freosan

Rela, bits of other characters. PG. About 1 000 words.

When she is five, she staggers out of the smoking ruin of her house and turns, unerringly, towards the city. She doesn’t stop to pack, she doesn’t even stop to think: she just walks. Nothing she can face now is worse than what’s just happened.

She hides for almost a year, and days after what she’s pretty sure was her sixth birthday she’s picked up by a mechanic. He asks her for her name and when she can’t answer, he gives her one, and he introduces her to the other kids in the city.

She barely speaks until she’s seven, and when she does she turns out to know every person in the city under the age of ten. The adults love her and the kids rally around her. She reads books and draws slightly inaccurate maps and teaches herself better English. From a charred book, she reads about gods and avatars and natural laws, and forgets the bit about Brahman but remembers the part about karma.

When she is eight, she has her own posse. They run around the city getting into trouble. None of them has a real home; the adults take it in turns to feed them, take them in for the night, make sure they know where the bomb shelter is. She’s the only one who’s never spent the night in a house.

By nine, she’s scared the hell out of the adults by spying on them. She swears never to do it again and works her way around it by sending other kids to do the work. She spends the time she could’ve spent sneaking around just walking through the city, taking mental notes.

By ten, she knows the city better than the back of her hand. She leads her children’s army into the kind of danger that used to cause bloody revolution. She gets scolded and praised in equal measure and can beat the snipers in a shooting match four times out of five.

When she’s eleven she’s reintroduced to her mechanic. His name is Futatsu, but no one calls him by all of it, and he shows her his blueprints, planes and rockets and colonies. He gives her a nickname, too, and she learns what her own blueprints should look like.

By twelve, the entire city’s calling her the little lady. She has leather gloves with the fingers cut out and combat boots three sizes too big, and the other children listen to her like she’s a priestess. She’s stubborn, she’s bossy, and she walks down the middle of the main street when everyone else is ducking into corners.

Three days after she turns thirteen, half her peers are massacred in a firebombing. She goes to the funeral, she cries a bit, she dyes her hair the colour of flame and she spends the better part of a year listening.

By the time she turns fourteen, she knows every damn rumor and trace of gossip that’s ever gone through the city. She starts talking again, but keeps the hair colour.

When she’s fifteen, the Boss formally adopts her, or as formal as they can get under the circumstances. Her orders get less arbitrary and her tone gets more authoritative. She learns to use rumors as well as listen to them, and one day she finds a boy sitting in the kitchen she’s using, and gives him a name but calls him a puppy.

Three months into her sixteenth year she kills a man for the first time. She spends four hours in a cold river trying to get the blood off her hands. She spends three days walking the streets trying to get it out of her mind. Her puppy follows her like a shadow and glares death at anyone who tries to talk to her.

When she’s seventeen, she has her first boyfriend. His name is Ross and he was the first person she met in the city besides her mechanic. They have awkward, sticky sex in his bed, and she leaves afterwards, but comes back the next day.

She turns eighteen, finds out she’s pregnant, and goes to Dirk, the doctor, and has a very pointed argument. She disappears from the public eye for three weeks. When she comes back she breaks up with her boyfriend, yells at her puppy and spends the next twenty-four hours walking the streets alone.

When she’s nineteen some bastard soldier murders her mechanic. She drags his husband home, speaks at his funeral and cries in her puppy’s lap. Six months later she finds herself in his widower’s bed. He teaches her how to hold a sword, and she becomes a little more graceful and a little less blunt.

At twenty, she ends the war. The EarthSphere bastards don’t realize it until six months later, and she snipes off the ones who’re too slow on the uptake. She walks down the middle of the streets until everyone else realizes that they can too, now. Once someone spits at her feet and her puppy shoots him through the shoulder.

When she’s twenty-one, she gets Boss to set up a peacekeeping force. Through no fault of her own, they start wearing armbands to identify themselves. The bands are all dyed the same colour as her hair. Her puppy looks at her with a sheepish expression, and keeps his orange-tinged hands in his pockets.

When she’s twenty-two, Boss and her swordsman get killed on the same day in some stupid territorial fight at the borders of the city. She doesn’t cry until long after the funeral, when she and her puppy are looking through Boss’s effects and she finds a list of eight names. It wouldn’t mean a damn thing to anyone else.

By twenty-three she’s practically a household name, or at least a household title. She makes peace treaties with neighboring cities and practices a particular brand of social engineering that she believes in so strongly and so completely that everyone around her picks it up, too. She deals in debts and favors and makes sure people always owe her more than she owes them.

When she’s twenty-four she gets shot, just a leg wound, but it takes her out of action for a month. Her puppy runs errands and talks to people for her, while her peacekeepers keep her informed about suspicious movement. When she’s finally able to walk again she disappears for almost three days, walking through and around and under her city.

She’s twenty-five.

Warning: depressing.

Okay, this is a result of some continuity disputes. See, when Rela first showed up, she was about twenty-five and the undisputed leader of the City. In the current timeline, she's about sixteen, give or take, and Futatsu, SingKueh and the elusive Boss are leaders of the City.

By the time Rela is twenty-five, SingKueh and Futatsu are nowhere to be seen.

Angsty, about 3 500 words, rated PG-13 for violence.


It wasn’t a normal day. I should have known that from the beginning.

The mission was straightforward at first: the EarthSphere, not content with having dropped a dirty bomb on our decoy living space, had sent in a more subtle installation. I have never understood their tactics; a few nukes and our entire band of rebels would be so much dust in the wind.

Futatsu believes it’s something to do with ecological preservation, or perhaps they’re just interested in moving back to Earth once all of us have given up; I’m almost certain it’s something more sinister. There is a classic movie called The Matrix… it makes one uneasy, especially when one looks at a bank of computers that has more processing power than one’s own head.

This particular bank of computers was a new install, or relatively new, sometime after the magnetic pulse of ’46. I dislike large electronics. I use my laptop under protest, and Futatsu’s planes are useful, but there is something inherently unsettling about a collection of metal and wires that can outthink a person. I’m just thankful that the androids they were developing around the turn of the century never got off the ground. I would be completely unable to live in a society where half the people weren’t.

Futatsu doesn’t understand this, and every time he’s assigned to deal with a computer he always ends up stealing half the parts first, so Boss gives me such jobs now. I’m just as happy with these simple infiltrations. I’m not as young as I was – and how pitiful that makes me sound, but I’m nearing thirty and I’ve been fighting almost constantly since I was fifteen. I have a kneecap that occasionally pops around to the back and an arm that tells me when it’s going to rain. All my fingers have been broken at least once and I can only see strong light and shadow out of my left eye. Don’t mention that to anyone.

In any case, these days I prefer the sort of job that doesn’t involve becoming target practice, and this one was perfect. Install explosives, get out, blow things up. On the other hand, it involved creeping through several mildly radioactive territories, avoiding a great deal of soldiers, and eventually, sealing myself into a vault full of computers.

