Plank Sinatra

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Where's He Dropping, Boys?

Atlas, Atlas. Bilskirnir Housing Complex. Team HJNS dormitory.

Fifteen hours ago.

No one on the team had taken Jericho's loss well. Nicole, as the team's operator and wellness professional, had been in charge of every last tactic in the HJNS playbook for years; of course, things like individual skill sets and the input of her boys would always need to be taken into account, but for the most part many of the most successful strategies had been Nicole's brainchildren.

Many of them had also utilized Jericho in a central role. His Semblance made him the perfect infiltrator; he was skilled with a knife, his pistols, or even his bare hands; he could drive anything on at least one wheel, even if he couldn't do so particularly safely. Jer had become her crutch, an ace in the hole that she could rely on to partner with any of the others. Now he was gone - and the team was refusing to replace him.

It was out of loyalty to their teammate, for a certainty, but more than anything Nicole believed that the issues at the root of their insistence were denial and desperation. All three of them - four, if you counted Nicole, who had indeed been quietly hoping that this whole Vale thing was just a fad - were suffering from them. The normally gregarious Speer was withdrawn, constantly texting memes back and forth with chatbots in the hopes that the blank, stoic responses of artificial intelligence would capture the vibe of having a conversation with Jer. Bright was worse. He had always been sullen and withdrawn from his team, but Jericho had been the Stripe he'd liked best. Losing his lone tether to sane conversation in the dorm had caused Bright to lapse back into the primal state that his friends had originally found him in. He now controlled the space behind the kitchen counter, the barony that Rich had deemed Wench's Walk, searching for where Jericho had stored the pans, knives, measuring materials, or secret Rich-killing weapons.

Speaking of Rich, he had taken his knight's departure the worst. But you would never know it by looking at him.

"Ah, Nicole!" he exclaimed magnanimously when she walked inside the dorm her boys lived in. The team leader was sprawled out along every one of the bar stools in front of the kitchen counter, radiant and unruffled by the tribulations that had sprung up within his keep. "Come, take a seat."

His feet lifted up, inches above the stool on the far right of the counter. Nicole, gauging it, might have had enough space to wiggle in before she was repurposed into Heinrich's footrest. Her eyebrow raised.

"What, are you serious?"

"But of course!" he exclaimed again. "You always have my permission."

Nicole rolled her eyes again and sat up on the counter. Rich's eyes widened; imperceptibly, his head shook.

"Nicole, I would take heed. Bright has regressed further today, and still gets touchy when people touch the coun--"

An empty box of rice made a brilliant arc over the counter, rising from Nicole's east and setting into her west - west right onto the crown of the king's head, where it bounced again and clattered onto the floor.

"Shut up, fag."

Speer looked up in a hurry. He must have been surprised Bright had spoken. When his eyes caught Nicole on the counter, he stood and waved at her, walking over from the team's dual-monitor setup in the foyer. He was carrying his Scroll in his hands; he must have been chatbotting or something. Nicole waved back at him with a smile and then scanned the faces of all three of them.

"So how were your days?" she asked playfully. "I guess you guys must be hungry, huh? Anyone else remember how to cook? Want me to make some pasta?"

"Nonsense. You are a credit to your position, Nicole, but we have a cook," Rich said proudly, puffing out his chest. "Jericho knew his place better than to leave us unprepared for his vacation. He cooked family portions of our favorite meals, and prepared grocery lists as well. He must have been preparing to shop for us upon his return. Truly, I wish either of you were even one tenth of Jericho. Maybe this place wouldn't be such a sty. Think of all the vacuuming he'll have to do to get this rice out of the carpets. I mean, my God."

"Hey fuckwit," came the yell from under the counter. "Has that mono started to ravage your brain lining? Jer's not coming back. He left us."

"I've had mono," Speer offered cheerfully. "I don't think it's a gay thing. Jer never had it. I think it's just from kissing anybody, and I don't remember it affecting my brain lining."

"It doesn't," Nicole said firmly. "Let's all get some pasta in us, okay? And then we'll clean this place up and talk about the teammate sel--"

"I don't know, Bright, how long before it ravaged your mother's?"

A garbled scream erupted from Wench's Walk.

"As I was saying, Nicole, thank you but no. The meals Jericho made us were meant to last the week, and now by my decree we shall await his return with patience and prudence."

...

"You finished 'em this morning, huh?" Nicole asked sympathetically.

"Why isn't he back yet, Nicole?"

There were several notes of pleading in Heinrich Gault's voice. It was apparent that the bonds of loyalty - close to matrimony - that he and Jericho had sworn one another had caused many things to atrophy, chiefly among them his cooking skills and his sense of order between the two. With no Jericho to serve as grounded enforcer and royal headsman, Speer and Bright would never respect her authority. She didn't even know if they would respect hers. She had to think like Jericho would in order to rein in the remainder of her team.

