Black wednesday

Circe hurried as quick as she could, but they were already gaining on her.

Market-night had come to Stygia, and she'd headed into town with her rusty wheelbarrow, filled to the brim with shiny rocks and small trinkets she'd cleaned and polished. Long before she'd had finery and indulgences, Circe was thin and dirty, wearing a potato sack for a dress. She'd dyed it black with silt from a river, but it looked ugly still. She wasn't wearing shoes, and the rocky road here from the ash plains hadn't been fun. Once she'd secured passage through the gates, she'd headed to the causeways, resigned. The Devils with more money had greater precedent, but she was stuck with the other junk-sellers on the fringes.

Setting herself between a wagon selling cooked rats and a stand of wolf T-shirts, Circe set her wares up and went to work, keeping money and change in a little iron lockbox. Wheeling and dealing was a part of the market, and she did well for herself, especially without buying food for the night. Only realizing she was being stared at and sized up had made her finally pack up, quickly leaving before anyone else had even started their teardown.

It wasn't until she'd made it to the edge of the mountains did she turn and spot the demons following her with a hellhound on a chain. The piece of wood with nails driven in it she kept for protection seemed too small in her mind as she'd frantically hurried on.

It hadn't mattered. They'd caught her along a bend in the path, jumping down and landing, braying laughter and fire. When she told the story later on, Circe would always leave out how she'd screamed in fear. There were four, and they were much bigger than her, red skin under chainmail. The Hellhound barked and slavered molten spittle, barring it's teeth. They'd kept laughing with an echo as they threw her out of the way and ripped into her wheelbarrow, tossing her treasures aside.

The roar had sounded like a T-Rex or a Dragon, something stretching it's lungs and letting everything for miles know it was discontent. The demons had eyed the walls of lead around them before one had shoved her lockbox at her and demanded she open it. She would've- at that point Circe had only wanted to escape with her life-

The boulder came out of nowhere, the stone impacting and shaking the earth as two demons were pulverized underneath it. Circe wriggled to her hands and knees, watching something land from it's plummet and slowly straighten all the way out. Her impression was of height and power, and she put her hands over her head to hide under her tangled hair.

"...You woke me up. Go away." Said the monster in a low, low voice. She never saw what Nyx had done to either one; only that when she finally looked up after all the sounds had died, one was dead and broken in a small crater, while the other was so much gristle spread out in an arc. The other Devil stomped hard enough to shake the ground and waved her arms as the Hellhound barked and ran, chain leash trailing. She didn't know why she felt so tired and drained...

The last thing she saw before it passed a metal claw over her face and she slept was tall, tall horns and an unhappy little frown.

When Circe awoke, she scrambled up and flinched, looking around; she was at her shack in the plains, her cart next to her. Her eyes widened before she checked, but everything she hadn't sold was back inside, along with her money. She frowned and looked around again, but the only clues were tracks in the grey; hers from leaving, and a long tread that ended at her and went back along itself toward the foothills. The other must've carried her and her cart...

Circe scratched her head and shivered, staring back up at the red-capped peaks again before she took her cart inside and locked the door.

Bill's friend.

She'd never be comfortable here, but that was the point.

Jack sat in the church basement, head on her fists and watching someone she'd never seen before introduce themselves. Wren and Anne were waiting in her truck, the others in the dream while she was in a meeting. It had been a long month, harder than she'd thought it would be, but she'd made it without slipping up. Continued work on Molehu in her off time and Danai visiting every so often kept her busy.

The woman sat down, and Jack crouched lower in her seat, but it was too late. Whatever the person leading the meeting was saying, she couldn't quite hear, but they were glancing at her. Up until now she'd passed or not said anything, but eventually she stood up and crossed her arms, frowning.

"...I'm Jack. Parents wanted another boy." She shrugged. "It's been about a month since my last drink, and damn, it's... A grind. I quit work for the day and I know I'm not taking the edge off, it's just going to build up. I put a hole in a wall over an argument and no one I live with will talk about it. I wake up pissed and go to bed pissed... It shouldn't be like this, but I guess that's on me." She said, looking from face to face and feeling overexposed. She was trying to enunciate everything clear instead of mumble.