Oh, did I fail to mention that? Yes, this one is very, very secretive. Which means there is an air wall between it and the rest of the computer systems; no wireless and no wires out, so we can’t hack it; and that in order to operate the computers, one needs two codes and a sealed door. We’d gotten the codes days earlier. Futatsu was very, very interested to know what was being kept under such supervision, but Boss wanted it gone, so I was to attach my laptop to one of the ports and let some of the technomancy that’d been installed do its work.

This is what I did. I spent half an hour attaching explosives, jumping at small noises, and listening to my computer make ominous beeping sounds; I’d killed the guards, all three of them, but I wasn’t sure how long I’d have before they missed check-in. Surprisingly, I didn’t have to move once. Their check-in times must have been longer than I’d expected.

That should have been my first clue. However, I was too busy being alarmed at what wasn’t happening to realize what was.

The computer finally gave me three beeps, which Futatsu had said was the signal that the program had completed. This was about forty-five minutes after I’d completed the break-in.

The screen was green-on-black, typical of his command-line programs, and gave me a neatly sorted list of files. Nothing over a megabyte; all of it was text. Interesting, since the EarthSphere was usually into images – satellite photographs and grainy footage of the security cameras that they tried to use. Note tried – Futatsu and his engineers kept coming up with ways of jamming the feed.

In any case, that should have been my second clue. Who creates a computer bank this large to store text files? It would have been less obvious to simply put it all in a non-wireless laptop and hide it on one of the colonies.

I neglected to notice it. Not wanting to push my luck too far, I decided to get out and get home, and give the files to someone who could interpret them better.

I got to the door, a metal monstrosity that dilated instead of opening, and entered the key we’d gotten to open it.

It didn’t. Third clue. This time, I noticed. Directly after noticing that, I realized that there were no other exits, and recalled – stupid, I should have kept this in my mind at all times – that I was underground.

Some sort of trap. I clicked my comm unit on, no voice, just static, three dots, three dashes, three dots. It’s code that hardly anyone uses anymore, but Futatsu dug it up out of some history textbook when he was in flight school. When we use our comms like that, anyone within range hears them.

Within range was a thirty-minute walk from the computer bank. If no one I knew came within forty minutes, I was ready to push the detonator. If anyone I didn’t know came within forty minutes, I was ready to push it anyway.

That in mind, I sat down to read the files. What were the commands for this OS again… Oh, yes.

>>Sudo: open download\stat3\main.txt

A large amount of green gibberish flowed over the screen. Of course – code. I ran a few decryption programs, things that the engineers have come up with in their occasional fits of boredom, and wasn’t surprised to find that none of them worked. An automated file can only do so much; having a real hacker here would have made the whole process go much more smoothly, but there are only so many places Futatsu can be in at once.

Of course, it was also possible that this was simply a mess of meaningless noise, put here to confuse anyone who might break in.

It was a trap. Therefore, very soon, someone should be coming to collect the captured prey. I glanced at my watch – twenty minutes. Twenty more, then…

I stared at the green-on-black display, half in a trance. I was prepared for death, of course. We all are. I don’t welcome it anymore, but it’s always an option. Everyone who lives on Earth – all of us who couldn’t get out – we know that death is possible, even likely, at any moment. It is only the grace of the gods and the luck of the devil that have kept us alive until now.

It was just… somehow, looking at that computer screen, I didn’t feel like dying just yet.

It was then that I realized that my vision was fuzzier than normal. And only a few seconds afterwards, I passed out.

*******************

It’s not a great feeling to wake up and find out your bedmate’s gone running off somewhere. It’s depressingly familiar to me, though. Y’know, you’d think the man would at least have the courtesy to leave a note, but no. So I had to find out from Tien, our adopted kid, that he’d gone off on a top-secret mission and had taken my special computer. The one with all the hacker material.

Okay, yeah, I’d been told about this mission, hell, I’d explained the computer to ‘Kueh, but I’d been on such a weird schedule lately – sleepin’ in the daytime, working all night so I could sync with the guys in the Americas – I hardly knew what day it was, let alone what kinda time scheme ‘Kueh was operating on. So it was a bit of a surprise.

I got up, drank my traditional cup of triple-strength coffee – Tien’s finally figured out that it needs to be strong enough to rip your stomach out just looking at it, good kid – and hit the streets with a loaded gun. Usual. I spend a lot of time just wanderin’ around when I have nothing else to do, it’s a good habit, ‘specially since these days the entire city lives on the street. Helps, you know? You learn who people are, and who’s likely to back you up when you’re in trouble, and who’s likely to start it.

Plus, outside, you always know when shit’s going down. Like when the big police van rolled up, I knew about it from the way the people were movin’ – just follow the crowd and you’ll find the interesting stuff.

So it was with a lack of surprise that I came to the big circle of people and found a van with the logo of the EarthSphere… as an aside, I really hate that fucking name, it’s not like they give a shit about Earth… anyway, this van had the logo sprayed bright white against a military camouflage background. And that was not helping my mood much, you know?

There were two guys standin’ on the roof of it, and a couple’a others getting something out of the back. The guys on the roof had guns, which explained why the crowd hadn’t killed ‘em yet. Say what you want, the bastard have good aim, and they know how to press an advantage. I should know, I used to be one of ‘em and look where that got me?

Well, at the moment, it was right here in the middle of a crowd of horrified onlooker-types, just me and my gun and my extreme rage.

Why the extreme rage? Because the guys in the back had just hauled someone up to the roof. Someone wearing a very familiar red tunic, with very familiar black hair.

Someone named Cheng SingKueh, and oh my God they were going to die for this. I was gonna fucking kill them. No, I was gonna make them beg for mercy first.

‘Kueh was half-unconscious, beat up bad – his head was bowed but I could see the bruises, and he was bleeding all over the place. He had his hands tied behind his back, but it didn’t look like they’d need that to control him, and the fucking cowards still had two guns trained on him.

I glanced around the crowd, found a familiar orange braid. Yeah, the little lady’s just like me in the small things. She looked up at me and we both shot identical glares at the guards. I had my cover.

They were talkin’, so I decided to listen, for a minute. Some usual bullshit about rebels and outlaws and coming under the control of the Unified EarthSphere Government, which means abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Unified my ass, they’ve barely got control of the colonies, ‘s why they spend so much time mucking about on Earth – so they can say they’re doin’ something.

Then they got to the bit that started talking about death to the terrorist element, and the crowd got a bit rowdy – someone threw a rock. Good aim, too, hit mister mouthpiece of the government right upside the helmet, but then one of the others fired a random shot into the crowd. I saw Rela spin ‘round to help out the poor bastard who must’a got hit, so there went my backup. Fair ‘nough, she’s got her ideals, I got mine.

One of mine includes not letting random folks get shot for me, so while the fuckers were distracted, I took the chance to jump up on the truck.

