In the Wake of Destruction

[Kuzuru]

Kuzuru sniffed the air, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of flowering fields. Long swathes of soft grass and bright flowers danced to the wind’s gentle song. The sung hung fat and lazy in the sky, only moving because it was forced to do so. Stalwart oak trees stretched towards the heavens, mimicking mankind in some sort of eternal play. Camelot was a simple place, or rather simplicity found a pleasant home in this verse of lords and knights. The demon smiled, kicked off his metal-plated flip-flops, and carried them by their thongs. The feeling of the gentle earth between his toes tingled his spine. He glanced over his shoulder and said to the others, “y’know as much as I love our toasty little home, this place ain’t half bad.”

“It ain’t bad,” Gaige nodded, “y’know besides the mind-crushing boredom, we’ve been walking for hours.”

“It’s only been like fourty minutes, maybe an hour” Kuzuru responded, “what’s your point?”

 “Do you even know where we’re going?” she asked.

The demon seemed to deflate ever so slightly. He adjusted his jacket and spoke, “we’re heading to ehm, Minas Tirith. Namely the Colosseum and the surrounding area.”

“Oh,” Claptrap perked up and asked, “are we going to watch some poor meatbags fight eachother in gladitorial combat?!”

“Eh, maybe?” Kuzuru offered, not having the heart to burst Clappy’s bubble.

“Great,” the plucky robot exclaimed.

“Anyways,” Kuzuru said, “that cripple kid didn’t kill Ballad after their fight so after recovering he probably went to a bar or something.”

“What,” Gaige asked, “how are you so sure?”

The demon shrugged and flashed her a smile, “after losing us badass types tend to drown our sorrows with copious amounts of booze, women, or drugs -- sometimes all three.”

“Sounds like bullshit,” Gaige dismissed him.

Kuzuru shrugged. While what he said was indeed closer to truth than fiction the demon put together a more concrete idea of Ballad’s path of destruction. The explosion that put Ballad on the bounty board was only a few streets over from a prolific bar. Said bar’s bartender had gone missing shortly afterwards and hasn’t been seen for a while. While the demon admitted that there was a decent chance of pure coincidence he had few leads to go on. As an afterthought he relayed this information to his companions. Gaige muttered something about endless boredom. Claptrap whistled a tune of his own design. Kuzuru sighed, scowled, and kept on walking.

It was a form of culture shock the demon supposed. After all for the past God knows how long his only real companion was that feckless bladesman known as Renji. Sure there were millions -countless really - souls within the Ourobouros blade, all of them were his prisoners. Now, as much as he hated to admit it, he walked among relative equals. Primes of dubious origins, but they were primes nonetheless and that thought made Kuzuru nervous. In his mind secondaries like Charlie and Mal were fixed in strength, and to an extent he was right. But, primes, primes were another beast altogether limitless in their power and just as unpredictable as himself. It filled his gut with an exotic tonic of giddy excitement and primal fear. Like a kid poking a caged gorilla Kuzuru wanted to see just how far he could step before being swatted back amongst the mortals. Today Ballad. Tomorrow Diablo. The day after that, Omni. The thought sent titters through his body.

The group arrived at the Colosseum district as the sun reached its zenith. Posters advertising upcoming Colosseum events plastered any flat surface they could find. Street vendors sold snacks and refreshments to anyone brave enough to try their fair. Crowds pulsed through the city like fatty clots clogging up viens. Absolute sensory overload. Some sort of festival was in progress and they managed to land right in the center of it. Forming a fiery pillar of lights and sounds fireworks erupted from somewhere nearby. Another salvo of brightly coloured pyrotechnics illicited a cry of “kickass” from the mechromancer.

“Alright, looks like we chose the absolute worst time to come here,” Kuzuru said.

“Uhhh, more like BEST time, WHOOO!” Gaige exclaimed..

A small group of grubby children surrounded Claptrap. Murmers of excitement rippled throughout the young Tirithians. Despite living in the Omniverse for most of their lives none of them had seen a robot before, let alone one that would talk. A natural showman the steward bot wasted no time in showing off for his young audience. “Behold minions!” he exclaimed and produced a pistol, “state of the art Hyperion weaponry, perfect for kids of all ages!”

Kuzuru suppressed a giggle and shook his head. He glanced at Shadow then back at the other two before speaking, “okay I suppose we’ve got some time to burn, we can meet up back here in an hour. Let’s have some fun, but keep an eye out for anything that might seem like a lead okay?” Without waiting for a response the demon disappeared into the crowd. He had no intentions on participating in the festivities, but who was he to deny the others from a good time? The demon made his way to the bar that once was the home of the semi-famous bartender known simply as “Tender”.

