Terminal

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

Reviews should probably remain in here for the time being, but may be transferred to the First Labour thread once the third judge has reported in with their entries.

TTL: The First Labour

Here are all the submissions. As a general reminder, I have only included forum names if given permission by the author to do so - otherwise, these stories remain anonymous. Feel free to post reviews for these stories in the general conversation thread. Try to provide some helpful critiques and suggestions, and mention anything you liked.

Winners will be declared on May 4th, including those who cleared some of the secret bonus challenges. All winning entries will be saved in the Twelve Labours Archive with a permanent link in my signature, as well as mentioned in a report in the News section and General Discussion subforums. Once again, thanks to @mdk and the rest of the RPGC crew for helping to schedule The Twelve Labours. Another special thanks to @RomanAria and @CaughtInTheRiddle for volunteering as judges.

If you did not win, but feel you should have? Make an appeal to the judge who made the call for your entry (yes, you'll know which judge evaluated it). Keep it classy, and exercise some courtesy while making your case, and they might just reevaluate your entry. Please keep in mind, you only get the one appeal. Sometimes you just have to let it go.

DID I SCREW UP AND FORGET TO PUT YOUR STORY HERE? LOUDLY AND IMMEDIATELY KICK ME IN MY STUPID HEAD SO I CAN FIX THAT.

Without further ado, the Stories!

The Death of Damian

Damian began running for his life. The Undead continued their bloody rampage towards him, tearing apart the rest of his group. he ran for the nearest building, running ever faster towards the hotel as the zombies grabbed and clawed at him. a zombie lunged from a nearby car and bit just underneath his knee, Damian screamed and and kicked the zombie so hard in the face that it had now caved in. now limping, the zombies had managed to catch up with him and began grabbing at his bag and shirt. he managed to get into the hotel and bar the doors so that they could not get into the main lobby for the time being. he took a moment to catch his breath and come to grips what had just happened. all those friends he had known since the start of the apocalypse gone, was there any point in living now. Damian decided it was time to end this nightmare once and for all. As he made his way up to the roof more undead burst from the rooms. he no longer cared about the world of the living so he allowed them to scratch and tear his skin but not bite him so he would actually be able to leave his body. as he reached the roof he drew his pistol making an effort to actually take out a few zombies. he then proceeded to take out 2 homemade grenades, pull the pins and fall backwards off the roof into the crowd of zombies outside the lobby. as his body hit the floor you could hear each individual bone splinter and break. even though he had survived he new his time on the earth would not be for long as the ignition on the grenades should just have primed. As a zombie began to tear away at his flesh and the click of the ignition primed, Damian shed a single tear as he became nothing but blood that painted the wall of the hotel.

The Death of Nicholas Santos

[Disclaimer: This character came from an old RPG on TVTropes dating back to 2012 called "Journey Through The Multiverse". The setting information is that there are multiple worlds based off different stories, with our world being Earth Prime. Long story short, after a long trip across the multiverse, an evil overlord known as the Daishuryou (from Kamen Rider by Toei and Shotaro Ishinomori, more specifically, Kamen Rider Black, as he uses Shadow Moon’s appearance at the time this story takes place) has begun his invasion of Earth. The character featured is Nicholas Santos, who has these knives known as the Zero Sluggers from the Ultraman series (by Eiji Tsuburaya) and some way into the RPG gained the power to become Ultraman Zero. Also there's a mention to Madoka Magica (by Gen Urobuchi).]

Nicholas was the first on scene at New York City. He could just smell the burning of asphalt as he sees several buildings in flames and people running in fear from an army of monsters and foot soldiers. At first, he gave a chuckle. December 21st, 2012. When the Mayans said the end of the world would happen, would they expect invaders from another world? Though, laughter in the face of destruction always clashed with Nicholas. Especially upon seeing a dozen monsters rush out in swarms, attacking and destroying all in sight, including defenceless citizens.

Nicholas gripped on to his Sluggers. The people he was a member of, the Brotherhood tasked themselves with taking on a larger threat halfway across the world. He didn’t just want to sit and watch New York go up in smoke though. He was outnumbered, but he smiled. He liked those odds.

Nicholas swung his Sluggers towards two of the monsters, cutting them down. Their explosions easily messed up their comrades and sent their foot soldiers flying. The Sluggers flew back to Nicholas, who grabbed them and charged forth. He stopped shortly as he saw that the explosion also killed some of the civilians. The ones that were alive ran, but not away from the monsters, rather away from Nicholas. There he could see one of the monsters, a praying mantis with scissors for arms, cut them down. Nicholas stood there, his arms drooped and all he could feel was emptiness. However, once one of the monsters approached him, Nicholas slashed the monster's throat and went into a frenzy. He ran to the monsters and plunged his Sluggers into several more monsters, hacking through each of them like he was the slasher in a horror film.

With one last stab towards the remaining monster, Nicholas twirled his Sluggers towards his final opponent: the Great Leader of Dai-Shocker himself, Daishuryou. He had stood there, waiting at the bottom of Times Square. Behind him was a destroyed screen from the building and what normally was an ad for Coca Cola was now the symbol of Dai-Shocker: A two-headed eagle perched on a giant globe with DCD embedded into it.

“Hmph… Where’s the rest of your Brotherhood… Imperium… Whatever you wish to be named now?” Daishuryou asked. Nicholas cocked a smirk.

“They’re comin’. I just figured to butter you up for them!” Nicholas put away one of his Sluggers and took out a pair of strange sunglasses. He figured he’d turn into Ultraman Zero and finish the fight before more people got hurt. Before he could put the glasses on, however, Daishuryou blasted a bolt of green lightning at the glasses, breaking them.

“Come now, remember the rules of combat? Never escalate a battle unless the villain forces you to.” Daishuryou brought out his Satan Saber.

“Well, considering how I’m facing down the head honcho of almost every villain of Kamen Rider, I was just balancing the playing field…” Nicholas readied his Sluggers. The two stood still in their combat poses before they began to circle around. As soon as Daishuryou put his foot forward, the two ran at each other and attacked.

Nicholas had a distinct advantage of not having bulky robotic armor to move around in. While Daishuryou was admittedly fast, Nicholas ducked and weaved through the slashes that Daishuryou attempted to give. Then he gave his own slashes.

While he was certainly faster, Daishuryou was built to last. Nicholas ran his Sluggers through his armor five times, and all they give were simple scratches. All those other monsters he ran through didn’t have fancy armor to protect them from an opportune stabbing, but this guy came ready with armor. While most Tokusatsu armor tend to ‘spark’ when hit with swords and what not, this armor seemed to shrug it off.

At most, Nicholas was just scraping at ice with picks. With each slash, he slowly realized… Daishuryou had faced at least forty years of superheroes… He’d eventually find a counter for all that. There was no route where he’d come out of the fight alive.

He was boned.

As he realized it, Daishuryou found a chance and cut off Nicholas’ arm off. Before Nicholas had time to scream in pain, Daishuryou ran his sword through Nicholas. A gush of blood gagged Nicholas from screaming even more. Daishuryou blasted Nicholas with green lightning, knocking him off of his sword. Nicholas could barely move as he fell right on to a pool of his own blood. He bled out before he could even hear members of the Brotherhood, his team, approach him. The last thing he heard was from Daishuryou himself.

"A shame... At least you'll die knowing you took out twelve simple, weak monsters... of twelve thousand." And that was it. Just a simple taunt of his death being in vain. No more, no less.

Nicholas wasn’t the luckiest person in the multiverse. This wasn’t the first time he died, for one. He was shot dead at a Starbucks in a simple robbery, only to be brought back by Dai-Shocker’s then leader, Tsukasa. He then died again saving Madoka during the Brotherhood’s, then called the Imperium, trip to Madoka’s World. He was spared again when Ultraman Zero made him his host. Though, this time, he felt like there’d be no one to save him now.

He would die and not be saved. No one would bother to bring him back. He realized that his luck just ran out, that his cockiness ultimately proved to be his downfall. He could hear screaming, crying, yelling, though the voices began to fade, just as his vision began to blur. His thoughts, however, were clear as crystal.

“I don’t wanna die! Not like this!” These were the first thoughts he had when he was first killed. He realized that he never thought like that when he saved Madoka. Perhaps it was the sudden nature of being crushed by a slab of concrete or perhaps it was just closure that he died saving someone.

He didn’t die like the second time. He went out like a punk. No brave or glorious death for him like in all those shows. No. He just died failing to put a dent in both the big evil villain’s armor and his army. He even failed to save civilians and even wound up getting them killed. What pained him more was that he failed after they were so close to beating the Daishuryou and stopping Dai-Shocker. He wondered what his life would be like after they had won. He knew that he’d at least settle down with a cute girl.

But now that can never be. He’s going to die, and there’s nothing anyone can do to fix that. He didn’t even have time to look at his friends for the last time. All he saw was a black, empty void. Now his thoughts became louder. He never knew what awaited for him after death since someone always took him out of it before he could get a good look, but from what he was told, he always expected a loved one to greet him, a white light or even movie credits.

But, in the end, he saw nothing. His heart raced. He screamed out: “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I DON’T WANT THIS TO BE MY ENTIRE LIFE!” But his pleas went unanswered. Instead, he was greeted with a black screen with two blood red words that he had been familiar with:

“DEAD END.”

The Early Demise of Benjamin Wilkins

By @WiseDragonGirl.

Snow gently fell down to the earth below, covering the land under a white, cold layer. The dark bark of the leafless trees standing tall besides the road were in heavy contrast with the now white surroundings. The black horses that usually stood in the pastures in the area were in their stables, most likely warmer then the man who was cycling over the now white road or the farmer who was sitting in his tractor and who was going in the direction the cyclist came from.
As the farmer passed the bicycle, he raised his hand. “Be careful on the road Ben, it sure is slippery today.”
Ben nodded his head in response to the greeting. “Will do,” he responded with an optimistic sound in his voice and continued to push the pedals of the bicycle in a calm rhythm as he ploughed through the fresh snow. His full name was Benjamin Wilkins, a man in his mid-thirties, but everyone called him Ben. The black fabric of his long, woollen coat was covered in snow on his shoulders and back, the rest of it remained mostly snow-free for now. The hands holding the handlebar were covered with black leather gloves and a grey hat, which was mostly white now, protected his straw-blond hair against the snow. A thick dark-grey scarf was wrapped around his neck.
There were only few people actually riding a bicycle in such weather, but he didn’t mind to do so, for some reason he had always preferred cycling over driving, even in weather like this. Of course Ben had to admit a heated car surely had it’s advantages right now, but his wife needed to go to work as well and she had already left. With his half-time he would be done before her as well, so there was no helping it, cycling it would be. He knew it was slippery, the warning of the farmer was unneeded, but optimistic as ever he was confident he would reach his job without falling and breaking his neck, as people seemed to fear could happen. It wasn’t the first time he rode his bicycle through these conditions and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last time either.
The front wheel hit a thick part of snow and he came to a sudden halt. He placed one foot on the ground to avoid falling down with the bicycle and then pushed off again to continue his way. A bit further down the road he glanced over his shoulder to see if there was no traffic behind him and he turned left, even though he knew he should, he didn’t put out his hand to indicate direction, in this weather he wanted to have both hands on the handlebars when possible. As he crossed the street his tires slipped over the compressed snow left behind by the tractor and the bicycle wavered over the slippery track, but Ben managed to get it in a straight course quick enough. It took certain skills to cycle over a snow-covered road, but he did have plenty of practise with that. Truthfully, he didn’t feel too confident driving a car in such weather either, a car could slip and spin out of control just as easily. With a smile on his face he thought it was too bad the waterways weren’t frozen over yet, he could have put on his ice-skates and skate to work, well skate most of the way and walk the rest of it. He had done so last year when the ice had been thick enough and he had quite enjoyed that. Here was to hoping the winter would be cold enough for that this year as well.

Ben reached one of the main roads where the salt-truck had already passed and sure enough, it made cycling a whole lot easier. He noticed how some people were walking carefully on the with snow covered side-walk, on their way to the bus-stop up ahead. Everyone was more careful with this weather, but Ben loved it and he rather enjoyed being outside now, even if it was cold and wet.

After a few turns, Ben reached a road fully covered with snow once more. The tracks indicated cars had already passed here, but only a couple. He ploughed through the fresh snow once more, it certainly was harder to ride through it then it was to ride on an open road, but with all the ice-skating and cycling he had done in his life the muscles in his legs were certainly strong enough to get through it.
A car came up from behind when the front tire of Ben’s bicycle got caught in a track and he wavered over the road, his hands gripped the handlebars more tightly as he tried to keep his bicycle upright as he car passed him. When he regained his balance he let out his held breath in the form of a sigh, falling in this weather was always an option of course, but he was glad nothing had happened so far. Especially with cars driving so close by.

As he was going towards his workplace, a rehab clinic for addicts of all kinds, he thought about how he had never expected to end up there when he had decide to study for creative arts therapist, but the job was quite rewarding. He thought back to his student life and all the fun things he had done with his friends during that time. It had been a busy period filled with classes, meeting with friends, going out, hobbies, falling in love, experiencing heartbreak, having quarrels with friends and making up again. So much had happened in that period of his life and he still met with some of the old friends from his time as a student on a regular basis, for which he was grateful, because they were great guys to be with. Ever since he moved to the village to start his career as creative arts therapist he forged some new friendships as well, for which he was grateful too, but it wasn’t the same as the friends he knew for years and shared so much with. And of course there was his own family, his wife and the two four year-old boys, thinking about them made always made him smile broadly. Sure, there had been tough moments in his life, but overall he was happy with it and he was looking forward to see his boys grow up and to participate in the first performance of the amateur theatre group he joined, which was scheduled for the end of the month.

