Costa Del Drunk

[Gildarts]

The boat beneath their feet, sailing them over waves and helping them traverse the ocean had something called “autopilot” which meant no one had to drink and drive, no one had to worry about steering them into an invisible island in the umbra pitch of night, and no one (Gildarts) had to worry when they didn’t know how to drive a boat.

Dust rode beside him, his sable hair glowing in the moonlight as the salty spray of waves overcame the boat in small patches of wave cresting the boat’s side. It was hard to believe that he and the kid had made it this far, pleasant to think that they’d both survived this year’s games, and Gildarts was hopeful that he would be able to bond with Dust a little more before training him.

After what had happened with the cotton candy vendor, Gildarts was feeling a little suspicious about people and their intentions. After what happened with Dust when he’d kissed a kid like Molly, Gildarts wasn’t sure what to think. The layers just kept building, drowning his sorrows, being an attentive master, determining the worthy. The chaotic world’s order would probably get even more mixed up once he had his booze.

The man with a new mind contemplated only the surface of his doubts and was already feeling dismayed. He’d left Molly in capable hooves, apparently secondaries had the means to teleport… Or something of the like, with a recall station. This new world, fathoming it all with his newfound cognition, was rough on the mage who had always sided with justice. Now justice was undefined, or always upgrading like the technologies he’d encountered. Heck, boats weren’t even waterproof, who’d thought of that?!

He’d gotten sidetracked from his point, just what exactly was justice now that he saw the world from an entirely new and undefined angle? Justice was what he could only guess it meant. And that meant figuring out how to define people and things and their actions was going to take a lot of effort.

Enough of that solemn sorrow, tonight was his last night of faltered and distracted cognition hopefully for the rest of his life and his first night to celebrate vivid, coherent thought. They were fluid, enough to drive a man mad and Gildarts assumed that’s why he’d met so many corrupted villains along his travels and jobs and missions in Earthland an Omniverse alike. Everyone had their own definition of justice, for some it was genocide, others, it was stealing what should rightfully be theirs, and others still, stood up for the weak.

Before this, Gildarts had always feared that he’d return home to his guild, or was just out and about, traveling through a town or doing a job, and one day, he’d self destruct. Everything he’d admired about the innocent life of the middle-class people would be gone, dead at his hand. Then, he’d still lack control, so he’d either blow up the entire planet, or he would encounter his Guildmates, there to take him down. And he’d slay them too, because that was his power. This fear, this nightmare, was that of Gildarts’ worst imagination in the making. The most horrifying thing was that it was a possibility. He’d even described it to the beach goers around the campfire. No one could ever truly know or understand the depth of his sorrow. Tragedy, at its finest.

Now, though, he had control enough to stop it. So now he had to choose his cause. Just what did he fight for and how would he do it? Gildarts was a hero, it wasn’t hard for him to know where he lay on the three hundred and sixty degree alignment spectrum, but to what extent? Was he a hero to a fault or would he compromise morality for the greater good?

There was an analogy once shared with him. One that spoke of two boats, one bomb, and one choice. Gildarts wasn’t a fan of this analogy, he and his charismatic justice believed that both boats could be saved, but the scary part about that was that this was real those boats weren’t guarded by competent mages, they weren’t in his world where stories tended to get a happy ending. There were consequences to every choice here. Thin ice, quaking earth, air that crumbled with only a touch. Explosions, heroes fighting heroes, chaos making more sense than fluid progress and order. Yes, it was one Hell of a world and before Gildarts would even dare to try and figure it out, he was going to get viciously hammered.

[Dust]

Dust leaned his head back over the edge and all of his hair fell away from his face so that the moon illuminated his much lighter skin. He sat low in the seat, his already large form taking up a large portion of the space given to him but even more so when he stretched out his long legs. His arms were draped over the side railings, allowing the spray of the water fell on him like a fine mist unhindered. His eyes were closed and the man with seemingly endless energy looked as beat as the rest of them felt, even like he was getting a quick nap in. Having been the one to explain what auto-pilot was he clearly wasn’t worried at all. He did notice Gildart’s grasp on technology was a step, maybe even a few, over Takezo’s.

Volk had just closed his eyes for a moment when the shadow of his inner wolf appeared before him in his mind and Rosie’s words are spoken by it: ‘Everything requires a price..’

Startled by it, his eyes sprung up and Dust jumped. From the outside, it appeared he had a nightmare. But it was far worse than that… It was the truth.

He glanced over beside him at Gildarts, only to look away from embarrassment. His heart still heavy.

When they talked about young guys looking up to older men for inspiration Dust imagined someone twice his age or slightly older, not centuries. Yet, here he was admiring the two old fashioned men he was in the current presence of.

Hokori naturally reverted to the teachings of his father, always obey and respect your elders, help them however you can. The younger Hoshi had more than enough patience to explain things the other two didn’t understand, and honestly, it was the least he could do after everything they did to help him. Takezo had awoken the sleeping beast inside from its lazy slumber, Tamsin and that nameless man had opened his senses, and Gildarts was the perfect candidate to rein him back in and mold the young man into something great.

When the mage that sat beside him had offered to teach him, Dust was ecstatic. It was no different than being a stray on the cold streets before someone kind comes along and offers you their hand. Bringing you in from the dark, making you feel less alone.

Across from them sat the Tamsin look alike. Gildarts himself had been a little fooled by the similarities, which made Dust feel a bit better about doing it. Lycan’s been dodging the questions with large amounts of guilt to shield himself from the shame of what the kid was. Dust’s storm-cloud colored eyes settle heavily on the summoned Doll.

The guy sat with sloppy posture, head down to stare at nothing in particular, and with his hands on his knees. His hood still up, but the brisk wind of a boat’s speed threatened to rip it off him to reveal his silver hair like a dramatic unmasking. The single braid on his left side was decorated with the silver bead that was about 2 inches long. The bead swung gently against his chest in the wind.

The youngest man’s eyes look like polished gems when the light found them as the guy lifted his head to stare straight into the contractor's eyes. Like just looking at him made him aware. Dust’s eyes widen before he looked away. The Doll just lowers his head and goes back to doing nothing.

Well.. He finally had a name. Hoseki(Jewel).

Wolf had a lot of questions for Jewel himself, but he knew the Doll would answer him in only silence. So he turned to other things.

Takezo sat near Hoseki but hasn’t moved much at this point. Tired of censoring himself for the young ones, he was relieved to be done with that and be alone with the men. He eyed Gildarts with a little caution left over from the competition and looked upon Dust with some pity. The kid’s been uncharacteristically quiet since the winner was named of the story contest. Even as a man who enjoyed silence at points in his life, it left a knot in his stomach to think Dust had been affected by mere stories.

In the corner of the boat was their cargo, crates full of booze. Dust himself had sought the stuff out and paid for it. He was actually pretty proud to be able to say that. He used the money he’d gotten from the kissing booth. It seemed fair, as a Prime, he could just summon any essentials he’d need so spending the spare change of strangers on their celebration only felt right.

Hopefully, the creeping truth about everything wouldn’t ruin that celebration. Either way, a drink right about now sounded great.

He looked back at the bow, over the nose of the boat, ignoring the twisting distraction that was the moving steering wheel to look in the direction of their destination. He had told Gildarts just to enter the location he wanted but hadn’t been nosey enough to look at it. He thought he saw a shape coming up through the spray of the ocean.

[Gildarts]

It had taken Gildarts many, many, many journeys, quests, and voyages but finally after who knew how many months he’d arrived at the Omniverse, he’d finally accumulated some “bros.” Sure, Guu was kind of his bro, but she was also a girl, and rather he was her bro, in this case.

The man’s eyes dodged from Dust, to Takezo. He hoped the samurai wouldn’t strip down to his banana boat after a few drinks. It did feel weird, everyone was being quiet on the way over, almost like they could sense Gildarts’ morose tone of thought. He had come to Vasty for one reason and one alone. To drink away the pain of losing his daughter but it had only come to happen that he wouldn’t have to do it alone. It had also been circumstantial that he’d run into Molly on the beach, serendipitous, even. He had gotten to spend time with her, try the insidious food that rhymed with snore and he’d bonded with Dust. Plus, he had found out what sports were all about. Volleyball had indeed kept his mind off of the pain, there was merit to commoner’s way of coping. To an extent.

When he’d finished the match, most of it had come flooding back. A temporary release from pleasure, oh, how he’d done that before. He was glad he’d waited to get sloshed, it was safer to drink at night and drinking prior to five pm would’ve made Gildarts feel like a scrub. They drove out here, or rather, the boat drove them, so that the King of Destruction wouldn’t have to fear killing the commoners. Dust’s speechless secondary could be resummoned if Gildarts accidentally blasted it away, as for D&T, they were Primes. They resurrected. Usually.

It was cold but the battered winds of the ocean in the evening were mostly buffed out by the small structure over the steering wheel which the party of four had sat behind. If they had been equipped with night vision, or bothered to look at the radar, they would’ve seen an army of swarming Darklings making rounds and invading the neighboring islands. But it was black, the dark corrosive creatures were covered by this shade, and protected from the ever-oblivious Strongest Prime.

“So Gildarts, is this island one of your own making, or have you been here before?” Dust asked curiously, breaking the silence. So far, the contractor was surprised that the crash mage and the samurai hadn’t bonded more, as he had with the both of them. While three was an odd number, Gildarts and Takezo both seemed to have similarities, old-fashioned views on women and how they should be treated. Limited ideas of technology, Dust was pretty sure Gildarts had only found out that phones and tablets weren’t waterproof recently.

“Uh, well…” Gildarts pondered, “I didn’t make it, but stumbled ‘on it when I broke out of an underwater prison with a mind-reading maniac. Probably should’ve not let him out of Impel Down, but well, I was honor bound and wanted to escape. They put me in there mainly because of their own government's corruption.”

“That’s uh… Interesting,” Dust quizzically deduced.

“And uh, Takezo… Don’t you think that Gildarts breaking out of an underwater prison is… Interesting?” Peacekeeper, matchmaker, call Dust what you wanted, but he was trying to get his two allies to like each other, so they’d have some common ground for the end of the night.

“I,” he responded with a huff, “Am merely surprised and impressed he did not drown.” Takezo spoke concisely and folded his arms across his chest.

Dust blinked, that could’ve been interpreted with some sass considering Shinmen didn’t use conjunctions. But Gildarts, whose head was in the clouds or rather, across the freakin’ ocean (probably with Molly) did not seem to notice in the slightest, nor was he worried about a vague acquaintance’s judgement.

Gildarts pulled out his phone for a moment and the light burned in his retinas. On the screen, before he closed it due to SCALDING PAIN the Prime had noticed several texts, voicemails left from Molly, and some notifications on OmniTwitter. “Hey Dust, what does it mean when the twitter people send you a message telling you that you’ve been hacked?”

“Uh, that you’ve been hacked. Lemme see,” Dust said and gestured that Gildarts pass his phone over.

The contractor clicked a few things on the touch screen and smiled, “Ha, it looks like it was just Molly. She exploited the weakness in your password and the Omnitwitter people say you need to change it. Molly also… Kind of posted from your account, but it doesn’t look like she said anything too uh, embarrassing.”

On the male’s lips a smile glistened, the bright screen had also dimmed his vision, but when he handed it back over to Gildarts the square shape sun remained imprinted behind his eyelids.

“Oh look! We’re here!” Gildarts proclaimed as he stood tall, proud, and firmly confident. “There’s a dock just over there that the boat should bring us to, then we port and drink!”

“Huzzah!” Takezo seconded the notion and could’ve applauded, but that was saved for performances in his land, it did not suit the modern day customs, or did it?

“Sweet!” Dust smiled too, as the ocean breeze had given him goosebumps on top of his sinewy flesh.

As Gildarts had directed, they puttered around the south side of the island and made port, Gildarts did not forget to tie the boat down to the wooden dock, and the boat had set its own anchor. Autopilot certainly seemed to be the shit. Dust grabbed a box of the booze he’d purchased with his well-earned kissing money and Takezo aided him. The Tamsin-twin doll followed them but there were no extra boxes of liquor to take, so he just merrily copied what they did, adorably scooping up empty air and holding it across his torso just as he’d seen Dust demonstrate.

