Mahz been on vacation for half a year, I wonder if he'll come back from his Mahzquest - youtube.com/watch?v=ygI-2F8… - where could be Mahz be now? Find out next time on Mahzquest.
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8 yrs ago
All I ask is that people communicate these things.
She didn’t need to continue throwing it in his face that she wasn’t into him. Some women really had to throw that out there. He took the hint the first time. Didn’t mean he couldn’t adjust and now just want a friendly chat. He ordered a cranberry vodka, without ice always watered the drink down and make sure he could taste the vodka. Else it just taste like cranberry juice.
Kimber’s eyes fell on the loud man, what did he think this was medieval Europe? In a tavern. Ye ol’ best. Still it made Kimber smile. As she addressed both the man and him as annoying, he took a sip of his cranberry vodka.
“At least.” he says, “Someone knows how to have some fun.” he replies, “Think you meant by annoying you meant friendly. That’s what people do, be friendly to each other upon first meeting.”
Not that it bothered him. In fact it was more fun at this point to bother her if she was going to be so osteer. Some assassins around here took their job too hard. He prefered a relax method. Staring at the navy haired girl she was texting and speaking with the man who was drinking a juice box.
Getting up to move to the navy haired girl, he smiles between the man with the very noticeable scar on his neck. He points to the newcomer.
“You think he’s friends with Doc Brown?” Kimber ask making a joke to the both of them, but particularly the navy haired girl.
Abort mission. Kimber just smiled. Inhaling than exhaling away from her towards the ceiling, before looking back at her.
“Just to chat,” Kimber tells her, “Isn’t that what a room of strangers does? Chat. Warmup. Get to know each other. No ulterior motives.”
Because he wasn’t about go taming a bull. He didn’t like rodeos when it came to woman.
“How about we get on a better foot, yes?” Kimber replies, “I’d like a cranberry vodka. And that’s what I like to drink. You like a scotch dry. That’s a really great drink.”
Kimber smiles at her, “See not so hard. Just friendly banter. What do you think so far, of the people who have arrived?”
He eyes a man who came in from the back. His hair was really stylish. Put Kimber’s styled hair to shame, but he walked stiff and militant. That’s a weird juxtaposition.
Shit. Looking at his wallet all he got was a piece of paper for a location. He knew it well, only place that hadn’t kicked him out before. They didn’t seem to mind, they thought it brought them business. No money though, meant he had to suck up to his Mother. Passing grand marble halls towards the parking space, he was also scanning the Grand Church with his lavender coloured eyes to find his Mother. In luck she was standing in the main room.
“Mother,” Kimber called out.
She eyed him.
“Kimber,” she replied.
“I am in a hurry so I am going to speed up the process of sweetening you up before I ask for what I think you’re well aware of I am going to ask,” Kimber tells her, then sticks his hand in his coat to take out his squares and take out a smoke. Lighting it, “I do not need to remind me I am your only child. And that being in the UAA is a dangerous endeavor you worry that I’ll come back as a corpse.” he makes a speed up notion with his hand as if he’s fast forwarding him, “and with that very summarized attempt of trying to appeal to your empathy, I ask for fifty dollars.”
She sighed. Handing him thirty dollars.
“Your attempt was lackluster,” she told him.
“I know right,” he tells her with a slight wink, “But it was out of love. Who wants to keep groveling the same way for money?”
“Learn to grovel in a different way,” she tells him, “Just be safe.”
Kimber inhales, then slowly exhales away from her. He laughs.
“Yeah, when have I not been known for my safety,” Kimber tells her nonchalantly, “Safety is my middle name. Bar is my last. Dangerous is my first. Dangerous Safety.”
“That’s an oxymoron,”
“Is it?” he asked her, he shrugs.
He gave her a lazy wave goodbye, before handing her the piece of paper of where he was going. He just winks at her before walking off towards the square they used as a parking square. There was a single limo, a few ugly vans, and then in all its bitching glory was the Purple Chariot. It sat gleamy in the sun, its purple glittery.
Only thing that about worked right was the subwoofers. Could have some disruptive parties in the middle of the street, neighbors wouldn’t be mad because the sound system was rad, better yet they wouldn’t have to throw bricks into the windows to hear it better. Ha, he always liked those comments on MEtube. He had a USB radio installed of the old school one. One USB to rule the musical world.
Sliding into the driver side, he had just gotten the Chariot a checkup and service. It shouldn’t cause him any problems this time.
“Okay, do your magic for me,” he told the Purple Chariot, kissing the steering wheel before turning on the ignition the Chariot started up with no problems, “I love you. Only girl to stick around.” he tells the Chariot.
There’s some fuzzy dice hanging from the center window, and a car freshener. In all the years he has owned this car he learned the mastery of not puking in it.
Now, what to listen to? Flipping through the songs. He always loved a song that felt good to soar through the city at 80 miles per hour. Every time he did so he called the posers with their fancy cars, for some reason they thought he was part of something he was certain he didn’t sign up for. Unless he was really drunk that night and he didn’t know he signed up for that kind of way of breaking the law.
Ah! A classic.
Backing out of the parking space, he did a three point turn kicking up the dirt. Purple Chariot had an issue with catching grip with its sports tires on the dirt. But he managed to kick off, out of the Grand Church on the road. The road to the Church or to the City was devoid of any traffic just a long stretch of road. 30 to 40 to 50 to 60. Flying at a hundred.
Doing a curvy turn, gliding right on the line. Passing a hill, which is just a lame mound of dirt trying to be a mountain. Going straight. Hundred pushing hundred-fifteen, flying, flying. Till he entered the city. Windows gleamed like reflections on hot tarmac. He dropped his speed down to 80, but that didn’t mean lights were going to stop him.
As he blew past a red light. One of those posers with a fancy car revved at him and started to match his speed. Weaving in and out of traffic, causing near misses. Flying past, flying, in, out, tight turn following the line closely. If he wasn’t the expected heir of the Grand Church, he wouldn’t have minded NASCAR as a career.
Taking another tight turn to shake off the red car. Red is lame compared to purple anyway. Buildings warped like hyperspace, as he peeled away from the lesser appealing side of the city began to transform. Peeling away in this odd hyperloop at ninety mph, too dangerous for any city limits. Yet the Chariot made it look graceful to any outside observer.
Parking her at the curb he was staring the dying neon sign of the Dirty Babe. The Y use to be the most beautiful looking feminine leg highlighted in pink. Now it didn’t glow nor light up in anyway that gave anyone the hope they’d see a real feminine star.
Turning off the ignition and putting on the alarm, he fixed his coat, and brushed across his hair out of his eyes. Taking out another cigarette the other burned out earlier and sat in his ashtray he just put on a smile. Nothing made life more fun or more interesting than a bar and being told go here. Somewhere he goes not as frequently as he use to, but close to frequently.
Walking through the front door he scanned the current patrons.
Two girls and several people who looked like businessmen. Some guy clearly took harder drugs than him as he hung around in a box and a suit. Out of the two only one was attractive. The other had a scar on their face which severely detracted several points of hotness, plus the sickly color of her hair.
He decided to sit next to the more attractive one with raven length hair and pale skin. She still wasn’t exactly his type. But if he was going to be here waiting he’d make it worthwhile.
Ay what's up? Just checking in. Letting you know I'm not dead of alcohol poisoning in a Vegas ditch somewhere... Though I feel like I should be. My Discord isn't working on my phone for some stupid reason. Working on that...anyways happy new year and marry Christmas,hanukkah,kwanzaa,festivus and whatever you choose to celebrate.
Well we're still around and I am planning to get that OOC up. I swear I am just slow. lool Everyone is still on board.
He turns his head to his close friend. Of course he had to make a spectacle out of his introduction, but he quickly moved his observation to the stranger with a nasty habit of not picking up after himself. Telekenisis, interesting. Swarm, he went by the name Swarm. Even more interesting considering Swarm was lifting a car and had brought his attention to a child on the other side.
Curious. Exploding buildings. Children. A man lifting a car with a name that felt out of place. A part of him was curious with all these events. Though tonight was not the night they were suppose to be getting involved without all the pieces. If they joined in on this circumstance who could they ultimately be making enemies with and allies with.
Narrowing his eyes behind the mask for a second. What should they do in this circumstance? Stepping forward would maybe put him in harm's way. Stepping back would show possible weakness to Swarm. And he did want to see where this way going.
He warranted the car might be because of a potential threat this individual might be. Though he did walk up to a potential threat and threw away their cigarette butt.
“Perhaps,” Affliction paused, “Instead of brandishing cars we could see if they need something from us. Unless they explode people as well for fun, though I doubt that likely.” He takes a second, “It may not seem like an appropriate time, but you may call me Affliction.”
He only plants a single foot forward to see if either would take his lead.
Affliction watched the man, certainly he probably believed he did things because he was easy to push around. He certainly believed there had to be a level of mutual respect among people. Why ask and receive if you are not to give either?
He promptly asked him where he came from, wasn’t that question a little rhetorical considering he was in a mask right now? It was obvious in the way he was dressed he was not going to tell people his origin.
Beside where he was from was left behind. Past him. So Affliction smiled underneath the mask before replying with a little joke, “Hell” he stated with a mild laugh. It seemed Hemo’s sense of humor had rubbed off on him just a bit. Anyone who would start to understand HemoGoblin would probably recognize it in that answer, luckily this stranger did not.
Before the man had time to respond, he was distracted by the sound of lasers. It sounded like a war in Battlestar Galactica going on in a building close by. Then there was the sound of an explosion and shattering glass. Affliction turned his head to the side and looked at the man he had just met.
“Seems the kids know how to party around here,” Affliction said, oh gross he really is starting to sound more and more like HemoGoblin.
“In God we trust. To give us strength and eradicate this sin.”
The Church had an odd smell to it, the scent of clorox bleach probably to clean up an odd looking stain on a runner rug, cigar smoke instead incense, and one of the nuns had a faint smell of whiskey on their robes. You were told by a man, whose bald head reminded you of a smashed in pumpkin, you would be speaking with someone called the Silver Prowler.
When you were lead down a long winding hallway into a conference room, you were beginning to realize how strange all of this was. The conference room looked more like a little old ladies tea room, with a white couch, and silky white curtains.
There was liquor cabinet sitting on one side of the walls and all the crosses inside were replaced with strange looking ritual circles. You were gestured to sit down and the dark skinned man stood at the door at attention.
When you were told that there were some folks you could turn to at the local church for your peculiar problem you would have probably laughed it off as a joke, but now here you were sitting in a break room, decorated by what seemed like an old woman’s taste. Staring at bloodstains, hidden in an Indian patterned rug.
The door opened, accompanied some ordinary looking men in suits was a man you could only assume was the Silver Prowler. Tall, and blonde with blue eyes, he wore a white suit with a black dress shirt and white tie. An anti-bodyguard suit you thought was clever statement, but when he pulled from his path towards you, you realized the true statement was being made in a bold choice of purple complimented on black.
The young man who stood before you had such snow white skin, you might have mistook him for a vampire in one of those popular movies. He had the looks to backup your vampire theory as well. Raven colored hair, electrifying lavender irises, narrow, but squarish eye shape. With a long, narrow, slim face, with a set of full lips and somewhat long eyelashes, with thin straight eyebrows.
He made a bold statement wearing a dignifying dress shirt of a dark purple shade, his tie in a coordinated pattern of purple and black, giving him the look of royalty. A silver gun with some phrase on the barrel was holstered at his side with a shoulder holster. Black dress slacks and black dress pants, he placed a trench coat on the coat stand brushing black bangs out of his eye before heading towards you.
The closer he got you recognized a few things, that he had an odd combinations of scents on him he scent of cloves mixed with the scent of mint. It didn’t detract in fact it kind of added to his mystique. Though he wasn’t nearly as tall as the man in the white suit. Standing at 170cm, 5’7”, he was fairly thin and boney to look at. His hands were cold and he had slender thin fingers. If you had to guess he would probably weigh on the lightside. Though a number wasn’t really jumping to you at this moment, though a thin upper torso and closer inspection it was clear he didn’t have much fat or muscle on him. If you had to guess a number 54kg, 120 pounds.
“Did you wait long?”
“No your timing was very prompt,”
“I’m glad then, drink? Rye, Bourbon, Vodka?”
“Bourbon, please, thank you,”
His voice was smoldering, while dry, and hoarse, there was a kind of husky undertone that made it appealing to listen to. In fact you wanted him to continue speaking, the dry hoarseness worked for him, adding to his flamboyant quality rather than subtracting to it.
His voice wasn’t too deeply masculine, definitely wasn’t feminine. It sat a middle range, with perhaps a slight accent to it though you couldn’t quite catch from where. Though someone where in Europe that was for certain. He might have not been what you expected, but he was quite professional, polite, and formal.
He was also quite confident in himself, and carried it in his presence. He had a cunning expression in his eyes and a calm navigating control of the room. Despite none of this being what you expected of the church, it far surpassed anything you could have thought of.
Personality:
Most who have worked for Kimber or under Kimber describe a man who rarely breaks a sweat. He walks into a panicking room and seems to bring the arguing parties some sense of comfort just due to his sheer relaxed nature. He rarely sweats over little details or little issues. He doesn’t see the need in unnecessary hysteria over minor details. The only thing that matters to him is the success rate of the bigger picture. Actually Kimber can be so relaxed it makes others nervous when he doesn’t take much of anything too seriously. You won’t see him break out into serious discussions with a furrowed brow, most of the time he’s the one sitting with the back of his chair leaned back, feet on the table, smoking a cigarette discussing the plan with a cunning smile.