"I'm cooking."

"N-No!"

From underneath her vest, her ceremonial pocket pistol left its holster and fired a single round into the apartment's ceiling. It joined several of the larger holes left by one of Jericho's Manticores over the past year.

_{"my SNEAKER"}

"Alright, boys, listen up. Jericho is coming back."

"I know that, foolish operator," Rich said smugly, though he had still winced at the sound of the gunshot in close proximity.

"He seems like he's doing alright to me," Speer said, looking down at his Scroll.

"Yyyyyyes!" Bright roared in approval, punctuated by the bonk of his head against the counter as he tried to rise.

"Keep listening."

<sub>"NOOOOOOOOO! IT WENT RIGHT THROUGH THE TOE!"

"it weNT riGHt thROUGH thE TOOooooOOoooOOE"</sub>

"But if we want him to come back and stay back," Nicole continued, "we're going to have to prove to him that we're responsible enough to do things without him. Otherwise he's just going to push us all out of the nest for good. We have to cook our own meals, do our own grocery shopping, work on our own homework, and above all, keep ourselves together. We're still a team, right?"

She had segued into a more encouraging tone as her speech went on, but she was met with only silence at the end. She fired into the ceiling again.

"G-Gotcha, babe!"

"I concur!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

_{"STOP IT! YOU ANIMALS!"}

"Besides, if you all missed him so much, you could talk to him. He does have a Scroll."

"Yeah, he says hi, guys. And he says that he bought Rich some more toothpaste because he was almost out," Speer said casually, looking back down as though Nicole had reminded him again that it was in his hands. With his head buried in a screen, he didn't notice that the others had turned to him - even Bright, who must have been reawakened by Nicole's speech enough that he could relearn a bipedal stance.

"Vanilla mint..." Rich murmured. "My soul of chivalry..."

"I know I say this a lot, but fuck you guys are gross."

"You've been texting him?" Nicole asked, snapping her fingers to get the rest of the team's attention - although yeah, that toothpaste stuff was really weird. She tried not to think about that.Maybe he did need a vacation from Rich after all...

Then again, Jer probably knew her favorite toothpaste too. He'd crashed on her couch enough. He was so perfect in the hours before he woke up hungover. Vulnerable, curled up, hair matting his face. He was like a Jagerbombed unicorn.

...

"You've, uh, been texting him," she repeated, in a calmer voice.

Speer nodded.

"Uh, yeah." He held up his Scroll. "Right now, actually. He sent me the admin codes for Beacon's network so we could work on a training regimen for the drones there. Lookie. Lookie lookie."

He laid out the Scroll on the countertop, so that they could all lean over it. Nicole caught a faint whiff and realized that one of them hadn't showered after coming back from the gym. Either that, or Bright had been in the kitchen much longer than anyone wanted to tell her since Friday night.

"Jericho Piper...Team Flapjack." Heinrich's eyes had narrowed into slits. "Those corn-fed, inbred whores. To think, they would lure a young man like that with the promise of food. Nothing else could have coaxed him from us, but for the idea of cooking for new and unexciting people. We stopped our advance there too soon. And look at him. He's not even team leader. It was bad enough when he refused such a commission here, but in Vale? He is a god."

Everyone was looking at the blonde-haired king. Nicole's eyes had gone wide, head cocking slightly in his direction.

"Uh, yes, sir, Your Grace."

"...to them. An agent of his caliber would be a god to them."

"I can't believe you always have to ask where your sister gets this from."

"Better than never asking where your mother got it from!"

"COCKSUCKE--"

Nicole raised the gun again.

"...okay." Bright looked reluctantly at the holes in the ceiling. In the brief silence that followed, Nicole swore she heard someone's faint, mournful wailing. It could've just been the sky-vans outside the open window. It was the late-night rush; even on a Monday, there were always people headed out for a taste of the Atlesian nightlife. Usually Jer and Rich were among them. Without him, Rich would probably be home more often. It would at least help him take his responsibilities as captain more seriously.

...

Fuck...fuuuuuuck!

"I mean...you said he's got admin access, Sully?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. He's got a TA position at their firing range or some shit. We've just been tinkering with stuff in the school's protocols."

"I mean..."

Nicole looked around at the others, normally guileless blue eyes turning conspiratorial.

"...we could make him take responsibility, right? After all. He did leave us hanging."

The boys all looked at her, then at the Scroll. Heinrich began to chuckle.

"Ah, Nicole," he sighed wistfully. "Truly, you are one of us."

...

"Uh...thanks, buddy."

