Chapter Text
⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹
Most things in this world are ephemeral, Illumina knew that. It is only a matter of time until his deeds are forgotten by the masses of the world. There was nothing he could do about it.
He’s felt many things. Betrayals, abandonment, a feeling of indignation at the world. ‘You can’t ever escape your purpose’ was a saying he lived by. Be that is may, he still feels an aching longing.
A yearning for the world to accept him.
Perhaps he has to thank his brother for the world to start loathing them.
Prior to this now, his siblings often discouraged him from connecting with mortals; and perhaps, he himself never found a reason to.
He is not one to act without decorum however. He would treat mortals cordially, as he sees fit. There was no reason to be belligerent. Nonetheless, that good-for-nothing brother of his would disagree.
His gaze fell upon his hands. His claws that had taken many. The past he had, wasn’t anything like his appearance . But… There's always time to make amends, is there?
…
Why does he still try?
Was there ever a point in doing this?
He knew that and yet…
Yet…
…He should not be having such thoughts.
Instead he turns to something else, something much more– present.
He hasn’t talked to any of his siblings in a long time; except Ghostwalker and Windforce perhaps.
Although siblings by blood, they were never too close to share their deepest thoughts to each other.
There always had been a barrier between them that could never be broken, whether they realized it or not. Illumina had sought out to remove that barrier, but his attempts ended in a thicker wall between them.
So, he simply watches the sun set in the distance.
The peaks of Blackrock often hid any oncoming sunlight with harsh, thick snowstorm. But it seems, just for this moment. The snow pitied him.
“Where could you possibly be… Icedagger?” Worry wouldn’t be the right word to describe his voice, perhaps, alarmed?
He overlooks the distance, staring firmly onto the fortress that cemented itself onto the ground. It’s ever surmounting presence seeping onto the frost.
Stygian, bleeding a smoke of crimson. It stood high and mighty, more prideful than any mountain in the inpherno. Not one inphernal would ever dare to go against it.
Illumina mutters under his breath, “Korblox.”
There wasn’t anything he could do at the moment, so he relented. This is a problem he will investigate for another time.
For now, he will continue his pilgrimage.
--------------------
Rain trickles down to the concrete floor.
Gunblade pants, standing on the side of a crosswalk. The lights shone red, and a crowd stood in the middle of the crossing. Their faces were laced with panic.
Cars, all parked around the street, had their engines turned off. The constant whirring of an ambulance buzzed his ears off… ears?
“Where… where am… I?”
He takes a step forward, walking closer to the group of people, “Why are they…?”
And thus, he makes the mistake of looking down. Blood pooled down on the concrete, being guided by the running rain. Eventually, it reaches a drain. Gunblade stops walking to gape.
“...Blood?”
He brings both of his hands to cover his mouth. Just what had happened here? Why is he… Why is he here?
Gunblade shook off his thoughts to walk closer to the crowd. He lightly pushes himself in, weaving through people taking pictures with their phone. The closer he gets to the center, the harder it feels for him to breathe.
There he saw. Two bloody figures sprawled on the ground.
One had long brown hair tied to a pony tail, the other short black hair. Their faces were indescribable to him, blurred by a bar of black.
The one with black hair had worn… a white hoodie with a stain.
And…
…
“■■■? Are you there?”
--------------------
“Hah!” Gunblade woke up in a snap, clutching his chest.
His heart beats fervently as he takes a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling. He turned his head to the left and saw the much flamboyant Flipside poster. He is in Boombox's room, right where he is supposed to be.
“It was a nightmare…”
He checks the clock, ‘3:21 a.m’. On the right of his side, Boombox was sleeping on the sofa, snoring softly.
‘...I need to convince him to let me sleep on the sofa tomorrow.’
The hammock he was on shook as he shuffled around trying to get off. As quietly as he possibly could, he lets his foot touch the cold floor. Waking up Boombox in the middle of the night was something he didn’t want to do, especially with how worried he was.
Step by step, he made his way to the bathroom. The lights were off. The sense of comfort the apartment originally had disappeared. He had to carefully navigate the rooms in pure darkness, making sure his wings didn’t knock anything off the table.
Fortunately for him, the bathroom wasn’t too far. He walks to the sink and turns it on. Cupping the water and washing his face was refreshing, everything felt just a little more clear.
A visage of himself appeared on the mirror above the sink, as blinding white as usual. The pair of wings on his back flutters and spreads, showing itself off.
He takes the time to stare at himself, feeling uncomfortable by every growing second.
“...Gunblade?” a tired voice emerged from the door. Boombox walks in, rubbing his eyes, “are you okay?”
Well, looks like his attempts at being quiet failed.