Now I was like thirty at the time, still in good shape but kinda, y’know, declining, so what used to take me ten seconds took me the better part of thirty, and by the time I got on top of the thing the guys knew I was there. I was quick – got two of them before they had a chance to bring their guns to bear. I wasn’t quick enough – one of ‘em slammed me in the shoulder with a shot, and I fell straight off the truck again.

‘Kueh was awake enough then to give me a horrified look. I tried to smile at him, but…

**********

I saw Futatsu go down and I almost went mad. I was helping this one guy, you know, the one those bastards shot, and all of a sudden I heard the shot, and I was up like lightning to see what was up.

Turned out, someone’d got him right in the back. Cobardes, todos. I had my gun, always do, so I did what anyone’d do in my place – shot the first one in the face and the second one in the chest. Two perfect bullet holes before they had time to react. That left the driver. I tried to get a shot in edgewise, but he was behind glass.

The glass only splintered under the first shot and the guy in the cab had enough presence of mind not to shoot back at me – he shot ‘Tatsu. Point-blank range, right in the chest, right where the Kevlar that he always wore came open.

I saw him smile, when he went down the last time.

‘Kueh tried to stand up, but he was kinda off, I found out later he was drugged at the time, and I pushed my way out of the crowd so I could catch him ‘fore he fell and broke his neck. Schuu took the driver out, simple shot to the head, and I just tried to deal with ‘Kueh’s weight – he’s half a foot taller than me and a lot heavier.

Schuu came over beside me and sliced the ropes on ‘Kueh’s wrists loose, then balanced him on his shoulder.

I was still tryin’ not to look behind me, but it’s like you can’t stop, you know? And ‘Kueh…

“Futatsu?” he managed to get out. I shook my head, closed my eyes. That’s how I found out I was cryin’.

“Futatsu es… ‘Tatsu is…” I couldn’t say it, in either language. I let the puppy take over, he’s taller’n ‘Kueh is now, and slipped back to ‘Tatsu.

He was dead. You don’t get that kind of stare in guys that aren’t. He was smiling, yeah, but his eyes were blank. He was bleeding out all over his chest, but the spurts had stopped and it was just kinda flowing now.

No last words. You don’t get that in real life. Sucked. He always had something to say, and now… nothin’.

Schuu and ‘Kueh had managed to get over here, and I didn’t want ‘Kueh to see it, but I guess he had to.

I never saw a guy break down quite like he did. First he went white, then it was like he couldn’t hold up his weight anymore and he just slid right down to the ground. First I thought he wasn’t breathing at all, and I was just thinking I was damned if I was gonna lose both of them at once, but then he took this big ragged breath and I knew he was crying and tryin’ not to show it, just like me.

First thing he did, he closed ‘Tatsu’s eyes, then he sorta folded over his chest and just sobbed. Schuu and I looked at each other and turned our backs, so we could leave him in private – keep out everyone else, for a bit.

I can’t imagine. Still can’t. To lose someone as, tan preciosamente como eso, yo no deseo pensar en él – I can’t think of it. They were the strongest people I knew. They were always there. Now, they’re not, just like that. Never thought of a bullet as that powerful before.

The whole crowd was comin’ up on us and I had to do some loud talking to keep ‘em away. They wanted to know what happened, I explained it but told ‘em to back off… they were pretty good about it, once I yelled at ‘em a bit. Think it was the tears more than the voice that did it, I had a couple’a my guys come up after and ask me if I was gonna be okay, in that kinda nervous-skeptic voice you get when you really don’t want someone to break down crying in front of you.

It took a while ‘fore ‘Kueh was calmed down enough to move, and then I helped support him and Schuu and Ross got ‘Tatsu’s body. People got out of our way. ‘Kueh looked like he just needed an excuse to kill.

I don’t remember much after that, honestly. It got… weird. I know we got ‘Kueh home, explained to Tien what happened, and I remember reporting to Boss, and then we got the body someplace out of the way until we could figure out what to do for the funeral, and then I had to go out and field questions from a zillion people who should’a known better.

I do remember ending up at home, curled up on the couch in Schuu’s lap, crying my eyes out. He was cryin’ too – I hate seeing guys cry. I mean, girls my age do it all the time, but I hadn’t seen Schuu cry since he was a kid. Guess I hadn’t since I was a kid, either. But, well, if there was ever a time for it, that was it.

***********

This could not be happening.

I couldn’t believe it, at first. Surely, not even that could have killed him. He took risks so often, he surely had to be immortal. He wasn’t meant to die in a pathetic struggle between some overconfident low-ranked soldiers and a crowd of people too weak to fight back. He definitely, positively wasn’t supposed to die for me.

During the truck ride to the city – the parts of it during which I was neither unconscious nor in extreme pain – I’d found out that the plan was to provide a large target and capture anyone who showed up. They weren’t expecting someone without backup, and I’ll admit it was a stupid thing to do. But then, I’d been operating solo for years, until Futatsu came along.

Can’t think of that. I shouldn’t, anyway. In either case, I’m operating solo again, now.

When they found me by myself, they decided I must be elite – technically, true – and that a public execution would be wonderfully demoralizing. Again, true.

They hadn’t planned on my overprotective lover, nor on the usual reaction of our city to such attempts. They always do underestimate us. It will, someday, be their downfall. I swear.

I made a vow to myself once I would never wear white for Futatsu. But that was only after he refused to say he’d never let himself die for me.

I don’t remember getting home. I know Rela – growing to be the lady Futatsu always called her, Ancestors, help me stop thinking of that – I know she helped me, and kept the inquisitive away from our apartment the next few days. I remember Tien tiptoeing around me, scared – he’s only ten, we only took him in two years ago, and we never talked much even when I was in the best of moods. I remember sleeping all of one day, and Schuu coming by the next with some kind of food, and Boss coming by the day after to yell at me for not eating it, and to ask me very gently about funeral arrangements.

He’d be cremated, of course. Someone like him could never be trapped underground for eternity.

The funeral, I do remember. We held it outside, on the scorched plains just outside the city. Rela and Boss both spoke, very well, and they stood behind Tien and I while we lit the pyre. I didn’t say a word that entire day. I did stand by his burning body for hours – until long after the sun had set. Boss came by after a while and took Tien home, but I couldn’t leave, and I didn’t, until it had gone out.

The next day, just Boss and I took our single remaining Jeep and went up to the mountains – two hours’ drive. He stayed in the truck while I went a few hundred meters away, performed a small ceremony, and scattered the ashes. It was a windy day. I hope some of his ashes ended up somewhere far away. He’d have appreciated that.

We drove back in complete silence.

I’ll wear white until they’ve paid for this. This time, I shall not break my vow.

Futatsu would not get out of my head. You must imagine a short, long-haired man with big green eyes, illustrating everything with his hands as he talks at you. Because that is the mental image I had the entire time this was being written.

Futatsu/SingKueh, about 4000 words, R for violence, language and sexual situations (lucky Futa).

It was a pretty intense kind of day, and I’d been through a lot of shit. Not that I haven’t always, but, y’know, more so. So it was all kinds of out of character when I… well, stop. Back up. Lemme tell you the backstory or you’ll never respect me again.

