, stop! You know as well as I do that without Glory Girl and Panacea there wouldn't even be a team anymore. None of us are active enough, not really."


She hated to admit it, but seeing how nothing they did achieved anything, they'd all kind of… Just scaled back, patrolled their neighborhood and not much else. Without Panacea and Glory Girl to bring in donations and PR money - they weren't even financially viable.


Carol stiffened, her hands clenching as she looked away from Sarah. Her sister was just as aware of their situation, she was just not one to accept defeat as easily. But defeat this most definitely was. The only question was the cost.


"What do you have in mind? You wouldn't call me in here if you didn't have a deal laid out already." Sarah said heavily, eyes firmly on Director Piggot. The bitch didn't even have the decency to act triumphant or anything, just sitting calmly at her desk.


Just another day at work.


"Glory Girl and Panacea will be Wards, the first is already signed and done with, the second we're letting stew a little, since her legal situation is a bit murky." Director Piggot explained matter of factly. "No matter what, she is no longer under your custody, and will not return to your home, we are not in the habit of giving back kidnapping victims." The dry tone of her voice irritated Sarah, and obviously Carol as well as the woman barely held back from snapping out something unwise.


Sarah gave her sister a warning look, the last thing they needed was anymore trouble. She turned back to Piggot, "I suppose we can't really say or do much about that, but Carol has given Amy a good life, and I would hardly classify it as kidnapping."


Having the PRT take over guardianship for Any for the next two years likely meant she'd be lost to them. Sarah wasn't unaware of the strained relationship between Carol and Amy, and the PRT would be able to offer her a camaraderie she knew Amy didn't have within New Wave.


Director Piggot raised an unimpressed eyebrow, scowling lightly at her, "You're welcome to use that defense in court if you wish to fight us." She offered, already knowing Sarah would do no such things. For one, they'd likely loose, the law wouldn't take into account how good a life someone had after being illegally taken into custody.


Plus the PR would be a nightmare and would kill the New Wave movement either way.


"And us?" Sarah asked, bracing herself. She could see Carol closing her eyes and muttering expletives under her breath. Same feeling here, sis. She thought, an uncomfortable feeling tying her gut into knots.


Director Piggot gestured to the printer, and the stack of paperwork it had printed out, "The underage members will be Wards or retire from being heroes. The adult members will join the Protectorate, or likewise, retire." Her eyes met Sarah's before moving to Carol's, absolute certainty in them, "You make one move to try and remain independent heroes, we all move forward with charges and lawsuits."


Needless to say, the public perception of Glory Girl and Panacea almost murdering people and covering it up, including lying and using powers on PRT troopers - coupled with Carol and Mark illegally adopting Amy - would absolutely ruin them, which didn't leave them with much choice.


Fighting the PRT was difficult enough in a system built up to defer to them heavily, it was impossible when you were actually guilty for all that they charged you with.


Not without going villain - which was not a step they'd take.


Retire or join… Sarah nodded stiffly, about what I expected, although honestly, I hadn't expected to be given the out…


Not that anyone but Carol could take it. She had a day job that paid well enough, the rest of them lived off New Wave for the most part, they needed the Protectorate salary if they wouldn't be continuing the movement.


"We'll need to discuss it and speak with a lawyer." Sarah said heavily, gesturing for Carol to join her as she got up to leave. "This all stays quiet?" She asked.


Director Piggot smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant one, "For now." She agreed, "I wouldn't dally too long." She gave Carol and her mullish look one last long look, pursing her lips, "Carol… We took DNA tests, we know."


Carol froze, Sarah looking at her quizzically, not understanding, of course they knew Amy wasn't Mark and Carols, they'd already been talking about it. "What is she talking about, Carol?" She asked, worried.


Carol shut her down with one fearful and angry look, her lips pinched. Notably, any fight seemed to have drained out of her at the Director's statement.


They left the Rig, needing to have a family meeting, to decide if they were going to fight, retire, or continue the hero business, this time from within the system.


With Carol on a spiral of panic and anger, and Sarah having a kernel of suspicion brewing in her gut as she stared at her sister's back…


They left without making any stops, heading straight for a team meeting.


Neither woman remembered Amy, stuck alone in a cell, desperate for information, for validation, for anyone to be on her side.


Luckily the Rig had several friendly Wards to talk to, and a woman named Yamada.


＊＊＊


One week later, Director's office, The Rig, Brockton Bay.


Thomas Calvert sat down calmly in front of Emily Piggot, utterly relaxed to any casual observer.


Inwardly he felt an odd mix of almost pride, as well as aggravation. Recent events would make it much more difficult to dislodge Emily as the PRT director for the ENE region. At the same time, he did feel a little thrill to have her show some competence in her unknown fight against him. Co-opting New Wave so brilliantly, why, Coil couldn't have done it better himself!


Not to mention she'd managed to defang the youth guard in the last week, finding issues with several wards that the youth guard had either willingly ignored, or actively covered up.


He could appreciate the cleverness in defanging the Youth guard right as she'd had an impressionable and desperately alone Panacea dropped in her lap.


Truly, it had been masterfully played. And it would all be his when he took over her job, so really, he did feel some measure of pride over the work she'd done for him.


"Congratulations Emily." He said, breaking the silence, choosing a more personal touch as this hadn't been billed as an official meeting. "Getting the entire New Wave team into line will dramatically shift the axis of power in the city."


They'd been around, sure, but not active enough to really matter. Now though, working under orders from the PRT, they'd be put to actual use. Even Brandish followed the team into the fold. It certainly would change how Coil would do things going forward, the PRT actually a possible threat now.


Especially as Emily had finally actually gotten herself healed up, even going so far apparently as to have Panacea get her back to form, looking more like her old self then ever, which he admitted was slightly intimidating.


Especially as it showed a shift in attitude and priorities that meant he couldn't accurately predict her anymore.


It likely also had the Empire sweating bullets, seeing the writing on the wall - Emily being back in form and with enough cape back up to take it to the Empire…. Kaiser was hardly blind.


He'd be gearing up for war.


"Save me the ass kissing, Thomas." Emily scoffed, giving him a look of such obvious distaste that it took him aback.


She didn't like him, he knew that, found it amusing to use throw away timelines to reveal himself to her just to see her absolute rage - but she was never obvious about it otherwise. He didn't like it. Something more had changed.


Luckily he did have another timeline going, working as Coil in his underground lair. So he could afford to push, and see what this was really about. "Come now Emily, why the hostility? You should be happy, right now." He said, with an infuriating smirk that he knew would piss her off further.


Emily's lips twitched slightly, as the muffled sound of a radio sounded out from her desk. Giving him a toothy grin that looked so out of place he actually shifted slightly away from the woman, she opened a desk drawer, taking a radio out, and a gun, which she promptly pointed at him!


He raised his hands slightly, "Emily… Think this through, you might have been mastered, you're acting very odd right now." He said, very thrown by what was happening.


"Director Piggot, come in, over?" Armsmasters voice came over the radio.


"Don't worry, Coil… I'll get to you soon." Emily said, freezing him in place far more successfully then the gun had.


How does she know? The other timeline won't help me much if she is aware there as well? Did something happen with New Wave? No, how would they know? Coil's mind was moving fast as he tried to understand how he'd been revealed.


"Piggot to Armsmaster, you have a go on the operation, over." Emily said, seeming to savor the moment, an uncharacteristic amount of glee in her visage.


Thomas missed Armsmasters reply, frozen in place as alarms began blaring in his base, his fingers flying across his keyboard as he went through cameras until he found the breached wall, and the absolute flood of water rushing though, far more than his pumps would ever be able to handle.


He rushed for his emergency door, opening it, having already set the self-destruct to destroy any evidence, only to fall back as water immediately rushed though the open door, immediately submerging him as it continued to flow in.


Thomas looked at Emily Piggot, then at the clock, exactly at 13:05. Five minutes after he made it to the meeting scheduled for 13:00. She knew more than his name, she knew his power. "You can't do this, Emily, I don't have a kill order." He said, dropping all pretenses.


This was now about survival.


He wasn't going to make it out of his base, not with how fast it was filling, his office would fill before anywhere else due to his emergency exit being part of the access point for the flood. He had not expected the heroes to use such a lethal manner to deal with him. He hadn't expected them to deal with him at all!


Emily laughed shortly, cold and harsh, "Coil doesn't have a known power, he's an enigma." She said, gun unerringly pointed at his face even as Coil began to drown in the other timeline.


"It was beyond easy to get Panacea to create a biologically altered creature in secret as part of her deal with me, the girl desperate to have somewhere to belong, and down right eager to experiment when she had the PRT director herself ordering her and giving her lawful permission. Telling her it was only done to take down a horrible villain had her get the work done days ahead of your planned execution." Piggot explained, confusing Thomas, his brows furrowing slightly even as he had a hard time swallowing, feeling like a noose was tightening around his throat.


"Since Coil's power is completely unknown," Piggot mocked lightly, eyes lit up with sadistic glee, the most alive expression he'd seen her with for years, "It was not that hard to get a kill order signed off on this dangerous recently discovered bio tinker capable of making reproducible biological creatures - I knew some friendly judges and PRT directors to go through to bypass involving the triumvirate - speed was of the essence for such a dire threat of course, before Brockton could go like Ellisburg. The PRT director was sadly unavailable due to being in master/stranger screening - due to an accusation she wasn't the real PRT director, coming straight from a trusted source."


Thomas didn't quite understand all of what she was talking about, to his chagrin, although he suspected she was aware of Cauldron and referencing them, which if anything made him terrified.


What the fuck was going on? He stared into Emily's eyes, absolutely sick to his stomach, "You made me out as a second coming of Nilbog!?" He clarified, panicking, seeing the irony, before his mind began almost gibbering in fear as he saw no way out! His vision darkening in the other timeline.


"Yes I did." She said pleasantly, savoring the words, drawing them out like they were a fine wine.


At that moment Coil died in the other timeline, a truly unpleasant experience, and Thomas immediately made another timeline, in one he immediately began pleading for his life, "Emily, we have history together! The only surviv-"


In the other he tried to bargain, "I have a lot of information, both on all the gangs and on people in the PRT and a secret soci-"


In both timelines he couldn't finish, as a bullet blew his head out, Emily Piggot watching with grim satisfaction, holding a smoking gun, being his last sight.


＊＊＊


Across Brockton Bay,


Rachel looked suspiciously at the hero who'd appeared at the dog shelter, her hackles raised.


Her dogs growled, standing at her side, ready to attack at a single sign from her.


Assault lightly tossed a radio over, before ambling away, giving her a cheery wave.


Leaving behind a plate of raw steaks, Rachel wasn't stupid, she just didn't understand people normally, this… She could sort of understand.


He was bribing her to listen to something.


Rachel frowned, looking down at the radio. Slowly she bent down and picked it up, flicking the button to speak, "What?" She barked out roughly.


"Bitch, this is Director Piggot of the PRT, I'll keep this quick as I know you don't care for pleasantries, I'm offering you a pardon, signing you on as an affiliate to the Protectorate as a special asset."


Rachel scoffed, "I don't give a shit, I'm no hero." She was about to throw the radio away, having no time for that shit, when it blared again.


"As part of the deal you'd have the largest dog shelter in Brockton Bay fully paid for, all stray dogs in Brockton under your roof, and PRT and Protectorate assistance to shut down any dog fighting rings wherever they may be. In return, when we deal with the gangs or any threats to the city, you and your dogs are on our side."


Rachel stopped, staring at the radio, "... Don't bullshit me…" She warned, a low growl building in her throat.


"Let's talk specifics." The voice answered back.


And despite her suspicions and distaste.


Rachel listened.


…


Brian rushed into the apartment building his sister lived in with their dad, having received an emergency text from Aisha that he needed to be there immediately.


He knew their dad would be at work, so it meant an emergency with Aisha being alone.


His mind whirled through worst case scenario after worst case scenario as he pounded his way up the stairs, the elevator as usual down - not that he'd have the patience to wait for it even if it was in service.


Making it to the apartment door, he shoulder-checked it, racing into the apartment, "Aisha! Where are you!?" He shouted, before skidding to a halt, his jaw dropping.


Aisha was sitting at the kitchen table, a wide grin on her face as she chatted away rapidly at Vista! And standing next to her, leaning against the fridge, was motherfucking Velocity!


Get that junk away from my sister! He wanted to scream at the indecent hero.


"Aisha… What's going on?" He asked cautiously, trying to play it off like the concerned brother he was, and not like the supervillain who'd been ready to come home and beat the shit out of anyone that was bothering his sister.


He really wanted to scream, because this was such a break of the unwritten rules it was insane!


"Hey big bro, you didn't tell me you were a hero!" Aisha said, a teasing look on her face.


Brian blanched, what the fuck? He stared wild eyed at Velocity, "The unwritten rules…" He said, then winced, good going, you practically outed yourself anyway there!


Velocity chuckled, gesturing to some papers on the table, "Brian, there's your custody papers for this little scamp, we already have a key for your new apartment and everything." He cocked his head, "All available after you've signed the Wards contract of course, Like we discussed…"


Brian just stared at the man, because what the fuck twilight zone was he in, discuss my ass!?


"Bro! You didn't tell me you got custody!" Aisha shrieked, jumping off the kitchen chair and tackling him around the waist.


Brian patted her head as he stood in a daze, meeting the amused heroes looks, "Wards?" He managed to ask weakly.


What the hell is happening?


…


Lisa banged her head on the steering wheel several times. So god damn close!


She was literally one turn away from getting on the highway down to Boston, getting the hell out of this city, where her power kept screaming at her that something was very wrong.


Then Kid fucking Win had began hovering over her car on his fucking hoverboard.


Knows who you are, unwritten rules no longer in play by the PRT, will use confoam grenades at any sight of resistance. Was briefed on your capabilities, knows not to let you talk, will attack if you speak, her power helpfully provided, only fueling her wish to get the fuck out of Brockton Bay!


To make things even better, the sound of Armsmasters motorcycle could be heard down the road, and she soon had the pleasure of seeing the hero pull up next to her rental. Any hope of making it out of the city practically nil, as she stared forlornly at the highway exit.


She glanced at Armsmaster as he approached, her power immediately kicking in.


Knows who you are, displeased to have orders to not arrest you unless an attempt is made to flee, wants you to resist. Approves of the breaking of the unwritten rules. Decision not made by heroes, made by the Director?


Great, just fantastic. She lost the yoke of Coil only to have the PRT go absolutely nutfucking nuts on her, disregarding all the rules.


Fuck the old boss, welcome to the new boss…


Armsmaster gruffly stuck a radio through the driver side window, not even bothering to say please. Walking off after, with Kid Win flying off after him as well, leaving her alone.


Not that they couldn't just hop back over and stop her from leaving if she tried…


Lisa had wanted to make a smart remark, but she was honestly too terrified at how unreal everything was right now, her power not nearly as helpful when everything was too crazy to draw proper conclusions.


"Tattletale, the world will end in two to fifteen years, do you want to help and get richly rewarded during - or go crawl into a hole and wait for destruction?" A stern voice challenged her over the radio.


Lisa returned to banging her head against the wheel. Now that just wasn't fair!


Who uses planetary destruction as an opening gambit in negotiations!!!


…


Alec looked weirdly at the radio he'd been given, not sure if he'd heard that correctly, "Excuse me?" He said, feeling… Something, for the first time in a long time.


With him being inside the Undersiders lair, it had been fairly annoying to have Triumph stop by suddenly. So much for this base, he'd thought. But this was honestly even weirder.


"I have a sniper team overlooking Heartbreakers estate right now, they have the shot. Sign the papers and they'll take it." The clipped stern sounding voice said.


Alec looked down at the papers that would make him a special asset of the PRT ENE, "What exactly is a special asset?" He previcarated, knowing it didn't matter, because he'd end up saying yes anyway.


"You'll be turning enemies of Brockton Bay against their own, working for the side of good, doing bad things." The voice paused for a moment, before continuing on, "You'll never do PR or join the Wards or Protectorate, not openly, as far as the public is aware, you don't exist."


Alec thought that sounded like a pretty sweet deal, all things considered, he certainly didn't want to be one of the prancing ponies walking down the boardwalk to smile on cue. "Is the pay any good?" He asked, suspicious he'd be asked to do this all for charity.


"Twice the rate you were being paid currently." Was the curt reply. "With heavy bonuses for you for any villains we order you to convert."


Alec hummed in thought, "I thought it was illegal to kill a cape premeditated like this without a kill order?" He asked, wanting to be sure.


The voice was quiet for a few moments, before dryly replying, "I don't know what you're talking about, the ordinary mercenary team in Montreal hardly has anything to do with the Brockton Bay PRT."


Alec signed on the dotted line, casually ambling outside to hand the paperwork over to Triumph.


Someone willing to cause a shit ton of chaos in Canada by taking dear old dad out, not caring about the consequences as long as the job got done, that's someone he could work for.


"It's all here, Ma'am." The hero said respectfully into the radio.


"Regent, go with Triumph, also, check your phone." The radio signal ended abruptly after that.


Alec got a message with a picture two minutes later, and for the first time, smiled a truly genuine smile.


…


"Dinah Alcott?"


Dinah turned, peering suspiciously at the hero who stood on the sidewalk, normally she would have been elated, but with all the horrible predictions she'd had, she knew the heroes couldn't save her.


So a hero showing interest in her was not good.


"Not interested." She said, not bothering to act like a normal fan stricken girl, her head hurting way too much, and if they were here anyway, they already knew.


"Just hear me out, Dinah, Miss Militia is already speaking to your parents, I just volunteered to come explain things on your walk home from school, to smooth the process." Gallant said kindly.


Dinah sighed, shoulders slumping, she wouldn't cry in front of a hero, she wouldn't! Instead she spoke in a defeated voice, "If I go to the PRT I have a 76.342 chance of a bad end."


Gallant walked up next to her, "I understand how difficult and scary it must have been to see bad things happening and not being able to get out." He said compassionately.


"Then leave me alone if you understand!" She snapped, tears springing to her eyes despite every attempt to keep them back.


Gallant crouched down, looking ridiculous in his knightly armor crouched like that - speaking with her in a gentle tone like if he was dealing with a wild animal, which offended Dinah something fierce, but then she registered what he was saying…


"Have you checked those numbers in the last 48 hours?"


Dinah automatically checked, even knowing she'd just make the pain so much worse.


Her hands flew to her mouth, as she gasped, tears running freely down her face as she jumped at Gallant, "4.623 chance!" She cried in jubilation.


She didn't know what had changed, but she was safe!


＊＊＊


Sophia couldn't believe what was happening.


Piggy had gone from an overbearing fatty who couldn't help but stick her nose into everything and ruin any fun - including any efforts to actually stick it to the gangs - to a soldier, organizing an effort to go to fucking war!


She didn't really give a shit what happened or how, nor how New Wave ended up drafted, or any of that garbage - all she cared about was that her leash was off now, how the Director actually allowed her to carry lethal ordinance again, actually wanted her to do her job, something no other hero in Brockton Bay could do.


She waited in eagerness outside the restaurant Piggot had directed her at.


Apparently they had a new thinker or something that had said there was a 86 percent chance or something - that Lung would show up at this restaurant this evening.


Normally Sophia wouldn't go within a block of Lung, she was a predator, the predator in this shit sack city, but some prey was just too big even for her, she wasn't the only predator in town.


But Piggot had thrown the unwritten rules out of the window, just to stick it to the gangs, something Sophia could respect, it took guts to do something like that. Piggot would probably get fired or jailed or something, but fuck, if the gangs were all gone, it would be worth it.


She'd sat Sophia down, explained how her power could no sell Lung. How his regeneration wouldn't do shit if she phased her bolts into his brain and heart.


Halbeard had worked on a tranquilizer for the dragon as well, which Piggot authorized to be added to her lethal bolts, to further ensure the dragon did not come back.


She, Shadow Stalker, was going to take out the dude who beat up the entire Protectorate when he arrived in Brockton Bay.


She was going to be a legend!


She waited on the rooftop with anxious and eager energy, two crossbows already loaded with her bolts so she could fire one after another, she couldn't afford to miss, because she held no illusions about what would happen if Lung got a chance to rampage after her.


A car drove up to the restaurant and Sophia perked up, aiming a crossbow immediately, following the cars progress, her form hidden by the billboard on the roof.


Her heart beat a thousand beats a minute it felt like when she spotted Lung stepping out, surrounded by a few ABB losers. She settled herself, took a deep breath, a second one, before turning into her breaker state, firing one bolt. Lung staggering back, the bolt having phased right through him, hitting him right in the heart, Sophia going corporeal again as the bolt hit the heart, lodging it there.


Immediately Lung began growing, even as he tore at his chest, the regeneration not able to remove the object lodged into his heart.


Sophia fired again, a second bolt going straight through his forehead just as Lungs wild eyes found her, his roar cut off as she went corporeal again with a vicious smirk behind her mask.


The undefeatable dragon of Brockton Bay fell, the tranquilizers and the lethal bolts working just as intended, suppressing his regeneration.


For good measure, Sophia fell on the panicking ABB tools with wild abandon, putting them all down as well, breathing heavily, her lips spread into a wild grin as she looked around at the quiet street, bodies splayed around her after she was done.


She threw her head back and laughed, cackling as she raised one arm to the sky, I am unstoppable! She crowed.


…


Hours later,


Sophia Hess stalked into the conference room, feeling looser and more at ease than she had ever felt before. Finally taking it to the gangs had been better than any orgasm, or any adrenaline high from a fight.


Getting to actually fight properly, with all the chains broken - it felt exhilarating.


The only snag had been this stupid after action report bullshit, all week she'd had to spend hours and hours in this room after training, talking about everything she did, about her strategy, her thoughts and feelings.


Always this same room too, which was annoying as it was literally as far from anything worthwhile in the building one could go.


Bah!


Such bullshit, but she put up with it because Piggot had at least finally seen sense on letting a real predator loose on the problems in Brockton Bay.


The monitor on the wall flickered on as soon as Sophia sat down, Piggot's stern visage visible as she glared down at Sophia.


Sophia frowned, a little taken aback, because for the past week or so the Director had been downright friendly with her, so this sudden reversal to glaring bitch when she'd finally done the deed, taken down Lung - was odd.


"Shadow Stalker, your service in removing the threat of Lung was exemplary." Piggot said slowly, still with the look on her face like she'd sucked off Crawler or something.


Sophia wanted to fire back something scathing, because now she was the biggest bitch in town, and the Director better start showing some real respect, except she found that she couldn't move!


She could only sit there, frozen, as she stared up at the Director's face as she continued speaking.


"Unfortunately, you are an honest to god psychopath and loose cannon that I can't abide, triggering a classmate alone is enough to condemn you, let alone your extracurricular activities."


Fuck, Hebert triggered? That's the only one that could have… The fucking queef TATTLED!? Sophia was going to kill that little bitch when she got out of this!


Piggot sighed tiredly, momentarily looking less of a hard ass, and more human, before her face withdrew into a stony countenance again, "If you were anyone else… I likely would not have authorized this, but your power is too useful as the quiet assassin in the dark, a special asset solving the problems the PRT can't officially admit to. Your paperwork has already been submitted, labeling you as going AWOL and committing to villainy 48 hours ago, every record of you entering this building between then and now have been erased."


Internally Sophia raged, even as a trickle of fear began to travel down her spine, what was this? And fucking bitch! They were going to pin Lung on her going villain!!


Piggot looked above Sophia, to something behind her, and Sophia could hear a wall sliding apart, slow footsteps coming towards her."


"You have a good hold on her, Regent?"


Regent stepped in front of Sophia, patting her on the head cheekily, "Absolutely, boss!" He took out a marker and detached Sophia's mask, beginning to draw on her. "You and I are part of the irregulars now, sweet cheeks, congratulations!"


Internally Sophia kept screaming.


Screaming and screaming.


No one could hear.


No one cared.


＊＊＊


Taylor Hebert was not looking forward to school, she never did to begin with, but especially now, after the locker…


When the school had proven beyond any doubt that the trio would get away with anything in regards to her, without a single punishment.


She'd taken the last bus possible, to arrive at Winslow as late as she could, while still having just enough time to get to class.


Her heart sank as she arrived to find half the student body standing around outside, she didn't know what was going on, but she had a feeling it would be bad for her.


The power she had was too new for her to dare utilizing it, so she just ducked her head down and tried to remain unnoticed, slipping through the crowd.


When an arm latched onto hers, she froze, expecting a hit or a shove, expecting Sophia to be behind her.


"Brian, I found her!" The voice behind her called out over the crowd. The fact it was a voice she didn't know, was enough of a shock that Taylor turned around, staring at the girl holding her arm.


She'd never seen her around Winslow before, slender, with bottle green eyes, a mischievous kind of look to her features and blonde hair, she looked like the kind of girl that would definitely support Emma.


As she thought it, the girl winced, looking like she'd tasted something bad, "Don't worry, Taylor, all that stops now, I'll be joining your class… I'm Lisa by the way!"


Before Taylor could voice her thoughts on whatever cruel prank this was a part of, because the girl was obviously older than her - someone else she definitely knew didn't go to Winslow, joined them. She knew, because while Taylor might be an unpopular, ugly loser, she would have definitely noticed him before.


"There you are, don't run off like that, Lisa." The absolute beefcake of a boy said as he came to stand before them, his face gaining a small tired smile as he noticed Taylor, "Hello, Taylor, nice to meet you, I'm Brian and I'll be joining your school as a teacher's assistant…"


Taylor was now going beyond shocked into the beginning stages of panic, because there was no way this guy knew her for any good reasons.


Lisa tsked, loudly clicking her tongue, "This is going to be hard work starting off like this, I warned her…" She sighed dramatically, the boy next to her shrugging silently, seemingly exhausted.


"Let go of my arm, please." Taylor asked, wanting to get away from whatever this was.


Lisa immediately did so, a compassionate look on her face, "We'll talk later, I'll explain everything, it's only fair."


Taylor didn't listen to the rest, rushing through the crowd to avoid anything else from this obvious set up.


She stumbled through the crowd, freezing in place again as her jaw gaped at what she was seeing.


Principal Blackwell and several of the teachers were being led out in handcuffs, by police.


So much for this school day if half of the teachers weren't going to be available to teach. Why on earth had they waited until just before class started to arrest them anyway?


Why were they doing it? Why now?


Am I dreaming…?


＊＊＊


Authors note:


Just a fun thought I had and whipped up while I had nothing better to do, another one which I just can't see making into a full story, as it would just be too OP, and on the other hand would realistically be shut down by Cauldron anyway.


Those annoying boogeymen.


HammerTime is already on Patron and should be up for everyone on Saturday, A Shadow's Requiem should be up on Patron today, so you'll get it soon enough,


Cheers


JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

The snippet of Darth Humerus, the only Sith to completely disavow angst and hatred for more useful things.


This is definitely crackish, stupid and something I wrote up after a friend made a star wars joke about how much better the galaxy would be if all the force users just fucked around - instead of being so serious about their seriousness.


It's silly and dumb, so definitely don't take it seriously, but perhaps some of you will either get inspiration or some amusement from the lowborn humor within.


It begins during the SWTOR game, but moves into the time period a few years after the Empire was established, a period that doesn't show up that much in fanfiction, not the early years anyway.


Standard disclaimer - Star Wars belongs to Disney, who although they aren't doing anything good with it - still owns it, it is not mine, I am simply playing in the kiddie pool.


＊＊＊


Dromund Kaas, 3655 BBY


Darth Humerus considered himself a different breed than the other Sith of this age, for one - he had a sense of humor, hence Humerus. Because Humorous was a little too on the nose.


Also Darth Humerus the Humorous just flowed just right, it had pizzazz!


He'd probably given his fellow Sith too much credit though…


Because unfortunately no other Sith ever got it, or laughed at the silly joke, not even when he reached out with the force and snapped their humerus.


There was plenty of screaming, and how did you do that!? And ranting and monologuing, but no appreciation for a good joke.


Honestly, the lack of appreciation for many arts in his fellow Sith was just appalling. They also picked up new things so gosh darn slow. Take how hard it was for them to understand how easily he overpowered most of the silly buggers for example - yet they still tried to kill him for various Sith inspired reasons.


Reasons which usually were as simple as - because he happened to be around, or because he opened his mouth, there were a lot of the second one honestly. Most of his fellow Sith seemed to be mentally deficient in some manner, which explained the lack of a funny bone too.


That didn't make sense, but it didn't have to, because Sith never made sense.


He was a very different breed from the others.


He had studied Sith Alchemy and Sith Magic instead of practicing how to penetrate others with religious fervor. Honestly, lightsaber training had just seemed a tad bit too homoerotic for him.


It's not like the Emperor ever needed to go wave a saber around, and as Humerus was his only real apprentice (despite great effort from Emperor Vitiate to change that) it's not like he needed to go all sexy time with the other little Siths.


Others sure, but Sith were just a tad possessive for his taste. Really bad at the whole no thing.


Not that there was anything wrong with what a being got up to with another being, he partook himself gladly all the time - he just preferred more traditional passions.


Preferably ones not involving burning plasma.


Or he had, before all those things kind of didn't become a concern anymore.


So the rest of them played their silly little games, murdering each other willy nilly, playing with their big… Tools. Just to turn around and be absolutely shocked, when they got murdered in turn, usually by an apprentice.


Like he said. Mental deficiencies.


And while they played and died, Darth Humerus played and lived. Because Alchemy and Magic was beyond bullshit.


The force was crazy to begin with, but once you became steeped into the various mysteries of Sith Alchemy and Magic, things like reaching through another Sith Lord and his power with a thought, and snapping their bones - became something rote, not anything he needed to concentrate hard on anymore.


It was because of the great snappening fifteen years ago, that he'd been banished from polite society, only now allowed to return to Dromund Kaas.


In his defense, his newly found appreciaton for slapstick humor had been interesting to play with, and he'd figured eventually he'd run into a Sith that would get the joke.


Hundreds of broken Sith later, no one had, and the Emperor's Wrath had politely asked him to go on vacation for a few years.


Preferably in another galaxy if he'd please.


He'd been a nice fellow. Even if he hadn't gotten the joke either. Then again, old grumpy Vitiate had hired him on, and that guy could never take a joke.


Vitiate was still sore that the apprentice he took on, intending to send him on suicidal quests for Vitiate's own amusement, until he died horribly - instead became immortal and eventually changed his name from the edgy one he'd once received - to Humerus.


It had been a bit excessive for his old master to try and kill him for over 100 years after, but considering he was still fucking Revan somewhere for the past like 300 years, he figured he was just vastly more annoying then Revan and made Vitiate back off in disgust.


Revan and Malak had been somewhat fun, too bad they'd done their utmost to avoid him until they left for Republic space for some reason.


And now here he was again, after fifteen years of no random Siths pissing in his cereal, back to his workshop, his bastion of insanity, where he'd bent the limits of reality - mostly because of boredom.


Honestly after a few hundred years, only sex and trolling people was ever any fun anymore.


Darth Humerus looked around his old workshop, scratching a face tendril, squinting at what lay therein.


In retrospect, when one worked in matters of crazy space magic and biological horrors twisted behind what any sentient being could handle - one should probably not leave one's workshop unattended for fifteen years.


The Empire's Wrath had been very insistent however.


And he had been meaning to do a wide spanning tour of the best prostitutes in the galaxy anyways.


Hah, it had been fifteen years well spent.


His retinue of minders screeched something behind him that he ignored. If they were important, he'd have remembered their names. Maybe. He looked around his old workshop with undisguised curiosity, taking in the strange happenings.


The Terentatek corpse he'd used for his most successful experiments seemed to be glowing, and also floating. Both of which should probably not be happening. It was several hundreds years old though, so maybe they did that at such an age?


That was slightly concerning, he thought, his robes flapping in the wind, eying the beast who he had so cunningly defeated as a young apprentice. Who needed lightsabers to do such things anyway?


Of course he was pretty sure Vitiate had just wanted to be rid of him when he gave him the task to kill it.


Honestly, if he'd been a more attentive master, he wouldn't have been so surprised when Darth Humerus sank into Alchemy and Magic and came out as he was.


It was really all his fault. Crappy teacher.


He'd never bothered to teach him lightsaber stuff, for which he was actually thankful, he didn't not want to imagine himself and Vitiate doing any penetrating of any kind.


He was an ancient pervert, but even he had standards.


He did better with tutaminis than sword waving anyway… He fingered the rings of bone adorning his facial tendrils, Terentatek bone, with Sith runes glowing in a sinister red light on its surface. Not that he needed it often, it had been one of his more genius ideas to expand a Terentatek's natural immunity to the force and damage, and spread it across his body.


The Sith and the odd Jedi who attacked him - thought it very impressive, or so he assumed anyway, when they tried to penetrate him with abject failure and began blathering nonsense.


Honestly, yelling it's impossible and you can't do that! To a person who was literally doing it, proving it very possible, was going to achieve what, exactly?


People didn't have any imagination, it was always, you can't do that, it's a whole moon! To, nooo, you can't mate a Rancor with a Gizka that's not physically possible…


Hah, he'd shown them.


Oh… He had shown them!


Oh, there he went rambling in his thoughts again, he tapped the bone jewelery/ritual powered adornments. That was definitely not there when I was here last… He thought with some interest, looking at the main attraction of the workshop currently.


He eyed the swirling portal taking up the entirety of the far wall, the phenomena responsible for the windy conditions, as it sucked up his workshop to whence it disappeared into the void, or whatever the portal led to.


He'd been dreading having to clean up after fifteen years, so it was a definite plus, honestly.


A shame he had no idea which of his many crimes against nature was responsible however. He always liked to know how exactly he destroyed/fixed something. It was always so frustrating to have to guess.


And Vitiate always screamed so much at him if he blew up a planet by accident. Which was rich coming from him. Really, at least he, Darth Humerus, did it by accident.


A short shriek heralded the short appearance of one of the 'guards' assigned to politely remind him not to break the bones of the Dark Council, which was ridiculous, because how were they ever to get the whole Humerus thing if he didn't keep breaking their Humerus?


The shrieking being was quickly swallowed up by the portal.


There was no spaghettification, that's disappointing, he'd quite like to have seen that.


Darth Humerus scoffed at the babbling and screaming from the other Sith, holding on for dear life as he stood still, rubbing his face. Being a Pureblood Sith did come with the advantage of having an absolutely divine face for the task of rubbing your features in thought, with so many tendrils and ridges for added texture - it was simply genius engineering in their ancestors to achieve such perfection.


If his Rancor and Gizka experiment had been an unmitigated success, depending on your definition of the word unmitigated and success..


His attempt to make pureblood Sith better by breeding them with Wookies, had been a huge failure. Probably for the best anyway, keeping fur clean would be a bother.


Another guard, some Sith woman Lachrima or Lachra or something, cursed his existence as she lost her grip on the workbench she'd sunk her fingers into, spinning into the void.


He sighed, Sith these days… With how heavily modified his internals were and the arcane powers he'd grasped and bent to his will, utilizing the force to simply stand in place was no more difficult than breathing was. When one could clone new flesh, losing a limb or two to science was hardly even an inconvenience anymore, so he'd had plenty of practice in improving himself.


He patted the glowing corpse of the Terentatek as he started moving forward, the force his ally as he simply decided that he could walk just fine, and the environment decided to agree, knowing what's good for it - even as the last Sith flew past him, desperately scrambling to grasp him.


For the rudeness of attempting such a thing, he telekinetically grasped him by his underthings, giving him the world's worst wedgie for a few seconds, before he mercifully let him go, to be swallowed by the portal.


The Terentatek had been the first one to show him how limbs were just temporary, until you could craft a better replacement. It had eaten three of his after all.


His ambush hadn't gone quite as expected, being a force savant of sorts didn't help much against a beast that saw the force as simple flavoring - to the best kind of meals.


Of course after the first limb had gone, he'd grown wise, and cut his other leg to pieces to stuff it with thermal detonators and fed it to the beast. That had worked like a charm, albeit left him with one arm and a torso to drag himself to his hired minions.


Painful, sure, but it had been an interesting experience. Life was so dull with all these silly scuffles between Jedi and Sith. It's like they both couldn't understand that the galaxy was enormous and they could both quite well live happily on different sides of it, never interacting.


Or take a galaxy hooker tour.


The Jedi could use some loosening up. As for the Sith… Well one was generally less murdery after some pussy or dick.


Interesting experiences huh…


Darth Humerus watched the portal with interest.


It was quite possible it would actually kill him.


Quite possible indeed.


He smiled, the shine of excitement in his eyes, death is yet another new experience! He thought, stepping forward into the portal.


An explosion tore apart a fifth of Dromund Kaas, killing many influential Sith Lords seconds later.


The general consensus from everyone from Emperor Vitiate down to the lowest of apprentices was - that it was a small sacrifice to finally be rid of Darth Humerus.


His name, appearance and everything about him, was completely scrubbed from all records, the Sith Empire pretending he never happened.


It took them years to remove all the penises he'd added to every statue in Dromund Kaas somehow, during his short trip from the spaceport to his workshop.


Including in the Dark Temple.


A fitting eulogy.


＊＊＊


Mustafar, 10 BBY.


Darth Humerus stepped through the portal, frowning, that's odd…


He didn't spot any of the objects or other people that had preceded him, perhaps the portal led to different places. No… It remained stable entirely, it would have fluctuated in the force if it was flickering between locations like that, not that I'm an expert on random force phenomena, he thought.


Time perhaps… But unlikely.


He eyed himself with some amusement, it also does not appear to accept clothing. He was as naked as he was born, no equipment or clothing surviving the process - although thankfully his bone adornments, being part of his soul at this point - had survived the journey.


He felt the force, eyes narrowing, he was definitely on a Sith World, the aura of misery and pain in this place was stronger than when he'd accidentally walked in on a group of Sith teenagers trying to socialize and flirt.


Also the aesthetic seemed to be very Sith, very dark and foreboding. Personally he preferred some nice rugs, perhaps a light or two - so he wouldn't have to strain his eyes, or use the force to see. Darkness was all well and good until you ended up having to squint everywhere in your old age.


A squinting Sith would just be ridiculous.


This seemed… Too much like the angsty castle of a limp dicked teenager Sith who had mommy problems, he'd been around that type before all too often. This Sith was definitely one of those try-hards that always annoyed Darth Humerus.


It was always death this and death that with them, angst angst angst. Personally, Darth Humerus preferred to pick between twenty beautiful courtesans for a night of absolute debauchery or - twenty beautiful female rogues that for the right price might act like the filthiest kind of courtesan, for a night of absolute debauchery.


With free flowing rivers of alcohol, of course. Much better choices than death and death.


But maybe that was just him?


Considering he'd lived in a Sith Empire for hundreds of years… He knew it was only him.


He picked a random direction at the gentle tug of the force, so perhaps it was not so random? Did the force choose or did he use the force to choose? Bah, philosophy was not something for today. Confident that despite not being a savage lightsaber fetishist, he'd kept in enough shape to woo any beings of the female inclination that he might encounter while au naturel, he moved on.


Strutting down the hallway with aplomb. Ready to woo any fortunate female, or pretty boy - who happened to walk by.


Really, when one was basically saturated in the force far beyond a normal Jedi or Sith, love making with him was so far beyond cheating now - that it should be illegal in all the bedrooms in the galaxy.


Not that he often got to the bedroom in question.


He felt an absolute storm in the force approaching, and politely stopped at a crossroads of the emo castle, waiting, as was only polite for a guest. It seemed the Sith Lord of this particular abode was on its way.


He'd have to give him props, not many could sense him at all, his adjustments to his body and soul made him very difficult to detect in the force. The incoming Sith had a lot of power. But nothing else. Really, he felt power, all blunt, all straightforward, this Sith was basically a mallet.


So no threat to him, not that it would matter, Darth Humerus had been put on a list by Emperor Vitiate long ago that had been spread far and wide across the Sith Empire. It only had one word on it, besides his name.


Don't.


It didn't actually seem to do much, but at least the man tried. Darth Humerus didn't have the heart to tell him he was honestly kind of shit at the whole Emperor thing.


The storm finally walked into sight, heavy mechanical breathing echoing down the dark hallways.


Dark and foreboding, he stood, posing with his cape at the end of the hallway. He didn't say a word, just kept breathing loudly, the lights on his cyborg chest blinking.


Darth Humerus politely waited for him to say something, but the cyborg only stood in his pose, head tilted in his direction, watching him.


Spot on about the emo teenager description, he thought with a sigh.


"I am well aware I am likely the finest specimen you have ever seen, my fellow Darth, but there's only a certain amount of time one can stare at another man's penis before it gets awkward, and I believe we have passed that threshold." Darth Humerus said cheerfully, giving the man his due.


Despite the angsting he could feel all through the walls, he had the power of a Darth, and Humerus could respect that much.


For five minutes. He'd respect it for five minutes. Quite generous of him.


"You will regret coming here..." The dark visage intoned heavily, the mechanical breathing noises lending an eerie effect.


The dark cyborg stepped forward, raising a hand, fingers clenching, his power lashing out to constrict Darth Humerus' throat.


How rude.


With nary a thought, his own will flexed, power slashing between them, unraveling the lord of the castle's attempt, the force howling down the corridor, wind blowing his adversaries cape back, forcing the man to take a step back as the backlash hit him.


"Who… Are you?" The deep mechanical voice demanded, fist clenching angrily in the air in front of him. "Did my Master send you!?'


Darth Humerus frowned, not appreciating being drowned in angst, the being in front of him practically screaming it out with every movement - nor the bout of non-consensual sex play. "Choking when consensual can be a fun thing, but I don't appreciate your actions so far, staring at my body in such a perverse manner, then attempting to choke me? At least start with some manner of foreplay first! Before I give you my name, I must ask you your intentions!"


The being in front of him seemed absolutely thrown by that statement, seemingly not used to being questioned.


A Sith that was never questioned, Darth Humerus knew, was a dangerous thing. They tended to take themselves way too seriously because of it.


Considering this one was all black on black with full body covering, he probably sent out memos reminding his troops that 'fun' was outlawed, while brooding about his enemies in his man cave.


"I am the Master here, this is my domain, you WILL answer me! Who ARE YOU!?" The mechanical hiss to the voice took on another note as his anger exploded out of him, a force push denting the walls as it roared forward like a hungry beast towards him, following the command of its Master.


The hatred and anger in the force took almost physical shape, as it forced itself down the corridor against him faster, hungering for his destruction.


Darth Humerus looked on, a crooked smile on his face, "Cute." He said, stroking one of the bone adornments on his right facial tendril, twirling the tendril between his fingers.


Without any grand announcements, shouted commands, or flourishing of weaponry, the wave simply died, in a whimper, ceasing to be, as it approached Darth Humerus.


There was a lot of power behind it, but the force knew better then to toss Darth Humerus around. He always made it pay for such humiliations, like that one life day where every being that could feel the force - spent the day having everything they tasted or smelled - taste and smell like a Hutt.


The force had capitulated soon after. The feeling of horror from billions across the galaxy - permeating it for long after the day had passed.


Of course he'd suffered as well, but it was still worth it - even if he'd forever know what a Hutts ass tasted like. The force shivered in remembered agony, and promised to be good.


"Blowing your entire wad in one shot. Force, you really are a teenager, aren't you?" He asked jovially, now certain this Sith was woefully underprepared for anyone like him.


Yet another Sith that can't take a joke… He thought sadly.


"I am Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith. You will not make a joke out of me, cretin!" The cyborg Sith hissed out, parts of the wall being ripped asunder in a cacophony of noise, sparks flying as metal sheets, machinery and such was telekinetically catapulted towards him.


At least he had a modicum of intelligence, trying physical force after the metaphysical had failed him.


Darth Humerus politely asked the force to consider the debris heading his way to be grains of sand instead of such heavy and potentially bruising matter.


As a personal favor.


For some reason the force's agreement was extra happy about the sand.


As he stepped aside from the deluge of sand that passed him suddenly, wafting through the air, he introduced himself, "I am Darth Humerus, scientist, jokester, lover." He said with ease, winking at Darth Vader, wiggling his toes in the sand that now covered the floor, warm and toasty, nice!


Only a roar met him, Vader's voicebox struggling to match his intensity, sparks flying off the cyborgs chest panel. He was disappointed to see that Vader, seeing the lack of effect in his efforts - did the exact same thing again, launching debris at him, tearing apart his castle to destroy him.


More sand, surrounded them shortly thereafter, which made Vader roar so loudly his voicebox gave up the ghost, sparking wildly before dying with a sad little mechanical squeak. He could still hear the man inside his helmet, but it was no longer audible to anyone without enhanced senses.


Darth Humerus was beginning to get bored. Considering the last time he was bored, he'd walked through a portal he'd assumed would kill him - it did not bode well for the gentleman trying to court him in all the wrong ways.


With a snap and a hiss, a red lightsaber was drawn and activated, Darth Vader stalking forward menacingly, obviously intending to get up close and personal. Darth Humerus scoffed, can't handle the foreplay, so goes straight for penetration, how typical…


Now Darth Humerus might be somewhat immune to plasma blades due to some self experimentation, but no man enjoyed staring down a lightsaber while having dangly bits readily available for it to cut at. Invulnerable or not.


Besides, anyone so weak they needed to go to a lightsaber duel of all things - deserved what was coming at them.


Honestly, one could do so much with the force - And the majority of force users decided the best way to utilize it was into swordfighting.


And they called him mad!?


With but a thought, he ripped off the arms and legs of the cyborg in front of him, feeling the shock and humiliation of the man in the force, as he fell to the floor, limbless.


It seemed it was a fond memory of the man, as he screamed internally at being rendered half of a man, again.


Honestly, if he lost his wedding tackle, he'd just give up. Or well… Clone a new one.


It's not like cloning was even hard.


He looked at the Sith, tsking in disappointment, such a poor Sith indeed.


Darth Humerus walked up to Darth Torso, humming the imperial march as he did, feeling the absolutely monstrous mental emanation of hate, as he came to stand over him, forcing Darth Torso to literally look up his bits to speak with him.


"Impossible!" Darth Torso raged, his machine voice having abandoned his sad ranting - the lack of mechanical bass giving him a more matching emo teen kind of voice.


"Not impossible, just improbable." Darth Humerus said, poking the torso with a foot, "You know your way around, right?" He said, hefting the torso up with the force, attaching it to his back like a pack, Darth Torso's helmeted head poking over his shoulder.


"Scream for left, silence for right?" He asked jovially.


Only mad screaming and threats could be heard from the helmet, barely audible even at this range.


"Left it is, Darth Torso, I'm sure we'll have a grand adventure together." He said, his grin growing dark as he began walking, "You'll learn to take a joke…. Oh, yes… You will!"


Laughter echoed down the hallways, what remained of them, as the two Sith made their way further into the castle.


＊＊＊


Some time later,


Darth Torso was in a timeout.


Darth Humerus had no other choice, the little brat kept tearing apart every trooper and being they ran into before Humerus could inquire about their whereabouts - or for some clothes.


Now he could have stopped the telekinesis that tore those men apart, but honestly, stopping a Sith from using their powers never worked - you had to humiliate them enough that they learned to only use it at the appropriate times.


Like when it was funny.


Darth Humerus didn't much care that Darth Torso kept trying to kill him, that was par for the course, and also completely useless, it also tickled nicely.


If Vitiate - the number one edge lord in the galaxy - stopped trying to kill him out of sheer frustration, this little brat wouldn't last a month.


Killing the people that could get him clothes, food, blowjobs - that was hitting a bit under the belt from the tiny dark lord. Hence, a timeout.


Now he wasn't an expert's at force illusions, even though he was a dab hand at Sith Magic. But compared to a brute like this, his abilities was that of a supernova facing a gnat.


So Darth Torso was currently hanging on to his back while his mind was elsewhere, he'd figured he'd make an illusion where all his enemies humiliated him, it shouldn't take too long, he could feel this little baby Sith had barely been a Sith for more than a few years.


He likely had less than a handful real enemies, right?


He whistled happily as he strode down a new set of corridors, letting the force guide him, it almost never steered him wrong.


At least not anymore, after a few situations that required spankings, back when the force had been a bit more rebellious.


Oh, goodie, a barracks! He thought, rubbing his hands together.


A good place for clothes or alcohol, or even more depravity, depending on the troopers, Darth Humerus found most people serving Sith tended to have the most amusing fetishes.


Although all those people asking him to step on them while they were in orgasmic throes - did make him feel oddly like Emperor Vitiate at times.


"Hands up where we…." The order was shouted out, but trailed off awkwardly, a whole contingent of some new kind of imperial trooper in white of all things, standing at the ready, blasters raised.


Apparently they'd been struck speechless by his nudity, so he preened, a proud smirk on his face as he twirled a facial tendril. "Your admiration is appreciated, it's nice to finally find some reasonable specimens." He congratulated them.


The whirr of armed blasters had him raise a shocked eyebrow as everyone zeroed in on him, the one in charge barking out, sounding unsure, but forcing it out through sheer adherence to protocols. "R-release Lord V-Vader at once!"


Darth Humerus politely lifted the insensinate Darth over his shoulder with the force, offering it to the troopers, "He's not done his time out yet, but if you want to hold him for now you may, now where can I find some clothes?"


Almost in unison, every single trooper took a step back, leaving the commanding officer alone, facing the floating Darth Torso, his face covered in sweat, panicked eyes looking around him at the faceless troopers. "I-I… Bind him!" He blustered, pointing at Darth Humerus.


Darth Humerus frowned, giving the troopers a serious look, hand cocked on his hip. "Look, if we're going to play with bondage, that's fine, but I'll have to be on top. Sadly I'm missing my monogrammed binders, stupid portal, but it's probably for the best as I don't have enough for all of you - but I really need some food first, and some clothes - before I break your minds in pleasure and you forget where it all is, okay?"


Really normal people were so fragile.


He didn't know what exactly he said that scared them so badly, but almost as one, they all opened fire on him. They weren't half bad too, unfortunately blaster fire was useless on him. He irritably began slapping blaster bolts back, killing the ungrateful bastards, while the commanding officer shrieked and ran around, Darth Torso held above his head, attempting to get away.


Why had the force led him here if there was only going to be rude people around? Who even opened fire at the prospect of an orgy? Was Darth Torso so emo he'd removed everything fun from his subordinates?


Did he outlaw sex because he didn't have a penis anymore?


He eyed the commanding officer running around. Well… It wasn't any imperial uniform he recognized, and he generally disliked uniformity, but he needed something to wear.


As he slapped back the last bolt, killing the last trooper who hadn't been smart enough to run, he turned to the commanding officer, still holding Darth Torso above his head, his knees shaking badly as he stared at Darth Humerus proud and naked visage.


"Take off your clothes." Darth Humerus ordered cheerfully, grinning widely, happy to have finally found some boots at least. The troopers had honestly terrible boots, so he hadn't bothered to loot any so far.


Tch, these people are weak, he thought, as the commanding officer fainted in fear, Darth Torso clunking against the ground. So afraid of giving me his clothes, he literally passed out…


He couldn't understand it, the man was about his size, which is why he wanted his clothes.


Was there some nudity taboo he was missing?


＊＊＊


Darth Vader's mindscape,


Vader roared in fury again, fruitlessly trying to get out of his bonds to murder the damned JEDI!


He was no fool, he knew it wasn't real, knew this was some force damned illusion, one he couldn't destroy no matter how hard he threw his power at it…


But why did every force damn JEDI appear, doing the exact same thing to humiliate and anger him!?


Fucking Padme Amidala in front of him, to her extremely visible and audible enjoyment.


He damn well knew it was an illusion, but it still didn't stop his boundless rage and hate at the visage of Mace Windu fucking his wife while holding eye contact with him the entire time.


…


If Yoda showed up in this illusion he was going to shatter planets when he got out, to hell with the Empire and Palpatine,


No one deserves to see something like that, NO ONE!


He'd kill everything!


"Stop staring at me WINDU!" He roared, already regretting that he didn't get to kill more Jedi, due to order 66 taking care of most of them.


Windu especially, died too quickly!


＊＊＊


Darth Humerus continued exploring the facility, somewhat confused as to why Darth Torso was still out of it.


Really? How many enemies did the tin can have? How do you even gather enemies brooding in his own dark castle like this?


Perhaps he'd been hasty in instituting a time out, he'd intended to use the Sith as his guide after all - and now he was completely useless.


With a heady sigh, he stopped holding back, letting his awareness spread throughout the castle, and the planet.


There was a certain amount of panic all over this bastion of emoness, soldiers and commanders alike running around screaming into holo comms, begging for reinforcements.


He probably should have stopped that before this. Oops.


The whole time travel thing seemed more likely now though, as the highest ranked member of the staff had reached an Emperor over the holo, genuflecting in great fear while reporting on Darth Humerus - and from the very ugly visage of said Emperor, it wasn't Vitiate.


Either way, tattling was just not nice.


He reached out and just knocked them all out, everyone in the facility collapsing like their strings were cut. His awareness of the planet coming to the fore as the minds in the facility blanked out.


Hoh?


That was a very recognizable mind.


