Utter Ukedom

Ben 10 fanfic - To Grandmother's House

2008-07-22T12:47:00.000+08:00

Disclaimers:

Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action

Author’s Note:

From a series of one-shots that hold no continuity unless stated otherwise. This alternate universe drabble is the result of a couple of things:

1.) Rereading “A Company of Wolves” and “Little Red Riding Hood” one too many times. Though I like to think it’s more the former than the latter.

2.) Listening to the “Into The Woods” soundtrack far too often. I was particularly struck by the lines “Where witches, ghosts and wolves appear”

So the way this is written may slightly differ from how I normally write.

To Grandmother’s House

Once upon a time, in a far off land, there lived a young woman named Gwen.

Her hair shone a brilliant red, as fiery as the passion burning within her slender frame. Her eyes were a bright emerald. They gleamed with naivety whenever her lips widened to a welcoming smile and they flashed with spite whenever she made a cutting remark.

One fine morning Gwen had been tasked to bring her grandmother a basket laden with an assortment of dried meat, preserved jams and freshly baked bread. It was a duty she did not begrudge for the young woman enjoyed exploring the nearby woods where her grandmother lived. Especially ever since she found a four-legged companion nearly five summers ago.

She travelled down the dirt road towards the forest, enjoying the wind that ran its fingers through her sun-kissed hair. The basket swung enticingly from the crook of her bare, slender arm, but young Gwen had no need to worry about the gift for her grandmother. Her delicate form belied an unusual strength that many have come to discover the hard way.

Where the forest began, the young girl came upon a face unfamiliar to her. His flaxen hair, radiant as gold, was combed smoothly back, save for a strand that curled perfectly down to his brows. His eyes were glossy sapphire. They glimmered when his sights fell upon the young woman approaching him and his lips curled into a disarming smile.

Gwen’s cheeks tinged pink at the young man’s attention but she quickly gathered her composure and ventured closer.

“Good day, young miss.” He bowed.

“Good day, sir.” She nodded in return.

He introduced himself as a hunter, “I am known as Morningstar.”

And she returned the favor, “I’m Gwen.”

“Where are you off to with such a heavy load?”

“I’m taking these to my grandma.” The young woman explained.

“Would you like me to escort you to your grandmother’s? The woods can be confusing and dangerous.”

Gwen declined his offer. Over ten seasons she had been bringing her grandmother these baskets. The young lady knew the woods and its inhabitants far better than the unfamiliar hunter would, but she was too polite to correct him.

“If you are certain, young miss.” The hunter smiled once again.

“My grandma lives at the end of this path. So long as I don’t stray from it, I’ll be fine.” She gestured to the trail where but a few stray blades of grass struggled to grow.

Morningstar eyed the road uncertainly, “If you run into any wolves, let me know.”

Gwen didn’t allow herself to make any promises, instead she waved goodbye. The wolves in the forest knew well enough to avoid where humans tread, save for one solitary wolf. But that one was special and Gwen would do everything she could to keep him safe. Without a second glance at the hunter, she started down the path leading to her grandmother’s house.

How would she know the path would lead danger towards her?

The delicious aroma wafting from her basket drew out all sorts of woodland creatures. She delighted at the rabbits playfully skipping about and the harmony of the birds singing up in the canopy of leaves. A fawn and its mother peeked shyly from the trees and Gwen broke off a small chunk of bread and tossed it towards the pair.

She scanned the forest, waiting for a jet-black blur to appear from the underbrush. When she had been younger, she came across a young, injured wolf. Without thinking about the dangers of her actions, Gwen brought the wounded animal to her grandmother’s along with the basket.

It wasn’t an easy task as the wolf snapped and snarled and clawed and generally made things difficult for the young girl. She held fast, understanding that the poor thing was just frightened and wary of humans. Eventually she reached her grandmother’s and together they nursed it back to health.

Ever since then, the wolf would seek Gwen out whenever she came to visit her grandmother. The young woman never needed to wait long for her furry friend to meet her but today was proving to be the exception. Still, she waited by the path, playing with the occasional squirrel that scampered close or the rare sparrow that rested on her basket.

Everything stilled when a figure emerged from the shadows of the forest. It was another young man, and like the hunter, Gwen had never seen him before. His hair was deepest obsidian, as if the very shadows he had appeared from framed his chiseled features. His eyes were dark, unpolished amber. Intense and focused on her every move, they seemed to glow with a ferocity that Gwen found unnerving but strangely familiar.

He stepped forward and a grin spread across his face.

She stood her ground, unaffected by his approach and smiled brightly, “Good day, sir.”

“G-good day.” He stammered, as if unaccustomed to hearing his own voice. He opened his mouth but quickly decided against speaking only to second guess himself and make another attempt, which he would change his mind about.

Gwen chuckled before stating “Yes, you can have some food if you’re hungry. I’m on my way to my grandma’s. No, I don’t need someone to escort me. And if you follow the path that way you’ll get to the entrance of the forest.”

The stranger blinked before sheepishly laughing, “Actually, I was going to introduce myself.”

“Oh.” Gwen found herself blushing in embarrassment and offered her free hand, “Um, I apologize for being so presumptuous. I’m Gwen.”

“Kevin.” He smiled, accepting the proffered limb.

At the touch of his hand, Gwen felt the inexplicable sensation of déjà vu wash over her. She stared deeply into his eyes, trying not to let him know of the strange notions she had in her head.

I feel like I know you. Was what she wanted to say.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Was what she actually said.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and for a moment Gwen liked having her hand held by the unusually familiar young man.

The longer they stared at each other, the warmer Gwen’s face became until she pulled away and excused herself. “I should get going now, m-mustn’t keep grandma waiting.”

She ran the rest of the way to her grandmother’s.

Having met Kevin, Gwen was experiencing a strange jumble of confusing emotions and needed someone to help clear her mind. Granted her paternal grandmother wasn’t the best choice when it comes to being the voice of reason, but the young woman was desperate.

She arrived at the small cottage, out of breath and gasping for air. Leaning against the door to steady her breathing, Gwen was surprised to feel the wood slipping away from her hand. She looked up and found her grandmother staring eerily at her.

“Gwen, sweetie, come in, come in! And I see you brought me a little something, oh that is just so darling of you.” She squealed and promptly pulled her granddaughter into the cottage.

The young woman had the basket nearly ripped off her arm before being ushered to an oversized plush cushion. “Grandma, can, that is, could we talk?”

“Of course, sweetie. Tell Grandma Verdona what’s on your mind.” The elderly woman batted her lashes as she plopped down on an overstuffed recliner and set the basket of food on her lap.

Gwen told her grandmother of the hunter she had met, how strange it was that of all the creatures in the forest he was so concerned about wolves.

“I can understand why you’d be worried about that man.” Verdona nodded darkly as she polished off the candied plums. “With a name like Morningstar it’s a wonder he even shows his face.”

Gwen was not surprised that her grandmother completely missed her point. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

The young woman bit her lip nervously before telling Verdona about the second young man. She confided about the nagging sensation that she knew him, but she swore she had never laid eyes on him until that moment. “When we touched, it was like I’ve held his hand before. And the way he looked at me, Grandma. It was all so very-”

“Wonderful? Exciting? The best thing you could ever have imagined? Tell me if I’m getting warm, sweetie.” The elderly woman seemed unperturbed by the abject disbelief on her granddaughter’s face.

“N-no! It wasn’t anything like that!”

“Oh so it was horrible? Disgusting? Makes you want to crawl under a rock and die?”

“No! It was, was, oh I don’t know.”

“You’re going to have to give me more to work with, Gwen.” Verdona wagged a finger at her granddaughter. “No matter, sweetie, just remember: Fear not the wolfen but the wolf within.”

With that vaguely sage advice, Gwen bade her grandmother farewell.

Dusk had begun to settle across the land, what few shafts of light that managed to pierce the canopy of trees slowly began to dim. However, Gwen wasn’t worried about the darkness that would soon befall the forest. Her mind was too preoccupied by the events of the day, particularly her encounter with the dark-haired young man.

A low growl cut into her thoughts and Gwen turned to find it was her friend the wolf. She brightened and reached out to give him an affectionate pat. Gwen was surprised when he shied away from her touch and chose instead to turn his back to her with a huff.

The young woman canted her head, arms akimbo in disbelief. “Are you mad at me?”

The wolf glanced at her and snorted in confirmation.

Gwen tried to suppress the smile cracking across her face. “Is this because I didn’t wait for you on the path before going to Grandma’s?”

He whined softly before pressing himself flat on the ground. Gwen sat down next to him, legs stretched out as she rested on the palm of her hands.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to go with you. There was just this young man I met.” And she told the sulking wolf about Kevin. She expressed the same sentiments she had made with her grandmother and the animal simply whined and laid his head in her lap in response. Scratching gently at his ear, Gwen suddenly remembered the man she first met.

“You should tell your pack to be extra careful for a while. There’s a new hunter in the woods.”

The wolf looked up at her as if it was no concern to him. Until she uttered his name. He sprang to his feet, ears pressed flat against his head and fangs bared. He snarled at her before dashing down the path towards Verdona’s cottage.

Gwen had been frightened by her friend’s reaction, but the moment the wolf set off towards her grandmother she took chase. With the daylight fading away into evening shadows, Gwen found a sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

She quickened her pace and eventually arrived at the small cottage. The last rays of sun shone upon the path, revealing tracks both human and wolf leading to the door left ajar.

A scream pierced the forest air.

“Grandma!” the young woman cried out in alarm and dashed in.

Inside, Gwen found the wolf, poised to attack. But his target was neither Gwen who was standing at the doorway, of Verdona who was trapped beneath a net. No, his hate-filled glare was directed at the hunter, Morningstar.

“Struggle all you want, you witch. That net’s made of wizard’s bane.” The blonde sneered.

“Wizard’s bane, eh? Most impressive. I mean for a steward of that fifth-rate slipshod Hex.” Verdona cackled. “But wizard’s bane will do little against an extra pair of hands, won’t it dearie?” She grinned and turned towards the snarling wolf.

Gwen watched in utter amazement as the wolf’s form began to elongate and rise on his hind legs. The sickening sound of limbs snapping and reshaping echoed in the small cottage. Before long, the dark-furred wolf became the dark-haired man known as Kevin.

“So the curse has been broken.” Morningstar looked impressed.

“That’s not all that’s about to be broken.” Kevin snarled before lunging at the hunter.

“Oy, wolf! I meant for you to get me of this net first!” Verdona snapped before noticing her granddaughter. “Gwen, sweetie, get me out of here.”

Morningstar spied the young woman from the corner of his eye and after narrowly dodging a bone-crushing blow, he dashed up to Gwen. Kevin charged after the hunter but the blonde go to Gwen first. He grabbed her by the wrist and viciously twisted it against her back as he stepped behind her.

She let out a gasp of pain, wisely keeping still lest she wanted to break her arm. The cool of steel licked at her neck as Morningstar held a knife to her throat.

“Step away from the hag or the pretty girl dies.” The hunter warned with mad delight.

“Let her go.” Kevin glowered, instinctively baring his teeth.

“I said step away from the hag.” He pressed the edge of the blade against Gwen’s skin until he drew a pin-prick of blood.

Kevin shook in rage but did as he was told.

“Good boy.” The blonde chuckled and slowly forced Gwen forward until they stood directly above Verdona.

“Why are you doing this?” Gwen demanded.

“Why?” Morningstar shook his head in amusement, “Power of course. Hex promised unimaginable power to anyone who could kill the only witch capable of breaking the spell on the cursed wolf. And I've spent a long time hunting you down.”

Verdona quirked an unimpressed brow. “Your parents should have named you Dimstar if you actually believed a word that lying sack of slime makes.”

“You shut your mouth, witch!” Morningstar hissed and gave the elderly woman a sharp kick to her ribs.

“Grandma!” Gwen gasped. It was about time the hunter learned that Gwen’s delicate frame belied an unusual strength.

Verdona looked up from under the net and grinned when she saw that “It’s over.”

“What are you yammering on about you old haaaaaaaaugh!” He screamed as lightning burst from the roof and struck him. His grip fell slack and the knife slid from his hand to clatter noisily to the floor.

Kevin took this opportunity to tackle the hunter before proceeding to bash his head into a bloody pulp. He would have continued pummeling the blonde had Gwen not embraced him from behind.

“That’s enough,” She whispered.

“He hurt you.” He growled, one fist still poised to strike the unrecognizable Morningstar.

“Yes, he did, but I’m fine.” She smiled, “Besides, Grandma wants a turn at him for calling her old.”

“I am many things but I am most certainly not old!” The menace in Verdona’s voice was enough to convince Kevin to distance himself from the hunter. “Now, why don’t the two wait in the kitchen while I deal with Dimstar.”

She motioned them to leave, which Gwen and Kevin did without question.

Once alone, Gwen found that she had so many questions to ask Kevin. How did he become cursed? Why had he been cursed? When did his grandmother break the curse? Had he always been able to change forms? And ad nauseam.

But as they sat down beside each other, her mind went completely blank. She did nothing but stare at him, her mind comparing the similarities between Kevin’s human face and his wolfen one. The hue of his hair, the fierce expression, the wolfish grin, but it was his eyes.

How could Gwen have not recognized those intense, smoldering eyes?

“Like what you see?” He grinned.

She blinked, crimson spreading across her face like wildfire. “Y-yes, I mean no! I mean, that is to say...” she stammered.

He laughed, “I know, I was pretty much like that when Verdona broke half of the curse yesterday. I mean, after five years I had almost forgotten what I really looked like.”

“What do you mean by half of the curse?”

Before Kevin could explain, Verdona burst in, wiping off green slime onto her frock. “It’s getting late, Kevin escort my granddaughter home. And I mean all the way home.”

Kevin frowned, “You know I can’t leave the forest without breaking the other half of the curse.”

The old woman threw her hands up into the air, “You mean she hasn’t kissed you yet?”

Both Gwen and Kevin turned beet red.

“K-kiss?” Gwen squeaked.

“Yes, a kiss of love is one of the most basic counteragents against a curse. Has everything I’ve taught you simply gone in one ear and out the other, sweetie?” she sighed.

“Was that why you told me you couldn’t do it?” Kevin looked strangely relieved.

Verdona didn’t take offense, “Of course, dearie. Now go on, Gwen. Kiss Kevin so I can be rid of you both for the evening. I need my alone time.”

The young man and the young woman stared at each other, cheeks burning and hearts threatening to burst. Gwen took the initiative and leaned forward, slowly raising her lips to Kevin’s cheek.

“You’re off the mark, Gwen.” Her grandmother remarked, matter-of-factly. “It has to be on the lips.”

And before anyone could protest, Verdona pushed the two together, causing their lips to meet.

The woods were suddenly aglow as a pillar of light reached up to the night sky.

“Curse broken,” Verdona clapped and promptly shoved the two out of the cottage, “Now shoo.”

With the door slamming shut behind them, Gwen and Kevin just looked at one another for a few moments. Eventually, their fingers interlaced with the other’s and shy smiles graced their lips. Together they walked down the path, content to simply enjoy each other’s presence as they mulled over the kiss they just had.

It was certainly not the kind of kiss either of them ever pictured having, but they both agreed it would not be the last they’d share.

Ben 10 fanfic - To The Victor Go The Spoils

2008-07-22T10:50:00.001+08:00

Disclaimers:

Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action

Author’s Notes:

From a series of one-shots that hold no continuity unless stated otherwise. This particular piece is supposedly set sometime in the Ben 10k timeline.

To The Victor Go The Spoils

The Plumbers had recently enacted preventive measures for the rapidly increasing problem of agent burn-out. After being debriefed from a mission, the aforementioned agent was to take a forced holiday sponsored by the Plumbers, naturally. That was perhaps the only reason why Gwendolyn Tennyson found herself checking into an off-world spa resort. She would have preferred being sent somewhere a little closer to home but spending a week or two away from Earth might do her a world of good.

No pun intended.

While the resort was equipped to pamper and to rejuvenate, it wasn’t quite what Gwendolyn wanted at the moment. A pamphlet in the lobby gave directions to a small, quaint little town that flowed into a long, seemingly endless stretch of beach. Even if the sand was a deep magenta, the crystal clear blue water was more enticing.

It always had to be this way.

And so, here she was, wandering down smoke-colored cobblestone streets speckled with pink sand. Small, twin-suns gently shone upon lacquered stalls where alien merchants offered various knick-knacks and souvenirs. Her bare shoulders seemed to relish the sunshine, having gotten tired of the cold vacuum of space. A balmy breeze tugged at her skirt, ruffling the light material before scooting off to play tag with a random alien’s hat.

Gwendolyn remained alert, but more out of the desire to keep her valuables safe from sticky fingers (or tentacles in some cases) as opposed to ensuring there were no enemies within the vicinity. She could stroll down maze-like paths without worrying about objectives or goals or time constraints. She smiled to herself, allowing the peace and cheerful atmosphere to wash over her. She may have had some reservations about this involuntary vacation, but now she was actually beginning to enjoy herself.

Neutral ground.

And yet she was unable to shake off this nagging feeling that she was being watched. Emerald eyes casually scanned her surroundings, apart from tourists who were overly excited by their first time being off-world nothing seemed to merit suspicion. Maybe she had just been working too hard lately and was being unnecessarily paranoid.

She began to hum softly, forcing herself to relax as she continued to explore the street bazaar. Empathic jewelry that shifted in size, shape and form depending on the wearer’s state of mind, bottled horizons that glowed dawn or dusk or high noon with a twist of the cap, looking over various trinkets calmed Gwendolyn down.

But the sensation of eyes watching her every move lingered.

A petite furred stall-keeper gestured to Gwendolyn, “Might some chimes interest you, dearie?” She sweetly asked, holding out the metallic cylinders to the Plumber. As Gwendolyn shook her head, she caught a glimpse of something on the reflective surface. She leaned in for a closer look and her suspicions were confirmed.

“It’s very nice, but it’s a bit too big for me to buy.” She apologized before heading off.

Sandal-clad feet eventually led Gwendolyn to the less populated area of the town. The air wasn’t as welcoming here as it was at the bazaar, but the red head felt her surroundings was much more apt for what could happen next.

“What do you want, Kevin?” She asked casually.

The proposal.

Strong hands rested upon her shoulders as his velvety voice whispered into her ear. “You know what I want.”

She felt his warm breath against her cheek and Gwendolyn struggled not to make him aware of the delicious thrill shooting up her spine. Her face flushed when his hands began to slowly trail down her bare arms to rest familiarly around her waist.

“Sorry, not interested.” Was her cold response before beginning to pull away.

The rejection.

Kevin held fast, the smile on his face practically audible as he purred into her neck. “I don’t believe you.”

She resisted the urge to moan, visibly. Gwendolyn knew she had to get away from him before she lost her resolve.

“Believe this.” She growled out a strength-enhancing spell and proceeded to break free from his grip. Kicking at the ground, Gwendolyn dashed along the deserted streets, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Kevin had disappeared from sight.

The hunt.

Gwendolyn should have been worried, she should have been concerned. Instead, she smiled. Her aura crackled in warning and she skidded to a halt just as furred limbs shot past her, missing her by a hair’s breadth. She somersaulted backwards, her speed allowing her to keep her modesty despite wearing a skirt that willingly danced with the slightest of breezes.

A containment spell was uttered at Kevin’s direction but the man quickly shifted forms and easily avoided the attack. In one smooth motion, his hand took on a petrosapien gleam and shards were fired directly at the sorceress. The projectiles embedded themselves onto cobblestone as she took to the sky.

The struggle.

Gwendolyn didn’t have a chance to catch her breath as a stream of flame blazed straight at her. She brought up a barrier, diverting the flames upwards before freezing them solid and raining hail down on Kevin.

The mutant just turned up the heat, melting the deadly shower of ice into its liquid counterpart. He stood tall and looked up at her, smirk ever present, ever taunting. The sound of ripping flesh echoed against small houses as metallic wings tore out of Kevin’s back. He sprang up, wings slicing through air, bringing him face to face with Gwendolyn. He had gotten close enough to steal a brief kiss from her lips before she propelled herself backwards. He laughed in amusement, watching the apples of her cheeks crimson.

The sorceress inhaled sharply and her aura sparked in fury. “Bastard!”

“Tease.” He retorted, enjoying the look of unmitigated disbelief and loathing she shot him.

It was a strange, destructive dance they performed. A necessity when social obligations conflicted with personal wants.

Everything about Kevin screamed of danger, of brutality, of raw, uncontrollable power. Her aura crackled like mad at the proximity of such immeasurable strength, or rather the lack thereof. He could have torn her apart. It would be easy, like ripping the wings off a butterfly.

But he didn’t.

Shortly after they exchanged a series of attacks interspersed with taunts of the double entendre variety, he had wrestled her to the ground. She glared up at him, trying to kick herself free but finding she lacked the leverage to do so.

“Yield.” Kevin commanded, voice laced with authority, malice and a manic glee.

She needed to justify her desires.

“I yield.” She declared and ceased her struggling. Drawing a deep breath to steady her wildly pounding heart, the sorceress stared into Kevin’s eyes and asked “What do you want?”

A feral grin spread across his lips as he leaned in closer, “You know what I want.”

He wanted her to willingly give herself to him.

She swallowed thickly before whispering, “I know, I want it too.”

“To the victor goes the spoils.”

Ben 10 fanfic - Resolution

2008-07-22T10:44:00.003+08:00

Disclaimers:

Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action

Author's Notes:

Okay, so, this is a weird little "what I think would happen" fic set in the Ben 10k universe. It takes place after the Tennysons adopt Devlin into their family and I just wondered what Gwendolyn's reaction would be when she meets the son of the man she fell in love with all those years ago. I'm assuming bits of Alien Force does happen (namely Kevin and Gwen getting together), but at the same time something occurs to make Kevin become Kevin 11,000 and still leading to Devlin being born.

Gwendolyn had promised to visit Benjamin and his family once she returned from an off-world mission. And today would be the day she would fulfill that promise. Truthfully, she wasn’t looking forward to it.

Arriving at her cousin’s home, Gwendolyn rang the doorbell. Footsteps scrambled from the inside before the door slid open and out lunged a young boy who bore a striking resemblance to Ben.

“Aunt Gwendolyn!” he greeted brightly as his arms wrapped tightly around the woman.

“Who is this handsome young man who sounds just like my nephew Ken?” The sorceress chuckled, fondly mussing the young boy’s hair.

“Aww Aunt Gwendolyn.” Ken pouted as he tried to straighten his hair out. “Didja kick alien butt when you were off-world?” he asked eagerly. “Oh! And I gotta get someone you should meet!”

Before she could respond, small fingers curled around her wrist before she was half-dragged into the living room.

“Stay right here, I’ll go get him!” Ken declared before running upstairs.

“You’re sure a sight for sore eyes.” An aged, familiar voice smiled.

“Grandpa!” Gwendolyn beamed before embracing the retired Plumber. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“I thought you were going to stay for a few days. Where’re your things?” Ben asked as he walked in from the kitchen.

Gwendolyn shook her head, “I’ll only be here for dinner. I don’t want to be difficult.”

“You know what’s difficult? Getting two ten-year-olds to clean up the spare guestroom without using their powers. That, Gwendolyn, is difficult.” Ben stated grimly.

“Well now, I can’t let the efforts of my nephews go to waste, can I?” She smiled. “And I’m quite surprised you’re actually enforcing the no-going-hero-unless-necessary rule.”

“Heh, what can I say, I learned hard work builds character.” He chuckled.

“Come now, Gwendolyn, you should take it easy once in a while. You’ve only been back for what? A day or two at most?” Max reasoned.

“And if I remember right, weren’t you the one who went back in time to make sure I didn’t take being a hero too seriously?” Ben pointed out.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stay for a few days.” Gwendolyn laughed.

“Besides, it’s not like the other Plumbers can’t handle things. So don’t worry about the galaxy for the next few days.” Max added.

Gwendolyn suppressed a sigh. It wasn’t the galaxy she was worried about. Ever since she had heard of the latest addition to the Tennyson household, the sorceress was apprehensive about visiting.

“Come on into the kitchen, you’re just in time to help me make a batch of my famous Snail Stew.” Max beamed.

“Wait! Aunt Gwendolyn!” Ken called out, “You haven’t met Devlin yet!”

Turning, Gwendolyn’s eyes widened at the sight of the adopted boy following after Ken. Without warning, memories of years long gone flooded her mind. They surged in a deluge, all of these Gwendolyn thought to have been buried, forgotten.

She felt her eyes mist with tears and quickly she blinked them away. Drawing a deep breath to regain control over her emotions, Gwendolyn opened her arms out. “Nice to meet you, Devlin. Come give your Aunt Gwendolyn a hug.”

The lad shyly approached her before he walked into the hug, hesitantly returning it. Gwendolyn found herself holding him tighter than she intended and quickly broke away.

“Didja bring us anything cool from off-world, Aunt Gwendolyn?” Ken’s cheerful voice was a welcomed distraction.

“Hmm, let’s see...” She tapped her chin thoughtfully as the charms embedded on her sleeve began to glow. Ripping cloth sounded, followed by a small portal opening just beside the sorceress. She slipped her hand in and pulled out three brown packages before the portal sealed shut.

“Looks like I do have something. This is for Gwen when she gets back home with Kai, make sure to tell her not to get this wet.” Gwendolyn instructed. “This is for you, Ken.”

The young boy eagerly took the gift and proceeded to unwrap it. Inside was a small sphere of a dull gray hue. He looked at it in confusion, “Um, what is it?”

“Give it a squeeze.” Ben suggested.

The moment Ken’s fingers closed around the sphere, his fist began to vibrate. The trembling became too great for him to control that he had to open his hand. The sphere took on a bright green hue before the smooth surface started to crack and out emerged a miniature version of Ken no bigger than three inches.

“Whoa! Cool! It’s a mini version of me!”

“Whoa! Cool! It’s a mini version of me!” the diminutive Ken echoed in a high-pitched voice.

“A mimican ball.” Max laughed, “The longer you hold the ball in your hand, the longer it will take on your shape.”

“This is so neat, thanks Aunt Gwendolyn!”

“And this is for you, Devlin. Since we may not get a lot of chances to get to know each other, I thought this would be a good way for you learn about me.” She smiled and gave the last package to the dark haired boy.

Unwrapping it, Devlin found it was a crystal that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. “It’s very, um, sparkly.” He commented.

“Did your mnemosyne crystal fragment recently, Gwendolyn?” Max asked.

She nodded, “Yes, and I thought it would make a good gift for the newest member of the family.”

“But what does it do?” Devlin stared curiously.

“Well, a mnemosyne crystal is sort of like a diary for your memories.” Gwendolyn began, her eyes resting on the fragment. “You hold it tightly in your hand while thinking of something you want to remember and when it glows blue it means it’s done recording it. When you want to remember something, you just look into it and the crystal will figure out what it is you were looking for.”

“Can I try it out?” Devlin asked.

“Sure, do you want to store something?” She was careful not to meet his gaze.

He shook his head and the glittering object in his palm began to glow.

On the smooth surface appeared Gwendolyn when she was ten. She was busy typing something on her laptop when the aforementioned machine was engulfed by the familiar form of Upgrade.

“Ben that’s not funny!” Gwen yelled angrily. “Get out of my computer!”

“Only if you do my summer homework for me.” Ben replied cheekily.

“No way, Ben! Get out of there! I was working on something!”

“Your father and I didn’t exactly get along when we were kids.” Gwendolyn chuckled to Ken. The fragment she had given Devlin contained memories from her childhood, back before she or Ben ever became full-time Plumbers. She only hoped none of her more recent memories were in it.

“Alright boys, it’s about time for me to get dinner ready. Ben, come help me in the kitchen.” Max motioned, “Why don’t you two show Gwendolyn to her room?”

“Sure, great grandpa!” Ken nodded as the elderly man headed towards the kitchen.

Ben quickly whispered to Gwendolyn “Don’t worry, Kai left a couple of casseroles in the freezer.” before following after Max. The sorceress shook her head in amusement. Some things never change.

“This way, Aunt Gwendolyn.” She felt slender fingers curl around her wrist and turned to find Ken pulling her towards the stairs. “C’mon Devlin!”