So there I was, just me and my gun set to ‘maim horribly’, and I was gonna off this guy. Well, not so much a guy as a lady, I found out later. But then she was a lady wearin’ an EarthSphere Corps hat an’ a military-issue trench coat, so what the hell, she’s pretty much just prey.

I’m sitting there, and I’m aiming so that I get her from the front – try never to shoot a guy from behind if I can help it, it’s just a thing, okay? – and I’m waiting until she turns, like, thirty-four degrees to her left so I can make sure the shot hits her in the throat. Those trench coats, lemme tell you, they’re shit for stealth or marching but they’re great for making sure no one gets a chance to blow big messy holes in you, so I had to wait ‘til she gave me an opening.

And then she turns – more like forty degrees than thirty-four but who’s counting, and I pull the trigger.

Yeah, it went off perfectly. What, you think I’m some kinda noob? Her head flew off like a frikkin’ firework, it was pretty cool. ‘Specially when the bullet exploded and spattered blood all over the place.

Yeah, I’m a cold-blooded murderer, so sue me. Wait, I don’t exist, least not officially, so good luck there. EarthSphere Corps’s the ones trained me this way, they shouldn’t get too pissed off when I start usin’ it on them.

I got outta there like a bat outta hell, or like greased lightning, or like wildfire, or pick your colorful dead metaphor, doesn’t matter, I was bloody fast. See, if I get caught I’m worse than dead, ‘cause of what I said before, I don’t exist. So I’ll be lucky to get spaced if they do catch me. I got a lot of guys used to be my buddies thinkin’ I need some retraining, if you know what I mean and I think you do if you’re thinking somethin’ involving the biggest damn knives you ever met and maybe some stripped wires.

So I’ve learned to run really, really fucking fast, ‘cause I’m not suicidal, unlike some guys I could mention, like the one I was on this mission with and where the hell was he, anyway? My comm unit crackled static and I went to pick it up when I realized it was code.

We’ve got a lot of codes, verbal and nonverbal, line-of-sight and not, and that one I just heard meant that something really freaking huge was about to happen, and it’d be bad. So I stopped and looked around for somethin’ to hide behind, which you would too if you were a former bomber pilot spent all his time runnin’ from other bomber pilots. Big chunk of concrete looked promising, so I vaulted that, dropped behind it, waited for the big bang, then it went off again.

Only time that signal gets used twice is when someone’s in some serious shit, and ‘round here serious shit is usually the kind of shit that leaves you dead ‘steada bleeding. So I jumped right back over the concrete, and headed for the noise.

Now before you get all on me for getting myself in trouble, lemme tell ya, I don’t do this for just anyone. That little pattern is specific to me ‘n about three other guys, and one of ‘em is, like I said, this guy with a death-wish, ‘cept I made him swear on his mother’s grave that he’d whistle for help if he needed it next time. Didn’t think he’d actually do it but I guessed either he wanted to live or he actually honored his promises. Know it’s both, now, but we only got there after… yeah, okay, I’ll keep to the timeline.

I jumped yet another big chunk of metal and concrete – damn, ya know, I do not envy the guy with the job of cleaning up this city once all this shit is over, if it ever is – just to find this guy I know with a chokehold on the guy who’d whistled.

Yeah, you guessed it, another fucking EarthSphere Corps jackoff. So I aimed at him, ‘cause it’s more or less instinct, even though I was scared enough I just about shit myself, pardon my Pacem. He’s this guy, see, who I was – ah, never mind that, he wasn’t gonna be happy to see me, we’ll leave it at that.

‘Course, I’ve grown like half a foot since then and my hair’s a lot longer, so I guess I don’t look much like I used to, ‘cause he didn’t recognize me at first. Seriously, nothing. I still don’t know if I’m relieved or freaked out about that, thought I was more memorable than that. But, y’know, recognition or not, I still didn’t wanna shoot him. Not seriously, at least.

Again, though, recognition or not, he knew a gun when he saw it and he brought the guy with the death-wish – you know, my buddy now, he’s this half-Chinese guy with a nasty stare, call ‘im ‘Kueh – around as a human shield. Fucking coward, he’s in a freaking Kevlar trench and he needs a hostage?

So I, being me, open my big mouth and tell him to drop the hostage, and that’s when he recognizes me.

“Holy shit, Futatsu,” is pretty much what he said. Yeah, okay, so they thought I was dead and I liked it that way, and since he’s seen me it’s pretty obvious that I’m not so he has to die, so I’m about ready to shoot him, shield or no shield.

Right here, I want you to imagine: me, on one side of this little courtyard between two buildings, one of which is still in good shape minus a few windows, one of which is just scrap metal and dust, facing this EarthSphere cannon-fodder holding this short guy in a really harsh arm-lock, and all three of us totally still ‘cept for the wind. Yeah, it was a real Hollywood moment.

“Just drop ‘im, Tien,” was all I said. Didn’t wanna talk too much, ‘cause, you know, things get awkward when you’re holding a guy at gunpoint.

‘Kueh looked up at me then, glaring like mad. I swear the guy has a whole arsenal of lethal glares and all of ‘em could bore a hole through titanium. He wasn’t mad at me though, he was mad at himself. Don’t ask, I just know, okay? He was probably pissed off that he’d let himself get rescued, again.

Then Tien twisted his arm and he dropped to his knees, and holy fuck that was wrong, ‘cause ‘Kueh takes pain better than anyone I’ve ever known. Then I realized his arm was bent all out of whack. Broken. Tien was still holdin’ him, so he didn’t try to get away, but his face went totally ash white.

“Fuck, Tien, you picked up some bad habits since I been gone?” I asked him. Our unit’d never been into torture, one of the reasons I stayed as long as I did. If we’d got up to some of the shit I saw goin’ down in, like, the fifteenth unit? I’d’ve been outta there in three days.

“It’s been two years, Futatsu, things happen,” he said. Well, yeah, no shit Sherlock, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here pointing a homemade assault rifle at you, but I wasn’t gonna argue the point, I had more important things to worry about, like whether my buddy’s arm was permanently fucked up and if I would survive long enough to find out.

“Get out of here,” I told him. “Three seconds. You don’t drop him, you die,” I said, and you know what, my voice wasn’t even shakin’. Sure as Hell my gun hand wasn’t. Guess I’m a little more cold-blooded than I give myself credit for, ‘cause I really was gonna shoot him.

That’s when ‘Kueh took the moment of distraction to do this completely impressive thing where he – ah, I don’t even know how to describe it, it was like a disarming grab and a back flip and a high kick all at once, and the moment ended with his foot smack on Tien’s throat, a broken knee on Tien’s part and ‘Kueh completely in control of the situation.

I just about dropped my gun, I was that surprised. I mean I know ‘Kueh’s tough, I see him in action all the time, but fuck, that was something else, and he didn’t even look like he was in pain, though he was doing his damnedest to keep that arm still.

