Ambition

by Batmansdeadparents

Summary:

A month leading up to the Eclipse, dozens of New Yorkers report hearing voices in their head.
Pocket goes back home for a chance to hear one too.

Notes:

Hi Ao3, long time reader, first time writer. I'm in deep with Deadlock brainrot and this is the byproduct.

This started out as a PocketKnife fic and grew from there. Now, everyone's here.

This fic is an exploration of a "What-If?" scenario in which the Patrons decide which heroes fight on their behalf.
Focuses on Pocketknife, but POV alternates between every character.

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: I Heard it on the Radio

Summary:

A radio broadcast.
A poker game.
Someone far away from home.
Someone too close to home.

 

 

“Welcome to the New York Oracle’s Special Broadcast of our Round Table Discussion on the upcoming eclipse. Joining us today is Astral Gate expert Professor Dynamo-“

“Glad to be back!”
The professor’s voice had a tinny reverb that echoed into the microphone; a byproduct of his condition. 

“Captain Murphy, captain of the New York Police Department-“

“Hello all.”
The captain sounded friendly but held an authoritative tone.

“Elizabeth Smithson, spokesperson for the Friends of Humanity-“

“Salutations.”
Her voice was that of a refined woman, high and articulate.

“And prominent member of the Baxter Society, Shiv… is that the name you want us to use for you, sir?”

“Hasn’t let me down yet. Don’t see a point in changin’ it.”
The voice was gruff with a twang. Someone you didn’t want to mess with. 

The host continued,
“Fifty years ago an eclipse changed the world and now we’re preparing for another. Astrologists report that in less than a month, the Moon will pass between the Sun and Earth creating what paranormal experts say will be a maelstrom of epic proportions. Professor, you were present when the Central Park Astral Gate opened during the first maelstrom.”

“Of course. As you can see it left quite a mark,” following up the statement with a chuckle.

“For our listeners that don’t know, Professor Dynamo’s body was consumed in the process and his consciousness was replaced with that of a blackhole.”

“Not a pleasant experience,” the professor added.

The host continued, “How do you believe the upcoming event will differ from the first?” 

“Well, that’s a tall order of a question. Consulting with the top physicists, astrophysicists, metaphysicists, meteorologists, astronomers, astrologists, alchemists, magicians, psychics, witches, wizards, and shamans one answer is clear.”

“And that is?” the host egged on. 

“We don’t know,” Dynamo stated simply

“Professor, with all due respect, what good is all this research if it yields nothing substantial?”
The spokesperson for the Friends of Humanity did nothing to hide the distain her voice. 

“I suppose, if anything, it teaches us to expect the unexpected.”
The professor remained unperturbed to any doubts raised.

“Which leads me to my next question,” the host interjected, “Captain Murphy, what is the police force doing to prepare?”

“The-“

“What I want to know is what’s being done about all the people being sacrificed in the name of false gods! There are cults on the streets of New York that believe the eclipse is akin to the second coming. The Friends of Humanity demand to know why humanity isn’t being adequately protected.”
Elizabeth Smithson interrupted the captain, showing no signs of remorse for her intrusion.

“Let me be clear about one thing: The groups that identify as the Amber Hand and the Sapphire Flame are not violent groups. The inhibitors they have placed around the city to contact the Patrons are police sanctioned.”
There was firmness in the police chief’s voice that took no quarter to her abrasive attitude.

“So you’d rather protect someone with unpredictable intentions rather than those you’ve sworn to protect?”
She sounded scorned.

“They are those that we've sworn to protect. They’re still part of this city and religious freedom is still a part of the constitution. The same goes for your organization, Ms. Smithson. With as many complaints as we've had against the Friends of Humanity, we have all the more reason to shut down your demonstrations than we do either group."
The captain was unrelenting in his defense of his police force. 

“Which brings me to my next question,” the host interjected. “Mister Shiv, you and the Baxter Society are an adept group of monster hunters. Is there anything that indicates to your organization that the Patrons may pose a threat?”

“When people encounter monsters they come to us and nobody’s sent in a complaint yet. A few of us have ‘had a look around’ both of their compounds and haven’t found sh- anything. As far as we’re concerned? It’s none of our concern.”

"Are you admitting to trespassing on live radio?" Captain Murphy pressed the question.

"I'm not admittin' to anything without a lawyer present."
The line sounded well rehearsed. 

“And what about those hearing voices inside their head that promise them their heart’s greatest desires?”
The host seemed unmoved by the participants' banter.

“The only monster I can think of that does that is a siren and believe me, they only want you for one thing and it ain’t religious," Shiv remarked with firsthand experience. 

“I’m speaking from a complete laymen standpoint on monsters, but assuming something as powerful as a god, lower case ‘g’, is attempting to pass through planes, I think it would need much more than just a maelstrom to bring it through.”
The Professor sounded sure of himself.

“That’s probably what the inhibitors are for. If I had to guess? There’s probably a ritual component to all this. S’prolly why they need so many followers.”

“Ritual? What scale of barbarism could something of this magnitude possibly demand?!”
She sounded as if someone had slapped her, spit on her, and called her several unpleasant names. 

“Lady, didn’t you hear the professor? Nobody knows jack sh-“
“We’ll be right back after these messages.”

The host quickly doused the flames and the broadcast went to commercial.

---

“I don't know why that professor wastes his time talking to that rag. What could he possibly tell them that they don’t already know?”
Wraith snuffed out a cigarette on the overflowing ashtray only to light another. The smoke rose to congregate with the cloud that always hung above Jezebels. 

“He’s a leading expert in the field who happens to be in the area. Besides, the opportunity to teach the masses is something he would never pass up.”
The playing cards dwarfed Krill’s tiny hands but he still played with the same ease he did every Sunday.

Mo nodded. 

“He’s not teaching them anything if there’s nothing to teach.”

“Then that’s what he’s teaching them… along with the idea that listening to the voice inside your head may be used for obscene occult purposes, of course.”
He pushed several chips towards the pile.
“Raise.”

“I don’t know, if a god offered me what I wanted, I’d think I’d have to take them up on that.”
She looked as if she'd hardly given the idea a thought as her mechanical hands slid a sizable amount into the pot. 
“Raise- Abrams for the last time this isn’t book club. Either put that thing away or fold.”

Abrams didn’t even look up but offered a grimace. 
“What does it matter to you? I can read and play at the same time.”

“What is there even left to read? You’ve had it for two weeks now. Seems about as redundant as Dynamo telling everyone that no one knows anything."
She sounded pissed but everyone knew that a pissed off Wraith was much scarier than whatever mood she was in now.

“Because something changes in it every time I read it. I wouldn't be surprised if it was cursed to hell and back."
One of his beefy hands backhanded a few chips into the pile.
“Raise.”

“You haven’t had anyone look it over?” Wraith asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The less people that know I have it, the better. I already lost my fuckin’ car over it.”
Abrams's Ixian descent had helped him survive the firebomb but did nothing to save his only means of transportation. 

“If you don’t want people to know you have it then why keep it on you?” She asked.

“Seems counterintuitive,” Krill concurred.

Mo nodded.

“Like hell I’m lettin’ this thing out of my sight. ‘Sides… I don’t know what to do with it.”
An edge of defeat finished off his sentence. 

“Maybe you should ask an elder god?” Her suggestion was so straightforward it was hard to gauge her seriousness.

“You jokin’?”
Abrams genuinely didn’t know.
 
“Why not? Seems like everyone else is doing it.” 

“I don’t see you signin’ up.”

“You don’t get to where I am by doing what everyone else does.”
There was no pride in her voice. Everyone knew where she stood.

Abrams scoffed and yelled over his shoulder,
“Hey ‘Fern. Elder god offers you a wish in exchange for summonin’ it, do you do it?”

Infernus shrugged, leaning into the bar to throw his voice,
“Depends on how bloody it is.”

Abrams was taken aback, “No shit? I thought you were reformed.”

“Like I said. Depends. If it’s standard ritual stuff: chanting, drawing a pentagram, and spilling my own? I’m in. Anyone else’s? Not touching it.”

“And that is why you’re a better person than us, Infernus. Meanwhile, Mo and I would gladly flood the streets.”
Krill looked as if he took pride in the matter.

Mo nodded.

“Sounds like you boys are considering it,” Wraith raised a quizzical brow. “Trouble down under?”

“Of course not, but with OSIC operating in the area as of late, better safe than sorry.”

Wraith tsk’d,
“I wouldn’t worry about the feds. Not when you’re under my protection.”

“And what happens when they come for you, Miss Wraith? Would you really gamble your casinos away?”
There was no hostility in Krill’s inquiry. It was a straight question that he expected an answer to. 

“Look ladies, you’re both very scary criminals,” Abrams evened, “but I’m sure both of you can figure out how to pay off the feds.”

“They’ve already threatened to shutter us,” Infernus was still invested in the conversation despite tending to another patron.

“Bullshit,” Abrams offered.

“Nope. D.C. talking about banning businesses from using alchemy has them acting like it’s already happening.”
He offered a flaming thumb to light someone’s cigarette, “We could operate without it but Hank won’t have that.”

“Good on him. Kowtowing to the feds is the last thing any of us need to do. If they’re cracking down on everyone we need to give them a New York welcome.”
Wraith was so steadfast in her resolve that she had completely forgotten the game. 

“Don’t get too heated now, that’s my job.”

“And bullying legitimate businesses is my job, not the government’s. The OSIC has been a plague ever since it was founded. The only reason it exists to keep magic out of the hands of the people.”

“You mean people like you?” 
Krill noted.

“Yeah Krill. People like me.” 
She took a drag off her cigarette.

Krill looked at Mo.

Mo shrugged.

---

The underground fighting ring, despite its name, was only sometimes underground. It moved to evade the honest cop or the dishonest cop that bet too much on the wrong fighter. Tonight, after an ordeal with the latter, it was located in an abandoned warehouse next to the docks. Bebop watched the boats in the harbor beat against dark waves like stars in the night sky.

”Gotta hand it to ya Bebop, machines and water don’t usually mix. Buuut you’re either brave or stupid enough to hang out right on the edge of it… Probably the latter if I had to guess.”

“If ya push me in, I’m pullin’ ya in with me Lash.”
Bebop didn’t have to turn around to recognize his least favorite organic in the world.

”Ooooo~ so I get the hook AND a complementary toaster bath. How sentimental.” 

Lash came into Bebop’s periphery and he could see that his last fight had earned him a shiner in fresh bloom. He inhaled to puff out his chest, but a slight whistle in his nose betrayed it wasn’t a painless process. 
Organics were so damn fragile. 
That thought didn’t seem to be leaving his circuitry anytime soon. 

“Before you ask, I won. You should see the other guy- Not a pretty siiiiight~. Not that he was much to look at before, but the Lash did him a favor and gave him an ~EXCUSE~ to be ugly.” 

“Did ya come out ‘ere for a reason?”
Bebop couldn’t fathom why Lash would speak to him willingly and he wouldn't exactly be thrilled if he suddenly had a change of heart.

“Yeah, I came out here to piss.”

“Then do ya business and leave me ‘lone.”

“Surprised you even know what pissing is.

“How daft do ya think I am?”

”Uhhhh V e r y.”

Bebop supposed that went without saying.

“What are you doing out here out here scrapheap? This salt air can’t be good for your precious wittle metal bwody.”
Lash exaggerated this with a crying gesture that didn't make sense to anyone but himself.

The methods that forged Bebop made him more resilient to the elements than any standard robot.

Miss Shelly created him with a loving care that he doubted Lash could ever understand.

“Thinkin’.”
His green optic sensors looked out to the boats tossed among the waves. 

”You can do that?”

“‘Course I think. Been doin’ too much of it lately…”
He wasn’t going to explain how and he didn’t expect Lash to care.

“Well, don’t hurt yourself. Or do. Actually, I’d rather you do.”

Lash turned around and Bebop could hear his boots walk to the other side of the dock.

The last thing he wanted to hear was Jacob Lash pissing into the ocean, instead he heard something else.

”What the hell is that?”

Bebop turned to see a torrent of bubbles rising to the surface of the dark water. It was about ten meters away and approaching the dock at a rapid rate. At any moment, it would be upon them. 

“Stand back.”

“Don’t tell the Lash what t-“

Bebop’s right hand shot out of his arm like a bullet towards the advancing object. The sensors in his hand signaled to the rest of him that the hook was successful.
Whatever it was, it was humanoid.

His arm reeled back into his body, dropping his catch on the center of boardwalk.

He was right about it being humanoid but it wasn’t like other organics. 

It was green. 

Transparent.

Gooey.

The thing struggled to stand up on legs it didn’t quite understand how to use; flailing helplessly against gravity it wasn't used to.

”What the hell is that?” 
Lash repeated under his breath. He didn’t sound afraid, just genuinely puzzled.

It wobbled, swayed side to side, and eventually stood up straight. Two black eyes blinked in its impossibly round head.

“Greetings surface dwellers! I’m Vicious.”
Its high and childlike voice reverberated inside their heads in a psyonic form of communication. 
“I have heard the call of The Sapphire Flame to bring the Patron into this plane in order to save the Deep! Do you know where I can find her?”

Bebop was about to ask a dozen different questions but was abruptly cut off.

“Fifth Avenue. H u g e building. Should say ‘Baxter Society’ on the front,” Lash offered with a grin that looked like he dined on shit. 

The creature didn’t miss a beat, “Thank you surface dwellers!”

With that, it hobbled along towards the shore on unsteady legs. The two of them watched it go.

“Lash why’d ya go and do that? ‘e seemed ‘armless enough.”

“It was a monster, Bebop. I sent a monster to a group of monster hunters. Heard one of the bastards on the radio today. I can tell ya, doesn’t sound like someone MOST PEOPLE would want to mess with. That pile of goo probably won’t be in one piece by tomorrow morning.”

“If ya wanted it dead so bad why didn’t ya just kill it yaself?”

”Not the Lash’s job,” 
he began to walk backwards off the boardwalk," 
“Besides, I kinda felt sorry for it. Imagine being alone in the world with no one wanting anything to do with you. The Lash couldn't imagine that."

Bebop just stared.

“Anyway... I’m gonna go piss somewhere else because that was f r e a k y.”

Lash turned around to leave.

Bebop continued to think.

---

 

“-The Friends of Humanity are starkly against aiding refugees in Ixia for the same reason we’re against summoning these so-called ‘gods’: We simply believe that the people of this country should be prioritized. Your assertion that we’re ’magic bigots’ is hardly conducive to a civilized discussion we’re trying to have, Mr. Shiv.”

“Lady, your presence here made it uncivil in the first place.”

The signal from New York was as shoddy as the radio it played on. The audio was choppy and was prone to playing static but it was the best they could afford without dipping into their savings.

They had always kept an eye on New York. Newspapers, radio, word of mouth. Anything to bring the city to them without being them being brought to the city. Knowing the enemy like knowing the self was a tactic as old as time. Something their father would have been proud of if he weren’t on the receiving end.

”Mr. Shiv, we at the New York Oracle wanted to hear from every facet of society.”

“Guess that includes terrorists too.”

“The Friends of Humanity are not terrorists. We represent opposition to things such as police-sanctioned cults and tyrannical corporations that abuse magic, such as Fairfax Industries.”

“At least we agree on one thing.

Hearing the name made their stomach drop. It was impossible to escape no matter how far they ran or how well they hid; the mention of 'Fairfax Industries' always managed to sneak up on them.

”We all know the conflict in Ixia is nothing more than a ploy to 
continue selling their war machines. That is why we see no reason to continue to harbor refuge- ”

They cut the radio off, leaving nothing but the buzzing of the old radiator and the muffled croaking of frogs to fill the room.

Their current housing situation was a far cry from what they knew before but between all the odd jobs they worked they were lucky to have a roof over their head and even luckier still to be alive. The neighborhood they ended up in was rough but far from uninhabitable. Everyone kept to themselves and even those they had grown close to never asked too many questions.

They were a ghost in every sense of the word and their past had died along with Arin Fairfax. 

Pocket settled into threadbare sheets and turned off the flickering light; The windowless room was now pitch black except for the gentle glow of the Enchanter's Satchel under their bed.
Usually, the sound of frogs lulled them to sleep but their mind kept drifting back to the radio broadcast. 

From what they could gather the Friends of Humanity were terrorists. They opposed any and all supernatural with the front of religion, but rumors indicated they had a body count, and a significant one at that.
As for the Baxter Society, they could remember a time when their father came home angry that they refused negotiations to supply them with weaponry for monster hunting. Seems like whoever replaced the old guard didn’t budge either.

The Patrons were something new. The cults they had heard about, but not the specifics, especially the wish granting.

On one hand, it could be a ploy to trick mortals into doing their bidding. On the other… 
Maybe it was time to return to New York.

Notes:

Fuck the Friends of Humanity, all my Homies hate the Friends of Humanity.
We know very little about them, but Imagine they've got a public persona and do the shady shit behind the scenes.

I imagine Pocket lives outside of the city because several lines indicate that they've been elsewhere the entire time they've been dead.

Chapter 2 is already written and will be along soon.

'till then, may you win your lanes and Infernus be nerfed because ohmygod why does Flame Dash have charges.

Chapter 2: Little Tiny Voice in my Head

Summary:

A meeting.
A tough choice.
An easy decision.

GREBB: DEMAND IN YOUR LOCAL STORE

The billboard stared back at them the moment they stepped out of the subway. It was almost surreal seeing it again. Part of them wanted to believe the advertisement campaign stopped after their supposed demise; but In all likelihood, the tragedy behind their likeness made for a better profit. Placing your deceased child's image on every street corner in Manhattan is the perfect way to honor them, all while promoting your product. 

They slept on a bus into the city and got a hotel just as shabby as their current apartment. The following morning they took the train over to Fifth Avenue where they looked out of place in the morning. 
Five years ago they would have fit right in; Now they just looked like a bum...  Except that wasn’t a bad thing. The Fairfax Industries' main office wasn’t too far away.  As much as they doubted any regular office worker would recognize them, they still didn't want to take that chance.

The city wasn’t safe. They had to make this count.

The Baxter Society headquarters was a stone structure built in a style reminiscent of Greco-Roman architecture. Columns supported the entryway, and symmetrical engravings lined the exterior walls, most of which they recognized as wards or sigils to stave off bad energy.
They found the large oak door unlocked and entered. The entrance hall was set up like a museum that chronicled the history of the society. Display cases of stakes, silver bullets, crossbows, and reclaimed treasures lined the floor. Mounted heads of various beasts adorned with the names of their slayers lined the walls that weren’t covered in photographs of previous hunts. 
The thing that caught their eye, though, was the person staring back at them.

“Hello!”

Maybe 'person' wasn’t the right word. They had no idea what this thing was.

“…Hi,” was all they could manage.

“I’m Viscous! Are you here to bring the Patron of the Sapphire Flame into this realm so She can grant your wish too?”
It had no mouth to speak with, so they could only assume the voice was inside their head. There was such a childlike innocence to the creature that made it so unimposing that they couldn't help but be honest with it. 

“I’m here to ask a few questions about it.”

“Me too! I hope you find what you’re looking for so you won’t be sad anymore!”

“Excuse me?”

“You have very sad eyes,” it said tilting its head to the side. “I imagine you’re seeking the Patron so you can stop being sad.”

The slam of a door broke both of their concentration. An old man moving far too fast for his age brushed past them an in agitated state. When he reached the two of them he turned.
“Whatever you’re looking for you won’t find here. I suggest you look elsewhere."

“But where?”
The creature seemed unable to read the room.

The old man was out the door before a response could be offered.

“He seemed angry. I don’t think the Patron could grant his wish here. Perhaps I should look somewhere else.”
The creature seemed crestfallen.

They looked from the goo to the hallway that seemed oddly quiet after the door slammed. 
“I’m going to see what that was about, okay?”

“Okay! I’ll wait here.”

“…How long have you been waiting?”

“Twelve hours.”

“I’ll ask about that too.”

They made their way down and found the door as ornate as the front of the building; however, the message 'DON'T BOTHER ME UNLESS IT'S IMPORTANT' carved into the paneling ruined the mystique. 

They knocked. 

"Goddamnit Wesley, I told ya I ain’t budgin’ on this shit!” came from inside the room.

“I’m someone else." 

”Oh.” the anger disappeared from the voice, ”Well come on in Someone Else.”

The furniture in the office was no different from something their father would have chosen but the decor wasn’t. Specifically the dartboard full of knives and empty gun case.

The man at the desk looked as misplaced as the engraving. Nothing about his clothes, hair, or the large bayonet he was sharpening and refusal to look up from said ‘Baxter Society.’
“What can I do for ya, Someone Else?”

“Don’t you want to ask if it’s important?”

“Ya caught me in a good mood.”

“I can’t say the same about your friend.”

“Well, he’s goin’ through some shit. Family shit's the worst kind of shit.”

They didn’t know what to say.

The man continued to sharpen the knife. 

“You know you have someone else waiting out there.”

He laughed, a deep, throaty one,  “Ya mean the goo pile? We had someone talk to it. Turns out it’s some sort of water plant from the Astral Gate down in Bermuda. Said it was directed here to look for the Patron of the Sapphire Flame. Other than that? Thing’s harmless.”

'Other than that?' That didn’t sound right.
“I thought you said on the radio you weren’t concerned about the Patrons?”

"I say a lot of things not to scare the public; Comes with the territory of huntin' things that do scare the public. Doesn't mean all of it's true."

“So are you concerned about them or not?”

The whet stone stopped mid -troke and his gaze finally came to rest on them. The way his eyes cast over them made them feel smaller than they’d like to admit.
“Why don’t ya sit down and we start over?”

“Only if you’re going to take me seriously.”

“I take everyone who needs my help seriously.”

“What’s stopping you from lying to me too?”

“Listen,” he took his feet off the desk to sit up.
“The public is a different matter. The only thing they know ‘bout the supernatural is the shit Fairfax sells to 'em and their best friend they swear is an Ixian. They don’t know shit ‘bout magic and how it works.”

"How do you know I’m any different?”

“Because people who don't fuck around with magic don’t have hands like that.”

They looked down to find they unconsciously clenched their fist.
“Is that how you lost yours?”

“Something like that… Now,” the blade retracted into the shotgun.
“What are you here for?”

They unclenched their fist, relaxing for the first time they had entered the city. They took a seat, 
“What do you know about them?”

“No more than any of their cult members would know. In exchange for bringing them into this plane, they grant ya a wish.”

There was no way it was that easy. 
“What’s the catch?” 

“They haven’t said how ya bring them ‘round yet. Supposed ‘call us forth’ before the maelstrom and explain it all.”
He put the shotgun underneath the desk, fully invested in the conversation.
“Ya see, ya can join the cult by choice but the ones they really want are those they reach out to. Someone with more on the line than anyone else.”

“So one of them has spoken to you?”

“They both have. Can’t really blame ‘em though. If they both want me on their side, odds are the ritual is gonna be bloody.”

“I thought you only killed monsters?” 

The man laughed again, “Once upon a time I didn’t. Both of them seemed to know that.”

They should have been off put by everything just said. They should stood up and walked away. They should gotten the hell of the building and the hell of out of New York.

But.

They caught their breath and found their words.
“What you said on the radio about hating Fairfax, was that true?”

“Kid, if I could have Maximillian Fairfax’s head on this wall without the repercussions and taxidermy bill it’d already be here. He’d be right at home with the rest of the monsters.”

“Do the other hunters feel that way?”

“Alright, I see where this is going,” he put a hand up to stop the conversation.
“We’re not bodyguards. Whoever you pissed off or stole from is your problem. I may consider them monsters but the law doesn’t. Maybe you should ask them instead. God knows a plea deal saved my ass once…”

They dug into their coat and placed a stack of bills on the desk. 
“This is all I have left. I’m asking for a month, no more, no less. Just until the eclipse.”

“I don’t take stolen bills anymore.”

“These aren’t stolen, it’s what I took with me the last time I was in town. The other half went to a mole.”

“A what?” 

“Nevermind… I spent my whole life learning how to manage money. I’m willing to give you everything I have because if don’t do what I have to do then I’m not going to need it anymore.”

“If you think summoning an elder god is the only way to save your skin what makes you think we can keep you alive until then?”

“Because he doesn’t even know I am alive. Or at least I hope he doesn’t. If y-“

“How the hell did someone like you piss him off personally?”

Their throat went dry, not even thinking before they spoke,
“What was that you said about family being the worst kind of shit?”

For five years they had kept it secret and safe. Buried it like the empty casket their parents placed below a grave bearing their name. Now it came back to the surface and boiled over before they could even stop it. 

They could only maintain eye contact with their hand clasped between their open legs.
“…I guess I should probably tell you what I mean by that.”

“You’re the Grebb kid, aren’t you?”

That was one way of putting it.
“Yeah, I’m the Grebb kid.”

The office went silent. They didn’t hear anything until the chair creaked again. 
“So the black sheep of the family came home bleating to anyone that would listen. Don’t ya know there are wolves out there?”

They looked to find him leering at them with the smuggest smile the handsome bastard could manage. 
“Is this the part where you extort me? Like I said, this is all I have left.”

“I could always bring you back to your daddy and ask for more.” 

“You’re not going to do that.”

He laughed, “And why’s that?”

“Because why would you give him anything he wanted?”

“Doesn’t sound like he wanted you.”

“He didn’t. That’s why he killed me.”

“Doesn’t sound like he did a very good job.”

“He didn’t. He won’t make the same mistake again.”

“I could do it for him”

“If you’re trying to scare me it isn’t working. I’ve been running for years and I’m tired of it. Either kill me, send me away, or help me.”

The smirk disappeared.
“You really are the real deal, aren’t you Grebb kid?” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then what do I call ya?" 

“Pocket.”

---

Sophia Arroyo looked over the paper she slaved over the past week with disappointment. A frown crossed her face as she read the note that accompanied her unsatisfying grade,"
“Failed to properly explain the connection between the Shadowline Nexus and Spiritual Overflow that result in the creation of Astral Gates.”

Ivy rolled over on the couch and stretched her wings.
“What does that even mean?”

“It means Professor D didn’t think I was thorough enough on his favorite subject.”

“You made a B. Sounds good enough to me.”

“I’m going to talk to him tomorrow about it.”

Ivy sighed and let her wings relax,
“Fine. If being perfect means that much to you…"
Ever since Carlos had shown interest in politics, Sophia seemed to want to play catch up.

Care to carry on our conversation, Ivy?

Uh oh. It was the voice again. She had to make herself scarce.

“Hey uh, Sophia. I’m gonna check the garden.”

“It’s 9:30 at night.”

“Uh…. Crows.”

She slunk out the back door into the kudzu patch she had grown over the past 18 years. The city had initially issued a request for its removal after it had grown past the fence and onto the nearby land but had recently decided to look the other way since it belonged to their hometown hero.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but could you maybe wait until I’m alone to enter my head?”
She settled on her stone perch and let her tail hang in the breeze.

I do apologize. But I’m sure the Arroyos would understand your conviction.

“I spent my whole life trying to make this neighborhood a safer place. If the Mendozas are just going to come back does that mean I’m going have to do all that fighting again?” 

Your efforts were never in vain, Ivy. The people of Spanish Harlem see you as a savior. Think of this as the chance to sustain that title.

“It's not about what people think about me, it’s about doing what’s best for them.”
Her tail swished in thought.
“Even if you hold up your end of the bargain, is it really worth bringing an elder god into the picture? Sure the people here would be safe, but what are you going to do when you get here?”

If I had the intent to harm anyone, why would I offer safety to those you care about?

“…Because it’s what I wished for?”
She sat up straight and found a proper way to phrase things,
“What if someone else wishes for something bad? Like maybe they want they want somebody dead or they want to become a god? Or maybe they want to become a god just because they want someone dead?"

Ivy, The Sapphire Flame only reaches out to those with noble causes… The same cannot be said for the Amber Hand.

“How do you know they’re not saying the same?"

Because I know Him all too well. 

---

Several blocks away from the Baxter Society, Maggie McGinnis sat in her workshop pulling another late night.

The automatic turret array she had been working on for six months was nearly finished. It was due to be peer-reviewed by the higher-ups who had no idea how any of this stuff works any day now. As long she could demonstrate that her work could kill, it would see the Ixian front within the next year. However, with the EPA currently breathing down the necks of Fairfax Industries, there was pressure to cut back on spiritual waste. She knew that ol’ Max upstairs would somehow make them go away eventually, but for now, they had to play by the rules. 

Those who follow the rules rarely accomplish anything.

“You should tell that to my boss,” she stated casually while tightening a loose bolt.

Used to voices in your head, are you?

“No, just expecting one. I read about ya. I’m down to play your game.”

You don’t even know how to summon me yet.

“Don’t need to. I know it’s going to be bloody and people aren’t going to make it out alive.”

That would discourage most people.

“I’m not most people.”

Can the Amber Hand count on your brilliance to shine on the battlefield?

“Buddy, as long as I get to see my work in action, I don’t care who I’m working for. I don’t even care for my current boss.”

Wouldn’t you like to be free of them? 

“That’s why I’m agreeing to it. I’ll see you there, gramps.”
She closed the hood of the turret and watched the light inside turn on.

And I will see you.

Notes:

Short chapter.

Every time I see the Grebb poster in-game I never fail to think about how fucked up it is that Pocket's dad is still running something with their picture on it. It's like the only value they ever had to him.

 

When the Patrons talk about each other, they seem to know each other personally so there's bound to be some Valve-tier rivalry going on there we don't know about yet.

I don't think one Patron is more 'noble' than the other, I just think they're gods without human morality and see themselves as better than each other. Doesn't mean they're going to tell anyone that though.

Chapter 3 isn't done yet but will be soon. Until then, stay safe, keep your rank up and don't feed.

Chapter 3: Ghosts from the Past

Summary:

A pleasant conversation.
A reunion.
An unpleasant conversation.

“Is there a reason you were trying to scare me off?”

“Is there a reason why it sounds like you're carryin' ‘round a bunch of frogs?

The room they were shown was an underground bunker beneath the main building. It wasn’t much larger than their old apartment, and they’d have to go upstairs for any sort of meal, but it was safe. Secure. They had transported the case inside a regular suitcase, but the sound of croaking was impossible to cover up in dead silence.

"It’s a long story.”
They really didn't want to explain.

“Got something to do with Grebb?”

“Not exactly… it isn't to convince you further if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“Anyone can claim anyone, 'specially if the person they claim to be ain’t ‘round no more to say otherwise. I was tryin’ to scare ya into thinkin’ twice before me crossin’ me."

“What could I possibly stand to gain by pretending to be a billionaire’s dead kid?” 
They couldn't quite grasp this line of thinking. Why would the heir to a fortune not go to someone who could pay it out?

“‘Coulda asked me to storm the castle and take the throne by force,” he said with a shrug.

“I don’t think that’s something you could do, even with the other hunters as backup."

He laughed, “Who said I needed help?”

“I’m… flattered you would do that for me.”

“It wouldn’t be for you, it’d be for everyone. Unfortunately for everyone I ain’t as reckless as I used to be.”

Pocket didn’t think that was entirely true.
“What would you have done if I was lying to you?” 

“Find out who you were working for. Fairfax has been tryin’ to court us and they don’t like takin’ ‘no’ for an answer .”

“Would someone like me really be enough to send you on a suicide mission?”

“Like I told ya, I take everyone who needs my help seriously. A cry for help from a pretty face, sabotaging Fairfax, maybe even being the one to do him in… All sounds right up my alley.”

“I guess I can’t blame you for thinking that. Nothing’s really off the table when it comes to him.”

That was something they knew firsthand and all too well. They looked around, desperate to change the subject. 

“What’s this room for anyway?”

“Exactly what you’re doing now: hidin’. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts that get too clingy… they’re all persistence hunters. This place's warded to protect anyone who may have caught the eye of something they wish they hadn’t.”

“I thought you said you weren’t bodyguards?”

"We ain’t. It’s just a place to keep ‘em safe while we hunt. Matter of fact, that’s what I’m tellin’ everyone who asks about ya.”

"Do I get the vampire, the werewolf, or the clingy ghost?”

“Vampire. They only come out at night, so it’s easier to explain. Vampire society’s got a whole hierarchy to it and those at the bottom of the ladder will go after anything they can get. If you had a poltergeist, that would mean I’d have to pretend to be cleansin’ it all the time. Werewolves, much like actual wolves, don’t ever stop until they get what they want. There’s more urgency there. An undomesticated wolf never sleeps, a full moon just makes 'em worse.”

“So act like I’m stupid enough to let a vampire into my apartment?”