“R-right.” He stammered as he pocketed the crystal.

Ken and Gwendolyn exchanged idle chatter as the two boys led her to the guestroom. Gwendolyn was doing all she can to focus on Ken and avoid looking at her other nephew. It may sound cruel, but she couldn’t deal with him right now. The young boy had reminded her of so many broken dreams and forsaken hopes she once had for her life.

When the two boys left, Gwendolyn allowed the memories she had assumed lost to return. Some were tender, like a first kiss shared in secret or being in a warm, protective embrace. Some were painful, like watching someone leave or a broad-shouldered back turning to her in regret. Some were bittersweet, like a moment of intimacy between forbidden lovers or the last glimpse of hope before reaching the point of no return.

How could you, Kevin? How could you be so heartless as to abandon your family? Your own son? She trembled in quiet rage. After all you’ve done, how is it possible that I still love you?

She tensed in confusion at her last thought. Why would she think that? How could she think that? Kevin was a threat, a criminal. He was heartless and cruel and had tried to kill her family on more than one occasion. Other than that he meant nothing to her.

Didn’t he?

The tears streaming down her cheeks proved otherwise.

“Hey Devlin, wanna go have some fun with my mimican ball?” Ken suggested, gesturing outside.

The dark-haired boy shook his head, “Maybe later?”

“Sure, you know where to find me.” Grinning, Ken headed out to see what mischief he could have with his omnitrix and his new toy.

Devlin quietly retreated to his room to climb into his bed. Making himself comfortable, he retrieved the gift his adoptive aunt had given him. He was planning to store some of his own memories into the crystal when it suddenly started to show him another glimpse of Gwendolyn’s past.

She was no longer ten in the vision. She was older, her hair grown long, her powers developed. She was flying, desperately trying to catch up to someone. She flew faster, hair whipping about her face as she abruptly landed before the tower housing the largest null void projector.

By the gates stood a figure.

Biting down on her lower lip, she drew closer.

“Tell me Ben was wrong.” She pleaded. “Tell me that you’re here to stop whoever it is that’s trying to release all those criminals from the null void.”

“I’d like to.” The familiar voice rasped, “But I can’t.”

“Why would you want to do that, Kevin?” She demanded.

“Because everyone messed things up for me. So why the hell shouldn’t I mess things up for them in return?” The dark-haired man growled.

And Devlin’s eyes widened when he recognized the figure Gwendolyn spoke to was his father.

“You know I can’t let you do that.” Gwendolyn warned. It was obvious she didn’t want to fight, but she had no choice.

“Why not, Gwen?” He asked casually, “What do you owe them?”

“That’s not what it’s about, Kevin.” She frowned, “I thought you understood that.”

And suddenly she was in his arms.

“I do understand. I just don’t care about them.” He whispered softly into her ear. “But I do care about you, Gwen.”

She made no motion to pull away or resist the embrace. “No, you don’t,” she hissed bitterly, “You only say that because you know how much I wish it were true.”

“But it is true.” He insisted, his eyes staring intensely into hers. “Come with me, Gwen. I’ll protect you from whatever the null void releases. Together we can own the galaxy!”

For a brief moment, Gwendolyn looked like she was going to say yes. But she didn’t need to say anything. The anguish in her eyes was answer enough for Kevin. The regret in their eyes was unmistakable before the red-head pulled him in for a kiss.

It would be the last time their lips would meet without blood being spilled.

Shortly after, Ben and the rest of the plumbers arrived.

Devlin dropped the crystal onto the bed before burying his face into his hands. He knew what happened next. His father was sent into the null void and he eventually escaped to Saturn.

Why did his aunt give him this thing? It only reminded him of how horrible a person his father was. How he never really cared for Devlin or his mother. Was she as cruel as Kevin was to give him such a twisted present?

He stormed out of his room, doing his best to keep his form in check. He knocked, rather urgently at Gwendolyn’s door. “A-Aunt Gwendolyn, I need to talk to you.”

A startled sob slipped through the door before the sorceress answered him. “Y-yes, Devlin?”

“Do you hate me?” He demanded.

She was completely taken aback by his question. “What?”

“Do you hate me?” He repeated.

“W-why would you think that?”

“Because you wouldn’t give me something that would hurt me if you didn’t!”

“What do you mean?” She looked genuinely confused. “Did something happen-”

“Why would you show me how nice my father could be?” he cut in, “I didn’t need to know that he decided not to care about me or my mother when she died. I was happy to think he was as bad as they all say.

Angry tears poured down Devlin’s cheeks, “But then you went and showed me that he was nice to you and that he cared about you! Do you hate me because I was born as someone else’s son?”

A palm smacked smartly against the young boy’s tear-stained cheek. Gwendolyn loomed over him, emerald eyes ablaze as she shook in suppressed fury.

“Calm down, child.” She frowned, “I gave you the fragment where I kept my fondest memories of Kevin because you are his son. I wanted you to have a reason not to hate him. So many people already do, why add you to the list? Even if Kevin is a despicable person, a father should never be hated by his son.”

Devlin touched his cheek gingerly, realizing his error. “I-I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“So am I.” She replied, kneeling down so that she was eye-level to Devlin. “Look, Devlin, I’m sorry that my memories hurt you. I never intended for that to happen. I just don’t want you to grow up thinking Kevin was always a monster. He was good at one point, granted it was in his own way.”

“You’re the first person to say that about him. Not even my mom spoke about him that way.”

“I’m sure your mother believed he was good somewhere deep down. Otherwise, why else would you have wanted to free him from the null void?” Gwendolyn smiled.

“Aunt Gwendolyn, do you think...” Devlin paused, scuffing his feet on the hallway floor, “Do you think if...”

“If what?”

He took a deep breath, “Do you think if you had been my mom, he would have cared about me?”

Gwendolyn blinked before gathering the boy into her arms. “I don’t know, Devlin.” She whispered, “But you have a new family now who love and care about you very much. Isn’t that what really matters?”

Devlin nodded as he returned the hug. “I guess so.”

Additional Info:

I totally made up the mimican ball (based on the word mimic) and the mnemosyne crystal (based on the Greek titan Mnemosyne who was all about memories) but if Man of Action ever do use those terms in the future or even right now, that would be like so awesome 8D

Ben 10 fanfic - First of Summer 4

2008-07-12T02:02:00.000+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10 Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action

Chapter Four: Cat’s Meow

The clocks in the Tennyson house showed a quarter-past five on their faces before Ben arrived. He found Gwen waiting for him in the living room, dressed in what he assumed was as daring as Gwen was capable. The sleeves were still present though shortened to end just a few inches above her elbows and he supposed the calf-length skirt was better than nothing. Her feet were clad in flat step-in shoes, obviously designed for comfort rather than style. It was then he noticed Gwen was absently cutting cards with one hand. She didn’t even seem to be concentrating much; the movement of her fingers was fluid, practiced, like she could do this blindfolded.

“What are you doing?” Ben blinked as he watched in surprise as his cousin suddenly fanned out the cards on the table to flip them all in one smooth sweep of her hand.

“Calming myself down.” She replied, her voice lacking all signs of anxiety.

“I think you’re confusing a good time with something else.” Ben laughed before removing his coat. “Lemme just get out of my uniform and I’ll show you the sights.”

“Oh about that,” Gwen raised her hand, “Do you mind if we leave a little later? Like two hours later? I, uh, have a more pressing engagement to attend to.”

Ben arched a brow, “And that is?”

Gathering the cards into one hand, Gwen bent them lengthwise just enough to give the deck enough tension to spring from one hand to the other. The young woman stated simply “A job interview.”

Ben was certainly taken by surprise, “I thought you were here on vacation?”

“I am, but it turns out big city living requires deep pockets. Pockets that I obviously don’t have. So, I’m going to need a part-time job.” She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You are absolutely screwy. What kind of dame goes on vacation and then gets a job?” Ben shook his head in disbelief.

“This kind of dame,” Gwen pointed to herself as she tucked away the deck of cards into her purse. “I have to go, it’s a long way to that shop and I have to get there by six.”

Even if Ben didn’t approve of Gwen taking a job on what was supposed to be her holiday it was her time to with as she pleased. And if that meant working instead of relaxing, well, Ben didn’t really have much of a say in the matter. However, he insisted that he at least ‘check the place out’ for Gwen’s sake.

This was not well met by the female Tennyson as she considered it an affront to her judgment. Before the argument could escalate between the two cousins, a compromise was reached. Ben would act as chauffer and moral support for Gwen and she would let him act like the tough, over-protective cop-and-cousin he was trying to be with minimal protest.

“I still say you’re making this a bigger deal than it is.” Gwen shrugged as she climbed into the rust bucket.

“And I still say you’re screwy for wanting to work when I could just as easily spot you the dough.” Ben retorted as he started up the vehicle.

“Right, because you’re simply overflowing with cash. Is that why the rust bucket’s in such mint condition?” She smirked, patting the poor excuse of upholstery that struggled to stretch out over the seats.

“Grandpa Max wants the rust bucket to keep her charm and character. And he goes through great lengths to keep her as is.” He sighed, recalling his many failed attempts at jazzing up the aforementioned vehicle. Being turned down by so many auto shops simply because no one wants to mess up with Max Tennyson’s jalopy was not a very fond memory for Ben.

“So tell me about the cards.” He quickly decided to change the subject.

“What about them?”

“Well, it’s just that it isn’t often you see people handling the cards the way you do. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a regular card shark.”

Gwen flashed her cousin a smirk before lifting her fingers and twiddling them in the air, “Why thank you, I like to think my dexterous little friends are good for more than just darning socks and mending clothes.”

“How’d you learn to do all those anyway?”

“Small towns don’t offer much excitement. You get your kicks when and where you can. It just so happens that the library is filled with wonderful things called books. Some of them just happen to be about sleight of hand performances and card tricks.”

“So you are a card shark!”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Ben. Knowing how the dealer shuffles the cards is just an advantage.” She grinned, “How else do you think I could have afforded coming here? Oh, there’s that shop!” she pointed.

Ben slammed on the brakes far harder than he would have liked. “You can’t be serious, Gwen. Do you know what that place is?”

“My potential place of employment.” She remarked before hopping out of the car.

“Wait! Gwen! You can’t go in there!” Ben called out as he struggled to exit the vehicle. It was obvious Gwen wasn’t interested in listening to him as she quickly slipped past the doors.

This is just dandy, Ben groaned to himself, Oh well, she’ll find out for herself and then she’ll come running right out. He nodded in confidence and a rather mischievous smile cracked across his lips. At least this time it’s my turn to say I told you so.

The interior of the dress shop looked different at night. The skulls and bones that had seemed interesting in the morning sunshine now looked ominous and menacing, as if a warning for trespassers or a promise of things to come. The faint glow of the cloth-covered lamps barely illuminated the room, casting more shadows than banishing them. The scent of sandalwood incense clung to every surface, as if masking something within the dim room.

Gwen gulped audibly as she stepped in, the calm she had managed to find earlier quickly draining out of her. Drawing in a deep breath, she called out, “Hello, ma’am? It’s Gwendolyn, from earlier today? I’m here for the-”

“You’re here early. And call me Madame or Charmcaster. Never ma’am.” Charmcaster remarked as she emerged from the backroom. She seemed pleased by Gwen’s punctuality and reached out her hand to Gwen. “Alright, hun, you ready for the test?”

Gwen nodded and accepted the proffered limb, suddenly finding herself being pulled towards the full length mirror. With a practiced motion, Charmcaster shoved the mannequins away and drew the curtains around them, shrouding them in darkness.

“Your test is three parts,” Charmcaster explained, “The first is beauty. My girls need to meet a certain standard. So here,” the store owner unceremoniously tossed a dress at Gwen. “Put that on and let me see how you look in it.”

Charmcaster stepped out of the small cloth enclosure to let Gwen change, much to the young woman’s relief. Gwen fumbled in the dark as she removed her own clothes while beginning to wonder what it was she was getting into. Just as she finished pulling the dress over her head, the curtains parted.

“Well? Let me see you, hun.”

Gwen spun around, feeling uncomfortably exposed in the garment she had been instructed to wear. Her bare arms folded across her chest, unintentionally drawing attention to the plunging neckline that showed an alluring hint of her cleavage. The skirt hugged her slim hips like a second skin before ending just a hair’s breadth past fair-skinned knees.

“Isn’t this a little, um, flashy for me?” Gwen asked, her cheeks flushing when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

“Hun, you look down right keen in that little number. Alright, you’ve passed the first part with flying colors.” Charmcaster purred. “Part two is brains. My girls need to be able to think on their feet for any sort of situation. For example...” she trailed off before suddenly pressing herself completely against Gwen’s smaller frame.

“A client is getting a little too friendly with you. What’ll you do, hun?” She breathed into Gwen’s ear.

At first, Gwen was too stunned to react. Having never found herself in such a scenario before, her mind had gone blank. The only thing she was acutely aware of was how the scent of lavender clung to Charmcaster’s hair and how soft and warm her body was. But eventually Gwen regained her composure and promptly pushed Charmcaster off her.

“I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself.” Gwen declared sternly, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“But what if they’re quite insistent?” The older woman leered, suddenly sliding beside Gwen while her arms snake around the red-head’s body. Her amethyst eyes caught the sight of an elbow aiming for her face. Deftly she leaned backwards, releasing her hold on Gwen to avoid the collision. Slowly she righted herself and found Gwen had already moved back, smiling pleasantly in the darkness.

“That was just a warning.” Gwen declared sweetly. I didn’t ever think watching farm hands tussle all those summers would pay off.

“You just passed parts two and three, with that stunt, hun. And you’re the second girl to use anything other than a slap.” Charmcaster beamed in delight. “Finally I get another live wire. I was getting tired of all the wilting daisies we have here. You start tonight.”

Gwen had just gotten a hold of her purse when she blinked in disbelief. “Tonight? But I had plans for tonight with my cousin.”

“You’re just gonna have to tell him to take a rain check, hun.” Charmcaster shrugged.

“Let me get changed first so I can tell him.” She began and quickly gathered her things.

“You ain’t goin’no where and you’re keeping the dress on, hun.” Charmcaster stated. “Just tell me where the cat is at and I’ll tell him for you.”

“He’s just outside. And if I can just ask am I supposed to be modeling the dresses for the store?” Gwen canted her head.

Charmcaster just stared at Gwen before bursting out in laughter, “Oh my Lord, you have no idea what this joint is all about, do you hun?”

Before Gwen could answer, the platinum-haired woman slung her arms across the female Tennyson’s shoulders and ushered her through the curtains and into the backroom.

Gwen’s eyes widened at the sight of a large, well-lit parlor, easily ten times the size of the cramped shop front. Immediately she could understand the need for the sandalwood incense as the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke permeated the room. Tables with chairs stacked atop clustered in one end, while cushioned booths stood a few feet away. A black piano waited patiently beside an unlit platform that served as a stage.

Several young women loitered in scattered groups, applying make up or adjusting their glittering stockings and heavily sequined dresses. Feather-adorned hats and sparkling bandanas decorated sleek, bobbed hair as painted lips chattered and giggled. Compared to these women, Gwen never felt so drab in her entire life.

Lining a majority of the wall was a bar where liquors and spirits of all sort were kept in full view as a sort of defiant protest against the prohibition law. A young, well dressed man was bussing the long counter while another was polishing and wiping drinking glasses.

“Now do you understand what kind of joint I run, hun?” Charmcaster’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“It’s a Speak Easy?” Gwen blinked, having only heard of such places as she never quite found the desire to enter one.

“Now you’re on the trolley, hun. I have to be honest with you. You’re cute but you seem like one of them bluenose, high hat types so I don’t really expect you to stick around. But as you said earlier today I’m desperate and need all the help I can get. Especially for tonight.” The proprietor explained.

“But what about-”

“The pay? You’ll get your share after the evening’s over, hun. All’s I need for you to do is to greet the clients as they come in.”

“N-no, I mean what about my cousin Ben? He’s still outside waiting for me.”

“I’ll go tell him to come swing by for you in a couple of hours.” Charmcaster motioned for a tall, athletic woman with rust-hued locks to approach them. “Rojo, hun, this here’s Gwen. Show her the ropes while I go take care of other matters.”

And Gwen was left with the fierce-looking pale woman who showed far more flesh than necessary in Gwen's opinion. “Uh, nice to meet you, Rojo was it?” adjusting her things, she started to extend her hand when Rojo simply slapped it away.

“I ain’t interested in making friends. I just want to land me a man so's I’ll be set for life. So stay out of the way and try not to look too pretty, you got that, runt?”

Nursing her wrist, Gwen glared defiantly at the taller woman, “Don’t worry, I’ll only be here for tonight.”

“Heh, you probably wouldn’t last any longer than that anyway.” Rojo smirked, “You sure don’t look like a flapper girl. You’re more of a frump. And frumps here get eaten alive.” She flashed a tooth grin before chomping down in mimicry of a shark.

“Maybe I just don’t require the attention of men to make myself feel special.” Gwen smirked and suddenly found herself being lifted off the ground by the collar of her dress.

“You got a smart mouth. Maybe I should paint it with your blood?”

“Is there a problem, ladies?” A familiar, velvety smooth voice interrupted.

Gwen gasped in surprise to see the same, dark haired man she ran into earlier that day.

Outside, Ben waited in the car, fingers drumming on the car’s dashboard.

“How long does a person take to realize this dress shop isn’t really a dress shop?” he muttered.

Hearing the sound of an opening door, Ben turned towards the shop’s entrance expecting to see his cousin. A figure emerged, but the long tresses were a clear indication that whoever it was, it wasn’t Gwen.

“Well, well, well. Never thought I’d see you in this part of the city, hun.” The sultry voice of Charmcaster chuckled.

“I’m only here for my cousin,” Ben replied deadpan as he got out of the car.

Charmcaster laughed, “I never would have guessed the little bearcat inside is related to Edwin’s lapdog.”

“You’ll find that my bite’s worse than my bark,” Ben returned darkly.

“A rabid lapdog can be quite deadly.” Was the mocking reply, “Now look, hun, your concern for your cousin is quite touching. But she’s a big girl and she’s got enough moxy to keep herself from getting into any scrapes in there.”

“She’s still my cousin and I have to keep her out of trouble. Now if you don’t mind sending her out, we’ll be on our way and out of your hair. Or am I going to have to storm the place?”

“And risk breaking the truce,” Charmcaster sneered before leaning in close to Ben’s ear, “Or your cover? I’m sure the boys in blue won’t look too kindly on knowing they have a dirty cop.”

“Who said I was going to Edwin’s? Uncle Phil, or should I say Lieutenant Phillips gave me strict orders to show Gwen a good time. And if you’re getting in the way of that, I can charge you with obstruction.”

“You think you’re the only one who’s got friends in high places?” She returned smugly, her hip jutting out defiantly at Ben. “Oh hun, we can keep at this all night but I’ve got a joint to take care of. And you being here is bad for business. Come back in a couple of hours, your cousin will have enough money to get herself as dolled up as she wants for the next season or two.”

“I don’t think so.”

With a sigh, Charmcaster entered her shop with Ben closely following her. Moments later, the young man was being roughly tossed out by two large men.

“You heard the lady, come back in a few hours. We’ll keep an eye on Len for ya.” The larger one of the pair laughed.

“Gwen.” The other corrected gruffly.

“Whatever.”

Ben winced from the pavement’s solid greeting before dusting himself off. Grimacing, he got into the rust bucket and drove off. This little altercation between them was far from over.

Kevin was in the dimly lit stock room checking on their inventory after they had finished loading everything in. He had taken it upon himself to personally oversee the re-stocking, having lost two shipments these past few months to some unknown group. His sources had no idea who was behind the thefts as all leads seemed to either grow cold or arrive at a dead end.

Emphasis on dead.

How many guys had he lost? Kevin could probably count them all on one hand, but it was the principle of the thing that irked him. Someone actually had the guts to take him on but not enough to actually make himself known?

“Blasted coward.” He snarled to himself as he carefully closed the lid on the crate of liquor. He knew it couldn’t have been Edwin, given how he had heard the other man’s gang had been losing numbers themselves.

There was no word on any new group forming, no talk of a dark horse trying to make it big on the scene. Whoever it was, they weren’t trying to give themselves a name and that struck Kevin as odd. The point of stealing liquor from someone else was to drive the other party out of business while helping your own to grow. No one had heard of any new speak easy suddenly emerging, so where was all the booze going? Even the cops on Kevin’s payroll were clueless about the whereabouts of the smuggled spirits.

Still puzzled, Kevin exited the stock room, deciding to unwind over a drink before the night’s crowd started to arrive. Normally he would make an appearance, just to remind the customers that they were paying for more than just the drinks. His notoriety was one of the many reasons why his speak easy was so popular.

One could never be certain of what would happen with Kevin Levin around. A cheap thrill, but it was one Kevin was willing to provide from time to time.

Just not tonight. Not when that smug, prissy Morningstar was around.

It was no secret that Kevin disliked a fair amount of people. Edwin was certainly one of them, but that was out of principle. After all, it just wouldn’t do to be on good terms with the boss of your gang’s rival, would it? Benjamin Tennyson however, he disliked for other reasons. The young officer was good friends with Edwin for one. And more often than not when raids were made or when deals went sour, Ben would have had a hand in setting it up. But Kevin knew it was all business, even if it looked like Tennyson was personally gunning for him.

Morningstar, on the other hand, Kevin disliked out of personal reasons. Entering the parlor, an argument between two women provided him with a much appreciated distraction from the subject of Mike Morningstar.

“Maybe I just don’t require the attention of men to make myself feel special.” There was something vaguely familiar about the self-assured tones of that voice. Turning towards the source, Kevin was pleasantly surprised to see it was the girl who had given him the brush off earlier that day.

A predatory grin spread across his face as he watched Rojo lift the slender girl off the ground. Already he started to close the gap between him and the two women.

“You got a smart mouth. Maybe I should paint it with your blood?” The larger woman growled.

“Is there a problem, ladies?” He asked.

Rojo glanced over her shoulder and smirked at him. “Nah, boss, just showing the new girl the ropes.”

Kevin had to keep himself from cracking up in laughter at the look of recognition on the other girl’s face. Oh yes, she definitely remembered him.

“W-we’re just peachy.” Gwen stammered, seemingly more distressed by his presence than the threat of Rojo giving her a bloodied lip.

“I ain’t gonna bother you two then.” He waved and started to walk away. Any second now he expected the red-head to call for help, which he would be more than happy to give. Naturally in exchange for some favors.

“Any last words, pipsqueak?” Rojo grinned, drawing her arm back as she clenched her hand into a fist.

“How long have you been working here?” Gwen asked; mind racing as she tried to come up with a way to get herself out of this mess.

“What?” Rojo blinked.

Even Kevin had paused mid-stride in curiosity.

“Tell me, how long have you been working here?” She pressed.

“What’s it to ya?”

“Well, if you’ve been here for a while already and you haven’t “landed yourself a man” as you put it, maybe it’s because the type of men here aren’t really interested in landing a girl?”

“What are you saying?” Rojo glowered.

I wish I knew myself. Gwen mentally gulped before continuing “I’m just saying that you might be wasting your time here. I mean, you can’t catch what’s not there, can you?”

Rojo considered this very carefully, “Maybe you’re right.”

“So there’s no need for you to rough me up, right?” Gwen reasoned hopefully.

“Wrong, hitting you will make me feel a lot better.”

Kevin blinked in surprise when the smaller girl suddenly slammed her knee right into Rojo’s stomach. The pale woman released her hold as she doubled over in pain.

“N-now I only had to do that out of necessity, I’m a firm believer that violence solves nothing.” The red-head stated; clutching her things tightly to her chest as she quickly backed away.

“Oh you are so dead!” Rojo snarled as she lunged for Gwen.

Letting out a yelp, Gwen braced herself for impact but was surprised to find broad shoulders blocking her view of the larger woman.

“We can’t have you killing the new girl on her first night on the job.” Kevin gently scolded. He had caught Rojo by the wrists and wrenched them viciously behind her back. “I don’t mind a good catfight, but do it after the night’s over. Our customers ain’t the kind who likes to see girls all black and blue.”

“But she’s only here for one night.” Rojo winced, doing her best not to struggle.

“That ain’t my problem.” Kevin whispered darkly before giving her wrist another twist, “Now, you’re gonna forget this all happened, am I clear?”

“C-clear!” She gasped in pain.

“Good.” With a benign smile, Kevin let her go. The flapper quickly stumbled away, trying to put as much distance between herself and Kevin.

“Um, th-thank you.” Gwen’s voice stammered from behind.

He cocked his head at her, a wide grin across his features. “For what?”

She looked at him in disbelief, wasn’t it obvious what she was thanking him for? “You stopped that woman from attacking me.”

“Is that what I did? Funny, I was just making sure the customers don’t get greeted by a messed up face.” He sneered. It was obvious he took great pleasure in how Gwen squirmed as she fought to control her temper. Her response, however, took him by surprise.

“You know what? I deserved that for talking to you so rudely earlier today.” She smiled before averting her gaze to the floor. “I’m really sorry about that. And it’s not just because you’re the boss but because you really didn’t deserve to be spoken to in the way I did.”

“Was that you?” Kevin smirked, “I didn’t recognize you, what with all the skin showing.” It took a great amount of effort on his part not to burst out laughing as he watched her turn beet red.

Before Gwen could come up with a response, Charmcaster called out for Fingers and Rocky. Immediately the same two men that had accompanied Kevin in the park the other night appeared to respond. Wordlessly, they disappeared through the curtain into the shop front.

“What’s going on?” Gwen blinked as the platinum-haired Madame entered.

“Nothing to worry yourself over, hun. Just some annoying little lapdog who escaped his leash.” Charmcaster smiled at Gwen before noticing her state of distress. Amethyst eyes narrowed irritably at the dark-haired man standing across the red-head. “Am I to assume Rojo never got the chance to show Gwen the ropes?”

“That would be about right.” Kevin grinned, not in the least perturbed by the glare Charmcaster shot at him.

The Madame swore under her breath, “Lemme give you the quick run-down, hun. You smile, you say good evening to the folks, you take their coats and hats if they got them and hand them over to any of the boys hanging around you. No flirting, no making eyes, no accepting drinks, and no accepting dances.”

Charmcaster looked thoughtful for a moment, “Unless I personally say so. Got it, hun?”

“Basically I’m a living welcome mat.” Gwen nodded.

“Nonsense, welcome mats don’t need to be as pretty as you, hun.” Charmcaster winked as she pinched Gwen’s cheek.

“Um, th-thanks?” the red-head crimsoned, unsure if she had just received a backhanded compliment or insult.

“Good, as for your things, just toss them into the coat room. But knock first. Never know who’s inside doing what.” The platinum-haired woman warned. As Gwen went off to put away her things, Charmcaster glowered at Kevin. “I have enough on my plate as it is and I don’t need you making things worse.”

“I just made sure your new welcome mat wasn’t missing any teeth. The least you could do is let me have some fun with her.” He rolled his eyes.

“She’s Tennyson’s cousin!” The Madame hissed.

Kevin quirked a brow, so that’s what Charmcaster meant by lapdog. His eyes wandered towards the retreating figure of the red-head and he could hardly keep the wolfish smile from forming. He had already been interested in her, the way she had spoken to him so brashly earlier that day and the unexpected reason for her apology.

“I know that look on your face, Kevin. A blood grudge is the last thing we need.” Charmcaster warned before adding “Besides, she doesn’t look like the type you normally go for.”

“Don’t I always do what’s not expected of me?” he chuckled before heading to his private room.

Author's Note: A little explanation on Gwen being good with cards. Instead of having her being a techy and a sorceress, she's well read and really good with cards and other sleight of hand tricks. She is from a small town, not a country bumpkin though she and Ben have spent some Summers on a farm when they were kids. Also, huge creative liberties were taken with Charmcaster as I had intended for her to be cajun but could not for the life of me find a decent female cajun reference.