That’s his confidence that shines through, when Kimber is confident about something working, he doesn’t seem at all nervous. Probably part of his charm and also why some of those against him might paint him off as stupid or daft, maybe even airheaded.
Kimber is smart, he just doesn’t feel the need to lord it over someone. Actually his strength is in leading someone else to think they came up with an idea rather than him get the credit for it. Something of a habit his mother hates.
Even if he’s smart you won’t see Kimber reading textbooks or heavy handed books, no he doesn’t even like books. He prefers to charm people, especially woman. Though Kimber doesn’t necessarily stick with relationships, but one night stands. Another habit of his mother despises. Rumor has it that he sexed another assassin pants off and she never provided a problem for the Exorcism Society again. Kimber doesn’t come off as a faithful man either, since he’s so relaxed, and seems so modern you wouldn’t think he’s taken his cult’s beliefs seriously. But he does, after all it is that knowledge and faith in the occult that makes Kimber so strong and dangerous. While he may not be your traditional book smart, savvy, textbook, strategic thinker.
He has a wide arrange of knowledge in the occult, arcana, magic, and casting. He tends to come off a little showboating whenever he does display his knowledge in these areas because he’s proud of his heritage as a warlock of his coven.
He does believe that a person has an aura that makes it easier to detect whether they are sinful. He also does believe that people who choose poor actions are easily possessed by demons or have been possessed by demons to choose the actions he does.
He does have a hidden temper. A temper most do not see or think he has because of how relaxed he comes off, how confident, charming, and smooth he is. It’s a temper that isn’t easily triggered either. To tick one of his nerves means you have gone off and done something stupid that wipes that cunning, almost childlike smile off his face, and puts a furrow to his brow.
He’s reckless when it comes to woman and spending, even more reckless when it comes to drinking. It tends to bring the worse out of him, violent, with a mean streak. It’s not like he hides these things. A lot of his relationships don’t go over well because he’ll tell woman they have gained a few pounds or criticize them for the choice of clothing. A lot of people don’t like being his friend because he takes blunt honesty too far, where blunt is more like sharp honesty.
Sure he’s loyal and won’t tell a lie. But he’s an asshole with a heart of gold sometimes. His friends adore him because he treats them with some modicum of respect. And those who criticize him hate him because he could give zero fucks to be nice to them.
The only time Kimber seems to behave like a “good boy” if you can put it like that is his mother. He doesn’t do anything to disrespect her or undermine her when she is in charge. He’s not power hungry nor does he have much ego or pride, so he’s able to at least set those aside for other people, but especially his mother. He will not do anything to strike her ire, but that doesn’t mean he becomes meek or small in her presence. It just means he lets her be in charge.
Lastly he likes Irish coffee, hold the topped cream though. He likes mixed drinks the most with vodka. He likes nice, fast cars, and even nicer guns, beautiful woman too. He dislikes the sinful, those who question his beliefs when they have of their own, those who disrespect themselves, those who disrespect his coven or family members, and those who are abusive.
Battle Rites
Combat Style:
In truth Kimber rarely ever actually uses his shoulder holsters for anything, but show during talks. The reality is that Kimber often tends to hide his guns on display and uses them in a wild display of Gun Kata. Kimber is extremely acrobatic and martially skilled, learning to wield his guns as extensions of himself. They don’t just shoot, but they move and flow. He moves and flows with them. Kimber style is unusual in that it mixes what seem like not only sword skills, but kung fu moves with his guns. He doesn’t just shoot, he shoots, listens, combines close quarters combat with guns and can back off to shoot from mid to range as well.
A demonstration is easier to explain than actually trying to explain it;
Equipment:
Kimber’s main strength is in the variety of utility his combat style allows him, giving him the flexibility of combinations tied with his equipment. His most useful tool is his coat, which is like his super cape [his words].
Tailored Bullet Resistant Clothing -
Most of Kimber’s suits in his closet have been custommed tailored to him, each of the suits are somewhat bullet resistant which gives him a bit more defense. They have also been made with flexibility in mind, it’s why Kimber can run on a wall shoot some guys, and then do a black flip down to the ground in a suit that doesn’t look like it would allow such freedom of movement.
Let alone his coat, he often wears, has extra pockets for him to carry extra magazine clips. They can be attached to weighted magnets that extend the clips upward, so he can easily reload his gun when landing. His coat has two pockets in front, and two large pockets on the side near his ribcage. Where he carries;
Magazine Clips for his gun
Equally it carries Revolver Clips in his pocket as well, yes you heard me right Revolver Clips
Weighted Magnets [only 2] that he attaches his clips on - see the video in the hallway for these, 3:39
He has a Silencer hidden in the length of the wider pockets inside of his coat
Equally his coat can conceal his Gun Dispensers, which he wears under the cuff as wrist braces. The Gun Dispensers allow him to conceal his two guns, and dispense them. Equally it also carries and extra magazine in it as well, which he can dispense. It’s like a little Ammo and Gun Pez.
Valiant and Defiant
“These are the weapons that God has granted me, that test your fate,”
Valiant and Defiant stand as twins to the testament of his faiths strength. Each gun glows with runes that mark the element the gun is under. Valiant is under Dark according to his family’s casting crest and Defiant is under the element of Fire according to his family’s casting crest. This gives each gun a different result that allows more variation in both of his gun. Though Defiant has its own unique feature of its very own.
Valiant - Element Dark
Shadow Bullets Despite its name Valiant isn’t so Valiant. When the user shoots with this gun, the Dark Rune activates on the guns. It isn’t even Kimber’s deadly Gun Kata style that could get someone killed you, it is the simply fact that his gun the Valiant seems to expel multiple rounds at once. One round from this gun looks like two, two looks like four, and so on and so forth.
Defiant - Element Fire
How could Defiant lived up to its brother gun. Not only is it a revolver, but it only has five rounds. Well Defiant has a unique feature to it in comparison to its brother. It would be a waste to have a style built on speed, flexibility, to have to slow down in the middle of a shootout to place five bullets into the belly of the beast so to speak.
Thus Defiant has a unique feature to itself. It is called the Revolver Clip. The Revolver’s belly expels like a magazine clip. Then a user can insert another Revolver Clip into its frame with five bullets already tucked into it.
With that said Defiant also has a fire rune attached to it. Which causes self contained explosions of fire. These explosions are within 10ft of the target and have a shockwave of 5ft surrounding it.
Some Bullshit Equipment -
Pack of Cigarettes usually Cloves or Menthols
His Zippo
His Wallet, usually empty, except for ID cards, and some gift cards
His Car
Powers:
As a Warlock of the Exorcism Society he was taught extensively in the art of casting magic. His combines his unique style of Gun Kata with his own casting power to make him a deadly adversary on the field. Simply put his powers are are to combine with his combat style instead of detract. Instead of hefty spells he expels quick magic for effective results that add. In some ways it makes his combat more stylish, in other ways it shouldn’t be underestimated as parlor tricks either.
Unnatural Speed - Now Kimber is not so fast he’s going to be breaking the speed of light. Though he does move with a unique fluidity that makes him appear rather unnaturally fast. His speed is only really limited to near past peak human almost bordering supernatural, but not quite there. Unusually peak human.
Aura Reading - Yeah when Kimber said he could read auras, he can read auras. Despite people laughing him off or thinking he can’t.. In short, a clear aura [white some say] means you are pure of faith or have no sins, a gray clear aura means you have made mistakes in your course of life, a charcoal gray aura means you have continued to make mistakes in the course of your life and are not seeking redemption, and a “black” aura or really a dark cloud around you means you have sinned and have not washed yourself of these sins.
Now just because everyone in the UAA doesn't mean they all have black Auras.
Auras are not necessarily black and white, like this person is evil and this person is good. Auras just matter on how the individual view their deeds. The creepy guy in the corner with the sinister laugh, no regrets or redemption probably has a black aura consumed by their deeds. But the assassin who’s made a mistake, kills a few people, but attempts to make amends for their actions they deem need to be cleansed of may have gray auras. Despite being assassins.
Your Aura is what You Make of your Deeds, not how anyone else outside of you judges your Aura.
Evil Eye - Spell - Void
Upon a quick gaze that your eyes lock, his gaze allows him to cast a charm over you. This charm gives you a brief glimpse of what you want to see. Whether it be you shooting him be your desire or perhaps it is something else entirely, the charm affects you in just enough time for him to slip away from your gaze.
Spirit Shape- Spell - Spirit
You think you’re seeing double. You think he’s walked into this room. So and so forth. The spirit shape spells allows him to create a quick “hologram” of himself. Which is given a basic command like go there, stand here, and only last 30 seconds. As a random distraction. It cannot do anything complicated and quickly fades when attacked.
Special Techniques:
Danu’s Guide- Protection of the Wolf Spirit
Born January 29th, he was born on what the Celts called Faoilleach or the Wolf Month. It is said children of the Exorcism Society born to witches who participate in the rituals, ceremony, prayers to all the Pagan Gods are bestowed by the Gods associated with their birth month. Kimber was born of the Wolf Month and is protected by several gods and goddesses who used wolves as their guardians and messengers.
What this means is on staggering health, when Kimber believes he is dying or is indeed dying. He involuntarily turns in a wolf spirit deity being. In some essence you may call the being a Werewolf. In another sense it looks nothing like a werewolf you have ever seen.
Nearly alien as alien as the Celtic Gods and Goddesses themselves.
The creature has unnaturally supernatural speed and strength, able to pick up a man with a single hand, stop a car with its full strength, but not lift a car or truck or anything of that sort of nature.
It doesn’t take too kindly to being shot at, but seems to have some intelligence about it that makes it different from feral beast most would be use to when it comes to a werewolf people see in the media. While Kimber may not be consciously in control of the creature, the creature itself seems to be consciously in control to be able to make smart decisions in combat.
Your Turf: Exorcism Society
Arena - Pillars of Deceit - Exorcism Society
Here is an arena that will test your belief in something and your eyes to see something. As you enter a completely different stage of fighting. Instead of a dark gritty location, you will be tested in the holy light of the Gods.
Before you stood the Grand Church of the Exorcism Society. Your heart began to race at particular fast rate as you stared upon its impressive halls. Rumor has it another famed and legendary duo of assassins work here. The notorious Madam Moon and Diablos were said to reside. Standing at the door afraid of what you might face, a beautiful woman who appeared in her mid twenties, wearing white nun robes gave you a sharp glare with her blue eyes.
“If you’re here for UAA bullshit, you’re looking for the old Church, it’s behind us. Get whatever you need done. And if you interrupt our service I’ll gun for you,”
Heeding her words you quickly strayed away from the grander church, no you rushed away from her as she seemed to have a look that said she had an itchy trigger finger and began to walk down a path. You saw the old church in the distance with near identical architecture as the one behind you.
Except that it didn’t have halls or wings at its side, and was relatively smaller. It wasn’t made of the same modern cement the church behind you was. Instead it was made of stone and made you feel like you were heading to some completely different world.
The path began to narrow, before you were a lot of squared shape pillars and a wall made of stone. Some kind of blockade. As three nuns stood on top of the ramparts staring down at you. One of them manning a gatling gun, the other two with some kind of rifles.
“Now that you have entered this territory, it is time for the first trial of God,”
Weaving in and out of the pillars to dodge a barrage of bullets from the Gattling Nun. You pass the first blockade are near close to the church. It’s no longer a distant thing, but something you could feasibly reach. The path leading to the church seems clear now, beside a few weird ugly dog looking statues that glare at you.
As you begin to walk this straight shot towards the church, you take one step forward and your leg begins to glow. As one of the dog heads blows fire your way. Able to dodge it you realize the path has been booby trapped with magical glyphs tied to the statues. Now you have to figure out the path to actually make it to the church.
Making it to the church steps after dodging magic glyphs and nuns trying to ambush you, you have finally made it the stage proper. Opening the large doors you’re expected to see the boss of this fucking nightmare labyrinth greet you. Instead you’re surrounded by pillars. About a few feet in front of you is a center of pillars, and several pillars at your side. You wonder where the boss of this labyrinth could be. All you hear in the echoing halls are.
“Ow, careful teeth,”
You continue to walk around the pillars.
“We have company, we can pick this up back later,”
As you turn the corner you see a young man standing up zipping his trousers, while a nun cleans off her mouth with a handkerchief. You’re not sure if you should take the young man with the captivating purple irises, that should not be natural, as a threat or not. You think you know what might have just happened though you’re not entirely sure.
“You’ve made it past the first two trials of God, this is where the real test of your knowledge and faith comes into play.” He smiles so charmingly. He’s relaxed. Way too calm about this situation. A minute ago you were a nervous wreck, but you think you have a shot to take him on. He’s slow for an assassin. This should be easy as you take out your gun and shoot him dead. All this work up for nothing. All of this nervous anxiety for nothing.
Now to collect your pay.
As you stepped up to the altar, where a pew as placed, you go to gloat to realize there is no corpse on the floor. And all you hear in the echoes of the hallway is a laugh.
“Did you really think I am that easy?”
Now the battle truly began.
Arena: Description - Trial at the Pillars of Deceit
Arena Tactics - Misdirection
There are several pillars in the halls of this service. While the picture only shows the two pillars on the side, truth be told there are several pillars in the empty center as well. They begin at the third pillar closest to the door.