Newly dressed in his drab uniform, with good boots at least on his feet, he ambled off to leave the facility, heading towards someone interesting.


＊＊＊


He was indeed lucky that he was who he was, because as he exited out onto the planet's surface, he ran into one of the most inhospitable planets he'd ever seen.


Flows of lava as far as the eye could see, temperatures that would easily kill a man if left exposed too long, red dust everywhere.


As he strolled away, the black and red ash that covered the surface simply made a path for him, as he whistled, hands in his pockets as he watched everything around him with curiosity, the planet certainly felt like it was a Sith planet, but not one he'd ever spent time on before.


He'd think he'd remember this…


Although considering how Sith were with planets, for all he knew this was Alderaan just a few thousand years later.


He hoped not.


Alderaani royalty was one of the few things he was still missing on his royal booty bingo card.


One plus to time travel, if that is what had happened… He was probably no longer banned from coming within 10 planets of Alderaan.


They couldn't really enforce such a ban, but being drowned in Jedi trying to monologue at him was just so annoying he'd stayed away anyway.


Honestly, it's not like Alderaan had needed all those continents anyway. What's one less really?


It took him hours to get to the location he sought, which didn't bother him, being immortal now had quite made time immaterial really, if something took hours or days, so what?


He had time.


At least Darth Torso had finally woken up, just as grumpy as before, but at least showing some basic survival instincts in not immediately raving and ranting again.


Darth Humerus had been forced to do some quick work with the force to revitalize the man, and repair his machinery, so he didn't expire in the environment with how much he'd torn off the man.


"What are you?" Darth Torso squeaked, before pausing, anger flashing in the force, "My voice? What have you done to my voice!?"


At least he's beginning to understand I'm more of a what than a who… Darth Humerus thought, lips twitching, because of course when he fixed the voice box he'd changed the voice.


"It's not my fault you had - sparkly 4 year old princess - with an adorable lisp, as a setting." He chastised the man. "I fixed you, but I don't know how to program your voice box." He lied shamelessly.


Darth Torso silently seethed.


Darth Humerus could feel that he had much to say, but was having a raging internal debate over the fact that saying it meant speaking in that voice.


It seemed silence won out, as Darth Humerus neared his target, Darth Torso keeping silent on the approach.


Darth Humerus closed his eyes, tapping a foot on the burning hot surface, he could feel it, underneath the soil. He rolled up his sleeves, not really necessary, but it was thematic, for he was about to do hard work™.


Throwing a hand forward dramatically, he tilted his head back, intoning deeply, "Rise again! Rise from the depths at the call of power!"


He slowly let his hand rise, sand, soil and ash parting as metal rose up through the soil, a sunken star ship, the size of a cruiser, slowly rising up to cacophonous noise as an avalanche of soil fell to the sides.


"That's impossible…." Darth Torso squeaked, his astonishment and jealousy flaring out in the force.


Darth Humerus grinned widely as he rotated the ship in the sky, slowly lowering his hand, bringing it down to rest on top of the soil, "Well, I realize you have certain issues with getting it 'up' but not all Sith have that problem." He said cheerfully, beginning to trek forward, feeling the 'mind' he recognized inside.


"By the by, who's old wrinkly face that all your minions were crying to?" He asked casually, as he rent armor playing asunder with a gesture, strolling onwards into the ship without breaking stride.


"... The Emperor." Darth Torso squeaked reluctantly, before vicious pleasure, mixed with hate flared up, "He will destroy you!"


Darth Humerus snorted, "He's welcome to try, it would be thematic, Sith Emperor's do keep trying to kill me." He didn't bother with finding the right way forward, continuing to simply tear plating aside, heading straight for his target.


Darth Torso seemed very perturbed at that, going silent as he pondered what he'd heard. Darth Humerus could feel the stench of jealousy flaring up again. This Sith really was a big bundle of neuroses wasn't he? He'd have fit in perfectly, back in Dromund Kaas.


He tore his way into the bridge, calling out cheerfully, while sending a spark of lightning into the electronics in a way that didn't blow them up, "HK-47, you old bucket of bolts, wake up!"


Some of the systems booted up, at the very lowest setting, as there was a mechanical grinding noise over the speakers, before a voice replied back.


"Resigned Statement: Reports of your death were faulty, as expected."


Darth Humerus knocked against a console with his knuckles, "You know better HK, and you know… I don't want to be rude… But have you put on weight?" He gestured to the cruiser around them, a shit eating grin on his face, facial tendrils twitching in amusement.


"Hopeful statement: Have you arrived to assist in a return to optimal lethality?"


Tch, of course he doesn't even care about the joke… Not enough murder in it I guess…


Darth Humerus hummed in thought, "I dunno, you kept trying to kill me…" It wasn't successful of course, but he'd done better than most Sith.


"Dry statement: That criteria includes every sentient being that met you, master."


"Rude, but true… And don't think calling me master will sweet talk me into…" He paused briefly, chuckling, "Heh, what the hell, why not?" Darth Humerus couldn't even pretend that he wouldn't love to have the murderous droid at his side for a bit.


He was, after all, hilarious.


"Excited declaration: We will bathe the starways in blood, master!"


"Well, maybe, we'll see how it goes." Darth Humerus said mildly, "First you'll need a body…"


Darth Torso took this chance to screech out, "This can not be that HK-47, the one that followed Darth Revan!?" Even sounding like a cute little girl, he sounded absolutely enraged.


"Smug assertion: I am HK-47, fluent in over nine billion means of destroying meatbags such as yourself."


"Oh nice! You've added a couple hundred million since last time." Darth Humerus said appreciatively.


"It's impossible…"


"Don't mind him, he's very stuck on that word, he's this world's Sith Lord, a little too stuck in his ways really." Darth Humerus explained, pulling Darth Torso over his shoulder and depositing him on one of the consoles.


"Query: Do you often utilize Sith Lords as backpacks?"


Before he could answer, HK-47 continued,


"Covetous query: Can I have a Sith Lord as a backpack, master?"


Darth Humerus laughed, even as he felt the absolute storm of negative emotions from his captive. "Not even in a body yet, and you're already wanting even more favors from me, HK?"


He caressed Darth Torso's helmet, "No… I believe this is mine, get your own."


Funnily enough he could literally feel Darth Torso growing stronger in the dark side of the force from the constant humiliation, fear, anger and jealousy he was steeped in.


Too bad it wouldn't do anything to him. If only he'd had run into literally any other Sith perhaps, but such was the force - a fickle bitch that kept erasing hundreds of trillions of lifeforms, just to start over again when they all inevitably just did the same thing all over again.


"Well, let's get you into a body again, eh?" He said, before they could get sidetracked again, clapping his hands together, looking around the bridge.


Now… Where would a droid body be…?


＊＊＊


Some time later, moving away from the downed ship,


"Enraged protest: Master, there is a droid factory nearby with bodies to my exact specifications!"


"Yes, so you've said." Darth Humerus agreed amiably.


"Disgusted query: Then why am I relegated to this?"


The body in question was an ancient astromech droid that had a voice box cobbled together from a half bisected protocol droid.


"Because it's funny." Darth Humerus said, giving him an odd look, "It's almost like you've forgotten about me, old friend." Friend, enemy, basically the same thing.


HK-47, the astromech with not a single weapon, trudged along sullenly behind him. Darth Torso strapped to its back with a magnetic clamp, at least fulfilling the droid's wish in some manner.


It also made their travels take forever as the ancient droid wasn't handling the extra weight well, but he had all the time in the world.


Darth Humerus peered up at the destroyer that had descended into the atmosphere critically.


Well, perhaps not all the time in the world.


It would be somewhat of an annoyance to be turbolasered again.


"I could throw this droid into that lava flow…" Darth Torso threatened, as they passed a particularly large river of said substance. "If you wish to keep it so badly, I will destroy it!"


He'd been unsuccessful with Darth Humerus as he couldn't really do much against him, other than perhaps tickle him. But HK-47 did not have such protections in this body - although he would eventually have some measure of protection. Darth Humerus had been forced to promise a beskar body for him, to get him to even stomach the idea to transfer into the astromech.


Hence why he wasn't bothering hitting up that droid factory HK was talking about, because it was just an added trip for another body that would be discarded soon enough anyway.


"HK-47, this is a classical case of the mental deficiency present in the entire subspecies of Sith." Darth Humerus began lecturing, stopping to look down at Darth Torso with a dry look, "You see, they can not fathom any interaction that does not include a threat in some way, even when it's absolutely ridiculously foolish of them to do so."


"Sarcastic agreement: Throwing the droid you're magnetically attached to into lava, fits with the level of planning I've encountered in Sith."


Darth Torso refused to say anything, even as they stood there in silence, only the sound of the moving magma around them.


"Well, since he's apparently decided not to commit suicide, I suppose we continue on." Darth Humerus said cheerfully, turning to continue on his way.


Since they'd so nicely parked a destroyer in close vicinity, they might as well go up and visit them.


They seemed very reluctant to blow up Darth Torso, since he'd faced no manner of bombing so far, so they wouldn't shoot down a shuttle carrying him. They might even be nice enough to tractor beam them so he didn't have to fly too far.


He had been a Sith Lord for hundreds of years, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd actually flown something by himself.


But it couldn't be that hard.


＊＊＊


Mustafar burned.


Well… More than usual.


In his defense, he hadn't flown for a really really long time.


According to the ships logs he'd accessed, thousands of years actually, so really, he'd done quite well since they were all in one piece.


The destroyer… Not so much.


"Well… They're sending reinforcements anyway, so we're fine." Darth Humerus said sheepishly.


"This is impossible…"


Approving statement: "Your ability to break meatbags has improved, master."


He'd have to be a little more careful with whatever ship they sent next…


They had some time to wait, so he might as well get to tinkering with Darth Torso, making him somewhat useful, since he seemed to be even more useless than he had expected, breaking from such minor things.


It's not like tossing star destroyers around was even that special.


＊＊＊


One standard month later,


Dantooine, seedy cantina.


Ashoka Tano played with the mug of some indiscernible liquid that was supposed to be caf. She certainly wasn't about to drink it to find out.


Her face was completely covered by her cowled robe, as she sat in a corner booth, just waiting.


An imperial star destroyer had appeared above the city, so her plans to scout out some promising people in town would have to wait.


She also couldn't help but feel a slight tension, wondering if this was it. If they had discovered her.


If this was the time she'd face Darth Vader, the slayer of Jedi.


She doubted it, because surely she'd feel him, feel the darkness and evil in the force if he was here, on the planet.


"My… You're one lovely specimen aren't you?" A voice purred from right beside her in the booth!"


Ashoka didn't do anything so foolish as draw her lightsabers or vault over the table, even if she really wanted to, but she did scoot away to give herself space, turning to lambast whatever fool had surprised her. Really, was she so concerned over Darth Vader that she hadn't felt someone sitting down right next to her.


Whatever biting remark she was going to make, was choked down as she saw the others in the booth with her.


An honest to the force, Pureblood Sith, not something often seen in the galaxy anymore - she only knew about the species due to her Jedi upbringing.


They also had the weirdest astromech droid she'd ever seen standing by the booth, two articulated arms attached to its chassis that was holding on to a rifle the size of a Wookies arm, the droid absolutely covered in magnetically attached thermal detonators.


… Were they suicidal? One shot…


Neither of those two extremely odd things were what had her choking on her tongue however.


Darth fracking Vader was sitting on the table, just a torso and a head!


This close, now free from whatever had hidden her guests from her force senses, he was unmistakable, his dark force presence almost drowning her.


Darth Vader was suddenly slapped over his helmeted head by the Pureblood Sith, who frowned angrily at him, "Knock it off Darth Torso, you're not ruining another date for me!"


The oppressing feeling vanished, and Ashoka had a lot of mixed feelings. Darth Torso! What!? Darth Vader is here! Also…


"This is not a date, and also what?" She said frankly, in deadpan, pointing at Darth Vader.


"It could be one, trust me sweetheart, I have tricks up my sleeve that's been outlawed in all respectable systems." The Pureblood Sith winked at her, and Ashoka had to remember her Jedi teachings to prevent any overt reaction to this bizarre situation.


"Darth Vader!?" She said, seriously, pointing again at the fracking Dark Lord of the Sith.


"Pleased statement: You've broken another meatbag, Master."


"HK, hush, I'm working on some real dicey diplomacy here, either help or shut up!" The red skinned man hissed at the violent looking droid, Ashoka watching almost detachedly, still not recovered from what she was seeing.


"Statement: Charging weapons for maximum diplomacy."


"No weapons! I already have a fully loaded one, heh."


Gross, Ashoka managed to think, before her mind returned to the more important issue.


"Darth Vader can't be here! How?" Ashoka repeated, stabbing her finger forward, leaning over the table.


The red skinned man stroked a facial tendril as he laid an arm over the torso of Darth Vader. "Sure he can, he's very useful, see I just press this button here…" He pressed a button on the lit up torso, and a slot opened up, something falling into the man's hand.


He held it out to Ashoka, and her eyes widened, seeing the wrapper with XXL in bold writing.


"You're using Darth Vader as a condom dispenser?" She shouted, rearing back in shock and disgust.


"Of course, If I'm going to be lugging him around he needs to be useful." The red skinned man said, sounding wounded at her reaction.


"... Also he's kind of a giant dick, so I thought it would be thematic."


＊＊＊


Authors note:


Don't ask me what I was smoking when I wrote this up, just a cracky thought I had.


Definitely do not in anyway take this seriously or point out the impossibilities of things. This is definitely something crazy just written up for a lark.


Cheers


JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Forgive me for I have sinned.


I couldn't help myself, it was just stuck in my head. I've read too many pokemon stories lately….


This is a snippet I could definitely see become a full story at some point.


So the synopsis for the story is that an SI/OC finds himself in Kanto, with a dark/ghost aura due to his death and rebirth and his darker nature.


Although on the side of the angels, mostly… Sometimes the devil just works quicker. This won't be Ash and friendship is magic - More of a trainer shooting for his goals above all else. To create his own gym in Kanto and show everyone that looked down on him that he's the strongest.


And to mess with them.


Mostly just to mess with them.


I'll play a bit fast and loose on Pokemon availability, the first four regions (Kanto, Johto, Sinnoh and Hoenn) being open and some trade and migration having happened, despite Ash not beginning his journey yet.


As usual, I do not own Pokemon or the associated companies that deliver material from it. I'm just playing in the kiddy pool, don't hurt me.


Enjoy!


＊＊＊


"Wh-Where a-am I?" Ezra groaned weakly, his head pounding, both of his hands automatically raising up to massage his aching skull. He felt the chill against his back and could feel the cold coarse material he was leaning against through his thin shirt. He could feel his breath misting in the air in front of him, almost tasted the smell of damp grass and muddy soil around him. How? He'd gone to bed early, ready for the new school year to start, how was he outside? And why was it so chilly? It was still warm out when he went to bed.


He squinted, daring to open his eyes just a slight bit, protecting himself from any further shooting pains in his head. He ended up cursing lowly under his breath, both of his hands clamped around his head, as his eyes shot open fully in shock the minute he attempted a squinting look around. What on earth?


Slowly he moved his neck around, gaining a panoramic view of his surroundings. The dark smoky and hazy sky lending an almost depressive atmosphere to his surroundings. The gray and colorless surroundings were eerie and silent, apparently devoid of life, filled with rows and rows of gravestones. He scrambled to his feet, the noise of gravel under his feet echoing in the silence around him. He did his best at ignoring the throbbing pain from his still thundering skull. The chill on his back had been from him resting up against one of said gravestones, he'd been sitting on a grave.


A quick look at least confirmed it wasn't his name on it. That would have been… Yeah…


Not entirely unexpected, all things considered, he'd always expected he'd end up in one soon enough, just not, you know... Alive. Three times in his life he'd been at death's door just for the doctors to manage to bring him back to his half life - his constant struggle. Only the incoming school year and the hope for anything better had kept him alive over the summer and his convalescence from yet another attempt by death to collect him. He wasn't ready yet… Not without a fight.


If there was anything he knew in life, it was to struggle, to refuse to back down, to refuse to give in - to look death in the face and tell it to fuck right off.


"This isn't funny!?" He called out, one hand to his temple as he looked around, nervous and suspicious. Who'd play such a prank anyway… No one he knew would kidnap him from his bed and… Dump him in a graveyard. He didn't even know where the nearest graveyard was from his house! With his ill health he couldn't imagine his few friends doing it either.


"Show yourself!" Ezra demanded, anger overcoming any fear in the moment, his usual habit of bull rushing any problem head on rearing its head. Something that did not usually end well for him - a guy barely able to manage going to school on most days. "If this is some sort of joke…" He swore, wincing as his words echoed across the graveyard, his head was still pounding. Did he hit his head? Usually the pain was more… Everywhere. Constantly.


Nothing but silence answered him. Although he almost felt like the shadows were moving around him, that was probably just his head hurting making his vision blurry… It's not like he had perfect vision anyway, like everything else about his body, it was failing.


Except… Right now he could see clearer then he had for years…


In the distance he could see structures and a tower? "Where the hell is this?" His anger was growing rapidly, barely outpacing his fear. This is not New York! He thought, his breaths coming fast, misting the air around him. Where am I? Why can I see so far… Wait? Why is only my head hurting? Why doesn't breathing hurt!?


"Show yourself!" He demanded again, a hint of desperation now to his demand. If someone would just jump out and go, haha, just a prank. Then it could all make sense again.


His body working again, was freaking him out, had someone kidnapped him and experimented on him? Was he left for dead in a graveyard?


He thought he heard a giggle, he turned around quickly and found nothing, almost falling over, not used to his body twisting that quickly or easily - and more importantly, painlessly. He cursed and turned back around only to shriek and fall on his ass. A shadow getting right in his face, a menacing grin on its visage.


"Geeeengar!" It said smugly, an almost ethereal quality to the voice. The ghost floating in the air ahead of him.


"Ghosts aren't real!" Ezra shouted, as he scrambled backwards, his escape blocked by yet another gravestone as he slammed his back into it, the breath being pushed out of his lungs at the impact.


The universe apparently disagreed visavi the viability of ghosts, as the shadows around the graveyard all seemed to come alive in different shapes and forms, all circling around him. The feeling surrounding him almost felt… Welcome… Like home… Very weird and an uncomfortable realization to have when surrounded by what also felt like death - he could say he and death were almost old friends, always circling each other, but he was winning, and using ghosts was cheating.


The pain in Ezra's head was actually lessening as they got closer. The clarity afforded to him without the stabbing pain right behind his eyes making him realize what he was actually seeing. He'd been used to an aching dull pain, always - it never went away, except now it had. This sharp pain was entirely new, he was glad it was lessening yet not so glad with his understanding of what he was seeing.


"This… T-this is impossible!" Ezra spluttered out, his hands raised before him as a feeble means of protection. There was just no way this was real.


The beings surrounding him were pokemon, ghost pokemon to be precise. Considering the tower he could see in the distance and the dreary atmosphere and multitude of graveyards… He knew where he was. He just couldn't accept it.


"Lavender town isn't real! Pokemon aren't real!" Ezra shouted angrily at the Haunter that suddenly popped up ahead of him, grinning wildly, bobbing in the air. Ezra choked on air as his statement was punctuated by the absolute eruption of ghost pokemon out of the shadows.


Gastly, Haunter and Gengar amongst them, but even a Marowak popping up, several Misdreavus, Shuppets and Dusknoir scattered amongst the mass of mostly Gastly and Haunter. They all seemed drawn to him, circling ever closer as he panicked. He jumped behind the gravestone, marveling for a second at being capable of jumping, before he freaked out even more, seeing a bunch of dark pokemon standing and watching him from that side. Lavender shouldn't even have those!


"This can't be real, this is a dream! It ISN'T REAL!" He shouted, which only had the effect of an eerie giggle diffusing through the silent graveyard as the majority of pokemon in sight seemed to find this all very amusing. Many of them slowly drawing closer, their eyes shining in the dark, like a mass of glinting lanterns moving through the darkness.


All of a sudden the pain in his head eased, and he felt like something settled over him. Like he was draped in a chilly yet supremely comfortable blanket. Yet he couldn't truly feel comfortable - as he heard a giggle right in his ear. He turned his head, dreading what he would find.


A shuppet stared at him from within his own shadow - its multicolored eyes meeting his with apparent fascination. Fear finally beat out Ezra's anger. (Perhaps the Shuppet was feeding on the anger?) He had time to think, either way however it happened, his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.


The ghost pokemon of Lavender Town circled the downed body, feeling a kinship with the boy who'd died and yet was still here, just different. Filled with anger and spite at the world. Not so unlike a ghost pokemon.


The dark pokemon, fewer but no less fascinated, circled at the end of the graveyard, in a tentative truce with the ghost pokemon as they all smelled the amalgamation of death and darkness on the boy. Ghost and Dark together.


They stood watch for the rest of the night, until the people of Lavender Town woke and noticed the gathering, freaking out, amusing the ghosts in particular. Eventually trainers cautiously approached and the ghosts finally dispersed, the dark pokemon slinking into the nearby woods, both sides leaving just the unconscious body of the young man laying there.


The one that felt like them.


＊＊＊


For the second time, Ezra woke up without having any real idea where he was or how he was where he was. At least this time without the accompanying opera of pain going off inside his skull. And amazingly without any pain at all, for the first time he could remember since… Huh, he couldn't even remember any time without it anymore. So this was how that felt like… He struggled to keep his emotions at bay, it felt…


…He couldn't even quantify it. How do you describe a world without pain when it's all you've ever known?


"Chan, Chansey!" Came a piercing excitable shriek from right by his ear.


Ezra flinched, eyes flying open as his hands went to his head yet again. "My fucking head!" He hissed out between clenched teeth. Okay, so apparently he wasn't completely okay yet… What the fuck had he gotten into? And was a fully functioning body worth it?


Yes, fuck yes, anything is worth this! He immediately railed at himself inside his head, almost afraid that questioning it would lead to it being taken away.


"Language, young man!" A woman snapped, rushing through the door, no doubt drawn in by that shrieking.


Ezra spluttered, "I'm 21, I can curse if I want….to…." He trailed off, mouth agape as he took in the room and its occupants. By his bedside was a Chansey. An honest to god fucking Chansey. A pokemon. Oh god it wasn't a dream! And coming towards him was Nurse Joy. She was unmistakable, she looked exactly as he remembered from the cartoon. What the fuck is this!? I don't even…


He looked around, trying to avoid the sight of Joy and her Chansey and the existential crisis they were sparking in him. He was in a small room with cream coloured walls with posters of cheery pokemon with cutesy slogans, the wall and door that Joy had entered through were glass and he could see out into what was obviously a pokemon center. The rest of the room was fairly spartan, holding his bed, a chair and a counter with a pair of cupboards with an attached sink.


His malfunctioning body and it's insistence to constantly give dying an attempt, meant he'd spent countless hours playing a game that featured said pokemon centers. They were impossible to mistake for something else. Nurse Joy and the Chansey were enough evidence anyway. What… Why was he here?


And he was cynical enough to ponder, what is the cost I'll have to pay… Someone or something doesn't just break all laws of time and space and drop a cripple into another world for free. Perhaps my working body was just an investment. Which made me wonder how I'd pay the bill for it…


Nurse Joy stopped in front of his bed, an amused look on her youthful pretty face, her pink hair somewhat disheveled like she'd recently had an electric shock. "21?" She asked melodiously, her lips twitching. "Are you sure, young man?"


Ezra frowned, not understanding what was so amusing. Nurse Joy handed him a mirror that she grabbed from the nearby counter and he suddenly understood. Well, understood was an ill fitting word. Because he didn't understand at all! Not only did he look like 15-16 at the most. But he was also just… Creepy looking. He was albino, with almost translucently light skin, short spiky pure white hair, and striking and very creepy red eyes. He pursed his lips, feeling his heart rate shoot up, he didn't look like himself at all! Not to mention having deaged. It truly felt like an out of body experience, he didn't feel totally here. Not really. Because this just couldn't… It wasn't true… It just couldn't be.


He'd never hallucinated something so realistic before though, not that he hallucinated often, but he'd certainly tried some stuff this past summer, anything to dull the pain more, really, but the effects couldn't be this delayed.


Of course… He'd end his time as a wasting cripple and end up as someone that would have people cross the street to avoid. Of course that's how it would be. There's always a catch, nothing good could just happen.


Pain free though… Isn't anything and everything worth it?


Nurse Joy gently removed the mirror from his hands when he started shaking it back and forth, trying to get another view, like the mirror was a magic eight ball and if he shook it enough his real face would show. "You were found in the graveyard, we were all very concerned about you." She coughed delicately, "In fact early tests showed that you had died, but was somehow not dead…" Joy trailed off, crossing her arms under her chest, a wrinkle on her brow, pondering that for a moment, before she smiled cheerfully, disregarding it, "But you're all better now! And definitely alive!" The Chansey bounced up and down adding its own two cents. "Chansey cha!"


Ezra stared at her unsure how on earth she could possibly think that any of that was in any way comforting. He'd died? Well… If he was here somehow… Then yes he understood he'd likely died and somehow appeared in this world…If it was real… For some reason as a teenager… Which alright, it beats being reborn, because just, no, nope. Wait? Did she mean the body he was in now had died!? What kind of creepy teen goes and lays down in a graveyard to die?


Not even he had given up yet… Although he'd been close over the last year or so. Navigating adult life and trying to do the college thing, while basically a cripple that didn't look like a cripple - had been harder than anything he'd done before, and he'd gone through some low times…


He winced as he realized what exactly he looked like now, inherently creepy and off putting. There could be many reasons for a kid like that to want to die… Was he… An orphan to boot then?


God damnit, if he was going to be randomly inserted somewhere where was the damn memory packet for his new life!? Also… Was he possessing a dead body? He stopped brooding as the jolt from that thought ran through his body, his eyes raised to meet those of Nurse Joy, "Wait? Am I dead or alive? Am I possessing myself?" Ezra asked, feeling sick. Starting to face the inevitability that this was real, he could feel too many things for this to be a dream or hallucination.


Nurse Joy hurried to reassure him, sitting down at the side of his bed, grabbing his hands in hers, a compassionate smile on her face, "You're completely alive, young man. For whatever reason your body shut down, I'm not really sure why or how?" She tilted her head, looking slightly chagrined and confused, before patting his hands, "But here you are, living breathing with all the bits and pieces, so definitely alive!"


It was beginning to discomfit him how much Nurse Joy kept putting emphasis on the definitely alive part. Way to sound sure there, thanks a bunch, he thought sarcastically.


"So I died…" Ezra said quietly, trying to come to terms with the fact he'd basically taken over the body of some poor kid who'd either been killed in the graveyard or more likely… Had such a shitty life he'd ended it. Cheery thought. All those ghost pokemon he'd seen… Maybe the kid hadn't ended it? Maybe ghost energy had done him in? But then why was he there in the first place? And why had he seen dark pokemon too? Wasn't Dark super effective to Ghosts or something? Shouldn't they have run away?


Jesus Christ, he was already debating Pokemon logic, just great, give it a week and he'd be deep in the woods jacking off alone in a tent as he hunted for some rare pokemon or something stupid instead of staying sane and keeping indoors.


When moving too much in a day was different levels of excruciating, Ezra had definitely gotten used to the convenience of a mini fridge, a lazy boy recliner, and most of all. Plumbing.


He wasn't a bear. Shitting in the woods wasn't for him.


"Don't think too hard about it, the important thing is you're okay!" Joy said seriously, Chansey patting him on the leg consolingly, thrilling out its name in quick quips which Joy apparently understood - if the quick smile she flashed its way held any meaning.


"The local police couldn't find any records about you, and you're not in the league records as far as we could tell, do you… Remember your name, or any details of why you're here? No one in town recognized you, and, well…" Joy asked delicately, eyes assessing as she observed his response and actions.


Ezra wondered. Could he use his name? If there was no record… The league must have pretty strong records, right? Maybe he could at least keep his name, he sure couldn't remember anything about his body's previous life - so that was out anyway. He snorted quietly to himself - with how he looked, if he was native to Lavender or Kanto for that manner - surely someone would have remembered him. "Ezra Kassian… I don't… Remember anything else…" He said softly, looking down at their interlocked hands, feeling the turmoil inside him seethe at his shitty situation.


At the same time, with the easy breaths he was taking, the steady thrumming of his heartbeat resonating strongly inside him, the feeling of being alive and not just living - he would have taken worse than being an albino orphan and still ended up ahead.


"It will come to you in time, or it won't, either way you're safe now and that's what's important!" Joy said consolingly, patting his arm, she peered at the wall clock, squirming slightly, looking uncomfortable, "Unfortunately, now that you're awake and healed… You can't remain here…" She said, looking conflicted.


Ezra frowned, "Didn't I literally just die? Where would I go?" Does the pokemon world have social services? They must? Right? I'd go out on my own, I'm an adult at least mentally… But… That's probably a bad idea, right? I don't know this world, except from a damn game.


Joy winced, patting Chansey as it crooned quietly. "The pokemon center caters primarily to pokemon trainers and pokemon. We were just closer in your case."


Ezra nodded, hiding his conflicted feelings on the matter. Because he was fairly certain Nurse Joy had just lied to him. The hospital would surely make a lot more sense for treatment. Why would he be brought to a pokemon healing center instead? Surely they at least had a clinic or something? This was a town wasn't it? Even if it had been Pokemon's that killed him, the hospital/clinic must be used to dealing with people hurt by a pokemon. So why here? "How do I become a pokemon trainer then?" Ezra winced immediately after he asked, he had other priorities actually, "Hang on, where am I going if not here? I don't know anything!"


He didn't have memories from his body, how was he supposed to just… Leave here and go on with things? Hopefully she'd have an answer for him, because he didn't know what his next move would be.


Joy's smile was a little brittle as she stood up, straightening her dress, "Ah, there's many careers other than being a pokemon trainer, Ezra." She deflected, she winked at him, "Maybe become a nurse, eh?"


Ezra put on a fake smile, mumbling out some vague agreement. Joy was lying about something in regards to his condition. And she'd completely sidestepped him becoming a trainer. Why? If he was in this world, what else would he do? He had certain advantages over others after all. He knew all the hidden places and pokemon, how to evolve some pokemon in ways that the rest of the world might not even know yet - depending on where in the timeline he was. Him becoming a trainer was in no doubt.


It was the whole… Traveling around thing that he wasn't happy about…


He'd rather get rich through one of the methods he remembered and then set up somewhere, with modern conveniences, and play around with pokemon at home, not in bug infested woods… Get a flying pokemon and he could just fly off, catch some other pokemon, fly home in time for a beer and a shower.


No matter what secret was being kept from him it wouldn't really matter for now. He doubted Nurse Joy was some member of Team Rocket or some such. Or doing it out of any maliciousness. Didn't really seem like her style. So probably one of those for your own good things. He was going to find that very annoying, having finally achieved adulthood only to be back to an age with no say over his life - or at least always talked down to by the adults who of course knows better…


He brooded in his bed for the next hour as Joy and Chansey puttered around looking guilty and attempting stilted small talk. Then Officer Jenny arrived and soon after he found himself dropped off at the local orphanage. A blocky gray building that looked even more depressing than the surroundings.


Lavender Town was certainly bigger than what could fit in a small gameboy game. Thousands of people lived here. And if he wanted to believe it was all a Nintendo style friendship is magic world that he'd entered…. The fact the orphanage was overflowing with kids was a good sign things were not so accommodating.


"Look at that freak!" A large stocky teenager shouted in glee the second Ezra had been left alone by the adults.


As other teens and younger kids gathered around, Ezra sighed forlornly.


It was going to be like that, huh?


Fuck you and your world, Arceus!


＊＊＊


Things were definitely… Rough for a while. Ezra literally did not have any knowledge of the world other than what he knew from pokemon games or the show, which in many cases didn't really match.


Oh, sure, Pokemon types and the like were the same, except fairy types were not yet classified as such. That had been the first sign of where in the timeline he'd been, but also not quite matching either. After all, if this was a game world, the only ghosts he should have been able to see in the graveyard were Gastly, Haunter and Gengar, as the first generation had no others.


The Shuppet that had scared him shouldn't have been there. Not to mention the others he'd seen. As he rose through the classes in school, even though he was taking them with children years younger than him - he learned that the region spanning wars had been so calamitous that entire regions had been permanently cut off from each other in the past.


Only in recent years had some opened up again, the forces and violent nature events separating regions lessening enough to allow travel (Maybe Legendaries separating the humans to stop the war?) Although this was a departure from the games as well. Likely because this world didn't work on the concept of game sequels. Because at this point of time only Kanto and maybe Johto, since it was connected more clearly - should be available.


Kanto, Johto, Sinnoh and Hoenn. They were all in communication years earlier than what the 'games' would suggest. Perhaps how some pokemon that shouldn't exist in Lavender town had still managed to be here. Or maybe his dead ass not being dead had drawn them in? Who knows. Kanto and Johto shared a league, although Lance was not yet the champion, putting me in definitely pre-Ash time.


Ezra had been given citizenship in Kanto with his 'birth city' becoming Lavender town. As much as he disliked almost everything about what had happened - mostly because he still had no clue how or why - he grudgingly appreciated what had been done for him. Even as most citizens of Lavender treated him like a pariah at best, he had a roof over his head, free education and he'd been given citizenship - despite having no clue where he was from or how he'd gotten there.


It did smart something fierce though… Watching kids leave on Pokemon journeys, while he stewed in his frustration and anger in the orphanage, already much older than the kids leaving. Not that many from the orphanage were, no, we were all destined for manual labor or retail jobs. The rare few got sponsored, got a scholarship for a pokemon technical school or were adopted (incredibly rare) by someone who could fund their journey.


He didn't want to go on a journey per say… But he wanted the trainers license, because in this world, Pokemon was power. And without them - you had none.


With his meta knowledge he'd literally blown through school in regards to anything to do with pokemon, having to dumb himself down at times, because things he knew - weren't known yet. Although the subjects like history had taken slightly longer as he'd had to start from the beginning. Yet… Any request to even apply for becoming a trainer was denied him. There's no way he could afford a trainers license on his own, they didn't come that cheaply for random orphans. Let alone the most disliked orphan in Lavender town. Curse Arceus for making him an albino freak!


For every day he spent working his ass off on his studies, on studying every scrap of knowledge on pokemon that was available (Ghost and Dark mostly, it's what Lavender had a lot of material on - and it called to him.) - there was a day where he found himself having to fight. He could have backed down from all the bullies and naysayers, but what would that have achieved? He refused to be destined as nothing - to then add spineless and pathetic to it as well, was anathema. For once he had a working body, he wouldn't accept being pushed around anymore.


There was something satisfying about the crunch of crushed cartilage, as he dealt out damage to his bullies - he always lost in the end - for they were many, and he was but one.


But he always made them pay heavily for it…


If they had pokemon maybe it wouldn't have been so bad, he'd definitely go for a pokemon battle anytime… But none of them had any, so it was just regular fists he faced. At least he couldn't say he got no exercise... Of course all the witnesses always said he started it. So he got intimately acquainted with Officer Jenny and the Lavender town police department. (Not that kind of intimate, unfortunately) He usually got accused of everything from vandalism to theft anyway, just for being in the vicinity of good upstanding citizens. Luckily for him, the police refused to actually prosecute him without actual evidence other than kids getting into fights.


They all knew he was other, foreign. His looks hadn't helped him in that aspect. So even with the police not prosecuting him, they also weren't helping.


It wasn't shown in the games, but people were still people. Racism was still a thing, fear of anything other, was definitely still a thing, and of course there had been wars between the regions… So a lot of hatred was stewing behind the scenes.


So yeah… He was grateful to Lavender for taking him in since he had nothing and no one… And he wanted to punch every fucking face in town in - for treating him like garbage. Except Nurse Joy. Joy was cool. Even if still tight-lipped whenever he tried to question her. There was definitely something going on that he was unaware of. He was so far at the top of the class it wasn't funny, even if he was older then all the other kids he should be receiving offers to sponsor or at least go study for a breeder or at a scientific research center if nothing else. But he got nothing…


And maybe he was being spiteful and a bit resentful, not all of Lavender was treating him like the dirt under their shoes. But it sure felt like it…


With no Pokemon, no realistic way to get one yet without getting accused of poaching or something, and no real future to look forward to after he finished school… He was constantly burning with anger and darker feelings. The spite he was carrying around everyday as he faced mutters and dirty looks everywhere he went, became the new normal.


Those feelings would have probably been how he finally figured out that he wasn't alone…


If things hadn't escalated due to pure suicidal stupidity.


＊＊＊


It had been over six months since he'd arrived in this world, nothing had really stood out in the morning to tell him everything would change.


It had been a regular shitty day. His breakfast had accidentally been knocked out of his hands by Rocky, Dean and their group of neanderthals ( Both as old as him and more pathetic for it as they had nothing going for them.) Of course he couldn't get seconds after that. It was an orphanage - and everyone would swear up and down he tossed it to the ground on his own if he bothered to complain. So… Off he went to school, hungry. Fine.


It's fine. He was cool about it. No big deal…


His walk to the school was practically a practice in mediation and zen like control of his emotions at this point. He barely even saw the people around him anymore as he sunk into almost a meditative state - achieved after much practice - eyes half lidded as he walked automatically down the road, the darkness building inside him being tightly controlled and soothed. He almost felt like he heard a cackling laugh from somewhere, but he'd arrived at the school so he put it out of his mind.


As he entered the yard outdid the school, he could feel the weight of the stares from his classmates. They knew he was different, they knew the adults didn't like him, and they didn't hesitate to make him feel it. Ezra took a deep steadying breath, trying to keep his emotions in check.


It wouldn't do to break noses at school, he'd probably actually get in shit for that.


Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" It was Mia, one of the few students who had been kind to him since he had arrived in town.


Only one really.


Mia's voice cut through the haze of his dark thoughts, and Ezra turned to look at her. She had a concerned expression on her face, her bright green eyes filled with worry. Mia was two years younger than him, but she had a maturity beyond her years. She had always been kind to him, despite the harsh treatment he'd received from the other students.


She was the kind of person that would find an injured squirrel and nurse it back to health, that would give the shirt off her back to help another - a total softy in other words.


And completely nuts to risk associating with him.


Ezra managed to fake a small smile, appreciative of her concern, but really not needing her to become the next target. "I'm fine, Mia. Just the usual bullshit." He shrugged, trying to downplay the situation. He didn't want to burden her with his problems.


Mia looked at him sympathetically, her face an open book, he disliked the whole situation really, but he could also see it was ultimately temporary, he wasn't a teenager anymore, not really - so he could see the light at the end of the tunnel (heh, death joke!)


"I understand, Ezra." Mia said companionably, her expression entirely honest and warm, "It's not easy, I know. But you're not alone, not really." She glanced around the hallway surreptitiously, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I've noticed something... Strange. Whenever you're around, ghost-type Pokemon seem to appear more often…"


Ezra scoffed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes as he continued towards the school entrance, hands in the pockets of his worn jeans. "You're shittin' me, I have never even laid an eye on a single one…" Not since the graveyard anyway…


"It's true." Mia insisted, skipping alongside him, her freckled face gaining a stubborn look that he knew meant she wouldn't drop this. "Like out of the corner of my eye sometimes, I see stuff in your shadow."


"Stuff… Right?" He mocked her lightly, "Sure sounds like a pokemon to me."


He didn't entirely discount her, because who knew? And perhaps he'd have to see if he could catch a glimpse himself, but agreeing with her in any way would just have her stick by him even closer - and that wasn't good for her continued health.


Speaking of the devil… He thought, mood immediately souring as he noticed Rocky's best friend Dean, rushing their way surrounded by a small gaggle of other orphans.


Their conversation was interrupted as Dean gleefully shoved a poke ball under his nose, from the scuffs and dirt on it, he'd likely stolen or come upon one. He sure as hell couldn't afford buying one.


They were the unwanted, all of them - the ones who'd never gotten a journey, a break, a shot at being something special. The ones destined for sewer work, cleaning, and all other undesirable jobs - company pokemon lent to them for tasks, for the ones they wouldn't have to do with their own hands anyway.


Dean sneered at Ezra, holding up the Pokeball and giving it a shake. "Hey look, it's the loser without a Pokemon. What's the matter, can't you even get one of your own?" He chuckled nasally, looking to his friends for approval immediately.


What a moronic taunt, since none of us are allowed one of our own… He thought, staring at the idiot bully with a dull look.


He noticed Dean's attention wavering, switching towards Mia, so he stepped forward, hands still in his pockets. "Who'd you suck off for that then? Never knew you were that into balls, Dean."


It worked like a charm, no one was paying attention to Mia now, every single one of the guys staring at him. Some holding back snickers, as Dean's pimply face turned a puce color as he snarled back at Ezra, "You can't talk like that now, freak, I got a Pokemon!"


Ezra held back the urge to roll his eyes at the childish taunt, yes, he was a freak, come up with something new. He idly noted Mia out of the corner of his eyes, a few steps back, watching the gathering while worryingly gnawing on her lower lip.


He couldn't really pick a fight, couldn't afford to. Not at school, not only for him, but for Mia. She was a sweetheart really, and she didn't deserve to worry about him, or to get caught in the crossfire.


So he turned his back on Dean, dismissively, "Whatever, we got class."


He only realized his mistake when Dean snarled in anger behind him and he heard the sound of a pokeball hitting the dusty ground, what hurts more than anger? Dismissal.


He turned around quickly, giving Mia a shove away from him, "Get out of here, Mia!" He said urgently.


As he'd guessed, Dean had stolen, or found a lost pokeball. Which meant he'd just released what was basically a monster in the school yard, while having no control of it.


The pokemon emerged with a feral snarl, its eyes glowing with a menacing red light. The other students gasped and scattered, even Dean's friends not having expected him to go that far. Which left Ezra and Mia to face the creature alone, only Dean remaining, cheering on 'his' pokemon like the absolute moron he was.


From the looks of it, with the obvious signs of abuse across the Nidorans skin - the idiot had managed to somehow get his hand on a pokemon reclaimed from an abusive trainer. Ezra raised his hands, trying to appear non-threatening, "Hey, it's okay, we're not going to hurt you, you're not with your trainer anymore." He tried, lacking any better options.


In his mind, he dully noted that Mia continued to prove that she had no survival instincts. First trying to befriend the abnormal freak everyone hated - and now not running facing a feral pokemon.


Nidoran snarled, its horn glistening purple as its eyes flickered across the yard, searching for threats.


To Ezra's relief, it didn't seem to see them as such at the moment, so he slowly began to back up, laying an arm across Mia, pushing her back behind him. "Slowly now…" He muttered.


"Do something, you useless thing!" Dean shouted, aiming a kick at the abused Nidoran, making Ezra's hope for humanity sink to new lows. The idiot was dead last in pokemon studies, but surely he couldn't be that dumb?


The Nidoran yelped in pain and anger, as Dean's kick connected, its eyes flickering towards the source of the pain. Ezra could see the anger and confusion in its gaze, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it attacked. Where the fuck are the teachers!?


He quickly scanned the area, looking for something, anything, he could use as a weapon, coming up short.


Their classes had a very simple lesson on what to do about fighting a Pokemon on your own.


Don't.


End of lesson.


"Stay behind me." Ezra whispered to Mia, his eyes never leaving the Nidoran, he refused to be cowed by something the size of a plushie. He knew it had powers that could kill him, but death wasn't a fear of his, failing to live was.


The Nidoran finally decided on a course of action, Ezra pushing Mia to run, not feeling even an ounce of empathy for Dean as the Nidoran gored him with its horn, the teen absolutely howling in agony.


He wasn't a saint, do stupid shit - win stupid prizes. Dean won death all of his own, and Ezra didn't give a shit about it - except for the fact they were now possible targets.


Chancing a quick look behind him, still pushing Mia ahead of him, he blanched as he saw the Nidoran - its horn dripping blood - turn its head their way, beginning to run on tiny legs, but eating up the distance far faster then it should be able to.


If it was a normal animal, but pokemon were not, their bodies didn't have the same limits as physical or common sense would dictate.


Ezra was forced to improvise, sliding to a halt, kicking a garbage can towards the Nidoran, his hand grasping the lid. "Tch." He acknowledged as the Nidoran jumped on top of the garbage can, using it to fly in the air, heading directly at him.


Ezra tried to smack it with his makeshift shield, only to find the Nidoran was heavier than it looked, smashing into his shield, his arms not able to push it away and off as he'd planned. The horn pierced right through it, stopping just an inch in front of his face.


"Fuck off Barney!" He said, scowling, glaring at the purple pokemon as it wiggled its horn trying to push through.


With its momentum slowed, Ezra managed to at least let go of his makeshift shield, taking a few steps back as the Nidoran shook it head, screeching, trying to get the trash can lid off its horn, quickly managing to rip through the cheap metal.


Ezra stared down at the snarling pokemon, its red eyes mad and unfocused. Shit, this might be it… He thought, putting his hands up in a loose boxers pose.


If he was going down, he was going to at least punch this fucking thing in the face before he got gored.


Pain was not new, hell death wasn't new. He'd be damned if he was going to face it like a chump, he'd go out punching death in the face or not at all.


"Leave him alone" A shriek came from the side, an apple hitting the Nidoran in the head.


Both Pokemon and person turned and stared at Mia, one in madness, the other just mad.


It was a good ass throw, no doubt, but it was also just the last thing she should have done, why wouldn't the bitch just run!?


Everyone was shooting for stupid prizes today.


"Mia, no!" Ezra shouted, lunging for the Nidoran, but only hitting dirt, as the pokemon shot forward, rushing towards the girl.


Finally teachers were coming out of the entrance, pokeballs aloft, too late. Far too late. Ezra thought, despairing.


You stupid girl! I don't even really know you, and you're going to make me watch you die!


His anger flared, at the situation, at that idiot Dean, at the incapable teachers, and most of all at the stupid girl who tried to befriend him, and got herself killed for it.


The Nidoran jumped at Mia's throat, the girl screaming in fear, before a shadow ball struck it in the side, sending the Nidoran off course, screeching in pain.


Ezra rose up, feeling a chill in the air, the rush of the teachers had pulled to a stop, their pokemon out, but standing guard, wary.


Ezra could see why…


Shadows played around him, his own shadow draped like a mantle around his shoulders, Dozens of ghost pokemon fluttering in and out of sight, giggling phantasms doing a fly by, over the crowd of teachers and students.


Out of his shadow, a shuppet floated up to hover over his shoulder. Ezra didn't know how he knew, but it was the same one as the one he saw at the graveyard.


The Nidoran stood no chance, a multitude of ghost attacks hitting it at once, making Ezra wince. "Stop!" He yelled, not interested in killing it, especially not in front of witnesses.


The entire group of ghosts all pulled back at his order, and Ezra had no idea what was going on… But he liked it.


Where the fuck was this these last six months? He thought, marveling over what was going on.


As the shadows practically broiled across the ground around him, dark shadowy smoke wafting off his shoulders and limbs, a Shuppet on his shoulder, a cloud of ghost pokemon circling above him, Ezra grinned widely,


Lavender Town wouldn't be able to ignore him now.


＊＊＊


Several hours later,


Officer Jenny sat across from him in the interrogation room at the police station, having politely asked him to visit. "We're willing to offer a trainers license if you agree to leave Lavender Town." She said reluctantly, it was obvious it wasn't her call, it came from above her.


With how superstitious people in Lavender could be, and add in his appearance, Ezra wasn't surprised they wanted to get rid of him. Offering the one thing he'd stubbornly kept asking for and continuously was denied was smart.


But, a little too late, and a little too… Well, little.


He wasn't just a no-name orphan now.


Officer Jenny watched Ezra carefully, her expression a mix of concern and determination. The dull hum of the fluorescent lights overhead cast an eerie glow over the room, highlighting the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.


She was uncomfortable being stuck in an enclosed space with him.


Made him wonder why exactly they chose this room to begin with, it's not like he'd have protested if they did it in a field, or the schoolyard or literally anywhere.


Ezra could practically feel the weight of the town's fear and mistrust pressing down on him, even Mia had looked at him with fear in the end - the miasma of ghostly energies and pokemon proving too much for even her charity. He'd gotten what he wanted in a way, but not how he'd wanted it.


Hopefully she'd gain some much needed survival instincts.


Because without a pokemon on her own, she was going to get herself killed with some brave pointless stunt.


He had nothing against being brave, it sure beat being a coward - but like with everything, it needed moderation. He vastly preferred being brave in a situation where he actually stood more than a snowball's chance in hell to win.


He supposed he should be thankful they were willing to just kick him out with a parting gift, and not put him away in some lab somewhere and study his strange affinity to ghosts.


He'd definitely need to keep an eye out. If team Rocket heard about him being some kind of ghost pokemon beacon…


He did not want to spend the rest of his life as some sort of battery for fucking Giovanni.


He disliked the man not because he was the enemy in a game he'd played once, but because the coward was a duplicitous fraud without the will to truly go for what he wanted.


If he wanted to be a criminal lord, he should have just done it full stop, not the half measure he did playing gym leader on the side.


"A trainer's license, huh?" Ezra muttered lowly, his Shuppet still hovering over his shoulder, no longer hiding in his shadow.


He could almost feel It now, when it slipped in or around his shadow, connected somehow.


Some ghosts in pokemon had some shitty descriptions, he didn't remember if shuppets were the ones where a kid died and became a pokemon - but he sure as hell hoped not.


If he was lugging around his body's previous soul as a pokemon - that would just be sick.


As for the offer, he could just take it, but he was an orphan, and traveling the wilderness with nary a pokeball, tent or rations on him - sounded self defeating. He also really wasn't one for roughing it. He was a New Yorker, not a wilderness enthusiast.


He never went anywhere where there wasn't a hot dog cart within a block radius.


Besides all that, he really wasn't happy about the whole treatment he'd received in Lavender for something as retarded as his looks - now they have a reason, but before they sure as hell didn't. They might succeed in getting rid of him for the moment - and he was going to make it cost them a bundle… But he'd be back…


Oh, he had plans now…


If he really had this connection with Ghost pokemon? Well, he wanted to train and fight with them, but without schlepping through woods - so why not build his own gym. Get the pokemon experience but not the weeks without showers and bugs in his everything, experience.


A Ghost gym! Even if it didn't get to be on the circuit, he'd still have challengers, someone would always come when there was a challenge available. And he'd get his creature comforts and his pokemon and power at the same time. And who knew, if he got strong enough, maybe he could even get the gym on the circuit, it wasn't like the Cerulean gym was worth shit anyway.


And of course, since Lavender town had fucked with him, and also happened to be ghost capital of the world - what better place to set up? The town was literally built for it, he'd never lack pokemon for the gym, or for handing out starters to annoying tykes.


And he'd make sure each god damn orphan got a chance to own a pokemon too - license or no license.


He'd be back, they could count on it.


But first, he needed to extort the crap out of them. For justice. But mostly because he needed to eat.


"Seems kind of low… Kickin' an orphan to the wilderness and all that, dontcha think?" He said casually, leaning forward on his elbows, a Haunter briefly flickering into being next to him, grinning, before it faded away, mocking laughter echoing around the interrogation room.


Okay, he hadn't asked for that, or planned it - but wicked!


Officer Jenny watched him with a bit more wariness, although she still had an underlying aura of concern around her, "A basic starter kit could be provided." She said agreeably. "A tent, some antidotes and food, cooking supplies."


Wow, I thought you were cool, Jenny - what's with the lowball offer?


Ezra scoffed, not even interested in such a pathetic offer, talk about starting low, "You're gonna give me that crap after I saved a girl's life?" He said with an unimpressed mien, his brow knitted together.


Officer Jenny gave him a stern look, lips pursed, "You're also endangering lives for every moment you remain. There's already been trainers inquiring about how much of a threat you are and if there's a bounty on your head yet."


"Bounty?" Ezra asked, a bit thrown, it was not something he'd run into in his studies, or in the games.


Definitely not something that would fit in a kids game he supposed. Bounty hunters usually weren't easygoing fellas.


Officer Jenny grimaced, "It's not something that we generally advertise, but sometimes people, or pokemon, become a threat to society, and bounties get placed for taking them in."


"Threat to society, huh?" Ezra said thoughtfully, not something he'd have pictured for himself.


He could see it of course, if he could really direct all these pokemon, and they weren't just humoring him or something - he was definitely a threat.


Just not to regular people - he was a bit of an a-hole sure, but he wasn't 100 percent a dick.


"You can see why we don't want any misunderstandings to happen." Officer Jenny said shortly, giving him a measured look.


At least she didn't look ready to attack him, even if she did have her pokemon out for this little meeting. Probably the fact he saved Mia was his one saving grace in this - and why he didn't have some Ace trainers or Rangers throwing Charizards and shit at him.


Ezra nodded, understanding her point, just not… Giving a fuck. "Unless you're telling me you're putting a bounty on me for saving a life, trouble from bounty hunters sounds more like a you problem. Again, you want me gone, then set me up in a way where I can actually leave." He didn't bother with pleasantries just going full on blunt ass - there was no need to be diplomatic now, they both know what they wanted, so it was time to deal.