"I've been thinking about it, and putting stuff together I hadn't before. Like how after my dad died, I'd find emoty bottles around and not know why they were there. My mom never drank in front of me, but I wonder... Well, whatever. Past now. I dunno, I'm just wondering if without drinking I'm a worse person than usual. That hole I mentioned, there's this girl, Trace, and she put cat ears on my power armor. Which is nothing, right? Just a joke. Except I got in her face and punched a wall because I really, really wanted to punch her. Dinner later was tense." She deadpanned and then sighed.

"But happiness from a bottle is false, I have to keep that in mind. Things are good otherwise. Things are real good... I just have to not fuck everything up, that's all. I have to stay strong, it's just- I'm not the kind to moan and complain, but the days are too long and they're getting longer. That's, uh, all." She said, sitting down.

As the meeting went on, she grit her teeth and felt a bite of guilt again.

Golden

Midday was giving way to dusk as Agatha and Kirk walked the road back to Greencrest, the woman easily keeping pace with his horse. She'd had plenty of sunlight today, and felt energized and content. As long as she got at least four hours of direct light, she didn't have to eat for the day, and would only need four or so hours of sleep in the night before waiting for sunrise. Being more than half plant had come with a few perks she didn't quite mind.

They both stopped and looked over; from behind hilltops, they could see tents and streamers, hear excited and happy people, smell food being fried and prepared. Kirk looked overjoyed as he waved at the spectacle.

"It's a Fair! Lucky us, eh? Here I'd thought it would be all business this trip." He laughed, leading the way. He turned around after a few steps, looking confused at Agatha, who was standing and uncomfortably still looking over.

"...Sorry, I'd rather not. Why don't we keep going? We'll be halfway back before setting camp for the night." She said anxiously.

"What? You'd really rather sleep in a field instead of a bed?" Kirk asked her.

"Yes. Absolutely." She said without hesitation. Kirk kept looking at her like she was speaking another language before she sighed.

"...They'll see me, and it won't be their day anymore. They'll cheer, and joke, and offer us free food and drink, and I'll be introduced to more than a few first-born sons. They'll toast me and ask for stories and... And it's not right. They'll put me over themselves as though I'm a saint, or better than them, like I'm some sort of hero."

"Aren't you some sort of hero?" Kirk asked, nonplussed.

"No, not at all! I'm still a nobody, just one who can lift a cow over her head. I don't do this for fame or for the common good, I do this because someone has to, and I've yet to be enough. To be good enough. I don't deserve praise and I certainly don't deserve adulation for just happening to exist and doing a mediocre job."

"...She really did a number on you, didn't she?" Kirk asked quietly, and Agatha looked away, going red from being caught out. "They cheer and all that because they like you, Agatha. It isn't about putting you on a pedestal- it's that when people need help, or need saving or defended, you're always there. You're a hero whether you want to be or not."

"You've that right." She admitted, still wavering.

"Just once, imagine having fun without those sorts of worries-"

"I have fun!"

"Name one fun thing you've done in the last two weeks."

Agatha paused and looked askance, before opening her mouth and raising a finger to point-

"Other than gardening."

Agatha lowered her finger and closed her mouth before slowly nodding. "You may... be right on this matter. Oh, alright- we'll, we'll have a day at the Fair. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you just were hoping for a lion's share of the free food." She smiled.

"Well, you can't eat meat anyway. It may as well not go to waste!"

When they got there, it was much as Agatha had foreseen- a lot of people and animals milling around in a field, food being made, games being played and a few rides still set up, and once they'd realized who she was, it was again much as she'd guessed. People were overjoyed to see her, and she did her best to pass words with them in return. The crops were growing well, ready for harvest, the wolf pack she'd driven away hadn't come back, had she fought a troll, had she ever fought a griffin, if she needed anything-

Doing her best to keep her feet, she eventually put her arm over Kirk's horse and squeezed the more anxiety she felt, until it turned and gave her a haughty, affronted look. Once they made their way to the food and sat, she was encircled, everyone talking and passing plates and fare around. She took the middling vegetables for her meal, while Kirk stuffed three plates full and clanked a tankard of beer with another man. Agatha quietly nibbled on a corncob and jerked in surprise when someone touched the flower in her back.