This is where Kimber’s playstyle of stylish misdirection comes into play. As he is able to weave in and out of the pillars, doubling the amount of bullets he is shooting to disappear at his unusual pace to reappear elsewhere. It makes him seem even faster than his already unusually super fast speed.
Spirit clones of him cutting in and out. He uses the stage to the fullest of its capability even seeming to just use the pillars to pillars to get to the second level balcony. To jump down from there or slide down a pillar if he has to. The pillars themselves are quite sturdy and can withstand the blast of his Defiant.
Though pretty sure they would be uprooted if someone pushed him into his ancient guardians form upon death.
Minion Description: The Sisterhood -
There’s a saying in the Exorcism Society. That no Brother or Sister shall be left behind without assistance of another. Despite Beretta’s displeasure in his involvement in the UAA she has provided him enough assistance with his sisters than he could ever ask for.
Since most of his arena and stage is built on misdirection, subterfuge, and ambush skills. Kimber’s minions fight in the same way. Ambush, misdirection, and subterfuge. To distract one’s attention from another.
In his arena his sisters will also use the pillars to ambush the assassin fighting Kimber with their own threatening arsenal. Usually pistols or blades. They are the perfect distraction for Kimber to take advantage of the situation and come in when you least expect it. Kimber’s mother would have his head if he had the nuns fighting an all out death battle.
So this way it reduces the amount of sisters who actually die. And gives Kimber a stupid advantage.
Theme Song:
History:
Moon Child
The old church use to be a relic of the past, Grandmother Ruger would often say she let herself become old so he could understand that life was not infallible. That when you begin to grow up in a society where technology and magic reverses someone’s age you forget that they can die. To never forgot that one still has mortality. Some have a greater will to live, but everyone eventually dies.
They’d sit in the old church, that had grown dusty, dilapidated, and falling apart with mugs of hot chocolate between their legs. Sitting on the floor with the families circle beneath their feet. Grandma always put peppermint schnapps in her coffee.
“What’s that taste like?” Kimber asked her as she poured a bit in her coffee. In the evenings he would learn casting with her.
“You wouldn’t like it, you’re much too young,” Grammy would tell him, “Would you like to take a sip?”
Kimber nodded. She let him take a sip of her coffee. It was a flavor he recognized in the mint, but it burned going down his throat and it tasted very chemically. He stuck out his tongue.
“Why does it taste like that?” Kimber asked her.
Grammy would laugh.
“Old people were very selfish and made it taste good only for adult people,” she’d tell him and ruffle his hair.
Kimber just took a sip of his hot chocolate to counteract the flavor.
“Grammy,” Kimber pauses, it wasn’t easy being five, knowing he had big future ahead of him. Mama always made that clear.
“Yes my dear,” Grammy responds.
“You said that everybody eventually dies,” Kimber mumbles, “Is that where Papa is? You never give me an answer. A proper one.”
“Sometimes things transcend life and death,” Grammy smiles and fixes his black hair, “You have such pretty hair. Like midnight. My daughter does nothing with it though.”
“I’m already weird at school,” Kimber replies, “If you do my hair they’ll call me a girl.”
She playfully slaps his cheek, “My boy those children are merely jealous of the potential you hold.” He cocked his head to the side, he doesn’t know if he agrees too much with that. He thinks she notices his disagreement, “Let me tell you a story.”
Witches for countless centuries and in many different eras and countries were persecuted for their gifts. Demonic powers, they citizens would rally and cry. Not understanding the fundamental differences of magic that a witch could perform. Oh certainly there was the odd witch now and then who allied herself with demonic powers. Though often witchcraft was the first modern medicine, a way to heal, and a way to protect. So, how is it now that witchcraft is used solely to rend body and soul?
You’d have to go all the way back to 1692, at the height of fear mongering. Everyone was a witch, a person could sneeze with an odd twitch and they were possessed by a demonic force. Had a seizure, you guessed it, blame the witches. So they began to gather up the girls, and burn them at the stake.
Warlocks were inevitable to the survival of witches during that time. Because the unfortunate truth was we lost many young females during that time, those idiot villagers didn’t know or consider the number of men among our ranks.
Our Coven the Exorcist we came from a long line of Guardian Pagans from the Celtic area. Descended from Ireland, who came to this wretched New World in hopes for better, to carry our art and practice.
It is after all called Witchcraft. There is an art in crafting spells and the like. Rituals aren’t just for show, ceremony, celebration, there is a beauty and art in the craft. But I digress.
It was the height of the trials that one of your great ancestors Agatha devised a plan to survive, to keep our magic alive. It took a lot of cunning and money, but she eventually bought this very church and hid as many witch sisters as she could here, as a nunnery. Some of the men took on priesthood and we hid in plain sight. In the very Church that persecuted us.
That is how the Exorcism Society began. Then a financial crisis arose and it could not be feasibly be ignored. We needed money, but we were not really selling the Christian faith which made people suspect us. So we offered Exorcisms. Why not fight the very demons they said were controlling us? Exorcisms turned into a more lucrative business, when someone needed to end someone with a good reason.
Matters of faith seemed to be a rather good reason. If the man you wanted to release from this world was declared possessed and we merely the cleanup crew to that man’s claims, who could raise a brow at the Exorcism Society’s affairs?
No one. Happy clients told only good things about us. And we could continue to practice our art in secret without fear of persecution. Because the church rarely look into itself. You come from that line, the line that found us, and continued to breed strong woman after strong woman to protect us.
Your father’s line was very much the same. When your mother and father came together, some said they were a matched by the Underworld itself. Both from powerful families and their bloodline is carried into you. It may seem like the weight of the society is on your shoulders, but no one is asking you to do it alone because they don’t want to do it. They are asking you to do it because you have powerful magic inside of you. They see your mother and father in those eyes, in that hair.
He wasn’t ever sure if the story was meant to comfort him or make him more nervous about his legacy. He had big shoes to fill even at the age of five. Big shoes to fill and everyone looked to him and expected that from him. As a child that kind of reality doesn’t dawn on you until you’re much older and that expectation that you have been prepped for all your life is dropped on your lap. It happens at an early age and you’re expected to confront it.
You go from a life of relative ease. Where adults talk about their expectations. They teach you all the tools they know and then you are given the toolbox to be told to do it yourself.
When you’re young you don’t really understood those tools as the parent takes them out to display them, to show you what you’re capable of doing and can do.
“Why does my legacy smell like a garbage can?” his Mama asked him as he walked into her room. At six things at school were far from normal. Grammy insisted that he go to a public school, so he didn’t live to outside the norm of society.
“I got thrown in the trash,” Kimber replied, his Mama was sitting on a couch in her room. One of those antique ones that looked like a bed rather than a couch. It was pearl white, with silver trimming, and an odd decoration of a woman with pointed nipples on the arm rest. That honestly got his six year old mind racing every time he stared at them.
“Well, why were you thrown in the trash?” his mother asked.
“Because I look weird,” Kimber replied. His mother frowns.
“What did you do to stop them?” his mother asked.
It felt like an interrogation, he knew what an interrogation was. His mother had done it before to weed out a traitor among their ranks when he was four. He was told he was going to learn something important for the future.
“I punched them,” Kimber replied with a fist in the air.
“Good boy,” Mama replied and brought out her hands for him to accept her affection. She had a tendency to make things feel better. She’d do something to his hair, though he was certain she’d actually just make him take a shower.
“But I got detention,” Kimber told her.
He saw his mother do that thing with her brow, it twitched and she looked annoyed.
“Why is that?”
“Because fighting isn’t allowed,”
“Mama will fix this and you will watch, this is a new lesson Kimber,”
She always told him to watch her very closely. She’s always told him she’d be there for him until a point in time. He didn’t know when that point in time would be, but his mother always told him that he would simply know. It would be the mark of a grave responsibility, is how she put it. That kind of stuff always seemed so far in the future. Yet, those things always end up so sudden to a child who has no concept of further in time.
They drove to his elementary school and he stared at his mother. She wasn’t wearing the nun outfit right now, instead she was wearing a tight fitting business suit instead. She had black hair like his and his mother had always been angelic to look at. Her porcelain white skin and thin, arching eyebrows, things he shared with her made him feel safe in her company.
His school was an ordinary school. It didn’t look near as fancy as the Grand church, just some cement building, that looked like a bunch of ugly yellowish orange blocks all stuck together that made up classrooms. One of the teachers heading to his car started to stare their way and bump into a light pole.
“That teacher bumped into a pole,” Kimber pointed out.
“It tends to happen,” his mother told him.
“How do you change clothes like that?” Kimber asked her.
“With my hair dear,” she replies.
“Can I do that too?”
“Maybe, maybe not, we’ll figure out what you can and cannot do when you’re older,”
He never liked, when you were older. He understood the words she used. Interrogation. Blackmail. He been watching her very closely because that’s what she told him to do. He had no concept of the future as much as he had no concept of what older meant. He just followed her into the school and they headed directly into the administration office.
Mrs. Abernathy was an older woman behind a desk. She would type things on keyboards and give the students she liked candy, the other students she reserved a look of disdain for them. The woman with silvering hair raised an eyebrow at his mother and his eyes landed on him. She had a look that read, why am I not surprised.
“May I help you?” Mrs. Abernathy asked.
“I would like to speak to the Principal if he or she is available,” his mother was always so polite, but women tended to look at his mother with annoyance. He noticed another mother with a kid in one of his classes sitting in a chair. The kid Jason was holding an ice packet to his lip. But the mother was looking at his with a very funny expression, repulsion, maybe.
“Mr. Swan is currently dealing with another circumstance and will be out momentarily, please take a seat,” Mrs. Abernathy was very short with his mother. He didn't’ know why Mrs. Abernathy didn’t like him or his mother.
Mama sat on the chair looking at the other mother and Jason. He was a kid with ginger hair, they weren’t friends. But he was the type of kid his mother told him too look out for. The kids who easily bent over because they couldn’t fight their own battles were like Halloween candy bags of information. Is how she described it to him. So he was nice to him.
“Hi Jason,” Kimber said.
“Oh hi Kimber,” Jason smiled, then winced because of his swollen, bruised lip. His mother wasn’t very pretty, she had scraggly hair, and her button down shirt was really wrinkly. With stains on it. She continued staring at his mother.
His mother looked over at the woman and smiled.
“Kimber,” Jason’s mother addressed him from time to time because they were caught talking after school, “Who is this woman accompanying you?”
Mama crossed her arms.
“He’s my son,” she replied shortly.
“Oh, I see,” Jason’s mother gave her another glance over, she had a weird expression on her face.
“Henry punched me in the face,” Jason said.
That wasn’t very interesting, but Kimber nodded.
“Oh that sucks,” Kimber told him.
It didn’t take long for Mr. Swan to come out, he was a really pudgy looking man, who was going bald. He had a tiara of hair left, that he swept over to look like he still had hair. But his top was so shiny, he only had strands left on top of it. He looked at his mother and his face turned really red. Kimber watched his mother get up.
“Mr. Swan is it?” she asked.
“Oh, uh yes ma’am,” Mr. Swan told her.
“I’d like to talk to you about the punishment my son received,” when she mentioned it he saw Mrs. Abernathy roll her eyes. He wondered why.
“Right, in my office right away Mrs...Magnum,” Mr. Swan said leading her to his office. She had him follow. He didn’t like Mr. Swan’s office, it was weird. It was cramped, there was a printer and a computer, a lot of shelves with lots of books and folders. The shelves were dusty. Mr. Swan had a lot of ugly knick knacks on his desk, things other kids made him or gave him. A noodle frame, a tiny turtle made of clay the cheap kind.
The only thing that was cool was a bowl of candy. His mother crossed her legs and held onto her purse. Mr. Swan smiled. “Now Mrs. Magnum,” Mr. Swan said, he was all sweaty now for some reason, “Your son did tell you that he got into a fight with some kids.”
“I heard that,” she replied, “They also stuck him in a garbage can. You can still smell it on him because I took him here right away before the shower.”
“Yes, and that was unfortunate, but that’s not how we solve problems at school,” Mr. Swan said, “I feel it's important that a student reflects on the actions they have taken and how they can better solve their issues.”
“And you suggest?” his mother raises her brow.
“Talking to the teachers, faculty are always here to help,” Mr. Swan said.
“Because they have been doing a fantastic job for the two years he’s been at this school,” she says. Kimber smiles because he hears a sound he’s already familiar with. When his mother takes out her gun and it makes a clicking sound when she pulls back the hammer, “So let tell you how this fucking works, Jeremy. You will not use your policies to bully my son and you will not let these students get away with bullying my son. Or else Jeremy Adam Swan, I will go to 1494 Oakridge Drive, and I will find someone willing to put a bullet between your wife’s fucking eyes. Do I make myself clear?”
Now Mr. Swan was really sweating, his eyes darting toward the door of the office and his phone. Then at the barrel of the gun. He raises his hands up slowly. He even has armpit sweat right now. He’s looking really nervous.
“P...le...ease...don’t shoot me,” Mr. Swan responds.
“This, is just insurance, to make sure you go to no one,” she says.
“R….righ….I get it,.....I do…,” Mr. Swan continues, “Don’t…..hurt my wife….pl...ease.”
“Bethany is your daughter right? If I recall she lives on 456 Caf street, am I correct? Hmmm, Mike that’s your son,” his mother continues.