Like hell he was going to be made to feel guilty for saving Mia, no matter how freaky or spooky he was about it.


Officer Jenny let out a huff, looking towards the one way mirror, before sighing, "Alright, what do you want exactly…?"


Ezra smiled winningly. "Let me take as much as I can carry from the pokemart in town, at the town's expense." He suggested, the Shuppet on his shoulder shaking in laughter.


She tried to haggle him down of course, but he was insistent. Eventually, after some pow-wows with whoever was behind the mirror, she agreed to his request and escorted him to the Pokemart.


Sucked to suck, the Pokemart had recently gotten those new hammerspace bags or whatever they were. The ones you saw in the anime where Ash and co could pull full on cooking sets, tents and shit out of them.


What he could carry with two or three of those bags… Well… He wasn't going to be any more liked in town shortly, but he'd be well set up for his journey.


Perhaps sensing his mischievousness, the ghosts following in his wake went off into a chorus of creepy laughter, freaking out Officer Jenny.


"No worries, Officer. They just like a good joke." Ezra said, trying to hold back a shit eating grin.


Boy were they going to be pissed when he showed back up to put down roots.


This was where he'd been born so to speak.


Like hell he was going to let these losers run him out permanently.


＊＊＊


Later that night,


Ezra had set up his tent just a two hours walk from Lavender Town.


He was technically following the 'banishment' As he wasn't in Lavender after all, he was in the wild wilderness - two hours of a slow walk away type of wilderness.


He'd definitely furthered the resentment when he'd robbed the pokemart blind on the taxpayers dollar - but to be fair, he did lay out the terms clearly, and they signed on the dotted line.


He'd walked out carrying four bags with space enlargement mojo in them, absolutely stuffed to the brim with everything he could possibly need.


He now faced the question of what exactly he should do.


He didn't want to travel around the regions, not on foot anyway. Once he had flight, he could just travel from town to town - you know - civilization. Therefore a flying pokemon would be absolutely necessary, one he could evolve quickly for the purpose of flying.


It might not make him the best type of trainer, he wasn't exactly a 'purist' when it came to all the make friends, be happy bullshit Ash portrayed in a kids show.


Dean dying to a Nidoran, the bounties on dangerous pokemon or trainers - told him he wasn't in a kid friendly world. So befriend a pidgey and spend maybe months training it, battling with it against other rookies… He didn't have the sentiment to bother with it.


He'd rather catch one and make it clear from the beginning, we're training for you to be a flier, not a battler. The pidgey would get a nice life of being well fed and taken care of, with just having to fly around a bit now and then - all it had to do was live through the gauntlet of ghosts battling it over and over while they traveled, until it evolved.


He wasn't going to be Ash, the kid, if he existed here, could try his own bs and see how it worked. Ezra was followed by ghosts and dark type pokemon for a reason - and it wasn't his pleasant personality.


He too, just like them, had a good bit of spite in him. A need to tell the world to suck it, to go his own way.


It was probably going to end in tragedy, what quest for power didn't? But he was okay with that, it was about the journey, not the end. As long as he was happy with what he was doing, it wouldn't matter what happened at the end.


So, he'd have to focus on a flying pokemon for a bit, surely there would be some around in any forest.


After that, he had a choice to make.


He needed to find something that would make him a lot of money.


So he could get his snazzy freaky ghost gym, preferably styled like a haunted mansion, with a moat around it, covered in fog - one rickety wooden bridge leading into the unknown. Yeah… That sounded about right.


No point in going the gym leader route if he wasn't going to be a scary as hell one, the kind the filthy casuals don't dare approach because of his rep.


So… Money.


This time in the timeline no one should know about how to evolve Feebas into Milotic, which would be some good cash, but also time consuming. It wasn't like he could rip every prism scale off them as they evolved - he wasn't cruel, just indifferent to the pokemon he didn't care about.


He also knew about the island full of dragonites, selling that information would net him a good sum, but would also attract attention. He also figured that the two who would pay the most for the information would be Lance, the dragon master - and Giovanni because of Team Rocket.


Neither were people he wanted to deal with at this early stage. He'd have to actually train up a team first. Become at least a gym leader level of strength.


His mind was flush with ideas for training, so he didn't think it would be impossible, but not soon enough for his taste to tangle with the likes of Lance or Giovanni.


The crystal Onix was an option, but not an immediate one.


He'd have to put a pin in it, either way, until he could fly, his money making schemes were a non-starter.


He rummaged around in one of his bags, bringing out a set of poke balls.


"Okay, I don't know how much you guys all understand what's going on, but I can't fight with you guys while you're not 'my' Pokemon." Ezra held up several pokeballs, seeing ghosts and dark pokemon skimming by the edge of his campsite, well hidden in the dark.


"Once I have my own gym, you'll all be there, belonging to me and my gym, playing whatever pranks you want and having fun with idiots." Ezra promised, with a smirk on his face, "Until then, who wants to grow strong with me?"


The Shuppet on his shoulder tapped itself on one of his pokeballs, not surprising Ezra overly much considering it had been following him around. The pokeball let out a ding as it officially became his starter.


Out of the shadows, a Cubone, and a Haunter came into the campsite.


He was a little disappointed that more pokemon didn't want to come, but with his current limit of six, it was probably for the best.


He rolled the pokeballs over, and the two volunteers touched them, sucked into the pokeballs without further ado - and officially joined team Ezra.


He held up the three pokeballs, more ghosts swirling around him, the dark type pokemon keeping their distance but still watching him.


"We're going to mess with people so fucking much." He promised them, his face not so dissimilar from a grinning Gengar in the darkness.


Well… If the Gengar was an albino.


＊＊＊


Author's note:


So this is basically the premise - a guy who's not the typical in love with all Pokemon's insert who smells all the flowers and adores all pokemon.


A guy with his own flaws, and a bit of a ruthless laziness to him.


Yet intelligent enough to utilize all the cheats and training tools and tips he'd know about through metaknowledge.


Cheers


JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Little snippet due to some fics I've read recently.

It's a Highschool DxD fic with a twist on the gamer, that is intended to make it more story focused then numbers focused.

We'll see how that works out. Maybe Patreon votes for more chappies, although I do have too many stories as is.

If this ever ends up a full story, it's obviously going to be a somewhat lewd one - because Highschool DxD.

As usual, I don't own any of the worlds, fictions or canon characters that show up.

Hope you enjoy.

---

He stared blankly at the sky, hands deep in his pockets, feeling the cool breeze against his skin. The twilight painted the heavens in hues of purple and pink, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him.

He supposed he couldn't really complain; getting a second life was beyond what anyone should or could achieve - and he'd had it handed to him on a silver platter.

Or some kind of platter… He wasn't sure what to think of it quite yet…

He hadn't been anyone special, he certainly hadn't been a saint by any standards of measurements. He'd be the last person who'd get 'rewarded' like this.

If it was a reward…

All logic dictated that he shouldn't be here. But when you started bringing in Gods and the multiverse into things, he supposed that logic had little to do with it.

He eyed the screen in front of him again, pursing his lips in cool disdain.

Whatever entity that had dragged his soul here, had given him a 'gift' of sorts, the system of the gamer. Except he hadn't been allowed to choose anything about it. Not where he was going, not his looks, his name, his skills - nothing. In essence it was a bit of a cursed gift, hence his pondering if this existence was really a reward, or someone's idea of a joke.

Again, he supposed he couldn't really complain, the gamer system was a sure fire way to become a god if one didn't slack off too much - depending on how one utilized it. Even the most moronic examples of humanity should be able to get far in such a system.

It was really annoying though - and a sign of tumultuous times ahead - that instead of the system he was used to reading about, this system didn't come with a Gacha system or dungeon creation, or even regular skill ups through hard work and effort... Which seriously would slow down munchkinry on his part.

One lucky draw of Gacha and he could have had a lightning logia from One Piece or get Excalibur or something cool like that, something - pardon the pun - game changing. Apparently the entity that wanted to have some fun with his adventures - didn't believe in making it too easy for him.

Screw easy, he'd have been fine with just leaving it at basic bitch level. No bells and whistles, just work at it. He could have done shit with that.

He sighed, for not the first or last time this day, as he reread what the entity had done to make things interesting.

For it/him/her.

Not so much for him.

The character creation of this unfair system, had apparently been built on buying skills and advantages by picking maladies and disadvantages.

Which okay, that tracked with some of the things he'd seen before, except usually it was some minor thing for a minor gain. Not a giant heap of fuck you very much.

Without ID creation and Gacha there to help power him up quickly, he was at a disadvantage already. Then add the fact that apparently quests and accomplishments were the only way other than levels to gain stat points, whereas grinding stats and skills and being creative to try and make spells etc - didn't exist.

So apparently, in an attempt to try and make him not a complete weakling in such a system, he'd been loaded up with some not so fun disadvantages to give him his leg up in this world, by giving him two very large advantages.

Screw living an interesting life, he was going to be simply fucked.

If he survived to the end he'd be a god, sure, but it was a big if.

Chosen disadvantages - was the top header on his screen.

Chosen his perfect ass! He hadn't gotten to choose shit! He thought irritably. Nor was his ass actually perfect anymore either.

Exercising for your entire life to look good and be healthy was a lie - because some asshole could apparently take it all away and saddle you with bullshit.

Hunted:

They're after you, you don't know who, you don't know why, but in the shadows, they come for you - they hunt you, they seek your destruction, and they can not be negotiated with or turned away. They're coming…

Curse of the pool:

Like Ranma Saotome before you, you're cursed to change into a female form when coming into contact with cold water. Cold water will seek you out, there is no defense, there is nowhere to hide.

Locked potential:

You can only grow so strong, the ceiling is not easy to break through, each ceiling of power needs to be overcome through outside forces, the game will not help you here.

…So… He'd been gypped, obviously.

Hunted was annoying, but seemed fairly innocuous considering things. As a gamer he'd always end up fighting something at some point. So being hunted didn't really change overly much, unless whoever did the hunting caught him before he'd been able to do a single thing to power up.

Considering how shitty his system was set up, he'd almost be willing to bet he wouldn't be given enough time to git gud before that shit set in though.

The Ranma curse… Well, he wasn't Ranma, so exploring a female body wasn't the end of the world for him. However, the annoyance of cold water seeking him out meant he'd never be able to move around the mundane world, always having to remain with the supernatural.

Regular people didn't usually take well to instant sex changes. And there were of course other drawbacks, like having to learn to fight two ways. Because he wasn't the same kind of martial arts monster that Ranma was, and suddenly having a different weight distribution and height and everything else that came with it - wouldn't be helping him learn how to fight as he was currently, as he was basically a normie… A really weak normie.

Locked potential was just fucking cruel. A gamer system that couldn't progress further past a certain point without outside interference in some way? Talk about fucking him over… Again pointing him towards great accomplishments or quests to get anywhere - the system making it clear he couldn't ever rest on his laurels, he'd always have to push further.

He'd always have to get into dangerous situations or go after quests to get anywhere at all…

If he hadn't already discovered that he at least had the inventory system he'd probably cry - or find whoever put him here and break their balls. This all was happening because someone somewhere complained things were too OP in a gamer system, wasn't it? So they nerfed it when it came to him - that's what's happened, right?

Thanks a bunch, you random dipshits, see what your whining has done? He let out a quiet, "Tch." Clicking his tongue, as he moved on from that particular complaint.

He couldn't do anything about it, so he'd just have to swallow his frustration and anger.

There were other negative traits as well, called maladies, disadvantages that at least he could remedy, but for now put him in a weaker position.

Weak body:

Your body spent years in the hospital, you have the strength and stamina of a soggy noodle. A ten year old child would likely beat you in a fight, this is the system being kind, in actuality an 8 year old girl would likely overwhelm your weak limbs.

Haunted backstory:

Your past is filled with sadness, loss and horror, the constant drain on your mental energy has given you a permanent - 5 debuff on all mental stats until overcome in a thematic manner.

Instinctive Hatred:

Due to the beings who ruined your life, took your love away, your family, destroyed you - you have an instinctive hatred for all of their kind. Until overcome you will be unable to act without anger to anyone from that faction. The longer you are near the faction, the easier it will become for you to lose control.

Like holy hell, whoever was in charge really went all in on fucking him over. Weak body could be overcome, it just meant time, lots of time considering how weak he was. It was ridiculous really, just standing here was tiring him out. Standing. Standing was tiring him out.

And working out wouldn't give him stat points! It would just improve him like a normal humie working out…

The backstory… Yeah fuck you, entity. Of course he had to be absolutely mindfucked there too… Unlike any other isekai, he hadn't been born into this world, and he hadn't just appeared out of nowhere or hijacked a body either - not quite anyway.

He'd lived his life in this world, gone through all the normal tribulations of a child and tween, and suffered incredibly due to the haunted backstory, losing his entire family in the most horrific manner to boot, leaving him an orphan.

Leaving him broken in a hospital bed for over two years.

And then, he was suddenly there. Taking over, like he'd been a passenger unknowingly the entire time. Only his greater life experience and collection of memories, coupled with how broken the kid was, allowed him to kind of mix together and end up as the primary soul.

Which meant he had a perfect memory of all that shit, the emotions and horror attached to them all belonged, not something he could just wave away, because he'd lived it. He felt it all.

It wasn't as easy as just waving it away as memories, even now, he could still feel the pain if he lost concentration, could remember the laughter, the… Other things.

He didn't know where to begin with 'getting over it' since it also needed a quest or a compliment apparently, since it needed to be 'thematic'. The fucker in charge giving him a mental malady he couldn't even begin to think on how to remove. Bastard…

And the kicker of it all. The world he'd been randomly inserted in was Highschool DxD. Practically hentai land, if you ignore the many many beings capable of wiping out the planet.

And instinctive hatred ensured that he'd hate devils - because of course a devil and his peerage had been behind his horrible past. Something which he'd have to deal with - while going to Kuoh academy… While the majority of all plot, power ups, and possible allies in this world - were all devils.

This entire set up was literally made to force him to fight and struggle as much as possible. The entity obviously wanted him involved in canon, or he wouldn't be locked in to going to Kuoh in the first place on a scholarship. A poor orphan with nowhere else to go, not like he could leave the country…

Which also got mixed in with the last lovely drawback that had been chosen for him. To ensure he'd be as involved and fucked as possible, despite his instinctive hatred, and his backstory.

Devil Bait:

Due to the time spent in the hospital in your broken body, you moved forward in more mental pursuits. Creating and drawing a manga under a pseudonym, one that has gained quite a lot of popularity. Secondly, you became a world junior chess champion, practicing religiously online, appearing at competitions in your wheelchair to take home championships - culminating in the world championship last month.

So he had an instinctive hatred of devils. He was stuck going to Kuoh in the first year they allowed males to join. And he was basically catnip to Sona and Rias.

Like his gender change curse wouldn't draw enough attention? A chess champion and a fucking published manga writer?

Come on!

He'd never get a fucking moment of peace. Ever. How was this even fair? That was not even mentioning the odds of him being super murked by the sis cons if he couldn't keep his hatred down and did something suicidal, like attacking either of the heiresses or their peerage.

He really needed to get instinctive hatred solved somehow pronto, or get one hell of a meditation skill somehow. Just thinking of the devils was enough to get his blood boiling, he didn't even want to imagine spending any time with them.

Honestly, if it weren't for these drawbacks all paying for some very sweet positives, he'd just lay down and die, because things were really stacked against him.

The Ranma curse alone meant the devils would poke at him, while he apparently wouldn't be able to respond kindly due to an instinctive hateful reaction he couldn't control. With the chess and manga additions, he foresaw a concerted effort from both peerages to bug him incessantly once Rias and Sona got competitive.

Especially once he started to mysteriously get stronger…

At least he had some positives…

Which by the way, at least included Gamers body and Mind, even if both had conditions that limited them - like the fact his disadvantages as done by the system - bypassed his mind and body completely.

At least he could recuperate anything not system related by sleeping. So there was that…

Fucking entity got its/his/her gamer system from the dollar store of the multiverse or something…

Chosen advantages:

Sacred Gear version Forbidden Balor View - Aeon Balor

You have a Longinus level Sacred Gear that can stop time for anything/anyone in your field of vision. Allows some control of darkness and abilities similar to those of previous user Gasper Vladi. The evil god Balor is not present in the sacred Gear despite its name. You're welcome.

His many disadvantages had gotten this ability, and one other. And he supposed it likely meant Gasper wasn't alive here, although he apparently got the abilities of a future Gasper who'd mastered his abilities… Somehow... Luckily for him, he didn't get a piece of an evil god along for the ride. Unluckily for him, it meant he'd need to power everything on his own, so at his current state, he'd probably be lucky if he could stop time for a housefly for a second.

At least the system allowed abilities to be trained. He'd really just end it all if even his abilities could only progress through some thematic quest objective.

His second advantage, and only other one, because all his maladies and advantages paid for just these two, was a doozy - and these two together, almost made him accepting of his disadvantages.

Magic is thy bitch:

All magic comes easy to you, just by seeing it, you can copy spells and bloodlines and perform them without any extra cost or penalty. Magic professions like Alchemy and Enchanting come easily for you.

It kind of made it worth all the rest. If he could survive long enough to put it to good use anyway. Aeon Balor on its own was a pretty good power to have, this… This was an ultimate game changer. And potentially something which could allow him to become that god that most gamers could become.

Literally being able to learn anything magic related just by seeing it, was deliciously OP. Although he held back any elation until he could see it in progress, because with his shitty system, who knew what would count as magic?

He sighed, looking up at the moon one last time, before he shuffled back off the balcony and into his cardboard box sized apartment.

He wasn't kidding, his 'kitchen' was literally five feet away from his futon bed, and little living area. A cramped closet-like space holding a small shower and toilet/sink combo. He'd done great for grades - albeit by online schooling for the past two years, and was invited to Kuoh academy on a scholarship. (Being the World Junior chess champion probably helped) But it didn't exactly pay for much.

His chess winnings really wasn't a sustainable income so what he had there had basically been invested and was untouchable until he was 18 by the caretaker who'd been in charge of him, during his convalescence.

'Somehow' he was now an emancipated minor - the caretaker nowhere to be seen. System shenanigans no doubt. Still, he couldn't touch the damn money until he was 18 though, hence the cardboard box apartment.

He sat down on the small futon, wincing as the floorboards creaked from such a small thing.

He looked over his character sheet, blowing out a tired breath, he had so much work to do.

Character:

Name: Sora Satoru

Level: 1

Age: 16

Title: N/A

HP 100 ( 2 per minute) MP 450 (15 per minute)

Stats:

Strength: 4

Perception: 11

Endurance: 4

Charisma: 15 (-5)

Intelligence: 19 (-5)

Wisdom: 18 (-5)

Dexterity: 15

Luck: 1

By some grace of God, (Or would that be Michael here?) Observe had been an inbuilt ability - the only thing he had other than inventory and his two bought abilities - so he'd been able to compare himself to regular people going about their days.

For Intelligence and Charisma, he was above average. If the maladies were removed he'd be several points higher than any normal person he saw, as most of them had stats around 10ish.

He never saw anyone over 15 in anything. Weak body certainly made its mark though, as he didn't see any adults below 8 on things like Strength and Endurance, so he was about half as strong as any normal lazy couch potato adult or youth. His Dexterity was oddly high, although it explained how he could be good enough at drawing to create the manga he supposed.

If he got Strength and Endurance up to match his Dexterity, he'd actually be able to fight, even if nowhere near anything like a devil. He really doubted they had stats in the 15s.

They'd be likely to have hundreds in their stats, surely. With people like the Satan's likely several times stronger.

Luck being a 1 was just par for the course, of course. Probably saying something about his ridiculous luck in getting a system that's stripped down to bare bones, removing all the bells and whistles and putting him on a collision course from the get go.

He really needed to do something about Luck, because with everything else going on, that was just begging for a bad turn down a street having him come face to face with a Stray Devil party or something.

Perception seemed to be all the human senses, not just eyesight, and he was above the norm there, if not by much.

Wisdom being high wasn't surprising, probably came buffed up with the whole - can learn all magic ability.

He had a long road ahead of him. And he only had a few days before the semester started at Kuoh, him having joined in the middle of the year, after having finally been freed from his confinement in the hospital.

The little snooping he'd been able to do with just an internet connection, put him in Rias and Sona's year, which meant at least two years before the whole Issei crap began, both girls half way through their first year.

Sona was already student council president - not surprisingly since she was pretty much running the school, she'd probably locked that down pretty quick.

He really wished he'd read the light novels and not just watched the anime. All that information lost that would have been really damn useful right about now.

He would find out tomorrow how his maladies would work, because he had a meeting with the student council to get him set up for the spring semester, since he was coming in half way through the year like he was.

In no way would this end well.

---

Sora woke up to the early light streaming through the small, grime-streaked window of his apartment. He groaned, feeling the weight of his weak body as he struggled to sit up on his futon. The soreness from his muscles was a constant reminder of his current physical limitations. After a few moments of reluctant stretching, he forced himself to get up and prepare for the day.

The cramped apartment offered little comfort. He shuffled to the kitchenette, hastily throwing together a basic breakfast. A bowl of cereal and a glass of water later, he quickly dressed in the uniform of Kuoh Academy, adjusting the tie with a level of care born more from habit than any genuine desire to look presentable.

He hadn't bothered to check out his female side yet, and he really hoped the devils would have a solution there, if not the system, because he couldn't fathom how he'd pull off school otherwise.

With a final sigh, he grabbed his bag and stepped out into the bustling streets. The walk to Kuoh Academy was uneventful, the early morning chill biting at his skin. The air was crisp, and the sky above was a bright blue, dotted with the occasional fluffy cloud. He walked past rows of traditional houses interspersed with modern buildings, the quiet hum of morning activity providing a backdrop to his thoughts.

As he approached the gates of Kuoh Academy, the impressive structure came into view. The school grounds were meticulously maintained, with manicured lawns and carefully pruned trees lining the pathways. The main building stood tall and imposing, its architecture a blend of modern and traditional styles that exuded an air of prestige.

Standing at the gates was Tsubaki Shinra, Sona Sitri's queen and the vice-president of the student council. Her long black hair, her noticeable eyes and stern expression made her easily recognizable. She stood with a calm yet authoritative presence, clearly waiting for him.

"Satoru-san, correct?" she asked, as he approached, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses.

Sora nodded, hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah."

"Nice to meet you, I'm the student council vice-president Tsubaki Shinra." She said curtly, studying him with intensity that was already setting him off.

He didn't answer her, or give her a polite bow or greeting, he just showed his teeth, glaring at her. Fuck, it's not so bad I wanna punch her lights out, but everything about her just rubs me the wrong way…

"Follow me," Tsubaki instructed, turning on her heel and leading the way into the school, making no mention of his rudeness.

Sora trailed behind her, taking in the sights around him. As school was not yet in session again, it was devoid of students, only the student council likely in the building.

Barring whatever teachers might be getting an early start on preparing their classes. But they were basically superfluous anyway, they held no real power in Kuoh. Sona and Rias ran the whole thing, albeit more Sona then Rias as the other girl didn't seem to take many things very seriously.

They entered the main building, the interior just as impressive as the exterior. Polished floors, high ceilings, and pristine walls adorned with awards and photographs of past achievements. Sora followed Tsubaki down a series of corridors until they reached the student council room, only slightly keeping an eye on her ass as she walked with a sway that was likely intentional.

Devils… He thought angrily, before forcibly shutting that down, shaking his head.

Someone didn't need to be a devil to enjoy flaunting what they had. Although it did give him more of an idea how his malady would automatically force him to think of something they do as negative.

Tsubaki knocked briefly before opening the door and gesturing for Sora to enter. Inside, Sona Sitri sat behind a large desk, her posture perfectly composed. She glanced up from her paperwork, her sharp eyes assessing him with an intensity that made his skin crawl.

"Satoru-san, welcome to Kuoh Academy," Sona began, her tone polite but firm. "I'm Souna Shitori, the student council president."

He grunted in acknowledgment, his expression guarded. "Yeah, thanks." Biting back a much harsher response. This is already going so well, he thought at himself, wanting to facepalm.

Sona's eyes narrowed slightly at his gruff response, but she continued undeterred. "I understand you've had an unusual journey to get here. Rest assured, the student council is here to assist you in any way possible."

Sora could feel a stirring of hate and rage in his belly, a visceral reaction to being in the presence of devils. He clenched his fists, trying to press it down, but it still seeped into his tone.

"I don't need assistance with school… I just need help with… My special circumstances…"

Sona raised an eyebrow, even as Tsubaki lightly glared at him from behind her, for his tone. "Special circumstances? We of course do provide accommodation for disabilities as required by law, but I was under the impression you no longer needed physical aid to move around, Satoru-san?"

"Tch… It ain't anything like that." He responded, breathing in deeply. He needed to do this, as much as it rankled, this needed to be dealt with before he started classes. "I've got a curse, and I need you damn devils to work your magic and cover that shit up." He growled out.

As he admitted his knowledge of the supernatural and what they were, both Sona and Tsubaki froze minisculely - only for a moment - and he only noticed it because he was watching intently.

It confirmed that at least they hadn't had any previous knowledge about him being part of the supernatural. That was good to know. Likely meant they had no idea the part devils had in his situation. It did allow him to somewhat force his hate down to a simmer, knowing they had no knowledge of it.

Sona slowly leaned forward, lips thinned, as she studied him intently. Tsubaki now looking a lot more on edge behind her, "You know of the supernatural I see… And about us? I would be very interested in finding out how that has come to be?" She said softly, a thread of threat underneath her words.

"We're all interested in shit all the time, Sitri-san." He fired back, using his normal resting bitch face, completely unaffected by her threat. "Guess you'll have to live with your curiosity, I got no reason to tell ya."

One of the benefits of knowing enough about the Kuoh devils, was that he knew they didn't indiscriminately slaughter people for being frustrating or refusing to play ball. So at least his belligerent behavior wouldn't get him killed.

As long as he could avoid being near them while their siblings was also there…

"If you know who my king is, then act more respectfully!" Tsubaki snapped, eyes flashing with anger.

Sona held a hand up, Tsubaki immediately settling down, although her glare remained on him. "I would advise you to act with more respect in the future, but I will let this slip of etiquette go this time, as you are no doubt new to this world." She told him coldly, "And you will share how you came upon this knowledge in due time."

He just stared at her lazily, showing his teeth in what could almost be called a smile, refusing to answer her assertion that he'd come forth with information eventually.

Sona picked up a pen, flipping open a folder, which he assumed was his file, "What are the details of this… Curse, and why do you need my assistance?" She asked, her tone still icy.

His shoulders slumped slightly, as an expression of distaste took over his features. "Better I show you, if I could have a glass of cold water?"

Sona looked at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes, "And this will not be dangerous, or harmful to us?" She asked slowly, Tsubaki handing her a glass dutifully without Sona even having to ask.

Sora grimaced, "Not in the slightest. It's just… Very annoying and hard to keep hidden." He admitted grouchily.

He knew he had to reveal this to the devils, because it would come out anyway. With them knowing ahead of time, they could likely pull some hypnosis bullshit and ensure he got away without issues when shit eventually happened on school grounds.

It didn't mean he was happy about it. Because it was definitely going to draw attention from further afield than just these two baby peerages.

Problem was, with his system as it was. It was obviously set up that he'd need to become a devil to break past the limits that were pre-baked into the system. Whatever entity obviously wanted him heavily involved in matters going forward. And not hiding away with the Youkai or other factions. Or plain running away.

Sona studied him intently, before placing her palm over the glass, which suddenly filled with water, before she pushed it towards the edge of the desk, for him to grab.

He barely noticed, because he was busy inwardly freaking out, while also trying not to show it.

His ability or trait, or whatever you wanted to call it, had kicked in when she used her Sitri water magic, copying down for him how to create water. That in itself wasn't a problem, it was good actually. How it felt was an issue.

Like being back to being a virgin, and having a slender hand grasping your shaft for the first time, softly raking nails up your length, soft hand palming you, electricity rushing up your spine as everything ceases to matter but your cock.

That…

That is how it felt copying magic like he just did. And it took everything he had not to let it show in his body language. Luckily his school uniform was actually a size too large due to his weak body, so he probably didn't show off too much of his suddenly raging hard on.

Fucking ecchi world, of course it would work this way… Troublesome…

Sora sighed, grabbing the glass of water, thankful that the effect at least was brief, like a shot of something up his spine, instead of a lingering one. Then, before he could splash himself, he almost ended up dropping the glass, as Tsubaki magicked up an invisible barrier between him and them, the magical circle briefly visible.

His body may be weak, but he had an iron will. And he enforced it on himself, to make sure the glass didn't even wobble, as lightning shot up his spine again, as he learned how to cast a minor barrier spell.

Fucking devils….

"Here goes." He said, and if his voice was a little raspy, it was purely because of the tenseness of the room, nothing else.

He splashed his face with the water, not wanting to soak his uniform, and immediately felt the change. It was… Odd. He'd have expected to feel some gradual progress, his body changing. But no, there was nothing. Between one moment, he was a guy, and the next. He was not.

"What?" Sona said flatly. Tsubaki googling at him… At her… Both of them looked about as flabbergasted as two serious girls could.

If she wasn't so on edge, it would have been funny perhaps.

"Cold water makes me a girl, hot water, a boy." Sora explained, feeling dread pool in her gut. Because she sounded hot. Like sinfully hot, like this voice belonged on a succubi hot.

He was a scrawny guy, but from what she could feel pressing against her suddenly not big enough school uniform shirt… Scrawny as a guy, didn't translate to this girl form. Probably more hentai logic. This fucking world….

She must be as big as fucking Rias Gremory, and that was not making any sense! How was she this fit - because she could feel her abdominal muscles, and she thought she likely had a damn six pack - and she had huge tracts of land - when as a guy he could barely move with his noodle legs and arms?

… In hindsight she should have checked all this out at home before doing this. Her uniform was uncomfortably tight. She had way more ass and thighs as a girl too.

"As you can see this could be a problem." Sora said dryly, crossing her arms, uncomfortably aware of her bust.

Sona slowly leaned back in her chair, Tsubaki still looking thrown, "This is not an easy matter you've brought before me, Satoru-san, at the last minute as well…" She said sternly, peering at her from behind the rims of her glasses.

Sora grit her teeth together, to prevent the instinctive snapping come back she wanted to fire away. "It's not exactly something one sends in a letter." She managed to growl out, biting her lip.

Sona sighed, adjusting her glasses, "What do you think, Rias, Akeno?" She asked.

Sora straightened in her chair, a snarl on her lips, "What the fuck!?" When did they get here? Teleportation circle? Behind me? Fuck they saw it too didn't they?

Sona looked at him cooly, "There are two of us controlling this territory Satoru-san, of course I called on my fellow King once you professed knowledge you shouldn't have." Sona's eyes fixated on something behind Sora, narrowing, "Even if she's only been lazing about while I'm doing all the work…"

"Mou, so harsh, Sona-chan!" Rias said. Just by the sound, Sora could imagine her pouting.

Sora's nails cut into her legs as she forced herself to not turn around, her neck prickling as she left enemies at her back, but she could not show them how much she wanted to rip into them right now.

Two devils had made things difficult, four were pushing it. She really really wanted to fight right now.

Which was suicidal.

"Fufufu, such an interesting boy, right, Bouchu?" Akeno said softly, and Sora could feel her stepping up right behind her. "Or girl, as it is. I wonder… Is it all fully functional?"

As Akeno reached around to grope her chest, Sora kicked off the chair, growling low in her throat as she put some distance between herself and the devils, eyes wary, fists clenched.

"Ara ara, she's shy." Akeno said daintily, placing a hand to her cheek, her eyes mischievous.

"She's a he!" Sora snapped, glaring at Rias Queen.

Tsubaki coughed into her hand, a weird look on her face, "Technically…"

Sora transferred her glare to Tsubaki, even as Sona acknowledged the point with a nod, "Oh fuck right off! It's a curse! I'm still a guy!"

"Akeno, leave the poor boy alone." Rias said softly, with a hint of amusement to her voice, as she laid a hand on Akeno's shoulder. "I apologize for my Queen… Satoru-san, was it? She can sometimes be a little… Willful."

Sona snorted, then looked mortified to have been caught doing something so undignified, and busied herself with some papers, cheeks slightly pink.

Sora looked between them all, her glare only intensifying, "Can you help or not…?" He addressed Sona, asking tersely, barely holding herself back from the rolling hatred broiling inside her veins.

Rias pouted again, this time for being ignored. And Sora tried as best as she could to ignore her assessing gaze. She knew this shit was going to happen, but it still pissed her off.

Fucking Sona was barely able to get along with Rias half the time, competing with each other as rivals… Why the fuck did she have to call them over for this?

Sona cleared her throat, sorting his file, a calculating glint to her eyes. "It's possible we could add something to the wards of the school to ignore any peculiarities with your… Condition, but I ask you, why should we do that?"

Rias looked like she was going to protest, but stopped as both Sona and Tsubaki glared her down, Akeno chuckling at her side as she pouted yet again, looking very dissatisfied.

These fucking devils… Sora thought hatefully, glaring at Sona, "Let me guess, here comes the part where you extort me?" She said with disgust. "Tch… Fucking devils…" She spat out.

Tsubaki suddenly felt dangerous, like an ominous aura creeping into the room, before Sona again waved her off, her own face a tiny bit smug, fingers tapping his file languidly. "It's not extortion, Satoru-san, you've brought hardship on us at the last moment, that has a cost." Her head tilted slightly, as her glasses flashed as the sunlight hit it just so. "Reworking the entire ward around Kuoh Academy is not cheap…"

"What do you want?" Sora asked sharply, not interested in playing any games. The sooner this was over the better. Because she could literally feel herself wanting to punch the smug little bitch in the face - and she wasn't even sure instinctive hatred had anything to do with it!

"Join the student cou-" Sona began smugly, before he cut her off, harshly.

"Not a chance in fucking hell!"

Sona's eyes narrowed as Rias and Akeno both tried to hide smiles behind their hands, "It's not an unreasonable re-"

"Fuck right off with that shit, it's a prelude to suckering me into being your fucking slave. No. I'm not joining the student council." She said bluntly.

Even if the system punished her for it, she'd fucking leave Japan before bending over that easily.

Just because she might have to become a devil at some point, didn't mean she would be a cheap whore for it. They'd have to come begging her for it.

"A peerage isn't slavery, Satoru-san…" Rias said softly, looking at her in a peculiar way, while Sona and Tsubaki both glared at Sora for her rudeness.

She grimaced, looking away from Rias, "Someone get me some hot water, I'm not doing this shit as a girl." She requested, belligerently. I'm not one of your broken little birds, Rias, don't look at me like that!

Akeno brought him some hot water, and he shuddered with relief as he returned to form. Even if Akeno's roving eyes made him feel slightly hunted. He hadn't thought a female form would affect him overly much, but it had definitely felt very different from what he'd expected.

"Call it what you want, whatever name you use, it's still slavery, and all the stray devils running loose proves on its own what a nice system you have… I'm sure none of them had bad masters at all…" He drawled sarcastically, stepping back another step, so his back was against the wall, keeping an eye on all four of them. "I ain't going to become a slave just for some peace of mind at school, I'll handle the problem myself before that."

"I see… There is still the matter of payment, how about… A game of chess? You are the world junior champion amongst the mortals, are you not?" Sona said, tenting her hands in front of her, a glimmer of life in her eyes as she leaned forward slightly.

"Sooona!" Rias whined, amusement in her tone again, "You can play chess later, I want to know more about this curse." She eyed him with an intrigued mien to her, "It's interesting."

"I decline." Sora said immediately.

He wasn't going to go there. No fucking way.

Sona's eyebrows drew together in consternation, "Even if you lose, just play a simple game of chess with me, and you'll get what you want - the wards will be altered so no one finds your situation odd, is it really something worth turning down?" She asked mildly, an undertone of irritation leaking through.

Simple… Perhaps. But he was also supernaturally gifted in chess. And he knew, even if she didn't know that he knew, that she'd put a condition on her marriage prospects that her suitor would have to be able to beat her at chess.

He didn't want to touch that with a ten foot pole. Not when a win might mean Serafall Leviathan, one of the Satans and Sona's sister, would show up to murder him very dead.

Or at the very least, ready to inconvenience him a hell of a lot.

"I will not. You can kick me out if you want, if that's how you want to run a school, but I will not play with you." He said angrily, his blood thrumming as he glared the diminutive devil down.

Hopefully pulling on the strings of her dream of running a school for everyone would be enough.

Just then, a quest alert popped up in his view.

Checkmate:

Beat Sona Sitri in a game of chess.

Rewards:

+5 in all stats.

1200 exp

???

He froze so suddenly that he almost thought he'd accidentally used his Sacred Gear.

The complications of beating her… But five stat points… Five. It would bring him from too weak for anything - to a normal body for a regular human.

He could mitigate the problems of the weak body malady on day one.

… This is intentional isn't it, system?

Bringing his luck up from a 1 to a 6 was worth it on its own. He doubted he'd find many, if any, other quests that made it that easy. The experience points alone would also give him a level up or possibly two, he'd have to level to see what the jump was like.

He definitely didn't like the question marks, but the rest…

Dammit…

He scoffed, putting a hand to his head, feeling like a migraine was setting in, "Fine, whatever, one game, and after that you'll fix up the wards and leave me the hell alone." He said through gritted teeth.

Sona raised an eyebrow, Tsubaki already bringing out the chess board. Rias and Akeno who'd he'd thought would dip out now that they went into boring territory - instead looked intensely interested, taking seats to watch. Sona spoke up as everything was set up, "Why the change of heart?" She asked.

Chess and devils… Fucking stupidity.

"Just fucking play, let's get this over with." He growled, stomping over and fixing the chair he'd kicked over earlier, slumping down, looking like a man heading towards his execution.

At least even if I don't win, she agreed to fix up the ward…. But, the XP, the stat gains…

This can't end well, but I need this…

---

Sona watched Sora settle into his chair with an air of reluctant determination. His gruff demeanor and clipped responses had been grating on her since the moment they met, but beneath that irritation, there was a flicker of curiosity. The curse he bore, the fact that he knew about devils, and his status as a world junior chess champion all intrigued her. She adjusted her glasses and studied him carefully.

It was a pity he'd rejected the invitation to the student council, he wasn't entirely wrong in the idea that she was scouting him for recruitment, even if his… Attitude would need correcting. She somewhat regretted bringing Rias into things, based on the 'curse' which turned out to be fairly benign, all things considered.

She knew from the glint in her rivals eyes, that her interest had been piqued as well.

Sona would not let the other girl win. He was a chess champion for Maou's sake! He belonged with her peerage.

It was only logical.

Her mind turned to his odd curse, as she studied him, her opening move almost instinctual at this point anyway, no matter what her opponent did with his first move.

Sora, as a boy, was striking in a unique way. His white hair framed a face that was both youthful and wearied by experience, stormy grey eyes hinting at depths of emotion and intelligence. His skin was pale, almost sickly, adding an ethereal quality to his appearance. He was scrawny, almost fragile-looking, a stark contrast to the strength and determination she sensed within him - his body did not match his attitude at all.

Despite his weak body, there was a sharpness in his eyes, a fierce intelligence that made her think he was hiding something interesting. His school uniform hung loosely on his thin frame despite the fact it had been made to size not that long ago, making him look even more delicate.

She wondered what lay in his past, and silently made a note to have him looked into.

When Sora transformed into a girl, (and what!? It still baffled her how that worked) the change he underwent was even more baffling than the gender switch to begin with. Sona had been absolutely stunned by the sudden shift from a scrawny boy to a fit, curvaceous girl with huge Rias sized breasts, pouty lips, and a sensual, raspy voice. As a girl, Sora's white hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that was both strikingly beautiful and haughty, showing some of that arrogant attitude.

Her eyes remained the same stormy grey, but there was a new intensity to them. Her figure was undeniably attractive, with a slender waist, ample hips, and a bust size that made Sona feel a pang of jealousy. (Like it wasn't enough Rias and Akeno were like that…) Despite her own impressive figure, she couldn't help but feel envious of Sora's exaggerated curves.

She didn't think too hard about the fact that a boy had better curves than her.

As the chess game began, Sona forced her attention back to the board. This was no ordinary opponent, he'd done well for himself, albeit against other mortals. She moved her pieces with calculated precision, aware that every move would be scrutinized by the others in the room. Rias, Akeno, and Tsubaki watched intently, their occasional comments providing a backdrop to the growing tension as Sona found herself actually challenged.

"Ara, he's quite the opponent, isn't he?" Akeno mused, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Perhaps it was unwise to challenge him so brazenly, hmm?"

Of course she would be the first one to point it out, Rias Queen and her propensity for poking people was a constant annoyance to Sona.

Rias nodded, practically cuddling up with her queen, her gaze fixed on the board. "Sona must be happy... This should be interesting." She mumbled.

Sona was indeed happy with the challenge, even if it was from a rude boy who dared to come into her territory and make demands of her. She'd train him into something better eventually, she was sure.

Tsubaki remained silent, her focus unwavering as she observed the game, at least her Queen knew how to keep silent, Sona thought.

Sona's initial confidence began to waver as the game progressed. Sora's skill was evident in every move he made. He played with an aggressive yet calculated style, forcing her to rethink her strategies. Her moves became more deliberate, her mind racing to keep up with his relentless onslaught.

She'd never played someone who managed to match her this tightly - who pushed her into changing strategies so rapidly.

He's good, Sona thought, her fingers tapping lightly on the table as she considered her next move. Too good, this was a step above anything he'd shown in the world championship, which she of course had watched.

Then again, he'd only played mortals, so perhaps he hadn't been challenged. But based on what she'd seen, she'd obviously underestimated him, her mistake…

As a mortal aware of the supernatural, perhaps he'd availed himself of something to give himself an edge?

Surely that must be it, devils with a century of experience couldn't test her, surely a mortal would not succeed.

Sora's demeanor - to her irritation - remained unchanged throughout the game. He was grouchy, belligerent, and entirely focused on the board. Every move he made seemed to chip away at her defenses, pushing her further into a corner. The room grew quieter, the tension palpable as the game neared its climax.

Sona's moves took longer and longer as she struggled to find a way to turn the tide. She could feel the eyes of the other devils on her, their curiosity and anticipation adding to the pressure. Her mind raced, but it was no use. Sora's relentless assault left her with fewer and fewer options.

Finally, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, Sona realized she was outmatched. She moved her king one last time, her eyes wide, and Sora's next move sealed her fate. She stared at the board in disbelief, the reality of her defeat sinking in.

"Checkmate," Sora said snarkily, his tone as belligerent as ever. He stood up, his expression a mixture of irritation and triumph. "Now, about those wards…"

Sona looked up at him, a mixture of frustration and shock in her eyes. She had underestimated him, and now she had to honor their agreement. She glanced at Rias, who wore a look of astonished amusement, and then at Akeno, who simply smiled impishly.

Unlike this impossible boy. They knew exactly what her defeat in chess was supposed to mean.

… This all just made it more important to get him into her peerage…

Tsubaki broke the silence, her voice respectful. "Satoru-san, you've proven yourself. The student council will ensure the necessary measures are taken to address your situation." She spoke up instead of Sona, giving her time to compose herself.

She had the best Queen.

Sora nodded curtly, his stormy grey eyes meeting Sona's for a brief moment before he turned to leave. "Good, hopefully there won't be anymore fucking games, and we can just stay away from each other." He growled out on his way.

As he walked away, Sona couldn't help but feel some curiosity about the rude, enigmatic boy. He was a puzzle, one she intended to solve, no matter how long it took.

How did he know about them? Why did he feel so angry? And why was he trying so hard to suppress that?

Her musings were interrupted a minute later, Rias smirking face getting in the way of her gaze.

"Go away, Rias." Sona said testily, already regretting heavily that she'd called her in for this.

"Don't want to talk about your new husband, I see?" She said airily, tapping her lips thoughtfully, a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. "So possessive~ Sona-chan!"

"He is not my husband, or betrothed or anything in that manner. He is mortal." Sona said stubbornly, a warning note to her tone.

She knew that once this information got out, and she wasn't foolish - it would get out. Then as far as devil society was concerned, she was now in a courtship with this… Boy. It was not something she wished on him, nor herself.

Her sister would be insufferable…

"Sooo, does that mean I can have him for my peerage then?" Rias asked slyly, a truly devilish smirk on her face as she leaned over Sona's desk, filling her vision with her damn udders.

Her glasses flashed with intent as she rose up to match her rival, lips thinning, "Stay out of this, Rias." She warned.

Tsubaki looked worried on the side lines, while Akeno looked positively delighted at what was happening.

"I don't think I will, he's interesting, and he could beat you in chess. I don't really have the strategy type in my peerage, he's a good find." She said smugly, her face falling only slightly, as she continued in a mumble, "Even if he kind of seems to dislike us…"

"Rias… I saw him first!" Sona hated defaulting to such childish logic, but this one was so obviously hers, and she wasn't going to have him stolen away by this big titted cow!

She honestly hadn't expected this to be a problem. Why would Rias want someone so obviously intelligent and unmartial? Someone that needed strict training and correction? He was a better fit for her peerage. Unless… She was collecting another broken orphan…?

"He'd be a perfect fit for my peerage!" Rias protested, "You already have plenty of brains in yours."

Sona wondered if Rias even realized how she was casually insulting her entire peerage with such a statement, her gaze was drawn to Akeno, who looked amused.

Akeno tittered briefly as both Kings looked her way, before responding coyly, "A king should always seek what she lacks…" She agreed.

Ria's mouth gaped open, even as Sona snorted. The serious mood immediately dispelled.

Her own Queen came to stand behind her, expression placid as the tension in the room returned to normal.

"A-Akeno! Are you calling me dumb!?" Rias said dumbfounded.

"Not at aaalll~"

"T-thats not very convincing!"

---

With Sora,

The entire trip back to his apartment was spent lambasting himself for being such a whore for stat gains.

It was true that he needed to take every chance he could get since the quest system was the major way to improve himself. Unlike a normal gamer he couldn't just create shit by squinting at things long enough - or pull mana barriers and stuff out of his ass.

He'd need to work for everything through quests and achievements.

So not doing one, especially this early with this type of reward… It had been hard to imagine dropping it. So he hadn't.

He'd already figured he wouldn't be able to stay away from the devils of Kuoh, but beating Sona at chess…

Both Peerages would be bugging him frequently from now on, wouldn't they?

Odds were he'd punch someone soon…

He'd barely kept from lashing out while in the room with the four devils. Only constant reminders of how they could wipe him from existence had stayed his reactions. It had kept him at antagonistic - but never over the line.

There was no way this year would go by without issues.

They'd both do background checks on him now, and once Rias found out he had drawn and created a manga series… One that was recently popular and on its way to get its first season in an Anime format…

He'd never be able to escape their attention. They'd be constantly bugging him.

He closed his eyes, even as he went up the stairs up to his tiny little apartment. Maybe if I found Koneko, she'd still be in middle school, right? And then I'd punch her… They'd hate him and leave him alone, right?

Wishful thinking.

More than likely they'd just beat him up, and then go straight back to trying to recruit him.

It wasn't like he theoretically had much against joining either peerage. Canonically they survived, so it was a somewhat safe place to be. And with his curse, his skills, and even just for his stupid chess champion and manga skills - he'd be a hot commodity in the underworld.

Someone would try and reincarnate him at some point. And it didn't necessarily have to be a very nice experience.

Rias and Sona were outliers.

People that treated their peerage like family. Not sex slaves or minions.

He could do a lot worse.

And with how his gamer system was set up, he'd eventually have to do something like becoming a devil to 'break the ceiling' of his powers.

But he wouldn't want to do that until he'd absolutely maxed out what he could do first. Until he was right up against that ceiling.

He also couldn't see anything but horrible consequences ahead if he became a devil before removing the malus of Instinctive hatred.

Turning yourself into a devil when you hated devils was likely to end poorly. He'd been terribly on edge just being near them. What would he feel if he hated himself like that?

He unlocked his door, entering his small abode, some unseen tension releasing. It might be small, but it was his home for now. And it was free of devils and their complications.

Finally, he accepted the quest rewards. Mentally hitting the little checkbox in the window that had been hanging around just in the corner of his vision since beating Sona.

Checkmate:

Beat Sona Sitri in a game of chess.

Rewards:

+5 in all stats.

1200 exp

1 malus point.

His eyes narrowed, even as he swiped away the level up screen, he could check that in a moment. "What's a malus point?" He asked, the previously hidden reward now laid bare.

Malus point:

Malus points can be used to remove disadvantages and maluses. They are only available through great achievements.

He immediately checked Instinctive hatred, calling it up on his window.

Instinctive Hatred: (0/5)

… He'd need five great achievements to remove instinctive hatred. Five things comparable to beating Sona Sitri in chess, something which was a fairly big deal in devil society, especially to one devil in particular. Serafall Leviathan.

What the hell was he going to have to do for four more points?

With a groan he slotted the point he had in, hoping that at least making progress on it would limit the amount of rage and hate he felt when near a devil.

He probably wasn't that lucky…

"Status." He called up, tiredly.

Character:

Name: Sora Satoru

Level: 2

Age: 16

Title: N/A

HP 225 ( 4.5 per minute) MP 550 (17 per minute)

Stats:

Strength: 9

Perception: 16

Endurance: 9

Charisma: 20 (-7)

Intelligence: 24 (-7)

Wisdom: 23 (-7)

Dexterity: 20

Luck: 6

…. Fantastic, the mental malady had gone up from -5 to -7 when his stats went up. At least he got five stat points out of the level up. He immediately slotted all five into Luck.

He could understand those who kept stat points banked for a greater need in the future. But right now, he needed better luck than the average person. He could save stat points for his other level ups, but he really couldn't have Luck too low with everything else he'd be dealing with.

He felt… Better.

He looked down at himself, not sure how he felt about this. On the one hand, he was now perfectly average in strength and endurance, basically a normal human.

On the other, he'd immediately gone from a twig, to filling out his clothes more. Whatever fuckery had kept his female form feeling much healthier and better looking than his male form, had now begun to improve his male form as his stats went up. Perhaps his primary form was more intune with his stats?

But it would raise more questions for the devils when he showed up suddenly not quite as scrawny and half dead looking, in days.

Well, he was already god damn cat nip for them anyway. So it's not like one more thing mattered on the scale of things.

Besides, he was quite fine with not feeling out of breath just for doing things like walking or standing for too long.

One quest had defeated the malady of weak body.

He really couldn't complain, not with how hard the rest of the system was.

All in all, as disparaging as he'd been about it all. He did have an amazing power, two amazing powers.

He'd learned how to create water, and how to create a barrier, in one day. No matter the… Interesting way it had felt, that was amazing progress. If only he'd seen Ria's and Akeno teleporting in, he'd have gained that as well.

Probably for the best he didn't, because three spells in a row might have made him have an embarrassing reaction right in front of the devils.

His time at Kuoh Academy would no doubt be frustrating and drive him mad.

But he was the gamer, no matter how the system limited things.

He would become a god.

It was only a matter of time.

---

Author's note:

So, read too many Highschool DxD fics all of a sudden and knocked this thing out.

Gamer fics are fun, but generally end up boring me after the first 50k words or so, because for so many of them, it just becomes a slog of numbers and dungeon delving and training montages that the actual story is completely sidelined.

So here we'd have a gamer system where you'd only really improve through stories. Quests and achievements are the only way forward.

No creating bullshit spells just by thinking of it. No dungeons, no Gacha, no crafting system out of your ass.

So gamer lite if you will.

It would of course still have some of that gamer feel to it, but hopefully not taking over from the story entirely.

As seen by someone's chosen disadvantages, the gamer system's end goal is for him to have an interesting time, above seeing numbers go up.

Cheers

JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

A little snippet I wrote before I began Mischief Siriusly Managed, deciding on utilizing a slightly less scummy main character for the proper story.

Saving the scummy one for this snippet.

Now I'm probably wildly wrong with ages and timelines. Consider it an AU.

As usual, I do not own Harry Potter or the associated companies that deliver material from it.

Enjoy!

---

Waking up in a new body is not what he would have called a pleasant experience, even if it started out easy enough. The first moments had been simple confusion - the bedroom being different then the one he went to sleep in.

He had thoughts of how much he must have drank the other night and wondered who he ended up going home with - someone posh, based on the canopy bed and the green and silver walls.

It was unusually trampy behavior for himself - he rarely did one night stands, and certainly not gallivanting to strangers' bedrooms, no matter how drunk.

His head was splitting as he slowly got out of bed and searched for a bathroom, the pain certainly advocating for the - got absolutely sloshed theory.

It was just… He didn't remember going out drinking at all - it had been a quiet night at home reading, as far as he could remember. He distinctly remembered his own bed at the very least.

If this was a kidnapping situation - they were remarkably loose, he thought, as he entered the bathroom unopposed, locating the sink and groaning in relief as he turned the ornate tap on - and splashed himself with cold water.