A pinprick of familiarity bit the nape of his neck as he entered the building. It was a classier joint than Ambrosia’s, but the acrid scent of liquor was the same. Telltale patches of fresh stucco dotted the walls, the perfect size for bullet holes. Kuzuru smiled. It wasn’t much, but every potential lead was another nail in Ballad’s coffin. Despite the festivities outside the interior of the bar was quiet. Only a few regular barflies sat scattered throughout. Kuzuru sauntered towards the bar counter and took a seat. Sawdust covered the floors, no doubt to sop up any spilled drinks or haphazard tabacco spit. Despite this rustic addition and the stucco-filled bulletholes Kuzuru had to admit this place was on the up and up.

[Dawnika Snow]

The trip to Camelot was long. They had to pass through the blank world again. On their way, Dawn had noticed the demon had a phone or something on him. She did not know phones worked in the Omniverse. She took a few minutes to summon her iPhone when the group stopped to rest in the Nexus. Once they enter Minas Tirith, it seemed Kuzuru wanted to let them have fun while he tracked down the target. Dawn was not like that.

The Vigilante split off from the group, but not before trading numbers with Kuzuru so they could keep in touch. Gaige and the annoying ass robot would most likely want to be apart of the festivities. Dawn was too antisocial to deal with a freaking parade. The crowd moved along, people playing games and enjoying the various foods sold by temporary shops filled most of the road. Her agoraphobia was starting to kick in.

“Fuck this Rogue let's go somewhere else.” She said leading her companion away from the thick crowd. It crept up into Dawn’s mind that Kuzuru had mentioned something about a Colosseum that Ballad was apart of. Apparently it was after that he committed his crime and got the bounty placed on his head. If he was willing to open fire on a defenseless crowd in the middle of a huge city like this, the dude must be some homicidal maniac.

The Vigilante headed up the road quickly, passing by the crowd on the stone sidewalk where less people had gathered. A group of kids, most likely no older than seven years old, played along the edge with a few souvenirs their parents must have bought them. She did what she could to get around these kids, but they approached her anyways, curious about her odd look. One of the kids spoke up.

“Are you a prime Lady?” Dawn, a sucker for kids, could not just pass by and ignore them. She kneeled down to the three kids.

“Yeah, I'm from a whole different world than you guys.” She replied, speaking softly as Rogue caught up and sat down next to her master.

“You have a pet wolf!?” One of the others yelled out jealously. It made Dawn laugh a little, and Rogue seemed to be slightly irritated by the notion.

“Ha! No no, Rogue isn't a wolf. Wolves are only cousins to the dog. Rogue just looks a lot like them.” The kids gathered around the husky petting her all at once. She seemed to be enjoying it.

The last of the three kids, a girl, noticed the weapon on Dawn’s back. “What is that?” It took her a second to realize what the small girl was pointing at.

“This is a gun.” She said giving it a tap. “It’s a really dangerous weapon used for killing bad guys from really far away.”

“So it’s like a bow and arrow?” One of them asked.

“I guess you could say that,” she said. “Bows and arrows laid out a foundation for the creation of guns.”

“How does it work?” Said the girl. Dawn debated if it was smart to pull a weapon out in the middle of a crowd like this, but the kids were persistent on it and probably would not leave her alone if she tried to walk away. She pulled the sniper off her back and pulled the clip out, also cocking back the the chamber to pull the loaded bullet out. The safety clicked into place. Normally Dawn left the safety lock off, for you never knew if someone was going to pull a weapon you. She held out the magazine to show the children.

“This is called a magazine, it holds your bullets. Bullets are like arrows to a bow, but for a gun.” She explained pulling on of the bullets out for each of the kids to see. “They fly a lot faster that arrows though, so it makes them really dangerous.”

“Hey, I remember something like this.” The little girl said observing the bullet. “There was a man who used a weapon like this in the city. He killed a bunch of people then ran away from the guards.”

“Did he wear a large coat and have green skin?” She asked intrigued that this kid got the chance to see Ballad and not get shot by him. She nodded in response. “Listen. I'm here to bring that man to justice for the terrible thing he's done. If you know anything about him, you need to tell me.”

The kid slumped back sadly. “No, I'm sorry Lady, I wish I could help but I only saw him. That’s it.” She looked upset that she could not help Dawn. The Vigilante put a hand on her small shoulder.

“It’s alright. Just know that I won't let him hurt anyone else, okay?” The girls smile slowly renewed, just before tears formed in her eyes.