And yes, I absolutely adore the crack pairing of Charmcaster and Gwen but Kevin and Gwen still pretty much trumps EVERYTHING for me :3 Apologies if this chapter is a HUGE WALL OF TEXT. Blame my friend who proofs my stuff who declared that I should include the last part in this chapter as opposed to separating it into the next one.

Ben 10 fanfic - Excuses

2008-07-12T01:59:00.001+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action

Gwendolyn discreetly and quietly slipped into a secluded safe house the older Plumbers built. It was little more than a large bungalow from the outside, but inside the walls were reinforced titanium alloy and a security grid constantly flashed on monitors.

A blip appeared on the screen, moving far too quickly than anything on earth was capable of and it was heading straight for the safe house.

He had found her. Dear gods she didn’t think it would be this soon, not when the Galactic Enforcers had promised they would do everything they could to slow him down. What had he done to them?

She was shaking. From her knees to the very ends of her fingers, small tremors travelled along her slender form. Despite the intense focus in her eyes and the calm bravado she exuded, deep down she was scared.

Anyone could see she wasn’t just scared, she was down right terrified. Even him. Especially him.

And she hated it. Absolutely hated it.

She hated the ease with which he’d manage to track her down. Despite all her precautions he could find her so effortlessly they may as well have been playing a mere child’s game of hide and seek. But with the frequency of his appearance increasing, they very well might have been playing cat and mouse.

She hated that even when she overexerted her magical aura, his powers still dwarfed hers by at least a dozen fold. And he was far too willing to remind her of this fact in each and every damned encounter. He could level an entire city if he so chose. He could. He had. And he had done so to draw her out of hiding.

She hated that even though he was no where within the immediate vicinity, she could sense the distance between them diminishing. She could see the feral leer of his lips, hear his steady, controlled breathing, and by the gods she could practically feel his presence as if he was standing directly behind her.

But what she hated most was that even after all these years he still had an effect on her. The very mention of his name sent chills shooting up her spine. But she was not afraid of him per se.

Thick tendrils suddenly wound around her body before flinging her to a wall. Her back slammed painfully against steel with a grunt as her wrists were pinned on either side of her head by fists with a grip like vice. A blur approached and instinctively she kicked out; the heel of her boots catching her assailant square in the chest. Flesh bent to absorb the blow harmlessly before pressing closely against Gwen’s body. From having retaliated, the red-haired woman now found herself in the most compromising position of straddling the familiar, broad-shouldered form.

“Getting sloppy, Gwen.” Kevin leered, “It only took me a month to find you this time. Or is this your way of telling me you want to be found?”

“Let go of me.” She hissed; hands aglow with power.

“But dear sweet Gwendolyn, why would I want to do that?” He purred, slowly grinding his hips against hers. This smug, self-assured motion was enough to break the calm in her mind.

“Don’t touch me!” She snarled desperately struggling against him, not realizing she only made it all the more enjoyable for him. “You don’t have the right to touch me!”

She wasn’t afraid of what he could do to her. She could handle pain and was mentally prepared to lose her life given her line of work. It wouldn’t be her first brush with the Grim Reaper, it wouldn’t be her last. Oh if it were only about such trivial matters of life and death, Gwendolyn wouldn’t be this frightened of Kevin and be so franticly trying to get away from him.

No, what truly terrified her was what being around him, being near him made her feel.

There was the surge of adrenaline, the heady thrill of exhilaration, and the heat. Oh gods, the heat that would build in the very depths of her being she could almost believe she was burning from the inside. It was oppressive and overwhelming but it felt so incredible she could hardly stand it.

“I never thought I needed the right,” he laughed before crushing his lips against hers.

And there was the darkness.

The darkness in her heart that she would never admit to existing would seep out from the corners of her mind. It would merge with the flames licking at Gwen, tainting them, tainting her with its obsidian touch. This darkness would whisper things into her mind. Things about wicked desires she could never possibly have wanted but would suddenly find herself longing for.

She bit down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood but not enough to dissuade him from continuing his savage, primal assault on her body.

Desires of being revered and worshipped for what she was capable of and what she had done despite being obligated. Desires of taking what she wanted, protocol and diplomacy be damned simply because it would be convenient. Numerous of all were the desires of having her bare flesh writhing against him as he claimed her, all of her again and again.

Her nails dug into her palms as she felt his gyrations against her grow harder, more insistent. She could taste his blood on her tongue, rusty and bitter and oh so addictive. And for unknown reasons, Gwen found herself parting her blood-stained lips and returning the kiss.

The blackened flames would twist and writhe within her consciousness, within the very depths of her soul. They were viciously tender in their dance, grotesquely beautiful in their efforts to wrench Gwen away from the path of good she had so determinedly set herself on.

Gwen couldn’t, wouldn’t accept that these vile thoughts, these disgusting wants were hers. It wasn’t possible. She wasn’t anything like that! This darkness was not hers, it was his. It was all his, it had to be.

In her mind she rationalized she had only responded to make him lower his guard. That she was not giving into her own primal urges. The moans she so desperately tried to suppress proved otherwise.

His grip on her wrists had gone slack, but rather than wrenching herself free, she clung to him tightly. Easily he supported her weight as his hands, now unrestricted, began to reacquaint themselves with every inch of her body.

She gasped in objection when the fabric of her clothes dug into her flesh as Kevin tore them off. Her skin prickled from the cool night air briefly before the heat of their bodies overwhelmed her senses.

He had corrupted her. He had ruined her. He had made her like him!

“N-no.” She whispered, barely audible. But she knew he heard her. He had stopped and was staring deeply into her eyes.

He had done no such thing and she knew it. She was just using him as an excuse for her own weakness. As a warning of what she could become if she wasn’t strong enough to resist the siren’s song.

“No what?” He asked his voice devoid of the effort it took to restrain himself.

“No more running.” She stated grimly, “Just take what you want and leave me alone.”

She was strong, wasn’t she?

“I have no problem taking what I want.” The manic lust-filled look in his eyes intensified and Gwen felt a thrill shoot up her spine. “It’s the keeping I have trouble with.”

Gods, he only needed a mere glance to turn her from a confident, magic-wielder into a weak-kneed, ordinary woman.

Around Kevin, Gwen wasn’t so certain. She didn’t know if she could keep the aching needs he managed to summon within her at bay. Or if she even wanted to at all.

Author’s Note: This fic was totally inspired after reading Future!Dark!Kwevin fics by fellow fanfic authors Invader-Hime and kikikun. I am merely the poor man’s version of these two talented writers ;A;

Ben 10 fanfic - First of Summer 3

2008-07-08T01:45:00.000+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Chapter Three: Fire Extinguisher

The day for Benjamin Tennyson progressed with the speed of white rapids. The station was abuzz with the usual flurry of phone calls. Complaints ranging from mere vandalism and petty theft to the growing trend of disturbing the peace and trespassing were filed in quick succession. It was getting difficult to keep track of all the complaints and Ben already had a mountain of paperwork to sort through.

“I am never going to get this done.” He groaned as his telephone once again rang right as he was in the middle of filling out a report. “Hello, police department, how may I help you?” He repeated for the nth time that day.

“Oh officer it’s terrible! I need help!” The woman on the line was in hysterics.

“What’s the problem, ma’am?” He asked. Please let this not be about a cat stuck in a tree. We’re not the fire department. He thought sourly.

“Our little Samantha hasn’t come home!” The woman declared. From above her sobbing, Ben could hear her husband spouting worst case scenarios of kidnapping, white slavery, and murder.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Ben tried to sound sympathetic, the last thing a worried parent needed was to be antagonized.

“Last night.”

“And how old is your daughter?”

“Sixteen. Oh officer, please find my baby. She’s such a sweet little lamb!”

Ben grimaced, steeling himself for the reaction he would elicit from the woman when he responded “I’m sorry ma’am, but forty eight hours needs to have passed before you can file for a missing person’s report.”

“That is a load of malarkey! My baby girl could be hurt and hungry and in who knows what danger and you’re telling me you’re not going to do anything because it hasn’t been forty eight hours?!”

“Ma’am, I understand your concern but it’s quite possible that your daughter had attended a petting party with her friends and none of them have quite recovered from the excitement.” He explained, already feeling the beginning of a headache.

“I beg your pardon! How dare you accuse my little girl of doing such indecent things! Harold! Talk some sense into this rude man!”

Ben simply stayed on the line as the father berated him about how it was his duty as a policeman to protect the innocent. With a sigh he waited for the litany to finish, only it came sooner than expected as he heard a squeal from the background.

“SAMMY! Oh my little baby, are you hurt? Where were you? Harold! Samantha’s home! Young lady you and I are going to have to talk!”

Without so much as an apology, Harold hung up on Ben. “Feel free to call again, sir.” Ben muttered before slamming the receiver down on its hook.

“Got chewed out by another disgruntled parent?” A fellow rookie asked from the adjacent table.

Ben could only nod as he massaged his temples in an attempt to control the throbbing in his head.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that the Lieutenant wants to see you?”

With a sigh, Ben got to his feet. “At least I won’t have to take any more calls.” He shrugged before heading towards the lieutenant’s office. With a polite knock, Ben turned the knob, opened the door and stuck his head in.

“You wanted to see me, Lieutenant Phillips?” He asked.

The office was big enough to fit three desks, but only one stood in the end of the room, flanked by filing cabinets. A typewriter sat precariously near the edge of the table, peering over the wastebasket overflowing with crumpled balls of paper. The strong smell of tobacco lingered in the air despite an open window.

Amidst the thin haze of smoke was a man reaching his golden years. Hearing the young officer’s voice, he looked up from the large folder he held in age-worn hands. “Ah, Ben, come on in. Have a seat my boy.” He smiled and gestured towards the empty chair directly before his desk.

“If this is about the Henderson’s cat, lieutenant, I was only doing my job by telling them to call the fire department.” Ben pre-empted as he closed the door behind him before seating himself down.

“What? Oh no, it’s not about that, Ben.” The lieutenant laughed, “Anyway, call me Uncle Phil now that we’re behind closed doors.”

“I’d really rather not if since we’re still in the precinct.” The young man declined as respectfully as he could. Despite the receding hairline and the numerous white strands peppering the aging officer’s head, Lieutenant Phillips or Uncle Phil as he liked to be called, still managed to command a certain air of authority.

“Heh, Max always knew how to drill respect into someone’s head. Anyway your grandfather told me little Gwendolyn was going to be here for a spell?”

“Yes, sir, she’s here for the summer.”

“I see, I see,” Phil nodded thoughtfully. “I promised Max that I’d help you show her a great time in the city. But with all these cases just sprouting up like weeds, I don’t really have the time to honor that request. So consider yourself given a free pass to show her all the best spots in the city. And I mean the best spots, catch my drift boy?” he winked.

Ben grinned. He knew exactly what the Lieutenant meant and he was confident that a certain dark-haired, gray-eyed individual who could help out. “That’s real swell of you, sir. If that’s all, I’d better get back to work. Those reports aren’t going to fill themselves.”

As Ben began to rise, Phil suddenly spoke out “One more thing, Ben. I know you’re rather busy with certain,” he paused as if grasping for the proper word, “things. But I just want to remind you that the times are getting dangerous, even if we like to tell the press otherwise. Remember to watch your back and your cousin’s. Especially your cousin’s.”

The grave expression on the lieutenant’s face sent a chill down Ben’s spine and the young man quickly exited the room. Returning to his desk, Ben quickly went to work, attacking the waiting pile of papers with a zeal he rarely ever displayed for such mundane things.

“Boy, the lieutenant must have given you a real earful.” The other rookie gulped.

“You can say that.” Ben chuckled.

On the twentieth floor of an office high rise, Edwin Pride was busy reading the obituaries of the newspaper. He was glad that amongst the names printed, none of the bonds dealers he had invested with appeared.

“There’s always tomorrow.” He sighed, the brief respite from cynicism quickly passing. He leaned back in his plush, leather-covered armchair, one of the few luxuries he would allow himself to have in his rather humble office. The walls were bereft of any expensive paintings; instead they were decorated by framed news clippings of his and his family’s achievements in the construction and architectural industry. The carpet covered the expanse of the room, hiding the cheap, but practically treated wooden floor.

Function over fashion was Edwin’s motto, though he would have preferred if the two went together. Rather than wasting his funds in buying expensive furniture that only he would have access to, he thought it would be more prudent if he spent his money elsewhere.

Like in his two pet projects for instance.

A smile lit up his youthful face as he thought of the success the first his little endeavors provided him. Granted it took quite a pretty penny to sort through willing individuals of dubious moral fiber. But Edwin was pleased with the way he managed to shape the ragtag of men into the fearsome gang known as the Tricks.

There was only one group who managed to oppose him, and that was the Chains. Even the mere thought of them made Edwin shudder.

While the Tricks were responsible for the disappearances of certain individuals who stood in the Pride family’s way, Edwin always made certain that their method of disposal was, for a lack of a better word, humane. Unlike the rather brutal manner the Chains used when dealing with their own little problems.

“Such dreary thoughts,” Edwin found himself remarking as he put away the obituaries. The telephone rang and he answered it automatically. “Edwin Pride speaking.”

“Hey Edwin,” Ben’s voice greeted, “Think I can call in a favor?”

“No, I’m not jazzing up the rust bucket. My grandfather left specific instructions that his old friend Max’s precious is not to be touched in any way that he deems unfit.” Edwin chuckled.

“Oh it’s not about the car. I’ve pretty much given up on getting her looking like anything but the rust bucket.” Ben laughed, “Listen, I promised my cousin that I’d show her a swell time tonight and I was thinking maybe you could-”

“Pull out all the stops at The Usual?” An amused smirk glided across Edwin’s features.

“You’re like Houdini with that mind reading trick of yours!”

“No, Ben, you’re just very predictable.”

“Says you. Anyway the sergeant’s givin’ me the stink eye for tying up the lines. Gotta beat it.”

And the audible click of the receiver returning to its cradle followed. Edwin smiled, if Ben’s cousin was anything like him, he was in for an interesting night. Getting a fresh point of view on his second pet project would be a welcomed thing.

After all, there was always room for improvement and more importantly a larger margin of profit.

Gwen was a nervous wreck; there was no doubt about that. She may have managed to convince the shop owner to at least give her a chance, but really what did she know about selling clothing? She hardly knew the latest fashion trends, so how would she be able to convince anyone to buy anything? She could always just work in the backroom doing alterations and mending. She certainly had a lot of experience darning socks and patching up things for her older brother and cousins.

Yes, that sounded like a good suggestion to make.

Now if only her body would listen to her head. At times like these, the only way she could calm down was by reading a good book. Then she recalled where she was and groaned. Even if she could find a good book, she risked losing track of time and get to the shop late. Or worse, miss the appointment altogether!

But what really got her to work into a conniption was recalling how she so rudely responded to someone who might have been a valued client of the store. Or worse, the actual store owner! After all, could the strangely dressed woman really be the store’s owner? And yes, the platinum-haired woman was strangely dressed even for Gwen. For all Gwen knew, she was just the manager.

“It was his fault.” She reasoned, recalling the tall, broad-shouldered man. There was something about the way he looked at her with his dark brown eyes that was unsettling. It was predatory, intense, appraising and curious all at the same time and in so brief a glance!

He shouldn’t have looked at her that way. If he hadn’t, maybe she wouldn’t have been so eager to distance herself from him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She apologized when she felt herself accidentally run into someone with a rather muscular chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” He assured her, his strong hands reaching out to help steady her before smoothly adding “Feel free to run into me anytime.”

Gwen felt her face flush before she reminded herself that she disliked men who viewed her as little more than a good time. “I’ll make a note to do just the opposite.” She quipped, “Please excuse me.”

“What’s your rush?” He asked with such a casual arrogance Gwen felt butterflies stir in her stomach. But it was the way he had looked at her with his eyes that made the winged insects within her truly take flight.

“I-it’s really none of your beeswax. And I mean that in the nicest way.” She replied sweetly before hurrying off. When she felt she was far enough, she took a quick peek over her shoulder and saw him entering the store!

“He asked for it,” Gwen declared, “A modern woman doesn’t need to answer to anyone but herself. Except her would-be employer, what have I done?!” She wailed. With the option of reading a good book scratched out, Gwen resorted to rummaging through her things. It was when her dainty fingers felt the small box containing a deck of cards did she release a sigh of relief.

Ben 10 fanfic - First of Summer 2

2008-07-08T01:29:00.001+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Chapter Two: Bearcat

The cousins arrived at the small, two-story house Ben shared with their grandfather. The deed to the property was actually in their grandfather Max’s name and he would have been the one to fetch Gwen at the station. Had the elderly gentleman not been on a trip with an old flame of his.

Neither cousin seemed to be comfortable about discussing this little bit of knowledge. Despite believing themselves to be open-minded individuals, there were simply some things they didn’t deem appropriate to think about.

Let alone say out loud.

Family pictures and newspaper clippings of the older Tennyson’s exploits as a young police officer decorated the hallways, drawing attention away from the fading wallpaper and chipped walls. Lighting fixtures glowed warmly, bathing the house in a welcoming light. The age-worn carpet muffled their footsteps as Ben lugged Gwen’s things up the stairs and into the spare bedroom.

“This is a nice neighborhood,” Gwen remarked as she peered out the window.

“Yeah, grandpa sure knew how to pick ‘em.” Ben nodded in agreement. “Plus it’s only a block or two away from the precinct so I’m never late for work.”

“You don’t say? Where’s the museum or the theater? I heard the Broadway shows here are fantastic.”

“Ugh, you still like those boring stuff? Ain’t you ever been a kid?” Ben shook his head.

“I’ll have you know my friends and I really like those things.” Gwen huffed.

“Yeah? Well, you’re in the big city now! I’ll show you how we have fun tomorrow. After I get off from work.”

“That sounds good,” Gwen nodded, curious about what Ben would consider fun. “Do I need to dress up or anything?”

Ben gave Gwen a quick once-over, “If the rest of the clothes you brought are anything like the one you’re wearing, you’d better buy something new. There are some nice shops a few blocks that-a-way.” He gestured.

“There is nothing wrong with the way I dress.” Gwen frowned.

“Hey, I know that and you know that. Buuuut big city thinking is different and you gotta blend in. And to blend in right, you gotta have the right duds.”

“I suppose I could update my wardrobe a bit.” She mused.

“Great! That’s it then, I’m off to bed. Breakfast is at seven sharp.”

“You cook?”

“Had to, otherwise I’d have to eat grandpa’s stuff.”

Both cousins shuddered in recollection of their grandfather’s rater unique culinary preferences before bidding each other goodnight.

Elsewhere in a poorly lit area, a young girl found herself staring at the barrel of a tommy gun. There was no trace of fear in her eyes, no sign of resignation or of madness. Without so much as blinking, she grabbed hold of the end and pushed upwards with an almost inhumane strength.

The gun fired several round into the air as the young girl drew a small knife from the garter of her stockings while dashing into the gunman’s chest. In one smooth motion, she had plunged the blade into his stomach, unmindful of the string of expletives that poured out of his mouth in unison with the blood from his wound.

She retracted the weapon as he roughly backhanded her away.

The blank glaze in her eyes showed no pain and in the same instant she lunged for him. The knife sunk deeply into his jugular as more rounds fired. This time a few bullets managed to hit their mark as they buried into the young girl’s flesh.

Mechanically, she started to drag the gunman’s body towards the vehicle he had been driving moments ago. Dumping him haphazardly into the back seat, she didn’t bother to push his dangling limbs in completely. Finding the keys still in the ignition, she started up the car and drove off.

Not once did she seem aware of the serious wounds dotting her slim frame. She would continue to drive long into the night towards the edge of the city until the car runs out of gas and she runs out of blood.

The morning would come to greet Gwen with warm blanket of sunshine and a serenade of birds. The red-haired youth rubbed away the sleep from her eyes as she rose from the bed. The fatigue of travels proved to be easily remedied by a good night’s sleep and the aroma of pancakes wafting into her room proved to be an even better balm.

Gwen quickly got dressed to join her cousin for breakfast, eager to start her day. In the kitchen, Ben was already in his uniform, finishing off his own pile of syrup-drenched pancakes. He greeted her with what she could only guess was a “Good morning”, given how stuffed his mouth was.

“This actually looks pretty good.” Gwen noted as she sat down across Ben before digging into the food.

“Cup of joe?” Ben offered, holding out the pot of freshly brewed coffee.

“No thanks, milk will do.” She waved her hand, reaching for the pitcher of creamy liquid.

“Okay, I gotta go. I’ve probably got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me.” Ben grimaced, “I should be back by five. The spare key is under the potted plant on the porch. And please, Gwen, get something nice. You’re just here for the summer. I have to live here.”

“Keep that up and I might buy something absolutely out of date just to spite you.” Gwen sweetly warned while batting her eyes.

“Could you at least clear the table for me?” Ben sighed.

“Why not? I’m in no rush.”

“That’s real swell of you!” Ben grinned and promptly rushed out of the house, leaving Gwen to finish her meal alone.

After clearing the table, the young woman spotted the day’s newspaper and decided to scan the articles. The paper was little more than an assortment of gossip columns and editorials, which when compared to the actual news of the crime rate reaching an all time high was far less depressing for the female Tennyson.

Suspected murders and a string of disappearances were definitely not something Gwen wanted to read about this early in the day. To get her mind off the morbid subject, she spent most of the morning unpacking her things and getting settled in.

It would be near noon when she was finished and ready for lunch.

What better time to visit the store after sampling the local cuisine? A hot dog from a vendor wasn’t quite the nutritious or glamorous meal she had envisioned but it would have to do for now. She’d let Ben show her the prime eateries later that night.

As she strolled down the streets, she noticed a cluster of younger women sneaking glances at her before snickering to each other. Now, Gwen wasn’t the sort who easily conformed to fads. She was quite proud of her ability to reject the trends and kept to the more traditional, if not conservative, styles of fashion.

But she didn’t realize that she could easily say this back home with her friends who wore the same manner of clothing as she did. Out here in the big city, well, she felt quite out of place and far too self-conscious to her liking.

Maybe Ben’s right. As they say, when in Rome do what the Romans do. She mused and headed down the streets in search of dress shops. Gwen had such high hopes of buying herself something that the majority of her generation wore, until that is she caught sight of the prices.

It was quite a shock for the red-head. How could such a small amount of fabric cost so much? Even more shocking was when she learned the other stores charged more. The money she had brought wasn’t going to be enough for her it seemed.

While it was likely that Ben would offer to loan her the money, Gwen thought it feel too much like charity. Gwendolyn Tennyson was a modern woman and modern women never took charity.

This was supposed to be a vacation, but it wouldn’t be much of one if she couldn’t very well afford anything. And so the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to finding herself a part-time job.

At the far end of a chain of stores was a large building with an unusually small entrance. Above the door hung a gaudy banner that read “Charmcaster’s Charming Clothes” and in the small display window was an equally gaudy sign declaring “HELP WANTED”.

Through the doors, one would find a cramped store with a rather unique décor of skulls and bones. Mannequins clad in sequined and beaded dresses surrounded a full length mirror, as if vying for a glimpse of their reflection. Bolts of fabric stretched out across the walls, draped over unlit light fixtures and acted as a makeshift curtain leading to the back room. Ottomans and cushioned stools cluttered the rest of the red-carpeted floor, barely leaving room for a counter where the store’s proprietor stood.

Her long, platinum white hair fell in waves down to her back as if in protest to the current trend of bobbed hair. The lids of her amethyst eyes were painted heavily in iridescent green, while her lips shone an almost venomous shade of purple. With ring-adorned fingers, she adjusted a glittering brooch as large as her fist. Whether said piece of jewelry was real or faux one couldn’t say. But something about the silken blouse that wrapped tightly around her breasts made it seem irrelevant. Her long, feather-covered skirt cinched at waist and draped over full hips. The hem ended just at her ankles to reveal bare feet and colored toe nails.

The telephone on the end of the counter rang and she swore beneath her breath. “That had better be good news.”

“Madame Charmcaster, I can’t find Chloe no where.” The feminine voice on the other end drawled.

“What? Just when I found a replacement for Mimi, I’m going to have to find another girl?” the older woman groaned, “Just keep looking for that little hussy and tell her to get her rump here tonight before I put a curse on her!”

Without saying goodbye, she slammed the phone back on its receiver. She glared hatefully at the help wanted sign, “I’m beginning to think that’s going to become a permanent fixture in this joint.”

And then she noticed a young girl take interest in the sign.

The chimes hanging by the door tinkled gently as the girl walked in. “Good morning. I’d like to apply for a part-time job.” She stated with the brazen confidence of someone who had no idea what they were getting into.

Charmcaster could barely suppress a snicker from forming. “And what can a plain Jane like you do?”

“First of all, my name is Gwendolyn. Second, I’ve worked before, I’m a quick study, and I’m also quite good with my hands. And third, everyone around here says you’re in desperate need of help.” She reasoned.

The older woman smiled, “So you heard I was desperate, huh? Well, sorry hun, you just don’t seem like the type I hire.”

“What exactly are the qualifications?” Gwen frowned.

“For one thing, you have to know how to get all dolled up. By the looks of you, it must have been ages since you were last at a shindig.” Charmcaster smirked. “I mean, please, hun, I think I saw my granny wearing that rag of yours.”

“And I suppose looking like a chicken exploded all over you is all the rage?” the younger woman snorted, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

The shop owner glanced down at her skirt and laughed. “You got moxy, I like that. Tell you what, hun, you come back here tonight, say around six or so. If you can pass the test I’ll have ready, I’ll hire you.”

“Six it is!” Gwen declared a little too eagerly as she exited.

Charmcaster watched in amusement as the younger woman left. The smile on her face widened even more when she saw the same girl run into a young man with dark hair and earth-hued eyes. From inside her shop she could see him trying to chat her up and the Madame let out a whoop of laughter when Gwen shook her head and hurriedly walked away.

“Lookie who just got the cold shoulder.” The pale-haired woman declared with a cackle as the young man entered.

“She’s new I’m betting.” He merely brushed off Charmcaster’s comment.

“Sure, hun, just keep telling yourself that. It’s not like anyone can possibly say no to the Kevin Levin.” She teased.

“Ain’t that the truth.” He smirked before glancing over at the sign, “She gonna be in here tonight?”

“She might. Another one of my girls is looking to be a no-show and I’m going to need as many hands as I can get. Do you have the stuff?”

“When have I ever failed to deliver?” He countered coolly. “I’ve got the boys bringing it in the back.”

“Make sure it’s not coffin varnish this time.” Charmcaster warned, “Last thing we need is losing Morningstar’s business by accidentally poisoning him.”

The look of distaste on Kevin’s face was unmistakable.

“Oh now don’t be like that. I can’t stand him either, hun. But he’s got cash to burn and he likes to burn it here. Isn’t that what matters?” Charmcaster purred as she sauntered over to Kevin. Her slender, ring-clad fingers began to massage the dark haired man’s shoulders. “Besides, he’s bringing over some friends I plan to schmooze.”

Kevin just shrugged her off, “Just keep him out of my way. Otherwise, I ain’t gonna be responsible for what happens to the bum.” He glowered before pushing aside the curtains to disappear into the back room.

Ben 10 fanfic - First of Summer

2008-07-08T01:27:00.001+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Author’s Note:
This is an Alternate Universe story set during the prohibition era of the 1920’s. There are no aliens here, or powers, or magic. And yes, this is also a spin-off of my earlier drabble “Almost” only there are certain differences which you will have to find out on your own.

Chapter One: Sitting Pretty

Evening had settled in Central Park with an air of warmth that gently nudged away the last traces of spring. Summer was coming to the city, ushering promises of beautiful venues for picnics and dates. But tonight, even with the balmy wind blowing through the trees and slipping past blades of grass, there was a chill lingering in the darkness.

Few people wandered Central Park when the night came, only the hansom cab drivers would venture along the cobbled streets. The horses’ hooves would canter noisily past iron-cast lampposts, down familiar stretches where the couples riding within would cozy up against each other. But even these working men with their trusty steeds would keep to the well-lit portions of the park.

Unlike two figures seated on a bench located in the very heart of the park.

Silently they sat, one leaning back to take a long drag from his cigarette, the other nonchalantly feeding imaginary pigeons. The lamppost a few paces away flickering to life every so often to briefly illuminate their features.

