Mind grind

Abigail's first clue was the line of silent, still people.

At first she hadn't wanted to approach the embassy; Unlike the other two, she didn't trust quick, and gave away even less. Strangers in a strange land weren't welcomed with open arms, they were turned away by closed and bolted doors. Her disquiet and wariness had cracked by degrees, but her watchfulness never had. It was why she'd realized none of their human handlers other than Zirune remembered Noel existed and she'd known something like this would soon happen.

The people in a row were unmoving and blank faced, one or two mouths hanging vacantly open. They didn't twitch or shuffle or even cough, just in an apparent vigil. She walked up and waved her gauntlet in front of the doorman's eyes, but he didn't blink. A fly had landed on his nose. With a weary sigh, she pushed open the glass doors and stalked inside.

At first her own armor stopped her short, until she realized the purple lights were bringing out old bloodstains on the black plates. Frowning at her gorget, she slowly raised her eyes and looked at the rest of the people around her.

The music thumped and blared, but for all they noticed this place may as well have been a tomb. Women in various states of undress walked around mechanically, like puppets marching under a clumsy hand. The men she assumed were normally customers handed them money, and then they'd both pause for about five seconds before they'd hug without expression and break apart. Even for a brothel it was rather shameless, but her prudishness could wait.

Noel sat on the edge of the stage, her gaze at the floor and her hands folded. The prettiest strippers stood around her like an honor guard as Abigail walked up and tilted her head. Even knowing all she did, it was hard not to be apprehensive. Noel was older by far than her and ancient compared to Iodine; she was generally placid, but was always unpredictable and dangerous. The little albino corpse slowly looked up and over at her.

<No one was happy here.> She whispered into Abigail's head. <It lurked like a rotten tooth under the lights and the laughter. Misery and desperation. I thought if I stepped in I could make them be happy.>

"...We should return to the base. They'll miss us." Abigail said calmly, keeping the horror out of her voice by effort of will. Noel picked up on it anyway, slowly looking around at the silent herd. With a wave of her hand the music died.

<...Was I in the wrong?>

"Removing free will is always wrong." Abigail said immediately. "I'm sure you'd the best of intentions, but do you think any of them would choose this over their own ideals?"

Noel panned around again before standing and waking to Abigail's side. She was much smaller and more fragile; her skin looked like porcelain and she seemed made of glass. Even while she shuffled like a crone, people on the furthest edges of the room were shaking their heads and coming back to life.

<I was only trying to help. I didn't mean to scare you.> She thought, looking up.

"You haven't, I was only worried. It would be a poor joke to be as old as you only to die by, say, being struck by a car." Abigail joked, lied, and smiled. Iodine and the others had rarely seen it, since she saved them for Noel. The smaller child of night said nothing, stare unbroken. Abigail held out her hand before Noel took it, the two of them heading into the night and back to the base they called home now.

Death and taxes

Most of the mail was junk, but when wasn't it?

The Old Navy was new, just like the plaza it sat in. The concrete had only been poured months ago, but empty storefronts had filled, and the place had done steady business since. It's location was perfect, right at a crossroads on the main island in the chain. It hired locals and put money back into the community even while it brought them clothes at decent prices. Thusfar Circe's efforts in the islands had gone well.

The little old lady paused at an ivory envelope of higher quality then the others; it was addressed to her personally. She opened it and frowned down at the single line written on the letter.

Pay me what I am owed, it said.

She glanced at the store cash before shuddering. When the little... Thing that owned this place had talked about profit in their store meeting, her eyes had lit up like someone trying to push pamphlets on religion they'd written themselves. Instead she took fifty dollars and three dimes from her purse and sealed it into the envelope, planning to get rid of it on her way to the bank.

All over the islands, it was a similar scene. Some didn't recieve their letters, and weren't billed; others didn't pay, and were marked. Beth grumbled to herself in the dark as she slipped in seven dollars and a shiny rock.

It took another day and a night for them all to disappear into the post office, but once they were all gathered together, the money and checks inside burst into flame. One or two bounced off the table, but as the others burned white, a winged woman pulled herself from the fire and then turned to yank her scythe out as well. With a wave of her hand Coin dispelled the flames before sighing deeply and looking for a mirror to check herself in.

Finding one in the ladies room, she drew back in disgust at her shameful appearance. It had been a last ditch effort to come back from limbo, but by calling in all her finances she'd managed to buy her way out. That bright-eyed little squid had cost her dearly.

Wings folded around her like a wounded bird, she met her own eyes as she fixed her hair, noting the bags and the hollow, hungry look. Without debt owed to her, she felt famished and unfulfilled, like a VCR reminder next to a DVD player.

"...I need a real vacation after that one. I wonder if Trash still has a spare room?" She mused, before making a face at talking to herself like some cretin.