When he reached the building Ben parked his bicycle in the appropriate area and he walked up to the door as he brushed off some the snow from his coat and hat. From the outside the building looked like a big house build in white-painted bricks and red roof-tiles, even if they were almost completely covered in snow now. It felt like a home rather then a clinic and that was the purpose of it. Ben retrieved his badge to swipe the lock, so he could go inside and into the warmth. The electronic lock was there to prevent the addicts from leaving the building without permission, which had happened in the past.
The first thing he did once he was inside the building was to greet the woman behind the counter and ask if there was any mail for him. This wasn’t the case and after some small talk, Ben walked towards his office down the hall. Most people that worked here had their offices in this part of the building, but none of the doors were open. Either they weren’t there or they were working, either way Ben just continued to his own office. If any of them would have been open, he’d have stopped for a chat, as he always did.
The office Ben could call his own was a small room where he could put away his coat and hat and where he kept the files of the people he treated. He glanced at the analogue clock hanging above the open door and sat down behind the desk. There was still an hour to go before he would have a group-therapy session, so that gave him plenty of time to go over some of the files.
The group therapies were a part of the treatment plan in the clinic and he helped the participants explore and deal with the reasons for their addiction through art, that was the direction he had chosen as creative arts therapist and so far his sessions had good results. It was only part of the program of course, but they really did aid in helping the people get over their addiction. It was tough sometimes to deal with these people, but it gave a great feeling when people completed the program with success.

When it was time for the group therapy, Ben left his office and walked to the art-room located on the second floor. As always he used the stairs, he only took the elevator if he had no other choice. Not only was going up and down the stairs healthier, he absolutely hated being in a confined space with closed doors. As he was going up he missed one step, but he held on to the railing and nothing serious happened. With a faint smile he shook his head, if he wasn’t careful he’d end up being home for a couple of weeks with his ankle in the plaster. That was certainly something to avoid.

Once Ben reached the top of the stairs he walked to the room where eleven easels were placed in a circle. He unlocked one of the cabinets and walked around to put pieces of white cardboard on every easel. He heard footsteps and he looked up, he immediately recognized the young man with glasses on his face and neatly combed black hair. “Ah, Kevin,” he said with a friendly smile on his face. “You’re early. Come in, take a seat. I’m sure the rest of them will be here shortly.”
“Is it true you advised against me leaving this place?”
Ben frowned at that question. “That is not my decision alone to make, Sarah is your main therapist and ultimately it’s her decision. We did talk about it and I don’t believe you’re ready.”
“I am!”
“No, you’re not,” Ben stated calmly. “It’s still all you think about and the only reason you have for wanting to leave this place is so you can get your fix.” he gestured to one of the easels. “Please sit down, Kevin. You’re doing good, but you’re not there yet and we can help if you’ll let us.”
“Bastard,” Kevin grumbled, but he did sit down and Ben couldn’t hold back a sigh.
There were always some giving trouble and in some cases they even got aggressive, but thankfully that didn’t happen a lot. Memories of an event that happened two months earlier entered his mind, an addicts had put his hands around his neck and squeezed, luckily other had come to his aid and it was the only physical assault he had dealt with, so far. Verbally was a whole different subject, it happened quite often someone snapped and let go off the frustration by cursing and throwing stuff around and calling the therapists quite colourful names. That was something he could deal with, but being strangled was awful and he hoped that would never happen again.

As people were entering and taking their places, Ben talked with some of them. Just some casual conversation before the actual therapy would begin. He was in the middle of a conversation about a book he had recommended to the redheaded young woman in front of him, a book he had already read and she had now read up to chapter 3, when he heard his name.
“Mr. Wilkins?” a female voice came from the doorway.
“That’s me,” Ben said with a cheerful sound in his voice as he turned to the owner of the voice. He couldn’t say he knew the blonde woman, but he was certain introductions would follow.
“My brother died,” she informed Ben with a monotonous voice.
“My condolences,” Ben replied, “and wh-“
A gunshot sounded through the room, the redhead screamed and a thud sounded when Ben’s body hit the ground. Others started screaming as well and some just looked at the events with big eyes of disbelief, but two guys jumped up and grabbed the woman, who was shouting hysterically about her brother being released from this place and died from an overdose just days after, so it was all their fault and she’d get all of them. While the woman was held to the ground by the two men and someone else quickly went for help, one of the other female attendants of the therapy held on to the sobbing redhead so they could comfort each other and Kevin knelt down next to Ben.
Ben lay on his back, his bleu eyes were dark with pain and the fingers clawing weakly at the wound in his chest were covered in his own blood. He gasped for air as he just looked at the ceiling above him. His chest burned and the warm, sticky liquid covering his fingers continued flowing. He thought about his wife and kids and the things he had planned to do with his life, his friends with who he had made so many good memories. He continued to gasp for air, breathing became more and more difficult and the pain soared through his chest. He barely noticed Kevin sitting down next to him.
“You didn’t deserve this,” Kevin muttered as he looked at him and he quickly pulled off his shirt to press it against the wound. “You’re a decent guy.”
Ben moved his head ever so slightly, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at Kevin, as if he had trouble focussing. With his free hand he took Kevin’s arm and he opened his mouth slightly, but the fingers lost their strength and the hand fell to the ground. Kevin looked in the eyes of Ben, now staring blankly into a far distance. “H-he’s dead,” he muttered, a sentence followed by hysterical sobs coming from the two women standing close to him.

Everything happened rather quickly after that, first the medics from the clinic entered the room, but they couldn’t do anything for Ben. Then the police came and the investigation revealed Ben was the third employee who died by the hands of this woman, who was seeking revenge for the death of her brother and plotted to kill everyone who had been part of her late brothers treatment. The head of the clinic called to Ben’s wife to inform her about what happened, needles to say she was devastated by the news and broke down in tears. The news travelled through the circle of family and friends and left grief where it went.

The funeral that followed was visited by family, friends and some former addicts who had followed Ben’s therapy. The number of people present indicated how popular Ben had been, how many friends he had made throughout his short life. Several people held speeches, all saying what a good guy he had been, how he had enjoyed life and always had lived it to the fullest. How his optimistic, open-hearted and open-minded personality had helped so many people and made him so likeable. And how blessed they all felt to have known him. Ben’s wife and sister tried to comfort the two crying boys, doing their best to stay strong for them and hold back their own tears, but both felt the sorrow and pain in their hearts for losing Ben.
Snow fell down from the sky as Ben’s casket was lowered into the earth.

The Death of the Tumbleweed

Backstory: Okay, there’s a lot, because this is a tangent from a novel I wrote (that I should really be editing right now). Mary Plymouth, aka “The Tumbleweed,” has waged a bloody crusade against armed gangs in a dystopian American West. Her latest campaign put her in the sights of a Chicano cartel, and after a series of skirmishes, civilian deaths became their weapon against the heroine. One woman in particular, Anne Ketchip, had begun impersonating the Tumbleweed and carrying out guerilla bombing attacks on the Cartel’s operation, but the cartels were able to isolate her and murder her family. This led to friction -- when Mary decided to give up the fight in California and attack them elsewhere, Anne became angry and orchestrated a series of attacks designed to keep Mary in town until the local kingpins were dead. They square off and become enemies – but with a common purpose. Mary agrees to assault the Cartel headquarters, after which Anne will ‘Take off the coat’ (think superhero costume) and allow her to leave. However, before the assault, Anne goes back on her word. She tips off the cartel in exchange for a meeting with her supposed nemesis, Diego, who she kills. Diego points her towards the boss who ordered the civilian massacres. This boss, Javier, captures Anne as she attempts a suicide bombing assassination. Believing her disarmed, he takes her to the headquarters, where a heavy firefight has been raging between the Tumbleweed and a fortified Cartel squad. He plans to reveal the machinations of the two rebels and let them kill one another as psychological torture; but Tumbleweed has gained an advantage in the fighting (she had her own machinations in play, the only significant part being she turned some of Anne’s underground fighters to her cause). When Javier arrives, the battle is already lost, and winding down. He tries to flee, and Anne reveals a second explosive device, preventing his escape. Before she can make use of the surrender, one of her fighters (currently in Tumbleweed’s service) recognizes the car and opens fire with a captured machine gun, hitting everyone inside. He discovers Anne within, and calls Tumbleweed to the scene.

Mary is surprised to find Anne – grievously wounded – in the car, and assumes she has been captured. She is not aware of the betrayal. Anne is aware that she has been shot accidentally, but still blames Mary for forcing the situation to reach this point. Thus, while Mary is prepared to forgive their past conflicts, Anne is not. Mary finds the vehicle still running and – unaware of the explosives within – attempts to bring Anne to a hospital, where she has established trust. The other guerillas join in the effort – everyone is trying to save Anne, and Anne is waiting for an opportunity to kill Mary without wounding her own allies, but she is close to death and her time is running out. Anne is unloaded at the hospital and there is a moment when Mary is still near the car, while the rest are helping to bring the bomber inside. She sees her chance and presses the button.

In the book, we fade to black. Everyone has survived – Anne paralyzed from her gun wound, and Mary much the worse for wear, with injuries that will prevent her from fighting again (though she ultimately continues the crusade in other ways). But this is TTL, and the first labor doesn’t deal in happy (?) endings. In this version, Mary carries Anne into the hospital herself, and Anne has managed to smuggle the bomb inside on her person. She blows herself up in the lobby, taking with her the medical staff, several bystanders, and of course, the heroine. The building collapses around them. We join Mary in her final moments, surrounded by flames and doomed to die.
Jesus, my backstory took up a full page in word. Alright. Well here’s the labor, anyway, SIGNIFICANTLY SHORTER than the setup.

------------------------

The only sensation she had was pain. Pain in her eyes, smoke. Pain in her ears, blood. Pain in her thoughts. Mary tried to sit up and screamed instead. Her lungs were full of fire. Tears oozed. Through the anguish she could see blackness roiling against the red light of a thousand fires. In that smoke she saw Austin burning. She saw the faces of Lester and Miles, their heads in their hands, snarling with broken teeth, and Crane, the slug still hot on his chest. She saw Diego in the car, a helpless look of terror on his face, and on her own. She saw the cackling lips of Francis Temmel, flanked by Franklin and Snyder. She saw Carlton, blood seeping from his open chest, mouthing the words he died with, right here, you cunt, right now, reaching for the magnum on her belt. She saw Anne, holding the deadman’s switch with death and hate mingling behind her eyes. She saw herself, naked and scarred and red in the eyes, bound with a noose around her neck and a knife sprouting from her own back, sneering. She saw failure snatched from the jaws of triumph. The fires died, and the faces faded. The silence in her ears became a cacophony, the screams and the curses and the muzzle blast of a shotgun that never stopped killing, and the painful roar that lasted for eternity. And so at last the Tumbleweed came to her rest, in a grave of fire full of the ghosts of the dead and the corpses of the living. Her dead eyes fell on the lifeless face of her killer, twisted and broken by the blast, but unmistakably grinning.

The Forgotten Death of Peter

By @RomanAria.

It’s better now, with the reality only coming in glancing blows. It doesn’t hurt, well, not quite as much.
With some part of me I’m rather concerned about the change; surely since my mind is slipping so is my hold on this fragile thing that I call my life-force. But ultimately this concern takes too much energy to maintain, and so I let it go, not thinking much of anything.

Aery sits on the grass, her knees hugged to her chest. Her hair flutters around her in the wind as she looks at me over the remnants of our picnic. She’s thirteen years old, and for her birthday we decided to go on a picnic, just her and me.
“Want to play twenty questions?” I ask. The game in which I ask her twenty questions about herself and then she asks the same of me. It’s been her favorite game since she was six, since it’s the only time we ever tell each other anything about ourselves.
“Sure,” she says, smiling at me. “You can start.”
“Alright,” I begin, not exactly sure of what I can ask. I know what I want to ask, of course, but I can’t very well just say it. “Oh, okay. What is the one thing you fear the most?”
“Oblivion.” She says it sadly, looking me right in the eyes. “I’m scared that when I die no one’s going to remember me, that the world is going to forget me and it will be like I’ve never existed.” She reaches down absently, plucking at the grass. I half reach out across the blanket, wanting to touch her, but I snatch my hand back. No emotional contact allowed. None. Right.

A scream jerks me out of the hazy memory; I snatch at it, trying to bring back the peace, but it shatters in my grip and I’m just left with reality, the oppressive blackness, and Aery’s broken screams. I can’t tell what they’re doing to her; maybe it’s better to not know.

“It’s for your own good that you learn to tolerate pain inflicted by those you trust. They will respect whatever limits you have. Not so much in the real world. I suggest you get the pretty, glamorous fantasies of spying out of your head NOW, Aerienna, before you get yourself and your comrades killed over them.” Our training master leans over her prone figure, a red-hot knife in his hand, lightly scoring it across her ribcage. She jerks against the ropes pinning her to the table, her eyes wide and teeth bared, but doesn’t scream; she doesn’t scream until the Master presses the knife into her shoulder to the hilt, scraping her collarbone. And then she passes out from the pain.