“It’s more common than ya’d think!”

Pocket noticed how insistent it sounded. They wished they could tell him how much they could relate.
“… What was she like?”

“Too cocky for her own good. No need to worry ‘bout her no more though.” 
He turned to go.
“Anyhow, I hate to cut things short but I gotta date.”

Pocket checked the clock and found that it was past midnight, “This late?”

“Bourbon doesn’t have a schedule and neither do I. See you in the morning.”
With that, he left.

Pocket couldn't help but notice the vial hanging from the back of his hip as he left. The strange, ornate silver container filled with a red liquid made them assume it was magical. But, since Shiv didn’t pry about the case, they returned the favor and let him go.

Once again, they were left alone. It was hard enough to get to sleep the first night, but at least the bus ride had tired them out. Now they were wired.

They had to continue reminding themself this was one of the safest places in the city. They considered going literally underground, but they doubted they would be fortunate to find the Sewer Rats again and would just end up getting lost. Besides, they didn't want to think about what would happen if they encountered the wrong person. End up dead. Or worse.

This was safe. They had to keep reminding themselves that.

They sat up in bed and looked for something in the room to occupy their mind.

They found the following: a jigsaw puzzle of Central Park (with a box much lighter than its promised 500 pieces), a book on Ixian candle making (written entirely in Ixian), a broken radio they planned to ask Shiv about, and a board game (with a requirement of at least three players).

They went to try their luck with the jigsaw puzzle when a stray piece of paper fluttered out of the bent cardboard.

They picked it up and found it to be a photograph worn with age. One of the two figures they instantly recognized.
 The first was a man of native descent with more salt than pepper hair, obviously the old man they had seen earlier with-

Oh god, they forgot about Viscous.

They had left the building, came back in, and completely missed him. Then again, he did say that maybe he should look elsewhere.

They’d check in the morning.

-The second figure was that of a young woman. Her gown was torn and clashed against his Baxter Society blazer. Her blue skin made them look for horns only to find a triangular mark on her forehead. Whatever she was, she wasn’t Ixian. They couldn’t figure out why something like this would be here or why someone would want to hide it, let alone here.

Maybe some occupant found her attractive and kept it as a weird keepsake but forgot about it on the way out.
And maybe that was something they didn’t want to consider.

They put the photo back where they found it and settled back into bed. They decided to focus less on that and why the hell Shiv would call them ‘a pretty face’ unprompted.

He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he, Pocket?

They bolted upright and looked frantically around the room.

Empty.

What the hell? Was this place haunted? It was supposed to be warded.

I apologize for disturbing you, but from what I gather, you’ve been looking for me.

It was a deep female voice that graveled inside their head. If this wasn’t the ghost from the photograph, then it had to be something else.

“…You’re one of the Patrons.”
It wasn’t a question. It was the exact thing they were looking for, and it had come at the perfect time.

Indeed. I am the Patron of the Sapphire Flame. I call on you because I can recognize your ambition, Pocket. Ever since you set foot in this city, I could feel you radiating with potential.

The Sapphire Flame was the same faction Viscous mentioned.

“Where’s Viscous?”

Always putting others before yourself even to your detriment… Viscous is safe. I led him to a place where he would not be harmed.

That was a relief. Now to put themself on the line.

“What do you know about me?”

A great deal. The firstborn of the Fairfax family of Fairfax Industries. Your heart was too soft to lead the hardened empire your father created. For that, he struck you down and stripped you of your life… or at least he attempted to. 

"Does he know I'm still alive?"
It was an odd question. The assassin his father sent would have never come back with a body, but they could have easily lied about disposing of it. They doubted their father would care what happened to it anyway.

That I cannot say. Your father has no desires that his own greed cannot satisfy. Without want, I have no way in.

They believed that. Their father was a materialist through and through. Whatever he wanted, he got, even at another's expense.

They sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in thought.

“What are you offering me?”

Your compassion and persistence are what the world needs, Pocket. If I am brought into this realm, I will help you confront your fears and put a stop to your father’s wicked deeds.

“How?”

In whatever way you wish.

That was a fickle thing. Even before the supernatural made itself known, parables and fables about the misinterpretation of wishes spoke of miracles turned into mistakes. Get the wording wrong, and your life was changed in all the wrong ways,

This isn't something you need to decide at this very moment. I know you wish no harm to others. Between now and the ritual, you'll have plenty of time to think it over.

“What’s it going to take to summon you?”

In time I will call all my disciples forth and explain the task at hand. For now, rest Pocket. You deserve it.

“Wait. What about the other Patron?”

There was no response but the soft croaking of frogs.

They rolled back over into bed, their mind now focused on what to wish for.

---

Jeanne Geist sat in the restaurant that the New York Oracle had dubbed the ‘best place to eat in lower Manhattan’. To her chagrin, the werewolf meat was undercooked, and the caviar was some of the worst she ever had the displeasure of tasting, leading her to disagree with the sentiment entirely; however, that was the last thing on her mind.

“You haven’t touched your food at all.”

Kelvin looked up with surprise and gave a sheepish laugh.
“I wondered when you were going to bring that up.”

“Is it that bad? I can always send it back.”

“No, no, Mrs. Geist, I assure you the food is not a problem,” he insisted. “Truth be told, I would not even know if it was.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after my incident... I cannot taste anything at all.”
A slight hesitation followed by the full admission.

She should have known. The man had tasted death, a flavor she would never know, and it had consumed him. How pitiful.

“And you don’t remember anything from the expedition?”

“None of it,” an uncharacteristic seriousness took over his demeanor. 
“No matter what I do, the only thing I can recall is waking up in that frozen tomb… Still, not bad for a dead man, yes?” 
The usual levity returned to his person.

A smirk crossed her face, “Well, you seem to be taking it quite well.”

“The only thing I can do is push forward. If I go back to the past, I may end up dead again!”

“But what about your team? Don’t you wish to know what happened to them?”

"It is the only thing that keeps me up at night... well, and the fact I don't need to sleep. I wish I could-"

The lights in the restaurant began to flicker.

She looked overhead with disgust. Shoddy wiring would only be the cherry on top of this terrible dining experience.

“I didn’t think it was supposed to storm.”

Her companion's comment drew her gaze to the window where a flash of lightning crackled in the distance.

With a sudden, blinding flash of light, all the lightbulbs in the room exploded at once, leaving glass to rain down in a sudden darkness.

The dining room was abuzz with commotion. The only source of light was Oathkeeper's sheen and the glow from Kelvin's phylactery. In between were intervals of brightness that shone outside the window.

Geist felt her hair stand on end as the smell of ozone rose in the air. Static started to build in her fur wrap. The atmosphere was becoming electric.

The doors burst open, flooding the room with orange light as a figure darkened the threshold. Bolts of lightning filled the space, striking in random directions and hitting many who crumpled to the floor in agony.

"EVERYONE, TO ME!" Kelvin yelled over the electric hum that emanated from the pulsing cascade. Those who could still stand rushed in his direction.

Geist felt an immense chill come over her but the smell had dissipated. A large dome of ice had formed around them, shielding them from the blasts. With his freeze ray held high, Kelvin stood at the center atop a table.

“I see you learned a few tricks,” she was confused but grateful. Apparently dying had given him cryomancy.

“Not bad for a dead man, yes?” He repeated, much more proud of himself than the last time.

"So. You’ve finally learned to save people.”
The lightning diminished to mere sparks on the other side of the dome. The figure it emanated from stood steadfast before the icy glass, a harsh glow of amber radiating from its very bones.

She heard a murmur amongst the crowd, mumbles of ‘Lost Whisper’ and ‘Escapee’. 
That would explain the prison uniform.

"WHO ARE YOU?” 
She was the first to ask,  offended someone would speak to her guest in such a demeaning manner

”And here I believed Oathkeeper would have chosen a host with enough manners to only speak when spoken to,” the thing tutted with disdain.
The voice was almost inhuman, with an electric reverberation to every word that made it sound more machine than man.

“The arrogance! You murdered these people without any regard for them! You have no right to look down on me!” She gestured to the bodies that lay motionless outside the dome.

”Unfortunate bystanders. Murder implies intent. Your forte, not mine.” 

“Sorry to interrupt a pleasant conversation, but, I am a bit lost here as well.” Kelvin’s attempt to lighten the mood seemed to have no effect.

'That doesn't surprise me in the least." 
It approached the ice closer, face almost against the surface.
"You have no idea who I am."

"Am I supposed to?!"

”As clueless as ever…•
It tsked, far more familiar with him than he was with it.
”Have you heard from the patrons?”

There was a hesitation.
“…How did you know?”

”Because Kelvin, I know you better than you know yourself. Whatever tragedy befell you has left you a ghost of your former self. Go to the Patrons. Seek their aid. Learn the truth."
The lightning dissipated as the figure turned to leave, scorched marks and smoking corpses were left in its wake.

The dome lifted as soon as the orange light had faded from the horizon. Those left alive, confused, screaming, and mourning the lost scrambled to leave the area.

She turned to Kelvin amid the chaos,
“You’ve heard from them as well?”

“It’s true. I just don't know how that man knew that.”
Kelvin seemed more confused than frightened. 

“Maybe he just guessed.”

“Somehow, I don’t think he did…”

---

Let her go, let her go, God bless her
Wherever she may be
She will search this wide world over
But she'll never find another sweet man like me

Cab Calloway serenaded his bi-weekly dive into another bottle of bourbon. It used to be every night, but the pain had eased over the years,  so the need for the remedy wasn’t as strong.

I sense this isn’t an opportune time…

“Didn’t stop ya from bargin’ in any way.”
He wasn’t completely sober but he was drunk enough to put up with whatever bullshit this thing was going to spout at him tonight.
“You talk to the kid yet?”

I don’t know who you’re referring to.

“Figures. Maybe she got to ‘em first.” 
He poured another glass, not nearly close enough to the bottom of the bottle for his liking.

If you believe it's someone who both She and I would consider worthy, then perhaps- 

“Don’t fuckin’ bother. The second they find out about the bloodsport you two have comin’ I doubt they’ll go through with it.”

You didn’t tell them it may come to that?

”May. Right.” 
He took a swig that downed the entire glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his good hand.
“They asked about contactin’ ya and for me to protect them from a monster I can’t kill. May as well as just’ve asked me to shoot them right then and there.”

But you accepted.

“Yeah. I accepted…”
He swirled the ice around in the glass, trying to figure out why the hell he did that.

The booze answered for him.
“I felt sorry for the kid. Biggest, saddest brown eyes I ever seen on someone. ‘Sides, if they survive, it’ll be a better world for all of us.”

Sounds as if it was a self-serving endeavor.

“What the fuck was I gonna do? The only person that could put an end to Fairfax’s bullshit came to me. I can do my best to keep corporate hitmen off of ‘em, but if you and her are recruitin’ people like me and Wesley, they ain’t gonna last a second out there.”

If She’s made contact with them, then She sees the potential within them to withstand the ritual. Perhaps they’re stronger than they seem.

He spat out a laugh, 
“If ya saw them ya’d think otherwise. Shit, I thought I was bein’ baited with the shiniest lure Fairfax could afford. Pathetic enough to tug at your heartstrings, but pretty enough to make you believe where they came from.”

And what did the thing inside of you think of them?

“I told you I don’t listen to it anymore,” he lied.

You have yet to make your decision on who to serve. With my help, I can rid you of-

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. You wanna get rid of it, she wants me to embrace it. That shit don’t matter when I’m the one makin’ the wish.”

It is a mere suggestion. Your relationships within the Baxter Society are already in jeopardy. Don’t let it take those or anyone else you hold dear away from you again.

“I think we’ve talked enough.”

If you plan on pursuin-

“I sad that was enough.”

He waited for another response but heard nothing.

He spent the rest of the night thinking about a woman he once knew and the child they shared.

Folks, now that you have heard my story
Say, boy, hand me another shot of that booze
If anyone should ask you
Tell 'em I've got those St. James Infirmary blues

Notes:

I don't think Vindicta was ever in the Baxter Society but she canonically knows Talon so I figured the two worked together at some point. As for Pocket not recognizing her as a ghost, what very little we know about in-universe spirits seems to point to corporeal ghosts being very rare so she's probably an anomaly of sorts.

Geist funded Kelvin's expedition so them hanging out made sense to me.

When Seven talks about Geist, he doesn't seem to know her personally, but rather knows what being Oathkeeper's host entails; on par for a guy who knows way more than he should about the supernatural.

If Shiv drowning himself in booze looks familiar it's because I took inspiration from MugenMcfugen's fancomic over on tumblr (go read it right now).
I'm also giving him the dead wife and child as a treat. Nothing is hotter to me than a guy with a dead wife.

Song is Cab Calloway's version of 'St. James Infirmary', my favorite, but the White Stripes version is pretty good too.

Until next time, happy holidays and may you get your main's skin if you haven't already.

Chapter 4: Acquiescence

Summary:

A negotiation.
An easier negotiation.

Notes:

Please use your imagination and pretend like Trapper doesn't look like a fucked up Pocket.
Thank you.

Pocket woke up early the next morning and found breakfast in the canteen. Normally, they would have felt bad about taking something without permission, but there were so many non-perishable food items stored in the pantry that it looked as if someone in the society was preparing for a war. Or an apocalypse. They took a meal and would tell Shiv about it later.

They made their way to the lobby to look for the cigarette machine they had seen earlier but instead found two work boots sticking out of a ventilation shaft in the wall.

“Hey! Uh, whoever’s out there, couldya gimme a hand?”
Their accent, which echoed throughout the shaft, made them undoubtedly a local. They had to be careful about this.

Pocket looked around and found they were the only one in the lobby. 
“Do you just want me to-“

”Yeah. Just pull me out.”

They crouched down and took hold of their calves. On the count of three, they pulled as hard as they could.

They were rewarded with a middle-aged man in coveralls covered in purple spider webs. He lay on the floor, worn out from the effort it took to free himself. After he caught his breath, he rose to his feet and dusted himself off.
“Yeah," he coughed, hacking up a bit of cobweb "ya got astral spiders.”

The patch on their uniform indicated that they worked for the Municipal Coven. Pocket doubted someone who held a blue collar job would recognize them and figured this was a safe encounter. 
“I thought this place was warded?”

“Oh, you WISH wards worked against these guys. If they did, I wouldn’t be here.” He looked around and found his bag of equipment.
“No one’s made a ward to repel them yet. Until they do, the only thing ya can do is trap ‘em like regular spiders. Which, in a way, they are like regular spiders. But worse. A whole hell of a lot worse… You new around here?”

“I’m not a hunter if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Just seems like I’ve seen you before…”

That wasn’t good.
“I’m-“

“Wait, you’re the one Shiv’s takin’ care of!" 
He slapped his forehead with his palm to indicate his false memory.
"Yeah, he told me all aboutcha!”

That was good. To him, they were just another face in the crowd.

“Yeah. I’m the one with the Vampire problem.”

“Lemme tell ya. Shiv? Nicest guy here. He’s the only one that ever bothers to talkta me - and not just because he’s the one payin’ me - he’s just real down to earth, ya know?” 

“I really haven’t gotten to know him yet.”

“Oh, he’s real easy to talk to. Just don’t try to talk to him about sports unless it’s bowlin’. Apparently he’s real good at that. I tell ya, if he was a few years older, I’d try to set him up with my Ma! ‘Cept, after what happened with his last girl, I don’t think I’d try even then.”
He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, realizing he had said too much.
"Anywho- I-"

A smartly dressed man and woman came rushing out from down the hall. The woman looked angry, while the man appeared to be running for his life, perhaps prompted by the knife sticking out of his suitcase.
"THE POLICE WILL HEAR ABOUT ALL OF THIS! WE WILL HAVE OUR DAY IN COURT!"
The woman yelled over her shoulder, attempting to catch up with the man who was already speeding out the door.

She stopped in front of the two of them, scrutinizing them in a judgmental manner. Pocket could feel their heart race as her eyes drifted over them until her gaze fell directly on their glowing hand. Disgust washed over her features as a tsk of disapproval escaped from behind clenched teeth. She turned to leave, following her terrified partner out of the building she clearly disapproved of. 

The room was silent once more.

“…Ya know, when they came in, I could tell they were looking for trouble.”

Pocket glanced down the hall, heart rate returning to normal. 
“Looks like they found it. I’m going to go see what that was about.”

“Remember kid," he cautioned. "No sports.”

Pocket nodded to heed the suggestion and made their way to the ‘DON’T BOTHER ME UNLESS IT’S IMPORTANT’ door, then knocked.

“Hey, it's me. Don’t throw a knife at me.”

”Wouldn’t dream of it,” came from the other side.

They entered and found Shiv holding an ice pack to his head.
“Mornin’.”
His voice was groggy and everything about him, except his hair, looked like hell. 

“Looks like your date didn’t go so well.”

He laughed, wincing in pain after doing so.
“Date went fine. She just left me sore is all.”

“Sore enough to assault someone?”

“That was the Friends of Humanity harpy and her attorney. Said she was gonna sue the Society for libel for the way I talked about ‘em on the radio. Don’t think she knows I was just sayin’ what everyone was thinkin’.”

Pocket went to sit down,
“For her to have a case she has to prove their reputation’s been damaged. From what I know about them, I think that was done a while ago.”
They could remember their father dealing with a group of radicals about a decade ago. The case never went anywhere, but neither did their protests.

“Ya already know ‘bout them. Good. Here I was worryin’ you’d think I’d stick an innocent person.”
He visibly relaxed."  
“And I stand by it. Any decent man would.”

“For a decent man, a lot of people seem to leaving your office in a hurry.”

“You mean that thing yesterday?”
He waved the matter away with his wooden hand.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that. He’s workin’ through it on his own time.”

They wanted to ask about the photo or the broken radio, but they had more important matters to discuss.
“I took one of the meals out the canteen fo-“

“You ate that shit?”
He sounded incredulous.

“…Yeah.”
They didn't know how to respond in any other way.

“Fuck, how was it?”

They shrugged.
“I’ve had worse.”

“That shit’s been around for years. None of us ever touch the stuff. Hell, I would have brought you something if I wasn’t dealin’ with a hangover. Tell ya what, there’s this diner in-“

“You don’t have to worry about that. If no one’s going to miss the stuff in the kitchen, then I can survive on that for a month.”

“It’s your money payin' for it if it makes you feel any better?”

“I’d rather it go towards supporting the society.”

“Kid, we don’t need supportin’.”

“Then use it for yourself.

“So do what I want with it?”
He raised a brow.

Pocket could see where this was going. 
“I paid you to protect me, not to feel sorry for me.”

“I’m protectin' you from eating rations older than Wesley.”

“Is that your friend’s name?”

Shiv just laughed,
“How badly did Fairfax shelter you to not recognize Grey Talon?”

”That’s Grey Talon?”
They had never made the connection.
“I thought he retired?” 

“He did. Went home to be a grandpa.”

“So what was he doing here?”

“He ain’t a grandpa no more.”

That was far more than they needed to know. It had been 24 hours, and they already felt like they were in deeper than they should be.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Ya ain’t the one that done it.”

Maybe it was time for another subject.
“…I spoke to one of them last night.”

Shiv sat up, finally taking the ice pack from his head.
“Male or female?”

“Female. She said she was the Patron of the Sapphire Flame.”

"Had the good ol’ Amber Hand talk to me again last night. He was playin' dumb the entire time.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Pretendin’ he didn’t know ‘bout ya. If she knows 'bout ya he definitely does. She’s got higher standards.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“At this point? I don’t think it matters none.”

“I guess it doesn’t. If they’re both here to grant wishes, it just matters how we ask, right?”

“Yep. Once knew a guy who tricked a djinn into grantin’ him one. Asked for a bag that never ran out of money. It was a good hussle; Only problem was the money never came out of the bag in the first place.”

“I spent most of last night trying to think of things I could possibly wish for. Wishing for him to die isn’t the answer. If I do that, then it leaves too many loose ends.”

“Ain’t you got siblings? I thought he had more than one kid.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t do that. I can’t place a burden on them that was always meant to fall on me.”

“Most people wouldn’t see it that way.”

“Would you want it?”

“Never really thought ‘bout it. Then again, never thought I’d be where am I now… eh, hell, maybe. Lot would have to change. Mostly the name.”

“Yeah. That’s why I changed mine.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose out of frustration with himself. 
“Shit, kid. I didn’t mean it like that. S’just not something I would wish for- I mean-“ 

“What are you wishing for then?”

“I have ideas. Nothing concrete. Both of them have suggestions, but then again, both are tryin' to get on my good side.”

“I guess you’re really popular.”

“That and they probably don’t want me comin' for 'em afterwards.”

That caught them off guard.
“What do you mean?”

“I mean everyone’s so caught in the idea of gettin’ their wish granted, they don’t realize the caveat is having an elder god on this plane.”

“You think you can kill a god?”

“Won’t know until I try. Sure as hell doesn’t help that neither of them has a body to kill yet.”

“Wait. Are you doing this for the society?”

“I wasn’t doing anything for anyone until they came to me, but I sure as hell am now.”

“…You’re not going to just wish for it to die, right?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t lead ya on like that. I’m usin’ mine for something personal. Afterwards, all bets are off.”

“I… you think you can kill a god?” They had already asked, but they had to ensure what they were hearing was correct.

“‘God’ is just a word we made up for shit we don’t understand. You hunt something long enough, ya understand it juuust fine.” 

“…I think yesterday you said something about not being reckless anymore?”
Pocket realized they had somehow hired the loosest cannon possible.

"It’s not goin’ be until after the ritual,” he said assuredly.
“By then, you’ll be in your tower makin’ the world a better place from up high. Meanwhile, as long as monsters exist, I’ll be doin’ the same down here.”

"But this is a monster we’re going to help create…”

“Kid, one of these things is gettin’ summoned whether we help or not. Might as well enjoy the spoils.” 

"Assuming we survive the war.”

“And I’m assumin’ we do.” 

Pocket looked up and expected a smug grin or something to indicate this was an extreme hyperbole. They found nothing of the sort.
He was serious.

“So the way I see it,” Shiv said getting up,
“You’re one of the skinniest things I’ve ever seen. I’ve got a hangover. We’ve got a month to prepare for this shit. And as far as the Society’s concerned, anything I do with you is on the clock. So how’s ‘bout we take advantage of all that and do lunch?”

“It’s technically brunch.”

“Sounds like a ‘yes’ to me.”

It was.

---

Jacob Lash slept ass naked in his shitty apartment deep into the afternoon.

Even the midday sun peeking through his smudged windows couldn’t wake him from his dreamless slumber. 
That didn’t mean something didn’t try.

Lash.

His snoring continued.

Lash.

”Mmm, not now babe…” he stirred but ultimately went back to snoring.

LASH!

He sat up, fully awake and fully aware of his surroundings, noting that his bed was empty. 

There was no hot babe to wake him up so he could kick her out. What gives?

Jacob Lash, you-

“I’mmmmmm gonna stop you right there.”
Lash’s genius brain immediately assessed the situation. He settled back into bed and pulled the sheet over the lower half of his fantastic physique as a courtesy (This was the dude patron and they may not have been into that.) 
“I’m not interested.”

I haven’t even made you an offer yet.

“Don’t need to. I know what you’re about. And ~The Lash~ doesn’t need magic to make his wish come true.”

Bebop has agreed to take part in the ritual on behalf of the Sapphire Flame.

“I’ll see you there then!”

He fell asleep soon after, dreaming of scrap metal.

 

Notes:

Even shorter than the last chapter! There will probably still be three sections for every chapter, I just couldn't think of what to fill this with. I was considering putting in a Bebop section but I think this is funnier and gets the point across.

Trapper sounds like an average Italian American from NY and from what we can tell, he's just 'a guy', so imagine he's a pretty average guy in appearance.

I have no idea if Pocket got along with their siblings or not, but I'd like to think they at least liked them enough not to force the Evil Empire on them while they're still kicking.

Several voice lines indicate that Shiv's doing the ritual on behalf of the Baxter Society. I fully expect him to try to knife fight god after the ritual.

I asked several Lash mains what would get him to participate in the ritual and they all agreed that simply opposing Bebop would do it. Short and sweet.

Until next time, Happy New Year!

Chapter 5: Know your Place

Summary:

Brunch.
A disagreement.
An agreement.

The diner Shiv had mentioned was within walking distance. The few blocks they traveled and the time they spent inside were the longest they had been in public since they arrived in New York. They believed they were handling it well until they looked over the slice of strawberry pie Shiv insisted on.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"Ya leg hasn't stopped bouncin' since we got here." 

They looked down, drowning out the clatter of dishes and distant conversations, to find that, yes, they were bouncing their left leg so hard they were shaking the booth.

They consciously stopped. 
“I’m sorry.”

“No skin off my back,” he shrugged his shoulders with his arms stretched across the top of his booth.
“Just wonderin’ what ya so worried ‘bout.”

“You know what...”

“In a place like this? The only ones lookin’ in our direction are those two over there.” He gestured with his head.

Pocket looked over to find two women seated across from them. They both seemed to silently giggle to themselves when they looked their way.

“Call me gullible, but I don’t think they’re Fairfax hitmen material.”

Pocket looked away but noted the horns on one of them, “My father would never hire an Ixian. Not directly.”

“The more I find out ‘bout him, the gladder I am you’re doin’ something ‘bout him.”

“I haven’t done anything yet. That’s the problem.”
They looked down at their pie and found they had mashed it together with the scoop of ice cream in some sort of unconscious, nervous fit.

“Ya’ve been in town for a day and ya’ve already talked to one of the patrons. I’d say that’s more than doin' somethin'." 

“It’s not about making progress, it’s that I’m going to have to keep looking over my shoulder until it’s done.”

“I’m lookin’ over ya shoulder right now and all I see is the back of someone’s head.”

“You know what I mean…”

“I hate to break it to ya, but I don’t think you’re famous enough for people to be lookin’ for ya.”

“It’s not about them looking for me; it’s about them finding me.”

“And what are the odds of that? I remember when 'it' happened.” 
He stressed the word ‘it’, reluctant to say it in public. 
“They put on a big pity party for the media and held a public funeral. Even after all that, I still had to be reminded who ya were.”

The press coverage of their death was a field day for the media. Their father had given a speech on the front steps of Fairfax headquarters mourning the loss of the next generation of the Fairfax name. Stories of Mina sobbing uncontrollably while throwing herself on empty an coffin; the other attendees unaware of what she was truly mourning…That all felt like a million years ago. Maybe New York had forgotten about Arin Fairfax and maybe it was for the better.

They sat up, realizing they were practically hunched over the table. 
“…That doesn’t mean I can let my guard down.”

“I’m ain’t sayin’ ya should. I’m just sayin’ ya don’t have to think everyone’s out to get ya. I’ve been on the run too, people spottin’ ya is a lot less likely than ya think.”

“Unless there’s a reward outforya. Whooooole different story there… You don’t have one outforya, right kid?”
A gorgon had slithered into the booth next to Shiv. He seemed to notice her at the same time because he visibly recoiled in surprise and scooted away.

“Nice of ya to join us, Vyper. I thought ya were in Sing Sing."
His welcome was anything but warm.

“I am. I was. They don’t know I’m gone yet. Or maybe they do. We’ll know soon.”
She seemed completely nonchalant about being an escaped convict. 

“Good to know I’m in danger of aidin’ and abettin’ just by talking to ya then. Now scram ‘fore ya get us all in trouble.”

She rolled her beady eyes.
“You just said you was helpin’ out the kid. What’s the difference there? S'it ‘cause they’re prettier than me?”

“Matter of fact, it is. Now get out.”

Pocket could feel their face slightly burn. This was the second time he had put something so candidly. 

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Shh. Shhh. Shh.” her forked tongue stuck out each time she emphasized an ‘S’. 
“I haven’t told you, what I’m here to tell you.”

“Then out with it.”

She looked around as if people were actually listening.
“Ya know the ritual thing? Well, like, what if I told you, I got asked to take part in it. Me. Ain’t that great?!”

“Wonderful. Now g-“

“And what if I also told ya Lash and Bebop, ohmygod, were on different sides, ohmyGOD, it’s a friggin’ rematch and I got front row SEATS!”
She slammed her palms on the table loud enough to make Pocket jump. They noticed that Shiv looked in their direction as if he was checking on them.

“Ya really that eager to see him lose again?”

“He kicked that robot’s ass!” 

“That’s just what he told ya. Ya just happened to be in jail at the time. Like ya always are.”
Shiv’s statement didn’t seem to have hyperbole to it. 

“Whateva... Man, everyone’s gettin’ involved. Word is, both Paradox AND Seventh Moon’s gonna be there. Oh, get this, Wraith’s gonna be there too. She said whoever joins her gets their debt paid off.”

“So ya usin’ this as an excuse to get out from under her thumb?”

“Nahhh. She got called by the one I didn’t, but, Lash is on my team. So I get outta debt either way! Odds are she’s gonna use the Tunnel Rats or somethin’.” 

Pocket perked up at the mention.
“The Tunnel Rats?”

“Yeah, the mole guy and the other thing. Ya know ‘em?”
She raised a scaly brow.

Pocket didn’t want to give away too much.
“We’ve met.”

“Mo’s a nice guy, but Krill’s kinda an ass. I tell-“

“Goodbye Vyper.”
Shiv didn’t seem to want to hear anymore.

“What? You jealous that I’m talkin’ to ‘em? Just ‘cause you have that thing that makes y-“ 

”Goodbye Vyper.”
He was more firm this time.

She put her hands up.
“Okay, I’m goin’, goin’ Sheesh.”
She slithered out from the booth.
“Shiv, you becomin’ a bitch like Infernus was one of the worst things to ever happen to this town.”

He was so unmoved that he didn't even look in her direction.
“Give the kid their wallet back.”

She sighed and plopped Pocket’s wallet they didn’t know they were missing on the table.

“And mine.”

Another one hit the table.

“And my keys.”

A key ring jingled on top of the pile.

“And my bike key.”

Another hit the table, this one with a Swiss army knife and a bottle opener with a faded image of pin-up girl.

“Can I go now?”
She seemed impatient.

“Yeah, and you can keep the change you stole from me too.”
He took his own belongings and gave Pocket their wallet back.

“Whateva.”
She was out the door before the sirens came from down the street. 

Pocket looked into their wallet and found nothing was missing. There was no money in it in the first place, but they were happy to have it back.
They saw Shiv do the same and noted two things: it was filled with significantly fewer bills than they had given him and the photo of the child staring back at them.

“She swipe anything from ya?”

They made a point to avert their eyes and put their own wallet away.
“No. There wasn’t anything in it anyway.”

“Believe it or not,” he said putting his wallet into his back pocket,
“I normally don’t attract this much company.”

“It’s been interesting to say the least. I think you’ve gotten more attention in the past day than I’ve gotten in my whole life.”

“Now, ya see, I don’t believe a word of that.”
He stood, threw a few bills down, and stepped out of the booth.
“Now let’s get out of here before we attract anymore.”

As they left, they swore they could hear the girls giggling again.

They turned to see them both staring at them in particular.

In a low voice, they just barely caught Shiv mumbling something that sounded like “Told ya.”

---

Kaori knelt before the butsudan in her newfound home. It had been three months since the attempted coup of the Seventh Moon that resulted in her brother's death. Once she arrived in America, she ensured that none of the would-be usurpers survived.

Kaori-

“Yamato,” she corrected.

I’m aware you miss your brother very much, but taking his name won’t bring him back.

She made a tsk of disapproval and responded in her native tongue, ”You know nothing of me. You only work for me because I allow it.”

I believe it is you working for the Amber Hand.

”You hold no power over me. If it were not for me you wouldn't have the chance to enter this realm.”

You aren’t the only one who has agreed to participate in the ritual.

”Yes, but I am the only one that can complete it."

She stood, closing the doors to the butsudan. She made no further remarks to the thing that insisted she was the one in debt.

---

The derelict pottery wheel spun as Mo delicately put his paws around the clay. His poor eyesight and large claws made it difficult for him, but he recently picked up the practice and enjoyed the process. 

Good work so far, Maurice.

The sudden intrusion in his head made him jump, driving one of the points of his claws into the soon-to-be pot. The clay spun, adapting to the pointed addition and creating thin, inverted fractures on the walls. 

He stared down at his ruined work, the wheel losing momentum as he let off the pedal.

I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I’m sure you’re more than capable of remaking it.

Mo went down on all fours to a nearby storm drain and washed off his paws.

You came highly recommended at the insistence of Wraith. While I don’t detect much desire, I confess, I see much potential.