“Futa…” he started, then stopped. I didn’t know if he was gonna pass out on me or what, so I headed up for him. I was still ready to shoot Tien if he tried anything, which didn’t look likely, but I don’t trust odds.

He was still breathin’, and he looked up at me and glared, and it sucked, let me tell you. I might’a shot him right then, if he’d said anything, so it’s a damn good thing he didn’t, and an even better thing that ‘Kueh grabbed me right then and dragged me out of there.

We got into an alley and he let me go, still starin’ at me, totally blank – still in fighting mode, trying not to feel the pain. I know that look, I do it myself, but his is scarier’n mine. I just grin like a maniac, he looks like he’s gonna cut someone.

I went over all shaky, which was really stupid given we’d barely come close to dieing, and I don’t usually freak out, but I think I would’a passed out right then and there if ‘Kueh hadn’t been standing there lookin’ like about ten miles of bad road – and I know bad road, trust me, Colony brat here. Anyway, I figured if I shut down right then we’d both still be here passed out on each other when Tien’s buddies – my former buddies – showed up to figure out why he hadn’t come back from Earthside duty. It’s always the same damn reason, and it was gonna be the same reason when their buddies came to figure out their fates, so I don’t know why they keep sending guys down here, but they do, so we had to get lost.

I got over myself long enough to grab ‘Kueh by the arm that didn’t look like a truck’d run over it and bolted. Got us about a mile away, away from the base too, before I let him stop. By then we were both dead tired, the sun was goin’ down, it was looking like we were stuck here – not a good time, let me tell you.

He’s the one pointed out the room with the bombed-out window – we were in a pretty much deserted part of the city, I just hope to Heaven it wasn’t full of radiation, nothin’s shown up yet but you never can tell – and he’s the one got us in there, ‘cause at that point I was pretty much useless, I don’t mind saying. I mean, I shouldn’t’a been, but seriously, someone that close to you’s ready to kill – one of your friends, it’s not good for the old neurons, y’know?

So once we got in there, and I managed to calm down enough to remember that, hey, ‘Kueh has a broken arm, let’s fix it, I sat him down on the bed and started tearin’ up a sheet to wrap the thing with. Had to MacGyver a splint – there was nothin’ wrong with ‘Kueh’s legs, so he just kicked a bedpost down, they were pretty cheap, and I used that – but it was a pretty good job. Only the one bone broken, that was lucky, and ‘Kueh knows how to hold still.

“So how the hell’d you run in with that guy?” I asked him, just idle curiosity, you know.

“He was displeased when I planted the C4,” he told me. I chuckled. Yeah, I could just imagine.

“How’d he get you, though?” I had to know. Wasn’t like I hadn’t seen ‘Kueh take down like ten guys with his bare hands. Not to mention that he must’a gotten disarmed, ‘cause his sword was nowhere I could see.

‘Kueh grimaced, looking disgusted. “I was careless. One of them disarmed me - while I was dealing with him, that one came up and snapped my arm.” He glared at the wrapping like it offended him, but that was probably his self-loathing going again. Told you the man has a deathwish.

“Guess it was a good thing I was there, huh?” I asked. I’d just finished wrapping the splint on, just at that tricky part where you have to tuck the end under and the whole frikkin’ thing tries to unwrap itself, you know? So I wasn’t paying too much attention to the whole conversational thing, which was why I didn’t have a chance to prepare for ‘Kueh’s question.

“Yes, I suppose it was. Tell me, how did that man know you?” I guess it was the logical thing to ask, but man, talk about out of left field. I didn’t really wanna answer, but ‘Kueh’s my… friend, he deserved one.

“We were in the Corps together,” was the start of it. Should I go on? Sense told me no, so I stopped – yeah, I am capable of having common sense, when I need it. Just every once in a while.

“That wasn’t the reaction of men who’d merely studied together,” he said, and yeah, he was right, the tension had been pretty damn thick. Not to mention that I’d been going all to pieces for the last half hour. No, ‘Kueh knows me too well not to press something like that, damn him.

“Yeah, we had each other’s backs,” I said. Tried to keep it light, but that sentiment, y’know, those are pretty heavy words for guys like us. I was more or less saying that I’d used to trust Tien with my life, and that was the truth. I don’t lie.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and like he always does when he apologizes, he stood up and bowed. Now that’s always gotten me, I don’t bow for nothin’ and I don’t think anyone else should either, so I grabbed his shoulder and sat him down on the bed again.

“Don’t be. I would’a done it myself,” I told him. Now ‘Kueh knows I don’t lie, but it even took him a minute to register that, figure out exactly what I was at that moment. Yeah, here, look at ‘Tatsu, famously psychotic murderer. See ‘Tatsu shoot things, shoot, ‘Tatsu, shoot.

He looked straight at me – I mentioned he’s got a hell of a glare on him, but I didn’t mention why, and part of it’s ‘cause his eyes are pretty much black. Look like holes into space, I tell you, they’re scary. So having him hold eye contact for more than a few seconds was kind of unnerving.

“You would have killed him. Someone you trusted. For me,” he said. Don’t think he was accusing me of anything, though, he was just tryin’ to understand. Don’t see what’s so hard about it, ‘Kueh’s the one I trust now, and I told him so.

He said absolutely nothing for a minute and I was startin’ to wonder if I’d broken him, then he comes out with, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

What the shit. It’s the truth, isn’t it? I mean, to explain my reaction you’d probably have to have been there, but he sounded like he’d just been given the fucking question whose answer is forty-two and the entire universe had opened for him like a chrysanthemum, or whatever that thing is. I mean, this was I-am-stoned-in-a-cathedral level of wonder and awe.

Oh, by the way, turns out his eyes are really, really dark gold. How do I know? He’d been staring at me for the last ten minutes. Now I was staring at him. It’s hard not to do, when someone gives you that look.

When I realized I now knew exactly what shade his eyes were I knew we were reaching batshit levels of crazy, so I broke eye contact and flopped on the bed. And when I say flopped I do mean it. That thing bounced like a fighter jet on reentry. ‘Kueh wound up giving in and dropping on his back, too.

Yeah, there was only the one bed. It wasn’t like we had all that much choice. I guess I could’a slept on the floor, but, y’know, there was glass in it from the windows and there’re some nights when – okay, upshot was I was gonna be in the bed, and so was ‘Kueh, ‘cause he didn’t need any more injuries.

So when he looked like he was gonna get up and leave I grabbed his hand. Hey, was the nearest bit of him. Could’a grabbed his shoulder, I guess, but the hand was what I went for. It wouldn’t’a been a problem, ‘cept that he, well, grabbed back, I guess.

He’s got really nice hands. Kinda long, graceful-looking, got calluses – all that sword work, I guess. Nice fingers. Really, really talented fingers, which I found out, ‘cause at that point he was pretty much petting my hand. Not consciously, I don’t think, ‘cause if it were conscious he wouldn’t’a been so surprised when I rolled over so we were like three inches apart.