“Okay! Thank you Lady!” She said happily.

“Keep those bullets as a gift from me.” To most people people, giving a bullet to a child a bullet would seem like a bad idea. It was a bad idea. Although, with the current stage of weaponry Camelot has, they would be useless in Minas Tirith. The likeability of finding a useable gun here was pretty slim, even slimmer to find a .50 caliber rifle to use it in.

The woman stood as the kids thanked her and took off. A smile grazed her lips for the first time since she entered this hellish world. Quickly summoning some new bullets, she loaded them into the clip and then into the gun. She returned the rifle to its proper place on her back and called in Latin to Rogue, telling her to follow.

The colosseum was not far now. She expected to look like the one in Roma, although it had it distinct features. It was not run down like the Roman Colosseum.

The rocky structure house a cheering crowd and able warriors the bouted for fame in the arena, and possibly some reward. Dawn approached the signup areas where of course you would want to register for a fight. The woman greeted her kindly.

“Hello ma’am! Are you here to fight in the arena today?” She asked politely, probably has to to keep her job.

“Uh, no not today,” replied Dawn. “I'm actually look for some information.”

“I'm not sure how much I can provide unless it's about the Colosseum.” She said.

“Well, awhile back your Colosseum held a tournament that many primes took part in. Do you remember a man that goes by the name of Ballad. Green skin, huge black coat?” She asked motioning her hands as if it helped paint a picture in the hostess’s mind.

“I remember the tournament but has been a while. I can't remember all the prime participants.”

“Well this man is wanted for homicide and me and my outfit are hunting him down. Do you mind if I have a look around to see if I can find anything that would help me locate him?”

“That wouldn't be up to me, but I can get someone who can answer that question for you. Just a moment.” She said standing up from her chair and heading into a backroom. Dawn glanced at the entry forms on the hostess’s table. A good sparring fight would be pretty cool in a world like this, but Dawn was not exactly prepared for open field one-on-one fighting yet, prime or not. The woman return after about minute allowing Dawn through.

“My boss says you can have a look around our medical center and the waiting room where fighters wait on their fights to start.” She said holding out her arms to the door. Dawn gave a slight bow then headed through the door after saying thank you.

She checked the waiting room first, she’d be lucky if she found anything. Unfortunately, luck was not in her nature. Nothing turned up other than a flyer advertising the Colosseum tournament and a paper depicting the applicants bracket for the tournament. Ballad was on that bracket but that's all she came up with. Interestingly enough, a Dawn was listed on the fighters bracket. Another prime named Dawn. Too bad nothing was listed but her first name.

After checking the waiting room, she slipped into the medical centre. Maybe the nurses/medics would remember him. She passed the stretcher beds that many tough looking warriors laid in wounded and into the nurse's area. She quickly explained why she was here and asked them some questions about Ballad. Not much information though. They told her that they only remember the face. It was pretty hard to forget a man with green skin. The Vigilante pulled out her iPhone and messaged Kuzuru.

Just scouted the Colosseum. No one here has any information on our mark and I can’t find any clues that could lead us to him. Hopefully you’ll have some better luck.

A swoosh signaled the message sent successfully. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and headed out of the Colosseum.

[Kuzuru]

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked Kuzuru.

They locked eyes for a moment before the demon answered him. The bartender nodded and set to work. Kuzuru took stock of the bartender, the man knew what to look for but was unfamiliar with the layout of the bar. A few double-takes and wasted movements as he located everything needed for the demon’s drink. He was a skinny man and his face was marked by tight skin stretched over sharp cheekbones. Hundred and fifty pounds soaking weight, maybe, but it was doubtful he even weighed that much. A starved dog in a foreign home Kuzuru thought. The demon placed a few golden coins on the counter and said, “keep the change.”

“That’s awfully generous of you,” the bartender passed him his drink and said, “thank--”

Kuzuru interrupted him, “don’t thank me just yet.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow and pocketed the extra cash. Kuzuru downed his drink in long gluttonous gulps. A bit too strong, but that wasn’t a bad thing in the demon’s opinion. He ordered another drink and again he overpaid. The demon smiled and turned his now-empty glass over. He motioned for the bartender and spoke in a low grumbling tone, “I’m looking for some information.” The demon glanced towards the bullet holes in the wall and said, “I’m pretty sure you can help me out, uhhh…”

“Dwayne, call me Dwayne” the bartender finished his sentence. He planted his boney knuckles on the counter and leaned forward. A nasty looking scar underneath his eye caught the light just right and turned a sickened purple. “Why d’ya think I can help you, pal?”