They were both young men in the prime of their youth; both sported tailored suits, both had hair as dark as the night sky on a moonless night, and both had eyes that belied their experience despite their age.

That was where their similarities ended.

The younger of the two, albeit by just one year, kept his short hair slicked back, out of his gray eyes. His frame was slender; slight even, the fabric of his clothing giving no indication of the toned muscles he possessed. He had a certain softness to his face. One might almost say cherubic if it weren’t for the grim line his lips took, marring his otherwise gentle appearance. His hand dug into the paper bag of stale bread crumbs, absently tossing them out before him in sporadic intervals.

The older of the two allowed his hair to grow longer and free of the oils the other men wore in their locks. Uneven bangs fell before his earth-hued eyes and he’d blow these strands away between exhales of cigarette smoke. Unlike the gentleman seated beside him, his broad shoulders weren’t so easily concealed. His rugged features matched his physique, and an aquiline nose that gave him a more menacing look whenever his brows would knit together.

Like now for instance.

Flicking the ash from the edge of his cigarette, he spoke nonchalantly, “Times are tough, ain’t they, Edwin?”

“They sure are, Kevin.” The younger man agreed in the same tone.

“Can’t be any tougher that what me and my boys are going through.” He snorted before taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Says you, just last week Joey went missing.” Edwin retorted, throwing a handful of crumbs to the side in an arc.

“Two nights ago Fiver never showed up.”

“Let me guess, the very same Fiver Bongo got into a scrape with over that flapper? I thought he left town with her.”

“Fiver ain’t the type to up and leave for some bird.” Kevin sounded amused, still keeping his gaze affixed on the night scenery before him.

“Are you trying to say something, Kevin?” Edwin asked, echoed by crinkling of the now-empty paper bag.

“Naw, I’m just wondering if the truce is still on.” He shrugged, before dropping his cigarette to snuff it with the heel of his shoe.

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t be foolish enough to waste resources when a more profitable compromise can be reached.” Edwin scoffed as he rose to dust his hands and suit clean.

“Hard to say, since I don’t think you’d be dumb enough to admit it if it was you.” The older man grinned in open mockery.

“I hold you in the same regard.” Edwin stated in the same tone of contempt.

An owl’s hoot drew both men’s attention and wordlessly they departed into the shadows. Both men were greeted by his motley crew of individuals.

“So what’s the word, boss?” The larger of the two men flanking Kevin asked.

“I ain’t sure if it is the Tricks making our boys vanish. But it looks like they got problems of their own.” That bit of news helped to ease the suspicion. “Fingers, I still want you to tell the runners to keep their eyes peeled.” Kevin added, taking a quick glance over his shoulder at Edwin’s retreating figure.

“What’d he say? What’d he say?” The giddy youth beside Edwin repeated over and over.

“Ace, if you’d let him get a word in edge-wise we might know.” A petite man frowned as he nervously kept watch of the park’s surroundings.

“It’s fine, Ike.” Edwin smiled, “Shame Ben couldn’t make it tonight, I just acquired some information he’d like to hear.”

“Where is Tennyson, anyway?” Ace continued, “Not like him to be all ghosty when we meet with the Chains.”

“Tennyson’s at the station.” Ike answered.

“I thought the sergeant promised he wouldn’t make Tennyson do the paperwork at night?” Ace quickly continued.

“Not that station, the train station. Honestly, Ace, your mouth moves far too quickly for that lump in your head you call a brain to keep up.”

Edwin just laughed, enjoying the banter between the petite liaison officer and the young part-chauffer, part-runner. Still, even with this light hearted mood, he couldn’t shake off the nagging sensation that something sinister was going on.

In fact, both Kevin and Edwin felt this in their gut. And both men found it frustrating that they had no idea what to expect.

Benjamin Tennyson sighed irritably as he got up from the waiting bench to stretch his legs. His dark green eyes glanced up at the clock and frowned at the time. It was half past nine and the schedule on the roster had promised the arrival should have been quarter to eight. He had been waiting for nearly two hours for the train to arrive at the station and was starting to lose his patience.

Finally, a high-pitched whistle sounded and Ben peered into the darkness, barely making out the locomotive’s shape as it chugged steadily towards the station. At the familiar noise, the crowd surged onto the loading platform, eager to get on with their travels and to put this annoying delay behind them.

Ben simply waiting by the entrance to the loading platform, no way was he going to get trampled and jostled just for the sake of picking up his guest. He watched the steady stream of bodies alight the train and searched for the familiar face from his youth.

A slender female briskly walked past him. He wouldn’t have noticed her if her suitcase hadn’t hit his leg rather painfully. And she wouldn’t have noticed him if he had not let out a yelp.

“Oh, sorry about that!” the girl gasped, turning to inspect the damage she had caused. “I was just in a hurry and... wait, is that you, Ben?”

“Gwen?” Ben blinked, partly unable to believe the attractive (if not dowdily dressed) girl before him was the very same cousin he used to pick on when they were younger. Though they were of the same age, Ben now had to tilt his head down in order to meet her gaze.

“So it is you! You’ve certainly grown.” She smiled, bright-green eyes tapering into jovial slits. Her fingers ran through her bobbed fiery-red hair before she reached out to tussle Ben’s dark brown locks. “I remember I used to be taller than you.”

“Tell me about it in the car.” Ben interrupted, rubbing the spot on his leg briefly before taking one of Gwen’s suitcases from her.

“You have a car? How ritzy of you.” She grinned in genuine admiration.

“I wouldn’t say that, it’s just grandpa Max’s Rust Bucket.”

“That old heap’s still running? Wonders never cease.” Gwen chuckled as they walked to the aforementioned vehicle.

“She ain’t a breezer, but at least she runs.” Ben shrugged, tossing in Gwen’s luggage into the back.

“I guess this old jalopy’s the only thing a rookie cop can afford, huh?” The young woman shook her head as she got in.

“Yeah, well, it does have sentimental value.” Ben responded as he climbed in shortly after her.

“I can see that,” Gwen smirked, spying the chips on the dashboard she and her cousin had accidentally made when they first rode in the car. “By the way, thanks for putting me up at your place.”

“I figured you could pay half the rent while you’re here.”

“Very funny Ben.” She frowned.

“Nice to see you still can’t take a joke.” It was Ben’s turn to smirk.

It was a comfort for both cousins to see that some things haven’t changed. They reminisced as they drove through the night, trying to get caught up with each other’s lives. It had been nearly a decade since they had last seen each other and that was when their grandfather had taken them on a drive to their uncle’s pig farm.

“At least you don’t spend all your summers on the farm.” Ben noted.

“Uncle Henry told me to stop coming when he realized the farm hands were looking at me differently.” She blushed, despite the self-confidence she often projected she still felt quite awkward about her appearance. Even if there was little reason for her to feel that way.

“That why you don’t dress like the other girls?” Ben was quite accustomed to seeing women with shortened skirts and bare arms. The image was a stark contrast to the long sleeved, low-hemmed skirt of Gwen’s dress.

“I never understood why you had to show skin to be considered an independent modern woman.” She frowned in distaste.

“That’s a good thing in your case, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gwen narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Nothing, it’s just the big city’s dangerous compared to your small town. And well, let’s just say I’ve seen things happen to girls that I don’t want to see happening to you.”

“Thanks for the concern.” The young woman smiled as she yawned, “But you’d be surprised at what I can do.”

“Uh huh, just try not to draw attention to yourself and you should be just fine.” The brunette suggested.

Ben 10 fanfic - Almost

2008-07-08T00:58:00.003+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man Of Action. Man Of Action also owns my first born twins for making Gwevin canon.

Author’s Notes:
This is part Alternate Universe, part “What If” set in the roaring 20’s to mid 30’s during the prohibition era. There are no aliens, no mutants, and no magic powers of any kind. As far as the setting is concerned, life is just the bee’s knees and the cat’s pajamas.

If you come across any historical inaccuracies be it slang or attire, I offer my apologies. Having inspiration strike at 1 am leaves little room in my brain for coherence to do research.

This was inspired by a particular fan art I came across in DA, which can be found here: Speak Easy

Reviews or Constructive Criticisms are welcomed and appreciated.

Kevin Levin was many things.

A fine mist of cigarette smoke permeated the room, mingling jealously with the scent of rich wine and heady perfume. The white noise of laughter and idle chatter hummed casually on a layer beneath the soft melody playing from the piano. Beneath the relaxed exteriors of the crowd bubbled an inexplicable anticipation.

There was going to be something different about tonight. Though nothing seemed out of the ordinary, every beating heart inside the room could sense a storm brewing. There were those who could not stand the suspense and shyly excused themselves for the night. The rest continued on, braving the mounting tension building.

The gilded doors standing guard at the far end of the room opened, ushering in more than just the cool night air.

He was dangerous.

A young gentleman barely two decades old strode in. There was a calm arrogance about him, from the way he studied the faces of the crowd with his dark, earth-hued eyes, to the way he coolly shrugged off his coat revealing pin-stripes draped along broad shoulders. He tugged loose the knot of his black, silken tie before freeing his raven hair from the fedora housing it.

“Good evening, Mister Levin.” An attendant greeted and proceeded in gathering the man’s things into his arms.

“I’ve told you all to call me Kevin.” He frowned, disliking formalities.

The servant blanched before profusely apologizing and quickly excusing himself. Another attendant appeared, offering Kevin a glass of whisky before briefly whispering into the dark-haired man’s ear a bit of news.

Good news, it seems, from the way the corner of his lips curled into an almost feral grin.

Kevin’s eyes scanned the crowd before resting upon the vision of a young girl just one year his junior. He knew her by name and by face. But they had never been properly introduced.

The girl’s fiery tresses were hidden beneath a cloche hat adorned by feathers, which she adjusted now and again with a gloved hand. He smiled as his eyes traced the barely-concealed curves that he found so alluring.

What truly enticed, he would even go so far as to say entranced, him were her eyes.

Her rich, bright-green eyes that revealed so much about her and at the same time carefully kept him at bay. He had seen them glow with a light of their own or cloud over with a darkness so chilling at the drop of a hat.

He was shrewd.

He walked into the room as he continued to observe the young woman. He noted a group of youths were eyeing her the way he was and narrowed his eyes at them. Their leader, Kevin supposed, worked up the nerve to approach her and for a moment, she looked interested.

Kevin frowned, estimating the threat this other man posed, but he soon dismissed this notion when the man simply left. The girl looked slighted before storming away in a huff. Fate would her walking straight at him, would it?

He flashed her a warm, normally disarming smile.

She ignored him and headed straight for the door.

Kevin didn’t seem fazed. With a snap of his fingers, several attendants suddenly locked the door. Preventing anyone from entering or exiting.

“Preventive measures, miss.” A servant explained, “Never can tell when a cop is snooping about, miss.”

He was selfish.

“Perhaps I can keep you company while we wait for this lockdown to let up?” Kevin offered, a hand snaking its way around the girl’s waist.

She stiffened at his touch, “I’d much rather risk it with the cops than spend another minute here.”

“What’s the rush? There’s plenty of things to do here.” He continued, ushering her into a private room where a group of men were playing poker. “You like cards, don’t you Gwen?”

“Gwendolyn,” She corrected. “And should I be worried that the infamous Kevin Levin knows my name?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” He grinned wickedly and felt her shiver in his arms. A cough was all it took to get two players to fold out of the game.

Kevin knew he would win. No matter how poor his hand, no matter how small his bet, Kevin Levin always won.

His club.

His rules.

He was manipulative.

Apparently, no one informed the young girl of the rules. She was cleaning him out deal after deal. The only thing keeping Kevin’s temper in check was the look of feigned innocence on her face. He found it absolutely adorable and befitting her even if she was a bona fide card shark.

When he got bored playing along, he subtly signaled to the dealer that it was time Miss Gwendolyn was made aware of the rules.

“Well look at that, a royal flush.” Kevin grinned, taking more delight on the look of disbelief and abject horror on the red-haired girl’s face than in his victory. “Seems to me you’re not only broke, but you owe me. Quite a bit.”

“I-I’ll pay you back. Just not tonight.” She stammered, hands folded primly on her lap. It was obvious she was doing everything she could to keep herself calm.

“Oh but you will be paying me tonight.” His voice smooth as velvet while he motioned that they be left alone. “I’m sure we can work out the details.”

Despite the calm mask of bravado she wore, Kevin could see her fidgeting in her seat. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, Miss Tennyson.”

“So this whole thing is just a set up?” She looked genuinely offended, “Whatever happened to old fashioned courting?”

“Funny to hear that from a flapper girl like yourself.”

“I only dress the part!” She snapped hotly.

“Oh really?” He leaned forward, raising her chin upwards with his hand. “You’re telling me you’re as inexperienced as they come?”

The sudden flush of color across her cheeks confirmed it. “Th-there is nothing wrong with wanting to save myself for the right man.”

“No, there isn’t.” His drew his lips so close to hers they were almost touching. “But I just think it’d be such a shame if you knew nothing about pleasuring the right man.”

Gwen pulled herself out of Kevin’s reach. “Well you are not that man. So what you think doesn’t really matter to me.”

He was many worrisome and undesirable things.

Kevin’s expression turned ugly, she had resisted all his previous advances and had enough of her teasing. He pounced at her, upsetting the poker table in the process. His lips closing over hers to muffle the shriek that would follow as he pinned her struggling form to the floor.

He held her slim wrists overhead with one hand while the other explored every nook and curve of her writhing body. He breathed in deeply, noting how her skin smelled of peaches in the morning sunshine and how her freed hair reminded him of lavender. His lips continued to press against hers in a bruising, possessive kiss.

But when he saw the tears in her eyes, he froze.

Things weren’t supposed to go like this. He had imagined in his head that she would cave to his charms as all the other girls had. They would eventually give themselves to him when they realized how much he desired them.

He had never had to take a girl before.

And he realized he didn’t want to, especially not this one.

This spirited, quick-witted, enigmatic girl he had seen dancing between the fringes of the club’s lifestyle and her conservative upbringing. He used his resources to learn everything about her, to draw her attention and to lure her here. Here, where the odds were in his favor and he had completely control of everything.

Everything but her, it seems.

He released his hold on her wrists to brush away strands from her tear-streaked face.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I want to be the right man for you. I just don’t know how.”

Gwen continued to silently cry, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “You big dummy, you should have just told me in the first place.”

But at least he was not completely without morals.

Why Not Me? - Epilogue

2008-07-06T01:44:00.001+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Author’s Notes:
Thanks for making it this far into the fic Hope you liked it. Reviews and Constructive Criticisms are more than welcomed.

Epilogue: For Now

A smoking wreckage lay where the Megacruiser’s gladiator arena had been. Half the audience stand had been obliterated, reduced to little more than rubble. The remaining seats were empty, devoid of spectators as those that did not initially perish scrambled to flee into the teleportation room.

Shrapnel was imbedded in nearly every surface, the ceiling, the remaining arena walls and a massive mountain made of solid crystal. Sheltered behind this towering structure were two figures as far apart in appearance and personality as possible. The smaller one of the pair was a young, human girl who had caused a large portion of this once grand source of entertainment to explode. She was standing behind the larger of the two who, despite his current appearance, was a fellow human.

“Well? Can you get the ship working again?” Gwen asked, trying to peer over the hulking boy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but a lot of it is toast.” He nodded, though the disappointment in his voice was unmistakable.

“Can it get us back home?” The red-haired girl pressed, chewing on her bottom lip.

“It’ll take a while, but yeah we’ll get back home.”

Gwen sighed in relief, “Think you can maybe fix the communicators on this thing? I’d like to be able to let Grandpa and Ben know-”

“I can’t.” He replied a bit too hastily. “Those were the first things to go when you zapped Slix. Not to mention the remaining escape pods are out of order and the teleporters are fried beyond repair.”

“Great, is there anything that’s working?”

“The engine’s working, so is the cloaking device and the living quarters of the ship looks fine.”

“At least we won’t have to sleep in the holding bay.” She shrugged mid-yawn. The fatigue and exhaustion finally catching up to her. The last of her strength gave out and her knees buckled. Pride forced Gwen to declare she just tripped as she was about to sit down beside Kevin.

With heavy-lidded eyes, she watched him work. Every so often she’d doze off, her head eventually resting against Kevin’s shoulder. The instance her skin felt fur she’d sit back up, cheeks bright crimson and rambling with apologies.

“You should go get some sleep. I really don’t need your help with this.” Kevin smirked.

Stubbornly, Gwen shook her head. “I know that. I just,” she trailed off, still looking embarrassed. “I just thought you might want some company.”

The older boy looked at her blankly before lifting Gwen into his arms. This time more aware of how delicate and small she was. And especially how well she conformed to his own mismatched body.

“Wait! Kevin! What are you doing?!” She gasped, limbs flailing.

With one hand carrying the gutted remnants of Slix, Kevin carefully cradled the struggling girl with his remaining arms. “I can’t concentrate with you interrupting me every five minutes with your apologies. So I’m going to the living quarters to work there.”

Gwen stared up at him, the apples of her cheeks blossoming pink. “You, you don’t have to carry me. I can walk fine on my own.”

“Right. And I’m supposed to believe you just tripped while sitting down. How does that even work?” He snickered.

“Okay, fine! My legs gave out earlier but they’re working now!”

“You walk too slow.”

“How would you know? I’ve only been running like crazy this whole time.”

“That wasn’t running.” He scoffed, “This is running.” And in that instant he charged down the hallway.

Gwen cried out in alarm, arms winding tightly around Kevin’s neck in surprise at the burst of speed.

He skidded to halt once they got to the living quarters. “See? I told you, you walk too slow.” He smirked before carefully setting her down on a bed.

“If I weren’t so tired I’d blast that grin off your face.” Gwen narrowed her eyes, barely able to suppress a yawn.

“Yeah, yeah, you can use magic strong enough to shut down a cruiser. Which, by the way, I end up having to fix.”

But Gwen wasn’t listening anymore as sleep finally managed to claim her. Kevin just stood there, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her closed lids.

When she didn’t so much as flinch, the older boy allowed a wicked glee to flash across his face.

Gwen didn’t suspect a thing.

The escape pods were operational, he had shut them down. The communications were working, he shut those down too. As for the teleporters, well, he destroyed those.

He wasn’t planning on stranding her there. Far from it. He still wanted to go home. After all he still had a score to settle with Ben.

But out here in space, things were different. Out here, he could use his powers unchecked. Out here, he didn’t have to worry about hiding or keeping himself out of sight. Out here, he had Gwen.

Out here, Gwen trusted him, cared about him. And if he were to take Slix’s promise seriously, Gwen belonged to him. There were few things he could really call his own. And for as long as he could, he wanted to call the lithe, delicate girl sleeping in the bed his.

Leaning over her, he softly whispered, “Don’t worry, I always take care of what is mine.”

Why Not Me? - Part 5

2008-07-05T00:44:00.000+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Author’s Notes:

Like Part Four, I had a hard time writing this. Action scenes break my brain (and quite possibly my reader’s).

Part Five: I Predict A Riot

Kevin had suggested the female Tennyson reveal her powers in the upcoming match. This might interest Slix enough to personally visit her the way he did when they first arrived. If that ever happened, well, she was to take him hostage or blast his head off.

“Or whatever you feel like doing.” He shrugged when Gwen shot him a look of indignation.

Either way, they’d be able to take control of the ship.

“This plan is so not going to work!” Gwen groaned inwardly as the droids escorted her out of the cell. She was pushed roughly into a caged platform that slowly rose into the stadium.

“Esteemed guests, I have something very special planned for you tonight.” Slix’s oily voice boomed over the speakers. “Our former champion Technorg is disqualified from participating as punishment, having been bested by our new champion!”

Cheers erupted from the stands as Kevin entered, confident and arrogant as always. “But that’s now what makes tonight so special. We all know how hard our gladiators fight to stay alive so why not reward them a little bit?”

Following shortly after Kevin were the rest of the gladiators, wary about what Slix meant by reward.

“Here, we have a little treat for our gladiators: A juvenile human, known to be a delicacy to many races and as an exotic pet to others.”

A spotlight flashed over Gwen and the audience let out a collective “Ooh” of appreciation.

“The first gladiator to reach the human gets to keep this little prize. To do with whatever he wishes. Now doesn’t that sound appealing?”

At this, the shackles and restraints on the gladiators were removed.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Gwen yelled out in disgust.

“Oh but that’s not all. Following the rules of Last One Standing, the champion of the tournament gets to go back home.”

A shriek from an alien impaled by Kevin’s petrosapian hand signaled the start of the match. Instantly the gladiators turned on each other, any camaraderie they’ve shared forgotten, friendships and alliances dissolved for the prize of being able to go home.

Some of the fighters opted to briefly band together to take on Kevin, the biggest obstacle to their freedom.

The dark-haired boy seemed far more pleased than worried at his situation. “Come on! I can take you all on!” he roared, blocking the jab of a mastodon-like creature’s tusks before snapping the bone in half.

But as powerful as Kevin was, he would soon be overwhelmed by their numbers. They piled onto him, stabbing, slashing, trying to draw blood or maim him. Kevin did his best to retaliate but still the blows descended and he knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Damn it, he growled, I’m not going to lose here!

Above the battle cries and sounds of clashing metal, he heard someone calling him. “Kevin! Kevin, are you alright? Answer me!”

“A little busy here!” He snarled from beneath the heap of bodies. He was too focused on keeping himself from getting skewered or bludgeoned by whatever weapon or limb the other gladiators possessed.

As were the rest of the warriors.

Only the audience was witness to the small girl escaping her cage when one of its walls just decided to melt off. Gasps swelled in the stands as the spectators watched in utter amazement as a cyclone formed in the arena with a mere wave of the human’s hand.

Another wave and the twister sucked in several gladiators to deposit them roughly into the stands.

The fighting aliens realized that Gwen herself could prove to be a threat and made a dash for the young girl. But they’d find themselves being pulled in by the ground or having it shoot up from beneath their feet.

When Kevin managed to get his bearings, he charged after the others. The look of fury on his face sent a shiver down Gwen’s spine. The female Tennyson didn’t understand why he was looking so angrily at her of all people. She was only trying to help him while sticking to the plan.

He’s probably mad that I had to help him. Typical guy machismo. She frowned.

Indeed it was partly wounded pride that made Kevin’s blood boil. He wasn’t strong enough to handle things by himself and had needed her help. But what truly flamed his temper was that Gwen using her powers was meant to just be a surprise.

That was it. Nothing big, nothing that could be seen as a liability or anything anyone could consider a threat.

She was now in so much danger because she had tried to help him.

He charged past the others but not without throwing a punch or two from behind. He scooped her into his furred arms, absently noting how light she was and how easily she fit against his massive chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He snarled, pyronite arm outreaching to blast a jet of flames at the approaching enemies.

“Sticking to the plan? Duh.” She rolled her eyes, “You said to show my stuff, so I did. And I saved your sorry butt in the process.”

“Making them realize you can kill them wasn’t part of the plan.” He snapped, leaping into the air to narrowly avoid a flurry of strikes.

“But I wasn’t going to kill them.” She reasoned.

“As if they would know. And I thought Ben was the dumb one.”

“I am not dumb!” Her own temper flared, Kevin had hit a nerve with that comment.

“And it looks like our champion has claimed the human!” Slix’s voice declared. “But who shall emerge victorious?”

“You just stay out of my way. I’ll take care of the rest.” Kevin instructed as he lowered Gwen on the other side of the ring.

“What? No way! You saw me out there! I can help you win this thing and then we could just get back home without needing to get to Slix.”

Kevin would hear none of it, “Just shut up and stay put!” he barked before charging at the oncoming opponents.

The young girl was not about to sit idly by, not when this opportunity presented itself. Using a combination of brute force and magical assistance, the two earthlings managed to whittle down the number of their opponents.

Until, at last, only three figures remained.

The earthquake Gwen summoned assured the gelatinous alien’s life as she leapt across the widening crevice to push the fallen gladiator to safety.

“Ugh, this goop is worse than Stinkfly’s.” Gwen gagged, wiping away as much of the alien’s viscous body as she could.

“You didn’t have to save him, you know.” Kevin gruffly muttered, landing behind her.

“I wouldn’t have to save him if you just eased up. He had surrendered.”

As the two bickered, guard droids rolled in to herd the fallen gladiators back to the holding bay, while others appeared to repair the ring.

“Whatever, hey Slix! I’ve won, now send me back home!” Kevin bellowed.

“Ah but that was simply the qualifying round.” The cloaked figure of Slix teleported into the arena. “The actual tournament starts now.”

The owner of the Megacruiser undid his cloak to reveal his true form as a sentient machine. “To get home, you must simply defeat me. Simple, isn’t it?”

“This is too easy. I can take you on in my sleep.” Kevin laughed.

“We shall see.” Slix would have smirked if he was capable of facial expression. Panels in his body lit up and the wall behind Kevin suddenly shot out at him.

“Kevin!” Gwen screamed, racing off after the older boy. A tri-pronged claw painfully clamped down on her arm and drew her against Slix’s cold body.

“I was never aware you humans were capable of such things. It’s a pleasant surprise, if I might add.”

“Oh so now you respect me?” Gwen snapped, struggling to free herself. If she only knew about Slix’s trick, she wouldn’t have cast so many spells before. She could barely stand as it is, let alone summon the energy to free herself.

“No, I just see potential to draw an ever bigger crowd with you. If I weren’t such an honest business man, I’d revoke you as the champion’s prize and have you as one of my new gladiators.”

Another panel glowed on Slix’s, and a wave of guard droids rolled in, each carrying a neural-staff.

“But since I am true to my word, I must dispose of the current champion in order to keep you.” Slix explained, tightening his hold on Gwen’s slender arm.

The young girl grit her teeth, refusing to cry out in pain.

“Those neural-staffs are only meant to stun,” Slix motioned with his other mechanical arm as the droids began to stab at Kevin, “But if enough of them are applied at once, they can completely shut down a creature’s bodily functions.

“For example: Breathing.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Gwen gasped, eyes wide in horror as she watched Kevin battle against the robot guards.

Gwen was not the only one exhausted, she could see Kevin’s speed dying down and his strikes weren’t as strong or accurate. The first of the rods caught him from behind, before another and another and another joined the fray.

Tears stung at the young girl’s eyes as she watched helplessly. This is all my fault, she realized, Slix is going to kill Kevin because of me.

“It’s quite a shame, really. He was such fun to watch. The audience said so in their review forms.” Slix cackled, or a machine’s equivalent of a cackle.

And at that, Gwen snapped.

With her palm facing Slix, the young girl summoned every last ounce of strength she could and cast a spell directly into the sentient machine’s body.

Several light years away from planet Earth, the enormous Megacruiser was at a standstill. It hovered silently, the engines barely humming, as if the entire vehicle had ceased all activity. From the outside, it looked like an innocent cargo transporter was merely undergoing maintenance.

This peaceful illusion was shattered when the hull of the ship exploded.

Why Not Me? - Part 4

2008-07-04T13:58:00.001+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Author’s Notes:
I had the hardest time writing this part. Please excuse all the glaring plot holes.

Part Four: Move Along

When Gwen’s eyes finally adjusted to the darkness she realized there was a figure standing by the grate. From the awkward shape, Gwen could tell it was Kevin. How long had he been standing there? Had he been staring at her? Was that grate strong enough to keep him from getting to her?

“K-Kevin?” she stammered, remaining in place. Her heart may go out to him, but she was still scared of him. Of what he was capable of.

“It’s Gwen, right?” He murmured, his voice unusually gentle.

“Y-yes.”

“Could you answer me something?” Thick, furred fingers rested on the grate.

“Depends. What is it?”

“I get that you goody-goody types would save your own family, but why would you try to save someone like Technorg?” Or me, for that matter.

Gwen frowned, a little offended at being called a goody-goody. She huffed, “It’s only natural for us goody-goodies to save people no matter who they are.”

“So those you save aren’t all that special to you.”

Tilting her head, Gwen looked at Kevin curiously. His form was different from a human, making it impossible to use the same tell-tale signs she must be making. But he was still human. Some things shouldn’t be too different, should it?

