Atrophy

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

Collab featuring @DJAtomika

The motorcycle purred past the cemetery's entrance and around the bend before Valorie brought it to a stop and killed the engine, motioning for Hurk to assist her in walking it behind the cover of some shrubbery. They weren't going in through the front gate but rather a "secret entrance" she knew of that avoided the main path's motion lights and the groundskeeper's shed. She had been to the Somabra Central Cemetery when she had first come to Santa Somabra for some field research and, although she had only been once, she knew quite well that the police liked to patrol this area for teens who were trying to get in a good scare or black magicians seeking a way to commune with the underworld. Perhaps if she had been smart enough back in the day to ditch her car a few blocks down the road she never would have been forced to snitch on the Rats in the first place, but at the time it had made sense to her to keep it close—most likely because she had been a little intoxicated that night.

The "secret entrance" was still there and hardly deserving of the title. It was just a twisted part in the metal fence around the graveyard that somebody had crashed their car into that the city had yet to repair. For a small person like Valorie, she could just easily step through as long as she made sure her clothes didn't get snagged on the sheared metal; Hurk would probably have a tighter, but manageable, squeeze. The two trudged through the darkness, their path lit only by the moon peaking through the dark clouds above. The mild, yet wholly understandable, feeling of unease that was overcoming Valorie as she walked through a graveyard late at night with a werewolf at her side faded as she made note that the moon was, thankfully, not full.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to Hurk. Two other things were bothering her.

"I don't know where we're actually going," she said, resting a hand on her hip as another teased her hair. "Oh, and, uh, you told your friends to bring shovels, right? Because the guy who maintains this graveyard doesn't really like it when people, er, borrow his tools."

"Don't worry about it. I know where we're going."

I had my phone out. Handy thing, these smartphones. Had a torchlight and everything. Bright spotlight shone on the path ahead of us as we walked.

I didn't know who'd paid for Hahn's plot. It wasn't expensive, but it wasn't particularly cheap either. Big ol' stone plaque over his grave. I'd visited once or twice, but I'd spent more time investigating than paying my respects. I was doing more justice to his name that way.

As we approached the section of the graveyard his plot was in, I heard the sounds of shovels scraping at dirt. More accurately, two of them. And once we walked up a short few steps, I saw the source.

Andy stood and stretched from the huge hole that once was Hahn's grave. He caught sight of me and grimaced. I saw his signature jacket and hat just nearby.

"Hurk! You fuckhead, why didja make us do the diggin', eh? Ya think just cause me 'n Benji are both dead already means we feel any better about diggin' someone up?!"

"Lighten up, Andy. At least it isn't your grave, right? Oh wait."

He started and made to climb out of the hole, shovel in hand ready to whack me upside the head.

"Why I oughtta- "

"Jeez louise, Andy. Lighten up. He's right. 'Sides, not like we ain't got anythin' better ta do."

The other voice piped up, Benji obviously, and the shorter, rounder man, well, zombie stood and wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. He saw me and waved.

"Hurk! Nice ta see you again, kid! How's that job a' yours goin'?"

"We're on it, Benji. This is the job."

As we approached, I let Valorie take my side. I glanced at her and swept a hand over Andy and Benji.

"Valorie, meet Andy and Benjamin. They're my pals, also my bosses, in a way. I work in their company, part of my profit from my jobs goes to them. Kinda."

Andy tipped an imaginary hat to Valorie and Benji grinned.

"Nice ta meet'cha, Val."

"A pleasure! And what's a pretty face like you doing out here with a pooch and a bunch a' deadbeats, eh? Hehe."

Andy clapped the back of Benji's head with the handle of his shovel.

"Ow!"

"The only thing deadbeat here is ya love life, ya dumbass. Now keep diggin'. We're almost there."

Benji grumbled and kept digging. I chuckled and stood at the edge of the hole. Glanced at Valorie.

"Not bad for a pair of zombies, huh?"

"Not bad?" said Valorie, her voice breathy and pitching up as if the statement had somehow both exhausted and offended her. "Fuck me, they're incredible!"

Valorie began to edge closer to Andy and Benji, her hand held up to her mouth to cover her huge, stupid smile.

"Actual intelligent, self-reliant zombies are a pretty rare sight," she said, more to herself than to Hurk or the others. It was a sad truth; she had never really seen one on the street or even in a bar overrun with Rats. "Thanks to some assholes in Hollywood, most spend their eternal existence in hiding because the general public believe that all zombies are good for are eating brains and getting mowed down by chainsaw. It doesn't really help that the mindless shufflers don't go out of their way to avoid that stereotype, either.