He left the main tunnel and made his way to another room. The soft clacking of a typewriter could be heard in the relative silence.

Krill was typing away on the twenty-ninth chapter of his memoirs when his attention was caught by Mo snorting.

Krill spun around in his chair to find Mo tapping his forehead. 

“You’re hearing from one, aren’t you?”

Mo nodded.

Krill sighed, turned to reset his typewriter carriage, and spoke up.
“If you wish to speak to Mo, I advise you speak to me. It isn’t that he’s incapable of speaking for himself… he’s just shy.”

I apologize. I didn’t think someone like him would be so bashful.

He looked over to see Mo slightly bent, timidly tapping the tips of his claws together.

I do sense more desire inside you, Krill, but there isn't as much potential as there is within Maurice.

Krill leaned back in his chair, tiny hands clasped against his chest. 
“I admit I’ve thought of joining just to get the OSIC out of our neck of the woods. Though, I suppose it’s Wraith that sent you.”

Indeed. The Sapphire Flame looks fondly upon her. Her empire is fruitful and those who help maintain it are sure to prove powerful allies.

“She asked for Mo?”

Yes.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’re a package deal. Mo, while able to easily maul someone to death within seconds, he isn’t very adept in firefights. I, on the other hand, excel in the matter.”

You understand this will only net you a single wish?

Krill looked to Maurice, 
"Is that alright with you, Momo?"

Mo nodded.

Notes:

Not much to say about this chapter other than it's more setup.

Considering Fairfax Industries has a PMC active within Ixia, I get the feeling Pocket's dad isn't too fond of Ixians.

The consensus is that Vyper's final design will resemble an anthropomorphic snake, so I figured 'Naga' was a good enough descriptor.
Update: She's a gorgon.

I do not speak Japanese in the slightest so I took the easy way out.

Mo has canonically taken up pottery and I'm all for that.

Until next time, I hope your holidays went well.

Chapter 6: Wants and Needs

Summary:

Quid pro quo.
An expected arrival.
Temptation.

Notes:

I'm sorry for the Paradox part. I had writer's block and this was the only cure.
You'll see what I mean.

 

 

“If ya knew the Tunnel Rats, why the hell did ya come to me?”

The question wasn’t accusatory but frank.

Shiv had the courtesy to hold all further conversation until they had made it back into his office. It was almost amazing how quickly it became one of the safest places in the world.

“I took it into consideration, but they aren’t the only ones down there. If someone else found me first it wouldn’t be pretty for either of us.”

“Either of ya?”

Pocket tried to discern what he meant by that.
“I’m not completely helpless.”

“Didn’t say ya were. Ya just don’t seem like the type to take on a fight.”

“That’s why I didn’t risk it.”

Shiv crossed his arms and leaned back,
“Ya know, when I threatened to skin ya the other day it sounded like ya were goin’ take it lyin’ down.”

“Because I didn’t believe you.”

“And if ya were wrong?”

“…Where are you going with this?”

“Just seein’ how ya would react if one came your way.”

“Avoiding an unnecessary fight is different from fighting for what’s necessary. If I was too afraid to go through with this, I wouldn’t. What made you go from confident that we’d make it through this to doubting I can handle myself?”

Shiv slumped back in his chair, caught in whatever angle he was trying to take.

“How many of those names did you recognize?”

So that’s what it was about.

“I don’t think there’s anyone in New York who doesn’t recognize the name Wraith.”

“And everyone else?”

Pocket thought about it,

“I know that Paradox are a group of thieves.”

”Time thieves,” Shiv corrected. “They’re capable of a lot more than stealin’ shit.”

That was definitely a problem.
“…I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Seventh Moon.”

“Yeah, they’re fresh off the boat. Japanese gang that made their name in a big way recently. After that, a few of them tried to overthrow the Yamato guy running it.”

“How did that go?”

“Well, they killed him.”

“So which one took his place?”

“None of ‘em.”

“So who’s in charge?”

“His sister caught wind and came in tow. Made an example out of every single one of ‘em and took his place and his name. Was like nothing ever happened,”

“I guess it runs in the family…”

Shiv laughed, “From what I hear, she’s ten times meaner than he was.”

Pocket would ruminate on that later.
"Who was that Lash guy she was talking about?”

Shiv rolled his eyes,
“Ya ever hear of the Bear Pit?”

“What is that? A fighting ring?”

“Yep. Jacob Lash is possibly the meanest sonofabitch to ever grace it. That is, until he lost. Never got over it.”

“And someone called Bebop did that?”

“Scrap golem from a scrap yard. Hell of an uppercut.

“You sound like you’re familiar with the scene.”

“Familiar enough. Don’t go thinkin’ I’ve been in the ring myself. They wouldn’t let me.”

Pocket couldn’t even picture that.
“Why’d they turn you down?”

“Not enough guys in my weight class, apparently. Wouldn’t let me compete with the bigger boys.”

“You think you could take those two?”

“If they’re on opposite sides, I only gotta worry about one.”

That was another issue.
“I know you said it didn’t matter what side we took, but-“

“Kid, if you don’t hear from the other one soon, I’ll be really surprised.”

“Why?”

“Just a feelin’ I got.”

Pocket could sense there was definitely more to that.
“…What did you tell it?”

Shiv grumbled something under his breath.

“Shiv?”

“I may… have let it slip how important I thought it was that your daddy be replaced.” He looked almost ashamed to admit it.

“You think it’ll recruit me just to get to you?”

“I do,” he stated soberly.

“Look. I get it. You’re tough. You’re scary. But if the Patrons are going out of their way to bring in some of the strongest players in the underworld, I don’t think you’re that much of a priority.”

“And I appreciate your honesty. I just don’t think ya know me well enough to make that call yet.”

There was obviously no getting through to him.
“You know, I’m only paying you to protect me from my father. Once the ritual comes aro-“

“You want me to pick the other side on purpose?”

“No. I just don’t want you to worry about me out there. If we’re up against hardened killers, then keeping yourself alive is going to be difficult enough.”

“Well, luckily for both of us, I happened to be one too.”

“…There really is no convincing you otherwise, is there?”

“Do ya want me to be honest with ya?”

“I already said I wasn’t paying for your pity.”

“Ya look like easy pickin’s. The moment one ‘em sees ya, they’re gonna make an example of ya.”

“Would it help if I wore my hair like yours?”

Shiv seemed caught off guard by the quip, “Think that’s the first time you’ve lightened up.”

“I’m just trying to point out you’re not my idea of what a killer looks like either.”

“That’s just cause I clean up well. If ya saw Wraith, ya’d think the same thing.”

“What about this Yamato woman?”

“Never seen her.”

“And Jacob Lash?”

“An ugly, sweaty asshole.”

“Then what does a killer look like?”

“You can tell when ya lookin’ at one.”

“So what do I look like?”

“Prey.”

That wasn’t what they expected to hear.

“So, how do I fix that?”

“I could rough up ya face a bit.”

Pocket noticed that he sounded a little too eager to suggest that.
“That doesn’t involve you beating the hell out of me.”

“Well, can you use a gun?

“Yeah. I have one downstairs.”

“No shit? Whatcha packin’?”

“It’s a volley gun. It’s not state of the art by any means, but it does the trick.”

”Fuckin’ what?”
He looked as if he had misheard them.
“Ya tellin’ me that ya never been in a fight, only to find out ya carryin’ more barrels than me?”

“It’s what I grabbed when I left. It’s for protection… and it’s not the only thing I have.”

“Don’t tell me ya got two.”

“No. It’s a Flying Cloak. It’s helped me a lot over the years. Ever seen one?”

“Sure. Several hunters use one. Makes for easy escapes. Never was my style.”

“Because you think it’s the easy way out?”

They already knew the answer.

“You’re gettin’ to know me already.”

Pocket had two options here: Change the subject or tell him about the case.
Not telling him would lead to confusion later, as it would be brought up eventually. However, telling Shiv, the reckless, impulsive adrenaline junkie he seemed to be, about the case would lead to Shiv knowing about the case.

"...Kid?"

Pocket brought their attention back to the present.
“What?”

“You’re starin’.”

“Sorry. I’m just thinking about how I don’t actually know you.”

“Well then,” Shiv leaned back in his chair and placed both feet on his desk.

“I don’t consider myself a very complicated person. What do ya wanna know?”

There was a lot they wanted to know, but there was also a lot they didn’t want to pry into. They stuck with the obvious.
“How did you get into the Baxter Society? It seems like you're pretty important around here; Important enough to have an office to deface.”

“Because I’m the best at what I do.”

“I mean, really. You’re not…”

“An uppity type?”

“Not how I would put it, but yeah.”

“Well, unlike most of the people in this place, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. No offense.”

“None taken. I would have been better off without it.”

“The real answer is that Wesley was the last founding member left, and he decided to let me in.”

“How did the others feel about that?”

“Lot of ‘em took issue. Said it was favoritism, that I wasn’t one of them, yadda, yadda, yadda. But what they couldn’t deny is that I had the most bounties out of ‘em and no was willing to fight me for it… metaphorically of course.”

“So what did-“

“Uh uh-“ he said wagging a finger.

“My turn.”

“I wasn’t aware we were taking turns.”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Pocket shrugged.
“Why not?”

“What happened to ya?”

They didn’t know what he meant by that.
“In what way?”

“I mean, why does your daddy think you’re dead?”

“I don’t even know if he thinks that. He wasn’t even the one to pull the trigger.”

“Then who did?”

Pocket could swear the first part of the statement was said through clenched teeth.

"I don’t know. I don’t remember… All I know is that the day I turned eighteen, I was shot in the chest and left for dead. He was okay with me as long as he had legal control over me, but the moment I became an adult, I became a liability.”

Pocket was lying about this. From Shiv's reaction, they could tell things would go south if they gave him her name.

They watched Shiv’s face transform into a grimace and then back to neutral.
“Can ya promise me something kid?”

“What?”

“If ya ever do figure out who it was, let me know.”

“That wouldn’t undo anything. I don’t see a point in going after them.”

“The point is that it would make me feel better.”

They wanted to tell him none of this was about revenge. It wasn’t about getting an edge over anyone or getting even.

Instead, they just went on and let him keep believing that.

“My turn?”

“Your turn,”
Shiv nodded.

“I found an old photograph in the bunker. I don’t know how it got there, but it had Grey Talon and a woman with blue skin. I thought she was Ixian at first, but she didn’t have horns. She also had these black, piercing eyes… Do you know who I’m talking about?”

Shiv laughed, “She’s a ghost, kid, in every sense of the word. She’s a friend of Wesley.”

“Was she part of the society?”

“Nope. Too much of a vengeful spirit to get along with anyone else. Well, ‘cept Wesley.”

“But w-“

“Ya had your turn,” he eased, obviously not wanting the subject broached any further.

“Alright,” Pocket settled.

“Ya gonna be here for a while. In the meantime, I’m gonna need to teach ya how to defend yourself. Would ya be okay with that?”

That was one of the last things they expected

“Is there a reason why you want to fight me so badly?”

“I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout fightin’, I’m talkin’ about sparrin’. Havin’ a gun’s a good start, but sometimes that ain’t enough.”

“We’re potentially going up against a pit fighter and someone who can manipulate time. How is a gun not the bare minimum?”

“Just tryin’ to give you a better chance of survivin’ out there. If you ain’t comfortable with it, you ain’t gotta do it.”
He held up both hands to show he wasn’t pushing the matter any further.

In truth, they weren’t sure how they felt about fighting Shiv in any sense of the word. They hadn’t seen him do anything violent, but if he was as good as he said he was, then they had reason to be cautious

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know if ya change ya mind.”

He let the issue drop.

“Your turn.”

“I’m surprised you let me off that easy.”

“I know how intimidatin' I can be. That’s why I’m leaving the door open for when ya get more comfortable.”

“I’m not afraid of you?”

“Sure ya are. That’s why ya won’t do it.”

“Whatever,” Pocket moved on.
“The radio in the bunker’s broken. Is there another I can use?”

“That shit never worked. Even if it did, it wouldn't get a signal down there.”
Shiv stood up.

“Come on, there’s one in the lounge ya can use.”

“You’re okay with me coming up here at night?”

“Sure. If anyone gives ya hell about it, tell ‘em I sent ya.”

“And if they don’t believe me?”

“Let me know. Just don’t touch the liquor cabinet. That’s for special occasions.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Not now ya don’t.”
He held out a hand to help them up.

They took it.

---

 

Paradox walked into the current location of the Paradox museum.

“Ah wanny run Paradox,” Paradox said.

Paradox looked to the other members of Paradox.

“Having a leader of Paradox defeats the purpose of Paradox,” said Paradox.

“But we’re a paradox, ye kin, Paradox,” Paradox exclaimed.

“We are many, we are ane. We are anarchists, we are governit. Havin a leader o' paradox fulfills the paradox!”

The argument went on like this for a while.

When it was over, Paradox emerged dissatisfied with the result. There was no clear winner in the debate, it seems both sides were equally valid, but both were equally invalid. Quite the paradox.

Paradox sat down on the museum stairs defeated, "Ah reckon ma time huvnae come yet."

The stars twinkled above the Manhattan skyline. She looked up and the sparkling lights reflected on her helmet. In the sky she could make out the constellation Pegasus, one only visible in Autumn. Members of Paradox had to be privy to any and all indications of what time of year it was. If they weren’t… Well, things got confusing real fast.

But what if it was your time, Paradox?

Paradox showed no signs of surprise.

“Wee, wee, wee. Aboot time. Ah wis thinkin' ye'd never show up.”

You expected me?

“Af course A did. Gin it were anyone within paradox, it’d have tae be me!”

You seem to think very highly of yourself.

“Af course A dae. Wha else stole the Tomb o’ Anubis, Johann Geist’s magnum opus, an followit Maximillian Fairfax around for twa months tae figure oot which o his mistresses he likit best - only tae find oot it wis none o thaim? thon wis me. Na biggie thouch. A guess A can’t be ower impressive whan comparit tae the likes o a god.”

I did not mean to downplay your accomplishments Paradox, I merely thought that the collective would look upon their achievements as a whole.

“Yeah. Paradox daes.”

And you?

“See things a bit different””

Can I expect you to be an asset of the Amber Hand when the maelstrom approaches?

“I’ll be sure tae clock in.”

Then I wil-

“Did ye get it? Clock?”

Yes. Paradox. I got it.

“Ah, we’re gaun'ae get along great!”

---

"-And so, why are the Djinn interested in the great state of Wyoming?”

“The djinn are impressed with the natural beauty of the area. Given-“

“I’m sorry, could you tell the folks at home why Nashala Dion isn’t available at the moment?”

“Nashala is only able to physically manifest for forty eight minutes every twenty four hours. When she is unable to appear, I am her voice.”

“And what sort of diplomatic duties did she attend today?”

“…She went bowling.”

 

The day had passed uneventfully. For dinner, he practically had to beg Pocket to eat something that wasn’t from the pantry. After about ten minutes of back and forth he eventually convinced them that buying take-out wasn’t as big of a deal as they were making it out to be. Now, he stood in the door to the lounge, watching the kid intently listen to the radio by the light of the fire.

The gentle radiance of the flames accentuated their cheekbones to remind him once again how goddamn skinny they were under that coat. It wasn’t his job to look after them, but seeing something so pretty waste away made it hard not to. Shiv knew firsthand what years on the streets could do to a person, and when the consequences were staring him in the face, he couldn’t help but be pissed off at the monster that put them there

It’s a shame you couldn’t protect them sooner, isn’t it, Shiv?

He swore under his breath and quietly stepped out into the darkened hallway.

“Lady, you and the other one always come at the worst times. Do ya plan this or are ya just annoyin’ by coincidence?”

I didn’t think I was interrupting anything.

“Ya could’ve at least waited until I was alone.”

From the looks of it, you weren’t planning on spending the night alone.

The reliquary on his hip began to heat at the suggestion.

“Ya tryin’ to make me take the other one’s side?”

I can read your heart, Shiv. There’s nothing wrong with knowing what you want and even less with taking a risk to realize it. Both you and the beast inside you share the same desire. The only thing holding you back is your fear of repeating the past.

“The kid’s been through enough as is. Last thing they need is another problem like me.”

You’re not a problem Shiv. You never have been. Your rational mind is keeping your needs at bay. Even the beast inside you knows Pocket needs someone to bring them out of their shell. What better time to start than now?

He made a sound of disgust, “Givin’ ‘em something else to worry about when they’ve got the weight of the world on their shoulders ain’t a sound idea.”

But giving them another reason to survive isn't.

“Bein’ with me ain’t something worth livin’ for.”

Then do it for yourself. The beast always gets what it wants, Shiv. Sooner or later you’ll give in to that hunger. Before the maelstrom comes, you’ll realize that it will lead to all your desires being fulfilled and I’ll be there to indulge it.

A growl came from the back of his throat.
“How ‘bout you fuckin’ take ya goddam-“

“Shiv?”

He turned, reliquary cooling the instant he heard Pocket’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“What was it saying?”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Nothing important. Anything new?”

Pocket leaned into the doorway,

“The Djinn ambassador to the US and her bodyguard are participating, but they didn’t say which Patron they’re serving.”

“More wish grantin’ assholes, just what we fuckin’ need.”

He could see the worry on Pocket’s face even in the distant glow of the fire.
“Is everything okay? If one of them is making you this angry, then I don’t think it’s doing its job of swaying you."

He waved the notion away,
"I'm fine. Just need sleep is all."

"And another date?"

Shiv took several seconds to process what the hell they meant by that.
"Oh. Yeah. Definitely."
He turned to leave,
"Don't burn the buildin' down. Or if ya do, I don't know ya."

"I'll keep that in mind."

With that, he left, hoping the drive home would clear his head.

Notes:

Late update because, as I said, I had writer's block.

I don't know if Pocket's flying cloak is unique to them or if they're a mass produced thing in-universe. I went with them being a common thing because why not?

We won't know what happened between Vindicta and Grey Talon until she gets lines for him so I left it vague.

I don't know what the hell's up with Pocket's case so I'm avoiding that for now.

Paradox.

In the files, the vial on Shiv's hip is called a "Reliquary", which is something that holds the remains of a saint (add that to the "what the fuck is up with Shiv" pile).

The Sapphire Flame tends to be pro-beast in Shiv's intros so I made her a bit of freak because she IS a bit of a freak.

Until next time, expect the unexpected because patch-Thursdays aren't a thing anymore.

Chapter 7: Omens

Summary:

A warning.
A murder.
A crime scene.

Pocket.

Pocket jolted awake at the mention of their name. They had accidentally fallen asleep on the sofa in the lounge, which was considerably more comfortable than the bunker's bed. They looked around the room and found the grey sun of the early morning peeking in. It was far too early for anyone to be in the building.

Seems you’re adjusting to your new surroundings quite well.

It was a male voice this time. Shiv was right, they were both interested in them. Or, at least, both interested in Shiv.

“You’re the Amber Hand?”

I am the Anvil’s Song. I speak for the collective of the Amber Hand.

“Why are you just now talking to me?”

I’ve been informed the Sapphire Flame has been in contact with you. What did She promise?

“The same thing I imagine you’re about to offer me: a way to stop my father.”

No mention of power or carving a name for yourself?

“No. Just the fact that I can change the world for the better.”

A harsh laugh sounded in their head.

She may have told you wanted to hear, but that will change. You’re a gentle soul, Pocket. She will corrupt that.

“How can she possibly do that if I’m the one working for her?”

According to what they had learned so far, the Patrons' only motivation was to be summoned.

Her intentions are far from pure. She will do Her best to ensure Her disciples fall in line with Her sadistic mindset. If She is summoned into this realm, She will bring about nothing but despair.

“Then what do you want for me?”

Exactly what She’s promising you: Changing Fairfax industries for the better.

“How is that not vying for power?”

The change you’ll bring about will be beneficial to the world, Pocket. That isn’t vying for power, it’s striving for what’s right.

“But that’s almost exactly what she told me. How do I know you’re not doing the same?”

I cannot prove it any more than I can force your allegiance. I can only ask that you be wary of Her.

“I’ll be sure to take that into consideration.”

Be well Pocket.

“Wait.”

Yes?

“What is Shiv asking for?”

He has not made a decision as yet. From what he's told me, She and I have two completely different suggestions: Hers will lead to his downfall, and Mine will lead to a better future.

“But what is it?”

I’m afraid that is between him and Me. I do hope you understand.

That was fair. There definitely were things Shiv was keeping from them, but not every secret had to be bared in order for someone to be trustworthy. Shiv had been honest when it mattered and that was more than Pocket could ask for.

“Alright… Who have you enlisted so far?”

There was no response.

---

Elizabeth Smithson pulled into her driveway with a huff.

For two days, she had made her way to the local police station and reported how a ruffian with a knife had assaulted both her and her attorney unprovoked. Both times she had been nearly laughed out of the building

It shouldn’t have been surprising. The law was almost never on the Friends of Humanity’s side. She had foolishly believed at one point that the Baxter Society were the good guys, the most sophisticated hunters putting an end to the supernatural.

Now, she knew Hawthorne was right. They had the luxury of picking and choosing which creatures and practices they deemed acceptable. They were nothing more than a flimsy security blanket for the public. She shouldn’t have been surprised that a member had slandered them for all to hear and even less that he had made an attempt on her life. Adding insult to injury was seeing that junkie with the glowing hand on their way to do God-knows-what with him…

Perhaps, the Baxter Society had outlived its usefulness. It would be challenging to eliminate an institution held in such high regard, yes, but if the law wouldn’t take action, matters had to be taken into their own hands.

She made a brisk walk to the porch, her mind so set on calling John, that she didn't notice a black streak coming straight for her head. It was only when unlocking her front door that she felt a sharp pain pierce her forehead. Her hand went immediately to it and came back to find a red smear. She stood in bewilderment when the crow swooped down again, pecking at her head.

The bird thrashed and pulled at her hair; her attention so focused on shooing the monstrosity away that she failed to notice the laser sight emanating from the opposite roof.

---

 

“Well, that's a crow feather, alright. But this ain’t one of his.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Holliday had seen plenty of the Troubadour’s victims to know one when she saw one. This wasn’t his style. True to his moniker, the Troubadour was a showman invested in dramatics. A bullet to the head and leaving a body where it fell was the last thing he’d leave behind. He'd make sure to pick them apart.

Captain Murphy let the tarp fall back over the body.

“Sorry for wasting your time, Holliday. I thought for sure we had another one.”

“S’all right. I would've thought the same at first glance too.”
She noted the black feathers dotting the scene.

“I should have known that he wouldn’t go after a Friends of Humanity member.”

"Wasn't she the one you had that discussion on the radio with?"

Murphy grimaced.
"You mean that disaster a few days ago? It was less of a discussion and more of a shouting match.

She smiled, amused by the memory.
“I thought it was going to come to blows between her and that Baxter Society guy. I’m surprised the host didn’t break it up sooner.”

“You know she showed up in his office and he ended up throwing a knife at her? None of the guys at the station even bothered to take her report.”

That made her uneasy.
“From what you’ve told me about the Friends of Humanity, I wouldn’t be too keen on them either, but if they’re ending up dead like this…”

Murphy nodded in agreement, already ahead of her.
“Baxter Society was my next stop. Maybe you can ask them why they’re not doing anything about your guy.”

“I’d like that...”

Notes:

Forgive me for the length of this chapter for it is just a setup for things to come.

The distinction between the Sapphire Flame's and the Amber Hand's opening lines to Pocket are very subtle. SF talks about how they have the potential to make a name for themself while the AH talks about how they can change the world for the better.
I get the feeling she'd appeal to their compassion first and then slowly make it about power later on.

There are lines in the files where the male and female Patrons identify themselves as the "Anvil's Song" and "Ambition's Spark" respectively. This leads me to believe that the Sapphire Flame and the Amber Hand are the name of their followers while they are merely the Patrons of both groups.

We know little about the Troubadour, but given the name, I expect he gets extremely creative with his victims.

Until next time, get your skin before the event ends.

Chapter 8: Too Close for Comfort

Summary:

White lies.
Interrogation.
A confession.

“No ice pack today?”

“Nah, she went easier on me last night.”

Shiv wasn’t nearly as disheveled as he was yesterday morning. Pocket assumed that was as good a sign as any to open up with the bad news.

“I accidentally fell asleep in the lounge.”

“Anyone give you hell about it?”

“No, I woke up before anyone got here… rather I should say something woke me up.”

“Amber Hand?”

It was barely even a question.

“It called itself ‘Anvil’s Song’, but yeah.”

“Yeah, they do that. The other one calls itself ‘Ambition’s Spark.’ Fuck if I know how that works… what’d it say?”

“That we shouldn’t trust the Sapphire Flame. That she was sadistic and would eventually corrupt us.”

“Both of us? Well ain’t that just darlin’. Here I thought it’d just be me.”

“I mean, not just us, everyone she’s reeling in.”

“And what did you say?”

Pocket felt like the waters were being tested.

“That I had no reason to trust it either.”

Shiv smirked, visibly giving his approval.

“Just remember, at the end of the day, they owe us. They can push and pull us in any direction they want, but we’re the ones bringing their sorry asses into this plane. It’s our decision to make, not theirs.”

“But what if they change the rules somehow?”

“Things like these are usually pretty honest. The only thing ya gotta watch out for is what they keep from ya.”

“And what if they’re doing just that?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, I’m plannin’ on killin’ whatever comes through anyway.”

Of course he would see things that way. This man would kill anything if it got in his way, even a god. The scary thing was they believed he could do it.

“What if there’s a completely harmful aspect to all of this that we don’t know about?”

“Gotta remind ya that they haven’t told us shit yet. We’re assumin’ it’s sacrificial because it's most likely, but it’s still just an assumption. For all we know it could be a blood sacrifice or something as simple as chantin’ some bullshit.”

“Then why would they want people like you?”

“Gotta ask the same ‘bout yaself.”

A thought occurred.

“…Neither of them spoke to me until I met you.”

“I wouldn’t put too much stock into that. They may be tryin’ to get ya to switch sides ‘cause of me but talkin’ to ya in the first place? They wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t think ya could help ‘em win.”

“…How much of what you’re telling me do you actually believe?”

“Almost none of it.”

Pocket almost felt insulted.

“Then why would you lie to me like that?”

“Because I haven’t seen ya fuckin’ relax since ya got here,” Shiv said frankly.

“I thought maybe ya’d calm down for at least a day or two before we started gettin’ ready for this shit.”

“I thought pretty little lies were for the public?”

“Well, sometimes, pretty little people need to be told pretty little lies so they’ll lighten their pretty little selves up.”

Again, Pocket felt their face begin to heat up. They didn’t understand why Shiv kept saying that. Insult or compliment, they didn’t know why he specifically used that word. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want your pity.”

“It ain’t pity, it’s a courtesy so ya don’t go crazy with worry.”

A knock at the door cut them off before they could respond .

“Is it important?”

Shiv asked, almost annoyed.

“Police department. I’d say it is,” A man’s voice came from the other side.

Pocket searched Shiv’s face for an inkling of guilt but only found confusion.

“Well, then. Come on in.”

The door opened and a tall man entered showing his badge.

“I’m Captain Murphy with the NYPD, we met-“

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. What’s this about?”

“Can I speak to you alone please?”

He looked pointedly at Pocket so they’d get the message.

“Anything you say to me you can say in front of them.”

It wasn’t said with aggression, but with a matter-of-factness that he intended to keep a witness in the room.

Pocket stood up,

“It’s fine. I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding anyway.”

Murphy gave them a nod as a silent thank you. Shiv didn’t protest but they could practically feel frustration radiating from his direction.

Without another word they stepped into the hall and made themselves scarce.

---

“Who’s the kid?”

Murphy had already made himself at home. With no hesitation, he headed to inspect the gun cabinet behind his desk.

“Same as everyone else who comes in here: Someone who needs my help.”

“And how are you helping them?”

“Did you forget what I do or are ya just playin’ dumb?”

“Fair enough,” he gestured to the cabinet. “Are these all the guns you own?”

“Those are the only ones my arm will work with, so yeah, they are.”

Murphy turned around, stunned. After a moment, “…I didn’t even notice you were missing one.”

“Well I’m sure the people of New York can rest easy knowing they’re under the care of observant law enforcement.”

Murphy frowned.

“I can tell you’re not very fond of the police.”

Shiv spit out a laugh,

“My attitude or my rap sheet give that away?”

“Both.”

The tension immediately shattered and whatever good guy rapport he was trying to build went out the window.

“You’re a hard man to find, Shiv, but once I figured out your real name, your file was definitely one of the thicker ones I’ve seen. Is that why you don’t use it?”

“I use ‘Shiv’ ‘cause I like it. Don’t need more of a reason than that.”

“I see, well,” he took a seat in the chair Pocket previously occupied.

“Since we’re being so forthcoming with each other I may as well get to the point: Do you remember Elizabeth Smithson?”

“Ya mean that Friends of Humanity nag that insulted all of us and then tried to play victim? Yeah. I can say that I do.”

“Did you see her after the broadcast?”

Shiv knew this game. He chose the next thing he said very carefully, “She came in here yesterday with her lawyer, and judging by where this is going, I may need mine.”

“She said you threw a knife at her.”

“No hoss, I did not throw a knife at Ms. Smithson.” Each word was slow and deliberate.

“She brought in a briefcase with one stuck in it. Looks a lot like the ones over there.”

He pointed to the dartboard full of knives behind him.

“Yeah, I think it’s ‘bout time to call my la-“

“Are you aware Ms. Smithson is dead?”

That was not what he expected to hear at all.

“…You’re shittin’ me.”

“I can’t say that I am.”

There were several ways that could have happened and he didn’t like a single one of them.

“Look, I ain't the biggest fan of Friends of Humanity, and from the way you talked about ‘em I don’t think ya are either, but they never gave me a reason to kill nobody.”

He was breaking his own rules, but the truth was spilling out quicker than reason could keep up.

“Where were you last night Shiv?”

That tore it

“I ain’t sayin’ no more without a lawyer present.”

“That kid out there wouldn’t happen to know anything, would they?”

His teeth set on edge but he leaned back, relaxed, and caught his breath.

If this was being pinned on him, he wasn’t gonna let this piece of shit use Pocket as bait to get him to bite.

“I ain’t sayin’ no more without a lawyer present.”

"Alright. I'll see you soon."

He abruptly stood up and left the room.

---

Splinter Cat - 1931

Deschutes, Oregon

Pocket looked over the taxidermy display of a four legged, catlike creature. It could have easily been mistaken for a standard bobcat if it weren't for the long spikes along its back. The cat was forever frozen in a defensive stance, tail down and ears back with a menacing scowl.

"Hear these things are hell on the forests over on the west coast."

Their attention was brought to a woman with a cowboy hat. She stood next to them, equally admiring the display.

"Huntin’ them is incentivized 'cause they're a deforestation risk. I've never actually seen one in person... doubt this counts though.”

Her accent made it sound like she was from out of town. Somewhere from the Midwest. Somewhere they wouldn’t know the name Arin Fairfax. Another safe encounter.

"I'm sure the society gets to see a lot more than the average person." Pocket commented.

"I take it you're not a hunter?"

“No, I'm here because I'm being hunted."

"By what?" She looked concerned, as if expecting an answer she already knew.

"I sort of have a vampire problem."

The edge of her mouth twitched into a smirk of relief.

"How'd that happen?"

"Brought home the wrong person."

It was the first thing that came to them.

She sucked her teeth and pursed her lips.

"Well that sucks in every sense of the word. That guy in there takin' care of it?"

"He was the only one in the building when I first came here but he was more than happy to lend a hand."

"He a good guy?"

The question immediately struck Pocket as odd. If he wasn’t a good guy he wouldn’t be helping them. It felt like a test. This woman may have been far from home but the fact she came in with the police chief and wore a sheriff's badge set off alarm bells telling them that this was more than just small talk

"I can't really complain. He's been staking out my apartment at night... I guess it's all part of the hunt," they threw in a small laugh for good measure.

"How long's that been goin' on?"

This definitely crossed the line of a conversation into interrogation territory.

"A few days. Apparently a good hunt takes time.”

“...Ain't that the truth...."

She mumbled solemnly under her breath.

"So do you stay here instead?"

They didn't want to answer that question.

"They've got safehouses for people like me. Apparently, monsters get attached to people all the time."

That wasn't a complete lie. They technically were staying in a safehouse.

"I bet! Pretty face like yours needs to be more careful out there. 'Specially with those patrons trying to lure people in."

She turned back to the taxidermy and, in a tiny voice that Pocket could barely make out, she whispered,

"God knows they got me..."