Gunblade turns to look at Boombox, feeling a kind of embarrassment. “Oh, uhm… Yeah, just had a nightmare,” he averts his eyes from Boombox.
Boombox’s previously tired expression fell to that of worry. He looked at Gunblade, grasping the small bag under his eyes. The shaky hands as he clutches his own shirt. The strewn feathers on his wings. His mouth opened and closed, as if wanting to say something. But, it was kept in a bind.
Then gently, Boombox opened his mouth, “...Do you want to talk about it?”
It took Gunblade a moment of thinking, the sense of embarrassment still welling up inside of him. Would Boombox grow more worried? He wouldn’t want to dump his burdens onto Boombox in the middle of the night– not when he’s tired like this.
“No, it's okay… You’re probably really tired right now,” he replies hesitantly, “I think I’ll just go back to sleep.”
Boombox’s face softens. There was a reminder of an experience similar to this. In the aftermath of his fall, Boombox saw a similar expression. Of quiet wanting, hidden by shame. One by the one he cares for the most.
Heavily, he walks. His nature guides his legs as the air demands. There was the sinking feeling of knowing that something is wrong. That he had to do something. So, he envelopes Gunblade into a hug.
“You can always tell me anything, okay?” he quietens down, “and… I’m always here for you.”
It was slow, done with no grace nor rush. What mattered was that his presence was there. He wouldn’t allow anyone he was protecting to be accompanied by loneliness. Not when he is here.
For the third time in this new life, Gunblade finds himself in an embrace. Though this one was longer, more… Connected. Sword’s were done out of pure uncontrollable enthusiasm, and the one done by Boombox yesterday was done out of pure consternation.
This one was… Slow. With intent, and mellowed. Born from the genuinity of a person.
The moment lingers. Gunblade simply closes his eyes, letting his head fall to Boombox’s shoulder.
“...Okay.”
To not be overtaken by emotions, a principle he followed. There was no reason in being too emotional, it was a recipe for disaster. So why has he been… Why has he been so impassioned? Ever since he came here?
He doesn’t understand. He can’t– understand, and it’s eating him up.
So he pulls away. The hug put him at ease, but something about being too vulnerable. Too… Being open made him anxious. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. The nagging insistence of Boombox’s presence tells him to just say something. To tell him everything.
But how would Boombox react if he knew that he was human? That he wasn’t… That he was never supposed to be here.
His mouth opens, before clamping shut. He can’t say it. Not yet, not right now.
Instead, he’ll talk about his foggy dream.
“...Uhm, I’ll tell you.”
Boombox simply watches him, waiting for him to say something. But, there was no urgency in his look.
“I had a nightmare that… Well, I don’t really remember it that well but… I was at this crossing where there was an accident of sorts and…” he stops before continuing, “there were these two bodies on the ground that were… bloody.”
That was all he remembered, he couldn’t put exactly anything else into words. It was too vague. Boombox was left to take in what he had just said, also trying to find his own words to respond with.
“...Was it because of yesterday? When you fought the gang?” He asks.
“It could be… I guess I just got really shaken up from that,” the fact that he almost died has fully sunk in at that point. Yeah, watching Sword fight was cool and all but at that moment when he… When he was face to face with the crowbar, he knew that death was creeping up right behind him.
The fear of death comes in the package of life, but this was his first time ever being so close to his own demise. If he hadn’t summoned his gear right there, he wouldn’t be talking to Boombox right now.
And, this is normal in this world? Something he should anticipate every time he goes out? He wonders how there weren’t more deaths on the news. Or maybe– there are too many that go unreported. It was something too common to even be considered.
Despite all of that, something told him that this wasn’t his first time ever experiencing something like this. Like muscle memory, his body had expected this. It wasn’t right.
Did he… die?
Like a distress protocol, his mind immediately shuts down the idea. The thought of it was painful. He doesn’t want to think about it.
He’s still alive right now, and Boombox is here. God– he doesn’t want to panic in front of Boombox, he can’t.
“I’m sorry Gunblade, I should’ve… I should’ve gone with you. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
The tone of his voice snapped Gunblade out. Instead, he has the rising feeling of guilt inside of him. “No, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have predicted it…”
“Besides… It was my own fault for just running off to wherever anyways, and Sword was there too to protect me,” he gave Boombox a pat on the shoulder and a smile.
Boombox felt his worry dissipate, feeling content with Gunblade’s answer. Yet, he still couldn’t help finding some doubt in his voice, “alright, if you say so…”
He cracks a smile back, “Are you feeling better now? I mean, it's a big day for you tomorrow!”
“Ah right, my training with Sword! Yeah, I should probably actually go to sleep now… haha,” Gunblade chokes out a laugh. He didn’t really know anything else to say to Boombox and it was beginning to become awkward.