It was a nice evening, one she hadn't expected. The wooden Ferris wheel was a little small, and some of the pigs reared up and stampeded Kirk in their pen, but otherwise she enjoyed herself. Looking around after the torches had been lit at all the people together and at peace, she felt a tiny spark of satisfaction and didn't let herself extenguish it.

Sunrise

"...Do you see them?"

"No, sorry, not yet."

Agatha and Kirk stood on another piece of dirt road miles away from Greencrest, the Knight restless, the woman staring directly into the sun like she'd been doing for almost ten minutes. It didn't hurt or blind her; the light and the heat felt good across her skin, like a large furry robe hung near a fire before being put on. She couldn't see her surroundings, instead scrying through the woods with it's help. Too high and all she could see was treetops, but too low and she'd never find the needles in the haystack she sought.

The people of Oldstone had stayed behind locked doors until they'd seen her, at which point they had become more welcoming. Agatha was hard to mistake for anyone else, and she'd fought off an ogre in the town square not four months ago.

The first evidence she had were donkey tracks in the dirt, leading away towards the bend of a river, and following along with them had at last shown her the camp. Kirk must have overestimated the numbers; there were fifteen men ambling around the fire, some working, some sharpening blades, some eating. They looked bitter and hard, like most mercenaries tended to.

"Found them. Two miles east and a little north, I think, upright. They don't quite look settled in... I thought you said there were thirty or so? I count half that." She said in aside to him, slowly turning her vision around the camp and frowning at a bear-like man when he spit in the river.

"That was what I was told. Could be they split to cover ground or guard pillage." Kirk shrugged. "Is that near enough for you to...?"

Almost. I'll need to get a little closer, I think." She sighed and blinked, finally looking away from the sun and towards the forest wall on the side of the road. "I've never liked this part... Join me when you can?" She asked, turning and walking in. Kirk sighed and nodded, leading his horse in after her.

Agatha kept walking, her white hemline getting caught on sticks and brambles, but she let it tear loose and made her way in. It wasn't meant to look nice all the time, just distract the eye and confuse her shape when she moved. She had a closet full of them. Once within range she raised her head and kept the image of the camp in her mind, willing herself to move and be free-

Her body turned to sunlight and was gone like dandelion on the wind; Kirk kicked a root and looked around before he sighed again and headed to meet her afterward. She reappeared 180 feet away, next to the river all at once, out of thin air; before they'd done more than jump she'd shoved the man she'd spotted into the water before looking around and planting her sword in front of her. The blade was bigger than she was and it gleamed like a mirror.

"...Hello." She started, stilted. "I know who you are and I know what you've done. The dead you've left in your wake cry out, and they're owed justice at the least." She continued, looking around with readiness in the set of her shoulders and grip.

"What have we done?" Asked one, eight around drawing bows and knocking arrows. The others had their weapons in their hands, but were waiting to maul her to death.

"I had friends in Bluestone, and in Fox's Quarry. You killed them like dogs in the street for sport. If you were just bandits and brigands I'd have let you live, but you're a plague, and-" she went on, bracing her sword in time for the bows to loose. Her eyes widened as her form once again became something like rolling motes of sunlight. She didn't waste any time, racing over in a flash before she became physical again, her blade already swinging out-

She'd set herself in place, and she turned as she swung, her sword long and heavy enough to carve two men in half. They weren't prepared, and she didn't blame them. If she wasn't as strong as she was, she would've dragged the thing in the dirt behind her and struggled to poke people with the pommel. Instead she hefted it back up and spun before swinging low and chopping off a man at the knees. When she arose, four arrows hit her in the upper back, two of them punching through and going into her lung. She hissed before whipping around and charging the archers down, or at least trying to before she hit the swords and axes of her enemies.