Let me outline the situation for you a bit: I was coming down off an adrenaline high, and I was kinda panicked still, and ‘Kueh is damn reassuring, weirdnesses aside, and did I mention he is really, really pretty? I’m not even gonna say handsome, ‘cause he isn’t. He’s gorgeous. I mean, he has better hair than me, and he’s got all that muscle tone, and he’s got the exotic, mysterious thing going, and for fuck’s sake, don’t blame me, it was all the hormones’ fault.

I kissed him. I think he was surprised. I mean, I would’a been, had our positions been reversed.

He tensed up first, and I was about to pull back ‘cause I figured he was gonna sock me one trust or no trust, but then his hand tightened, so I kept going.

It was really, you know, innocent, that first one. No tongue or anything. We didn’t break off for a while, and when we did, I found out that he’d grabbed my hair so I couldn’t go very far.

“Why did you do that?” he asked. Looked kinda dazed, but I sorta figured he would be.

I wasn’t about to start babbling all that I just said, so I shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea?”

He didn’t disagree. I took that as a cue to try it again. This time, he opened his mouth, just a bit, and then he did something that involved just a little brush of tongue, and his free hand found its way to the small of my back, and I swear to God I just about combusted.

‘Kueh is a damn good kisser. I found that out over the course of the next hour or so. We didn’t get any farther than that, he’s kinda too nervous for that, but y’know, it’s a great feeling, to just lay on a bed and kiss the hell out of somebody.

We wound up with him on top, just kind of draped over me, which was nice since at some point my coat and my shirt had gotten thrown halfway across the room and it was getting cold. He was really relaxed. So was I, actually, but the difference is that I’d been known to relax before. I’d never seen him like that. It was pretty ego-boosting, ‘cause I caused that, I made him go all boneless and shivery like that.

He glanced up at me, and God strike me down if he wasn’t the sexiest thing in the entire multiverse at that moment. Eyes half-closed, this little self-satisfied smirk, hair all coming loose, no shirt on and his belts unbuckled – yeah, okay, that mental image is mine, you stop having it.

Ah, what the hell, I’ll let you have your fun, I got to see the real thing.

“That’s trust, then?” he asked, and it could’a been a nasty question, but it wasn’t. More sarcastic, ‘specially with that smirk. Nearly melted right then, only thing stopping me was that I already had.

“Not quite, few less letters, but you were close…” I muttered. He laughed, and I could feel it through my skin where we were touching. How long had it been since…

Right, I knew there was something I’d been avoiding thinking of. I closed my eyes and must’a tensed up, ‘cause he knew right away that something was wrong.

Being him, he couldn’t just drop it. “Futatsu, what…?”

I so didn’t want to explain that the last time I’d been with a guy like this was two years ago just before I’d crashed my plane into the plains and left the Corps. So, so didn’t want to explain that the last guy I’d been with like this was…

“Tien.” He said it, not me, and in a seriously flat tone, matter-of-fact. “That’s who you’re thinking of, isn’t it.” Not a question, but I nodded anyway. Hey, I wasn’t gonna lie, and refusing to answer, well, ‘Kueh deserves better.

He didn’t know where to go from there, and I obviously wasn’t in a better mental place, so we kind of sat there for a while, drowning in our angsts. It sucked, and not in a good way.

“Futatsu…” he said after a while, “I know why you’re here, you told us that, but… why do you hate them so much?” he asked.

Of course I thought I knew what them he was talking about, there’s only one them for us, so my answer was pretty straight. “They’re sick fucks and they’re all out to make life hell for Earthsiders. I’m not gonna side with anyone thinks a nuke’s the best way to deal with some dissent,” I said. That was pretty much my stock explanation.

“Not the EarthSphere leaders. Your old unit. You…. That was hatred, back there,” he said. If I’d combusted before, now I was ice. Seriously. Blood, no, sorry, no blood, just got ice water. Ice water with salt in it, so the temperature’s lower.

It was ‘cause he’d been – no, that’s stupid, can’t say that. But it was, I’d hated Tien so much ‘cause he’d hurt ‘Kueh. How the fuck do you say that without sounding like a total girl? You don’t, so I kept my mouth shut, but he must’a figured something out from my expression. I swear the man’s just about psychic.

He didn’t say anything though, just curled up a bit more so his head was right on my shoulder. Like I said, he’s damn reassuring. Very solid, very real, and I always know I can count on him not to get himself fucked up too bad.

We were both about to fall asleep, so I let it happen, and I think he said something else but I don’t remember what it was.

And that’s it. Don’t know where we’re gonna go from here, but that’s what happened.

( NaNo 7/8 )

And that is the end of ending 1. The next bit will jump back in time a bit and rewrite. I like it better.

OKAY WORLD FINE WHATEVER HERE IS THE NANO.

Pls to be remembering, two endings, both unsatisfying, and a lot of random things in the middle. So feel free to critique but, um, only if it's something you suspect I don't already know.

( Part 1/8 )

So this is what I do when the NaNo characters are pissed at me.

Set sometime before the last one I wrote about them. SingKueh has one hell of an angsty backstory... really must get to that sometime...

Futatsu+SingKueh, PG-13, about 2 000 words.


Futatsu’s running like his life depends on, which in fact it does. It’s not even his fault this time; somehow the kid – Kirelte, he thinks – managed to step on a tripwire and the whole place they’d been headed for went sky-high. Lucky for them the thing wasn’t set up right, ‘cause if it had been they’d all be dead right now.

He jumps a piece of cement and takes inventory. ‘They’ currently consists of Kirelte, SingKueh, and the two girls everyone just thinks of as the ninja twins. The girls are ahead of him, dragging Kirelte between them, and SingKueh’s behind him – he can hear the swordsman’s footsteps, tapping. SingKueh runs on tiptoe, like the ninjas, he says it’s faster. Futatsu prefers his feet on the ground, since he never knows when he’s gonna need the balance.

SingKueh passes him. Okay, so he is faster. Big deal. He pushes a little harder and catches up to the ninjas – hey, ‘s cool, he’s still not breathing too hard.

“’Kay, let’s split. Twins, take Kir’ home. We’ll double back and get some attention.”

The black-haired one nods, and they spring off down the road, the blonde carrying Kirelte on her back. Freaky girls. They disappear among the broken buildings within minutes. Futatsu nods to SingKueh, and they head back the way they came.

“I got a couplea grenades – once that’s gone, nothin’. Even outta bullets,” he says, and SingKueh nods grimly.

“I have one clip left,” he says. They slow. From the sound of it, there’s about three guys in government-issue Kevlar-and-metal jackets headed toward them – the heavy footsteps are pretty distinctive. Futatsu has the same jacket, but he doesn’t clank when he walks, ‘cause he was smart enough to rip the sleeves and most of the ornamentation off.

He cocks his head towards the sound, and mouths, “Hear that?” SingKueh nods, and both of them find hiding places. SingKueh’s below him, in a hollow made when a chunk of building fell from a few storeys up – Futatsu prefers heights and he’s up a set of fire stairs, trusting in his brick-and-metal colour scheme to keep him camouflaged.