The screams fade into choking, gasping sounds. I pull myself across the ground, knowing better than to try to stand up on broken limbs. I find her, and it’s disorienting, there’s so much blood sticky on my hands and I don’t even know where to start trying to assess her wounds.
A tiny hand reaches out and tugs weakly on my wrist. Aery’s words, a breathless whisper, fill my ears. “Don’t forget me.” And then the hand around my wrist goes limp.
I know what it must mean, that and all the blood, but I can’t comprehend it. My arms fold around her like my presence might be able to bring her back, but of course it doesn’t. I realize I must be crying, because my cheeks are wet, and my own survival instincts kick in and I force the tears away lest I cry out all of my personal water supplies. But I can’t do anything about the low keening wail that bubbles up out of my throat and echoes around the room; I try to stifle it but I choke on my own tears.
“Peter?” A raspy voice from across the room, I think it belongs to Alex.
“Yes, Alex?”
“Is Aery… is she… is she…”
“Yes.” With that word I lose all control and start crying, enormous sobs that send lightning-bolts of pain through broken bones.
“Peter, don’t…” A hand on my arm, Alex’s. “Peter, we’ve got bigger problems than that. Aery’s gone. It hurts, I know… I know.” He choked up, his voice hoarse and pained. “But we’ve got to be strong for her sake. And get out of this, so that we can get out into the light and make it so that the whole world will remember her name.”
I nod, realize he can’t see me in the dark, and so I whisper, “Yes.”

Adam pipes up from where he is, I think more or less in the middle. “I didn’t even hear them come into the room. I didn’t hear footsteps or anything. No doors opening.” He gives a wheezing, crackling cough and I wince at the sound; he’s got a punctured lung, it sounds like.
My head is pounding… Have I always had this bad of a headache? Black spots, then a sickening pain shooting through my skull and a white starburst and then…

“Peter?”
“Peter!”
“He’s not dead…”
“Are you sure about that, Alex?”
“Of course I’m sure, look, he’s breathing.”
The blackness presses in on my eyes, but I can feel four sets of hands on me, hear the rustling of dry skin rubbing against fabric. “Guys?” I ask, my voice crackling, grating like sandpaper in my throat. “I’m okay, guys.”
“Good.” He says something else, but then the darkness sweeps over me again.

She kneels beside me, her long braid just tickling my fingers. Her eyes meet mine and she smiles, a sad smile, just for a second; I try to reach out to grip her hand but she melts away like dust.
A smile. A laugh. A graceful kiss on the cheek. A pirouette in the middle of the room when she thinks I’m not looking. And every time I try to focus on her, she fades even as I watch. What is this madness?
“Peter. Peter, help me!” A broken cry that jerks me out of…. Whatever it is. But all of a sudden there’s just the darkness and… nothing. It’s too quiet. Too quiet for there to be five of us in here.
“Alex, Kyle…?” My voice is gone, just a whispery rasp. “Jon or Adam?”
“Just me.” Alex says, his voice so quiet that I’m not sure I’ve heard it. He coughs, chokes, spits something out, and then speaks again. “They drugged you, or something, we couldn’t wake you no matter how hard we tried. They… they came in here and… and…” He trails off, coughing.
I can’t comprehend. “All of them?” I ask, wincing at the rawness in my throat and the deadness of my tone.
“Yes…” he says. His hand reaches out and his fingertips just barely graze mine, and I grab onto his hand.

“For your final assessment you will be paired off to fight. The first partnership will be Alex and Peter. And it will be a to-the-death battle.”
“No.” Alex says, at precisely the same time I do. He takes a breath and continues talking. “No, because I would rather be tortured for the rest of my life than murder my brother.”
I glance at him, trying not to show emotion in my face when I seriously want to run over and hug him. “I won’t have Alex’s blood on my hands. All the training, putting up a cohesive front, and for what, so that you can watch us break down all that trust with three fights, eliminate half of us in one go? I won’t do it. Torture me, kill me. But I won’t kill Alex or any of the others.”
The Master laughs, a bitter laugh. And he raises his hand like he’s about to order us to fight anyway. Alex looks at me, reaches for the knife in his combat boot, and I do the same. And we lunge at the Master before he realizes his mistake. He’s fast; he has to be, in order to do what he does. But he’s not fast enough, and there are two of us, and we’re young and strong and desperate, and within moments he’s on the ground bleeding from a punctured lung. “This…Is not…The End.” He whispers. His eyes are lucid, full of pain, but also of hatred and disgust. “This is not the last you will see of me.” And then he laughs, laughs as blood froths out of his mouth and out of the stab on his chest and laughs until he dies without air to breathe.

“Peter!” Alex’s voice cracking and breaking as he pulls on my arm. “Peter, wake up… Please.”
“I’m here, Alex.” But not really, my head spins and my eyes droop.
“Peter, don’t go to sleep. It’s the blood loss, but don’t go to sleep or you’ll be gone forever.”
“I won’t, Alex.” I murmur, more to appease him than anything. And then I snap into full wakefulness, or as much as I can given the circumstances, as I hear a footstep.
“Alex, left!” I whisper, but too late, and I hear a gasp and feel his hand seizing my own in a death-grip. “Alex! Alex, no. No, Alex.”

But of course it’s too late, and all I hear from him is silence, until finally an adult voice says, “Oh, he didn’t even scream. How anticlimactic.”

I’m blind. I must be blind. For suddenly whiteness fills my eyes, and only blinking rapidly can I have any idea of what my surroundings are. A whitewashed concrete room spattered in blood, a ring of people blocking most of the rest of my vision.
“Oh look, he’s awake.” A voice says.
“Let’s vivisect him.”
“We had our fun with the girl. Just kill this one and be done with it.”
“The girl told us everything, anyway, and her information was true.”
A knife hovers over me.
“I wonder if I drop the blade if it’ll go right through his heart.”
“One way to find out. Drop it from over your head, though.”

The knife rises above me, then falls, as if in slow motion.
“Don’t let me be forgotten. The one fear that always resides in my mind, eating away at my every thought is that I’ll be completely forgotten, with only the microbes feasting on my body, using my genetic material as a source of energy, to at all know who I am.” She’s young, maybe seven or eight, when she says this.
“Of course you would talk like that, Aery, you super-scientific monster, you. But you won’t die anytime soon, and even once you do you’ll be the greatest superspy the world has ever known. And then all your files will be declassified and you’ll be hailed as a world hero.”

The knife is closer. The blade reflects the blinding light.
“I don’t know why I like you so much, Peter, but I really do.” Aery blushes as she says it.
“Well, consider the feeling mutual.” I force myself not to blush.
“Hey, what about us?” Jon whines from his seat on the couch.
“Yeah, we need love too!” Kyle calls.
“Oh, okay, group hug.” Aery says, flushing, then yelping as she gets dog-piled upon.

I can see every serration on the blade as it flashes nearer, maybe a foot to go. My instincts scream for me to move but I can’t, I’m frozen in place watching my impending death.
“I’ll wait for you when I get to heaven.”
“Why do you expect you’ll die before me?”
“Call it a premonition.”
“Aery, that’s disturbing.”
“I just know what I know.”

Six inches left. I study the blade as it inches past my face, seeming to take an eternity to move.
A breath on my cheek.
The crack of wooden practice staves.
The smell of gunpowder.

Three inches.
“Love-”
“Miss-”
“Don’t forget-”
“Friend-”
“Training-”
“Hope-”

Less than an inch.
Their faces, all of them. The ones I’ve killed, the innocent ones, the guilty ones, the children who were caught in the crossfire. And at the end of the stream come the most painful ones of all; Kyle’s serious brown eyes, Alex’s laughing green ones, Jon’s dark blue and devious, Adam’s wholesome pale gray, and Aery’s tear-filled, icy blue ones. “Don’t forget me.” The words a knife in my heart, agonizing, burning, filled with guilt and sorrow and madness and terror.
White-hot pain in my chest as the blade imbeds itself in my flesh.
”Don’t let me be forgotten.”

The pain fades and so does everything else.

I’m sorry, Aery.

The Death of the Watchman

By @Holmishire.

Sweat and blood coated Jack's naked chest as he was ceremoniously dragged across the pavel road.

Though foggy through tears more salt than water, Jack knew enough of what to expect to make sense of the sight ahead. He was being pulled by two men, each lifting him by his armpits. Other men, fierce warriors hefting large weapons and thick armour, marched beside them. Few looked at him—few cared. These were men raised to fight and who lived only to kill, relishing in brutality. To them, this event was but a transition. The war had ended, and the subjugation of the losers was soon at hand. Some would miss the thrill of real danger, but there were other thrills to be had from these people.

Rubble littered the streets, with no effort at reconstruction having taken place since that final siege. A few bodies also remained, birds picking at what meat was still left to scavenge. Most had been dragged off to be burned.

It was difficult to concentrate. For a man who had spent his whole life perfecting his senses, trained to see and hear even the slightest movement, this blurry existence was a nightmare. The cause could have been any number of things—bloodloss, infection on his barely treated wound, dehydration. Does it even make a difference? he pondered.

It was some time before the procession stopped, and he was thrown to the ground. A sudden chill told him he'd been doused by a bucket of water, and his eyes opened wide, mind frantic to clear.

He was at the docks. Five ships were moored therein, hundreds of faces lining the rails, looking down at him. To his left, bunched together on the coastline, was a congregation of at least a thousand. Armed men kept them pinned together, beating back any straggling from the edge. And of course, behind him, the warriors stood in wait.

A man strode forward. Greg Broughton.

"Before you lies the Watchman, the legend who drove your rebellion forward!" His voice boomed forth, carrying across the stone and over to the docks. "Before you lies your saviour." Jack, close by his feet, could hear him chuckle lightly at his own words. Greg kicked Jack in the gut, and he rolled over with a cry of pain.

Greg swept his arm afore him, encompassing the five ships. "He will now serve as a reminder—you have been banished from this land. Should you return, your punishment shall be equally swift."

Before he could even properly register the words, Jack was impaled in the stomach by a thick blade, the hilt of which was gripped in the gloved hands of Greg. As he screamed in pain, he saw the man, long grey hair cascading from his head, lean over him to look him in the eye. "I win." He twisted the blade, and pain wracked Jack's body once more. As he felt himself slipping away, he could barely discern a woman's voice sobbing, the only voice that had ever mattered to him.

---

Galen stood at the prow of the ship, watching Jack for a few moments more in his death throes. He could see his half-sister Helline being torn away from the source of her grief, to be locked away by her uncle—if not worse.

He turned from the scene and addressed the ship's captain. "It's time to leave."

As crewmembers scrambled to set sail, he had eyes only for one young maiden, standing alone, looking at sea. Who knew of whom she thought, another girl whose determination to stay and fight had torn the two apart. Though he hated himself for it, he knew that he wished it were himself that held that place in her heart.

But today was not his day of mourning, and when he pulled her into his arms, he did so not as a lover, but as a much-needed friend.

Killing Alex

Disclaimer: The setting is created by NuttsnBolts, GM of the roleplay Alex is from.

Killing Alex

Grinning madly, Alex slashed up another Malicious Program, MP, it’s many spider legs flying in all directions and shattering into the muted blue-black pixel dust. Sure, she knew they would just be reborn, but right now that didn’t matter. Right now she needed to draw them out into the real world, where she could destroy them and they would stay dead. But that was, of course, easier said than done. Swinging a massive elbow strike, She decapitated a more humanoid MP that looked kinda like a mini mechanized hulk, the blades that adorned its body, glowing eerie blue. With the body crumpling into more of the glowing dust pixels, Alex leapt up, flipping herself over and shifting the center of her gravity, her feet brushing the roof, she stabilized, standing upside down to any one else looking on, but still right way up to her. Disintegrating another couple of MPs, Alex headed off, dashing along the ceiling, aiming for the pointlessly large floor to ceiling window situated in one wall. Lunging to what her felt like up and forward, but to others would look like down, Alex shoved both her hands in front of her letting the half foot blades attached to the front of each gloved hand hit the glass first, shattering it into millions of deadly sparkling fragments. That was the problem with glass here, although it would eventually dissolve into pixilated dust, just like everything else, it didn’t straight away, instead it mimicked glass in the real world, becoming a lethal rain of rainbow slivers, ready to slice anything it could.

Of course Alex caught herself on some of the glass still stuck in the window, evicting a small grunt, but right now that didn’t matter. There were hundreds of MPs, she could see now, swamping the building, left, right, and center. Free falling, Alex aimed to get herself close to a wall, shifting her gravity so as to ‘fall’ sideways, and then be able to dash down the side of the building, as easily as one might run down their street. Part way down the building, a tear shaped pendant round her neck started flashing out purple pulses of light, a warning, she was heading to overtime and if she didn’t log out, she’d be booted out, leaving her with a massive headache.

Letting Couteaux, her weapon, slide back into its dormant form, she grabbed the pendant with one hand, letting a purple holographic casing form around her other arm. Still sprinting, she watches as a screen materializes itself above the casing, along with a keyboard. “Come on, come on,” she mutters, reaching the last stretch of the face of the building, waiting for the words she needed on the screen.

>Log out?

>Yes
>No

Slamming her other fist into the yes option, her vision disappeared, going black, like a TV when the power's cut. She felt like she was falling, and her In Hack body probably was, before it dissolved, just more pixel dust, this one a strong purple.

A little later, although really it wasn’t that long, Alex slumped down in one of those wheeled desk chairs, blinking her eyes open, and staring at her hands. Shaking her head she pulled her self together, glancing round the room, colours blaring out after the hours spent surrounded by shiny, pulsing, blacks and blues.

