From the vault of heaven streamed an eager deluge, blanketing the land in a cloudy gloom and dampening all things that lay upon it. Few things could seem more everyday ordinary to the people of Barlour City and their streets, except perhaps for movement, worry, and contention. An uncountable number of times the rain washed the gray streets, cleaning them in only the literal sense, yet never did those fallen droplets spatter upon the same old things. From the quietest street to the most neglected ally, the city lived, if only there were eyes to witness what strange things lived in those lonely, portentous places.
For instance, any individual with at least a cursory knowledge of the unusual, poking his or her eyes out from beneath a hood or umbrella during the crossing of Central Way, could behold a most interesting sight. A lone figure, shielded against the melodically beating rainfall by a green hoodie, strode hurriedly along the concrete sidewalk. Of course, men in hoods often rushed along this particular avenue, seemingly never wanting for distraction from whatever nebulous business demanded their attention, but the observant eye could spot two oddities about this rainstorm stroller. The intricate pattern of his hoodie, like a sea of crashing waves in ancient oriental art, appeared rather luminescent on such an overcast day, though of course this could be inferred as a manifestation of the clothing’s quality—the water did, after all, roll off it unnaturally well for cloth. More perplexing, however, was that followed in the man’s wake. The silvery rain, earnest to get to the earth, found itself interrupted and was forced to splash across the frame of some tall, humanoid shape behind him, yet never did there appear anything more than the vaguest silhouette.
Before long, the man rounded a corner, and his rain-stifling shadow followed. No people walked this little detour, no doubt due to the well-known canine guardians that threatened any trespassers. Down the side-street he obliviously walked, ignoring the growls from either side. Finally, two of the guardians jumped up from their resting places to block his path, and the man stopped abruptly. For a moment the two creatures seemed content in a job well done, but the intruder didn’t bother to let down his guard. In the flickering yellow light from the glass-paned buildings that lined the street, bizarre shadows threw themselves across the animals’ bodies, making them look ghastly, and even monstrous. Curious, the hooded man watched, the rain running freely across his shoulders and head, as the array of light and shadow muddled –or rather, elucidated?- the dogs’ forms. Before even a moment could pass, the two nightmarish beasts launched themselves at the man.
He flinched, and the demons lurched to a stop in midair. Looking upward, Souta gave a wry smile at the nothing that suspended the Minions above the ground. Without a care in the world he sauntered in, walking right in between the slobbering, clawing beasts. An audible sigh echoed through the slender sidestreet, though not Souta’s doing. The voice that followed was slow, feminine, tremulous, and ghostlike. ”You could at least show some gratitude. That wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool if I hadn’t helped.” The two Minions hovered for a second longer before they were slammed together out of the blue, dropped, and abruptly impaled by two invisible mechanical legs.
Souta reached for the doorway at the end of the sidestreet before saying, ”That’s what I have you for, sis. To make me look cool.” He held the door open, waited a few seconds, and then went in.
With an acute sense of direction he made his way to the meeting room, arriving just in time to hear Maria’s question. ”We’re not late,” he clarified as he walked in, pulling off his hood. He took one of the seats, angling it and the other away from the table, and put his feet up casually. A moment later, the space behind him stirred, and from then air a tall, dark shape materialized. So large was her mostly-mechanical frame that it seemed incredible that Otsune could have arrived both unseen and unheard, but nevertheless she was here. Though she wore her long, dark hair in a severe bun and a friendly smile on her pale face, she seemed, not in small part because of the elongated proportions of her cybernetic limbs, like some fearsome blend of specter and skeleton. ”Good afternoon,” she murmured. ”There were demon scouts outside. Not anymore, though.” Otsune referred to the demise of the Minions as if their lives had been pieces of paper, lost in the wind. ”I am Otsune. Some call me Phantom. This is my brother, Souta. We represent Gilgamesh Incorporated. What can we do for our friends the Demon Hunters and the Order of the Sword?” Otsune inclined her head slightly, her dark eyes fixated on Sevrin.
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