And then their were the ones she had made; those were even more pathetic. They were like broken, animatronic dolls with stilted movements and a drained battery.

"But look at these guys," she said, turning to Hurk and gesturing wildly. She thought he should be more impressed by the company he kept. Pearls before swine.

"They're talking, walking, even joking with each other. Do you see how smooth and fluid their motions are? Completely lifelike, it's absolute incredible—especially if their clothes are any indictation to how long they've been undead. Any two-bit necromancer can raise a zombie, and even a lucky one can raise one with free will, but it takes true talent to 'embalm' them so well that they don't inevitably fall apart due to natural human decay. These guys will be around until some asshole decides to purify them or the Sun swallows the Earth. Either way, it's, it's, it's fucking amazing when you get in right like this. Holy shit, holy shit, man."

As she spoke her actions grew more and more animated, her hands flailing up and out as she paced back and forth. If she was a normal girl, this would not have been dissimilar to the sort of reaction she would have had if she had met the lead singer to her favorite band and been unable to keep her cool. Valorie did not even realize how loud she was getting, which was a bad thing considering that two zombies, a werewolf, and a necromancer were illegally exhuming a body. She spun on her heels and pointed at Andy.

"You have to let me study you guys! Fuck it, just tell me about dying. Or undying. Or anything. Please, please, please," she said, giving her best gut wrenching attempt at puppy dog eyes.

"Y'know lady, you're talkin' about us like we're not here. I can hear you, y'know. And we ain't no lab rats either. You wanna study us, you do it on our terms."

Andy stopped digging and leaned his chin on the end of his shovel. Under the moon light, the big hole where his left cheek used to be was evident. Teeth and bone just beneath the torn flesh. The left side of his neck was mostly gone too, torn to shreds from...something.

He was right, though. Like it or not, they had souls. They were alive, almost. It was up to them if they wanted to comply.

Andy smiled and shook his head.

"You wanna know how I died, huh? Well it's simple. See this?"

He pointed at his face and neck.

"Vampire. Ninety years ago, I tangled with some vamps. I got eaten, then staked through the heart, then buried with the stake still in me. Guess I came back wrong, cause when I woke up I didn't need to breathe, I had a hole where my heart was and I was fucking pissed off about everything."

He signed and kept on digging, alternating with Benji while he went on.

"Funny thing about being undead, you feel exactly the same except...different. Like, you don't bleed. You don't really need to breathe. You don't really feel that much pain. But you do still get hurt. And when ya do, ya don't heal. Ya stink like the dickens. Ya look like shit, depending on how long you've been under. Me? I was dead two years. Benji here? Ah he's always been ugly. Sometimes I can't even tell if he's alive or dead."

Andy chuckled as Benji stood and grumbled.

"Asshole."

"Hey at least I'm a good lookin' asshole. Hehe."

Valorie nodded along vigorously as Andy spoke, ready to hold onto his words like the gospel. Her excitement floundered as the zombie gave her the quick and dirty take of his death and resurrection. She had been hoping for something that'd hint at her how to become a better necromancer, but the last thing on her list was to let some bloodsucker enthrall her for a couple centuries of indentured servitude just so she could raise a few wise-cracking zombies. The girl spent the last-half of his speech fidgeting, trying to fight the urge to pull out her phone and snap a shot of herself and the zombies.

"Compared to some of the people I've met,you're not that ugly looking," said Valorie to Benji, the compliment sounding more backhanded than she had intended it to be. "And don't worry, guys, I get it. I'm not gonna dissect you or anything, you know, unless you want me to. Oh, but just an FYI, I am real good at putting things back together. So, you know, if anything ever falls off and you, like, literally need a hand..." She laughed nervously as she trailed off and began to step away. "Uh, I'm gonna get prepped and stop talking, 'kay?"

"Ah don't worry about it, kid. Truth be told if you wanted something about how we got raised, I couldn't tell ya squat. I'm a vamp gone wrong, and Kiddo here, well the skank who raised him is dead now."

"Yeah, that. Look, we really wanna help you, kid, we really do. But being dead...that period a' time between gettin' put under and bein' brought back, it's a whole period a' black, Val. People say that when you die, you go to heaven or hell. But us zombies, we know that don't exist. It's just a big fuckin' black void. Silent. Like groping around in a big black room. No light, nothin'. Then when you get pulled back up it's like bein' born all over again. Not fun."

I sat on the edge of the hole as they dug. Truth be told, not since three years ago when these two became my bosses, I never did ask about where they came from. To me they were buddies. Pals. Roped me in on crazy adventures doing crazy things. Dangerous things too, but you live a life like this, danger is part of it.