---

@FlitterFaux @Write @HereComesTheSnow

The movers had been shuttling in their new team captain's things during the last forty minutes of the final class period. A few of the movers had taken note of the things they'd brought in. There were several guitars, one electric and two acoustic, arranged on displays; the movers had to take care not to scuff any of them. There was also a Dance Til Sunrise dance pad peripheral that was meant to go to a TV, as well as a plasma TV and console to join the dance pad. Boxes of clothes and bedding were left inside, for the new arrival to make his bed. Stacked on top of the mattress were a series of posters from around the world, detailing Vytal Festivals past - ATLAS WILL INDOCTRINATE YOUR YOUTH! - concert tours, and other stadium events from around Atlas.

Only a few pictures had made the trip along with the new arrival. There was one of a handsome man, tanned by long periods outdoors, who had strung a bow out over an apartment balcony, as though he could land a shot past the horizon. A young Vacuan woman in a tank top and a leather jacket sat atop him, long, bare legs wrapped around his neck and hands playfully forcing his head and chin down into his chest, as if to mess with his shot.

Another picture was at the Vytal Festival depicted in the poster, with an Atlesian team and a Mistralian team detailed on the scoreboards behind them. The two children in the photo were identical, but for their hair and attire; one was dressed up in a white-and-blue outfit with a V-finned headband. The other kid was in a child-sized INDOCTRINATE t-shirt and a tan, unzipped hoodie, but where the V-finned girl's hair was long and dark, tipped in red, the other child had dyed his hair a fierce shock of bubblegum pink.

The last photograph was clearly the most recent. It had clearly been taken from the sidelines of some event. A single boy, muddied and soaked by cold water, was on his knees past a finish line, gripping a stopwatch in his hands. The girl from the Vytal photo, aged almost a decade, was hurtling over the other sidelines to join him, the beaming smile on her face expressing her pure joy and pride at the kneeling student. Someone else had already beaten her onto the pitch, though. Blonde and handsome, he had wrapped one arm around the neck of the boy on the ground, apparently paying no heed to the fact that a large gash had sliced one of the boy's cheeks. He also didn't seem to care how much of that blood trickled down onto his jacket, cinched tight against the Atlesian winter cold.

The boy didn't care either. He had wrapped an arm tightly around the other boy in turn, and had one outstretched for the girl. Even in the photograph, his eyes were bright and excited; there was a wide grin on his lips, mouth open wider than it would have been had he merely been panting in exhaustion. He was laughing.

Jericho Piper was laughing.

Whoever, and whatever, the photos all depicted, they must have meant a lot to him.

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Krayzikk @Crimmy

"That's fine," Brennan agreed. "It should at least get me on a payment plan. Just give me a call whenever the rest gets worked out."

Kiara Vinke.

As if his plans for rocket science weren't going to gobble enough of the day, Brennan had just opened up a long night of research. Maybe Umeko would be willing to help out; they both owned laptops, and he could tell that her curiosity was finally going to get the better of her as soon as they left the bank. They were a team. Whatever rabbit hole Brennan excavated in his quest for answers regarding last night, Kawaguchi would be diving into it head first.

"I appreciate your help," he said cheerfully.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@HereComesTheSnow @Crimmy @Krayzikk @Kaithas

Lauren watched the events unfold with wide-eyed, unblinking innocence. From her flesh-and-blood throne atop Ben's lap, the trap queen's feelings about the ballooning spectacle were hidden behind a pair of huge emerald eyes; they trailed the Dust that zipped back into Professor Cirsium's hands, abandoning Luke and Diamond.

"Wha..."

Diamond had tried to catalyze the Dust in his hand? Deep fry her little Royal Wok? Send her little Short Round to see Kali Ma? Napalm her beloved little Agent Orange? Right in front of the class? It was hard for Lauren to believe that the Atlesian had the brass; any of the dozen-or-so physical fighters in the class could have snapped her down the middle, weirdo arm or no weirdo arm. She didn't look put together enough to dress herself in the mornings. Her entire demeanor and outfit looked like it was cobbled together from other thugs who had spent their month's rent on Amy Desire.

Her head tilted over to her teammate, looking for a reaction. To Lauren, who rapidly felt like the only person left alive in this school with people skills, it was obvious that there was still sexual tension simmering between Desire and the girl who had just tried to leave her little protege...well, simmering. She was looking for a hint of condemnation, but she was also taking the chance to casually slip her hand down past Ben's thigh, to the backpack she'd left tilting between his chair and the one she'd vacated. Her fingers closed around her jacket, but after that, her arm didn't budge.

"That's so fucked up," she grumbled, making a hmmph into Ben's ear from her mouth's place beneath it.

She took a deep breath, head lolling back onto Ben's collarbone as she stared up at his saddle brown hair until she could make out individual strands. She forced herself to calm down - to rationalize, instead of standing up and atomizing Diamond Frost with a beam that not even her crabs could escape. Nobody ever got away with a crime of passion.