“.....p...lease….I’ll….do any...anything,”
“I already told you what you need to do for me,”
“O….kay….I’ll...do it….no more….detention, and I’ll...make sure those….kid...kids get what’s coming to them,” Mr. Swan said.
“Good, it was a pleasure speaking with you,” his mother said, “This didn’t happen Mr. Swan. And if you try to expose me. You’ll lose everything.”
She stood up, placing the safety back on her revolver. She didn’t wait for Mr. Swan to open the door for her. She was already opening. Kimber got up quickly and grabbed a Kiss chocolate out of the bowl, then trod after her, hanging on the door frame a little he stuck out his tongue at Mr. Swan, “You got in trouble by the scariest person I know.” he giggles before running off to catch up to his mother. He looks up to his mother with a little admiration, staring up at her and her black hair. She turns to him.
“We’ll go for ice cream and you will debrief with me what you have learned in this situation,” she tells him.
“Woo! Ice cream!” she gives him a look, “And debrief is cool too.”
Later, she was spraying him down with febreze before they walked into the ice cream store. He coughed on some of the stuff.
“Stop fussing,” she told him.
“But it’s super strong,” he told her.
“Yeah well so is the smell of shit from a garbage can, there you go, you’re better now,” she said fixing his hair, “Remember you were suppose to be learning something back there. You will now be tested on your observation of the situation.”
He knew that. He nodded his head and followed her into the ice cream shop. Standing at the line they waited for someone to call them up. Some teenager with a piercing in his nose leaned over the counter and smiled at them.
“Hi, welcome to Freezy Cones,” he said, “What can I get for you today?”
“Yes, I’d like a scoop of your pistachio ice cream,” his mother said.
“Right away,” he said, “Anything else?”
It was his turn, but his mother raised a hand. Kimber crossed his arms across his chest.
“For now, that’s all,” she turned to him, “Before you get the reward. You must answer my questions.”
The teenager gave them a weird look, but scooped some ice cream into a cup. She pointed to a seat for him to sit down and he did so. She paid and then came back with ice cream and a spoon. He stared at her cup, but then looked at her.
“All right it’s time to see how well you take things in,” she told him scooping some ice cream and eating it in front of him, “What do you think was the most important thing in that circumstance?”
Question time. Okay so he had to think about this. He wanted ice cream. What did he see back there? Mom always tells him never focus on the actions, so threatening someone wasn’t the important thing. Mom also says that intimidation is only part of the hand you play. So? What was it? His knick knacks were ugly on his desk. Family photos. Mom called him Jeremy.
“You knew his name” he mumbled hoping he got at least maybe part of the answer. She continues with her ice cream.
“Why do you think that’s important?”
Uh. That stumped him. But if he was wrong she would have ignored him, ate her ice cream and walked out with him following close behind.
“Because….you could,” he had to think about it, why was it important, it was the very first thing she did, call him by his name, why though? What was the second thing she did? An address, “.......could…..figure him out.” his answer was hesitant.
His mother raises her brow. He’s focused on her now.
“So you did watch what was going on,” she told him, “Color me impressed. Here I thought you were only focused on the actions. You show intelligence today Kimber. Final question. It’s the big one.” She sticks her hand, “First give me the Kiss candy.”
She knew he took that. He handed it to her. Kimber slumped down a little bit. She had a very serious expression on her face right now.
“Why do you think figuring out a person is so important?” she tells him.
All he wanted was to win. He didn’t want to lose out on ice cream and watch her eat it. She was doing it on purpose too, slowly licking the spoon and showing him what he could enjoy. Wait. Was this a lesson too? He watched her for a second, before slowly putting the pieces together.
“The ice cream is the gun,” his mother looks bewildered by his sudden outburst, “It’s so….you…” he pauses again for another second, “take control of the person. If you know their weakness. You know….what they’ll do for you when you pull it out. Like I’m answering questions because I really want ice cream.”
She narrows her eyes for a second, did he get the answer wrong?
“No the way I would have worded it,” she said, “The biggest weapon you have against someone is not the physical.” she says, “It’s the mental. When you understand them. Their desires. You know how to push all the right buttons. Knowledge is your first weapon. Skill is your second.”
He frowns, he folded his arms across his chest swinging his legs back and forth.
“So I got it wrong?” Kimber ask her.
“I’ll give it to you, go get yourself a scoop,” she says to him.
Kimber now smirks, she looks at him with curiosity.
“Two, and I’ll have my homework done before six,” he tells her.
She raises brow and smirks.
“Will you?” she ask.
“Well you don’t like my homework getting in the way of casting time. I guess I could settle for one ice cream scoop and dawdle on my homework, so I get to stay up late again on purpose to cast. Or I could get two scoops as payment and faith that I will do my homework before six, do my casting on time, and go to bed on time,”
She laughs.
“Three,” she says, “Because of your clever use of bargaining.”
“Yes!” Kimber enthusiastically fist the air, “I did it! I used Mama’s technique.”
He’s probably more self aware that his mother let him win the games from time to time. But what kind of mother would she be to give him lessons and not let him use them in their full display? When he was a kid, it was innocent things, ice cream, and going hunting. When he was older, it wasn’t so easy to win against her, and she challenged him to challenge her.
It wasn’t as innocent as he got older. It wasn’t lessons any more. It was expectations. But for right now at six, up to the age of ten nearing eleven, they were games, they were lessons. They were things he could learn and stare at his mother with awe and wonder.
He still respects her, admires her, loves her. She is a blessing, she is security and safety, And even when he's expected to do it all on his own now. If he’s really really in danger he knows for a fact that she would come to his aid. She was never a negligent mother that truly leave him on the curbside.
For now, he was taught the simple things, the little things, the easy things that made life easy and a child uncertain and anxious about their future. Even if he weren’t expected to be solely independent right now, it was going to come sooner or later and a child knows that. They can sense it in their parents mannerisms. They can sense it in the lessons and games they played, becoming tougher and tougher. Less lead and more forced to think about it on their own.
It’s reinforced by harder task. Harder concepts to swallow. More bitter pills to take in.
He was nine when he held his gun for the first time to not shoot cans, but shoot moving targets. The woods seemed very very different from the Grand Church they often lived in. Grammy had taken an RV out in the national forest of California. Today he wasn’t shooting inanimate objects, he was expected to shoot a living being. Depending on what he ended up shooting, would be the given sacrifice for a spring equinox ritual back at home.
“Well today you’ll find out, huh,” Grammy replies with a smile, “Honestly, if I told you now you either will be prepared or get cold feet.” Kimber stares at her.
“I want to know,” Kimber replies.
“All right it’s best you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Grammy pauses, she has a cup of coffee piping hot and takes a sip before continuing, “It’s important to know that dying is a long, arguably long process. Very rarely does something die instantly. It suffers, whatever is dying. Chokes on their own blood. Sometimes even if its an instant death, myoclonic twitches still occur even after death. It twitches. Drowns in blood. It’s strangely alive and dead. Don’t ever make the mistake of believing something is dead because you shot it once. Beyond that fact, don’t ever make the mistake of believing something gets shot down and falls to the floor. Most of the time in people adrenaline kicks in and they continue till they have lost too much blood. An animal will run off and you have to track it by its blood.”
Sounds nothing like cans. Kimber looks at her for a mere second or so. He’s not sure he’s scared, but he’s also ready in some way. Grammy takes a sip of her coffee and ushers him out of the RV steps. He does so and she’s handing him a Colt .45. He’s looking at the silver barrel and feeling it’s weight for himself. It has a scope attachment to it, it has runes on it, runes of Spirit he believes etching the shapes with his fingers.
“This is Sonata, for now you’ll use mine,” Grammy tells him, “Treat her well and she’ll treat you well. Shall we?”
Grammy leads the way, but doesn’t tell him what he’s looking for. It’s early morning, the sun has begun to rise, highlighting dew on leaves like frosted crystals. He’s supposed to be the one doing the looking. She hasn’t told him what he’s supposed to be finding only what he’s supposed to be killing, the deer. So he supposed she took him out when the mud was soft to find deer tracks.
Finally able to find some, they leader to underbrush. It make sense, deer like to hide among foliage and not be seen. He’d have to get more upwind in order to sneak around them and for them not to notice him. He looked back for grammy. She usually gave him more hints than his mother, less of a game, and more like a guide.
“They are this way,” he tells her.
All she does is nod and he continues to follow the trail more upwind. Now he’s suppose to, find a vantage point. There’s thick brush ahead, but judging from the way he viewed the steps, they would come through the forest clearing when they had to move once again. So, where would he hide, and where would he go? It has to be upwind. It has to conceal him. He looks around.
On top of that rock formation looks good. He points.
“There,” he tells her more quietly.
“You really are going to test this old woman’s strength,” she jokes. He didn’t think about that while he was looking for a vantage point. In one swift movement though his grammy was already on top of the rock formation. How did she do that so quickly?
He managed in a few short steps, with Sonata holstered at his side, he took her out and laid his belly on the rock formation. The barrel a little outwards. Still it was a pistol, he didn’t think it have the same range as a rifle. Now they just had to wait.
Wait they did. Until sooner than later a head poked out of the bushes. A deer began to cautiously walk out of the foliage. He was always told to not shoot at the target, but where that target would be. Line the scope up, behind the shoulder.
It takes a stepped forward, he pulls the trigger, bang. He strikes it, he did catch its shoulder. The sun of the gun has spooked it and that adrenaline grammy talked about has it run off, lucky though it runs toward more clear stuff.
He watches it for a second, of where it’s going to go before jumping off the rock formation. He realizes he doesn’t even need to track the blood as the deer doesn’t even go too far, that and there’s a blue energy surrounding it. What’s this? He steps forward and follows the blue trail of energy, till he found the deer struggling on the path they had came from.
The deer stares at him. Still alive and just staring at him through its suffering. He reaches his hand to it, it flinches, but cannot really run. Placing a hand on its fur, it was a lot coarser than he thought.
“Good shot,” Grammy tells him, he can feel her giving him a look. She’s worried right now. He’s not sure how he should take it.
“It’s dying,” he tells her.
“Yes it is,” she says, “We’ll need to take it back before it dies.”
“What’s the blue aura around it?” Kimber ask.
“Sonata keeps a being alive for a bit longer, prolonging the state of death, so it doesn’t rot during the time of transportation,” Grammy tells him, “But we’ll have little time to do that.”
“So it will be hurt until the ritual?” Kimber ask her.
“Yes, how do you feel?” Grammy ask him, she’s looking at him with the oddest look that he’s never seen her hold before.
“I don’t know yet,” Kimber tells her, “I did it. I shot it. You said that everything dies, and that life eventually dies. So, that means, if I shot it and it’s dying, then it’s fate was to die today. But….it has children. And now they are alone. Which is probably their fate. But I don’t know.”
Grammy raises a brow.
“You remind me sometimes of your father,” Grammy tells him.
“Why? What did mama do after she did this?” Kimber asked her, assuming that is what she meant.
“She gleamed with glory,” Grammy tells him, “I never taught your father, but he did look at the world with such introspection.”
Later in the evening,
The ritual went off. It was more like a ceremony of the coming spring. The deer he hunted was used in sacrifice. It’s blood used to write runes, it’s meat unharmed and used for food, it’s hide would be dried and turned into something else for later. Magic and spirits abound.
He liked these moments because they made him feel connected to his sisters, the few brothers of the Society, and his family. Magic was wild and reinforced the very fabric that connected them all in the Grand Church.
Then being nine you tended to poop out early despite wanting to stay up late with the adults. Sleeping soundly in his room, he was awoken by a sudden crashing sound. Startled and looking around crashing through his bedroom was the spirit of a white deer, charging towards him.
“Aa,” he screamed leaping out of bed and trying to run towards his door. The deer with incredible speed began to change direction, coming towards him. Managing to open the door and run out to the hall, he closed the door. The White Spirit Deer charged through that as well. As wood splintered into tiny pieces he began to run down the hall.
Only to realize he was going in circles. The deer right behind him and gaining speed. His heart racing as he ran down the stairs. Where did he go? Suddenly out of nowhere a herd of deer began to prance over the pews, charging his way. What was this a dream?
It felt so real though. He ran out the front door to see the White Deer with Horns standing in front of him, it had huge antlers and red eyes. It was white and glowing. And behind him was a herd of deer galloping his way.
“Aa!”
Back in his bedroom, he looked around. His closet and his door were perfectly fine and not splintered. He placed his head back down, but stared at his closest door with unease. He knew he was nine and much too young to be scared of things kids would be scared of, but the door looked at him hauntingly. Leaping out of his sheets he hurried down the hall to his mother’s room. He hoped she was in tonight. Sometimes she was gone at night. He knocked on her door a little.
“Mama,” he called out.
When she didn’t answer he opened the door to check to see if she were here. She was asleep in her bed. It was a rare sight. He thought he saw someone else too, watching her, but they faded away when he walked into the room.
“Mama,” he called out again, before walking to her bedside to shake her awake. It worked because she was staring at him with annoyance.
“It is late, and the one time I get sleep,” she said, “What is going on?” He immediately wrapped himself around her bedsheets that hid her physical silhouette and began to sob about the deer. His mother put a tender hand on his head and caressed it for a second. Though when he did look up at her she did have an odd look on her face.