Local business

Finding the nightclub months back had been like a blessing; it was small, hidden from the main road but large enough to stay on her lonesome, most tourists didn't know it existed, and the clientele was primarily gay. The men didn't really care about her one way or the other and the women avoided her and the pavement slab sized chip on her shoulder. It was hard to be comfortable, except when she knew for a fact she was alone in a crowd. Sometimes it was nice to be able to relax.

"Hey, Nick. Long time no see." The bartender said, finally making his way over to her. She chinned up and drained the last of her Bahama mama before leaning over and beckoning him closer.

"I need to visit Clem. Can you set it up?" She asked over the music. She could've tracked him down, but surprising an arms dealer was usually a bad idea. The bartender hemmed and hawed long enough that she gave him a ten to get the phones working before turning and looking at the girl next to her flatly. She stopped checking her out and smiled, realized how fucked up her face was, and moved on while Blake frowned and drank more.

Eventually she got the go ahead and left, leaving a tip behind her. The drive out of town didn't take long, she knew where she was going. Since washing up on shore a few years ago during a storm, her memory started from walking up the beach. Everything else was just a blank. The island was big, but it wasn't that big, and it hadn't taken long to walk across most of it in the bad time. She turned off her music and drove in silence, briefly clenching the steering wheel.

The old house on route nine had a lawn like a jungle and looked like a yellow tooth with a cavity, but she still parked in the back, armed herself with a gun and knife and took a deep breath before getting out. The chain was her favorite weapon other than m-16s, but there was a time and a place for everything. The man waiting for her on the back porch smelled like puke and was obviously drunk, but he still smiled warmly at her irritated expression. Wiping his hands on his overalls, he got up and offered one.

"Evenin', Sam. Glad to see you, come on in." He said, leading the way. The inside of the garage was surprisingly clean, well-lit, thick walled, and covered with guns and other gear. Some of them were on racks four deep. She closed the door and bolted it before turning to him, walking over and putting her hands on a table.

"You hear the news?" She growled. He nodded. "Yeah, aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I got better. Here's the thing- it wasn't chance. Someone crossed me out. Those pirates-"

"I knew it! Didn't I tell you not to trust 'em?" Clem said, laughing.

"Yeah, you did, but save it. Someone crossed me, you hear me? Those pirates would've rather made money and been alive than made money and died for it, unless it was a lot of money. People are shit, but that whole crew was in on it. None of them wanted to save their skins, just kill me." She snarled.

Clem blinked. "You think someone paid 'em off?"

"Yeah. I can count on one hand how many people know what I'm trying to do, and they're the only ones with the money to throw. You're one of them, Clem." She said coldly. He put down his beer and got up, but she shook her head. "But you don't fit. You make too much off me and you've got your own people. So here's the deal; I need guns, explosives, and some other things to get going on the investigation. Do you have my back?"

He spread his arms wide and grinned through his beard. "What'd you need, honey?"

She grinned back, baring her teeth. There was a bleak, angry sort of joy in it. "You got a shopping cart?"

Blake

She'd never held an m-16 before, but the weight felt good in her arms. Taking aim at a seagull covered buoy, she pulled the trigger and then glanced at the silent gun.

"Take the safety off." Advised the crewman with her. This far out to sea, the flat ugly cargo hauler was alone on the water. She nodded and clicked it, sighting at waves and firing a burst of bullets. She checked it again and shot a burst into seaweed before trying out single rounds. She wasn't that good with it, but the weapon thrilled her, and it almost made her smile until it clicked empty.

"Reload it." She said aside to him, handing it over. He did and she watched before unlocking the magazine and doing it for herself. She chambered another round and killed another wave, looking over the gun again like it was a good dog before shouldering it. "Where's the rest?"

She'd never met the captain, but the first mate and others called her Cricket. Other than the name, they knew nothing about her except she always knew when she was being cheated. There were other crew around docking boxes and running the ship, but they left the two of them alone as she pried off a crate's lid and picked up a grenade. She turned it around in her hands and slowly nodded. The benzine, oxidized iron, and other chemicals were in barrels, but the shipping manifest confirmed everything she'd wanted was on the boat. Pistols, rifles, land mines, and a 50 caliber completed the shopping list.

"Do you have your part?"

Without looking, she nodded, taking a drawstring bag off her waist and handing it over. After checking the inside and blinking at diamonds, the first mate watched her run her hand alongside the treads of a tank. When he raised his pistol across the space to her head, she snapped to him like a hawk. Her scars burned in the afternoon sun.