On the street, it was random acts of violence - like the one Diamond had nearly just perpetuated onto her charming little hoodie boy - that you were most likely to get away with while squeezing out your victim in the process. Lauren just had to live by her own game plan, her own coda, and let the others react with the low murmurs of anger she heard brewing around the room.

She would play it cool.

Record of UTX - Special Investigation Team [SRWOG/Mecha]

ＨＩＫＩＫＯＭＯＲＩ　ＤＥＦＥＮＳＥ　ＦＯＲＣＥ

_{(onee-san's counterattack, part 1)}

"Oh, take me now."

Variations on those words were probably echoing through the minds of many of the pilots squaring off against the Lions (now almost entirely dwindled in number) and their variants (which only expanded), but none of them had the husky, demented awe that Corinne Shourichi felt as she watched the new, decidedly unfriendly IFFs appear. It wasn't the plea of someone wishing for the battle to end at any cost; it was provocative, demanding, a sexually aggressive woman clamoring for a worthy climax to an impromptu clash.

Like Anju! She sounded like Anju. If Anju were still alive, she was probably melting in her cockpit right now.

And if not, she had definitely melted in her cockpit, so really Corinne was right either way.

She had been about ready to help polish off a few Landlions for Hazel's sake. The cute mute was highly capable for someone with her unique developmental challenges, for a certainty. But her soft, small, dexterous hands were meant for things like building plamo, child labour, and other activities that could involve similarly tight crevices. They weren't meant for juggling four Armored Modules. Before any assistance could be provided to her subordinate, however, the Barrelions and the Guarlion Custom had appeared - and between them, Corinne would meet the climax she so desperately sought.

"Shourichi Special!"

A comet, adorned in red and gold, alien to the cold crystal skies of Éire, lanced above the new arrivals.

That comet had a speed advantage on the Barrelions for a certainty. That would give her a crucial opening advantage, and a chance to even the odds in her unit's favor. Once she had closed into a range she knew the heavy units would be uncomfortable with, the R-Blade's G-Railgun discharged into one from above, towards where experience taught her the protections near the Barrelion's own railgun. Shourichi executed an attack upon the same weak spot on the other Barrelion, counting on the bulkiness of the suits to dull their reaction times and ability to react. She was reminded of swine, which had been cursed by evolution with a barrel-shaped body with an immobile neck, unable to gaze upon the clear skies they now fought in. If any pigs were on the ground, they would be happily oblivious of the pitched salvos being fired above them. Corinne was counting on fate extending these pigs that same mercy.

Then she would get to enjoy her Guarlion.

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Crimmy @Krayzikk

"Uhh, just the person who gave it to me? Something about it seemed a little out of sorts." Brennan ran the fingers of one hand through the hair on the back of his head, seeming to think it over before reluctantly producing the slip of paper. "Bumped right into me while I was getting on a bus the other day. Phone hit the pavement and busted up. She wrote me that for a new one when I pressed her, but..."

Brennan looked a little bemused at the paper, not turning to look at Umeko behind him. His hand went from his head down into his pocket, picking up his cellular device and displaying the back, shattered from a collision.

"She looked a little outta sorts, y'know what I mean?" he asked. "Especially when this is what she gave me. I guess I'd just like to know if I can actually replace the phone or not. And who's buying me a new one."

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Krayzikk @Crimmy

"It's not that. It's nuttin'." Brennan's forehead collided gently with Umeko's, along with a brief affectionate hand that traced fingers through her neat brown hair. "Foiiiine. We can sit down for some coffee."

He stood upright again, ceding Umeko control of the basket without a fight as he made his way to the colder sections of the store, past ice cream, frozen dinners, milk bottles, and the television screens above the refrigeration units that advertised each product.

VISIT 326 BOOTH AT THE DIANOID KANACON THIS WEEKEND! TRY MAGICAL POWERED MINT TIE-IN FLAVOR AND TUNE IN FOR--

"When it comes to milk, it's gotta be MUSASHINO!"

--in bright neon, as a voice in heavily-accented English rang out--

"My boyfriend loves it too!"

Umeko bought right into this sort of crap - tie-in flavors and promotions with anime and cute catchphrases she could parrot back at him. Brennan had never trusted the milk here; in a place where everything seemed to be some kind of experiment requiring some kind of volunteer waiver, he found it hard to believe that not a single scruffy, perverted researcher in Academy City had the Category 5 brainstorm to mess with the hormones of female students through their morning cereal. Kawaguchi laughed at him whenever he made his case, sometimes going so far as to label him a conspiracy theorist like the ones in the message boards online. But Brennan was well aware of the strain on both their backs whenever he was shuttling Kawaguchi around somewhere. Something was amiss inside that girl, and it definitely wasn't all the shoujo shit she put on while they worked.