“I’m looking for a criminal,” Kuzuru answered, keeping his voice just above a growl, “he goes by the name of Ballad, he set off a bomb not too far from here. Sound familiar?”

“Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell,” Dwayne said, his eyes narrowed, “are you some kind of cop?

“I’m just a bad man that wants to make a bit of cash,” the demon sighed and continued, “I read a news article about the old bartender here, he was known as ‘Tender’. Apparently he disappeared around the same time as Ballad’s little incident. Any idea where he went?”

“Dunno, pal,” the bartender answered. His eyes flicked towards the bouncer who stood sentinel in the corner. “It’d probably be best if you left,” he said, “I can’t help you.”

“Right, I don’t think you understand” Kuzuru scowled and stood up. The bartender mirrored his movements and the two came eye-to-eye. Dwayne caught the bouncer’s eye and motioned for him to come over. Carved from marble the bouncer looked the part. Without looking over his shoulder Kuzuru threw his arm backwards towards the incoming threat. He pointed his palm towards the bouncer and an arm-length blade peaked out from beneath his flesh. The bouncer froze as the sharpened steel came within inches of his throat. Time froze. Kuzuru smiled. All eyes were on them.

“Now that we’ve got the bullshit out of the way, you’re gonna stop playing dumb and tell me what I want to know,” Kuzuru said, “or else I’ll take my frustrations out on everybody in this bar.”

“The knights will kill you.”

“Maybe, but I’ll come back. Question is - will you?”

A few of the patrons cleared out, but most of the regulars watched with a mix of morbid curiosity and paralyzing fear. The bouncer had edged away from the blade, but Kuzuru kept his arm and blade extended. Outside shouts of joy and excitement seeped in through the windows. After a few minutes of silence Dwayne spoke, “I’m not sure what happened to Tender.” Another blade erupted from the demon’s free arm and stopped inches from the bartender’s chest. He flinched and said, “really, I don’t, but him and Tender seemed to be on good terms from what I heard.”

“Keep talking.”

“Right, well you’re not the first one to come looking for Ballad, the Disciples of Camelot came hunting for him.”

“Who?” Kuzuru asked.

“The Disciples of Camelot, they’re a group of bounty hunters that give a share of their profits to the Kingdom, at least they were, no one has heard from them since Ballad rolled through town,” Dwayne answered, “I think they kidnapped Tender to get closer to Ballad, but seeing as you’re still hunting him I don’t think it worked.”

Kuzuru smiled. All he had to do was apply a bit of force and this bartender was putty in his hands. He retracted his blades and asked one final question, “know where I can find their hideout?”

“Not sure, I doubt they’re in town, with how big they were it’d be too hard to hide from the kingsmen if they were.”

The demon looked around the room and chuckled to himself. “Thanks for the information Dwayne,” he said and started for the door. “Oh,” he stopped mid-stride and said right before leaving, “next time you want to give a paying customer the run around, make sure you’ve got the cajones to back it up. The next guy might not be as kindhearted as me. Just food for thought Dwayne, food for thought. Ciao!”

One step closer. Kuzuru’s phone buzzed and he checked it. Shadow sent him a message and he slowly tapped out a reply.

S’all good, looks like we weren’t the only ones after Ballad. Another merc group was looking for him, called themselves “The Disciples of Camelot”. I’ve got a feeling that our boy Ballad took them out, or at least did a number on them. I want to find their hideout or at least their leader. Keep an eye out.

He checked the time. His little foray into the bar hadn’t taken as long as he thought. The demon pushed through the crowd and found a little alleyway to catch a breather in. This whole expedition was turning into more effort than he had hoped for. After all he wasn’t in it for the money. Sure, it was a nice cherry on top, but what really got him going was the chance to fight a worthy adversary. That electric anticipation egged him forward. How he yearned for the taste of blood, that intoxicating elixir that only grew more potent in the veins of those blessed with power. He shuddered. With renewed vigor he pressed back into the crowded streets hoping to find another breadcrumb on the trail to Ballad.

[Claptrap]

Claptrap looked around as he wheeled into some sort of marketplace, dotted with stalls of all kinds. He had parted with the group as quickly as possible, which seemed strange for the friendly little robot but Gaige's Jakobs shotgun was making him feel nauseous. 

As Claptrap flitted between the different stands, admiring all of the strange foods and knickknacks for sale, he would ask people if they knew anything about the man named Ballad. "He's, uh, green? And he wears a big trench coat" Claptrap said to a man selling an assortment of magical crystals. He shook his head but then thought for a moment. 

