The Ashen Fortress

[Kuzuru]

Sweet unadulterated victory belonged to the Ashen Blades. They had triumphed over the fledgling Society of Supervillains, and Ballad was now nothing more than a frozen corpse. It was a good day, hell in Kuzuru’s mind it was the best day he had since arriving in the Omniverse. As the remaining blades made their way back to headquarters the demon replayed the battle over and over in his head. Every visceral detail was etched onto his brain and all he had to do was close his eyes to watch the movie all over again. This eidetic memory existed for every conflict he had participated in, thousands upon thousands of battles captured within his memory. However, over time these memories would dull, every detail losing that crispness that he so enjoyed. This battle with Ballad would satiate his need for war for the coming weeks, perhaps even months. 

After several hours worth of travel the Blades arrived back at home sweet home. Their fortress, which was carved into the side of a mountain sat unmolested in their absence. Inside they found the comfort of a familiar home. Kuzuru retired to his room and set to work recording a video chronicling their recent victory. Despite the physical exertion of the day he was no more tired than a neurosis patient. The demon paced about the compound, with rapid-fire thoughts assailing his brain. Wired was no more an accurate to describe his particular case. One thought that kept surfacing was the potential for retaliation. Forces more powerful than his crew of misfits were at work within this world and soon enough the Blades would draw their ire. It wasn’t that he was afraid of death or really any form of retribution from the denizens of the Omniverse, but rather it would be dreadfully boring if the Blades were stamped out before they became a reasonable force. So, under this assertion, he set to work.

Using the omnilium he had amassed over the previous week he began to carve deeper into the mountain. With nothing more than the miracle substance and his willpower he erased entire swathes of solid stone. First he forged a large atrium, and at the center he formed a pool and in the center of that pool he created a pedestal. Metal beams were used as buttresses to brace against the ever present weight of the mountain. The entire design was something reminiscent of a temple, murals featuring grand conquests covered the walls. Blood, sweet as honey to the demon’s nostrils, filled the pool. Perched atop the pedestal an orb, black as night, became a permanent fixture. Once all was said and done he called a meeting, ushering all of the Blades into the new room.

“What is all of this?” Dawn asked.

Kuzuru did not answer, but instead stepped closer to the pool of blood, forcing the others to form a semicircle around him. Murmuring rippled throughout the warriors, and after a few seconds to collect himself Kuzuru finally spoke, “we will inevitably be attacked, all great warbands will eventually fall, this is a trend that has stood the test of time.”

“What are you on about?” Charles demanded.

“We live within a world populated by the powerful, the wicked, and the kind, and there will come a time when those wretches that we hunt will rally against us and try to eradicate every last trace of our existence, there will be those stronger than us, crueler even,” Kuzuru paused, taking a moment to slick back his hair, “this will be our answer to their assault, those of you who wish to stand with me, those of you who wish to partake in the shared power of our brotherhood must offer your blood to the well, and in doing so you shall receive the strength of your companions, if you wish to stay, this is not optional.”

The Blades shifted around nervously, unsure of what to do or say. The first to break the silence was Cinder Salt. She stepped forward, her tawny fur shining in the light of the room. “This will make me stronger?” Cinder asked Kuzuru.

The demon smiled and answered, “Indeed, it will make everyone stronger.”

“Then I have no choice,” she responded and stepped towards the edge of the pool. The coyotle girl bit the pad of her thumb open, releasing droplets of that crimson liquid. She held her hand over the pool and let the blood flow freely. The pool began to swirl gently as her blood intermixed with the blood of countless others. A ominous red light emanated from the core of the black orb, like veins beneath the skin, faint but noticeable. The coyotle could feel energy coursing through her body, and she felt unstoppable. “This is incredible,” she muttered.

“Indeed it is,” the demon said, “and it will only grow as it is not only fueled by our victories, but also by our defeats.”

“Fuck it,” Charles said, lighting up a cigar, “I’m next.”

[Dawnika Snow]

The Vigilante took her sweatshirt off. The heat of the Ashen Steppes was almost unbearable to someone who is used to living in such a cold climate most of her life. Still, the black charred ground and clouds made her feel at home somehow.

The Ashen Fortress stood before the group up in the mountains, it was not until now Dawn realized Koal was gone. Nowhere to be found.