Give ‘em another step… and another… and there. He pulls the pin on a grenade, counts to three and tosses it underhand – the fuckers only have a minute to look surprised before it all goes to hell for them. Futatsu allows himself a grin.

SingKueh’s come out of his foxhole, and put a bullet in the group’s single remaining head. Futatsu jumps down and runs up to him.

“Think that’s all of ‘em?”

SingKueh shakes his head. “They’re persistent. We have to give them that.” He sounds like he begrudges them even that little complement, but he’s grinning, same as Futatsu is. Something about the body count being for them, for once.
“Take this.” SingKueh’s holding out his gun. Futatsu shakes his head. “Can’t take that, ‘Kueh, you need it -”

“I feel the need to draw blood myself. Do you have your knives?” No – he threw ‘em all earlier. “Take it.”

Futatsu does, the warm metal fitting awkwardly in his hand. He kinda misses his gun, the one he made himself, but that one was rigged to explode, and it’d gone out in a manner fitting to its maker. He readies his finger on the trigger. SingKueh draws his sword, and a predatory look shines in his eyes.

“Better get back to running, then. After you.”

They double back. Futatsu always revels in the thrill of the chase – even if he’s not sure who’s chasing who. He hears the thunk of combat boots, the clang of metal scraping on metal, and motions to SingKueh, who nods. Guess they’re the predators, then.

They go through the group – ten or so – like a fucking hot knife through butter, easy as anything to take out. Kevlar coats aren’t worth shit when the guy in ‘em can’t dodge a bullet to the face, and half of them hadn’t bothered to zip the things up. What did they think they were dealing with, amateurs?

He glances at SingKueh, and nearly jumps out of his skin. The man’s in single combat with a trooper, sword flung aside, desperately grappling – the trooper has a gun.

Futatsu doesn’t have time to think, he just shoots on pure instinct, and he doesn’t realize ‘til later exactly how bad that could’ve come out if he hadn’t aimed right. At the time, he’s just relieved when he sees the blood flowing, and the trooper falling, his gun discharging harmlessly at the ground. SingKueh’s knocked down too by the sudden dead weight, but Futatsu can tell he’s alive. All that matters.

The next guy to come near him gets his head blown off, and that takes care of all of them. He rushes over to SingKueh.

“’Kueh! You okay? Don’t fucking scare me like that, man!”

The swordsman’s gotten himself out of the battlefield, and he’s sitting on an exposed piece of steel girder. He looks like he’s in shock.

“’Kueh? ‘Kueh. Look at me, man. What the hell was that? You got a death wish?”

SingKueh looks at him, and Futatsu immediately wishes he hadn’t. His eyes are absolutely flat, all his emotion locked up and focused somewhere inside. It’s so completely terrifying that it takes Futatsu a few moments to get his voice back.

“’Singk. You okay, man?” Please say something. He reaches out, touches SingKueh’s hand. The swordsman jerks back, but his expression changes. It’s something.

SingKueh asks, “Why did you do that?” He sounds brittle, like he might just fly apart.

“You looked kinda out of it, that’s all,” Futatsu responds. He knew the guy didn’t like to be touched, but damn…

SingKueh shakes his head. “Not that. You shot him. Why…?”

Futatsu’s lost for words again – weird, for him to be gotten like that twice in one day. “’Cause he was gonna kill you, ‘Kueh. Is that a problem?”

SingKueh turns away, takes a deep breath, stands up. Not looking at Futatsu, he picks up his sword, and uses the nearest dead man’s jacket to wipe the blood off of it.

“…Let’s go back,” he says, and starts to walk past Futatsu to the trail they’d been following.

Futatsu stops him with an arm flung in his path, grabbing him and forcing him to stand right in front of the pilot.

“It is a problem, isn’t it. You wanted that guy to shoot you.” He knows he sounds accusing and doesn’t really care. He’s pissed off. SingKueh sighs.

“We can discuss this later.” He’s resigned, but still defensive, and still dead-eyed. “There may be others around here.”

Futatsu dismisses that with a wave of his hand. “I get a body count of twelve here. Twelve plus three is fifteen, which is what intelligence said was at that building.”

“Intelligence doesn’t always give us perfect information,” SingKueh points out, and tries to step past Futatsu, who doesn’t let him. He’s not going anywhere until they’ve had this out, damnit.

“You know they did this time. They’re damn good at what they do, a lot better than a guy who drops his weapon to get himself killed.” He looks at SingKueh’s gun, still in his hand, and the realization sinks in. “You fucking well planned this, didn’t you?” he growls.

SingKueh isn’t making eye contact. “And if I did?”

Futatsu punches him.

He goes down, no resistance whatsoever, and sprawls in the concrete dust. Futatsu takes a few deep breaths, counting to ten, and then kneels beside him. His nose is bleeding – not broken, thank god – and he’s gonna have a huge black eye, but physically, he’s okay. It’s the rest of him Futatsu’s worried about.

SingKueh turns his head to look at Futatsu, still managing to keep his dignity while lying flat on his back. “That was unnecessary.”

“Don’t give me that shit, you deserved it. You don’t wanna die, ‘Kueh. Don’t be a fucking moron. I hate idiots.” But he’s already helping the swordsman sit up.

SingKueh is pressed against him, head leaning back against Futatsu’s shoulder, and Futatsu can’t help but think that in other circumstances he’d really be enjoying this. A few minutes later, when the bleeding finally stops, SingKueh pulls himself away and sits hunched over, looking at the ground.

“Singk’. I’m not gonna take this from you,” Futatsu says. Normally he’d never try this, but he doesn’t think SingKueh’s gonna be fighting him right now, so he sits right in front of the swordsman and puts his hand under his chin, forcing him to look up. SingKueh’s right eye is beginning to swell shut, but Futatsu can still see how blank the expression is.

He’s not putting up any sort of a fight. Hell, he probably wouldn’t care if Futatsu beat the shit out of him right now. The thought’s angering, and Futatsu slams his open palm onto the ground to distract himself. A rock slices into his hand, and he curses quietly. This is so not the place for this.

He keeps eye contact, doesn’t take his hand away. “SingKueh.” The man blinks, probably shocked to hear his full name coming from Futatsu.

“Singk’… ah, damnit. I can’t do this serious shit,” he mutters. SingKueh shifts back a bit, getting away from Futatsu’s touch.

“You should have let it happen,” he says, quietly.

“Yeah, stand by and watch people die, that’s exactly what I love to do,” Futatsu bites out. SingKueh visibly flinches. Futatsu presses his advantage. “You don’t wanna die. If you did you’d off yourself. Look.” SingKueh does, and Futatsu spins his gun and tosses it to him.

