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.

Pokemon Zirconium

It was spooky in here, but Voth had seen worse. Walking around the abandoned museum with a flashlight and Antonio's sword, her eye nervously flicked through the empty and yawning interior. The light never quite reached the walls, leaving long shadows over everything...

She'd been doing very well, under Inshabel's wing and with her house. She was starting to come out of her shell and leave it behind, and hadn't berserked in almost a month. It was a nice life, exploring the islands during the day and coming home to people who cared about her, although she still felt a little uneasy. She hadn't done anything to deserve all this... The only thing to do was be worth it.

There were more than a few Pokemon trainers around and about, and she'd worked hard to be the best she could. Since her first battle she'd learned a lot, devouring the guidebooks Inshabel bought for her and studying them on their computer. A pokedex was too expensive, so it was the best she could do. Once she'd been able to look up territory and habits, she'd started adding to her team in earnest.

Poking her head around a corner, she lit up and stifled a happy noise at the sight of what she was looking for. After seeing one on Google and then confirming they were real, she'd known she had to catch one of them. It was the coolest little friend she'd seen yet, and the wild one was sitting there, studying a flag on the ground.

She readied herself and got a pokeball in her free hand before walking out, eye narrowing and shoulders up. The sword immediately turned to her and drew itself, floating threateningly in the air. She smiled happily at it before tossing out her first choice; she knew it would be a tough battle, but she had a plan!

Fib the Shellder looked around and chattered before spotting the Honedge, it's eyes widening and the burbles turning panicked.

<H-hello, there, pal. It's->

<I will split you in half!> it thundered at him, before he Withdrew, clamping his shell tight. Voth blinked and swallowed, before she swung her arms and got into the battle.

"Fib! You can do it! This is what we trained for!" She cheered, the shell creaking open an inch for the  clam to stare in horror at the blade. It danced in the air, red waves briefly flickering around it as it's attack power increased, the blue eye in the crossguard narrowing in concentration. Voth saw it and pointed-

"Okay, Fib, use Protect!" She called, before a white orb briefly appeared around the Shellder and it's defense raised even higher. She knew what was coming-

<Your armor will not save you!> It thundered deeply, suddenly slicing upward, up to ceiling in an Aerial ace that hit like a thunderbolt. Fib went into the floor, the edge of the blade sinking in and then slicing a deep arc into Fib's shell. The Shellder quailed before it paused and looked up at the length of metal stuck in him. The sword jerked him around, trying to get itself out of the wound. Voth winced before she called out "Now! Water Gun!"

The jet hit the Honedge in it's eye and drenched the sash, the sword pausing to stare down at Fib unbelievingly. The clam made apologetic burbling sounds even as the sword seemed to vanish into the darkness, leaving it's place across Fib- only for a slash to ring out, once again slamming Fib down and leaving cracks across his shell. The Homedge reappeared after it's shadow strike, staring imperiously,

"Fib, you did great! Come back!" Voth encouraged, landing out his pokeball's beam. She pickedout another one and took a deep breath, tossing it out and revealing a Houndour. It barked and growled, embers spilling out between it's jaws.

"Okay, Killy! I promised you tough fights- here we go!" She cheered. After catching him in a junkyard, she'd worked hard to earn the little monster's trust and respect, eventually achieving a kind of understanding. He even listened to her most of the time, more than her pidgey did. She'd just had to show him she knew what she was doing.

<Be wary, beast, or your blood will stain->

 <I'm gonna bite you in HAAAAAAAAAAALF!> It Howled, so loud Voth almost put her hands over her ears. Killy's eyes glowed like embers as his attack power increased. The Honedge paused before it swung and slashed him across his flank, and then the dog lunged in a ferocious bite. Flames spilled out of his mouth from the Fire Fang, rushing across the surface of the blade; it tried to get out, but the Houndour bit down tighter, rills of blood from his gums mixing with boiling spittle.

The Honedge screamed like wind through reeds, once more using Fury Cutter, but Killy's mouth again lit up like a furnace as he used Fire Fang, jerking his neck around to whip the sword around. It's sash had caught fire and was burning around them. The sword hastened to end it and decapitate the Hellhound-

Killy used Torment, blocking the attack and slamming the sword to the floor, biting and trying to savage it while it chipped his teeth. Voth threw out a Great Ball and stood on her tiptoes, crossing both her fingers as it rolled, rolled, and then locked.