“Dammit the only reason I let him live was because I thought he was going to join us! Bastard! He feigned friendship to get away alive.” Dawn yelled out as she scanned the perimeter as if he was still around.

“Calm down.” Kuzuru said, “You can get him back soon enough, but first have business to attend to.” The group of murder hobos made their way up the large set of steps to their base where Kuzuru had the assemble in the newly forged meeting room. This blood pact thing seemed weird, but if it truly made them stronger she would not hesitate to stab her own hand. After the three secondaries of their group offered their blood, Dawn stepped up while summoning a small knife in her hand. With a twirl of the fingers and a quick thrust she jammed the blade into her palm and let her thick blood run into the well. The Vigilante hardly cringed as steel sliced through her flesh.

“If we’re all done here, I’d like to go check on my dog and get some sleep.” Dawn said wrapping her hand in her sweatshirt to stop the bleeding and turning to leave. Music blared from the headphones around her neck as she walked out of the meeting room. The dark hallways of the Blade’s Fortress were dusty from the recent construction Kuzuru provided. It made the vigilante’s nose tickle so much she sneezed few times. When she opened her room’s door, she was greeted by the excited dog within. Rouge came to Dawn quickly wagging her tail furiously in excitement. The owner came and closed the door, petting her loyal best friend and grabbing the dog food next to her desk. The empty food bowl was filled up quickly with her favorite food. Rouge chowed down on it just as fast as it was poured into her bowl. With her dog taken care of Dawn slid into bed where she would begin to take her nap.

[Miranda Frost]

Intoxicated or not, Miranda was a woman of action.  Miranda's grinning face lowered, shrouding itself behind the protective walls of her  collar. November's dilemma was a concerning one, but according to the flyer she took from the wall, the event has happened quite a while ago. No updated flyers were posted showing new crimes dealt by his blade. For all intents and purposes, it would seem that this man, her brother, had committed this catastrophe to draw her out, or rather reel her in. Many have probably forgotten or overlooked this crime due to the battle with volvagia, whose menacing reach  had once stretched over the Ashen plains. Life here was hard enough, but now people were starting to rebuild. It would be safe for Miranda to seek a home or base of operations. This.... group Dawn spoke of.... could give her what she needed to confront November. Miranda would finish her drink and exhale her burning breath, leaving the ruined glass on the bar as she stood, a thick golden coin materializing in her hand. 

 "Barkeep, for the drinks... and for whatever this young lady needs", she said before turning to the younger woman, nodding her thanks to her. "I will assume I'll bump into you in the near future. Best of luck to your.... endeavors".

 Dawn would nod, and wave, her attention shifting to the food that was being served to her, and with that cue, she turned to leave, her footsteps shaking the nearby tables as she left the tavern. She'd take a moment to breath in the sulfaric air, its pungent odor assaulting her nostrils. Honestly, she'd prefer to remain in the tavern. The heavy scent of cigars was preferable to the hot, boiling stink of the Ashen. Oh well, Miranda had grown used to it. This place had almost made her feel welcome. Of course, "Welcome" was suggestive. This plane of existence had seemingly tried to end her on multiple occasions. Of course the Ashen's attempts were unsuccessful, but only because of the comrades she held close at that particular time.

 Sighing she held her hand out, her ability as a prime shining brightly in the palm of her hand. Slowly before her a rusted motorcycle of questionable design built itself before her, each piece fitting in where it needed to, with each functioning just enough to  get her to where she needed to go. It would be foolish of her to leave something behind that just any secondary could steal and make off with. Nothing in this world is free, and this includes the use of Miranda's Omnilinium.  She reached over, her steel hand gripping the half melted hand gripping the handle bars. Her heavy foot would come down upon the crank, the engine stubbornly roaring to life. With the twist of the handle she was off.

 The mountains were only just in the distance, and one of them held the fortress the young woman spoke of. Her eye narrowed, focusing on the inclining path of ash as it began to wind around the first mountain. It was quiet, but then again most days seemed to be with the dragon horde pacified and scattered, otherwise this area would be crawling with those flaming chickens.