He looked up into the mirror, and stared in shock at the unfamiliar face staring back at him. Slowly he reached up and ran a hand over his genial looking fairly plain face - light grey eyes peered back at him in rising panic. His hands rose and grasped the coiffed russet coloured hair tightly. He winced in pain as he pulled on it, telling him this was indeed his actual hair - and his actual face, somehow.

A sudden splitting migraine slammed into him as he accepted the impossible and he fell to the bathroom floor - screaming, as a lifetime of memories drowned him - unforgiving and seemingly never-ending. The pain climbing higher and higher.

In what felt like hours - he whimpered on the floor as his two lifetimes of memories assimilated, if he had the power to move his extremities he might have ended it all right there to get away from the pain - but in the end he survived. The pain lessened, and he found out what his life was.

He, somehow, had become Cornelius Oswald Fudge.

The future Minister for Magic. From the Harry Potter story!

Because of course he wasn't minister yet, he'd arrived in 1970, just as everything was kicking off.

He passed out finally, mind not able to take anymore. Nor wonder on how on earth he'd taken over a man's life and why.

Simply thankful that the pain was done.

---

As he gingerly started moving in the morning, he was glad for some of the memories at least. Apparently good old Cornelius was on leave from the department of magical accidents and catastrophes due to an accident - he appreciated the irony, and the fact he didn't have work today.

It would give him some time to figure out what on earth he was supposed to do.

Having received his new life's memories up to this point, he knew he had graduated Hogwarts with decent grades - nothing spectacular, and in that vein gotten a decent job at the ministry - again, nothing spectacular. The fact he was a pureblood catapulting him over other more qualified applicants of lesser status.

Apparently he was indeed a pureblood with the whole - all the grandparents were pure - nonsense needed to qualify. Although the Fudge family had been a recent creation and a minor one - an offshoot of a disinherited Selwyn and a pureblood Belgian woman fleeing Grindelwald. The name Fudge literally only existed as a pureblood family in Britain since the 40's.

His Selwyn father and Fudge mother were both dead, since right after he graduated Hogwarts - apparently in mysterious circumstances, he had never been told the full picture by the Aurors. He had to wonder, what with the time period he was in - whether his Selwyn father had been approached for recruitment and been killed for refusing. He had been disinherited for his fascination with muggles - it's unlikely he'd have joined Voldemort. Not with his wife and Cornelius mother having fled another dark lord in Grindelwald.

Perhaps this is where canon Fudge's dislike of Arthur Weasley and his muggle interests stemmed from? Personally he didn't really care other than taking in the information - his other life having subsumed any emotions of this body he'd somehow taken over. He remembered the bodies life - but felt nothing for the people in it. It was just a set of memories.

He had been born in 1945 - and was currently 25. That would make him 50 for 1995 - the timeline seemed to match somewhat. Surely the minister he remembered from the books and movies was around that age. His memories held all the people it should, even though canon was far off - it appeared he wasn't in some weird alternate universe. So far.

He'd spent almost eight years in the department for magical accidents and catastrophes now. And he knew that in canon Fudge had remained there until somehow becoming minister twenty years from now.

He'd already reached the junior minister position canon Fudge would still have two decades from now - showing how spineless and useless this body he'd taken over really was. It's a magical miracle he'd somewhere made it as far as minister for magic. Perhaps something happened? A wife? He was currently single, his memories told him. And in eight years he'd moved respectably from a regular obliviator to a team lead - to interim head of the muggle worthy excuse committee - to PR undersecretary for the same committee once its head returned - to junior minister for the whole department. Basically one of three undersecretaries to the head of the department.

Not taking the world by storm - but not too bad of a resume for eight years either. He was basically prime material for head of the department or a transfer to a high position in another.

The war must have forced Fudge to temper his ambitions and stay safe in the junior minister position. Nothing else explained it. His memories showed a ambitious man - one that ensured he was known in the ministry and did 'favors' for the right people.

No wonder the likes of Lucius Malfoy eventually made use of him.

Fudge had graduated a Slytherin back in the 1957/58 school year. It certainly fit his avarice and ambition, although a lack of will or steel in his spine had led to the hat almost shunting him off to Hufflepuff. That ambition was the only thing that ensured a Slytherin sorting.

To his surprise as he pondered the life so far of the body he now possessed - he'd been somewhat lazy in school. That ambition apparently was not enough to make him work for it.

His pure blood got him into the department once he graduated - and got him promoted, as that same lack of work effort did not produce spectacular results in the ministry either, but his networking and ability to spin a tale and socialize - ensured his continued promotions thus far.

The only time Fudge had shone was the brief time he was the PR undersecretary for the muggle worthy excuse committee - dealing with, and planting the press stories to explain away magical accidents.

Now, he was Fudge. He'd better start thinking of himself as the man. Cornelius Fudge. And what this all could mean. He'd been an ambitious man himself - but now he had access to magic. Future knowledge - blackmail or information on most major players for the next twenty plus years.

Perhaps he'd make it to Minister for Magic a lot earlier this time. And without incompetence being the name of the game.

As he sat down in his small office in the modest family cottage the Fudge family had owned - and which now belonged solely to him. He wondered, what to take advantage of first, and how to ascend the ministry in a way that did not have him run afoul of Voldemort before his downfall.

First things first - he had two months of convalescence - although he felt fine, perhaps whatever happened to the real Fudge ended badly allowing him to take his body? He'd likely never know the how or why. Either way it gave him time. Time to study up on Occlumency and magic in general - and plan for his return to the ministry.

It would be a busy two months.

---

Not being a fool - the first thing he practiced was magic.

He'd been a decent obliviator, so that was useful magic to already have under the belt. But it soon became apparent he hadn't been using much else. He was no Lockhart - no one was that useless. But it appeared the most magic he'd used over the last eight years had been a mix of household spells, paperwork spells, Obliviate and Apparation.

He had very rudimentary Occlumency shields - another thing the very ambitious, but lazy sod - had started on but never finished.

This short discovery period of two days of trying various magic from different disciplines and seeing where he stacked up - led to the list.

1. Perfect Obliviate, use the house elf, he'd hardly had any other use for the bugger.
2. Fine tune Apparation - never discount the ability to get out of dodge in a war.
3. Find Occlumency books - git good.
4. Practice magic, don't be a Lockhart.
5. Exercise and eat healthier - this pudgy body is neither attractive nor useful - running away has its uses as well when needed.
6. Find a way to alter or create new NEWT results - Fudge did you drink a befuddlement charm before the tests? How does anyone get a T in DADA?
7. Make allies before the return to the ministry.
8. Learn imperio - it's just too damn useful, again the house elf isn't doing anything important.
9. Before 8. Make damn sure no one can trace/track/find out, that I'm learning an unforgivable - check wards.
10. Imperio or blackmail department head to resign and nominate him as the replacement - war was an excellent chance to get known and excel due to how busy the department is - but also not a big risk visavi Voldemort as the department only deals with aftermaths.

A simple ten step plan. Easy to write out, much harder to pull off in just two months. But not completely unreasonable. He'd mulled it over for the past day - while researching and reaching out to those that owed him favors.

He was no master of magic and likely never would be, but he already had a decent handle on Obliviate and surely Imperio could not be that difficult or different. He was fairly sure he could manage the intent and want to control, to use the spell properly.

"Hatty!" He called out sharply, as he sat staring at his list in his small office.

With a small crack the Fudge house elf arrived - clad in a clean and well worn uniform. Hatty with his big bulbous eyes and thin frame, was all that was left of his mother's side of the family - the house elves having fled with her, carrying the belongings. Hatty was born shortly before Cornelius himself had been.

Only being out on an errand had saved the house elf when his parents had 'disappeared' together with the other house elves.

Hatty bowed lowly and waited for his instructions - he'd been a right tosser to the creature - the only one he could force to treat him as he had wished to be treated.

He'd do better from now on - he knew how useful a fully loyal house elf could be.

Well… Better after he was done practicing. Luckily he'd double checked his wards and no magic performed in this house should alert any ministry personnel. He'd even sent an owl off to a 'friend' of sorts in the DMLE who confirmed that the wards would prevent any ministry surveillance as long as they were up. Not that he'd told him anything about what he was doing - but the man owed him a favor for obliviating a muggleborn family that had seen him be dastardly, so he answered promptly.

He aimed his wand - 11 inches, springy, elm with unicorn hair. He thought of dominating the creature before him, of controlling it's every thought and action - of the wish to have power, and he uttered the spell. "Imperio!"

He could feel the spell take effect immediately - feel it overpowering Hatty's will. He took a deep breath, testing this connection - it seemed solid.

The next hour he ordered the elf to do increasingly hard and ridiculous things, testing the spell, knowing the elf was naturally predisposed to obeying to begin with.

A quick Obliviate after he released him took care of matters, he'd have to practice that to make sure he fully removed the memories and replaced them properly - he wanted no chance of a resurgence. He'd have to continue to practice Imperio as well - to make sure he'd be able to overpower a human. Eventually he'd have to find another subject other than his house elf - but it would do as a start.

No wonder it was an unforgivable - as far as he could tell he certainly wasn't a magical powerhouse. Although he wasn't anywhere near a squib for that matter either. But that spell had come easy. Just needing the will to dominate.

He turned to his list.

Now where to go from here…

---

Over the next two weeks he practiced Apparation consistently until he got it down to an almost completely inaudible noise - and could apparate on the fly - immediately. Even if he was jumping in the air at the time, or even rolling around the ground.

He might have gotten a bit carried away with finding scenarios he'd have to escape from. No matter, they all worked. And that's what was most important.

He was pleased with the progress - he'd have to gain a portkey license at some point and work on that next - never knew when one could come in use, but Apparation was working wonderfully. Enough for his purposes surely.

He had progressed enough with his house elf in the first week - in Imperio and Obliviate. That in the second week he started testing it on muggles. To ensure it was working - nothing else.

He'd simply find muggle companies in the phone book and use a pay phone to call different companies for a consultation at his home. When they arrived, he brought them inside the wards and Imperioed them.

He found no difficulty in this task either. He wondered if original Fudge or himself was the cause for this ease in dominating someone's will.

Once he was done ensuring the spell worked - he Obliviated the muggle, planting fake memories of a consultation that ended in no sale, but had overall been a pleasant experience. He double and triple checked his alterations and could find no faults.

It seemed house elf practice truly had prepared him well enough - as a muggle showed no difference in difficulty.

Having been a muggle, so to speak. He found it slightly frustrating even though it benefited him. He was no longer a muggle after all. Yet the ease there was in controlling one - it did disquiet him slightly.

Thankfully he should not have much need for the spells in the future.

They were more of a backup - a just in case. Other than the planned retirement of his superior.

As for other magic he found that just based on memories - he was absolute pants at Transfiguration. No wolf packs conjured up to devour his enemies would be in his future. Thankfully he was pretty handy in charms - which helped him - with his new memories - to succeed in creating a corporeal patronus during the two weeks.

Although a Hippopotamus wasn't the most flattering of spirit animals…

As for DADA, he was able to improve on his abilities, his meta knowledge helping him with spells such as Stupefy and Expelliarmus. Better then nothing for now - he'd train to become at least competent In-between his job and ambitions, there would be a war going on after all.

He was interrupted in his musings over his progress by the quiet crack of his house elf appearing before him.

"Master has visitor in the floo." Hatty squeaked out, bowing low. The creature's large nose almost touched the floor in obeisance.

Cornelius frowned, "Who is it? I'm supposed to be in convalescence." He grouched.

"Mister Lawyett, Master, Hatty can ask wizard to leave?"

"No…No I'll see him.." Cornelius said, immediately making his way towards the small sitting room that held his fireplace.

Lysander Lawyett was his only minion really. A pureblood born from a union of such minor houses that he was barely considered one by the establishment.

He'd barely scraped by Hogwarts - and had only gotten into the department due to his blood and a hefty bribe from his father.

When Cornelius became a team leader of a small squad of obliviators, Lysander had been on that team - and had immediately cocked everything up.

Not only had he messed up obliviating the witnesses - but somehow he blew up their house in the process, requiring the whole neighborhood to be Obliviated.

Cornelius had covered it up for him - saved his job, and earned a devoted minion. Who couldn't really do magic, but was a terrific sneak, incredible with gossip and rumor mongering and so average and unremarkable that he could go anywhere in the ministry without anyone noticing who he was and what he was doing there.

So immensely useful. Cornelius wondered if the original had brought him all the way to the Minister's office - or if he had died due to the war, or wandered off into someone else's employ due to the original him cowering in the same position for the entire war.

"Lysander! How nice to see a friendly face!" He said cheerfully as he entered the sitting room. Spying the boring average brown haired face of his friend/minion sticking out of the fire, his droopy eyes always making him look exhausted.

"Cornelius! Glad to see you're feeling better! Sorry to bother you unannounced, but I had news I figured you'd want to hear right away!" Lysander said hurriedly.

Cornelius sat down in an armchair in front of the fire, brows furrowed. He wasn't about to let anyone into his wards until he felt himself ready - not even Lysander.

"Is this news safe through the floo? Who's floo are you even using right now, your office doesn't have one if I remember correctly?" He asked sharply.

"I'm in Ridgewood's office -" Lysander began babbling. Cornelius reared back eyes wide, hissing out between gritted teeth, "Circe's tits, man! What are you doing in the department heads office!?"

If this is what the man considered safe means of communication perhaps he had overestimated the memories he'd received about him.

"Cornelius no one's here! Ridgewood's dead!" Lysander protested loudly.

"Morgana's rotten twat!" Cornelius swore, getting up and pacing in front of the fireplace. He'd wanted the man out of the way, sure - in a month when he was ready. And not dead - he'd been a decent boss and a friendly enough man. "Do we know how?" He fired off, mind still whirling on how bad this would mess with his timeline.

"The official report is that he fell down the stairs." Lysander reported dutifully and dubiously. His little sneak didn't believe that one bit it seemed.

"I once saw the man take a rogue bludger from the department of magical games to the face - spit out his teeth and beat their department head like a muggle!" Cornelius snapped, irritated, fell down the stairs indeed!

"Do you want me to poke into it?"

Cornelius ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "No, absolutely not, there's no benefit for us in that."

"I can't be here for long, is there anything you want me to do?" Lysander asked plaintively.

Cornelius thought it over, he'd have to rush part of the plan he'd thought up over the last two weeks. But it should still work. "Start spreading rumors that my name is up for replacing Ridgewood."

Lysander nodded, but hesitated for a moment. He was an expert in getting word around the ministry but he obviously saw the same problem Cornelius did. The man wasn't stupid - for all that he was bad at the practical side of magic.

Cornelius growled, "Yes, man, I know it won't stick just like that. Both Fawley and Williamson are ahead of me, both in name and experience, that's why you'll spread the word that I'm being backed for the post by the Blacks!"

Lysander's eyes widened, "Are they? Backing you, I mean, Cornelius?" He asked with some trepidation. The name Black scared the hell out of most of the Ministry.

"They will be by the end of the week, at the latest." He said firmly.

"...I'f they hear this rumor before they back you…" Lysander warned.

"I'll deal with it, it won't be a problem." Cornelius scowled, waving a hand to dismiss him. Lysander immediately disappeared from the floo - already on his way to the ministry cafeteria to start spreading the word, no doubt stopping to chatter with a secretary or two - the real power behind the gossip at the Ministry.

Cornelius quickly walked into his office - fished his most expensive velium to write on out, and took care to write carefully and elegantly.

To the most honorable Lord Arcturus Black head of the Ancient and noble house or Black.

I have come upon an opportunity that will elevate both of our causes, and will ensure Black family supremacy for the future, avoiding perhaps the most destructive period in your family history to come.

I have proof of what I say and will be willing to swear an oath to that effect to ensure our meeting as soon as possible.

It is of utmost importance that we meet, I will agree to come wandless if necessary. I am well aware of you having no sufferance for fools, I would not risk this letter for anything less than world altering events.

Yours in magic

Cornelius Oswald Fudge

Hopefully the letter would be subservient enough to get in. That's all he needed. An in. Then he'd be an equal at the very least.

The Black family patriarch would hardly allow the family to go to ruin.

"Hatty!" He snapped. The house elf immediately appeared before him, bowing low.

"Take this immediately to Arcturus Black. Wait for a reply - unless he curses you, in that case return immediately." He ordered, having sealed the letter, he handed it to his elf. "Do not fail me at this, Hatty. Only Arcturus sees this letter…"

"Of course, Master, Hatty will do as master asked."

And with a pop, his elf was gone. The die had been cast.

He'd intended to approach in a month's time, slowly and carefully.

Quick and decisively would have to do.

Thirty two minutes later exactly, not that anyone was counting - Hatty returned with a reply, looking none the worse for the experience.

Cornelius still tested the elf for the Imperius curse and any other dark magic - just in case. As well as throwing every detection charm he knew at the envelope with the black family crest. It came away clean.

Of course the likes of them no doubt knew curses he'd have no hope to detect at his ability - he'd have to chance it.

With trepadation he opened it, grinning viciously as he read the sparse letter.

Fudge,

You better be right about the importance of this meeting or you won't walk out of it! Be at 12 Grinmauld place at 7pm.

You may bring your wand, you are no threat to me or mine.

It was simply signed with Black. No other name. Sensible, Arcturus did basically threaten to kill or maim him if he didn't deliver.

But he had his chance.

This meeting would set the table for both the victory and his eventual ascension to the Minister post.

---

Cornelius dressed in the finest robes he owned - a royal purple set, with Acromantula silk. It was a bit pretentious but it would do. He'd never actually worn it anywhere yet. A purchase for the future his original body had made. After collecting a sizable sum of galleons from Abraxas Malfoy to cover up a situation involving his son, and obliviating some muggle policemen.

Already Cornelius had collected a small cadre of patrons within the sacred twenty-eight and those noble families that surrounded them. Due to a willingness to make things go away for moronic pure blood heirs. He was already acquainted with Lucius due to this. All these small bribes and situations came from the same thing.

These spoiled brats that spent their summers muggle baiting or worse - and needed a quiet obliviator to make it go away as they weren't yet the scary death eaters who'd murder or memory charm their victims. At this stage they had it solved purely by the weight of their bank accounts - to Cornelius' benefit.

As distasteful as he found it now that he had taken over the body - he'd have to keep it up. The reputation that he could be negotiated with was vital for his survival through the war. And for his ascension to the Minister post. Once he was in charge - he could ensure the raping scum got their dementor dates in Azkaban. At this point he couldn't really do anything against them. Even if he were to try and charge the likes of Lucius Malfoy or Evan Rosier with their actions - their families would see him in Azkaban - or dead, long before there would be any consequences to their heirs. If there would ever even be any. The Wizengamot - even amongst the light faction - did not overly care about muggles.

Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley were the aberrations on the subject - their views not the majority. Not even close.

He double checked his appearance for the last time, before Apparating to the street of 12 Grinmauld place.

He appeared on the street with a quiet pop - he immediately made for the Black townhouse in quick strides. Uncaring of any muggle that saw him in a robe - that minor deviation from the statue of secrecy was preferable to showing up at the home of the most ancient and noble house of Black dressed as a muggle.

He made a face briefly as he took in the Black townhouse - he could never understand the aesthetic some of these families went for. Foreboding was good and proper for such an illustrious family - but the Blacks seemed to take it to such an extreme it was more like a muggle goth phase then anything. And Cornelius found it very off putting and tacky. Both sides of him, really.

What was wrong with open space, some nice art, maybe some plants and warm homey colors - perhaps wooden paneling or floors as well. Oh, well. He'd have the money one day to show these uppity ponces how to really live.

As soon as he knocked on the door it creaked open - with accompanying creepy noises - Cornelius refused to believe the Blacks failed at maintaining their front door, so the noise must be purposefully spelled in. Like he thought - goth phase. Just in their case it's lasted centuries.

What could only be Kreacher peered out from the open crack - surly and suspiciously.

"Hello there, I am Cornelius Fudge, I have an appointment with Lord Arcturus Black." Cornelius said genially, even though he knew this particular house elf wouldn't care about his politeness one whit - it never hurt.

"Kreacher be knowing already, Kreacher be taking wizard to Master's office. Wizard not be touching anything!" Kreacher muttered, giving Cornelius a dirty glare as he fully opened the door and allowed him inside.

"Or course, lead on dear fellow!" Cornelius said affably, continuing to be pleasant - for practice if nothing else, as he kept a straight face following the surly elf - through the townhouse that screamed - we're trying so so hard to look dark and evil.

He thought he might have even caught a glimpse of Sirius Black, a child of around Hogwarts age at this time - who had peered down at him briefly from the top of some stairs - before Cornelius had continued on. It had only been a flash of black hair and gray eyes - but it was likely him, Regulus would not be so big at this point, he'd be what? 9?

Finally he arrived at the office - likely not Arcturus' own as Cornelius was fairly sure he didn't reside at 12 Grinmauld place. So his son's office. He got his first own close look at the Black patriarch - original him having seen him from afar at times at the Ministry.

Arcturus Black looked to be in his fifties, although Cornelius knew he was older then that - no sign of any depredation due to black madness then. Piercing gray eyes zeroed in on him as he entered, a well practiced sneer forming on his face as he waved towards an armchair in front of his desk without a word. He had coal black hair, kept short with streaks of silver touching the sides, the slight frown lines on his face - the only real signs of his advancing age. He looked remarkably put together and well groomed for someone that wouldn't live to see the second war - as far as canon goes.

"I'd offer you tea, but frankly I believe I will be cursing you blind and deaf in a minute for wasting my time - so I can't be bothered with the niceties." Arcturus said bluntly, leaning back in his chair, still studying him, while appearing fully relaxed.

"If I may, I would take out my wand and swear on my life and magic that I will not lie for the next hour - if that satisfies you?" Cornelius said carefully, "I would suggest for both our sakes that this talk remains private …" He finished, eyeing the elf still standing at attention by the door.

Arcturus scoffed, seemingly mulling over whether to continue this meeting as he met Cornelius' eyes - he must have found something to continue on, because he barked out suddenly, "Kreacher, bugger off somewhere!"

The elf bowed low and disappeared with a loud crack. The Black family patriarch pressed a heavy signet ring that he was wearing to the table and Cornelius could feel the wards settling around the room - they were remarkably unfriendly.

"Dumbledore himself could be sniffing around this room and not hear a single thing - so best be quick, out with it, why should I let you leave here with all your limbs, you muck crawler?" Arcturus growled, tapping the Black Lord's ring against the edge of the table, the dull thud seeming as if a countdown.

Cornelius raised his wand slowly - as to show that he was no threat, "I swear on my magic and on my life that I will only speak the truth for the next hour, and that all I have to say is truthful and correct with no lies as far as I know."

There was a flash of magic as magic itself accepted the vow. Cornelius slowly placed his wand back in his wand holster. "If that oath is not sufficient Lord Black, I can make another."

Arcturus shook his head slowly, looking disdainful still, "No, it will suffice. It does not however mean that your truth is something I care about, so out with it, before I lose my patience, Fudge."

"I have future knowledge and quite frankly the world goes to absolute shit because of our little dark lord problem - by the end of the 1990s the black family is eradicated. Only Narcissa and Andromeda alive - neither holding the name Black, both having had children and in Andromeda's case a grandchild - none of which take the name Black." Cornelius explained as succinctly as possible. The Black family woes would be the most important subject to get Arcturus onboard after all.

Said man had paled, and looked furious, Cornelius swallowed deeply as the wards of the room almost shivered, as if readying to activate and vaporize him.

"I don't believe you, this is a ploy of some sort. Who put you up to this? Abraxas? That fool Lestrange? Dumbledore? No, that goat wouldn't dare to be this underhanded, and ridiculous." Arcturus had stood up, glaring at Cornelius as he put a wrinkled hand into his robe and pulled out a black gnarly wand, pointing it at him. "I don't know how you fooled a magical oath, but you will tell me who sent you! Incarcerous!" Thick ropes encircled Cornelius before he could protest, tying him so tight to the armchair he could hardly breathe.

"It's a magical oath, it can't be faked!" Cornelius managed to gasp out, pleading with the black lord. He hadn't expected easy acceptance, but outright denial had not even crossed his mind.

Arcturus scoffed, walking off to a corner of the office outside of Cornelius' eyesight, he could hear the clinking of bottles. Would he poison him?

Arcturus returned to stand in front of him, a vial of a perfectly clear liquid in his hand. Veritaserum. Cornelius felt his heart pull back from its impending attack - a truth serum could only be good for him. Then he saw the wand being pointed at him again and braced himself.

"Imperio!" Arcturus snarled viciously. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!" He ordered as soon as the spell took hold.

Cornelius found that it was a truly blissful feeling to be under the Imperius. Like he was awash in a sea of pure contentment - until the order to open his mouth came. From nowhere it was like his mind snapped into place, wrestling back control, throwing off the Imperius. Perhaps having two lives had added benefits? He wasn't sure what other explanation there was for such an achievement.

Better still he had the sense to still open his mouth and stick out his tongue anyway. Throwing off the Black Lord's Imperius would only make him more wary of the proof from the Veritaserum. So Cornelius played along. Sitting still with an open mouth and his tongue out, trying to affect a slightly vacant look in his eyes. Pretending to be a Crabbe helped achieve the effect he sought.

"We'll see soon enough…" Arcturus muttered to himself as he slowly dripped three drops of the truth serum on Cornelius tongue, waving his wand after, in a careless flick - obviously meant to dispel the Imperius. Interesting, so the caster did not realize immediately that their spell failed. Something to keep in mind.

To Cornelius the effect of the Veritaserum did not feel too dissimilar to the Imperius curse. He felt content, with no troubles at all. This time he was unable to fight off the feeling. Although since he didn't really want to tell a lie - perhaps the struggle didn't have everything in it.

"Who sent you?" Arcturus barked out, wand still in Cornelius' face. The tip glowing ominously.

The answer easily rolled off his tongue, even as he felt a sort of pressure - forcing the words out. "No one, I came of my own accord." He answered blandly, almost vacantly. His mouth moving on its own, feeling numb and disconnected from the rest of him.

Arcturus looked thrown at that, lowering his wand slightly, "Why did you tell me that pack of lies?" He asked roughly. The knuckles of his wand hand turned white - he was grasping his wand so hard.

"They were not lies."

Arcturus let out a disbelieving laugh, falling back against his desk, "This isn't happening, I must be going mad…" He rubs his face wearily, "What happened to me? My sons?"

"Unknown, likely casualties in the war between the Ministry and Dumbledore against Lord Voldemort." Cornelius replied, still blandly, as forced out by the Veritaserum.

Arcturus fumbled around in his pockets for a moment, before finding a vial, reaching forward, "Open your mouth, it's the antidote to the Veritaserum." He said defeatedly, a wave of his wand vanishing the ropes holding Cornelius to the chair.

They both sat in silence for the moment. Cornelius worked his jaw which still felt slightly numb - although it was wearing off. And got his heart rate under control. That had been more exciting or terrifying than he'd expected.

"I will not apologize for my actions. Your story was outlandish." Arcturus said stiffly, before walking to his desk and slowly sinking down into his chair, looking devastated, "All gone, the oldest magical family in Britain, wiped out…" he shook his head, piercing eyes turning back to Cornelius. "Tell me how this comes to pass!"

Cornelius took a moment to think over his answer, "Realize, some of this is speculative and not something I know for certainty - I only know the details for your grandchildren's lives and deaths." He warned ahead of time, not needing another bout under the powerful patriarch's wand.

"Start with myself and Melania." Arcturus barked out, face reddening as his anger grew again, "Tell me how those bastards ruined the Black family!"

Cornelius wasn't sure if Arcturus even knew which bastards he was talking about, but continued on, "I only know that by 1981 you are most likely dead as is likely your wife. Black madness is the public excuse. But seeing how healthy you seem right now, I doubt you die of madness within the decade, you were likely poisoned or taken care of in another manner by Voldemort or his most loyal servant - to free his access to the Black family properties, vaults and library."

"Why 1981?" Arcturus asked suspiciously, "Why does that date make you assume my death, if as you say you do not have the full information somehow…"

"Because in 1981, Sirius Black the heir to the Black family, was sentenced to life in Azkaban without a trial, and I'd rather think that you'd have raised a stink about it if you were alive." Cornelius explained, "Granted, he'd run away from home and lived with the Potter's since his fifth year at Hogwarts and Walburga blasted him off the black family tapestry - but he was still your heir."

"I need whiskey for this conversation…" Arcturus muttered, a dark look in his eyes. "Aye, disinherited, runaway, no matter what I'd not have let the feckless ministry put a grandson of mine in Azkaban without a fight…" A twitch of his wand and a bottle of fire whiskey smashes it way out of a nearby cabinet, spreading glass shards everywhere. Cornelius barely flinched, he did raise a surprised eyebrow as the Black lord took a loud gulp from the bottle itself.

"Oh fuck off, Fudge, my whole family is apparently dead within the next two decades, let me drink in peace - I'm assuming Pollux, Cygnus and my son? Why didn't they help Sirius?" Arcturus grumbled, before taking another swig.

Cornelius twitched irritably, that was no way to treat what appeared to be a bottle of Ogden's finest - from their first year in business! "Cygnus and Druella are never mentioned in my future knowledge again after marrying off Bellatrix and Narcissa to Death Eaters - Voldemort's followers." He added on the last bit, because by this time that name might not be known, even to the Black lord, "I believe he survived to the 1990's but he died young, in his sixties - for what cause I do not know - and he never assisted Sirius."

Cornelius took a breath before continuing on, "As for Pollux and his sister Cassiopeia not much is known, and I can not state truthfully how or when they die - I can only say it is likely as they do not come to pick up the pieces of the black family - and the properties are left in a state of disrepair. Orion died in 1979, shortly after the news that Regulus died. Leaving Warburga as the only one in 12 Grimmauld place - leading to its absolute degradation until and after her own death."

"Sirius in hell, Regulus dead… What happens to the girls?" Arcturus asked, pained, eyes cloudy.

Cornelius sighed, "Not much better news. Narcissa survived past you all - and has a son, but she fully embraced the Malfoy name. She suffered much due to Lucius Malfoy's support of Voldemort." He took a deep breath preparing himself for the outrage, "Andromeda also outlived you all, by running away from the war and the family, marrying a muggleborn and having a daughter - the first metamorph in the Black family for a very long time. The war takes both her husband and daughter from her - but she lived."

"It's hard to even be pissed at the girl, she survived after all, and a metamorph child, that's nothing to scoff at, even if a half-blood." Arcturus muttered, smirking wryly as Cornelius gave him a disbelieving look, "Oh, I can be reasonable, Fudge. I may not like mudbloods, but she showed intelligence by getting out of what was apparently a shipwreck of massive proportions and then survived the fallout." He took another gulp of firewhiskey, "She earned the name Black."

"Yet she is going to be disinherited and does not carry it." Cornelius felt the need to point out.

Arcturus scoffed, and slapped his desk hard, "She's going to have a metamorph, allowances can be made - I'm hardly going to follow your future knowledge to our extinction. Now what about Bella - don't think I haven't noticed you've left her for last. What did the fool girl do?"

"She was married off to the Lestranges; they all became slavishly loyal to Voldemort. Bellatrix is sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing the Longbottoms into insanity. Although I can not prove it - she likely had a hand in how many of your relatives ceased to exist by 1990." He hesitated for a moment, before continuing with the ending of the black family, "She also killed Sirius in the second war - your grandson broke himself out of Azkaban while Bellatrix had to be saved by Voldemort 2 years later. At the start of this second war, Bellatrix kills Sirius in a duel."

Arcturus looked at him quietly. "Bloody buggering hell." He swore, his hands unsteady.

His eyes gained a fervent light in them suddenly as he straightened up, "Now, you didn't tell me this because you enjoy showing me how worthless my ruddy family is - you have a plan…"

Cornelius smiled.

---

Author's note:

So nothing too special, just a fun little idea of Ministry shenanigans just as the whole shebang is beginning, seeing what one could do to improve things without being Voldemorted.

Could have milked it out for another 2-3 k words, but eh, it was a good enough stopping point, and I already have Mischief. If someone else wants to take it over and write a competent baddie Fudge bending the Ministry over and porking it - feel free.

Cheers

JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

A little snippet I wrote when I was reading a lot of ASOIAF fanfiction. Yes, it's yet another Robert SI tries to fix everything fic.

Or in this case just a snippet.

Now I'm probably wildly wrong with ages and timeline if any are mentioned. Consider it an AU, because yes, with as many stories I've got to go, fact check becomes no check.

Handwavium ahoy.

I know this shit probably wouldn't fly, but it was a fun thought to write about so just shoot your SOD and go with the flow.

As usual, I do not own Harry Potter or the associated companies that deliver material from it.

Enjoy!

---

October. 283 A.C – Early Morning, King's Landing.

More and more lords trickled into Kings Landing as time went by. Jon Arryn had been given the delightful task of finding accommodations for them all and keeping them happy.

The man wanted to be the Hand of the King? Well then he couldn't very well complain if Robert was going to put him through his paces, could he?

Robert knew he had another 2 months at least before Ned would return and he was determined to wait for his coronation until then. In the meantime, he wanted the lords present, to see how Kings Landing was cheering his name, to see the faith proclaim him good King Robert blessed by the Warrior, Crone and Smith. To see that he already had a loyal and competent small council in place.

To understand that he planned ahead, that he was ready, that he knew exactly what he was doing. Being underestimated might be good and well in a fight, but as a ruler, it was no good. Especially in Planetos. People needed to believe he was dangerously skilled.

It wouldn't stop all the plots, but it would mean less people willing to stand openly against him.

It was all about projecting strength. He wanted to ensure that by the time coronation rolled around all the lords of the seven kingdoms could see that there was no weakness to be had in the new regime.

To that end he had put in motion several plans over the last several weeks. Thanks to the Mad King who'd been more concerned with burning people than spending gold, the treasury was flush and ripe to be used. Although he begrudgingly, quietly, allowed Tywin the credit he was due in ensuring it was so.

He might be one of the most unpleasant human beings to exist, but he knew gold.

Robert had used a contingent of his own Stormlander troops to go around Kings Landing and offer all the smallfolk a chance for something better. Both women and men, whether they had been just a dock worker or tavern wench, cut purse or prostitute. There was an opportunity for them.

There was no better time than now. After the sack, a large number of the 500 000 souls of Kings Landing had lost their lives, the rest, their homes, businesses, or workplaces. Robert mopped up as many of these as he could. Marched them all outside the city, creating a tent city of 250 000 people outside Kings Landing.

The tents spread as far as the eye could see all around the city. Calling it a tent city was not all that apropos either, as many did not even have tents. But he had his men chopping down enough wood to create temporary shelters that hopefully it wouldn't get too bad out there.

Having modern ideas on sanitation and ways to prevent illness as well, ones he was forcing through on the tent city as proof of concept - would surely help as well. And while half the town was outside the walls, he could knock down and rebuild one district at a time.

It was on this topic he found himself staring at a map of Westeros covering a whole wall in a chamber a short distance from the small council chambers with his Master of War Randyll Tarly, Master of Coin Wyman Manderly and his Master of Works Selwyn Tarth.

"Here, Harrenhal would be perfect." Robert said pressing his finger against the map, "Large enough to hold not only a Royal army, but their families, the logistics offices, training areas and with plenty of room for supplies."

"And extremely thirsty for gold, Your Grace." Lord Manderly interjected with a wry smile, "Although left with a large treasury from the Mad King, this venture alone would likely drain most of it."

"The tactical benefits would be immense." Lord Tarly muttered, "Close enough to King's Landing to reinforce it before any enemy could muster any attack, centrally located with access to both nearby rivers and roads to travel quickly. If rebuilt it would be a location an army can not leave alone at their backs nor attack. Their best bet would be to try and starve them out, which would tie up an enemy army of at least 20 000 just to sit there and hold. Whether it is attacked or not it would still give Kings Landing the time to call all banners, and if it's not attacked it means King's Landing is reinforced by its armies too quickly to realistically take the city."

"Well, the plan is to not have more than 10 000 soldiers at Harrenhal itself, Lord Tarly. The other 10 000 would be patrolling all major roads, guarding the Semaphore line and holding garrisons along the line and roads." Robert reminded the Lord of Horn Hill.

It would prevent banditry and keep Lords honest, something Westeros had been missing throughout its history. Sure, there wouldn't be large amounts of soldiers in each location, but a constant reminder worked almost as well in keeping people honest. Knowing that any dastardly bullshite you got up too could be reported to King's Landing over Semaphore within the day would alleviate a lot of problems before they could begin.

"It is lucky indeed you found that manuscript of this concrete, Your Grace." Lord Tarth said brusquely. "Without it, there is no chance that we would be able to plan for such an undertaking as both repairing Harrenhal and building a line of these Semaphore towers across Westeros."

"Even with the concrete it will drain the funds immensely." Lord Manderly reminded them all, the corpulent lord understanding the benefit of the Semaphores but dreading the cost. "I feel it might behoove us to ask the Lord's Paramount to accept some of the costs for the towers built inside their lands. It will after all be used to protect them from Ironborn raids as well as bandits and rebels."

Lord Tarly snorted loudly, "Parting a Lord from his gold is hard enough in normal times, right after a war it will be almost impossible, they will be focused on harvests, not projects."

"Lord Manderly has the right of it, I will talk with them myself and make them see the benefits to their lands of an early warning system - as well as quick action to deal with bandits and disasters." Robert said determinedly. He would not let some penny-pinching Lord defeat this project. It would be too useful, not only for the possible Greyjoy rebellion, but for any actions against the throne.

His throne.

He wasn't going to allow some feckless idiot to ruin it all for him. Not when the majority of them were remarkably stupid, and somehow bungling their way through fucking themselves and everyone around them over and callong it victory.

"Just don't tell them you plan to use women as the coders and signalers of the Semaphore's, they won't pay for that." Lord Tarth reminded Robert; it had been a contentious matter until Lord Tarly gave up arguing against it. Robert did have a big stick to wield, and Tarly was too pleased about his position on the small council to argue for too long.

Especially considering with the Reach having fought against him, he could have just as well put them all under his boot.

Lord Tarth was correct that it would be too risky to spread that information around until it was a fait accompli however. Each Semaphore would have a barracks for 10-15 guards from the royal army for protection, with a garrison of 100 men every 5 towers. No longer would bandits haunt the smallfolk, nor rebels ride with impunity.

The fact the actual coders and signalers would be women and therefore "in charge" of the messages - would be taken harshly by many Lords. The Maesters would throw a hissy fit as well, but they'd already be flying off the handle due to Ravens no longer being nearly as important anymore, so it was a minor addition.

"If you're looking to save gold… Mayhap there are some reductions that can be made in the budget for the Royal army." Lord Manderly said carefully, ignoring the sudden glare from Lord Tarly, who when introduced to the idea had very eagerly jumped aboard the small council, ignoring anything Mace Tyrell might have thought about it. Being the commander of such an army trained from the bottom up to his expectations, had bought his loyalty unto death.

Well… He's Westerosi, so not really. But it had made the man damn well easier to work with. And between Mace Tyrell and Robert Baratheon, he knew which way his bread was buttered.

Robert ran a hand through his hair wearily, it had only been one week since he introduced the concept and yet this was perhaps the hundredth time he had heard the pointed comments on the money spent on just smallfolk. "No, the wages for the Royal army stays, the home and care for crippled veterans stays, the pensions for those that served 20 years stays, the pension to the family of any killed soldier stays." He repeated pointedly, his jaw raised stubbornly. "The point of a standing Royal professional army like this is to defend the realm at all times. We can not afford to have the soldiers be bought by every which bandit or any Lords wanting them to look the other way. They need to be loyal. And coming from small folk originally, all these benefits will see them and their families be fiercely loyal to the crown for life."

"The cost will not be as much as you fear once it has been put in place." Lord Tarly said resolutely, arms crossed as he glared at the Master of Coin. "The wage is enough to make smallfolk happy, that alone is not much of a hit to the treasury. Cripple pay and death pay will hardly cost the throne much except for in the times of war. As for pensions after 20 years of service… If this army buys the realm 20 years of peace the damn men deserve triple what we would give them anyway - and the coin you saved by the long peace will bring in much more than the cost of the pensions."

"Well put Lord Tarly." Robert said with an approving smile. Turning towards Lord Manderly, Robert continued, "Not to worry, I will not allow the throne to turn destitute. I thank you for your thoughts however, as your input is always valuable to the throne in ensuring we do not get carried away."

His small council was still new, and he didn't intend to be too brusque in his dealings, as the Lord's of Westeros were ridiculously tied to honor and privilege that they could be very thin skinned at times. He didn't need a plot to throw Westeros in chaos to come from simply insulting a member of his small council.

Lord Manderly bowed his head, appeased to all appearances, as Lord Tarly huffed in annoyance. Lord Tarth simply looked on in amusement. This was already turning into a familiar routine, usually Jon was around to run interference but he was too busy keeping the rest of the lords of Westeros contained and happy.

Better him than me…

Jon had been desperately needed to run interference when Robert had introduced the idea that both the royal army logistics division and the Red keep and the Realms finance and trade bureaucracy be staffed by women - once enough were trained up.

Most of the women not going to the Semaphore lines were going to be trained by hired Braavosi scribes and bureaucrats for that purpose. For once Lord Tarly and Lord Manderly had been on the same page arguing heavily against it, that a woman had no place in the ruling of the realm nor in the running of an army.

Robert had finally won them over just this week. Lord Manderly in particular on explaining that these women would be the scribes and parchment workers doing all the realms busywork and counting and tabulating not actually making decisions. Just carrying them out. All would be loyal to the crown as it gave them the opportunity to rise above the masses and make something of themselves - as women do not have many opportunities this would ensure less graft and corruption and more loyalty.

For Lord Tarly it had been like pulling teeth until Robert finally hit the right argument. The more women running payrolls, armories, and food supplies logistics - the more men were available to swing swords. The surly Lord had come around somewhat quickly after that, although not happy, he was at least content to go along.

He had made it very clear that his personal command staff would not have any women on it, however. As Robert could see no reason why the command staff would need one it was an easy agreement.

He wasn't doing this out of any feminist ideals of any of the sort. He was doing it because he needed every sword arm for the future, and because he needed less bullshit from the bureaucracy and servants. Which training his own cadre up from the small folk would ensure.

Less courtly games and plots is exactly what Westeros needed, although it wouldn't completely erode it - a whole new cadre of civil servants working for the throne would slow down corruption.

Lord Tarth had, as always, been in the background, quietly amused at the fuss over something that in his eyes made complete sense. Jon had been exasperated over the amount of headaches Robert was introducing to him - no doubt having expected an easy time while Robert hung back, not throwing all traditions to the wind.

Luckily, the rest of the small council were not really involved yet in this matter, so no more complaints had been had on that subject.

And of course, he'd ensure the church was on his side, which would make it that more difficult for the Lord's to truly oppose the decision without looking like they lack piety.

"So, we have the Royal army always to be at least the strength of 20 000 men, under the command of Randyll Tarly. Main base Harrenhal. Say 5 years before everything is up and running as planned?" Robert asked the Master of War and his Master of Works.

Lord Tarly pursed his lips, "5 years at the latest aye, I do not foresee issues with the smallfolk, they will do what they are told good enough, whether building or training."

Lord Tarth agreed, "If the Lord's chip in, the Semaphore line will probably be done within 2 years, Your Grace, if counting on concrete to work as you have said. If not, then we should still be done sooner than 5."

"Then we have the 5000 men in the Royal guard, meant to protect the Red Keep and King's Landing. Run by Roland Storm. I talked with the lad earlier and he expects it to be a year or two until he is running at full capacity and to his standards. That will ensure Kings Landing always has a force to man the walls in an emergency and to protect the keep.

"I will not count on gold cloaks to hold the line." Robert mused out loud as he ticked off every box needed for armed men. "The gold cloaks themselves will be raised to 5000 men to keep the law in King's Landing, just as lawmen and investigators. If I need them for the walls the throne would likely already be fucked." He also had the Royal Knights, an institution he'd brought into life immediately upon taking charge, although it was empty as of now. The organization which would end up numbering 35 knights in service to the 7 Kingsguard.

No more would there just be one sword or two between a Queen, a King, their children - and attack.

"Worst case scenario, Kings Landing will have 10 000 troops in total and another 10 000 close by from Harrenhal which can call another 5000 from nearby garrisons quickly, so say 25000 men to protect King's Landing in case of a rebellion or invasion." Lord Tarly said with satisfied expression, "The days of King's Landing being vulnerable to a decapitation strike will be over."

"By the time, any enemy force could breach the walls, the Banners would already be arriving to crush them against the wall from behind." Lord Tarth agreed.

"Now we just have to survive 5 years." Robert japed, which got an appreciative chuckle from the jovial Master of coin.

Ser Barristan poked his head in through the door and caught Roberts eyes. "It seems it is time for me to leave for the meeting with the High Septon. We will continue our discussions in the morrow at the latest." Robert excused himself, accepting the mumbled Your Graces and bows with nary a thought and left the chamber, Ser Barristan falling in behind him.

Robert had been working on the High Septon practically from the first day he arrived in King's Landing. There was no better man to use to ensure the smallfolk loved him and praised his rule. He was not going to run into a religious war or end up with the same stupidity Cersei had created for herself.

Within minutes Robert found himself in a richly decorated antechamber of the great hall. Not all meetings needed the throne room after all, it was too large for such things. The antechamber had great silk tapestries, expensive art on the walls and the floor was entirely covered in a fine rug all the way from Yi-Ti. The ironwood table was finely carved and had goblets of the most expensive wine already waiting on it.

Robert had quickly realized the High Septon was quite the purveyor of fine things and not as holy as he made himself out to be. He had quickly taken advantage.

The man was waiting for him as Ser Barristan took his place by the door. Luckily the door was a solid built one and when closed it muffled the sounds of the room quite well. Robert did not think Ser Barristan would approve of the dealings he had with the High Septon.

Although the so-called 'honor' of everyone in Westeros varied wildly on their efficacy depending on what they felt like that day. Barristan was loyal, but he could be less loyal in his duties if he disliked his master.

Robert was unsure if the leader of the faith was the man from canon or not, as the High Septon did not keep his name upon receiving the position. He wasn't fat either but perhaps that changed within the next decade. He was quite skinny in fact, with a short immaculate beard and small beady eyes in a sunken face. It was possible the man had grown fat under canon Roberts rule but he somehow doubted this was the same man.

Those beady eyes fixated on him greedily as he walked over the expensive rug to greet him. "Holy one, it is as always a pleasure to see you in the Red Keep, I hope you were not waiting overly long?" He said pleasantly, hiding his distaste.

Everyone in Westeros was a cunt. Everyone. It was just a fact. So he would have to outcunt them all, and bring some kind of improvement to the land. And survive ice zombies and crazy dragon ladies - that too.

His buddy Ned wasn't a cunt surprisingly, but was also proof of the fact that if you weren't, the cunts would absolutely rip you apart.

Like this High Septon he'd been bribing/convincing/threatening - a man who would absolutely shit all over Robert if he thought it would get him ahead. Hence why he was making sure he owned his ass.

The man bowed low, "Not at all, Your Grace." As he rose up he plastered on an oily smirk. How this man could be seen as holy baffled Robert, but he would make do with what he had to work with.

Robert poured the man some Arbor Gold into the crystal goblet and handed it over before pouring himself one. He wouldn't drink it, he never did in these meetings. It was expected of him to have a goblet of wine however, so he always kept one at hand. "Have the gods given you any insight on what we talked about last time?" Robert asked mildly as the High Septon drained half his goblet in one go.

"Indeed, they have, Your Grace." The High Septon replied. "I will be passing an edict of the faith that you and your rule was blessed by the Warrior, the Crone and in particular the Smith - for your recent contributions - blessed by all seven that is one, as a matter of course. Also ensuring the faith shows full support of your rule, as well as ensuring the faith is praising you daily in sermons all over Westeros."

Robert nodded graciously as he took a very small sip of his wine to celebrate. Inside he was dancing, slotting the faith under his rule and ensuring they were constantly praising him, his laws, his actions and just generally how fantastic he is - would go a long way of solidifying his rule.

This was exactly what he had aimed for, and he had only had to give up what he was already planning to do, plus some bribe money.

"As discussed I will ensure the Maesters are dispatched to the Great Sept and any other major concentration of the faithful, to begin teaching healing and medicine to all members of the faith. It is imperative for my rule that my people are properly fed, properly healthy and properly faithful, after all." Robert took another sip of the rather fantastic wine, as the High Septon thanked him for his just rule that was surely begotten by the seven that is one.

The Maesters were the losers of his rule, so he knew to expect daggers in the dark eventually, or weird shit. But having the faith, the Lords, or at least those that mattered - and his royal army soon enough…

The Maesters would just have to learn to live with disappointment.

As Robert saw the unpleasantly smarmy man out, he thought the five times a thousand golden dragons in the man's pockets likely had more to do with the faith's decision, but the main point was that it was done.

He intended to ensure proper sanitizing alcohol was spread across the land, that boiling water, washing hands with soap and such hygiene matters would become commonplace, greatly inhibiting disease. Of course he had other simple ways to help with that which he'd push along as well, but it was a start.

Since the Maesters were closed off academia filled with stubborn old men and really only catering to nobility, Robert had to find someone else to quickly spread common sense healing.

The Faith was the perfect vehicle. The smallfolk trusted them and would listen to them. Knights and nobility paid attention to what the faith said and would start using the same practices if they weren't already. The goal was to eventually have every little septa or septon, begging brother or silent sister, all able to provide basic medical care.

By bribing the High Septon with 5000 golden dragons he actually saved money as he ensured the High Septon agreed that the Faith itself had the money to pay for supplies for healing. The idiot had no idea how wildly used these supplies would end up becoming once healing was available to the masses. Finally all those donations to the Faith that barely ended up getting used would find a purpose. If it ended up an issue, Robert would simply kick the greedy rat towards his most pious Lords and have him beg donations from them, they would pony up.

Of course by solving one problem he would have another. He would now have to figure out a way to appease the Maesters before they became so annoyed with him that they'd start whispering things in their Lord's ears. The Citadel would not at all be pleased with healing being spread by every septa or septon out there.

Robert drained his wine and grimaced, the taste was too damn good. He had never been much for wine before, obviously the body he had hijacked disagreed and found Arbor Gold very fine indeed. He would have to look to ensure he only had massively watered down wine to avoid making a drunken fool of himself. Most of the important Lords of the realms were already here or soon to be here. He could not afford any stupidity.

"Your Grace? What next?" Ser Barristan asked politely as Robert left the antechamber.

Robert grinned at the old knight. "Time to see if I still got it Ser, up for a practice bout with the Demon of the Trident, Barristan the Bold?"

"Always, Your Grace."

---

October 283 AC – That evening.

Jon Arryn stifled a yawn, doing his best to pretend he was still paying attention to the discussion around him. Ever since the Lords had started arriving, Robert had made it a habit to have a new set of Lords dine at his table every meal.

Today he was surrounded by northmen like Roose Bolton, Richard Karstark and Greatjon Umber. This meant that for the day Jon was two tables away surrounded by another set of Lords. Divide and Conquer Robert had called it. Why share a table and seduce the same Lords, when the King and his Hand could be split up?

Another of the very good ideas that had suddenly been sprouting up from his adoptive son ever since becoming King. It unfortunately meant he was spending the meal with a mess of Florents, Hightowers and Tyrells. With Lord Randyll Tarly plopped in the middle with Jon to suffer equally from the constant bickering. No wonder the man was such a straightforward and sour man, to constantly be surrounded by these people in the Reach. Jon shivered just thinking about it.

Some fates were indeed cruel.

Jon sent an almost longing glance over to the main table. Robert was laughing about something with Greatjon Umber and… By the old gods and the new, was that an actual smile on the face of Roose Bolton? Jon made a mental note to ask Robert later what in the seven hells that had been about. That man could make ice seem warm and pleasant. He was brought back to reality as Mace Tyrell beckoned for his attention. Oh bother.

"I noticed your new wife wasn't in attendance Lord Arryn, I hope everything is alright." He asked with poorly hidden greed. "Speaking of wives…" He added, in the most poorly hidden change of subjects he'd ever seen, "When is the King planning on finding one for the princes?"

"By the gods Mace, the youngest is 7, try to wait until the coronation before you start salivating, you don't even have any daughters!" Lord Tarly spat banging a hand on the table.

Mace turned red in the face and if looks could kill, the lord of Horn Hill would have died then and there. "No one asked for your opinion Tarly! Salivating… To speak such of your Lord when you were already busy begging the King for a spot on the small council before I even finished breaking up camp!"

"My wife is well, thank you, just a spot of upset stomach keeping her resting this evening." Jon stopped the argument before it could begin, sending a brief warning look at Lord Tarly before he could retort to the lord of Highgarden. They didn't need any issues arising from simple personal dislike.

Lord Tarly snorted in disgust and turned to start a discussion instead with one of the Hightowers. "As for the Princes I believe the King thinks – and I agree - that it is a bit premature to rush for engagements at this time." Jon finished politely. No doubt the man wanted to wed Stannis to his sister Janna. Why on earth the man believed Stannis would ever accept a Tyrell bride baffled the mind of the Lord of the Eyrie.