The arrows had hurt, but they didn't anymore. Her blood was like sap, and it didn't much run. After breaking a guard and then cleaving another enemy in half she'd raised her sword to strike before it lit up, bright like a sunrise, burning with sudden heat. She accidentally set a tent on fire from contact with straw, but otherwise was able to keep killing her way through them. As long as she was attacking, she was unstoppable; her defense was hit or miss, and in the case of a few axes, it was a hit. The swords had more trouble with her armor, but by dint of it's nature she took chops in her sides and arms as a matter of course.

Agatha didn't smile because she didn't enjoy this, or so she told herself. This was for her dead friends. She knew those families to speak to. She'd been in their houses. If she slipped up and they knew she was nearby instead of there she usually was allowed a bed for the night. And they'd died for nothing.

The last one was holding his sword and his shield up, she met his eyes and briefly hesitated before he ran at her and she ran him through. It was messy, but she'd gotten good enough at to make it work.
Sliding her glowing blade from the wounds with a hiss of smoke, she extinguished it before looking around and then down at the dead man.

When Kirk arrived she'd dragged the bodies in a row and healed her wounds after cleaning her sword off. Her white was mostly head to toe red, and she glumly waved at his silent stare. He dismounted and she rose before shrugging and looking over at something, pursing her lips.

"...Could you put out that campfire? Sorry, I'd really rather not go near it." She said apologetically. He blinked and then laughed before looking for canteens to empty, while she smiled modestly.

No place like home

Agatha looked up and wiped imaginary sweat off her brow, finally able to see the results of her work.

Greencrest was her hometown, but the house she'd grown up in looked the same as ever; clapboards leaning drunkedly, a washed out gray-brown color planted in the corner of a weedy glade. Her earliest memories were of picking flowers in the field and catching frogs in the river to the south, but the sight of home itself made her frown, small and guarded. She shrugged off the plow's harness, raised her arms, and stretched with a yawn.

Their old horse had died years and years ago; although the field had grown fallow and she'd found other places to cultivate, in the last few years she'd made an effort to do something about it when she could. In the time they'd let it lay, stones had grown more numerous than plants. She'd almost broken the blade twice, and her shoulders hurt, but she had pushed on. It hadn't been easy, although plowing the field hadn't been nearly as hard as she'd thought it would be. Once she'd started moving she'd been able to keep moving as long as she didn't stop.

Agatha put her hands on her hips and smiled at the broken dirt around her, quietly pleased with herself. She knelt down and brushed off a thistle before popping it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. It was too late in the season for flowering plants, but if she planted a few tubers-

The yell made her stand and immediately look back at the house, frightened, but there was no sound from it. She went to draw her sword before remembering where she'd left it and her armor, instead lifting the plow with both hands and holding it's edge up. She lowered it back to earth a few moments later when a rider came into view, waving and grinning. Her heart slowed down by degrees.

"About time I found you! Don't you get mail here in the sticks?" He laughed, riding up and dismounting. The man wearing plated armor had an open sort of face, one used to smiling more than anything else. He glanced over her shoulder and she grimaced.

"No, the postmaster wouldn't accept barter, only payment. Now they hold my letters in town. I didn't want them delivered here... It's good to see you, Kirk. When was the last time...?"

"Few months or so. 'S why I'm here, matter of fact. The order needs it's figurehead to sort something out. You heard about the war?"

"Which one?" She asked, and he laughed. It hadn't been a joke.

"There's a mercenary company operating behind the lines, in your territory. Thirty men or so, killing and torching and raping their way across the greenbelt. The Rose can't spare any companies to take care of it, but..." He trailed off, waving his hands at her. She nodded, thinking it over.

"They won't draft me afterwards, will they?" She asked warily. Part of the agreement for her training, gear, and membership was that technically she wasn't a knight, and held no titles or degrees of nobility herself. Defending her hearth and home was all she wanted to do, not fight battles for the gains of petty despots. She was nothing more than a mascot, something for people to swap stories about.