“That’s a new one,” she told him, “It’s all, alright now though.” she tells him in a comforting manner, “You’re awake and the deer is probably in hell somewhere.”
“You think the deer is burning in hell?” Kimber asked a bit shocked and also conjured a rather scary image of the deer that chased him on fire with glowing red eyes.
“Um…” his mother huffed, “The point is you’re safe now and they cannot harm you.”
“Why did I have to see that? Is that what I’ll see every time I kill?” Kimber asked her. His mother looked at him and brushed away his tears, she shook her head.
“No my darling,” she tells him, “You won’t always have dreams like that.” she paused, “I highly doubt it was regret my boy. I think the deer was purposely trying to torment you.”
“Why, why would it do that?” Kimber asked angrily.
“Deer are evil beast,” his mother told him.
“May I sleep with you?” Kimber asked. His mother sighed, but smiled at him tenderly.
“For tonight,” she tells him.
Returning to sleep felt safer in his mother’s company, but it didn’t make it any less scary to think about prancing deer. Even when she slipped off during the morning he felt like he was being watched over by another, who felt safe and comforting. Every time the deer tried to invade his dreams, turning the sky gray and cloudy, they were gone as someone comfortingly touched him. When he woke up he realized he was alone and there was no one there.
He stared at his own mother’s closet with a little fear, immediately got out of bed and ran off from her room down the stairs. In hopes to find his sisters or brothers, perhaps even his mother or grammy. On the weekends he was to focus on martial training and his casting, more so than his delegation with people.
Slipping into the main room he hears his mother, “What were you thinking?”
“You’re going to have to be a bit clearer dear,” Grammy replied.
“You made him use Sonata, didn’t you?” his mother ask.
“Made him? No. It was the only one I took,” Grammy gives a mischievous chuckle.
“Well he’s terrified now thanks to your stunt,” she replied.
“Terrified, of what?”
His mother explains the horrible dream he explained to her. Grammy gives another laugh.
“My, what a child,” she says, “I was testing his spiritual prowess. I can sit at peace with the dead that come to grace me in my dreams. I wanted to see how he would react.”
“He had a nightmare about deer mother,” she tells her, “That’s how he would react. He’s nine.”
“You were nine too,”
“He’s not like me, he’s not like Sig either, he’s like both of us,” she tells her, “You should have told him what to expect.”
“Then, how would I get a natural reaction?”
He walks more into the room.
“Why are you guys fighting?” Kimber asked. Grammy Ruger smiles at him.
“Because Grammy played a mean joke on you and probably shouldn’t have,” she admits, “In truth, it is true, Sonata prolongs the life of a dying individual by tying them spiritually to the other individual. The deer must have come to confront you in your dreams and I had hoped you would have been able to handle the scenario, considering you saw Sonata’s aura.”
“Well I didn’t like it,” Kimber told her, though his mother was looking at him with a strange look. Why? She looked over at her mother.
“He saw Sonata’s aura?” she asked.
“Yes,” Grammy replied with pride.
“Just like Sig,” she said to herself, “Deer or not, Kimber your special gift has appeared. You are going to be able to see the world far clearer now.”
He never understood what they meant sometimes when they said things like that. It was vague and didn’t make sense to him. Sig, was his father, he had heard his mother use his name before. Was that man?
“Mama, there was a man in your bedroom last night,” Kimber said.
She ignored him and just whispered, “Auras, I cannot believe. Even I cannot see Auras.”
Auras sound like a cool fancy power, but they are not. When he was nine he was beginning to see a world other people could not see. Behind them, surrounding their silhouette were different colors of energy. Blackest always made him feel nauseous, so he knew black was a bad thing, while clear felt neutral and he knew the person was okay. No one really taught him any of this, neither his Grammy or Mama knew how to teach him on this. The one person who could wasn’t here. So he had to learn to read it based on how he felt. Growing up in the Grand Church with lessons and expectations was always much different than going to a traditional school. Where most of the kids did not have any expectations of you. Other than a popularity contest. To be a child in a public school was different because kids didn’t care about bloodlines and didn’t care about your legacy.
If you were deemed outside the social norm. You were a target to their ridicule. A target Kimber had been considering he didn’t look like most children. What child did you know had such midnight hair it was like the night sky without stars? Or had such lavender eyes they were almost otherworldly? And the name Kimber, just made it all the more odd to other kids.
Surviving in school was a different lesson than surviving the Grand Church. It’s odd to think that the heir of a grand bloodline such as his, would be subjected to bullying and ridicule. Most kids like him would have been admired and revered, instead he was often the target of kids mockery up to the age of twelve.
Till he reached his middle school in the middle road of his adolescents.
“Kimberly,” one of the kids snickered walking into the library. It was the English class hour at the library and he had found a nonfiction book about spells in the school’s library. Dominic Henson was once again coming in to establish his hierarchy dominance. Mother stopped fighting his allies with him and he had to find a way to eliminate them himself.
“Where’s your dress?” Dominic asked him, standing above him, “Look guys she’s a late bloomer. Thought she could hide herself in boys clothes because she doesn’t want anyone to know she fails at tits.” He points to Jessica Ambers, “She’s blooming, have you seen she’s actually got mosquitoes coming out of her shirt.”
One of the lessons the school teaches you is to ignore the problem. His mother’s lessons taught him to outright destroy his enemies. Whether it be mentally or physically. He wasn’t ignoring what he had to say because he agreed with the schools lessons, it was because Dominic had not yet known what was in store for him.
He had been watching him. Learning where he goes, after school, following him home, he learned where he took his lunch, who he liked, what his hobbies were. Now was the time to strike. He had devised the ultimate plan that would have Dominic on his knees doing what he asked.
“Hey I am talking to you Kimberly,” Dominic said slamming the book down.
Kimber looked at him once.
“Considering my name isn’t Kimberly I had no idea you were talking to me,” he pauses, “I’ll help, it’s Kimber.”
Bait has been launched. See if Dominic would take it.
“What’s with your punk ass attitude suddenly, think you’re tough shit,” Dominic spits raising his fist a little to scare him. Kimber eyes a teacher talking to the librarian.
“I wouldn’t when the teachers are looking,” Kimber tells him.
“What you trying to ask me for a fight?” Dominic asked.
“I didn’t ask you for anything,” Kimber responds.
“Well now I am telling you, after school, behind the shed,” Dominic tells him.
Success. Bait taken.
“Whatever,” Kimber tells him.
That’s how they ended up here, behind the shed they used for sports gear for PE. Most of the teachers didn’t pass by here because students were restricted from going behind the shed. That of course didn’t stop them. He held his backpack close to his chest, while Dominic waited for him near the shed. Kimber’s surprised he didn’t bring his entourage. No most likely they’d come later. Dominic assumed he would run off and cry when all of this was said and done.
Then his entourage would be the witness of the aftermath. Only person here who was going to beg would be Dominic.
“So you actually came,” Dominic goads, “Kimberly got balls after all.”
“More than you,” Kimber replies.
“I cannot wait to give you a black eye, so all the kids can see tomorrow,” Dominic says, while he’s placing his hand in his backpack. Letting the backpack fall to the ground as he stepped forward, he was holding a non cursed Colt .45 and pointing it at Dominic. Dominic froze which gave Kimber enough time to walk forward and pin Dominic’s back to the shed wall, leaving the barrel at Dominic’s temple.
Now he was sweating.
“I don’t think this situation is going to turn out the way you think it is Dominic,” Kimber replies, “My name is Kimber. You will call me Kimber for now on.”
“You….do….not...really have bullets in there?” Dominic stammered a statement and a question.
“Actually I do, five actually,” Kimber tells him, “One is for your mother on Lakewood Circle, 1834, East Avenue. The other is for your father same address so it makes it easy. The other is for your sister, also same address wow it’s like they want to be hunted or something. The fourth is for your dog, Snowball, you take him out on walks everyday and seem to really like him. And the last is for you if you do not comply with my request.”
Dominic began to stammer and cry a little.
“W….wa...what do you want?” Dominic ask.
“One, I want you to call me by name, Kimber. Also, I am a boy,” he says, “Second, you don’t tell any of the teachers about this. Third, you’re no longer suppose to bully me, instead you will be helping me out. Fourth, you’ll tell your friends to leave me alone because you’re just such a swell guy. And fifth, you have to get on your knees and ask me for forgiveness.”
Crying Dominic fell to the ground.
“Please….do...do...not hurt my family….do not hurt me,” Dominic says, “I’ll….do...it...I’ll do it. Just….please...do not…”
“Great,” Kimber said, “This was a splendid after school activity. I’ll see you tomorrow. Helping me out buddy.”
It’s a wonder how things can change with five bullets in a revolver cylinder. It seemed like overnight Dominic had become a new person. He was Kimber’s stepping stone into a field he had never been in. Popularity. Dominic’s lips remain shut, the gun trick really worked and Kimber had successfully destroyed an enemy mentally.
Two months later and he could have convinced anyone they were just really swell friends. The Henson’s house was very different from the Grand Church. It was smaller, and had a much more subtle design to it. The outside was beige stucco, and the doors were brown. Inside were plain looking couches, a flat screen TV, and some shelving with photos of the family on family trips.
His mother found it amusing he had a lap dog, she could tell without him needing to explain anything. Mr. and Mrs. Henson ended up giving him a rather odd look as he stepped through the door. It was a look he knew all too well, the how does this person exist look.
“Is your hair natural?” Susan, his sister asked him.
“Yes, and my eyes too,” Kimber replied, “Mr. and Mrs. Henson, your home is lovely.” That disarmed Mrs. Hensons’ concerns right away. She smiled warmly.
“Oh thank you,” she said, “No one your age has ever complimented me on my home before.”
“I feel like as a guest of someone’s home you have to admire them and the hardwork they put into maintaining a home. Maintaining a home is not an easy feat, I would know because I have trouble cleaning my bedroom and my mother gets mad at me for it. So, the fact that it is clean and you have two hellions just comes to show how remarkable your skills are as a homemaker,” Kimber tells her. Dominic was staring at him dumbstruck right now.
“My, what a charming young man you are,” Mrs. Henson replied and smiled at Dominic, “I approve of this one.”
Kimber smiled sweetly, “Thanks. My Mama taught me manners.”
“Your mother is a smart woman,” Mr. Henson said.
“I like to think so,” Kimber continued to smile, but this time he added a bit of polish to it. Mr. and Mrs. Henson seemed inspired by his act as they looked at each other smiled, and walked off from investigating him. When Susan walked off too, Dominic shoved his shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dominic asked in a harsh whisper.
Kimber glared at him.
“One that’s a violation of our contract,” Kimber told him, “Two isn’t it obvious what I am doing? I know all the exits and all the entrances now. Plus your parents like me a lot.”
“When did you become an evil shit?” Dominic hissed trying to make sure his parents didn’t here.
“I’ve always been a little evil shit, the problem is you didn’t know your enemy very well,” Kimber told him, “And I still have five bullets. I am not afraid to pull the trigger either. Maybe I should show you an example. Which one do you not like the most?”
“Please I am sorry,”
“That’s better,”
This was a starting point, wasn’t it? He wasn’t so sure though if this is how you gain real followers. Everyone at the Grand Church wanted to be there. No this was a takeover of the school, wasn’t it?
Taking over the school didn’t seem so difficult, when he was blessed by magical puberty. He was far more handsome than most of the other boys his age, riddled with acne, he was like some young girls wet dream about a handsome prince. Little did they know this handsome prince kept a loaded gun in his backpack. Even if the school knew about it, they wouldn’t do anything to strike the ire of his mother.
By fifteen he had other students practically at his feet. Which is cool at first, but then it just reminds him of the Grand Church and his legacy.
That’s exactly the scenario he has found himself in, when the student council president of his high school came groveling at his feet.
“Kimber,” some kid with wire framed glasses, and what looked like a pizza face called out his name in a sea of other students. He wasn’t really his type, then again he wasn’t really into men, but there had been many people throwing themselves at his feet. Quite literally and pizza face was no different as he came down on his knees to look up at him.
“Don’t do that it’s still creepy no matter who does it,” Kimber tells him, “You want something from me I take it?”
“I heard stories about you,” wireframe pizza face said, “About how you stopped all the bullies from bullying at your middle school.”
Stop wasn’t quite the word.
“Yeah sure, stopped them,” Kimber replied with a smile.
“I am here to make you an offer,”
“Cool, that’s great, but you know my name and you didn’t even bother to give me yours,”
The kid looks a bit offended.
“I’m the student council president everyone knows who I am,” he says, “It’s Patrick.”
“Right, I am pretty sure that if you’re coming to me about a bully problem, even if everyone knows your name, no one bothers to remember you or care,” Kimber tells him, but wraps his arms around his shoulder, “That’s not a slight against you. We all need to learn our limitations. Not a single person is infallible to criticism or to critique.”
“What are you on about?” Patrick asked.
“You need an image change,” Kimber tells him, “Anyway, yeah, what about bullies?”
“Look, you can stop them from bothering us,” the dweebs he means, “And if you do that. I’ll...let you in on important votes in the student council. Things like prom theme and other decisions.”
“I’m getting the keys to the town then and I didn’t run for anything,” Kimber replies.
“So, does that mean you’ll help us?” Patrick ask.
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Kimber said, “Operations Key to the Town will begin. But you better keep your word Patrick”
“Never would I betray you,” Patrick tells him.
“Yeah that’s what I thought,” Kimber smiles.