 An hour or so would pass, and the fortress in question was within sight. When close enough to the main path leading up into its clutches, Miranda clamped on the breaks and slowed her approach to a halt. Her vision revealed its placement high upon its rocky face, but what was more interesting was its infrastructure. It seemed to be carved out of the mountain rather than built upon it, similarly to how the nearby North village was built inside a nearby group of smaller peaks, using them as natural walls. Interesting to say the least.

 Miranda slipped from the seat of her bike, only for it to fall to pieces without her presence. She was serious about not leaving scavenging secondaries to feast on her scraps. She was just as serious about climbing these god forsaken steps. Steep as they were, they led right up to the fortress entrance. By the time she did reach the entrance, it seemed the alcohol she had consumed earlier had lost its effect. She wasn't in the mood for any shenanigans. Even though she didn't expect a warm welcome, attacking her would seem like a fatal plan to those who knew her well. To those who don't, well... guess there's a first for everything. 

 Stepping upon solid stone was a relief for her. The ash roads of this plane was quite boring and somewhat annoying.  Cautiously stepping beneath the stone arches leading into the main courtyard, she noticed a fairly... simple fountain. Curiously it reminded her of the Nexus's fountain, but this wasn't the only thing she noticed. Someone was sneaking up upon her, hoping to close in through her  blind spot. The great thing about her eye, was that she didn't need to direct it at someone to look at them. This could be said about this woman as she silently slid her knife around Miranda's collar.

 "You know... Its rude to turn your blade on someone you hardly even know"

[Kuzuru]

“I hold no sympathy for trespassers,” Cinder Salt responded. The coyotle warrior held her knife tight against Miranda’s throat. Overhead the sun had reached its apex, bathing the Ashen Steppes in equal measures of heat and light. “Are you with the Empire?” Cinder asked, her voice barely holding back hints of disdain.

“No,” Miranda answered.

“Then who are you?” Cinder demanded, “What do you want?”

The trespasser did not answer. Instead in one swift movement she pulled a hand to her throat and wrapped her claws around Cinder’s knife. With a curtain of sparks Miranda smacked away the coyotle's knife, sending it pinwheeling through the air. Cinder leaped backwards in surprise. Miranda turned to face her aggressor and said, “you’re awfully demanding aren’t you?”

Cinder growled, baring a row of fangs within her muzzle. She leveled her primary weapon towards the trespasser and crouched into a fighting stance. Miranda observed her attacker, the being that stood before her was not human, but was some sort of human/coyote hybrid. Cinder’s tan fur seemed to shimmer in the bright sun. Red bands were stained into her fur and wrapped around her wrists, ankles, and neck. White strips of cloth were wrapped around her chest, covering only her breasts while a white loincloth sat wrapped around her hips.

Without a word she sprung towards Miranda, swinging her massive machete-styled cleaver at the girl. Miranda braced for impact, deflecting the massive hunk of metal with a well-timed swipe. In the same motion she stepped into Cinder Salt and delivered a solid punch to the Coyotle’s gut. The blow reverberated through her body and salt her stumbling backwards. Cinder growled and planted her blade into the ground, bracing her shaking legs. Summoning her indomitable will she stood up straight and shouted in defiance. Before she could move a voice called out from above. The two fighters glanced upwards and noticed a figure standing in the fortresses’s doorway.

“Enough,” the man shouted, his red eyes dancing between the two, “you’re no use to me dead Cinder, this one is out of your league.”

There was a moment of silent contemplation as Cinder eyed Miranda. With a huff the coyotle shouldered her machete and took a step backwards. The man strolled down the stairs, humming a tune to himself. Even in the oppressive heat he wore a fur-lined hoodie and jeans. His hair was slicked back and his skin was tinted a light red. Once he was level with Miranda the man smiled at her and said, “howdy, name’s Kuzuru and this here is Cinder Salt, be a good girl and say hi Cinder.” The Coyotle did not responded and instead walked away in indignation. “Sorry about her, she’s got the manners of a local,” Kuzuru said, “so who might you be?”

“Miranda,” the trespasser answered, still wary of the sudden tonal shift.

“Miranda, my dear, have you ever thought about killing for money?” the demon asked, offering the most sincere smile he could muster.

“Straight to the point huh?”

