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He was told he could find a new destiny, a new path to follow because he had a gift that could be utilized. He would be among those that had the chance to do something about those that bumped into the night. In his eyes he had been chosen to bring great justice finally.


Milo was off at the sound of the starting gun, his whole body pushing forward in rapid motion. It knew what to do, he knew this track but he pressed it further. This was his last heat before being able to go into the finales. The chance to prove himself, to prove his training. Faster, run faster, let the wind carry you forward. Win.


But he pressed forward, loving every minute of it. He flexed his hands after delivering another blow. He halted a moment, feeling something else deep down, another power residing in him. He could feel the unease from his opponent, like he knew that there was something else to come, that he was preparing and had pulled himself back from the flurry of swipes for a reason.

It pulsed, filling him, growing him. He could feel the other power, another power he could use. It filled his veins, it seized him and he grinned. He could hear something, always hearing something and he listened to the roar. Listening had not failed him before and he saw no point in ignoring it.


These days it was rare to gain a smile from their mother, the years of raising children had turned her into a stricter matriarch given how much trouble the three of them got themselves into. But when he continued to hold the conversation with her in Japanese, he managed to see her lips twitch upward. Proud. His siblings had given up speaking it so long ago.

"," she told him as she pressed her hand to his cheek, breaking from the topic.


Milo's head was pressed firmly against the airplane's window, taking in Los Angeles as they were getting ready to land. There was so much more grey than at home here, so many buildings where he saw mostly trees. But there were so many things similar, cars in traffic, the bustle of people. But he wondered what this new city would bring for him and he could only hope San Dimas looked this amazing.



He saw the box sitting on his bed the minute he walked into his room. Milo was opening it within minutes, not even going to waste his time finding scissors or a knife to cut the tape. There was no time, he had been searching for this for so long and then waited so long for it to arrive.

The box was a complete mess when he was finally through with it, but he held it in his hands, he could hear a choir in his head singing its praises. He had found it, Doggie Kruger's SPD License.

The three twisted towers in the broken landscape were actually rather breathtaking. They were like something... out.. of ... something, a word he couldn't place. Liom stood transfixed on his new surroundings for a moment, taking it all in. Seeing it. Absorbing it, letting the red glow cast over him in its eerie warmth.


Liom felt like he was excluded from a super special awesome secret club, and it made him a little jealous. It didn't help that this emotion was intensified with a bubbling rage, like it had been pent up and finally released.


He hoped they pleased them. It seemed like it did when a wamth filled his core, seeming to give him a better purpose and a more complete form.


Liom grinned as he pulled out his knives, another foe. This, and the tasks, were all he knew and he enjoyed every minute of it.


"Nice move," he flashed a smile at Milo. "You should teach me sometime.

"I think you're doing pretty good with your own sweet moves," Milo grinned to the other guy. He had some pretty sweet looking weapons there.


Several of those he had encountered he didn't even learn their names, but he knew they would be allies in whatever this was. Even if they were competition.


"Nah, we Hale men don't need that stuff. We just jump in and learn as we go. Come on, it'll be fun." His father grinned, slapping him gently on the shoulder and ushered him into the water.


Finally, he had something other than his fists. They were small but they would be mighty, his two knives made of blue.


The sword was large, foreboding but he knew it would be powerful. It would be a great weapon for him to wield and to do what was needed.


"Ha," her grin cheeky. Definitely satisfied. "Amazing moves, your dorky fanboy moves will never compare to mine, M-"


He kept to himself that day, and a few more after that...


He's young, beginning grade school. Darker skinned kids are teasing him, he's lighter than them. They argue, as little kids do. They laugh. He throws a punch, knocking one of them to the ground.


It was always a risk to go out in the water, so many factors (even the smallest mistake could take out the most seasoned pro)... how much more could trying during this kind of weather affect his odds. "Fine," he found himself saying much to the delight of the other boy. A hand clapped him on the back and then pushed him along to the tumbling ocean -


"Let me pass," Liom hissed, bringing both of the blades to the head of the creature, in a fluid motion he swung both of them in unison across the neck.


It might have been the weight of the Ruins and the Wall pushing him, that empty feeling or just some stubborn idea in his head; maybe he was just giving up and giving in? But he found himself at the Forge. He was going to beat this thing.


Carefully Liom leaned a little to guide the glider to where he needed to go. The air was crisp but felt a little nice with the breeze tousling his grey dull hair.


Defeating them meant he could keep going up. That feeling of being watched was still present but part of him didn't care.


Drink drink, fill the teapot. Fill out diary. Simple enough. And if any of the memories were anything like that one, Liom would enjoy this - even if there didn't seem to be any fighting involved.


Swirling emotion, so many thoughts and memories. Part of him felt it might be a good thing to rid himself of some of them, painful reminders of life they were.