"Y'know, if you want information, there's bound to be a shady character or two around who'll sell it to ya, for the right price of course." The shopkeeper said. Claptrap paused for a moment. Why hadn't he thought of that? "Oh, yeah, of course, haha." Claptrap chuckled. "I just wanted to, uh, save my coins, you know?" Claptrap backed away forcing laughter, drawing the stares of everyone around. 

After convincing the crowd that his sanity was completely intact, Claptrap started searching all the dark, wet, foul smelling alleyways that dotted the marketplace. Cursing his manufacturers for giving him olfactory sensors, Claptrap bumped into a man covered entirely in dark clothing. "Watch yourself, lad." The man said in a gravelly voice that Claptrap suspected was forced, but decided to ignore.

"Hello, gentleman of dubious profession, would you happen to know anything about the green skinned man who went on a rampage in this area?" Claptrap chirped, deliberately ignoring the scowl that crossed the man's face as soon as he started speaking. Scowl still present, the man scratched his stubbly chin, the only part of his body that was visible. "I'm not sure," He said, the scowl transforming into a sly smirk. "You got anything to jog my memory?"

Claptrap knew that it was coming, but that did little to quell the annoyance that formed. Claptrap produced his orb of omnillium before being cut off by the man. "No no no, unlike you lad, I'm not a prime, so I've no use for the sparkly stuff. And if they catch me using summoned coins they'll bleed me for all I'm worth. I need real coins, ones you've gotten yourself." 

Claptrap put the orb away, oddly excited at this opportunity. While most would be annoyed at the notion of gathering coins themselves, the little robot had been waiting for a chance to busk for as long as he could remember, and as a robot his memory was quite good. 

Claptrap wheeled into the main street of the market and summoned a sign reading "Will dance for coins." and shoved it into the ground before unleashing dance moves the likes of which the Tirithians had never seen. Claptrap busted a move as if he was born to and hummed in time with the tune in his head. 

"What is that?" Someone in the crowd shouted. "I think someone's construct escaped." Replied another. "No, it's a robot. You see them in the empire verses." a third cried. "Oh, I've heard of them. Do you think it's broken?" questioned the first. 

As the crowd chattered in confusion and awe at the little machine, an onlooker would occasionally throw Claptrap a bit of change. This rapidly increased until the dancing robot was practically being showered in coins as he danced. Eventually, the crowd had seen enough and moved on to look at the rest of the market. Claptrap gathered up his money and found that he had gathered a large bag of coins. "This should be enough!" Claptrap remarked cheerily, oblivious to the laughter at his expense.

Claptrap brought the sack of coins to the man in the alley, who weighed it cautiously in his hands before giving it a satisfied smile. "Heh, so." Claptrap said nervously. "Do you know anything about the man named Ballad?" The man turned to him, blinked once and said "Nope." before walking off. 

If Claptrap had a jaw, it would be wide open right now. He stood there, frozen, for a few seconds, before charging after the man. "Hey! Hey, you! Don't walk away from me!" The man spun around and to Claptrap's surprise, he had a nervous look on his face. They were in the middle of a busy street now, and a number of people had turned towards the shouting. 

Claptrap suddenly realised that the man was effectively at his mercy now, and was probably not ready for that kind of power. The little robot laughed maniacally, or at least he thought it sounded maniacal, and wheeled up close to 'whisper' to the man. "Ok, you have two options." Claptrap said, his voice slightly less loud than usual. "Either you hand the coins back over, or I shout for the authorities, or we can fight over it."

 A defiant look crossed the man's face before Claptrap summoned his pistol and attempted to spin it on his 'finger.' Although Claptrap dropped the gun, the message was clear enough and the man relented. "Here, take the bloody coins." He muttered as he threw the bag at Claptrap and walked off cursing under his breath. 

Claptrap sighed and turned to find the rest of the group, disappointed that his attempt to gather information flopped so badly. "At least I have this bag of coins." Claptrap said to himself. "Maybe I could use it to buy Gaige a decent gun."

[Dr. McNinja]

"PAARTAAYY"

Gaige howled with the other citizens of Camelot as the crude fireworks ignited the night sky. Her teammates had all but disappeared, but she didn't mind. What she did mind was the fact that she had to make her robot arm seem like a normal one. First of all, it was friggin AWESOME, and she built it herself, so she was disappointed that she couldn't show off. Second of all, it was still a makeshift robot arm whose main function was to hold a digistruct core. She was waving her arms, but her trigger finger kept twitching (as it was programmed to do) and her left shoulder moved at half the speed of her right one. Luckily, nobody really noticed... She thought.

