So far though, she had turned up nothing. Even the youma she had dusted earlier in the night had hardly been worth the time. A Few good hits of her burner and it perished soon enough. Some residue still clung to her sleeves as the only thing that marked it had ever existed. There was no love lost though. Not for Youma and certainly not for any negaverse agents. The Earth squire had more than enough reason to loathe the Negaverse.
She neared a more poorer part of the city. It wasn’t run down, but it certainly wasn’t a place that anyone wanted to visit at night unless they had due purpose or came armed. Hy-Brasil normally didn’t patrol this area, but the news had been reporting an increase in crime and a few odd deaths. The crime wasn’t the problem, but those deaths...they had sounded eerily similar to starseed pulls. So, she’d opted to check it out.
She paused on top of a mechanic shop. The lack of height of the building made it easier for people to spot the green-clad squire if she wasn’t careful, but she did her best to stay further back as she scanned the area around her. It didn’t appear anyone was out anyway.
A flicker of an aura and Hy turned on her heels. It was close. Maybe she would find the culprit for the deaths, after all? Or at least one of them.
Not wasting any time, she took off towards the signature.
Seasons began to mean little when they meant so much on their own. Winter meant vacationing in Florida for golfing and beachside enjoyment. Winter meant skiing, snowshoes, and hot chocolate. Winter meant hunting for sustenance where none grew from the ground. And in Destiny City, winter meant shorter nights and fewer hours with which to finish errands before the threats in the darkness descended upon the streets. Faustite gathered as much from frequent news reports and cautions from his parents - night falls and, almost like the witches deep in India, animosity grew strong.
From where he stood that eve, Faustite could understand the cautions. While the rooftops offered safe haven from what occurred below, he watched with interest as those same building tensions found pressured release in fists and insults. One man fought another, both disheveled in the violence already taken, and each standing at odds with the other's beliefs.
The reasons proved simple, perhaps too realistic in their triteness. The first man stole the wife of the second unfairly, through a game of charisma and loosened morals. The other fired the first man, perhaps questionably in the eyes of the law, for those same actions. Both egos bruised and swelled with the need for vindication, and now they found themselves outside of a bar, lodged in an alleyway, where the world looked on with indifference. This story's happened before, with actors all-too-similar to the pair down below. Perhaps a broken jaw would come of it, or a broken spirit. Possibly a corpse to claim in the morning hour when hangovers laced through the city. Faustite didn't know, but he watched.
And he watched until he felt the swell of power beyond him. Dark eyes scoured the nightscape of the city, looking for the source, until he noted the barreling form of a redheaded woman. He knew not what she wore, but it looked celtic for its design - like something out of an irish take on a high fantasy film. She wasn't here to watch the story.
It ended in anticlimax anyway, with one of the men breaking under his burdens. Tears erupted, anger faded, and reconciliations commenced. Faustite relaxed somewhat, though the approaching confrontation kept tensions singing. Even as he looked on at the spectacle below, he knew she was coming for him. Her trajectory suggested nothing else.
"It's a cold night for fighting," he offered in cryptic greeting.
If only she had such an ‘entertaining’ spectacle to watch, perhaps the squire would have missed the signature of the Lieutenant in her amusement, but alas, it didn’t work out that way. She did catch the tail end of yelling, though it had been nothing more than muffled sounds to her ears. The clear night and tall buildings helped to amplify the echoes of the encounter. But, by the time her heeled boots touched down where the Lieutenant was, it had gone silent. Whether the ending had been for the best or the worse she had no clue, nor did she care much.
“You should have thought of that when you came out.” She remarked. Hy-Brasil had little care for what this negaverse agent wanted. ********, they hadn’t cared what Scholomance had wanted before they tortured and maimed him or when she’d been stabbed through the abdomen, and the list could go on. No, Hy-Brasil was not at all moved by what could be deciphered as a peace flag to avoid confrontation.