Standing up she stretched, freeing up her staring to get stiff muscles, ignoring the

>Log out successful

Message sitting in the middle of the Desktop. Yawning she headed to the hole in the Den’s floor, climbing down the ladder, her bare feet thumped softly onto the floor of the hall. Unlike in the hack, she couldn’t manipulate gravity here, and so was left feeling a bit heavy, stuck to the ground, one of the million ants that make up humanity.

Stopping by her room she pulled on her frayed, faded, blue jacket, and army boots, ‘face-stompers’ as she affectionately called them. Grabbing her khaki-green hat, aviator goggles, and headphones, she pulled them all on her head as she clomped downstairs. Calling a quick “Bye!” to anyone in the house, she headed out, down the fairly long driveway, then down the road, following the path to an “acquaintance’s” house, someone she knew who also could log into The Hack.

Waiting for the light, to cross the intersection, Alex grumbled a bit, listening to her music coming out of one headphone. When the light turned green for her to cross she waited a second longer for the cars to have definitely stopped, and then headed across the street.

She literally never saw it coming. The car came from the other end of the street, far too fast for a street like this, zooming through the intersection, even though the lights were against them. It hit Alex before she even knew what was happening. Wiping her legs out from under her, her head slamming into the windshield. Must’ve freaked the driver out, as he screeched to a halt. The momentum making Alex's body fly forwards, slapping onto the ground with a squelchy sound, like a fresh caught fish. Cracking her head yet again on the warm tarmac, Alex’s conscience faded, different from when she logged out of The Hack, and yet essentially, the same. As the blackness crept in she decided it was stupid. Such a stupid way to die. She spent a good portion of most days logged into The Hack fighting with MPs, in such a way that, had she been told she would die soon, that is how she would have predicted it be. But not like this, not because some idiot was speeding down a contrary road out of control. Stupid, just stu……… And that was the last thought of Alexandra Fletcher in this life. She wasn’t religious and didn’t believe she was going to either heaven or hell, she didn’t really have time to believe anything at all.

It was reported in the local paper, but certainly not on the first page, there were more interesting things, like the local school’s play. Her family mourned of course, and her acquaintances from The Hack never heard from her again, Anon was forever logged out, of both that world, and this. They cremated her, as she had wanted, she had always liked fire, and had hated the idea of worms eating her, even if she was dead. The funeral was a small thing, she hadn’t gone to school, nor did she meet excessive amounts of people, and so, really, Alex’s death went unnoticed by most of the world, as does that of many people.

And really?
It was a stupid way to die.

>Complete log out acquired _

The Deaths of Eima Illervin

... There were few things that could make her return to the world from which she came, but this was one of those. Today, she was running across large scorched plains, staring with her blue eyes ahead as she headed towards the nation of black walls and religious sects. She was a young girl, visually sixteen years of age, with short straight dark hair hanging down the sides of her head and behind it, bound by a dark head-band. As the current mission required, she had taken the effort to dress in black pants and shirt using her limited knowledge of how they dressed where she was heading. In two holsters on her sides, she had two silver guns that were her main weapon of choice, which had the ability to extend blades out of them at the press of a button to allow for abusing her power…

The name she called herself by was Furimio Ayuna. She was… not who she appeared to be. For a long time, now, she had been going to a Japanese school in the body of a sixteen year old girl. This, however, was not her true form. Ayuna’s real name was Eima Illervin, a female elite warrior of the Evaniate. The true story behind what had happened in this would be too long to properly explain, but there are two worlds adjacent to one another. The one which we know, the Nitrogen World, and a magical world where a certain substance grants every inhabitant a single magical power, called the Aether (pronounced ai-ther, not e-ther) World. The Aether World was threatened to be consumed by a great entity known as Null, and individuals of the Aether World has been trying to save themselves by invading our Nitrogen World for some time. However, Aether individuals cannot survive in the Nitrogen World without possessing a non-magical body. As such, buildings such as Ayuna’s school exist, where children goes to school not knowing that every student is a target for buyers wishing to buy a young body to live in our world with on a twisted market.

Eima was not like those who wanted to possess bodies in the Nitrogen World. However, individuals of the Nitrogen World are incapable of defending themselves from Aether World enemies. Eima Illervin therefore underwent a deal with Furimio Ayuna that the girl called Ayuna would allow Eima to possess her so that the elite warrior could fight against the injustices of the system. A ritual had been taken under way to exchange the bodies of Eima and Ayuna, so that Ayuna could live in Eima’s body in the Aether World while Eima used her magic and skills which followed her consciousness in Ayuna’s body in order to fight those who would commit their injustices against those they’d possess. … However, unlike Eima who had a magical consciousness that could possess another’s body, Ayuna was a non-magical person unable to possess someone. Eima managed to possess Ayuna’s body and has been using her name since, but Ayuna’s consciousness was lost when they tried to move it to Eima’s body, effectively killing her consciousness. Knowing this operation had killed her friend scarred Eima, but she continued her fight knowing she couldn’t let Ayuna’s death be in vain…

… But this was no longer the case. Doronia was the nation that ran the market, but through the acts of various valiant students at the school and Ayuna helping as representative of the Evaniate they had managed to free the school from their clutches and shut down the market. They had won, and Eima’s presence in Ayuna’s body was no longer necessary, but she had stayed with them as a friend and protector. … However, back in the Aether World the Evaniate had been invaded and brought to the edge of ruin. In the invasion, Doronia had found something amusing, which they had decided to send Ayuna in the Nitrogen World a letter about. They had found Eima Illervin’s body, strangely alive, and with Ayuna’s consciousness within. The Evaniate had lied to Eima about the result of the ceremony, and thinking about it she could think of many reasons why they'd do so. Guilt-trip her into completing the mission no matter what, avoid the Orderate telling them to give the girl back her body no matter what, make sure she didn’t ask to meet Ayuna again… She hated them for doing so, but there was no point in it anymore. The Evaniate was defeated, and Ayuna in Eima’s body… had been captured by Doronia.

Running forward across the scorched wastes of Doronia, Ayuna (really Eima in Ayuna’s body) could finally see the infamous Black Wall of Doronia’s capital, the magic-resistant wall said to be able to hold any army at bay… … … Her expression twitched, and she continued running. The Evaniate had been destroyed… her former home. Her friends, family, her people… How many of them had survived? Were the green streets she once knew, lush with plants and kindness, all eliminated from the world? Ayuna had lost her home. The place where she belonged the most was now the school where Ayuna’s body belonged, not the place where her consciousness held her childhood memories. She hadn’t even looked for those who were dear to her, parents or friends of the past. Defending the Nitrogen World had been a lot more important, she could only hope they were alright and that she would meet them at some point in the future. However, when she got a letter about her original body being found, and Ayuna’s real consciousness was inside it… It could be a trap. Regardless, there was no way she would let this pass by, if it was a chance to see her friend she thought had been dead again. And this wall… It was no obstacle to her.

Ayuna jumped, the feeling of wind blowing across her form as she lifted hundreds of feet into the air, holding her breath as she flew through the air and watched as the city of black identical buildings looking alike to square rocks for the citizens to live in, with the black palace rising like a bunch of dreary triangular towers in the midst of the city… Ayuna hit down her feet on one of the black buildings, rolling and stopping, crouching on the top of the black rock building, stopping and listening to see if anyone had seen her. It was late at night, the black curtain above her and these black buildings shielding from sight, absolute quiet reigning in this black capital of Doronia. … It seemed nobody had noticed her, at least as far as she knew. Ayuna sighed and flexibly jumped off the edge of the building down into the dark alley, so she could wander normally out onto the street like another black-clothed citizen of Doronia, the dreary streets only illuminated by the occasional white lantern in this city of otherwise primarily black.

Her power was changing the direction her own gravity carried her. She could use this to run on walls, make extreme jumps like the one she just used to get over the supposedly impenetrable wall and travel at high speeds along surfaces as well as dodge attacks in unique ways, working well with her weapons serving both as guns and blades. As blades she could use her own gravity to build enormous momentum to make destructive slices, as guns she could use the gravity to keep her distance to enemies and shoot them from unexpected angles. She had also been trained to be a close quarter master and intelligent fighter. An elite warrior of Evaniate, no more, no less. … But currently, this consciousness was locked within the brain of a naturally nervous and shy sixteen year old girl. Ayuna edged her way forward through the quiet streets, trying to avoid looking at the black-clad strangers occasionally walking here and there within this dreary city at even darker night-time. There was no way for her to know if someone with the power to notice intruders in some way had already fixed upon her location, she could only continue.

Over the course of her adventures, she had met more combat-capable people. Some were students she had managed to save from the possessors, one in particular had been the one to ignite the fire which turned the entire school to reject the Doronian might and successfully banished them from the Nitrogen World. … Ayuna knew she could have requested them for aid in saving the one whose name she carried, and honestly she had helped them so much she probably deserved to get some help in return… But this mission brought her into the heart of Doronia. There was no way she could expose them to more danger after all which they had to struggle against to finally free themselves. This… this was her own battle, and honestly this was a mission suited for her power. For as she walked by the side of the black palace of Doronia, confirming that none of the guards was looking at her…

Ayuna lifted from the street, turning her gravity upwards. She closed her eyes momentarily and let herself rotate in the air as she flew up into the night-sky, trusting her clothes to hide her in the dead of the night. Her young form flew up alongside the triangular towers, the girl opening her eyes and spinning in mid-air to place her legs on the wall of the tower as she ran upwards, her gravity turned to the wall’s normal to run upwards along the outside of the tower, before finally arriving at a balcony. Confirming the silence and emptiness of the room within, Ayuna drew a gun as she slipped up onto the balcony, reverting her gravity back to normal and gazed in. An empty bedroom, covered in the dark of night. It was fine. … Now, it was time to truly begin the infiltration.

The guards were inattentive. Who could blame them? It was in the middle of the night in the middle of the black palace of Doronia, probably one of the safest places in the entire world. Crawling silently and hiding in the roof, Ayuna was able to bypass many of the guards that could have noticed her had she been on the floor somewhere. Going down the tower, she sought where they might be hiding her body’s real owner. A single guard was fished out and knocked against the wall of an empty room, questioned by Ayuna for the location, and he proved cooperative before she knocked him unconscious and hid him under a bed. Now knowing her destination, Ayuna was able to successfully maneuver her way through the palace on the way to the dungeons, where a newly captured Evaniate girl was supposedly being held. And then… finally, she arrived. The girl dropped down from the roof in front of the door where she was supposed to find her. And inside it, as she opened the door…

Apologies for confusion in the future about which girl is referenced to. "Ayuna" will refer to the body of Furimio Ayuna, inhabited by Eima Illervin. "Eima" will refer to the body of Eima Illervin, inhabited by Furimio Ayuna.

Ayuna blinked, staring forward with a gun drawn. The body of Eima Illervin, her own original body, was chained to the wall. She was wearing damaged green clothes representing a citizen of the Evaniate, the damage looking from a mixture of blunt impact and burn-marks. The girl was showing the same, and right above her stood what appeared to be a Doronian guard, lifting a whip in order to strike at the defenseless girl an additional time, the girl cowering for defense, crying below while lifting her head somewhat to look at the source of the noise of the door opening. The guard seemed to not have noticed, but her eyes widened in surprise seeing her own body, Ayuna, standing by the gate staring in with the gun drawn. ... A sense of extreme urgency filled Ayuna, where she was standing staring at her original body. She had to stop that man from striking her friend. She had to do it now...!

"S-stop-!" Eima called out as her original body flew across the room with the power of gravity. Ayuna's expression was panicked and full of intent, feeling the instinct of a warrior pass through her as her friend was about to be injured again. She flipped her gun so that a mechanism activated making the barrel of the gun flip up and align with the handle, becoming a straight line allowing a blade to extend out of the nozzle of the gun. Shooting was simply too loud, she had to use the more silent method whenever she could, and as such she flew forward with the blade held forward towards the man with the whip. He turned in surprise as he looked towards whatever the girl he had been torturing had shouted to, and his eyes went blank with pain and terror as the sharp end sheeted itself into his chest, piercing his heart while a hand planted itself over his mouth to prevent shouting, Ayuna's glaring expression looking down into his eyes as he died by her hand. It took only a brief moment before he fell down with a lifeless expression of panic, and Ayuna breathed in with relief as she took out the bloodied sword from his chest and saw the blood seep out of him... Nobody hurts her friend. Nobody...

... Eima, really Ayuna in Eima's body, looked towards her with widened, confused eyes that looked... traumatized. Ayuna blinked a bit in realization as she connected that the poor girl had just seen her friend in Ayuna's own body commit a brutal murder. A little surge of regret went through her, Eima shouldn't have needed to see that. She quickly retracted the bloodied blade into the gun, put it into its holster and ran over towards her terrified friend. "I-I'm sorry, Ayuna..." She said as she tried to look over the chains for some way to easily break them. Ah, she'd need to use her weapon again to break these chains. Probably the one she had not used to kill that man. "I had to do it to save you. Now, let's get you out of here..."

"Oh, my. You really used lethal force, didn't you. I seem to have underestimated you. What a tragedy, Eima Illervin..." Ayuna felt her eyes widen in surprise as she spun around with a gun already drawn, going down on one knee and aiming towards the source of the voice. Over there... dressed in regal dark clothing, with black hair as well as an oversized cat's tail sticking out behind him, ears of a cat on his head with the fur being black in color and walking with a regal walking stick was the young prince of Doronia. Ayuna blinked in stunned alarm and confusion at his appearance here, feeling the fear of that she had in fact been discovered and perhaps been trapped in here now spread through her. "... D-Dorion..." ... It was an odd kind of disturbing honor to know the Doronian prince knew her name. An honor she didn't really want, she'd have felt much better without it, but some part of her was humbled nonetheless. However, now that feeling was overwhelmed with the terror of perhaps being in a mess she couldn't get out of.