Wasn't a moment before I heard a loud thunk as Andy's shovel hit something solid. He rapped it several times, then grinned.

"Pay fuckin' dirt. I think we got it. Hurk, help us dig, poochy."

"Fucker. Don't have to ask like that."

"I love you too, asshole. Now get digging."

With a weary sigh I stood, grabbed a trowel and got to it. Thankfully the dirt was loose, and the more I scraped off, the more wood I saw. Eventually all three of us were on our knees, dusting off this old, wood and metal box.

Hahn.

I stood and dusted dirt off my hands as Andy grabbed a crowbar. He took a long look at the coffin, then handed the metal bar to me.

"You got the honour. He's your buddy. We're just here ta help you, Hurk."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and accepted the crowbar. I jammed the flat bit in the gap between lid and box, got my foot in there, and stopped.

"Dag... Hate to have to do this, but wherever you are, we're gonna need you back."

I pushed down on the crowbar and heaved with all my might. The rotten wood lid popped off almost instantly and I stumbled backward from the momentum. Immediately I got hit with the smell of mold and decay, so I approached the open coffin cautiously.

What I saw...less sickened me, more made me sad than anything else.

There laid Dag, in the suit he'd gotten for a friend's wedding. Well, what was left of it anyway. He was mostly shrivelled and dried up. Suit kinda rotted away. I could see the holes in his chest where he'd been shot, just like in the SSPD file photos.

"Fuck..."

I took a few steps back and sat on the ground.

I felt weak.

Dag...

Andy looked up at Val.

"Alright kid, whenever you're ready."

"Two seconds," she said under her breath, her knife drawing up lines of loose dirt as she worked it through the soil. She lifted the makeshift spade out of the ground, muttering curses to herself between loud snaps of gum being popped as she began to retrace her work. After what was decidedly more than two seconds the young woman stabbed the knife into the ground and stood up, brushing the dirt from her knees. Fishing out her phone, she shone the bright LED light onto the ground and glared down at her handiwork as if she was an artist unsatisfied with her latest masterpiece. There were errors, an extra line here, the wrong angle there, and each and everyone of them waved at her like a red flag. Crouching back down on her haunches, Valorie began shifting dirt around with her fingers and packing them into the unneeded grooves and cuts.

"There," she said with a huff as she grabbed her knife and jumped up, trying to hide the frustration from her face. Cain had said something about the drugs being part of the reason why she was struggling with her magic so much. She never realized part of it would have been just fucking with her ability to recognize the wrong runes. Valorie tried to push any thoughts of self-doubt out of her head. This would work. It wouldn't be like last time. Hurk would be able to get the information he needed. She would, somehow, raise a goddamn werewolf from the dead. Part of her really regretted giving away her last cigarette to Hurk earlier. She could really go for a smoke to take the edge off right about now. Her eyes fell on the somber man as he backed away from the coffin and sat on the ground. Now she really regretted giving away her last cigarette; Hurk needed it now more than before.

"Hey," she said, staring down at the man with as sympathetic of a look she could muster. She was real bad at dealing with these sorts of things. Death to her, to any real necromancer, was something to be toyed with. It didn't have any real weight. It wasn't an end or a beginning. It was just a turning point, a new chapter. That black void of nothingness Benji had mentioned? It was like a womb, the deceased was the baby, and she was the young, hotshot doctor: it was her job to yell push, pull that sucker out, and smack that zom-baby on its ass. The only problem was that, unlike any real necromancer, her born-agains did not stay alive for so long. Hell, for all she knew she might fuck something up so bad that they'd never be able to come back again. She felt she had to let Hurk know that. Both to cover her ass and to pull off that band-aid sooner rather than later.

"Hey, man," she said again. "So, full disclosure here, but I can bring your friend back. I just, I, shit," she shifted uncomfortably, "I can't guarantee that he'll be back for long. I know, I should've said something earlier, but I was just caught all up in everything and, well, I dunno. For all I know, when he's back you'll have maybe a few minutes to get the answers you need, you know? So, not to be harsh, but it's kinda important that you don't waste time with any bullshit or whatever."

She winced at the phrasing of that last sentence and folded her arms across her chest, the blade of her knife tapping against her shoulder.

"What I'm trying to say is are you sure you want me to do this? We never can be sure what happens when somebody comes back. For all I know, it could be ugly."

"But it has to be done...whether I like it or not."

I stood and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. No sense crying here. I'd save the tears for when this job was done.

I turned to look at Valorie.

"Do it."

"Okay, cool, great," she said, too chipper for her own good.