--SATURDAYS AT 9!

It was one thing to bluff about it to some fucking slag, as he had the night before, but who the hell actually paid with a chequebook? What was he walking into at the bank?

He should've gone alone today.

They met up at the self-checkout, each carrying a mix of fresh dairy, vegetables, fruit, some beef for patties - he had been trying to teach Kawaguchi the art of a European pub burger, a favor Umeko would often repay by taking him to some of the best karaage places in the city. They had both done wonders for the other's food palates, if nothing else; he doubted that teaching her how to season a burger would get him out of the shit pit with her tonight if Judgement or Anti-Skill apprehended him at the bank, however.

Maybe he'd take her to the Dianoid this weekend or something...

They paid cash for their order and, walking home with a couple of bags each, walked down the street to the bank. Brennan didn't feel nervous. He feared nothing, especially not now; after all, he'd done nothing wrong, and nobody could prove otherwise. All he'd done was chase down a criminal who tried to buzz off with a corpse to commit God-knew-what kind of fucked up debauchery with it. He was basically a star witness if anything.

He was more agitated at how this little mystery had been nibbling at him last night. He would rather be at home watching the launches from around the world on TV, seeing how far other governments, entities, or students had progressed with their launches. Umeko was only thinking about students that they knew, other aerospace aficionados in Academy City. Brennan was thinking further ahead, thinking wider than that...

ding

The welcoming noise of automatic doors broke him out of his reverie, followed by their hydraulic hiss as they opened up to the young couple. Brennan took the lead, the cheque in his vest pocket weighing on his chest like a barbell. Nonetheless, he seemed - and felt, honestly - at ease as he sidled up to the first available teller and turned on a winning smile.

"Good morning," he said in Japanese. He didn't like using the language; English was a more natural fit, and he'd taught Umeko to understand him through the syntax and his accent. Having a language you could use to talk to your gal pal while keeping most of the city frozen out of the conversation could get handy. Still, it would help to be as clear as possible on this. "I want to make a deposit, but I kind of have a funny feeling about it."

He produced the check, holding it between two fingers, but didn't offer it up yet.

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Krayzikk

"Fook you mean?"

Brennan had turned skeptically to look at Umeko, scowling faintly at the presumption implicit in her questioning. After all the mess that their model shop trip had tossed them into the previous night, and after not even getting the parts for the rocket that they'd originally set out for, the gumption in Kawaguchi's line of questioning was as infuriating as it was obliviously cute.

"You 'ave models at home. We're buildin' a rocket and you're gunna loov it. I'll buy ye a candy bar or summin if ya play nice, yeah?"

The two of them strolled for a couple minutes longer before reaching the grocery store. They would have more luck here than at the hardware store nearby, Brennan knew; District 5 was geared towards older students and more complicated projects like their probe, but their trip to District 15 probably would have been the best place if they wanted to come home with real results. Honestly, he knew that Umeko just didn't want to be without milk.

The European gritted his teeth impatiently and picked up a shopping basket at the door.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART, AND YOU'RE TO BLAME

"Bianca Nuit," a voice called out over the din of the Practice course.

The students had all begun running the obstacle course that Rowan had pioneered and Jer had improved. The Gold Stripe sat back, watching the various students intently, only occasionally dipping his head down to look at clipboards featuring past scores or the Scroll running timers that sat atop it. Occasionally he would hand out praise or criticism - "4:22, Gratia. Good." or "5:13. Have you ever considered a career in the library, Fallson? It's more fulfilling than this, and you won't ever have to jump." - but mostly he was silent, choosing to observe on his first day and then direct people into what it seemed like they enjoyed, be it the practice range, Semblance training, or just screwing around on the course again for fun. That third category would have been where he sat. He would have been alone in that.

Only one student seemed to be exempt from the free period, however. As Bianca Nuit finished up her time - 4:30 - Jericho whistled for her and waved the Scroll and clipboard at her, finally standing up to his full height and walking towards her as she moved towards him. He read her the time and then looked down at the heiress, cocking his head slightly to the right. When he did, his hair, matted down by sweat minutes before, fell over the end of his eyebrows in layers. He pushed it back and wrapped a band around it, revealing his forehead.

"4:30. Not bad."

My chest rose and fell I was eight seconds over Gratia’s time and not the best in the class, but I was also only days out of the infirmary and my wings accounted for at least a bit of resistance, even when they were folded. Even though it pained me to do so, I jogged over to Jericho as he waved me over. His status as a Teaching Assistant not doing much to dissuade my eyes from appreciating his station as a Golden Stripe, secret agent and absolute looker.