"... L-let us go. You know how strong I am. Let me leave with Ayuna and I will trouble you no longer. Try to stop me, and I cannot promise your safety." She tried, glancing at the wide-eyed Eima staring up in terror towards her. ... H-huh? Eima seemed to not even have noticed Dorion, still staring in confused terror at Ayuna. She hadn't moved at all. D-did it affect her THAT much!? ... Ayuna forced herself to look at the potential enemy over there, who had started to chuckle in a most... disturbing fashion that didn't in any way promise a successful negotiation. Really, Ayuna wasn't good at negotiation. She was an elite agent, yes, but delivering threats like that spoke about how desperate she was at this moment. While she was powerful enough to face large groups of common soldiers on her own, this was the Doronian capital, in the midst of their palace. No doubt their own elites were close by, not to mention their whole army potentially. Ayuna wouldn't be able to handle that. Not to mention, Dorion seemed to have known she'd be coming...

"... Yeah, you're right, we know how strong you are." There was something very unsettling about the way he said that. A very disturbing smile was aimed at Ayuna as he continued... "That's why we made sure you'd be here right now." ... Eh? "See, your school... Doronia has never been so humiliated. For a bunch of students to free themselves from our grasp... unthinkable! It struck a major blow to our hold of the Nitrogen World...!" He grinned widely, spreading his arms to display the magnitude of which he was talking about, and something felt really, really off at how victorious his grin looked. So... he let his gesture fall, his tail swinging like a hunting feline near prey, as he glared straight at Ayuna with a vile look. "... Which is why we sent a team of assassins and killed every single one of them."

A cold shiver went through Ayuna's spine, her mind blanking out as the heard those words. It... took a number of moments. He had just said that they had killed all her friends. It... was a notion that simply wouldn't get stuck on her brain. ... Ayuna hadn't smiled in a long time, now, but a small smile spread and a little giggle escaped, her brain totally rejecting the belief that they were all dead. Why...? "Y-you're bluffing...!" Ayuna stated, smiling towards the vile grin of the prince before her, amassing the knowledge she had, even as fear of the truth hung over her head. "I-I've personally overseen the training of many of these students. In order to fight you, they've grown strong. Some of them even grew stronger than me. They've learned the importance of information, of tactics and alarms, of defensive positions... And you're limited to the amount of power you can have at any one point in the Nitrogen World. You don't have the necessary power to defeat them...!" ... Ayuna would not have left on this mission had she not been sure they could handle themselves. Over the course of their adventures together, everyone had grown strong. In the beginning Ayuna had to look after them a whole lot, but together they had freed the entire school and beaten back Doronia. They were now capable combatants in their own right. Doronia couldn't defeat them... they couldn't...

"... Naiyo received word of her father's illness and have to leave to a hospital in the neighboring town to see him on his deathbed." Dorion stated with smug confidence. A small cold shock went through her as she heard it. N-Naiyo had to leave too...? But... she was one of their strongest fighters... "Kou was called home to Italy in order to report on the latest battle." Wait... Kou, too!? Then... "Kitsuka received word from an anonymous source claiming to know the location of her mother, and she left for Tokyo." N-no, wait. Kitsuka was their shining hero. If she left as well... "Hanada was invited to a date by Kirie on the specific time, and spent the evening across town." Hold on... "Saikawa was told her father in prison wanted to talk to her." Stop it... "Okita had to attend a meeting in that society of Nitrogen World Protectors you're so proud of." Th-this isn't... "Oshiro was told of his captured friend in a Doronian prison and instantly went off to save her, alone." Wh-what... "Kinoka had a sudden call from management about an event she had to attend as an idol..." Ayuna was shivering, tears starting to creep out as she stared at the man listing the names of almost all their most competent defenders, one by one... "And you're... here..." He eventually finished, giving her a confident glare as Ayuna sank down onto her knees, terrified, trying to piece together who was still there. ... N-no... If that was all that remained, their fighting chances were excruciatingly diminished...!

"... And of course, there's a similar trap waiting for every single one of them as well, in addition to the team which was sent to assassinate every remaining student. And none of you informed the others that you were departing, leaving your home utterly undefended." ... W-we're not that stupid, right...? Ayuna thought things through, yet... here she was. This was bad. ... 'Trap'. Ayuna blinked again and flew up to her feet using a moment of reversed gravity, pulling out her other gun and flipping one of them so that the sword extended and pointed her gun towards the door, hearing the sound of guards hurrying towards the large cell and seeing Dorion smiling so smugly at her. She didn't want to believe they were dead. It would be alright. It was just another challenge to overcome. Just another trial for them to survive. Just another life-threatening battle... Dorion spun his cane around in his hand a bit, seemingly to do something with his hands... Ayuna glared at him a bit, feeling the fear inside her, worry for all of their lives.

"... W-we won't die." Ayuna told him, holding her bloodied sword towards him while pointing her gun towards the guards currently entering the door. "This is just another challenge for us to overcome." She repeated her thoughts to him, thinking of how to escape. "I'll be taking Ayuna, and then I'll be going back to help the others. And they'll all be alright." ... Dorion looked more amused than anything else, the cat-eared prince staring at her smugly. "They're dead, I've already received the report. Every last one of them." Ayuna winced a little, but kept her stance up. "You're bluffing to emotionally wound me." She stated. There was no way she'd believe it until she heard it from a more reliable source, or saw it with her own eyes. The prince looked over her, stared over the sword which had previously been sheeted into the heart of his soldier, and then he sighed. "Guess I'll have to be a little bit more direct in my attempts to emotionally wound. Tell me, Eima. An elite like you have probably been forced to research prominent power-users of our lands. So, what's my power?"

Ayuna stared at him a bit, frowning, wondering what he was getting at. In the rush of everything, she hadn't remembered what his power was. However, thinking about it allowed her to find the piece of memory inside her mind. "... Dorion, prince of Doronia. Your power is..." It was... "... Threads of Fate." She stated with surety. "In battle, you can attach threads between two people, one input and one output. Anything that now happens to the input also happens to the output. Any feelings the input feels and any wounds inflicted on the input will be inflicted on the output as well. That is why it is very important to keep track of the threads when fighting you, or I may end up killing an ally along with the ene-" Ayuna's eyes went wide in panicked realization, staring at the little bittersweet smile of Dorion. A shiver went through her body, a fear, she couldn't move. Dorion smirked and slowly shook his head.

"Oh, what a horrible tragedy..." Was all he said before he turned around and started walking towards the exit. "Out, close the doors, change the lock. Lock her in." Was his command, and the guards immediately complied and exited the large cell. Ayuna was left frozen in place, her muscles stale, the smell of blood seeping from her sword and from behind her. She heard the door close, how something locked itself, how some noise sounded like they had barred the door on the other side to keep her in. ... None of that would work if Ayuna seriously tried to get out. However, she couldn't move. She was frozen in place. She felt cold. Eima... Eima hadn't made any noise since... ... ... Slowly. Oh, so slowly. Slowly Ayuna turned her head to look behind her. The guard was dead, a stab-wound through his heart and lying down against the wall. A small, almost invisible thread trailed from his foot to where Eima was chained, and a red stain had appeared on her green clothes just over where her heart should be, the girl hanging there with life-less terrified eyes of confusion...

"..." Loud metal clangs were heard as Ayuna's weapons fell and harmlessly clashed against the floor a few times, and she looked at her original body with wide, terrified eyes. S-she was dead. Eima... was dead. Ayuna honestly didn't know for sure it had actually been Ayuna's consciousness inside, the Evaniate would have had Eima's body regardless of if she had actually survived in it or not. However, in her mind, she had truly just killed her friend. It... it wasn't worth it. All it had taken was that she had not just lethal means against the man who had been hurting her. Why... why... why had this happened? ... Ayuna sank down on her knees, her legs hitting some leaked blood that had been dripping down on the floor from the clothes, and her arms hugged around the dead girl as her eyes closed, tears leaking out from them, her mouth kept closed as her own clothes were stained in the blood which the hole in Eima's stomach had made.

She sat there for several minutes, hugging the lifeless body which had been the one she had been born in. She could now never return to it, and any hope that her friend was still alive was gone. If she was to believe Dorion, then the school had been visited by assassins and those she had been sent to assist had been destroyed already, killed for standing up to Doronia in her absence. In addition, the Evaniate, where she had grown up and trained with family and friends, had been invaded and destroyed as a nation. She no longer had any place to go. Everyone was dead. She didn't know what she would do if she returned to the Nitrogen World and found that everyone really had died by assassins' hands. It would be too hard to bear. Her mind... was confused, damaged, pained, her arms clutching this dead body so tightly, tears running down her cheeks. There was... no way to turn back time. ... What... what would she do now...? ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

An alarm sounded. Guards were running through the corridors of the Doronian palace in panic, preparing to use their powers to content with the opposition. "What are you doing!? It is a single girl...!" Dorion shouted out to them, hurriedly fleeing in the opposite direction with his tail flying high as the guards moved to intercept the being following him, Dorion obviously fleeing in quite some speed knowing the power of the force pursuing him. ... Getting out of the cell had been a simple task for someone like Ayuna. The lock hadn't survived three shots from her magical gun. When sealing in captives, always make sure they don't have the means to get out. As the guards rushed forward, they'd see the vision of this black-clothed girl, wielding a silver sword in one hand and a silver gun in the other. Her eyes were empty of emotion, her dark hair no longer bound by the head-band and as such looked considerably wilder. Her visage was stained in the blood of the guards she had just sliced through with her sword, whose corpses were lying beneath her. "Sh-she's gone on a killing spree...!" One panicked guard announced, wielding a fire-ball and shot it towards her, but using gravity Ayuna could easily shift her location so she fell up onto the roof, avoiding the fire before raising the gun and mercilessly shooting the guy in the head. Bang. He fell dead onto the floor, making the guards behind him flinch backwards unable to recover quick enough to avoid the sudden follow-up barrage of shots which killed several more guards.

It was simple. Doronia couldn't be allowed to continue this line of action. However, it was impossible to punish them like this. With nothing else to do Ayuna would have to extract her revenge. It wasn't really that she desired revenge, really. More like... she had nothing else to do, might as well kill all of those who the problem lied with. The motivation to why she should keep Ayuna's body alive no longer mattered, nothing mattered anymore. However, if she could kill him... If she could kill Dorion Templarga, or his father, Istio Templarga, then she would have caused a great deal of pain to Doronia, which had hurt her in turn. It only seemed fair, did it not? That was Ayuna's excuse as the elite warrior flew past three frightened guards with the power of gravity, her sword held to her right so it cleaved through the throats of all three, their bodies falling lifelessly down while Ayuna landed gracefully on the other side. Geesh... had these raw recruits ever even seen combat? Grown comfortable just standing guard all day long? Doronia acted mostly in secrecy and in the dark, meaning their assassins and spies were exceptionally skilled... ... ... But their actual militia was pathetic, and no match for someone with the combat experience of Ayuna's level.

Her emotions absolutely killed off, Ayuna circled another confused guard with two swift steps before raising the gun and blasting part of his head off at point-blank range while looking at his companions further down in the corridor. They looked terrified, one raising his hands to do some form of power and two others hesitating to charge her with their spears. Really. Ayuna almost heard her friend shouting at her to stop from beyond death, knowing she would never have supported this kind of behavior. It is true, when possible Ayuna would normally have avoided a lethal solution... ... ... But now, she didn't really care anymore. Flying using gravity, the attacks of the spearmen missed widely as Ayuna was now above them, and two cuts made sure neither of them kept their throats and a single gun-shot ensured the one who intended to use a power for something never had the time to do so. None of them could keep up with Ayuna's speed. As their dead bodies fell over and further bloodied the floor, Ayuna landed seemingly effortlessly with assistance from gravity itself beyond them, and turned her head to give a cold stare towards the guards further into the corridor. The captain flinched, staring wide-eyed in panic at her... "W-withdraw!"

Ayuna breathed heavily, her mind dazed and tears still running from the experiences she had just gone through. The corridors behind her had been stained by the amount of guards she had killed before they had decided to pull back. Twice two guards had attempted to play hero, one trying to use his power to control the rocks in the walls to lock Ayuna in between two walls, but Ayuna had slipped through the cracks with gravity and stabbed him through. The other was a mind-controller who had successfully frozen her movements for a second, but by manipulating gravity she had managed to point a sword at him and stabbed through his head using gravity to bring her sword into him and freed herself from his influence by doing so. Really... so troublesome of them all. She had so many friends that would feel so crushed if they knew how she had acted today, they'd probably be so disillusioned by their friend and protector... ... ... 'Had'. ... There was a chance that they were all dead, now. Partly because of her. ... Entirely because of her. If only... she had done this sooner. Ayuna had always made sure to kill as few people as possible. Really... what a waste. This was so much easier. She couldn't remember why she had gone to such lengths to keep even her enemies alive. That part of her must have had died together with Eima back there...