He skitters past Boombox clumsily, wanting to get back to sleep as soon as possible. Boombox looks at him, holding a chuckle as he closes the bathroom door.
Gunblade reaches the hammock before realizing something, “Uh, Boombox do you want to sleep on the hammock? You’ve been sleeping on the sofa and I feel kinda bad.”
“No no! You sleep on the hammock, you need it more than I do!” Boombox shakes his head in response.
“No, I'm fine with sleeping on the sofa… It’s pretty comfy there too…” reasoned Gunblade.
“Okay, but the hammock is more comfortable for you!”
“But this is your hammock! Like, I can afford sleeping on the sofa for a few days…”
“Won’t it be uncomfortable for your wings? Besides–”
They were stuck in this battle for thirty whole minutes. Boombox didn’t back down, neither did Gunblade. Both of them felt too guilty to stop. Should one of them allow the other to sleep on the sofa, then it was a loss of morality.
“Okay how about this… Rock, paper, scissors!” Was the solution Gunblade came up with, really?
“Heh, I’m about to win this! Watch this…” Boombox readied himself up, clamping his right hand into a fist.
“Rock, paper, scissor, shoot!”
Gunblade closed his eyes, then opened it. He had chosen paper. Unfortunately for him, Boombox chose scissors, it was over.
“Too easy!” The winner celebrates, putting his hands up in a celebratory motion.
“Agh!” Gunblade clutches his head in dramatic disappointment, “okay fine, I’ll sleep on the hammock…”
“I’ll buy a new hammock today, okay? Then it’s win-win!” Boombox cheered, “y’know, I should’ve done that when we went shopping…”
“Yeah, don’t know why you didn’t…” he chuckles softly.
Gunblade climbs up the hammock, tucking his wings in and relaxing himself. While he doesn’t mind being awake all night, he wouldn’t want to be late to his training with Sword, “g’night Boom…”
“Goodnight Gunblade!”
…Both of them snored.
--------------------
“I’m late!!!!” Gunblade sprints as fast as he can while avoiding huge crowds. Boombox trails behind him, catching up to his speed with no sweat.
The ringing of an incredibly late alarm woke him up this morning, and Boombox too. There he scrambles to get himself ready, whether it be showering and shoving his wings inside his jacket. Of course, he can’t forget his visor too!
“Hey watch out!–”
“Excuse me–”
“I’m sorry!!” He ignores the people he’s almost hit and makes a run for the tramp up to the top layer of Crossroads. There, he realizes he has to queue in a line to get in.
“Ohh… I’m fucked,” he pants, feeling his knees buckle from all the running he had to do.
“It’s okay Gunblade! I’m sure Sword could wait… uh. A bit.”
“Boombox, it’s twelve pm. I was supposed to meet him at eleven… We’re like an hour late!” he clutches his head. “I can’t believe I overslept!”
Boombox couldn’t help but laugh. Well, he’s also at fault for oversleeping so he should take some accountability too. He summons his gear, attaching it to the back of his strap. “How about this? I’ll show you something really cool once we reach the top layer of Crossroads?”
“Huh? Uh, sure?” Gunblade tilts his head.
And so they waited, and waited. The line was moving pretty fast actually, but to Gunblade? Every second felt like a passing hour. If he was Sword right now, he would be very annoyed, and very much so pissed.
He couldn’t fathom waiting for more than an hour for someone in public, all alone.
“I hate public transportation,” Gunblade made a marvelous exclamation.
Boombox puts a finger on his chin, “mm, I like it! Seeing all kinds of peeps makes it pretty fun!”
“Just you bro.”
Eventually, they do enter the tram. Cramped and crowded as it usually is, much more than it was yesterday. Gunblade groans, being squished in between a bunch of inphernals taller than him.
The ride to the top was unbearable– there was nothing Gunblade wanted more for this to just end as fast as possible. He supposes it’s work and lunch rush for most people, but can’t whoever’s governing Crossroads invest in more trams!?
A sunny weather, combined with the heat of multiple people grouped up together. You could imagine the worst kind of smell there is.
The door of the tram opened, it was as if the gate of heaven had opened for him. He stumbles out, taking the deepest breath he’s ever had in his whole entire life.
Never has he been more grateful to be able to breathe.
“I’m free…”
Boombox pulls Gunblade closer, “cmon! Let me show you what I was talking about!”
He readies his gear, holding it comfortably on his shoulder. The fingers on his hand moved to turn the volume button clockwise.
Confusion sits itself in Gunblades mind, “What are you doing exactly?”
“Are you ready for a tempo change!?”