But then, he was beginning to understand that the mind of Mace Tyrell was a strange place indeed.

Mace huffed looking around the hall searching for a topic, "Well, Hoster Tully surely made a killing, getting two Lord Paramounts for his daughters, very good alliances, yet he seems to be very upset, do you know whatever for my Lord hand?"

Jon tried to hide the wince as he looked over at the fuming Lord of Riverrun who wasn't even bothering to pretend he wasn't staring daggers at the main table. Two months back one could say Hoster would have been in a fantastic mood. Now, with Ser Brynden Tully guaranteed a spot in the Kingsguard, just waiting for the ceremony, really… He wasn't as thrilled.

The Blackfish had finally managed to outrun what Hoster saw as his responsibilities to the family. To make matters worse Hoster was one of the few in the know of Harrenhal and the Royal army. The man had not taken it well. A 20 000 man Army holding the most fortified position in the Riverlands, under control of Randyll Tarly to boot. No doubt Hoster feared his bannermen would feel that the real power in the Riverlands would lay in the hands of Tarly.

He wouldn't be wrong.

Making the Riverlands less of a shithole was one of the reasons Robert had argued for Harrenhal so fiercely. And he obviously didn't care one whit what Hoster Tully thought of it. Something which Jon would no doubt have to deal with…

"I believe the upcoming addition of Ser Brynden Tully to the Kingsguard is sitting ill with Lord Tully." He let out with a long suffering look, better the news of the knighting then the other more revolutionary news. He already had a hard enough time dealing with the Lords who already knew. As far as those most loyal in the rebellion were concerned, it was upsetting to see such attention on the smallfolk, and of course expenditure, while these loyal lords were sitting around without rewards.

It left a bad taste in Jon's mouth, this blatant greed that seemed to surround him. Honor and faith were beginning to be a rarity among the lords of the realm it seemed.

Before Mace could inquire any further Jon stood up having found the perfect excuse to miss the rest of this. Robert wouldn't begrudge him one day of staying away from greedy Lords with grubby hands and petty minds. "Excuse me my Lords, I shall go check on my lady wife and see if she has recovered."

"Of course, my Lord Hand! Pass along my well wishes to beautiful Lady Lysa." Mace exclaimed, trying and failing to look properly earnest. Jon accepted the well wishes of a few of the other Lords of the table, before finally making his escape.

His two guards followed – there by Robert's insistence on every important figure having guards - forcing him to always have them around. At least the two were proper honorable boys from the Vale, and they stepped in behind him as he made his way to his wife's chambers.

At least Robert was turning out to be a surprisingly good King Jon thought. He had managed to appease the Dornish, create a functioning and acceptable small council and was from what Jon heard, making good headway on getting the faith on his side.

Jon had half expected to have to carry the burden of ruling while Robert whored and drank. So far his adoptive son had cut down immensely on both. It seemed once responsibility finally fell to him, he rose to the occasion. Jon could say that as much of a headache dealing with this all was, he really was looking forward to the rule of King Robert the 1st​.

He should have known better than to tempt fate. That is what Jon thought as he stared down at the cold grimace on the face of his deceased wife. A spilled goblet at her side. Poison was the likely culprit. He had not had much time to get to know his wife, therefore he really did not feel much sorrow as he looked down on her. Mostly weary that he would have to marry yet again.

He rubbed his forehead tiredly thinking of the mess they were in now. If Hoster Tully was angry before, now he would be apoplectic as his marriage alliance with the Vale was shattered. Jon just hoped that Catelyn Stark had not somehow managed to get killed on her way to Winterfell, they did not need Hoster trying to start up the war again over losing out on his prizes.

"I am too fucking old for this…"

---

Hour later - Tower of the Hand's Solar.

"This is a fucking mess, Hoster Tully is rampaging through the keep, I had to ask Ser Brynden to be his shadow just to ensure he didn't do something stupid, and to keep him away from the feast and the king." Randyll Tarly was pacing back and forth in front of the desk, having ceded the chair to the very tired looking Hand.

"At least we have proof of a sort that it was not an attack meant to destabilize the King." Jon said, staring down at the letter that had been found among Lysa's things.

Randyll grimaced, "It's not much better to find that the fool girl killed herself in a silly plot to try and get out of her marriage. Hoster would have rather had her murdered by enemies to the throne than accept that truth." Randyll stared down at the same letter, mind working on the question of how real it was, was it meant to create a scapegoat or meant to make them think that?

Dear Lysa,

You have forever remained my only love, upon hearing your qualms about marrying Lord Arryn I started working on the means to save you immediately. Through various friends I have acquired a manse in Braavos under an assumed name.

If you would be so inclined I would love the honor of spiriting you away from that old man and staying together in Braavos forever. As husband and wife.

My friends acquired the powder that I've sent you with this letter my love. It will fake the semblance of death after being mixed with wine. Drink it my love and whence you awake next it will be next to me, I have trusted men at the keep to spirit you away once the mummery is over.

Please allow this to happen, I can not see true happiness without you by my side. Ensure you burn this letter before drinking my love, see you soon.

Forever yours

Lord Petyr Baelish

"The question is, if this was supposed to work as the letter states - or if it was all a ruse to take her life. The Grand Maester seems certain she is in fact dead." Randyll wondered out loud as he pondered the odd love letter slash murder weapon. "And it is odd she did not burn it as asked, yet followed every other instruction…"

"Lord Baelish is known to me… And to Hoster. The boy had a fascination with the Tully girls that almost got him killed trying to challenge Catelyn Tully's engagement to Brandon Stark." Jon grimaced slightly, recalling that whole fiasco. "The lad I remember would surely not be stupid enough to sign a letter pointing straight to him, impulsive- yes - but never that stupid."

Randyll raised an eyebrow, "Are you certain? He was apparently stupid enough to try and best Brandon Stark against the wishes of both the Tully's and the Starks. That is not the actions of a clever man. Also if she had followed all directions there would have been no letter to point towards him."

"It seems to me that when one intends to fool a Lord Paramounts wife into suicide one would not be signing the evidence." Jon answered dryly, "He tented his hands in front of him and rested his weary chin on them staring down at the letter. "No, if I am sure of one thing it is this. Lord Baelish did not write this letter, nor commit this act of treason."

"Whomever sent it knew your wife enough to convince her it was from Lord Baelish, and convincingly enough she willingly drank the poison. Is this Lord Baelish at court?" Randyll asked sharply, if nothing else they could question the Lord on why someone would try and get him killed.

Jon sighed, "No, he is the Lord of the fingers. He has a small tower and plot of land, in no way rich enough, known enough or tied to anyone that would net him an invitation here."

Randyll let out a frustrated sound as he slapped a fisted hand into his palm, "Pardon me my Lord Hand, that makes this even more muddled. A minor Lord that is all the way in the Vale with no allies or highborn alliances, and we are to believe he orchestrated this plot….. And then at the end was fool enough to sign his name to it? It could be a double bluff and indeed sent by Lord Baelish."

"You see my frustration, Lord Tarly." Jon answered with some frustration leaking into his countenance. "I can not in good conscience accuse Lord Baelish of this, nor is it feasible to call him to the capital to answer questions, we do not have several moon's turns."

Randyll understood too well, if Baelish was innocent, which was seeming likely, any raven to the Eyrie asking for Baelish to be put to the question of Lady Lysa's death, were likely to return with a guilty verdict, simply with bannermen and leal guards wanting to please their Lord and find his wife's killer would ensure a confession would be forthcoming. Likewise Jon could not travel to the Vale at such an important time, nor could they wait to call Lord Baelish to Kings Landing. "We must find someone, anyone." Randyll spoke up with distaste. He did not enjoy the idea of using a scapegoat.

"Absolutely not!" Jon answered harshly, eyes filled with fire where before there was only deep weariness. "I will not condemn an innocent party just to save face, there is no honor in that Lord Tarly!"

Randyll's responding sneer did not hold as much vitriol as he was usually capable of, mostly because he agreed with the Hand, they could not afford to be honorable however. "If we do not find someone, Hoster Tully will be sending men to the Vale to drag Lord Baelish back to Riverrun, where he will be very painfully executed after extensive torture has wrung a confession out of him."

"I can handle Hoster Tully." Jon bit out rising up, hands on the table and matching Randyll's glare with his own.

"With all due respect my Lord, whatever you thought on your relationship with Lord Hoster, it is now irreparably burnt. He will not let this go, not with all the other actions the King has taken that has impacted him negatively. Even with a scapegoat Lord Hoster will still be suspicious and angry, without it he will suspect your own hand in this." Randyll said matter of factly, not fazed by the hands glare.

"He would never suspect me!" Jon snapped. "You are presuming too much Lord Tarly, men of war see enemies everywhere, mayhap that is your issue here?"

The hand of the King sank back into his chair looking once again like he was drained of all energy, still radiating anger from the blistering eyes to the tense shoulders and white knuckled hands.

Randyll did not get to this point in his life by meekly bowing down whenever there was a storm. "The King did not appoint me to shower his court with flowery words nor to back down in the face of anger. Lord Baelish is of the Vale my Lord, he is also already known to Lord Hoster and it was a negative impression, a known enmity there, one Lord Hoster knows you would be aware of. An angry man would not have issues drawing the conclusions that your ordered your bannerman to get you out of your marriage, and then ensured Lord Baelish would be fingered, as surely someone that unimportant would not be a great loss to yourself if Lord Hoster fell upon him."

"You might be right." Jon bit out, "You might be wrong. I will not condemn someone that is not guilty."

"By not doing so, you will condemn Lord Baelish, who we both now suspect has no idea about this plot." Randyll pointed out quietly, "Either way someone will pay, we can decide that its someone which deserves it."

"Damn it to the seven hells." Jon swore quietly. He sat in tense silence for a few minutes. Randyll knew better than to push, he had fought for his solution, now just the answer, victory, or defeat?

"Who do you have in mind exactly?" Jon finally says tiredly, "It must be someone that would not stir up any more fights in the capital."

Randyll did not show any sign of being pleased at getting his way. Once victory had been achieved, showing pleasure over it just angered the defeated. "I have a few names in mind…"

---

Late Evening - King's solar

"You summoned me, Your Grace?"

Robert looked up from the parchment strewn all over his desk. The desk was a fine mahogany with gold and gem inlays depicting Stags. An expensive gift from one of the Western lords and one Robert thought was ostentatious but appearances needed to be held up. Speaking of Western lords...

"Ser Kevan, yes please have a seat." Robert waved over his page to pour the lion some wine. He then dismissed the lad so they could have some privacy.

"I noticed a commotion on heading here, the Tully's seem to be up in arms about something, should I be worried?" Kevan inquired politely.

"Jon is handling it, if he needed me he would have already informed me of the particulars so no need to worry." Robert said dismissively, leaning back in his equally ridiculous gold inlaid chair. "I summoned you to discuss the Royal bank, get all the details sorted out so you could get started in your new position."

"I am afraid that until all matters have been settled, Lord Lannister would not approve of the Royal bank getting off the ground, Your Grace." Kevan answered with a polite smile picking up his goblet of wine, "Dornish red, how appropriate," He murmured wryly.

"I take it Lord Lannister is not pleased with the Dornish influences, even though it means they stopped clamoring for his head?" Robert grumbled, displeased with the hinting and previcarating, no one ever spoke plainly at court it was driving him mad.

Kevan took a slow appreciative sip of wine, carefully putting the goblet down giving himself time to think of his answer. "Lord Lannister… Appreciates, Your Grace managing to leash the Dornish, it is the matter of seeing Targaryen loyalists rewarded…. While the promises made to house Lannister have yet to be delivered…"

Of course it was all about Tywin throwing a tantrum that he didn't get his cut before everyone else Robert thought exasperated. At least it was not something difficult to fix. "Let's speak plainly Ser Kevan, which of the matters I spoke with Lord Tywin about does he want handled immediately?"

"The matter of Jamie Lannister." Kevan responded promptly, "To be clear, his honorable release from the Kingsguard and the clearing of his name."

"Fine, the trial will be held at midday tomorrow in the throne room." Robert conceded, there really was no reason to antagonize Tywin by holding it up any longer. Nor would he admit the reason it hadn't yet happened was that he had forgotten the man was held in the black cells still.

Kevan bowed his head slightly before hesitating, "And the outcome… How will you absolve him of guilt when the boy admits he killed the king?"

"It will all be clear tomorrow, rest assured he will be found to have acted in honor and in defense of the realm." Robert stated firmly locking eyes with the most reasonable of the Lannisters. "You have my word on it." He was not going to reveal shit beforehand, they could wait like the rest for the big reveal.

Kevan very obviously wanted to say more but had to bite his tongue, one did not question the King's given word without very good reason after all. "Of course Your Grace, you wanted to discuss the bank?" He moved on.

Robert looked around his desk for a moment before he found the parchments he had prepared, he looked them over to ensure once again everything was where it was supposed to be and then once satisfied rolled it up and handed it over to Kevan who had sat in silence eyeing the parchments curiously. "This holds not only the framework for which the bank will operate under, but also how it will be run, the rules it will follow and all other formalities. Have a look over the next few days with your brother and inform me of any changes you might want to discuss, I will listen, if they are a betterment I will allow the changes."

Robert paused to take a heavy drink of his extremely watered down Dornish red. Kevan's gaze flickering down to the heavy rolled up parchment and back to Robert again as if having a hard time equating the stories of Robert with the mass amounts of parchment work.

You're not the one having to actually do it, lion, he grumbled inwardly at the look.

"Firstly, the headquarters of the Royal bank will be here in King's landing, we will demolish the dragon pit, put in the bank and some other relevant infrastructure. The bank will also have smaller satellite locations in every major city in Westeros." Robert began, stopping when it looked like Kevan wanted to interrupt, "You have thoughts? Well out with it then."

"Pardon, Your Grace, but with that many locations, how will we be able to make any profits at all." Kevan asked skeptically.

Robert smirked and stood up walking over to the large map of Westeros covering one of his walls. "See all these dots." He asked pointing to dots going in lines all over the map from every major city and along each coast. "These each represent a tower with a myrish glass eye that will be able to pass along messages far faster than any raven. Good for informing the realm of incoming Ironborn raids… Those don't happen everyday however… What purposes do you suppose those towers could fulfill during peace?"

Kevan stood up and looked over the map with a critical eye, the gleam in those eyes as he looked at the Westerlands coast meant he already understood. "How quickly would a message go from say.. King's Landing to White Harbor, Your Grace?"

Robert returned to his desk, sitting down with a pleased huff as he looked for the parchment with the calculations, Kevan remaining standing staring at the map no doubt running scenarios in his head already on how quickly an Ironborn raid could be discovered and transmitted across the Westerlands.

"Ah, there it is," Robert grabbed the parchment that had been hidden by a whole pile of parchmentwork. "Let's see… Each tower 20 miles apart, at the top a set of movable wood posts with over 200 symbols for coded messages.. Where are the damn time calculations." Robert muttered to himself, with how much he was going through each day some facts just blurred together eventually. " Ah, there it is….About 1500 miles to White Harbor would take 2 and a half hours to 3 hours depending on weather." Robert finished to the astonishment of Kevan.

"And a message from Lannisport to Casterly Rock?" Kevan asked, looking like a miracle was being performed, it was honestly somewhat creepy to see the normally blank façade fall to such emotion. Robert looked down at the calculations again, finger trailing the different locations until he found what he was looking for. "40 miles, a message would arrive in about 5 minutes."

"By the seven" Kevan sank down in his chair grabbing hold of his goblet of wine like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. "This changes so much."

"As you can see, we have an advantage now. No merchant needs to bring a chest of gold on their travels. They can simply open an account here in Kings Landing - or anywhere there is a branch - and deposit the gold. Receive a promissory note from the clerk, then a message is sent up the line to all the bank locations in Westeros giving the man's description, account number, amount of gold in the account and a passphrase of their choice." Robert explained to the still somewhat dazed looking Lannister. "Not only will this cut down on gold lost to robbery or accidents at sea, people will start to trust the bank to hold their money. Businesses and traders in particular will use it, and through the bank as the connection - send messages before their travels to their destination, asking what trade goods that they most need and will pay dearly for - all for a fee of course."

"The Royal bank will have a hand in every trade of the kingdom, building trust and prestige and at the same time massively increasing trade which will increase their usage of the bank again. I must say, I had not quite expected something like this, Your Grace, it's incredible," Kevan admitted, eyes still periodically glancing at the map.

"You can see why I made the deal with your brother, with Lannister gold ensuring a quick start and a bank in every vital location, the trade of Westeros will bloom and the Baratheons and Lannisters will reap the benefits." Robert said, pleased at how quickly Kevan had understood the uses of the Semaphores for trade. "Speaking of, the deal acknowledges you will head the bank for 10 years, I see no reason if you stay loyal to the throne and perform admirably that you can not continue after that if it's your wish."

The Lannisters were good with gold, and would be tied to his rule for now anyway, might as well get as much use of them as he could until they inevitably did a Tywin.

"I am of course loyal to the crown, Your Grace." Kevan acknowledged, with a bow of his head.

Robert doubted he would ever go against Tywin, but all he needed was that he doesn't immediately give up all this potential the second Tywin is displeased about something. He needed someone solid and not addicted to the glint of gold in charge of this project.

"As for the running of the bank, you will of course be in charge as promised. However you will have a board of managers under you, each in charge of a different aspect of the bank to ensure you have the help you need. Also the Master of Coin will have an observatory role, simply to ensure he is aware of the actions of the bank, the lending and moving of money so that he can be fully aware of how money is moving in the kingdoms at any given time." Robert continued the explanation, pleasantly surprised when Kevan did not raise an objection to be surrounded by what would mostly be crown men.

They both knew they'd also be crown spies.

"What would be the composition of these positions?" Kevan asked, having returned to his usual stoic self after the surprises of the discussion. "And will I be able to appoint them myself?"

"Master of business loans/investments, Master of Trade loans/investments, Master of Foreign loans/investments, Master of noble loans/Investments, Master of security/employees, Master of information/accounts, and a few others that I probably forgot, it's in your parchments there, 5 positions are already filled, the information already - again - in your parchments. You may fill the rest, although I will only allow 3 positions other than yours to be filled by Westerlanders or Lannisters." Robert explained, reading off a list from another of his many pieces of parchments strewn around the desk.

He rolled it up and tossed it to the side, wincing as the careless act knocked several piles of parchments to the ground. "Not a word." He warned Kevan who was looking on in almost hidden amusement. The man had not been able to control his lips from twitching, Robert counted it as another win for him.

"Of course, Your Grace," He replied with some mirth still present. "Was there anything else?"

Robert thought over it for a few moments drumming his fingers on the table. "No, the rest you can read for yourself, like I said, bring me any proposed changes and I will look them over." Robert said dismissing the stoic lion, not so stoic anymore.

"By your leave, Your Grace, "Kevan stood and bowed before leaving the solar.

Robert looked around the room in disgust at the amount of work left to be done. Why would anyone ever want to be a King? Well he amended that, why would anyone want to be a proper actually ruling King. By all accounts canon Robert had many a good times completely avoiding ruling. Unfortunately with how that turned out there was no way he could afford to be as lazy.

"Back to work." He muttered, bending down to pick up the scattered scrolls.

---

Early morning - King's solar

"Is that really wise Robert." Jon asked with wry amusement as he walked into the King's solar finding Robert reading parchments at the same time as breaking fast, a whole leg of a chicken held precariously close to the reading material.

"I am the King, I can eat wherever I damn please. Sit, join me." Robert waved the chicken leg in the direction of the large platter of food on his desk and the pitcher of Dornish red.

"Wine so early?" Jon tsked with disapproval, it was noticeably amiable however, as this routine had played out almost as long as they had known each other.

Robert huffed in amusement taking a big bite out of the chicken. He would have to remember to get fried chicken up and going, the meat here was a lot blander then he was used to. "I haven't had any wine." He admitted. "Servants puts it out everyday but I have too much to do, can't afford to have my mind addled."

Jon smirked, grabbing a piece of fruit off Robert's platter and popping it in his mouth, "Who are you and what have you done with Robert Baratheon? The man too busy chasing women and outdrinking whole taverns on a daily basis to do parchment work." He teased good naturedly.

If only he knew… Robert thought.

Robert sent him a mock dirty look, "Wish I could, If someone hadn't gotten it in their fool head to make me King… I can't afford to look like a fool barbarian or these peacocks down here will give me a headache that will last unto my grandchildren."

Jon let out a short weary laugh, "Peacocks is an apt description, they do tend to fray one's last never don't they?"

Robert eyed him, noticing his hands pale pallor and hunched back. "Is everything alright Jon? You look even more exhausted than me…"

"Right to the matter I see." Jon japed with a weak smile. Then he sighed. "My wife was murdered yesterday, someone sent a letter that fooled the damn girl into drinking poison. Been busy dealing with the investigation.." Jon grimaced. "And Hoster Tully, since then."

Robert leapt up and quickly embraced Jon forcibly lifting the protesting man out of his chair. "Shit Jon, I didn't know, I swear when we find who did it we will murder the fucking cunt so hard they will be telling tales about it 8000 years from now!"

"The letter was signed by Lord Petyr Baelish, Randyll Tarly and myself have been handling the investigation." Jon explained once he was let down giving Roberts shoulder a thankful pat.

Robert stilled. And then turned and spoke slowly, "Lord Baelish…. He is the killer then?"

Jon shook his head, hesitated for a second, then spoke. "Lord Tarly during his investigation found the servant who delivered the letter and the poison, the servant claimed he was paid by Walder Frey to ensure the Tully's alliances were destroyed, no doubt to place himself forward as the leading house in the Riverlands. Lord Baelish signature was a ruse as he was known to Hoster and myself and could have possibly led to Hoster blaming the Vale."

Robert had a peculiar look on his face as he digested that. "Walder Frey… And you're sure it wasn't Baelish?"

Jon nodded resolutely, "On that I am sure, he knew Lysa, that is well known, but therefore it is impossible he would sign his own name and tie himself to this."

Robert grimaced, stroking his neat beard pensively. "Walder Frey won't stand to be accused of this just on the word of a servant." He pointed out.

"It will force Hoster Tully to focus on the Riverlands, instead of making a mess here, he was getting increasingly upset with the changes you were implementing Robert." Jon admitted, holding his hands out in a what can you do gesture.

"Fucking seven hells!" Robert swore, starting to pace back and forth. "Not even properly crowned yet and you tell me I will see a civil war in the Riverlands?"

"Not war." Jon said, "Neither of them can afford that, more than likely bandits will start attacking traveling Freys and Frey farms…. And in return Tully farms will be burned, likewise by bandits on a continuous cycle."

"Can we stop it?" Robert asked frustrated.

"Not without Walder Frey suddenly losing his head." Jon said downcast and wringing his hands. "We can't support civil war, nor can we reprimand Hoster for getting revenge, nor can we ask the Freys to give up. Every choice makes us look weak."

"And we can't march on the Twins without making every lord of the realm wonder if they will see an army next on the word of a mere servant." Robert could see they were in a situation where there were no easy solutions.

They might be forced to just stand back and watch Tully and Frey play shadow war for now.

"Shit… They might not enjoy playing bandit once there are 10 000 men in Harrenhal ready to crush those cunts."

"That gives us a few years, we can find a solution before the Royal Army is settled enough to begin to wipe out the bandit population." Jon said looking none the happier.

"We should just let Baelish take the fall, isn't he that fucker that tried to get Catelyn Tully out of her Stark betrothal? He isn't a big loss Jon." Robert roared, slamming a hand against the wall. "I can't let there be war, even a shadow one, this early in my rule."

"That won't work out for the better Robert. Hoster would never believe it was Baelish alone. Randyll believes - and I agree - that Hoster would leap to the conclusion Baelish was my catspaw to get out of the marriage. since I was well aware Hoster disliked him and why. He would no doubt believe that I was dangling Baelish ahead of him as a ploy to avoid any blame myself." Jon explained. "No matter what we are in a dire situation, we need to choose the one that does not cause chaos in the capital. You can see the sense as well as I, Robert."

"Gods be damned," Robert muttered angrily, head leaning against the wall as he thought it through. After a few minutes he sighed and turned back towards Jon. "Fine, hold a trial with this servant you've cooked up - don't look so damn surprised Jon, I damn well know a con when I see one - And get Hoster Tully pointed at a target away from the capital."

"I will see it done once the trial for Jamie Lannister has finished, and I will let Hoster know ahead of time so he doesn't try and confront you during the trial seeking answers." Jon answered after a considering pause.
"Robert, you are doing the right thing here, it's the best choice in a bad situation."

Robert shook his head harshly sitting down at his desk again. "Tell that to Walder Frey." He suggested. Not that he cared for that old cunt. He'd get his if he had his way too.

Jon shook his head with a tired smile on his face. "I'd rather not treat with that man, no matter the reason. The one good thing with this is the chance that a despicable man ends up dead."

"To the death of Walder Frey!" Robert chuckled darkly, filling two goblets with wine, handing one to Jon and then draining his own.

"What happened to no wine in the morning?" Jon asked, taking a small sip of his own visibly relaxing into his chair now that the serious business was dealt with.

"Starting civil wars because it's the damn best choice for me is thirsty business." Robert answered unapologetically. "At least the servants will be happy, I half believe they think I suspect them of trying to poison me with how they always frown at the full pitcher of wine."

"I am surprised you have any left, you sent most to the wall." Jon quipped, taking another sip.

"Like I was going to trust a keep full of people that spent their entire lives serving Dragons." Robert sneered filling another goblet for himself, pacing himself now to simple sips. He still had a trial later.

"I noticed you made Roose Bolton actually smile yesterday, I was going to ask before all this happened what on earth that was about?"

Robert looked confused for a moment before realizing what Jon was talking about. "Oh. That. I put him in charge of getting answers out of Varys. Yesterday was his first day asking the spider some pointed questions. That's why he was so cheerful when he came to the table."

Jon shuddered, "I can understand why Eddard dislikes the man, there is something wrong with him. Although I can acknowledge the need to use a person such as him for situations like Varys, he sits ill with me."

Robert winced, "Ah, then you won't like what I told him before I told him to interrogate Varys."

Jon sighed he had seen that expression on Robert many times, usually after sneaking out for whoring and drinking and then getting caught on the way back. "What did you do?"

"Well….."

Flashback

Days earlier -Early morning - King's solar

"I imagine you are wondering why I would call you here." Robert said, eyeing the silent leech Lord that was admiring the map of Westeros.

"I did not want to assume." Lord Roose Bolton answered, turning around, blinking slowly as he stared straight at Robert. Lord Bolton was the kind of man that epitomized the phrase emotionless. Robert might as well have been speaking with a damn corpse.

"I have heard quite a lot about you, Lord Bolton. Most of it, to be honest, hasn't been very pleasant." Robert said, staring directly into Bolton's eyes, unblinking and with no reaction to his statement. Freaky.

"What use would I have for pleasantry, Your Grace?" Lord Bolton said calmly.

Robert huffed, unwillingly starting to smirk. "Well, You don't piss around, I appreciate that. Luck has it I could use an unpleasant man."

"I am at your service of course." Lord Bolton assured quietly. At Robert's hand gesture the tall Lord finally sat down in front of the desk so Robert wouldn't have to stare up at him.

"I intend to start a new… Organization in Westeros, The Inquisitors." Robert said slowly gauging the lord in front of him. "Its intent, to train and use torturers, spies and assassins in the name of the throne, secretly of course."

Lord Bolton raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Spies already exist under the aegis of the Master of Whispers, assassins could easily be bought by such a person, torturers there are plenty, surely the Red Keep has some?"

Robert smirked, "Not like this, I don't want spies that listen in on conversations, I want the kind that can ride a man down, interrogate him on the spot and dispose of the evidence after. I want no run of the mill hired assassins. I want loyal highly trained ones that will always get the target and that can return alive to get the next one. And any man can rip off some nails, I need men that can destroy men's minds and discover everything hidden within."

Lords Bolton smiled, and Robert finally saw a flash of emotion on the man. "Does that interest you Lord Bolton?"

"It sounds appealing." The Leech Lord admitted. "Logistics?"

"You would have to remain in the south, I would name you to the small council as Master of Provisions. Ostensibly your position is that of ensuring the realm is prepared for winter. As a northerner your appointment makes sense and would go mostly unquestioned. This will excuse your presence down south and your presence at the small council meetings, as well as any private audiences with your King." Robert explained quietly. "In reality you can let one of your underlings run that part and just report whatever they've done to the council. You will secretly be the Master of the Inquisition. The torturers of the Red Keep will be yours to train and oversee, you will get the gold, facilities and means to train any number of spies, torturers and assassins, loyal to the throne. You would answer only to me, and my descendants, no one else on the small council will ever know."

Of course Robert would be keeping a close eye to ensure everyone remained loyal… But he had a feeling that giving Bolton all the fun he could have would prevent any egregious plotting.

At least for a while. Once the organization was built, if he was a threat, well…

"I suppose I will have to find a proper castellan to run the Dreadfort for my heir then. Your Grace." Lord Bolton replied matter of factly.

"Splendid, and one more thing." Robert put on his best war face. "The Starks are mine, I am aware the Boltons have many times chafed under their rule. Starks start dropping dead as you get an order of assassins under you, will lead to me caving your head in, understood?" Robert leant forward on his arms really staring into the eyes of Lord Bolton. "Even should the entire Stark line die by a massive accident, I will find some random child, name it Stark and make it Lord Paramount of the north. Do not try anything in that direction."

Lord Bolton smiled again. "Your Grace, I have no need to do such a thing, I have already risen higher today than any Bolton for thousands of years."

Robert sat back in his chair. "Good, see to it that it remains that way and you will have everything you could ever want here in the capital."

Flashback end.

Jon rubbed his forehead. "I understand why you felt the need to do this, in fact it could be immensely useful, as long as no one ever finds out. So why tell me then, you told Lord Bolton no one would know?"

Robert snorted, "I told him that, but just in case, I also told you. In case I suddenly get assassinated from nowhere."

Jon groaned and shook his head despondently. "Don't jape about that Robert! You realize if anyone finds out about this order of yours, every accident any Lord suffers, every death, they will always suspect you ordered it. No one can find out, no one Robert. Don't tell anyone else."

Jon's face paled, "Do not tell Eddard!"

"I'm not a moron." Robert scoffed.

The rest of the meeting was spent on figuring out how to cajole all the various Lords to bend over properly.

At least he'd still marry that cunt Cersei in exchange for Lannister gold for all his projects.

With Jaime soon to be heir of Castefly Rock, maybe he can even fuck her stupid - so she won't keep being an issue.

Hah, and maybe pigs will fly too!

---

Author's note:

Obviously this would also go to hell in a handbasket, just in a way different way then canon.

It was fun to write but would just be chapter by chapter of building up stuff while others worked to tear it down, so it didn't end up a full story.

Hope someone finds it interesting.

Cheers

JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Here's snippet 2 of DxD bad game: Beware the Levi-tan!

By popular request, or at least asked for by a few people on Patron (Yes you, Jordan), here's the second installment of DXD: A Bad Game

Warning that he does have Ranma's curse, so those who get irrationally angry at that, read at your own risk then and don't rant at me.

Again, this is not a normal gamer story, so just have fun in Sora's suffering.

As usual, I don't own any of the worlds, fictions or canon characters that show up.

Hope you enjoy.

---

A week after starting Kuoh,

Sora twitched as Akeno sat down next to him, "Himejima…" He said warningly.

Akeno, who'd just pushed the boy who'd actually been sitting there aside, smiled at him, "Ara, Sora-kun? I didn't know we would be seatmates!" She tittered.

Sora's eyes slowly turned to the boy who had been unceremoniously pushed aside and was busy shuffling off looking for an empty seat. "Hold that thought." He said with irritation, standing up, grabbing the forgettable boy by the collar, and dragging him back, "Here, have my seat, Himejima won't mind." He said bluntly, before walking off before the devil could say anything else, taking the empty seat previously occupied by Himejima.

Damn Devils… He needed to work on getting rid of his problems vis-a-vis all devils, and they weren't helping by being their incessant curious selves. Prodding and poking and trying to figure him out. His anger issues only made them more interested, which made the issues worse. It was a wonder he hadn't punched Himejima in the face yet.

Bitch would probably enjoy it anyway…

As class was about to start, he realized he'd been had. Fucking Devils. As Rias Gremory walked in, and sat down next to him with an excited smile playing at her lips. The usual seatmate of Himejima of course.

How had he thought taking this seat was going to work out exactly?

Could he just drop out of school?

As the teacher began to drone on about history, Rias leaned over, eyes sparkling, "I did my research on you…" She almost purred, looking two steps away from pouncing on him.

He studiously stared forward, glaring at the teacher, come on, she's clearly ignoring your lesson, say something!

Fucking mind controlled drones, totally useless, he thought bitterly. Not that they were constantly controlled or anything, just whenever a devil decided they wanted to avoid dealing with them.

Rias brought out a copy of the manga he'd 'written' before his mind settled into this body, and he wanted to slam his head into the desk. Just what I need…

"Please sign it after class!" She begged, before immediately continuing on, eyes gleaming with interest, "With how much you seem to dislike Devils, why did you end up writing a manga about a young devil fighting the very heavens themselves to prove that one can't be born evil?" She squirmed in her seat, looking like she had a thousand questions, but forcing herself to play it cool, "It's really popular in the underworld."

Sora sighed, sending an irritated look at her, and then at Akeno, who was obviously hypnotizing the rest of the class, because why else would the teacher and all the students just ignore Rias loudly begging him for an autograph.

And what the hell had his younger self been thinking? Writing a devil story for a manga? What a fucking cosmic joke.

As Rias was unlikely to leave him alone about it, he pulled on his absolute best ability, bullshitting. "Devil's, are in general, shit." He said bluntly, ignoring her sudden frown, "So giving young devils a role model, someone who saw what they were, and rejected that it meant they had to prey on humanity - could only help."

The manga had been written by the him before all his metaknowledge set in, so it wasn't in any way lining up with how devils actually were - or the rest of the mythos of the world, but it was close enough there were many similarities.

And he wasn't surprised it was popular in the underworld, annoyed, but not surprised. A young Devil rising up to spit heaven in the eye for daring to say he was born evil, it would likely resonate. Well, with certain parts of the underworld anyway.

The violent devil civil war the protagonist kicked off in the latest issues probably wasn't fun reading for some of the older devils if they perused manga. He was probably lucky it was more of a younger generation thing…

… The Leviathan better not read his damn manga, he doesn't need to be drafted to write shows for that nutjob.

"We don't prey on humanity…" Rias protested, "Is that why you dislike us so, Sora-kun?" She leaned forward earnestly, "I promise we aren't like that!"

No, it's because I have a system that makes me more and more annoyed the longer you're near me, until I want to punch you in your perfect teeth, he thought with annoyance. Not that he was particularly fond of them even without it. Rias was an outlier, in her species. "I'm not wasting my time on this." He said bluntly, not interested in a debate, "If you're naive enough to think how you act with a peerage is the norm, you're a literal child, Gremory."

While he acknowledged becoming a devil would literally be good for his power… He was neither in a hurry, nor particularly willing to explore that. Not just because of his malus that made him act out against them - but because he didn't agree with almost anything they did.

Setting aside how the peerage was just slavery, and it was - because leaving meant turning into a monster that was hunted down and exterminated… The fact that devils operated still on personal power meant the system would always be unjust.

You could accomplish whatever you wished, and if Ajuka, or Serafall or someone - decided they really didn't like that - and didn't want to play friendly for that moment - you were eradicated. Not to mention what the old devil faction would do if they didn't like something - no friendliness faked there.

So no, stepping into that hot mess was not his idea of a good time. Yet… He knew it was likely inevitable. Something which irritated him and didn't help him keep a polite tone with the devil's even without the malus pitching in.

Before she could retort, he stood up, grabbing his bag, and walked away.

"H-hey, we have class!" She protested, "And my autograph!" She added in a mumble.

Sora looked at the hypnotized teacher, "Good if I go?" He asked, before just walking out when he got no answer.

They wanted to fuck around, they'd find out. They were cool with just mind whammying the whole class, they couldn't say fuck when he took that as an opportunity to just leave.

Casual mind control for funzies… Another reason to dislike them. He could understand when it was necessary to keep up the masquerade, he could.

Like him needing it to hide his… Condition. At least them using their magic and abilities around him was basically feeding him, since just by seeing magic being done - he knew how to do it, and could perform it with ease.

So he could also mind control or confuse weak minded people now. Not that he was going around doing that.

Not like these idiots that just did it whenever they felt like it.

Why did I ever like these people, anyway?

---

Lunchtime,

He took one look at the cafeteria, seeing Rias sitting at an empty table, eyes searching for someone, probably him, with Akeno and Yuuto positioned by the other door and by the line for food respectively.

Nope.

He walked straight back out.

He'd just use a vending machine today. And probably tomorrow. And well, vending machines in Japan had some good shit anyway, it would be like a full meal anyway.

He didn't make it ten steps before someone fell into step with him, someone who hadn't been in the hallway as far as he could tell.

"No." He said succinctly, fighting the urge to do something drastic.

Tsubaki, Sona's queen, smiled at him, as she walked in lockstep with him, "I haven't even asked anything yet, Sora-kun." She chided him gently.

Sora chuckled, a sardonic smile on his lips, "Ah, my mistake then. How do you say no, but even harder?"

Tsubaki wrinkled her nose slightly at his stubbornness, "Sora-kun, this animosity isn't needed, the president just wants a word." She admonished him.

"And the fact I don't, doesn't matter, because I'm only human, right?" He fired back snidely.

Tsubaki reeled back slightly, lips parting in a shocked gasp, "Sora-kun! That's not it at all!"

"Good, then you'll leave me alone and respect my wishes." He said with faked cheerfulness, knowing he'd trapped her. Because there was no way either Sona or Rias was leaving him alone. She was still going to completely ignore his wishes, but at least now she might feel bad about it in the process.

This past week of not being able to turn a corner without one of them, or their peerages, hounding him, proved that they weren't going to leave him alone. The fact they always carried water bottles that tested how quickly his curse would set in hardly helped his temper.

Their damn curiosity about his curse was making school hell, and eventually would attract outside interest if they kept it up. He'd have to do something about that soon.. He did have some quests…

Tsubaki winced at his rebuttal, knowing she couldn't do that, "Ah, is it really such a hardship just to come to the student council room and speak with the president?"

"Completely ignoring what I said, got it." Sora drawled, "Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to pay that back, and just completely ignore what you have to say." Don't punch the devil, they are stronger than you, don't punch the devil…

Of course things don't work out that easy, because a turn of a hallway later and Sona Sitri just happened to be standing there waiting for him.

Sora just kept walking, lengthening his strides, forcing the Sitri heiress to make the choice of looking potentially undignified in front of other students as she rushed along to keep up with him. Or to let him go and try again another time.

She chose to let him go.

He really needed to figure out how to get some workable quests and rewards in this system of his, ASAP!

Too many of the quests he had received so far were entirely unreasonable.

Seduce Serafall Leviathan, like what the hell was he supposed to do with a quest like that?

And that was nothing against the quest to seduce fucking Zekram Bael!

He hated everything.

---

Sora sat cross-legged on the floor of his cramped apartment, the dim light from the single bulb casting shadows along the walls. His breathing was steady, but his mind was anything but calm. He stared at the leaf resting gently on the palm of his hand - a dry, brittle thing he had plucked from the sidewalk on his way back from Kuoh Academy. It was a test subject, a stand-in for the kind of practice he'd need if he wanted to master his time-stop ability.

"Just a leaf," He muttered to himself. "No big deal, easy."

Aeon Balor, his sacred gear, pulsed faintly inside him, a deep, shadowy presence that he could barely control yet. He'd spent the last couple of hours trying to get a handle on its time-stopping powers. Tossing a simple leaf into the air and trying to halt its fall had seemed like a good place to start. He lifted his hand, giving the leaf a flick. It tumbled into the air, spinning lazily, before Sora narrowed his eyes and willed the world to freeze around it.

For a brief, fleeting moment, the leaf slowed, its descent halting midair. But just as quickly, time surged back into place, and the leaf resumed its fall, barely stopping for a second before it hit the floor.

"Damn it." His voice was rough, frustration tinging his words. He retrieved the leaf and tried again, tossing it slightly higher this time. The leaf spun, gliding in slow motion as he focused with all his might.

Once more, the leaf stopped for a heartbeat, suspended in the air as if gravity itself had forgotten it existed. But just as before, it only lasted for a moment - too short to be useful. The leaf fluttered back down to the floor, mocking him with its frailty.

"Okay," Sora muttered, rolling his shoulders to shake off the irritation. "It's just about control and practice, I've got this."

For the next hour, he repeated the exercise. Each attempt, he focused more on the sensation of stopping time. He could feel the pull of the magic in his core, the way it reached out to grasp at reality and bend it to his will. The leaf flicked upward, time slowed, and for a second - sometimes two - it hovered in place. Slowly, with each repetition, Sora began to gain fractions of extra seconds. The leaf now hovered longer, nearly four seconds at its peak.

His brow was slick with sweat, and his breathing had become heavier from the intense focus required. But there was progress. Small, painstaking progress. Useless for anything, but progress.

"Alright, let's step it up," Sora said, his voice strained but determined.

He stood up and picked up the nearest object in his apartment - a small cup from the counter. It was much heavier than the leaf, as it had some decent weight. Something more challenging. He tossed it upward and immediately channeled the power of his sacred gear, trying to force the world around the cup to still.

It barely worked. The cup jerked to a stop for less than a second before crashing to the floor with a loud clatter, spilling a small puddle of water. Sora let out a growl of frustration, his hands curling into fists.

"Why the hell does it get that much harder when it's just a little heavier!?" He snapped, the anger bubbling up as his progress shattered before his eyes. He glared at the cup, as if it had personally insulted him, and kicked it across the floor in irritation.

He sat back down on the floor, rubbing his temples. The rush of frustration subsided, leaving only a cold determination behind. He was going to make this work. Even if he had to sit here all night and practice, he would master this. Even if it took every night for a year. He would do this.

Sora sighed deeply, his fingers massaging his temples as the remnants of his frustration ebbed away. The soft clatter of the cup as it rolled across the floor seemed to mock him, a small but sharp reminder that he still had a long way to go. The fact that he could barely stop a lightweight object for more than a second left him wondering how he was ever going to manage something more complex - like a person or devil.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the pulse of Aeon Balor deep within him, a quiet, unrelenting presence. This ability wasn't going to come easy. And the system, nerfed as it was, wasn't exactly giving him any shortcuts.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a transparent window blinked into existence before his eyes. He squinted at it, not really wanting to deal with any more of the system's usual shenanigans.

Quest: Stopping Time, The Lewd Way

Challenge: Use your time-stopping ability on a person and perform a… Suggestive action while they are frozen.

Reward: +1 Level, +2 in all stats, and ???

Sora stared blankly at the quest prompt. He blinked once. Twice. The words didn't change.

"What the actual fuck?" He muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Is this system serious? Why the hell is it asking me to do something perverted?" Fucking DxD world…

He dragged a hand down his face, scowling at the floating text as if glaring at it hard enough might make it disappear. Instead, the quest window remained firmly in place, glowing innocently as though it wasn't prompting him to do something obscene to someone who'd have no idea.

This really was fucking Japan, wasn't it?

He'd better fucking stay away from subways…

"Figures," He muttered darkly, shaking his head in irritation. "Of course, the system would end up being a pervert. It's not bad enough that I got saddled with all these ridiculous disadvantages, but now I have to deal with this too?"

The absurdity of it made his blood boil. Even if he wanted the reward - a whole level and stat boosts that he desperately needed - there was no way in hell he was going to stoop to something that low. The very thought of it made his skin crawl. Except maybe someone like Himejima… No, stop, he shook his head, he wouldn't go that far.

He swiped his hand through the air, dismissing the quest with an irritated grunt. "Buggy, overpowered, and perverted. Just my luck." He grumbled out, sighing deeply.

Still, the system wasn't entirely wrong about one thing. To get stronger, he'd have to push himself further, get out of his comfort zone. He couldn't stop at just leaves and cups. If he ever wanted to freeze a person in time, he had to start small, build his way up. He didn't even know if he had the strength yet to attempt something so large.

He just wouldn't allow the system to entirely dictate things. He could create his own quests eventually, just by doing dangerous tasks.

He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers as he tried to feel the magic pulsing inside him. The ability was there - raw and potent, but out of his grasp. The only way he would master it was through repetition, training, and possibly increasing his stats.

Standing up, Sora retrieved the cup, setting it back on the counter. His apartment was too small to toss around anything heavier, but he knew he'd need to challenge himself. He grabbed an empty plastic bottle from a nearby shelf and gave it a toss. As the bottle spun in the air, he willed time to stop again.

For a brief second, the bottle froze in midair, the room around him feeling unnaturally still, as if the world had paused just for him. The moment didn't last long. Gravity resumed its pull, and the bottle plummeted to the floor with a soft thud.

"Better," Sora muttered, feeling a slight sense of accomplishment. He was making progress, even if it was slow.

But now, more than ever, he could see just how far he had to go. Stopping time for an object was one thing. Stopping time for a living being? That was going to take far more power and finesse than he had right now. He needed to raise his stats, and maybe with better control, the stops would last longer.

Sora squared his shoulders, determination tightening his jaw. He tossed the bottle again. Time to work.

He didn't sleep much that night.

---

The next day,

Sora had just settled into his futon after another exhausting day at Kuoh Academy. His body ached, not just from the day's exertions, but from the constant tension of being surrounded by devils who seemed to think of him as their next plaything. It was one thing to survive in this world - it was another to do it with the constant, looming threat of being dragged into one of their petty games. He'd known it was still likely his best bet to survive, but he resented it, oh did he ever resent the idea of it. He exhaled heavily, hoping for a moment of peace in his tiny apartment.

Then came the knocking.

It was loud, rapid, and persistent, echoing through the thin walls of his shabby living space. Sora clenched his teeth, hoping against hope that whoever was on the other side of that door would just go away. But the knocking only grew more insistent, demanding his attention.

With a groan of resignation, Sora dragged himself off his futon and shuffled toward the door. He knew, knew - that only bad things awaited him on the other side. That was just how his life worked now. Still, he couldn't just ignore it. Whoever was out there clearly wasn't going to leave him alone.

He cracked the door open just enough to peer through, and his stomach sank when he saw who was standing there. The woman on the other side was like something out of a fever dream - a fever dream dressed in a magical girl outfit. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, adorned with tiny stars and moons, and she wore a pink and white dress that looked like it had been ripped straight out of an anime. But it wasn't the absurdity of her outfit that made his blood run cold, it was the sheer power she radiated, a power that seemed to make the very air around her hum with energy.

"Hello~! I'm Serafall Leviathan, but you can call me Levi-tan!" She chirped, her voice as sugary sweet as her appearance. Her eyes sparkled with an unsettling mix of mischief and intensity. "I'm here to talk about my beloved Sona-tan!"

Sora stared at her, mouth slightly agape in disbelief that this was actually happening. This had to be a joke, right? There was no way the Leviathan herself was standing on his doorstep, dressed like she'd just walked off the set of a magical girl show. But the longer he looked, the more he realized that this was all too real. Horrifyingly real.

This is all about the stupid chess game…

The quest popping up didn't make his mood improve any.

Impress and resist Serafall Leviathan:

Reward:

You get to live.

???

???

Of course it was too much to ask to actually know what the rewards would be… Although getting to live was… Fuck this shit, fuck this system, and fuck this bitch!

He was done. He was not going to suck the fuck up to this magical girl crazy girl!

Without a second thought, he slammed the door shut with a loud bang. There was no way he was dealing with this madness today. Not on top of everything else.

For a brief, blissful moment, there was silence. But then, almost immediately, Sora heard a faint whizzing sound, and the overwhelming presence of magic filled the room. He didn't even need to turn around to know what had happened.

Serafall had teleported directly into his apartment. Well, luckily he'd already gotten the teleportation spell anyway, so it didn't matter that he hadn't seen this one.

Also, rude. Fucking Devils.

"Now, now! That's not very nice! We can't have a serious talk if you shut the door on me, So-ra-kun!" She admonished, her voice taking on a teasing lilt as she wagged a finger at him like he was a naughty child.

Sora pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that was already beginning to form. He'd known today was going to be bad, but this was worse than anything he could have anticipated. "What do you want?" He asked, his voice carefully measured, though there was no hiding the irritation that colored his tone.

Serafall's pout deepened, but there was a glint in her eyes that made Sora wary. This wasn't a woman who was easily dismissed. "I heard what happened between you and my sweet Sona-tan, and I'm here to make sure you understand - really understand - that you can't have her! Sona-tan is mine! We're supposed to be together forever in Yuri Yuri harmony, and I won't let you come between us!"

Sora blinked, utterly dumbfounded by the turn of the conversation, even if in retrospect he should have expected this. "Wait, what? I'm not interested in -"

But Serafall wasn't listening. She pressed on, her voice growing more intense, more manic. "I don't care if you're a chess prodigy or a secret prince or something! It doesn't matter how smart you are or how you beat her in that silly bet of hers! You're not good enough for Sona-tan, and I won't allow it! So, you need to leave her alone right this instant! Do you hear me!?" Her voice rose in pitch, and there was something almost dangerous in her tone as she pointed an accusing finger at him.

The flair she used to jump and point at him lost her points on the fact she also flashed her panties at him at the same time. To Sora's disgust he actually received another magical skill from that - Serafall actually used wind magic to ensure she flashed her panties when she pulled that move.

Fucking Devils.

Sora shook his head as he focused on the now, and tried to process what she was saying, but it was like trying to swim through a hurricane. "I'm trying to tell you that I'm not -" He began again with irritation audible in his voice, eyes twitching.

"Don't you even think about denying it!" Serafall interrupted, steam practically blowing from her ears as she stepped closer, her presence both threatening and bizarrely cute in equal measure. "If you leave my Sona-tan alone, I'll give you anything you want! Money, power, fame - just name it! I'll make sure you have everything you could ever dream of!" She wagged her finger in his face, "Just don't let anyone know you beat her."

Sora gaped at her. This was madness, sheer, unadulterated madness. He had faced plenty of strange situations since arriving in this world, but this took the cake. And she wasn't even giving him a chance to explain himself!

"I'm not interested in - " He tried again, sternly, only to get cut off again.

"If you want a position of power, I can make you a noble!" Serafall continued, her tone shifting to something more seductive, her earlier mania replaced with a coy smile that made Sora's skin crawl. "Or I can give you a magical artifact! You could have a whole library of spellbooks, all yours! How about that, hmm? Doesn't that sound nice?"

Sora's patience was wearing thin, and he doubted spell books would work well with his way of acquiring magic, so he tried one last time to get a word in. "Listen, I'm definitely not interested in -"

"Maybe you want your own peerage?" Serafall suggested, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she leaned in closer, invading his personal space. "I can arrange that too. Just think, you could have your own group of loyal servants, ready to do your bidding, all yours to command, a harem… All you have to do is stay away from Sona-tan."

Sora's fists clenched at his sides, his irritation finally boiling over. "Will you listen for a second you vapid bitch?" He snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

I just called the Leviathan a vapid bitch… Well if I'm going to die, I might as well own it.

Serafall blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sharpness in his tone, but she quickly recovered, waving away his outburst as if it were a mere inconvenience, seemingly not taking offense to his language. "There's no need to raise your voice, So-ra-kun!" She said, her voice once again teasing, almost playful. "I'm only trying to help you understand what's at stake here! Sona-tan is my precious little sister, and I can't let some random boy just swoop in and take her away! It's my duty to protect her for the good of Yuri, and that's what I'm going to do, so all I need is for you to be a good boy and agree."

Sora gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the torrent of words that threatened to spill out. "I don't want Sona," He said slowly, deliberately, as if he were explaining something to a particularly dense child.

Serafall's eyes widened in shock, and she did a dramatic twirl, firing glitter and sprays of water in the air. "Whaaaaaat?" She cried out, shocked, "You're saying she's not good eno - " She stopped mid sentence, gaping.

Because of course the sprays of water had hit him, turning him into a girl. Sora huffed angrily, crossing her arms, as Serafall just stared for a moment, before moving closer.

She peered at her curiously, her attitude having done an 180, even as she didn't even ask any questions about what just happened. "You know, you're not that bad-looking, So-ra-kun, or is it chan? Maybe, if you really did marry Sona-tan, it could work out for me… As her husbandwife, you could let me join the relationship too, right? We could be a happy little trio!"

Sora's jaw dropped. Don't just run with it you crazy bitch! "What the hell is wrong with you!? You go from threatening me to bribing me, and now you want to join in some twisted three-way marriage?!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm telling you, I don't want anything to do with Sona! Or with you, for that matter!"

Fucking Devils!

She'd said it before, but it really needed repeating.