Finally, after so much walking, the blood-stained dark-clothed girl arrived in a large throne-room. A gun in her left hand, a sword in her right. Both could shift form to the other at a moment's notice. Across the large hall, an elder man was sitting. His regal-looking robes were all dark in color, like everything around here, his hair long, wavy and white. His posture spoke of years of experience, his expression neutral and analyzing. His mere presence filled the entire room with a great magical aura which spoke of how powerful the man was, aether simply seeping through the room. Dorion grinned and slipped behind his father's side, certain that things would be over now. Behind the throne, there was an actual red-skinned dragon lying like he was trying to sleep, but the huge, winged, scaled creature seemed to have been woken up by the alarm and was opening half an eye where it was lying in a sleeping position, staring at Ayuna. On the sides, at least six entirely black-clad individuals stood with their hands behind their backs, not intimidated the slightest, probably some of those supremely skilled assassins Doronia was famed for. ... ... ... Ayuna looked across the room at the man in the chair, feeling no fear whatsoever, her eyes empty from emotion or desire despite the tears leaking down from them... "Istio Templarga. I've come for your life." She told him.

The dragon? Ayuna didn't stand a chance. The six assassins? Maybe she could handle ONE of them, two if she stretches, six was suicide. Istio himself? ... He was rumored to be among the most powerful combatants in the world. At that level, an individual gains a sixth sense, feeling everything in the aether around them, becoming impossible to take by surprise. Yet, it all didn't matter if she could just kill him. The leader of Doronia stood up, his son cackling a bit for himself in the background... "Very well." Istio said, his mighty tone echoing through the chamber. "Take it." Ayuna frowned a bit, staring at him where he stared back at her. The dragon... closed his eye and went back to sleep, as if she wasn't a threat at all. The six assassins didn't move an inch. They were... so sure she'd lose. She knew it too. Yet... she really didn't have anything better to do. If she could kill this one man... so many lives would be saved. So many...

She lifted her gun and shot two shots of concentrated energy at him, and Istio didn't even lift a single finger as the two struck some invisible wall of aether formed in front of the powerful man and burst into colorful fireworks of harmlessness. Ayuna knew his power. He could manipulate and disperse all energy within a certain range of him. However, by shooting those two shots she had confirmed his range. Immediately transferring both her weapons into swords, Ayuna leapt forward, wordlessly, staring forward at Istio with empty determined eyes. She knew how far his range was. She just needed to get just outside the range of his barrier, then fly around him using her gravity-power to confuse him. After making him lose her behind her superior speed, she'd slice through his field as quickly as she could and kill him. His standing powerful form got closer and closer, Ayuna feeling the trained fear of an experienced warrior but not acting on it, knowing she had confirmed his range-

...

"Ah." Ayuna blinked slightly in surprise.

Suddenly, she had been overwhelmed with an absurd amount of killing intent, and then, uh... ... ... Ah, that's it, he had purposely blocked her shots closer to himself than he needed to in order to fool her into thinking that was his range. His range was much further than he had made it seem. Actually, that's a common tactic, how could she have be so stupid as to forget that? Ayuna momentarily lamented her own desperation. She was now hanging suspended in mid-air. Istio staring at her with a hand holding her frozen. He could rip her into pieces at any second. "A-ah..." She felt her consciousness blacken out, fading into unconsciousness as he gripped around her mind. Th-this... might have been a bad idea... he'd rip her apart any second now, and then her life would be over as she'd be vanquished into a red shower of former human body-parts... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

"...!" Ayuna blinked in surprise. ... Eh? She was alive? Ah. Her wrists hurt. Something was very wrong. ... Oh. She was in a cell. A dirty, dank cell, her arms bound in chains against the wall, lying on a low-quality bed, still in her blood-stained black clothes. ... They hadn't even cared to change her clothing for sanitary reasons. They had just taken her weapons and then chained her against the wall, where her self-gravity powers were useless. Somehow... she couldn't even despair at this situation. There were guards outside, probably just in case. ... It didn't look like she had much of a future here. Just a defeated prisoner, to be locked away until a use had been found for her. Ayuna sighed and leaned her head back onto the bed, tears running down her cheeks as she realized this was where her journey ended. What could she have done differently? There was so much she regretted. How could she had done it differently? If only... if only...

She would spend the next thirty years in that cell. Through this years, there would be a couple of guards that informed her of the major news that were heard through the world while also making sure she ate and stayed alive. She heard how powerful friends of hers met their ends, how nations crumbled and how the Nitrogen World was being colonized. She heard how apparently something horrible had happened, nuclear weapons being used to counter this threat, a force the citizens of the Aether World simply couldn't easily contend with. Her clothes were eventually changed, her needs tended to, but never was she allowed anything. Dorion came to laugh in her face then and then, but she was as unresponsive as ever any time he did, annoying him to no end. Throughout these years, Ayuna never once tried to flee, her depressed eyes staring down into the floor as she heard about the terrible things happening around the world, all those people dying, probably none of her loved ones remaining and she wondered about the point of it all... until that day arrived.

CLANG. Ayuna blinked in surprise, looking up at the guard. She was now approaching fifty years old, her malnourished form no longer fit for any form of combat. Her life was pointless, just another prisoner with no intention of ever being released. However, now, a guard was smiling at her, a proud smile as if he was blessing her soul. Ayuna was sitting without chains on the bed, her now long and ragged hair hanging all the way to her waist, looking up with soul-less eyes at the man. "... Come out. On a moment like this, we all stand equal." ... He simply left the door open, walking away with an excited smile on his lips. ... Ayuna could do nothing but stare after him. Her life no longer had any meaning. That open door... inspired no excitement in her. However, she did find that even in the depths of darkness, a small sliver of curiosity held its might. What was he talking about? ... Ayuna stood up slowly, in the aged body of her deceased friend, a sincere amount of effort required to even do that, before she started to slowly walk barefoot across the rock floor, dressed only in the rags they had seen fit to give her, hanging down from her shoulders like a poor woman's dress...

There was an odd atmosphere within the palace. There were people dashing everywhere, yet there appeared to be nobody in command nobody with any orders or duties. Military men, servants and civilians alike just dashed around to whatever destination they desired. Some looked happy, others terrified, some were just standing around doing nothing, waiting. Nobody even cared that Ayuna, a dangerous prisoner, was up and walking on her own, and she had to move out of the way several times to let stronger people run past her. The vast majority appeared to be leaving the palace. Others were seemingly dashing upwards to get a better view. Many seemed to be hurrying to get to their respective families and loved ones. The chain of command had completely crumbled, every person was on their own, hurrying to achieve their own desires. "... Ah." ... Even for the dazed, weakened prisoner Ayuna, it was easy to piece together what was happening. ... What would she do? ... Well, why not? She had the power to get the best view of anyone, and it wasn't like she had any loved ones to be close to...

Ayuna slowly walked towards a balcony. It was already crowded with people who had decided that this place was good enough, but that wasn't enough for her. Taking a deep breath, the middle-aged prisoner made herself soar out above them, flying with the help of gravity, flying out above their heads to then reverse gravity and make herself land on the side of the tower beside the window. There were no particular reactions from those she had flown over. She tasted the free air and wind for the first time in a very long time. It was cold, her long hair was being carried in the wind at this altitude pretty high on the tower, and she stood there and sighed for a little, enjoying herself. She was aware of the bustling of life within the dark city below her, and how it was a lot larger than that night which she had invaded. With heavy steps she started carrying herself along the wall towards the top, slightly aware of some flying individuals would be getting a view better than hers. It was always a negative consequence of manipulating the direction of gravity, she couldn't actually stop moving in the air, she was always falling in some direction. Ayuna wondered for a moment about those who had been her friends, way back then... Even if her friends had been alive, they would now be thirty years older, and to this date nobody she knew of had attempted rescuing her. If they had been alive, they'd have tried as soon as they had the chance, and that was a telling argument. She was alone. ... And now she was facing the end.

There was a platform on top of the tallest tower, and there she stood, and blinked with empty eyes watching the approaching darkness. It was a fast-moving cloud of darkness, reaching quickly for any nearby ground or living beings, devouring them and urging on, like a tumor of the land which rose high into the sky, pressing forward like an incoming storm. This... this was Null. The great devourer of the world that had threatened to destroy the Aether World, and was the reason why desperate individuals tried to invade the Nitrogen World in order to save themselves. Countless researchers had spent their lives trying to come up with a way to destroy this entity which feeds on aether and as such eats their entire world, leaving nothing behind. It seemed... like they had failed. This darkness would spread across the entire Aether World, eating everyone and destroying the world. And now, it was approaching towards the Doronian capital, where on top of the largest tower of the Doronian palace Ayuna was now standing, watching the world be destroyed, drained black by the greater being, by Null. Nobody would survive its touch, and it moved so quickly, nobody could outrun it... ... ...

"It makes you wonder what you did everything for, doesn't it?" ... The top of the tower was actually a small platform with four corners, where Ayuna was now standing on one edge, staring towards the all-consuming black cloud with a will of its own. Behind her... she became aware of Dorion, also an aged man by now who had inherited the title as leader of Doronia, who had spoken those words while grinning at her, as if they were old friends for some reason. It was true, he had visited her on more than one occasion during the years that had passed by, and was now possibly the closest thing she had to an acquaintance... especially now, when she was free once again. However, she hadn't seen him for a while. Without turning her head towards him, Ayuna used her worn-out voice and responded. "I would have thought that you would be safely taking refuge in the Nitrogen World by now." ... The Nitrogen World was supposed to be the place safe from Null, after all, that's why they were trying to invade it in the first place. A few moments of silence, when only the wind of this high an altitude still roared, the sky orange from aether in it being slowly colored black as Null was consuming it all...

"... Oh, you didn't hear? The Nitrogen World is destroyed. Null felt our presence within that world and invaded it, destroying everything. In fact, only reason Null is in our world right now was because it followed our gates between the Aether and Nitrogen World to slip in here." Dorion replied, the irony of what he was saying seeping out through his bitter grin. "... Hah." A little amused sound escaped Ayuna's mouth. It was a bitter amused sound, but an amused sound nonetheless. So the result of this venture was... everyone would die. Her stomach felt horrible. She couldn't help but think there had to have been some other way. Something she could have done. No. Now she would die, wasted away and consumed by Null along with the rest of existence. "..." It was odd. Even though this was the final fate of the world and herself, all the bad things she had gone through all those years ago had already tempered her, and... she felt strangely satisfied about letting it end like this. At least she didn't have to worry about what would happen after she was gone, for everyone would be gone with her. Everyone was in the same boat. Null taking her might even be painless. Ayuna took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and waited for the black cloud to overtake her, it had already started consuming the city...

"... Say, Eima Illervin, there's something I'd like to ask you before we all die..." ... Tsk. It would have been perfect had that blight Dorion not been with her now. "What? Make it quick." She told him with an annoyed tone unlike any she could remember having used in years. She just wanted to die quickly. Did he have to prolong her suffering with his presence? "I've... always found you a beautiful woman. This has not changed with age. So, it isn't like you'll lose anything now. Before we die, would you let me-" "Go die in a fire." She interrupted him. He was interrupting her peaceful death with his disgusting delusions. Thankfully the religion of Doronia had protected her during her years as a captive, but seems like their leader himself was throwing that out the window now. "..." He was silent behind her for a few seconds, Ayuna frowning with closed eyes, kind of hoping Null would just consume them already. "So be it..."

A most disgusting sound of flesh being stabbed through resounded, and Ayuna's eyes shot open in panic as her pain-receptive nerves recognized it as her own flesh. A knife. A knife had stabbed through the back of her throat and was sticking out on the front. "...!" Her arms jerked up part-way as if to stop what had already happened, her body shaking, her mouth part-open trying to figure out what happened. It was painful, but shock was a lot more powerful than the pain was. She couldn't breathe. Blood was leaking down from the back of her throat and the hole sticking out in front, onto her clothes. N-no... No... not like this... "... I'm not going to let YOU, who started that little school rebellion which eventually caused the destruction of both worlds, have a pleasant death...!" ... Eh? "They just wouldn't stop fighting! We killed them, over and over, and yet some individual would always escape! They alerted more Nitrogens! They eventually alerted the military! Then they devised a way to unleash Null on us! It... it... IT ALL STARTED WITH YOU!" He pulled out the knife, and as Null reached through half the city already devouring the citizens before her blooded leaked out her throat like a red little river and she felt all strength leave her legs, falling down in her knees. Sh-she was dying...

Dorion held the knife above her, glaring down on her, as Ayuna stared wide-eyed down at the flood of blood leaking down from her own neck onto the platform, leaking down from the large tower. "Y-you... The Nitrogen World unleashed Null to destroy us all. You alerted the Nitrogens to our plans, and this all started with you. And if for this crime you won't even let me have you, then there's no way I am going to let you have a pleasant death at the hands of Nu-!" ... Combat experience won over as Ayuna completely instinctually spun around, even with a hole in her throat, and forced a powerful kick planting her foot into the man's stomach. Dorion glared at her in confusion, unprepared for the sudden hit from the dying woman, looking nothing short of befuddled as the momentum from being kicked caused the cat-tailed middle-aged man to fall off the platform towards his certain death at the ground outside the palace, so far down. ... Which didn't even matter, since Null was so close anyway.