Unfortunately, at that moment, someone seized her left arm. Gaige whirled around, shotgun digistructing in her palm. She pressed the muzzle against her assailant's chest.

"Sooooo," Gaige chirped, "you're a baddie, huh?"

The assailant was a skinny woman. Her face was thirty years older than it probably should be. She had the look of pure agony, blurred with a flood of tears.

"Please," she said, "Are you the mercenaries here to find the terrorist?"

Gaige raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I need... I need help."

"And why should I help you? You kinda just threatened me."

"Because..." the woman gulped, "I can help you back."

[Kuzuru]

The Disciples of Camelot thought Kuzuru. To be honest it was the first time that the demon had even considered competing with other mercs over a bounty. Although the Disciples were more than likely expired, the thought still intrigued Kuzuru. There had been enough bounties post on the Dataverse to keep a demon busy for a very, very, long time. It wasn’t surprising that he’d run into other hunters. Ruthless mercenaries out to carve a name for themselves brought a dumb grin to the demon’s face. This place was alive, it was in motion and bloodshed greased the cogs of personal triumph. In other words the Omniverse kept revealing sweeter and sweeter treats to the bastard demon.

Something interrupted his frivolous daydreaming. His pupils dilated and his mouth filled with saliva. Sparks danced across the inside of his skull. An instinctual alarm bell rattled his core. It was an uncanny sixth sense, picked up through eons of warfare, that allowed him to predict incoming assaults. Someone was about to strike at him, but the real questions was who and from where? He froze. It was damn near impossible to get a sense of anything in this crowd. Sure he was used to the turbulence of a battlefield, but he was allowed to carve through anything in his way. The rhythm was different, the ebb and flow of bodies felt nothing like the killing fields. And so, it was for this reason, above all others, that the demon did not see his assailant coming. From behind, slipping through the mass of bodies like a stone in a river, his attacker grabbed the back of his neck. In a puff of smoke and blue glitter they were gone. The crowd didn’t even notice.

Slipping through space was a lot like a falling dream just before one falls asleep -- sudden, frightening, and brief. One moment there was a crowd, that cacophony of sounds and swirling colours. The next there was a silent and dim room. Like a drunkard being tossed into a fire Kuzuru prepared himself for battle. His blades erupted from his flesh and he turned about like a wicked dervish. A animal thrust into a foreign cage his furious eyes darted around the room. It was much larger than he first imagined. Rows of curtains obscured beds, some of them close and occupied, most of them empty. Braziers and candles flickered, trying their damndest to keep the large room lit.  “Calm down,” a voice said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Kuzuru turned towards the source of the voice. A hooded man stepped from the shadows and answered and unspoken question, “my name is Scivo and I’m here to help you with your hunt.” The demon growled and lumbered forward, baring his blades towards Scivo.

“Where have you taken me?” Kuzuru asked.

“An infirmary for those on the wrong side of the law,” Scivo said and then smirked, “an ironic place for a bounty hunter such as yourself, no?”

“Why have you brought me here Scivo?” Kuzuru asked, his voice still taut with worry.

“A friend of mine wished for me to bring anyone hunting Ballad to him,” Scivo said and turned his back on the demon. He walked down the rows of curtains, came to a stop, turned around, and motioned for the demon. “Lower your weapons, you have no enemies here,” Scivo said and offered a smile. Kuzuru did as he was told and walked towards the mysterious man. He had an inkling that they were underground, but that was only because of the lighting situation. There were no windows. Asides from the occasional groan or cough the hospital was completely silent.

Behind the curtain was a man bound up in a hospital bed. His eyes were ratty little pits jammed into his skull. He looked more like a deflated ragdoll than a human, but the gentle rise and fall of his chest proved his life. Bandages were wrapped tight around his chest. “This is Jensen, he was the second-in-command of the Disciples of Camelot,” Scivo said, “Jensen, this is uhhh.”

“Kuzuru.”

“Right, Kuzuru, he’s been looking for Ballad.”

Jensen did not speak, but rather nodded. Kuzuru raised an eyebrow and removed his sunglasses. He glanced over at Scivo and got a good look at the man beneath the hood. Scivo’s face was one filled with youth, not even stubble marred his adolescent face. Kuzuru asked the boy, “how did you know I was looking for Ballad, I’ve only been here for like an hour.” Scivo smiled and peeled back his hood, revealing a breathtaking pair of sapphire eyes. He held out a bandaged hand and blue dust flittered above it. In a moment letters in an unknown language danced above his fingertips and he said, “you’d be surprised how fast word can travel, even in a primitive verse such as this. I knew about your little barroom brawl minutes after it happened.”