“You want out? Fine. Shoot yourself,” Futatsu says, flatly. “There’s still two shots left in there. I’ll be coming right after you.” He glares at SingKueh, who’s caught the gun by instinct, and is looking from it to Futatsu like he’s never seen one before. When he’s gotten over that, he picks it up properly, aims it at his temple, and freezes.

The seconds drag out into minutes, the only sound the occasional bit of building giving into gravity and SingKueh’s ragged breathing.

Finally, Futatsu’s had enough. He gets up, walks over to SingKueh, the gravel crunching under his boots. He takes the gun out of SingKueh’s hand. The swordsman looks up, lost.

Futatsu throws the gun away, hears it bounce off something solid and discharge, the bullet ricocheting off the buildings and echoing.

“You don’t want to die.” Quiet. Final. SingKueh looks like he’s fighting back tears. His eye is starting to go purple. He shakes his head, not in negation, but like he’s trying to get his thoughts to settle, and he turns away from Futatsu’s stare.

Futatsu kneels next to him again, wrapping his arms around him. “Say it,” he says. SingKueh turns toward him, buries his head in his shoulder. His whole body’s shaking, but he stays silent, except for his rough breathing.

“You don’t want to die. Say it.”

It takes him a while, but finally, finally, Futatsu feels SingKueh shift against his shoulder. He hears, right in his ear, “No, I don’t.” SingKueh laughs, his voice going wicked. “Not if it means I can’t get away from you.”

Futatsu laughs and grabs him tighter, pressing himself against the swordsman, his hand buried in black hair. “Fucking idiot,” he mutters, but it’s less of an insult and more of an endearment.

SingKueh pulls back a bit, too soon, and Futatsu grabs his shoulder to keep him from leaving completely. The swordsman has blood on his face, and it’s the most natural thing in the world for Futatsu to reach forward and wipe it off. SingKueh’s surprised, but probably not as much as Futatsu.

He’s never been one for overthinking things, though, so when he follows that up by running his hand back into SingKueh’s hair, and draws him back again so close it’s hard to look into his eyes, he’s not as shocked as he should be. He’s been flirting with the guy for months. It’s probably adrenaline, or one of those things.

They’re really close now. SingKueh isn’t moving – either in shock, or waiting for him to close the space.

“Futatsu.” He can feel the word more than hear it, and he comes to his senses enough to pull back, muttering something that might be an apology. He stands up and helps SingKueh up, too.

SingKueh looks much more himself now, if still a little distant. “Futatsu. Thank you.”

Futatsu shrugs, feeling slightly empty. “You’d do it for me,” he says.

SingKueh looks at him in surprise, shakes his head, half-smiling. “You believe that? No. I’m not… that strong,” he says.

Futatsu, for the third time that day, is lost for words.

“Let’s just get home, okay?” he says, and they set off down the roundabout path to the city.

Kaos is disturbed, Leoran is angered. The best way to show someone you love her is to kick her in the kidneys.

Kaos stormed back into the House, glaring. Her fight with Sutebenu had not made her feel better, and she could still feel the touch of his lips on her cheek. She’d let that – that creature touch her. She was slipping, badly.

She put her staff and wings away, and dropped her armor and boots at the door to the dojo. Time for some practice. She rushed at the punching bag, fast first, then settling into a rhythm – hit, step back, cast spell behind, jump and hit – when her knuckles started bleeding she stopped, and switched to kicking.

She’d lost track of time, and was deep in battle mode, when she felt another aura come into the room. Without even thinking, she whipped around and aimed a kick for the center of it.

Leoran caught the kick, and pushed her leg straight up in the air. She caught herself on one hand, scrambled back up and aimed for the nose; he blocked, again, and threw his own roundhouse. She dodged, countered – but he had his wings out already, so flying above her was no problem, and neither was aiming a dropkick for her ribs. Hit, she went down, a bit harder than necessary. He hesitated a moment, and it was enough to get back up and put a foot in his face. He stumbled backwards and she went to finish up.

The fight ended with his fist below her chin and her fingers below his eye.

“Getting better,” she said, after some time had passed. She dropped her hand and bowed to him, a formality.

He followed suit. He’d learned, over the years, that a good fight was the best way to calm his girlfriend down – so he’d learned to do that, too. The extra help this gave him fighting came as something of a bonus.

“Thanks. Something happen? You’ve got blood on you and some of it’s not yours.” Not unusual, but she was too distressed for it to’ve been a demon.

She nodded, absently touching her cheek. “Complete idiot. Needed hurting,” she says. “Got it.” She looked darkly satisfied, at least. That was Kaos – never lost.

“Someone I know?” he asked, lightly, taking her hand. The knuckles were completely split open – she must’ve been going at that bag for an hour at least. He made a move to heal them, but she shook her head.

“Leave it.” Very cold. He sighed, and grabbed her in a hug, which she eventually relaxed into.

“Fine, but explain. I know it wasn’t Bianca, so who’d you feel the need to kick the shit out of?”

She sighed against his shoulder, an entirely pleasant experience. “Called Sutebenu.” Her shoulders were tense again, and when he moved his hands up to work the stress out, she stiffened further.

“Don’t.” She was looking through him, not at him; he hadn’t gotten that look out of her for a while. Something bad – she couldn’t’ve lost. So…?

“Relax, Kaos. Please? And tell me what’s up.” Lost cause, but he could at least try. He started leading her out of the dojo, because she really didn’t need to be around all the bad auras left over in there. She let him without question, which was even weirder. Kaos had never taken direction from him well.

“He – got past me,” she said, quietly. “Touched me. Hasn’t happened in – years.” She sounded too shaken for it to simply be a punch, though.

He managed to make it to their bedroom without further incident, and sat down in the easy chair with her on his lap. She curled against him, looking at nothing with a thousand-yard stare.

“So he’s a good fighter. You still won, yeah? Don’t know what he did to deserve it in the first place,” he added as an afterthought, and Kaos jumped.

“He’s a rapist. Scum of the universe,” she said, or more growled. She managed to make it sound more vitriolic than any string of curses ever could.

That explained that, then. Leoran felt a sudden surge of white-hot anger towards Sutebenu. And he dared to touch her? Though not a violent man, Leoran suddenly wanted to kill.

Kaos must have sensed the change in his aura, because she uncurled herself and rested her cheek against his. Her touch was hesitant, and her body was stiff like it hadn't been since the early days of their relationship. “No. Scared him, can’t kill him,” she said. “Wrong. Not war.”

Of course, she was right, and Leoran wouldn’t’ve been able to live with himself after killing a non-enemy.

“What did he do?” If it’d been more than just fighting back Leoran would have to change his classification.

Kaos’s voice was as blank as her eyes. “Raped Skye. Kissed me.” She pushed Leoran back down when he started up, flaring anger.

He nodded, reminding himself again that he shouldn’t kill mortals. But…

“Can take care of myself,” she reminded him. Leoran had to agree with that. But he wished that she would look at him.

And Kaos. Note staff in the shape of the sign of Gemini, facial scars, armor and combat boots.

Trying out a new style of digital colouring; whaddya think?