Her incense burner appeared, clutched in her right hand. A faint trail of smoke drifted up from the silver ball before dispersing into the night air. The faint smell of sandalwood could be caught if the wind so wished to carry it towards her soon-to-be combatant. “Either summon your weapon or don’t. I don’t care, but I am not just going to walk away. Especially when it’s possible you’re the one who is responsible for the multitude of deaths around this area.” She was willing to give him a fighting chance at least. She wasn’t completely heartless. She had no real interest in beating someone whom had no shot at defending themselves. That would have put her in a similar category as those two Generals.
"Do you think so?" Hands clasped behind his back and Faustite started a pace. "Do you think that every Negaverse agent sets out from home to rip lives from chests? Is it easier for you to chase them down and crack their skulls open with an incense burner if you tell yourself that they're all out to reduce this world to a state of blood and ash? That must be one powerful belief." He stopped, looked out toward the now-retreating forms of the two fighters, while keeping Hy-Brasil in his peripheral vision.
He recognized that he was no fighter, that he had no chance against her even if they remained on the same level. At a conservative 5'8" and a scanty weight, his body reflected his more sedentary lifestyle. Umber hadn't yet begun Faustite's training. No interactions with others had yet come to a head, not like this. His heart struck against his chest with the strength of fear, and he swallowed it from his features just the same. But fleeing left so much behind - and what of changed minds or second chances? Mentally he cursed them, even as thin hope begged to remain. He would comply, though he doubted a favorable outcome. Mankind formed a habit of flaunting its prejudice.
"I'm not the one responsible for the murders around here. Do you find that hard to believe? Innocence in something so black, stark, and vile." He paused then, and backed away from her toward the opposite parapet. Both hands came up, fingers splayed, though more in gesture than any form of surrender. "The Negaverse gave me no weapon. If you fight me now, you're fighting someone without the chance to defend themselves." To prove his point, part of his hand grew dark with the sudden presence of a tablet glove.
He made his case. Hope looked bleak. He smirked then, bitterly, and waited for the consequences.
“Beliefs are powerful. Many have killed other because they believed something whether it was religious, duty, love, anger, or disagreements.” She stated matter of factly as she watched him move about. Not once did he take his eyes off of her in his meanderings which told her he was at least aware that a fight was going to break out any moment. “And yes, if you must know. All agents are good for is either ripping starseeds from chests or draining a person of their energy.” She twirled her incense burner in her hand, creating a faint arc of smoke along her side before it quickly dissipated.
The agent wasn’t much taller than herself though it was hard to tell if he outweighed her or not. Looks could be deceiving. Though Gwen had trimmed down and gained definition, she had gained weight in the process with building up her muscles. Chances were she outweighed the agent, but she didn’t want to bank on it. She’d fight as if he outsized her in every way and if that turned out not to be the case, all the better for her. It would make the fight that bit easier.
“Perhaps you are trying to save your own skin. Or, a higher ranked agent you're with did it. That would, technically, mean your words are true. You’re part of the Negaverse, so whether you performed the deed yourself or not, you’re an accomplice in my eyes.” She shrugged. It was a cruel way to think, but they had proved to the squire how cruel they were as a whole faction.
“And I had no weapon when I was skewered by one of your higher ups. So, let’s call it payback.” And Hy moved. He had summoned whatever it was that was his ‘weapon’ and that was good enough for her. She wasn’t going to walk away. Not now. If nothing else, she could beat the crap out of him and hopefully put a healthy dose of fear into him. From the way he presented himself to her during their little exchange it was clear to her he could learn a lesson being knocked on his a**. With any luck, she’d convince him to give up on his dual life for good.
Using the speed her rank granted her, Hy moved across the rooftop with ease. She threw her whole weight into a jab with her left fist, aiming for his abdomen. She wanted to wind him, make him double over, giving her the chance to bring a knee to his face.
Like such blanket statements are really insights. Faustite said nothing, knowing the cost of such moves. Would he grow reckless off the power the Negaverse provided? He doubted it so; Umber emphasized care and caution. Instances like these proved all the more that awareness took precedent, that picking battles and powering down when undetected offered some measure of safety. Umber warned him once already that not all enemies found worth in chat, even if most did.