“Neat trick kid,” Kuzuru said and turned his attention towards Jensen, “and you, why’d you have ol’ magic fingers here kidnap me?”

There was a moment of pregnant silence as Jensen seemed to struggle with his words. A deep rasping inhalation dared to suck all of the air from the room. He spoke, keeping his hollowed eyes down, “he killed everyone.” Kuzuru raised an eyebrow and, upon sensing that Jensen would not speak unprovoked, asked, “Who?”

“Ballad.”

Another pause.

“Alright you twat,” Kuzuru said, stealing an insult from Charlie, “for this to work, you’re going to have to give more detailed answers.”

Another pause. Kuzuru growled. Jensen sighed and spoke, “my friends, he killed all of them. We lead him to our home and he razed it to the ground. Even our leader Agern fell to him.” A thin dry smile cracked across the demon’s lips. Jensen rubbed his palms together and shivered. For the first time since their meeting Jensen locked eyes with Kuzuru. It might have just been the lighting, or the crushing weight of a broken man’s soul, but his eyes took on an abyssinian quality. “I want you to find him,” the next few words tightened a spring in Kuzuru’s tummy, “and kill him.”

“That my cripple friend,” Kuzuru said, “that is something I can most certainly do -- problem is, I have no idea where the fuck he is.”

Scivo piped up, “I found Jensen unconscious in their hideout, Ballad was already gone by the time I got there. I’m not a fighter, so I didn’t stick around to make sure he was gone. But, I can take you there if you want to sift through the ashes.”

“Sounds like a lovely time,” Kuzuru muttered, “sure, take me there, maybe I can find his wallet or something…”

“When you kill him,” Jensen said, “let me know, let me know that my brethren have been avenged.”

Kuzuru wanted to laugh. He didn’t, but he wanted to. Ballad was no doubt a prime so killing him meant nothing more than a short vacation in the afterlife. The Disciples were weak and Ballad had culled them. He wanted to tell Jensen that his friends were nothing more than paved stones to be trod upon. He didn’t, but he wanted to. The demon wanted to tell Jensen that he himself was nothing more than a tool to be used. He didn’t, but what he did say was, “oh I’ll kill him, but I won’t do it for you -- you don’t deserve it.”

Jensen seemed to deflate even further than before. The flesh on his bones sagged, and the pits of his eyes grew darker. He broke eye contact. Kuzuru fought back the urge to chuckle. He turned to Scivo and patted his chest, “let’s get going, I’ve got a bounty to collect.” Scivo frowned, but nodded. “Wait,” Jensen said.” The demon grinned and looked over his shoulder, he said nothing. “At least,” Jensen muttered, “at least make him suffer.”

“That, that I can do, my crippled friend.”

[Kuzuru]

Once again that sinking floating feel. Kuzuru’s guts twisted themselves into nice little knots. The world kept spinning and he stumbled to his knees. Every muscle in his abdomen tightened and he threw up his lunch. Scivo stepped back from the vomiting demon and said, “don’t worry, it’s that rough on everyone.” The demon growled and wiped the greasey spittle from his lips. He stood and scanned his surroundings. 

Scivo had brought them to the crest of a grass-covered hill. Below them a village smoldered. Thick lazy clouds of ash and smoke drifted ever upwards. The wooden palisade that once surrounded the village was nothing more than a crumbling barricade. Inside the barrier sat several buildings in various states of decomposition. Kuzuru snorted and started to walk towards the Disciple’s ruin. Scivo followed behind, keeping a healthy distance between his companion. The demon found a gap in the palisade and stepped inside the fortress. He sniffed the air and snarled. Old blood hung heavy in the air and Kuzuru’s stomach turned. Visions of slaughter filled his head. Ash mixed with blood and formed a sickening sanguine char. 

“My god,” Scivo muttered, “what is that smell?”

The demon chuckled, “that is the smell of conquest, the scent of death.”

The funny thing about burnt human flesh was that it was only the idea that it was once a living, breathing, human that gave its odor any repugnance. Hell once the carbon-rich skin burned away the fat and muscle underneath smelled similar to beef. Kuzuru enjoyed the bouquet of wicked scents that clung tight to every surface. An old quote came surfacing to his skull. “Fire washes the skin off the bone and the sin off the soul. It cleans away the dirt. And momma didn’t raise no dirty boy.” By the time they had arrived the fire had swallowed two of the buildings, leaving nothing but smoldering rubble. The other few had begun the slow process of flagration. Kuzuru sighed, not only did the fire wash away the dirt, but it also washed away any evidence.