Valorie spun on her heels and jaunted back to her summoning circle, taking special care not to knock any dirt over a line as she knelt beside it. Valorie began speaking in Akkadian with a measured, rhythmic pace to make sure that she did not screw up the ritual. Her runes began to glow. A familiar chill charged through her and, once again, her spirit and body separated. Valorie listened as the dissonant, graveled voice droned out of her mouth as she pulled the puppet strings to control her arms. Her body grabbed the bag of blood, hung it over the symbols and runes, and slashed the bottom of the bag open. The blood splashed down all over the place, but quickly it began to flood itself into the shallow lines as the magic of the circle activated. She could hear herself hooting louder and louder as the circle glowed brighter and brighter, but she did not feel any connection with the corpse. It was missing something.

Oh, of course, she thought, trying to find a way to control the legs belonging to that bony pile of flesh. For my dog I used some dog's blood, for humans I used some human's blood. For a werewolf I should use some werewolf's blood.

The legs wouldn't move, so she had the arms do the work. The puppet girl crawled through the dirt like a wounded soldier, muck embedding itself in her expensive dress. Valorie wondered how good of a return policy that store had as the limp girl grabbed her jacket, soaked with a mix of that bitch's and Hurk's blood. If it hadn't completely dried yet, the ritual could draw upon the unnatural blood. Valorie's body flopped back to the summoning circle and wrung out the blazer. Her spirit was already back in her body as the blood dripped from the jacket and was absorbed into the rest, tinting the circle's glow to a darker hue of purple. She felt heavier than ever before and had a splitting headache; also, she was pretty certain that moisture on her lips was either from foam or vomit. She was absolutely exhausted, but still managed to bark a command at the corpse.

What remained of Dag sat up.

"All yours," she said between huffs of breath.

I watched Valorie work her magic. The circle began to glow as she called upon whatever dark gods to bring Dag back.

I couldn't help but notice Andy and Benji backing away from the circle in the dirt. Andy had his hand against his chest, where his heart was. He looked pale, well, as pale as a zombie could get, but for a brief moment, he and Benji looked...

...alive?

Then the moment passed and the palpable power faded away as she barked something at Dag's corpse.

Then, suddenly, he sat up.

I felt my heart leap straight into my throat.

Watched his eyes roll forward as he blinked several times. Confused and dazed.

I saw Andy staring straight at Dag. Heard him mutter.

"Fuck me...so that's how you raise someone..."

I ventured a step forward and called his name.

"D-Dagmar? Dagmar Hahn?"

He turned slowly towards me and squinted. I could tell his features were clouding with uncertainty, him trying to remember things he hadn't in years.

"Chris...?"

I nodded and swallowed my emotion.

"Y-yeah Dag, it's Chris. Chris Hurk. Remember me?"

As he listened, more and more comprehension dawned on him.

"Yeah...Christopher Francis Hurk. Soldier of fortune. Likes his coffee with milk and two sugars. My friend. Chris Hurk. Hurky. Hurky!"

He grinned, or what passed for a grin, and lunged out of his coffin and latched onto me. I grimaced, held my breath and awkwardly nodded.

"Y-yeah, Dag! It's Hurk! You're back, you're fuckin' back."

What remained of my friend nodded and let go of me. With growing clarity he appraised me and smiled.

"Holy shit, Hurk, you have not changed. How'd you die?"

Wait.

"What?"

He frowned.

"Didn't you...?"

Dag looked down at himself, and he groaned.

"Oh sweet Jesus."

He looked back up at me and tried to smile sheepishly.

"Guess you ain't dead after all. It's me. Sorry."

I sat on the dirt as he stood and sat on the edge of his coffin. It was...very surreal, having my dead friend sit opposite me and talk to me as if it were normal. Then again, I was a werewolf, so what exactly was normal?

"Do you remember?"

Dag nodded.

"Bits and pieces, but it's slowly coming back to me."

Suddenly he stared straight at me.

"Tell me you got the fuckwit that murdered me."

I shook my head.

"I didn't, Dag, but he's dead anyway. Killed by someone else. I was deployed in Afghanistan when you got shot."

He nodded in understanding.

"Yeah...you did tell me."

He planted his hands on his knees and leaned forward.

"But I bet I'm not at the bottom of a six foot hole in the ground surrounded by people for a social call. So I'll keep it short. Not sure how long I have here, seeing as how miss necromancer over there was probably the one who brought me back and she doesn't have a lot of experience."

Dag cleared his throat.

"Alright, so three years ago, I was looking up something. It was roughly around the time this chick called the Cannonness was in town, roughing up places and causing all sorts of trouble for Bloodbloom, Nyctari, Martovanni, everyone. I'd heard this rumour going round that something else was heading for the city. Something worse.