Here came an opportunity for him to gain some influence in this school. Difference was these kids are not like Dominic. There were too many of them for him to go individually. Thus he needed a different tactic. Gathering each of the leaders of bully and sandwiching them into teams. He’d attack the groups rather than the individuals.
You had operation Snap, Crackle, and Licensing Issues. You had operation Jock Strap. You had Operation Preppy All Star. Seemed like an easy thing. Now how to intimidate the group, well with a bigger much more threatening group.
Except Operation Preppy All Star those were mostly girls and he was sure he could defeat that all on his own.
So he walked up to Brother John, one of the Exorcism Societies priest.
“Hi,” Kimber says casually.
John was older than him, in his twenties, so of course he raised his brow when Kimber casually came up to him leaning on the washing machine, while he cleaned his what twenty same colored robes. Why did a man need so many robes? Unless some were for, well.
“Kimber,” John said politely though.
“I need your help,” Kimber tells him.
“With?” John asked.
Taking out a piece of paper he wrote late last night with the only writing tools available at the time, unsharpened crayons.
“I need a group to terrorize some kids at my school,” Kimber replies.
“I am not sure I am qualified to do that,” John replies to him.
“Ah come on, your name is like John,” Kimber replies, “John is a cool name. You can spell John with Justice and Judgment. That’s about all I got though to flatter you.”
“Is a twenty year old man bullying some bullying kids justifiable though?” John ask.
“Well, when it’s a fifteen year old asking you, I think it should be okay you’re getting permission from the younger generation,” pauses, “Besides you’ll get something out of it.”
John gives him a curious look.
“What’s a fifteen year old going to give me?” John asked.
Kimber frowns.
“You know I am not just some fifteen year old,” Kimber tells him, “I know you been eyeing the Judge Ross contract. Mom’s giving it to Rebecca as you already know. But maybe I can put a word in for you, but that’s if you know you help me, with this.”
John takes a second to think about it.
“You realize that contract could elevate my reputation around here,” John pauses, “Rebecca not worth that case.”
Kimber shrugs.
“Not my call,” Kimber tells him, “Well I guess I’ll go talk to Annah instead, see if she’ll help me.”
John curses under his breath.
“Fuck, how do I let a fifteen year old rope me into this?” John ask himself, but grabs his wrist, “Fine, I’ll help. But you have to get me that Judge Ross contract.”
“You got yourself a deal John,” Kimber smiles.
“Get me the contract first,” John insisted.
Fuck. He was so pushy. Okay guess he’d have to fork over the work if he was going to get their best effort.
“I’ll work my magic,” Kimber tells him with a smile.
It wasn’t too hard to find his mother, she was updating the contract board in the lounge area for the rest of his brothers and sisters. It too was luxurious in a way, with mock fancy paintings that looked like the real deal, but they weren’t. A nice suede couch, even one of those K-cup machines.
“Mother, can we talk?” Kimber asked.
“What about?” his mother asked still staring at the board, pinning names of the Exorcist assigned to the contract.
“Arranging contracts around,” Kimber said. His mother turns to him.
“Why?” she ask him.
“I feel that there isn’t enough male representation on high profile contracts,” Kimber said, “Some of the Brothers in the Grand Church have said so as well. Kyle Bentley is a well known broker, but he’s been giving to Starfly. Luis Vandor is a well known cop, but he’s been giving to Lucy Luck. And most of all Judge Ross is a high profile judge who’s done some terrible things and he’s been given to Lady Fortune. These are three big profiles, and none of the men in our ranks have been given a chance to enrich themselves.”
She raises a brow at him.
“What are you planning?” she ask him suddenly.
He feigns a gasp.
“I cannot believe you’d say something like that, I am not planning anything,” Kimber pauses, “Isn’t it important that I your sole heir, have consideration in these things. I mean one day this would be my job, won’t it?”
She gives him a skeptical look. He gives her a charming smile.
“Kimber, you are my child of fifteen years, I think I know how you work,” she tells him.
“I’m asking you to trust me that this is merely a test of my own capabilities,” Kimber tells her. His mother gets a look in her eye as she smiles at him.
She turns around and begin to undo the current work she has done. She invites him over to the board.
“You want to test your own capabilities,” she says, pointing to the board, “Test them.”
Man he wished she would have just dragged the answer out of him. She was challenging him, either he meant what he said or was he trying to trick her. Crafty, he decided he’d take the challenge. Looking at the board and the nametags his mother had made, laminated them too. She was old fashion sometimes, they had been doing a manual board like this for years. His mother was afraid data could get deleted on a computer or corrupted.
There were currently six cases, three high profile, and three low profiles. With six names his mother has chosen out of her desk. Brother John - Constantine, Brother Damian - Shaytan, Sister Rebecca - Lady Fortune, Sister Megana - Lucy Lucky, Sister Harriet - Starfly, and Sister Nadeen - Blindside.
He already guessed by John’s repure he was talked a lot by the brothers, they looked up to him because he was strong. But looking at his cases he could see that he wouldn’t be able to take on Luis who was a cop, armed to the teeth too, neither would he able to take on Bentley he had too many guards. Judge Ross actually would be fine, he’d need to get past a high security estate, but the estate didn’t look well guarded and there were several blindspots John’s own skill could surpass.
He placed Brother John’s name on Judge Ross Contract.
Because Sister Rebecca’s was actually well liked, and quite skilled, he’d sparred with her a few times. He didn’t want to cheat her out on a high profile case. So he gave her Kyle Bentley. She could handle it.
Honestly he’d give Luis, the scariest one, to Blindside her arsenal was a lot stronger than his. Blindside scared most of the Brothers and Sisters, she was built like a fucking truck. She wasn’t sexy at all, at least to him. To be fair most of the Brothers or the Sisters who swung that way.
Then Harriet could get Shephard, John’s old contract. Megana could get Reese. And Damian could get Candice.
“There,” Kimber told her.
Please let him be right or else she would get mad. She stared at the board for a second, he felt his heart racing. He’d get in so much trouble if he made a bad decision. Especially if she had to drag out that he was indeed planning something beside what he told her.
She switched around Blindside with Lady Fortune, Damian with Megana, but otherwise nodded.
“For the most part it wasn’t bad,” she told him, “John might be able to take the Ross contract, smart thinking. While yes Rebecca might have the capability to take on Bentley herself, I think Nadeen is more a one man army than her. Candice is a female and she swings to the women's department. Damian would have no effect. Otherwise, it wasn’t bad.”
“So I passed?” he asked her.
“You got two answers wrong, but by 80%, yes,” she told him, “I guess I do have to start trusting your judgment. Fifteen and you’re already showing promise.”
“Haven’t I always showed promise?” he asked her suddenly.
She smiles.
“True, but you’re really budding into your own recently,” she tells him and smiles proudly at him, “Don’t forget you’ll need at least four to six hours of contract study with the others.”
“I won’t,” he tells her.
She walks towards him and places a hand on his cheek. She looks at him with a gentle expression.
“You’re really starting to look like your father,” she tells him, “I am still there. But the older you get, the more you remind me of him.”
“Will I ever be able to see his photo?” Kimber asked her.
“When I find them” she pats his cheek playfully, and turns back to the board.
Well at least the operation was a success. They always mentioned him, his father that is. Except he honestly felt his identity was removed from his father. He only knew his Grammy and his Mother. He wished they stop bringing him up sometimes, when he didn’t know the man enough to pass judgment like that. That he was indeed like his father.
Heading back to John who’s talking among some of his Brothers and Sisters, also in robes. Kimber almost always felt somewhat like he was the only person in normal clothes.
“I did it,” Kimber told him.
John looked at him impressed.
“Here I thought you cave under your mother, more than stand up to her,” John told him, “Color me impressed.”
Talking tough right now because I played circles around you earlier.
“I wouldn’t say that isn’t what happened, but it did get results,” Kimber responds with a smile, “So your end of the deal.”
“What’s going on?” Brother Vice asked.
“I’m curious too,” Sister Felicity piped in.
John looked embarrassed.
“He promised to gather me a team up of the best Brothers and Sisters to go bully some snot nose shitheads from school,” Kimber replied.
Vice laughs.
“Really John?” Vice asked, “What did he offer that get you’d agree to that?”
John looks away for a second, “He’d let me work on the Judge Ross contract.”
Vice laughs again.
“A fifteen year old managed to weasel around you,” Vice smiles, “I’m down to scaring some kids. Because that’s too damn good to pass up.”
“Count me in too,” Felicity told him.
The best of the best were teamed together to begin Operation Taking Back the Keys. But first things first, he was a one man army against the Peppy All Stars. They were all mostly girls, so it should be an easy destruction. There they were, short skirts, revealing blouses that showed way more than they should. Girls at fifteen started having really perky breast, honestly they made him kind of aroused.
There were four of them.
Elizabeth Tanner, red hair, curly, brown irises, she was wearing a short skirt that left little to the imagination. It sat tightly at her thighs, whenever she moved it would ride up a little and he swore you could see her underwear. Her midriff top showed off her navel, and all the curves she had.
Camilia Summers black hair, ebony skin, brown irises as well, she was wearing tight skinny jeans that hugged her asss tightly. A thong strap gave no one any guessing dreams. A tank top showed off her bare shoulders, it was the closest thing he had gotten to naked woman before and they were all mostly covered up too.
Kaylia Alyssa blonde hair, white skin, green irises, she was wearing a pair of black leggings, with a silvery, shimmery blouse that hung off of her shoulders. Knee high boots with plenty of heel, she was heavily made up with smokey eyeshadow and thick eyelashes.
Amanda Bridgewater also blonde hair, though her skin was more olive, hazel irises, she was wearing a tight fitting shirt, she wasn’t wearing a bra it was obvious because you could see her nipples sticking out of her shirt. She wore a long flowing hippie skirt though. Her hair up in a tight ponytail that she hung to her side.
He walked directly up to them, though he wondered if these girls could defeat him. He honestly hadn’t felt this hot and bothered by girls before individually. But together in a group like this, in natural body postures, that honestly made it look like they were posing for a cover of a magazine was a lot take.
Still he came compared, with knowledge. The weapon he was taught was most effective early on his life.
“So, you’re Kimber,” Amanda gave him one look and looked away there was pink to her cheeks.
“You wanted to talk,” but even Camilia seemed nervous around him.
Kaylia seemed unphased by him, only a little nervousness, not like Amanda who seemed head overhills. Elizabeth also seemed tickle pink he liked that phrasing, tickled pink.
Kimber just continued to smile.
“The one and only, and yes I do,” Kimber replied.
“About?” Kaylia asked, she seemed to be the toughest one to win over.
“Well,” Kimber arches his back and pops his shoulder, “Really anything. See I been looking for a girl to take to the Freshman’s dance. And well, I thought about you Amanda.” he pauses and gives everyone a charming smile, even Camilia turned more weak kneed than usual when he does, “I mean all of you girls are very beautiful. Now I feel like an asshole to ask her in front of you guys, I’m sorry.” he pauses, “But Amanda been catching my eye with her fiery red hair, looks like fall leaves when they hit the sunlight in just the right way, ya know.” He winks at Amanda because she seems so into him right now. It was best to bring up the Freshman’s dance and take her because of how much she was visually drooling over him.
Camilia even blushed when he winked.
“What’s your game Kimber?” Kaylia asked. She was the tough one to convince, wasn’t she? Kimber smiled.
“I have no game Kaylia,” Kimber tells her, “This isn’t some ploy or tactic. I really like you girls.” Kimber told her, “Even you Kaylia, you on the volleyball track is awe inspiring. Maybe you know you could teach me a few moves sometime.”
She laughs.
“You want to get into volleyball?” she says cautiously.
“Why not? The things I am interested in could surprise you and currently the volleyball team is limited to girls,” Kimber tells her and frowns, “How is that any fair?”
Her expressions softens a bit.
“I guess, you have a fair point,” she says, “Thanks about the volleyball stuff.”
“I mean, why would I not admire a girl who’s won two championships for her old middle school? You’re going to make this high school proud,” Kimber tells her.
“Really pl-”
“-Yes” Amanda cuts her off, “I’d love to go to the Freshman dance.”
Kaylia gives Amanda a look for cutting her off. Camilia also seems to have let her guard down. The smooth talking and attention of her other friends has seemed to entice her.
“What about Elizabeth and I?” Camilia asked with her head upwards.
“You value your friends Cammy, can I call you Cammy?” Kimber asked, “I admire that. As you know Elizabeth is struggling in her History class. If you happened to know I get all the best scores in history. Perhaps, Elizabeth like me as a tutor?” he turns to the girl who’s been dead silent. She’s been staring at him like he’s enchanted her and possessed her.
“I...uh….um,” Elizabeth stammers, “Would love that.”
“Right, sounds like a plan,” Kimber says charmingly.
“Well,” Camilia looks at Amanda, “Do you think it violates the girl code if I go on a date with him?”
“He ask Me to the Freshman dance!” Amanda sounded offended.
“But he didn’t ask you to date him,” Camilia responds defensively.
“Ladies, please,” he smiles sweetly, “We’re all friends here. There’s more than enough love to go around. Let’s not tie ourselves down to traditional mannerisms. We are teenagers, love comes and goes like the ocean waves. So let’s make as much waves as we can, am I right?”
Camilia knees give out for a second. Amanda is fanning herself. Elizabeth is looking away shyly and Kaylia is clearing her throat.