Gildarts was leading the two Primes and the secondary off the dock. Keep in mind, it was mostly pitch black. This didn’t faze G but he realized the others might need help and powerful magic was sparked as though responding to the mage and welcoming him home. Only thing was, this wasn’t Gildarts island, and to his knowledge it had always been uninhabited. Tiki lamps sparked, having originally been buried in the ground, the long wooden poles rose out of the sand and their ends torched with a magic-laden blue flame.

“Hey look! It recognizes you!” Dust said with a smile and paused to look back at Takezo and see his expression, “That’s really cool. Don’tcha think?”

The lines of torches felt like the three primes were walking in on a red carpet of royalty, guided by the light, the parallel torches had created a pathway for them to follow. They were already on a somewhat rocky beach but this is not where they would make their nest. They all followed the mysterious torches, Dust thought Gildarts had some fine taste with this island, he almost expected beautiful women to hang down from the dark canopy of trees.

As the four men passed through the darkened forest, creatures hooted and howled ominously, their calls echoing eerily through the night and diamond sets of narrowed eyes glowed as they passed by. Staring at their defenseless backs, wondering if it was worth the trouble to take a bite. It never happened though, the carnivorous, predatory beasts could sense the power levels of all the humans and opted to let them slide, protected by the holy azure light.

“I thought you said it was uninhabited?” Dust asked.

“Well, these creatures weren’t here during the day.” Gildarts noted.

Dust’s eyes bulged out of shock. How charming. He mused, “Oh,” and tried to not let this newfound fact distract him from having a good time. Though, maybe there was a reason the island was uninhabited, he didn’t want to find out. Dust just hoped none of the birds screams’ resembled that of humans, that might bring back some darker memories he didn’t want to focus on while getting his buzz on.

Takezo was pondering why his stomach was still empty and passed off his box to the blonde doll, who was fully ready to take the weight (luckily it was the lighter box) and in its arms. “Here, hold this and follow them. I will return.” The doll paused its pace for a moment, pensively wondering where the sudden weight had come from and then continued his stride past the wooden tiki poles.

Where was Takezo going? Stay tuned, folks.

The atmosphere was charming, the leaves caught the blue flickering flame’s glow and framed a beautifully lit tunnel through the darkness of the night. They’d lost one of the stragglers, but no one was looking back to notice. Suddenly, they had arrived on more of the northern side of the island and the moon was rising higher in the sky. It was beautiful and sitting at a waning half-smile in the sky. It helped illuminate the beach their short evening midnight through the forest had delivered them to.

The beach was small and cozy, nestled into a little half-cove where trees and rocks curled around, huddling against the storms that only came during monsoon season. The tiki lamps had stopped when they’d arrived on the beach and no other magical surprises sprung out at them.

“I’ll set up, why don’t you guys set those down?” Gildarts said to Dust and Hoseki, not noticing Shinmen had vanished as the mage began to create their bar set up, it started as a pulsing orb of Omillium before it grew ever-brighter and larger. Beachside view. When the tiki-bar was done it was going to be preeeetty sweet.

Dust looked out on the moonlit water, the waves were dull and at ease, despite the wind that had rocked their boat on their voyage. Surrounding them: Palm trees, a gorgeous sparkling beach with waves that when they crashed upon shore, sprouted different colors against the shimmering crystals of sand. It was paradise.

“You know Gildarts, I gotta say,” he said turning back to the mage as the wind tousled his sable hair, “You have great taste. This place is amazing.”

Until then at least Dust had noticed Shinmen had vanished, “Uh oh, we’re down one.” Dust noticed Hoseki was carrying Takezo’s box and asked, “Did you see where he went?”

Worry began to bury itself on Dust’s face as Hoseki was directed and told to set down the box and answer. The doll pointed out into the forest behind them and stated, “There.”

[spoiler]

Takezo’s hunt for boar. Any beast would have done really, out here on a deserted island it was eat or be eaten. Takezo was a fan of eating and not of vile demon-spawned marshmallows. The swordsman would show them what real food was, not the adulterated, processed fast-food that tasted like flavored sawdust.

Takezo was serious as he prowled through the forest, stalking his prey and picking one out of the many available suitors. Four grown men would eat an owl for an appetizer. He had to think bigger, badder, and meatier.

A swordsman had more nobility than a huntsmen, more finesse, but he always caught his prey. A huntsman was more barbaric, raw. Relied on traps and instinct alone. Takezo’s instinct was built into his skill and the swiftness of his mind. Crouching in the forest, hidden behind giant, deep viridian leaves he waited as a lion-like predator, waiting, stalking, his eyes never moving from his trophy. He did not grant himself a breath.

Hunggle…Oink… Snorttle. The hairy beast groaned as it sniffed around for truffles. Takezo could only see a portion of it as it crept closer, sliver slices of moon on the brown fur of its back. The tusks were illuminated in the night. Pearl ivory, the size of his own katana. This was good. This was perfect. It would help him aim better and may even serve to be a little bit of a practice duel, a little hard work before his feast.

The rustling of leaves and the vast canals of trenches the beast’s tusks were unearthing loomed closer now. Ten yards turned into ten feet in a matter of a few moments. The rich scent of soil cascaded into Takezo’s nose as he soundlessly unsheathed his blade and kept it’s silverish gleam hidden behind the leaves.

Snort, snort. The beast’s tusks were nearly on top of Takezo. It was time to strike.

The master of swords quickly sprung from his perch and he was met with a pair of dual tusks, each lunging at him through the forest. “Even a mighty beast like you must fall.” Takezo pronounced as he blocked both of the sharpened bones growing out from the boar’s skull. “Just take pride in that you will be slain by my hand.”

Sparks flung off of Takezo’s blade as they clashed again with the ivory scythes to avoid being on the boar’s dinner menu. The creature’s speed was unrivaled, but its tact was lacking. Raw, monstrous power was not enough to match the swordsman’s finesse. With a few quick movements of his blade blood was drawn and dribbling from the creature’s neck, then came the mercy blow.

Crimson blood spurted out of the living animal as he did this and then when its limbs went limp, Takezo began to drag it by the hooks of its tusks back into the azure light and resume his walk behind Gildarts and Dust.

[/spoiler]

“THERE!” the swordsman announced with a huff as something thunked heavily on the table Gildarts had just summoned.

There is nothing better than a good hunt to help ready us for a feast made for kings!” he declared. Hand caught meal was likely more noble than summoning food and it would’ve taken about the same amount of time, plus ten minutes to cook.

“Oh there you are Takezo! We thought we’d lost you,” Dust said, he was about ready to scour the entire forest. “Perfect timing.”

“Let us eat! Who shall cook?” Takezo stated chivalrously.

“I’m… Told burning food is bad, so perhaps you guys should do it.” Gildarts stated as his summoning was nearly complete. Sprouting overhead and all around them was a tiki hut, dried grass for a roof, however it was potent to keep out water if it happened to rain.

The tiki hut glowed golden as it was adorned with lamps, lanterns and christmas lights. And they were inside it. Barstools sprung into sight, originally raw and moldable Omnillium, now, they looked like comfortable, soft, plush leather seats. Hanging directly above him were glasses glinting like chandeliers, like one might have seen at a classier restaurant’s lounge.

Underneath the bar hung more christmas lights, glowing across in twinkling little trails. Gildarts had summoned a table too, as though they were expecting guests, or maybe to just make eating all the more easier. Bar, drinks. Table, for eating. It was all very simple, that was the mind of a man eager to get drunk.

To make the tiki hut bar even better, on the roof was the Fairy Tail symbol, though, not one could actually see it woven into the grass unless they could fly, or thought to look up while they were within the grass enclosed shelter. “Now this is a view.” Gildarts stated as he looked past the bar, past the hut and directly into the ocean’s waves that were changing colors as random as a rainbow.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Within the tiki hut, Gildarts walked over to the corner where there was a dashing red little machine waiting, idle. He walked over and clicked a button, randomly selecting a track. It was an electronic jukebox. Gildarts had seen one only once, but it had been love at first sight, for the real magic he knew, was that of music.

[Oleander]

The blood speckling his chest was obvious, but luckily his shorts already appeared blood spattered by design. His minimalist clothing had apparently more than quick-dry to add to its list of functionality. The speckle of blood was nothing compared to the small stream trickling down his back, from where he had carried the large boar.

Takezo was still a bit winded, the boar had been quite meaty. That translated to quite heavy and awkward to haul, especially as it started stiffening on his shoulders. The battle had been won, and the war was over. They had plenty of food for the night, and it consisted of more than a few collected nuts and berries.

"I have to admit, not even an hour on this island and I almost consider finding my own. Boar is a bit rare where I am from; they are the first to be hunted." He spoke even as he readied his catch. Apparently it would be he who cooked it too. Not that he minded, the swordsman worked almost autonomously. He dragged the boar back off of the table, to preserve the well made counter from the grizzly task that that was underway.

He dropped the beast onto a grassy patch and used the tip of his sword to cut deep into its gut. The sickening crunch of ribs followed the wet slurping. The swordsman tossed the intestines out into the woods nearby, hopefully to attract a snack for later; baiting future prey. 

"Why don't we just spitroast it over a fire?" Dust inquires, enjoying the idea of that meaty monster rotating slowly over an open flame.

"Too slow, we would be waiting till dawn for it to cook clean." He may be archiac, but he knew the problems with eating raw pork. "Besides, this is easy enough. Gildarts, would you use that magic of yours and create us a pit? Dust, firewood, if you please." He spoke confidently, as if he had done this many times before. The ronin's gaze turned to the almost lifeless doll. It was ignorant and lost. Takezo thought he should at least try to include it, but he did not know how. Could it follow orders, or just mimic them?

Meanwhile, Gildarts picks a nice little clearing. "This looks good right here." He pretty much knew what the Ronin was thinking. He had done something similar now and then while he was away from civilization. The only difference is he had magic, the swordsman had to dig it by hand. "Watch your heads," he warned. With a single, devastating punch to solid earth, the ground broke apart. The resounding crunch was almost like thunder as cubed bits fly up and away from the new formed crater.

Almost two foot deep, with Gildarts at the center, and a diameter of four foot. It was perfect for a massive bonfire if that was the plan. "How's this?" The crash mage dusted his hands off, his gaze flicking about to assess the damage he had created.

The swordsman had bolted to bat away a larger rock, but other than a pebble bumping against the doll's shoulder, it actually went surprisingly well. "Perfect." It took only a glance to notice the devastation caused by Gildart's punch. He made a note never to take one of those to the face, the Rage Mage's blast did not seem nearly as destructive.

Dust returned dragging a downed tree behind him. It was dead, obviously felled during a storm or some other natural cause. "All in one, twigs, dead leaves, and logs!" The find was great, considering it just needed a bit of trimming to work for the best. The log would not even need splitting, thanks to its slender trunk.

"Dust.... No one has an axe..." It would seem Takezo was not privy on the upside of summoning using Omnilium.

Meanwhile, he was using that sword to decapitate the boar. The head was thrown into the forest line as well. He hacked off shanks and ribs, yielding four meaty monsters of meat. Simple, elegant, and soon to be delicious. He then cut lines into the meat, to help it cook deeper, faster.

"How... new are you?" Gildarts questioned, as he steps out of his hole. Dust was already working on the ax to cut up the tree, but Gil saw an opportunity. With another little love tap, the tree is broken down into chunks.

Dust is left there cradling a woodsman's ax at the end of it. A little heart broken. "Aww."

The ronin smirked. "You're destruction is an art form. With a little more practice on controlling the shrapnel, you could make a one man quarry." That was a compliment, considering in his time quarry owners were quite wealthy. "Or learn to control what you destroy to create works of art by flicking blocks of stone. That would be fascinating magic to see." Almost absentmindedly, he added a statement that seemed more a thought spoken aloud. "There is a certain beauty in destruction."

[Simon]

A sharp knocking jostled Dante from his brief nap. He snorted with momentary confusion as he stumbled awake, lifting his head to observe the disturbance. Someone was at the door.