So I did a bit of digging. Called a few lookouts on the edges of the city, sniffed out a trail that led out. And it reeked of wolves. Werewolves, to be exact.

Turns out, it was connected to the city after all. The Hunters. Those mean bitches that tore up the streets every month. SSPD couldn't keep 'em in check. I found out they had a few places out in the Somabra Bay Forest areas, kept the city surrounded. Their leader was this white wolf, Amelikas, she was the ringleader for the whole damn thing. And she was up to something.

I looked into hospital records, police reports, anything I could find, and it turned out that she was hunting. Not for food, but for victims. People to turn.

She was making an army. Growing it right in city limits.

She was gonna use the chaos made by the Cannonness to do her own thing. Take control of the city, force them to respect werewolves for who we were, not like the downtrodded filth we were.

I got interested, of course, but I couldn't. I had, like, a million deals all over town and a million guns at my back if I had a hand in destroying what these rich boys and girls had built.

So instead I built a dossier.

This file has the information on every single Hunter she found and turned during that one year period. I was gonna use that information to get more cash from a party who could handle them, but then I got shot.

If I had to guess, whoever'd shot me must've been a Hunter, or hired by one. They knew who I was, where I lived, and my routine. Of course, they also didn't have a retinue of Rats at their beck and call. I think that was my killer's thing. They wanted to shut me up, and that's what they got.

Anyway, once you get that file, things'll get clearer. It's kept in my place, inside a safe locked by a key. To get the key, first get to my PO box at Santa Somabra Central Post, it's 3267. Say you're a relative, they'll know. Inside the box is a slip of paper that contains specific instructions. Take that paper and head to First Grand Bank, ask for my safety deposit box. Repeat the instructions to the letter. Follow that trail, and in my box you'll get the safe key."

He grabbed my shoulders and gripped them tight.

"Avenge me, Hurk. Go get the fucker that wanted me dead."

I nodded, the lump still in my throat.

"You got it, Dag. It's good to see you again."

His expression softened and he smiled. I felt knives through my heart.

"It's good to see you too, Chris, but I can feel it tugging at my heart. I think I'm leaving."

I got out of his way as he laid back down in his box. Felt my tears roll down my cheeks and drip onto his shirt.

"Go kill the fucker that put me here, Chris. I'll see you on the other side."

Then his eyes closed, and that was that. I felt something leave, and he was still.

Benji shook his head, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Fuck me. That was harsh."

But I couldn't hear whatever else he said. I felt weak. Dizzy.

I sank to my knees, and I cried.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

There will be a hot, fresh post coming in by Saturday. Enjoy your Ennis-free week, the worst our favorite diplomat will be back soon.

Edit: It would have been up sooner, but I blame Stardew Valley for any delays. Seriously, who knew how fun it was to win the hearts of a buncha townspeople over by giving them wine and pale ales? I got a damn chick to marry me because I gave her a few coconuts.

Awilix (Closed version)

Then

Together they sat on the picnic blanket beneath the starry skies, comfortable enough with one another that they no longer felt a need to fill the dead air around them—silent all but for the occasional short of joy or anguish from the distance. He was lying on the blanket and looking up at the stars, wearing that red flannel shirt of his. Even today, with his name and face forgotten, Karina still remembered that damn shirt and how many times she had made fun of him for wearing it. Her husband who was allergic to pretty much everything found in nature and frightened by dogs, cats, and rodents, dressed up like a lumberjack—a true outdoorsman, she would say with a laugh. He would laugh too, even though neither of them found the joke funny anymore. She was sitting up and watching the shadow of their son drift between the tall grass as he grabbed at fireflies, smiling at his excited yelps as a bug slipped between his fingers.

It was nice to get away from it all, she remembered thinking. Those conceited mothers who knew the best because they read something in a damn magazine whereas she had only spent around a decade in higher education. Those snippy coworkers who were always friendly to each other face-to-face but complete and utter bitches when they thought the others were out of earshot. Those asshole neighbors who complained to the landlord at the drop of a hat when they heard one argument through the walls without once ever thinking that perhaps they should come an talk to them. Her goddamn parents who kept telling her that she was making a mistake getting back together with him, let alone adopting a son together.

It had been his idea for them to take a little vacation as a family, a sort of way to resolidify their reunion as well as give their son the opportunity to get away from the doldrums of always being stuck indoors. The cabin had belong to a friend of his, or his boss, or his parents, or somebody. Not them, she knew that. They couldn’t afford that, between her college debt and his general mismanagement of his money. She remembered he was always bad with money. It was part of the reason they had fought so much, even though they had separate bank accounts. It seemed stupid now, petty even. He made her happy, and after her third glass of wine she was certain that things would continue to work out.