Without any effort they had gotten more out of her than she got out of them.

"You too?"

"Yeah. I guess it does happen all the time."

She shook her head and turned back to them, voice stern.

"Look kid, if you heard from one too, don't go through with it. The only reason I am is because it isn't for me. It's for those who aren't around to make the decision for themselves.”

Pocket had no idea what she was talking about but it sounded righteous. Doing something as extreme as putting yourself on the line for the sake of others wasn't something they could do themself.

"Sounds like you're doing the right thing..."

"I sure as hell hope I am..."

"Holliday!"

Captain Murphy stood at the end of the hall near the entrance.

"Let's go."

She looked to Pocket.

"I'll see you around, kid. Better not see you at any rituals though."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

She went, spurs on her cowboy boots jingling down the hall.

Pocket wasted no time to return to Shiv's office.

"Shiv, I-"

He was loading the double barrel shotgun they saw him with when they first met him.

"What are you doing?"

"There are two people that could have done this shit. Since that sonofabitch mentioned guns, I reckon it's the one I have to arm myself to get close to."

His movements were sporadic and there was an edge to his voice that portrayed nothing except anger. Whatever happened with Murphy pissed him off royally.

They had no idea what he was talking about or even how to respond other than,

"Your vial's glowing."

"Huh?"

He looked down at his hip, vial glowing a vibrant shade of red.

"Shit."

He put the gun on the desk and plopped down in the chair, head tilted back over the back in what looked like anguish. The glow ceased in an instant.

“Ya weren't supposed to see that.."

"What even is it?"

“We ain't to that point yet."

They overstepped a boundary, but did he really have to phrase it like that?

"I'm sorry... what do you mean 'could have done this?'"

He kept his eyes on the ceiling, voice still full of defeat,

"Ya remember that Friends of Humanity crone that came in here the other day?"

"Yeah?"

"She's dead."

"What?"

Pocket moved to sit down. That more than explained the police’s presence.

"How?"

"Didn't ask. Apparently they found her this morning and that's all I know."

He sat back up and life returned to his voice.

"He didn't talk to you none, did he?"

"No, but he came in with a woman who did."

"And ya told her...?"

"The vampire story. I'm here because I let one in my apartment and you spend your nights staking it out. I tried to keep it as vague as possible. It was like she was feeling me out, so I kept her at a constant distance."

"Yep, they do that. Come on all quiet like, patient, understandin', makin' ya feel like ya can trust 'em. The second ya do, the second it's over."

"She didn't get anything out of me, but I got something out of her: She's apparently using the ritual to avenge someone. I don't know who she was, but she was definitely from out of town."

"Goddamn it, I'm gonna have fight the whole fuckin' world at the point!"

Shiv let the matter drop and sighed,

"If ya can get that much out of someone without effort, in another life ya would've made a great con."

"I didn't really do much. It seemed like it was weighing on her and she was looking for someone to talk to."

"Sometimes lookin' approachable s'all it takes. Someone as pretty as yo-“

"Why do you keep saying that?"

“'Cause ya are?"

He looked at them as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Pocket didn't know how to respond to that.

"It's just not something I would expect from someone like you."

"Ya think I don't know what looks good?"

"No, it's just that no one's ever called me that before.”

"First ya say ya don't get no attention, now this. Still don't believe neither."

"Well, that woman outside said it too."

"Well, let's hope she's on our side then."

A glimmer of his former anger shone through for the briefest of moments then disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He stood up,

"Stay here."

"Shiv, what are you going to do?"

Thus far, Pocket had trusted Shiv with their life. This didn't mean they trusted him with anyone else's.

"Gonna gonna go meet an old friend of Wesley’s."

"With a shotgun?

"Don't worry kid, bullets don't kill ghosts. Sure as hell can hurt them though."

Everything clicked at once.

“...Why would she do something like this?"

"’Cause this is the type of shit she does.”

"What are you going to do? Ask her to turn herself in?"

"Snowball's chance in hell of that happenin'. Just goin' to talk is all," he said picking up his shotgun.

Pocket knew for a fact that nothing about this would go well.

"Let me go with you."

“Hell no. I ain’t puttin’ you in more danger than I have to.”

"You may not be able to kill her but if she's already killed someone then she's more than capable of killing you."

"I didn't say I couldn't kill her, I just said bullets couldn't," he said evenly.

"I don't care, you're putting yourself at risk especially if you're going alone."

“Ya trust me to take on your daddy but not enough to handle a ghost with a gun?"

"This isn’t the same thing. I'm hiding from my father, not barging through his front door."

"All the more reason for ya stay put. I can take care of myself, you're just-"

"Another thing you have to worry about? What's that going to be like when we’re up against more than one person?"

Shiv opened his mouth but couldn’t find a way to protest.

Resignation filled his voice, "Ya know she lives out in the sticks down in Staton Island. We can't exactly take a train and it ain't like I got a car."

"Then how were you going t-"

And in that very instant Pocket remembered the motorcycle in the parking lot.

The realization must have shown on their face because Shiv's expression grew as smug as ever.

"Ya still want to go?"

“…You don’t own a sidecar?”

“Nope.”

Notes:

Unconventional chapter.

Captain Murphy is actually a canon character that’s going to appear in Holliday’s VN, the only problem is that he has no lines as of yet, so we have no idea what he acts like, sounds like, or looks like so he’s just a generic cop for now.

Shiv’s prosthetic is really odd because it’s longer than it should be. I’m pretty sure it’s designed like that to fit animations for his shotgun. Murphy’s comment is a nod to the countless number of players who I’ve seen say something like “I just realized he’s missing an arm.” It’s pretty funny.

If you don’t know what a Splinter Cat is, I didn’t either. I just needed a cryptid to put in the hall. It’s a flying cat with spikes on its back that destroys trees by headbutting them. Apparently it was made up to explain tree damage from windstorms.

Holliday’s leaked conversations seem to indicate that she really doesn’t want to be in the ritual, but she’s so angry that it’s the only way she can find peace.

Firm believer that Vindicta only dies to bullets in-game due to game mechanics. However, the shop keeper says that ghosts don’t like being shot, so it’s still probably inconvenient.

Shiv, in fact, does not own a sidecar.

Until next time, remove Vyper from the game.

Chapter 9: Momentum

Summary:

A somber message.
Driving lessons.
A bloodbath.

Notes:

Some descriptive violence near the end. Note the added warning and the bumped up rating.

Jonathan Hathorne sat in silence after receiving the news.

Elizabeth was dead.

Ever since the tragedy that was on the radio broadcast he had considered replacing her. She had told him about the police report she made and he had told her the Baxter Society were friends of the enemy. She never believed him. She said there were just a few bad apple that spoiled the bunch but they had to be the good guys because they got rid of the monsters.

How wrong she was.

He wondered if that was the last thought in her head before the bullet went through it.

"Mr. Hathorne?"

"Hmm?”
He was brought back into the present by Captain's Murphy's voice, the messenger standing idly by the desk.

"We know there's been an attempt on your life before, Mr. Hathorne. Do you have any reason to believe the two may be related?”

"Captain Murphy, despite our name, The Friends of Humanity have many enemies. There have been numerous attempts on my life.”

"Then why have so many gone unreported?”

”We draw the ire of many. For the past fifty years the supernatural has become so ingrained into normalcy that people fail to recognize how blasphemous it is. It’s sold by the wicked and bought by the unsuspecting masses, all of which create a godless society. When we speak out against this commodification of evil we disrupt the perceived order while those who abide have grown so blind to their own faults they lash out against us.”

“I understand your views are radical Mr. Hathorne, but that doesn’t explain why you haven’t come to us.”

“Because you are a piece of the institutions that work against, Captain. I heard how you spoke to Elizabeth. It all but confirmed your department’s opposition to us.”

"Sir, with all due respect, your demonstrations do cause quite a ruckus. However, as I said on the air, you're still guaranteed your right to free speech."

"And you still alluded to shutting us down." His tone was gentle and frank.
"We understand how we appear, Captain. We only want what's best for humanity but humanity does not see it that way."

Whatever the Captain's reaction was, he didn't let it show on his face.
"If that's all it took for you to turn on us, l'd hate to hear what you think of the Baxter Society."

Hathorne grimaced with disdain,
"The Baxter Society is nothing more than a farce of safety. Their 'hunts' are testosterone filled ruts for their own gratification; they have no interest in helping the public, just one-upping each other."

"So do you have reason to believe they may be behind Elizabeth's death?"

"You wouldn't be asking me if you didn't believe so yourself."

"We've... spoken to the man she reported. He wasn't exactly cooperative but that was in his legal bounds to do so."

"Feh, of course you police are letting our cries fall on deaf ears. I won't hold my breath on you solving Elizabeth's murder."

"I understand your reluctantly to trus-”

Hathorne held up a withered hand.
"Thank you Captain, but that's all I can offer you today. I know nothing more about the incident than l've already told you."

Murphy gave a hard look in return.
"Okay... we'll be in touch."
He went to leave.

"If anything presents itself, you'll be the first to know, Captain."

"I'll count on that."

He gave a lingering glance over his shoulder before exiting the room.

Johnathon Hathorne released a deep sigh that almost rattled his old bones.
Of course the police were no help. There wasn't an institution left in the world the Friends could turn to after losing so many of their own.

He picked up the phone and gave the order.

---

“You don’t have to act like you’re enjoying this.”

"Who's to say I am?"

Even under the sunglasses Shiv still looked smug. He leaned over the handlebars, leather jacket gleaming in the sun.

"Ya sure ya still want to go?"

Like everything else about Shiv, the bike was obviously well taken care of. The red and ivory paint job looked recent and the metallics sparkled new. Even the whitewall tires didn't seem to have a speck of dirt on them.

"I do, just don't rub it in..."

"Alright."

Shiv got off the bike and went to one of the saddle bags. He retrieved a helmet and held it out for Pocket.

Pocket looked at it quizzically.
"Do you not have one for yourself?"

"I have another but it's way too small for either of us. 'Sides, rather you have this one. Messes up the hair."

Pocket didn't know why he would have one that was 'too small' but had an idea. They put on the one they were given without asking.

"Ya ever been on one before?"

Pocket almost scoffed.
"You really think my father would allow that?"

"I reckon he wouldn't let you do a lot of things. That doesn't mean ya didn't do 'em."

"You vastly underestimate how much control he had over me. Between my parents and the house staff I really didn't have much time for myself."

"The hell did ya do for fun?"

"Reading mostly, whatever my father would allow in the house, that is. Only things from this plane, nothing too fanciful, nothing too obscene..."

"So no Tijuana bibles, I take it?"

“Only the ones I could smuggle in.”

”Really?”
Shiv looked impressed.
“How often did that happen?”

“It didn’t. Why would I even want one?”
Well, they knew why.
“-Why would I risk that?”

“Didn’t mean nothing by it. Just trying to see how adventurous ya managed to get.”
He put his hands up to ease a surrender.
“I’m guessin’ whatever made ya hand like that came afterwards.”

“It did… but what was it you said? We’re not to that point yet.”

“Alright, if we ain’t to that point, we ain’t to that point. Now, did any of ya books teach ya to ride pillion?”

“Why does it feel like you’re still making fun of me?”

“So that’s a ‘no’.”
He sat on the bike and motioned for them to follow.
“C’mere.”

Pocket couldn’t make their move no matter how hard they tried.

Shiv looked over and noted that they weren’t moving

He reached up, pulling the glasses to the end of his nose and peered at Pocket over them.
“Ya know, you could be the one to drive.”

“You know I can’t!”

“Then quit lollygagging and get over here.”

Almost out of spite, they moved briskly to the bike, threw a leg over it, and settled in behind him.
“Good enough?”

“Hands on my waist.”

They did so begrudgingly.
…And then Pocket realized how close they were to him.

They were pressed flush against him and their hands were bracing both sides of his waist. They couldn’t help but notice how strong it felt. Strong but not too firm, a small softness had come with age but there was still a powerful core.

Outside of an occasional hug from their siblings, this was the closest they had ever been to another human being.

“Ya okay?”

“…If my father saw us like this he’d kill us both.”

“Accordin’ to what you’ve said in the past, he’d do that anyway.”

They wanted to say that this was for a different reason but figured Shiv already knew that.

“Now, this is gonna be easy because of how light ya are. All ya gotta do is lean when I do.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Ya be surprised. Most girls see the bike and beg to go on a ride. They’re never heavy enough to offset anything but a lot of ‘em try to backseat drive.”

“Sounds like some of them don’t trust you.”

“It ain’t just about trust. It’s how ya jive with each other.”

“Do I really want to know what you mean by that?”

“You’ll see what I mean.”

He started the engine and revved it once. Pocket tensed up so hard they squeezed him tighter than they meant to.

They only let go after they realized they weren’t moving.

“…Ya sure ya s-“

“Just go.”

“Alright.”
His boot hit the kickstand and they sped out of the parking lot.

---

Somewhere between the city and the Holland Tunnel, Pocket had gotten the hang of things.

At first they were as rigid as a department store mannequin, unable to respond to swerves and squeezed harder than they should have around turns. Not that Shiv minded the latter part.

But something clicked along the way and Shiv could feel a noticeable difference in their posture.

They became more flexible, their grip became less firm, their body was in sync with him, and in turn, in sync with the bike. They leaned on every turn, swerve, and adjustment Shiv made.

At one point he bobbed and weaved around traffic just to see if it would throw them off. Even then, they didn’t miss a beat. He was impressed.

Pocket was easily the third best passenger he had ever had.

Somewhere between the Holland Tunnel and Staten Island, he realized they were being followed.

Even swerving through the oncoming traffic (eliciting some sort of unintelligible protest from behind him) didn’t shake them.

By the time they had reached the woods, he was dodging trees left and right just to get out of view of the road. He only stopped when he got to a clearing and only the sound was that of the idling engine.

Pocket practically jumped off the bike.

“You want to explain what the hell that was?”
They tore the helmet from their head.
“You don’t have to show off for me! I already told you that I believed you were tough, or scary, or whatever it is you’re trying to be!”

“Wasn’t showin’ off for you.”
He calmly took off his glasses and folded his jacket over the seat.

“Then who was it for? Was it just an ego boost?”

He opened up one of the rear saddle bags and retrieved his shotgun, relishing it as he always did as the weight was perfectly balanced on his arm.
“Nah, it was to shake them.”

Pocket stared at him.
“What?”

“Alright, come on out.”
He spoke aloud into the woods around him.

The crunching of leaves heralded the approach of five men who stepped out from behind the trees, all of them noticeably wearing holsters. Some were more physically imposing than others but it was clear that they weren’t here to talk.

“Shiv…”
Pocket’s fear was completely tangible.

He stepped squarely between them and the rest, giving a glance around to make sure he wasn’t miscounting.
“Friends of Humanity I presume?”

“I think you better come with us,” said the first one to his right.
“We only have orders to shoot if you give us trouble.”

So much for asking questions first.

Shiv unloaded one barrel into the man who spoke and another into the man on his left. Both fell, buckshot keeping them down.

The third man reached for his gun only for something green and flapping to fly through the air and obscure his vision by engulfing his head.

Shiv took the opportunity to free the knife from the sheath on his chest and charged at him. By the time the man had thrown the obstruction from his vision, Shiv already had the blade several inches from his throat.

He lost count of how many times he drove the knife in, blood spurting from the wound like an overflowing fountain. He only stopped when he heard Pocket cry out.

He pried the knife out of the body and turned to see the fourth man holding Pocket in a headlock and a gun to their temple.

The fourth man, in what must have been the realization that he had a ghost of a chance in surviving this encounter, said in a shaky voice,
“Lemme go or I’ll blow this kid’s head off!”

As soon as the words left him, he saw and realized that his hostage had simply disappeared from his grasp.

Before Shiv could close the gap and enjoy every second of making his face unrecognizable, a shot echoed throughout the clearing. Red poured from a newly formed hole in the front of his head and pink exploded out of a larger one in the back. He fell backwards into a puddle of his own insides.

The fifth man was nowhere to be seen. The distant sound of squealing tires indicated where he ended up.

The clearing went silent once more.

He wiped the blood from his face, a souvenir from the third man’s neck.
“Pocket?” He frantically looked around for any sign of them.

“Yeah…”
Came a tiny voice behind him.
He turned to look them over. The second he saw them he realized what had hit the third man’s face: Pocket’s jacket. That explained their brief disappearance. They had mentioned they owned a flying cloak but he never realized they were wearing it the entire time. Thank fuck for small miracles.

“You hurt?”

“No…”
Their voice was still distant. They were definitely shaken up. They may have been physically fine, but this encounter was probably their first taste of death that wasn’t their own. He’d have to deal with that later. For now, he was glad they were safe.

He felt his reliquary cool without realizing it heated up in the first place. With a clear head he realized the knife in his hand was still slick with warm blood; he took care of that by wiping it on the nearest corpse and returning it to its sheath.
“Hellova shot Vin. Couldn’t have done it without ya!”

”Is there a reason why you lead them directly to me?”
Her voice rang throughout the clearing, an over-the-top accent with a ghostly echo.

“Wouldn’t have done that if ya wouldn’t have implicated us.”

“Implicated you?!”
She stepped out from the tree line and into sight; Barefoot, armed, and angry. He wondered how someone who glowed like that could possibly make a good sniper.
“You’re Wesley’s replacement, correct? I assumed someone he’d put in his position would have the wherewithal to cover their tracks!”

“Nice to meet you too, Vindicta,” He greeted with a nod.
“It just so happens the last item on your laundry list had a minor scuffle with me and now I am a major suspect in an ongoing murder case. You’d know that if you bothered with the radio, tv, or the newspaper - And for the record - I tried to shake ‘em. Didn’t work as well as I hoped.”

“Someone in your position shouldn’t be driving something as conspicuous as a stupid motorcycle in the first place! What sort of hunter brings their bedmate to a potentially dangerous situation? The last one wouldn’t have gotten away if I wasn’t so concerned with blowing their head off!”

“If I do recall correctly, they got away on their own.”

“We’re not a couple,” Pocket lowly interjected.

“That too.”

“Then what are they doing here?!”
She seemed to have no patience for anything less than a straight answer.

“It’s a long story.”

“Good. You’ll have something to talk about while you bury these bodies.”

Notes:

Fun fact: Originally Grey Talon was supposed to kill Elizabeth and frame Shiv so he’d be in jail during the ritual. That way he wouldn’t run the risk of losing another son, but I like this a lot more.

I don’t think Hathorne’s as old as I’m writing him here because he probably doesn’t have kids yet if Vindicta’s out end the bloodline with him; However the moment I started writing this motherfucker, he sounded like an old man to me.

I have never been on a motorcycle before so this is all written from secondhand experience.

A Tijuana Bible is an old form of pornography. They were small, 8 page books of crudely drawn comics that were so unarousing I have no idea how anyone got off to them and I would not be surprised if Shiv owned several. (This is another reason the rating went up.)

Had to Google maps how to get from NYC to Staton Island. The interstate wasn’t built until the 60’s, luckily there’s a tunnel that was built in the 20’s!

I debated for a long time whether I wanted the Friends of Humanity to have some sort of identification or not (if you’re in the Discord, you know) until I figured these guys would just be plainclothes anyway (Rest in Piss).

Until next time, press M1 to meow as Ava!

Chapter 10: Entombed

Summary:

Becoming acquainted.
A pauper's grave.
A quiet night.

Notes:

Pocket attempts to humanize the FoH members that attacked them in this chapter. I felt as if it was in character for them to think that every life has value.
I, as an individual, DO NOT think anyone within a hate group should be viewed in this way and should be killed via ass impalement.

When Shiv said Vindicta lived in the sticks, he meant it literally. She had made a home in a one room log cabin that looked as if it had been there for quite a while, evident by the rotting wood and dented roof. Inside was little more than a stove, a table, and a bed gathering dust; all of which looked scavenged from some other abandoned homes because none of them looked like they belonged in the same building. A small fireplace began crackling as soon as they came in.

When she asked again what Pocket’s story was, Shiv said it wasn’t his to tell and made off to collect the four bodies they had left behind, leaving them alone with her.

When they had told Shiv about their past, it came out like a buried memory. When they recounted it to Vindicta, it was much easier. It was as if unearthing it had set it free. Either that or they found solace in someone else who was dead to the world.

“I don’t know what on earth possessed you to seek him out of all people, especially after a single radio broadcast of him apparently making an ass of himself, but I’m glad things turned out the way they did. He seems very protective of you.”

She sat across from them at the small table, pouring them both tea in mismatched teacups.

They almost wanted to ask if she needed to eat anything, but figured it rude.

“I wouldn’t say he embarrassed himself. I think he just said what everyone was thinking.”

“If all it took was him speaking ill of your father, then how close were you to joining them?”

They looked up to see if she was joking, only to find that her countenance was the same grim expression she held the entire time; black eyes staring into their soul. Whatever happened to her in life had left her miserable in death.

“It wasn’t just what he said about my father. I’ve heard of what the Friends of Humanity do to people they disagree with. I could never join an organization like that with a clear conscience.”

She looked at them for a while. They didn’t know if she was judging them or looking for some tell-tale sign of a lie.

“…They also would have killed you on sight with a hand like that.”
She sipped her tea as if to punctuate her light remark.

They recalled the way the representative looked at them. The mere sight offended her so much that she left immediately. The next time they heard about her was that she was found dead. They could only wonder if she had told someone else about a disgusting little waif hanging around the Baxter Society before she died.

“Why did you kill their representative?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”
There was no challenge to her response. Easy as discussing the weather.

“I mean why her in particular?”

“Because she was the most prominent figure in the society outside of Hathorne himself. It wasn’t that hard of a decision, really.”

“So why not go after him?”

She scoffed,
“You don’t believe I’ve tried?”

They did. Maybe it was time to talk about something else.

“Why did you say Shiv’s so protective of me? I think he would do the same for anyone.”

“Oh please. Men like him only want one thing. He’s either keeping you around for his own personal gain or he’s trying to sleep with you.”

Pocket didn’t feel as if either assessment were accurate. Shiv did call them pretty multiple times but felt it was more like flattery than flirting. Besides, he doubted a guy like Shiv would be into someone like them.

“I wouldn’t say he’s trying to do either. There’s nothing I can offer him that I haven’t already given him and he certainly hasn’t tried anything… like that.”

“If he hasn’t, he will eventually. If he’s gone out of his way to save your life he may even try to do it more than once. You must really be something special to him.”
There was such a flat tone behind her words that they didn’t know if she was serious.

“…I take it he didn’t make a good first impression?”

“Of course he didn’t! I don’t how on earth Wesley managed to chose a protégé who can’t even lose a single purser. I’d hate to see him in a real hunt.”
She threw her hands up in defeat. It was the most animated they had seen her since they got here.

“It wasn’t exactly his fault… and to his credit, he did try to lose them by driving into oncoming traffic.”

“Let’s not pretend he wouldn’t have done that regardless of the circumstances.”

“If you really think he’s so protective of me, I don’t think he would.”

She considered it.
“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. I get the feeling that wouldn’t impress someone like you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re averse to danger; he isn’t. I could tell you were different after seeing the way you looked after watching four men die. That wasn’t the look of someone who doesn’t fear death. I suppose, after your ordeal, you have plenty of reason to think it’s out to get you.”

“That's why I sought him out in the first place.”

“Then why did you come here? I’m more than inclined to believe he gave you ample warning that I would shoot him on sight.”

“He did. That’s why I came.” Pocket said plainly and shrugged.

“Unarmed?”

“I know you’re not exactly an approachable person, but he came to talk. My main concern was that he’d lose sight of that and make things worse.”

“And you were correct! It’s a shame that I couldn't even finish all of them. I’m going to have to move now and I really like this place!”

“No, I mean between the two of you. I’ve noticed he’s got a —”

“A tendency to think with the head between his legs rather than the one on his shoulders? A knack for getting himself into trouble? A terrible temper?”

She seemed to be getting heated herself.

They tried to consider their words carefully. “The latter. I don't know what that thing on his hip is but I’ve seen it light up three times. One he didn’t know about, one he didn’t want to talk about, and one right before, well… normally I’d be worried about something like that, but he’s calmed down every time. He can be talked out of it.”

Her eyes widened in amazement, “You’ve managed to do that?”

They found her response confusing. “Putting it like that is giving me too much credit. It just sort of happened.”

“If you can manage to talk down Shiv, you’ve got to be something special. If you aren’t his paramour, you clearly mean at least something to him. Wesley always said his fuse was notoriously short.”

“We’ve known each other for three days. I don’t think it’s like that.”

Shiv thinking of them as a ‘paramour’ didn’t exactly seem completely in character. If that were true, then he would be completely forward and not beat around the bush with flirty little compliments.

“He respects you at the very least. That in itself is probably a rarity.”

A loud metallic clang came from outside along with Shiv’s voice.

”Alright ‘Dicta. You ain’t gonna make me dig this with one hand. Where’s a shovel?”

“What the dickens has he got out there?”
She rose from her seat and went to the door. Pocket followed.

Shiv stood next to an old, rusty wheelbarrow with the bodies of the four men piled limply on top of each other. Blood coated the pile so thickly it made Pocket feel sick to their stomach.

“Where on earth did you find that?”
She gestured at the wheelbarrow.

“Around. You of all people should know the kinda weird shit you find in the woods.”

Pocket couldn’t process the rest of the conversation because they immediately doubled over and emptied the contents of their stomach onto the front porch.

 

---

It was sunset by the time the hole was deep enough to stand in.

Truth be told, he didn’t want Pocket involved in the effort of hiding evidence like this, but they kept insisting and he would be kidding himself if it didn’t go a hell of a lot faster with two people. Apparently Vindicta had no interest in joining them.

He put the shovel aside to take a break, annoyed that through time and exertion his hair was beginning to fall. He glanced over to check on Pocket, seeing that they had climbed out of the hole and looked as if they were going through the belongings of the dead men.

He laughed and joked, “Didn’t take you as someone who’d steal from the dead.”

“I’m not,” they said, confirming his suspicion by pulling out one of their wallets.

He sat there and watched them rifle through it.
“Well now, sayin’ something and doin’ the opposite ain’t exactly-“

“Just because you’re comfortable with lying to me doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with lying to you.”

Shived sighed, “Ya still mad about that?”

“I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed you wouldn’t be straight with me when it came to something as dire as a blood ritual.”

“If ya gonna be this upset about it, I promise I won’t sugarcoat nothin’ again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Now, do the same and don’t hold out on me. There enough to share?”

It wasn’t like they needed it. Better it go towards another bourbon bottle than rot in the ground with a pile of filth.

“I’m not actually taking anything.”
They closed the wallet after taking nothing from it.
“I just wanted to know their names.”

“Pocket, did you forget the part where they tried to kill us?”
He was dumbfounded by how they would say something like that.

“Because they were told to do so by a group that indoctrinated them. What they did wasn’t personal.”

“…At any point they could have chosen not to follow us through oncoming traffic.”

“I’m not saying what they did was right. Even if they were Friends of Humanity, they were still human beings.”

“‘Cause they fuckin’ kill anything that isn’t one!”
Shiv pinched his brow,

“Pocket, you’re gonna learn that sometimes monsters wear human faces and sometimes it’s the other way around. Thing is, they don’t see it that way ‘cause they don’t want to.”

“That’s because they’ve never been told otherwise. They’re scared of things they don’t understand.”

“Maelstrom was fifty fuckin’ years ago, longer than these fuckers’ been ‘round. If they don’t understand now then they ain’t lookin’ to understand at all. They just want to buddy up with anyone who thinks the same as they do, and now that the Friends exist, they have that chance. Individually? They’re nothing. In a group? They’re a threat to everyone.”

“Together they have no one to tell them what they’re doing is wrong. They validate each other without a dissenting opinion.”

“Pocket…”
He sighed heavily.
“Look at ya self. Ya were raised by Maximilian Goddamn-Fuckin’-Pieceofshit Fairfax. Ya tellin’ me ya had any sort of positive influence tellin’ ya anything he did was wrong?”

“That isn’t the same.”
Their voice was stern with an edge that Shiv hadn’t seen before.
“The Friends of Humanity live in fear of a threat that’s only in their heads. I lived in fear because I knew the danger I was in was real. They’re coerced into their beliefs. I wasn’t. The Friends see everything through a veil of manipulation from their like-minded echochamber. I knew what my father was because I saw the things he did first hand. I didn’t need coercion to think otherwise.”

Pocket stood on the edge of the grave staring down at him, their expression hard.

Whatever nerve Shiv had just touched made them angry.

He couldn’t help but smile.

“What the hell are you smiling at?”
Their voice was still filled with that same fire.

“You’re kinda cute when ya get mad.”

Their expression faltered. They attempted to maintain the same edge as before but he could tell their anger was doused by bashful embarrassment.
“Stop trying to do that.”

“What am I tryin’ to do?”

“I don’t know, but you keep saying things like that and I think she may be right.”

“Now what exactly did she tell you about me?”

He could only imagine it was the worst.

What had Wesley told her and what was she willing to share? His past? The prospect of all his one-night stands come to haunt him? The other thing?

“Forget it…”

Pocket went back to searching through the bodies to pull out another wallet.

“I don’t know why ya bother. Ain’t nobody gonna be missin’ any o-“

“What?”
Pocket looked over to see what the matter was, as it wasn’t like Shiv to cut-off like that. The wallet they had opened had a small roll of photos dangling from the side; all of which featured two tiny faces no older than the one that resided in his own.

“I’m gonna go smoke.”
He climbed out of the hole and went to think.

---

It was well past midnight by the time the mass grave was filled. She took pity on the two and allowed them to stay the night. To her, the idea of Shiv driving home at night was basically a death sentence. On the topic of the man who escaped, they all agreed that he wouldn’t be back or call in reinforcements anytime soon; if he did, he would have already done so, and if he did, they’d be ready.

She let Pocket sleep in the bed. Shiv made an effort to convince them that it was more than alright that they take it, and eventually they relented. They almost instantly fell into a silent slumber the moment they threw the quilt over themself.

Their quiet form in the distant firelight looked so peaceful she almost envied them; something deep inside of her wishing she could return to the still oblivion of sleep.

“Ya know it ain’t polite to watch people sleep like that.”
Shiv lay face up on the floor in front of the fireplace.
“May be different for ghosts though.”

Once again, Shiv had to interrupt her moment of peace.
“Pardon me. It wasn’t my intention to encroach on a beast’s territory.”

“I see Wesley’s told ya everything. Funny. He ain’t usually an open book.”

”It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I couldn’t think less of you than I already do.”

“Glad to hear it… Anyway, they ain’t my territory. Just bein’ civil.”

"That's rather amusing coming from you."

She moved away from the bed and went toward the fire. She noted his clothes were stained with dried blood and encrusted with dirt, and at some point during the night, his hair had entirely fallen and rested in a dark pool around his head.

"Considering the amount of time you dedicate to your hair, I'm surprised it can even fall down."

“It can only hold up to so much spree killin’ and grave diggin’.”
He sat up, groaning as he did so.
“Now, what the hell did ya tell the kid?”

"The same thing I would tell anyone you put on the back of that eyesore of yours... If they stuck around for longer the next morning that is.”

“It’s a simple question, Vin.”

“I told them you’re either trying to get something out of them, sleep with them, or that they’re very special to you. After watching the two of you interact, I think it may be the latter.”

“…Ya watched us the whole time. Why the hell am I not surprised?”

“Where else did you think I was?”
She let out the closest thing she could to a laugh.
She sat down next to him, knees pulled to her chest to watch the fire.
“If anyone were to challenge your stance like that, I don’t think it would have ended as well as it did.”

“They don’t know the full extent of what Hathorne’s cronies are capable of. Hard to get mad at ‘em for that.”

“Don’t they? They told me they knew full well that’s the reason they went to you instead of them.”

“It ain’t the only reason. They wouldn’t be willin’ to help ‘em with what they really came for.”

“I suppose you’re not the only one with ulterior motives then?”

“It ain’t ulterior if they were upfront with it.”
Shiv sighed.
“I suppose they didn’t tell you why they came back to the city?”

“No, just that you’re protecting them from their father. Which is rather a tall order for someone they’ve just met.”

“You think I ain’t capable of protectin’ ‘em?”

“Well, I was the one that finished off someone holding a gun to their head…”

“Sorry, I was too busy takin’ care of three others tryin’ to take us off to god knows where.”
His teeth sat on edge.

“This is what I was talking about when I said someone trying to challenge you. If I egged you on any further you’d bite my head off. Meanwhile attempting to rationalize supernatural genocide gets them a compliment.”