"Just a moment," Dante groaned out, still needing to shake off his drowsiness. The devil hunter pulled himself up, spilling small heaps of warm bathwater over the sides of the ingrained tub. In his mind, a cozy little soak seemed like something that could take his mind off the concerns at hand. Unfortunately, the treat only left him stewing in the thoughts of the half-blood's shortcomings so far, and how he seemed no further to a proper solution.

The Son of Sparda happened to need a few important things, ultimately. Power, integrity, peace of mind. A way home. At the moment, what he most importantly needed was a pair of pants.

After a half-hearted effort to dry himself, Dante reached back and pulled the plug on the tub, draining away the water. Replacing the towel on the rail, the mercenary swiped a set of dark cargo pants in exchange. With practiced motions, he took his briefs and pants by the hem, and shoved his legs through the holes all at once.

The knocking came again. Dante did not respond, sharing the impatience of his apparent client. His dressing pace doubled regardless, pulling socks and boots on in record time. With at least his lower half dressed, the devil hunter settled for that and shoved his way out of the steaming bathroom.



The platoon commander was about to knock a third time when their objective finally threw open the door to the back rooms. Whatever the Stormtroopers were expecting, they were at least grateful that the mercenary wore pants. That still left his upper half undressed, however, exposing a handsome map of battle scars and his mop of clean pearl hair-

"Well, folks," the half-devil spoke, perching his hands on his hips, "I hope you're not looking for business, because we're not open."

The two soldiers standing behind their leader exchanged glances, their expressions hidden under the visages of their smoothed helmets. With the forthcoming that the underlings lacked, the Stormtrooper commander stood up straight, looking Dante in the eyes. "We respect your downtime, Mr. Redgrave" came the neutral voice from beyond a digital voice box, "But as it happens, the Empire has matters that demand the attention of an experienced Prime such as yourself."

Those blue eyes of the devil hunter narrowed ever so slightly, failing to figure out whatever guise lay below the plastic armor. "Turning to mercenaries for help? That's kind of a low point, don't you think?" The question came out as dismissive and condescending, but Dante had no intentions to apologize for it. To his surprise, the troopers seemed to take no offense.

"Indeed. We're at our wit's end trying to contain this outbreak of destruction," the commander conceded, to the silent agreement of her company. "I'm commissioning you because you have fought this enemy before. An organization by the name of Nebula."

That tidbit of information certainly got a raise of the eyebrow from Tony. He crossed his arms under his ribcage, exhaling a concern breath and breaking eye contact.

If only he even read the news, then perhaps he would've been painfully aware that Nebula was everywhere, and indeed was beginning to spiral out of the control of local authorities. Like everyone else, the summer Syntech event had willfully blinded Dante to the destructive matter until the forces of Nebula were too large to bear. The Stormtrooper commander saw reason not to blame the devil hunter for it, and thought that the best penance would just be finishing what he started.

Maybe something else along the lines, too, to prove loyalty to the Empire. In due time, of course.

"Think of this as unfinished business, Redgrave," The leader's voice came out more tame, definitely trying to convince through tone. "We already have a team of Primes working on attacking the source. But squadrons are still seeping through the cracks, and it will be all for nothing if we can't protect-"

That sentence came to an abrupt end as Dante turned and yanked his longcoat from its hook on the wall. With a whip of the coat-tails, the Son of Sparda swung the article over his head and slipped his arms through all at once. Still shirtless, but sporting his signature gear nonetheless, the devil hunter shook the last drops of bathwater from his head and looked to the Stormtroopers.

"You had me at Nebula."

To reflect what Gildarts has already mentioned: this won't be affiliated with the official Dark Data event threads going on. It's just a threat for plot reasons.

[Dust]

Dust was left covered in dirt and holding his summoned ax while his friend and teacher bond. But despite the circumstances, he was glad to hear the two getting along. He leaves the wood cutting tool on the ground just outside the hut and lets the older men bond while he tends to the booze a bit. Like stocking his own bar Dust puts the bottles in the many hidden shelves of the newly formed hut. He found a cold station with ice and running water, anything they’d need to pass a safety inspection regardless if they used it or even received one. He was still working on it when he smelt the stomach gripping scent of wild boar on a fire.

It reminded him of his night with Illidan and Gil, roasting bear through the night and feasting on it while they got to know one another. He wondered what the dark elf was up to. Doing so though made the contractor remember poor Jak. He fished out his phone from his pocket by the jelly-fish that still dangled from his shorts.

He paused to watch the cell-phone ornament swing freely, his face turning warm as he remembered what happened on the beach. In a flash he was back on the surf, Desman picking Jak up off of Ash and the demonic woman standing up with a smile, brushing the sand off her body. She wasn’t carrying anything, how could she with so little clothing? Even her bikini wasn’t fit to be called such. He’d asked if he could exchange numbers with her so he could check on the little guy.

She took his phone and set it up to sync with whatever device she had, then put it right next to her temple. It was strange, but everything about her kind of came off as odd. With a smile, she returned his phone, and in his contacts was a name, number, and another way to get in contact with her. ‘Shock and Awe’ was her e-mail. He realized it was the only contact he had, now that he was staring down at it in reality and in his memory. ”Call me anytime, stud.” She had said, giving him a wink. ”Even if it’s not important..” She’d told him, then walked away shaking her hips.

Dust found himself staring at her even implanted picture, it was a close up of her mouth in a half-cocked grin. He wondered when she took it, how did it get on his phone so fast, and did that lip piercing hurt?

He thought about calling her right at that second, the trip out here took at least an hour. However, they might be sleeping now, how heavily toasted Jak was that was probably the truth. Instead, he tapped the wet screen a couple times to bring up the text message menu, then keyed in a quick message: ‘Hey, how is Jak doing?’

Hokori hit enter and then pushed his phone back in his pocket to keep it on his person. As he did he stared down at the last half of booze that needed to find its way to the shelves when something flickered just outside his vision.

Alert to danger even in a relaxed setting, Dust turned to face whatever it was that opposed him in a time of peace, ready to rake his claws across someone’s face only to find a peculiar… thing.

While it looked alien at its finest adjective, it was somewhat familiar to Volk. He has only seen a Doll at work once in his life, but it would never be forgotten. There in the shifting sands was a formless spector, translucent and hard to see if you didn’t focus on it properly. It looked like ghostly goo, a bulbous head lifting into the air about half a foot with three dark spots slowly moving in the center. It floated like air but looked like liquid. It was his Doll observing him. This was both strange and exciting.

A Doll’s job usually consists of information gathering or keeping tabs of the field. Like he used to be they were stripped of emotions but were often notoriously useless for anything that required self-action. While a contractor was limited in how they reacted, they were fully capable of thinking for themselves. Often it was for self-preservation purposes. That tended to mean a lot of different things. Dust learned quickly if he did not do as he was told, his Russian master’s would test how much his body could take. Often his punishment was brutal, and always it left him with more than one scar.

Between their brainwashing and what he had to do to do what they wanted, it was a wonder how he survived. Of course, he was young. Still. His body could take more punishment than most of the other soldiers who were in their 50’s or older.

Dolls had other functions, though what those could be were beyond him exactly. The only one he came in contact with before this one had given them a report on the situation before he and whoever was responsible for taking him out on a walk that night was sent in to do the dirty work. He didn’t know much beyond what he was exposed to. But he’d seen those kinds of spectators dotting the whole place.

Apparently, the mediums that the dolls use to send their amorphous spectors through could be just about anything. As long as they were in contact with the medium, they can watch a target from a surprising distance away... Lycan wouldn’t know what his medium was until he went out and found Hoseki, but he could only guess at the moment.

The alarming part was that he must be doing this on his own accord. That didn’t mesh well with the information he had. According to the past, they weren’t supposed to do that. He remembers his care-taker telling him not to bother talking to it because the Doll wouldn’t even respond. Did Hoseki want to keep track of him?

Not knowing what else to do, he waved to Hoseki and then turned back to the unfinished business.

Ookami had purchased a limited amount of variety. Mostly it was vodka, sake, and rum, but in multiple flavors. As well, different strengths. Dust didn’t know what his companions liked, but he guessed Takezo liked aged sake, and Gildarts could drink anything. And Hokori? Well, the only drinks he’d enjoyed were made by the bartender at that local bar. With some bribing and some begging, the tender gave him the recipes to his favorite drinks and now he was going to attempt to make them for himself and his friends.

He made sure to also grab some finely brew beer for the groups in the case that was someone’s preference.

He took the top of one of the crates, slapped a large plate on it, stacked three shot glasses on one side, a bottle of rice whiskey, a bottle of rum, and mixed three tropical flavored drinks according to the recipes he’d gotten from the bartender, then proceeded to balance them on the makeshift serving plate as he rejoined his friends. In his other hand, he carried a bottle of spring water.

The large man’s shadow loomed over the Tamsin-Doll who was touching the ground with both hands. When his jewel like eyes looked up, Hoshi handed him the water. “It’s fine, Hoseki. I’m not going anywhere.” He assured the kid, whether he understood or not was beyond him though. The silent boy took the bottle and then settled back into his place while his Contractor left him to mingle with the older guys.

He set the drinks on a nearby rock that had been unearthed, making it a custom table for their drinks. “Okay, first time making them, so be nice.” Dust offered a smile as he offered his teacher and friend the mixed drinks.

Takezo eyed the colorful layers, stopping to comment. “I am done with the civil tone crap, you are old enough for my honesty and will take it like a man.” He straightened Dust out with his words before sipping the drink. It was mildly sweet, tastefully so instead of overpoweringly like the marshmallows he spat out in the fire. It had an exotic taste of fruit, which was quickly taken over by the burn of alcohol.

“You’re friend is not joining us?” Gildarts asked, lifting his brow and lifting the drink to his lips. He got the same notes of pineapple and mango with the alcohol after taste, which left a confusing impression on his throat as the liquid was cold but the proof was hot.

Dust still had a pout on his handsome face from Takezo’s comment when his teacher cut in. The youngest of the adults had his own mixed drink in hand. They were served in the most simple cups, he figured presentation wasn’t that important to any of them, but he kinda missed the orange slice on the side. When his Doll came into the forefront of the conversation again, the younger male looked away like has done this whole time. “No. I think he’s too young to drink.” He muttered before taking a long drink of his own mixed drink. The amateur bar-tender stopped and pulled his glass away to eye the cup for a moment before smiling up at the two and licking his lips. “Hey! That’s almost as good as the old-man's.” Dust celebrated, effectively sidestepping the issue.

Gildart’s was willing to let it go while they’d been on the beach but now that he could properly teach the youngster a lesson he wasn’t about to let Dust escape his questions now. “What do you mean you think?” He kept his voice leveled. “He’s your secondary, isn’t he?”

SW-808 froze at the continuation of the conversation, and then took another long drink as he looked away. He knew he couldn’t outrun Gil all night, so he should give him some kind of answer. “He is... But he’s sorta mute. He doesn’t talk much..” He finally said. It was all true, as true as he could say without saying what he tried to avoid admitting. Dust’s dark gray eyes avoided Gildart’s.

But because the crash mage couldn’t see the difference between that and the truth, he let it go for now. It was true that some Primes accidentally summoned people, maybe that was the case. Maybe it was simple as that, Dust didn’t know anything about the single-braid boy because it wasn’t a familiar face. He let it go for now. “What’s his name? You should at least know that.”

Volk looked up sheepishly but nodded. “His name’s Hoseki.” He shared. But it was half truthful and half a lie. It was the only name the contractor had to give, but it was probably not the Doll’s real name. “Like... Gem. Or Jewel.” He translated.

Gildarts nodded but dismissed it. “Can we trust him.”

Dust pulled away from hiding behind his glass. “Of course we can.” He sounded offended... But why? This surprised even the Lady-Killer.

Silence hung in the air, only the fire crackling and the crickets chirping disturbed their pause.

The Strongest Prime finally nods and turns to enjoy his drink while he watched Takezo’s boar cook. After a couple of sips, he noticed the other things his student brought out. “What’s that?” He motioned to the oddly white bottle, Japanese characters in bold strokes formed the words that explained to Takezo and Hokori what it was, but if Gildarts did not read kanji he’d never know.