“A what now?–”
Music blasts through the speakers and Gunblade stumbles forward. Soundwaves appear besides Boombox, circling around him and his gear.
Boombox shoots him the widest grin he’s ever seen, “what do you think!? Let’s go to Sword!”
Before he could respond back, Boombox grabs his arms and dashes towards the Flipside tower. He jumps up high into the air, dragging Gunblade below him like a bag. Crowds below them watch in awe as they take pictures.
“Isn’t that a phighter…?”
“I think I saw a match with them once!”
“What are they doing?”
“Whats that music?”
Boombox was completely unbothered and free, enjoying the rush of the wind going against him. Gunblade? Reliving his previous trauma.
“Woohoo!!! Isn’t this awesome!?”
“AHHHHH–”
The Flipside tower was in reach, ETA: twenty seconds.
The duo had flown over all of the crowds gathering up on the ground. In hindsight, it was a good thing Boombox did this. But, at the same time– Gunblade wishes he could’ve readied himself up first.
Sooner than later, Boombox dropped to the ground– taking Gunblade with him.
The heel of their shoes touched the floor; with Gunblade stumbling forward and almost tripping on himself for the fourth time. Something about the floor was rough, like it specifically hated him, and wanted him dead. And it had to be by him tripping.
“Doing this never gets old!” Boombox cheers joyously as he would normally do.
“You… you do this all the time?” Gunblade coughs.
He stopped to reply, “well… Not all the time! Buuuut… I do it as much as I can!” He sends out a grin.
Gunblade sighs; as terrifying that experience was, he didn’t have the heart to tell Boombox he was scared.
“Uh huh.”
“Gunblade!”
A person he was very much familiar with showed up, to his unsurprise. The person who had been waiting for him for… how many hours now? Well only one, but it certainly felt like more to him.
The both of them turned, facing the newly appeared individual.
Sword walks up towards Gunblade, with an unceremoniously annoyed, and gruff– blue horned individual teetering behind him. The hands in his pockets shuffled as his gaze was directed towards Gunblade, sending him a watchful but also, dumbfounded look.
He finally stops at the edge bordering the both of their personal spaces. His mouth curves with guilt. “Gunblade I’m sorry! I overslept!”
Gunblade glances at him, then blinks, then opens his mouth, “uh… What.”
“I forgot we were meeting up at eleven, and I overslept…” the inflection of his voice was ladened with shame. He twiddles with his thumb, his gaze meeting anywhere but Gunblade’s.
“Wait so… How long were you waiting for?”
“Waiting–? I just arrived actually…”
Well, they were both certainly idiots, that's for sure. He apologizes internally, for saying he couldn’t wait for someone for over an hour. He is so sorry, Sword. Next time, he'll wait an hour for him.
“I just arrived too… Haha,” he scratches the tip of his horns, trying to forget the feeling of annoyance. Something about feeling personally crossed at Sword didn’t feel right with him…
“Oh! But, uhm! My mentor said that I can teach you!” Sword smiles timidly.
Gunblade forgets his previous thought and responds with an awkward inflection, "Oh! Uhm, thats good! So… We can start today?”
“Yeah!!”
“Ooh… So it is actually Sword!” Boombox scratches his chin in visible enthusiasm. He pulls up beside Gunblade, tapping his legs softly.
Sword tilts his head, “You’re…? Oh! That phighter uhm… Boombox, yes?”
“Yeah! We were in a match together a few times, remember?” There was the look of excitement on his smile, “bro… Your exploding sword was scary!”
With that statement, the previously remorseful expression on his face lights up. In a three-sixty turn from before, he gasps in a not-so quiet wonder. “Really!? Did you think my moves were cool!?”
“Course’! I mean, who wouldn't think an exploding sword was cool?”
The quiet blue-horned inphernal, who stood behind Sword, interrupts the conversation, “hm, so you’re that annoying guy who keeps pushing and pulling us around…”
Gunblade looks at them. The small quirks of their expression exposes no clear emotion. The curved eyebrows and droopy mouth suggests some sort of annoyance– but there was an odd relaxation to their posture.
“Oh you’re…!” Boombox stops for a second, before finally remembering their name, “Rocket!”
“Yeah! Guy who blasted you off a few times in the arena,” sarcasm laced their response, but there was no harm in their voice.
“Ouch! Don’t remind me of that!” he shakes his head, the reminder stung his pride.
Rocket turns to Gunblade, who wavers under their gaze. The hands previously in their pockets rose up and their arms formed a crossed position. They take Gunblade in. His body language, every curve of his mouth and his– ridiculous outfit. The size of that jacket was way too big for him.
An uncomfortable air surrounded Gunblade, when will this guy stop staring at him? It’s just… Awkward.
“Hmm… You’re Gunblade, right?” Rocket asks.