He considered this one of those mentioned instances. She demonstrated her conviction to that belief, condemning him regardless of response. His options lapsed, and reason to press on crumbled. Still, he tried. "You'd have the whole world walk blind because you're out on a grudge. Is that really what you want to leave behind?" He set his jaw and reached the edge of the proffered space.
His life, he knew, granted few outlets for aggression. His family found more merit in cultivating minds over cultivating bodies, while he watched his classmates take up kickboxing, taekwondo, karate. They chose sports over study, hikes over long nights inside. Here, those classmates made better soldiers - toned abs to take hits, bulky biceps to deliver. But Elex Yorke never saw the inside of a gym, and now he stood as a ceramic idol to this nameless woman's fury. She chose him as a scapegoat, damned him, and sought him out for retribution.
The speed of it took him first - before he found time to react, she already struck at him with a blow to the stomach, and he felt the wind leave him immediately. Doubling backward, heels connected with the edge of the parapet. Breath came in short struggles and he found no will to force his body to move.
He hadn’t reacted the way she had hoped. As he stepped backward he stepped out of what would have been an easy combination to break his nose. He had saved himself as he staggered back. In fact, he had saved himself from another quick attack once the squire realized how precariously close he was to making one wrong step into nothing but air. “Saving me the trouble of beating you up?” She teased, but her inner conscious kicked in hard.
Whether it was the internal healer in her or just plain, morals, she found herself worried that the agent would make that misstep if she rushed him. She couldn’t just force the kid off the roof of a building. “At least give me a bit of a work out.” She goaded, trying to get him to come at her.
Her mind raced with possibilities. There was a way to get him away from the ledge but if he flinched or tried to dodge in the wrong direction…
Well, it would be one less officer to worry about, right?
Her gut wrenched at the thought.
Faustite would have responded in kind, had his lungs not refused to suck in air. His diaphragm felt paralyzed from the shot and he struggled to catch enough breath for standard life support. Faustite forced himself to straighten nonetheless, even as a hand remained cradled over the hurt. She was right, he knew - he stood in a terrible position for a fight, and backed himself straight into it. Umber warned him about this ill prospect once before.
His stance on the edge of precarity gave him an edge, however, and Faustite knew it provided him his only means to circumvent further harm. The girl herself proved interesting for how she could so easily launch into a fight with him based on affiliation alone, much like in the wars of times past, yet she hesitated with the opportunity to outright kill an opponent. Here he was, a free target, waiting for that last push into oblivion and she only waited. Did she want to miss her chance. Did she want him to walk himself over the precipice?
Dreadful curiosity asked him to take that step and see if she stopped him.
The thought faded with a fearful reminder of the pain involved - of crushed bones and snapped ligaments, of spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair from a single hunch. While he yearned at times to play such a blatant gamble with his life, it served no purpose here. Not for him, at least. For her? Perhaps it meant one less death on her hands; she needn't feel guilty for someone else's accidental suicide, did she?
"Go to a gym if you want a workout," Faustite hissed at last. The pain started to fade beyond acute. "What do you expect to gain by fighting me? A sense of pride and duty? Are you looking to teach me a lesson? That only works for those who did wrong. Work on your investigation skills before you pick a target for your misbegotten justice."
”I visit a gym every day, thanks. Sometimes I need some real world fighting experience.” She retorted casually, blue eyes flicking to his feet to see if he was inching his way closer. “Truthfully…” She turned her attention back to his face. “I am hoping to scare you enough to never power up again.” There was more to it than that. He was right, it was a pride thing and a need to just make herself feel better. She had so many frustrations that needed to be dealt with and he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Chocking it up to the fact she was out to take care of whomever it was targeting people in the area, just helped her feel better about her needs.