"... Khkt...!" An unintelligible noise came out as Ayuna fell onto her knees and brought a hand to the front and the back of her throat, trying to prevent blood from flowing out. What he had just said... the Nitrogen World still existed! Her friends might still be alive! The plan had failed, they were still fighting! And this was their final scheme, eliminate the Aether World...! ... It was surprising, but Ayuna felt a very distinct feeling. She didn't want to die! Despite the fact that Eima had died due to her own actions all that time ago, she didn't want to die herself...! Eima wouldn't have wanted her to die! She'd have wanted Ayuna to live on with whatever friends she could find...! Wide-eyed at this realization, still unable to breathe due to the hole in her throat, she forced herself up to her legs to glare forward. She had a hole in her throat. She bled horribly, she couldn't stop it. Strength was leaving her. Null was descending down onto the tower. She... stared up at the cloud of all-consuming blackness in terror. She... didn't want to die...!

Ayuna leapt of the tower at the last possible second. Right behind her there wasn't even a sound as all the matter of the tower's tip was sucked into the black nothingness, assimilated into more of the matter. She flew with gravity, something that was concluded too dangerous to do as she could not control her speed when using gravity side-ways, but she did so anyways now to escape Null. It... it was working. She was getting away from Null! Haha! Take that, huge monstrous being of darkness! When carried on gravity itself, a nine-point-eight meter per second acceleration, not even Null could keep up with her horizontal falling speed...! N-now she just needed to find a Gate. Presumably, she'd have to find a Gate that Null didn't enter from. Unless they had moved them, Ayuna knew of the locations of three. Seeing which direction Null had come from... I-it matched! And the one in this direction should still be viable! Haha! She was heading back to the Nitrogen World! Ayuna smiled, soaring out over the land grinning and blood leaking from her throat as she flew above mountains and forests yet untouched by Null. W-wonder which are still alive? K-kitsuka is a powerful girl that would never die, she's surely still alive. Oshiro wouldn't die so easily either. Okita is an elite like herself, she should have made it, nothing would make Ayuna more happy than to see her again. Yes! She was going to make this! Ayuna smiled thinking of the friend who had died in the past, who was hopefully smiling at her from the other side. Don't worry, Ayuna. She was going to make this. She was going to... oh, her eyes were getting foggy... she was to...

...

... Her flight eventually started to descend as Ayuna died from oxygen deprivation and blood-loss in mid-air, unable to breathe and leaking blood as she had been soaring through the air, falling down and was utterly reduced to shambles as her remains crashed into the side of a mountain, and said mountain was shortly afterwards consumed as the dark all-devouring cloud called Null floated straight through it, reducing the entire landscape to nothingness and taking Ayuna's corpse along with everything else as the greater being continued its path of consuming, destroying and killing everyone in the Aether World, in addition to the Nitrogen World where everyone was already dead due to having underestimated the destructive capability of Null. There would have been no hope for Ayuna regardless if her throat had been stabbed or not.

The world was doomed either way.

On the Adversity of Death

Terra Skye-Reyes
English Literature
August 12th, 2015
Open Response

Adversity

It was a day a lot like this. Outside the window of this classroom I can see the summer shine glimmer off the window. Vibrant rays fall from the sky, covering the hills with a golden blanket that brings warmth. The day of my greatest adversity was much like this except that it was a dark night. I remember it clearly…

---

White morning light sifted through the window of the kitchen. Four square mark of the sun shined on the kitchen floor. Quiet. Soft, feminine footsteps. A woman’s feet danced around on the floor. Graceful and fluid. Twirling from one place to the next with the movement of a ballerina. Her bare, smooth legs moved to an unheard rhythm. Only heard by her. Sweet melodies passing through a white chord to her ears.

Kaelyn was dressed in nothing but a man’s dress shirt. Buttoned up and much too large. Hands disappeared into the sleeves. She hummed. Gentle to the beat in her ears. Moving from one thing to the next. Cracking eggs. Mixing flour. She poured the mixture into a cupcake tray and placed it into the oven.

She brushed a hand through her hair, yawning lazily as she went over to the sink. Looking out the window. Vibrant light on the grass green with life. Thoughtful gaze.

A pair of hands wrapped around her hips. Firm. Kaelyn smiled as she pulled the chords loose from her ears. She looked into the eyes of the scruffy love of her life. All dressed up. Shirt and tie. Kaelyn reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Morning.” He said.

“You look sharp.” The smell of his cologne hit her. “And you smell really good. Use that cologne more often. I might just jump your bones later.” Landon squeezed her hips and Kaelyn jumped. “Is that so? I don’t know. Those cupcakes smell pretty good. I think I want one of those more after you’ve stolen another one of my shirts.”

“There’s just something about men’s shirts that are so comfortable. Especially after great,” Kaelyn leaned up and kissed his lips. A gentle brush of her skin. “Steamy…” She kissed him again. Landon held her still and pulled his head away. “You’re going to have to stop that or I’m going to be late for work.”

“Then be late.” Her fingers sunk into the fabric of his shirt and tugged him close. Landon lost himself in her passion. Lifting her up onto the counter as their soft playful gaze had turned into a burst of intense passion. With what had to be divine power, Landon managed to tug himself away.

“You’re the devil.”

“Bad girls know how to have fun.”

Landon laughed. “I’ll see you later. Did you hide the gift for Terra?”

“Oh she’s not going to find it. I could leave it in plain sight. Teenagers don’t look for car keys when they search for their birthday presents. You sure you have to go so soon? I’ve got the day off.” She played with his tie. His hand reached to caress her cheek and she leaned into it.

“If I don’t go now, I’ll have the day off too.” Landon kissed her quick and backed away.

“Suit yourself. I’ll just have to send you pictures then, won’t I?” Kaelyn smirked as she unbuttoned the top few buttons.

“Goodbye Mrs. Reyes.”

“I do love the sound of that. I’ll see you tonight Mr. Reyes. Don’t be late or I’ll have to punish you.”

Landon shook his head and turned to leave, with Kaelyn’s sweet laughter trailing behind him.

---

We were all good together. Three pieces of a puzzle that fit just right. Maybe not perfect but perfect for each other. I heard my mother and father tell me the story all the time. Except, no stories about them having sex or anything. Gross, no thank you. But how they met. One day my father went to a summer camp because his dad wanted him out of his hair.

She went there for similar reasons. Too many parties in her aunt’s house and several other problems meant she went to camp as well. Some people would rather toss their kids away rather than actually deal with the issues. The odds of them meeting are so small.

But they did. In him, she found the simple. Joy away from the inexpressible complexities of life that devour us. When she was chained to her scars, drowning her under the weight of an inescapable past; he was there to pull her back up. Life began to move again. Albeit slowly.

And she opened the lock to his trust. Filled the gaps in him that needed to be filled while he mended ever-opening wounds and turned them into faded, distant memories of the past that did not matter anymore.

That’s love. They had it. Both of them deserved it. Deserved all the good things that came their way.

That day was supposed to be special. It’s not fair.

---

Terra glided down the street on her skateboard. Backpack strapped to her shoulders. Sunlight glinting off her sunglasses as the world passed before her eyes in shaded fragments that make up the unpredictable whole.

She came to a halt and strolled up to the front door, opening it with her key. Terra lifted her sunglasses up and smiled. Balloons scattered about. ‘Happy Birthday Terra!’ written on a sign hanging up in the hallway. Kaelyn came running into the hallway and hugged her with the energy of a child.

“Happy Birthday!”

Terra began laughing. “Jeez Mom, I’ve had fifteen other birthdays before this. Thanks though.”

Kaelyn pulled back and held Terra’s face in her hands. “But you’re sixteen now! Soon you’ll get your permit, then your license. Stop growing up so fast.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Come on, your Dad is in the kitchen making the salad for dinner later. You can open up one present now and then the rest later. There’s something HUGE we bought you.”

Terra’s face lit up. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you.” Kaelyn started toward the kitchen. Terra quickly shook off her bag and tossed it right in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s not fair, you can’t do that. Tell me!”

“Nope. You won’t get anything from me.” Kaelyn turned and saw Terra’s bag on the ground. “Definitely not. God you are a mess just like your father.”

“I heard that!” Landon called out.

“Well it’s true!” Kaelyn called back, picking up Terra’s bag and putting it in the hallway closet. Terra rolled her eyes the way teenagers do when their parents are being ‘weird’.

In the kitchen, Terra went to Landon. “Hey Dad.” Landon looked at her and pointed to his cheek.

“Dad.”

“What, are you embarrassed?”

She sighed and kissed him on the cheek.

“Happy Birthday honey. You look way bigger than I remember you. Weren’t you learning how to ride a bike yesterday?” He stirred spaghetti sauce in the pot. “Wait a second. Are you in Hollywood?”

“What?”

Landon grabbed the sunglasses off her face and folded them up on the counter. “Won’t be needing those inside. Too cool for the folks?”

Terra smacked his arm as he laughed.

“That smells so good.”

“I make the best spaghetti in the whole world.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Kaelyn said. “He’ll go on forever.”

“Rightfully so I might add.” Landon spoke as he stopped stirring and turned down the burner to let the sauce sit. Making his way over to Kaelyn, giving her a kiss before he stood next to her with his arm wrapped around her.

Terra went to the frosted, homemade cupcakes on the table. “And those smell awesome too.” She reached over to grab one, but Kaelyn smacked her hand away. “Not until tonight.”

“Oh, come on Mom.”

“Nope, it’s tradition. Right?” She looked at Landon.

“Of course. So, her first gift is up next.”

“Yes! Let me go get it.” Kaelyn went off into the other room.

Terra’s eyes pleaded to Landon as she placed her finger onto the frosting of the cupcake.

“Why do you think I sent her off? Hurry.”

Terra scooped the frosting off and ate it. Delicious.

“Let me have a try.” Landon scooped some frosting as well.

“Hey!” Caught in the act.

“I tried to stop him, Mom.” Landon shot Terra a look that said “traitor!”

“He’ll pay for it later.”

“Now that’s not fair.”

“Mmhm.”

“Don’t make me beg.”

“Open up your gift!” Kaelyn handed the wrapped present.

Terra held it in her hands and began tearing away. Just the three of them. Happiness.

---

For a time I had thought it was the perfect day. There’s nothing that quite matches. Back then I probably would have thought the best day was sharing a kiss with my crush or something else. Something stupid.

We don’t appreciate the moments we have.

That night. That night I was going to get the gift a teenage girl would die for. The gift that screams out independence and freedom. Makes you cool and feel cool with your peers. I wish I could take the fucking thing back.

If only my Mom wasn’t so set on making things perfect. If only she weren’t so thoughtful.

---

Kaelyn opened up the door down to the garage. Snatching her keys off the counter. Landon and Terra stood by.

“I’m sure we can do without them. We can pretend.”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal mom.”

“No. No birthday is complete unless we have candles for you to blow out. It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be right back.”

“Fine.”

Landon went to Kaelyn. “It’s raining. Just be careful while you drive, okay?”

“You’ve been in more accidents than I have.”

“Just drive safe.”

“I will.” She kissed him and went out the door.

---

No one thinks about the small moments. They only remember them later.

---

Kaelyn cruised down the street. Headlights beaming through the torrent of rain. Drenching her windshield. Almost impossible to see out in that dark sea of asphalt. Her phone vibrated.

She looked down at it. One new text message. Kaelyn reached her hand down and flipped the phone over.

At the shopping center she came to an intersection. Stopped as the red glow shined on her face. Waiting until it turned green. She stepped on the gas, when suddenly light filtered in through her windows.

Screeching halt. Slammed the brakes. Honk of a horn. A massive truck rolled on by right in front of her car. Kaelyn watched it go by. Breathing heavily as she gathered herself and went forward. Turning into the parking lot.

Kaelyn made her way into the store. Grabbed a bunch of candle packs and went to the register. The cashier was an older man who went by the name Harris. A kind soul but the face of a man who had seen too much.

“What brings you out in this storm, Kaelyn?”

“It’s my daughter’s birthday and I forgot to get candles.”

Harris began laughing. “Only you would drive through this for that. You’re one hell of a woman.”

“That’s what my husband says.”

“And God bless that man, because he’s going to need all the help he can get.”

“You’re damn right.”

Harris checked out the candles and placed them in a plastic bag. Handing it to her, when she turned and was bumped by another man in a ski mask who ran in.

The gun pointed right at her. She wanted to scream, but no words, no sound could come up.

“Don’t move.”

Harris reached for the shotgun under the counter and the man grabbed Kaelyn and pointed the gun at Harris. “Put your fucking hands in the air old man. I’ll drop you and then her if I have to.” He talked good game.

“First timer?” Harris asked. Serious. Calm.

“Please…” Kaelyn said and the masked man held tighter.

“Shut up!”

Eyes on Harris.

“I only ask because… Your hand is shaking. Come on son. You don’t have to do this. You’re no killer. Put the gun down.”

Through the slits of the mask, Harris could see. No killer. Just a scared, desperate man.

Harris opened the register and began to take out the cash. He laid it out on the counter.

“Don’t worry Kaelyn. It’ll be alright. Come here son, you can take the money and you can go. No one has to get hurt.”

The man placed the cold steel against Kaelyn’s head. “Oh god!” She felt herself crying.

“Nothing rash now.”

“You better not be playing games. I’ll shoot her!” He pressed the gun harder. “I-I will! I swear!”

Harris pushed the cash forward. “See. No games.”

The robber pulled the bag from his side and handed it to Harris.

“Put it in the bag.”

Harris did so. Pushed it forward again. The man took the bag and then pulled away from Kaelyn.

He held the gun on Harris again, turning to Kaelyn.

“Now you.”

Kaelyn’s hands shook. Not stopping. Fumbling into her purse for her wallet until it fell from her hands.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Just grab it!”