“Look,” her husband said, pointing toward the night sky as a light streaked across it. “A shooting star. Make a wish.”

“Oh, come on, that’s a stupid superstition. It’s not really even a star anyway,” she said, wishing upon it anyway. Later, Karina would learn that it had not been a meteor, but a comet.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked, a little while later.

“You first.”

“A million wishes, obviously. And?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t come true, obviously,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. Truth be told, she was more embarrassed to say that it had been your typical cliched ‘wish this moment would last forever’ movie bullshit.

“Oh, damn it, how could I forget?” he said with mocked frustration.

“Right? For someone childish enough to believe in wishes, you think you’d know the first rule about—ah!”

Karina gleefully shrieked as he grabbed her by the shoulder and playfully shoved onto the blanket before he planted a kiss on her lips.

Now

Karina shrieked as he grabbed her by the shoulder and forcefully shoved her into the wall before he planted a kiss on her lips with his fist. A flash of stars filled her eyes as she fell to the ground, barely catching herself from colliding face first with the concrete floor. Books from the shelf she had been thrown against slammed next to her as a heavy boot pressed up against her chest. She rolled with the boot, fearful that resisting would end with her ribs getting shattered by a steel-toed kick, and ended on sitting with her back against the wall. Her mouth tasted like copper. She rubbed her jaw, thankful that no teeth had been knocked loose.

She didn’t have much time to take a break. A meaty paw grabbed her by the shoulder again, lifting her up by her jacket and pinning her to the wall. A larger, bald man glowered down at her with one dark eye. The other one was a milky cloud, blinded by some object in some scuffle. While Karina was naturally curious, she had learned that the clientele she now dealt with did not like hearing too many questions—Jackie especially.

“Where is it,” he growled, spittle splashing on her face.

She could smell his breath. She hadn’t pinned him as the cinnamon-flavor gum type, but it did almost mask the lingering stench of rot from his lungs that had been tortured by years of working in the mines before Jackie had decided to break bad and turn to a life of crime. At least Karina assumed that was the case. He had the muscle of someone who had spent years in hard labor, and the delicacy of a hired thug. Again, she would never ask him to clarify. Too many questions got you killed, and they were both aware that Jackie could easily kill her right now.

She tried her best not to glance over at her Peacekeeper, knowing fully well that her gun was on her desk and far out of reach.

Not an option.

Grovelling it was, then.

“I, I, I don’t, I don’t,” she stuttered. It wasn’t a played up effect; even amongst people who weren’t threatening her Karina still had a hard time not sounding nervous. “I don’t—”

“I’ll break your goddamn neck if you say you don’t know, bitch.”

“I don’t have it. They took them. Away. They took them away. You know that. I can’t get any money without them. Please, don’t. Please, I have...” Nothing, she thought. “A family,” she lied.

Bad lie. Obvious lie. His fingers were gripped around her neck. Karina could feel them tighten, tighten, tighten. Her eyes watered, but she did not let a single drop escape. It was getting harder to breath. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists, her nails biting into her skin. Her cheeks flushed. An involuntary gasp came from throat as she felt it constrict beneath his strength. Yet, she wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t scared. She was angry. Furious. Unblinkingly, she stared at him with contempt.

This bastard won’t kill you. Nothing can kill you yet. Not until you’ve done it.

His fingers loosened; she felt cool air rush back into her lungs. His hand, however, did not move from her throat: “I want my money back.”

“You know I’m working on it,” she said, her voice raspy and shaky. Even when she was goddamn pissed she sounded like some shrinking violet, and it wasn’t hard for Karina to find things that upset her these days. Still, sometimes sounding pathetic worked out for her. It often made people underestimate her, and she so loved to prove them wrong.

“You’ve taken too long.”

“That was not the deal,” she said. “ALECK, issue notes for log number three hundred and six.”

“Of course, boss!” chipped a high pitched, boyish voice from her desktop as the screen of her tablet radiated a light blue. “Mr. Jackie said, ‘I will murder you, bitch, and then I will find a way to transfer you into another body just so I can murder you again’. Ms. Karina said, ‘If you had that body in the first place, wouldn’t it just make more sense to transfer yourself into it?’. Mr. Jackie now hits Ms. Karina, saying, ‘Don’t get cute with me, you fucking bitch, you lost my fucking new body, and now you don’t even have my money so I can go get another one, don’t you know who the fuck I am, you stupid fucking c—”

“ALECK, ALECK. Please skip to the part about the deal.” She traded glares with Jackie. “Be brief.”