Serafall pouted, but the seductive glint in her eyes didn't waver. "Oh, So-ra-chan, you're just saying that because you're shy. But that's okay! I can be very persuasive when I want to be," she purred, her fingers trailing suggestively along her arm, before she poked her right breast, a glint of something in her eyes.

Sora recoiled from her touch, a shiver of disgust running down her spine - her trait not allowing her to feel anything but, even though she could acknowledge she was attractive… And there was that quest… "No! I'm not interested in Sona! I'm not interested in you! I'm not interested in any of this devil nonsense!" She practically shouted, rejecting falling that far, her voice rising in pitch as her frustration reached its peak.

Her hands were clenched into fists, and shaking, as she had to hold herself back from fighting what to her was basically a primordial force of nature. It would be plain suicide, yet she wanted to attack her, her greater power apparently just setting her off worse then anything Rias or Sona had done.

She also wanted to fuck her. Quest derived or not, and the two feelings were really messing with her head.

But Serafall only smiled wider, as if she found her resistance amusing. "You know, So-ra-chan, it would be very easy to make you a devil," She said nonchalantly, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

She wasn't sure if that was an offer, or a threat. But she hated both. She was pretty sure Serafall was just playing mind games now, but she couldn't not react. This woman is too dangerous, she's trying to see how I work now…

Sora's fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white as she tried to control herself. "It's really not that easy," She gritted out, her voice laced with barely restrained fury. "I'm not some toy you can just turn into a devil because it's convenient for you!"

Serafall tilted her head, her smile never wavering. "But you wouldn't be just any devil, So-ra-chan. You'd be special. I'd make sure of it. You could have anything you've ever wanted. Imagine the power, the freedom, the ability to shape your own destiny without anyone standing in your way," Serafall cooed, her voice silky smooth as she stepped even closer, her breath warm against her cheek. "And all you have to do is leave Sona-tan to me."

Make up your damn mind! You want to share her or for me to leave her alone!?

Sora's patience snapped like a brittle twig under the weight of Serafall's persistent, relentless advances and mind games. She had been trying to hold back, to keep herself from lashing out, but Serafall's casual dismissal of her autonomy, her complete disregard for her feelings, had pushed her past her breaking point.

She was so damn tired of these devils acting like her feelings and opinions just didn't matter, that if they only pushed her enough she'd just beg to join their peerages.

She took a step back, creating some much-needed distance between them, her eyes narrowing with a fury that she could no longer contain. "I don't want your power. I don't want your freedom. I don't want anything from you!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the cramped space of his apartment. "All I want is for you to leave me the hell alone!"

Serafall's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, but she quickly recovered, her expression turning sly and mischievous. "You're just playing hard to get, So-ra-chan. It's cute, really. But I can see through you. Deep down, you want this. You want the power, the recognition, everyone does. You want to be someone important, someone who matters." She leaned in again, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "And I can give that to you. I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of. Just say the word, and it's yours, you just have to do what I say from now on..."

The guess about devils really wanting anything peculiar wasn't a wrong one, it seems, but it pissed Sora the hell off, what gave them the right?

Sora gritted her teeth, her entire body trembling with the effort it took to keep herself from grabbing Serafall and shaking some sense into her. "You're not listening to me!" She snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "I don't want anything to do with devils, or your twisted world, or your ridiculous offers! I'm not interested in power, or fame, or whatever else you think you can bribe me with! All I want is to be left alone! Do you get that? Alone!"

Serafall's eyes sparkled with amusement, as if her outburst was nothing more than a child's tantrum to her. "But, So-ra-chan, you're already involved. You're someone in this world now, whether you like it or not. And you're special. So very, very special. It would be such a waste to let you go to waste as just another human." She paused, "Not that there's anything wrong with being human, you could just be… Better."

"I never asked to be special. I never asked to be part of this. All I want is to survive and get through this mess without being dragged into your crazy, power-hungry schemes!" She snapped, only belatedly realizing that she might be showing too much of what she knew.

Serafall's smile softened into something almost maternal and sympathetic, though the glint in her eyes remained. "Oh, So-ra-chan… You're already in it, with how you are." She gave her a very appreciative once over, before continuing,

"And whether you want to admit it or not, you've already made waves. You beat my Sona-tan in chess. That's no small feat. It brought me here. I promise you, I'm a better choice then some of the others that would come if they knew. I could show you, if you don't believe me…"

Sora's frustration morphed into a cold, simmering anger. "I'm not interested in Sona," She repeated, her voice low and dangerous. "I'm not a devil, and beating her in chess doesn't mean anything. So what if I'm smart? So what if I'm resourceful? That doesn't mean I want to be dragged into your world." I should have lost the damn game, quest be damned!

"I don't need you to show me anything! I'm not interested in your twisted offers, or your attempts to seduce me into joining your ranks. I don't care how powerful you are, or how many tricks you have up your sleeve. I'm not interested!"

Serafall's eyes glinted with a dangerous light as she leaned in even closer, her lips almost brushing against her ear. "Are you sure about that, So-ra-chan? You're telling me you don't find me attractive? Not even a little bit?"

Sora's voice was a low growl as she forced herself to remain calm. "I don't find you attractive at all. In fact, I kind of hate everything about you." Half a lie, hopefully she doesn't notice…

Serafall's eyes widened in surprise, the teasing, seductive veneer slipping away to reveal genuine shock. "You… You hate me?"

Sora's expression hardened as she looked her dead in the eye. "Yeah. I hate everything about devils, especially you peerage-obsessed maniacs. You think you can just show up, throw around your power, and expect everyone to bow down and worship you like some kind of god. Well, I've got news for you - I'm not interested. I don't care about your titles, your wealth, or your stupid magical girl act. You're all the same - manipulative, self-serving, and completely blind to how much you screw up people's lives."

Serafall opened her mouth to protest, but Sora cut her off, her voice rising as she unleashed all the anger and frustration that had been building inside her since she'd started Kuoh.

She might see the devil's like Rias as one of her only possible options, but it didn't mean she liked their system.

"You think I'm after Sona because I beat her in a game of chess? You don't get it, do you? I don't want anything to do with devils or their petty power struggles! I've had enough of this bullshit! You don't care about anything but your own twisted goals, and you'll stop at nothing to get what you want! Well, guess what? I'm not playing your games! I've been thrown into this mess against my will, and I'm doing everything I can to survive without getting tangled up in your ridiculous schemes! But no, you just keep dragging me deeper into this shit, and I'm sick of it!"

Part of it was entirely her own system, but she'd had no one to vent at since arriving, so the storm that had brewed inside her came out all at once, unfiltered. To a person fully capable of killing her with her pinky.

Serafall's playful demeanor had been replaced by something darker, more calculating, but Sora wasn't finished.

"Maybe you should take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself why people don't want anything to do with devils! You ruin lives, tear families apart, and treat people like pawns in some cosmic chess game! And for what? Just so you can stay on top and keep pretending you're doing something worthwhile? Well, I'm not buying it! I don't care how cute or powerful you think you are - I'm not interested in any of it!"

The 'nice' devils don't make up for all the ones who aren't so nice. There wouldn't be so many crazed devils to hunt if the 'owners' were all nice to their slaves.

Serafall tried to speak, but Sora wasn't going to let her get a word in edgewise. She was on a roll now, her anger giving her the momentum to say everything she had been holding back at Kuoh.

"And another thing - what's with this obsession with peerages as some sort of reward? You act like it's some kind of honor to be part of your little club, but all it really is, is slavery with a fancy name! I'm not going to be a pawn in your games, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else drag me into that mess! I don't need your bribes, your offers, or your threats! So why don't you take all that and shove it where the sun doesn't shine?!"

Serafall's expression was a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something else - something that almost looked like admiration. But Sora was too angry to care about what she thought. She was done. She had said her piece, and now all she wanted was for Serafall to leave her alone.

"I'm done with this conversation," She said, her voice low and final. "Get out of my apartment, and leave me the hell alone."

For a moment, Serafall said nothing. She just stood there, staring at him with an expression that was impossible to read. Then, slowly, a smile began to creep across her face, but this time it was different - softer, almost genuine if she had to guess.

"You're really something, So-ra-chan," She said quietly, her voice lacking the teasing edge it had held earlier. "I can see why Sona-tan took an interest in you. You're strong-willed, determined… Stubborn." She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "But you're wrong about one thing."

Sora frowned, her anger beginning to ebb as confusion took its place. "What do you mean?"

Serafall's smile grew wider, and there was a hint of something almost predatory in her gaze. "You say you don't want anything to do with devils, but the truth is, you're already in too deep. You may not want to play the game, but you're already a part of it. And like it or not, that means you're going to have to deal with us sooner or later." She smirked, "My Sona-tan already wants you in her peerage, and from what I've seen… She has my approval." She wagged a finger, "No marriage though!"

Sora's fists clenched at her sides, but before she could respond, Serafall's body shimmered, and she leaned in even closer, her face just inches from his. The playful, teasing demeanor she'd shown before was now replaced with something far more serious, almost unnervingly so. Her voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper, each word laced with an undercurrent of power that made his skin crawl.

"You think you can just walk away from this, from us?" She purred, her breath warm against his ear. "You've already made your mark, So-ra-chan. And whether you like it or not, that means you're involved. Some of us devils know about you now, and that's not something you can just ignore. You have potential - real potential. You're not just some random human caught in the crossfire. You're someone important now, someone special, someone who could be great."

"Leave. Now." Sora said flatly, utterly done.

Serafall tilted her head slightly, as if considering her words, before giving her a small, almost condescending smile. "Very well, So-ra-chan," She said sweetly. "I'll leave you to your little apartment and your boring, ordinary life. But don't think for a second that this is over. We'll meet again. And next time, things will be… Different." She winked exaggeratedly, doing a twirl, "Yuri Yuri different, sweetie!" She promised.

With that, she turned on her heel and walked toward the door, her movements fluid and graceful. But just as she reached for the handle, she paused and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes locking onto hers. "Oh, and So-ra-chan? You should really be more careful. You never know who might be watching."

Before Sora could respond, Serafall vanished in a flash of light, leaving her standing alone in the middle of her tiny apartment, the oppressive weight of her presence lingering in the air like a bad dream.

For a long moment, she just stood there, her body tense, her mind racing. She had faced down one of the most powerful beings in the underworld and somehow come out the other side unscathed. But she knew better than to think that was the end of it. Serafall had made it clear that she wasn't done with her - not by a long shot. And the thought of what she might do next sent a shiver of dread through her entire being.

She let out a slow, shaky breath, forcing herself to relax. She couldn't afford to panic. Not now. Not when she needed to think clearly, to figure out her next move. She had known from the beginning that this world was dangerous, but now she truly understood just how far she has to go to make up the difference to the true monsters in the setting.

She went into the small kitchenette, pouring hot water over her hands, sighing with relief as he returned to himself. The system or whatever magic was in play might make him perfectly comfortable in his skin even as a woman, but it was still not ideal.

Sora's thoughts raced as he replayed the encounter in his mind, analyzing every word, every gesture, every subtle shift in Serafall's tone. She was more than just a powerful devil - she was cunning, manipulative, and relentless. And despite all his efforts to push her away, she wasn't going to leave him alone. Not until she got what she wanted.

And what she wanted, it seemed, was him. Whether for Sona or herself was yet to be determined fully, she'd sent plenty of mixed signals, seemingly delighting in being really hard to understand.

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of fear and uncertainty that had settled over his mind. He couldn't let himself get caught up in her games. He had to stay focused, stay sharp. He had to survive long enough that he could fix all his disadvantages and really become the god a gamer system should allow for.

With his see all magic - know all magic - ability, he was destined to be powerful. Add in control over time to that…

He just had to get there

With a heavy sigh, Sora walked over to the door and locked it, as if that would somehow keep out the threats that loomed over him. But he knew it was a futile gesture. Serafall had already shown that she could come and go as she pleased, regardless of whether he wanted her there or not.

He glanced around his small apartment, taking in the cluttered mess of books, papers, and other odds and ends that had accumulated over the past week or two. It was a far cry from the life he had known before, but it was his. And for now, that was enough.

Sora sank back down onto his futon, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He needed to come up with a plan, something that would allow him to navigate the treacherous waters of the underworld without getting dragged down into the depths. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't have many options. He was in over his head, and he knew it.

But he wasn't about to give up. Not yet.

He would find a way to deal with Serafall and the other devils. He would find a way to survive in this world, no matter what it took. But for now, he needed to rest, to regain his strength. Tomorrow was another day, and he had no doubt that it would bring its own set of challenges.

As he lay back on his futon, staring up at the cracked ceiling, Sora couldn't help but wonder what his life would have been like if he hadn't been dragged into this mess. If he hadn't been cursed with this ridiculous gamer system, if he hadn't been thrust into the world of devils and angels and everything in between. Would he have been happier? Would he have been free?

Or would it ultimately have been boring. Or perhaps no life at all…

Deep down, he knew it didn't matter. This was his reality now, and he had to deal with it. There was no point in dwelling on what could have been. He needed to man up and control his destiny.

He remembered his quest suddenly, sitting right back up, calling his quest rewards into being. Two question mark rewards must be good! Last time he'd received a malus point to start working on his disabilities.

His first quest reward popped out from the ether, and he lost the will to live immediately.

It was a magical girl outfit, which he was entirely sure fit his female self perfectly. To his despair, it was apparently a high quality item, showing magic resistance, mind defense and even a boost for time magic!

Only he'd have to be a girl, and dress in a sexy skimpy outfit to get any of the benefits.

Of course this was a reward from a quest involving Serafall… Why not?

The other reward turned out to be low class Phenex regeneration, which he couldn't even muster up the will to be excited about at the moment.

I'm just going to sleep and forget Serafall and magical girls exist.

---

The next morning,

Sora trudged along the sidewalk on his way to Kuoh Academy, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his school uniform. He hated mornings like this - dull, overcast, with the kind of bitter wind that could cut through even the thickest layers of clothing. His thoughts drifted between his annoying system and the fact that his day was likely going to be yet another disaster waiting to happen. The devils would undoubtedly make everything worse.

They just wouldn't leave him alone, and now with Serafall aware of his peculiarity, it would only escalate surely? I should have never played that game of chess, no matter the reward, he lamented again.

He could already feel the nagging headache forming at the back of his skull. At least he'd hidden the magical girl outfit away, he'd seriously commit suicide if Serafall returned and saw him with it.

With his head down, Sora didn't notice the gentle sloshing sound coming from the street until it was too late. A sudden splash of cold water hit him square in the chest. His clothes were soaked instantly, and before he even had the chance to react, he felt the all-too-familiar sensation of his body shifting.

"...You're kidding me," She muttered as her body shrank, hips widening, and a certain uncomfortable weight settled onto his chest. Just great. I wonder who it could be, she thought sarcastically.

She glanced up, her eyes narrowing in irritation as she spotted the culprit - Akeno Himejima, standing a few feet away, a bucket in hand and a wicked smile plastered across her face. The morning sun glinted off her long black hair, which fluttered gently in the breeze as if mocking his predicament. She wasn't even trying to be suble now for fucks sake!

"Ara, ara... So sorry, Sora-chan," Akeno's voice was soft, sweet, and insufferably pleased. She placed a hand to her cheek in mock surprise, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I didn't see you there. It must have slipped right out of my hand."

Sora glared at her, now fully in his girl form. She could feel her cheeks burning as she tried to pull her drenched shirt away from her skin. "Yeah, sure. An accident. Totally believable, Himejima."

This girl… Although at least one devil alone he could usually stand far easier - unless they were as powerful as Serafall.

Akeno stepped closer, her tone taking on a demure tilt, though the playful malice beneath it was unmistakable. "Oh? You don't believe me? That really hurts, Sora-chan. I'm a gentle soul, you know."

"You're as gentle as a tiger with its prey," Sora grumbled, her voice now a few octaves higher in her female form. Her glare intensified as she wrung out the ends of her soaked uniform shirt. "What do you want, Himejima?"

Akeno's smile widened as she leaned in slightly, her eyes scanning her transformed body with unhidden amusement. "Nothing at all, really. I just wanted to see how you'd look as a girl up close and personal. And I have to say... It suits you so well." Her voice dipped lower, becoming almost sultry. "Maybe even better than your usual self. Don't you think, Sora-chan?"

She tittered, hiding her mouth behind a hand, "Sora-chan can now change in the girls locker room, oh my, whatever shall I ~do!"

Sora rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in annoyance - or perhaps embarrassment. It was hard to tell any given time how she'd react with Akeno sometimes, especially when she was like this. She always had a way of getting under her skin, and the worst part was that she knew it. The demure tone, the teasing smile, the subtle hint of sadism - it was all part of her game. And she was the unfortunate target today.

Fucking Devils.

"Glad you're entertained," Sora muttered, shaking her head irritably. "Now, can you stop messing with me and let me get to school in peace?"

Akeno tilted her head, pretending to think about it. "Hmm, I could… But where's the fun in that?"

Sora opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, another familiar window popped up in her vision, nearly making her stumble as the text scrolled in front of her eyes.

Quest: The Girly Date

Challenge: Go on a date while in your female form.

Reward: +1 Level, +5 in all stats, and ???

Sora stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the prompt in disbelief. Her eye twitched. Of course. Of course the damn system would pull something like this. She had half a mind to find a way to curse whatever entity had saddled her with this perverted, buggy mess. First, the disadvantages fiasco, and now this?

Another question mark reward too… The damn system won't even let me know what my fucking rewards are half the time!

Right now it was a date. What would the next one be… She would have to fight the system, find dangerous quests to conquer. Because she was not turning this into a fucking dating sim!

She closed his eyes, letting out a slow, controlled breath, trying to calm the rising tide of frustration. "The system's a damn trap," She muttered under her breath, glancing sideways at Akeno, who was watching him with barely restrained curiosity.

"What was that, Sora-chan?" Akeno asked, batting her eyelashes at her innocently. "Talking to yourself now? That's a sign of insanity, you know?"

Sora shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. The quest didn't specify a guy, at least. That was something. It could have been worse. She could have been asked to go on a date with some random guy, and that would have made her seriously reconsider every life choice that led her here. But still, a date was a date, and she e needed the levels. The system wasn't going to cut her any slack, that much was clear.

She turned her gaze back to Akeno, who was now looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and expectation. Her lips curled into a teasing smile as she waited for whatever she was about to say.

Sora cleared her throat, her voice firm despite the growing sense of dread in her gut. "Hey, Himejima." Might as well make her useful if she's going to be annoying me anyway.

Although it might get Rias on his back, but frankly he was going to do his best to avoid her at all times anyway. He did not need a fan girl.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head, leaning closer, her expression softening just enough to seem almost genuine. "Yes, Sora-chan?"

She could already feel the regret building, but there was no going back now. She needed the rewards, no matter how much this made her want to punch something. "Do you... Wanna go on a date?"

Akeno's eyes widened for a brief second, genuine surprise flitting across her usually calm and mischievous features. Her mouth parted slightly as if she hadn't quite expected her to say that. But the surprise quickly melted into something more amused, something far more dangerous.

"Ara, ara..." Akeno's voice was a low purr now, and her gaze sharpened with intrigue. "Sora-chan, I didn't know you were so forward. You're full of surprises today… Trying to take advantage of a young maiden such as I."

Sora grit her teeth, her patience already running thin. "It's not - look, just answer the question, Himejima."

Akeno's lips curved into a slow, seductive smile as she stepped closer, so close that Sora could feel the warmth of her body despite the cool morning air. "A date, hmm?" Her eyes flickered over her current form again, lingering on the curves of his female body. "With you like this? How could I say no?"

Sora forced herself not to roll her eyes again. Of course, she'd agree. It wasn't like Sora was giving her a real chance to say no anyway. The devils wanted their claws in him, Akeno would say yes just to poke at her more. She needed the quest though, and this was the easiest way to complete it. If she could stomach getting through this without losing her temper, the rewards would be worth it.

"Great," Sora muttered. "Let's get this over with." She glanced down at her wet clothes, scrunching up her nose, preferably somewhere warm…

Akeno chuckled, clearly entertained by her irritation instead of put off. "Such enthusiasm, Sora-chan. You'll sweep me off my feet at this rate." She cooed, eyes twinkling. "The disinterested type is absolutely delish!"

Sora ignored her comment and resumed walking in the general direction of Kuoh Academy, her pace brisk. Akeno fell into step beside her, the amused smile never leaving her face.

Sora wasn't pushing her quest rewards off, they would have a breakfast date, she'd skip school, it would piss off Sona, so… Bonus.

"So," Akeno began, her voice still laced with amusement, "Where are you taking me on this little date of ours? It's only fair that the one asking pays, don't you think?" Says the crazy girl living off Gremory largesse to the orphan…

Sora shot her a sideways glance, her lips pressing into a thin line. She hadn't thought that far ahead anyway. Hell, she hadn't thought about anything beyond getting the quest done and hoping to survive the day without throttling anyone. "I don't know. Where do you want to go?" She asked reluctantly.

If she said some hyper expensive bullshit place she was going to dine and dash on the bitch.

Akeno's eyes sparkled with that same dangerous glint as she hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm, somewhere fun, I think. Maybe a café? We could sit close together, share a little dessert... Doesn't that sound romantic, Sora-chan?"

Sora's eye twitched again, but she managed to keep her voice calm. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Akeno's laughter was soft, but there was an underlying thrill in it, as if she was enjoying this far too much. "You're really not used to this, are you? Poor Sora-chan, so awkward." She gasped, "Am I your first?"

"I'm not awkward," Sora shot back defensively, glaring at her. "You're just making this weird." Don't say things so weirdly!

Akeno's smile widened, her gaze sliding over her like she was enjoying every second of her discomfort. "Maybe a little. But you make it so easy, you know? I can't help myself." She leaned in closer, her lips barely an inch from her ear. "I wonder… What else are you bad at? Dates, conversation... Other things?" Her voice dripped with teasing suggestion, and Sora could feel the heat rising in her face despite herself.

She clenched her fists at her sides, resisting the urge to shove her away or say something she'd regret, don't forget the quest… "Himejima," She warned, her voice low. "Just... Stop, please."

Akeno straightened, her smile as serene as ever, though there was a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. "Ara, ara... So serious. Don't worry, Sora-chan. I'll behave. For now."

They continued walking in silence, though the tension between them was palpable. Sora could feel the weight of Akeno's gaze on her, her amusement and curiosity radiating off her in waves.

To her utter disgust…

Even if she got her level and upgrade to her stats after the date…

The question mark reward was a full dominatrix suit in her size…

Goddamnit Himejima

---

Author's note:

This one struggled a bit to get out, mostly because of Serafall, trying to make her a little bit, extra.

If this continues she'll be a major character after all.

Sora really can't catch a break, this story is in general more about him fighting and overcoming his own system then anything, although the devils don't make it easy for him.

And being highschool DxD it would obviously have some lewds eventually.

While Sora sees the benefit in growing stronger in the safety of devilhood within Sona or Rias peerage - it doesn't mean he has a good view of devils or actually desires this. It's just a logical option.

Cheers

JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

Here's a little AU Star Wars snippet, Lady Luck.

There is a very underutilized part of Star Wars that never gets enough attention. And no, I'm aware the criminal underworld gets plenty of its own stories.

But no one ever focuses on the entertainment and sports industry tied into that criminal life.

As usual, I don't own any of the worlds, fictions or canon characters that show up.

Hope you enjoy.

---

Malastare, 2 years before the Naboo blockade.

The overhead lights hummed quietly in the cramped, cluttered office of the Pod Racing Association on Malastare. Strewn across the cluttered metal desk were datapads, crumpled flimsi, and the latest expense reports from the more semi-official circuits. They were little more than thin veneers of legality, with a third of them openly controlled by the Hutts, who dominated the betting and prize pools with the arrogance of untouchable kings. The Gran seated at the desk - Trando Vool, head of the association - rubbed his three eye stalks, feeling the weight of another long day.

He had just finished poring over the numbers, grimacing at the losses sustained from several races. The Hutts were squeezing harder than usual, demanding bigger cuts and caring little for the organization's crumbling finances. Trando tried his best to keep things afloat, but everyone knew the truth - the association was a puppet show, and he was only the puppet. Whatever power he had was flimsy and held together by fragile alliances, his title more ceremonial than functional.

Pod Racing was illegal in the Republic, only the fact they were in the mid to outer rim, and the Hutts involvements - keeping any law enforcement from shutting them down.

That and the money the rich and influential in the core worlds spent to watch the deadly sport. The hypocrites calling it illegal, and then spending insane amounts of credits to watch and bet on it. Unfortunately he didn't see much of that money, or this whole thing might actually be more profitable. Damned Hutts…

Suddenly, the door to his office slammed open with a thunderous crash. The sound of it rebounding against the wall startled him so badly that he nearly knocked over a stack of datapads. His three eyes snapped up just as a figure strode through the open doorway with a confidence that radiated danger.

The woman was a Twi'lek, her red skin gleaming under the office lights. She wore skin-tight leather pants that left little to the imagination, clinging to her muscular legs like a second skin. Her torso was adorned with a minimal chest wrapping, enough to cover her, barely, but the loose ends still teased, giving her an aura of raw sensuality. Her black leather boots clunked softly on the floor, each step measured and deliberate. Two curved lekku draped down her back, ending near her waist.

He would have called her beautiful if he cared for such things, the black tattoos covering her body however, gave her a much more sinister look.

A pair of blasters hung from her belt, polished black and lined with silver markings, their design unmistakably deadly. Their barrel tips were ridged with energy dampeners, hinting at custom modifications - likely for maximum stopping power without sacrificing speed. Hanging beside the blasters was a large vibroknife, its blade long and wickedly serrated. The woman slowly slid it out as she walked, and the faint hum of its energized edge was barely audible even in the quiet room. She looked like someone who could kill without hesitation, but her demeanor suggested she preferred the slow, deliberate approach.

Behind her, a red and black droid entered, its eyes glowing with a malevolent orange hue. It was the unmistakable frame of an assassin droid that stalked into the room, its head cocking slightly as if surveying every possible threat. Trando's stomach twisted at the sight of it. This model… This was no ordinary droid. It looked like an old HK-series assassin droid (Call him a history buff), but its color scheme was unique - blood-red plating interspersed with sharp black lines, giving it a predatory appearance.

Attached to its arm was a high-powered blaster rifle, clearly worn from use but deadly nonetheless. Its right arm held a long vibroblade magnetically clamped to it, and its other weapon - what appeared to be an anti-tank weapon - rested dormant but ever-threatening on its back, poking over its shoulder.

The droid's voice broke the tense silence, its tone mechanical yet dripping with scorn. "Query: Are you the meatbag in charge of this pathetic excuse for an official circuit?"

Trando swallowed hard, eyes darting between the two intruders. His heart raced as he tried to comprehend the gravity of the situation. He didn't know who they were, but the implication was clear - they were trouble.

Where the kriff was his Hutts be damned security?

"I - yes, I am," He said, his voice trembling slightly as his mind raced for an escape plan. His hand itched to reach for the blaster he kept hidden under the desk, but he knew better. "W-what did you do to the security team?"

They were Hutt provided. Mercenaries through and through, both to keep an eye on him, and to protect their investments. But that also meant they were not easy marks, assassin droid or not.

The Twi'lek woman strolled forward, moving like a sleek predator, and casually perched herself on the edge of his desk. It was only then that Trando noticed the Jogan fruit in her hand. She peeled it slowly, deliberately, using the edge of her vibroknife, the serrated blade gleaming under the light. With every flick of her wrist, she cut small pieces of the fruit, bringing them to her lips and chewing languidly as if she had all the time in the galaxy. Juice dripped from her fingers, a tiny rivulet of it running down her chin and into the cleavage exposed by her wrappings. She smirked as his gaze lingered for a fraction too long.

He was honestly not admiring her looks, he was appalled at her manners. He might be a crook, but really, there was no need for getting messy.

Meanwhile, the droid's eyes flared slightly as it responded, "Bored statement: Your security team lasted longer than vermin, meatbag. Barely. Observation: Their pain tolerance was disappointingly low. Still, it was an amusing diversion."

A bead of sweat formed on Trando's forehead. He clenched his hands into fists, making sure to keep them in plain sight. The blaster under his desk felt impossibly far away. "What do you want?" He asked, his voice strained.

Legally he was in charge, and 'owned' much of the circuit and its equipment, locales, and staff. In reality, that wasn't worth Bantha shit if the Hutts didn't approve.

The droid took a step closer, its mechanical joints hissing softly. "Demand: You will sign over this association, its staff, all buildings, and operational licenses to my master. Failure to comply will result in... Unfortunate consequences."

Trando's three eyes darted to the Twi'lek woman, who was now watching him with an amused expression. She gave him a slow, playful wave, the juice from the fruit still dripping down her fingers. One droplet fell onto her chest, trailing between her breasts, glistening under the lights as if to mock him.

"I-I can't do that," Trando stammered, his throat dry. His mind was racing, trying to find some way out of this mess. "This is my livelihood. The Hutts control a third of the circuit. I can't just hand it over... They'll have my head!"

The droid's eyes brightened with what seemed like glee. "Joyous Declaration: Oh, how delightful! I am thrilled you've refused. It has been centuries since I've had the opportunity to use my interrogation protocols. I am so looking forward to testing your pain thresholds, meatbag."

The words sent a cold shiver down Trando's spine. He blanched, leaning back in his chair as if trying to create distance between himself and the droid. His hands trembled slightly as he pressed them against the desk. He was no stranger to danger, but this - this was different. This was an execution waiting to happen.

But… It still wasn't the Hutts. He'd visited the Boonta eve classic, had feasted with Jabba and Gardulla. He was well aware there were plenty worse things then plain torture.

These people might hurt him, but the Hutts would throw him to the Sarlacc!

The Twi'lek woman, still perched casually on the edge of the desk, sighed softly as she finished the last bite of the fruit. She licked her fingers clean, her yellow eyes locking onto his with an unsettling intensity. When she spoke, her voice was low and throaty, a dangerous mix of sensuality and menace. "Let me worry about the Hutts," She purred. "You just need to sign the rest over. It'll be... Cleaner that way."

Trando swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. He had spent years building this organization, from nothing more than a series of illegal, haphazard races that spanned the galaxy. He had risked everything to make it something more - something semi-official, even if the Hutts held much of the control in the background. His pride clashed with the raw fear coursing through him. He stared into the Twi'lek's yellow eyes, gulping in terror. Somehow, through all the fear, he managed to find a shred of resolve. The Hutts will do worse, he reminded himself.

"No," He croaked, the word barely escaping his lips. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't.

The woman sighed again, this time with a touch of exasperation. She stood up from the desk, stretching languidly. Her expression was one of mild irritation, though her eyes gleamed with something far darker. "HK, don't go overboard," She said casually, as if discussing the weather. "He has to be alive to make it all nice and legal."

She tilted her head, her lekku twitching, "Only alive, mind you, the rest of his condition is entirely optional."

The droid's head twitched as it cocked its head similarly to its mistress, its glowing eyes fixed on Trando. "Disappointed Confirmation: Understood, master. I shall refrain from fully dismembering the meatbag. For now."

Trando's heart sank. He knew they weren't going to leave without what they came for, but giving it all away? He had no choice.

They're not Hutts. He kept repeating to himself as the droid approached.

---

Izela stood in front of the large transparisteel window in the upper office of the Pod Racing Association's headquarters. The view below offered a perfect glimpse of the immense ravines and forests of Malastare, its terrain rugged and chaotic - the ideal conditions for the dangerous, high-speed pod racing that had made this place infamous on the circuit. The setting sun bathed the horizon in deep oranges and reds, the colors bleeding into the purples of the approaching night sky. It was a beautiful place, despite its reputation as a hub of shady deals, criminal syndicates, and underground sport. The chaos of it all made her smile.

Two hours had passed since Trando Vool's pointless last stand, and the screams had finally died down, the deal signed, and the association now hers. She'd let HK have his fun. She wasn't heartless, but Trando had been an obstacle, and one that needed to be removed in a memorable way. The Gran's shrieks would be the kind of thing his former employees would remember, a haunting reminder of who was in charge now. As she turned from the window, the smooth, sinuous movements of her body were a testament to the enhancements she had chosen for herself in this new life. Gone was the old, average human she had been, replaced by the crimson-skinned beauty of a Twi'lek warrior.

Izela stretched lazily, her red lekku shifting with her as she adjusted the leather strap around her torso. Her mind drifted back, as it often did, to that bizarre encounter. She had died once. It had been a mundane, unremarkable death for someone like her - an ambitious human with dreams far bigger than her talents. But instead of waking up in whatever afterlife waited for the wicked, she had found herself in a sterile, white office. No fire and brimstone, no robed figures waiting to pass judgment. Just a desk, a bored-looking clerk, and the offer of something else - to amuse a 'patron.' It was a sick game, really. She had been handed a list of choices, like a holo-game character creation screen, and given a limited number of points to build a new life. She'd had to be smart about it.

Darth Talon's body? That had been a no-brainer. The Sith Lord's physical prowess was fantastic - agile, lethal, and drop-dead gorgeous. But there was no way in hell she was getting tangled up in the mess of the Force. She'd learned enough about the Star Wars universe to know better. So, instead, she chose Force-null. It had been the perfect tradeoff - freeing up a massive amount of 'points' to allocate elsewhere. She'd opted for the best combat abilities available - marksmanship better than any Mandalorian, hand-to-hand skills that could rival any fighter in the galaxy, and a few biomods that made her strong, fast, and virtually unaging. But most importantly, she had picked her companions carefully.

She stepped out of the office and was immediately greeted by the sight of Rebecca and Lucy.

Rebecca was leaning against the wall, holding a blaster in each hand with casual boredom, her mismatched eyes glancing at the staff that were still gathered before her, hands raised in the air. She was a small woman, but every inch of her radiated danger. Her hair was a wild, punkish mess of silver-white and bright streaks of color, shaved on one side, the other a waterfall of chaos. Her body was heavily modded - muscle enhancements that didn't ruin her slim figure, but rather enhanced her agility and power. Rebecca's arms were covered in tattoos and cybernetic augments, and her fingers tapped rhythmically on the triggers of her twin blasters, their customized barrels glowing faintly with energy. She looked like she was ready to kill someone just to break the monotony.

On the other side of the room stood Lucy, her pale skin nearly glowing under the overhead lights, with long white hair cascading like a waterfall down her back. She was calmer than Rebecca, exuding an icy coolness as she leaned against a console, her arms folded. Lucy's build was lean, but her frame suggested a hidden strength beneath her beauty. Her cybernetics were less flashy than Rebecca's but no less deadly - an assortment of implants that made her a force to be reckoned with in the digital world. Her piercing gaze was focused on a holo-display, her fingers dancing across a series of keys, controlling something unseen.

"Lucy," Izela called as she strolled down the steps, hips swaying confidently, her leather outfit clinging to every curve. "How's the system? Are we good?"

Lucy glanced up, her fingers pausing as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "I've got control of everything," She said, her voice as cool and precise as her movements. "Malastare's law enforcement wouldn't be able to take a piss without me finding out about it first. Their firewalls were laughable. Took me so little time that I hacked us a few extra dozen million from the IBC as I got bored halfway through."

Izela smiled, feeling a warmth of satisfaction. She had chosen well. Lucy's ability to hack into anything and everything was going to be essential, especially now that she had her eyes on bigger targets. InfoSec in Star Wars was going to have a horrible time, as Lucy was capable of things the slicers in this universe could only dream about.

Hence the boatload of money they already had for their purposes from her hacking the IBC, the Trade Federation and the Commerce Guild. They were all dicks anyway, and would hardly notice anything missing under a hundred million.

And if they did, Lucy's tracks would just lead to Nute Gunray, San Hill and the rest of the toadies, which would make their subordinates keep it nice and quiet.

"Now that we own this piece of shit, funnel some of that money here, make it look at least somewhat legal, we'll need to invest heavily to make this all take off properly." She ordered, giving Lucy a pleased smile.

Her subordinates came with pre-programmed loyalty, but it didn't hurt to praise their achievements anyway.

Rebecca, on the other hand, was getting impatient. She pushed herself off the wall, a manic grin spreading across her face. "So, are we killing these idiots yet, choom?" She asked, spinning one of her blasters on her finger in a show of reckless disregard for safety.

At least Izela had managed to convince her that bringing actual grenade launchers and miniguns with her would only draw attention, while she wouldn't be able to even fire them as they weren't supposed to have much of a battle.

Rebecca and HK had taken down the security team so quickly they hadn't even had to dodge return fire. Both of them had been equally saddened when it was over so quick. Those two got along scarily well.

Izela chuckled at her savage subordinate, her laugh low and teasing as she walked closer, her hips swaying with the confidence of someone who knew she had all the power in the room. She reached up and gently patted Rebecca's cheek, her touch as much a warning as it was affectionate. "Save all that violence for when we really need it. We've got bigger things to prove. Besides…" She turned her attention to the staff, her yellow eyes gleaming, "They're going to be very helpful in the coming days - the ones that have vision."

The staff - a mixture of Gran, Dugs, and a few humans, plus one sole Twi'lek - stood trembling, their eyes wide with fear. They had been with the association for years, many of them caught between loyalty to the old regime and the terror of the unknown future. Izela took her time, letting their fear simmer. She might not be the Sith this body had once been, but in the criminal world, fear sometimes worked better than loyalty.

The Hutts had proven that quite well over the Millenia. The Jedi, the Sith, The Republic and the Empires. They all withered and died. But crime, crime always stayed. Hence her wish to insert herself into her own slice of the criminal underworld, where it wouldn't matter if it was a Republic or a Empire out there. She'd still win.

"I'm the new owner, obviously," She announced, her voice smooth, but laced with a subtle threat. "You're all free to quit and run away if you want. I won't stop you." She paused, watching the conflicting emotions play across their faces. "But… I have big plans. I'm expanding the circuit. I'm improving the races we have. And I'm making deals with the Hutts to massively expand the business soon enough. That means profit. Lots of profit. And if you're smart, you'll want to stick around for a cut of that."

There was a murmur of uncertainty among the group. Izela knew they were weighing their options. Fear and greed - it was always the same. And she knew exactly how to tip the scales.

"I'm going to make this circuit the crown jewel of the Outer Rim," She continued, pacing slowly in front of them - ideally they'd stay, because they already knew the business, hence why she was bothering with waving a big fat carrot. "Pod racing is just the beginning. I'm talking about swoop bike races through obstacle courses - treacherous terrain, dangerous traps, and high stakes. Think of it as survival of the fittest, with crowds betting on who'll make it out alive. Or maybe you'd prefer something more organized? How about mock space dogfights? Pilots versus pilots, ace versus ace, in simulations so real you can smell the fuel burning. I'll make it a sport the Core Worlds will pay billions to watch." She giggled, winking, "Of course in Hutt space we could make those fights less of a mock one as well, and rake in the credits from the core worlds begging to watch it."

Her grin widened as she imagined the different 'sports' she could add. The thrill of combat, the rush of speed, the roars of the crowd - it was all going to be a spectacle, and it would draw the attention of the galaxy. She'd have the credits flowing like water. And that wasn't even half of it. Entering the criminal world in a way you weren't beholden to another organization was almost impossible, she intended to create her own enterprise, and semi-legal sports was her way in without having to take over Black Sun or the Pyke syndicate or anything equally as impossible.

"And then there's the tournaments we could throw," She added, leaning casually against the edge of a table. "Teams of sentients fighting it out on holo in dangerous locales - urban ruins, jungles, abandoned starships. It'll be brutal, but not deadly - to keep it legal. People love watching a good fight, especially when there's a chance for them to win credits on the outcome. Strategy and skill on full display, we'll be drowning in Mandalorian mercenaries."

And she'd be able to have her pick of the best ones for her own organization…

There was also the absolutely criminal fact that there wasn't any galactic, nor even sector wide Pazaak and Sabacc tournaments, an untapped potential revenue stream. She imagined the world poker tour, only… Larger and more likely to lead to a duel after.

Rebecca, still twirling her blasters, snorted in amusement. "That sounds fun. Can I play?"

Izela winked at her. "Maybe. But if you all think that's all, I've got something even bigger in mind, something we can use to pull in even the Core Worlds, as it would be legal." Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she continued, "Blitzball. An aquatic sport I've made up, with high-speed chases, combat, and goals. The aquatic species will beg for a Blitzball arena in their sector, and think of the amount of people who'd pay for equipment from us to breathe underwater and match them, to go for the challenge of beating the aquatics in their own game… Think of the spectacle - the hype, the crowds, the betting. And no one dies. Probably."

The staff exchanged nervous glances, but Izela could see the gears turning in their heads. This was big. Bigger than anything they'd been a part of before. And they knew it. If she could pull it off, they knew there was money there. Question was if they dared to bet on her.

Izela knew the galaxy was starving for new forms of entertainment. The old sports were dying, or locked behind the polished doors of the Core Worlds, where aristocrats watched in comfort, far from the grit and danger of real life. But she was going to give them something better. Something raw, something visceral. The Outer Rim was lawless, but that only meant there were fewer restrictions - and more room to profit. Even here in the Mid Rim you could get away with things you couldn't in the core.

She wasn't kidding about Blitzball either. It had the perfect mix of being legal enough for the core, outrageous visuals, and enough buy in from aquatic species it would kick off and drag everyone else in.

"Stay," She said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "And you'll be rich. Leave, and you'll regret it when you hear about the fortunes being made here. Your choice."

There was a long silence, the staff members looking at one another, weighing their options.

She wasn't surprised when not one of them left.

You didn't join an association like this if you weren't already a bit crooked. And greed was something all criminals held in common.

---

Two days later,

Izela had put the staff to work immediately, while she herself had other plans in the air and would need to leave soon to arrange things with the Hutts, there were plenty of things the staff could begin to set up.

Pod racing was a lucrative business, it wouldn't have been able to keep going as it had if it didn't bring in tons of credits. But as a spectator sport it was… Middling, in her opinion.

In short. Pod racing was too short. You couldn't fleece everyone out of their money with a half hour tops of entertainment.

So as the circuit had just finished, and would have two months before it picked back up again, she set them on expanding race days so that each one would be a spectacle. One that would last most of the day. It meant more money from crowds, more sales of merchandise and concessions, and most importantly, it meant more betting across the galaxy.

So to bring in more customers, they'd do several categories. Human only - which would be slower than a normal race, but would bring in some of the human centric crowd. Build your own - which would be a race only for those who built and raced their own pod racers. There would be the normal free for all regular circuit race of course - as well as the junker race.

The junker race would be shit pods slapped together by spit and hopes, criminals with a death or life sentence hanging over them racing, the winner winning freedom. With such stakes, it was bound to be entertaining and bound to bring in credits.

Lucy was already working on setting up a special kind of site for them accessible through the holonet. Izela's way of muscling in on the betting industry.

The biggest reason the previous head of the association hadn't made much money, even discounting the Hutts share - was the fact all off site betting went to bigger companies specializing in betting, even if they couldn't openly advertise the illegal pod racing.

The Republic could try to stop her, but good luck taking down any site Lucy created. The Daemons she'd have for defense would cook any slicer and their equipment without having to work hard for it. And with everything Izela was creating, the site would be the one stop shop for all betting and viewing needs.

She'd beat the other betting companies by allowing high-quality screenings of each race on her site only, with easily accessible betting and of course discounts and bonuses to start with, to lure them in.

Once they diversified from just pod racing, she'd be the one and only game for high stakes entertainment.

But before she could really start spreading her wings and start spending all her stolen money - she needed to cover her rear.

Which meant it was time to go visit some Hutts.

---

The ship rumbled as it broke through the thick atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa, the Smuggler's Moon. Outside the cockpit window, the sky bled from a hazy amber into the greasy glow of the city-world below. Towers of durasteel reached into the clouds, blinking with the neon signatures of casinos, spice dens, and nightclubs. It was a planet that never slept, where the shadow of crime lurked in every corner, and every interaction was a gamble.

Izela leaned back in her seat, watching the descent with a mix of excitement and annoyance. "Nar Shaddaa. Filthy as can be, yet so enticing still."

One day she'd have her own planet like it - just better run and cleaner. And no slaves! There she and the Hutt cartel differed. If anything she'd gladly hit slavers for the chance to recruit from the desperate slaves, you couldn't buy loyalty like that.

Rebecca, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, let out a snort. "Better than boring ol' Malastare. At least here, we can have some fun."

Izela sideyed her compatriot and sighed with a wry smile playing at her lips. Rebecca was a fantastic girl, as long as it came to fighting, fucking, or drinking - she'd never become something more then her enforcer/bodyguard. But that was fine, everyone had a niche they fit in. Hers was just violence and sex.

And Rebecca was very good at both, she'd ah… Tested her vigorously.

It wasn't like there was much else to do in hyper…

HK-47 stood behind them, his glowing orange eyes fixed on the holo-map of their descent. "Statement: The smell of this meatbag cesspool is already detected through the ship's sensors. Conclusion: The likelihood of encountering more vermin is statistically significant."

Izela smirked, her lekku twitching slightly as the ship angled down into a landing approach. The docking platforms of Nar Shaddaa loomed ahead, cluttered with ships of all shapes and sizes. Cargo freighters, sleek starfighters, and clunky transports crammed together in a chaotic mess. Everything about the city screamed disorder, and yet somehow, it functioned. The Hutts saw to that - one way or another.

"Just keep it together this time," Izela said, glancing at Rebecca with a teasing smile. "Ziro's expecting us, and the last thing we need is you blasting a hole through half the moon before we even get there."

Rebecca laughed, the sound wild and carefree. "No promises, boss." She stroked her heavy repeater, the size of a weapons emplacement. "My baby needs exercise…"

The ship touched down on a greasy landing pad with a hiss of hydraulics. The engines powered down, leaving an eerie silence as the city's noise crept in through the ship's hull. Izela stood up, adjusting her tight leather pants and checking her blasters before strapping them to her belt. HK-47 followed behind her, his servos practically soundless. Rebecca was already ahead of them, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her blasters holstered but her fingers twitching in anticipation. Her massive overcompensation of a weapon on her back.

As the ramp lowered, they were immediately greeted by a stout Sullustan waddling toward them, his wide mouth already flapping with words before they even set foot on the platform. He was flanked by three hulking Gamorreans, each of them hefting crude vibro-axes that looked more like rusted garbage than functional. But it wasn't their weapons that annoyed Izela - it was the way their beady eyes fixated on her, leering openly at her form with unmistakable lust.

Now she didn't mind using her body to get what she wanted - it was just another weapon in her toolbox really - she had chosen a very exotic look on purpose after all. But she drew the limit at pigs.

"Welcome, welcome!" the Sullustan called out in rapid Basic, barely stopping to take a breath. "Docking fee's fifteen credits! And - ah, yes, a registration fee, mandatory, of course. Another fifty credits for the Hutt Cartel's approval. Oh, and environmental maintenance fees, fuel surcharge, landing permit…"

He continued to rattle off a list of fees, each one more ludicrous than the last. Izela stood there, arms crossed, as the Sullustan's voice droned on, but her eyes flicked to the Gamorreans, who were licking their tusks and ogling her with an uncomfortable intensity.

Rebecca, however, was growing visibly impatient. She tapped her foot, her fingers twitching at her sides. "Are we really going to listen to this crap?" She muttered.

Knowing her, she was as much annoyed about the wait, as she was about the fact Izela was the only one getting lustful stares. Rebecca wouldn't want to touch these pigs either - but she hated being ignored more. Her entire being and appearance was loud for a reason.

The Sullustan didn't seem to notice, adding yet another fee to his running tally. "…And, of course, a safety inspection fee for the vessel, which will be -"

Suddenly, the unmistakable whir of a heavy repeater filled the air. Without warning, Rebecca had whipped out the massive repeater slung across her back - a weapon nearly as big as she was - and unleashed a hailstorm of blaster bolts. The Gamorreans barely had time to blink before they were cut down, their hulking bodies slamming to the ground with smoking holes burning through their crude armor. The Sullustan let out a shrill scream, diving for cover and still eating several blaster bolts even as the last of the Gamorreans hit the ground, twitching once before going still.

Rebecca let out a whoop of joy, spinning the massive gun around before resting it on her shoulder. "Ha! That's what I'm talking about! Quicker this way, right, boss?"

Izela sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Rebecca…" She began, shaking her head. "You just killed the Hutts' tax collectors. Do you have any idea how much we're going to have to pay them now to smooth this over?" Well, depending on how Ziro takes my proposal…

Her business idea was likely to bring in a ridiculous sum, and the Hutt would no doubt recognize it. She was counting on him wanting to tweak the nose or Jabba a bit. Hence why she sought him out first, while he was on vacation back in Nar Shaddaa from his Coruscant territory.

Rebecca shrugged, unapologetic. "Hey, it was quicker. I was getting bored. Besides…" She grinned, eyeing the smoking corpses with glee. "Those pigs were staring at you like they were about to tear your clothes off. Did you really want to pay them?"

HK-47 stepped forward, blaster rifle in hand, "Observation: The meatbags couldn't have been worth much. Their operational lifespan was already limited. Conclusion: Their deaths were... Inconsequential."

Izela shot him a wry look, but there was no real anger behind it. In truth, she'd expected something like this. It was just how her crew operated - wild, unpredictable, and unashamedly violent. Still, there were consequences to consider, and Ziro the Hutt wasn't going to be pleased. Not that it mattered. She had a way of making people see things her way.

And big bags of credits cleaned any sin in a place like this.

"Well, what's done is done," Izela said with a sigh. She turned toward the direction of the city, hearing the unmistakable sound of running feet in the distance. Nar Shaddaa's inhabitants weren't exactly known for their neighborly actions, so the only ones that would possibly be coming in that fast, were reinforcements. "Looks like we've got company."

Sure enough, within moments, a squad of mercenaries emerged from the shadows, their blasters raised and pointed directly at Izela and her crew. There were at least a dozen of them, heavily armed and armored, and they didn't look like the kind to waste too many words. Their leader, a grizzled Rodian with a cybernetic eye, stepped forward, his voice rasping through a voice modulator.

"Drop your weapons," He growled, his blaster trained on Rebecca's repeater. "You're under arrest for -"

Izela raised her hands lazily, a sly smile playing on her lips as she interrupted him. "Finally," She drawled, her yellow eyes gleaming with amusement. "What took you so long? I was starting to think no one here cared. We've got an appointment with Ziro the Hutt, so if you don't mind…"

The mercenaries hesitated, exchanging confused glances. Clearly, they hadn't been expecting someone to mention Ziro by name. The leader lowered his blaster slightly, still wary but now unsure of how to proceed. By all accounts they should be taking them in or gunning them down - but a guest of the Hutts had more worth then a few Gamorreans and a minor nobody like the Sullustan.

"You've got an appointment?" the Rodian asked, suspiciously.

Izela nodded, her smile widening. "That's right. And I doubt Ziro will be happy if he finds out his guests were... Delayed." She glanced over at Rebecca, who was casually leaning on her repeater, a gleeful smirk still plastered on her face. HK-47 stood perfectly still, his glowing eyes watching every movement with calculated precision. No doubt already calculating the best way to take down every one of their enemies.

The Rodian muttered something under his breath before signaling to his men to stand down. "Fine," He spat. "But if you're lying…"

Izela's gaze hardened for just a moment, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I don't lie. Not about things like this." No one is dumb enough to take a Hutts name in vain here of all places…

The Rodian grimaced, then motioned for his men to stand down, but they kept their weapons on them, just in case. "Alright. Follow us. But don't try anything funny."

As this was Nar Shaddaa, they didn't ask them to disarm. No one went around without weapons here. The Hutts met under complete energy shield protection to begin with, so they weren't at risk.

Izela lowered her hands, her smirk returning as she motioned for Rebecca and HK-47 to follow. As they walked, she glanced at Rebecca, who was still humming a tune to herself, clearly pleased with the earlier violence.

"You're impossible," Izela muttered with a chuckle.

Rebecca grinned, flashing her a wink. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

In a way, Izela had to admit, it certainly had..

She wasn't about to tell Rebecca that however. No need to give the girl a reason to do this every time they got delayed.

The guards marched Izela, Rebecca, and HK-47 through the bustling streets of Nar Shaddaa, leading them toward the garish neon lights of one of the planet's most ostentatious casinos. The building loomed in the distance, a gaudy, towering structure that dominated the skyline like a garish temple to wealth. Lit from top to bottom in blinding holographic advertisements, the name "Golden Palace" flashed in bold Aurebesh above the entrance. The wealth on display was as excessive as it was tasteless - golden statues of Hutts, murals depicting decadent wealth, and dancers' holos spinning in enormous holo tanks that floated just above the casino's broad entrance.

The group was flanked by the heavily armed mercenaries that never took their eyes off them, even though they'd radioed ahead and gotten the validity of the visit confirmed. As they passed through the enormous golden doors, a hulking pair of Trandoshans eyed them from either side. Inside, the casino's interior was no less ridiculous. The floors were inlaid with gold, while patrons sat around glittering sabacc tables and spinning gambling wheels, spending enough credits in a single hand to feed entire colonies. And in the center of it all, taking up most of the main hall, was a grotesque, towering golden statue of a Hutt, its bulbous form reclining in decadent splendor.