Though, she wasn’t feeling better. Not standing there staring at this agent who could take that one wrong step. She needed to do something but it would be risky. She was in easy grabbing distance though. AT least close enough that if he should take that step back, she would have him. That brought up the problem though of counterweight. Unless…
“Investigation skills said that people were being harmed in this area. You were in this area. Guilty by association works fine for me.” She said, before reaching out to grab on of his arms. When she thought she had him she took a step backwards in an attempt to pull him from the edge, but dropped her weight so she could roll onto her back, using her entire body to pull him away in case he flinched backwards. At best she would manage to use her legs to hoist him over herself enough she could deposit him off to her side, at worst he’d end up flat on top of her. If it worked the agent would be a safe enough distance away from the precipice.
"So you attack someone that can't fight? You hunt the weaker like it's a game. Like you can seize control of your lives with a few right hooks and a left jab. Like you can cut yourself an edge out of someone else's teeth. But your actions spread farther than that, and once they leave your purview you can't control their rebounds. What do you think will happen if you break my jaw tonight, or if you push me off this ledge? The consequences go a lot farther than a dead or damaged lieutenant." There was Umber to consider, civilian repercussions, investigations, six degrees of separation, emotional response. There was her own body roiling against the action, for as guilty as she sounded right then.
Faustite's legs shook, and instinct begged him to look back at the precipice, but he refused. His stomach lurched with pain. These were realities that other agents faced daily, and he but barely tolerated them. And the girl who stood before him - how much training had she undergone? What training had she given herself?
But she seized him then, and jerked him forward, and Faustite lacked the understanding of how best to remove himself from a grab. Umber had yet to teach him the basics of circumventing attack - the man preferred to focus on balance initially - and Faustite felt the loss of that information keenly then. He was jerked forward and away from his safety net, then when her boots planted into his sore stomach, he found himself launched to the side. Faustite landed on his side then, and ribs groaned beneath his weight before he picked himself up.
But Faustite found no further reason to stick around, not wit hthis one so firmly planted in faulty logic. She would believe as she wanted, and thought that simple fistfights could dissuade someone from this world of magic and mystery, that broken jaws or busted ribs were the only deterrents in this world of smoke and fire. He would tell his CO of this, Chrysocolla too. The Negaverse would know. She would answer for this folly.
When he found the strength to do so, Faustite sprinted for the opposite ledge. Distance meant discouragement, and if he could find a proper way down to the ground, he might lose her in myriad alleyways. Enough overhangs and foliage remained in the city to dissuade anyone looking down from above; he could lose her yet.
He could lose her, and resume training anew.
It wasn’t that his words didn’t make sense. Everything he uttered would have been well received by the squire at one time. But she saw what the negaverse could do. What they did do to those who opposed them. She wasn’t able to forgive them, and this Lieutenant was just the unlucky one tonight. Her own punching bag, to be more precise since she had no desire to actually kill him.
As it turned out though, the lieutenant was a wily one. While she was still righting herself from pulling him away from the rooftop edge, he had scrambled to his feet in haste to take off. “Dammit!” She cursed as she got to her own feet to follow in pursuit. He had gotten a fairly good lead on her though and navigating the rooftops wouldn’t allow her to go full speed. Even if he got out of sight she could follow him though. All it took was following his signature. “Running won’t help!” She called after him. Whether or not he heard was debatable.
She wondered how long he could run for. He didn’t look like the physical activity sort but perhaps he was going to surprise her?
A long stretch of empty roofs opened up to her and Hy-Brasil picked up speed. She wasn’t far off from him. His form, no longer was just a mere silhouette in the pale moonlight. With her weapon appearing in her hand, and the distance closing in, the squire took a chance and stopped in her tracks just as she threw her incense burner at him. She barely waited to see if it’s trajectory was true before running after him again. If it managed to hit him in the back or legs and make him pause or fall, she wanted to utilize that time to gain ground.
Running will help if I can make it. Faustite knew his own track record with PE - running squarely in the middle of the pack, he never finished a mile below twelve minutes. His chances were slim against someone who actively engaged in physical activity. Faustite found little time to get away from her before the growing sound of her voice caught up with him. As Umber mentioned before, he only had one chance --
The crunch and clang of her weapon struck the ground too close to him, and a blast of sandalwood chased him while he darted from it. How long now before she caught up with him? Was risking his identity a worthwhile venture with her so close? Wouldn't she know? Was their magical glamour truly so potent as he described?