“Uh y-yes!” Gunblade stumbles on his words, feeling embarrassment creep up behind him.
“Gunblade, this is my best friend Rocket!” Sword goes to pull Rocket into a hug, “he’s like, super nice and he’s gonna watch me teach you!”
Rocket pushes him off. A friendly banter. However, done out of annoyance. “Yes Sword, I can introduce myself!”
Sword pouts and looks away from him. Rocket sighs, then places his gaze back at Gunblade.
“Well, nice to meet you I guess? As the both of them said, my name’s Rocket, he/him,” he extends a hand towards Gunblade, “Sword told me a lot about you. He says you’re a newspawn, but y’know? You don’t really feel like one…”
Both Gunblade and Boombox gulps, nervous sweats trickling down their cheeks. They turn to each other, then back to Rocket.
“...What?”
“Uhm… They say my spawning is like a special case,” Gunblade repeated the only explanation he could come up with. He knows he’ll have to say this a lot more in the future.
“Yeah! He’s like… Uhh, I don’t know!” Sword stepped in. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t know anything either.
“That’s right! He just has a super special spawning!” which isn't wrong. Thank you Boombox, but it was said already.
“Okay– Yeah, yeah. I get it,” Rocket’s mouth curves downwards, the lines of words that come out beforehand were exasperated.
“Sooo… I guess you’ll be training with Sword? Never have I thought that this idiot right here would actually get a mentee, heh.”
The jabs went right through Sword, and his heart. “I-I’m not an idiot! Ugh! Let’s just go to Zuka’s shop already.”
“Is he… coming too?” Rocket points his thumb towards Boombox, who simply stood there with a smile.
“Oh! No, I’m here just to drop Gunblade off…” he trails off.
“Mm, okay.”
Rocket closes his mouth, before opening it again to ask a question.
“What are you guys?”
Rocket was right, what is he and Boombox even? Friends? Yeah, that would be the logical answer to it.
“I am…” Boombox places a look at Gunblade, then does some small contemplations. The answer then comes to him naturally, “his guardian!”
Gunblade almost trips over himself. He’s an adult, damnit! And there is no way Boombox is older than twenty five! But he supposes, it’s an okay answer for now. It’s not like he’ll argue against it in front of Sword and Rocket.
“Cool, okay,” was the response from Rocket.
--------------------
Much of the conversation they had on the way to Zuka’s shop was normal. Just the average; ‘what are your hobbies?’, ‘what kinda music do you like?’, ‘what do you usually do?’, kinda things.
Boombox had already left them off to do his own thing, whatever the hell he does in his daily life. Gunblade was now alone with Rocket and Sword, who occasionally bickered about random things.
Despite his often sarcastic jabs, Gunblade found Rocket to be a pretty cool guy. He’s taken a look at this prosthetic arm, and was reminded of a certain character from an anime he’s watched in the past… A certain blonde haired boy with a red jacket.
“Can your prosthetic like, turn or transform?” He wouldn’t usually be this excited– but he was a man of science. Anyone interested in the art of engineering would want to know how a futuristic prosthetic would work.
“Uh… No, not really. But, that would be really cool actually,” Rocket caresses his chin, thinking of the implications that would have.
"Imagine if your prosthetic could turn into– like… a gun or a blade or something like that…” okay, the joke writes itself.
A snort came out of Rocket, “You’re a pretty imaginative guy, you know that?” The kid was funny, that was for sure.
Sword turns to him, with an idea in his mind, “no he’s right, Rocket! Maybe Medkit can make some like… I don’t know, a modification that turns your arm into a sword! That would be, sooo cool…”
“I don’t doubt that, but we should probably lay off the guy… He’s busy as fuck already.” Rocket groans, “don’t see him working on something like that anytime soon.”
The knight sighs, “you’re right…”
And the air between them returns to silence once again. But, Gunblade doesn’t mind it personally. He enjoys quiet walks. Sword and Rocket being best friends, supposedly, helped reduce the tension somewhat too.
Zuka’s shop wasn’t too far from the Flipside tower, and they’re already standing right in front of it. It was exactly like it was in the game, the same building– same color.
Rocket clicks the button on his phone. The screen lights up, time showing up on the top. “We’re only here for a bit, just need to tell my dad and go pick up the keys to the warehouse.”
“Wait, dad?” Gunblade asks, with genuine confusion.
His mouth opens, popping a small ‘oh’ sound. “Yeah, Zuka’s my dad.”
There has never been a moment in his life where he has been this dumbfounded; except the time he first woke up in this place. No, he scans the remaining memories he’s had of the game. Zuka would be… the guy in front of the black truck?