She noticed how his mouth was pressed into a grim line, the way the shoulder of his top pair of arms drooped and his inability to meet her gaze with any of his three eyes. Gwen had no idea why Kevin seemed, well for lack of a better word, disappointed by her answer.

“Not necessarily.” She ventured. She spied his eyes taper questioningly and continued “Sometimes the ones we save aren’t special to us at that moment, but they might eventually become special to us.”

It was Kevin’s turn to observe Gwen. He noticed she her knees pulled up to her chest, the way her hand absently tugged at the hem of her shirt, and that she was avoiding his gaze. She was trying to make herself appear smaller. She was scared of him but was trying her best not to let it show.

The dark-haired boy found it amusing.

“Does that answer your question?” Gwen chirped with a tilt of her head.

“It’ll do.” He grunted, leaning against the grate.

From a small slot on the bottom of her cell door slid a tray filled with a runny, gray mass. Entering promptly after it was the spell book.

Gwen brightened considerably as she retrieved the small tome.

“What’s so special about that book?”

“Oh, it just might get us home.” She grinned, sitting back down on the cot to scan the pages.

Kevin blinked. Did she just say us? “You got a plan?”

“Maybe. I have to make sure of some things first.” Gwen didn’t sound as confident as she would have liked. Especially since she realized she had unwittingly included Kevin in the equation.

“And you actually think it’ll work?” Kevin sounded more than just skeptical, arms folded across his chest.

“If it doesn’t, there’s always Plan B.” Gwen carefully kept her eyes fixed on the spell book. After all, until that moment, she didn’t think she’d need a Plan B.

“Small one,” a gruff voice cut in. The young girl looked up to find a large silhouette appear beside Kevin. It was Technorg. “You should know why you’re being kept separate from the rest of the gladiators.”

“I thought it was because Slix thinks I’m too delicate to be a gladiator.” She snorted.

“That may be the case,” The large alien ignored the indignant glare Gwen shot him. “Since the only time Slix keeps anyone in there is if he wants them alive for the next match.”

The young girl didn’t think she liked where this conversation was going.

“When the mood strikes him, Slix offers a prize for the gladiator who meets certain conditions. It varies from being the last one standing, or killing the most number of opponents.”

“So what does that mean, exactly?” The young girl was sure she didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“The only thing I know for certain is you will be in danger. But for saving my life, I am honor-bound to serve you. And that entails keeping you safe.” The behemoth explained.

This didn’t sit well with the young girl, “As cool as it is that you’re willing to do all that, Technorg, this arrangement sounds a little too much like slavery for me. I saved you because it was the right thing to do.”

The large alien shook his head and lumbered off to brood in a corner.

Kevin snorted, mismatched eyes peering at Gwen. “Well someone’s self-righteous.”

“I thought the term was “Goody-goody”?” Gwen retorted, once again scanning her spell book. She’d have to find that teleportation spell and fast! But even if she did find it there was no guarantee she’d be able to master it in one sitting. After all, if it was such a simple spell, wouldn’t Charmcaster or her uncle Hex use it all the time?

To her dismay, the spell indeed was far more complicated than expected and required ingredients she had never heard of before.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with Plan B after all.” She sighed, resting the small book on her lap.

Think, Gwen, think. Her mind ordered. You’re on a spaceship. Didn’t those spaceships on all the sci-fi cartoons Ben watched usually have escape pods?

Even if there were escape pods, how would she be able to navigate it back to Earth? She didn’t even know where she was in the vast universe. So many missing pieces, so many variables to account for, so many things she didn’t know or couldn’t figure out.

A cry of frustration escaped her lips, “Why can’t I come up Plan B?”

“Maybe it’s ‘cuz my plan would work better?” Gwen heard, rather than saw the smug arrogance displayed across Kevin’s features.

“Right, I’m supposed to trust you, the guy who keeps trying to kill my cousin.” She remarked with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, a few minutes ago you were willing to trust me in your first plan.”

He had a point. She was planning on taking Kevin with her. As much of a threat Kevin proved to be back home, the red-haired girl couldn’t bring herself to leave a fellow human being behind. Reluctantly, Gwen agreed to hear out the misshapen youth’s idea.

Why Not Me? - Part 3

2008-07-03T15:04:00.003+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Part Three: Capitalize

She hurt. Everywhere. Every muscle, every fiber, every cell in her body screamed in agony if Gwen so much as breathed too deeply. She was lying on a small cot within a room that smelled of grease and tar. If she could open her eyes without feeling a million white hot needles jabbing at every inch of her skin, she would have seen the strange figure hovering beside her still form.

“The effects of the neural-staff should be wearing off soon.” The same metallic voice stated. “You’re quite lucky to have survived that match. Though I suppose that’s the only thing that has kept your species alive all these eons. Given how delicate you humans are.”

As the minutes passed, Gwen’s body gradually regained its normal sensitivity.

“To be quite honest I am highly disappointed that I ended up beaming a human, a juvenile one at that, instead of the Petrosapien.”

He’s talking about Ben! Gwen realized.

“You humans make for very poor gladiators. You barely pass as an entertaining opening act.” The figure chattered, “Dying so quickly and so easily, my audience doesn’t pay to see that. It’s a good thing I happen to have some customers who would be willing to pay handsomely for exotic pets.”

By now Gwen was back to normal and at the mention of the word “pets” her eyes flew open in indignity. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? Humans are capable of a lot of things so we don’t need to be super-mega-huge or ultra-mondo-strong!”

“I am certain I’m Slix Vigma, entertainer and owner of the Megacruiser arena. You humans are so proud, of what I haven’t the slightest idea. Though I suppose I could use you as a sort of challenge for the next match...” A slender finger tapped at his head producing and metallic ringing. “It’s brilliant! Excuse me, I must make the necessary arrangements.”

“What? Wait!” Gwen reached out to grab Slix but her fingers only grasped empty air. It was only now when she was alone in a strange room did it dawn upon her that she might never get back home.

No, no, that couldn’t be true could it? Her grandpa Max and cousin Ben must be doing everything they can to look for her, right?

Right?

Tears welled up in her eyes as she fought to blink them back. She wasn’t going to cry, if she did she was admitting defeat. If she cried, it meant she was still a liability and therefore only excess baggage. If she cried, it meant she couldn’t take care of herself and still needed saving. If she cried, it meant she was just as useless now with magic as she had been without it.

Wait, she could use magic! There must be a spell somewhere that would allow her to travel through space or at least send out a message to her family. She reached into her pocket only to be disappointed that her spell book wasn’t there.

Slix must have taken it from her after that fight in the arena. She’ll have to get it back then. The first thing she needed to do was get out of this room.

But before she could so much as stand, the door swung open and two robots entered. They were unarmed, much to Gwen’s relief. She didn’t want to take another hit from those neural-staffs. The robots positioned Gwen between them and practically carried her out.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked them and was met only with silence.

They brought her to another room that resembled the first one, only this one had a grate of sorts on one wall. The holes were big enough to let Gwen slip her hand through to reach the other side, but there was no way in hell would she even think about it.

For the other side of the grate was the holding bay for the gladiators.

One of the robots’ chest panel opened up to reveal a monitor displaying Slix. “Don’t get too comfortable to your new quarters. You won’t be in here for long. You get one last meal and one favor. So long as it’s not the ridiculous request of being allowed to go home or being freed, I will see that it is granted.”

Though words last meal did not sit well with Gwen, but at least she could get her spell book back. “I’d like my book back.”

“Is that all? Consider it done. You’ll have your bound sheets of compacted fiber with ink printed on it along with your meal.”

The robots unceremoniously dropped Gwen onto the cot before exiting, locking the door behind them. Now all she had to do was wait and she’d be on her way home. Everything would be all right.

Right?

What about Kevin?

Part of Gwen blamed him for getting her into this mess. If he hadn’t shown up, Ben wouldn’t have fought him. And if Ben hadn’t fought him, he wouldn’t have timed out. And if Ben hadn’t timed out, she wouldn’t have had to push him out of the way. It was all Kevin’s fault! She should just leave him behind!

But another part of her couldn’t really bring herself to blame him. From what Ben had told her, it sounded like Kevin had a really hard life. She couldn’t imagine being abandoned. Forced to grow up on the streets. Alone. Shunned and feared and called a freak. And when he finally found a kindred spirit, he would end up trapped inside a monster’s body.

She could see why he chose to reject their offer of joining them. If all you’ve ever known about life was cruelty and prejudice, you’d be wary of kindness, distrustful of hope. What more the unspeakably alien concept of love?

She knew she would if their positions were reversed.

Gwen didn’t feel sorry for him. No, it was much deeper than mere pity. Her heart broke for him. The more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t bring herself to blame him. And before she realized it, her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Did they hurt you?” Someone asked.

Without thinking she whispered back “Not as much as they must have hurt you.”

He was bored. Bored of sitting around this wretched prison they referred to as the holding bay. Bored of having nothing to do unless he wanted to get zapped by those blasted rods the guard droids toted around. He hated it. Being bored would lead to his mind wandering and it would inevitably lead to thinking about Gwen.

Kevin didn’t want to think about her, because whenever he did he’d always see the vivid vision of her in pain. For some strange, unknown, undeniable reason, whenever he saw that horrible image, he hurt. The pain was in no particular spot but it was there, somewhere.

The door to the prison swinging open was a welcomed distraction. Even if it was just several droids ushering in a patched up Technorg. Kevin didn’t so much as bat an eye when the aforementioned alien marched up to him. The dark-haired youth fixed his gaze on the wall directly in front of him.

“’Sup, loser.” He greeted, emphasizing the word with sadistic glee. His razor-tooth smile widened when he heard the large alien’s shackles rattle.

“I wish to ask you a question.” It was an order, not a request.

Coolly, Kevin canted his head at Technorg. “Sorry, not interested in you being my bitch.”

The derogatory word obviously meant nothing to the behemoth as he proceeded to ask “What is your relation with the small one?”

That was certainly not what Kevin expected to hear. He quirked the only brow he possessed, “What’s it to you?”

Technorg didn’t respond and instead left to brood in a corner.

Again the boredom returned and Kevin soon found his thoughts wandering. This time it was about the fight. Specifically the direction of Technorg’s eyes when Kevin had attacked from behind. Why would the large alien be looking down? His sneak attack came from above, there was no way Technorg was staring at Kevin’s shadow.

Something was going on with the ground, but what? The dark-haired boy marched over to the larger alien’s corner.

“Hey, loser, I’ll tell you what my relation to the “small one” is and you answer a question of mine.” It was an order, not a request.

“Proceed.” Technorg nodded.

“She’s just the cousin of the guy I want to kill.” He stated, it was true but not the entire truth. In his defense, he wasn’t entirely sure what she was to him. “My turn. When you were about to go and kill her, you suddenly looked surprised and was looking down. Was there something weird about the ground?”

“I would not call it weird, but yes. There was something amiss. It had become unusually soft and I could not move away.”

“That’s it?!” That didn’t explain much.

A door opening was heard and Kevin turned towards the noise. Strange, the door to the holding bay was still shut. It took the light filtering in from the grate on the opposite end of the prison to discover the source.

Why would anyone be kept separate? It could have been curiosity that made Kevin approach the grate, but he’d say it was because he was bored. Either way, he was soon close enough to hear a voice. Her voice.

He kept his silence until the droids left her alone.

Darkness washed over the room and Kevin found himself content to simply watch her. He stared intently, seeing first the inexplicably brave face from earlier. Then her look softened into worry, concern. He could see a strange kind of anguish in her eyes and again, he hurt.

His fists clenched when he saw a solitary tear trickle down her cheek. Followed by another. Then another. Until twin streams dampened her cheeks.

At this, he asked “Did they hurt you?”

She replied without the slightest trace of hesitation. “Not as much as they must have hurt you.”

And at this, Kevin vowed someone had to pay.

Why Not Me? - Part 2

2008-07-03T15:01:00.002+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Part Two: Die Another Day

There was a dull pounding in Gwen’s head, like a jackhammer had been given free reign over her skull. She forced her eyes open, seeing blades of grass dancing before her. She rose quickly, shaking off the dizziness and steadying herself against the RV her grandfather fondly nicknamed “Rust Bucket.”

“Grandpa!” She gasped, seeing the elderly man lying motionless to one side. She rushed to him and gave a sigh of relief when she found he was simply unconscious.

“You’re gonna pay for that!” Her cousin Ben cried, the voice a clear indication he was in his Diamondhead form. Her eyes widened as the memory of what had happened just seconds earlier surged into her mind.

The three of them, Gwen, her cousin and grandfather were driving on the highway when a fireball came at them. Max swerved out of the way, the RV skidding out of control before it crashed against a tree growing off-road. The three quickly got out of the van to inspect the damage. A large shadow loomed over head and Gwen remembered feeling a dull pain on the back of her head before darkness washed over her.

“You think you can take me, runt?” the taunting of a distorted voice roused Gwen from her reverie. She turned towards the sound and her grew saucer-wide. Not at the sight of Kevin fighting against Ben but at the flashing light coming from her cousin.

In the blink of an eye, Ben had timed out!

Luckily the only time her cousin managed to keep his wits about him was when he was fighting. He leapt out of the way, barely missing being impaled by the shards Kevin shot at him.

Gwen rushed to Ben’s aid, her hands fishing in her pocket for her spell book. Kevin spat out sticky mucus in an attempt to trap Ben. He would have caught the younger boy if Gwen hadn’t dived in to push her cousin out of the way.

The red-haired girl didn’t like getting slimed and though she hated to admit it, Ben stood more of a chance of bringing Kevin down than she did. Rather than the viscous liquid, a bright flash of light engulfed her.

Gwen found herself landing on a rocky surface. With a groan she got up, waiting for the static buzzing in her ears to die down. When her vision cleared, her jaw dropped. She never seen so many aliens gathered in one place before.

“Hey, what gives?!” She heard Kevin growl.

“Esteemed guests, let us welcome our new challengers!” A strange, metallic voice announced.

“Ch-challengers?” Gwen echoed, getting to her feet in disbelief.

“Will they be able to survive a match against our current champion Technorg? Or will they perish, like all the others before them?”

The ground started to quake as a gigantic alien, easily twice the size of Fourarms stepped forward. Her eyes took in the armor plating his body and the massive mace where his left hand should have been.

“Prepare to meet your doom!” The large alien bellowed before charging straight at the odd pair before him.

He raised his arms for a hammer blow, which Kevin had no trouble meeting head on. Multiple limbs struggled to gain the upper hand, but this lasted but for a moment as Technorg knocked Kevin aside as if he was merely swatting a fly.

Seeing this, the icy fingers of fear gripped at Gwen like a vice. She stood, frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Had Kevin not suddenly tackled the behemoth, Gwen might not have had the chance to gather her bearings and run.

From a safe distance she watched as Kevin battled against Technorg and it was becoming more and more evident that Kevin was losing. Despite the older boy’s attempts at Ben’s life (and indirectly hers), Gwen understood that she had a bigger chance of surviving if Kevin won. She had to do something.

And once she managed to dig up her spell book, she did.

“You think you can take me, runt?” Technorg taunted as his kick caught Kevin squarely in the chest. The force knocked the dark-haired boy a good distance away, stopping only when he smashed against the arena wall.

“I ain’t no runt.” The dark-haired boy growled. His pride was more injured than body, considering just seconds ago he had used the very same words on his hated enemy, Ben.

“Tell you what, I’ll go finish the smaller one first to give you a chance to rest.” Technorg snickered, turning his massive back to Kevin.

Mismatched eyes widened in fury, nobody turned their back on Kevin Levin. Nobody! With a sharp kick, Kevin propelled himself from the wall, hands clasped together to deliver a hammer blow.

He took immense satisfaction at the look of disbelief that flashed across Technorg’s face before Kevin delivered a flurry of attacks. It would only be later that Kevin would realize that Technorg’s eyes were looking down when his expression changed from smug to shock.

Later, being the operative word.

For now he was too busy using all the abilities his alien parts had to bash Technorg senseless. An uppercut using Diamondhead’s arm powered by Fourarm’s insane strength sent Technorg soaring into the air in an arc.

With the same hand, Kevin focused on using XLR8’s speed to shoot out a wave of razor-sharp shards at his opponent. No one seemed to notice a bed of rocky-spikes were conveniently protruding where Technorg landed.

The behemoth groaned in pain and dread. He had been beaten and now he would have to pay the price. Peering through heavy lids, Technorg saw Kevin casually stroll towards him until the dark-haired mixture of alien parts was standing just a few feet away.

The crowd began to demand Kevin to punish Technorg for his defeat.

“Punishment?” He chuckled with a predatory smile. “What kind?”

The arena exploded into a collective yell for “DEATH!”

Only one voice, one small, delicate voice yelled out “No!”

Kevin looked down to find Gwen standing between him and Technorg. Her arms were raised at her sides as if trying to shield the fallen alien.

“Out of the way, girl.” Kevin warned, eyes narrowing.

“You don’t have to do this.” She reasoned.

“Y-yes, he does.” Technorg rasped from behind her. “I have been bested, it is the price I must pay.”

“Typical.” She snorted, as if not surprised. “Why is it that guys never think that losing today means you still have another shot at winning tomorrow? Or that dying today means you’re a loser forever?”

Kevin stared directly into Gwen’s eyes. Those stubborn, soul-piercing green eyes that showed no indication she was going to back down.

“And why shouldn’t I end him?” Kevin demanded.

“Because then...” Gwen swallowed, obviously carefully weighing her words. “Because then you really would be the monster people said you were.”

Was she really trying to appeal to him with such a cheesy line that could have come straight out of a B movie? If what she said hadn’t been so painfully lame he would have laughed. It would be easy to just backhand her aside so he could finish off Technorg. He probably wouldn’t even feel his hand connect with her skin.

He mulled over his decision. And then he saw it.

The minute quake of her knees that lasted no longer than a second, but he saw it. She was scared, probably terrified that he could, would hurt her. Or kill her the way he would Technorg.

She had to be crazy to try and save anyone but herself. And yet here she was, pleading for the large alien’s life. The very same alien that was just moments ago planning to end hers without a second thought.

It wasn’t fair.

It just wasn’t. If Ben or Technorg could have someone who would risk their life for them, why couldn’t he have someone like that?

With a grunt of suppressed rage and bitterness, Kevin turned his back to Gwen. “Whatever. Just don’t blame me if he tries to kill you again.” And he stalked away.

Before the dark-haired boy took more than five steps, several robots carrying weapons rolled into the arena. They surrounded Kevin, prodding him with rods that crackled with energy upon contact. He cried out in pain as he briefly lost control of his limbs. Heavy, power-draining shackles were clamped around his multiple wrists before the robots forcibly led him away.

Kevin heard a voice, a small delicate voice angrily yelling “Hey! What did you do to him!? Where are you taking him?!”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Gwen, struggling to get past a robot. She was reaching out for Kevin, as if she could somehow save him the way she had Technorg. He saw her lips moving but she made no sound until the droid pressed the rod against her flesh. She let out a shriek before the pain caused her to pass out.

Kevin didn’t know why but hearing her scream, seeing her hurt enraged him more than anything ever had before. He roared and struck out at a droid, using his cuffs to bash its mechanical head in. The rods descended upon him mere seconds before the darkness did.

Why Not Me? - Part 1

2008-07-01T09:27:00.004+08:00

Disclaimers:
Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action.

Author’s Notes:
This fic centers on the question “What if” it was Gwen and not Ben who had been beamed up with Kevin in the episode Grudge Match? Another what if I’ve thrown in is that Gwen already can cast spells and has Charmcaster’s spell book by this time.

Part One: Rolling Along

Several light years away from planet Earth, an enormous spaceship was at a standstill. It hovered silently, the engines barely humming, as if the entire vehicle had ceased all activity. From the outside, it looked like an innocent cargo transporter was merely undergoing maintenance.

But looks can be deceiving. Indeed the ship’s cavernous interior carried cargo, it was simply the living kind. Housed within was an arena of massive proportions, and gathered around a rubble-filled ring were thousands upon thousands of various aliens.

Littered amongst the debris were bodies of fallen aliens. Some sported broken limbs or mandibles, some bore angry, painful bruises, and others were mauled beyond recognition. Large and small alike they lay, unconscious, unmoving. Only three figures remained standing, one was a column-shaped creature whose pink, gelatinous body allowed it to take blows and bounce the impact back to its attacker. A solitary eye blinked from within the quivering mass as it shot out a thick tendril towards a small, lithe human with bright green eyes and short, fiery tresses.

She managed to dodge, though barely, her chest rising and falling in haggard breath. Fine cuts and fading bruised were displayed where her frayed clothes revealed fair skin. She landed on her feet, knees suddenly buckling in exhaustion. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stand despite her body’s outcry for rest. In one hand she clutched a small book, while the other was raised before her, palm facing the jelly-like alien.

Heckling catcalls and whistles of support rippled throughout the audience at the small human’s tenacity and surprising ability to keep alive. Tentacles, claws, fins, and fists would pump into the air as they cheered and yelled out for their desired outcome.

At that moment, the crowd was crying out for blood.

The last figure, the youth who was little more than an amalgam of mismatched creatures was more than happy to oblige. A toothy smile flashed across his lips as his fire-coated limb shot out a steady stream of flame.

The alien screeched out in horror as it felt the searing heat reach its vulnerable core. Unable to retaliate with this fiery projectile it sought to flee but found, for reasons it could not comprehend, that the ground had suddenly grown soft, wet, like quicksand. Its sole eye blinked wildly, trying to scream out its surrender.

With his flaming hand, the hulking, chimeral alien yanks his gelatinous opponent free from the murky trap. He sets it down gently but doesn’t let go. The feral grin on his crimson face widened into a manic smile as the flames on his hand glow bigger, brighter, hotter.

An acrid smell, like melting rubber coupled with turpentine wafted into the young girl’s nose. It was so strong, she could practically feel the horrible odor settling on her tongue.

The once-human boy suddenly cut off his flames, allowing the creature’s skin to attempt to solidify before once again burning away at it.

“Kevin, that’s enough! You’re going to kill him!” The small girl cried out.

With a savage glee, he responded “So, what Gwen? It’s not my fault he’s not strong enough to get out on his own.”

Gwen got to her knees, one palm pressed against the arena floor. Under the arena’s glaring lights, no one in the audience had seen the small girl’s hands glow. Not when she first got there, and certainly not now. For all the spectators knew, Gwen was merely praying to whatever god her kind worshipped on their home planet.

Just as Kevin raised his fiery hand to deliver the finishing blow, the arena floor began to tremble. It was a steady hum at first, and the vibration Kevin felt in his wings caused him to stop mid-strike. His mismatched features contorted in confusion, and in his equally distorted voice gasped “What the-”

The rest of his sentence never came as the ground suddenly cracked in two. The fissure expanded, threatening to swallow him and the beaten alien. With powerful legs, he leapt to the sky and as he looked down, saw Gwen running alongside the fissure. She moved without hesitation, bright green eyes shining in grim determination as she lunged across the widening gap to push the unconscious alien to safety.

“A goody-goody until the very end.” Kevin found himself grinning in amusement. That was how she ended up stuck with him on the infamous Megacruiser arena, wasn’t it?

Maybe

2008-05-16T09:44:00.004+08:00

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Ben 10 or the characters in it. I haven't seen a single episode of the latest Series Ben 10: Alien Force. If any of the characters sound or act out of character, lemme know so I can take this down and keep bad fanfics off the interwebs. Also, I adore the Gwevin fandom XD

Hurting others was easy. It made him feel better about himself. It took his mind off his own problems. It made him feel like he existed, like he mattered. Like he had a place in the world, even if it was as a threat.

Kevin looked down at the orange-skinned alien guard he was pummeling into the floor. He sensed rather than saw his silent partner approach him. He heard the instructions to keep the incoming guards at bay long enough for their transportation to arrive. He snarled his acknowledgement before pausing to inspect his unfortunate victim.

The creature’s left eye stalk had been ripped off while the other was almost sealed shut from the swelling. Yellow-hued blood gushed out of dual-mouths and where a clawed limb had been moments earlier. Its skin was mottled with red bruises and splintered bones peered out in horror at the world outside its body.

Did he like hurting others? Not at first.

In this brief respite, the alien struggled to breathe and fight back. For its effort, it coughed up saffron, flecked with traces of ruby teeth. The blood splattered against Kevin’s massive chest. Only the look of distaste could be seen on the mismatched features of his face.

The razor-toothed sneer would be the last thing the guard would see before a crystalline shard plunged into it. It gave out a resonating cry of agony as it felt Kevin rip off its remaining eye from its stalk. It didn’t think it was possible to feel anymore pain than it was already in.

Kevin of course felt obligated to prove it wrong and seared its vocal chords off.

Eventually, he learned. He learned to take pleasure in their screams of pain, learned to welcome the look of fear and hate in their eyes, learned to be enthralled as he drove a clenched fist into a body.

The doors slid open, revealing a dozen alien guards all armed with various weapons. The corner of Kevin’s lips curled into a manic grin before they widened to a roar. He charged at the guards, taking large swipes with his multiple limbs, disarming them. Literally. Screeches of pain echoed throughout the room only to be drowned out by Kevin’s laughter.

It was easier this way. Giving in to his powerful, misshapen body’s desire to hurt others, he didn’t have to think. He couldn’t afford to think, to doubt, to second guess himself. It made him weak and Kevin would never allow others to think he was weak.

He had to if he was to survive living alone, even as a child growing up in New York. So much so now in a universe filled with aliens who wouldn’t think twice about killing him.

Kevin finally stopped when he heard his transportation arrived. His silent partner had already headed into the ship, slim tendrils wrapped around their prize along with several of the guards’ weapons. An order for Kevin to get on board blasted from the vehicle’s speakers.

He had to learn. Otherwise he’d go mad.

With a casual ease he had come to master, Kevin got to his feet and strode away without so much as looking back at the mangled remnants of the aliens.

Maybe he already was.

-----------------------------

Hurting people was easy. Pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, striking out if they ever got too close. He knew how to do those things quite well. They were familiar, a habit, almost instinctive.

Now-human Kevin was leaning against the hood of his car, a small plastic bag of food and necessities tucked away in the trunk. He was waiting for the Tennyson cousins to finish their supply-run before they would head out to their next destination. Though he knew quite well who among the two would be taking so damn long.

An impatient sigh escaped his lips and he marched past a cluster of teens, discarded beer cans and cigarette butts around their feet, hanging out by the entrance. Kevin paid them no mind; his mind was too busy formulating a warning that if Gwen wouldn’t hurry up, he’d find a way to make her.

When he pulled open the door to the mini-mart, the aforementioned teen came out carrying two large grocery bags. Something told Kevin he should be the one carrying the bulky –if not heavy– things. Arms outstretched, he saw the gratitude in her eyes and found himself remarking “You sure took your sweet time.”

Caring was hard.

A red brow arched and the bags were pulled out of his reach. “Well excuse me, Mister I-don’t-need-to-worry-about-feminine-issues.” Gwen huffed before storming towards the car.

Kevin found himself inwardly cringing at what he had just said. A part of him argued that he just did something that was expected of him. After all, he knew how to push someone’s buttons, knew what to do or say to get a reaction. He knew how to hurt people and he knew how to hurt them badly.

The feeling of Ben’s hand on his shoulder cut into his thoughts.

“It’d be best if you don’t try to make her mad when she’s like this.” The younger teen warned good-naturedly.

Trusting was hard.

“Why? What she gonna do to me? Hurl me into outer space?” Kevin sneered, pulling his shoulder away.

“Let’s just say growing up with a black belt who can do magic has taught me a few things.” Ben chuckled.

“Kevin!” Gwen yelled from the car, arms still laden with her purchases. “Hurry up and unlock the damn trunk!”

And loving?

“Alright, alright! Don’t get your red panties in a knot!” He yelled back.

The loitering teens seemed to find this extremely hilarious, probably due to all the alcohol they had consumed. Even from the entrance Kevin could see Gwen’s cheeks turn a dark shade of crimson. The dark-haired teen hadn’t planned on embarrassing her. He didn’t want to embarrass her or make her any more annoyed at him than she already was.