"YAY! We did it! Great job, Killy! You were amazing! Who's a good boy? Huuuh? Who's my good special boy~" she asked, ruffling his head and using a potion on him. He licked at her hands before snapping at her fingers, but not hard. She laughed and sent him back to his pokeball before taking chalk out of her pocket and looking for a door to go home.

Team Witcher

Up in a tree amongst the leaves, Scylla didn't see why Eva liked this so much. It wasn't a matter of balance; she was light on her feet and her tentacles had her safely braced. But all it would take was a branch to crack and she'd fall far enough down to hurt. Her lights were off, and she'd dulled her armor with ash to keep the moon from glinting off it.

With the end of the Hotel's season, she and Eva had moved back into Molehu and her submarine with their brothers and picked up where they'd left off. She loved the training, loved seeing the results of her hard work out in the field. Even though the Cat school still had empty rooms and gaps in it's membership, she'd tried to make up for it by brightening their days as much as she could. Between playing tag with Declan in the echoing halls, brewing potions with Na-mes, and spending time with Caprice and her sisters, she was as happy as she could be... Except for the eclipse over her sun.

Na-mes had been the one who'd found her alone in the courtyard, standing in front of the gate, tentacles limp and head down. The silence and the dark had reminded her of the undertones in her own thoughts...

Scylla blinked and looked down when she heard a branch crack under a footstep; her prey was approaching. The nearby village was being stalked in the night by some kind of predator that sounded all too familiar to her, and after checking her codex she thought she knew what was going on. She didn't have the senses of her brothers to check for tracks and bent blades of grass, but she could put together clues well enough. Especially after reviewing the lunar cycle.

Gathering herself, she checked her potions and her swords, her eyes almost all pupil. The night was barely there for her; she could see just as well even in total darkness. Where she'd come from, light had never come at all. The moon might as well have been another sun.

It had been almost this dark in the courtyard, when she'd told Na-mes what was weighing on her. There was no denying what she was, and pretending wouldn't keep the others from danger. The danger she was putting them in just from being there. When she'd thought they had all perished in the wake of Umbrella's assault, it had crushed her soul like a cockroach under a boot. She'd never felt so bad, so empty inside; but if Molehu was attacked again, because of want for her, it would be her fault. Her fault if any of them were hurt. Her fault if any of them died. It had been tearing her apart.

The Wereleopard stalked beneath her, and Scylla tensed, readying herself to leap. It was big, bigger than her, but she wasn't afraid. One predator to another, she thought she could take him. It took another step, tattered clothes fluttering in the wind before it tensed and looked right at her.

She boomed an Aarde out from her hand before drawing her silver sword and throwing herself with her tentacles, landing on it's back and stabbing deep into it's shoulder before it screamed and ripped her off, tossing her aside. She rolled with the motion and came up, tense-shouldered, red lights bursting into being from all over her. She could've used her power, could've lit up everything until it crumbled into ash or exploded with channeled energy, but it would've been a cheat. Dancing away from a swipe of it's claws, she had a much better plan.

Na-mes had listened to her pour her heart out in silence, looking down at her while she miserably talked. She loved each and every one of them, but he was her favorite. She'd never say it out loud in case it hurt Mirrit or Hrol's feelings, but it was true. She'd stared up at him, eyes watering up, before he'd finally quietly said the one thing that had made her stay.

"Please don't go."

She'd hugged him as tight as she could, but already, she knew. No matter what, they would stay a pack. No matter what...

It roared and pounced, but she was moving as well, slipping underneath and to the right as she cut it again. She flowed like water around it's aggression, careful to always have room, careful not to leave herself open or close to it's jaws. It outweighed her heavily, and the swings of it's claws made the air whistle from how sharp they were. Tail lashing behind it, the beast once more tried to unzip her guts, but she had circled again to it's side-

Her tentacles seized it by the arm before she threw it as hard as she could at a tree, running over and slicing deep into it's leg. It roared again and she snapped her limbs to it's arms, holding them tight and bringing them both face to face. She saw only aggression and hunger in it's eyes, before her lights shrieked brighter with a whine and left them dull like stones.

"STOP!" She commanded it, the air seeming to ripple around them. It's snarl was cut off midsound, before it's mouth slowly closed and it lowered it's arms. The fury in it's eyes was undimmed, but it didn't struggle, just standing there and staring at her. She frowned up before releasing her hold.

"...KNEEL!" She commanded again. She wasn't sure if she had to yell or not, but in practice it had seemed to help. The Wereleopard took a knee and she pried it's jaws open before popping the cork on a vial and pouring it down it's throat.