Phase 1 was a success. Actually he was glad it went as well as it did.
Phase 2 would be easy enough. Jealousy would break the girls up. That didn’t quite happen the way he expected it to. The next day he heard the girls were fighting. Which sounded like a big success. The day after that as he was reading one of his Grammy’s old textbooks on spells, he was confronted by a chart.
“We’ve had a pow wow,” Camilia tells him as he’s staring at a calendar.
Kimber smiles at them, maybe he was too successful.
“And we have reached a conclusion that we wouldn’t mind sharing you,” Amanda adds.
“I am flattered,” Kimber tells them.
“You are too beautiful of a creature to hold onto for just ourselves, with just great power we would be cheating all of girl kind,” Elizabeth adds.
“So this is how we break it down,” Kaylia tells him, “Mondays Elizabeth gets you. Wednesdays Amanda gets you. Fridays are volleyball practice, so that’s my day. Tuesdays are Camilia’s. Thursdays is a roulette we have made another chart.”
Camilia brings out a rudimentary spinning wheel with their names on a pie graph.
“You will spin the wheel, and it will land on a girls name,” Amanda demonstrates.
“That girl will get you Thursday,” Kaylia continues.
Honestly he wasn’t so mad about this either. Four girls wanted his attention, all of it. That and they didn’t mind if he didn’t stick with one or the other. That made the whole dating situation seem less scary too.
“What about weekends? Do I get all four of you alone?” Kimber ask with a smile, Amanda blushes.
“No, Saturdays are restricted for girl time,” Camilia says pointing to all of them, “It gives a chance to revitalize our girl energy.”
“Sundays you can use the spinning wheel,” Kaylia replies, “Or you can have all of us to yourself.” she bites the bottom of her lip in flirtatious manner.
“Sounds like there is going to be a lot of splashing in this ocean,” Kimber tells then, the girls giggle, “You have yourselves a deal.”
With the All Stars neutralized, it was time to go unto phase 5 and 6. Neutralizing the Jock Straps and the Snap, Crackle, Licensing Issues.
Phase 5; Jock Straps
Getting out of the car to make it to the football field, Brother John sighs. While Brother Vice is crackling a smile. Sister Felicity looks horrified by the city. And several other members are looking around as well. They are armed to the teeth, bullet belts around their shoulders, holding semi machine guns. The things John had agreed to for a contract. Had he sunk a new low, he wondered?
“How did I let myself get involved in this?” John asked under his breath.
Vice cracks a laugh.
“Because John you were desperate and a fifteen year old played you,” Vice tells him.
“He’s not just a fifteen year old,” Felicity adds, “Shouldn’t talk about the young master like that. He’s Beretta’s son. And to be honest he’s really becoming a different person.”
“Imagine a boy Beretta anyway,” Vice mutters and then shudders, “It be gastly. She’s already scary as all could be. But if she had a wee shite devil child alongside her, the horror.”
John huffs.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he says, “I am a twenty-four year old man about to step on the football field of a teenage high school. To scare the piss out of teenagers.”
“Well you better stop talking about what you’re going to do and just do it, huh,” Vice tells him.
John rallied the squad of eight individuals and had them follow him towards the field. The coven had changed over the years. Considering they didn’t really need to hide any more from being burned, some of the coven members had started to choose more modern garb. He thought it stripped a sense of the Exorcism Society’s identity away.
It was different when Kimber did it. He went to this school. It only made sense. He also wasn’t yet so sure the public was ready to hear about real witches and warlocks actually existing. It be mass hysteria and fear. Though for this demonstration alone, he had everyone wear robes.
He had never went to a high school like this when he was Kimber’s age. It was much smaller and couldn’t afford a football field like this, big arena like stadium. Their football field was a patch of grass with lines drawn into the dirt for the meters on the field. One soccer goal post on one end, a football goal on another, and some baseball plates in a diamond shape.
Still kids would be kids in any sense of the word. Bullying and tormenting others. He was bullied. He was surprised to hear Kimber was being bullied too though. It didn’t seem likely. How could a kid like him be pushed around by kids like this?
The football team stared at them, no coach in sight. The kids were of all different age demographics. But they laughed.
“The anime convention isn’t here dweebs,” one, the eldest, blonde kid, white teeth, might have been a senior barks at them. His group of friends begin to laugh.
Well as a twenty-four year old man he had never been disrespected by a pair of children before. But here it was, children, disrespecting him and his coven.
“Listen ‘ere sonny,” Vice called out, “These ain’t no toy guns we’re carrying. So I’d shut it.”
“Ain’t no toys, is a double negative,” called one of the other kids, a younger one, brown hair, of Latin descent, “So either they are toys guns. Or they aren’t.”
“Fuckin’ Christ, did you ‘ear that Constatine, they be bad mouthing my grammar,” Vice huffs.
The kids began to laugh.
“Constantine? Oh this is rich, how about you nerds go back to the convention and get the fuck off our field?” said one of the other players, a burly black kid, with a buzz cut design.
John scowled, then sighed. He took out his pistol from the sleeves of his robes and shot at the canister that held some kind of coloured liquid, green.
“Now there aren’t any fucking questions about what we’re carrying,” John told them, “That canister, pretend it’s your head with a bullet through it.”
Now that got their attention.
“Woah dude chill out,” the eldest kid said raising his hand up.
John titled his head and the coven pointed their guns at the group.
“You are all grave sinners,” John said walking forward, “We have come to cleanse you of your demons.”
He signalled the group to fire as the group of kids began to scream in terror. As the hail of bullets stop flying, the kids stopped screaming and stared at a bullet riddled field surrounding them, but not a single bullet touched them. One kid literally fell and began to cry. Another had pissed his pants, the white football trousers hiding nothing of what happened.
“W...a….t...the…..fu….k,” screamed the eldest.
“You take advantage of those weaker than you, and torment them,by bullying them,” John told them, “You beat them while they are down and even when they are up. Doesn’t feel too nice, does it? You’re not armed on this field, yet we fired upon you either way. And I’ll tell you this, yes those were all real bullets. If we here you have caused harm to any of the kids here, those real bullets will be through the bodies of the ones you love.”
“Good!” screamed the Latin kid, “My dad can go in hell.”
John glared at him.
“I said the ones you love, your mommy’s a nice hair stylist, maybe I should visit her, after she’s done doing my Sister’s hair, I’ll do hers by blowing out her brains all over the mirror,” he stares at Felicity, “You want to start going. If we go now we can make it time.”
“No…” the Latin kid said, pissing running down his pants, “Okay….fuk….I won’t…..won’t...bully other...kids.”
Most of the rest of the kids were cradled in fetal positions or sobbing.
“Good, you never saw us, this never happened,” John told them.
Most the kids were too damaged to say anything else. If there was one thing he could not stand, was a child without manners slurring curses at adults like they had any right to do so. Respect your elders and the lesson they preach, for they may not always be in your life and when you are on your own, independent and having to make decisions. You might regret you never learned those lessons.
“Man that was vicious John,” Vice told him.
He looks at one of his Sisters.
“If they say anything, plant the Bath Salts in their lockers,” John tells her.
Vice gives a chuckle.
“Thought of everything,” Vice says, “That’s why Beretta likes you.”
“Don’t get me wrong Vice, I take no pleasure in scaring children,” John pauses, “But I despise children who speak to adults like that. Their souls had to be cleansed.”
Vice nods.
“Sir, I’ll be watching,” confirms the Sister.
“Good,” John replies, “Good.”
It was difficult at times balancing the fact that he had to observe contracts, go to school, balance a social life with his peers, having four girlfriends, which honestly became six, then eight, then they were all vying for his attention. It wasn’t really dating and they weren’t really girlfriends. More difficult was one of John’s troops was a spy in his school as the science teacher and she was very distracting.
All the football players ended up needing extensive therapy about a trauma they could barely describe. He wasn’t so sure if John had went too far or he found the whole thing entirely hilarious. Considering most kids who were bullied at the school were often traumatized to go back to school.
School seemed like a completely different animal when assassin's and assassin techniques were putting the hands of the school and it’s inner workings.
Though not everything was sunshine and roses. High school came with a litany of strings attached. It’s probably the birth of his crazy wild boy antics and heavy drinking. What do high schoolers do the most, they drink and party? Well some do. These did. Kimber didn’t see it much as a negative considering everyone in the Grand Church drank as well.
Probably the only time it gave him trouble when he was nineteen and impulsive, never again would he be that reckless though because the consequences were not exactly something he desired. George Romano, the football kid, got arrested for bath salts usage and storing large quantities of it.
Either way Kimber never regretted his younger years. He’d say something along the lines of, “if you regretted everything you have done in your life, then clearly you weren’t living to make mistakes and successes. I have made both. So, that’s a good quality of life.”
Still there was still some lessons that needed to be learned when he was a teenager before he could graduate into adulthood and make adult decisions. If he even does make adult decisions some would criticize. While others like John, respected the decisions Kimber would make in his adulthood and even his mother agreed with some of his decisions despite her worry about them.
But we’re getting carried away with ourselves right now.
She had the confidence that Kimber would be a fine and competent leader, once he grew out of his supposedly teenage angst. Or she had hoped for it. That child was smart, caught on quickly, but he had lied to her a few times more recently.
Escaped a Contract kill to go to a party at school because six girls were interested in him. His habits were becoming nuisances in her eyes. Was it something she had done as a parent? Sig was around, he came back as a phantom and he took on some more lucrative clientèle, but today he was watching her with his lavender eyes that Sig shared with Kimber.
“Have I failed as a parent?” she ask Sig in a voice of insecurity that was not like her. Sig Sawyer laughs for a second.
“I do not think so,” Sig tells her, “You cannot take responsibility for something like this. He’s a kid. Kids do stupid things when they want to impress their peers.”
“But, why impress them?” Beretta ask Sig pointing outside to the window, “The Grand Church is all that he needs to impress.”
The man laughs again and brushes some of his purple hair off of his shoulders.
“Then you probably shouldn't have decided to take him to a public school, huh,” Sig tells her, “It’s fine. If need be I can intervene and talk to him tonight.”
“Will he even listen to you?” she ask him.
Sig shrugs.
“It’s worth a shot,” Sig tells her.
“How does none of this worry you?” she ask him, she hates being around him, speaking around him, because it makes her matriarchal authority lessen in front of him. He makes her feel weak and vulnerable.
Sig gives her a smile.
“When did I ever say I wasn’t worried?” he ask her, “I just tend to not hold the weight of the world on my shoulders.” he kind of laughs, “Kind of happens when you’re dead and no longer have to worry about a reputation. Or what you bring to people. It’s less worry and more like I no longer have the obligation of death dangling over my head like a motivated horse and a carrot.”
She smiles.
“He has your sense of humor,” she tells Sig.
“I have been aware of this since he tricked you into letting him escape that contract,” Sig tells her, “He has your cunning and my horrendous sense of humor. And it’s probably a dangerous combination.”
“Probably?” she raises a brow.
“Well it certainly makes it harder to handle,” Sig tells her, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much to help out.”
She shakes her head.
“Even if you were alive I’d probably overstepped you and tried to do all the training myself,” she admits and blushes a bit.
Sig kind of gives a hearty laugh.
“Ain’t that the truth,” he says.
“Hey,” she snaps at him playfully.
Sig gives her a charming smile before the both of them are interrupted by the sound of an engine. She quickly moves to the window, it might be those UAA trying to crawl into their territory again. There had been recent straint between that organization and the Exorcism Society. She frowns as she sees a purple, and black sports car sitting out in the back parking space of the Grand Church. It’s where there vans were and a single limo that she acquired from the junkyard. She felt a rush of boiling rage begin to creep up.
“What the bloody fuck is that?” Beretta sneers.
Sig makes a clicking sound with his tongue.
“That would be a very expensive sports car,” Sig wore a smile that said he was amused, Beretta gave him an annoyed look, Sig just laughed.
“Well that fucking expensive sports car is going to get impounded,” Beretta turned a heel and was about to storm out of the room. When she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t go to hard on him,” Sig tells her.
“Why the fuck not Sig!” she shouts at him, “There’s a fucking thousand dollar, hundred thousand dollar car sitting in our parking lot right now. That boy is going to get so much fucking lip. He should know better.”
“Beretta,” Sig says calmly and sternly, “He’s nineteen. He just started Contract killing two years ago. While, I do agree that it was an over expenditure, that should be addressed. He did earn it. He did earn that car. It wasn’t like he stole from your wallet.”
Beretta bit her lip. The only person to ever challenge her on decisions was this man. This man standing right here, staring at her with purple eyes. Where had she gone wrong? She was never like this when she was a kid. She was never drinking. Making purchases like that. Going to high school parties. Where did she go wrong? She looked at Sig.
“How could this happen?” she asked him, beginning to lose her tempered cool she usually had, “Where did I go wrong as a mother?”
“As I said, you never went anywhere wrong,” he told her, “He’s a little you, he’s a little me, he’s a little himself. You never went wrong. He’s his own individual.”
She scowled at him.
“That’s fucking bullshit!” she shouts, “I was taught by my mother and remained relatively close to her morals and etiquette.”
“And that’s fine,” Sig tells her, “But it’s fine he’s his own person, making his own mistakes and his own path. He’ll run this place fine. Kids smart. Got a good head. But maybe this is a little overboard.” Sig smiles at her.