Several panels of violet energy zipped past the laughing teens’ legs, knocking them off balance and sending them sprawling onto the ground. Gwen stood with one hand outstretch, the other managing to balance the bags on her hip.

“Let’s just go already.” She sighed, looking strangely tired.

Kevin’s stomach twisted into knots as he and Ben hurried over to the car to pack their supplies into the trunk. There was no calling for shotgun or playful jokes on wanting to drive from either of the Tennyson cousins. A heavy silence fell on the trio as they got into the car and drove off.

Gwen was in the backseat, and every so often Kevin would sneak a peek at her in the rear-view mirror. He saw her staring blankly out the window, her usually expressive eyes revealing absolutely nothing. Kevin couldn’t make out what she was thinking, what she was feeling and it frustrated him.

Loving might damn well be impossible.

He was so focused on trying to detect something, anything, that he lost his focus on the road.

“Kevin, watch out!” Ben’s yell snapped Kevin out of his thoughts in time for him to see he was driving on the wrong side of road. And about to collide with an oncoming car. Quickly, he swerved away, the tires shrieking as they clawed at the asphalt.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Kevin?” Ben gasped, hands practically embossed onto the dashboard.

“You could have killed those people!” Gwen added, leaning back to see what happened to the other car. Thankfully there had been no accident, just several disgruntled drivers honking their horns and shaking their fists angrily at the mustang.

No one was as angrier at Kevin as he himself was. His knuckles paled as he gripped the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to keep calm.

“S-sorry,” Kevin forced himself to say. “I just had something on my mind, that’s all.”

At this, Gwen’s eyes softened considerably. “What, exactly?” She leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would allow without causing discomfort.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Death by auto-accident isn’t the way I’m going to go.” His tone was snide, defensive. But for all the wrong reasons. For a moment Gwen looked like she was about say something. Instead, she rubbed her temples and leaned back into her seat.

Mentally Kevin berated himself. He had endangered them, more importantly he had endangered her. He always knew he was dangerous to everyone around him, just not in ways he never thought he could be.

Eventually, he’ll learn.

Kevin had traveled with countless aliens whose morals were just as twisted as his was. He had taken many tasks ranging from the dangerous to the suicidal. Never in all that time did he feel the heavy, inexplicable sense of dread brewing in the pit of his stomach.

For the past hour and a half they drove. Ben was busy mapping out their course and Gwen had fallen asleep. Now and again, when Kevin was certain the road was clear, he’d check up on her. He saw her wince ever so slightly that he could have just imagined it.

But when her calm face showed the any discernable hint of pain, Kevin instinctively slammed on the brakes. The sudden stop jarred the red-head from her sleep, not to mention threw Ben forward before his seatbelt yanked him back.

“Gwen what’s going on with you?” Kevin demanded, eyes showing nothing but concern.

“I should ask you the same thing!” Ben growled, rubbing where the seatbelt dug into his skin.

Kevin ignored him, “Gwen, are you hurt?”

He’ll learn to take pleasure in hearing her laughter, learn to welcome the look of longing in her eyes, learn to be enthralled as he presses himself against her body.

Gwen peered groggily at Kevin with nothing more than confusion on her face. “N-no, I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“That last fight took more outta you than you’re letting on, didn’t it?” He pressed. Kevin was more than familiar with pain. He knew know what it looked like in all its minute differences. He had inflicted it upon far too many creatures not to.

Even Ben was starting to worry, “Look, Gwen, it’s not something you should be keeping a secret from us. If you’re really hurt we could-”

“I’m fine.” Tersely the words were made, “I just need to rest. That’s all. I’ll be my old self again. I swear.”

Both men were reluctant to believe her.

“I’m not as fragile as you both make me out to be.” An exasperated roll of her eyes wasn’t enough of a confirmation that she was indeed fine. It took a threat of being blasted by an energy beam to convince them.

He’ll have to learn. Otherwise he’ll remain mad.

They started down the road again, this time with Ben eventually falling asleep. The brunette’s soft snoring was the only thing keeping the awkward silence at bay.

“Hey Gwen.” Kevin began, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I already told you I’m fine, Kevin. Do you really need me to blast you to prove it?” Her lips pursed in indignation.

“No, it’s not about that, I just,” He trailed off, hesitation weighing him down.

“Just what?”

“Just that, well, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Again a red brow arched, “You already apologized for almost killing us.”

“N-no, well, yes, but I was talking about earlier earlier.”

“What do you mean earlier earlier.” Amusement glittered in Gwen’s green eyes.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Kevin knew she was playing with him, her eyes were far too easy to read.

“No, really, I don’t.”

This little exchange went on for a while, until finally Kevin gave in. “I’m sorry for being a jerk to you at the mini-mart.”

“Just at the mini-mart?”

Kevin could hear her teasing smile as she spoke and he chuckled in return. “Yeah, just for that.”

The sound of metal clicking and of fabric rustling reached his ears. Without warning, he felt something press against his cheek. Something warm and soft that had the sweet scent of peach-apricot.

“It’s a start.” Gwen voice whispered into his ear. “And keep your eyes on the road, okay?”

Maybe he never was.

Drabble 2

2008-04-24T11:38:00.002+08:00

For: Batangbatugan
Genre: Unknown
Request: Something weird, borderline mindfuck
Keywords: Death and glasses
Author's Notes: Not sure exactly how weird this is, or how much of a mindfuck it is but it's a start XD

"Yval, I don't know how to tell you this but I don't think this is going to work out between us." Alessa sighed as she reclined in her armchair, fingers resting on the bridge of her pert nose.

"What do you mean?" The aged man blinked through his glasses.

"I mean you just don't seem interested in moving on. I mean you say you are, but your actions indicate otherwise." Her lips twist into a frown.

Yval remained speechless, it was true that he was careful in his words and the way he acted around her. He didn't want to give her the wrong impression but he also couldn't afford to become too close to her. It had nothing to do with their difference in age, she was as mature as he was if not more. It was simply because her voice reminded him too much of Laria. His wife.

Alessa spoke with the same amount of passion as she did, laughed with the same sort of schoolgirl giggles, and scolded with the same tone of disappointment and disapproval. He had spoken about her just once and Alessa fixated on it. Every time they met Alessa would attempt to coax information out of him. He was cautious, that much was certain, though it made him feel guilty for making things more difficult for Alessa than he wished.

And things would always be difficult for a woman in Alessa's position.

"I see how it is," Alessa's lips twisted into a frown, "Maybe you shouldn't see me anymore."

"What? No!" Yval gasped, rising to his feet. "I can't do that! I need you."

"Well tough, either you work out your issues about Laria or this will be the last time I let you in here." Her arms folded across her chest in finality.

"Why can't you understand that I'm simply not comfortable talking about Laria right now?"

"Because if I don't force you now you'll find a way to rationalize not talking about her is the best option. I can't even understand why you find it so hard when Laria's been dead for almost half a decade."

Yval found his hands balling into fists, "Five years may seem like a long time to some but to me it's-"

A sharp, ear-piercing ring screeches in the room.

"Oh time's up, but I do believe we're making progress. You've actually managed to say her name without breaking down and sobbing." Alessa beamed as she rose from her armchair.

Yval's lips were pressed into a thin line for a moment before the corners of his mouth curled upwards slightly. He shook the young woman's hand, "Y-you're right. I knew you'd be the only one who could help me. Same time next week then?"

"Of course. Just keep telling yourself that death is as much a part of life as birth." Alessa nodded as she escorted him out of her office. She turned to the receptionist, "Send in the next patient."
----

Name: Yval Durendal
Gender: Male
Base Personality: Deliberate, Calm, Intelligent, Rueful
Base by: Kishuku Sou

Name: Alessa Silver
Gender: Female
Base Personality: Patient, Wise, Amiable, Determined
Base by: SniperAngel

Drabble

2008-03-30T01:58:00.002+08:00

This is something I just felt like doing. I needed to write things but as usual I had nothing to write about. So I went and asked some friends if they were to read something I wrote what would it be. As of this moment, only one person responded. Which, in a way, is a good thing because that means there's less of my crappy writing being posted in this waste of space I call my blog :D

For: redkinoko
The request: "I wanna hear the thoughts of a sentient dog"
Attempted Genre: Warm And Fuzzy Feelings

Master is coming! I yap, ears perked and eyes eagerly staring at the door. With my adoptive brother and sister we paw at the door, tails wagging to our own chorus of anticipatory whining. Our noses pick up the smell of food and fresh water and we lick our chops happily.

And then I catch a whiff of the extra special treats, which can only mean one thing: Bath time!

My siblings become aware of this simultaneously and they bolt away. I on the other hand stay put, my rump firmly planted on the ground, tail wagging even harder.

The door opens and Masters steps out, food bowls balanced in one hand, the exceptionally large water bowl in the other. I stay seated, having learned that jumping Master when she’s carrying food only leads to her getting angry. It is a known fact that an angry Master makes everyone unhappy.

And scared. Mostly scared.

So I battle against my innate desire to leap for the food and with considerable effort wait for her to put my food down.

She looks around, noticing the absence of my siblings. Master doesn’t look too surprised, after all, this isn’t the first time she’s given us a bath but she still looks upset.

“Tara! Tato! It’s num-num time!”

No answer. It seems they don’t want to give away their positions. But knowing them? It’s Tara’s likely lurking in the bushes and Tato’s probably hiding under Master’s car. I’ll help Master find them after num-num time as she puts it.

I watch her lips curl into a frown and if my muzzle was capable of making that shape I would be frowning too. Master wasn’t putting the food down and I was hungry! I started to whine and nudge the top of my head against her leg and she fed me soon enough.

“Why can’t your brother and sister be more like you, Pun?” She mentions while playfully scratches my ear. “Why can’t they be more like my sweetie, widdle, cutie-wootie, baby?”

If she hadn’t been tickling me I would have been looking at her questioningly instead of wagging my tail and licking her hands. Why would I want my siblings to be like me? If they acted the way I, I wouldn’t be Master’s favorite now, would I?

Memory Going

2008-03-06T08:54:00.002+08:00

There is no excuse for the lack of updates. I completely forgot the password to my blog @_@ Not that it means anything.

While I never finished my NaNoWriMo novel, I did reach the 50,000 word minimum. That should count for something but no, not really. It should have been a finished novel but I just couldn't find the proper way to end it. At least not without (to borrow a phrase from redkinoko) summoning a magical meteor to kill everyone.

In other news, cross-stitching has to be one of the most relaxing things I do. But the problem is I need white noise while I cross-stitch. Otherwise I end up thinking of the most random and slightly disturbing things.

Like wishing I can carry a foot-long battle axe in public and be allowed to randomly hack at cars that try to run me over even if I'm in a friggin' pedestrian lane. Or wondering what would a cross-stitch pattern look like on aida cloth made from human flesh. Or would hair make a good substitute to the DMC fibers and if so, where the eff am I going to find all those rainbow-colored skeins? Would I have to start kidnapping kids to have their hair grow out and then dye them the color I need?

Please as to not be taking this seriously. I am not a mass-murdering, child-napping, cross-stitching maniac. Well the last part might be true, sans the maniac. I don't really even realize what I'm saying or typing as I certainly don't write things for the shock value.

What was I saying? What was the point of this entry? I don't remember anymore.

NaNoWriMo-vel Chapter 10

2007-12-07T20:48:00.000+08:00

Chapter Ten - On A High

Blank’s stare jumped from Surge to Kairhn to Surge and back to Kairhn again in confusion at the former and suspicion at the latter. How was it that Kairhn knew that declaring Surge the winner and threatening disqualification would bring him back to his senses? It didn’t seem plausible to Blank that Sharel would have shared her knowledge with her older cousin. Then again, he wasn’t really certain of how closely knit the four were at that present, but that did little to silence his fears about the Edelberton with the honey-colored skin. It disturbed Blank so much he decided to deal with Kairhn’s issues last.

The young man did not stay for the awarding and thankfully his employer did not protest. He would later find out what Surge had gotten as a prize once Blank spoke to him about whatever secrets Raoul wished to know.

It was to be expected that winning the competition would leave Surge in high spirits. With his friends he sang all sorts of songs, albeit off-key and in a squeaky voice as they made their way from the infirmary to the wing of the manor where the guest bedrooms were located.

They reached a hallway that split to the left and the right. Soft footsteps caught their attention and from the right passage emerged Rid. The thrill of victory gave Surge enough courage to approach the woman, though it had to be said that for all of Surge’s focus and vigilance, he was rather dense when it came to Rid.

Much to the amusement of his companions as all Rid need do was bat her lashes at Surge to tie his tongue into knots. He became infinately more awkward and crimsoned beet red each time their eyes met. The two had a sporadic conversation until the angel of mercy came, in the guise of Rid’s entourage and ushered her away as the evening drew to a close. Surge waved, smiling from ear to ear as she departed.

“I reckon’ you’d lose in a fight ‘gainst a woman li’ tha’.” Lenny grinned toothily.

“Miss Rid will never put herself in any unnecessary danger by taking part in a battle.” Surge frowned reproachfully his friend. “In any case, if she was going to go fight, I’d volunteer to take her place.”

“What do you see in her? She’s a real tart.” Narche shook his head.

“You take that back about Miss Rid!” Surge snarled, grabbing the azure-haired man by the collar in the same fashion his friend had grabbed Kairhn earlier.

“Love is blind and dumb I suppose.” Aggre laughed, separating the two men before they caused a bigger fuss than they already started.

Another pair of footsteps caught their notice and who should it be but Blank. The scribe looked exhausted and more importantly as lost as ever.

“The next time I decide to wander off on my own in this place, I’m bringing a cartographer.” He vowed, leaning against the wall.

“Hey it’s Blank!” Surge beamed, “Narche told me you wrote down some of the fights. Mind if I take a look at them some time?”

Blank looked hesitant, wondering if his recent works fell under the secrecy policy. “I’ll have to consult your Uncle Raoul but so long as he doesn’t object I don’t see why not.”

“So why ain’t yu askin’ ‘im now?” Lenny quirked a brow.

“I would if I could.” Blank began finding himself liking Surge’s friends more and more if only for the mere fact they actually acknowledge his presence.

“Yeah, Uncle Raoul had this thing about him being able to reach you but not the other way around. Says it makes him feel powerful and safe. I don’t really understand and don’t really care.” Surge shrugged.

They continued to loiter the halls as the other guests shuffled past them to head to their respective rooms. Blank, despite genuinely enjoying the group’s company, found himself stifling a yawn more frequently.

“It’s getting late, isn’t it?” Narche observed with tact.

“We should all head to bed,” Aggre nodded.

The friends bade each other goodnight before parting ways. Blank followed after Surge, explaining to the Edelberton that he was lost and couldn’t find the room he had been given. Surge was still up in the clouds after having won and having a conversation with Rid. He had the energy to spare to show Blank where his room was while maintaining a very animated monologue.

Finally, they arrived at Blank’s room as just as the scribe entered, the envelope began to thump against his chest. Insistently. With an aggravated sigh, Blank took out the jumping packet, somehow already knowing that he wasn’t about to get the rest he sought.

Now is the perfect opportunity to ask Surge!

Rubbing his temples to ward off the impending headache, Blank turned to the lanky young man to request for his time and words.

“What?” Surge blinked.

“Your Uncle wants to ask you some questions.” He explained.

Surge didn’t so much as hesitate before walking right into the room and declaring “Sure.”

Inside, Blank started to unpack the materials for recording while Surge settled himself in one of the plush seats. “So, what does Uncle Raoul want to ask me?”

The parchment printed its answer, I want to know about the time you first killed someone.

The statement stunned both Blank and Surge and the former grabbed the floating piece of paper before he excused himself to the hallway. “Isn’t that a rather, um, dangerous question to ask?” the scribe hissed to the parchment, “I mean, you may be dead, but I’m still of the mortal realm and I intend to remain in it for as long as I can. You promised me safety while I hold this envelope but afterwards when I’ve gotten all the issues written and are no longer in your employ, what assurance will I have that none of your kin or beneficiaries will come after my head?”

You needn’t be so frightened of Surge, despite what you may have witnessed in the arena. He’s the least likely to worry himself about matters such as secrets. So long as you prove to the lad that you don’t have the slightest inclination to reveal things, he won’t lay a finger on you.

“You can say that because you’re already in the afterlife.” Blank muttered, shoving the parchment roughly into his pocket and stepping back inside his room. “My apologies for running out so suddenly,” Blank bowed in respect.

“Don’t sweat it,” Came Surge’s good natured reply, “But Uncle Raoul’s gonna be disappointed when I tell him that I don’t really remember what happened with the first person I killed. People just told me I slipped into berserk mode and I never really remember what happens after that.” He shrugged.

The parchment flew out from Blank’s pocket, indignantly fluttering. You were in your right state of mind when you killed that man.

With a purse of his lips, Surge stared back at the piece of paper, “You’re going to have to be more specific. I’ve killed a fair amount of people in tournaments but you can’t really blame me for doing so. That’s what happens when you tap into the berserker’s rage. And you can’t really expect me to feel sorry for them either. They knew the risks just like all the other combatants.”

If parchment could snort, it would have at Surge. Oh I’m not talking about your bouts with the berserker’s rage, Surge. It was before you became a berserker. Maybe you simply chose to forget or you’re pretending you don’t remember.

“And I’m telling you you’re crazy and senile and making up things to amuse yourself. Just like the stupid stipulations you’ve put in your will.” Surge snapped.

Fine, allow me then to change the issue to something you’ll be less likely able to deny. I wish to know about when you had your conscience removed.

Surge paled, “How did-?”

See? I told you! You do remember what I’m talking about, don’t you? The parchment ruffled itself triumphantly. Blank was thoroughly confused since he was not privy to the conversation between Surge and his deceased uncle, apart from what the lanky Edelberton was saying of course. He watched silently as Surge dejectedly leaned back in his seat.

“Alright, alright, I’ll talk about that. You ready, Blank?” Surge eyed the scribe.

Blank had positioned himself at the writing table, tome open, inkwell uncovered and quill dipped. For the third time that day he slipped himself into the state of transcribing and wordlessly he nodded.

“I never really...”

* * * * *

I never really expected anyone to know I had my conscience removed. Just so you know I still have some traces of it, small of course but it’s still there. I wouldn’t want people to think I’m completely cruel, though Narche has told me often enough that I am. I don’t mean to be cruel to anyone. Then again I don’t believe I’m cruel in the least. It is possible that people think that I’m bloodthirsty and violent. Especially when it’s the first time they’ve seen me go on a rampage. But that’s the price you must pay to be able to tap into the berserker’s rage without completely losing your humanity.

There are only a couple of berserkers who haven’t been put to sleep by the guilds. See, the guilds have two lists. They are secret lists, and only the really high ranking guild officers and members can see them. The first one has the names of Silarians who are far too dangerous to be allowed to live and most of them have already been crossed out. The second one has the names of people who are dangerous but not enough to require being killed off for the sake of all living creatures.

I was told I had the potential to be on either list. I laughed back then, I still do. I mean just look at me. More bones than meat, clothes look on me the way they do on a hanger. And yet they keep telling me I will become dangerous in time. I don’t think I’ll ever hear a funnier joke than that. Unless it’s one where Marlene manages to keep her mouth shut, but she’s not really what I’m supposed to talking about, yeah?

So anyway, you’re probably wondering why I know about this list if it’s supposed to be a secret. Seems the guilds have been keeping an eye on me and one of them thought “Hey, why not nip the problem in the bud!” That didn’t mean they were going to kill me right away, that wouldn’t be fair since doing that won’t give me the chance to choose my future for myself. Free will and all that junk.

I was at a tourney in Firenal, the same one where I met the gang. I had just come out of the infirmary ‘cuz I sorta passed out when I my opponent used a cheap shot shrieker skill right at my face. I didn’t’ really pass out right that instant since I was still able to win by half-choking the guy. Anyway, so I was coming out of the infirmary when a guy, Narche to be exact, came up to me and told me about the dangers of my name ending up on the first list. You can pretty much guess what my reaction was.

“Riiiiiiiight,” I laughed, “And I suppose you’re here to tell me that I have to drop out of the tournament in order to stop that from happening.”

“No, nothing like that.” Narche answered, shaking his head. If he didn’t look so damn serious I would have probably just turned my back on him and left. Anyway, Narche explained to me about the two lists and that he needed to confirm my way of thinking and my sense of honor and ethics and other crap like that.

Don’t take it like I’m all evil and don’t have any conscience or anything. Technically I don’t have one but at the same time I still do, if that makes sense. No? You look at me like I’m going in circles. I probably am. Yeah, stream of consciousness is more of my thing than a detailed account of my life. What can you do about it, Uncle Raoul?

Where was I? Oh yeah, so Narche tells me that he wants to judge my character and stuff.

“How exactly are you gonna do that?” I asked him. Hey you can’t really blame me for being curious, not when you were just told you could end up being offed just because you’re really strong.

“We have a way of determining it but you’ll have to come with me,” He told me mysteriously. Though you could also tell he was a little nervous about the whole thing. Since my match just finished and my next one won’t be until tomorrow morning, we went to out to the jungle surrounding the tournament complex. It was there we encountered this old man. He was completely hairless, as in not even his eyebrows had hair, and he was all covered in paint and tattoos. He was skinny, like skinner than me. And with so little clothes on you could see his ribs sticking out over the length of tanned hide that was supposed to be a loincloth or something. He held in his hand a bright emerald rod with odd scratches and markings carved all over it.

I should have noticed this sooner but I got distracted that I finally saw someone who had less meat on their bones than I did! The bald guy was blind, or had something wrong with his eyes ‘cuz there was a weird filmy white color where the iris and pupils are supposed to be.

“I see him firmly standing in the crossroads.” The man whispered gravely.

“He’s not leaning towards anything?” Narche asked, brow raised.

“No, he is steadfast on his path.”

“So what does that mean?” I blinked, it was weird listening to people talk about you as if you weren’t there. That ever happen to you, Blank? Probably with non-warriors, since most fighters don’t allow themselves to overlook anyone, no matter how boring a person is.

“It means, your future will depend on your choices and actions. At least it’s certain that you’re not weak willed.” The blind man chuckled, “However that may make you tread the path of destruction more easily than the path of order.”

“I don’t get it, if my character’s strong, I’m gonna turn evil? Shouldn’t it be the otherway around?”

“No,” Narche shook his head, “It just means your conscience possesses a different hold over you.”

I snorted, my conscience was fine, what were they talking about? I haven’t killed anyone, at least as far as I knew. I kept myself under control and have not yet found an opponent to use my berserker abilities against. I just didn’t know that it was all going to change in my next match.

When Narche and me got back to the complex, I just took off. I have to be honest, what the blind guy said bothered me. I mean, I was just told that my conscience or whatever it is you call that thing that keeps you from just killing people for no reason wasn’t up to snuff. I mean, how would you like it if someone you’ve never met, never known before that moment said “You’ve got lousy judgement.”

It damn pissed me off! I couldn’t get a good night sleep and because of that I woke up with a really bad headache. I’m guessing that’s what they meant by my conscience had a different hold over me. Because when I stepped into the ring, I didn’t even think twice about venting my anger on my opponent.

I remember telling myself it was alright to hit him harder than I had to. I told myself he was ready for a beat down and would be able to take my blows and the deep stabs from my blades. It scares me a bit now that I think about how I could barely tell where his face was from all that blood. I remember clearly the angle each bone was broken at, the discoloration of his bruises, and the moment the life just drained from what little I could see of his eyes.

When I realized he was dead, I didn’t stop hitting him. I didn’t think I had to, didn’t see the need to. He was dead after all. He wouldn’t feel any more pain, wouldn’t suffer any agony, so why stop? I wasn’t finished. I wasn’t ready to stop. I didn’t want to stop. It was only when the referee was yelling at me that I was going to be disqualified if I kept it up did I stop.

Funny, isn’t it? My conscience didn’t make me so much as flinch when I killed that man (I don’t even remember his name but I do remember his face all bloodied and unrecognizable from when the match first started), but it woke me up when I heard I was going to lose. On a disqualification, no less!

Maybe the blind guy and Narche did have a point. If I were ever to participate in a war, there would be no rules, no disqualifications. Just me and the enemy and I won’t stop fighting, hitting, maiming, killing until I was satisfied. And even now saying that should normally make a man feel ashamed but I don’t. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything bad or wrong. I feel justified, even. But I do have to say that I feel a slight twinge of regret for all those lives I’ve snuffed. Though in fairness I don’t remember most of them since, you know, berserker rage and all.

After the match I cleaned myself up and went and found Narche. I told him that I might end up on the first list unless I did something and at that point I thought the only way I could keep off the list was to stop fighting altogether.

“No, that would be an incredible waste.” He frowned. “The old man can help you stay on the path of order.”

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

“Oh you’ll see. You’ll see.”

* * * * *

Blank found his hand had stilled long enough to wake him from his writing. He gazed towards Surge who was staring absently at the floor.

“What followed after that?” the scribe prodded.

Surge seemed to stir before noticing he had ceased talking. “Oh, that I don’t really remember. There was a fire and it happened on a night when the moon had hidden itself from the world. There was lots of chanting and dancing on the blind guy’s part. After that I fell asleep. Or he put me to sleep. I’m not all too sure. So, is that enough for you, Uncle Raoul?”

The parchment had settled on the bed, lying flat on the surface where the printed words usually appeared. It did not move nor did it make any other motion to acknowledge the thin Edelberton.

“Silence means yes and I’m bushed. I’m off to bed. Night Blank. Oh and I’m not really worried about my rep so you don’t gotta worry about me offing you if I hear you talked about me.” Surge smiled as he exited the scribe’s room.

Even with that promise, Blank was still restless as he prepared his things for the night. He kept the envelope Raoul had given him tucked securely under his shirt, just to be on the safe side. And yet he still had trouble falling asleep despite his exhaustion and fatigue.

NaNoWriMo-vel Chapter 9

2007-11-28T10:50:00.000+08:00

Chapter Nine - Hit That

Blank sank to his seat in relief once the battle was over. “That was far too intense for me.” He panted, “I believe I’ll be more content in writing down these sorts of skirmishes as opposed to witnessing them for myself.”

Narche just laughed, “You spend your days surrounded by books, I wager.”

“Truth be told I’m usually found at a client’s house. Most scribes are summoned to a home in order to record all sorts of lore, made up or real. But I have heard of enough tales, I’ve pictured them in my head but I never thought I’d actually get to see the real thing. It is a different experience altogether for me.” He admitted. “I wish I had a little more spine, apart from my work there’s little excitement in my life. It must be nice to be able to take part in battles. If I ever find myself in such a situation, I fear I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“If you manage to live through your first taste of combat, you learn from it. You grow from it. You need to. Otherwise the only things you’ll have to show for it in the end are a few new mouths that will never shut.” Narche spoke solemnly.

“Why did you become the healer of your group? I mean, you seem built for the fray.” Blank asked.

The man with sky-colored hair looked thoughtful for a moment, “I guess it was when I saw Surge. But I don’t think it’s really any of my business to tell you the whole thing. Then again you can’t very well ask Surge himself since he was facedown when I met him.” Rubbing the back of his head, Narche seemed torn. “The others were all in the infirmary and Surge’s opponent can’t speak anymore. His throat never healed right, though I did do my best to fix him until the best healers got to him.”

Blank was now officially curious but he could read the reluctance in Narche’s eyes to share more. It didn’t seem fair for him to prod the bright tressed unofficial healer further, nor was it safe. Still, he kept the idea in the back of his mind to ask and promptly remembered his earlier note to ask the Edelbertons of what would befall any poor soul who had the misfortune of listening to Feste. To make certain he wouldn’t forget this time, he quickly jotted this down on his hand. It wouldn’t do to have him writing personal things on the tome Raoul had given him. That would be highly unprofessional.

The arena was filled with a hum of idle murmurs, but the scribe heard them only as white noise, static. You could easily lose yourself in them without ever realizing you were listening to something until silence falls. Narche had lost all desire to converse with the scribe.