"No, the agreement stands! Just, it's a Rose problem. Best have you handle it." He said guilelessly. "You know where Oldstone is? It's not on my map..."

"I know where it is. It's to small to bother writing in, but the people there are good hearted. I'm sorry, I'll be just a moment, let me gather my things." She said, hurrying across her field and picking her way between furrows.

When she neared the house she slowed and began to creep, trying to make as little noise as possible. The creak of her door almost made her hiss nervously, but she kept it in and made her silent way to the room that had always been hers. It was very small, now, and she didn't fit her old bed, but she'd kept it as it was before she'd left. Her rack of bottles and leaves, shoots, and stems sat at weary attention.

Agatha ripped off the patched green tunic and hurriedly slipped her thin armor on, the ironwood light but strong as steel. Metal gear made her uncomfortable, and left the large rose growing out of the small of her back exposed or crushed. She eyed it in her dirty mirror, the flower a little bigger than a basketball and deep, arterial red. No one knew what it was, or where it had come from, but once it had bloomed everything had changed...

Listening one last time for noise or movement like a rabbit in it's den, Agatha took a deep breath and once again snuck out of her house, mentally cursing the door before she was free. She hoisted her massive blade up so the sun glared off it and smiled at Kirk, who smiled back before glancing over her shoulder again.

"Why don't you just-"

"Because. That's all. Are we racing there?" She asked challengingly, hoping to shift the subject.

"I don't think so. Hate to put the poor beast through that." He said, mounting up and patting his horse's head. Agatha gathered herself and set off alongside, sword on her shoulder. She tried her hardest not to look back, but she did anyway.

It's a living.

It was another busy night at the Blue Lagoon mall.

Neo Death was at her place in the Meh Burger in the food court, the expediter at the end of the line. One person cooked the meat and started the food, another built the sandwiches and orders, and her job was to wrap them and send them out to the customers in bags or on trays. She wore her normal small smile as she quickly put two combo meals in a bag and handed them to a family waiting; they thanked her and she dipped her head. Other than not being able to run a register, she was proficient enough at the job.

The Neo Elementals had stayed behind after the Clashkin and the Alternates had gone back to Solis; in the wake of the offseason, they'd realized they would need to get jobs if they wanted to keep their room at the hotel. Death didn't eat or sleep, herself, but she had wanted to do her part to keep her two sisters safe and happy. She knew she was lucky; two people had walked off the job right before she'd applied, or otherwise they likely wouldn't have hired a mute with no background to speak of.

"Fries down!"

Death adjusted her hat and poured the frozen fries into a basket before dropping them into the fryer and setting the timer, briefly sighing before wiping her apron off and going back to making food. She spotted her War sitting at a table, but her cheery wave went unseen.

Black axe sitting next to her, the War grumpily moved her hair out of her face and bit into a steak sub like it was the throat of an enemy. With her appearance and the weapon chained to her, it had seemed like slim pickings for her own employment, until she'd spotted people in uniforms moving almost unseen, sweeping the floors and taking trash bags to big carts. She'd applied and been hired as a janitor, but the work was grinding in her. There were always so many things to clean up from careless and clumsy people, and it was hard to keep her frustrations to herself. Two months ago every human in here would have been afraid of her; now they joked about her weird look and threw their trash on the floors like she wanted to pick it up for them.

Putting down her sandwich, she went back to her book, highlighting a part about improper fractions. Extreme Book Club had shown her what she needed to do; even if it was only a Good Enough Degree, a GED would at least let her move up and do something more. For now, she stewed in her frustrations and counted down the minutes until her break was over.

Out of the three, Lexi had had the most luck; she was working in an Abercrombie, and had finally gotten comfortable enough that she didn't skulk on pins and needles through the store. After getting used to wearing clothes instead of just the minimum and her armor, she actually kind of liked working. Other than sneezing her first day and rotting a blouse into rags, she'd been doing well, although her manager kept stumbling and somehow touching her breasts. She didn't know exactly why, since they were accidents, but it made her very uncomfortable. Even knowing she could've torn his arm from his body like a drumstick, she needed this job...