She quickly went down to grab it and in a split moment when the man was distracted. Harris pulled out the shotgun. The man dived on the ground and dodged the first blast. Kaelyn tried to get away.

The man made one shot without looking behind him before sprinting out.

“Oh God. Oh God no…” Harris saw Kaelyn huddled up against one of the shelves. Blood pooled over her shirt. On the ground.

Harris rushed to her side. “It’s going to be alright!”

He pressed his hands to the wound. Trying to get pressure on it. Tears poured down Kaelyn’s face.

“It hurts!” Her breathing was staggered. “It hurts so much.”

“Just breathe, Kaelyn. I’m going to get an ambulance.”

Harris called 911 and then went back to her. He looked at the wound. Kept trying to put pressure on it with his war-tempered hands. By the smallest of chances. The bullet had hit her there.

“They’ll be here soon… You will get better. Get back to your family.” Harris comforted her. Lying words.

“I want, I want my husband.” Kaelyn cried. In pain. “I want my daughter.”

“They’ll come… they will. I promise.”

The pain had subsided, but the panic was there.

“I don’t wanna’ die. I’m not ready.” Kaelyn wept, her hand held Harris’ tight.

Harris remained silent. He had no words.

Her breathing became heavy. More staggered. Heartbeat fast. Thump-thump-thump-thump. Then slow. Fading. Thump… thump… thump…

She could see. The first day of summer camp. Landon’s smiling face. Her devilish smirk. The sunsets they shared on their secret spot on the lake. Laying in silence as they watched the light fade in an explosion of color into darkness. Fevered passions, and the soft long nights of endless talk. Hurting, healing. Coming together as one.

“I don’t want to die…” Her voice was weak. Grip in his hands relenting.

The burning fire in her eyes went out. Sound of sirens in the distance. Harris had to wipe a hand across his face. Refusing to tear up. He reached down.

Her eyes being closed. For the final time.

---

Life is magical. Things are destined to happen. That’s what they tell us in the movies and the storybooks. Follow your dreams and just be you. Comforting fairy tales that even our own parents will tell us.

It’s all bullshit. There’s nothing magical about this. She was happy. People loved her. She had come so far from such a terrible place.

With her dead, everything is broken into pieces. I don’t know what to do. My dad can hardly look at me anymore. He sees her. I know it. Rather see his reflection in a glass of beer than talk to me.

She’s fucking dead. All because some one in a million shot by an idiot. Just because she forgot candles and wanted to make my birthday special. Happy Birthday Terra, today your mom died…

And it ends like that. No goodbyes. No hugs. No final words. No closure. Just like that she’s gone. You’re probably wondering why I haven’t gotten to the part where I talk about what I’ve learned from this adversity. That corny piece of bullshit about how I will push on and I’ve become stronger. I can make it…

I don’t know if I can. What’s the point? If you can go through hell only to lose it all so fast, why do we even bother? There is no point. Not fair. Not right.

That’s all I have to say. I don’t care what grade you give me Ms. Walsh, but if you find out what the point is to all this, then let me know.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

The submission period for The First Labour is now officially over.

And now, I am going to fall into a brief coma.

Expect all story submissions to be posted in the TTL thread later today. The Judges will have reviews and judgments for every story available by the 4th, which is when all the winners will be declared.

Feel free to provide your own reviews and commentary on the stories in the meantime, but also keep an eye out for RPGC #2, which should be starting right this instant.

Hint hint, @mdk.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

Sure, feel perfectly free to take up other upcoming Labours.

TTL: The Second Labour will presumably commence immediately after the conclusion of RPGC #2. Look forward to your work then, @MyCatGinger

Exactly an hour remains.

A lot can get done in an hour. You'd be amazed. Perhaps with others.

Perhaps with yourself.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

As an absolutely last moment notice: Eight hours remain until it is objectively May 1st for absolutely in the world. I know of perhaps two people who were sprinting to finish their submissions, so consider this your last chance to dash in through the window before it slams shut with a leaden thud of finality. Much like the finality with which all these characters are trippin' dead all over the place.

The Vanguard : A Superhero RP

Charis' profile is complete.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

As of now, everyone has until Midnight TONIGHT to submit their entry. Specifically Midnight of the 30th. I will accept entries right up until the stroke of 12:01. The contest ends on the 1st of May.

That is the OBJECTIVE first of May, to answer @Dark Wind's inquiry. I.E., the first of May for the entire Earth, and not merely the UK or USA. This is to give everybody as much time as possible to finish their entries without actually extending the deadline.

Approximately 24 hours remain.

The Vanguard : A Superhero RP

Extra-Office Communique from the Bureau of Unresolved Terrestrial Threats to Advanced Surveillance Sector

Transcript

Be advised that the Threat Category Ten (10) URE RefNo 9W72248SC12 is currently en-route to Fortitude City via cargo ship, agenda unknown. Cultist elements are present in the Shipping Authority and the Harbourmaster's office, and have obfuscated the exact ship being used and its ETA. It is expected that the ship will arrive between 0300 Thornday and 2200 Linday however.

This information was obtained at a great cost, and the Bureau was unable to neutralize the URE prior to its transit. We lost four predominant assets in our attempts to do so, and the URE is likely aware of our knowledge regarding its movement. Exercise C&D. We are insufficiently mobilized to provide any further assistance at this time.

Naduir preserve you.

"The URE is likely aware of our knowledge regarding its movement." There was a brief pause punctuated by laughter from multiple people, clustered around a terminal in the darkness of a cargo hold. "Well, there are only so many cargo ships going in and out of Fortitude between those times. What's our current speed?"

"Twenty knots. ETA is 0700 Thornday." Another voice replied.

"Well, the boss did give us leeway with the schedule. We can either sit and play chicken, maybe try a game of monty, or we can try to rush before they're expecting us."

"This scrapheap can't go any faster than 25 knots. I don't think rushing is an option unless the bossman pours humours into the engine, and that would probably give us away."

"We also have to assume they can remotely monitor each ship heading for Fortitude, especially since they have a narrow timetable. They know which group of ships we're in, just not which specific ship. We can't pull a turn or play chicken. They'd know."

"Well, if the enemy knows we're going to be coming, there's no sense in hunching over and sticking to the shadows. Tell the boss to pour some humours, and to make it thick. In the meantime, let's see what kind of trouble we can get our little helpers to wreck in the city proper, anything to keep them busy."

"Sounds good. How fast can the humours get this hauler up to? 30 knots? 35?" The question is met with grim laughter.

"The engine won't survive. We'll be dead in the water. But the city will come to us."

888888888888

Estria
Fortitude City
Warehouse District 16D

"Good evening everyone, this is channel six with the eight-o-clock weather. I know we promised you a clear night just five hours ago, but a surprise storm front came down nearly thirty minutes ago from the ocean, likely due to some unexpected heat blowing in from the East and starting convection cycles in a number of weak drafts we missed earlier. It looks like they've all come together to form a multicellular storm cell. Looking at the rate of intracellular dispersion and cohesion, there's no reason to think the storm will get any worse, but it's definitely going to hang around a while. Everybody get ready for light rain through the night and tomorrow morning..."

Charis watched the forecaster on her wrist-screen as he gestured and motioned at the CGI background of the storm rolling towards the city, restraining the urge to tug on the collar of her suit-coat. They had to be out and about tonight, and while she did not dislike the rain per-se, it made her job harder, especially with the need to wear formalwear over her ballistic armor. Worse yet, the call she had been expecting from HQ hadn't come in yet, already four hours late and counting, which meant there would be complications, and in the meantime she was left to babysit all the idiot coffin stuffing being paid overtime to loiter around doing nothing but asking questions.

"Both you and I have signed nondisclosure agreements. Not only can I not tell you what's in the crates, but you can't ask me what's in the crates. Despite the fact that they are clearly labeled with their assigned lot numbers, and the manager at least does know what's in them, and you don't see him making a fuss." She didn't even glance away from his wrist-screen as she spoke, trying not to grind her teeth together in irritation as she flicked between news sites, trying to figure out if there was some local event or incident that was resulting in the delay. Another thing to curse in this thankless job - the mandatory communications blackout with HQ. Which made coordination and logistics a nightmare. Everything had to be done by word of mouth and a lot of fake paperwork filed, and either way a lot of everyone's time was getting wasted.

"Look, two of my workers have said they heard pounding from the inside of some of them, and a bunch of others have noticed these strange stains on the lids. We don't know where they've been, and even if we don't know what's inside them we're responsible for the contents if there's a surprise inspection." The shift supervisor was a reasonably trim if weathered man, straddling the thin age line where both strength and wisdom were briefly equal. "If you can't tell us what's in them, at least tell us where they came from?"

"Each of these crates was packed up in Letona and shipped directly here by air." Charis said almost automatically, her voice clipped and rehearsed, clashing with the narrow set of her brow and her tightly clenched fists. "I've been with them the whole time, so if anybody is held responsible for them, it's going to be me."

That was when her wrist-screen cried out with a soft chime, and a simple text message rolled across the screen's lower bar.

Buyers en-route, have gained heat. Initiate turnover, leave them with the product to worry about.

"About time." Charis grunted. "Looks like the recipients are finally getting in. Let's go to the main floor, get this over with."

"I'm afraid not miss, I actually clocked out two minutes ago. Just thought I would see if I could pry anything from those pursed lips of yours that might make the others feel better."

"Wait, so you're leaving now?" Charis asked expectantly, switching her wrist-screen off and looking up at the supervisor for the first time while casually reaching into her coat.

"Yeah, I-"

Charis drew her flechette gun from her concealed holster as a lazy smile visited her lips. The supervisor's eyes barely had time to dilate before hundreds of metal shards had torn through them. He didn't even have time to scream, and the soundless weapon had no report to give the murder away.

Charis hauled the body over to the corner so the blood wouldn't pool near the door, which she closed firmly once she had left the room. She walked down the hall and onto the main floor catwalk, where she called down to a number of haulers who had been patiently browsing the internet on their own small wrist-devices while waiting. "Hey, recipients are finally coming in, get all the crates ready to move and ready for inspection!"

Of course, that was all just part of the facade. The crates contained indentured slaves, three to a crate, sweltering in the cramped and hot interiors for nearly sixteen hours straight. Their original owners had no further need for them. In the past they had just dumped them onto the streets; but opportunities in the past few years had led to the current arrangement of selling them on the black market, double-crossing the buyers, and then calling in law enforcement to raid the exchange site immediately afterwards. The sellers got paid, and the Estrian government got lumped with the cost of putting the slaves into either foster care or protection services. All neat and tidy. It had the added benefit of reducing the number of organized criminal operations staged from warehouse districts, which was something the sellers, being rather logistically minded, found preferable - and it reoriented local law enforcement to cracking down on organized crime, drawing their attention away from other areas of concern.

Once all the crates had been moved, and the lids unbolted save for the thick padlocks holding the doors shut, Charis silently disposed of the haulers. Only a faint hissing noise accompanied the flechette gun's emission as Charis turned it on the haulers while their backs were turned, and so they didn't even realize something was wrong until four of them had fallen to the ground with shredded torsos and limbs, with viscera and blood splattered everywhere. Thanks to all their heavy lifting, they all merely died tired, leaving no witnesses on top of the nonexistent paperwork trail.

"Hey guys, nice job with all the handling. Five stars, would work with you all again. In your next lives." Charis said dryly as she replaced the vacuum-chambered clip for the flechette gun, pocketing the emptied one in her suit. Having already deactivated the warehouse security footage hours beforehand, the only evidence she would leave behind would be the thousands of steel flechettes embedded in the floors, walls, and bodies. When S.W.A.T. inevitably raided the warehouse with the buyers in it, forensics would likely conclude they had been responsible for killing all the workers, nevermind that a flechette gun hadn't been found on the premises. If they had pursued a few intensive cross-investigations with precincts in the next few cities over, they would have discovered the disturbing trend that Human Traffickers had picked up involving the use of mysteriously vanishing flechette weapons to kill warehouse employees.

Charis left by the rear entrance, heading for the chain-link fence that surrounded the warehouse perimeter. The sounds of wailing sirens and the distant whopping of police helicopters coming from the opposite direction informing her that the buyers would probably be arriving any minute now. Before she could go any further though, her wrist-screen chimed with another message.

New priority. Head two districts East and start a fire near Warehouse 19B, then head to the meeting spot.

Please remember to wear formalwear this time.

"Fucking control freak." Charis muttered as she dismissed the message. Commit arson while police and S.W.A.T. and backstabbed traffickers turned the whole place into a warzone, without being caught, and without ruining the suit. She turned East, to the warehouse districts directly adjacent to the city docks, just as the previously almost paltry drizzle escalated into a light shower.

"They should be asking me to burn the whole word." Charis growled angrily as she started to hurriedly jog towards the chainlink fence.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

I have 48 hours to comprehend and write for this challenge?
Oh my god, the clock!
But I will not fail you. Question! I'm sorry if it seems daft, but will the scene have to involve other parties than the dying one? Or can they die alone?
I'll be writing my favourite character's death from an old visual novel I planned to create's concept. I think it'll be fun killing him off...

EDIT: 42 now. Also, approximately how long must it be?

@MyCatGinger

Nope. They can be utterly alone if you'd like. Or you can write about them dying with a stadium audience. Entirely up to you.

As stated in the contest description, you can submit a story of ANY length to me.

Any length. I will take three paragraph quips and 80,000 word epics.

And yes, 48 hours. It used to be 288 hours, but then time happened.

*Checks Watch*

Really more like 36 hours now .

Google Picture War