Then again, Blank thought the azure-haired man had simply forgotten he was there. Though he hoped that Narche’s warrior instincts would not permit him to commit such a careless thing. Certainly Blank posed no threat to anyone, not even to former clients for the scribe prided himself far too much in his work and professionalism to allow him to divulge any secrets. Unless bewitched with a spell or some sort of potion. Even then, Blank would like to believe his will was made of sterner stuff that would not bend to such cheap tactics.

He neither tried nor wanted to strike up a conversation with Narche, knowing that his curiosity might surface once again and he’d risk offending (or worse angering) Surge’s friend. But warriors did not always deal with discomfort with violence, it would be foolish and insulting to assume so. Still, there was something that kept Blank’s tongue in check, though he assured himself that it had nothing to do with the constant clenching and unclenching of Narche’s fists.

The scribe’s thoughts seemed focused on his own assumptions regarding the matter. Plucking snippets of past recollections and passages from old recorded exploits from the recesses of his mind (as one would when choosing an attire for a very special occasion) Blank tried his best to muse over this curiosity.

It must have something to do with Surge’s berserker state, most definitely. Two people have confirmed this, Miss Sharel and Narche and neither seem to benefit from lying. Narche admitted that he had chosen to take on the role of bone setter and flesh mender when he met Surge. But what could such a friendly fellow have done, have shown Narche to cause him to give up the warrior’s path? For all Blank pondered, he was left dejectedly to decide that he would have to ask Surge himself. Imagination was never really Blank’s strong point. Perhaps if he had more of it he’d have been able to stand out more and people would have taken notice.

Rather than be passed over not out of spite or ill feelings but simply because no one realized he was there. Blank didn’t know which was worse, the malicious intention of being ignored or the mere fact he wasn’t important enough to be remembered? His thoughts were interrupted when the reassuring buzz of the arena panned into a dead silence. Curiously, he glanced at the ring but found it to be empty.

Turning his attention back to Narche, Blank felt slightly delighted that the amber-eyed man had not forgotten his presence but had merely been in deep thought. Though the cold sweat that had broken over the bright-haired man’s brow seemed to indicate his musings were not as scholarly or as pleasant as the scribe’s had been.

“The last fight’s about to start. Vrin’s too banged up to continue, that and he seems not to wish to face his would-be opponent.” Narche smirked a sympathetic smirk, or at least as sympathetic as smirks went.

“Oh? Who was he supposed to face?”

“Do you only listen when people are telling you to write stuff?” Narche snorted, “It’s Surge naturally. Though that means he wins his match against Vrin by default and is automatically going to face the last man remaining. Let’s hope Surge doesn’t get struck by fancy tonight. For his opponent’s sake.”

“I shouldn’t think Surge will need to tap into his berserker abilities as you described earlier.” Blank seemed confident.

Narche looked as if he wished he could say the same, “He’s used it on far weaker people.”

“Well, Kairhn should have set up some safety measures, unless he wants an excuse to kill his own cousin. But you’ve run in their circles far longer than I have, so you’d have more right and reason to judge so.” Blank half shuddered and half shrugged at the possibility. Chills ran up his spine when Narche nodded in accordance at his suggestion.

“I trust Kairhn as much as a wolf can deny his urge to howl.”

That day was just filled with dread, wasn’t it? Blank hoped to the gods and unseen forces above that the rest of his days were not as ominous as this had been.

* * * * *

Surge and his opponent emerged into the ring, the differences in feature and form even more evident once they stood before each other. The other man was clean shaven, with features that seemed to have been chiseled from stone. His entire body seemed to be made completely out of iron with thick, pulsating veins protruding grotesquely beneath stretched hide. His motions were swift for such hulking proportions, surprising many when made the first move. Heavy, powerful feet with ground devouring strides charged at the Edelberton.

Surge was lanky, awkward, all elbows and knees rather than the sculpted, well-toned muscles one imagines a warrior was supposed to possess. He looked as if even the slightest wind could knock him off his feet, and the beret adorning his head made him look more ridiculous than intimidating. But such was his charm, and his advantage to be underestimated and looked down upon as a lesser fighter. Easily side-stepping any attack the larger man threw.

The better fighters, Narche had told Blank, never made the mistake of underestimating their opponent. Overestimating was not nearly as grave an error, but it helped mentally prepare them for the worst possible outcome. It was the novices, the greenhorns who would judge their opponents based solely on appearance. Surge was strong, contrary to what his thin frame may suggest. His feet were clad in the very gales themselves, though anyone could easily guess that from his spry gait. But what few people ever suspected that behind the boyish smile and the gentle-looking eyes existed a demon.

“Surge has a tendency to think all his foes are superior to him.” Narche seemed more willing to talk, having decided that there was something cathartic about sharing his thoughts and opinions with Blank. “Somehow I think this gives him an excuse to go berserk. It takes so little for him to give in to his urges.”

“Do you ever regret hurting anyone you’ve fought?”

“Hurting? No. Killing? Some.” Narche admitted, “But Surge...” His words died on his lips as he shook his head as if managing to keep himself from committing a grave transgression. “I don’t think it would be wise for me to speak of him in such a way. You should ask his cousin, Sharel about him. They’ve grown rather fond of each other ever since she became a well-known beast tamer.”

Blank found it safe to assume it was about that time she became a consort that Surge and Sharel become fond of each other. The envelope in his jacket started to push and poke at Blank, irritated that the scribe had stopped recording the battles. He excused himself from Narche who was tact enough not to point out the odd stirrings in the non-warrior’s garments.

The scribe plodded towards one of the passages connected the arena to the estate and stood beneath one of the torches that lit the long strip of road. He had barely brought out the envelope when the parchment zoomed out to angrily smack Blank’s nose.

What are you doing getting all chummy with that man rather than writing down my nephew’s exploits? You also forgot to write down that most climactic battle between Rass and Vrin!

“Begging your pardons, sir, but my services is technically restricted to transcribing the issues you were never able to learn when you still breathed.” Blank wrinkled his nose in disdain. “I am not being paid extra for those other bouts I have written down, and I would not even have managed that were it not for the man whom I was getting chummy with.”

The roar of the crowd reached Blank’s ears, as it did Raoul’s it seemed for the parchment gave the scribe a swift, stinging paper-cut across the bridge of his nose.

What are you doing standing around here for?! Go! Go! I can’t see what’s going on if the envelope isn’t present at the location!

Blank was not one for thinking profanity, let alone muttering it. But his patience had been tried the entire day and he felt himself entitled to a choice expletive or two. Stuffing the envelope back into his jacket, Blank hurried back to see what had caused such a reaction.

Surge with his beret now buried beneath rubble, was straddling his opponent while his fists mercilessly pounding into the larger man’s face. Blank wasn’t certain if you could even call the bloody mess of flesh and muscle becoming even more bloodied and messy by the second the remnants of a face. Over and over again he heard Kairhn’s voice yelling: “No fatalities Surge! What are you doing?!”

The worbles ventured as close as they could to Surge without risking their own lives and they projected throughout the entire arena the maddened delight that twisted the young Edelberton’s features into a beast. His mouth was curled in a wicked snarl, his eyes ablaze from the sight of blood. Were it not for such cruel conditions, the scribe would have sympathized with the sheer joy Surge emanated.

Blank shuddered, visibly, unashamed and unconcerned whether it made him look less of a man. Some of the weak-hearted guests had fainted, while the rowdier ones cheered Surge on.

It was then the scribe spotted Narche grabbing Kairhn by the collar, the azure-haired man was shaking the latter roughly while yelling. Blank was not a lip-reader but as he rushed towards the two (along with a slew of guards) he used his talents to drown out the rest of the noise and focused on what Narche said.

“-You idiot! You knew Surge would have gone berserk and you let him join all the same!”

“Do you have so little faith in your comrade? And you call yourself his friend.” Kairhn sneered, unaffected by the rough handling. Narche was suddenly gripped in a choke-hold as several guards pulled him away from Kairhn.

“He’s going to kill that man unless you do something!” the azure-haired man yelled.

“Fine, fine, I meant to give him a few more minutes to try to snap back to his senses but since you insist so passionately,” Kairhn merely adjusted his clothing before turning his gaze to his cousin. Speaking directly to a worble, Kairhn’s amplified voice declared “The winner of this battle is Surge! If he ceases his attacks he shall be disqualified!”

And Surge instantly stopped moving. Whatever spell had fallen upon him or trance he had been in, Kairhn’s words managed to calm the young Edelberton back into his friendly, affable state.

NaNoWriMo-vel Chapter 8

2007-11-27T15:08:00.001+08:00

Chapter Eight - Beautiful Ones

The arena, as it turned out, was what remained of a coliseum before it fell beneath the Edelberton’s property. The estate and most of its extensions and gardens were built directly on top of it and the family had left most of the ruins as it was. Of course they also remodeled certain portions in order for people to actually be capable of getting in the arena. And such, several passages were built to connect the arena to the manor.

The facilities were improved upon, and despite the decrepit appearance the spectator’s seats, they were well lit, and proved to be far more comfortable than what one would have expected of cracked, lichen-covered lime and marble. Several winged creatures whose spherical shapes served to amplify both sounds and images fluttered throughout the arena. They landed by people who were seated far away from the main ring, those who were dismayed at the thought of getting blood on their garments. Still, others fluttered into the warriors’ area to give the participants a visual account of what was happening.

Blank smiled upon recognizing the little creatures as worbles and reached out to stroke one between its gossamer wings. The worble ducked and bobbed, burbling in amusement as it teased the scribe. When the creature saw others of its kind zoom past, it took chase, promptly forgetting about Blank. Which left him to return to his task at hand. He weaved his way towards the fighters’ area and was promptly blocked by large, burly, masked guards. “Non-fighters are forbidden to go any further.” He was gruffly told.

“But I have to talk to Surge.” Blank explained.

“Non-fighters are forbidden to go any further.”

Once more, the scribe tried to explain to the guards his reasons but was denied with yet another declaration that “Non-fighters are forbidden to go any further.”

Oh well, Blank couldn’t say he didn’t try. He certainly wasn’t about to risk his neck for something he wasn’t being paid to do. Besides, injuring his writing hand would have put his real task in jeopardy. Sighing, he turned back to find a seat when he spotted Narche standing by the closest possible location to the arena itself.

Curious, Blank carefully made his way towards Surge’s friend. “You’re pretty good at sneaking up on people.” Narche uttered, a smile across his face. “For a non-warrior that is.”

The scribe canted his head, he wasn’t really sneaking around was he? “I, uh, thank you?” he blinked. “Pardon me for asking this but what are you doing out here? I thought you were going to take part in the games? I mean, being a warrior and all.”

Narche looked quizzically at Blank, “You thought I was a warrior?”

“You did say, and I quote “Last I recalled you were the one who ended face-down when we met.” After all.”

The amber-eyed man suddenly began to laugh, “Oh you misunderstand. I’m not a warrior, at least not like the others. I’m the healer, the cleric if you will. Surge was in need of a patch job after he finally ran out of steam when he went berserk.”

“B-berserk?” Blank gawked.

“Yes, I thought everyone in the Edelberton circle knew that Surge had the uncanny ability to tap into a berseker’s rage without completely losing himself.” Narche quirked a brow.

“I believe that is due to the fact that I’m not part of the so-called circle you speak of, Narche. I’m just a hired scribe who is starting to feel quite the wide-eyed country bumpkin at a slave market.” As Raoul had put it earlier.

“Ah, don’t be too hard on yourself.” Narche cheered, lightly slapping the scribe on his back. Blank found himself winded despite the larger man controlling his strength. “Oh, did it hurt?” Narche asked, though he wasn’t being intentially mean about it.

The scribe was glad his pride was in his abilities and memory rather than in brute strength or unimaginable endurance, this way he wouldn’t feel as slighted whenever he was bested time and time again. Even by other women, but Blank thought better than to think about gender roles and whatnot.

“Just a smidge,” Blank honestly responded, secrets were safe with scribes, but their emotions need not be secrets. They had far too many of them as it was. “In any case, would it be alright for you to, um, relay the battles to me? I mean, my eyes are trained to follow words and my ears are more attuned to voices rather than the ringing of metal and such.”

Narche wasn’t certain if he found Blank an utterly pathetic, spineless wimp who would most likely have ridiculous hobbies such as knitting and needle-work, or a man who was comfortable and secure enough in his manhood to admit such things to a complete stranger. Luckilly for Blank, Surge had vouched for him so Narche was more inclined to believe the latter.

“I guess it would help me develop my focus even more.” The blonde thought, “Alright, why not? You’ll have to forgive me if I make some remarks now and again. It’s nothing against the contestants.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Blank nodded, he could easily note Narche’s comments as they came. Again Blank slipped into the trance, aware of the almost tactile sounds erupting all around him as the first fight began. He weeded out the noise, filtering out all other voices save for Narche’s. The blonde man spoke with passion, with excitement whenever his companions won and Blank found himself smiling as if he too shared the victory. The blonde man spoke with resignation whenever one of his friends lost and Blank became solemn as he wrote. And there came a moment when the blonde man didn’t speak at all.

Blank had to force himself out of his reverie to see what was the matter. Even in his normal state, it was easy for him to sense the tension in the air. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that the pair that was about to duke it out had this effect on the spectators. After all, their little clash in the ballroom was cut short. It was time for Vrin and Rass to settle things without any interruptions.

Kairhn stood in the middle of the arena and motioned to the two men to approach. “As I’ve stated, no fatalities are allowed, accidental or otherwise. You may use whatever weapon you have at your disposal save for magick. We don’t wish to risk a cave in after all.” He smirked. “This shall be single combat, no aide allowed during the fight. But what am I telling this to you two for? It isn’t as if anyone would be foolish enough to put their lives at risk, eh Rid?” Kairhn called out to the woman seated closest to the stage amongst a gaggle of yes-men and self-proclaimed friends.

One of the winged critters dashed to the woman’s side, while the rest immediately projected her image. Rid retrieved a fan from the folds of her voluminous skirt and opened it with a resonating snap. All the while hiding the grim line her mouth was pressed in behind the furious motions of her fanning.

“I’m sure I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about, Kairhn,” She cheerfully responded while batting her lashes. “Rass luvie, show ‘em what you’re made of!” She cheered and waved. Though it was evident she was directing her attention at the person who was seated directly across her on the other side of the stadium.

Ergo sat coolly ignoring Rid’s attempts at riling her up, she had encountered the other woman enough times in the past to allow her to ignore the flamboyant woman. But she couldn’t help but twitch when she heard Rid call Rass luvie. In retaliation, she muttered an expletive that most women were too embarrassed to even think, let alone say. The men seated around her looked uneasily at each other before promptly scooting away from her. This suited Ergo just fine. She wasn’t one for causing a scene but if one were to come up, Ergo had no qualms if she had to deal with it using her fists.

“With that out of the way,” Kairhn leapt backward and landed gracefully out of the ring before declaring “Begin!”

* * * * *

It was Vrin who attacked first, launching himself headlong towards Rass. The blonde stood his ground, widening his stance to center his balance as he leaned back to avoid the initial strike aimed at him. Vrin followed with quick jabs, his face unreadable, completely devoid of emotion. It looked extremely easy on Rass’ part to dodge and avoid the lightning fast punches from so much as glancing him, though Blank would later hear Narche murmur in awe at the sheer amount of focus both Vrin and Rass were exhibiting.

Each blow thrown was blocked, each kick was dodged, each attempt at causing a near-mortal wound missed by the breadth of a hair.

“Come on, when are you going to land a hit?” Rass sneered, his fist thrusting forward as Vrin pulled back. “Or should I show you how it’s done?”

The pale-haired man looked grimly at the incoming blow aimed at his face. He made no movement to dodge. He didn’t need to, for he had waited for this moment and instead drew out his silver knife. When the gauntleted hand was but a breath away, Vrin plunged his knife deep into Rass’s wrist.

Most expected to hear metal ring against metal, anticipating that Vrin’s move would only change the direction of Rass’s attack. Blank watched in disbelief as the weapon sank through the armor as if it were made of paper, the force effectively halting Rass’s attack. The arena burst into a collection of gasps and cheers at the sight of blood dripping down the blade’s hilt.

None was as surprised or horrified by this result than Ergo.

“This blade was specially crafted to never stop unless it tastes blood.” He explained with a smirk. Smoothly yanking the weapon free from its fleshy sheath, Vrin somersaulted away to coolly slip his weapon back into his clothing. Rass didn’t so much as blink, instead he pulled his chipped gauntlet off and hurled it away. The metal glove fell with a heavy thud, leaving a clearly visible indentation on the ring’s floor.

“That all you got?” Was Rass’s snide remark, though it was evident he was quite annoyed that Vrin still kept his face a careful mask. “That ain’t enough to beat me, you pansy!” And in that instant, he charged at Vrin.

The pale-haired man barely saw what was coming and found himself nearly folding in two from pain as Rass’s bare fist slammed into his gut though it felt more akin to a sledgehammer’s strike.

“Come on, show me what the fuck Ergo ever saw in you.” Rass hissed, retracting his hand in order to deal a hammer blow to Vrin’s back. The pale-haired man quickly rolled to his side as clasped fists smashed the ground leaving a small crater where Vrin had been just seconds earlier.

“Heh, not bad.” Rass admitted, “Most people don’t ever get up after I hit ‘em.”

Vrin did not seem impressed, “Your point being?”

The blonde grit his teeth and lunged at Vrin, who merely leap-frogged out of harms way. Landing smartly on his feet, Vrin ducked as a kick soared over him and in return he lashed out with his dagger. His speed was rewarded with the sickening sound of metal piercing metal, flesh and bone. Deftly, the liaisons officer pulled his weapon free and once more rolled away as a fist narrowly missed him.

“Come on, show me what the fuck Ergo ever saw in you.” Vrin taunted, for the first time throughout the battle. Despite the ease in his movements, Vrin was hurting from the sole blow that Rass managed to connect. He didn’t dare touch it, using every ounce of control he possessed to keep himself from so much as wincing each time he breathed.

If I can frustrate him enough, Vrin planned. He knew the barbarian had too short a temper but he also took into account the fact that Rass was a veteran among veterans. If he weren’t, Vrin would have defeated him minutes ago. Rass was aware of the liaison officer’s intentions to rile him up, to make him careless enough to be defeated.

I’m not going down that easily, pansy, Rass spat before charging again. He was slower this time, the wound in his leg was seriously compromising his speed and both men knew it. It was a chance Vrin wasn’t about to let slip through his fingers.

The dagger, aimed at Rass’s shoulders, flew through the air. But before the blade could pierce armor, Rass made a clean swipe at the hilt, effectively changing its course. Vrin’s eyes widened, not because his opponent had so easily redirected his weapon but because the dagger was now hurtling towards Ergo.

“No.” the pale-haired man whispered before making a mad dash for his blade. He hadn’t even intended to avoid the tackle Rass had halfway positioned himself in; all that mattered to Vrin was that Ergo would remain unharmed.

“Come back he- oh fuck.” Rass realized just why the pale-haired man suddenly turned tail. Grunting, he took chase, not after Vrin but the weapon. He wasn’t about to let the pale-haired man upstage him by saving Ergo twice in one night.

Those seated near the brunette gasped and scrambled out of the way. Except for Ergo herself. The same intense concentration Rass and Vrin had been openly displaying to the spectators was now clearly seen on her face.

And while the rest of the crowd was watching Ergo, Blank found himself curiously looking at Rid. The scribe shivered at the manic glee on the woman’s face. It was obvious earlier that evening that Rid despised Ergo, but still, shouldn’t she show some measure of concern for another human being? Then again, compassion and mercy seemed such unheard of concepts when you were seated in an arena watching two people beat each other senseless. He stared at the bright-haired woman until the stunned gasps called back his attention.

Three hands had reached out to grab at the dagger; two grasped the hilt, one the blade itself. Blood seeped from the wound, down to the razor sharp edge and dripped thickly onto Ergo’s skirt. A gauntleted hand drew back, unharmed, unbloodied.

“Vrin...” Ergo whispered, relinquishing her grip on the hilt to reach out to the carmine-eyed man. “I can’t believe you’re using the blade I forged for you.”

The liaisons officer chuckled and pulled his arm to his side, “My apologies for placing you in danger.” He murmured.

Before Ergo’s fingers could brush against his face, Rass’s fist beat her to it. His punch sent Vrin flying back into the center of the ring.

“VRIN!! Rass, that was uncalled for!”

“We’re still in the middle of a fight and we ain’t done yet!” Rass growled, enraged that Vrin had showed him up once again. With his injured leg, he stomped down hard agianst the fallen Vrin’s sternum. The sound of bones cracking echoed as his ribs fractured from the pressure. Rass lifted his foot once again and motioned to finish him off when Kairhn’s voice suddenly interrupted him.

“Remember, no fatalities. Especially not when it involves someone currently under Edelberton employment.” Though the mad glee on his face seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Fuck, you’re lucky there was someone here to save your hide.” Rass spat at the still form of Vrin. He turned to walk away, assured that Vrin wouldn’t be capable of getting back to his. He was proven wrong when shadow loomed from behind him and instincts caused him to face the incoming danger. Vrin’s dagger sank deep into the armored man’s flesh, inches beside his heart while missing any major organs.

“If I were to pull this out, you’ll slowly bleed to death.” Vrin uttered calmly, ignoring the fire burning in his own lungs caused by his broken ribs.

“N-no fatalities, you dumb fucking pansy.” Rass snarled, keeping himself still lest he unwittingly kills himself.

“It’s not fatal since if you get patched up quickly enough you will live.” It was Vrin’s turn to sneer. “Admit it, Rass. I’ve beaten you three times in the span of one night.”

“Three times? What the fuck you talking about?”

“The wine glass, stopping the dagger, and this. I’ve bested you at all three and you know it.”

The blonde’s expression turned ugly at Vrin’s demand but eventually became resigned, “I yield.” He said, barely above a whisper.

A worble had flown in close enough to allow the others to project Rass’s declaration and the arena burst into cheers.

“Call a druid or cleric. Rass requires healing before I can retrieve my dagger.” Vrin instructed to the worble. The pale-haired man himself needed the restorative powers of a healer, but he was currently taking comfort with the memory of Ergo’s voice calling his name.

Rass appeared deeply troubled. It was not so much as the fact that he lost to Vrin but over the way Ergo looked at Vrin when he had saved her from the dagger by grabbing the blade. Not to mention that it was Ergo who had forged the dagger the liaison officer had been using. Was there still something between them?

NaNoWriMo-vel Chapter 7

2007-11-26T17:19:00.000+08:00

Chapter Seven - Makes Me Wonder

Blank wordlessly stepped outside the room, dazed, confused and was absolutely certain that he was in over his head. “I have got to tell the agency to do background checks before accepting clients.” He winced as he stumbled down long halls and dark corridors, trying to find his way back to the dining hall. His stomach rumbled and his head felt light, he seriously felt like he could eat an entire cow if given the chance.

“Oh wonderful, I really am lost.” He sighed after finding himself staring at the same dead end with the same portrait of a man in a powdered wig. Desperately he took out the envelope housing Raoul’s instructions. “Alright you got me into Miss Sharel’s room now get me back to the dining hall. I can’t properly function if I don’t get to eat!” He ordered, lightly smacking the packet with the back of his hand.

But he received no response, “Don’t tell me you’re on a dinner break.” Blank frowned. Sighing, he went back to his futile attempts at navigating the impossibly huge manor. Down another corridor and descending yet another flight of stairs, Blank was beginning to think he was going to wander for all eternity.

Until a chipper voice greeted him from behind, “So this is where you are!”

Blank nearly leapt out of his skin and he hadn’t been able to keep a rather girly squeal from escaping his mouth, which prompted unabashed laughter from Surge. Blank would have demanded what was so funny if he hadn’t found himself chuckling at the ridiculous way the beret looked atop Surge’s head.

“You have an affinity for hats, don’t you?” Blank stated, pointing to the aforementioned article of clothing.

Surge adjusted the beret, “Yeah, I have one for each day of the year. They make great conversation starters, especially with the ladies.” He laughed but not with a slight blush. “And speaking of ladies, Vrin told me Jenta scared you away.”

“She did not!” Blank gasped, it was his turn to crimson.

“Hey, calm down, man. I was going to say you aren’t the first to run.” Surge held his hands in front of him as a shield of sorts, though Blank knew very well the lanky young man in front of him was more than capable of holding his own in battles. And despite the accounts he had just gotten from Sharel, Blank felt at ease around this particular Edelberton. No suspicion prickled his skin, no impending doom lurked over his shoulder, no intimidation burrowed into his mind.

“Sorry about my behavior earlier, I kinda acted like a jerk. I’m not always like that. Marlene just brings out the worst in me. A-anyway, you seen Sharel?” Surge asked, quickly changing the topic.

“Oh, she, um, I had seen her earlier but then she had to go elsewhere.” Blank finished lamely. He didn’t tell a single lie but it didn’t sound completely truthful either. Secrets are safe with scribes, they must be, else they lose everything. Whether Surge could tell, he did not show it.

“Great, run off again.” Surge sighed, rubbing the side of his head where a scar peeked from between strands of hair. “She always does this, every month she’ll just up and vanish just when I have something to ask her. Are all women this, well, flakey or just her?”

“I, um, I d-don’t believe I’m in any position to answer that.” Blank spoke the complete truth, he had never been fortunate in matters of the heart. “When you spend most of your time writing down other people’s stories, you tend to forget that you have one of your own.” He laughs. “A-anyway, I won’t have much of a life if I don’t get something to eat soon. Mind showing me the way back to the dining hall?”

Tipping his beret to cover his scar, Surge smiled, “Sure. I can’t have the only guy who’ll let us get our inheritance waste away into skin and bones. Besides, that look’s taken by yours truly.”

There was an odd sense of comfort that emanated from Surge. It calmed Blank, making him relaxed enough to ask “Think after I eat I could talk to you about these issues your Uncle Raoul wanted to learn of you?”

Surge stiffened slightly but then again it could have just been the hunger pangs messing with Blank’s mind. “Sure, why not? Unless Kairhn has something planned, though I don’t doubt it. Even if Sharel was the one who planned all this, Kairhn’s not the sort who likes being delegated to the background. He’ll have something to upstage her for sure.”

They finally reached the dining hall and found no one really missed Sharel or Blank’s presence. This irked Surge far more than he let Blank notice. “Freakin’ bloodsucking social parasites.” The pale-haired man muttered beneath his breath.

“Excuse me?” Blank blinked, he thought he heard Surge say something.

“Meh, it’s nothing.” Surge waved in casual dismissal. “Where were you seated?”

Blank gestured to the empty chair in front of Jenta, which Surge acknowledged with a soft “Eep. No wonder you turned tail and ran. She did the thing under the table with you, didn’t she?”

The scribe nodded, “You seem to know a lot about this woman’s activities.”

“Hey, she’s always looking for new clients. You’re not the first one to get an “under the table” sample as she calls it.” Surge explained with the matching air quotes. “And I doubt she’ll stop trying to get you on her list. So whaddya say? Wanna sit with me and my friends? Sharel won’t mind if we re-arrange the seating plan, not like she’s here to nag, yeah?”

* * * * *

Surge’s friends were perhaps the friendliest group Blank had met at the ball. They were also the most conspicuous ones, apart from Sharel’s own selected guests and their particular choice in clothing. They were rowdy, loud, the sort of bunch you’d find in seedy taverns drinking ale and singing tawdry songs about women. Muscles rippled against tight clothing, strained against the formal garments they had donned so as not to appear too out of place in such lavish settings. The way they sat, ate, even spoke showed a certain level of discipline that most men wouldn’t even be able to mimic for too long.

Bladesmasters, Soulcleavers, Bonebreakers, they were all just titles, just fancy labels the many cultures of Silar came up with to distinguish one style from another. But the scribe had written down exploits and stories involving men like these, a great deal enough of them to know that most of these people were far more comfortable being simply called Warriors.

Surge introduced him, explained his situation both with Jenta and the will. No one seemed to mind his presence or questioned why the chapeau'd Edelberton invited him. In that case, Blank took it upon himself to do the wondering.

“So, how’d you all meet?” Blank asked the one of the four men, doing his best to strike up a conversation that involved neither a beating nor a bedding.