Takezo’s eyes light up when he see’s the bottle. “Sake!” He moved over to the pretend table and abandoned the tropical mix of rum and juice for a shot glass and the bottle. “Rice whiskey.” He further explained, then popped the cork out with his teeth and spit the stopper into the unknown before pouring a hearty shot. The liquid was just slightly amber in color and gorgeous in aroma. As soon as it slipped past his lips he was transported back.

To a room with paper walls, soft tangy music, the scent of tobacco and sage heavy in the room, smoke clinging in the air, and a gorgeous woman performing for him and him alone.

“Try it.” Dust offered, taking the bottle from Takezo and refilling his shot before pouring one for Gildarts. “It’s a local drink from where we are from. At least, where I was from originally.” He informed, his words stopping where it had sounded like he wanted to say more. His hand tipped the lip of the bottle back before he over-filled the shot. Gildarts watched him carefully.

What the two knew of the young man before them, it was strangely heartbreaking to watch his mood grow heavy so suddenly. Dust has consistently been in the best of moods and has worn a smile since meeting them both.

He must have noticed the two were staring because when he looked up he was wearing that signature smile. “Sorry about that!” He said, but offered no explanation, he only offered the shot. Then he poured himself one and held it up for a toast. “Kanpai! Cheers to our friendship!” Ookami exclaimed with some force and then the glasses clashed gently together before all three of them took the shot at their own pace. Dust threw it back uncharacteristically fast, the other two took their time.

Hoseki drank with them, but from his cheap plastic, flimsy bottle.

[Gildarts]

Below Miss Stormtrooper’s silver tinted helmet she had to smirk, cocky. She liked it. The natural flirt held her tongue though. This was business, not pleasure. She’d been called in for overtime, making her eleven thirty shift and extending it past dawn. Luckily she could drink energy inducing coffee on the ride there. She had he coordinates for the islands in her sector, she had her squad, plus one. The smile on her plump and masked lips held. She’d made an amazing choice recruiting this man. Now, content with her choice it was time.

“Let’s roll out boys!” she commanded, charisma and authority in both her body language and her march as the others fell in step, their footfalls followed hers exactly on mark.

From just her outer shell, one at a glance could note that this trooper, while her voice was disguised in a unisex digital voice box, she was not like the others. It was not just her high station, nor her chrome and black detailed armor. She had multiple weapons slung every which way, carbine hanging off her back. A belt full of gear and grenades. She was not your classic trooper from just a single look. She was someone who had been readying for wear her whole life. Dante would hate to go against this brawny macho dude and was glad they were allies, the similarities between he and the silver layered storm trooper was there in both obvious and subtle places. Proficient in many weapons. Keen in command.

Next, there was the curious recruitment of a prime. She’d known just where to look, what door to knock on. Dante flicked his albino hair and allowed the moon to glint off of it in silver shards. Both he and the anonymous yet flashy trooper were catching the silver strands of light.

“Redgrave,” the digital voice commanded in a firmness despite the monotone and uniform box. In her hand she was holding the coordinates in a holographic tablet in her hands and also had it synced up to her night-vision visor, “These are the coordinates. I’m glad to have you with us. If you help us extract the civilians successfully, you’ll be rewarded.” Money. Bribery was good for a merc.

Miss Stormtrooper though, had her own reasons for his recruitment. Selfish, be as they may, what wouldn’t she do to save innocent lives?

“My name is Commander Clark. I’m heading up this mission, this is my platoon. I trained them myself, so they’re not like any other Empire drones who wear the badge without the balls or skill to back it up,” Redgrave looked at the men. The dots connected from his original observation, he nodded. Distinguished lines he could make out along the trace decals of the other stormtrooper elite.

“What are those, commander?” he gestured to the lines that had more or less covered the men’s legs. Individual cuttings, tallies, like you’d see along a prison wall.

“Kill count.” She grinned and he could hear it in the digital voice. “Some of them have run out of space and have gotten creative. We kill monsters in the Deeps, men who become monsters. Murderers. Invaders like Nebula need to be stopped. We don’t just do it for the kills, but the lives saved too. But I have a little bit of a running with my boys. Once they cover their whole armor inside and out with the engravings and markings, I buy them an upgrade personally. Any color suit they want. Any kind of suit they want. Jimmy over there wants a fuckin’ jetpack. AND YOU’LL GET IT TOO!” she called out to him as she pointed to one particularly tall trooper, his head bobbed above the rest of the moonlit helmets.

“Interesting,” Dante reflected. He thinked he respected this branch in Costa Del Sol just a little more than the Coruscant based Empire.

“More like fuckin’ savage,” she snirked back. “Choose your words wisely. Else you might just get yourself punched for it. Their manners aren’t always the best when dealing with recruited outsiders. But I figure if we get corrupted and go down, I’d rather give the survivors we are rescuing a chance to live with a prime. I saw your fight in the games with Gildarts. You fought well against the crashmage. He’s a fuckin’ beast.”

She didn’t mention how she’d seen him today. Pleasure didn’t mix with business. This wasn’t small talk to her, it was briefing. “I want to talk about some of your maneuvers. Forgive me for presuming, but I think I have a few tips on how to slay our current enemy faster. The Empire honestly don’t have that much intel on Nebula’s Hellhounds. Get too close though and they’ll infect you. That’s why I brought you this. I can’t even be sure it’ll work, but it’s for you.”

She pat his back with the strength of a man and pushed Dante forward mid-step. He nearly slipped. A greasy white sheen glinted over him. “It is elite technology. They don’t even make this fuckin’ stuff. I don’t either. But I have very good, savvy connections with engineers. They’re a little illegal, but I make a deal with them.” she wiggled her brows though he couldn’t see it. Corruption? Sure, but it was motherfuckin’ worth while.

“Paying you means you keep your mouth shut about that and my sources though,” she continued her session.

“What is it?” Dante’s hand extended out in front of him and as though he were wearing a second glove about an inch from his fingers, ripples of static light extended.

“It is the best shield you can get. We’d be in deeper shit if you got corrupted. My men have one that is similar, but slightly less effective. Yours is a prototype, but I’ve tried it my fuckin’ self underwater several missions ago. It is fuckin’ flawless.” She had a bit of a sailor’s mouth, but what marine didn’t? She had the baddassery, wit, and retorts so far to back it up.

The respect was nearly instant, though she was just a secondary with the same visored “face” as the other twenty men in her ‘toon. They were nearing the army’s sectioned off dock. The chrome commander was instantly waved through and she walked across the gate with a strut as the guardsman inspected the prime with a glare he could feel through the visor. “Who’s that?”

She spoke simply, “He is with me. Lieutenant.” Those were the magic words. No further questions. Clark got shit motherfuckin’ done.

“Right boys, you ready to slay some bitches and rescue the survivors?” Clark said as they all boarded a docked imperial boat, it was a more of a warship, but it was smallish considering the other submarines surrounding the bay had enough space for F-22 and spacecraft alike to land.

But, every inch was utilized, and there were space for plenty of survivors. They filed underneath the deck and her men strapped in. Why? They were just on a boat? “You better do the same, Redgrave, we move pretty fast, that’s why she’s this size. Nimble. Gets me where I need my men to be quick.”

Dante assessed the half-lit cargo area with seats lining against the wall, like that of a movie theater, their seats flipped down. Conserving space, smart.

“Right, there’s a few things we do know about Nebula’s bitches. Not all of them deserve to die, they were, after all, turned from our own Vasty Deeps residents. But they’re gunning to decapitate you without a fuckin’ single hesitation. And if it comes down to it, you’ve my permission to shoot to kill. I’d rather save the uninfected than risk you men dying for a plague that may not have a cure. I’m told there are Primes on the frontlines of the invasion. We won’t be going to aid them. That’d be suicide. We’ll rack up the survivors, rescue them. Prevent further takeover, if we can. Our mission: Save the uninfected. There’s plenty of standing room on this boat, it could hold three hundred civvies if we got creative. We’d just move a little slower. So men, are you ready to kill some mother fucking asshole Darkling scum?”

“Fuck yeah!” a chorus roared.

“That’s my men,” she commented, her gait wide before she was notified that they’d be departing. She sat down and showed them a map which expanded in front of all of them on a holograph, due to the display of the tablet she’d been carrying.

“In our sector, they sent us to some pretty dangerous spots, islands in dire need of evacuation. Highlighted in the x’s are our targets. Suvivors are hunkered down in their bunkers, waiting there for us. We haven’t got time to twiddle our fucking thumbs, so we are going to haul fucking ass and get in there. Those red blotches you see on the map are where the artillery of the islands is facing the most resistance. That means the Darklings are overwhelming those locations. Soldiers are dying. Innocent people are dying. Let’s remember why we are here. Let us remember, in this moment, why we fight.”

There was a reason she was the commander of the most elite non-prime stormtrooper unit in the Vasty Deep. She preferred it out here in the unknown rather than cooped up in the stuffy city with lawmen breathing down her neck. She wasn’t that type of trooper, she wasn’t the type to be kept on a leash. Her gaze flicked to Dante, he could tell because her neck had twisted like an owl’s as her helmet slowly turned.

“Do you copy? I mean, understand the plan?” she asked the Prime.

“Slay some of Nebula’s darkspawn, right?” Dante said back, breifly.

“That’s right. Feel free to get creative. My boys like to show off in battle, you best earn your keep and impress them. You’re the first prime to ever even temporarily join our forces.” she stated, almost proud.

Dante merely nodded and his eyes fell back on the glowing geographically accurate map.

“Our radar scanned maps are usually very accurate, that’s why I’d like to point out the storm moving into the furthest island. Good thing we are going there first, do you see? This is the route we are taking back.” Commander Clark pointed and a glowing orange line was highlighted back, “Though, we might need to improvise, could get a little bumpy.”

Suddenly Clark held a hand up to the side of her helmet, “Go for Clark,” she commanded and listened to the information being fed to her within the confines of her silver-coated, ceramic-looking shade.

“You worthless piece of shit!” she growled, “That’s it. I’m coming up there.”

She unclipped her seatbelt and clamoured up the metal stairs with curt steps, tempered with anger.

Something told Dante that it was a bad idea to get on that man’s bad side. The demon prince’s eyes fell on the shining armor of those around him, elite platoon, huh? They all looked uniform, except for their all very unique kill counts. Perhaps that was the reason she let them keep count. So they’d all have unique stripes, like tigers in battle. Earned with bloodspill. It was brutal, but also a bit genius. Most of the deceased likely deserved it. He got the idea she slayed a lot of non-human monsters, which set Dante at ease. Yet another thing he had in common with Clark.

The boat continued to throttle forward, like a rocket eternally blasting off. The superior technology had thrusters that were blue and frothing with hyper-soundwaves that he could hear whirling despite the very thick outer shell this versatile boat was armored with. Likely one of Clark’s “kind of illegal” investments. This type of savvy, however, was likely the reason that Clark was one of the best. Elite didn’t equal ‘by the book’ but it did mean that they were well-versed fighters. Likely among the best in the Omniverse. He was thankful they were fighting on the right side.

Soon enough, the immense buzzing of the rippling shivers that cascaded through the vibrating metal slowed and the men waited for Clark to come down (or send them the command through their built-in communicators) for the direction to clear out. The commander’s clinking was sounding through the hollow belly of the steel ship as she descended the stairs.

“Well what are you pussies waiting for? HAUL FUCKING ASS!” she shouted and the voicebox blared with sharp tones. The men all simultaneously unclipped their restraints and began their ascent. “You too!” She hollered in a much more kindly voice, “Prime you’re with me.”

Above deck. It was Hell. Clark’s eyes scanned the scene as she was pelted with unearthly hail, gusts of surging wind, and precipitation spraying against her visor in sheets. She blinked, getting accustomed to the shitty weather as the dew accumulated in beads on her shaded glass. They’d arrived at the first island, their most intense checkpoint. In the shade of night, it was difficult even with tech-granted night vision to make out anything. Heat vision helped a lot and she told her men to switch to that via radio.

“Confirmed. Copy.” they replied back.