How was it so easy for him to be accepting of this? When the history books would be written about the Exorcism Society. All her ancestors and herself would be written as proud, diligent people, who followed their families traditional culture for years. Then her son came along and he was a wild child, partying, pretty boy.
Was she too lenient? No. She was always strict with him. Was she too strict? She didn’t think so. Why did he behave against her like this?
“I hope you’re right or he’ll burn this whole entire place down to the grand with his behavior,” she says to Sig officially going to walk off.
“That’s no way of putting it,” Sig tells her, “He’s great at assigning people contracts. He’s great at his contract kills. For fuck sake, he practically runs his school because he used all your lessons successfully. You should be proud. One mistakes doesn’t automatically make someone a failure. He’ll tone down when he’s an adult.”
Maybe he had a point. Maybe she was taking this all too personally. Isn’t this how teenagers behave? Reckless with impulsivity. He was still growing up, but not something she would simply accept all the time as an adult. Walking out of her bedroom with a powerful stride she headed down the stairs and through the back door to confront her son in the parking lot.
Which would have been the center square of community years ago, but she turned it into a parking lot. Cars and having a place to storm them, not in front of the Grand Church was better than everyone meeting out to smell fucking flowers.
The car door opened and her son stumbled out with a cigarette in his mouth. He smiled at her and gathered his balance by leaning on frame of his car a little.
“What is that atrocity?” she asked him.
“This, this is a V8, sports car, not on the market,” he replies slowly, he pauses every few words.
“And how much did it cost you?” she asked.
“This, usually runs a couple million, 3 million,” he says, “I got it for 900,000 thousand. Mileage on is crap too high. Tires need new tread. But...it’s my first car. I bought. With my own money.”
He spent 900,000 on a car!
“Why would you do a thing like that?” she asked him losing her patience with him.
He sort of scowled at her.
“Because,” he replied, if that was his only answer, she was going to throttle him, how could he just do it because? He stepped away from the door frame to puke on the dirt, he wiped his mouth before continuing, “...you….told...me...if I wanted a car.” he paused to dry heave, “I….had to earn it. Well. I earned it. It was my money. To spend-” he paused again, he coughed and dry heaved, then puked again, before continuing, “so….I got...a car. Just like you….said.”
She was taken aback at first. She assumed he had done this to impress a girl or out of impulsivity. But every time he always had a sense of surprising her when she realizes he was taking in everything she had to say. Sure it was still a drunk, impulsive buy, but there was a purpose that was surprised her. He didn’t smile, he just gave her a very serious look, like why can’t you see I do everything you say?
She sighed.
“Fine,” she said, “You can keep your car.” she paused, “However, there still needs to be consequences for dropping 900,000 dollars recklessly drunk on a car.”
He just sort of nodded as he bent over to puke again, this time a little bit of it coming out of his nose, but she pretended not to notice.
“We’ll talk in the morning when you’re hungover and can maintain memory,” she tells him, “It is a nice car.”
Everytime he managed to surprise her. He didn’t just do things without a reason. She told him things and he clearly took them into consideration. But she always failed to realize till they had these conversations. When he revealed his intentions it was always for the right reasons, done dumbly. Kimber nods and goes back to the car, he leans and starts talking inside.
Suddenly the passenger door opened and a girl in a very short black dress, about Kimber’s age, a revealing back and front size, she might as well not even be wearing a dress how short and revealing it was. Stumbled out. She had brown hair, freckles and green eyes.
“Mom this is Rose,” Kimber mumbles.
“Hiii,” the girl slurred.
“Hello Rose,” his mother smiled, but she gave Kimber a look. It wasn’t that she had a problem with him bringing girls to the Grand Church. It was simply they were always different girls and always walked out in the morning, “Have a good evening you two.”
Later that evening;
He managed to get some sleep. Actually no he simply drifted off lying down on his bed. The party was crazy last night. The sound of EDM fresh in his mind like he was still there. Though he knew that wasn’t at all true. The city lights were all blur like the lasers at the club. The seniors celebrating their graduation and his one last run with them.
After high school he was expected to be in the Grand Church and run contracts. Not that he really would complain about that, he really looked forward to working side by side with his mother. Learning to lead. He really did admire her.
Looked up to her. He wanted to continue to impress her and make her proud. He knew sometimes she was mad at him more recently, he really did want the Grand Church. He really was okay with what was expected with him.
He wished she understood that. He just wanted to go out of the public sphere with a big bang too.
“Quite the location,” an unfamiliar voice spoke to him.
In his dreams or maybe a flashback of a night he wouldn’t quite remember, a man stood. They had the same eye color, but the man had blue black hair, maybe purple more like it. He was dressed like a Castlevania vampire though, with a frilly shirt, with one of those ascots. He was smiling at the lights and looked around with interest.
“It’s a club,” Kimber tells the man.
The man laughs.
“I can see that,” he tells him, “In my day they weren’t so, elaborate.”
“You mean vampire days,” Kimber retorts.
He laughs again, then looks at his clothes.
“Guess you make a good point,” he pauses, “No, surprisingly I am from the same century as your mother. Guess you could say Dracula is calling for his wardrobe back.”
Now Kimber gives a short laugh.
“Classic,” Kimber tells him.
He smiles.
“I’m Sig Sawyer,” he tells him, “It’s finally nice to speak to you Kimber.”
“Sig Sawyer?” Kimber scrunches his face up, “You mean, my father, that Sig?”
“Here I was trying to be vague on purpose to get a surprise,” he says, “Yes, I am your father.”
“Not much of a surprise when I have your face and eyes,” he tells him.
Sig just laughs again and smiles.
“Guess that’s another fair point,” Sig points to the DJ, “You like this?”
“Yeah I do,” Kimber tells him, “House music is electric. It’s own magic. The way it makes you move. The way it makes you feel as the beats go through you.”
Sig just nods and is wearing a smile that says he’s amused. He’s not like his mother at all. He seems like the complete opposite. He’s unusually calm. Not like much phase Kimber either, but it was a weird comparison. How did a man like this attract his mother? Sig leans over the rail staring at the dancefloor.
“Heard about the car,” Sig pauses, “Well I saw the car.”
“I like it too, it has a great stereo,” Kimber tells him.
He sees Sig smile.
“That’s good,” Sig tells him, “But probably shouldn’t spend that money next time.”
“Yeah, mother said something like that too,” Kimber tells him, he leans his back over the rail, “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”
“No, I won’t pound in that nail so to speak,” Sig pauses, he places a hand on Kimber’s shoulder, “As parents we couldn’t have asked for a better kid.”
“Mother probably doesn't think so,” Kimber frowns staring at the glittering colors on the screen. Sig shakes his head.
“No I think she’s worried she failed to be a good mother,” Sig tells her.
Kimber shoots his head his Father’s way. How could she think that? He had always been looking up to her image since he was small.
“You’re joking?” Kimber ask his father.
Sig gives Kimber a thoughtful smile.
“ ‘fraid not,” he tells him, “She thinks all of this is her fault.” He points around the club. Kimber frowns. It’s rare to get him to be phased by anything. He didn’t want his Mother thinking she failed him. Considering that disturbed him a little bit. Sig just watched him.
“But she hasn’t,” Kimber said, “I am just my own person. I like this. It’s fun. And, I have friends when I go out here. That’s all. But I still love her. I still want to be at her side. I still want to be part of the Exorcism Society. I am not doing this to be against her. I am doing it because it’s fun and I like it. I have taken everything she has ever taught me to be this cool at school. This was the last night I am ever going to see them because I’m going to be here. Not everyone is going to sit in the Grand Church drinking listening to depressing Gregorian Chants.”
Sig laughs.
“Those chants are a little old fashion,” he tells him, he places a hand on Kimber’s head and ruffles his hair, “You really do love that woman, I can tell. I wish she could see that feisty attitude as not disrespect to her, but as respect and admiration to her.”
“I’m not that feisty,”
Sig raises a brow and gives him a knowing smile.
“This was nice, I cannot always do this,” Sig tells him, “I’m still helping the Exorcism Society even in death.” he doesn’t sound disappointed he actually sounds like he enjoys it, “I just wanted to talk. I rarely have ever gotten the chance. And when I did, I got cold feet. Because I was afraid you’d hate me. I guess I am not the best father material.”
Now Kimber’s the one shaking his head.
“I saw you every now and then, and yeah it gets frustrating to be compared to you,” Kimber pauses, “But I knew you were there protecting us from a distance, so that should be okay. That’s your Fatherly duty.”
Now Sig let’s go of his head and begins to crack up.
“You are one funny kid,” Sig tells him, “Keep up the hard work, and don’t make 900,000 purchases often.” He winks at him before fading, leaving him to be in the club he’d certainly forget.
The next morning,
Rose had left. They always leave before he wakes up, but that never really hurt his feelings. His heading was pounding, coursing in fact, and he felt sick to his stomach right now. Ah he could barely remember last night, all a blurring fog.
Except for the visit in his dreams, he could remember that clearly. Stumbling out of bed he went into his bathroom first to clean his mouth and face. All he wanted to do last night was so goodbye to the life he’d probably no longer have.
Heading down to his mother’s room reminded him of when he was young and come here when something scared him.He wondered if she just got in from a late night or if she was able to sleep. Hesitatingly he knocked on the door.
“Mother,” he called out.
“Come in,” he heard from the other side of her door.
He opens the door and walks in. She’s wearing a flowing, silk, nightgown, that shines and shimmers. His mother looks at him, she gives him a smile. “Morning,” she tells him.
“Morning,” he replies, “Look, I am sorry.”
She raises a brow.
“I know you don’t like the car much,” he tells her, “But for what’s it worth. Thanks for being such a cool mom all these years.”
She just stays silent for a second.
“Kimber, I,” she begins.
“No need to explain,” he tells her, “You think, you’re a bad mom cause I went out and bought a car. And did something stupid last year about science project I really didn’t have. But uh, that makes you a better Mother than most. You’ve never tried to control me and never tried to mold me into the shape you want me to be. You have given me the tools to succeed and told me to succeed in my own way. In the end, that also gives me the opportunity to make my own mistakes. So, I get it. Last night wasn’t a smart choice. So I am willing to take whatever consequence you’re going to give me. Whether it be returning the car or something else.”
His mother stared at him for a second, she gave him a look of consideration. He really meant all of that. He was never much a liar, he was honest if the situation called for his honesty.
“Kimber, I won’t make you return the car,” his mother said slowly, “You are correct, I have always given you the independence you need and that means making mistakes. My mother never allowed me that, and so I allowed you that. I should recognize that this is the cost of that independence, that you are going to form your own self identity. Therefore, the consequence will not be losing the car. I made a mistake as a mother to recognize maybe a sixteen to nineteen year old would not be able to handle all that money. To cut on your reckless spending, I am going to be cutting how much money you actually receive for your contracts.”
He didn’t put up a fight. It was a fair consequence. When he got drunk he spent way more than he should. And he had never spent 900,000 on anything before, except for last night. She had a right to be concerned. He just wanted her to be concerned for the right reasons, not all the wrong ones. She was a great mother, he made an idiot decision because he was a little inebriated.
“Okay,” he says.
She raised a brow at first, but then nodded and smiled.
“You know that’s what I have always loved about you Kimber, as you have grown you’re far more considerate than what most would assume,” she pauses, “I just don’t want anyone writing anything about you.”
Kimber shrugs.
“No matter how good a person is, a critique will always find something to criticize,” he replies.
No matter how good a person was, no matter how bad a person was, a critique will always find something to criticize. If someone is too good they will try to find their darkness. If someone is bad, some will try to humanize them or continue to criticize them and dig up their dark secrets everyone is certain to know.
Kimber didn’t care if some said he was a daft idiot. Or that he was a drunk who didn’t know how to lead. Because that was clearly untrue. As he reached his twenties, his mother gave him control of the board. He had a number of successful assignments, he was able to naturally assign people to the right contracts.
Some looked fondly to Kimber because of it. Others rolled their eyes. As he began to crawl into adulthood, they had issues with the UAA creeping into their territory. Some even taking their contracts. Beretta was willing to go to war with the UAA to protect her territory. To protect what the Exorcism Society had been doing for years.
While he suggested that perhaps there could be some kind of coalition between the two groups. Some laughed him off as just a drunk when he suggested such a thing, but others saw the reason in his thinking.
Kimber would always be a polarizing individual among the Exorcism Society and the UAA. Because of his unusual thinking and unusual methods. The only person he seemed to step down to, was his mother. His mother all though wasn’t too happy about his alliance with the UAA saw its benefits.
As they started sharing assets, began to slowly back away from their territory. She only worried about her son’s future. Her whole entire dream was for him to lead the Exorcism Society. She couldn’t have him dying because of the UAA’s ruthless ranking system.
Misc:
I'll be honest and say the red coat isn't really fashion forward.
@Gardevoiran@TheRedWatcher@BCTheEntity@Alias This has been the third interruption today. The day was beginning to test his patience and how long he could stand dealing with more bullshit. He took in the longest drag of his cigarette he could muster before letting it out, watching the group through the window.
It seemed that he would have to entertain them for just a little while longer. Large groups were never his thing. Placing the butt into an ashtray on top of a garbage can he felt only the slightest itch of irritation, but when he walked into the coffeeshop that didn’t show.
Grant stared down at the worried group and took out one of his pay to go phones.
“Should I call the ambulance?” Grant asked trying to sound like he genuinely cared, “Just in case.”
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