“Well, I believe that one shouldn’t beat around the bush,” Kuzuru said, “I’m the leader of this fledgling band of contract killers and we could always use some new blades.”

“What’s in it for me?” Miranda asked, acting as disinterested as possible.

Kuzuru held out his hand and produced a small orb of omnilium. The rainbow colors pulsed and swirled around his palm. “I’m offering the only thing that matters, power, fame, sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll baby, everything pales in comparison to this miraculous stuff,” he answered, “it’s yours and all you have to do is be willing to spill some blood.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, but you’d have to prove that you’re more than just a pretty face,” the demon said, “pick a bounty, any bounty, kill them, bring me back proof and a vial of their blood, and you’ll be welcome among our ranks, hell as a little bonus I’ll throw in some omnillium on top of the reward for the bounty, so, how does that sound Ms. Miranda?”

[Miranda Frost]

"How does that sound..."

 Thinking to herself she'd turn her head, her eye's gaze directed at the knife that was used against her earlier. She'd walk over to Cinder's knife, a finger drooping down to wrap around its hilt. Grasping the small blade, her eyes scanned over it. It would seem the blade had chipped in multiple places along its edge, giving it a serrated appearance. The blade laying in her grasp felt nearly weightless, yet the edge was sharp. Perfect weapon for an assassin typed combatant as Cinder. However the sharpest blades wouldn't do much if the person the wielder is using it against will remain unaffected. However if more force was used and perhaps the blade was stronger, along with other factors, this situation would be different entirely. Miranda couldn't help but smile, her eye once again turning to the girl who had trouble connecting with her gaze. 

 Cinder Reminded Miranda of herself during her training years, working with her older brother to prepare themselves for the road again. He always was the strong counter to her skills at the time. He equaled her in strength but was faster and more skilled. Many spars resulted in her defeat without her once laying a finger on her older brother. As unfortunate as it was to always be at the precipice of defeating him, only to be knocked down a rung or two, it served to make her who she was. She turned back toward the demon, her arms crossing over her chest. Unlike Cinder, this demon was not someone she liked very well, at least as first impressions go. Those reasons were not enough of an award for her services. However, having a little more Omnilinium was a more than welcome award. There were many strong Primes out there, and if she were to reach their level of power, she'd have to step it up.

 "I guess I'm in, for now. Though... leaving now for a bounty seems a little boring.", she'd say, though she simply didn't have the energy at the moment to just go out and get these things don, but not only that though. She held in her coat pocket a roll of parchment dictating a certain bounty. On that slip of paper was her brother's name. If she's going to take another's life, especially her brother's. "I participated in the battle against Volvagia, an event that effects this place, considering you chose this position of all places. Wouldn't this be enough?"

[Dawnika Snow]

The vigilante slumped up from her sleep. It had been a whole week now and her wounds had finally closed up and healed. The Omniverse was amazing, like it had its own physics. Prime could bend the physics of the world to an extent but were still subject to the rules. It was like she was a demi-god, a very mundane demi-god.

The wounds that were covered by her thick brown hair had vanished within a week’s time. Of course the burn scar that peeked over her shoulder was still there-

Wait a second. Brown? Brown?

Where did her beautiful black hair go? What the hell happened? The vigilante confusingly stumbled out of bed and to a mirror as quickly as possible.

Her hair barely reached her shoulders. Unacceptable.

Stomping out of the bathroom quickly, alerting her guard dog who had been soundly sleeping on the floor, she fell into the computer chair and pulled her Omnilium glove out of the desk drawer. It slipped through her fingers soundly and comfortably. She put her hand to her head and started to quietly chant in a worried tone.

“Black hair, black hair, black hair.” As she looked in the small desk mirror to see if her hair was changing back, all she saw was the reason she dyed her hair black in the first place. Her father’s reflection. His dark brown hair and blue eyes, she was the spitting image of him as much as he protested that Dawn had grown to look more like her mother than he himself. Colorless shade flooded over the assassin’s head. Black was a lifeless shade, it held no remorse or sympathy, just like her past. It was why she chose black. Her hair stayed short, but once again the blackness returned.

Dawn let out a sigh of relief. Seeing her hair like it was was too much to handle. Any memories of that day burned at her back like a constant fire had marked on her back. A constant flame of guilt that could not be extinguished.