“Welcome to Hell, Redgrave. Also known as the frontlines and no-man’s land, though I bet you’ve been here before.” Clark stated with a slight incline to her tone, barely detectable in her voicebox.

Oh, if only he knew. Dante thought regarding Commander Clark.

Through Dante’s vision, he had a keen, experienced eye when catching the shadows of demons. Even through the storm, he could sense their tainted, corrupted presence crawling beneath his skin. Making his flesh warm with heat and power. His blood began to pound as the ramp ported to the land.

All along the shoreline, the charts shown their route behind the stormtrooper’s visors. Dante didn’t have one, but he’d gotten a good enough look at the map. Plus, he was considered “the help” in this situation. The soldiers had their job, extract the civilians. And Dante had his, what he was getting paid for. Ridding the battlefield of the bombardment of the closest thing to a demon in the Deeps, save himself.

“Redgrave, let’s clear these fuckers a path so they can get to the bunker where the civvies are huddled down. Eh?” she proposed.

“I couldn’t agree more.” he said with a nod, his expression serious. There was no time to waste. It was time to start de-shelling these electric, remote-controlled, sad excuses for hellspawn.

“Right. Grenade out!” She shouted, as commonly as a golfer would yell fore! down the golf course and she chucked a blue illuminated grenade into a hoard of flickering dark wings. Yes, they were actually flying in this hellish weather.

An explosion of static cascaded through the sky, transferring like lightning in the already cataclysmic storm. The water and high precipitation rate had made the stunning zap of electricity transfer through the close-flying fleet of the Darkling swarm like dominoes. They all fell as one and their wings froze due to the debilitating volts of electricity. Clark was ruthless, she didn’t even wait until they’d hit the flat ground before pulling out her gun and mowing them down.

Cackling sparks of electricity continued around the ebony-polished shells as more lead bullets poured into the beasts. No mercy, even for the spawn who had been ‘Deep natives and turned. Sacrifices needed to be made in war to save those who were still salvageable. Plus, finishing off the contaminated meant less to get contaminated in the islands to come. Calculations and tactics were steep and harsh, but cauterizing the wound before it could get worse was generally the right call.

Well, Dante wasn’t going to let her have all the fun, the troopers rolled out behind the two leaders, Clark and Dante, as they paved the way.

…

Meanwhile, on an island with three Primes on it, with one doll…

They were talking about Jewel, Gildarts was moderately intrigued. Takezo and Dust were to be his apprentices, Dust, moreso. Takezo was stoking the fire. Gildarts guessed this would be a flash-flame cooking technique, one likely invented by travelers like themselves. The Prime smiled. He was relaxing. The humble tunes of music filled his ears with sweet, zen vibes and the ginger sat back in his chair looking off at the rippling waves. He had no way of knowing, just beyond many miles of ocean, people were fighting for their lives. All that, was shaded by darkness, the darkness, of a lack of knowledge.

“I’ll start with beer first,” Gildarts said calmly. Hard liquor was tough on his old-man, and very.. .Tempered stomach. He never, never announced it. But part of it had been damaged in the fight against the demonic death dragon, Acnologia. “My tolerance has been shot for years. I don’t get the privilege of safe drinking very often.”

“Safe drinking?” Takezo parroted. “But you are a man!”

“A dangerous one,” Gildarts said as he let a refreshing ahh flow forth from his lips after taking a sip of a chilled beer Dust had cracked open for him and poured in a stein. “I don’t like to endanger the innocent. Even my sneezes can kill people!” he stated and waited for the exasperated look on the swordsman. The samurai wasn’t quite shocked though, it wasn’t new knowledge for him, he’d bore witness on the beach.

“You, fine sir, would be very rich where I hail from,” Takezo said as he the smoldering meat cooked.

“You know, I don’t really have many friends. Allies, sure, but you’re the closest thing I’ve gotten, aside from Guu and my daughter.” Gildarts reflected. It wasn’t too early in the night to get nostalgic. The tunes were playing, their stomachs were about to be filled with wonderful, tender meat and Gildarts was already sipping the beer. He wasn’t too eager, but the mage was a lightweight from either months or years of a dry spell. The man deserved a medal, and another drink. Dust was serving them all up, they’d experiment their tastes together, and Gildarts was willing to try a few sips of whiskey, if he was served them.

The ocean temperately whispered on in the distance, the beautiful colors molding into the lovely little buzz he was starting to get from his booze. The lightness on his shoulders was refreshing, a welcomed vacation from the mighty Atlas’s burden. Yes, this moment, full of goodness, was paradise. And he had hopes that soon Takezo would fill his empty plate with a well-seasoned freshly slain meal.

[Oleander]

Takezo may not have been an experienced cook, but he was well versed in minimalist style of flavor. As the meat began dripping juices, he took a break from the flame to fetch a rather lovely smelling bottle of wine. He sat it by his seat at the fire, then walked to the edge of the wood line and started to climb a tree. The man did so quite elegantly, as if he were part monkey.

He was only off the ground for a few moments, to cut a couple of the long leafs from the tree. He lept down with them in tow and returned to the fire. "When I was young, I learned this trick from the old woman I was staying with." Was the swordsman opening up? It felt only right, but the slight hint of alcohol in his blood might be skewing his judgement here.

He took one stick at a time and doused it lightly with the wine, getting into the fat dripping cuts he had made, and along the tougher exterior to soften it up. He then quickly wraps each chunk in the green leaf and sat it back over the fire to finish cooking. 

Dust was staring at the hunks of meat. It looked good before, but now the swordsman had apparently gone gourmet. Gildarts was leaning in, enjoying the scent of sweetened meat and the smell of fatty grease as it dripped out of the leaves and into the fire.

Content with his job, he sat back on his rock and took another sip of his sake, to find that the paper cup was emptied. He frowned slightly. Had he really drank through it that fast? "Another round, my friend? I fear after we eat the alcohol might not bite quite as nice." Dust tossed Takezo the sake gourd, which the swordsman expertly caught.

"Don't forget to save me some," Dust reminded him. He had no idea how heavy a drinker Takezo was. With Dust's luck, he may have to pluck an empty gourd from an unconscious man in an hour or so. "

With a chuckle, the ronin nodded his agreement. "Very well, but you should have brought one as payment to the cook." Dust's eyes peered back at the meat. Takezo was not wrong, but he had no idea they would be eating so 'fancy' for a guy's night out. "I see you eyeing them. Five more minutes. Unless you want it coming out the other end faster than it went in."

Gildarts chuckled. Food poisoning was something every traveler had to watch out for. There were only so many leaves, and hell hath no fury like picking the wrong leaf in the middle of the woods. "I can wait," the crash mage said, though he was starting to eye the large hunks of meat more eagerly now. The wine had given the flash cooked meat a whole new auroma, and the fat-greased leaves even started smelling good.


The next five minutes were filled with trivial banter every now and then, but for the most part Takezo was tending to turning the meat and Dust was busy salivating over it. Even Gildarts had leaned forward, arms propped on knees, to enjoy the smell.

"It should be safe now. I was not sure if your 'doll' eats, but there is one for him as well. I do believe our host should get first ... pick." The moment Dust was given the all clear, he stole a rack of ribs and began chowing down. The moment he realized Takezo's last words, he looked up, mouth complete with a meaty rib bone, with a look of a scolded puppy. If he had a tail, it would be between his legs.

"Go ahead, this one's mine." Gildarts goes for the meaty shank, the fat grease had dribbled down the stick and stirred the flame beneath it even more. The smell had enticed the mage for far too long.

Gildarts and Hakori both stopped as they watched Takezo eat. They had been peeling away the leaves to get at the meat, but the ronin was eating the grease and wine soaked greens, tenderized by the heat, along with the meat. Dust peers at half of the leaves on the ground and whines. To little too late. "You should have said the leaves were edible..."

"If they were not edible, I would not have put them on food." He made a fair point. To be fair though, Takezo shares a few of the large leaves with Dust, to make it more even. The leaves were tough and hearty. They were greasy, wine flavored and tender. It was the equivelant to vegetarian bacon with real pork grease action!

[Dust]

Dust shot his friend a look when he mentioned the Doll's title after he'd been careful to avoid the term around Gildarts. You know there is something wrong with what you are doing when you are trying to hide it from someone that you respect. He was no fool, he knew Gildarts had a high chance of not approving. How did he explain it though?

'See I was thinking about Tamsin and about how it would be convenient to have someone as cute as her around to kiss, and out popped Hoseki! Oh, by the way, he has no will and no way to say no. What? Why do I want someone to kiss? We'll see, about that! I am a different type of human, a satellite gives me my powers but at the cost of a kiss between 3 and 15 seconds depending on how powerful I want to be. 3-Seconds get me some claws and some teeth, 15 seconds will turn me into monstrous wolf. But I haven't been able to go werewolf since coming here, so I can only prove the first part. But that means someone has to kiss me.'

..Yeah... That will go great.

He turned back to his attention back to the food, the rack of ribs he’d snatched without thinking. He’d been picking the leaves off as he got to them, only to remember the countless dishes from his native land that had something of nature wrapped around the food. A type of rice-ball immediately came to mind. He tried it with it and found the taste to be the same, but stronger. Like dipping the pork into a bowl full of sauce, but without overpowering the senses.

He enjoyed it properly after that, eyeing the tree he’d climbed and wondering if he could remember the leaves for another time if it ever came. He eventually took up the small thing set aside for Jewel and brought it over to the doll. Slowly he understood, and the Hoseki began nibbling on the food while Dust planted his butt in the sand with his own drink.

He took a big drink of the mix before bringing his knees up and giving his arms something to hang over. Dust was still trying to find the words that would explain his situation in a way that wouldn’t be misunderstood. That would almost be impossible though, and deep inside he knew that if anyone was misunderstanding the implications, it was him. Hoseki - whoever this kid was - had been dragged away from his life the way Hokori had been.

He liked to imagine he helped the kid in some way... Because of the blood that had been on his face at the time of discovery. At what cost, though?

Rosie’s words echo through his soul once more.

He took another big drink, letting the mix burn away his problems one drink at a time. Pulling his cup from his lips he sent his voice in Takezo’s direction. “If you are such a master chef then why were we stuck eating rations all of Dante’s Abyss?” He joked, provoking his friend to smile.

“When did you expect me to cook? Or even hunt?” Takezo tossed it back at him. “We barely got any sleep.”

Dust let out a short laugh. “Gildarts and Illidan treated me to wild Bear.” He teased, taking a sip. “That was the first night, I think.” He added.

“We were lucky to find that.” Gildarts chimed in.

“You ate a bear?” Takezo asked, looking up from his food.

Dust cracked a smile at his friend. “It’s not the first time. I eat whatever they give me.” He said honestly but was vague about who ‘they’ were. He moved on, not offering an explanation for that either. If he out ran his own mind, there was no way they could keep up. Maybe that was the alcohol. “What about you? You seem well traveled.” He invited Takezo to talk about himself.

[Oleander]

The alcohol was setting in. Takezo felt the warmth fill his face and the tips of his ears and a smile split his features. He refilled his small paper cup with another round of the warm sake. "There is little to tell you, my friend. My mother left when I was young. Even sober, I struggle to remember her face." The old scars still sometimes burned, but right now the slight burn of warm sake helped masked the fragility that hid beneath Takezo's toughened exterior. The smile he bore did not fade, but a look of his eyes told just a hint of the sense of betrayal his mother instilled in him.

"My father trained me with the sword. He was a renowned samurai, I suppose he hoped that I would attract more glory to his name."

Dust chimed in with a small grin. "Sounds like he did a great job then, I've seen that sword in action!"

Takezo's gaze flicked to his friend. The look was not unkind, it was almost a laughing gaze. "He tried to cut me down when I shared his dream to become invincible under the heavens." Dust withdrew a bit, wincing at his poor choice of words. Don't compliment the abusive parent, that was a big no-no. "I ran away." Takezo turned, revealing his backside. There was a long scar on the left side of his spine, slanting from his neck to his hip. "He was almost successful, had I not been such a coward as a child."