“I wasn’t complimentin’’ their viewpoints.”
His voice was harsh. He seemed to realize it came out louder than he intended because he checked over his shoulder in the direction of the bed.

Nothing in the darkness stirred.

He turned back, voice lowered.
“Ya seen the way they reacted to seein’ all them bodies at once. They ain’t like us, Vin. They ain’t mean enough to be.”

“"'The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb’… how serendipitous. If I were a romantic, I’d almost have hope for the two of you. However, I do think there’s an important detail I’m missing.”

“What do ya know about the patrons?”

“Mm. I suspected as much. It would be the only reason for them to come back in the first place.”

“So have you heard from ‘em… Which one ya talk to?”

“Both.”

Shiv smiled and shook his head.
“With the way the Friends are dropping like flies, that don’t surprise me one bit. Most people only hear from one.”

“And yourself?”

"Heard from both of them too."

"And Pocket?"

That wiped the smile off his face.
“Both of ‘em talked to them. But that only happened until after we met. You see the problem?”

“Well, I admit they aren’t the type of person I’d want fighting on my behalf… but I’ve heard of stranger participants.”

“Like what?”

“A local detective, an undead magician, someone who works in pest control of all things… and of course the OSIC is rearing its ugly head.”

“Sandman?”
It was hardly even a question.

“I would assume so. Most civilians are either going to hide or leave the city so they’ll be very few witnesses. Even fewer still once they’re done.”

“You know the entire criminal underworld’s showing up, right?”

“Of course.”

“…Ya know about Wesley?”

“Unsurprising. He’s desperate enough to throw his life away like that.”

“And ya act like we ain’t…”
He checked over his shoulder again.
“What’d they offer ya?”

“Do you really have to ask that?”

“He’s offerin’ to get rid of my problem. She’s offerin’ to make my problem a solution.”

“Well, do what you want with it. If you get rid of it, I doubt you’ll take out monsters as well as you used to. If you keep it, you’ll be more efficient… but I doubt you’ll keep many friends.”

He groaned, lying back down on the floor. After a moment of staring at the ceiling, he muttered,

“This shit’s gone be bad no matter how it ends.”

“What matters is that we see it through. The Patrons may be using us as pawns for their little game, but I’ll be damned if I give up on this opportunity to kill them all.”

“Ya sound exactly like the way he described ya…”
He smiled, lacing his fingers behind his head.
“…Ya know he tried to talk me out of it.”

“Obviously. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else.”

“Yeah, he gave me that whole spiel. Left angry over it too.”

“Do you understand him better now that you have someone on the line?”

“I do, but that ain’t my decision to make for ‘em. Best I can do is send them out prepared and fight alongside ‘em.”
He turned his head to look at her.
“‘Sides, don’t you think the world would be a better place if Fairfax wasn’t in it?”

“I have a hard time believing they would wish their father dead.”

“Me too. Don’t stop me though.”

She looked down and saw that he was smug and completely serious about the manner.

“Go to bed, Shiv.”

“Goodnight to you too.”

Soon the only sound that remained was the crackling fire.

Notes:

It's so fitting that both Shiv and Vindicta are two of the scariest units if they're fed enough. Both of their ults are instant kills to anyone that's whittled down; Meanwhile, Pocket ult is incapable of killing anything on its own.

After listening to Talon's kill lines for Vindicta again, I don't actually think they had a falling out. I think it just comes across that way since they're on opposite teams in that scenario. Still, it feels right that she's estranged since she seems like a solitary person.

Let's face it, Shiv probably sleeps around a lot. He probably doesn't want to end up catching feelings for someone because he knows he's a potential danger if he sticks around.

Vindicta's line about a wolf and a lamb is from the Bible, specifically 'Isaiah 11:6: The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb(…)'. I could have sworn up and down this verse said LION. However, every version (Including the Quaker version) seems to have it as “wolf" which is a MAJOR victory.
Update: Oh my god I'm so stupid, the PURITANS were responisible for the witch trials. The Geneva Bible would be the one she was familar with.

Until next time, I spent $40 on a cameo for Dynamo's VA to say "Chat I'm going to try to rizz them up" because I have no self control.

Chapter 11: Disconnect

Summary:

A cold morning.
A cold stream.
A letter.

Pocket awoke and stretched in the autumn sunshine. The hours of digging yesterday had tired them out and made them sleep like a rock. Climbing out of bed made them feel the immense toll it took on their body. Their muscles were sore and their entire being ached. They wondered if Shiv was faring any better.

They looked around the one-room cabin and noticed they were alone, finding only a plate of breakfast neatly prepared on the table. Strangely, they weren’t worried about the state of their companions despite their absence. The two were more than capable of handling themselves and the meal left behind proved they had left without a struggle.

They ate and enjoyed every bite. Even with just a small stove, Vindicta could cook just fine.

They slipped on their shoes and found that their cloak, scarf, and sweater vest weren’t where they left them. They were looking under the bed when they heard a rapid tapping.

A black crow was tapping its beak against a window. It looked too intentional to be anything else but a purposeful attempt to get their attention. They took this to be a familiar, probably Vindicta’s. Opening the latch to the window, they let it in.

The bird hopped down to the windowsill, glided to the floor, and landed directly in front of the door.

It turned to Pocket, as if waiting on a response.

“…Do you want me to follow you?”

The bird did something akin to a nod.

They opened the door and stepped into the morning. The cool air sent a chill through their being. Normally, they would go out of their way to hide their hand in unfamiliar territory like this, even if it did irritate their skin. Without their cloak, they felt naked. The crow immediately flew into a tree behind the house. Its little black head peaking out from between the orange leaves enticed them to keep following.

They trailed it deeper into the woods, the bird going from tree to tree, ensuring Pocket could keep up with it on foot. Following it long enough led to a clearing filled with the sound of running water.

“Good Morrow Pocket, I trust you slept well?”

Vindicta was hanging clothes out on a line extending between the trees. They spied their missing articles of clothing and Shiv’s previously blood-soaked shirt drying in the breeze. This meant they’d both attract less attention but, for now, Shiv was walking around somewhere without a shirt on.

Ever since they first saw her in the photograph, they had noted how out of date her clothing was but had never given it much thought. Perhaps it was her archaic greeting or perhaps it was the first time seeing her under no duress in the morning light that they fully began to wonder how long she’d been dead.

The eyes that greeted them were an eerie color of sky that had faded along with any presence of life. Her blue skin was almost translucent in direct sunlight, and the long white hair that framed her face was without sheen. Her expression was uncharacteristically cheerful; she was actually happy to see them.

With no large effort they had somehow made a ghost smile. Maybe Shiv was right.
Maybe they would have made a great con.

“Yeah, I did. I hope that plate was for me.”

“It was,” she said, throwing a towel over the line.
“I’m surprised Shiv left you anything to eat at all.”

“I’m surprised you managed to get all the blood out of his clothes.”

“I am as well. I’m not used to dealing with it. It’s an advantage of being out of range of the mess.”

After seeing the way her sniper had destroyed a man’s head, they thought maybe being at a distance was a good thing. That, or maybe they wished their cloak had taken them further away.

Vindicta continued, “I know what you saw yesterday disturbed you, but you have to keep in mind it's just business. Nothing more. Needless to say, they would have done the same to you. The only difference is that they would have taken you to Hathorne so he could do it himself.”

“Why would he want to do it personally?”

“To send a message.”
She placed another towel on the line.

“…To who?”

“Shiv is a member of the Baxter Society. John Hathorne is the leader of the Friends of Humanity. Shiv spoke ill of the Friends of Humanity. Shiv and his lover are found brutally murdered within their bed with enough evidence to implicate John Hathorne but not convict John Hathorne. The Baxter Society is left with a scandal on their hands and the Baxter Society knows that John Hathorne is untouchable. Get the picture?”

They did but, ‘his lover’? Why would they do something like that or even infer that they were ever together? Was there something they were missing?
“Do you really think they’d frame it like that?”

“Probably. They’d think it a degrading death… Not that’d he agree. If anyone had the foolish idea of bringing him back he’d probably never shut up about it.”

The brief image of Shiv as a ghost came to mind. While the blue skin and white pompadour weren’t a bad sight, the miserable expression they assumed came with all deaths definitely didn’t.

“Vindicta, how did you die?”
The words were out of their mouth before manners could stop them.

“Unjustly hanged for the crime of witchcraft.”
She rolled her eyes at Pocket’s surprised expression.
“Yes, it hurt. Yes, I remember every excruciating detail down to the last second. No, I don’t remember anything afterwards. And yes, I realize the irony of it in this day and age.”
An exaggerated smile crossed her face.
“Any other questions?”

“…I guess you get that a lot.”

“I do. I don’t mind answering it; Just not the slew of other questions that tend to follow…”
Her expression went back to neutral.
“I would tell you more, but I simply don’t want to.”

Yesterday they thought it rude to ask ghosts how they died. Today they did just that and found that it was. Lesson learned.

“Where is he anyway?”

“Bathing upstream.”
She shrugged, placing a third towel on the line.

“He’s bathing in the stream?”

“I’d rather not waste my time and question anything he does. He’s an absolute beast of a man and I mean that in more ways than one. If you do choose to keep him around after the ritual then you have the patience of an absolute saint.”

Pocket never really gave much thought about what to do after the ritual. Hell, they still didn’t even know what they would wish for.
Maybe they just assumed things would go back to normal.
Well, not normal.
What even was normal?
They didn’t have an answer.

“It doesn’t really surprise me you know about the patrons… What are you wishing for?”

“Johnathan Hathorne dead by my hand. Yourself?”

“…I don’t know.”

“You’re not wishing the same for your father?”

“No.”

“Well, why not?”
She seemed baffled by the response.

“Because it wouldn’t solve anything.”

“Quite the contrary, I think it would solve all of your problems.”

“In what way?”

“The company falls into disarray without a definite successor. That would destabilize all of their operations within Ixia and any plans to take control of Cadenza again. Furthermore, you wouldn’t have to worry about him putting another bullet in you and you can live the rest of your life without looking over your shoulder. With or without Shiv.”
She seemed to have put a lot of thought into this.

“Those are only short term things. Eventually one of my siblings or someone else would take his place and it would be back to business as usual.”

“So? Your father would be gone and everyone would be so preoccupied with the chaos, no one would care that you’re alive anymore.”
She said it like it was the simplest conclusion in the world.

“It’s more than just about saving my life, it’s ensuring that Fairfax Industries could never hurt anyone ever again.”

“Then why don’t you just wish yourself in charge?”

“That wouldn’t solve the problem of my father.”

“Then why don’t you take his place and kill him afterwards. I’m sure Shiv would love to help you with that.”

He would. Shiv had expressed interest in killing him ever since they first met.
There was just one problem:
“…Because I don’t want to kill my father.”

Her severe expression looked them over once more.
“Well, I suppose that makes you the bigger person because he obviously doesn’t share the sentiment.”
She turned away, finishing her laundry with no intent to speak to them again.

They went to go find Shiv.

---

He didn’t care much for bathing out in the woods like an animal, but the thing inside him seemed to love every second of it. He still had blood on him, a feeling he was used to but had almost forgotten.

Sure, killing monsters was messy, but human blood had a different feeling to it, one that he knew all too well.

He was in frigid, waist deep water but his body had grown used to it. He hated to see what havoc it would wreak on his hair but that was a problem for another day.

He sat with his eyes closed, pretending he was in any body of water other than some backwoods stream.

“Leave it alone, Pocket.”

His words were met with a snap of twigs behind him.

“How the hell did you know I was here?”

Easy. He knew their scent.
“You ain't as stealthy as ya think. I’ve been snuck up on enough to know when it’s happening.”

He turned and saw them exactly where he sensed them: next to his reliquary. They weren’t touching it, but everything was telling him that they were looking it over.
“I told ya I’d tell ya about it when we got there.”

“I watched it light up before you killed three people. The fact I watched you kill at all has to mean something.”

“Lots of people have seen me kill. Tell ya what,” a smug grin took over his face.
“Get in here with me and I tell ya all about it.”

Apprehension seized Pocket’s entire body.
“Are you naked down there?”
Shiv looked like a completely different person with his hair down. His body told a story that far more scars than even a missing arm could tell. It was one of survival. Every cut, bruise, and scrape was another page to a history Pocket would never know. They couldn’t tell what was old and what was new, but he looked strong enough to bear all of it.

“I ain’t one to bathe with clothes on.”

Their fists clenched and they exhaled sharply.
“…Just don’t laugh at me.”
Their hands immediately raised to their collar.

“For fuck’s sake kid, I was jokin’.”
He held up the only hand he had to stop them.
“This shit’s probably full of diseases they don’t even know about yet!”

Pocket hands stopped before they could undo any buttons.
“Then why are you in there?”

“I’m covered in blood. You ain’t.”

“Yeah, I’m just covered in dirt.”

“Dirt’s easier to explain than blood. ‘Specially when the cops are trying to pin a murder on me.”

“And what good is that going to do when they’re missing four more people from the same organization?”

“That’s a different problem. It’s also why I didn’t want you helpin’ me bury ‘em.”

“I’m already an accomplice for not reporting any of this.”
Pocket pointed out.
“If they end up questioning me and I don’t say anything, we’re in cahoots.”

“If it comes to that, you tell ‘em I threatened ya. Far as they know you’re nothing more than a client. We’re strangers and I took advantage of someone needing help.”

“And if they somehow find out I rode all the way out of town on the back of your motorcycle?”

“No one said ya did that willingly. Maybe I just wanted something pretty on my bike.”

“…Could you come up with something that won’t get you beaten up?”

“Ya think I’m scared of Murphy? That pig had so little on me he tried to rope you into this. The worse I look, the easier he’ll go on you… assumin’ your daddy don’t own the police.”

“Only when he needs to. He’s not going to be paying attention to the Baxter Society unless they’re willing to do business with him. The only thing I have to worry about is the police getting too interested in me.”

“Yeah… I guess ya thought ya’d spend the month layin’ low. I didn’t exactly expect for all this to happen.”

In hindsight, maybe it was better if Pocket had never come to him at all. He had grown so attached to Pocket in just a few days that he knew the attraction had to be more than just sexual.

That Sapphire Hag was right. Every part of him wanted them.
And that made him all the more dangerous.

“If I took you down to the sewers and gave ya money back, maybe the Tunnel Rats would take ya.”

“No.”
It was definite. So unlike them.
“You’re not going to get me involved and then just dump me.”

“Ya ain’t involved yet but the longer ya stick around the more likely it is they’ll try to make it seem that way.”

Pocket crossed their arms defiantly and shrugged.
“So you’re just abandoning me?”

“Hell, I don’t think I could leave ya alone even if I wanted to. The Tunnel Rats are pretty reasonable if ya pay ‘em reasonably. Maybe they’ll even let me see ya now and then.”

“And what are you going to do in the meantime? Go berserk when the cops try to rile you up again? You acted like you were coming here to blow her head off before I offered to go with you.”

“I wasn’t gonna do nothin’ to her and I told ya as much. Ya ain’t my only form of self control, kid. We ain’t close enough for that.”
He intended to come off harsher than it came out, but for some reason it never reached his voice.

“Then why did she act so surprised when I said I talked you down several times? I may not be the only one that can get through to you, but apparently it’s not exactly an easy task.”

“Look. I don’t want to argue with ya out here. I’ll get ya to a safehouse so ya can get the dirt off ya before we get to the main building. Odds are the cops are there with a warrant wonderin’ where the hell I am.”

“What about Vindicta?”

“What about Vindicta?”

“Is she coming back to the city? This whole thing started because of her. In retrospect… coming here just made things worse.”

”This whole thing started when the Friends of Humanity tried to pick a fight with me. They’re gonna find out real soon what happens when ya go and try to do that.”

“But what about the spokesperson? If she’s not going to confess to killing her, then-“

“We already got that handled. Now could ya get me a towel? I’m gettin’ waterlogged.”
He looked at the pads of his fingers and found them wrinkled to confirm his suspicion.
“Shit’s bad for your skin.”

“You’re not more worried about your hair?”

He sighed deeply.
“I’ve already made peace with that…”

---

 

This is the cartridge from the bullet that killed Elizabeth Smithson. I was the one that pulled the trigger on the morning of September 24, 1949. The crow familiar that delivered this was used as a distraction while I lined up the shot. The bullet pierced her head, traveling through her glasses and out of her skull. I would go into more detail about her death, but I believe the crime scene speaks for itself. The Friends of Humanity are a plague on society and I’m doing nothing more than squishing a few bugs. There will be more bodies. Count on it.

By the time Captain Murphy had finished the letter the black bird that had come in through his office window had disappeared.

Not only was the crow an explanation for the feathers at the scene but the cartridge it left behind looked to be of the same caliber. Whoever had penned this was almost definitely telling the truth.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I think the Baxter Society was the wrong tree after all.”
Holliday read the letter immediately after he had put it down.

“I don’t care how much time that guy spends on his hair, I doubt his handwriting would be this pretty.

“You know this isn’t your jurisdiction.”
He had a headache and this whole thing just made it worse.

“Just giving my professional opinion is all. If ya ask me, I think his cute little client was more likely to write this, but they didn’t strike me as a killer. They didn’t have the look.”

Murphy sighed.
“Maybe I jumped the gun. It’s not like that Shiv guy has a monopoly on hating the Friends. In hindsight? If he wanted her dead, I don’t think that knife would have missed.”

“If whoever sent that letter is telling the truth, I don’t think there’s gonna be anyone left to hate.”

“And there’s the problem. I can’t do my job if they don’t comply with us.”

“You think they’ll take matters into their own hands?”

“I’d hate to be anyone who gets caught in the crossfire.” That was the only thing he could offer.

“A sniper and a crazy cult…”
Holliday grimaced.
“I hate this city more every day.”

Notes:

So in the year 1949 there were two solar eclipses visible in New York, one on April 28th and one on October 21st. I'm going with the latter because it's more likely to snow in New York in April than in September and I don't want to write snow. Also Autumn is the best season. Debate me in the comments if you want.

Vindicta's design is beautiful to me (She's one of the reasons I picked up the game in the first place) but I can't deny she would look anything less than a ghostly corpse.

One of the SF opening lines to Vin says "18 souls joined you in Salem" and 19 people were hung during the Salem witch trials, so it's reasonable enough to assume she died via hanging.

I'm not even going to go into what Shiv's "beast" is since there's so much evidence pointing in every direction, but it's definitely animalistic in nature. Let him bathe in the stream like an animal.

There's NO WAY Shiv's not covered in scars. He's probably hairy as hell too, but I'll leave that to your imagination.

Man Murphy, I'd hate to be caught in the crossfire of this too. It'd be a shame for that to happen.

Until next time, here's a vocaroo link to the cameo I ordered from Dynamo's VA (Huge thank you to @hoxdolum on the official Discord for the filtering) X

Chapter 12: Dead Air

Summary:

Safety measures.
Radio static.
An airship crash.

Notes:

Seven in this chapter was written by @undeadmeats.

 

Shiv was right about hearing from the police but the call didn’t come until way afdddter they had returned to the building. Pocket returned to their bunker to check on the Satchel and found it unmoved and untouched — safe, then returned back upstairs.
On their way to Shiv’s office, a hunter came barreling through the door coughing his lungs out.

“Are you alright?”

The hunter could only shake his head as he passed, still coughing.

Pocket hurried to the open door and was immediately hit with the overwhelming stinging smell of chemicals.

They quickly covered their nose with their cloak sleeve.
”Wha-“

“Fuckin’. Hard. Water.”
Shiv tossed something red to the ground with a metallic clang. Upon closer inspection Pocket could see it was a can of hairspray that now rested in a graveyard of several others.
“You think that’d shit be soft since it runs over rocks and shit, but fuck me if ain’t exactly what my hair doesn’t fuckin’ need…”

Pocket was too dead set on opening a window to pay proper attention to what he was growling about. They stuck their head out the moment they got one open, desperately gasping for air without aerosols.

When the room became habitable for human life again, they brought their head back in and found Shiv obsessively preening himself in a hand mirror.

“Can’t believe this shit…”
He mumbled some other curses about how horrible it looked and various other expletives.

“…You look exactly the same.”
Pocket wasn’t lying. He looked exactly like he always did.
“And water hardness is determined by how many minerals are in it. Flowing over stones is what makes it hard in the first place. It erodes them and adds more to it.”

Shiv looked up,
“Well, if I look good to you, smarty pants, I guess that’s all that matters.”
He dropped the mirror.

“Maybe you should care less about that and more about the person you just gassed to death.”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. We’re trained to handle worse.”

“I don’t think workplace hazards for monster hunters should come from the inside.”

Shiv grumbled something they couldn’t hear and immediately changed the topic.
“Got a call from Murphy.”

“What’d he say?”
Pocket sat down, forgetting the previous conversation completely.

Shiv told them about the letter, the crow, and Vindicta’s threat that there would be more death to come.

“He told you you were off the hook?”

“Not in so many words. He asked me if anyone in the Society had familiars or used a rifle.”

“And what’d you say?”

“I told him there’s a registry for both of those things and hung up on him.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to him.”

“Could’ve been harsher considerin’ he didn’t have the guts to say it to my face.”
He put his feet on his desk.
“-But I consider that a small mercy. At least they ain’t searchin’ the place or askin’ ‘bout you no more.”

It was a break they both desperately needed. Apparently their trip out of town wasn’t a fruitless one after all. Vindicta had taken responsibility in a way that Pocket could only imagine was nothing less than a braggart.

“So does this mean you’re going to keep me around?”

Shiv’s demeanor changed.
“You understand that the Friends of Humanity aren’t gonna leave me alone anytime soon.”

“You already said you were going to show them what happens when they tried to pick a fight with you… I don’t think the mass grave we dug yesterday is going to be the last.”

Shiv chuckled, "Nah, it will be. There are better ways of doing it. Us givin' them a burial at all was too good for 'em, truth be told. If they got ahold of us they would've gutted us and strung us up for the birds — and that's if they're feelin' nice."

Pocket recalled the way Vindicta described the same scenario. They wanted to see just how right she was.
“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Hathorne probably takes me not kissin’ his ass as the Society turnin’ its back on humanity. He wouldn’t pass up on makin’ it as flashy as his crazy ass mind could conceive.”

Pocket prodded further.
“Why do you think they’d bother doing the same to me?”

“You ain’t a hunter. They may not make it obvious, but people would talk ‘bout me bein’ caught dead with a… well, you can figure out the rest.”

They could.
“But why would they think to do that in the first place?”

“To make people think the Baxter Society ain’t as clean as we seem. Wouldn’t be nothing more than something to make the whole organization look bad.”

“…So it would hurt you?”

“I don’t think I’d have much of an opinion on account of bein’ dead.”

They tried again.
“I mean, you don’t want that to happen, right?”

“For the Society’s sake, no. For my sake… well, there are worse people to die next to. Hell, maybe even Vin could tell Wesley to put our headstones next to each other.”

“…I technically already have one in my family’s plot…”

“But ya ain’t there, are ya? Two birds, one stone when ya don’t have to lie next to the people who tried to put you there.”

“Yeah, just next to the person who inadvertently put me there.”

“You’re the one choosin’ to stick around. I can still take ya to the Tunnel Rats but from what I hear, they regularly get visits from the Friends too.”

“Wait, how do you know that?”
It wasn’t exactly a shocking revelation. The Friends of Humanity seemed to oppose anything that didn’t fit their definition of humanity. They supposed that went for things like mole people too.

“Ya ever hear of Jezebels?”

“The billiards hall? Only what my father’s circle said about it.”

“And?”

“That it’s a hell hole of sin, debauchery, and sodomites. I guess it’s your kind of place.”

Shiv raised his eyebrows, impressed.
“You gettin’ to the point where you ain’t scared of me.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell that I never was.”

“Ya given much thought to sparrin’ yet?”

“I haven’t had time due to my life being in danger.”

“‘Course ya haven’t.”
He shrugged as if he had somehow proved his point.
“Anywho, they come out of their hole to play poker at the pool hall on Sundays. It’s a time honored tradition several people get involved with.”

“You don’t?”

“Not usually. Most of the time I’m sober enough to know not to put money anywhere near Wraith.”

”She’s there too?”

“Ya daddy wasn’t exactly wrong, kid. It’s a fine establishment, the owner’s a nice guy, and the drinks are good but it’s the people it attracts ya gotta worry about.”

“I guess you are the type of guy my father told me to worry about.”

“And ain’t I all the more better for it?” Shiv grinned.

“So what’s your solution here?”

His mood seemed to instantly sour.
“Well, way I see it is ya got two options: stay here and get the full ire of a batshit insane cult or I make a deal with the Tunnel Rats and you only get half the ire of a batshit insane cult.”

“Earlier you seemed dead set on getting rid of me. Why are you giving me an option now?”

“Pocket, the last thing I wanna do is get rid of ya but I got an obligation to protect ya. What I want and what I think is best are two different things.”

“…What do you think is best?”
They weren’t expecting a self-reflection like that to come from Shiv of all people.

“I think being away from the surface would be better for ya, ‘specially if you’re worried ‘bout someone recognizin’ ya.”

“Then what do you want?”

“What I want is not to let ya out of my fuckin’ sight. Since that one fucker got away they know what ya look like and they know that you’re close to me. We both know that the Patrons ain’t above using you to get to me, so why the fuck would they be?”

“If they wanted me dead, it wouldn’t be because of you. I'm just as culpable for being there in the first place. Besides, I helped you hide the bodies, remember?”

Shiv sighed, “Yeah, and I remember not wantin’ ya to do that. But, the drive back helped me think… They ain’t goin’ to the police. Their families might, but I doubt Hathorne would tell ‘em where they went. This is something they’re gonna want to settle on their own and they’re gonna bring down every hammer they have. That’s another reason I think you’re safer elsewhere.”

“Then why don’t you just work together with the Tunnel Rats? If they hate the Friends as much as you, maybe you could work something out.”

“They usually only care about things that happen in their territory. ‘Side’s, I don’t think they like me that much.”

“What if it wasn’t for you?”

Shiv let out a laugh.
“They really like you that much?”

“Yeah. They did. So much so they didn’t want me to leave. I had to explain to them that no matter how much they tried to protect me I wasn’t safe inside the city.”

He took his feet off the desk and sat up.
“So this was right after…”

“I didn’t have anywhere to go. Underground was pretty much my only option. Luckily I had money and they had sympathy. I wasn’t exactly brave enough to go anywhere for a while. They helped with that.”

“Ya really can get on anyone's good side, can’t ya?”

“I wouldn’t say it was exactly impressive when it came to them. Everyone knows my father by his reputation so it wasn’t hard to garner pity.

Shiv looked at the clock,

“Ya know… it is a Sunday.”

Pocket could barely contain their disbelief,
“You want to bring me to a den full of criminals?”

“Not everybody there’s a criminal. If things get violent, it gets shut down real fast. Bartender makes sure of that.”

Pocket thought about it,
“…You and I do have our choice of Patron. If we also framed it as some sort of preparation I think we could get some leverage with that. There’s just one problem…”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Wraith.”

“She’s got the entire city in a chokehold. If she’s on the same side as the Tunnel Rats, I get the feeling she’s doing some high level management about what’s going on in the ritual. She’s not going to want someone like me to potentially hold her back.”

“The fuck’s she gonna do about it? She ain’t the Patron. ‘Sides, she may not want people like you but she’s gonna want someone like me and I ain’t goin’ in there without ya.”

“From what I understand she’s got more than enough people on her payroll to make sure I don’t show up that day.

”Yeah let’s see how that works out.”
It was almost said with a snarl.
“I can’t promise nothin’ ‘bout what goes on durin’ the ritual, but ‘fore then, I ain’t lettin’ nothing touch you.”

“Then why are you so worried about the Friends of Humanity?”

“I can predict what a criminal’s gonna do ‘cause we’re the same. The Friends are a different story. Ya can’t predict crazy.”

Neither of them expected to be chased down like that. If Shiv was right, they both would have been slaughtered like animals and left for everyone in New York to see. If the Friends were capable of that, time would only tell what would come next.

“If that’s the case, maybe you do need someone looking out for you if you’re going to be too busy looking out for me.”

Before Shiv could protest, they had already turned to go.

He stood to move after them, boot catching on a discarded hairspray can and rolling forward. This caused him to go sprawling and fall face first.

“Are you okay?”
Pocket quickly turned around at the sound of the crash.

”…I’ll get the bike started,” was mumbled into the hardwood

---

The hardest part of writing any story is the ending. In a compelling story that captures the reader’s imagination, it’s bittersweet to say goodbye. If the ending isn’t satisfactory, it can taint the enjoyment of the entire work.

If the ending does end up being satisfying to the readers, then the note they leave on is a pleasant one and the story will live on in their memories as something larger than it originally set out to be.

Kelvin, who had written countless books about his own adventures, had come to know what his readers wanted and doing so had earned him several bestsellers. The fact he was writing about firsthand experiences (though with a few fabricated details added to liven up the text) made it significantly easier to craft than one of fiction. It was also the reason he knew where and when the story should come to a close. No one wants to read about the sixteen hour flight home or the amount of paperwork it takes to get an archaeological treasure into a museum.

The problem with his current novel, however, was the complete opposite of the usual problem most authors face.

He knew how it ended. He knew how it began.

What he didn’t know was the story itself.

More than a year and a half of his life was shrouded in mystery.

When he returned to the land of the living, he came back to a body that had no pulse, a glowing rock keeping him alive, a dead exploration team, and no trace of Edrick.

What he could gather was few and far between: He was dead. The rock was a phylactery keeping him alive. His team, as far as he knew, wasn’t as fortunate. Edrick he was still drawing a blank about.

The puzzle was missing so many pieces that you couldn’t even guess what you were looking at.

The few pages he had written touched everything that he knew, which was nothing at all.

He stood from his typewriter to make himself a scotch. He couldn’t taste it, but the idea of it made him feel more alive. He turned on the radio on his way to the minibar.

“Good Evening and welcome to a Special Broadcast of the New York Oracle. I’m Allie Kinkaid.”

Kelvin paid little attention to the introduction, using it as background noise as he riffled through the bottles.

“For years, the prison of Lost Whisper has been a dungeon for the OSIC’s most dangerous occultists. Many believed that the escape was impossible from such an isolated and warded institution. Three months ago, that belief was proven wrong. I’m here with the man who defied those labels. Seven, welcome to the program.”

"It's so nice to be here, Miss Kinkaid, truly."

The familiar electric voice sent a jolt down his spine the second he heard it ring throughout his living room.

“We’re glad to have you. So, I’ll start with what I’m sure our listeners at home are wondering: Why do you call yourself ‘Seven’?”

"In matters of the occult numbers hold a wide range of meanings. The number seven has long been associated with divinity and spiritual adeptness, as well as insight. Or maybe it was the number of wards I needed to surpass to get where I am now, who's to say?"

“Divinity? Given that you’ve done what most would consider impossible, do you see yourself as superior to the average person?”

"Naturally, but that's a claim roughly half the population can stake. I'd like to think I've climbed well above average."

He couldn’t believe his ears. Days ago this man had fried numerous people to death and on top of that he was an escaped convict. Why was the news exalting him?

“The fact you were in Lost Whisper in the first place is very telling that you’re more adept with magic than most users. In fact, most rumors about your crimes vary from something as extreme as non-consensual necromancy to something as minor as banishing parking tickets. Would you be willing to dispel any of those rumors?”

"I see no reason to dispute what may well be true. I know the people of New York have taken to considering me a 'boogie man', and truth be told it's probably safer for them to see me as such."

“So you enjoy being feared?”

"I wouldn't say I enjoy it, no, but it serves neither them nor me any purpose to contest it."

“So as someone who believes themselves above average, what is your opinion on the Patrons? Have you been called on by either of them?”

"As to be expected."

He hadn’t answered a single question straight. How did this even constitute an interview? There was the mention of the Patrons again. This madman knew that he had made contact with one of them. Was it possible that one of them told him so?

“Will you be participating in the Ritual?”

"Miss Kinkaid, I have chased arcane sublimity for my entire life. This opportunity is not something to cast aside."

“So your wish would be…?”

A heavy crackle of static came through the radio. Between the noise, Kevlin could make out the words:

"You will know in time."

He turned it off. He didn't need to hear anymore. In that moment, he wished more than anything that alcohol could still get him drunk.

He was down three glasses of scotch and hunched over his desk again when he was interrupted.

I see you’re not taking his notoriety very lightly.

“I have no idea who that man is. He sought me out just to make sure I’m participating in the same ritual he is and now he's being completely glorified! Who even is he?”