A few deep breaths. Calming and soothing they were. Dawn rubbed the back of her head and looked down at her phone then to her computer.

“I need to kill something.” She muttered as she booted up her computer. The screen flashed on with a welcoming light, illuminating the otherwise dark room. She scrolled through the Omniverse’s Web-board, er Dataverse they called it, apparently this is where one can learn of bounties and gutter trash Primes. Sluggishly leaning over the desk, she scrolled through the bounty board. Most of the primes here looked armed to the teeth or like cartoon characters. ‘Mickey Mouse’? What? The picture was an actual anthropomorphic mouse. The wheel of the mouse spun with a zip sound.

’Okor Paleblood’. In his picture he looked like a walking suit of fleshy disease incarnate. What was visible of his skin looked rotted beyond decay. Just looking at the picture on the boards made Dawn sick.

“Okay,” she muttered nauseously, “Not Dumpster-Man.”

Keep scrolling. Had to be someone in here who was inherently normal.

‘Luci’? Her skin is colored in different shades of paint. Dawn stared at her screen and let out a disgruntled sigh. Still the most normal of all these people.

’Doomguy’ Seems like a rather melodramatic name. Or it did until she looked at the picture. This dude looked loaded, and Dawn though she was carrying a pretty heavy arsenal. No. Way.

The psychopaths of this world, jeez. Just when she thought there was no one here that she could handle, she came across one last bounty.

’King Ghidorah’ Recently placed by the Empire, there was actually no picture available, just a description of him. A draconian. He seemed like her best bet.

The vigilante closed down the computer and stood from her chair. Rogue perked up at her master as she stood, tail wagging behind her with glee. She ran her hand through the siberian husky and gave her a quick kiss on the head.

“Sorry Rogue, you can’t come for this one. Too dangerous. I can’t lose you.” She said. “Stay in Epsilon for now. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get some action too.” The dog let out a disappointed whimper as her owner filled up the bowl of food.

“I should really get this to feed you automatically.” She said, using her omnilium to create a compartment in Rogue’s food and water bowls. It would feed automatically at certain times in the day. “There.” The dog was pleased with this.

The assassin pulled out a change of clothes. She would be fighting a dragon. More fucking claws. Why did everything in this world insist on tearing off her clothing? She put on a strapless black dress that didn’t even reach her mid-thigh with a pair of tight, short shorts underneath then looked for her sniper.

“Rogue, Delta. Sniper missing.” The dog let out a playful bark as she moved to the closet and sat. That means she found it. The dog had better memory than she did, and hers was eidetic. The sniper was stored up on a shelf in above her clothes, along with the armor she had summoned. She quickly donned her equipment and readied to leave.

As always, traveling through the Ashen Steppes would probably be the hardest part of her journey. King Ghidorah was last seen at the fountain in the Nexus so that would be her destination. Dawn was an amazing tracker, it would be difficult to evade her for long. Without much trouble, she crossed the perilous wastes of lava and arrived at the Nexus gate. Let the agoraphobia kick in.

[Kuzuru]

Kuzuru's smiled faded and was replaced by a scowl. There was little doubt about her strength, being able to dispatch Cinder with relative ease was more than enough proof of that. The demon stood silent for a moment, examining her from head-to-toe. Kuzuru sighed and glanced back towards his fortress hidden in the depths of a volcano. "Well," he began, taking a moment to compose himself, "I suppose if you wish to be boring about it, your participation in the fight against Volvagia will be sufficient." He turned his back on the newcomer and started up towards the entrance of his base. "You'll find an empty room inside, do with it as you will," he said, raising his voice as he got further away, "oh, one more thing, once you're settled in come find me, there is one more order of business, don't worry it won't take but a minute."

With his final word he disappeared into the compound.

[Miranda Frost]

And thus, the Demon disappeared into the catacombs of his own dark fortress. The breeze would pick up ever so slightly in his passing as if the ashy air was as cautious of him as Miranda was. This alliance would be a temporary one, this was a irrefutable fact. No man would totally control Miranda, not him nor November. Miranda would do as she pleased. Her face would loosen, her eye narrowing at the fountain of crimson beneath her. She could see it, no... she could feel it. Like Kuzuru, it would seem many have gave there blood here in this ancient fountain. Unlike Kuzuru, the blood here mingled and joined together, bound by a single purpose. Her eye glanced behind her at the young secondary that challenged her prior. Her eyes burning with anger and disbelief. Reaching down, the white haired brawler would grasp the small dagger in her steely grasp. She'd turn towards the assassin, twirling the blade in her palm and offered it to her.