From beneath the wreckage of what appeared to be some sort of armory a creature stirred. Tendrils of charred and black smoke swirled about, tearing through every nook and cranny of the crumbled building. Motes of cinder and ash performed pirouettes high into the sky. A humanoid figure began to take shape, roiling clouds of soot formed ethereal appendages. Sizzling coals formed furious eyes and with each passing moment the being became more and more grounded in reality. In a voice that fanned the flames of the village it asked, no, it demanded, “who encroaches upon my territory!?”

Kuzuru snickered, and Scivo edged further towards the nearest exit. The demon unzipped his jacket and spoke, “I gotta say, pretty flashy entrance there. I’m Kuzuru, leader of the Ashen Blades. Let me guess you’re the fiery ghost of christmas past?” 

The flaming specter surged forward, leaving behind a trail of cinder. Once again it spoke, using its words to turn the village into a sweltering crucible, “I was once known as Agern, but now, now I am a furnace and hate is my fuel.”
“Agern,” Scivo whispered and then shouted, “Agern was the leader of the Disciples!”

“So, you’re the leader of these deadmen huh?” Kuzuru asked, motioning towards the burning carcasses. Agern did not answer, but seemed stopped moving. Eyes filled with flame, no, filled with animosity, scoured the area. The demon did not wait much longer before speaking again, “Ballad killed you all didn’t he?”

At this point the heat could not be paid to end. It was hot as hell, hell it was hotter than that. Kuzuru shed his jacket and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. Agern seemed to stew for a moment, some deep internalized inferno swallowing his innards. A low rumbling crawled throughout the ruins and his voice thundered up towards the heavens, “he killed everyone and I will not rest until he is erased from this world. Even now I can feel him, he is linked to me and I to him. These chains of absolution bind me to him and I cannot rest until he is slain.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know that I’m looking to separate his head from his body,” Kuzuru said, “problem is, I’m not sure where the green-skinned bastard is.”

The fires simmered down to a low broil. The specter spoke, his voice still imperial and commanding, “you plan to kill him?”

“Aye.”

“My strength does not extend far from here, so I cannot assist you in your hunt.”

Kuzuru smiled, “is that so?” He stepped closer to Agern and removed his sunglasses. With a smooth sweetness in his voice the demon spoke, “I think we could help each other here Agern. You want Ballad dead and know where he is, but have no means to reach him. I on the other hand can reach him so long as I can find him.”

“What are you getting at?” Agern asked, his fire turning into nothing more than a few embers.

“My body is a vessel that can contain souls my fiery companion,” Kuzuru said, pacing to the side of his new companion, “allow me to swallow yours and you would be free to leave this place. Then you could lead me to Ballad and see his demise firsthand -- hell I might even let you take control of the ol’ meatpuppet for a few swings.”

“Tempting proposition,” the specter said, “but how do I know that you’ll live up to your end of the bargain?”

“You don’t, you’ll have to take a chance,” Kuzuru said and smiled, “but, unless he comes waltzing back here you can’t exactly hunt him down yourself can you?”

“No,” Agern admitted, his body had condensed into nothing more than wisps of grey smoke and dying coals. After a moment of deliberation he spoke once more, “fine, I’ll accept your offer devil, but I warn you -- betray me and burn.”

“Hop on in,” Kuzuru said and opened his mouth.

Scivo watched in horror as tendrils of fire and ash rocketed into Kuzuru’s gaping maw. In one frightening instant the demon turned into a hellish vacuum cleaner, intent on swallowing every last bit of flame. Agern disappeared into the vortex, pulled apart and disseminated amongst the char. It lasted but a moment, but the spectacle seemed to warp the perception of time itself. At the end Kuzuru shuddered, belched a cloud of soot, and uttered one word -- spicy. The temperature had dropped several hundred degrees and there were no more fires left. Kuzuru shrugged his jacket back on and sauntered over to the mage. He grinned and said, “alright, got what we came here for Scivo. ‘Bout time I head back, my friends must be worried sick about me. Can you take me back?”

“Yeah,” Scivo muttered, “sure.”

The other three were already waiting for their leaders return by the time Kuzuru managed to make his way back to the meeting point. They appeared to be empty-handed asides from some scraps of hearsay. Not wanting to get wrapped up in the coming storm Scivo had left. Gaige was the first one to ask, “soooo… did ya find anything?”

“Oh,” Kuzuru chuckled, “I think I found exactly what we were looking for. Dress warm kids, ‘cause we’re heading for the North Pole.”