Someone who knows far more than he should. The Sapphire Flame notes his tenacity, but he is not needed at this time.

“So he’s working for the other one…”
Did he know that he was contacted by the opposing patron? Was this just an easy way to get rid of him?
“Do you know what he’ll wish for?”

I do. What I can tell you is that it is something that won’t bode well for anyone but himself.

“Then what does this have to do with me?”

Seven used to think very highly of you, Kelvin. Whatever happened to you seemed to have changed his mindset.

Another missing piece…
He told him to his face that he was nothing more than a ghost of his former self. Maybe he was right. It was time to learn the truth.

“…I’ll do it.”

Will you ensure that the Sapphire Flame will burn bright?

“I’ll do whatever I can to bring you into this plane… but I must admit, I’m not so good with stoking flames anymore.”

Ever the humble braggart, Kelvin.

He shrugged,
“I cannot help that I’m your best choice!”

---

The co-pilot lay dead in their seat. The pilot was in the bathroom. In the meantime, Calico took over his seat and let the airship slowly decrease in altitude.

It wasn’t how she usually preferred to handle things, but an airship crash was more than enough to cover her tracks.

A bit out of your element h-

“I’m busy. Make it quick.”

Directly to the point. The Amber Hand seeks your support.

“You mean the blood ritual? I supposed I could lend a hand. I usually ask for payment upfront but I suppose that’s impossible for someone outside of this realm. Consider it done.”

Your work is usually done in solitude. Are you certain you’re going to work well with others?

“I don’t have to talk to them and they don’t have to talk to me. I’m not exactly a people person. Isn’t that right, Ava?”

Ava meowed in agreement.

Very well. I shall call on you soon.

After dipping a few hundred more feet, alarms began to sound.

The pilot rushed into the cockpit, still doing his belt, and a sheet of toilet paper stuck to his loafer.
“LADY WHAT THE HELL ARE Y-“

In seconds, he was covered in sticky bombs that ceased his theatrics.

Calico gingerly stepped over his corpse and out to the airship’s door.

The target yelled something she didn’t care to hear as she donned her parachute.

Ava already had hers on.

As she opened the door with her inhuman strength, the frigid air began to pour in as the cabin depressurized.

The two of them jumped and landed somewhere safely in the Bay of New York.

The airship did as well, but its landing was much less safe.

Notes:

Back to the old format for now. Felt like we needed a break from all the heavy FoH stuff to see what the rest of New York was up to.

I don't imagine that Pocket stayed with the Tunnel Rats for very long, but with everything Krill says, it's evident that both he and Mo really liked them.

An interview with Seven was teased by a New York Oracle headline during the Christmas event and it's also mentioned in voicelines pertaining to Holliday's VN. I have no idea why they would want to interview a guy who is cagey about LITERALLY everything, but all more the power to them. It gave me something to work with.

Calico is a ex-Baxter Society turned assassin now, and as of yesterday, it's looking like she could have been the one who shot Pocket. At the very least this means she could be a very loose canon connection between Shiv and Pocket and makes the conversation they had back in Chapter 6 take on a whole new meaning. Interesting stuff.

Until ne-I cannot find my way around the map. Where the hell am I?

Chapter 13: Ties that Bind

Summary:

Desensitization.
Another poker game.
Out for a smoke.
An unprompted question.

Notes:

If you're wondering where Dynamo is, the most recent patch retconned him out of Sunday night poker.
This was going to be a sweet chapter where he found out that his godchild was still alive, but Valve had other plans.
Originally there were lines for the Sapphire Flame implying she would help Wraith look for her estranged father. These lines have been removed from the game and all mentions of such has been removed from the story.

        

Dusk was setting in by the time they reached Jezebels. From the parking lot, it looked more like a church than it did a bar. The stained glass windows and warded entryway imitated a place of worship. In a way, Pocket supposed it was.

They stood staring up at the building until Shiv walked beside them.

“Ya just gonna look at it or are ya gonna go in?”

They took in a deep breath.
“Who normally plays?”

“Normally? The Tunnel Rats, Wraith, and a local Ixian detective.”

“What’s a detective doing in a game full of criminals?”

“He ain’t with the department. He’s freelance. Nice guy until ya make him mad.”

“Like you?”

Shiv laughed.
“He may be bigger than me, but he ain’t scarier than me. Now c’mon, it’s cold out here.”

As Shiv walked forward, they could have sworn that his good hand went to reach around their waist, stop, and then return his jacket pocket.

Pocket decided to try something.
“You’re not afraid someone else is going to try to take me home?”

Shiv smirked as he walked backwards.
“They know me well ‘nough not to steal from me.”

They started to follow.
“And if they try anyway?”

“Gonna be hard to have a good time when they’re in a hospital bed.”

“And if I want to go with them?”

“Then that’s your choice.”

That actually made Pocket laugh.
“You’d give up that easily?”

“I know when I’m outclassed.”

“And here I thought you’d say that I couldn’t do better.”

“Most people can’t. You could.”
He turned around and continued walking towards the bar.

Pocket already knew their cheeks were pink. They didn’t mind. Maybe they were getting used to it. Maybe, somehow, they were starting to welcome it.

---

“You are so fucking ridiculous.”

“Hey it’s already tried to fly away on me twice and, unlike you, I don’t have fancy mind powers to bring it back.”

Wraith looked at the chain connected to Abrams’s wrist. At some point since their last game he had fettered the damn book to himself.

“I believe we discussed how counterintuitive it was to carry it around in the first place? If anything you’re just drawing more attention to yourself,” Krill added.

Mo nodded in agreement.

“I didn’t put this on as a fucking fashion statement. It’s to keep it on me until this shit’s over with.”
The chain rattled as he picked up his drink, taking much more than a sip.

“So you’ve gone and joined the cause,” Wraith smirked to herself.
“I honestly didn’t think you’d come around.”

“I guess I have you to thank for that considerin’ it mentioned you by name, Wraith. What happened to not doin’ what everyone else is doin’?”
Abrams seemed more annoyed than grateful.

“I changed my mind. I do that a lot when it comes to business. Especially if it’s in my favor.”

“It seems you somehow managed to direct it in your favor. I still don’t know why you only wanted Mo. You should know that we don’t fight as well when we’re apart”
Krill sounded slightly miffed at the idea of Mo fighting without him. Mo’s eyesight was poor and he couldn’t hold a gun.Wraith knew both of these things and yet she didn’t recommend both of them.

“What can I say? She trusts me. I’ve made more than enough connections in my career to know who can handle themselves in a fight. And speaking of Mo, you should probably stop him from mauling whoever Shiv just walked in with.”

Krill looked beside him to find Mo gone. Across the room, he was standing on his hind legs with his forelegs wrapped around someone he couldn’t see with all the mole in the way.

“No, he’s not mauling them. There’d be much more blood if that were the case. That is a hug.”

One of Pocket’s hands patted Mo’s large form as if to coax him off of them, the other hand was held out to Shiv as if they were stopping him from doing something drastic.

Mo, seemingly getting the hint, released them and got back down on all fours. As Shiv and his companion followed him back to the table, Krill stood up on the pile of books he used as a booster seat.

“POCKET! What the hell are you doing back in New York?!”
Krill’s voice wasn’t full of anger but disbelief. He was sure that they were wary enough to never return.

“Hey Krill…” they said pulling up a seat to the booth,
“It’s a long story.”

“Well make it short! You shouldn’t be here.”
Krill insisted.

“They’re here for the ritual.”
Shiv added pulling up a seat beside him.
“We all are.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on the other side, Shiv. You’re too good looking for me to fill you with bullets.”
Wraith seemed nonplussed by the whole thing.

“May not have to. See, the thing is, the kid and I got our choice of Patron.”
Shiv was smugger than he should have been about it.

“You’re tellin’ us that both Patrons called on you? You really expect us to believe that?”
Abrams sounded entirely suspicious.

“The rest of ya haven’t? Ya hear that, Pocket? I guess we’re the only ones pretty enough to catch both of their attention.” Shiv gently elbowed Pocket to complete the jest.

Wraith remained unconvinced.
“I don’t buy that for a second. If either of them would have spoken to you, it would have told me.”

Pocket found their voice, “How many people did you recommend? You recommended Mo and Krill, right?”

“I recommended Mo,” Wraith corrected, “Other than that, a few. But I didn’t expect it to take all of my advice. Not everyone is worthy of a thing like this.”

“And how many others have told you that they joined because of you?” Pocket questioned.

“Just Abrams,” she jabbed a mechanical thumb in his direction.
“Like I said, I don’t expect everyone.”

Pocket hesitated, “... I think it may be giving you more credit to make you feel like you’re the one in control…”

Wraith’s pale eyes widened and then narrowed,
“Listen kid, that’s cute that you think you can say that to me, but if you think I’m dumb enou-“

“They have a point Wraith,” Krill interrupted.
“It said you sent it. It never said it chose us because of you. It evaluated us on its own scale.”

Wraith tsk’d, “Yeah, it said I ‘sent’ it because I told it what to do. Abrams, it said as much to you, right?”

“I’m not gettin’ into this. But yeah, it said ‘recommend’ and then somethin’ about ambition. I was drunk at the time.” Abrams sounded completely over it.

Her head snapped to Shiv, “I thought these sort of things didn’t lie.”

“Lyin’ and stretchin’ the truth are two different things. Maybe it did look into ‘em ‘cause of you, but you weren’t the determinin’ factor.”
Shiv shrugged.

She cursed under her breath, “Alright kid, who the fuck are you, and why did you think to be that suspicious of it? We all don’t trust it, but you clearly have a reason to be skeptical.”

“Because the other one warned me about it…”
Was all Pocket could say.

“So the only advantage of hearing from two is that it can turn you against the other. Great. Real game changer.”
Her voice was harsher.
“If you trust the other one so much, why don’t you go? It looks like Lash can snap you in two so maybe you’re better off on his team.”

“Eh, to be fair, we do have Bebop to deal with the Lash,” Krill offered.

Mo nodded.

“Ya forgettin’ I’m here too, Wraith. Ya really don’t want me on your side?”
Shiv countered.

“I do, but if you’re just trying to get in this kid’s pants by giving them my blessing to be on my team, it ain’t happening.” She was firm in her decision.

“Well it’s a good thing it ain’t ‘your’ team ‘cause you ain’t even who we came here to talk to.” There was a restrained anger in Shiv’s voice.

“Could you also add that you’re not trying to get in my pants?” Pocket softly pleaded.

“That too,” Shiv noted. He then looked to Pocket as if he wanted to make sure they were comfortable enough to take matters into their hands.

Pocket took charge of the conversation,
“Mo. Krill. We’ve inadvertently turned the Friends of Humanity against the Baxter Society.”

“You’re a hunter now? Not the career path I would have expected you to take, but it's a good opportunity to get out on the road. Good for you and good for you for showing those bastards who’s boss!” Krill actually seemed enthused at the prospect of pissing the Friends off.

Mo nodded.

“No. I just came to Baxter Society for protection. Shiv just happened to be the person I ran in to.”

“And it happened to land you in more trouble,” Wraith laughed, cigarette smoke escaping her lungs. “Funny how that works.”

“Why didn’t you come to us, Pocket? You know we wouldn’t have turned you down. And as for the Friends… let’s just say we have our own way of dealing with them. Right, Mo?”

Mo nodded.

“I wanted to, but your gang isn’t the only thing down there. I didn’t want something else to find me first. When I heard Shiv on the radio, he sounded like someone who knew more about the patrons than most people. And with the way he talked about Fairfax Industries, I knew I could trust him.”

A small smile crept across their face reciting that last part.

“Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this but anyone with half a brain hates Fairfax. Why do you even care about that?”
Wraith’s anger had abated for now.

“Don’t worry about it.”
Shiv shot her a look.

“No, it’s okay,” Pocket eased. “I’m done with lying to people.”

“Yeah, but is this something ya want to admit to her of all people?” Shiv questioned seriously.

“Who’d you screw over at Fairfax, kid?”
Abrams now seemed fully invested in the conversation.

“Yeah, this oughta be good.”
Wraith raised a brow but remained uninterested.

Pocket weighed their options. Wraith was a criminal that probably wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to get ahead, but she also implied that everyone in her circle despised the company. Was it possible she’d turn them in to their father expecting a reward? Possibly, but she was probably doubtful enough of rich people to think he’d deliver any sort of reward.
The detective, on the other hand, was visibly Ixian. With the war going on, odds were his views on the company fueling the war machine weren’t favorable either.

They looked to Mo and Krill. Krill looked like he was on the edge of his seat. Mo was scratching behind his ear with his hind leg.

They took a deep breath. At that moment they became fully aware that Shiv’s hand was placed flat against their back, almost close enough to reach their far shoulder.

Everything they took in was enough reassurance.

“Maximilian Fairfax is my father. Five years ago he tried to kill me because he didn’t want me to take over the company. It obviously didn’t work and I’m going to use my wish to stop him from hurting anyone else.”

It didn’t hurt to say anymore. It didn’t make them feel shame or remorse. It didn’t make them second guess themselves. All of it was the truth, plain and straightforward.

“…Shit I wasn’t expecting that.”
Abrams immediately downed the rest of his drink.

Wraith just gave them a disgruntled stare.

“Got something to say Wraith?”
Shiv seemed more bothered than Pocket.

“So it’s daddy issues? That’s what you’re selling me?”
Her head slumped on one of her real hands while her mechanical ones held the rest of her up.

“I’m not trying to sell you anything. I’m just being honest because it looks like we're all going to be working together.”
Pocket said it as plainly as possible.

Wraith got up,
“I’m going to go smoke.”

“Ya already doin’ that,” Shiv pointed out.

She was already out the door and the table went silent.

Abrams cleared his throat to banish the silence,
“I’m sorry to hear about all that kid, but I’m glad you came clean. If you and Shiv need anything you know where to find me.”
He reached into his coat and handed Pocket a business card.

Pocket took it.

Abrams Investigations
We Speculate in the Unknowable and Unthinkable

“Thanks.” Pocket put it in their cloak.

“Mo and I are also proud you can finally get that off your chest, Pocket. I wouldn’t worry about Wraith too much,” Krill waved the thought away.
“She may be harsh. And cruel. And sadistic. And a killer. And have a crippling gambling association, but she really isn’t as bad as her reputation makes her out to be. Isn’t that righ- Mo?”

Mo was gone.

---

Mo lumbered out of the bar into the back alley and found Wraith smoking under a dim lamp.

“Hey Mo. You worried about me?” She actually looked happy to see him.

Mo nodded.

She levitated the remaining butt to a nearby dumpster.
“C’mere.”

He walked over to her and sat down.
She knelt and began scratching his head.

I sense you’re upset with me Wraith.

She stopped and rolled her eyes.
“I’m not even going to get into how you tricked me into feeling in control. Because honestly? I respect it. If it was good enough to fool me then it was pretty impressive. What I do want to know is why you sent someone else gambling with power. Is that just a theme with you or do you just like collecting us?”

I never tricked you Wraith. I took your advice wholeheartedly and sought ou-

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You stretched the truth. Answer me.”

While I do recognize that Pocket’s situation resembles your own, it is merely a coincidence.

“Yeah. Just two of us trying to take control of the city… I’d hate to see what skeletons Shiv has in his closet.”

That’s something you’ll have to ask him about.

“Yeah. I’ll get right on that…”

Mo pawed at her leg, insisting on more scratches.

---

The parking lot was almost empty by the time they left. Night had completely engulfed the city.

“That went a lot better than expected.”
Pocket actually felt good about the encounter. They felt lighter. More confident.

“I’m surprised ya managed to fess up ‘bout all that, kid. ‘Specially to Wraith of all people.”

“You were right, she doesn’t look like a killer. I’m sure I would think differently if I got on her bad side.”

“Hell, ya almost did. She walked out like to stop herself from doin’ anything drastic.”

“She probably wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t with me…”
They meant that. In the grand scheme of the criminal underworld, they were nothing but a bargaining chip. Anyone brave enough to turn them over to their father probably expected to make a fortune, But everyone hated Maximilian Fairfax, so why would they give a tyrant anything he wanted? That was the same logic that made them trust Shiv and everyone else who seemed to share the sentiment.

“Nah, she ain’t one to start fights in public. She gets ya afterwards.”

“That’s… not comforting.”

"I'm fucking with ya kid."
Shiv gently jostled their shoulder.
"Ya really think I wouldn't end her the moment I thought she'd come for you?"

Pocket considered it.
"I guess so. I think you'd kill anything you perceive as a threat before assessing it. Maybe it's better now that we have someone else on our side."

"...Ya really worried 'bout this whole Friends thing, aren't ya?"

"I am.”
Pocket's voice became serious.
"Shiv, I trust you with my life, I just don't know if I can trust you with your own."

Shiv almost looked offended.
"I've done pretty well for myself, thank you very much."

"You hunt monsters. You said that hunting something long enough gave you an idea of what to expect. You also said that you can't predict crazy. The Friends may be monsters, but those are two different things."

"I said that because I'm worried about what they'd do to you, not me. I'm gonna be just fine."

"As long as they don't use me right?"

Shiv swore under his breath, "If ya that concerned, why didn't ya go with the Rats? Ain't that the whole reason we came?"

"We came here for help and we're getting it if we need it. Sooner or later we will. I just... I don't know. I think you need protection from yourself."

Shiv shook the chain of his reliquary. "You think I don't know that?"

"Yeah, I've seen what it does. From where I'm standing, it doesn't look like much."

Pocket had seen it light up when he was angry, but it didn’t do much to restrain him. Whatever was up with Shiv ran deeper than just anger issues. Apparently calming him down was a feat according to Vindicta and Pocket had managed to quell it every time.

"Looks are deceivin' kid. Take one look at yourself after all the shit you've survived, and tell me that ain't true."

“Then maybe I’m the one who can help you with that?”

Shiv stopped momentarily, mouthing unspoken words as he searched for what to say.
"Well, we’re just gonna have to find out. Now come on, let’s get you out of here before someone tries to take you home.”

In the spur of the moment, Pocket spoke without thinking.
“Are you actually trying to get in my pants like everyone thinks you are?”

Shiv had already turned around and started walking towards his bike. Without even looking over his shoulder, “If I was, you’d know it.”

“I don’t think I would.”

He turned around.
“Ya want me to demonstrate?”

Something in Pocket wanted to say ‘yes’ but all that came out was,
“Not right now.”

Shiv shrugged.
“Fine by me.”
He continued back towards the bike.

Pocket wondered why they said ‘right now’ and didn’t just flatly refuse him.

Maybe there would be time for it. They just didn’t know when.

Notes:

Fourth section Jumpscare.

We actually see two angles of Jezebels in Lady Geist's VN and looks very much like a cathedral.

Since Abrams's new design has him chained to the book, I felt it was a good ice breaker. He also says "I'll be ready when thing tries to fly away" and I thought he was talking about the enemy Vindicta for a few seconds when I heard it.

Sapphire Flame Patron continues to be a freak. She's so weird and I love it.

I don't know why, but I get the feeling that Wraith likes Mo more than Krill? There's one kill line where she apologizes to Mo but not Krill.

Abrams's business card is from Geist's VN.

On the topic of Wraith, Sapphire Flame has an intro that says it knows where her father is. Really ties her, Pocket (with an emotionally absent father), and Shiv (who WAS a father) together.
Wraith looking for her dad got retconned and now this chapter kinda sucks.

Wonder what Shiv meant by giving a demonstration? I guess we'll never know (for now).

Until next time, I have learned my way around the map.

Chapter 14: Dichotomy

Summary:

Déjà vu.
Déjà vu.

Dusk was setting in by the time they reached Jezebels. From the parking lot, it looked more like a church than it did a bar. The stained glass windows and warded entryway imitated a place of worship. In a way, Pocket supposed it was.

They stood staring up at the building until Shiv walked beside them.

“Ya just gonna look at it or are ya gonna go in?”

They took in a deep breath.
“Who normally plays?”

“Normally? The Tunnel Rats, Wraith, and a local Ixian detective.”

“What’s a detective doing in a game full of criminals?”

“He ain’t with the department. He’s freelance. Nice guy until ya make him mad.”

“Like you?”

Shiv laughed.
“He may be bigger than me, but he ain’t scarier than me. Now c’mon, it’s cold out here.”

Shiv reached over to snake his arm underneath their cloak and wrapped it around their waist. Pocket immediately went rigid at the sudden warmth that enveloped their body, but then relaxed. They were begrudgingly thankful for his reassuring heat against the autumn night.

“I’m not oversteppin’ my boundaries am I?”
He sounded more complacent than concerned.

“Just watch your hand…”
They didn’t want to admit just how comfortable it felt being this close to him; The lavender of his cologne was almost intoxicating. All the anxiety of walking into a den of debauchery melted away basking in his glow.

“Just makin’ sure no one tries to bring you home. They know me well ‘nough not to steal from me.” His hand gently squeezed their side as if to prove a point.

“And if they try?”

“Gonna be hard to have a good time when they’re in a hospital bed.”

“And if I wanted to go with them?”

“Let’s not pretend ya wanna do that.”

Pocket’s eyes fluttered open as they awoke. They were immediately aware of the warmth missing from their core and how vulnerable they felt without it.

---

“Are you actually trying to get in my pants like everyone thinks you are?”

Shiv had already turned around and started walking towards his bike. Without even looking over his shoulder, “If I was, you’d know it.”

“I don’t think I would.”

He turned around.
“Ya want me to demonstrate?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Shiv immediately closed the distance between them and pressed Pocket against the wall of the bar. With relative ease he pinned both of their wrists to either side of them.

He leaned into them, nose almost pressed to the crook of their neck, close enough to inhale the scent he’d become almost addicted to. He nudged their scarf to the side with the tip of his nose so he could breathe them in.

”Do ya get the picture?”
His voice was a soft purr. A tone that melted everyone else he tried to charm.

Pocket pulled away and looked back with utter fucking annoyance.
“Could you get off me?”

Every primal instinct in Shiv shut down the moment his brain processed the words.
“…Okay.”
He let them go.

Pocket stood back up and brushed themself off.
“I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop trying so hard. I’m attracted to you, not the thing inside yo-“

Shiv awoke and tore the sleep mask off of his face in frustration. Any other dream like that would have gone a lot better.

Maybe he was trying too hard with Pocket. It wasn’t just the thing inside him, either. It felt like every other thing he said to them was something he’d say to a girl he was trying to impress.

It was time to back off a bit. Pocket would come to him when the time was right.

...Right?

Notes:

I wondered if this chapter was long enough to stand on its own, but it wouldn't fit with the tone of what I have planned for the next chapter. I just wanted to set that Pocket's starting to catch feelings and Shiv feels like he's becoming overbearing.

Looked up what cologne was popular in the 40's/50's and came up with 'Acqua di Parma Colonia' (Worn by Cary Grant and Ava Gardener!) which apparently smells like lemon and lavender. Happen to like to scent of lavender more so that's what got described.

Shiv wears a sleep mask to bed. No way he doesn't.

Until next time, this chapter actually took less time to write than the time between updates, I just got lazy.

Chapter 15: Myrmidons

Summary:

A tally.
Wrong number.
An extended recess.

 

Sapphire Flame: Wraith, Mo + Krill, Abrams, Bebop, Viscous

Amber Hand: Jacob Lash, Vyper

In the meager hours of the morning, Pocket had found a meeting room by wandering around the building. It was so out of the way that they hadn’t come across it before. The room happened to have a chalkboard so they used it to mark down everything they knew about both teams. All in all, it wasn’t much. They didn't even know how many people were being called on.

They made a third section.

Unknown: Paradox, Seventh Moon, Cowgirl, Djinn Ambassador

“Who’s the cowgirl?”
Shiv came in with two cups of coffee, which looked incredibly enticing at the moment.
“I didn’t know how you take yours so it’s just black.”

“How the hell did you know I was in here?”

For the briefest of moments Pocket could have sworn his eyes widened.
“It’s not a very big building.”

“I’ll take your word for it… ‘Cowgirl’ is what I’m calling the woman that came in with Murphy. She had a hat, boots, spurs… I don’t know where she was from but it wasn’t anywhere near here.”

They took a sip of the coffee. Despite their best efforts, they made an involuntary grimace the moment the bitterness hit their tongue.

Shiv took notice and sighed.
“How do ya take it?”

“It’s fine the way it is, but usually? Cream and two sugars.”
They hated to sound ungrateful, even for just a little thing.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that ya take it sweet.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t panic when you found out I wasn’t downstairs.”

“Panic don’t help nobody’ ‘cept those tryin’ to cause it.”
He went around to take a seat on the end of the table.
“If the Friends tried to take ya in the night, there’d be signs.”

“I guess it also helps that they don’t know anyone is staying in the building. How long do you think it’ll take them to figure out where you live?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they knew already. If ‘Dicta’s right about one thing, it’s that the bike ain’t exactly subtle.”

“Isn’t that on purpose?”

“Yeah.”
He took a sip of coffee.

“So are you going to drive something else for a while?”

“Nah.”
Pocket looked over to see if he was joking but he was just taking another sip before saying,
“May as well put us, Vinny, and Wesley up there.”

Pocket turned back to the board and realized what he just said.
“Grey Talon’s participating?”

“Ya ‘member how I said he wasn’t a grandpa no more?”

“…Yeah?”

They didn’t like where this was going.

“We put four of the Friends in the ground. Wesley’s probably tripled that by now.”

“Shiv, what happened?”

“His son’s wife was half Ixian, meaning his grandchildren were a third Ixian and well… Ya know how they can control fire?”

“Yeah…?”

“They died in a fire. You do the math and tell me why that don’t add up.”

Pocket didn’t know what to say.
“He thinks it was the Friends?”

“He knows it was the Friends. No one else would have a motive to do ‘em in like that.”
His voice became uncharacteristically somber.
“I didn’t know those kids well, but they had the cutest fuckin’ tails that no one will ever see again. I never tried to talk him down from it ‘cause I knew it was the right thing to do. He and Vindicta are gonna have the same fuckin’ wish and I almost hope they end up on opposite sides just to make sure it gets done.”

There were no words of comfort Pocket could offer. Just because they didn’t choose the path of vengeance didn’t mean they had the right to judge others for taking it.

They turned to add the suggested names.

“Also might want to add a magician and a Sandman. ‘Dicta told me ‘bout those.”

Pocket turned around sharply,
“Sandman? They’re real?”

“Ya really think they weren’t?”

“I had no reason to believe they weren’t but, I don’t know. I guess it’s just weird to find out this way. If the OSIC wants to get involved, I suppose that’s who they would send for a threat as big as a god.”

“Probably doin’ the same thing as us. Summonin’ it just to kill it.”

“I know you said you were doing it for society, but the more you talk about it, the more I think you’re just doing it for yourself.”

“Does it really matter at this point?”

“I guess not…”
Pocket added the other names to the ‘Unknown’ section.

Unknown: Paradox, Seventh Moon, Cowgirl, Djinn Ambassador, Vindicta, G. T., Magician, Sandman, Shiv, Pocket

“We know next to nothing about the Amber Hand. We should’ve asked the others what they knew last night.”

“Wraith probably knows more than she let on; but information from her don’t come for free.”

“What would she even ask for? Cash? Souls?”

“Nah, if it’s comin’ from me it’d be somethin’ personal and probably humiliatin’.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t really know and don’t really care to find out. At the most she’ll want me on her side. At the least she’ll make me work security at one of her casinos or some shit. Me bein’ in a monkey suit would make her fuckin’ day.”

“I think you’d pull it off.”

“I have and could. Just not for her. I’d rathe-“
He grumbled something.
“Look, whatever she asks, it’s gonna be bad.”

The entire phrase struck Pocket as odd.
“When did you wear a tuxedo?”

“Long time ago.”
He didn’t elaborate.

Pocket tried again.
“Was it something like a charity ball for the society?”

“Nope.”
He took another sip of coffee.

“I’m sorry, I’m just having trouble picturing you in one.”

“Just know I look good in one. I’m sure it l- I’m sure you look fine in one too.”

It had been years since they wore a tuxedo. Even if they still had the one they used for social events, it would probably hang off them like a sheet. They may have been a couple years older but they were also a couple of pounds lighter.

They decided to move on.
“What about Mo and Krill? I’m sure they have as many connections as she does.”

“Well, they ain’t comin’ up until next Sunday again, but if ya want me to take ya down to the sewers, ya owe me.”

“I’m already paying you to protect me.”

“Ya didn’t pay me for a tour of the underground shit rivers.”

“Yesterday you were fine with taking me down there.”

“Changed my mind.”

Pocket huffed, “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
They prepared themselves for whatever risqué suggestion Shiv had in store for them this time.

“I want you to stay with them.”

“Yesterday you wanted me to stay with them. Last night you said it was my decision. What happened between now and then?”
Not only were they disappointed in his sudden backpedaling, they were surprised his request wasn’t something that ended in them getting drinks together.

“Because Pocket, I’ve known ya for four fuckin’ days, got the cops interested in us, almost gotten ya killed, and put a target on ya back. That’ll whole thing about you protectin’ me from myself ain’t gone work out if we drawin’ ire on ourselves.”

“Seems to me like you’d be doing that without my help.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’. If you’re here already and things ain’t gettin’ better, maybe it’s best if ya weren’t involved at all.”

“Shiv, how many times have I told you that I trust you? I wouldn’t have come to you in the first place if I didn’t - and I don’t think you would have taken me in if you didn’t trust yourself.”

“Yeah that was before we-“

“No. We were always in a life or death situation. The only difference now is that we can work our way out of this one.”

The ritual was inevitable. It was a fire they were willingly jumping into headfirst. The Friends were a different story. If they had enough support, they could outsmart a cult full of lunatics and make life a whole lot better for a lot of people.

“Pocket,” he stood up to level with them.
“If they get to you before we even get to the Ritual I’d never fuckin’ forgive myself.”

“You said it yourself - they know what I look like. As far as we know, they want us both dead. What if they still pursue me in the sewers? That’s still a possibility, especially if the Tunnel Rats are having their own problems with the Friends.”

“People get lost in the tunnels all the time and ya got an entire gang down there that know the way. You’re safer down there than you are here. It’s selfish of me to want to keep you around.”

“So what say do I have in this?”
Pocket’s voice had a sharper edge than they intended but they didn’t care.
“It should be my decision, right? Why are you making it for me?”

Shiv’s voice eased, almost backing down.
“I ain’t makin’ it for ya. Like I said yesterday, this is what I think is best.”

“And if I think it’s better to stay with you?”

“That’s your choice,” Shiv said again, as resolute as he was last night.

“I’d just like to hear your reasonin’.”

“I already gave it to you: I trust you.”
Their voice evened out and the edge disappeared.
“I know you compared Fairfax Headquarters to a castle, but I’m not a damsel from a storybook. You keep coming up with the worst case scenario and the worst case scenario to you is them doing something to me when I can handle myself.”

“I distinctly remember you gettin’ a gun to your head.”

“And I was the one that got myself out of it.”
They became more sincere.
“The express purpose I came to you was so my Father wouldn’t find me. And maybe you’re right, I would be less likely to be found in the sewer, but I feel safe here.”

“Pocket, their grudge is going to run deeper than just me and extend to the entire society. If they do somethin-“

“To the building?”
And the sudden realization hit them like a ton of bricks.
“… Shiv, like I said before, they don’t know anyone is staying here. Even if they did, the police know you and the Friends aren’t on good terms. They’d be the first ones they’d look into. They couldn’t get away with it.”

“Ya act like they haven’t already.”

“From what you just told me about Grey Talon, I don’t think they are.”

Shiv sighed, grumbled, and looked completely defeated.
“There ain’t no convincin’ ya otherwise, is there?”

“No. Didn’t you want me to stay anyway?”

“I do. I really fuckin’ do. I still don’t think that’s what’s best though.”

“It may not be better for me, but I think it is for you. If they keep this up, I think you’re going to do something drastic you’re going to regret.”

“Yeah, yeah, savin’ me from myself. I remember.”
He went to leave the room.
“I ain’t gonna hold it against ya if I do though.”

“Where are you going?”

He turned around,
“Ain’t we goin’ to the sewers?”

“Are you still going to ask for a favor in exchange?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”
They expected it would surely be something crude this time around.

“Don’t wander off.”

They followed, trying not to think too much about how Shiv hadn’t attempted to flirt with them a single time. By now, it felt out of character. Maybe he was just tired.

---

Mornings at Jezebels were always dead. The occasional alcoholic would wander in for their morning fix, but other than that, most people didn’t feel the need to drink or clack billiard balls together before the work day began.