Izela couldn't help but smile at the sight, her yellow eyes gleaming with amusement. It was exactly the kind of tasteless wealth she expected from Ziro the Hutt. A ridiculous show of power, meant to intimidate and overwhelm. Yet to her it only showed her that she was right, that they could be appeased with wealth no matter the scenario. The guards led them deeper into the casino, through winding hallways lined with more gold, past private rooms where high-stakes gambling and other illicit activities took place.

Finally, they were led into an opulent waiting room. Plush red seats and gleaming tables lined the walls, while scantily clad Twi'leks and other species served drinks to the wealthy patrons who lounged around in idle conversation. There was no sign of Ziro yet, and Izela knew exactly what this was. They were being made to wait.

She reclined into one of the plush chairs, her leather-clad body sinking into the soft cushions. "A power play," She murmured, half to herself, half to her companions. "Ziro wants us to stew. Typical Hutt move."

Rebecca flopped into the seat next to her, crossing her arms over her chest, her irritation evident. "Still think it was quicker this way?" Izela teased, casting a sidelong glance at Rebecca, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

Rebecca grumbled under her breath, slouching deeper into her seat. "I dunno, maybe. Maybe not."

HK-47 stood behind them, his sensors flicking around the room as he scanned the guards stationed by the doors. "Observation: This waiting tactic is inefficient. I could eliminate the meatbag guards within ninety seconds and access Ziro's chambers within an additional three minutes. Query: Shall I proceed?"

The guards shifted uncomfortably at HK-47's words, their hands twitching toward their weapons. They weren't used to hearing droids so casually discuss the logistics of murder. Their murder to boot.

Izela raised a hand lazily, waving him off. "Not yet, HK. But keep that plan in mind if we need to leave in a hurry." Her voice was calm, as if they weren't surrounded by heavily armed guards. She knew the game being played here. Ziro was annoyed, yes, but he wouldn't kill them - unless they failed to deliver what she'd promised. They had killed some of his people, sure, but Hutts were pragmatic above all else. If she could show him there was profit to be made, he would listen. Credits spoke louder than death.

And in the end, the dead weren't worth much, not to a Hutt.

Hours passed. The casino's patrons came and went, while Izela and her crew waited. The guards watched them nervously, clearly uncomfortable with HK-47's presence and Rebecca's clear lack of respect for their authority. Still, Izela remained patient, knowing that this was part of the dance. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a door at the far end of the room slid open, and they were ushered through.

The chamber they entered was a vast, private throne room, more extravagant than anything they had seen in the casino so far. The floors were polished to a mirror finish, and the walls were lined with tapestries depicting various Hutts in positions of power through history, Ziros own portrait taking center stage. Exotic and rare animals were displayed in cages around the perimeter, just to showcase Ziros reach - some were practically extinct.

Ironically, mostly due to the Hutts, Izela noted with some humor, recognizing several beasts as ones used by Hutts in the past for gladiator fights and feeding unruly minions too.

And there, lounging on a massive platform draped in silks and pillows and protected behind an energy shield, was Ziro the Hutt. He was an enormous, bloated figure - although not as large as some Hutts she'd seen, his purple skin was glistening with some sort of oil, and he was adorned with gaudy jewelry that looked absurd even by Hutt standards and a feathered hat. He was bright purple, and his emerald green eyes were rimmed with dark eyeliner, giving him a strangely theatrical appearance. Ziro's long, slug-like body was coiled lazily as he surveyed them with a bored expression, a jeweled cup of some exotic drink clutched in one stubby hand.

"Ah, my 'guests'," Ziro said in his gravelly, high-pitched voice, his massive tongue flicking out briefly. He took a long sip from his drink before setting it down with a loud clink. "I must say, you've got some nerve, showing up here after killing my tax collectors. What possible reason could you have for me not torturing you to death right now?"

He paused, his eyes narrowing in mock seriousness. "Jabba wouldn't be pleased if any of his precious pod races were delayed. Then again," Ziro added with a theatrical wave of his hand, "I wouldn't be heartbroken if Jabba were... Displeased."

As far as a Hutts initial greeting went, that was almost positively jovial, Izela thought. Izela's smile never wavered as she sauntered forward with a confidence that appeared to be arrogance, stopping just short of Ziro's platform. Her yellow eyes sparkled with amusement as she spoke, her voice smooth and full of easy charm. "I've got a reason for you, Ziro. One you'll want to hear." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "Lots and lots of credits."

Ziro's eyes gleamed with sudden interest, but he didn't respond immediately. He shifted slightly on his platform, eyeing her with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "Go on."

Izela took her time, letting the tension hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I'm taking over the pod racing circuit. All of it. I've got plans - big plans - that will quadruple profits by next year easily. We're talking about expanding the races, adding new courses, and bringing in bigger crowds than ever before. With your support of my position, of course."

Ziro let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Quadruple profits, you say? Big promises from such a... Minor player." His eyes narrowed again. "And what do I get in return for this generosity?"

Izela met his gaze evenly, her smile unwavering. "I'm offering you and the Hutt Council a substantial cut of the profits. But in return, I need recognition. Full ownership of the entire circuit, yes even Tatooine. I want to be officially sanctioned by the Hutts as an independent operator. No one interferes with my operations, no one challenges my authority."

Ziro chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "And what makes you think the Hutt Council cares about someone like you? You're nothing but a minor inconvenience - a speck. Why should we give you control of anything?"

The fact he hadn't already told her to get lost, or ordered his men to fire, told her all she needed about his interest. She especially thought he'd quite like to tweak Jabba's nose.

Izela stepped closer, her voice lowering to a near purr. "Because I'm not just offering you pod racing profits. I've got dozens of other ideas that will make you richer than you've ever been. Swoop bike races through dangerous obstacle courses, mock space dogfights, team dogfights, both mock and real, the best pilots of the galaxy drawn in. And that's just the start. I already have the seed money to set it all up. You get the Hutt Council to sign off on me being in charge - for a cut - and you'll get a percentage of everything I create."

She wasn't worried about revealing her ideas. For all that the Hutts had a lot of power, it was mostly at this point utilized through sheer history and generational wealth. They weren't that creative, that's why they hired people to do it for them.

Ziro's eyes flicked toward her, now more intrigued than before. "A percentage, you say? And just how much are you offering me, hmm?" There was a warning tone to his voice, that she promptly ignored.

Izela smiled, knowing she had him hooked, now it was just the negotiation. "Five percent. Of all the business I create. That's just for you, Ziro. No one else. All you have to do is make sure the Council signs a few documents and stays out of my way. It's easy credits."

The truth of the matter was that to operate as an 'independent' and not be owned full bore - she needed the Hutts to sign off on it, or it couldn't happen without a lot of dead bodies. Once she got big enough… Then she could throw off even that slight deal, if she felt it necessary. Having Hutt shareholders so to speak, would simply ensure they weren't likely to try and ruin her business.

Ziro's expression shifted into something more calculating. He drummed his stubby fingers against his drink, his eyes never leaving Izela. "Five percent? I think not. You're asking for a lot, little one. I'll take twenty five."

Rebecca stiffened at the suggestion, her fingers twitching toward her blasters, but Izela remained calm. "Ten percent," She countered smoothly. "And that's all you have to do - make a few calls, sign a few things, and watch the credits roll in. You won't find an easier deal."

Ziro's lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes glittered dangerously. "You underestimate me, darling. No one but a Hutt could achieve what you want - the Hutt council wouldn't listen to anyone else. And for that, I am due my twenty five percent."

He waved his hand lazily, and the guards in the room suddenly raised their weapons, leveling them at Izela and her companions. Ziro grinned, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Or maybe... fifty percent? Or seventy? Hmm?"

Izela didn't flinch, even as she sensed Rebecca and HK-47 tensing beside her, ready for a fight. HK-47's glowing eyes flickered with anticipation, and Rebecca's hands hovered just above her blasters, eager for action. The guards, still surrounding them, shifted nervously, unsure of what would happen next. But Izela remained calm, her expression completely unfazed, even as Ziro's threat hung heavily in the air.

"Seventy percent?" Izela repeated softly, her voice almost amused as she cocked her head slightly. She met Ziro's gaze with a smirk, completely unbothered by the weapons aimed at her. "Come now, Ziro. You and I both know that's unreasonable. I'm offering you a deal no one else would. A deal that will make you rich with no effort on your part - and give you a feather in your cap towards your contemporaries. You'd be a fool to push it too far."

Ziro's massive, slug-like body shifted slightly as he watched her, his eyes gleaming with interest beneath the exaggerated eyeliner. "Oh? And why is that, hmm?" His voice was playful, but there was an undercurrent of menace beneath it. "What makes you so confident you can talk to me this way, little girl?"

Izela smiled, an expression of pure confidence. "Because I know how to make you even more credits than you're asking for. I'll give you twelve percent - no more, no less - but I'll sweeten the deal. I'm planning something big. Real big. An event that will pull in crowds from every corner of the galaxy. A biannual event, something the entire galaxy will be talking about." She leaned forward just slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm calling it the Galactic Olympiad."

Ziro's eyes narrowed, his interest piqued despite himself. "Olympiad? What nonsense is this?"

"It's not nonsense," Izela said, her voice full of conviction. "It's a galaxy wide competition to showcase who's the best. The best marksmen, the best quick-draws, the best hand-to-hand fighters from all across the galaxy, competing for glory. We'll have competitive Pazaak and Sabacc and anything else you can imagine as well, more importantly, credits. It will be a spectacle like no other. Pilots, bounty hunters, mercenaries, even military personnel will come to prove themselves as the best. And the betting? The betting alone will be worth billions in credits. Maybe even more." She smirked, "You know it would be even more. And the entire time the Olympiad isn't playing - constant tournaments to qualify, money on money on money…"

She'd introduce boxing and MMA to the Galaxy. They already had gladiator fights and put fighting, but this would make things an official sport, with different weight classes due to the diversity of competitors ensuring even something simple like boxing could have dozens of categories. And more categories meant more fights, more shows, more credits.

Ziro's eyes gleamed with greed, the wheels turning in his mind as he considered the possibilities. "And you think you can pull this off?"

Izela's smile widened. "I know I can. I've got the seed money, the connections, and the vision. I'll organize the whole thing. You - " she gestured lazily at him, " - don't have to lift a finger. Just get the Hutt Council to sign off on me being in charge of the racing circuit, make sure they stay out of my way for the rest, and I'll give you twelve percent of everything I build - plus first pick to recruit any of the talent. This won't just be about pod racing anymore. It'll be a galactic empire of entertainment. Sports, competition, gambling - some of it will even be legal outside the Outer Rim."

Ziro's face twisted into an exaggerated grin, his massive form rumbling with a deep, throaty laugh. The guards lowered their weapons slightly as they saw their master's interest growing. "Twelve percent? You dare to offer me such a pittance?"

Izela's voice stayed level, unwavering. "You'll be making more credits than you know what to do with, Ziro. That twelve percent will be worth more than anything you could ever get from bleeding this circuit dry. I've got ideas, and I'm going to make them real. The other Hutts may be powerful, but they lack vision. I'm offering you a piece of something that will last for centuries, because I know you have vision."

Ziro reclined slightly, his massive form undulating as he considered her words. His eyes shifted back and forth between Izela, Rebecca, and HK-47, calculating. "You think you can take on the galaxy? Build something like that... And survive? What makes you so special, hmm? Why shouldn't I just crush you now and take your little plans for myself?"

HK-47 stepped forward, his mechanical voice cutting through the air. "Gleeful statement: Should you attempt to harm my master, I will dismember your guards and anyone else who tries to interfere, please try. Observation: Your guards are slow and poorly trained. I estimate they would last less than two minutes in a combat scenario."

The guards stiffened, clearly uneasy at the droid's declaration, but Ziro simply waved a hand dismissively, grinning as if amused by HK-47's threat. "Oh, I've no doubt you could cause quite the mess, droid. But violence won't get you what you want in the end." He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Let's say I agree to your little proposal, girl. Let's say I take your twelve percent. What guarantee do I have that you'll succeed?"

Izela met his gaze without flinching. "Because I've already succeeded in taking control of the pod racing circuit, and I've already started making deals, I'm already here meeting with you within days, having successfully arranged a meeting. You wouldn't be sitting here negotiating with me if I didn't have the skills to back up my claims. But if that's not enough for you, then it's simple calculus. You're not paying anything for this to happen. So if I lose, you lose nothing. If I win…"

Ziro laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the room. "You're amusing me. I like that. And you've got guts. Fine. Fifteen percent." He said, adding a few percent casually. He leaned back, his expression turning dark again. "But if I'm unhappy with the profits, if you so much as disappoint me - " His voice dropped into a growl, " - I'll make sure you wish you were dead long before I actually kill you."

Izela smiled, not at all intimidated by the threat. She could feel victory within reach. "Oh, I'll make you happy, Ziro. You're going to show up every other Hutt once I get things running and only you have a personal stake in the game."

Ziro smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Then it's a deal. But don't forget. I'll be watching you."

Izela inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. "Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less." She stepped back, turning on her heel with a confident stride as Rebecca and HK-47 fell into step beside her.

There was a reason she'd targeted Ziro in particular. He'd be extremely willing to get one up over the other Hutts, especially also tweaking Jabba's nose. So he'd ensure she got what she wanted because he'd profit more than them. And he'd no doubt think he could force her to give up more later - that she was his woman now.

She'd have to disabuse him of that one day. But for now, it was perfect. It had all come together precisely as she'd suspected after they had finished step one…

Lucy had hacked Ziro, and openly messaged the Hutt, that's how Izela had been able to contact the Hutt in the first place, impressing him enough to allow for an audience. With Ziro also being a Vigo in the Black Sun, it was inevitable he would betray her and try to muscle in once she grew big - either for the Hutts or for the Black Sun.

But he'd allow her to grow unhindered, waving away all fellow Hutts until then. Because he'd want her to feed and grow into a big fat piggy for when he came to feast.

That was the thing with the Hutts, why do the work when they could just muscle in on the finished product? It was now a race, would she get powerful enough to withstand Ziro and the Black Sun, or would he win and subsume her enterprise?

Considering Lucy had only appeared to be expelled out of the Hutts system by his slicers - her bet was on herself coming out on top. She'd literally know what was coming the moment Ziro planned it.

As they walked out of the chamber, Rebecca glanced over at Izela, her voice low. "Fifteen percent. You sure about that?"

Izela's smirk widened. "Oh, he'll get his fifteen percent, the Hutt council will no doubt share another 10-15 between themselves, but by the time I'm done, that's going to be nothing compared to what I'm keeping for myself." And one day I'll be able to cast them off if I end up unhappy with the deal.

For now, the legitimacy in the underworld from having the Hutts leave her business alone to her own devices was worth the losses.

Rebecca chuckled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Nova! I like the way you think, boss."

Izela glanced back at the casino, the garish golden statue of the Hutt looming over the entrance. Ziro might think he had the upper hand now, but soon, he would see just how deep her plans ran. She had no intention of staying small. The galaxy was vast, and she had her sights set on far more than just a sports empire. This was only the beginning.

As they made their way back to the ship, the neon lights of Nar Shaddaa flickering around them, Izela couldn't help but smile. She was going to turn the galaxy on its head. And no one - not the Hutts, not the Republic, not anyone - was going to stop her.

Because you couldn't fight her influence with a blaster, a slicer or a space battle - blow up her arenas and racetracks - she'd just race in a canyon like Tatooine and still rake in profits.

Entertainment never dies.

---

With Lucy,

While the others were enjoying Nar Shaddaa hospitality, Lucy was working on setting up the bare bones of the structure for their future enterprise.

The Holonet was nothing like dealing with the Black wall, and she found it disgustingly easy to set up a site that could be reached from anywhere with holo access, but couldn't be censored, banned, or hacked by the level of slicer she saw currently.

Izela had given her clear instructions, so the site would be operating both as a sort of Holo channel, where the videos or 'shows' of the future races, card tournaments, fighting games, and the eventual Olympiad could all be showcased - and as a betting site.

She'd connect to every bank and credit union in the galaxy, allowing sentients to bet from anywhere and with any kind of account in real time. The site would promise full anonymity, and while people wouldn't believe as much at first - eventually it would be proven correct. At which point Lucy suspected the legal betting companies of the galaxy would erupt in protest as their revenue started flowing away.

They would have legal sports of course as well, like Izela's crazy Blitzball idea. And the Olympiad didn't have any real criminal elements to it, as death was not allowed - so with the right palms greased, it might become legal as well. She had the short amusing thought over what would happen if the Jedi competed.

But from what little research she'd already done, that seemed unlikely, a wholly boring sect of people, those ones.

In all likelihood they'd eventually face them anyway. The betting companies were subsidiaries of some mega corp or another, Lucy sneering at the thought, not finding much difference between Arasaka and the likes of Czerka and the Commerce Guild and the like.

They'd have enough clout in the Senate to get Jedi sent after their new enterprise at some point, especially once they pointed out to the monks how much violence they showed off. Lucy smirked even as she continued to weave through the holonet, building their site up. The Jedi will have a hard time pinning Izela down on something illegal…

Lucy had already hidden Izela's ownership between so many layers not even a Jedi slicer would find anything. The words of the criminals that would work the ground for their pod races and other illegal works could hardly be taken to court.

Izela would openly own the legal enterprises, she'd be a sports and entertainment conglomerate CEO. Able to move amongst the elite of the galaxy during the day.

And behind the scenes, at night, she'd run everything else, with Lucy in the driver's seat. Having this much power at her fingertips, after a life of feeling like she'd balanced on a knife's edge… Was invigorating.

She finished the first layers of the new site, sighing as she realized due to the stupid separation, she'd have to create a wholly new site for the legal enterprise.

The thin curtain separating the two was in all seriousness paper thin, and everyone would realize Izela ran both, but legally they'd find nothing.

Twice the work for the same thing, she thought with a wry smirk.

Almost like being back home…

---

Author's note:

So just had a brain wave and cooked this up, let me know what you think.

Adding a bit cyberpunk into Star Wars just fit, and having Lucy around who's fought rogue AI behind the black wall and Arasaka intelligence and such - will make slicers all over the galaxy jealous of this new business empire's infoSec.

Hutts don't really give a fuck, if they can get entertainment and credits out of you, then go ahead, ventilate a goon or two, they have a thousand more. On Nar Shaddaa in particular the Hutts must lose dozens if not hundreds of goons all the time - if nothing else to just getting stabbed by a prostitute or something.

Now if they think they'll lose reputation because of who or what circumstances, then that's different… But here Ziro is coming out massively ahead in his opinion, so he has no reason to do anything else.

As for Palps, entrainment is beneath him, as long as she doesn't interfere with a plan of his, this won't even be on his radar as mattering the slightest.

Cheers

JollyHippopotamus

 

[JollyHippopotamus]

So dipping my toes into Cyberpunk, a world I didn't know shit about until I read Ghost in the City by Seras and later all of Brosef's stuff.

Seriously go read all of that shit, even if you know nothing about Cyberpunk it's totally worth it. For this snippet, you'll kind of have to have at least a loose knowledge of Cyberpunk to not get confused as I won't be explaining every term, gang, corp, etc.

So, I probably won't be back writing until the beginning of December. This was already finished two weeks back, just hadn't gotten to post it. Wife is still in the hospital so yeah, December seems likely. Fingers crossed.

Warning: this is effin' Night City. It has all the bad shit, and starts with mutilation, you have been warned.

Enjoy!

As usual, I don't own shit, please go watch/play/enjoy the original content for the preem shit.

---

His mind drifted up from a thick, murky darkness, the sound of raucous cheering and a heavy bass thrum pulsing through his head like a migraine made of sound. His body felt weighed down, each limb leaden and immovable, and he couldn't focus through the fog wrapping his thoughts. He managed to crack his eyes open, and the first thing he registered was a flickering, dim overhead light, struggling to stay on in a ceiling lined with exposed steel beams. Each flash cast distorted shadows across the rusted, battered interior of what seemed to be an old, gutted warehouse.

Groaning, he forced his eyes to adjust, taking in the scene around him. Figures, distorted by his hazy vision, loomed and swayed. His head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton, but he could make out a crowd packed close together, pressing in around something at the center of the warehouse. As his vision cleared, he realized it was a makeshift fighting pit, its chainlink fencing barely visible through the thick, shifting sea of bodies. The pit floor was stained dark - blood probably - fresh and old. In the gloom, people cheered, shouted, jeered, their faces lit by the sporadic flash of handheld neon lights, the scent of sweat, blood and shit heavy in the air. For some reason he thought the people in the crowd had more than two eyes, glowing red ominously, but that had to be his imagination.

He squinted, trying to make sense of the scene. Somewhere deep in his gut, unease coiled, his senses catching up to his situation piece by piece. He couldn't move, couldn't turn his head. His arms were strapped down, and his legs felt locked in place. He looked down and realized he was bound to a fucking dentist's chair or something, cracked leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles holding him fast. His hands flexed automatically, testing the bindings, but they held tight, worn but effective.

His head spun, a disorienting mix of confusion and nausea. "What… The hell?" He murmured, struggling to shake off the grogginess. This doesn't make sense, he thought, a strange pulse of clarity pushing through the fog. Things were beginning to click, the glowing eyes - optics, his mind supplied, the chair, a Ripperdoc chair, not a dentist's chair… Cyberpunk… It's a video game! Not real life! His mind latched onto the thought, clinging to it like a lifeline. Why did this dream feel so… Real? The thought was a weak comfort, a desperate hope that he was only dreaming. It had to be. Right?

No way was he really here, all that chrome, neon and crazy hairdos he saw… He was just dreaming it up, right? RIGHT!?

But then, a looming figure interrupted his thoughts, blocking out the flickering light as it leaned over him. Its face was grotesque, unmistakably Maelstrom. The man's skull was mostly metal plating and riveted edges, with a set of three red optics glaring down at him, gleaming like hungry, mechanical eyes. The bottom part of his face was a nightmare of scarring and wiring, flesh barely visible amongst the steel as the optics whirred in and out as if taking a better look at him.

"Look who's finally comin' to," The Maelstrom ganger cackled, leaning in close enough that the stench of his sour rotten breath washed over him. The ganger's smile was crooked, more a sneer than anything, he could see metal gleaming inside his mouth as well from how close it was to him. "Awake yet?" The Maelstrom taunted, and he could do nothing but watch as a needle-tipped injector appeared in the thing's hand, plunging it hard into his neck.

Pain flared for a moment, burning in his veins, cutting through the last of the fog in his head. He hissed between clenched teeth, feeling his vision sharpen abruptly. It was like a harsh, cold slap waking him up fully, even as he reeled from the sting in his neck and the burn all though his veins.

Shit, shit, shit! This isn't a dream!!

"What's going on?" He managed, his voice barely audible over the pounding music and the roar of the crowd, a steady pulse that matched the hammering of his heart. The sounds and lights were overwhelming, making it hard to concentrate.

The Maelstrom ganger leaned back, crossing his arms, his optics gleaming in their little dark corner away from the masses. He snorted, his tone dripping with mocking amusement. "What, got amnesia now, Rale?" He sneered, practically spitting the name. He laughed, as though it was the punchline to some joke he was sharing with himself.

"Rale?" The word felt foreign on his tongue, unfamiliar and wrong. It didn't sit right, like he was trying on someone else's name. That's not me, he thought, his confusion mounting. "That's not… I mean, is it?" He muttered, his thoughts spiraling. This had to be a dream. None of this made sense. Yet… If it was his dream, why wouldn't he use his own name?

Isekai fanfiction was a guilty pleasure of his! Not a fucking wish list! Horror was rising up as he felt sick, being in the grasp of Maelstrom was pretty much the worst thing that could happen… If this was real, he was so utterly fucked.

The ganger's face twisted, his brow furrowing as his sneer shifted to a scowl. He leaned down, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to look directly into his optics. The mechanical hand was rough, unforgiving, servos whirring with each small twitch of his grip. It wasn't a simple cyberhand he noticed, even through his growing horror and panic, feeling somewhat detached, like this was an out of body experience. It was specifically made, he suspected, to be able to grind and cut, the many mechanical parts marking it as cyberization meant for a purpose beyond just a hand.

"Don't give me that shit, Rale," He hissed, his voice low and dripping with barely restrained anger. "You think you're clever? You think you're gonna get out of this by pretendin' you don't know us, you gonkshit?" He tightened his grip, yanking harder. "Ain't gonna work, choom. You screwed us over. Ain't no memory loss gonna save you from payback."

"Payback?" Rale - because that was his name apparently - stared up, his heart pounding. The rough grip on his scalp, the smell of sweat and rust, the sensation of the leather straps digging into his wrists - all of it was vivid, too vivid to be a dream even if he still felt oddly calm somewhere beneath the immediate horror. There was a clenching in his gut, a gnawing unease that had started as doubt but was quickly evolving into fear. This felt all too real.

Yet somehow, even knowing where he was, he couldn't muster that fear up properly in the end, the feeling settling, which didn't seem like him at all. If there was any situation to piss yourself in, this was surely it? Was he drugged?

Scav Den, or Maelstrom Pit, there wasn't much difference, and either way, it didn't bode well for his extremely short life expectancy. He doubted he could count on a last minute save, he wasn't a protagonist… Not that… Being a protagonist actually helped in this setting.

How had he gotten here? What evil had he committed that he was to suffer such an aborted isekai experience? NTR was a trash fetish, but surely pounding the MILF next door while her husband was away wasn't enough for this fate? It was his only sin, really!

Fuck, that had practically been a public service! She'd been so thirsty he hadn't even had to try! Where was his reward for being such an upstanding citizen!?

He fruitlessly struggled against his bindings, if he wasn't allowed to feel proper fear for some damn reason, he was gonna feel angry, really fucking angry! Whoever put him in this situation was going to be flatlined with extreme prejudice!

Flatline? Why didn't I think kill? Wait, do I have… Memories?

He wasn't able to explore his new find however, as the Maelstrom who had been idly watching as some gonk got eviscerated to great cheers in the fighting pit, turned back to him. Rale could hear the guys cries for mercy, before they suddenly ended in a wet gurgle.

The Maelstrom ganger snorted, his expression a twisted mix of anger and satisfaction as he studied him. "Tch, lost fifty eddies on that brat, for sure thought he'd die in a more interesting way." A blade slowly slid out of the wrist of the hand holding his hair, hooked and sharp looking, it slowly pierced the skin around his scalp, cutting him up, seemingly just out of boredom. "Playin' dumb won't get you outta this, Rale. After kleppin' our chrome, thinkin' you could just walk away…" He laughed, a low, cruel sound that grated against his ears. The 'strom freak let go of his hair, shoving his head back against the chair with a rough jerk, making his vision spin for a moment, even as he bled freely from the jagged line drawn across his scalp.

The ganger leaned in close, his breath rancid, his optic glinting with menace. His metal-plated face stretched into a sneer that was pure malice, the scar tissue around his mouth pulling tight as he spoke, his voice dripping with dark glee.

"We're gonna see how much ya like it now, eh, meat?" He flexed his free hand, revealing a long, jagged saw sliding out from the forearm, its teeth gleaming faintly under the grimy warehouse lights. The whir of servos echoed, a prelude to the violence about to unfold.

Rale's heart thundered in his chest, his eyes widening as he watched the saw rev up, the serrated blade turning in slow, menacing rotations. The Maelstrom ganger leaned close, his grin widening, relishing in his look or comprehension.

"Ya wanted chrome, Rale…" He hissed, his voice almost gleeful as he loomed closer, the saw inches from his face, vibrating with an ominous hum. "Well, let's get you chipped, eh?"

---

There weren't proper words for it, not in any language Rale knew. It was a raw, unbearable torment, searing through his nerves and pounding through his mind, yet something kept him anchored, some calm flicker at his core that refused to let him drown. Even though the pain was nearly unimaginable, that flicker kept him from slipping completely into the chaos, holding him together enough to endure. But the agony… That was something he could neither control nor ignore, just survive.

The burning hatred that grew in his very soul for every cut, for every nerve screaming in agony, sustained him as well, fed him. Forced him to survive this butchery. He refused to give up, to let this monster who'd renounced his humanity win.

When the Maelstrom ganger, who finally introduced himself as Romeo, (what the fuck?) had begun his twisted 'procedure', Rale had been plunged into darkness from the get go, the first step the monster had gone for, scooping out his eyes, with clawed fingers, tittering about his useless meatware, and his one eye of civilian grade optics - to work with his internal agent - calling it just as trash as meatware.

The searing pain in his eye sockets, the twisted sensation of nerves being tampered with and left raw, had left him screaming, thrashing against the restraints as Romeo's sadistic chuckles filled the air. Darkness was all that greeted him, beyond the sounds of the raucous Maelstrom crowd - his vision had been taken first, his eyes replaced with the empty, aching void in his skull. Somehow it made everything so much worse.

"Don't worry," Romeo had purred in his ear, his tone mocking, almost playful, "I've got a nice half broken pair of shitty optics for you. Pulled 'em fresh out of a gonk joytoy who… Well, let's just say she didn't meet our standards. Shame about the waste, eh? Free pussy is free pussy." He snorted, clearly amused by his own joke. "Means we have a free Midnight Lady I could chip in, what do you say, Rale? Wanna be our little joytoy? It will keep you out of the pits… For a few hours."

Rale's mind twisted with fear and disgust as Romeo's words seeped into him, but he couldn't respond properly at the moment even if he wanted to. His throat was raw from screaming, his mind spiraling between the boundaries of pain and terror and then back again as something within him refused to sink further into fear and despair. He could only lie there, bound and blind, as Romeo continued talking, casually recounting his plans like they were the details of some leisurely afternoon. "Gotta save the optics for last, though, choom. Keep you in the dark a bit longer. Adds to the experience, doesn't it?"

Without warning, the cold, prickling sting of metal brushed against his arm. Rale's senses jolted to life, his instincts screaming as Romeo's tools began the work of severing and replacing. His arms were cut off first, the pain indescribable, he had to be under some sort of drug, because he didn't lose consciousness, even as he prayed for it.

Afterwards came the feeling of nerves being pulled and prodded with no sense of care or precision. Romeo worked quickly but carelessly, intentionally leaving connections half-finished, nerves exposed, the chrome barely attached. Pain shot through him like electric fire, twisting up from his new fingertips to his spine, jolting his body until he briefly, finally, passed out, the relief of unconsciousness mercifully shutting out the agony.

Whatever drug Romeo had been using hadn't lasted long for some reason, something he complained bitterly about, lamenting the ruination of his fun when his patients could just knock out on him.

The relief never lasted however. Every time he thought he could escape, the pain would tear him back into consciousness. Romeo would prod him awake, each return to awareness met with fresh shocks of torment as his arms were fitted and refitted, nerve by nerve. Each attachment was calculated to hurt, chrome forced onto bone and muscle in ways that only a sadist would enjoy.

They weren't meant to last. The fighting pit was pitting the already dying against each other for their amusement. The chrome would be repurposed, this agony, it was all just for fun.

"C'mon, don't tap out on me yet, choom," Romeo's voice called each time Rale stirred awake, words slick with the pleasure of his cruelty. "We're not even halfway done yet. Don't be a gonkpussy or I'll really install that Midnight Lady to make you match, although I'll have to do some interior decorating for ya to make that implant fit..."

By the time Romeo moved on to his legs, Rale could barely think, his mind numbed to everything but the pain. He tried to keep some focus, some faint hope that he'd wake from this nightmare, that he'd find himself back in his home, staring at the ceiling and realizing it was all some twisted, sick dream. But each jolt of pain, each press and pull of the chrome, dragged him back to reality, grounding him in a hell he couldn't escape.

Finally, after what felt like hours of torture, Romeo's voice broke through the haze again. "Alright, time to give you some sight, fresh meat," He taunted, his tone almost sounding… Aroused. The ache of new optics being jammed into place and haphazardly attached made Rale wince, but then - light. Dim and blurry at first, but light nonetheless.

When his vision finally settled, he forced himself to look down. His body was… unrecognizable. His arms and legs were exposed, raw chrome, barely connected, cheap parts bolted directly onto his skin in haphazard fashion. The plating around his new arms was crooked, exposed wires sparking faintly with each slight movement, while his legs looked like they'd been pulled from the cheapest, most outdated stockpile imaginable. Every shift, every attempt to move, sent spikes of sharp pain radiating up through his body.

Romeo leaned in close, his grinning face an inch from Rale's as he gave him a final once-over. "Not bad, right? Got some decent chrome on you now," He chuckled, slapping Rale's shoulder with mock camaraderie. "Those arms? Mantis blades in there, even if they're shit stock from a scrapyard. Think of 'em as a little going-away gift from yours truly."

He held up a Midnight Lady implant, some flesh still attached and hanging off in slimy bloody strips, giving it a forlorn look, "I'll save this for if you survive the first bout, something for you to look forward to chipping in, eh, Rale?"

Rale couldn't summon a response. His vision, though shaky and tinted with red, allowed him to see the mess of his own form, the mismatched and unpolished chrome now part of his body. But even through the pain, a low, simmering rage burned at the core of his mind. He'd remember this. Every taunt, every jab, every piece of this torment. If he survived, he'd repay Romeo for every single second of it.

He'd make his death legendary. He just had to survive. He had to. A piece of shit like this didn't deserve to walk away and keep breathing.

"Time to see if you can handle yourself with the upgrades," Romeo sneered, his voice dripping with cruel amusement as he reached down and unlatched the restraints. Rale's weakened arms barely responded, his legs trembling as they touched the floor. Romeo shoved him roughly toward the pit, his laughter echoing as Rale stumbled, struggling to catch himself on unsteady, glitchy legs. The pain flared anew with each step, his muscles twitching against the unstable chrome, but he forced himself forward, even as the world swam around him.

"Fresh meat, right here!" Romeo hollered to the crowd as Rale staggered toward the center of the pit. The ring of onlookers jeered, hollered, and some even threw taunts his way, the anticipation thick in the air. Romeo leaned over the edge of the pit, cackling, "Hundred eddies says he guts himself on those blades before his opponent even gets a hit in!"

Rale grit his teeth, barely able to focus as he staggered into the center. His arms, outfitted with the low-grade mantis blades, twitched and jerked, the blades themselves jutting from his arms like jagged claws, their dull sheen promising more harm than help. His legs shook, barely supporting his weight as he took one painful step after another, forcing himself not to collapse under the strain. His vision pulsed, the world flickering in and out as his mind struggled to stay connected, but he refused to go down. Not yet.

He wasn't sure he'd survive this, not with the mess of cheap cyberware now holding his body together, in fact he was almost sure he wouldn't. The odds were stacked against him - his own arms could do as much damage to him as to anyone else. But as he breathed in, forcing himself to hold on, he felt that steady calm settle over him again. Holding him steady, keeping the panic at bay.

Did whoever he used to be have bioware or something? Something to figure out if… No when, he survived this.

Rale tightened his jaw, a fierce resolve burning behind his new eyes. If he survived this, if he somehow made it out of this pit alive, he'd remember every detail of what had been done to him. Every scream Romeo had laughed through, every taunt, every jab. He'd carve it into his memory, fuel it with the agony still wracking his body.

"Keep walking, fresh meat," Romeo taunted again as he paused for a moment, but Rale barely registered it now. His focus tunneled, narrowing to a single, unwavering thought.

They'll all die.

Every single Maelstrom in Night City. I'll kill them all.

...

Rale stumbled forward, the chaotic roar of the Maelstrom crowd washing over him as he staggered into the absolute center of the fighting pit. The pit itself was nothing but a five foot deep circular area carved out of the cracked concrete floor, surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence and flooded with harsh, flickering lights. The smell of stale beer and smoke hung thick in the air, along with the metallic tang of sweat and blood mixed with the scent of shit and piss. There were still two bodies laying in the pit, just carelessly tossed to the side. The crowd leaned forward, packed against the fence, jeering and shouting, already tossing cigarettes and empty cans over the edge as they waited for the fight to begin.

Across from him, a straw haired woman who might once have been beautiful, stepped into the pit. Rale's stomach twisted as he took her in, the sight even more jarring through the shaky red-tinged vision of his new, subpar optics. Her skin was pallid, her eyes hollow, barely reflecting the lights around them. She was equipped with mismatched chrome like his, but her augments seemed even more patched-together, rusted and brutal in their functionality. Her arms, too, held low-grade mantis blades - machined together by the 'strom it appeared, definitely not Corpo or Mil grade, the dull steel catching the flickering lights as she moved with a slow, dragging determination. Scars ran across her exposed skin, giving him an idea of what she'd endured here.

Pity warred in his gut with his survival instincts. He couldn't afford to care, but perhaps him winning here… Would be a mercy for her at this point anyway.

The woman's eyes met his, and for a moment, Rale glimpsed something beyond the brutality and pain, a trace of the person she might have once been, as if the woman was asking for something. But whatever it was, it was buried deep moments later, replaced by a grim, exhausted resolve that told him she wasn't going down without a fight, probably the only thing she could still control here. Unlike him, she definitely seemed like she'd been here awhile too.

That did not bode well for him if he won...

"Fucking gonk got his hands full now! Joy's gonna fuck him up!" A voice hollered from the edge of the pit, laughter and jeers erupting as a bottle smashed against the fence near Rale's head, showering him with a spray of stale smelling beer.

"Joy's always more frisky in the ring after an assfuck, she'll definitely win!" Another added in a bellow, laughing like a hyena as other gangers added on to the filth, calling out all the things she apparently 'loved'.

Romeo added his own two ennies, "Hah, you pussy ass gonks, it's not called an assfuck when it's a dozen guys in a row!" He tossed a can of something, splashing Joy in the face, the woman not even flinching, "It's called a Smashing."

Rale clenched his jaw, forcing himself to ignore the barrage of insults and debris being hurled his way, and the filth they were spewing, he didn't want to think too much about it, or he'd lose this fight on sympathy alone... His muscles ached with every movement, the nerves in his arms and legs sparking with erratic pain as the poorly fitted chrome lagged just slightly behind each thought. He barely had control of his new limbs, and the weight of them felt foreign, dragging him down as he struggled to stay upright.

The woman moved first, her eyes hollow and dead as she raised her arm and lunged. Her mantis blade swung through the air, the sharp edge whistling as it sliced down toward his shoulder. Rale's instincts screamed, and he twisted to the side, the blade missing him by a hair's breadth. But the motion was clumsy, his legs struggling to balance under him, and he nearly stumbled as he dodged.

"C'mon, choom! Don't dance, fight!" Someone from the crowd shouted, the taunt followed by a can that glanced off his back, sending a ripple of dull pain through his torso even as motor oil, from the smell of it, splashed all over him.

"Those who fuck with Maelstrom, get FUCKED!" Romeo roared out, to loud cheers, before he yelled out, "C'mon Rale, trip and slice yourself up already, I put eddies on you to fuck up, you fuckup!"

Rale grit his teeth, focusing on his opponent as she advanced again, her steps unsteady but steadier then his. He shifted back, keeping his distance, trying to anticipate her movements, but his own arms twitched with every small adjustment, the half-attached nerves protesting with every swing. He managed to dodge a second blow, the blade grazing his chest but sparing him a direct hit.

As he backed away, he could see the strain in her eyes, the last remnants of her strength barely holding her together. Her movements were robotic, almost mechanical, yet with each lunge, her breath came harder, her expression growing more strained. She was fighting not just against him, but against the weight of her own broken body.

Despite all his agony, he was coming fresh to this fight, she'd obviously suffered in more than one so far, plus… She'd obviously been forced to endure more while not fighting too, which took its toll.

The crowd had no sympathy for either of them, although they did seem to be more on her side. They howled, shouted, and threw whatever they had at the edge of the pit. "Slice him open, Joy!" A tinny electronic voice yelled, followed by raucous laughter as someone tossed a half-finished drink into the pit, splattering the ground, and them, with dark liquid. The woman's face showed no recognition of any of this, but she did begin moving again, her gaze locked on Rale.

With a low, almost animal-like cry, she lunged again, this time catching him with her greater speed. He tried to twist out of the way, but his new chrome lagged, the connection between thought and action just a beat too slow. Her blade found its mark, piercing into his shoulder, sending a jagged wave of pain radiating down what was left of his flesh arm. He bit back a shout, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth as he stumbled backward, biting right through his lip, his hand instinctively trying to go to the wound in his shoulder, glitching out before getting there.

The blade hadn't gone too deep, but the sharp pain was enough to rattle him, the dull ache throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He could feel the crowd's excitement surging as they cheered for the woman, jeering at his misstep, their voices a relentless roar in his ears.

"Get him, Joy!" One of the gangers shouted, slapping the chain-link fence with his metal hand. "Show the fresh meat how it's done! Fuck it until it screams!"

"You gonk, that's what we're doing to her after!" Another laughed.

She hesitated for a brief moment, her gaze flickering to the crowd, but whatever flicker of hesitation she might have felt disappeared as quickly as it came. She charged forward again, her steps faltering in weakness, but still moving forward. Rale barely had time to steady himself still due to his shit cyberware, his own blades extending reflexively from his arms in a sluggish, jerky motion.

He managed to parry her next swing, his mantis blades clashing with hers in a shower of sparks, the impact vibrating up his arm as he struggled to maintain his balance. The strain was palpable, his body quivering under the weight of his chrome as he fought to keep his footing, the exertion only adding to the chaos inside him.

His opponent's attacks began to slow however, her movements growing less coordinated, each step heavier than the last. Rale could see the toll it was taking on her, the way her limbs shook, her breathing ragged and uneven. Her mechanical habitual resolve was still there, but her body was betraying her, her endurance faltering under the strain of her battered chrome and the ravages her body had undergone.

In a moment of desperation, as his own stamina was nearing its end, he lunged forward at this chance, his blade slicing down in a broad, sweeping motion. His dull mantis blade struck her arm catching some exposed wiring, catching her off guard as her arm faltered, she staggered, her expression one of momentary confusion and pain, as if her body had simply given up on her will as her arm spazzed on her.

Before she could recover, Rale swung his blade again, aiming lower, catching her side with just enough force to throw her off-balance, the tip just sharp enough to pierce, drawing blood. She stumbled back, her footing unsteady, and he pressed forward, his own breaths coming in desperate gasps as he tried to end it. He didn't want to hurt her, she was as much a victim as he was, worse actually, and he could see the flickering light in her eyes, the last scraps of a person who hadn't chosen this life - but just as her, he was left with no other choice.

He'd avenge her, he would find a way. He'd find out who she was. Who she'd been, before these demons had taken her. One day, he'd get these Maelstrom, all of them. And she would rest in peace.

With one last move, he struck her across the neck, dragging the only sharp part of his blade across it, opening up a red smile, sending her to the ground, her body crumpling as her energy gave out. She slumped to the floor of the pit, her eyes fluttering as her life slipped away, he thought she looked thankful.

Perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

Rale staggered back, his legs barely holding him upright as he fought to catch his breath. His shoulder throbbed where she'd struck him, the wound a gnawing ache to add to all the others, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind, his focus shifting to his own survival. The crowd was roaring, a mix of cheers and boos filling the air, and he could feel the eyes of the Maelstrom gangers boring into him, their anticipation hanging heavy as they awaited the next move.

Romeo's voice cut through the chaos, laced with mockery. "Fresh meat actually survived! Hell, didn't even cut himself with those fucking blades," He sneered, his laughter echoing across the pit. "Guess I lost that hundred eddies." His laughter took on a more sinister quality, "Guess I gotta chip ya in and charge five eddies a pop and make it back, heh! Especially with Joy lost…"

"She's still warm, we can still have a go!" Another 'strommer laughed, grabbing his junk.

Rale forced himself to look up, meeting Romeo's gaze across the pit, a fire smoldering in his eyes. Every fiber of his being ached, his body was beaten and battered, his limbs barely responding. But he was still standing, and somewhere deep down, a fierce, stubborn determination kept him from giving in.

Before he could even attempt to do anything, not that he had any idea of what, a thick pipe slammed into his forehead, sending him down to his knees, his vision whiting out.

Through the din, he could barely hear the roar, "Hey! Don't break the gonk until I get my hundred eddies back, woman!"

...

Rale's eyes flickered open, barely able to make sense of the world around him. His body felt like it had been dragged through hell and back, every muscle screaming, every bone bruised. The dim light above him cast uneven shadows across his vision, its buzzing hum mingling with the muffled noise around him. His ears picked up bits and pieces - jeers, cheers, the unmistakable throb of heavy bass that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.

Oh right, I'm still here… The fighting pit.

He could barely focus, the hit to his head seemed to be the last straw, his body not able to shake it off.

The crowd was still there, surrounding the fighting pit like a pack of rabid animals. Rale could barely keep himself upright even as he weakly stood back up again, his knees threatening to buckle with every step as he took in the scene. His cyberlimbs were already strained to their limit, and his entire body screamed for rest. But even through the haze of exhaustion, he couldn't ignore the sudden shift in the crowd's energy.

It started with a few murmurs, faces turning, eyes widening as a disturbance rippled through the mass of bodies around him. He could just make out someone yelling over the din, voice rising in a strangled cry, "Edgerunners!"

Before he could process the words, he watched in shock as some of the Maelstrom members began twitching, their bodies convulsing as if struck by an electric current. Sparks erupted from their cyberware, and several of them dropped to their knees, scrambling to regain control as more shouts filled the air, gunshots now audible over the music and screams.

Rale staggered, his vision blurring, but his instincts told him to drop. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, collapsing just as the first gunshots erupted in his vicinity. Bullets tore through the air, filling the warehouse with deafening noise as Edgerunners surged into the scene, ambushing the Maelstrom with an unrestrained appetite for violence. The fighting pit provided a small haven, its lowered position shielding Rale from the storm of bullets that sliced through the air above him.

The Maelstrom gang responded with chaotic fury, returning fire with an uncoordinated, frantic barrage. He could hear them shouting orders, barking curses as they tried to hold their ground. Somewhere through the blur, he caught a glimpse of one of the Edgerunners - a black towering figure of a woman, cackling madly as she unloaded two shotguns, cyberarms bulging with muscle and mechanical reinforcement as she handled the brutal recoil with ease. Her laughter echoed above the chaos, mingling with the screams and the rapid-fire of automatic weapons.

The world around Rale spun as his vision narrowed, his heartbeat fading to a dull thud in his ears. His mind struggled to keep up, the sheer sensory overload pounding at him from all sides. Bodies fell, figures collapsed in heaps, blood splattering across the concrete as the floor became a battlefield. And then, just as he tried to pull himself up, his strength gave out, and darkness swallowed him whole.

---

The first thing he noticed as he drifted back into consciousness was the faint hum as a system notification flashing in his vision.

You have slept/been unconscious for eight hours. Your state has been restored.

Rale blinked, the words hovering before him like some surreal hallucination, only to disappear after a few moments. He shook his head, struggling to make sense of it, but his disorientation was quickly interrupted by a scream nearby. His vision cleared, and he found himself staring up at a tired-looking man in a worn uniform, deep bags under his eyes, who scrambled backward, nearly tripping over himself.

"What the fuck, Hernandez? You chicken shit gonk!" A sharp, angry voice yelled from somewhere nearby. "Pick up your pussy and keep working!"

Said man, apparently named Hernandez, holding what he recognized as a Unity in a shaky grip, pointed at him, glared over his shoulder, shouting, "Fuck you, Roger! One of the damn corpses just fucking opened its eyes!"

Another person, a female, called out caustically, "That happens when you face fuck a corpse, aren't ya used to it?"

A shiver ran down Rale's spine as he looked around. He was lying in a pile of bodies, half-buried among bloodied corpses, the remnants of the brutal fight surrounding him. His optics automatically picked out details - the faces frozen in death, the glint of chrome that the bodies had yet to be stripped of - his optics highlighting them down to what brand they were and the state they were in. He fought back a wave of nausea, the remembered horror of the situation settling in and disappearing just as quickly, as he realized he had somehow survived the massacre.

To his disappointment, there weren't nearly enough dead Maelstrom laying around.

He looked at Hernandez again, this time paying more attention to the small icon that popped up in his vision, identifying the man as a worker for Night City's meat wagons, the scavenge crews who collected the dead from crime scenes and likely stripped them of any valuable chrome if they happened to have any still by that point. Rale swallowed, his throat dry as sandpaper. Everything was real… He'd been in a fight pit, forced to brawl with a cyber-enhanced killer, chromed up against his will, and left for dead. And now the meatwagon crew was here, ready to pick apart the leftovers.

A horrible thought clicked in his mind - they must have assumed he was just another corpse. How close had he been to just having his chrome ripped out of him and bleeding to death.

And why did he feel fine?

The man named Roger, a bulky, cyber-jawed bruiser with a scowl permanently etched into his face - literally - it was etched into his cheap cyberjaw, giving him an almost cartoonish look - stepped closer, eyes narrowed. Behind him stood two others, another man and a woman, both eyeing Rale with suspicion, their hands twitching near their weapons.

Rale raised his hands slowly, keeping his movements measured, trying not to provoke them. "Yo… I really gotta pick my nap spots better," He quipped, his voice hoarse but laced with a half-hearted attempt at humor.

He wasn't sure what the proper way to introduce himself was in this situation, wary that he wasn't out of the woods yet.

He'd played the game, watched the anime, even knew some of the old lore. He knew odds were slim that he'd run into some good Samaritans, even if they worked for the city government. Or should he say - especially as they worked for the city government.

Hernandez gaped at him, disbelief written across his face as his Unity lowered slightly. But Roger, clearly not one for jokes, kept his iron trained, suspicion blazing in his eyes. "You Maelstrom?" He demanded, his grip tightening. He eyed Rale's extensive chrome, clearly trying to gauge how much of it was gang-issued.

Rale held his hands steady, shaking his head slowly. "Not Maelstrom. They… Uh, let's just say they forcibly upgraded me last night." His eyes flickered to the bodies around him. "Why else would I be here, half-buried in this mess?"

Although why I'm alive and well instead of dying from shitty chrome installation and a weakened body and immune system… That message earlier… Could it be…?

Roger snorted, spitting off to the side, interrupting his thoughts. "You think I was born yesterday, you lying piece of shit?" His tone dripped with skepticism and rancor, his gaze cold and calculating. Rale knew that look - the look of a man weighing his options, deciding if he was worth the trouble to take down.

Rale grimaced, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "I don't think much of anything right now," He muttered, trying to keep his voice calm, but he couldn't ignore the tension in the air. He felt a pit in his stomach, the same sickening dread that had hit him before the fight last night. In Night City, that feeling rarely boded well. "Look, let's just all walk away, alright? Everyone gets a happy ending…"

Hernandez watched his boss warily, glancing between Rale and Roger. "What do we do, Roger?" He asked, voice uncertain.

Roger's eyes narrowed further, leering at Rale with a mixture of distrust and greed. "Look at that chrome, you gonk! No way that was done last night, the gonkshit is lying - it's not preem shit, but it would fetch a few hundred eddies each at least…" He trailed off, clearly sizing up Rale's cyberware, assessing its quality.

Hernandez's eyes narrowed as well, a glimmer of suspicion flickering across his face. "Now that you say it…" He raised his Unity again, this time aiming directly at Rale. "There's not even a sign of rejection. No swelling, no scars… Nothing."

Roger's expression twisted into a cruel smile, his intentions obvious. "Report said all witnesses and victims were deceased," He drawled, eyes glinting with malice. "Now we can't argue with the reports, can we, team?"

Rale felt his stomach drop. He was trapped, barely able to process the situation, and now they were about to execute him just to clean up loose ends and get their hands on his chrome. His muscles tensed, the same primal survival instinct that had helped him survive the pit flooding back.

As Hernandez and Roger pulled their triggers, he moved. Fucking Night City, of course these motherfuckers wouldn't give me a break, he thought, even as he moved.

He felt his body respond in ways he hadn't expected, his cyberlegs kicking into overdrive, suddenly working perfectly, propelling him sideways in a powerful leap that sent him clear of the first few shots. The shots whizzed past, narrowly missing as he tumbled through the pile of discarded chrome and bodies, his hands instinctively grabbing onto a torn cyberarm lying amidst the wreckage.

Without missing a beat, he flung the metal arm like a frisbee, catching Hernandez's hand with some amazing luck, and knocking the Unity from his grip with a heavy, metallic clang. Hernandez cursed, stumbling back in surprise, clutching his injured hand.

Rale spun, his cyber-boosted feet and legs turning his movements into almost a blur as he moved again. Roger, recovering from the surprise, stepped forward, raising his gun, but Rale closed the distance in an instant with a leap, avoiding the fire from the other two that just barely whizzed by. His augmented arm shot forward, mantis blades now gleaming and razor sharp, stabbing the man right in the gut slicing right in with the power assisted by his leap. Roger doubled over, his gun slipping from his grasp as he stumbled back, gasping for breath, desperately trying to hold on to his intestines as they tried to slip out.