Gildarts frowned. Something about this reminded him of his days of Fairy Tail. The advice he gave Natsu when he submitted in their fight on the island. He wanted to say something, but Takezo did not seem to be ashamed as much as he was willing to admit past failures. The intoxicated warrior did not speak in regret, more a slightly slurred historical recollection. Gildarts grinned a bit at the thought. "Fear can be a good thing. I take it that is the real reason you got stronger?"

He nodded in reply to the crash mage. "I lived alone in the forest for a while before I met an old woman... she was forgetful and a bit delirious. I stayed with her, but she hardly knew I was there. She cooked enough for her two sons, but I believe they were dead and gone. I never saw them. Just like she never really saw me. As long as I kept fire wood cut and meat in the smoke house, she never questioned where her sons were." He chuckled, not mischeviously but the sound was horribly misplaced. He took another swig of his wine, savoring the taste.

"Wait, she didn't know you were there? How is that possible?"

"She must have been senile. I imagine if you weren't there, she'd have died too."

"There is no doubt. Bandits and wild animals were both common as the rains in that mountain. She provided shelter and meals, I provided game and protection. She would wonder which of her sons left her to butcher their catch, but she did so, cooked and sold the pelts at market."

"But she didn't know you were there?" Dust seemed stuck on the fact.

Takezo rolled a shoulder. "I was the perfect parasite. Out of site and painless. I even warded off other, less honorable parasites." He chuckled again, as if there was anything to laugh about in this situation. "Though I would not say I protected that old woman for her sake. She was bait that made training easier. Challengers came to me." For a moment he had sounded almost benevolent and kind, but then he spun it into selfishness.

That is how Takezo saw himself, and all humans: selfish. They did what they wanted, and even benevolent acts could be rationalized as selfish acts. Do good to feel good. It is what separated the ronin from samurai. What would prohibit him from becoming a Kensei. "After that, my life is rather dull. I killed my first man when I was a boy. I stabbed him with a wooden stake when he refused to accept my challenge." A smirk split the man's rosy expression. "I took his sword as my winnings too, and left the fool with his own sign buried in his chest."

Dust and Gildarts seemed a bit shocked at that brutality. Not overly so, they both knew at this point Takezo grew up in a dark time, and that his personality was definitely more brutal and bloody than most. "How young, exactly?" Dust dared to guess.

"Thirteen winters."

"Why'd you kill him?" Gildarts inquired, without hesitation.

Another roll of the ronin's shoulder, Takezo hummed. "He had a sign issuing a challenge to any warrior in the village. Defeat him, earn a reward. He would not accept my challenge, so I forced him to fight. "He hesitated because I was a child... I called myself a warrior, even then. My age should have meant nothing to him, so long as I could fight. Children with no hand for war should be protected, not a boy with callused hands and scars deeper than his." Takezo took another swig from the paper cup, only to find it empty. He frowned at the realization, before tossing the paper cup into the flames.

He continued to drink from the gourd. The alcohol had loosened his lips quite a bit. His eyes were glazed, the lids weighted. The ronin swayed with the whims of the alcohol in his blood. "What about you?" It was a circle. Dust asked Takezo, Takezo asked Gildarts, and the swordsman assumed Gil would complete the cycle by asking Dust.

[Gildarts]

Gildarts blinked. He'd forgotten about the bear. Wild meat which they'd roasted on the fire. They'd encountered a competitor there and made trade. The king of destruction sighed as his mind clenched before unraveling into Takezo's story of self. It sounded.... So similar to Gildarts' own experience. He had... On some levels, run away too.

When Gildarts was called upon to speak, he sighed a heavy, burden releasing exhale. He had spoken his own story in anonymity around the other campfire, back on the ol' beach. The Prime pondered how savvy they would be to linking his story to the one on the beach. The drink was loosening his lips, the mage was relaxing, happy, his mind synchronizing with the music and the well-forged time.

Gildarts didn't want to talk about killing people, not as Takezo had, so freely. Even inebriated Gildarts had no desire to bring darkness to the light froth of buzzing conversation. It had been an open ended question, one left to tie by the mage who had been called.

"Hmm," the king of crash pondered aloud, something that well, didn't often happen. Then his face chipped with a smile, "I was always too strong for my own good. Always getting distracted by the true fineness that a woman could offer. She grounded me, at least for a little while. Then I moved onto the next, and the next. And the next after that."

Dust cleared his throat and both hoped to clear up his question, "Uh, women?"

Gil nodded, "The two somehow... Went hand in hand. Women, power, neither and yet also were my drug but none offered me control, nor clarity. Neither completely alleviated my pain, though both often caused it." The mage offered a mischievous smile and slurped another guzzle off his glass.

"It was when my quest to find out why this power was bestowed on me, of all mages, that I had sought meaning in love. There was only one woman that I ever did fall for..." Gildarts smiled and thought of Cornelia, and how just this morning he had held their daughter in his arms. Bittersweet melancholy submerged Gildarts' free mind. He was free to feel pain wholly, and tender agony was delivered with this all too raw memory.

"Oh? Did it work out?" Though, he didn't currently have her by his side, which could've answered the booze-driven question.

The ginger's head was shaken, "Needless to say, man eternally quests for happiness until he realizes it was within him all along. I was stolen from Magnonia of Earthland by Omni but I do the same thing as I did there. I fight, I help people, and perhaps most importantly, I encounter people who challenge me in a fight."

Dust and Takezo's eyes glinted at Gil's natural charisma, spreading like wind under a storm cloud, so easily, now that everyone had taken a sip or two.

"That's why," he heard his own lips drag, "Dust and I shall train and spar. For. The. Fun."

The challenge had been proclaimed. Would it be accepted sooner rather than later?

[Dust]

Dust watched as Shinmen spilled his backstory across the sands and arranged the characters in the light as a mysterious man did. He could almost see the ink stain his fingertips from his place on ground nearest Hoseki. He could also see a similar story to his own, branded on the Ronin's back. Men like them, all three of them, had many scars, and some were so deep they couldn't be seen by the naked eyes. Even as Takezo flipped the brush in his hand and tossed it to Gildarts to pain the next picture, Dust still stared at the ground where the truths of a man laid.

He was under no illusion that Takezo was a normal man, but he felt nothing less than friendship and respect for the man. Even admitting that he'd parasitized off a woman didn't change his image. In some strange way, the contractor felt he could relate. Not exactly, never exactly. The two Japanese men lived too different of lives and too far apart in time to ever compare. There were similarities, but nothing very solid. They shared a country, a language, and the love for a good fight. However, they would never be the same man. That was neither a good thing or a bad thing, just facts.

Dust had already become very aware that the scary story on the beach that Gildarts had told was his own. He didn't have time to bring it up before the Crash Mage was already humoring the ronin with some extra bits of information. The alcohol was working its magic on them all it would seem, but not enough for the strongest of the three to spill every thing. The other two may never know the truth about his daughter, after all that wasn't any of their business. Neither would live fuller lives because of it, presumably, and neither would be worse off for not knowing it. If it ever became relevant, maybe he'd confine in Hokori's willingness to listen. Surely the kid had left his mark on them both already in some manner.

He sure felt their marks deepening on him.

Always the one to twist reality his way, including conversations, Gildarts spoke of Omni ripping him from his home with some bitterness.  Nothing much has changed for the magic user, as it seemed nothing has changed for the wielder of the sword among them, but it has done nothing but changed for the youngest member. Dust looked into waves of his drink, getting lost in the truths that swirled in his cup. He gave the man close buy a half laugh, it almost sounded like the older man was challenging him now.  For the fun of it, he says. The contractor was almost willing to take him up on that offer instead of thinking about more serious topics. His large hand tilted from side to side as he stirred what was left of his drink the glass, the ice chunks clinking against the clear solid object. Maybe another drink?

He looked up at Takezo, wondering if he should bother the ronin for the sake...

When he looked up again, he noticed they both were looking at him, as if expecting the youngster to follow suit.

Wolf felt warm in the cheeks before looking down and to the side, avoiding eye contact for a moment. He sighed and then turned back to his drink where he swallowed the last bit. He sat the glass down in the sand instead of putting it back where he was sure it would be safe.

"I guess it's my turn, huh?" He asked with a smirk and a soft laugh before focusing on something that wasn't there. In the silence, he gathered the words to explain his origin. Takezo knew about his power and the cost, but nothing beyond that and a few questions before.

"There's not really much to tell." He started, stroking the glass that was covered in condensation. "I am only 27." He admitted but realized only then how old he was... Has it really been 10 years? Only 10? He looked over to see if anyone was just as surprised as him at his age. He couldn't tell in the dim light. He shifted uncomfortably.

"My real mother died when I was born, later I found out she was murdered. But not until her murderer found her way into mine and my father's life. We were a happy family until something happened. We took one last family trip to the mountains of Russ- Well, a very cold and mountainous place in the world." He explained, pausing to wonder if this was a bit dark, only to remember the only questionable innocent was a Doll. "She drugged us the first night and then tortured us for 3 days before revealing she was the one that killed my mother and then killed my father. I feinted weakness, and when she untied me to set me up for the same treatment, I revealed my hand."

He struggled not to look up at this point, he didn't want to see what they were thinking of him...

"My contract activated that night... So it's kind of a blur. I just remember hunting her down in the snow storm and waking up with her head in my lap." He could see it even now. Face frozen in fear, eyes rolled back, gelled slush like blood escaping the neck. He never found the body, but he could only imagine what he'd done based off what he was capable of. She was cunning and a bitch, but she was not anything special... Just a normal human girl with the drive to do crazy things but no fight in her when confronting anything stronger than her. Her neck had had a clean cut, so he assumed it had been a simple task even then.

"After that, I wondered into town, and a group of people showed up shortly later to claim me as a stray. I think I was spared because I was supposedly useful. In my world, I was a monster that was to be under lock and key and not let out unless I was helpful. I was caged physically on top of being caged mentally by my own contract." He rubbed the back of his neck, his hand running along the thick black numbers that have been branded into the left side of his neck. One could only guess what the numbers might have meant if the brand had been his choice... "They tagged me like some animal, then beat me until I learned how to act in the way they wanted. When they were done with me, they had a powerful weapon they could walk around with on a leash. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn't feel what it was like to have broken pride?"

It was hard to interrupt a story like that, but one of them braved it for a moment to ask: "What do you mean by that?"

Dust still couldn't' bear the thought of looking up. Funny how at the time he hadn't been able to feel shame, but now he feared they would think less of him now. "Before Omni saved me from my death... As a contractor, I couldn't feel emotions. I know what I should have been feeling at the time, anger, resentment, youthful defiance, pain, frustration... Sadness. But I couldn't. I felt nothing. I was incapable of feeling anything." A thick silence took over. It hung in the air and no one could speak for a few minutes before Ookami finally broke its spell. "Everything has a cost, everything." He let his eyes flick up to the Doll beside him, before looking away again. "As a contractor, we give up everything that makes us human to become a monster that runs on logic. You hope the power that you received is worth the payment you are forced to endure; sometimes that payment isn't just the ritual your contract demands of you; sometimes the ritual itself has a cost. Mine is manageable compared to some of the others. "

Gildarts' turn. "What is your ritual?"

The aged man watched the large youth shy away from his question, but after a moment he seemed to gather the necessary courage to tell another soul. "My ritual is a kiss. Between three and fifteen seconds." He braved a glance at Takezo, but no higher than his leg, then he looked away just as fast. Before Gildarts could inquire his power, Dust might as well share everything. "For it, I transform. I used to be able to turn into a creature of myth, but since coming to the Omniverse I've been reduced to only transforming my nails into claws and my teeth into sharper teeth." It was that moment that Lycan considered the possibility of there being a connection between his lack of power and his ability to feel anything. This disturbed him, but he let it go.

He looked back at the Doll, who now looked in his direction again. Should he come clean?

"In... Addition to contractors." He started, looking away from his personal mess. "My world had these things called Dolls. I don't know how they are made, but they start as human. Like me and you, but then they are stripped of all individual thought and emotions. Unlike contractors, they are powerless other than creating these spectors that they use to observe things with. Generally, we use them for spying or information gathering... But I've heard some humans talk about other uses. When I couldn't feel disgust.." He sighed and tried to not put the worse out there. "Hoseki here is, unfortunately, one of those Dolls. I didn't intend to summon him, but it happened. The good news is there have been rumors of Dolls evolving past this doll-like state, but I don't know how true that is."