He swears, the Zuka in his head was a dude in his twenties or something. This guy cannot seriously be older than thirty.
“He’s like… fifty-one. Old man doesn’t even fight anymore,” Rocket shrugs.
Fifty one!? Gunblade’s jaw drops. Okay so, he wasn’t even close to guessing Zuka’s age right. They seriously need to give his in-game model a wrinkle or something.
Rocket walks forward, opening the door like he would usually do everyday. The shop was simpler in design, but still slick and modern. All types of artificial gear hung on the walls and on the display tables. One caught his eye however; a large, blue colored gun sitting almost at his own size.
To put it simply, it was massive. But there was something also equally as tall and intimidating.
Zuka stood over the counter, tapping absentmindedly on his phone before facing the group. His half-lidded eyes took their figures in. Once his gaze fell onto Gunblade, just for a moment, there was a look of doubt and mistrust in his eyes.
Sword walks up to greet him with a smile, “good morning Zuka!”
“Kay’ Dad, I’ll have the keys,” Rocket cuts in. Too used to the presence of the older man already.
The act of simply placing the phone down on the counter was oddly deafening. Zuka sighs, grabbing a handful of keys from his pocket and dropping them onto Rocket’s hands. “Here.”
He looks away from him and back to Gunblade. Squinting his eyes, there was a tinge of incredulity in it. However, he shakes it off after seeing his timid posture. “So, you’re Gunblade?”
“Y-yes! Nice to meet you...” He stammers. His height, the occasional scars clinging to his arm, and the seemingly surly expression stuck to his eyes and mouth. Another check in the kind of person he wanted to avoid.
Zuka’s voice, gruff and absurdly deep, rings out, “...Be careful while training, kid.”
Gunblade blinks. Although hidden by years of fatigue, there was a small hint of concern in his words. He softens up, letting himself decompress in his presence, “Yes… Thank you.”
“Let’s go Gunblade! orrr… You wanna stay here?” Rocket and Sword stood by the doorway. How long had they been waiting for him?
“Oh! Coming!” A flustered response and he does a little bow towards Zuka before scurrying off. The three left the store, off to their own world.
The older inphernal simply watches, waning off all his doubts. He moves to the back of his shop to tinker with his newest order, a morningstar.
“He’s hiding something…”
He trails off.
--------------------
Rocket slots in the key– turning it clockwise and making a click! Noise. With his prosthetic arm, he pushes the large door open with ostensible strength. It created a large metallic creaking noise.
Inside the warehouse was; a training area with dummies, punching bags, large target boards, and some moving contraptions. The cement floor would smoothly guide each footsteps towards a group of dummies, Gunblade wowing in amazement as he takes everything in.
“Welcome… to my dads warehouse! we often test out artificial gears here,” Rocket spreads his arms wide open, showing off everything here.
Sword jumps to join too, “training here is sooo fun! These dummies never break, I don’t know how Zuka does it…”
Gunblade touches the skin of the dummy, hard– steel-like.
“You won’t be attacking that Gunblade– you’ll be…” Sword opens his palms and materializes his gear, “fighting me!”
“Uhm… you?” He points at himself.
“Yeah! It’ll be more efficient and faster that way! Right, Rocket?” he turned his head to face Rocket, who only shook his head.
“...Won’t confirm or deny that.”
Sword pouts, “agh! Cmon, just say yes!”
“Wait but! I don’t even know how to swing properly…”
“It’s fine! Try swinging at me!” He readies his stance, propping his gear up towards Gunblade, “don’t worry about me getting hurt! I’m stronger than I look… Heh.”
Rocket finds himself cringing, wincing his eyes and looking away in second-hand embarrassment. “Please don’t ever say it like that again, Sword.”
“What!? You can admit that was cool!”
“No that really wasn’t…” Rocket is still finding his gaze away from Sword, holding a laugh.
Whilst the two were bickering, Gunblade found himself experiencing this odd sense of nostalgia. It was the same one he had whilst hanging out with Boombox, Skate, and Coil. A reminder of something he perhaps once had– of an air he was familiar with. He wishes he could just remember.
He spreads his claws out, lavender-colored sparkles forming and dancing around his fingers. His gear too, materializes. The same blade that protected him. It falls into his grasp and he clasps the handle tight.
Rocket whistles, “...Sick.”
Sword gets himself together, readying the words in his head. “Okay so! Gunblade, firstly… We need to work on your footwork!”
He follows the position of Gunblade’s legs, “right now your stance is weak…” Sword's left leg positions itself on the front, while his right leg acts as rear support. “This is what you want!”
“Balance is incredibly important when it comes to using a sword… So you want to make sure that your entire body is stable.”