"This might hurt. I'm sorry... I want to help you." She swallowed, putting her hands on the sides of it's head. It was nearly vibrating with the urge to spill her blood, but as her light once again turned up with a whine, it's eyes were filling with the radiance. Smoke poured out of it's ears before it screamed again and fell on it's back, writhing in pain. Scylla winced and put out a hand, trying to stabilize the agony flowing through the monst- no. This thing wasn't a monster, not at it's core.

When the seizure had stopped, a teenager was lying on the ground in tattered clothes, dead to the world. Scylla smiled softly down at him, trying to keep from panting from the effort she'd expended, but it felt good. She'd burned the Lycanthropy out of him like starving a fever, and as she poured another potion down his throat- one she'd made herself- she let herself smile. What someone was didn't matter, just who they were. Especially now she believed that. She didn't think the youth in front of her was evil, he'd just been cursed with something awful. He didn't deserve to die for something that wasn't his fault. At least it had worked...

Scylla smiled down at him before dragging him against a tree and headed off, back toward the little village. Helping or not, the payment was going to Molehu's coffers no matter what.

She hoped Eva had made shrimp for dinner.

Bloodsuckers

Iodine's laboratory was the sort of place waiting for a fire.

It was a large, large circle, partitioned and sectioned off into squares and areas through tables and stacks of books high enough to serve as railings and walls. There were diagrams pinned to notes attached to scribblings that trailed downward like ferns in a forest, and bits and pieces of machinery and Equiptment in a hundred varying states between working perfectly and disassembled. The chandelier hanging down was festooned with softly whirling and tinkling glass spheres and tubes, each briefly glowing a different color in a constant pattern.

Electricity crackled above the Vampire's head, as she adjusted a glass array of lights on an arm to better focus on what she had in front of her. Iodine muttered to herself while she tinkered and adjusted a series of diodes and connectors. It had been one thing to finish Anne's friendship detector- to really finish it to her own specifics and standards- but creating a way for artificial beings to appreciate music was proving more difficult. This was a field she'd previously never worked in or experienced, and so Iodine had been sitting here since the sun had gone down-

When the heavy hand fell on her shoulder, she jumped and screamed while the other snorted laughter.

The Vampire was taller and weightier, regal and cold. Her deep red hair spilled over her black armor in contrast to her white corpse-flesh, and her smile looked more like a sneer. Iodine glared up at her and crossed her arms.

"Don't DO that..."

"I'll stop when it stops working." Said Abigail, looking around. "Is Noel here? I seem to have lost her again."

"I don't believe so. How, er, would we tell?"

"...Noel?" Abigail called, crossing her arms and waiting for a few seconds. When no answer was forthcoming she shrugged. "I don't know what I expected. Well, in any case, is it ready yet?"

"Er..." Iodine looked uncomfortable before getting up and moving pieces and parts around on another table, finally lifting a sword up and handing it off to Abigail. The armored Vampire eyed the edge and then gripped it tightly, briefly waving it around.

"How do I...?"

"You grip it like- there, there you are." Iodine said, putting her hands on her hips and watching the sword suddenly run with red fire. "That's Banefire. It will cling and burn so long as there is fuel. I haven't quite achieved the Witch-ice, however. I'll need another night with it."

"Another- oh, fine. Cease fiddling with your little earth-friend's bits and get to it already, would you?" She asked in an order, setting the blade down overtop Iodine's table. The scientist bristled.

"I'll get to it in time! You can't merely rush these sorts of things, dood-"

"Yes you can. I am now, and I want it done." Abigail said flatly, before leaving. Iodine mouthed her words and made a face before sighing and settling the sword in front of her to open the innards in the pommel and crossguard.

She didn't notice when Noel crawled out of a cupboard and watched her for three hours, but by the time she was finished with the blade, the other was gone.

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.

A late morning

She had to check each and every lock, doors and windows, all throughout the dark mansion. The ceilings were cathedral-like and wreathed in shadows, looming high above her. Candlelight could never really banish the darkness that ruled this part of Hell, but the flickering gloom suited her fine. Circe didn't need light to see by anyway. She undid the catch on a window and closed it again, putting her hand in it and staring silently before walking a few feet to the next one to repeat the process, until she'd satisfied herself that everything was secure. If she didn't check, the results would be vague yet certainly catastrophic.

She could've paid someone to do this, but she was used to her own quirks at this point. Every day after waking up and every night before sinking into sleep she had to make sure. It was an obsession and a compulsion, but considering how hard she'd had to work and scrimp and save over the years, it was perhaps understandable. Passing by an oil painting depicting tigers playing cards and having tea, she undid another lock and redid the catch.