“Of course, Ms. Karina!” said the voice with a momentarily inappropriate amount of spirit. “Mr. Jackie told Ms. Karina that she would have three months to get him his money back plus interest. I can play the complete conversation if you’d like, miss.”

“No need,” she said, lifting her eyebrow at Jackie.

“The deal is that you either do what the fuck I say, or I paint the goddamn walls with your fucking brains,” he said through gritted teeth, pulling out his mammoth of a handgun and pushing it against her temple..

She had just wanted to show him that she was right. Bad habit. Dumb habit.

“Excuse me, miss, but it sounds like you are being threatened. Would you like for me to notify the authorities?” asked ALECK.

“No, no,” she said very quickly. “Not really an option.”

“Then I thoroughly recommend that you take the new deal,” said ALECK.

“Silent mode, please.” There was a beep from her desk. She sighed. “What is it that you want me to do, Jackie?”

He moved his hand from her throat and stepped back to lean against the edge of a table littered with design documents, petri dishes, and flasks. His gun did not trail from her body. Karina rubbed her neck but kept herself firmly against the wall. She doubted Jackie was actually going to shoot her at this point, but she didn’t feel like giving him a reason to be jumpy. Karina had been shot at several times over her years, but she had never been shot in all of her cycles. She would have very much enjoyed to keep that a true statement.

“You’re going to do a job for me. A rather rich friend of mine is hooking up with a couple of smugglers and trying to score a rather large cache of Gemstones. He’s got deep pockets, and he needs someone with your special talents to help him,” said Jackie, tucking his gun back into its holster.

“To purify the Gemstones for him, right? Then you’ll be cashing in on my service fee,” she guessed, folding her arms over her chest. She wasn’t a particular fan of using her Lunos.

“Boy, you are smart, doctor,” he said. “I’ll contact you with more details soon.”

The large man stepped through the door of her safehouse, leaving Karina alone to clean up the mess and steam in contempt. She bent down to pick up a book, smoothing out the pages before sticking it back on the shelf. The job sounded straightforward. Perhaps it was a bit too straightforward, especially for somebody in Jackie’s line of work. Still, if it meant that she would be free of the thug then she would do it. Karina wasn’t above just simply killing him and disposing of the body if she got the chance, but an ill thought out solution like that was often accompanied by even worse consequences. She let out a groan as she pushed herself back up from the floor after kneeling down to gather some scattered research papers and took a moment to steady her balance.

“Perhaps it’d be better to deal with a few vindictive goons,” she muttered to herself under her breath, looking at the bright orange gun on her desk. “My time is too valuable to be playing nice with a bunch of bastards.”

Persona: Crossroads

@AttisSomebody at the Starbucks must've been robotripping and trying to spread the love.

Persona: Crossroads

Nao's Zan spells aren't actually bolts of lightning or anything.

They're kinetic impacts.

@Crimmy

Ya'll jerks with your Persona 2 spells, I swear.

Awilix (Closed version)

Hope you kids had a nice Easter if you celebrate it, or just another nice Sunday if you don't. I got a few busy days ahead of me, but I should be able to find some free time to write up a post pretty soon.

_{I will sacrifice sleep, even. And sleep's rad.}

Persona: Crossroads

This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Taro was supposed to be drinking whiskeys in a bar somewhere chatting up some tanned girl with a nice smile and a fake personality, or locked up in his room playing video games until his eyes were bloodshot, or out to dinner with some strangers he called friends. He wasn’t supposed to be minutes away from death on a metal hunk of junk with a three-headed freaky monster looming overhead ready to roast him with one mouth, bite him in two with the other, and drool sludge all over his clothes with the last. He wasn’t even supposed to be on this damn train. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Taro Mori deserved something better than this, but he couldn’t even do a damn thing. He was, sadly, frozen with fear; he couldn’t even open his mouth.

Of course the first time in his life that he was actually speechless would also be his last.

Taro heard something muffled behind the grinding of metal, the guttural growls of the beast, and the curses of his peers. He recognized it as the sound of his dad’s voice, yelling through his locked door. Of course, this was just a nightmare. He was late for class. His dad was yelling at him again for being a useless slacker, a lazy waste, a dead beat, or something else equally inspiring. The only problem was that the muffled yells of his father telling Taro that if he kept doing nothing then he would never amount to anything was just a phantom echo of a memory. He hadn’t spoken to the old man in months, and had lived with him in over two years. He couldn’t even remember the last thing he said to the bastard so that he could clichely regret it. He couldn’t even yell at the stupid little ball of flame, because the damn thing had gotten itself killed by it’s so-called friend.