“4:30?” I called back as we approached one another, I finally stopped placing my hands on my knees for only a second taking a quick breath, before standing back straight. “I could’ve done better.” I said, staring back out at the course, my chest rising and falling fast enough that I couldn’t speak too much.

I probably couldn’t have done much better. Granted, I had been in a pretty large scale fight during Grimm Studies and Survival wasn’t much of a rest, I had given my all during the course. I straightened out my crop top and glanced down at my shoes to make sure the laces hadn’t budged all that much before looking back up to Jericho with a big smile. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to help me out at all this period, as the teaching assistant?” Had life been a cartoon there would’ve been a glint in my eyes and a shimmer to my smile as I stared up at the young man so below his pay grade it was almost leaving a visible physical effect on him.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have something to show you before you break off into independent study.”

That could be taken the wrong way. This girl isn’t well.

Jer reached down to the chest holsters he’d left resting beside his perch and pulled loose one of the Manticores. He inspected it for a second, cocking his head fondly at it, and then turned his stare to Bianca.

“Beryl Harken tells me you have bad luck with guns,” he explained. “I have a trick for you. Basic defensive discipline where I’m from, but it’d probably be black magic to most of the wheat farmers in this country. Here, hold this. Don’t touch the trigger until I tell you. My dad and I designed these to blow the limbs off a Grimm and the supports out of a skyscraper. I don’t need it going off through my palm.”

My smile faded a little bit as I took the gun in my hand. I looked at Jer and for only a second, I felt like I was falling out of my own body. His voice snapped me back out of it. My hand was tightly gripped around the stock of the weapon, so tightly that I felt my nails dig into my hand just a little bit. I shook somewhat but I tried my best to ignore it.

“Yeah don’t worry I won’t touch the trigger – though I doubt the thing is even loaded.” I said quietly looking at the weapon. My hands had generally stopped shaking but I couldn’t help but be over-aware of where I was pointing the weapon. It was fixed on a spot with nothing around it.

“Okay so what’d you want me to do with this thing?” I couldn’t believe I was so rigid. The usual Bianca would’ve been better. No I want to be the usual Bianca! “And next time feel free to skip over Beryl and come right to the source of the info!” I said readopting my warm smile and allowing myself to breathe a little easier. I felt my heart slow down a little bit as I reminded myself where I was.

Not in Mistral, not in that van. With Jericho, in Vale.

I took a deep breath in through my nostrils and out of my mouth. I was ready to learn.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa. Easy, Stallone. You should never take this thing being loaded or not for granted.” Jericho lifted the other pistol up with his gloved hand and eyeballed the distance between the end of the barrel and the shooting range. “The original design for this was something to go on the heavy-duty variants of the Atlesian Knights. My dad and I worked for half a semester to try and make a mockup that could even be fired safely by something with human limbs. My teammate was screwing around with it while I was making dinner one night and broke his arm in two places. This shoots down family trees, Bianca. Always practice gun safety, but always practice this gun safely.”

…

“Oh my God,” Bianca said, “was your teammate okay?”

…

“What the hell are you talking about? Bright? He was fine, he laughed about it eventually. To hell with Bright. Do you want to learn or not?”

For a split second, I was taken aback by Jer’s attitude about it all. Bright was fine? He laughed about breaking his arm with a gun?

Atlas was terrifying sometimes. All I could imagine were people driving down the streets, firing off guns… Wait, it’s just like that movie Luke was watching! What was it?? Less than content Tom?

No....

Sad Sam??

Hm....

It didn’t matter.

“Yeah, of course I want to learn!” It was at that moment that it was decided. I had to impress Jericho with my learning capabilities. I had to become the best student he had ever taught. And that started with not mentioning the movie I couldn’t come up with. “Okay, I’m listening, please continue!”

“Alright. Good.” Jericho eyed Bianca skeptically for a second before placing the gun he held down on the bench again. That left the gun in Bianca’s hand, which he nudged up to about his chest level before nodding and taking a step back. “You seem like you’re more specialized for fighting Grimm than me. I’ve spent most of my school life fighting other things with guns. Guess I’m a people person. Still-goddamn it, hang on. Laurent, 4:09! Good run!”

His Scroll had dinged, notifying him of another student successfully finishing the course. This girl was one of the last few to start the course, and now she looped around, black hair clinging to her forehead and hanging over her eyes. Her panting was wild and angry, her stare smoldering at the young man who had belted out her score.

“Uh huh,” she said, in an accent laced with venom. "Merci.”

“Go Viv!”

The Scroll dinged again. Sparr, 4:11.

“Go VIVE!”

I felt a warmth spread to my cheeks at the compliment as I watched Jer call out to the other students. It was something of a rarity to get a compliment like that from him - you knew it was genuine, he always was.