He hated the idea of being looked upon with mistrust and hatred from the only two people he could call a friend.

But he hated the idea of lying and hiding things more...

Even now it was true, everything had a cost. If being alone was the price for being upfront with them, well it wouldn't be the first time a cost has cost more than just the contracted payment.

[Oleander]

Dust may find it odd, but Takezo did not have a look of disgust for the man. There were many things darker in the world than using another person for their talents. In fact, it was quite common in his time. It was merely a sad fact of life. His lazy lids rest low as he peers at Dust, listening and absorbing as much information as his inebriated mind could. He might not remember all of this, but he would sure try. It would be disrespectful otherwise.

He did not forget Gildart's challenge though. Not in so many words. It was held on to for the few moments it took for Dust to reveal his story. It was darkened like the other two stories here. Tainted by misfortune and circumstance. "I find it an odd coincidence... Many feared me, call me a demon even... Gildarts' power was too great he seems to fear even himself," at least how Takezo understood it, "and people of your world sought the power you possessed for their own ends..." A smirk slowly forms as the idea slowly spills into words. "Three great warriors troubled by their own power... and we just happened across one another... on a deserted island... with alcohol..."

Gildarts and Dust exchanged looks for a moment. They had an inkling where the man was going with this. "We are immortal. A spar without consequence sounds more like music than your magic noise maker." The man stood, his stance unbalanced and staggering. He was pretty far gone, it seems, but he held the wine gourd firm. The man began a few stretching exercises, each comical in the way he nearly toppled over - usually head first.

"Are you sure you can fight like that?" Dust inquired, a bit worried the alcohol had increased Takezo's bravado. The moment he completed the question, he shook his head. "Nevermind," he adds, "almost forgot who I'm talking to."

Gildarts was still a bit worried. He had never witnessed Takezo in combat, so he had only stories to go on. "I don't know about 'no consequences.' You could end up dead, you know. It's not--"

"Not what?" Takezo faced the crash mage with a massive grin. "My first death was almost pleasant. I drifted in darkness, reliving a grand fight, my chest burning, reminding me that somewhere, my heart had been ripped from my chest and was left to rot." That was definitely colorful. "Besides," he continued, "we don't have to aim to kill. If it happens, oh well. Meet me at the fountain with a change of clothes and food."

The ronin's wording caught Dust. It seemed he expected to be the casualty in the fight. "You don't think you can keep up?"

"A swordsman never draws his blade whilst under the influence. It is a dishonorable disp--" Speaking of dishonorable, the swordsman stumbled over absolutely nothing, tossing back over the log he had been sitting on. His sandal clad feet rise into the air, along with the wine gourd. "Not a drop spilled!" The gourd vanished behind the lumber as the warrior took another swig. With a grunt, he rolled onto his side then shot to his feet, stumbled, then righted himself. "But fret not! As warriors, I will show you no mercy!"

[Simon]

The heavy smell of ozone and sea salt whipped around the platoon, along with the faint scents of sulfur and oil. Some unholy alternation of rain and hail slapped against the soldiers, as if the storm itself were hoping to brush away these interlopers. The soldiers stood tall in spite, their battle-marked suits taking the brunt of the weather in stride. The Prime in their company, however, stood firm and ready without any sort of armor, or even a shirt to his name. If it were not for the experimental particle shield enveloped over his form, the devil hunter might've even basked in the foul breath of the storm against his bare skin.

Such a sight would've surely been a testament to the tenacity of Omni's chosen. But that was not why they were here.

Having noticed a handful of their fellows shot to bits, another gaggle of Nebula's gargoyles swooped in to cut off the landing party. In prompt response, Dante burst forward and vaulted off the railing of the imperial hydrocraft. The leader of the dark fliers met with the sting of his sword, both halves of the fiend falling into the surf. Two more of the enemies screeched and dove for the Prime; Rebellion batted the first into the hull of the ship, and spiked the other's skull into the ground.

None eager to play second fiddle to the Prime, the Stormtroopers pushed ahead, rattling the winged fiends away with screaming lasers. The team forced their way off the deck in record time, the charge led by none other than Clark. As the initial waves of flying darkspawn were swatted away, the treeline beyond the beach burst open with swathes of new foes. From the robotic programs to recently-turned citizens, the many arms of Nebula bore down on the platoon. The troopers responded in kind, fanning out to spread constant waves of energy fire into the enemy. The commander's own rapid shots tore through the corrupted denizens like paper, most ferocious among the soldiers by far.

Yet these were no normal foes, capable of taking multiple fatal wounds and still pressing on. Armed with little but machetes and rifles, the demonic militia couldn't push back the Stormtroopers, but proved capable enough to keep them at bay.

Of course, this was where Dante came in.

An inhuman flip over the brunt of the battle brought the Son of Sparda behind the charging line of Darklings. A handful of the demons broke off to contend with Dante, to which he responded by whipping his shotgun from his belt and blasting one torso into mincemeat. Two blades came whistling in from the right, but Rebellion's size was able to block both of them as the red-coat ducked. Dante pumped the lever of the shotgun, kicked out the ankle of one swordsman, and shouldered his way into the other.

As the devil hunter moved, a fire axe missed its mark and thudded into the wet earth. Dante stabbed the shouldered Darkling in the head with Rebellion's pointed pommel, turned to blow away the executioner with Terminator, then beheaded the kneeling swordsman in one stroke. Three more Darklings trained the sights of assault rifles on Dante, only to be reduced to two as a blaster shot burnt away the left side of a Navi's head. The red-coat seized the moment and charged ahead, running his sword right through a rifleman's gut as he fired vainly into the treeline.

For anything short of an elite team of soldiers and a practical demigod, the battle might have been a challenge.

"Move up!" the commander barked, urging her company forward, "Don't worry about the Darklings, just break through and focus on evacuation!" Led by their leader, the Stormtroopers forced through the harsh blow of droplets and entered the grove of trees, prepared to enter the township beyond.

Dante, meanwhile, found himself concerned about something completely different. Well, concerned may not be an accurate word- the conflict he senses would not prove an issue to himself. The troopers, however, might be dissuaded. Still jogging at the head of the pack, the Son of Sparda ducked aside the charging commander, prepared to share his mind. "Small problem," he began, not bothering with honorifics, "They were expecting us."

"Expecting an attack on their operation? No shit," the breathy voice behind the helmet spoke, nonplussed.

"I mean us specifically, our platoon," Dante explained further. "Technically your platoon, but you get the point."

"What makes you so certain that they were expecting us?"

They broke through the crescent wall of plant-life, bordering the south half of the small town like a natural palisade. The north half, meanwhile, lay exposed to all manner of attack. The buildings were forced to absorb the full brunt of the unnatural storm, the civilians likely ducked inside for cover. All people otherwise were either freshly converted into new slaves for Nebula, or desperately trying to avoid such a fate.

Just as their well-laid plans entailed, one of the sergeants of the elite platoon cranked up the volume of his voice modulator. The soldiers split into pre-planned squads, breaking up to surround and enter the besieged villa. Only the commander and Dante did not relent in pace, pushing straight ahead into the waiting eyes of the Darkling troops.

[Doomguy]

I had given a lot of thought on how I was going to break the news to the crew as I stood on the top deck of the Hell’s Bane, my thoughts turning in my mind under a number of different ways I could do it and what each would result in. While I didn’t think they’d hang me by my entrails for telling them the bad news that all the sweat and blood was for naught, I wasn’t going to chance it and I decided it was better to pick someone who the crew could trust and respect. Explain the situation to them when their own guard was down, and let them do the talking to the confused crowd. And if by chance that still resulted in them wanting to string me up, I was at least elsewhere.

How that ended up happening, however, was by me taking Elizabeth on a boat to the middle of the ocean on a dingy back towards Costa Del Sol for the purpose so that I can could get her smashed on tropical drinks.

I never said my plans were good.

Convincing her to go was trouble enough, as she was quite intended to overlook her ship after the sudden teleportation of her valiant ship back towards the center of the waterlogged universe. I glanced back over my shoulders towards the island the mobile base was hidden inside, choppy water spraying my face making it rather hard to see in the moonlit night. From a distance it was a normal island with an inactive volcano piercing up into the sky in the middle, taking up one side with a jagged cliff of igneous rock. Only from the right angle can one see the entrance to the collapsed volcano lagoon. I found it hard to believe the Empire would have skipped over this natural dock for so long, but I suspect Omni had a part in that.

But now that I did have her on the seas, she had rather stormy mood across her face. The corners of her lips were tightly controlled to give a stoic look, but her eyes looked like there weren’t looking at me so much as she was attempting to burn two holes into my skull. Her thankfully well-disciplined patience left her standing straight even as he ripped off low wave at 60 mph, but there was no way she was going to suffer my stalling forever.

And this was before considering that I had gained the memories about the other Hayden I had met in my travels. Hindsight told me I should have known something was up, but at the moment I needed to make sure she didn’t know that I knew.

And I was about to get her wasted.

“Alright, Marine, you got me out here. Are you actually going to tell me why we’re still here, or were you planning on finally offing me?” She asked, which despite her straight face was obviously meant as a joke. If she thought I was going to kill her, she wouldn’t have come with only a pistol.

“Of course I’m going to tell you” I answered, continuing to drive off into the night. I was hoping to have crosses paths with a party barge or a cruise liner or SOMETHING to this point but I was stuck to stall and failing miserably as Elizabeth's thinning eyes revealed her patience was also thin.

“If you’re going to jerk my chain, John, then you can just turn right back around.” She seethed

“No wait, it’s not like that.” I lied. I gave a scan back over the area and as we passed by one island I noticed one of them had light passing through its tropical foliage and if the smell of smoke with a tinge of meat meant anything it was that someone was having some kind of night out. And that meant a good chance of someone who wouldn’t mind passing a bottle of booze around “Can we at least land first? This boat is not the most stable in the world”

And before she could even answer I gunned the ship. I made a sharp turn and aimed for the beach where three people sat around some makeshift table with another standing off to the side. Whatever state of drunkenness they had gotten themselves to, it was to some level as it took them all a second to realize a speed boat was coming right for them and I rammed across the beach. I skid across the sand for about twenty feet before friction finally beat momentum and the boat tipped over to rest pitifully in plain sight of everyone.

You should have seen their faces.

I crawled out of the grounded vehicle in the throes of a giggling fit after watching three guys trip over themselves before I finally got upright and smelt the air. Barbecue and cheap liquor. Jackpot


“Are you lost?” The orange haired rogue with a metal arm asked, he was surprisingly calm and even inviting despite my sudden intrusion. This was in comparison to the wild looking swordsman who looked as if he was having difficulty trying to find a weapon before being calmed down by the third companion, a very tall man who I’m sure some would call a “hunk”.

“No, I’m right where I want to” I answered, my hand swept grains of sand from my dayglo green armor as I turned back to the boat. From my angle I could see Elizabeth was trying to make sure her disciplined and immaculate look stayed that way, although I had thoroughly destroyed that with my crash landing. “If you got any booze, I’d like to share”

“We, uh…” the tall grey eyed wonder didn’t even get a say as I walked over to the tiki hut.

“Don’t mind me, I’ll get it”

[Gildarts]

Gildarts smiled to himself. "While I am up for any challenge, let us wait at least a few more moments friend." The crash-mage said to Takezo, as they had unexpected company, which Gil's eyes wouldn't leave. The mage had made enemies, it was time to see if the boat who had come to shore was friend or foe.

The music strummed in the back of his mind, sending good vibes all across the moonlit and rainbow ocean shore. Gildarts Clive had taken a bite of some savory meat and was gnawing on the shreds of tender juices. The male did not often eat meat, but he found it was becoming more integrated into his diet, he blamed his anti-cooking skills and tried not to fret about it. Red meat was “manly” as Elfman would say. The ginger allowed a smile to trudge against the flesh of his speckled cheeks and that was when a mysterious person happened to stumble upon their shore.