"Are you crossing me out?" She asked, calm and cold. He nodded. "Captain's orders. Sorry, lady, you shouldn't have come alone." She was able to shift before stepping out in a flash, her hand coming out and sharp edges whipping through the air. He'd fired a second after something bladed sliced half his fingers off and jerked him in place. He stumbled while she swung again-

The chain attached to a haft was long, segmented with inch long blades across it's links. She'd worked with it until it was like another limb, and when the hooked tip snapped around his leg in a loop, she wrenched it hard behind her with both hands. The first mate fell on his back, and she was already there, drawing a heavy knife in an upraised grip.

She didn't say anything, just dropped to a knee and stabbed him in the solar plexus so hard ribs broke.

Hauling the body with her, she jumped behind another crate, listening to the yelling on deck and grimacing. As far as she could see, a win-win situation had turned into a no-win disaster in an eyeblink. She couldn't escape, so she'd kill as many of them as she could before she died. It was so, so, so, stupid the bitterness and anger almost gave her a headache. Checking behind her at the group taking rifles out of crates and advancing, she took a deep breath.

"This is my only offer! Surrender now and-" Gunfire cut her off and she snarled before breaking cover, holding the corpse under the arm like a shield until she got close enough to a group to raise her other hand, black and purple light gathering around her palm like writhing flames and backlighting the decks around them. Clouds were slowly gathering in the sky, and the sunlight was fading, leaving the stacks of cargo looking ominous. She hurled the blight out and watched grimly as the explosion ripped outward, crackling flames dancing and and drowning out the screams with their roar.

Darting back and then scurrying away from a box of grenades, Blake poked out her head and looked for another group. She'd started strong, but it wouldn't last, and she had to keep them off balance. The more she killed now, the less chance she'd have for fate to fuck her later.

When she reemerged, blacklight shone on her. More armor would've helped, but she hadn't expected things to turn this bad this quick. Once again using a corpse as a shield, she dropped it and lashed out with her chain again and again. With room to swing and space to control it, she wrapped it around a man's neck before kicking him hard in the face; she lashed it behind her and then slashed upward, ripping a furrow through a head and body. The lights around her body grew as she killed, making her faster, making her hit harder.

Surrounded by torn bodies and covered in gore, she turned at the approach of more, clenching her fists. Her black hair dripped with blood, and she was breathing heavy, but she finally looked like she was feeling something.

"AAAAAAAGH! YOU WANT SOME?!" She screamed, and there was a pause before she started hurrying away and trying not to get shot. Embarrassment was surprisingly bracing.

Eventually she stumbled toward the last few, bleeding heavy. Her stomach and chest had been shredded, and she'd lost her left arm. Gasping, dying, she was still coming, ices still like ice. She choked when she died, before falling onto her face in a puddle of her own blood. The men looked between each other, terrified, none of them noticing the barrels that had been tipped over and cut open further down the deck.

When the last explosion almost cracked the boat in half, hours after everything sank, night fell around the choppy ocean and all was still again.

Cricket

Nothing brought home a failed idea like a punch to the face.

The Pelican was a dive bar through and through, open late and roaring in the heat of a weekend night. The inside smelled like spilled beer and was dim, but the parking lot was walled off and lit up by hanging lights. Everything else around here was closed and done except for the circle of people out back in the gravel, watching the guy and girl beating the shit out of each other. After the fight someone would sprinkle down sawdust before the next one.

His follow up hook made her stumble, but she didn't quaver, setting her stance and getting back into it. Lawson worked up at the fridge plant and hit like a truck, but the woman was giving him a run for his money. They knew she called herself Blake and that was it, because she wanted it that way. No jokes, no greetings, no stories about the scars all over half her face, just flint-eyed drinking until it was time to fight.

She jabbed and followed up with a series of blows, circling to his right; the last one glanced across his eyebrow. She swung her hips and kicked out, the ball of her foot almost connecting before he tried to grab her around the waist and take her to the ground. She sprawled reflexively, levering his arm off and then punching down onto the side of his head, the two struggling for position before she backed off. The two of them glared at each other, Lawson furious, her sneering like a coyote bearing it's teeth at a gun.

She didn't hear the yelling around her, it wasn't important. What was was closing in and slapping a punch away like she was parrying before wrapping her hands and forearms around his neck, forcing his face down- right into her knees. She threw four or five, making them count, waiting for the moment Lawson was knocked out; when his body slumped, she let go with one hand and twisted her whole body, getting ready to drive a fist so hard into his face it would push his nose flat-

People had grabbed her arms, and she threw them off, but more hands kept her from finishing him. The second she saw she couldn't get at the unconcious man she relaxed, going cold in a second like a switch had been flipped.

"What, you trying to give him a seizure?!"

"He knew what it was. Let him sleep it off. Where's my money?" The bartender looked at her like she was speaking French. "I won. Where's my money?"