 "Do you know why your blade, while able to slice through others, could not bare its edge against me?", she'd ask as the young Cinder as she shuffled to her, snatching the hilt from her loose grasp. Hmph, no answer. Pity.... "I saw you approach. I knew what you wielded. I knew your capabilities.", she'd say, moving a claw up to her coat's zipper, beginning to  pull its heavy weight down. Eventually its own weight would pull itself from her body, sliding over her shoulders, and crumple heavily to the stone floor, tossing ash and soot into the air. 

 This was something Miranda enjoyed greatly. It was the feeling of breaking chains and removing the weight of the world from oneself. She nearly felt weightless without the coat's constant pull on her entire body. She could feel her tense muscles relax beneath her revealed white tee. To most it would appear as casual garb and they would be right for the most part. Miranda hated clothing that was either too confining or revealing. Something that was secure yet hung loose on her body was just... liberating. 

 Turning to the fountain, she'd  lean down to scrape her claws over the surface of the blood pool. It would ripple and her reflection would shatter. She concentrate hard upon the sun in her chest, the crystal she was cursed to bear. A crimson aura would envelop her like flames. The ash cloud that descended upon her would dissipate, flowing around her. A lone claw would trace up her body to her scarred cheek. There wasn't many places she could draw her blood from. She'd press the claw down upon the long scar that draped over her left eye, re-opening it. Her body would lean over ever so slightly over the fountain, fiery crimson tears streaming down her cheek before dripping into the hungry pool.

 The blood didn't react well with the amount given to the fountain. Crimson translucent flames spread like ripples over the fountain's surface. Sighing, Miranda would  step back from the fountain and turn towards Cinder. Her Aura was gone, replaced by the fiery light emanating from the cursed fountain.  She knew her blood would not mix with the blood of others. Hers was a volatile mixture due to the power crystals in her chest. Soon the rest of the fountain would be spoiled by the charred remains of her own life force. With that done she'd follow the instructions to her room, passing Cinder by.
 "Be wary of that demon you serve, or you will be devoured like the many that inhabit him"

[Miranda Frost]

The room Miranda chose for herself was cozy at best and devoid of any flavor, but it was good enough for her. Miranda didn't need much. Hell a bed was hardly needed. Who knows when Cinder will choose to attempt to take her life again? The thought of such a battle brought a smile to her lips. Sure Miranda now had the overwhelming advantage, but that girl had possibly more potential than she. Overwhelming power comes with overwhelming price. This one of the few irrefutable facts in this world. What goes up must always come down.

 The pale woman would sit upon her bed, its supports creaking as her weight threatened to bend them. She had yet to sleep even once since that day years ago. Sure she had been knocked out on more than one occasion, but that just wasn't the same. Here in this fortress she seemed away from the world and its problems. Her head turned, her cybernetic eye peering out the stone window out into the distance. Out there was the crumbled remains of Death Mountain. Primes wielded the power to alter the balance of the verse's power. Along with the enigma, Nealaphh and teams of other primes, Miranda helped defeat the tyrant dragon, Volvagia. They had removed an evil, but did that really help anything? Her eye would droop to a close, her tired muscles finally relaxing. The Gorons now roamed homeless and there remained a power vacuum here. It was only a matter of time....

 before something else would come to claim it all.

  Miranda's eyes would open to the sound of the roaring cheers of thousands. She was there upon her knees, her silver eyes looked around her, wide in shock. Her body felt numb. Something was wrong here, deathly wrong. She felt a familiar weight in her arms, her flesh and blood arms. Reluctantly her eyes fell to what she carried, or rather WHO she carried.  Carried in her battered, bruised, and bloody arms was her brother, November. He was unconscious. No... no... he was dead. Miranda knew this yet it seemed so unbelievable. How could someone so impossibly stronger than her be killed? Her hands curled around his head, pulling his fore head to hers. Tears ran hot from her eyes, roaring down like rivers down her dust covered face, but yet again something wasn't right.