The prismatic colors of the large stained glass window fell over Hank as he slumped over the bar of his empty establishment.

Protecting your livelihood is important Hank. If you don’t act soon then you and everyone you care about will be in dire straits.

“Lady, how many times do I have to tell ya I ain’t a fighter…”
He meant every word of it. Ever since these things started talking to people, his customers would drunkenly yell about how much of their souls they bet on either side. From what he could tell, only the most notorious scumbags were participating. Most he knew personally. If only a miracle could save the bar, and the patrons were offering one, he didn’t want it. Dying to the likes of them wasn’t worth it in the least.

No one said anything about fighting. I only call upon those I find capable.

He guffawed.
“Sure. I guess you called Wraith for her notorious restraint.”

“Hank, you gotta stop drinking your own supply. There ain’t nobody here.”
Infernus had come from downstairs and slipped behind the bar without him noticing.

“I know there’s nobody here, they’re just…”
He pointed to his temple.

Even behind Infernus’s tinted glasses Hank could see the realization come over him.
“You’re jokin’.”

Hank shook his head.
“Nope. It’s the blue one too. Same one the Sunday Night Poker Gang are joinin’.”

“And it’s askin’ for you?”

“Yeah.”
Hank shrugged, unsure why any of this was happening.

Infernus crossed his arms, runes on his forearms glowing as he found himself lost in thought. In a snap, resolute moment, he made a decision.
“Let me talk to it.”

Hank looked at him with furrowed brows.
“What? It’s not like handin’ someone a phon-“

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me,” Infernus said to someone who wasn’t in the room.

And just like that it had let Hank go.

Infernus stood way more of a chance in a fight than he ever did but he had sworn off violence years ago. Hank didn’t think he would consider the ritual at all. At least not for himself.

“…’Fern, you’re not really thinkin’ about this, are you?”
Concern filled his voice. He wouldn’t do this just for him, would he?

“I’ll talk to ya later Hank.”
He took his leave into the kitchen, the door swinging behind him.

“‘Fern?!”

The door swung shut a final time, leaving the room in silence.

---

Maggie McGinnis sat in a boardroom meeting on the verge of a boredom induced slumber.

The topic was the marketing of a new blender. Last year the company had made the exact same product but this one had a twist: 5 modes instead of 4.

It was a modification she could have made in her sleep, and even then, much like this meeting, it still wouldn’t have been worth her time.

One by one she looked at the suits around her, all in various degrees of attention. Her gaze fell towards the front on Max, who had the proper poise and refinement to look as if he was fully paying attention, but she knew him well enough to recognize that was the kind of showmanship someone experienced from one of the most powerful men in the world.

The moment he noticed she was looking in his direction he smirked, made an exaggerated eye roll, and immediately regained his composure.

Maximilian Fairfax was a lot of things to a lot of people. A madman. A genius. A monster. A visionary. An opportunist with the worst intentions.

To her? He was just Max.

The guy doing the pitch proudly held up the prototype she made five minutes before she got here and was going on about the proper packaging color. Blue was too on the nose to pander to Ixians and purple, the color of Spirit, would turn away those who opposed the use of magic.
“Of course, color psychology isn’t going to be enough to appeal to both markets, as research shows that both groups think very unfavorably of us during the the last quarter. I propose we also completely omit the Fairfax logo from all-“

There were three heavy, drawn out knocks at the door loud enough to get the attention of the entire room.

There was mumbling amongst the table.

The man who previously spoke looked confused and offended.
“I’m sorry we’re in the middle of a meeti-“

“No, it’s quite alright. I believe we’re due for a break.”
Maximilian Fairfax commanded the man with a simple gesture. Maggie was always impressed when he did that.

The man up front cleared his throat.
“Um, yes sir.”
He spoke up.
“Come in.”

The handle turned several times, three times unsuccessfully, and once to completion only to turn back completely.

The mumbles around the desk got louder.
Max just sat there with a neutral expression.

After five more turns the door eventually cracked open. Through the minor slit, claw-like fingers appeared between the door. With great difficulty the two hands pushed open the door and the thing on the other side finally made its way into the room.

A gasp of horror resounded throughout the board room.

A sizable creature of unidentifiable origin, heaving with every breath stood with drool oozing from its razor sharp teeth. Its many eyes fixated on the man standing up and its large tongue licked its horrible lips.

“Wrecker,” Max said with a voice used to scold a child.
“You know you aren’t allowed in the building when others are around.”

The thing nodded with complete understanding.
Maggie wasn’t surprised Max knew this thing. If it didn’t have security clearance, it wouldn’t have made it past the automatic turrets she had specifically designed for the security system.

"What's so important that it couldn't wait until later?" His voice remained firm.

The thing opened its mouth.
"I HeArD FrOm YeLlOw GoD."

Its voice was like a hundred nails on a chalkboard. Those around her shuddered to hear it speak.

Max remained unmoved.
"I see."
He stood.
"Gentlemen. Ms. McGinnis. We'll continue this meeting at a later time." He stood and took the prototype blender from the man frozen in terror.

He threw it in the thing's direction and it caught it in its maw. The sound of crunching metal and a large gulp indicated there was nothing left to salvage.

"Maggie, you can make another of those, right?"

"With ease, sir."
Hell, she could make a better one.

“Then I'll see you all tomorrow morning.”
He guided the thing out of the room with a single hand leaving nothing but a trail of drool behind them.

The room came alive again with uneasy small talk that she had no interest in.

That thing said 'yellow god". Did it mean the Amber Hand? That was the same one that had contacted her.
If that was the case, she was glad to hear they were on the same side. It had bitten through metal within seconds and left nothing behind. Fuck knows what it could do if a person got in its way.

She almost felt bad for those working for the Sapphire Flame.
Almost.

 

Notes:

Not sure if Grey Talon’s grandkids actually had tails or not considering they weren’t full Ixian, but Infernus’s current model has a rig for one and I wouldn’t be surprised if his final model has one.

Speaking of Infernus, the last Jezebel’s chapter had a distinct lack of him so I figured it was time to bring him in again.

Every time he mentions why he’s participating, it’s always for Hank. It’s not about the bar, it’s about doing something for his friend.
In this fic’s approach to how the Patron’s work, I feel like the Sapphire Flame would use that to her advantage.

McGinnis may not feel one way or another towards working for Fairfax, but I get the impression that she doesn’t hate Fairfax himself. He probably doesn’t hate her either (She’s useful to him).

Wrecker is described as a “trash gremlin” and “a purple thing with eyes”. If anything contradicts his final model, I’ll come back and rewrite it.

I imagine Wrecker is working on behalf of Fairfax. I think he’s the type of guy to show loyalty to anyone who’ll give something to eat, which is pretty much anything.

Until next time, buy Metal Skin for Haze.

Chapter 16: Beneath the Surface

Summary:

Under the city.
An unpleasant smell.
Another tally.

         

Shiv was absolutely ecstatic to see Pocket carrying a gun.

At least, that’s what they could tell. They both had armed themselves after Shiv insisted he change into different shoes that he kept on site for messier hunts. As soon as they came upstairs with it, his eyes never left them. They could even swear they saw him grinning out of the corner of their eye when they loaded it.

They made their way into a nearby maintenance tunnel and began the deep trek into New York’s underground.

It was quiet below the city, the only sound was the distant rumble of the subway and the constant dripping of days old rain water.

The beams of their flashlights had yet to reveal any threats other than the green ghosts of sewer rats that scampered away at the first sight of light.

“Have you ever been down here before?”

Pocket asked just to break the silence.

“Down here? Nah. Was in Chicago for a sewer spirit a few months back though. That ain’t a smell I’ll ever forget.”

“Is that the furthest west you’ve ever been for a hunt?”

“Nope, that’d be Arizona. Sandworm got too close to Tucson.”

“…Aren’t those huge?”

“Yeah, it took me a week to take it out. Would’ve felt bad ‘bout leaving such a big corpse for someone to clean up but apparently it’s a delicacy of some sort. Never knew that.”

“And you did that alone?”

“Not very many hunters are willing to get on the bike. Most of us work alone or with a familiar anyway.”

“So you just travel the country killing things on a motorcycle?”

“Complete with the shitty motels and diners along the way. Probably nothing like the family trips you were used to.”

“Please. The only time I ever left the state was when I was old enough for my Father to take me on business trips so I’d know what they were like. I’d take sleazy motels and bad diner food over those any day of the week…”

Shiv didn’t say anything for a while. Pocket expected some quip about what made the motels sleazy in the first place, but it never came. Instead, he asked,
“…If this whole ritual thing don’t work out, ya wanna see what it’s like?”

Pocket never really thought about what would happen if the ritual failed, mostly because they didn’t think they’d survive if it did.

“Even if it does fail, I think the media would make things too public for me to keep playing dead.”

“Sounds like an excuse to get out of the city again.”

“If he doesn’t get to me first I would have to.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to take me up on it.”

Pocket actually smiled a bit at that. It was the first sign all morning that Shiv was still up to his old tricks.
“I’m only paying you for the month.”

“Right. I bet ya also got friends waitin’ for ya anyway. Nevermind then.”

He kept walking.

Pocket jogged to catch up with him, water splashing with each step.

“I meant that if he finds out I’m alive or had the guile to try to participate in the ritual, he wouldn’t stop coming for me. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Going back to where I came from would just put those I care about in danger. Staying with you would threaten the entire society. He has enough time and money to undermine you until he could buy you out.”

Pocket couldn’t hold back and came to a stop, with Shiv stopping too in response.

“You can’t hide me forever. I’m pushing my luck by just being here. If the ritual fails, I’m dead either way.”
They shrugged, showing they believed in no possibility of nuance in the outcome.
"This is the only chance I’ve got. There is no going back to my friends or some long road trip or whatever it is you have planned for us. We either win or I die.”

The words came out without feeling. Both of their flashlight beams and guns were pointed at the ground. Pocket felt absolutely nothing.

“Pocket…” Shiv started after several moments of nothing but dripping water filling the air. His hand rested on Pocket’s shoulder, a gentle squeeze with the flashlight atop it.
“First of all, I don’t have plans for us. The only one I got is for me to kill whatever the hell comes into this plane. Whatever you end up doin’ is up to you. However you get your daddy out of the picture is gonna make a lot of people happy. If… that don’t happen, then we’ll figure something else out. I haven’t kept ya alive this long just to let ya roll over if things go haywire.”

Pocket gently lifted their gaze to meet his. Even in the dark, they could tell that both his expressions and his words were sincere rather than the pretty little lies he swore off.

“You’re right…”
Life returned to their voice.
“I shouldn’t be dwelling on things that haven’t even happened yet.”

“And I shouldn’t have brought it up. Now, let’s go find out what we’re up against so none of it does happen.”

“Alright.”

Shiv let go and turned to keep going. Pocket immediately missed his touch.

They continued walking in perpetual silence.

Without warning, Shiv sharply stepped in front of Pocket. He drew his gun and they could hear him grunt with disgust.

“What is it?”

“Listen.”

Heavy footsteps came from an adjoining passage, each step getting closer and louder. Whatever it was, it was big.

Pocket stepped out from behind Shiv to his side, pointing both their gun and flashlight in the same direction as him.

“Ya got two guns pointed in ya direction, slick. Ease on out if don’t wanna be filled with buc-“

A large moleperson lumbered out from the passage and into their flashlight beams. They were in a bathrobe and had a towel wrapped around their head obscuring their eyes.

“…Mo?”
Pocket tried. Just because it was a moleperson didn’t mean it was Mo.

Mo nodded, confirming his identity.

They both dropped their guns, relieved.

“Were you out here taking a bath?”
Pocket asked.

Mo nodded.

“They bathe in the damn sewer?”
Shiv was incredulous.

“Yesterday day you bathed in a creek.”

“There’s a clear difference there.”
Shiv chuffed.
“That explains the smell at least.”

“Mo, can you take us to Krill?”
Pocket said, trying to change the conversation.

Mo nodded.

“It’s really lucky you foun-“

Mo sat down.

“Uh, are you okay?”
Pocket asked, bewildered.

Mo nodded.

“You can take us to Krill, right?”

Mo nodded.

“…But you won’t?”

Mo nodded.

Shiv sighed.
“For fuck’s sake. Pocket, let’s ju-“

Pocket tried something.
“Will you take me to Krill?”

Mo nodded.

“Will you take Shiv to Krill?”

Mo shook his head.

“You’re fuckin’ me?”
Shiv sounded more confused than angry.

“I think he wants you to pay him.”

Mo nodded.

Shiv grumbled something under his breath as he got out his wallet and reluctantly held out a dollar bill at arm’s length.

Mo wandered over, sniffed it, but didn’t take it.

“…You’re fuckin’ kiddin’.”

“Mo, come on, he’s with m-“

Shiv produced another dollar bill.

Mo sniffed it and refused to take it.

Shiv swore under his breath and produced another.

Mo sniffed it and accepted the offer by taking it in his mouth.

With that, he turned down the way he came and looked over his shoulder as if to beckon them.

Pocket turned to Shiv.
“I’m sorry.”

“Just know we’re gettin’ drinks after this.”

Pocket’s mood lightened.
“I already told you I don’t drink.”

“It ain’t for you.”

That wasn’t the response they expected.

“Alright.”

They tried not take it personally.

---

Shiv, wallet lighter and shoes significantly soaked, followed the damn pilfering mole through the winding passages and corridors he thought would never end.

“So did ya ever actually try the sewer bath when ya were here?”
Shiv asked out of sheer boredom.

“No, I can’t say I did.”

“Just askin’ since ya seemed so willin’ to get in that stream with m-“

He stopped, both out of restraint and because of the damn smell.

“What is it?”

Pocket sounded absolutely puzzled.

“Ya tellin’ me ya don’t smell that?”

He took a step forward. It was an overpowering stench of ozone, decay, and burning flesh coming out something that looked like an old subway line. Direct tracks and abandoned cars sat in the distance.

“No?”

He moved to take another step but was held back.

He looked behind to see that the mole had grabbed onto the back of his jacket with its jagged teeth.

“Let go of me ya d-“

“Shiv, he obviously doesn’t think we should go in there. Let’s just keep moving.”
Pocket sounded insistent.

The mole didn’t let go.

Shiv found himself at a loss.
“Fine. Could ya let go of me? Ya gonna rip my fuckin’ jacket.”
It was less firm than his former request.

The mole didn’t budge.

“Pocket. Could ya-“
He sounded slightly more agitated.

“Mo. He’s not going to do anything.”
Pocket eased.

Mo opened his mouth, let go, and picked up the bills he had dropped off the ground. He continued on.

Shiv followed, sparing only a glance backward where he swore he saw a faint orange glow coming from further inside.

---

“Remember, those First Edition Don Quixotes, have to go out by midnight!”
Krill looked at his ledger as he sat atop a large crate.

The main tunnel was alive with both human and mole people alike moving containers full of priceless artifacts and baubles for countless clients.

“JOAQUIN! GET THOSE PAINTINGS MOVING! JULIO! HELP JOAQUIN! MO! GET SOME CLOTHES ON! SHIV! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! POCKET- Pocket?”
Krill took off his spectacles and realized what the last three things he said were.
“Please tell me you’ve come to your senses and decided to stay with us.”

“If I lie for them and say ‘yes’ can I get my money back?”
Shiv pressed before Pocket could even respond.

Mo reared up on the side of the crate and dropped three dollar bills from his mouth, sat back down, and disappeared somewhere into the tunnels again.

“No.”
Krill counted the money and put it away.
“What can I do you for?”

“We wanted to know what we’re up against. Do you happen to know who’s been called on by every patron?”
Pocket once again felt foolish for not addressing this last night, but this setting felt more comfortable.

Krill looked behind him and yelled.
“MO! GET THE WEEKLY GAMBLING LEDGER!”
He turned back.
“Everyone down here will bet on anything. Baseball games, billiards, what kind of pottery Mo will make next… It all goes through us to Wraith and we get a cut.”

“People are betting on who'll win the ritual?”
Pocket found the idea of gambling on human lives completely absurd.

“Not just the ritual. Who will die first, who gets the first kill, who will die last. Things of that nature.”
His head tilted side to side as he listed off the categories.

“That’s almost barbaric…”

“Ten on me for the first kill.”
Shiv already had his wallet out.

”Shiv.”

“What? It’s an easy ten bucks.”
He slid the bill across to Krill.

“You’d be surprised by the types of wagers people have made.”

As if on cue, Mo came back into the room in his usual clothes and dropped another ledger onto the crate.

Krill put his spectacles back on, flipped to the back, and made a new entry.
“-Besides, plenty of people have bet on Shiv.”

“For what?”

Shiv seemed a bit more enthralled than Pocket thought he should have been.
“Highest body count.”

Shiv laughed,
“Least someone’s winnin’ that day.”

Krill flipped through the ledger.
“Let’s see… the favorite for ‘First Death’ is… ‘Jacob Lash, Amber Hand.’”

“That just sounds like wishful thinkin’ to me.”
Shiv added.

He was one of the two they already knew was on the side of the Amber Hand.

“Who’s the second most?”
Pocket tried.

“Grey Talon, Team Unknown.”

Shiv laughed again.
“That many huh? Guess your boys don’t know much about what’s goin’ on up on the surface.”

Krill shrugged.
“Not really, but we don’t pay them to think.”
He went through again.
“Favorite for ‘First Kill’… ‘Yamato, Amber Hand’.”

“That’s the one from the Seventh Moon right?”
Pocket recalled the story of how she took vengeance on her brother’s killers.

Krill nodded,

“Uh huh… others for First Kill are Shiv, several for Wraith, and… ‘That cute Sherif from Illinois on the Yellow Team’… Mo, did you write this?”

Mo blushed and nodded.

“Sounds like your cowgirl, Pocket.”
Shiv pointed out.

“Yeah…”
They didn’t have anything more to say about that.

“Favorite for ‘Highest Body Count,’ is you of course, Shiv. So is ‘Ivy Arroyo, Sapphire Flame’ and…. Someone called ‘Wrecker, Amber Hand.’”

Pocket felt their stomach drop.

Shiv immediately sensed something was wrong. Pocket told him with their eyes not to bring it up. He seemed to get the memo.

Krill moved on without even noticing.
“‘Most Likely to Survive’ is ‘Nashala Dion’s bodyguard’, Amber Hand… Mo, why are you betting on the other side?”

Mo shrugged.

“Who else?”
Shiv asked in Pocket’s place.

“‘Paradox, Amber Hand’. ‘Maggie McGinnis, Amber Hand.’ ‘Bebop, Sapphire Flame.’ ‘Jeanne Geist, Amber Hand.’ ‘THE MAGNIFICENT SINCLAIR!, Amber Hand.’ Annnd someone called ‘Raven, Amber Hand.’”
Krill closed the ledger.
“And that’s that. Pocket if you- Pocket?”

Pocket was gone.

Shiv sighed.
“They couldn’t have gotten far. I’ll go find-“

“Eh, Shiv, a moment if you would.”
Krill caught him before he could walk off.

“Pocket is staying with you for the month, correct?”

“Stayin’ ain't exactly the right word. They’re stayin’ in the headquarters, I’m just makin’ sure the Friends and their daddy can’t find ‘em.”

“Yes, yes, and we will gladly help with the Friends but… what made you take them in?”
Krill’s voice sounded a bit flat and sinister at the end of the statement.

“‘Cause they needed my help? Look, I didn’t come h-“

“We’ve seen the way you look at them, Shiv. We don’t like it.”

Mo nodded.

Shiv looked at the two animals in front of him and tried to assess what the hell was going on.

“You boys threatin’ me?”

“Oh I never said anything about a threat. If you hurt Pocket in any way… it’s more of a promise.”
Krill’s tone was light and affable.

Mo nodded.

“Whatever.”

He went off to find Pocket. He felt both of their eyes on them the entire time.

Notes:

$3 today had the buying power of ~$55 in 1949.

I guess this is the chapter where I admit a few weeks ago I realized that it doesn't say anywhere in canon that Shiv is THE leader of the Baxter Society, only that he's Grey Talon's replacement. At the very least, that means he's an important member and I'm going to keep pretending he's the defacto leader until we have more information. (Greg Chun please record more lines, we're all dying)

Molepeople probably aren't really a common thing, but I imagine more than one work for the Tunnel Rats.

If you don't know what that smell is, you can find out here X

I feel as if Wrecker has been around for a while and Pocket is VERY aware what he's capable of. Pocket would also know that he's probably not in the ritual for himself.

Until next time, enjoy your 0.5 m/s sprint increase on all heroes.

Chapter 17: Exposed

Summary:

A self-proclaimed hero.
A self-proclaimed villain
Exit.

Pocket managed to find a tunnel of rainwater rushing through a gate. Hoping the sound would calm their nerves, they took a seat on a nearby pipe and lit a cigarette; the first smoke they had in a while.

The revelation that their father’s pet monster was participating in the ritual was not something they needed to hear. The Sapphire Flame had told them it was unable to get through to their father because he didn’t have enough ‘want’. Wrecker was a creature with an insatiable hunger that could eat anything. All it did was ‘want.’

Even with his inability to be contacted by the Patrons, their father had still found his way in.

They should have seen this coming.

The cigarette wasn’t doing anything to calm them.

Pocket hadn’t wandered far. They didn’t want to risk getting lost but they still wanted to be alone. It was foolish of them to run off like a scared kid, but that’s exactly how they felt at the moment. Even though years had passed without contact, they hated that their father could still control them.

They expected Mo to sniff them out or Shiv to use his uncanny ability to find them any moment now. They’d wait until that happened.

“You shouldn’t be alone down here.”
A pair of shoes entered the edge of their flashlight beam, almost giving them a heart attack.
“These tunnels aren’t safe.”

Pocket clutched their chest in an attempt to calm their racing heart. The sudden appearance came as a shock to their already frayed nerves.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
Pocket shined their light on him.

“Lucky I found you before anything else did or else you’d be more than just scared.”
It was a man’s voice. Deep and authoritative.
The figure had no light source of their own but they were clearly humanoid. Pocket didn’t know if Ixians could see in the dark or not, but even if he was Ixian it was still weird for him to be down here in the first place. However, they couldn’t spot a single Ixian trait. It was just a human in a tall, wide-brimmed hat and cape. He looked ridiculous.

“Where’s your light?”
They refrained from commenting on his appearance.

“Don’t worry. I can see in the dark.”
He didn’t elaborate further.

“What we need to do is get you to safety. There’s a manhole twenty feet away from this position. If we ca-“

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not alone down here.”
Pocket stood up and brushed themselves off.
“I’m with someone and we came to find the Tunnel Rats. We aren’t far from them.”

“The Tunnel Rats…”
The man turned his head as if he was lost in thought, hands within his cape giving his body a rectangular appearance. Pocket still didn’t know what to make of him. A hunter maybe?

“I’m looking for them as well. Lead the way.”
It wasn't a request, it was a demand.

Pocket didn’t feel like he was giving them a choice. The first thing they had to do was figure out his intentions.

“What for? They seem pretty busy at the moment.”

“As long as you can pay their price, you can buy their attention. I’m looking for information that I don’t trust from anyone else. They may be criminals, but they’re the least of the evils in the underground.”

Information too. Pocket did not doubt that this guy was also called upon. He certainly wouldn’t be the least colorful character they’ve known to join.

“Is it about the ritual?”

He turned, hat brim still obscuring his face.

“Is that what you and your partner came for as well?”

“He isn’t my partner, but yeah. We were both called on.”

“And you trust them?”

“The Tunnel Rats?”

“No. The Patrons.”
The words came out scalding.
“You really believe they’ll be able to grant your wish?”

Pocket was confused. They figured everyone who was called on would trust them enough to at least grant them their promised wish even if their intentions were questionable.

“I don’t think they would have called on me otherwise.”

There was still the lingering thought that they were nothing more than a way of getting to Shiv, but this guy didn’t need to know that.

“No, that power you possess is what’s drawing them to you. I hope that if you’re correct, your wish is at least to get rid of it.”

What the actual hell did he mean by that? Power?

“…What are yo-“

“Your hand.”

Pocket looked down. They had neglected covering it because everyone down here already knew about it.
“I-“

“You don’t have to pretend to be ignorant. If it’s already engulfed that much of your body, you must have been using it for a while and you should be more than aware of what it’s capable of.”

In the past five years, this was the only person to know exactly what was plaguing them. That was terrifying.

“How do you know about any of this?”

The man briskly turned away, cape flapping behind him.
“I’ve said too much.”
He walked into the dark, turning down a passage that was heading the wrong way.

Pocket ran after him, attempting to guide him in the right direction.

---

He had followed Pocket’s scent up to a point, but the damn sewer wasn’t exactly being generous to him. He probably should have taken the mole with him, since that thing had easily found them both and led them right to the main tunnel. He was about to retrace his steps when he got another whiff of burning flesh.

After three turns left he was back in front of the abandoned subway tunnel. The stench was much stronger than before. He’d be lying to himself if he said he tried fighting curiosity.

He stepped onto an old subway platform, at least two cars sat rotting in rust on the dead tracks beneath. The neighboring platform was a sight frozen in time. Garbage littered the floor and advertisements for events long forgotten lined the walls.

On the edge, legs folded like a prisspot, the thing emitting that orange glow sat staring at him.

”You’re a lot less handsome than I’d thought you’d be.”
Its voice sounded like a machine crackling with static.

Judging from its prison uniform, broken restraints, loose wires, and whatever the fuck it had on its head, he had a pretty good idea of what this was.

“And you’re a lot uglier than I thought you’d be.”

Three months ago this thing was human. Now, it was nothing more than a husk running on eldritch lightning. The society knew all about it, but no one wanted to take the job. It scared them too much.

The distance between the platforms would make his shotgun damn near ineffective and jumping it would be like taking a toaster for a swim.

Needless to say, he still thought about it, but he had Pocket to find.

”You know, I'm almost surprised you decided to come back.”
There was a bit of amusement to its voice. It clearly thought it had the upper hand.

“Why? Ya been waitin’ on me?”

“The reputation you possess is that of a man without much sense of preservation. The likelihood of your return was much greater than that of your ability to let it go.”

So it had heard everything. He didn’t like that.

“The only thing I came for is to find out what that fuckin’ mole was hidin’ from me. I’m guessin’ ya gonna tell me it was for my own good?”

“That depends on whether it would be for my good as well.”

“I’m already on a job. I got better things to do than play hide n’ seek with a lightnin’ bug in the dark.”

He wasn’t in the mood to play games with this thing.

”You’re here for information, correct? I guarantee I can offer something better than what the rats have pulled out of the gutter.”

“Is this the part where ya hold somethin’ over me?”

”Of course.”

“Why the fuck would I trust ya in the first place?”

“It would be in my best interest to hold on to any powerful ally I can get."

“Ya fucking kiddin’ me… Is there anyone in this damn city these fuckers haven’t talked to?!”

He yelled it loud enough to echo through the empty station.

“What good is it knowin’ who’s on both sides if I don’t get a choice of who I’m sidin’ with?”
He didn't trust this damn thing as far as he could throw it and it wasn't even making a convincing offer.

”Peace of mind. A chance to study your opponents and allies and play to their strengths. I know way more specifics than those animals could ever know. You may not care about who or what you’re taking on, but your pet seems awfully wary about your well-being.”

He laughed
“That fuckin’ mole ain’t my pet. ‘Sides, they gave us exactly what we need to know. Anything they didn’t we’ll all know sooner or later.”

”I wasn’t talking about the mole.”

His teeth set on edge. If he knew Pocket was in a safe place he’d unload on this thing.
“We’re done here. If I don’t take ya out in the ritual I’m comin’ for ya afterwards.”

”Sleep on it, Shiv. You’ll know the right thing to do. The sooner you figure out what you’re up against, the sooner you can start preparing for it… As a matter of fact, you don’t even know where I stand, do you?”

“In about five seconds ya not gonna be able to stand at all.”

"Please. If you were going to attack me you would have done it already. Even you know better than to raise a hand against a useful ally.”

Shiv said nothing, just glowered.

”Even if you wanted to kill me for your little pet to see, you still wouldn’t know what side to choose.”

“Ya not makin’ a very good case for me keepin’ ya alive.”

”And yet here, I remain.”
It stood, wires dragging on the ground.
”And now I’m going to walk away. And you’re going to let me.”

He hated that it was right.

---

The entire main tunnel went silent the moment their newfound companion walked in and Pocket couldn’t figure out why. He had marched right over to Krill with no regard for the amount of people staring directly at him.

Krill peered up from his ledger over his spectacles and sighed.
“Warden. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
There was no pleasantness in his greeting.

“You know what I want.”
It was a command.

“No… I really don’t. If this is about Seven, we want him gone too. You can find him stinking up th-“

“I’m here about the Patrons.”
He clarified in a rough manner.

“Ah, you’ve been called on as well. Mo and I are lending our talents to the Sapphire Flame.”

“To think you two would bend a knee to them…”
He was angry.

“So you aren’t participating? I don’t get it.”

“My mental fortitude has kept both of them out of my mind and I plan to keep it that way.”
He seemed almost offended that it would even be suggested.
“However, I will be there to ensure their destruction. Count on it”

Krill looked to Mo.

Mo shrugged.

“…Okay. What do you want to know exactly?”
Krill sounded like his time was being wasted

By this time Pocket stopped paying attention. Anything the Tunnel Rats knew they would have already shared with them. One glance around the area quickly made them realize that Shiv wasn’t in the room.

They could only guess he went to look for them only to get lost. They figured they would retrace their steps back to the storm drain and ask Mo to find him if they didn’t.

About two turns in they saw his flashlight beam coming their way.

“Shiv, where have you be-“

When he drew closer, that’s when they saw the red glow.

Shiv brushed past them, grabbing their wrist more roughly than he meant to.
“We’re gettin’ the fuck outt-“

Pocket let out a pained cry.

Shiv let go and stopped immediately, his vial going out at the same time.
“Fuck! Shit! Ya okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s sensitive.”
They held their discolored wrist as the pain subsided.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean to manhandle ya like that.”
His voice was sincere and his eyes wide with worry. Pocket could swear they saw him attempt to reach out but think better of. They almost wished he did.

“What pissed you off?”
There had to be more to it than just losing them or getting lost. They only saw Shiv like that when it was brought on by someone else.

“We’ll talk about it when we get outta here.”
He turned around, facing the wrong direction.
“It’s dark as fuck and it smells like shit.”

They gently grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and tugged him in the right direction.
“Are we still going for drinks?”

Shiv laughed slightly, correcting his course.
“Only if ya want to.”

They did.

Notes:

You've probably figured out by now that Warden isn't a cop. As of writing this, the only visual of his redesign we have is a really messy sketch on one of Yamato's concept art. He looks almost like a Van Helsing type. We really don't have much information on what the hell Warden is about other than being from a lineage trained to fight the patrons. He seems to know what's up with Pocket's case (Unfortunately I cannot do much with this until we know more) and I wanted to establish that this early in the story.

Seven, lorewise, is probably one of the strongest characters on the roster and he fucking knows it. Do I think he's as evil as he's pretending to be? No, I think he's just an edgelord, but we love that in this house. Shiv may be impulsive, but he's got Pocket roaming around somewhere and he's holding back for them.

Seven has contempt for everyone, but his kill lines for Pocket are SUPER scornful. They all mention how poor and destitute they are and, given Seven's "I had to scurry like a rat since I was a child. Now they will be the ones who run." line, I think he sees himself in Pocket and absolutely hates it. Him overhearing Pocket pleading with Shiv not to venture into his territory probably reminded him of him and Kelvin (See side story for details).
Even outside of the context of this fic, Seven calls people weak for having emotional ties to someone else (Hell, he calls Bebop weak for loving his mom. (Not cool.)) Pocket is just a caring person in general. They apologize every time they get a kill, they say 'good luck!' in a game that's life or death, and, despite everything, they don't want their father dead. Complete antithesis.

The fuckhand probably hurts but they probably cover it up when they're in public. It's probably out in-game because they explicitly state that they're tired of hiding.

Until next time, my BETA-reader thought I was describing Sinclair instead of Warden.

Chapter 18: Midnight Oil

Summary:

A drink.
Paperwork.
A long drive.

“So they didn’t even fuckin’ talk to him, and he still asked about them?”

“That’s what it seemed like. Even Mo and Krill were confused.”