Gunblade mimics Sword’s position; albeit sloppily as opposed to Sword’s more practiced movement. He staggers for a moment, feeling the weight of his gear on his arms.
“Lower your body a bit! And make sure your back is straight too!”
He follows Sword's advice, setting his back straight and slightly lowering himself. Sword in return, gives him a thumbs up and a smile. “That's good!”
“Then, since your gear is quite heavy… This is extra important! The way you hold your sword is important too!” Sword raises his arm up, gripping his gear above his head, “this is a basic stance if you want to do a powerful lunge. But with how heavy your gear is, I don’t recommend doing it for a long period of time!”
“Uh-huh,” he nods.
“Okay, now try slashing. I’ll block it!” His legs parted, and he straightened his shoulders. Readying a defensive maneuver.
Gunblade stares at him, unsure at first. He wouldn’t want to hurt Sword, not even a scratch. He understands that inphernal culture endorses violence, but the thought of Sword being injured makes him ache.
Alas, he wouldn’t get anywhere by bumbling around. He needs to be strong– so that Boombox wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.
He lunges forward. Performing a downward slash that instantly clashes with Sword’s blade. There was no thought to it, other than using all the strength he’s had.
Their blades clung, before Sword tipped his blade to the side. In a swift motion, he steps to the left to dodge the attack. The strength Gunblade had been using worked against him, throwing him forward and making him stumble.
Sword catches his breath, “and that’s a big mistake!” He steps closer towards Gunblade, “when you’re fighting… You should conserve your energy!”
“Using all of your strength leaves you vulnerable… Especially when your opponent is someone much more experienced.”
His arm droops down, relaxing his pose. The blade of his gear sits on his left hand with the other clasping its handle, “your gear is a part of yourself. It feeds off your energy and you need to control it. An inphernal who knows to hold back, is the one that can fight longer...”
“That was an actually decent explanation coming from you,” Rocket snickers.
“What is that supposed to mean!?” Sword huffs. Not out of anger, just friendly annoyance from the teasing. He then stops, placing two fingers on his chin and sending Rocket a curious look, “wait, am I actually a good teacher?”
“Really? Now you’re asking?” with his arms-crossed, Rocket raises his eyebrows.
Gunblade who’s been only nodding at Sword’s explanation, finally perked up with a confident exclamation, “you’re a pretty good teacher!”
“Really!? Yay!” he throws his arms up. “You’re so nice Gunblade!”
“Ah… Haha,” Gunblade laughs sheepishly. He’s somewhat taken to Sword’s enthusiasm.
The bickering pauses and Sword continues on to show the different offensive and defensive stances; the correct way to defend himself, and also to swing. Of course, Gunblade attempts all of them. However, his movements are clumsy and slow much to his own dismay.
The weight of his gear is also starting to take a toll on him. The longer he goes on– the more rest he has to take.
“Okay and then… uh, what's next?” Sword looks at Rocket, who returns a look of incredulousness.
“Why are you asking me? I like… Know nothing about swordfighting.”
“Hmm, guess I should’ve thought about this more thoroughly,” he adjusts his helmet, deep in thought.
“That’s your own fault!” Rocket face-palms.
He turns to look at Gunblade, who was slouched down. Panting and heaving. “How about letting him rest for now? Don’t know how– but he somehow looks paler than he already is.”
“I didn’t think it’d be this tiring…” Gunblade sits on the ground, gathering himself and wiping his sweat off.
“Well it is your first time…” Sword moves to sit down beside him, “but it’s fun! Right?”
Gunblade shuffles his leg, sitting curled up on the concrete floor. He returns Sword’s gaze gingerly, “mm… I guess so yeah! I’ve never really trained myself properly soo…” the curves of his mouth simpered, “my body just isn’t used to it, probably.”
“Yeah don’t worry! I’m sure with time, you’ll be super strong!” Sword closes his hand into a fist, an encouraging gesture.
In the sidelines, Rocket watches the interaction with growing interest. In his eyes, it was a form of surprise. Perhaps seeing his best friend; who's always been so isolated from the world– find something new, was refreshing. Sword was happy, and he was happy too.
This new guy isn’t so bad after all.
--------------------
The next set of hours consisted of Gunblade attempting to swing, and occasionally missing. Despite the occasional stumble of wording by Sword, he’s managed to semi-successfully learn how to attack.
Most importantly, he won’t at least embarrass himself like last time.
Both Rocket and Sword for once agree on something; Gunblade’s gear was too powerful for himself to handle in his current state. As someone well versed in the arts of pyrotechnics, Rocket advised Gunblade to hold off pressing the trigger of his gun, lest he cause property damage.
Despite all of that, Rocket’s still attempting to persuade Gunblade if he could take a look at the mechanics of his gear… Probably wanting a go at modifying it.