The walls were a deep, rich wine color, and there were other paintings and pieces of deals gone right all around. None of the vases or triptychs or phylacteries or chests or statues or other art had cost her anything; they were all either gifts or part of a bundled package. The idea of actually spending her money on anything, including buying more than seven pairs of black clothes or basic needs like food made her break out in a cold sweat and feel faint. Walking by the McDonald's next to her kitchen, she paused at the counter and looked up at the massive slab of bones, spikes, and aggression.

"Good evening, Vizikier. I'd like an iced coffee, extra sprinkles, please."

The other Devil nodded and made her the drink, tipping it's hat to her before it went back to wiping the counter. Circe smiled and flounced away, sipping contentedly and going back and checking her locks. Nearing the last of them, she looked around before clicking her fingers together and clearing her throat.

"Vivian?"

A human girl appeared from the gloom, rubbing her eyes and double-checking her clipboard. Like most all of Circe's servants, she was pale from a lack of sunlight. As her enterprise had grown, Circe had made deals and contracts with all manner of beings to keep it functionally running; Vivian had had a disease that was incurable in 1920. Circe had bought ownership of her soul for pennies on the dollar and since then kept her on as her assistant

"What does my schedule seem to be today?" Circe asked, stirring her coffee. Vivian flipped around the papers on her clipboard.

"Well... Archfiend Kalzak has the two hundred pounds of Hellram wool you'd wanted, and sought a meeting. The pirate king of the fire sea was interested in that shipment of AK-47's we'd acquired... Oh. Belphagor, nemesis of the innocent and despoiler of hope wished to book one of the petting zoos for his daughter's seventh birthday." She said quietly. Circe smiled before throwing her empty cup away and locking the very last window in her daily check.

"Good, good. Well, we'd best get started!... Oh, and make a note, please. We've been out of M&M's for Mcflurry's for three days, and I simply won't have that." She said primly, walking along with her hands clasped behind her back. Vivian kept two steps behind her and wrote down what she'd said. "How are my Kuwahawi franchises coming along?"

"We've acquired another Popeye's chicken and a Starbucks... And an Old Navy."

"To us, isn't it a New Navy?" Circe joked. Vivan's expression didn't change, but she penciled that in as well as Circe headed toward her office, the siren song of business and profit calling to her like heroin with a voice.

Clashplot, looking back.

I hear you guys like these sort of things? Well buckle up and get ready for a bunch of words about it!

So, the Genesis of Clash was like most of my jerks; I saw her picture and realized I liked it a lot and could use her as a character. Something I'd learned in 2015 was that a 3rd shift schedule fucking suuuuucks for getting to plots, much less attending them. Originally Clash was going to be a silent weirdo who'd show up possibly in the middle of fights and then disappear as soon as the problem was solved. The earliest power set for her I played with would later be repurposed wholesale for Beth.

The War Elemental thing came about for two reasons; the first being a Magic card called, well, War Elemental, a red creature that can only be played after damaging an opponent and grows stronger the more damage dealt to an opponent while it's alive. I'd never managed to get one, but I really liked the idea of the card and it's art. The idea of an intangible concept like War being embodied was cool to me, although I will say that when Gooper started mentioning Nostalgia Elementals I felt like a jackass for copying him, even unintentionally.

However, I realized having a character only for battles and plots with no personality or motivations to speak of would not only be uninteresting, but pretty lame. The blogpost with Clash that I typed up the night before the season started was spur of the moment, but it left me a lot of room to develop her and, you know, actually have fun with the character.

A lot of the first Clashplot was spur of the moment too, which was something I felt I was alright enough at doing to hammer something together. If Clash were a living weapon made by magic, it was inevitable there would be others, and not necessarily the exact same as her. I'm glad no one called me on having a four horseman motif coming from a world that couldn't possibly have a bible, and I even had Clash mention it at least once.

Anywho, Famine was my attempt to compare and contrast Clash with someone still active in their original role. While Clash was a physical powerhouse who was ignorant of the wider world, Famine was weak and sickly but intelligent. The choppy, emotionless way she spoke was a part of separating her and Clash further. I wanted to show that the system Clash had escaped was like most systems of slavery; circular, unending, and powered by blood.