So this guy had arrived on their shore and was very casual. Gildarts sized him up in the halflight, but a Prime of Gil’s power and potential (and buzzedness) didn’t have need to feel threatened by the intruder strutting toward the bar.

“So who’s serving the liquor around here? I’ll take whiskey. Straight.” the space marine announced as he arrived underneath the tiki hut and perched his elbows on the bar, omitting the stool and the helmeted man’s gadgets and weapons bounced together making a light scraping, clattering sound.

Gildarts took a moment to let the man’s shape sink in, now illuminated with more light. He looked familiar but the mage couldn’t place it no matter how long he stared. The muscles, the gear, the war-worn ripples of sinew. The helmet remained on the man’s head with a faded green color that matched the man’s possible armor shirt? No matter, the color suited him, despite that it was somewhat blood-stained. Gil recognized this. The curious mage stood up and walked over, he hadn’t really summoned a bartender (Gildarts didn’t agree with technology because it was magic’s rival, and Gildarts did not belive in summoning people to this cursed world), Dust had served Gil’s drink, and now Gil would return the favor to his guests.

There was a woman and a Doomguy in front of him, Gil found the bottle he assumed was whiskey and didn’t spend the time trying to read the label as he poured the vibrant amber liquid into the crystalline glasses he’d swooped from the racks above with his metallic hand.

“Greetings and welcome?” Gildarts said with a perplexed but charismatic smile as the drinks were immediately grasped by the slightly mammoth looking hand of the space marine.

Immediately Doomguy felt the burn as he knocked back the drink and clacked the glass down, “Another.”

A heavyweight. Gildarts felt his “luck” had something to do with this and found his smile grow. The man hadn’t bothered to take off his helmet yet somehow the badass had managed to down his drink. Maybe a bigger glass…?

Elizabeth had strolled over shortly behind Doomguy, she was ready to get her glass, for the lady, Gildarts thoughtfully added ice. “I’m Gildarts Clive,” he introduced himself, “That’s Dust,” Gildarts said gesturing over to the other shirtless man on the beach next to Takezo.

“Ha, like what is left when I’m done with my enemies?” Doomguy said and the joke went over Gildarts’ head but Elizabeth seemed to understand, though her throat was occupied with the guzzling burn of liquor, too busy to respond with a laugh.

Gil could, however, relate but kept those ‘Nam-like flashbacks at bay. “And that’s Takezo. He’s a swordsman.”

Doomguy nodded as Gil topped off his glass.

“Call me Doomguy.” he spoke with a grizzly voice and pointed to his side, “She’s Elizabeth.”

“Doomguy?” Gildarts said as he pulled out some more glasses and filled them with their drink of choice so that way he wouldn’t have to spend the remainder of his evening behind there. The prime moved from behind the bar and walked over to a stool, taking a seat and resting his singular leg.

“Yup. Thanks for the drink.” The man spoke rather simply. Priorities, Gildarts supposed as he took a sip of his own and Dust and Takezo strolled over together to refill their own drinks. Funny, how a party was so fluid and moving with every new tide. “I was surprised anyone was out here, but pleasantly.”

“Heh, well, there’s no place better to get drunk than an island you can claim as your own,” Gildarts said rather proudly and took another bite of his meat.

“Not quite what I meant… But hey, can I get some of that?” Doomguy asked, feeling some small pangs of hunger he usually ignored, but since it was right in front of him, he’d rather rip and tear into Takezo’s freshly slain kill.

Doomguy was served and with drink and meal in hand, for both he and his companion, the party was really going to get started. Let the drinking tales begin.

[Dust]

Dust wasn't sure how to react to the new person just rolling in and acting like he owned the place. Obviously he didn't, as the Island had been abandoned at best when they arrived. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find a female accompanying the green armored man, but chose to stay out of it. She seemed far more interested in what he was doing to even notice Dust of all people.

Ookami was not a small man, but he seemed to shrink away at the intimidating presence of a military man. Given how he stood chest out and ready to attack Gildarts if the situation called for it, it probably had nothing to do with the power radiating off the man. He was no coward, that was the last thing you could consider calling Hokori Hoshi. But he felt the ingrained lessons of the Russian military influence his actions as he stepped back and away from the group.

Hoseki stood like a mannequin while his Prime snuck out from under the nose of the party while the mystery stranger and Gildarts began the conversation. At some point, Shinmen also ducks out but as to where he went of too no one could really say. When the Doll realized his Contractor was gone, he begins to walk like the zombie that he effectively was and away from the group of people who were swapping war stories and drinking tales.

The pale man was almost ghost like in the light of the moon, as close to glowing as the hesitant fireflies. The Doll known as Hoseki lingers in the area around the smoldering pig before absently wondering where to go next. Without a single sound or motion to look, he finds the bare-footed man's footprints in the sand, and slowly lumbers afterwards. It was easy to assume these belonged to his master as it was the only large prints that went towards the waves and not away.

The silent man follows behind the ghost of his contractor, fully aware of what was at the end of the trail. He stepped onto the beach and watched the giant wolf-man as he just sat there at the water’s edge…

Dust was sitting much like a child did at the beach when they were told that the family was leaving soon and he should be ready to leave the fantastical world he’d discovered behind. Staring out at the magically dark water while the large and swollen nearly-full moon beams down on him. While he closely resembled a werewolf he did not require the moon for his transformations, just a kiss. Not always a simple kiss, but always a kiss. That said, something inside of him sighed with relief and pleasure from the moon’s borrowed light. The muscles in his straightened back relax, but his posture stood tall still.

He noticed he was being approached and prepared himself to tell Gildarts that he was fine and that he just needed a minute, only to be joined by Hoseki. It was the oddest thing to him, a doll moving on its own and in its own directions. Then again, he hadn’t had a lot of experiences with them. He offered a smile at the silent stalker, then ruffled up his silver hair.

“Did you also feel overwhelmed, Jewel?” He asked, but then let his mind venture back to the party. He wondered briefly how Shinmen was fairing, but found it impossible to think the older man would be bored or out of place with a man that smelt of blood and accomplishments. “Heh..” He left it at his short chuckle and turned back to the water. It still called to him, somewhere deep in his body he could feel the urge to dive in and never come back.

Where he had the rational thought not to go swimming in the ocean at night, Hoseki didn’t. After some time of just staring, he stood up and waded in to his knees, the torn skinny jeans he wore soaked a little higher than that as he began to play in the water. Dust was both concerned and confused and stood at the bank, worriedly watching him. “H-Hey. What are you doing?”

No sooner did he manage to ask did something happen. He watched as Hoseki tensed up so hard that he locked up entirely. Dust was already stepping into the cold water when his Doll fell and went under. The tension returned to Dust’s body as he watched this, and then sprinted into action before diving in.

Submerged Dust looked out into sea in search of his Doll, bringing his arms up and over his head in order to speedily reach him. Fear of what might happen to the Doll spurred him, but in flashes of light he was transported back to the little island from Dante’s Abyss.

Darkness and cold surrounded his physical body which kept swimming towards its objective while his mind swam through the memories of his last few days. Like the urges that drove him into the water after Hoseki, he remembered being drawn towards that little hut on the water where that beast - that man - had been waiting for him. He ventured backwards into time to recall what that strangely dead looking man had said. To come find him in Tier Five if he wanted to continue the confirmation.

More accurately he had also invited him to finish the kiss as well...

And while it brought a burning sensation to his face that he felt even in these frozen waves it brought other memories from the depths of the ocean that was his mind.

Desman specifically. The funny little red robot that had made all the kids laugh with his story of the hairy man, but also the little guy who’d grabbed him abruptly before kissing him. Or.. The closest to kissing as a robot can. He wondered now why red wonder had done something so random.. Ash had teased him about it, and he hoped he would not regret giving the demoness permission to give his number to the strange and exotic robot.

Exotic… He was no stranger to that anymore.

Ash did come to mind when this topic was brought back up, but the cemented picture of Tamsin burned his soul. She was indeed very exotic, and she just did something to him and his soul. He felt the same as he did with the full moon on his back while he was around her. Now she was lost to him, gone to the underverse for whatever reason she had felt it was necessary to venture into the underworld without any aid. He was close to worrying about her when he realized he could not see Hoseki at all.

Surfacing with a heavy breath he looked all around him, but nothing was in sight. No island, no Doll, no boat, nothing.. Just a bunch of rolling waves that were highlighted by the moonlight. As if the ocean swallowed him up and spit him out somewhere new. But surely that wasn’t the case?

Dust turned around in the water, still looking for anything and anyone.

He dropped into the ocean below and looked around while underwater. It was just a vast space of blackness, dark. He couldn’t see anything other than emptiness. It got philosophical, and quick. How the empty ocean resembled the night sky, how lonely it looked when there was just one star there, swimming by himself. It was dangerous too, anything could be lurking about. He’d be more concerned if it wasn’t well into the night. Most aqua life that he could fear were probably sleeping soundly.

A logical way of thinking about things, wouldn’t you say? And indeed, it was. As expected from any contractor. Except it didn’t prevent the newly awakened mind from considering the fact that he was obviously in a more abstract place than he was a few months ago. How he wasn’t just on earth, how there could be things of nightmares lurking down here and waiting for him to stop looking.

He surfaced before he could let the waves of an imagination sweep him away to far, only to consumed by a casted shadow. He looked through the wet strands of dark colored hair and into the sky, a set of clouds were drifting by and past the moon. His feet kicked and his arms waved while he waited for his source of light to resurface while he looked around again for something, anything.

He noted the waves were entirely too big in his opinion… That was when he noticed something floating in the center of a wave that looked like it would turn whatever floated in it over and suplex it. With no direction elsewhere and still concerned for Hoseki, Hokori began to swiftly swim after whatever floated precariously in the wall of water. As he did, the storm that was but a breeze and a few rocky waves turned ugly.

Lightning flashed across the sky without warning, and then thunder assaulted his ears spurred him to hurry. He was heavily panting, his fingers and toes have gone numb from the cold, several body parts were actually, He was too focused on his goal to worry about it, he didn’t even notice how very large that wave has become… He felt the currents trying to wash him off his path, but he fought on.

The rain began to pelt him and the water around him, crashing into the ocean and began to drown out every other noise other than the booming thunder that closely followed behind the flashes of light in the sky. Still he swam on. Waves all around him swelled with the pull of the moon, his body was but an autumn leaf at this point, but he remained focused in the illusion that he was not totally in danger. Or attempted to as the water began to pull him higher and high in the air. He did not start to panic until he was frontal swimming was now aimed straight down and he saw the surface of a dip in the ocean in front of him. It lifted him even higher and spun him around before the pull of gravity folded in on itself and he was forced down into the darkness once more.

Dust spun, twirled, and rolled around in the water, he held his breath for dear life. When it felt like he had stopped, Volk only sought out the surface. He could see the lightning dancing across the sky from under here, and kicked desperately in that direction. When he thought he couldn’t hold it any longer he broke the surface of another wave. He coughed up some sea water while the rest of the ocean lazily carried him to and fro.

SW-808 looked around while he hacked and spit, looking for that mysterious thing in the background. The ocean bound man rocked and bobbed up and down at the water’s mercy. Finally he glimpsed something pale. Wasting no time, he chased after it again.

Fighting the ocean, again and again, left him tired and turned around more than once, but he made his way towards the ghost drifting just outside his reach. It has long since gotten old, but despite his inability to breath anymore, he had no other choice.

Ookami could just make out something about the pale thing in the sea, but before he could really look at it, another wave began to pull him up and up, and up… He fought to keep his head above the growing water’s surface and better prepare himself for the unavoidable ‘must come down’ part. Weakened his head bobs down into the ocean more than once, and he swallowed more salt-water than he would like to admit before he resurfaced for another gulp of air.

He saw the sky one moment its brightening sky yet terrible sky yawned for him, the next he saw the abyssal waters above his head past his heavy lids. There was a moment when fighting the wave was too much, and he tried to let nature run its course.

Once again he was surrounded by darkened waters where mysterious eyes watched him. He heard his heartbeat racing in his ears but was not aware at what point when his consciousness succumbed to exhaustion and he blacked out instead of just staring into nothing.