They shorted her, but it was the principle of the matter, not the amount.

Standing outside the circle and smoking a cigarette, she wiped blood off herself with an old rag. The lights brought out how fishbone pale she was, like someone who never saw the sun. Her body was weird- under her black tank top, her muscles stood out like driftwood, but there was almost no fat on her, and it left her gaunt. The scars down the right side of her face, most of her chest, and her right arm stood out like rope burns. She took another long puff and looked up at the moon.

It told her she'd done a nice job. The night was proud of her. She didn't smile, just crushed out the smoke and splashed her face with water, waiting for the next fight.

The kill

The office in the back of the mall's Meh Burger was the size of a closet's closet, but it was what they had. Neo Death sat on a blue plastic chair and folded her hands, smiling at her manager. She adjusted her hat and glanced around, wondering about some of the stains on the walls.

"So, uh, ND-" She hadn't known what else to put on the application. He looked away from her weird stare. "-Marcus is leaving for school in a week, and we just hired Sarah and Shade- you worked with her yet? She's weird." She shook her head and shrugged at herself while he continued. "Keeps talking to herself... Anyway, we've got people moving around."

"Would you be interested in getting promoted?" She nodded and brightened up. "You'll just have to learn how to run register-" Her enthusiasm died. "-but you'd be a shift lead. We'd just have to do a background check and a drug test, but you'd get a pay bump in about a week."

She raised her eyebrow and then spread her arms, shrugging again. Frank waved a hand. "I know, but it's for everyone. Here, let me get you the paperwork. How are your sisters doing?" When he looked back at her, she covered her eye with her hand and pretended to concentrate and write before looking overjoyed. She smiled at him again. "Oh, she passed? Good, good for her! If she ever wants a job, let me know. We can probably work around the axe."

"Well, anyway, just get that taken care of and we'll start the process. See you tomorrow." She nodded and got up before walking off, swinging over and quickly making two burgers before shiftily putting the bag in her backpack and heading toward Abercrombie. Lexi was probably off too, and she had to form up with her until their War was done and they could all ride the bus back home. She bounced as she headed past people, eye on the floor and quietly happy.

A fish story.

Agatha stood at the bank of a small pond, holding her fishing pole and watching the wooden bobber out in the water.

The morning had been overcast, so she'd gone out to tend to the crops she'd planted after waking up in their shed. Turning herself into sunlight still made her apprehensive, but she'd walked around and made sure to water and prune them in between. It was nice to see the corn and potatoes growing, although when she reached a few stalks without leaves she realized she'd need to fence the rabbits out. Only after that had been taken care of did she take her pole and line with her into the woods.

The lake next to Greencrest was fished by the town harbor, and she was only flipping for bluegill, just to catch them. She knew of enough other, secluded places along the rivers to be on her lonesome. No one had taught her how to fish, but she'd picked up the basics as a child after realizing it was that or going hungry, and she liked doing it. The quiet was relaxing.

She popped a buttercup off the bush next to her and ate it without seeing it, furrowing her brow and pulling her line back in. Her nightcrawler was gone; little fish had probably nibbled it right off the hook. She shrugged and reached back into the spike of ground lifted up by her sword and dug around briefly before finding another wriggler and baiting her hook again, wiping her hand off on the grass before casting her line. It was just a string tied to a tree branch, but she had it where the shallows sloped off to the deeper part of the pond.

Tommorow she'd have to travel leagues to aid a village in driving off a sheep-napping griffon and then spend two days on patrol before making her way back to the shack, so this was making the most of her time. Popping another buttercup into her mouth like candy, she saw her bobber twitch and jigged the line just a little bit. All was still for a few moments again before it shook in the water.

She gave it a heartbeat and then yanked the pole to the right, her line suddenly going taught and jerking. It wasn't another bluegill, it felt bigger. She almost ripped with her heart in it, but that would've torn the hook right out of the fishes mouth. Instead she took a step backward and grabbed the line with a gloved hand, rolling it in her grip to reel it in. If she'd just been fishing the shallows she'd have used a shorter reach, but she could cast all the way out there without a boat anyway.

The fish fought her, trying to arc and then escape, but it was caught and she easily pulled it out without too much splashing. The bass was longer than her arm and much meatier, and she smiled and laughed after her eyes had shrunk back down. It was the biggest fish she'd caught, the bass flopping, it's dorsal fin pointed and red gills flaring. She quickly slipped off her glove before setting it down in grass and working out the hook. It was too bad- no one would believe this.

Picking it up, she tossed it back into the lake; it floated for a second, staring at her increduously before flashing away and out of sight. Agatha looked up at the cloudy sky and smiled unguarded, winding up her line and gathering her gear. There was a wide section of river down the path, and it was about time for the trout to be biting.