“Yeah, well I’ve trained in that regard for a while I guess. So I’m happy to learn something…” I trailed off for a second, looking at the gun. I looked back up to Jer with bright eyes and a calm temperament. “I’m always happy to learn something that will help me protect others and myself.”

I continued to hold the weapon steadily facing away from everyone and at the ground. I could see the safety was on, but I wanted to be sure. I wanted to get this right.

“You’re laying it on too thick. But fine. Don’t point the gun there, point it here.” Jericho held the weapon back up to his sternum again with one hand, fingers of his ungloved hand wrapped around the barrel. “So, with all that in mind that I told you about this gun, what do you think happens if you pull this trigger right now and I’m holding the barrel?”

“You-” I stopped for a second. Just breathe. He knows what he is doing.

“The firing mechanism would activate, the bullet launched, it would go throw your sternum and potentially kill you.” I said, taking little pauses in between words to allow myself room to keep my breathing even and steady. I felt the breeze pass through me and it was only then that I remembered where I was, in class pointing a gun at my…

At Jericho.

Another deep breath. “The gun would kill you if I pull the trigger.”

“Hmmph. Yeah. Okay. Think fast.”

Jericho’s free hand reached around the space between them and flicked the safety off. The Manticore rang out like a small rocket launch, like a spacecraft attempting a doomed escape from the earth. Bianca visibly jolted, but Jer appeared unfazed. If anything he looked more mischievous. His eyes were twinkling playfully, and when he looked at the startled heiress again one of his eyes quickly closed and opened.

“You think you can kill me with bullets? I take your fucking bullets. C’mon.” He pulled the gun away from Bianca’s trembling hands with little effort, displaying it with it pointed towards the ground. “Relax, Bianca, it’s alright. I’m about to teach you something that’ll save your life. Catch your breath and look at the gun when you’re ready.”

It took every modicum of control to stop me from just screaming for a split second. I felt all the adrenaline in my body rise up to the tip of my tongue in an instant. “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” I felt my lips move without permission as I crouched down for a second only to return up in another. I felt eyes on us but I couldn’t even consider the social ramifications of my actions I just allowed the energy to leave my body.

In those few seconds I felt my heart rate start to return to normal and I looked at Jericho, my cheeks blazing hot. I thought about slapping him, but at this point I was pretty sure that would just further fuel his antics. His wink and the sound of a gunshot was scorched into my mind. Okay, think we’re good.

Then I heard it again in my head, the gunshot and the wink. “Shiiiiiiiiit, Jericho.” I waved my hand like it was burning hot and took a step back to let myself calm down away from him for a second. What the fuck was this class.

Okay. Okay you’re good.

“Alright what am I supposed to see here?” I said walking back towards him with an unsteadiness about me that was as plain as day. I looked at the gun the way someone looked at the ground who was afraid of heights. Just barely letting it enter my peripheral.

Jer could sympathize, however slightly, with a girl having no idea how guns worked. But honestly, Bianca quoted mob movies enough that he would have thought she could handle the merest sound of a close range gunshot. He would hate to see how she would respond if she had to remember how to choose between a gun and a cannoli.

“You see this? Here I have my fingers completely around the barrel, pinky near the ejector. But how far has it gone back? Not at all, right? Watch this.”

Jericho leveled the pistol over Bianca’s shoulder, in the air towards one of the drones. When he pulled the trigger, it just clicked. Click. Click click.

“Nothing, right? This is a ten round mag, but it didn’t recycle once. It’s stopped up. Now the triggerman needs to fix the gun manually to be able to fire again. Giving you time to swing the Hermes from hell that you bring everywhere and take him down. And see? My hand wasn’t ripped off, my Aura took whatever force the hit actually had. It’s fine. I’m fine. And now you never have to worry about a gun again. Nobody’s gonna know what the hell to do when you just rush up and grab it. Nobody really knows how it works except us. And now you.”

Us.

“Y-yeah.” It was hard to rationalize everything that was happening to me these days. Some days were kind of gloomy and overcast, others were a bit better. But, today was different. “You’re fine.” My eyes darted around where any wounds might’ve appeared. I was ready for the blood to start staining his shirt, but, it never did. He stood there, a confident look about him holding the gun in front of me so I could see it. I examined his hands holding the weapon. They were worn much more than most Mistralian’s would have been. It was always something they were proud of - something to show off how delicate and beautiful they were.

Jer was different in that way. He didn’t have to try and flaunt some pre-described beauty. He just sort of exuded a knowing that was in itself, beautiful. “Well, thank you for teaching me that. Today I just feel like I’m learning a lot.” I said, adjusting my posture, grasping my wrists behind my back and shifting my hair out of my face a little bit. “Seriously, I know you’re busy you don’t have to spend more time with me if you don’t want…” I trailed off looking at the surroundings.