And now he could feel moisture on his cheeks, and he knew it wasn’t sweat. What would his obituary read? Taro Mori, Twenty. Achieved nothing in life; died crying like a useless baby. Didn’t even think about the others, at least not until now. Couldn’t even apologize to them. Wasn’t he responsible for pushing them to head towards the engine room instead of the caboose? Sure, who could predict a goddamn three-headed dog monster, fair enough, but still. Shouldn’t he have been trying to do something? Even yell out an unhelpful piece of advice like “watch out” or “run”, like they wouldn’t have already bolted if they could.

But no. He was too scared to do shit.

I hate this.

Taro could see Nao. She was right in front of the monster, standing tall despite her height. Something shimmered in her hands as she kept stepping towards the monster, jaws snapping towards her. Taro wanted to scream at her, to run forward and pull her away, to do something, but his legs were no longer his to control. What the hell, she’s going to get herself killed. Just do something, man! thought Taro, but his voice was still lost to fear.

And then he was speechless for another reason as Nao called forth a phantom lady and blasted the beast with a wave of energy. He felt his tight jaw slacken. Izuki was soon to follow, hurling curses at the creature as a mechanical man spewed its own brand of fire back at the three-headed dog. He could feel another presence behind him; to his shock, Taro could turn his body to look at it. A figure was between him and Mari, her shield forming a protective wall in front of the blind girl. He could hear the girl’s voice coming from behind the shield. Taro was still scared, still terrified, but he couldn’t just let the others do all of the work, right?

Right? he thought, unsure of why he believed he would have heard something reassuring in response.

“Got it,” he said, his voice cracking out from his dry lips. “Hit the vines and don’t play with fire. Just one thing, how the hell did you guys—”

He felt something heavy drop in his pocket. Fishing the object out of his pocket, Taro stared at the square golden compass. The needle quivered above a picture of a tower being destroyed by lightning, the silhouette of two diving figures tucked behind the letters for east and west, respectively. As he gawked at the object, he could feel it shifting in his hands, flattening out into a slate almost the size of his phone before it began to warp into a disc. It felt uncomfortable as it molded itself in his hands, never quite settling on a final form like the bulbous wax in a lava lamp. Still, he had seen the others use something like this thing. He squeezed the compass like putty, melding it into a sphere. What was the word they said?

“Persona?” Taro said, uncertainly.

There were no trumpeteering, no fanfare, and no great revelation. No masked woman or flame-spewing man materialized out of the air next to him. He didn’t feel any different or receive a charge of energy. He did feel ridiculous, squeezing on a ball of gak with his arm held forward like a cheesy nineties cartoon hero calling out an evil doer. He looked at the face of the compass again, confused. The needle spun wildly. Great, it’s broken. You get the stupid magic whateverthefuck and it doesn’t even work, he thought with a huff. Like it would’ve done any good anyway.

Again, Nao called forth her ghost-magic-lady-whatever-thing almost effortlessly. A natural. Maybe he was just doing it wrong. He held the compass to his heart. Nothing. He smacked it in between his hands like he was some bully about to give a kid a beatdown. Nada. He tried kicking it like a hacky sack. Zilch. He said the word softly, he said the word loudly, he tried stretching the word out. No, nope, negative.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” he yelled, flinging his bookbag with all of his might at the monster.

Shit!

It missed.

Persona: Crossroads

Well I had a good, healthy Easter with my family that involved drinking two beers and eating ham and stuff.

Then the chocolate my mom gave me melted because it was in my car all day. Worst Easter Ever.

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

@DJAtomikaWorking on a reply to our collab, just to letcha know. Shouldn't be much longer.

Persona: Crossroads

<Snipped quote by Undinebutt>

summary of my evening:

osu.ppy.sh/u/Faces3

@LowKey123

I don't know what happened to you 11 to 9 days ago, but congratulations on getting out of that slump. I productively spent my evening watching Batman V Superman and then shame ate two cheeseburgers to fill up the emptiness inside of me that was once my joy and childlike wonderment of the world that Mr. Zack Synder managed to devour alongside my $13 and 2.5 hours of my life. It was like reading a book's first page, jumping to the tenth paragraph of the fifth chapter, translating the book into Chinese and then into Russian and then back into English, burning it, and starting over on a brand new book about three-forths of the way through it before just throwing that out and reading a Wikipedia article on the plot of Modern Warfare 2 and Snow Dogs.

If that made no sense to you, then you have effectively experienced what it was like to watch Batman V Superman.

_{Wonder Woman was good.}