 A small stream of a cool, crimson liquid trickled from her forehead and over her brow. No. She'd pull  his head back, her eyes looking through a clean hole. The frightened girl let his body drop, jumping to her feet. It was hard to remember. They were fighting and through the roaring crowd a gunshot could be discerned from it all. The fight was rigged in her favor. It wasn't right. This was supposed to be fair!  Feeling returned to her body, her muscles clenching as her shock sparked something entirely different. Whatever it was, it caught flame. This flame spread throughout her body looking for any outlet. This flame was something she could not control. This rage concentrated in her arms and legs. To the spectators, she appeared to be on fire, her fists and feet burning a bloody crimson.

 What did they know? To them this was all just a show. Men and women sent to die for everyone's enjoyment. They knew nothing better. This was the way they were taught to think, or else. Miranda however couldn't care to give a flying rat's ass at this moment. To her, they were all laughing. They were  laughing at her loss, her tears, her unrelenting rage. They deserved everything that was about to be given to them. She'd slaughter them all, every single one of those fools who got their sick kicks watching them kill each other. The pain and rage of every single one of them rested in her burning limbs.
 Before she could take a single step however, light radiated from her limbs, countless glowing  crosses taking form upon her and then... 

Gunshots.

Miranda's cybernetic eye would open, the red sun of the Ashen peering through her window. She remembered why she didn't sleep. Dreams like those haunted her. Sighing, the woman sat up, cracking the tense feelings that had built up in her neck. If she had to sleep, it wouldn't be here. The bed was hardly comfortable for her. She'd walk out into the empty corridors of the fortress, following the passages down to where her eye saw Kuzuru through the stone walls. It was a wonderful thing to have, to see everything thing within a given radius of her.  Normal men would have trouble comprehend such a thing, but for her it became all but natural. 

 Upon coming to his door she didn't bother knocking. After all he did say to come by? It would be his fault if he was not prepared. After her journey here could he not anticipate Miranda taking some time to rest? She found it unlikely. Gently her metal claw pushed open the wooden door, her heavy boots clacking against the smooth stone beneath her. 
 "I'm here  now Kuzuru. What exactly do you need?", she'd say, brushing her bed hair from her face.

[Kuzuru]

The demon sat cross-legged on his bed, with his back resting against the wall. In his lap he cradled a cheap electric guitar, complete with a cliche’ flame paintjob. A thin black cord wrapped around his ankle and plugged into the guitar traveled across the room and into a series of amplifiers. A dissonant sound squealed from the speakers as he strummed a series of chords. Kuzuru sighed as the cacophony faded into nonexistence. He looked up at Miranda and then back down to his guitar.

“Yo,” the demon responded to Miranda’s intrusion of his room, “you know where I come from polite people knock, course I’d suppose politeness is a short commodity here.”

As if to punctuate the sentence he plucked another chord and released another awful sound. Miranda said nothing.

“You know what’s funny?” Kuzuru asked and then continued without waiting for an answer, “no matter how much I practice, no matter how many hours I pour into this thing, I never get any better, and believe me I’ve tried, it’s fascinating to be quite honest with you, I’ve never really practiced to get any better at killing and I’m a natural at it, I came into my world a more capable swordsman than anyone that had lived, and yet despite the countless hours I’ve thrown at this thing I simply cannot improve.”

He strummed again and then set the guitar to the side.

“I suppose you didn’t come here for my life story,” he said, “have you seen our blood well yet?”

“Actually, yes I have,” Miranda responded, “it seems my blood didn’t mix well.”

“Oh, no matter, the intent is all that really matters” Kuzure said, waving his hand, “to be honest with you that’s all I really wanted to talk to you about, congratulations, you’re one of us now.”

“That’s it?” she asked, barely hiding her annoyance, “nothing else?”

“Hmmm,” the demon bit the pad of his thumb and shrugged, “no not really, we’re pretty laid back here, kill people get paid, cause mayhem get paid, y’know, standard mercenary fair, you’re free to do as you will unless we absolutely need your help.”

“That girl… Cinder, what do you intend to do with her?”