"I don't know which one to get... What do you think?" Asked the girl she was helping, holding three different blouses. Lexi considered them before putting her hands on her hips and smiling.

"Somebody really smart told me you have to follow your heart with this kind of thing- Fashion doesn't have to be just one way, what matters is what you like! What you're happiest with will always look the best on you. We have changing rooms if you want to try them on." She offered, before leading the way.

Opening the door for her, Lexi looked around and then furtively opened up her flip phone. Technically it belonged to all three of them, but she used it the most, primarily to text Shimmer like she was doing now. Her eyes would always be a little fishlike, but the deadness in them was lessening every day. She jumped and guiltily put it away when the door opened.

"Oh, yeah- I like that one! It really goes with your hair and stuff." She encouraged, the other girl smiling at her.

President Evil

It had been a eventful few hours, and the day wasn't half done.

In her combination office and throne room, Euryale brooded behind steepled fingers and watched two of her administrators argue and snipe at each other over where a small surplus of gold would be going, after she'd once again refused to have a statue of her built in one of her cities square. It wasn't out of modesty; she knew perfectly well what she looked like, and a statue couldn't have come close. It would have been a waste of resources and money to prop up her own vanity, and without that, it would have just been a waste.

Between shouts and recrimations, she rubbed her temples and finally stood, looking between them.

"At this juncture, our standing forces would not benefit from this small of a sum. I've already granted as many of our resources as can be spared to their ends. Crime continues to be a problem... Have either of you heard the theory of Broken Windows? No? No matter. Our law enforcement offices are overwhelmed. The coin will go to their continued upkeep and training." She decided. One man frowned and then angrily bowed, while the other did so with a small smile. It made her smile in turn.

"That will be all for now... Davidson. Stay behind. There is another matter." She said, the winner of the dispute pausing and then closing her door. She leaned over her desk and narrowed her slit eyes at him.

"Have you come any closer to discovering who is stealing from the coffers?"

"Yes, yes I have, your grace. Calmin of the front office is the culprit. He's been laundering it through another party to divest it from the Greed and from you and make it his own. If we act now, we may be able to find the-"

"Oh, I have found him." She said sweetly, coming from behind the desk. "My consort drew much the same conclusion before interrogating Calmin. He told us everything and was able to prove it as well."

Davidson turned pale as a corpse.

"...You thought me a fool." She said in that same sweet voice. If not for her bunched shoulders or the glowing eyes, they might have been sharing a joke. "You stole food from my subject's mouths and played me like a violin. Did you think I would be forever blind to the rat within my walls?"

Pacing in front of him, she let the silence stretch out.

"I need your expertise more than I need a corpse. Understand you are not forgiven- you will pay it back, every single cent, with ten percent interest compounded daily." She said flatly. Circe had told her what terms to use. "This is your only and final chance. If you betray me or mine again, I will kill you and strew your pieces in the streets that dogs may worry at your bones. That is not a threat or a promise- it is cause and effect. Do we understand each other?"

He nodded-

"Say it."

"Y-yes, yes we do, your lordship."

"Then get out of my sight and count yourself fortunate. Luck like this comes once and never again."

After he'd left, she looked out to the deserted hallway before locking the doors and slumping with her head in her hands. Only Hrol really knew how much her day to day responsibilities weighed on her; otherwise she kept up a brave face, but she felt like she was drowning by degrees. It was a constant battle of second-guessing and brittle hope- her decisions affected many, many lives, and a single wrong one could spell disaster.

Walking over to a mirror, she met her own eyes and swallowed before gripping it's sides tightly.

"You are Hell's Pride. You are Hell's Pride. You are Hell's Pride..." She told herself, hating the weakness she could hear, hating how shiny with repressed fear and weariness her eyes were.