“Is this one o’ them issues Surge’s uncle be wantin’ t’ know?” Lenny, the tall, heavily tanned man with a drawl quirked a faded-sapphire brow.

“Oh, no, no, this is just my own curiosity. I’m not always out to write down stories.” Blank replied.

“Why? Our stories not quality material for you?” Narche, an azure-haired man beside Surge demanded as he narrowed amber eyes at the scribe.

“It’s never the scribe’s position to judge whether or not a tale is worthy of being immortalized on parchment. That’s up for the readers and the person telling the tale.” Blank shrugged, he had heard this question far too many times in the past to let them rile him. Never mind that they could easily pummel him senseless.

“Well?” Surge eyed his companions.

“He’s got guts, I’ll give him that.” The heavily scarred one who went by the name Aggre grinned. Lenny voiced his agreement with an ever so eloquent “Ayup!”

“I guess we could let you know how I ended up with these losers.” Surge laughed.

“Losers? Last I recalled you were the one who ended face-down when we met.” Narche playfully punched Surge in the arm. Had he hit some poor sap with no combat experience whatsoever, someone like Blank, Narche could have very well broken a bone or two or five.

“To be honest, the five of us met at a tourney.” Surge said cheerfully with a youthful boyish smile that almost made Blank forget Sharel’s words.

He had become a beast. It was difficult for Blank to come to terms with what Sharel described and what he was seeing before him. Surge’s enthusiasm, the genuine embarrassment at admitting his lack of experience with women, his loyalty to his family even though he admitted there were times he wish someone would have done something to knock some sense into Marlene.

“Speakin’ o’ them wenches, you ever manage t’ work up the nerve an’ talk t’ tha’ one?” Lenny jeered as he gestured to a woman Blank recognized as Rid.

Surge crimsoned completely.

“I’m going to take a wild stab at that being a definitive NO!” Aggre laughed as the others, including Blank, joined in.

How can be have become a beast? Was what Blank found himself wondering. Little did he know that Kairhn was about to give him the opportunity for Blank to find out. The soon-to-be head of the Edelberton name and fortune began to tap his knife against his wine-filled glass, the tinny sound somehow managing to ring throughout the dining hall and eventually silence everyone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Kairhn began once he had the guests’ attention, “On behalf of my cousin Sharel, I wish to extend our deepest apologies. She seems to have been called away and is unable to grace us with her presence. To make things up for everyone, I have arranged for the arena to be availble to any interested warrior. Fret not for the squeamish ones that Marlene had invited. This is a friendly game, no fatalities allowed unless they wish to be sent to trial for murder. Or executed on the spot. Whichever is more fun.”

Squeals and gasps rippled throughout the hall, some of feigned indignation, some of genuine delight, while others like Surge and his friends were too busy grinning from ear to ear to make a sound. Eagerly, the five men and some others got up from their seats to approach Kairhn under the excuse of “discussing important matters.” Though it was clear as day that they wanted to be part of the evening’s events.

Blank felt the envelope thump in his chest again and carefully slipped away to see whatever it was Raoul wanted of him this time.

I know it’s not really part of your contract since you were hired to record tales and whatnot. But please, please, please, please, PLEASE immortalize the upcoming scrimmages that are about to take place!

“Why? Couldn’t you watch it from where you are?” Blank asked, curious at the desperation he read from the words.

Yes, I suppose I can. But as I told Sharel, I have memory problems and I’m certain some of these fights are going to be spectacular and well, I’d like to have something in order to remember them.

“I don’t know.” Blank was genuinely hesitant, he was neither bard nor poet. Yes, he could jot down poems, lyrics, songs, tales and epics, but he could never quite find the proper words if they were to ever come from him. It was an easy feat for him to take down everything if someone else did the talking. But he knew he lacked the muse to inspire him and the confidence to come up with eloquent words from his own mind.

You aren’t squeamish are you? Hearing is different from seeing? Is it because you have no imagination? The parchment scoffed, Condmen it all to hell, was it a mistake hiring you?

“Begging your pardons, sir. But I am a scribe, not some mandolin-toting minstrel! There is a difference between accurately writing down stories that may or may not be accurate, and spinning a completely original story altogether. Though one may argue that originality has long died once man learned to communicate with one another.” Blank snapped, narrowing his eyes at the now-blank parchment.

Alright, fine, fine, I apologize. But isn’t there anyway for you to somehow get a gist of things? Maybe if Kairhn had thought to hire an announcer? Someone who is accustomed to giving a detailed report on what is going on in battles?

That notion hadn’t struck Blank before, but of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that? Surge and his friends were skilled warriors, they could easily tell him what goes on in the battles. He only hoped they’d be fine with helping him.

NaNoWriMo-vel Chapter 6

2007-11-25T00:38:00.000+08:00

Chapter Six - Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep

“M-Miss Sh-Sharel!” Blank croaked, mouth going dry as he scrambled to his feet. “I, I seem to have gotten lost! I thought this was the lavatory but it obviously isn’t.” he explained, “I, I’ll be heading back to the dining hall.” Never mind the fact Blank knew he wouldn’t be able to get there on his own.

The whip cracked at his feet, tripping him flat on his back. A leather boot rested lightly against his sternum, before Sharel began to apply more and more pressure. “Are you certain that is all you were doing? You weren’t trying to find our vault and rob us, were you?”

Blank seemed indignant, “I most assuredly was not! I may be a humble scribe but I have no need to resort to thievery!” Though he struggled beneath Sharel’s foot, he couldn’t manage to get any leverage to throw her off balance.

“Save your strength, Blank. You don’t have what it takes.” Sharel grinned smugly as she dug her heels deeper into his chest. “But don’t worry, I won’t kill you. My cousins don’t have the patience and might do something stupid. Like attempt to break the enchantments our Uncle had placed on his worldly goods.” She lifted her leg off his torso and with smooth ease, bent forward to pull the scribe to his feet.

“Head back to the dining hall,” she commands, gathering the whip in one hand with a mere flick of her wrist. “You do know how to get back, don’t you?” she sneered.

Blank started out of the room, but the envelope in his breast pocket started to thump against him, aiming at the spot where Sharel was slowly sinking her heel in. Oh for Malj’s sake, he grunted as he retrieved the packet. Pulling out the contents, the parchment leapt right at his face, smothering him.

“Arrrrrrgh!” Blank yelled, landing painfully onto his back yet again. Sharel didn’t so much as ask him if he was alright. In fact, she actually stepped over his supine form. Snatching the parchment from his face, Blank furiously hurled it away. Only to have it crumple mid-air and fly towards the back of Sharel’s head. The bespectacled woman easily caught the scrap and carelessly tossed it at the scribe.

For something that was made out of paper, the impact made a sharp smack and left a red welt on Blank’s forehead. As he rubbed at the spot and blinked away the tears of pain stinging his eyes, he saw Sharel looming before him.

“Did you honestly just try to attack me?” She quirked a brow in disbelief.

“N-no! This stupid thing your Uncle left me started acting up!” Blank stammered, holding the now smoothened piece of parchment up to her.

Hello there, Sharry! The paper greeted as more words began to form.

“I no longer go by that name.” She narrowed her eyes.

Be nice to the poor lad, I know you’re not as cruel as you pretend you are.

“Just what do you know uncle?” She snorted, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

Not as much as I’d like, which is why I hired this young man to document your answers for me. I’ve become rather forgetful, the last few years of my life and I fear I’ll keep that trait in my afterlife. So please, humor your Uncle Raoul, just this last time.

She looked unmoved, steely eyes staring uncaringly at the piece of parchment. “Why on Silar should I?”

The paper was blank, silent for the next half a minute before answering Because I remember how you were when you were smaller, when you were the one who stood up for your cousins and defended them, rather than the distant woman you are now. When you still smiled from simple pleasures such as watching the rain patter against the windows, rather than finding only happiness in the misery of others.

When you used to know what “blood is thicker than water” meant.

Sharel’s eyes softened, “Fine.” She moved to the door and pushed it shut before locking it, effectively sealing herself and Blank inside. “You needn’t be so melodramatic about the whole matter, Uncle Raoul.” Clapping her hands, the room lit up and Blank swore he could hear soft, animal cries murmuring behind him. And they were coming from the quilt?!

The leather-clad woman sauntered towards the mewling piece of cloth, cooing and hushing. The quilt snarled and barked as she drew closer, a portion winding around her outstretched hand. Blank heard ripping flesh and saw the wadded cloth stain red before the discoloration disappeared as if nothing had ever happened.

Sharel started to stroke the quilt, murmuring gently as her fingers brushed over certain squares while tapping others lightly. She giggled and laughed, her entire personality had done a complete switch as far Blank could tell. When the quilt finally released the woman from its hold, Blank just stared at the long gash that had split along Sharel’s arm.

“It’s just a scratch.” Sharel shrugged, and disappeared behind the quilt. Only to emerge moments later holding a chair in one hand and a stool in her injured one that was now wrapped in tight bandages. “Now I believe you are required to ask me of some things my Uncle Raoul wishes to know about. But first, I wish to know you found this room.” She stated and kicked the stool towards the scribe.

Staring at the piece of furniture, the young man cautiously sat down on the stool before answering “The envelope started acting up and led me here.”

The parchment hovered in front of Sharel, It’s true!

Sharel grunted and folded her arm across her chest, her lips twisted in a wry smile. “I always suspected that Uncle Raoul knew of this room and that he simply chose to pretend it didn’t exist. You’ve just proven me correct. Alright, you’ve answered my question, I am ready to answer Uncle Raoul’s.”

The scribe suddenly started to scan his surroundings, “Ah! Err, wait a moment, I seem to have misplaced the...” he trailed off before finding what it was he was searching for. He leaned backwards, reaching for the discarded envelope that the parchment would hide itself in. His fingers brushed against it and curled inwards, dragging the envelope to his fist. Unfortunately, Blank failed to estimate the distance and found the stool tipping backwards.

He yelped and shielded himself in anticipation of the impact. What he felt instead was the whip winding around his torso and a sharp jerk that kept him from falling completely. He turned to face Sharel to see her effortlessly keeping him balanced despite such an awkward position.

“How did you come to be so strong?” He couldn’t keep himself from asking.

“I am under no obligation to answer your questions.” Was the crisp response, before she slowly pulled him back upright. “Now then, let’s get down to business. The guests may not be concerned whether or not you are present, but they shall certainly wonder why the host of the ball is not dining with them.”

Blank fidgeted with the envelope before digging his arm in to search for the materials he was to use to jot down Sharel’s secrets. Pulling out the small tome and the other writing implements, Blank then glanced at the parchment that now floated in front of him. “Alright, what is it you wish to ask of Miss Sharel?”

I wish to know how it was she ended up with one of Corsae’s Chosen and has become his Consort.

Both Blank and Sharel’s eyes widened at this revelation. The former wisely avoided looking into the bespectacled woman’s face and instead sat himself down on the floor to rest the tome on the stool and open the ink pot.

“Well, that certainly explains her unusual strength.” The young man murmured to himself as he licked the quill’s tip before dipping it in the ink.

“I can hear you, you know.” Sharel hissed.

“Sorry, didn’t realize.” Blank apologized quickly, though he didn’t seem all that frightened. “Now then, please repeat the statement written on the parchment before answering.”

Sharel quirked a brow at the young man’s even tone and found herself doing as he says. Somehow, having a quill in hand kept Blank calm, enabled him to keep his wits while allowing himself to become completely lost within her voice, her words. Each letter, each syllable flowing from her lips into his fingers, into the quill through the ink and onto the page. He found the rhythm to her speech, understood the nuances and subtle accents, and while he did not preempt her answer, neither did he scramble to take down her response.

He seemed as if he were one with Sharel, as if her thoughts were projected directly into his mind to allow him to fulfill his task with ease. It all looked so simple, but every good scribe knew this took an extreme amount of concentration. And Blank was not lacking in this quality whenever he was working. At his peak, there was nothing that would, or could, keep him from listing down every single word.

By this, Sharel was impressed and allowed herself to trust the young man with more than just the carefully calculated, cautiously chosen words she had been telling him. She found herself unable to deny him what it was he had been hired to record.

The truth.

“I suppose I should start from the very beginning...”

* * * * *

I suppose I should start from the very beginning, though none of that really matters when you think about it. After all, Uncle Raoul, you were there when we were growing up. We lived here in the Edelberton estate, our four families and some other distant relatives by marriage. It may sound strange that I am narrating to you my childhood, but that was where it began.

Yes, I would not have this life, this secret, this curse, had it not been for the days of my youth. But I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? The four of us were inseparable in our younger days. Kairhn was the leader obviously, he would come up with the most interesting and unusual adventures that made any mundane day memorable. Surge was the natural lackey who would scout ahead and run back to us to warn of approaching danger like our governess or any heavy handed nanny. Marlene was the decoy, the distraction, able to draw attention to herself by crying crocodile tears at will or screaming her lungs out.

I was the mature one, the responsible one. I was the one who cleaned up after them. It meant I wouldn’t get the brunt of the punishments for going along with them and not stopping some of their more dangerous games while at the same time not risking alienation from my cousins. Then again, even if I wanted to stop them, I had no ability to stop those three.

Uncle Raoul knew of their gifts and abilities, and he was also aware of mine or rather lack thereof. Not that I complained, mind you. I was comforted by the knowledge that these three would need me to keep them grounded, remind them of their mortality, and provide wise council. Had things remained the way they were, I might have grown to become a different person.

But they didn’t. One by one, they were sent away to hone their skills, enhance their abilities and develop their talents. We exchanged letters, saw each other during special days and went on the occasional adventure for old time’s sake. But I knew they would never regard me the way they had when we were younger. While they didn’t look down on me, they pitied me. Patronized me. And I hated them for it.

I made new friends, found new acquaintances and discovered my own talent. Beast taming called to me, drew me into its fierce, violent embrace. And for the first time, I was the one who took center stage. My cousins marveled at the creatures that bowed down to me, I had regained their respect once more for I had proven that I was still one of them. But I allowed myself to foolishly believe things would go back to the way they were.

It was the night of the new moon when everything went wrong. I had invited my cousins to watch my taming of a rare beast that lurked somewhere amongst the caves of Kalnore. I have to be honest, I felt insulted that only Surge had been able to attend. Marlene and Kairhn had previous engagements they could not afford to miss. Had I not always been there for their exhibitions and tournaments? The least they could have done was asked me if it were possible to tame on another time!

But no, I had been blind to the fact that if I have changed they must have as well. I committed the greatest mistake a beast tamer could make. I allowed my emotions get in the way of my focus. I would pay dearly for this lapse in judgment. The beast I aimed to tame was the ursa moss, the largest of bears in the whole of Kalnore. Moss grew within the bear’s fur before the sun would draw it out onto the surface. Ursa mosses are difficult to track and even more difficult to tame. They are a hybrid of flora and fauna and there were few successfully tamed ursa mosses. It would have made an incredible addition to my steadily increasing quilt.

Yes, the very same quilt you witnessed attacking me, Blakeford. Are you aware that a beast tamer must have a means for keeping track of the creatures that view them as master? Some choose log books, others used picture albums. I opted for a quilt.

In any case, Surge was the only one who accompanied me to the taming. It wasn’t often I would be able to share something such as this with my cousins and it infuriated me that Marlene and Kairhn weren’t present to witness my triumph. I would later be glad for their absencefor I did not succeed. The gods know Kairhn would have lorded this over me for eons to come and Marlene is incapable of keeping a secret.

Needless to say, I had failed to tame the ursa moss. A proper taming was a dance of power, of giving up one’s rule over the self to serve the other and it was the tamer’s duty to demonstrate that they meant no harm. That their authority was worthy of being followed. I was angry, distracted, and this enabled the creature to sense my hostility. I had no way of gaining its trust once it read my heart. But I was with Surge and I needed to prove to him that I was not the same boring cousin he had grown up with. I needed him to marvel at my skill and be in awe of having a creature bend to my will.

The ursa moss saw all that was in my heart, and retaliated. But rather than attacking me, it went for the source of my feelings. It attacked Surge.

“Stop beast!” I yelled, lashing at the bear with my whip. Moss and fur flew into the air as my weapon connected, but the bear continued to charge at my cousin. He seemed surprised, as if he had expected me to be able to stop the bear. I didn’t want him to be disappointed in me, not Surge. He had been the only one who would listen to me, follow me during rare times I’d go against Kairhn’s plans.

I lunged after the bear, my whip winding around its thick neck before I pulled. Hard. And I felt my shoulders dislocate as the beast broke free to continue charging at my cousin. My screams of pain rang out through the mountainside, and that distracted my cousin enough to allow the beast to strike him clean across the head.

I watched, helpless, my arms dangling uselessly at my sides while Surge was lifted into the air from the force with his boater sliced to shreds. Blood streamed down his face and he fell down to the ground with a dull thud.

“SURGE!” I screamed, stumbling forward, losing my footing and landing face first. He neither stirred nor responded, the bear had stopped attacking, believing it had won against Surge. It then turned towards my fallen form. I had to think quickly, trying to calm myself to once again make an attempt at taming.

And that’s when Surge rose up. He seemed unmindful of his injury and held two blades by their hilts. He said naught a word, rather he laughed to draw the beast’s attention. The bear sniffed at the air nervously, sensing something was amiss with this human. But none of us could have missed the challenge that shone clearly in Surge’s eyes nor the cold, manic grin spread across his face.

I knew what that smile meant. I had seen it before during one of his tournaments. Whenever he took on this smile, his opponent never rose again. And while I would have understood Surge’s need to defend himself from the bear, I didn’t condone the slaughter of innocent creatures. Especially when it was my fault it was enraged.

“Surge don’t kill it!” I ordered him in the same way I had done when we were children. But my cries fell upon deaf ears as he mercilessly carved away at fur and flesh. I could smell the blood oozing out onto fur and moss as I stood transfixed, gaping before the scene unfolding before me. When his maniacal laughter ensued, I knew I didn’t have much time before he completely slaughtered the bear. I refused to be the witless witness. So I racked my mind for ideas, for something, for anything that could at the very least distract him. I had no weapon, no means of getting through to him. I could have summoned any of my pets to my side but I didn’t wish to risk their lives as well.

This was my fault, I had been too focused on the pent up resentment that festered in me. I had allowed it to get in the way of my taming and rather than creating a bond of trust and respect, I ended up instilling my rage and have sent an innocent creature to its doom. I could use the Tone of Authority to force the bear to retreat, but I knew Surge would only chase after it to finish what he had started. It was only when I saw the mad gleam in Surge’s eyes that I realized my cousin had forgotten his humanity and reverted to a primal state.

He had become a beast.

And that meant I stood a chance at taming him. The Tone of Authority had no effect on humans. Usually. We are conditioned to recognize the world differently from animals and beasts. This conditioning is what keeps beast tamers from controlling people, not that I’ve tried beforehand, mind you.

I cleared my mind of all anger and focused on calming thoughts. Whenever a tamer uses the Tone, they emit a certain brilliance from their bodies. The more sincere their desire to tame, the brighter the glow. I wasn’t aware of my radiance was when I used the Tone, but the attendants that were at the camp we set up thought a portion of the mountain had burst into flames.

I would be lying if I said this bit of information didn’t please me. But at that moment, I was too preoccupied with urging Surge to stop. The bear was no longer fighting to kill Surge; only that it was merely trying to defend itself.

“There’s no point to this, Surge. You’ve already won.” I reasoned. Surge paused mid-strike and glanced at my direction. I couldn’t tell if he was contemplating on finishing the bear, attacking me, or both. A strong gust of wind blew his hat off, and our eyes met. This allowed me to see into him, past his silly demeanor and causal nature; I saw that indeed he was a beast. I could scarcely believe that my cousin housed within his lanky, awkward frame a feral side that only managed to manifest itself in battle.

“If you slay your opponent, you will lose the match and be disqualified.” I continued; banking on the hope that it was his desire to win that made him fight so viciously. And I was correct.

Surge sheathed his blades before crumpling to his knees, “I, I’m so sorry Sharel. I just lost it.” He whispered, trembling. I would have given him a gentle pat on his head had my hands been of any use. Instead, I hushed him quiet, just like the way I did when we were young. I whispered to him with the tone still lingering in my voice that he should sleep.

“Rest and forget all that has happened. Do not try to remember. Do not allow any nagging doubts to worry you. I have cared for you and the others in our youth. The years have made no difference.”

He smiled up at me before his lids closed and I guided his body to the ground as best as I could, given my limited mobility. I knelt by him for a few moments, watching his chest rise and fall in an even, steady pace. At that point, flocks of birds took flight and the ground began to tremble. I started to rise when a large, reptillian hand broke through the rocky ground beneath me. The force knocked Surge and myself into the air before I felt the large appendage grip around my body. Instinctively I yelled out to Surge, to command him to awaken to save himself. But the acrid smell of blood rose stung my eyes and threatened to suffocate me. Blinking away the tears as best I could, I watched as my cousin’s sleeping form plummet to the ground.

And was caught by the very same bear he had tried to slay moments ago. I knew the ursa moss was not under my command and that there was a chance it would slay Surge. But the creature merely released its hold on my cousin before lumbering towards me. It growled low, but its target was not me but the enormous hand that held me captive. Was the beast trying to save me despite all its wounds? Despite how I was the cause of the pain it had gone through?

“Get to safety!” I ordered just before I found myself being dragged down beneath the soil. I suppose the only thing I could be proud of was that I did not give into panic or fear as I descended deep beneath the surface into a dark, underground cavern.

The hand belonged to an enormous snake-like creature with scales the color of polished resin. It stared at me with unblinking, slitted persimmon eyes while I wretched as its forked tongue lapped at me. I gagged at the stench of the saliva that coated my skin and suddenly felt my body absorb the disgusting liquid. Electricity jolted through me, but it felt incredible, wonderful, soothing. The ominous sound of cracking bones rang in my ears and I shrieked in pain as my shoulders snapped back into place. My body grew limp and my breathing came in haggard gasps.

“Well done, human.” A voice rang in my ears and my initial guess was it was the serpent. But no, it was the figure that stood atop the beast’s head. “I applaud you for your integrity and for your rare gift of perception.”

My brows furrowed in confusion, Perception? What is he talking about?

“Come now,” he clapped, and the serpent raised me towards the unknown figure. “There is no need to be modest.” When I was close enough to see his features, my eyes widened and my blood ran cold. I knew who he was and more importantly I knew what he was. He was one of the Nameless Many. A demi-god, one of those whom Corsae had bestowed favor upon.

He possessed paws as opposed to a human’s hands and feet, feline ears were pressed flat atop his tan-haired head and a long furred tail twitched to and fro behind him. Though he retained some aspects of his humanity, it was simply impossible to mistake him to be human.

“W-why?” I stammered weakly, it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

He grinned wolfishly, revealing sharp fangs. “You’ve interested me with your taming and you’ve won my respect for protecting the life of an untamed beast. Such a feat does not go unnoticed.” He clapped once more and the snake released its hold on me. I stumbled forward, allowing my legs to gain their balance before somersaulting backwards away from him. I did not know what he meant by his words, but when I stared into his face, I saw the hunger shining in his eyes. Again the serpent caught me in mid-air and held me captive.

It was not mindless panic or irrational fear that urged, nay, begged me to keep my distance from him. It was the way my body had grown warm and flushed when I was near him. I could not trust myself in his presence, and that was why I had to flee.

“So you can sense it.” He smiled and was extremely pleased “And it was not just mere luck or desperation.”

He wanted my flesh, and I knew I could do nothing to stop him. I was freed from the serpent’s grip only to be held captive in his embrace. I felt his palm rest upon my breast and I felt the fabric of my clothes dig into my skin briefly as he ripped my blouse open.

* * * * *

Sharel fell quiet after that. Her eyes were glossed over as if her mind was devoid of all thoughts. The silence eneabled Blank to emerge from his trance, his rhythm gone as his connection with Sharel was broken.

“M-Miss Sharel?” He cautiously got up before stumbling back down, realizing his legs had fallen asleep. The noise seemed to rouse the bespectacled woman out of her own reverie and for an instance, the expression on her face was primal. It didn’t take long for the cold, condescending glare to return.

“What happened next?” Blank asked.

“I cannot properly recall what followed afterwards.” Her steely gaze never wavered, but Blank could tell she merely chose to tell him she didn’t. He didn’t think it would be wise to pry her for anymore than she was willing to give. But she was not his employer, Kairhn was though only in name, only to keep the complicated matters as they are rather than making them even worse. His real employer was in the very same room. In the form of the low-hovering piece of paper. Glancing to the parchment, Blank waited for Raoul to give him further instructions.

Good enough for me. The words read, and for the life of him, Blank couldn’t be certain if it was written in good faith or resignation.

“We are done, now. Miss Sharel.” Blank murmured before he began his routine of clearing away. He held out the envelope to the paper expectantly while the sheet began to fold itself

“Wait,” Sharel piped up, “Uncle Raoul, I have to know how you found out. I have gone through great lengths to keep this a secret. There isn’t a soul alive that would know of my gift!”

The parchment unfolded itself, You mean no one knows those montly gatherings you’ve been attending were only excuses so you could hide when you take beast-form?

Sharel pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, a smirk now on her lips “Sarcasm loses its edge if not spoken, dear uncle.”

Without warning, she grasps at her throat to fight back a scream from escaping. Slowly, she was lifted off the chair by unseen hands, and before Blank’s eyes, her body started to shift. Dark blue-gray fur began to force its way onto the surface of her skin. Her ears seemed to grow larger, longer, drooping down to her shoulders. Transfixed, Blank could do little but watch as Sharel’s face elongated into a snout while her body retained its size and most of its bipedal structure. Her glasses had fallen off, clattering noisily on the floor but they remained whole as Sharel was lowered to her side, twitching.

Was it not for actually witnessing the transformation, Blank might have gone into a catatonic shock upon finding the harsh, whip-toting Sharel had taken on properties of a fluffy, lop-eared hare. He watched her, dumbstruck, as she felt the floor for her glasses and once she located them, carefully tucked them away in what remained of her clothes. Resting on her haunches, Sharel began to asses her new form before she calmly faced Blank.

His expression the perfect physical manifestation of his name only made Sharel sigh, “I do not know which beast I will turn into or when. None of it is of my choosing. I am bound to his will, his choices for I am his Consort.” She clenched her fist and slammed it against the floor. As polished stone cracked and powdered from her blow, Blank couldn’t help but notice how her face was twisted and filled with rage that seemed impossible for a gentle, fluffy bunny to project. “Do you have any idea how hard it was; how long it took for me to come to terms with this arrangement? I have tried to hide from him, to bury myself in some god-forsaken wasteland, but every attempt has been a failure.”

And failure is sometimes worse than death to an Edelberton... the parchment printed to itself before folding away into the envelope.

“C-can you change back to a human again?” Blank stammered.

“Not until he’s had what he wants,” Sharel whispered venomously, and Blank couldn’t help but picture her as a lioness who had just witnessed her cubs slaughtered in front of her. The scribe thought it was best to take his leave, but she decided to take her anger out on him but as he finished packing away, she suddenly spoke.

“Do you know why I became a beast tamer?”

“Um, because you found a talent no one thought you possessed?” Blank recalled her words from earlier and turned to face her. Only to have blood rush up to his cheeks upon finding that she had started to remove her clothes. The leather peeled off with difficulty, the fur had made the already tight clothing even more constricting.

“M-M-Miss Sharel!! W-what are you doing!?”

“I’m making myself more comfortable, because soon I must be in peak condition. When he comes for me.” She snarled, as best a hare could. She stood up straight, as straight as any human before clapping to dim the room. “In the event you were interested, I became a beast tamer in order to have things to care for and control. Once I tamed things, they were mine and I would make sure they’d never leave me. The tables may have turned, but he made a mistake of thinking he’s tamed me.”

With her back turned to Blank, the young man wouldn’t have been able to see the vicious smile plastered across her muzzle. Perhaps the reason why the demi-god had chosen her was because he could not tame her. The door leading to the rest of the estate opened just as Sharel disappeared behind the quilt, declaring “I shall never be tamed!”