Faustite wasted no time on dwelling over it; he dashed down the nearest covered alleyway where tin formed a makeshift roof over an outdoor receiving area. Numerous pallets sat haphazardly stacked in the parking lot, and Faustite swerved around some of the taller ones to crouch and catch his breath. She would be through in seconds, he knew, and line of sight proved his only saving grace for the moment. She's going to know, skepticism voiced loudly. She'll feel it as soon as I drop off the map. She'll put it together - a lone boy where a Negaverse officer once stood. What are the chances of anything else? Still, he breathed, and released his uniform from his use. In that single breath, he transitioned from Faustite to Elex seamlessly.
And he remained there, huddled, hoping that his breathlessness and adrenaline might feed into the burgeoning lies. He had enough to say to her if she asked. He had to trust in that.
“Damn!” She cursed out as her weapon just barely missed the agent. It skittered and bounced behind him as if making a feeble attempt to make up for the folly, but the kid was well enough away that only the smoke chased him. With hardly a pause, Hy-Brasil scooped up the weapon as she passed it, eyes leaving her target for only a mere second but it was enough. No sooner had she lifted her gaze did she realize the agent had slipped away on her. Thankfully, she could still sense him nearby.
She zipped along the rooftop, stopping just above the alleyway as the signature completely disappeared. There was still a chance she could find him, right? With no other option she leapt down into the alleyway. The heels of her boots signaling her arrival as icy eyes glanced around with interest. It seemed he had picked a shipping or receiving area if the amount of pallets indicated anything. Some were stacked near her own height while others leaned against the buildings on either side. It was a perfect place to hide.
It wasn’t a big area over all. The alleyway didn’t leave for much space for maneuvering what with all of the pallets being stored there as well. So, she she came across some of the bigger pallets she found herself face-to-face with a teenager.
A red brow rose as she studied the kid for a moment. What were the odds? Surely he wouldn’t actually stick around and think that hiding would be useful here? If she had been the one running for her life she would have high-tailed it out of the alleyway as fast as she could once she powered down. “Did you happen to see a guy come through here? He was wearing a sort of military style uniform?”
Elex's breath still came in great heaves when the squire showed herself again, and the way she phrased her question left him nearly speechless. Was the magic of their glamour so profound that she did not recognize him any longer? He wore nothing to hide his face; surely she would recognize him beyond the magic. How dangerously powerful it was that their identities went unnoticed so long as they retained their power. How many took advantage of such prospects?
"Someone," he started, though he paused to swallow down another breath. A slight hand drew up, pointed toward the darkness beyond the receiving area. "Was attacking people down there." Another few breaths delivered an idea of how his legs pained and twitched from overexertion, how he himself might struggle in continuing to run. "Dark clothes. Dark hair. Couldn't see more than that." He leveled his gaze at the darkness, felt the weight of his bookbag at his side. Right - his school uniform. He hoped, then, that she would read the situation as such that he was running since he got out of school - that he was pursued all this time, now, from classes to extracurricular obligations to a dirtied receiving area.
Elex struggled to his feet and felt his legs protest the motion. Already they groaned and strained as exhaustion cut neatly into his muscles. He was out of shape, he knew. At no point did Elex think himself physically fit for the job. "I think he's still down there." He looked to her, then, and found bright blue eyes staring back at him. Long red hair curled about her face, staunchly claiming it. Her green uniform spoke of irish descent with a hint of impracticality - like something closer to a Halloween outfit than a militaristic uniform. He could learn so much more of his enemies this way, he realized.
"Please, can you do something about him? I need to get home." He pleaded with her breathlessly, and returned his gaze to the empty darkness. At least, here, he found a way to circumvent further violence. He hoped it would work on more than just her.
With the way the kid was breathing and acting, Hy-Brasil could only assume he’d just managed to run away from the agent. The kid, most likely, was headed home from studying or perhaps late running extracurricular activities. As it was, he gave her the info she needed.