Kuzuru shrugged again. “I was gonna kill her, but she asked me to mentor her so she could get strong enough to kill me,” he chuckled for a moment before continuing, “the whole idea tickles me so I figured I’d humor her and train her to kill me.”

“Oh, you don’t believe that she can?” Miranda asked.

“Oh, I suppose I haven’t given it much thought, she certainly couldn’t do it now, but she has that, oh what do they call it, that warrior spirit,” the demon answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Frost spoke, “you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.”

With that the demon laughed. He smacked his knee and pointed at the woman that stood before him.

“I like you Frost, I really do,” he said, “well maybe one day we’ll be on either side of a sword, but let’s give it time, get to know each other first, after all these kind of things age like fine wine, nice and slow.”

“I don’t like how light of the situation you’re making this but,” she paused for a moment and then continued, “perhaps you’re right, in either case, it is better for you to know that as of right now, I don’t trust you.”

“Well I suppose as long as you’re not the kind of person who would stab me in my sleep, but rather the kind of person that would stab me while I’m awake, we’ll be just fine Frost,” Kuzuru said, his lips curling into a smile, “after all we’re in a den of wolves.”

“Understandable,” Miranda answered.

After the two shared a moment of silence Kuzuru leaned back and stretched out across his bed. He nodded towards his companion and said, “have a pleasant day Frost.”

“Whatever,” she muttered and left the room.

Kuzuru sighed. He shut his eyes and hummed softly. Oh how interesting this world was, and what splendid wonders it still had to offer. The demon dreamed of blood as his mind drifted off to sleep. Ballad’s execution had begun to fade and in its place a gnawing hunger resurfaced. Soon he would have to sate that hunger, but for now leisure was an acceptable pursuit.

[Kuzuru]

A thin smile crept across Kuzuru’s red lips as he reentered the waking world. His dreams were usually a source of entertainment as they were filled with carnage and bloodshed too grandiose to occur anywhere but inside his head, however this time, this time was different and not in a bad way either. A girl danced in his brain, a girl made of paint with eyes that reflected every possible colour. He knew not what color her blood would be, but he knew that it had to be spilt. His ever-present hunger, once sedated by Ballad’s execution, was not back in full force. A ferocious beast that gnawed on his innards commanded him to glut himself on blood and anguish. His body shivered at the thought of Luci’s eventual demise.

“Dreams are such pleasant things,” he mused as he climbed out of bed.

Walking through his compound revealed just how lonesome it was. Asides from the gentle grinding of the generators there was no sound within the stone walls. Not that he necessarily minded, but it was quite dull. He called out for Mallory and Charles, but neither answered. He called a few more times as he stepped into the common area. Cinder Salt was enjoying a cup of tea as her master stepped into view.

“Have you seen our two knuckleheads?” Kuzuru asked her.


She took a sip of her tea and answered, “no, I have not.”

“Damnit,” he muttered, “we’ve a job to do and those are the most familiar with Coruscant.”

“Oh?”

Kuzuru smiled and extended his arms, moving his palms in the shape of a rainbow. Cinder’s canine ears perked up in curiosity.

“It came to me in a dream,” he said, “our next target, Luci, a small time gun runner, wanted for the smuggling of goods and fleeing custody, a perfectly whimsical being who’s head will make a fine trophy.”

“You’re going after a smuggler?” the coyotle girl asked.

“Indeed my dear Cinder Salt, would you care to accompany me?”

“No,”

Kuzuru frowned, “and why not?”

She took another sip.

“Salt?” he asked.
She pushed away her drink and said, “well, I’ve been playing along with your games for the last few weeks and you’ve yet to teach me anything.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, laughing, “I completely forgot about our deal, well I’ll tell you what, once my hunger is satisfied I’ll spend a few days training you, but as I’ve said before I have more pressing issues right now.”

Cinder Salt did not respond. Kuzuru flashed a set of finger guns and made a clicking noise with his mouth. He laughed to himself and walked towards the exit.

“At any rate I’ve got to get going,” Kuzuru said, “the early bird gets the worm as they say, ciao my dear Cinder Salt.”

With that he stepped out into the Ashen Steppes, a smile plastered on his face and a jump in his stride. The hunt was on.