It was such a pretty day outside. “Besides think of what the other students will say! Private lessons, it’s just ripe with scandal.” My eyes twinkled a familiar way and I smiled upwards at him leaning towards him a little.

“Shut up. We’re going to work on your Semblance next.” Jericho’s hair was pushed back by the band, but he fingered it anyway, eyes scanning over the rest of the students as though he was searching for a glimmer of potential. “What would you rather have me do? Sand is from Atlas, she’ll be fine. If I worked with Grat the next place I’d be holding a gun is to my tonsils. I could wear lead-lined sneakers and body armor and have a higher vertical than Robert Fallson. I was throwing kids like him off the monkey bars when I was nine years old. In a more enlightened time in a real combat school we would have expelled him out of mercy. I would only ask him for help on a mission if that mission was getting lunch money.”

He shrugged and turned back to Bianca, face expressionless again.

“You’re in the middle of the two extremes. You toe a line between a lot of potential and terrible at everything. I can work in that zone. Semblance. Chop chop.”

Hmmm… I can’t tell if I should be offended or feel like I’m being courted but I definitely think it is one of those two possibilities.

“Well… Now that you mention it, I did do something, different a little bit today.” I said dropping my handbag on the ground with a incredibly loud thud. Like dropping a massive boulder. The dirt descended just a little underneath the weight of the bag. “So I’m not really sure how it works but I flew really fast, way faster than I usually can, and I think I… Glowed a little?”

I tried to recall the moment it happened. It wasn’t necessarily my semblance, but when it happened I lost control of my spear. Which made me think it probably affected my semblance.

“Yeah, so, I don’t know if that’s worth looking into but it is definitely something I don’t really get.” I tried to explain.

…

“Bianca,” Jer deadpanned caustically, “god damn it. That sounds straight out of anime."

He exhaled, eyes closing together tightly and then opening with the dull acceptance of a man who knew that death would be a private victory against the torture.

“Okay, fine. Let’s make you a Saiyan. God damn it, Bianca.”

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Krayzikk @Crimmy

Brennan was standing at the sink, rinsing Umeko's cereal bowl and spoon while his gal was hurrying up her wardrobe. Truthfully, Brennan wouldn't have left without her; any mishap with the groceries would be rightly considered his fault if he did all the shopping solo, and there were parts for their probe design that Umeko would want to have input on. The time limit he had mockingly set was mainly just meant to motivate her after her quick wake up - the Japanese girl was as lazy and lethargic as they came in the mornings - but he enjoyed the thought of her panicking, trying to slap something together before he ducked out of the apartment without her.

She was the best. One of the first words he'd taught her in English was gullible, because he'd told her that it was good fortune. Believe it or not, she'd taken to pronouncing gullible better than Brennan. Although that was probably on purpose.

"Ye, ye, whatever," Brennan demurred, making a show of reluctance about drawing his arm around the girl's shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "Make a list o'brands in yer own head. I see milk, I'm gunna buy me some fookin' milk, Musashino or no. I see chips, I ain't killin' meself over a fookin' name brand."

The two had moved into an apartment together in District 5 in time for their first year of university together, so many of the grocery stores here were more stocked than the convenience-oriented locales that catered to the junior and high school students of District 7. It made grocery shopping a sort of quaint affair, one that Brennan and Umeko had begun to often use as a way for some couples time. The streets were quieter than District 7's, too, so the two students enjoyed the temperate August weather arm in arm for a few minutes once they left their building and started the walk to the grocery store.

"Ooh ye. By the by," Brennan said after a minute, his free hand touching his wallet inside his pocket, "I need to go to de bank dis morn too."

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Krayzikk

"Need a fook of a lot more den dat," Brennan mused thoughtfully as the otaku munched in his ear. While the sounds of people chewing generally made him want to use them as practice dummies for his tracheotomy technique, there was something endearing about his partner's breakfast routine - and her insistence on the same brand of milk. She was spoiled, and she knew she was spoiled, but it was one of her charms. Otherwise he would have already left the apartment to do some things in the city for the morning. Grocery shopping was definitely near the top of the list, as was gathering more equipment for their rocket project. But also...

It was like the cheque, currently folded in half neatly and tucked into his wallet, was its own ballast, a large weight that kept Brennan conscious of it every chance he got. Even he had started to question the wisdom of letting his prey away from the ropes last night, but he'd managed to luck into more potential answers (or at least more questions) than anyone would have been able to glean from that cowardly asshole by leaving him to rot in an Anti-Skill holding room.

Still, it would have been nice if he'd concussed the fucker or something. Made Kawaguchi feel a little better.

"I'll wait three minutes. Whatever's not on by den I'm gonna assume you can live without. Or stay home an' hoof craftin' glue all day, see if I care."