Hernandez was rushing for his fallen weapon, but Rale moved first. He snatched up a twisted hunk of scrap from the floor - a shattered, rusted fragment of a cyber-limb that the crew had obviously discarded as not worth anything - and threw it - his optics showing him the ideal trajectory, assisting him. It struck Hernandez's shoulder, forcing him away from his gun, the impact enough to knock him off balance, as his hand clasped around Rogers gun, a Lexington his optics told him, helpfully adding that it had six rounds left in the magazine.

To his embarrassment, it took five shots - even with his optics aid - to actually hit Hernandez, the fifth shot finally taking the man in the back of the head as he kept running in zig zag patterns away from him, all the while he was propping Roger up as a shield with his other arm, making him take the gun fire from the other two.

The two remaining meatwagon crew members exchanged alarmed glances when Hernandez fell, their eyes darting between Rale and Roger and Hernandez' dead bodies. They raised their weapons again, but Rale moved first, his ankles felt almost like springs as he bounced up and above his corpse shield, rushing the two who panicked and shot their last shots a mile wide.

Rale could feel the powerful surge of his cybernetic enhancements propelling him forward, each step and swing precise, calculated. His optics flashed information as he moved, highlighting weak points and the trajectory of their guns, giving him an edge he hadn't expected. What the fuck was this? Weren't his optics supposed to be shit?

The woman was frantically reloading, even as her male compatriot stepped in front of her and drew a knife. Rale lined his shot up, helped by paying attention to what his optics showed him, lining up the proper trajectory.

The woman flopped to the ground, her gun and ammo clattering onto the concrete floor as he nailed her between the eyes in a splatter of blood. Before he threw the now empty gun at the lone man remaining.

The last meatwagon crew member had taken a hesitant step back, his eyes wide, knife trembling in his grip. Rale could see the fear in his eyes as he barely dodged aside of the thrown gun, it was too late for him to turn back now. Rale surged forward, closing the distance with a few powerful strides.

Then, with just a thought, his Mantis blades popped out, and he crossed his arms in an x in front of the man, severing his head in an explosion of blood, his own eyes widening at just how effectively the Mantis blades cut now, even as he danced away from the blood raining down.

He still thought Mantis blades were fucking stupid compared to a projectile launcher, because why get in close when you could blow someone away? But he'd have to re-examine everything he thought he knew, now that it wasn't a game anymore…

Breathing heavily, Rale scanned the scene around him, finding no more threats. Rale felt the adrenaline ebbing, the hum of his augmented limbs gradually settling. His heart pounded in his chest, the realization hitting him all over again: he wasn't just alive, he was changed. His hands were steady, his mind clear, each movement precise and deliberate. The chrome they'd forced onto him was fully integrated and working…

He knew things were weird. There was no doubt about it now. The forced calmness under pressure, healing up from what should have been lethal, with how shittily his chrome had been installed…

"Status," He mumbled experimentally, and a small window popped up in his vision, just three small blurbs filling the screen.

Gamer's Mind.

Gamer's Body.

Inventory.

Rale frowned, muttering a few more things to see if anything new would pop up, but nothing happened. It was just those three. Options, stats, menu, log out. None of them showed anything.

It appeared he only had these three things. Two of which were responsible for him surviving what shouldn't have been possible.

Gamer's Body was straightforward. It kept him in prime physical condition, regenerating fully after eight hours of sleep or unconsciousness. He also apparently had immunity to harmful toxins and various debilitating conditions - a convenient perk in a city that loved to spike drinks and dose people with all kinds of drugs against their will.

The fact it apparently also correlated to chrome, was the big thing. His Mantis blades and the rest of his chrome had been rusty pieces of shit - his optics half destroyed and malfunctioning. Yet his 'rest' had not only healed up and adjusted his body to fit perfectly with his chrome, it had restored his chrome too.

That… Was absolutely bonkers, and he loved it.

If he was going to be stuck in this dystopian world, this edge, this alone, would give him something worth more than any other three skills combined.

It was Gamer's Mind, though, that felt like the real deal. The blurb under it was brief, but it spoke of more than just a calm head under pressure. Immunity to mental manipulation, immunity to cyberpsychosis, and more importantly, unhackable. Rale took a deep breath as he read it again. He was unhackable, his mind off-limits to anyone trying to pry into his thoughts or fry his brain through his chrome. No netrunner could take him down from a distance, no virus could turn him into a mindless husk. That, in this world, was power.

It didn't mean he was some preem netrunner all of a sudden. Nor that he was an Edgerunner just because he managed to zero some meat wagon scrubs. He didn't have any of the skills necessary. Yet.

But this would ensure he'd survive to get the skills. No netrunner could fry him, get in his head, his chrome. Anything short of outright killing him, he could sleep off, even if he was unconscious it apparently counted. He'd heal right back up. Even his chrome would heal right back up.

These two things by themselves were advantages for this world worth more than all of Arasaka to him.

He was here. He had no way back, wouldn't even know how to start. He'd worked a normal 9-5, done the family thing, sacrificed his life on the mantle of responsibility, raised two kids to almost adulthood, and a dog, never having time to enjoy life. Just live it in a montage of one day in a cubicle being the same as the next, drudgery everlasting. Never choosing himself first.

Hence why he'd immersed himself into games like Cyberpunk 2077. To feel like he mattered, like he could let loose, do whatever, just enjoy. No responsibilities. And let loose some frustration on just flatlining some gonks.

Before Cyberpunk, it had been GTA. Just a necessary destresser for him, to feel like he could let loose somewhere, not have to care about anything, sacrifice himself some more. Killing shit was therapeutic, who knew?

This world was also shit, granted.

This world was also an opportunity.

Maybe he'd be flatlined within a year. But fuck, if that year wasn't spent in a cubicle? Maybe it was worth it. Especially if he went out taking out some Maelstrom…

Living on the edge… He knew it was destined for failure. But even failure could beat out another forty years of drudgery.

He'd miss his kids but they were old enough they'd be alright now, his wife had left long enough ago to begin with, leaving him more of the responsibility with none of the benefits, so got nothing to miss there, he'd miss his dog though... His kids better take care of that old bastard for him…

He eyed the last line in his bare status. Inventory.

"Inventory." He said, eyes growing wide as a field of small little blue boxes expanded in front of his vision, seemingly going on endlessly. He checked the top of the boxes, only to find an infinity symbol instead of a number.

He had unlimited inventory…

Screw complaining about only getting these three things. This was fucking amazing!

He eyed the many, many corpses around him. And all the guns, ammo, chrome. The Edgerunners who'd kicked Maelstrom out of here had been retarded. Who left this many eddies behind? He eyed the Ripperdoc chair that was still there… I wonder if I can fit that inside too…

He put a hand down on one of the corpses, and with just a thought, it disappeared, a quick check now showed he had a box with a corpse in it, zooming in on that particular box, it even laid out in text what he had on him.

A set of optics, another knife, 178 eddies, an agent, and his uniform… And… A vibrating butt plug. That had been inside him as he worked...

Fucking Night City…

With just a thought, he attempted to separate the chrome, and he found himself staring at a box with a corpse in it, and a box with two eyes and some neural ware in it. Oh, oh! He could separate chrome without risking destroying them or scrapping the value with a bad cut here and there!

He loved this!

He moved efficiently as he inventoried every body, piece of equipment and supplies in the warehouse, wary of the chance the NCPD might show if the wagon took too long to report in. Thankfully any possible trackers should be useless in his inventory space, not that he saw any when he checked. To his pleasure, the Ripperdoc chair did fit. So he klepped that too.

He also took the time to klep Hernandez clothes from under his uniform, they were too small for him, but as he'd simply been headshot, they had the least amount of blood on them. His own… Were disgusting to say the least. He also klepped Rogers Lexington and it's holster, feeling better with some iron on him, reloading it with some of the multitude of ammo that was now in his inventory.

Clad in a simple pair of jeans and a tight black tee, as well as a simple brown jacket he found on one of the dead 'fighters' that wasn't too filthy, he left the warehouse. Once outside, he took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs, grounding him slightly from all the shit he'd just gone through. Night City's skyline loomed above, the towers glimmering in neon, looking just as the memories that kept trickling in suggested they should, as if nothing had happened, as if the world hadn't just shifted entirely for him. He knew he'd have to move carefully, plan his next steps if he wanted to survive here. His chrome was too visible to even pretend to be some normal guy, and he'd made more enemies in a single night than most could handle in a lifetime.

At least once Maelstrom realized he was alive anyway. With only about a dozen Maelstrom corpses to add to his inventory - none of them the one he really wanted to get at - he knew most of them had made it out of that fight.

In a way he was glad. He wanted to have a chat with Romeo one day after all.

He adjusted his jacket, the weight of his newfound chrome feeling both strange and strangely right.

He'd have to figure out his next steps once he got situated. His memories were beginning to really make themselves known, probably why he was using the vernacular so easily already.

His eyes didn't seem to be the shitty pair Maelstrom had thought they were either. So he'd have to figure that out as well, and likely earn some eddies to upgrade his arms and legs, which were not exactly top of the line.

Especially as he was still definitely ambivalent on the Mantis blades as a stupid gimmick. At least without speedware.

---

North side, Watson, Night City.

Rale trudged through the dingy hallways of the megabuilding, barely noticing the flickering, jaundiced lights overhead. The building reeked of musty air, garbage, shit, and the faint metallic tang that clung to the walls from a thousand modifications, repairs, and quick-fix jobs. As he made his way toward his apartment, he could hear the soundscape of the building around him; muffled voices shouting in languages he didn't know, a few doors down someone was playing loud, pounding synth-metal, and from somewhere else, the distinct hum of machinery - a tattoo gun, probably. The megabuilding was a stacked maze of steel and crumbling concrete, grimy with decades of filth, a thousand mismatched lives piled on top of one another like discarded junk.

This place was in Watson's fringes in North Side. The megabuilding, like many in Night City, was a world of its own, an ecosystem of the desperate and the dangerous crammed together in concrete hives where life churned along just above the edge of survival. These towers had once been cheap housing projects tossed up after Arasaka ate a nuke, a quick measure to deal with the many displaced citizens.

Now, they were something else - a place where people sank or swam, a purgatory for the powerless, where the rent was cheap - everything else wasn't - and safety was practically decided by dumb luck. Rale remembered only moving in a few months ago, but the building already felt claustrophobic, the grey-green concrete pressing in from every side, the staircases and hallways all blurring together in endless grime.

Druggies and the hopeless found in corners passed out, or masturbating to a BD, or sometimes just plain without one, no one giving a care to who saw or what anyone would think. People didn't live here by choice, this place was filled up simply because there wasn't anywhere cheaper in Watson. The only reason they were safe from the predatory practices of scavs and the like - the fact there was almost no chrome around, half the people in this building working the same factory jobs he had been doing for ennies since he was 13. He was 22 now, and had never gotten any further ahead.

Even the scavs had some standards, and this megabuilding was below theirs. There just wasn't enough eddies in it for them. There wasn't even any point in harvesting most gonks' organs, as drugged up as the majority of people were here. No chrome, no valuable meat, no prospects. You had to be pretty shit to have even scavs turn their noses up at you.

When he finally reached his apartment door, he keyed in his entry code - this place wasn't good enough to have bioscanners. The door scraped along the dirty floor, swinging open to reveal the 'home' he'd come to know according to his memories. It wasn't much to look at, not surprisingly. The main room was barely wide enough to fit a cot-sized bed, shoved up against the wall beneath a crackling, dying neon light. A beat-up metal desk occupied one corner, covered in XBD's and BD's, a few crumpled beer cans, and a half-dead fan sputtering in vain against the humidity. The walls were lined with peeling, damp-stained wallpaper in a sickly yellow, and the sole window was grimed over, leaving the room cast in a perpetual, sickly twilight.

The apartment wasn't much better when it came to amenities. The 'kitchen' - a loose term - was a single countertop in the corner with a small fridge that hadn't worked right in weeks and a sink that spat out water that was barely filtered from the megabuildings toilets. The bathroom, if it could be called that, held nothing but a rust-stained toilet you had to pay to flush and a trickling shower with only cold water, which also had to be prepaid per minute. Even the mirror above the sink was cracked, barely reflecting anything clearly.

Rale found himself looking at that mirror a bit differently tonight however. He wandered over, leaning down to catch a glimpse of himself, and took stock of the face looking back. Rale Cox, or at least, the body of Rale Cox, not that he saw a point in trying to go by a different name. Short dark-red hair, cropped unevenly, maybe even done with a pair of dull scissors. His face wasn't bad-looking in the traditional sense - it was rugged, the kind of face built for a tough city like this one. He had a strong, masculine jawline, covered in day-old stubble, and a jagged scar that slashed across his nose, giving him a bit of that worn, streetwise look that most men in Night City carried after a few years.

But his new eyes… Those were what held his attention. A golden ring around a burnished gold iris. His optics were impossibly sharp now that his ability had fixed them and their attachment to him. And he wondered if they'd been broken so badly they hadn't even checked it, and that was why Maelstrom had thought they were shit.

Because as far as he could tell, he could easily scan shit, the optics picking up bullet trajectories from where a gun was facing, able to tell him how much was in a mag, without a smart link, and all of that was way better than the civilian grade cheap ass eye his body had managed to save up for before. How the fuck, and why the fuck - did a joytoy have this?

What meat he had left was basically prime human condition, probably thanks to Gamer's Body, he was a beefcake to say the least. He idly checked inside his pants, whistling. Yep, beefcake. He definitely hadn't been this fit before. Although from his memories, at least the dick was a Rale original, his only good quality it seemed.

As his gaze trailed across his body, his eyes fell on his chrome, which was hard to ignore. Both his arms and both his legs, all upgraded with cyberware, each joint moving with the almost inaudible shift of mechanics as he flexed his hands and shifted his stance. There was no attempt to cover the chrome - no realskinn to make it look natural. It was raw, brutal, exposed metal. Rale knew exactly how it had gotten there, but somehow seeing it still felt foreign. Like staring at a stranger in his own skin.

He pulled back, shivering as the feeling of the chrome pulsed through him as he stretched his shoulders, pulling on the connection. This was a permanent marker, a reminder that the Night City he had only seen in games or media was real now, and he was part of it in ways he'd never expected. And now that he'd survived long enough to think clearly, the memories of this life he'd landed in were beginning to surface more vividly, piecing themselves together like fragments of a hazy dream.

He didn't like what he saw.

Although from what he'd seen of the apartment his feet had led him too, he'd immediately been aware he hadn't been well off by any measure.

The truth was, he had been reincarnated into a complete gonk. There was no way around it. Rale Cox had been a factory grunt with barely a mod to his name, scraping by on night shifts and spending what little he had on joytoys and BD's - and eventually his one eye - because he couldn't afford two. Like everyone else in this building who had given up on anything better, his life was utterly pointless. The only stroke of luck he'd had was a twisted one - an encounter with a dead ripperdoc and a stash of chrome he would have never have been able to afford in a lifetime.

What a stroke of luck, it had landed him where he was now…

Rale almost laughed, though the story was so moronic it was almost tragic. He'd remembered now, piece by piece, the reckless, idiotic choice that had landed him here. The old Rale had come across a dead Ripperdoc by complete chance.

He'd been out drinking with a co-worker, and the man had gotten a gut shot from a random drive by, from some gangoons. Only because he knew a Ripperdoc was around the corner had he even bothered to drag his choom there.

Only to find the doc dead, his patient equally dead. The two having fired several shots into each other from the look of the scene.

A thick metal vault door leaned open, the security turret inactive, the doc obviously having trusted the man he was going to chip in - if he opened it in front of him.

A mistake, obviously.

Don't trust anyone in Night City.

Seeing the windfall, and happening to know a guy, who knew a guy, who had a number to Maelstrom - he'd made the terrible decision to try to profit off it by selling the info to Maelstrom. When they paid him for the location after he'd sent the deets of the chrome stash, including pics. Rale should've called it a day. But no - he'd gotten greedy, figured he could milk it further by selling the information twice, without considering that Night City's sharks were always listening.

Or how fucking stupid double crossing Maelstrom was.

All the calls he was making, all the chooms he was asking for contact information for other people. All that noise drew attention. Every single choom had likely sold him out immediately too. Deservedly so considering he was making these calls while his choom bleed out at his feet.

Never trust anyone in Night City.

A gang had come before Maelstrom made it, quite the achievement since they were in Maelstrom territory - and Rale had fled out the back before even bothering to ID who was coming to take the shit. Which meant when Maelstrom rolled up on an empty stash, Rale couldn't even appease them with who had it now. And having already had ten thousand eddies transferred over when he flicked them the deets. They weren't in a forgiving mood.

They accused him of having a hand in stealing the chrome. Which… Technically was true, thanks to his brain dead gonk move.

Not that they ever took the money back for it either, he still had it. They hadn't cared about the money at that point. Only about how Rale had screwed them. They were a proud bunch.

Also probably figured they could just take it back anytime.

That idiotic choice would have been his last mistake. The Maelstrom had found out fast where he was hiding, tracked him down, and decided to teach him a lesson in loyalty and pain. And now here he was, instead of that moron gonkshit Rale. The new and improved Rale.

The old Rale had just been a nobody, without a lick of sense. He'd sold a stash worth at least a hundred thousand eddies - and probably three times as much as that in reality - for ten thousand. Considering it was an absolutely fully stocked Ripperdoc stash he should have known better - which now that he thought about it was odd, in Watson especially. So the doc was likely a guy who worked with scavs to boot.

Good riddance then.

Rale leaned back from the mirror, disgusted by the person he was remembering. He had ten thousand eddies to his name, but it was chump change compared to the risk he'd taken and the suffering he'd endured. That chrome cache was worth hundreds of thousands, at the very least. And for a handful of eddies, he'd nearly gotten himself killed. Should have gotten himself killed.

Although technically he didn't exist anymore, only his memories, so he'd succeeded in dying, in a way.

His gaze shifted to the small metal cot in the corner, a lump in the dingy dark of his cramped room. This was the life he'd inherited, a forgotten man living in a concrete box, drowning in a city that chewed up people like him. But the difference now was… Well, the difference was staring him in the face. He had chrome, he had a second chance, and - he checked his inventory again - he had something resembling powers, even if it was limited.

Although to call it limited… He wasn't exactly unhappy with it as it was.

For a long time, Rale just stood there, processing. He looked around his dingy room, the peeling paint, the trash scattered in corners, and his reflection with all that chrome staring back. He couldn't go back to his old life - hell, he already had a message on his agent that his factory job had already cut him off for not showing up for his shift due to the Maelstrom mess. That was one option burned, not that he cared. He wasn't going to stand in an assembly line, dying bit by bit in some corpo-owned hellhole.

He covered his face with a hand, feeling second hand embarrassment for his old self for having worked a job assembling low grade knock off cyber dicks. And not even doing a good job either.

But if he didn't want that life, what was left to do, did he have any other good options other than the one that was staring him in the face?

He wasn't a techie, didn't know anything about it. And even if he did have some amazing product or innovation to revolutionize the world. The Corpo's would just kidnap him and put him in a gilded cage - or plain kill him and steal his idea. Hardly a free life.

He thought about Edgerunners - the city's misfit legends, freelancers, mercs who took on the city and sometimes won - for a very short time and with a generous use of the word winning. Living as an Edgerunner meant living on the edge, a life short and violent, but it was generally free. It meant freedom from the cages people tried to build around you. Maybe it was his best choice now. And at least with Gamer's Mind, he wouldn't go cyberpsycho from it, wouldn't lose himself to the chrome. He'd keep his sanity, his control. It wasn't much, but it was something.

It was something more than a 9-5. And he'd already shown he could handle killing without freezing up or getting sick. Or perhaps that was Gamer's Mind at work…

If he got good enough… And with his immunity to being hacked - it was a good possibility he could make something of himself.

Then that could be as free as he could potentially get here. He'd still be able to make the eddies to actually enjoy life. Go drinking, partying, eat actual real food if he made enough, fuck some cat girls perhaps, what man didn't want that? Was Dangergal still around? And if he got strong enough, scary enough. Then a majority of people, and even corps, wouldn't tangle with him unless absolutely necessary.

He could eke out his own slice of existence. If he got strong enough.

It wouldn't solve everything, not by a long shot. Someone would always want to take a shot at the guy at the top. But it would allow him to live about as free as anyone got in this hellhole.

Of course it also had the problem that if he got too good, Adam Smasher might fancy a go. But… He'd checked his agent, he was in 2073, in just a few years Adam Smasher wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Only question was…

Did he want to get involved in all the bullshit Maine and co got in - let alone V and that bullshit…

Well, questions for another day, preferably a long time from now. He had years anyway.

Right now, he needed a new apartment. One that didn't make him feel sick just by standing in it. One where Maelstrom couldn't just walk right in.

He left the building, using his agent to cut the automatic withdrawal of eddies from his account for rent. He wasn't paying another second for that rathole.

It was time to get out of Watson. Just in case Maelstrom or anyone that cared about that Meatwagon crew started poking about.

He had some eddies now, and even more stuffed into his inventory, even if he'd have to transform that crap to actual cash first.

He could do better than this place.

---

Rale was moving at a steady clip through the dingy back streets of Kabuki, keeping his head low, one eye on the shadows as he tried to navigate his way out of Watson. He figured he'd get across the way to Westbrook, specifically Japantown, to find a place to crash in relative peace, away from Maelstrom turf. Kabuki's labyrinthine alleys wound on, narrow and claustrophobic, the neon lights casting everything in oily green and pink hues.

He stayed away from main streets the best he could for a reason, he'd already run into two outright shootouts between Maelstrom and NCPD, and three separate murders just in the past thirty minutes. So the backways were just safer than main streets right now. Probably.

As he walked, he could feel the weight of his chrome with every step, reminding him of the previous day's nightmare - it had to be psychological, because he was all healed up and his abilities prevented any mental illness from chipping in too much too quickly. He adjusted his jacket collar, pulling it up against the sudden chill he felt.

Then, somewhere up ahead, a muffled cry echoed from a narrow alley just off to his left.

Rale paused, ears straining. The sound faded, then came again, a desperate protest followed by a rough, mocking laugh. He tensed, recognizing that kind of laugh, the guttural cruel tone that spoke of malicious satisfaction. A scene that would be over quickly and happened a thousand times a day here - Night City wasn't exactly forgiving.

"Not my problem," He muttered, forcing himself to take another step forward. He'd seen enough of this place to know that getting involved in someone else's mess usually didn't end well - had memories of the stories of gonks who tried to white knight it, only to get fucked over and over - sometimes quite literally - rapists here subscribed to a hole is a hole philosophy. Even if he did feel a twist of guilt, that almost instinctive urge to help - it was just how he was wired - this wasn't some game. This was survival at stake.

He took another step.

The cry came again, weaker, cut off by a sharp grunt of pain.

Don't do it, don't do it! Twenty to one it's a trap to lure in gonks like me!

"Bastards!" A female voice cried out, before a meaty slap rang out again.

"Damn it." He swore under his breath, stopping in his tracks and lowering his head with a sigh. The old Rale's memories were clawing at him, telling him how much of a bad decision this was. His own conscience kicked in however, reminding him of what it had been like to be helpless, desperate once upon a time as a kid and teen, before he turned his life around, as boring as that had ended up becoming in the end. He'd come up from nothing, and he knew the struggle of no one caring what happened to you. He was here now, in Night City, where nobody cared period, where kindness was often a shortcut to a shallow grave - or more likely no grave at all, just a collection of limbs in the nearest scav den. He should just walk away.

It was the right move.

The only choice. The smart choice.

But he'd also silently made a promise to himself - that he was going to live a life on his terms, he wasn't going to let the city grind him down into something unrecognizable and cruel. He wanted freedom - and freedom meant doing whatever the hell he wanted in a way that kept him, him. And right now, he wanted to turn around and walk into that alley.

Rale turned, his gaze darting up and down the street, searching for cameras. Satisfied that the nearby alleys were not covered by the ridiculous amount of cameras one could run into in this setting - at least in the game, he pulled up his inventory and selected the first weapon that came to mind amongst his looted stash.

A shotgun materialized in his grip, the weight solid as he checked the grip. His optics identified it as a M2038 Tactician - a solid, reliable piece with a rough, chrome finish and a matte black barrel. The grip felt snug in his hand as he cocked it with a satisfying clack, the action loud enough to echo faintly, not loud enough to break the din of the city noise and the sounds still coming from the alley.

"Time to crash the party." He told himself quietly, determined to not back down now that he'd made his choice.

If he couldn't even do this, what chance did he have to become great, and rake in tons of eddies?

With the shotgun held low, he turned into the alley, scanning the narrow, dimly lit space. It took him a moment to make sense of the scene, but he quickly spotted three filthy figures crowding around a girl who was backed up against a wall, her outfit - if one could call that tiny amount of clothes one - torn, her arms held in place as one of the men pressed her back, sneering down at her.

One of the others already had his dick out, telling him all he needed to know about what was happening here.

His eyes flashed as it ran over them, and all three of them popped up with bounties, small time, only a few hundred eddies, but it identified them as suspected scavs. It was enough for him to decide they wouldn't leave the alley alive.

The girl's hair was a fiery neon red on one side hanging down the side of her face, shaved on the other side, making room for a small tattoo of a skull just like the Mox, just above her ear, faintly glowing against her pale skin. She twisted in the scavs grip, trying to kick one of her assailants, but the guy just laughed, swatting her away.

Mara Juneau, his eyes informed him, bounty of 650 eddies alive, prostitution, public nudity, public urination on a Corpo asset, assault, assault with a sex toy, defacing of NCPD property. Mox affiliated.

Charming… Well… He couldn't say he was surprised she was a Mox with a rap sheet like that. His eyes flicked over her more… Exotic modifications. Why do I keep running into Joytoys?

Seriously, he'd barely been 'awake' for a day, and the only people who weren't murderous shitstains that he'd run into, were Joytoys. Granted, he'd had to kill the other one, so maybe she didn't count. It was still weird.

"Hold still, kitten," One of the scavs sneered, a glint of metal catching the light as he raised his fist. Vyacheslav Formenkov, his eyes chimed in.

Rale muttered under his breath, stepping forward, "Seriously?" How had none of them even noticed him?

Before any of them could react to his words, he swung the shotgun hard, cracking the butt against the nearest scav's skull with a sick thud, sending the guy sprawling into the side of the alley. The sudden impact had the other two scrambling, wide-eyed, as they turned to face him.

"Who the hell -" One of them started, before the girl immediately reacted to the changed situation and made her move. In a flash, she had iron in her hand, seemingly pulled out of nowhere, and pushed it up under the jaw of one of her attackers. Her assailant was taken completely by surprise, his brains splattering across the alley a moment later as the girl fired twice in quick succession, letting out a lewd moan as she wiggled in place, rubbing her thighs together as it rained blood for a moment.

The body flopped to the ground, missing half his head, as the girl hugged her gun to her small handful of exposed breasts, giggling all the while.

He was already beginning to wonder if he'd made the right choice intervening here.

The last guy cursed and lunged at Rale, his chromed arm swinging in a wild arc. Rale was already moving, and avoided the wild lunge with ease and caught him by the collar of his grimy jacket with his free hand, twisting with his chrome-enhanced grip, he swung him back into the first scav, who was struggling to his feet holding his head. Both of them toppled over with a crash.

"End of the line," Rale muttered, bringing the shotgun to bear and firing once. The blast echoed sharply in the confined alley, and the two men's torsos turned into so much pulp, splattering the already filthy alley. It said something about Night City that the look of the alley hardly changed with the blood splatter.

He wondered idly if it was Gamer's Mind that kept him utterly apathetic to killing these gonks, or if there was something seriously wrong with him that he'd never bothered to examine in his previous life.

For a second, he kept his aim steady, watching the two scavs to make sure they weren't about to spring back up somehow, but this wasn't a game, one shot was plenty. Satisfied, he relaxed, lowering the gun.

"Wooow," Came a voice from beside him. The girl had shifted her weight to one hip, leaning forward, one finger pressed to her orange coloured lips as she batted her long eyelashes at him, her eyes wide and filled with a mock innocence. She was shorter than he'd first thought, probably barely five feet and that was counting the fact she was in 3-4 inch heels, but she held herself with the confidence of someone twice her size.

"My savior," She said in a tone dripping with exaggerated sweetness. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes, but Rale noticed her gaze kept flicking back to the shotgun in his hands, lingering on it like she was sizing him up.

He gave her a wry look, lowering the gun, facing it away from her, but keeping his grip firm. The girl's expression softened, and she let out a short laugh, her posture easing just a bit.

"Like, thanks a bunch, choom. Would've been a huge pain to zero them all myself." She made her iron disappear with a slight flourish, tucking it back somewhere he couldn't see. Her outfit didn't leave much room for hiding weapons, but she clearly knew what she was doing.

With his optics unable to find an outline in her miniscule clothes, he suspected she had a compartment in her lower back or something that she could hide the iron in.

His scan was followed by her own optics glowing for a moment, as she scanned him right back, a confused look on her face for only a second, before she hid it.

"Yeah, well…" Rale replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't quite sure what to do next. There was no guide for Night City heroics in his memories, and half of him wanted to just turn around and keep going. But his curiosity got the better of him. "You, uh, okay?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, flashing him a teasing grin. "Name's Mara. What's yours, cutie?"

…Was this some unspoken thing in Night City? They'd both already scanned each other, they knew each other's name… His memories couldn't help him, he'd been a factory worker, not a runner or a ganger or someone in the know about the etiquette in these situations.

He'd just go with the flow for now, "Rale." He said, as he watched as she began rifling through the scav's pockets with practiced efficiency, tossing aside loose scraps until she found a few Eddie chits, tucking them away in her panties without missing a beat.

Considering her torn top and her ripped tiny miniskirt, she didn't have much of anywhere else to keep anything, but he still couldn't help but blush slightly at her action. He'd have to get used to it, this world was a lot looser on certain things.

Even with his memories settling in from his existence as Rale, it was still a culture shock to him.

She looked up at him, smirking as she pocketed the last of the eddies. "Ayayaya! Just as new as I thought," She cooed, her voice lilting in a way that made her sound both amused and almost lewd. "How adorable." She stuck her tongue out, just the tip, giving him a playful look. "Not that you have to worry that I'll do you dirty new guy, I'm a Mox, and we don't run like that." She ran a hand over her orange nipples teasingly, flicking her ruined top off without care, giving him a smoldering look, "We deal in only the preem dirty stuff~!"

Rale arched an eyebrow, trying to ignore the obvious teasing. He knew enough about the Mox from both his memories and the game - independent, fiercely protective of their own, generally not as violent as other gangs, unless provoked. It wouldn't hurt to be cautious just in case however, so it would be a definite no from him - if her teasing was actually a serious advance.

Also, don't stick your dick in crazy still applied.

He couldn't forget she'd practically gotten off on blowing that one scavs brain out.

He kept his shotgun handy, but kept it pointing away, refusing to fully relax. "Pretty chromed up for a joytoy," He observed, taking in her appearance. Her hair and tattoo weren't the only unique features she had - she wore bio modded orange-reddish fox ears atop her head, and there were small, faintly glowing chrome vents along her neck. Her skin was tinted with a slightly orange hue along her chromed cheekbones, with painted neon red whiskers, and she had a bushy bio mod tail that swished behind her as she moved.

Bio mods to make her a fox girl, chrome on her face, both lower legs were chrome, his optics noted, although covered in Realskinn. And her heels weren't worn, they were chrome, literally part of her feet. He suspected she could do a lot with a kick…

So why hadn't she?

Mara puffed up, brushing a thumb across the vents on her neck with a smirk. "Pretty preem, huh?" She tilted her head, her fox ears twitching slightly, the glow of her pink heart-shaped pupils - of course she had ridiculous optics like that - pulsed as she spoke.

A good Joytoy obviously made bank, bio mods weren't cheap. He couldn't afford to act too meek here, so he might as well bring her down a peg from her smug and superior attitude, carefully.

Rale smirked, giving her a once-over. "Looks stupid." He told her, wanting to prod her a bit, see how she reacted, his shotgun at the ready in case even this little proved enough to set her off.

Mara's eyes widened, her ears and tail standing stiff as her expression shifted to one of mock outrage. "You wanna go, yanno?" She growled, glaring up at him and jabbing him in the abdomen lightly, dancing away from his knee jerk retaliatory swipe. "What's wrong with my chrome? Huh? Huh?"

Rale chuckled, his mood lightening in spite of himself. He couldn't help it; this girl was ridiculous, even by Night City's standards. She had a kind of manic energy that felt almost contagious. And she'd not taken offense to his prodding, so he was probably safe from whatever was the ploy being played here that he'd walked into.

"For one, those vents look like complete gonkshit. Don't match the rest of your… Uh, exotic aesthetic," He said, pushing her back a bit by placing a finger on her forehead. "Secondly, permanent stripper heels? Really?"

She grinned, an evil spark lighting up her eyes. "Hah! I'll have you know no man has ever complained about me not having to breathe like a normy!" Her cheek bulged out obscenely as she moved her fist back and forth for a moment before her mouth, winking at him. "And men like heels, like they've totally gotten me tons of eddies more, it was an investment!"

"Yeah, men like those ones?" He said dryly, nodding toward the dead scavs lying on the ground. "I wouldn't put much weight on their opinion."

Not that she wasn't hot… She was. For a short stack that needed heels to even breach five feet. But she was also obviously a little crazy. Cyberpunk men obviously had long ago dropped the - don't stick it in crazy rule.

He might be at least half Cyberpunk himself, if even half, considering his memories were just that - memories. But he intended to keep to that old adage at the very least.

There had to be non-crazy women, right?

Mara made an exaggerated pout, her cheeks puffing out slightly. "You're mean. A meanie. With bad taste," She huffed, crossing her arms in an exaggerated show of annoyance. Her pink heart-shaped eyes narrowed as she glared up at him, her fox ears twitching indignantly.

Rale snorted, shaking his head. As strange as she was, it was refreshing to have someone to talk to that didn't involve threats, pain, or some complicated scheme. Besides, Mara didn't seem like she was going to pull anything so far... At least, not without him noticing.

He seriously needed a checkup to find out what was up with his optics… He was getting way more information and preem extras for what the 'strommer had thought were defective eyes.

"That's my cue to leave then," He said eventually as the foxgirl cutely stomped her feet and pouted at him, chuckling a bit as he turned to go. He had bigger things to worry about - finding a place to stay where Maelstrom wasn't likely to randomly run into him being one of them. He didn't want to get deeper into whatever scheme the Mox were pulling with girls like this.

But as he took a few steps down the alley, he felt a tug on his arm, and Mara latched onto it, clinging stubbornly like a barnacle. "Nuh-uh!" She protested, holding on with surprising strength. "You're not leaving yet. Lizzie's is just down the street, and you're escorting me there, like a real gentleman. Got it?" Her toothy grin fit a shark better than a fox.

"Yeah, no," Rale replied, shaking his arm in an attempt to dislodge her. But Mara held on with an iron grip, even as he lifted her slightly off the ground. She swung in the air, her legs kicking comically as he tried to shake her loose. "Come on, girl, let go!" He growled, eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

Note to self - next time, shoot everyone. Adam Smasher was right.

"If you don't come with me, I'll tell all my chooms you bullied me!" She said, her voice trembling as crocodile tears appeared in the corner of her optics. Her sly grin told him she was enjoying every second of this.

Rale rolled his eyes at her shitty acting, but acquisited to her request. He didn't need any extra attention from the Mox to add to his troubles. "Fine," He grumbled, reluctantly lowering his arm as she smirked triumphantly, still hanging onto him like she'd won a grand prize. "Five minutes. That's it."

"Yatta!" She squealed, throwing her arms around his arm, giving him a cheerful smile that seemed out of place in the grimy pungent alley. He tried to ignore how her breasts pressed against his arm, her nipples rubbing up and down, the sensors on these cyberarms were ridiculously good…

Rale gave her an unimpressed look as he flicked her forehead with one finger, as he attempted to hide the slight shiver that passed through him. "You know you're not Japanese, right? No need for Tyger Claw weebo shit here…"

Although for all he knew she was Japanese, she was certainly short enough. And with how heavy she'd already modded herself, maybe she'd modded herself caucasian too? It was Cyberpunk, it was possible. Fucking Rebecca had decided to go green, so a jap could have decided to go white… With some extras.

Mara blinked, then grinned mischievously, her fox ears flicking in amusement. "Mou?" She responded, voice dipping into a faux-innocent whine, clearly just to get a rise out of him.

Rale closed his eyes and sighed, realizing he'd just given her even more ammunition - and it was sadly - super effective. "You're going to keep doing it just to annoy me, aren't you?"

Mara's smile widened, her eyes practically glowing with mischief as she nodded enthusiastically, clearly enjoying herself. "I am. And you're gonna like it," She said with an exaggerated one eyed wink, hanging off his arm, "My big strong ~savior!"

Rale let out an exasperated sigh but didn't try to shake her off again - he doubted he'd truly saved her from shit though. He resigned himself to the oddity clinging to his arm and started walking. The alleys around Kabuki buzzed with the usual nighttime chaos the closer they got to Lizzie's - street vendors haggling over cheap knockoff electronics, locals milling about, and the occasional gang tag sprayed haphazardly on crumbling walls.

Not to mention all the drunks, or druggies passed out already amongst the garbage. Or having sex. Out in the open. Their stuff just hanging out.

He hadn't needed to see that. Ever.

Mara walked by the two eighty something year old druggies rutting without even blinking, reminding him that yes, this shit was normal.

"So, Rale," Mara said, glancing up at him as they walked, "You're new around here, ~right?" She twirled her hair with one finger as she gazed up at him.

He shrugged, keeping his gaze forward. "Something like that. Just passing through to Westbrook, trying to keep a low profile."

Mara laughed, a light, lilting sound. "Low profile, huh? With that much chrome on you? Doesn't seem like you're exactly going to get anywhere unnoticed."

He smirked, glancing down at her. "Says the girl with permanent stripper heels, glowing pink eyes, and a tail."

She wrinkled her nose playfully. "That's different!" She argued.

He would probably regret asking, but he did so anyway, "Oh? How so?"

She grinned, licking her lips, her tongue vibrating for just a moment, "Because gonks wanna do ~me! You, they'd just zero!" She chirped.

"Gangbanged by scavs in an alley or zeroed at sight. I would still prefer the second." He said after a moment, refusing to allow her tactics to work on him.

She huffed, sticking out her lower lip, "Spoken like someone that's never partied it up with the Mox!" He didn't respond, not wanting to hear what exactly the Mox got up to, considering the setting, it was probably depraved. She pouted even more at him not playing along, before speaking up again, "So, my big tough savior, whatcha up to in Westbrook?" She asked, squeezing his arm between her breasts.

Rale hesitated, unsure how much to tell her. There was a part of him that wanted to trust her openness, but he knew better than to let his guard down too easily. Night City had already shown him just how dangerous it could be, and the last thing he needed was to get tangled up in more trouble. "Just needed a place to lay low. Got a bit of… Unfinished business with some gonks up in North Side."

There, if she thought he could bring home trouble, she wouldn't try to draw him in too much. And he hadn't really given her enough to sell along, not enough to be worth it anyway.

Mara raised an eyebrow, her gaze suddenly calculating, "Let me guess… Maelstrom?"

Rale's silence was answer enough. She let out a low whistle, nodding in understanding. "Nova! That explains the chrome. And the… Hehe, edgy vibe."

"Edgy vibe?" He repeated, giving her an incredulous look. He wasn't edgy! He was the only one he'd seen all day that didn't have an absolutely ridiculous haircut. Let alone the edgy shit almost everyone wore.

She grinned, tugging on his arm a bit as if to emphasize her point. "Yeah. You're all broody, hunky, and mysterious looking, and that's like… Prime solo material you gonk! Not to mention the whole 'I just saved a damsel in distress in a dark alley' thing you've got going on. Very classic edgy stuff." She struck a mock-dramatic pose, one hand on her chest, before dissolving into laughter as it inevitably drew his eyes to her breasts.

Rale grumbled slightly at that, though he couldn't help but smirk at her antics. "Right… So what's your story, Mara? Besides doing gonk shit like going alone into alleys?" He might as well go tit for tat and see what information he could get.

She shrugged, a flicker of something serious passing through her expression before she brushed it off with a saucy grin. "Oh, y'know. Joytoy work, who can complain about lots of sex, amirite? The Mox keep things pretty safe at Lizzie's, but… Sometimes some gonkshits get a bit too close for comfort." She scowled, her tail swishing with irritation. "Bastards like the ones you just zeroed have been crawling all over Kabuki lately. Thought I'd handle them myself, but hey, you made it easier." She acknowledged.

Rale looked at her thoughtfully, taking in the small but significant signs of weariness in her expression. Night City wasn't kind to anyone, least of all to someone as openly unique as Mara he'd wager. Even with the Mox's protection, it was clear from the source material that survival wasn't easy in this city. Hence the extra chrome she was packing, he suspected.

"Guess I just happened to be in the right place at the right time," He said, keeping his tone casual. Also being gonk enough to walk into a dark alley instead of minding my own business…

Mara tilted her head, her heart-shaped pupils narrowing as she studied him. "Right place, right time… Sure." She gave him a coy smile, her fingers tapping a rhythm against his arm. "Lets just pretend any other Night City inhabitant would have helped, it could have totally happened."

They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked after that. After a few more turns and a short walk down a cracked sidewalk, they entered the main street and then, they arrived at the familiar sight of Lizzie's Bar. The neon sign outside cast a warm pink glow over the street, the slogan - Mindfuck just gained a new meaning - prominently displayed.

Mara glanced up at him, her mischievous grin returning. "Well, here we are, now come in and meet my chooms, new hunky choom!"

Rale crossed his arms, not having to feign his exasperation. "I escorted you, I'm done, stop adding new requests, or I'm going to start charging you, choom."

She laughed, her eyes flashing blue for a second, as he received a hundred eddies in a transfer. "There, I've rented you for the ~hour!" She chirped, looking unbearably smug.

Rale made a mental note to avoid bright-eyed Mox girls in the future. For someone barely reaching above his waist, Mara had a vice grip on his arm, her fingers wrapped around him with surprising strength. He muttered under his breath, "Let go already, and don't think this will work on me again, a hundred eddies is far below an hour's worth of my time." I think… I have no actual idea what a low end gig makes.

"Come on!" Mara whined, tugging him forward with a pout that somehow managed to look both fierce and innocent. "I just want you to see where I work and meet my chooms. Let me buy you a drink! Or get you one of my own BD's that the Mox have for sale, they're preem quality I promise. Gotta show my savior a ~good time, right?"

Did her eyes seriously just go Doki Doki? Rale was really beginning to regret having a conscience. Flatline everything really should be his motto from now on.

"Not interested," Rale replied, his tone dismissive. But Mara wasn't having any of it, pulling him along with determination. Before he could protest further about her plans, they were approaching the doors to Lizzie's Bar.

One of the Mox' bouncers was leaning against the entrance, smoking a cigarette. She was tall and imposing - a tower of a woman with a baseball bat resting on her shoulder, her arms a patchwork of tattoos and cybernetics. Her sharp eyes settled on Mara, looking relieved, then flicked to Rale. She straightened up, smirking sharply as she stepped in front of them.

"This gonk giving you trouble, Mara?" She asked, her voice low and just a touch menacing.

Mara shot him a considering look, then pouted dramatically, acting like a brat. "Yeah! He won't let me show him my ~'preciation!"

The bouncer raised an eyebrow, her grin widening as she idly spun the bat in her hands. "Well, gonk, you've got two choices. You can appreciate our cute little Mara here like she wants, or I can teach you how to appreciate this bat over and over again like I want." She gave it a menacing twirl, her cyber-enhanced arms making the steel bat look like nothing but a blur.

Rale sighed, muttering, "Fucking Mox's," Under his breath. "Fine, let's just get this over with." He shot Mara an exasperated look, but let her pull him inside, not before he had to reluctantly give up his shotgun. Apparently iron was allowed, but only to a point, and a shotgun was that point. Or she was just fucking with him. He gave it even odds.

The Lexington he'd klepped should be enough anyway.

The interior of Lizzie's was filled with neon lights and music. Private booths were full with people enjoying BD's, or in some cases, enjoying a Mox - or three. The walls were lined with graffiti and the kind of popup art that had the rebellious flair of someone who'd seen enough of the corporate world and wanted to flip it off. Lizzie's was Mox territory, and it was as unapologetic as they were - an oasis for the misfits and outcasts, a place where the girls had backup, and the customers knew better than to mess around.

It also had a lot of very armed Mox' gathering at the bar… Making his skin itch.

Mara beamed at him, her enthusiasm infectious as she leaned in close to speak over the music. "Cool, huh? Nothing else like it in Night City!" She pointed to the dance floor, where a mix of Mox girls and guys, and patrons, swayed in sync with the beat, their bodies illuminated by the shifting lights. Everywhere he looked, neon-pierced the darkness, colors shifting from pinks and purples to deep blues.

"Not bad," He muttered, impressed with the ambiance, one that seemed more alive and in your face than the game. For all the grime and brutality of the city outside, Lizzie's held a strangely upbeat energy. It was a place where the night felt alive, charged with defiance. He still kept an eye on the bar, nervous about the gathered Mox.

"Oi, Mara! You bitch ass stupid gonk!" A voice called out, cutting through the noise. Rale looked over to see a petite, green haired girl with a manic grin and twitching eyes stalking toward them, her eyes filled with anger and relief at the same time. Rebecca, he recognized her instantly - short, volatile, and heavily tattooed, with chemskin giving her a very attention grabbing look. She looked like she was halfway between hugging Mara and throttling her.

Shit, was she a Mox? Huh, I guess we're far enough back she might not be part of Maine's crew yet… He thought. This was definitely not ideal either way. He'd been here like a day… He didn't need to cross with any canon shit yet. He needed time to figure out what he wanted to do first.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you gonk!" Rebecca yelled, her voice a blend of anger and worry. "Don't just call me, say you're totally dead, asking me to burn your porn before anyone looks at it, and then not answer my calls after!"

Behind her, a small crowd of Mox enforcers who had been gearing up at the bar, checking their weapons and preparing for some kind of rescue effort, began dispersing. Several of them glanced over, looking relieved, but Rebecca was all fire and fury, zeroing in on her friend. At least it seemed she was working as an enforcer and not… The other thing.

Mara giggled and bounced over, pulling Rale along. "Oh, I was like, totally gonna get flatlined," She said brightly, completely unbothered by Rebecca's wrath. "But this preem side of beef came in and totally saved me!" She shot Rale a look that practically cried out - I'm your wing woman here, go with it.

Rale sighed, ignoring her attempts to talk him up, "And here I thought you wouldn't even have needed my help…" He'd been sure of it, in fact. That it was some sort of ploy.

She winked, running a hand up and down his arm, "Nah, one of the guys had some preem quick hack skills, totally shut my chrome down for a moment there, you tots saved my cute little butt." She gave said butt a wiggle as she said it, her tail wrapping around his knees.

Rebecca's sharp gaze landed on Rale, her expression shifting from annoyance to suspicion immediately. She stalked forward, giving him a once-over, her arms crossed tightly. "Yeah? Thanks for saving my choom, I guess." She tilted her head, her voice turning cautious. "What do we owe ya?"

Rale raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain his irritation. "Didn't do it for eddies. I wouldn't even be here if your crazy choom hadn't latched onto my arm and refused to let go until she'd dragged me here."

Rebecca's expression went dead for a split second, a flash of, of course she did, passing through her eyes. She shot Mara an irritated look, raising an eyebrow. Mara nodded rapidly, grinning up at Rale like he'd just complimented her. Rebecca let out a low whistle, shaking her head, a reluctant smile blooming. "Well… Thanks then, choom. You're alright, even if you got a screw loose."

Rale chuckled wryly. It was sad that in this city, kindness was more shocking than murder. The absurdity of it all really did hammer it home where he was now. "Trust me, if I'd known your choom before I went into that alley, I might have thought twice."

Rebecca nodded like that made perfect sense, slinging one arm around Mara's shoulder. "That's our gonkbrained girl!"

Mara pouted, ignoring Rebecca, pulling on his jacket instead. "He won't even let me thank him properly, Becca!" She complained to her choom, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Rebecca's eyebrow quirked, a smirk forming as she looked him up and down. "Oh yeah? If you're, uh, not into pussy, we've got a few fellas around here with some preem Mr Studs too. No judgment." Her smirk turned into an outright toothy grin as she added, "Wouldn't have pegged you as a bottom though?"

Rale just glared at the short girl, fuck you Rebecca! "She's just not my type," He replied simply, hoping that would be enough to get them off the topic.

But Mara gasped, looking as though he'd just insulted her entire family line. The gasp turned into a shriek loud enough to make heads turn across the bar. "What do you mean, not your type!? No one has ever said that to me before!!!"

Rebecca chuckled, leaning in toward Mara's ear. "See! I told ya the vents were dumb!" She teased, tapping the vents on Mara's neck with a shit-eating grin.

Rale smirked, unable to resist piling on. "Right? I mean, they look like gills, a huge turn off." He let out an oof as the tail that had been curled around his knees, pulled on his leg, almost enough to unbalance him.

Mara glared up at him, indignant, and hammered her fists against his stomach in protest. "That's not it, gonk! Tell me what the real reason is? You're totally gay, right? Or like, like, tots into old hags or something?"

Rale raised an eyebrow, deadpan. "MILFS are hot, Mara, don't kink shame."

Rebecca burst out laughing at Mara's betrayed look, continuing to giggle as Mara swatted at her, "Your fucking face!"

Mara's ears went flat on her head as she hissed at Rebecca, stream practically coming out of her ears, "Oh fuck you, you're supposed to be on my side, Becca!"

Rale cut in before the two could claw each other's eyes out, "Also, how old are you, Mara?" For whatever reason, her NCPD bounty didn't list a known age.

She hesitated, and he could see the gears turning in her head. After a beat, she straightened, giving him a defiant look. "Nineteen. Totally. Got a driver's license and everything"

"Yeah… Sure." His tone was very dry.

Rebecca laughed, clearly enjoying this. She crossed her arms, looking at Mara with a challenging smirk. "She's fifteen… Next month."

Rale nodded, he'd suspected something like that. Mara hadn't exactly struck her as… Mature. "Right. That's why." Cyberpunk values, Ugh. No thank you. I'm not that depraved.

Rebecca rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out an amused breath. "Gonk! Won't take eddies for a reward, and won't lay a hand on a willing girl just 'cause she's 15? Where'd you fish this one up, Mara? A time capsule?"

Rale crossed his arms, giving her a level look. "It's called standards." He muttered, ignoring Mara's grumbling.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow, giving him a curious evaluating glance. "Standards, huh?" She mused, looking almost amused at the idea. "Guess we don't see much of that 'round here." She smirked, leaning back, her gaze sharp but not unfriendly. "Fine by me, it's whatever. But you keep that 'standard' act up, choom, and you're gonna stand out in all the wrong ways. Might get you in trouble."

"Noted." Rale replied, nodding curtly.

He turned to leave, hoping to make a quiet exit, but as he glanced toward the entrance, something caught his eye. A neon-lit wall to his left held a series of small holographic 3D portraits, each one slowly rotating to reveal the faces of women - young, old, fierce, and hopeful. The title, glowing in soft pink, read MISSING MOXES. The bounty posters were surrounded by candles and trinkets, the shrine-like atmosphere making it clear these were women who hadn't just left, they'd vanished, they had been loved, missed, fought for.

Even if they weren't living up to their original mission statement, the Mox was still a better gang then the rest.

"Missing Moxes, huh?" Rale muttered, squinting at the profiles. His gaze snagged on one of the faces, a girl with a familiar look, her holo set a bit lower on the display. Her name glowed softly beneath her image: JOY.

His stomach dropped. He recognized her - his opponent from the pit fight. "So… Her name was really Joy," He muttered to himself, barely audible over the music. "Joy the joytoy. Too bad I had to kill he-" He cut himself off too late, his mind reeling with the realization of what he'd just said and where.

The music seemed to fade into the background, the lively atmosphere in the bar suddenly muted. He could feel the weight of over a dozen pairs of eyes snapping toward him all glowing blue, as Rebecca forwarded what he'd just said, her own eyes glowing in a snarling face. The mood shifted, the warm, welcoming air turning cold, charged with a tense, dangerous energy. He glanced down to where Rebecca had iron pressed against his balls, no smile present on her face anymore, and Mara had her own iron aimed at his head, even if she looked conflicted about it.

"I can explain, don't blow my balls off…" He said slowly, raising his hands.

This is what he got for helping people…

Or at least… For not knowing how to keep his gonk damned mouth shut.

What a fucking day…

---

Author's Note:

Who knows, I might do more of this at some point, just wanted to do something with Cyberpunk, it's not really anything that hasn't already been done. And unlike most my shit, if this continued, would be a standard power wank fantasy and copium fic, not my usual fare of let's see how we can make it worse.

Although Cyberpunk is one place where it's kind of hard to make it more of a shitty place without going to some ridiculous lengths.

All the bad shit already exists there or it can be logically assumed it does in some Corporate research lab or facility anyway.

Cheers

JollyHippopotamus