A small part of the squire mentally questioned if this kid had actually been running for his life from an agent or perhaps from something else. Could he be the agent she had been tracking? It seemed a bit preposterous, but glamour was a powerful thing. Blue eyes squinted for a moment as she studied the teenager. Her certainly looked rattled. Plus, she couldn’t just go around accusing him with no evidence. For all she knew he was, very much, an innocent in this whole thing. That would mean her real prey was gaining quite the lead on her. Perhaps even home free now that she couldn’t sense his signature anymore.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go make sure he’s taken care of.” She said calmly, soothingly. “You can head on home. No need to worry about him anymore. He’s likely a good half-mile from here already. Come on.” She turned to lead him out of the tight alleyway. She didn’t think twice about letting him at her back. Where was the kid going to go, anyway?It would be better, if the agent were laying in wait for her, that she be the first to exit and deal with any attacks. When they hit the street though, Hy-Brasil found it abandoned of anyone who looked to be up to no good.
Most likely, the b*****d had gotten away.
Glancing back to the teen she smiled. “Head on home. I don’t think you’ll be dealing with him anymore. Just be careful since it’s getting late.” She probably sounded a bit like a mom, but she knew very well how dangerous the night could be in the city.
Years pass with this conflict plaguing the city and the greatest solace that these 'heroes' have to offer is more violence. The only way they can sleep at night is when they know someone else will pay the blood price for the next day's dawn. Is that how you slept at first? Knowing that, somewhere out there, an agent died so you might live to microwave another TV dinner?
People are always looking for better frames for their poor choices. Looks like you just found yours in coddling the weak and defenseless.
While Elex still breathed heavily, he curved some of it in the chance to relax a little. If she suspected him, she offered no outright indication of it. They both knew between them that she could snap his neck with more ease now than before, so she either thought him unrelated or chose not to risk the death of a civilian. Maybe agents were only worth targeting so long as they remained powered up for sport. He didn't know, couldn't know, and wasn't sure he wanted to know. She could speak her quiet words and her platitudes until she ran out of breath for them, and use the short walk to the alley as justification enough that she did good at night.
'He's likely a good half-mile from here already.' Elex snorted quietly to himself. He shouldered his bag, stood, and followed at her back for the length of the receiving area. Briefly the thought crossed his mind of what Umber would urge - that he should power up now, with her defenses down, and reach into her back for the prize of their encounter. Maybe he should have, if he wanted to follow Negaverse standards. A machine built on efficiency and convenience, the nature of man seldom factored into their plans.
They reached the alley, and Elex offered her a few short words. "Thanks for your help. I know the way from here." A short distance to the bus stop, even so late at night, and then a one of the later rides would carry him back to the house. A few kickbacks from the state government meant a ride system running nearly 24 hours a day. And that worked just fine for him - especially when his enemy turned ally in such short notice.
Like surmised, Hy-Brasil did quantify her reason for fighting with helping to protect those who were unable to do so. So many people in the city lived their daily lives with only the odd new reports to mention that dangers that Destiny City possessed. They really had no clue what it all was nor a real way to protect themselves against people who were physically more stronger than them, not to mention had abilities both magical and not. Rationalizing her need to deal with the negaverse as she did was an easy enough endeavor, especially when face-to-face with the ‘innocent’ in the war.
Offering her temporary charge a smile she nodded. “Alright. Take care and try not to wander by yourself at night anymore.’ Not that she expected to heed her advice. She wasn’t so old she couldn’t remember what being a teen was like and how brazen and headstrong they could be. Those were the years where one thought they were invincible and free from ever being ‘that guy’ who actually paid for idiotic notions. Still, it at least made her feel a bit better to give the warning.
“Have a good night!” She gave a wave before turning back the direction they had come from. She wanted to retrace her steps just in case that agent had decided it was clear to go back out on the hunt. An hour or two on patrol would either turn him up or otherwise rule out that there was going to be another attack tonight in that section of the city. Either way, the people nearby would at least be able to sleep in safety.
strickenized