Conquest and Pestilence were a little different, due to the fact that Famine would get stomped in a physical fight by anyone even slightly competent. Conquest's art came from another magic card; Akroma, Angel of Wrath. I played when she was first released, and managed to get her card; flat out, Akroma at the time was a beast, the kind of creature that could easily win a game on her lonesome. I wanted to capture the idea of a powerful face-smashing Angel without having her be an out and out angel.

Pestilence came about after I cancelled Clashplot; At the time, I thought other people's plots that had HAD build-up, that had HAD other people get invested deserved schedule days much more than my lame bullshit, and at a certain point I realized it just wasn't going to happen. Me personally, I hate half-assing things, and I didn't want to run a boring five or six hour long fight club that was attended just out of politeness. I knew I'd have to finish what I started, and introducing Pestilence off-world was my way of saying "Hey, I know that was a big ol' letdown wet fart, but it's not over yet!"

Jumpropeman commented once that the Alternates were a way to salvage the plot after making the Elementals too relatable, and honestly, he wasn't wrong. I like making my Villians as close to actual people as possible, and sometimes it works, while other times it doesn't.

For the most part, I was trying to have your character's actions influence the plot; if you'd all wanted to kill the Elementals/Alternates/Neos, I would have written it out like that. I kind of didn't expect you guys to save everybody, but hell, it worked for me. Railroading is generally a garbage thing to do, and I wanted to try and avoid doing it as much as I could. If nothing else, I hope you all had fun with the plot; I still don't know if it was satisfying, but at least we got it done.

Divine Wind

It was tiny patch of land, all things considered. A square that was one mile by one mile, buried on the main island of Kuwahawi like a tie rack drowning in an overstuffed closest. The ground was flat but for a single hill, a very thin river ran through it, and it had been clear cut down to the grass on the ground. There was nothing valuable on it, nothing worth taking and nothing worth stealing, but it belonged to her all the same. For now the General dug out her potatoes, stabbing at the dirt with a spade and ripping the spuds out.

No one knew where she'd come from or who she was, least of all her; She'd walked out of the waves one day a few years ago, all her red clothes soaked, her hat overflowing with water before she'd drawn her sword, marched up the beach, and declared war on the island.

It had been a relatively short engagement. After bathing a city block in gunfire and sending artillery barrages at a SWAT team, someone had the bright idea to negotiate for peace before she razed everything. It had stopped her in her tracks, head down, thinking it over before the weaponry that followed her switched to parade rest and she sheathed her blade. The battle was vital, the war was life, but it was also only a means to an end. The square of scrubland was territory conquered, even if it was small and unimportant.

Ever since then she'd lived quietly, for the most part, building and sleeping in a one room shack with a dirt floor she'd hammered together out of pallets, growing her garden, and following the terms of the treaty that had been drawn up. The other islands weren't all that great anyway. There was only one of her, and at some point, her reach would've exceeded her grasp. Better a bird in hand than gambling on two or three roosting in the bushes.

Quiet voices made her snap her head up and stand, throwing her large red coat back across her shoulders as she marched around her hill, eyes steely and mouth in an irritated crescent. She knew she'd come around and see a few idiot tourists without even spotting them or listening hard. The locals knew about her and knew her two simple requests; not to step foot on her land, and to never, ever pick anything out of her garden. In return she kept out of their lives and away from their own property.

What she didn't know was that certain locals, after being held up like fascinating kitschy specimens or having their culture treated like a zoo by those same tourists would every now and then send the idiots to her. The General had special a way with people.

When she spotted the two teenagers, she was able to approach within twenty feet by the time they spotted her, and her hand crept to her sword before eight older single-shot rifles floated behind her in a half wheel like wings. She adjusted her hat as all three of them looked at each other.

"Uh... Hi. Are you the-"

"You shit for brains not see the barbed wire? Or the signs?" She snapped, almost drawing her blade. Four of the guns behind her went off as she stared to the other one. "Get out now."

"...This isn't a, uh, Hemp farm?" Asked the other timidly. The General's glare deepened.

"I don't grow weeds. Go away." She said seriously, the other four guns discharging to prove her point. She waited until they were almost at the edge of the trees before she called out "Wait!" General Oda knelt down and picked up a fist-sized rock before tossing it over her shoulder, eyes still locked on both the trespassers. It thumped the ground and rolled away, something in the ground clicking-

The land mine exploded, hurling dirt, grass, and fire upward and outward, blowing the tapers of her coat in front of her. Both the tourist's eyes widened like saucers before they were crashing brought the undergrowth. She threw her head back and laughed heartily, arms crossed over her chest.