Gunblade declines, but is slowly being convinced…
The sun is starting to set, yet the world doesn’t grow darker. Even under the blanket of the sky– Crossroads never sleeps.
Rocket yawns. Unlike the lights outside, he does need rest. So far, he’s watched the two go from actually training– to random squabbling instead.
“Well Gunblade… Is that all you got!?” Sword sprints away from Gunblade, who’s chasing him with his gear at hand.
“Grr– come back!!!” He drags his gear with both of his arms, trying to hit Sword. They spin around in circles like an ant mill.
At this point, Rocket doesn’t even question it. Actually, yes, he would.
“...Is playing tag a part of the training?” he sighs.
The two stop in their tracks to gape at him. It was a look of abashment, especially from Sword.
“Oh. Well, but Gunblade’s improved already!”
The chair Rocket was sitting on creaks as he stood. Sword stills, eyeing Rocket as he walks up to him. For some reason, he looks oddly intimidating right now…
He reaches Sword, then clamps his hands on his shoulders before rocking him aggressively. “How is he supposed to keep improving if you’re messing around huh!?”
It wasn’t out of anger, rather out of disbelief. If no one will knock some sense into Sword– then he will. There was the genuine belief that Sword would be a good mentor, he just needs to take it more seriously!
Of course, Sword was simply dizzy in the aftermath. “O-okay! It’s getting late so we should just continue the training tomorrow…”
“Mm… Yeah, I’m getting pretty tired too…” as a natural response, Gunblade de-summons his gear. Saving his arm from carrying something so heavy.
Sword follows suit by letting his gear dissipate as he completes a few stretches. The both of them were covered in sweat, and Gunblade grimaces.
‘I need to take a good, long shower after this.’
The trio packed up their belongings. Rocket slots the key in for the last time of the day, turning it and locking the warehouse. He scrutinizes the door, ensuring that it is fully locked before leaving.
He follows up on both Sword and Gunblade who had been waiting for him at the entrance. They wave at him, Sword’s being much more spirited. The cold of the night was starting to seep in, so Rocket placed his hands inside his pocket. Much warmer.
Sword seems rather unaffected by the breezy wind, whilst Gunblade was enjoying it to the fullest. The lights outside flickered, with a crow perching on the balcony of a building.
“Wanna go grab dinner?” Sword asks the group.
“I know you’re scheming to make me pay…” Rocket side-eyes Sword, who gulped in response.
Like the little liar he is, Sword looks away. “Noo… I wouldn’t do that… Cmon now!”
Although Gunblade does want to go eat out, if Rocket doesn’t want to then he’s fine with it. As long as he gets to have a good long sleep after all of this.
“I’m fine with either… But if we’re eating out, I can pay for myself.”
Rocket made a little gasp, as if forcing himself to be surprised, “Sword, there is no way you’re getting beaten by a newspawn in this.”
“What hey! I actually… I brought my wallet this time!” Sword pulls out an old looking wallet. He stares at Rocket defiantly, “see?”
He sighs, conceding to his best friend's demand, “okay fine, so where are we going?”
It wasn’t too late, the hour hand of the clock still being stuck at the number six. The weather was cold, so what's better than having a fresh, hot barbeque!?
Sword jumps in with an idea, “let’s just go to Ranged Royale!”
“Yes please!” Gunblade cheers, before closing his mouth. That was a little too loud…
Rocket snorts, “someone’s excited.”
“You went to Ranged Royale before, Gunblade?”
“Yea! Yesterday actually!” he reminisces of his first time eating there, and the two inphernals who were eating behind him. Well, he didn’t really care. What matters is good food. “The weekend special platter was soooo good…”
“Well, we can go get that right now. They still have the platter up.” Despite his previous grievances, Rocket was keen to go eat as much as the others. As long as he didn’t have to pay for Sword for the millionth time.
Ranged Royale seems to be a hotspot for a lot of phighters. Sword comments on how he’s met random phighters eating out there occasionally. Gunblade can’t blame them– eating ribs after a huge fight sounds nice.
There's that and also the fact that it’s placed directly beside the Flipside tower.
A step into the building and he finds himself drowned in the smell of barbeque. Just what he needs after the… Training. The three ordered the special weekend platter. It was Sunday, so they had to get it.
Rocket took time with his food. Not with elegance or grace; but simply just enjoying every bite. Sword was stuffing himself full, trying to swallow as much meat as he could. Yet somehow, he does it in an oddly refined way.
Gunblade takes the time to glance at them occasionally. He found their sprightliness charming, somehow or another.
Perhaps, he can get used to this.
⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹
Reposting some art of Gunblade from my Tumblr :D