“Yep, that sounds like Warden alright. Fuckin’ weirdo…”

Shiv was on his second glass of bourbon but Pocket felt he was handling it quite well. They would protest if he tried to go for a third, but they felt like he knew his limits.
He had initially driven to Jezebels only to be met with a ‘CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE’ sign. Instead, he drove a little farther out and ended up somewhere that looked like a road house far too close to the city. A little seedier than he would have liked, but a quick drink was all they’d be in for.

“Who even is he? From the way he dressed I assumed he was with the society.”

”Warden? Hell no. He’s always been local and almost always got in the way of local hunts.”

“How so?”

“Ya ever been huntin’?”

Pocket almost laughed.
“You think my father would let me carry a gun of any sort?”

“Guess he was more fond of the country club.”

“Only when it came to business deals. He didn’t actually care for the golf.”

“Does the fucker actually like anything?”
The initial line of conversation seemed to be lost.

“Only things that expand his influence and further his legacy. And the Knicks.”

Pocket was, at one time, part of furthering said legacy. Just not in the way he wanted.

Shiv seemed to notice their sudden dour mood.
“Ya sure ya don’t want anything? Sure as hell would beat drinkin’ alone.”

“No, I’m fine. It all tastes the same to me and I don’t like the taste.”

“Ya don’t drink for the taste.”

“I know. But someone has to make sure you’re sober enough to drive. A motorcycle accident isn’t exactly how I want to go out.”

“I know my limits. This is just to get my mind off things.”

“Mo shouldn’t have charged you like that. I can make it up to you if you want.”

Shiv read honesty in their face and it frustrated him in more ways than one. “Don’t say something like that when I got booze in me, Pocket.”

“I thought you were sober?”

“I am. Don’t mean I ain’t suggestible.”

Pocket tried something,
“Really? So what did you come across that made you storm off like that?”

Shiv took a long swig of what remained in his glass.
“You don’t want to know.”

“Was it whatever you were smelling earlier?”

“Yep.”

“Something bad?”

“Yep.”

“…Something to do with the ritual?”

“Yep.”

They hated to be presumptive but,
“….Something about me?”

“You’re too smart for your own good, kid.”
He didn’t look too pleased that it had been dragged out of him.
“Did your runnin’ off have something to do with me?”

“No. Do you recognize the name Wrecker?”

“Sounds like a name someone with an overactive libido would give themself.”

“I mean ‘The Butcher of Ixia’ Wrecker.”

”That Wrecker? From what I understand it’s a monster that ain’t too bright but lives up to its name. Didn’t think it’d have enough sense to get involved with something like this unless someone gave it the order to.”

“Yeah. It works for Eldritch Tactical Solutions.”

“So? What’s a PMC want with a wish?”

“Eldritch Tactical Solutions is owned by Fairfax Industries, Shiv.”

“You’re fuckin’ me…”
Shiv looked down at the near-empty glass and thought long and hard about ordering another.
”Fuck… What do you think he’ll wish for? Victory in Ixia?”

“No. If the war stops, they can’t sell any more weapons. If we’re lucky, he’ll wish for Cadenza back. If we aren’t… I don’t know.”

All they could do was stare at the floor for a moment. When they looked back up, they saw Shiv gesturing for another round.

“Shiv, come on. You’ve had enough.”

“It ain’t for me.”

The bartender placed it in front of them and went back about their business.
Pocket looked down at the drink and frowned.”
“Can I at least get ice in it?”

“Ya don’t drink bourbon with ice. Ya drink it neat and ya drink it slow.”

Pocket looked at the glass apprehensively.
“Is this just an excuse to get me drunk?”

“It’s an excuse to get ya mind off things.”

“So you don’t have to tell me what you found down there?”

“More or less.”

Pocket took a sip and made a noise that Shiv found adorable, he couldn’t help grinning.

”It tastes like your hairspray.”
They put the glass down and grimaced.
“I told you it all tastes bad to me…”

“Then down the whole thing.”

“I thought you said to drink it slowly?”

“Only if ya like it.”

Pocket eyed the glass again.
”Fine.”
They picked it up and drank it in one go.

Pocket’s face was frozen in a grimace. They hiccuped several times before opening their eyes. Their face had almost instantly turned pink but not in the way Shiv had seen before. A rosy pink had risen on their cheeks and across the bridge of their nose, it even tipped their ears.

”…Shiv, that was awful…”

“Ya didn’t have to do that.”
He felt like he clearly crossed a line and had pressured them into it. He didn’t expect them to actually do it.

”Doesn’t matter,” Pocket coughed.
“It’s done.”

From what he could tell, they seemed alright.
“…You want another?”

“No! I already feel…”
They looked as if they struggled to find the word.
“Woozy? Is that the word?”

Shiv chuckled in disbelief.
“Not after one.”

“Well I feel like that after one.”
They looked inside the empty glass as if they were amazed they had the whole thing.
“I don’t know how you can have two and still think you can drive…”

“It’s a tolerance thing. That bourbon’s a hundred proof.”

“Of course it is.”
Pocket looked up, face still fully flushed.

“You know I’ve never seen someone get red that fast. Ya look like a damn tomato. Y’alright?”

“It's a genetic… thing. My mother has it too… You know I never had a bike.”

Oh, he had fucked up. Not only was Pocket skinny as hell, they had warned him that they weren’t used to alcohol and they were on an empty stomach.
This was bad.

“I mean not like yours, I mean an actual pedal bike. I mean- why would I? I never learned to drive either because a chauffeur was always driving the damn car.”
They were rather annoyed by the sudden memory.
“I didn’t need a license because everyone knew who I was! At least that’s what I was told. That was supposed to make me feel important and now that I’m dead all it did was make me paranoid.”

“Pocket, I think ya need some water or something.”
He tried to be sympathetic but Pocket needed to shut the hell up. Going on about growing up rich and famous in a place like this would attract the worst kind of attention.

“No. You don’t have to keep being nice to me. I keep telling you that. I’m not paying you for that. Be mean to me. You’re supposed to be scary and mean.”

This is far from what he expected.
“Ya want me to be mean?”

“Yeah. At least that would be you.”

“Well, now I’m just insulted.”
He said, not sounding insulted at all.
“Here I thought you’d think better of me.”

“All you do is say nice things. You didn’t do it this morning and I thought I had done something wrong. I missed it. And then the whole sewer thing happened and I started talking about the whole worm thing, or you did, and then you said we should, we should… do something…”

At least they weren’t going on about their past anymore, but damn this kid could talk.
“Pocket, I think we just need to get ya in bed.”

Pocket laid a concerned look on him, but Shiv struggled to anticipate what they would say next.
“Do you think they’re going to burn the building down? I said they wouldn’t but I think they might.”

“No Pocket, I don’t think that.” He lied.

“I mean… I’m used to living like I’m in danger. I felt like it was coming, you know? He never liked me. I always knew that. He’d never give it to me willingly. And then after I died I never really thought he’d stop looking for me. I don’t even know if he knows I’m dead.”
Their words were detached and flat. It was as if they had been stewing in this and all feeling died with the passage of time.

“Pocket ya ain’t dead.”

“I am. I’m… not me. I’m not who I was.”

Shiv almost wanted to see where this was going. He leaned in and spoke quietly, hoping Pocket would do the same.
“I’m not who I used to be either. You know that.”

“No, but you’re still you. You’re just not mean. As mean. I’m not me. I’m Pocket. I’m not who I used to be. I’m me.”

Okay, once again he had pushed this too far.
“We should probably head o-“

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be me again. I don’t know if I want to be me again. I don’t know if I liked being me. But right now, I can’t focus on me. I gotta focus on me.”
They stared blankly for a bit.
“And not dying. But I always do that.”

Shiv reached over and grabbed their shoulder in an attempt to stop their incessant rambling.
“I think we need to focus on getting you home.”

Pocket’s mouth finally closed as their gaze traveled along the length of Shiv’s arm. It didn’t open again until they’d crossed it twice.
“It feels nice when you do that. I know you only have one hand to do it with, but no one really ever does it. I like it when you touch me.”

Shiv withdrew his hand, not because he wanted to, but he didn’t want to keep giving Pocket reasons to ramble right now.
“This really ain’t the plac-“

“I know I said I was used to living like I was in danger, but I don’t feel that when I’m with you. I feel safe with you.” Heavy lidded and surrounded by bourbon heat, Pocket’s eyes met his.

“...Alright that’s enough.”
Shiv stood, picked them up, threw them over his shoulder, put down more money than the drinks were worth, and made his way to the parking lot. Pocket was as limp as a kitten the entire time.

The entire time he realized how bad this would have looked if they didn’t come in together.

---

Agent Marlowe sat in his temporary office flooded with paperwork. Even without his jacket, his shirt had pit stains in the middle of September. The work was getting to him. Ever since the OSIC had set up shop on the Cursed Apple he and everyone else in his department had been working like a dog.

The upcoming maelstrom and inevitable surge of paranormal activity that would result was stretching every resource they had. On top of that, every potential recruit they had scouted had turned them down.

The professor was a bust, the sniper had eluded them, and there still wasn’t any progress on the Troubadour.

Worst of all, they had the Patrons to deal with. That was a headache and a half.

The silver lining was that one of them had called on one of the Sandmen. That was fortunate. It would have been a blessing if it had spoken to more than one of them, but they could only be so fortunate.

A knock at the door pulled him from his concentration on a file regarding another sea creature that had washed up somewhere in Manhattan.

“It’s open.”

Another agent opened the door, files in hand.

“Gotcha two more for the ritual.”
She said waving two folders in the air.

He groaned.
“Which sides?”

“Got called on by both.”

“You’re fucking me. Two more of them?”
He took the folders and opened one, candid photographs and written notes spilled out.
“This guy get called on for his hair routine?”

“No, that’s a member of the Baxter Society. We’ve been watching him for a while for unrelated reasons.”

“He good at his job?”

“He’s very good. Only problem is that he doesn’t fit in with the rest of them.”

“I can tell. And the other one?”
He opened the second folder.

“We don’t know. Blew into town a few days ago. But you do see the symbol on that case right?”

Marlowe’s eyebrows raised,
“I do. I think I see why both Patrons want this kid.”

His eyes fell on a photograph of them and fancy-hair across from each other at some sort of restaurant and another of both of them on a motorcycle.
“So they know each other?”

“Sure do. Local police department says the kid’s a client of his. That’s the story anyway.”

“Yeah, they look a lot closer than that.”
He closed the folder.
“Haze know about these two?”

“She’s about to.”

---

He drove as slowly as possible just to make sure Pocket didn’t fall off the damn bike. Even drunk, Pocket was still a better passenger than the majority of the girls he had taken for a ride.

Once he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the motor, he waited for them to let go of him.

They sat for about fifteen seconds before he said something.
“Ya gonna get off me or am I gonna have to carry you again?”

Pocket just sat there with their head resting on his back.
“Why did you do that?”

“Because you weren’t making sense, and what little you were, was drawing attention to us and makin’ us look like marks.”

“I thought you liked fights.”

“Not when I have you to worry about.”
He went to get up,
“Alright, let’s get ya to be-“

“Shiv… I don’t know who I am…”
Everything about them seemed distant. Whatever the booze had done to them was the exact opposite of what Shiv intended. Instead of cheering them up it had spiraled them into the deepest depths of despair.

Shiv sighed deeply, trying to answer a question he barely understood.

“Pocket… I don’t know who ya are either. I ain’t gonna sit and act like I do. What I do know is that I like ya. And so does everyone else. Ya made friends with an angry ghost, two sewer dwellers, and the biggest dipshit of a vigilante to ever sully this city. It’s nothin’ short of a damn miracle ya turned out that way when ya daddy is who he is. And it’s an even bigger miracle ya gettin’ the chance to stop him.

“If I don’t I’m going to die…”
Their voice was tiny and defeated, but Shiv was sure they squeezed him.

“Well, we’re just gonna make sure that don’t happen.”
He took his hands off the handlebars.
“You wanna spar tomorrow?”

“You’re back to wanting to beat me up again?”
Their voice was suddenly stronger, more sure of itself.

“Ya told me to be mean to ya.”

“…I guess.”
Pocket let him go and sat up to take their helmet off. Before they moved, they tentatively asked,
“Hey… can you stay in the building tonight?”

“Scared it’s gonna burn down?”

“No. I just have a bad feeling about it.”

“Fine by me.”

Pocket finally got off the bike, feeling more sober and more at ease. Maybe the air on the bike did them well.

“Pocket, don’t you be worryin’ ‘bout who ya are. All that matters is ya ain’t a dick.”

Pocket didn’t think their face could get more red.
“I think there’s a better way of putting that.”

“Ya see? That sounds more like you.”

“I guess it does…”
Maybe Shiv knew them better than they knew themself.
That was something to take comfort in.

Notes:

I realized I never wrote a note about Cadenza: It's a fictional island that Fairfax Industries used to have control over but then, somehow, the government took over and it's now one of the United States in-universe (Along with Puerto Rico and South Ixia).

Pocket is touch-starved. Send Tweet.

Agent Marlowe is a canon character mentioned in a conversation between Dynamo and Haze and present in Holliday's VN.
He apparently has "an offer" for Dynamo that he refuses.
Haze attempts to recruit Vindicta in a conversation with her.
From a leaked conversation, we know the OSIC tries to recruit the Troubadour instead of killing it.

The other "sea creature" mentioned is obviously Slork Fathom, but he's not really that interesting to me at the moment so I'll wait until he gets more lines until he makes a proper appearance.

There's no way the OSIC doesn't know what Pocket's case is. It's not mentioned in canon, but if it's as powerful as it's made out to be, I don't why they wouldn't.

Hmm, wonder why Pocket thinks something bad is about to happen. Guess we'll have to find out.

Until next time, sweet dreams.

Chapter 19: Lullaby

Summary:

Worst case scenario.
Best case scenario.
Awakening.

Notes:

Pocket gets misgendered in this chapter, but it's by their dickhead of a dad.
Explanation for the use of Pocket's names in end notes.

         

Several hours after failing the ritual, Pocket stood in front of Fairfax Industries covered in blood that wasn’t their own.

They white knuckled both the case and their gun and fought with every ounce of their being from stepping inside, only to have their body betray them. With what felt like cinder block shoes, their feet moved against their will.

Applause started the moment they entered.

In two rows down the lobby, parted like the Red Sea, men and women wearing business attire lined the space. They all wore painfully bright smiles and all of them were clapping.In the middle of the organized pandemonium hung a banner in baby blue.

WELCOME HOME ARIN

Welcome was the last thing they felt.

As they made their way to the end of the rows none of their admirers said anything nor did they stop their applause. Pocket was sure they didn’t even blink.

They fought the urge to throw up as they entered the elevator and then pushed the button for the top floor.

They were unable to think straight as the elevator ascended. The light for each passing floor lit up and their apprehension grew.

For five years, they had been expecting this day, unsure if they would even get the chance to speak to him again.

Now the opportunity was fast approaching, and they wanted nothing more than to turn and run.

The lift came to an abrupt stop halfway up the building. The doors dinged and opened.

Viscous stood on the other side in a room draped in red velvet.

”.ebuC ehT ni em dnif syawla nac uoy ,nwod er’uoy revenehW”

Pocket looked on with complete confusion.

Before they could say anything, Viscous’s gelatinous body melted into a puddle of goo. He let out a sharp, shrill cry and then spoke no more.

The doors closed and didn’t open again until they reached the top floor.

The chime sounded like a death knell and the darkened office was like walking into the great Unknown. The Eclipse had ended hours ago but the smoke and ash from the ritual left a lingering cloud that blotted out the sun.

Maximillian Fairfax stood in front of the large window in his office overlooking the destruction.

“It’ll take months to rebuild this. Probably even years.”

Hearing their father’s voice made their entire body seize.

"But there are opportunities in every tragedy,"
he finally turned.
“Isn’t that right, Arin?”

Their father addressing them froze their heart. They felt like an animal cornered by a predator.

Maybe Shiv was right.
Maybe they were prey.

The face that looked back at them was the same one that did five years ago. He looked the same. No extra wrinkles or grey in his beard displayed any signs of change. It was the same face that had wished them happy birthday with a smile only to have his gift delivered to them in the night.

“I know this must be very hard to take in right now. Have a seat, son. The cleaners will deal with the blood.”

The word ‘son’ created a knot in the pit of their stomach that made them feel sick. Even with the nausea plaguing their body they still sluggishly moved to the armchair opposite their father’s desk.

Their father calmly took his seat at his desk, still void of any family photographs, just like they remembered.

“It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“There’s a reason for that.”
Their throat was dry and the words were almost a whisper.

“I know. And I don’t blame you for what went wrong, I blame myself. I shouldn’t have sent a woman to do a man’s job.”

They don’t even know why he bothered with a woman in the first place.

“I’m sure you haven’t been living the best life, but you have to understand Arin, I only had what was best for you in mind. The war in Ixia was inevitable and if things go as planned, it’ll be going long after I’m gone. I couldn’t leave that to you. You didn’t even want it in the first place.”

“…Why was killing me the answer?”
It was the only thing on their mind.

“Because it was the most obvious solution. Sending you away would cause a controversy. Sending you to an asylum would stain the family. I tried to settle you down with a wife, but she wasn’t good enough for you… I’m sure you understand that my hands were tied.”

Pocket said nothing.

“But that doesn’t matter. You’re clearly a different person now. If you told me you were going to participate in the ritual five years from now, I wouldn’t have believed you. Now, look at you. Sure you joined the losing side, but look at all the blood you shed!”
He became almost enthusiastic about the ordeal.
“That’s what a Fairfax does: he sees something and doesn’t stop until he gets it.”

“I didn’t win anything.”

“You were on a team with filth. Animals, criminals, Baxter Society scum… though I must admit, hiding in the Society was a brilliant move on your part. You knew I had no stake in their operations and yet you were right under my nose. I have to respect that, Arin.”

“They aren’t filth…”

“I know it’s in your nature to see the best in others, but you can admit what they were: cannon fodder to ensure your success. Most of them died trying to save you. You were born to lead and it looks as if they saw that in you. I really can’t blame them, it took me eighteen years to realize you were a busted flush and I can’t imagine they were smart enough to realize that any sooner. "

They didn’t want to hear this. Someone throwing their life away for a goal they ultimately didn’t attain only sickened them more.
“Is Shiv dead?”
They didn’t want to know but they needed to.

He raised a brow,
“Which one is that one? The mole?”

“No. He-“

“Oh, he’s that ruffian that replaced Grey Talon. I don’t know. Wrecker dragged him in kicking and screaming earlier. No one interfered, so I assume he is.”

“Have you checked?”
Kicking and screaming didn’t sound like Shiv at all. Even then, Shiv seemed more resilient than to go out like that.

“Arin… I know that you must have grown close to him since you chose to stay with the Society, but even you realize he’s a brute that would have eventually been done in by his line of work. Being eaten by a monster is a fitting way to go out. In our line of work, people are disposable. Your godfather is my dearest friend, but with his condition, he could be deemed an OSIC level threat at any moment. You just have to be mentally prepared for these sorts of things.”

“Have you ever cared about anyone in your entire life?”
The words came out like an erupting geyser.

“That’s such a preposterous question,” he answered it immediately.
“You know I love you and your mother. I love all my children. I wouldn’t have made Dynamo your godfather if I didn’t care about him either, but I can’t deny he isn’t a potential hazard. You have to recognize risks when you take them.”

He said it like it meant nothing.

“As for your Baxter Society friend, I couldn’t have him around attempting to goad you against me. If you’re going to be officially part of this family again, you’re going to look the part. We can’t have the press thinking you're a nancy.”

“…You want me back?”
That surprised them more than the accusation.

“Arin, if I wanted you dead you wouldn’t have made it into this building. I’m human, I make mistakes. I just don’t make them twice.”
He continued.
“I have it all worked out. I’ll tell the public I used my wish to resurrect you. The public will buy it, I’ll look like a doting father, and you’ll be a sympathetic figure. It really is a win for all of us.”

“What did you actually wish for?”
Even if their father thought them dead he would have never wanted them back.

“Simple. I wished for the war to never end. That way, my family will be taken care of after I’m gone.”

“…I thought you didn’t want to leave that to me.”

“Well, now I have assurance that you won’t do anything drastic. Our weaponry and PMCs are where most of the profits come from, Arin. Fairfax may be a household name but the appliances are small fry compared to the hungry war machine.”

Only their father would wish for a war without end. Blinded by profit and the potential to look like the US’s savior by supplying an endless stream of weapons and soldiers each more disposable than the last. The public would never see the death and destruction he was indirectly responsible for as long as it never reached the home front. Why should he care?

“And if I pulled the plug on all of it? There wouldn’t be a war then.”

“That would be foolish of you. You’d be letting the Ixians win. They’d overrun us and the people would call for your head on stick… assuming the Ixians didn’t kill everyone first.”

It was said plainly. Facts stated in bold.

“But of course, I won’t be around to see that. By then it’ll be your choice what legacy you leave your family… I’ve already come not to expect grandchildren from you, but think of your nieces and nephews. Would you really do that to them?”

They felt empty. Everything they had questioned while intoxicated was answered.
They could be Arin again. They didn’t want to be Arin again. They didn’t like being Arin.

Pocket found their voice again,
“If this is the legacy you want to leave behind, then it’s yours to keep. I don’t want any part of it. The name Fairfax is already sullied and you’re solidifying your place in history as a war monger and a tyrant. I don’t want your name and I definitely don’t want to be your son.”

There was no other way to put it. They had risked everything coming back and had lost more than that. All of their friends were dead. The ritual failed. Their father hadn’t changed at all. They hadn’t changed at all.

He sighed deeply and drummed his fingers on the desk. After a long, bitter silence,
“…Arin, do I have to get Wrecker involved?”

“After all that you’re just going to reduce me to dog food?”

“Food? No. I’d say ‘chew toy’ is more like it.”

Pocket felt their heart skip a beat. The brave face they were putting on began to falter.
“What happened to loving your children?”

“If you don't want to be my son, then you’re not one of mine.”

The elevator doors behind them dinged and a large, purple beast stalked into view.

Wrecker growled; a wooden arm in its maw. It chewed on it like a dog with a bone; the force of its teeth was so extreme that it began to splinter. Pocket didn’t want to know where the rest of Shiv went.

His message was clear:
No one was going to save them.

“Because I'm such a generous man, I’m giving you one more chance, Arin. You can either be part of this family again or you can be Wrecker’s new plaything. For as much as an inconvenience the Baxter Society's been, I expected his last one to be more resilient.”

“Why are you doing this?”
They didn’t speak to their father nor the snarling beast in front of them, rather they spoke to the prescience they felt behind them.

”This isn’t anything we’re doing. This is your subconsciousness running on anxiety mixed with hard liquor.”

It was a female voice, deep and reverberating with all the ingredients that made up a bad dream.

“Then make it stop!”

Panic was overtaking them by the second and they couldn’t take it anymore. Wrecker’s hot breath was close enough to feel on their face.

”I’m not suppos-“

“PLEASE!”

Wrecker lunged.

Pocket closed their eyes.

Stillness.

Moments later they looked up to find her sitting on the edge of their father’s desk, both beasts now absent.

”Don’t think of this as special treatment, think of this as a mercy.”

Her skin was as dark as the nightmarish fog that rolled off of her.
If it weren't for the military uniform, they'd have no idea what they were looking at.

"You're a Sandman?"

"And you're a ghost."

Statement, not a question.

"We thought you were dead."

"I'm good at hiding."
The panic inside them began to subside. This wasn't an ideal situation but anything was better than the sheer hell they just experienced.

"If you’ve evaded us this long you must be."

“Why are you here?”
They knew a Sandman was supposed to participate in the ritual but never expected to see one in their dreams.

”You should know better than anyone that knowing your enemy is half the battle.”

“But I haven’t chosen a side yet.”

”Knowing your allies is the other half. We’re the OSIC, anything we don’t know, we will know eventually. I admire your elusiveness, but you couldn’t hide forever. I think you knew that.”

“I did. That’s why I’m here in the first place.”
There was no use in lying to her when she was already in their head.

”Are you planning on taking your father out?”

“Down, not out. I don’t want him dead.”

“Even when you’re clearly aware he won’t afford you the same mercy?”

“I’ve spent my entire life trying to not end up like him. Having the edge over him for once isn’t going to change that.”

”We’ll see if that holds true.”

The world around them began to waver.

“Wait… before you go, could you give me a good dream?”

”I’ve already broken the rules for you. Why would I do it again?”

“Because I just want to sleep…”

It wasn’t a convincing appeal. God knows how many internal abysses she had gazed into. What made theirs any different?

She looked at them for a long time, her flaming eyes burning like cinders inside the black of her.
”You’re lucky you have such a pretty face.”

And then they went to sleep.

---

Arin Fairfax awoke at their desk on the top floor of Fairfax Industries. What what was once a barren desktop was now filled with framed photos of people they loved: Marla and Professor Dynamo, Mo and Krill, Shiv, all of their friends they had come to know on the run no longer in rags but now in proper clothes, their siblings, and everyone else they had met in the preceding month. Their father was nowhere in sight.

Their left hand was free of the green blight that plagued them and now looked the same as their right; the only difference was the wedding band on their ring finger.

Outside the Manhattan skyline glittered, free of the destruction that had previously left it in ruin.

A knock at the door stopped any further exploration. They told them to come in.

Viscous opened the door, a neat tie clipped to his respirator.

”Good morning boss! I have brought you the fabled treasure that surface dwellers call ‘coffee’.”

Viscous put a mug on the desk and looked at them expectedly.

The mug had 'WROLDZ BES BOS' crudely scrawled on it in black marker, and was full of room temperature water with coffee grinds and two unopened packets of sugar floating within.

“Uh thanks, Viscous. I’ll drink this later.”

”I did a good thing!”
He sounded very proud of himself.

“Yes Viscous, you did.”
They couldn’t help but admire his perseverance.

”Oh I almost forgot!”

Viscous reached inside of his chest, goo consuming his hand. He withdrew it and produced a clipboard.

“Uh. Does that not hurt?”

”No!”

Viscous stared at them for a moment.

”Anyway, someone told me to read you this! It says:
‘Please stop sticking the clipboard inside you. It ruins the paper.’”

That note probably wasn’t for them.
“What else does it say?”

”Maggie McGinnis is making a system to clear debris from the former battlegrounds in Ixia! Wrecker is still being sated by cleaning up spiritual waste! Krill and the moleman are smuggling in our products to Ixian refugees displaced by the war! Abrams is still looking for your father’s shady contacts in the underworld so Wraith can deal with them!’”

“That sounds perfect…”

Every bit of it was a solution to a problem their father had caused.
The war was over. Refugees were taken care of. All of their father’s cohorts weren’t getting away with it.
If this was what being Arin was, then this was exactly what they wanted.

There was only one question.

“Viscous?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my father?”

”Somewhere called ‘Lost Whisper’. Sounds scary.”

Prison. The worst kind of prison. Against all odds the legal system had actually done its job. Was it enough? Was it too little? They didn’t know. That was something they would have to consider.

But one more question.

“Viscous?”

”Yes?”
He was stuffing the clipboard back into his chest.

“Who am I married to?”

”What does that word mean?”

They thought about how to define it.
“It’s when someone makes you happy and you want to make them equally happy. You both make each other so happy that you choose to spend the rest of your life with them.”

”That sounds a lot like being friends!”

“It’s a bit more than that.”

”Oh. I don’t know!”

“That’s okay.”

They absentmindedly reached over to take a sip of coffee and immediately spit it out.

---

Pocket woke up to the sound of frogs, a splitting headache, and the smell of actual coffee.

They sat up and found a steaming mug and an ice pack on the nightstand. They could only guess that Shiv had come to check on them and found them completely unresponsive.

Gracious for the gift they took it and practically downed it in one sip.

It was exactly how they liked it: with cream and two sugars.

Notes:

Pocket specifically states that they'll use their family's name when they're no longer ashamed of it. I firmly believe that Pocket is just an alias and they'd use the name Arin again once things get straightened out (Hell, their bio even calls it their "true identity".)

We actually see both Max's and Abrams's desk in Geist's VN. Abrams has a picture frame on his desk; Max, a guy with at least two kids, does not.

Bit of a consensus in the fandom that Wrecker is Max's attack dog. Even if that isn't true, I'm keeping it because I love it that much.

We don't know how much of the assassination attempt Pocket remembers but I think they would at least recall if it was a woman (Subject to change once Pocket gets a conversation with Calico eight years from now).
Update: They remember everything. This came A LOT sooner than I expected

Haze has a soft side, we just don't see it. She has kill lines about how she once spared Infernus and dialogue that implies she doesn't like the amount of corruption within the OSIC.

We don't know if Sandmen can manipulate dreams or not, just enter them. I'd like to think they can but aren't supposed to.

Originally Ivy was supposed to be the secretary in the second scene as it was supposed take place after the ritual was explained to everyone, but I think Viscous is cuter.

Until next time, ebuC ehT noitseuq t'nod ew.

Chapter 20: Ball and Chain

Summary:

Additions to the roaster.
Agree to disagree.
Last Will.

Sapphire Flame: Wraith, Mo + Krill, Abrams, Bebop, Viscous, Ivy Arroyo

Amber Hand: Jacob Lash, Vyper, Yamato, Cowgirl, Wrecker, Djinn Bodyguard, Paradox, Maggie McGinnis, Jeanne Geist, Magnificent Sinclair(?), Raven

Unknown: G.T., Vindicta, Sandman, Shiv, Pocket, Warden(?)

Shiv had taken it upon himself to fill in everything they had found out yesterday. He had found Pocket in an alcohol induced coma and left them coffee and an ice pack for when they woke up to the inevitable wrath of a hangover.

He was more than used to doing it for someone else.

Last night reminded him of something that happened with the same person. It was so vividly reminiscent of something long ago that he feared that he would be unable to control himself.

Instead, it had the opposite effect, just like it did then.

At first he was worried about what the beast in him might do, but seeing Pocket that helpless had simmered down the hot flames of lust and turned them into something calmer. He wasn’t overcome by an uncontrollable urge to take advantage of them. Like many times before, all he wanted to do was get them home safe. He was relieved he didn’t need to protect Pocket from himself.

He had carried them like a backpack down the stairs so they didn’t trip. The entire time Pocket had rambled something he couldn’t understand but he still agreed with nonetheless.

They didn’t resist as he put them in bed and instantly stopped moving the moment their head hit the pillow.

It was all a complete reenactment of something he had done a million times before with a single exception: he stopped himself from brushing aside one of their curls and kissing them on the forehead.

It was a small line to cross, but if he did, every other line would look just as small.

So far he omitted writing down the ‘Unknown’ status of the thing he found in the subway. The irrational part of his mind told him this was another way of protecting Pocket; The rational part told him it was just another way of keeping something from them.

Several days ago he had promised them he wouldn’t sugarcoat things. Keeping this from them was doing just that.

Begrudgingly, he added ‘Fried Evil Piece of Shit’ to the ‘Unknown’ section.

As if on cue Pocket entered the room with the ice pack to their head.

“How much do ya remember?”

He felt like shit doing this to them. They looked worse for wear and had dark circles under their eyes.

“Other than you telling me to down an entire glass of bourbon? Not a lot… gave me one hell of a nightmare I remember pretty vividly.”

“Ya shittin’ me. Didn’t scar ya for life, did it?

Pocket let out a small groan as they took a seat at the meeting table.
“Well, we lost the ritual, my father wished for a war without end, wanted me to inherit said war, and you got eaten.”

“Well that’s how you know it wasn’t real. I ain’t goin’ out like that.”

“I didn’t want to believe it either until Wrecker showed up with your arm in its mouth.”

“…You’re really worried about it, ain’t ya?”

“Apparently. I also got a visit from our Sandman.”

Shiv sat up straighter, an edge to his voice,
“They didn’t cause it did they?”

“No. At least that’s what she said. Apparently it was the booze doing it.”

“She?”

“Yeah. She. She looked like a nightmare incarnate… Though, I can’t really hold it against her, she did make it go away and give me something nicer instead.”

“That being?”

“A world where we won. I took my father’s place, the war ended, and everything got put back together again. Meanwhile, he ended up in Lost Whisper.”

So they knew what that was. That would save some time later.

“What was she doin’ in your head anyway?”

“Apparently the OSIC didn’t know who I was. Considering what I inadvertently showed her, they do now.”

Shiv sighed, “Scopin’ out the competition, huh? Sounds like they’re doing the same thing us.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a visit yet.”

“You forget I’m a public figure. Not by choice, of course, but they probably know more about me than I do.”

“You think they know what your vial’s for?”

“Almost definitely.”
That was all he said on the matter.
“She say what side she was taking?”

“No. Just that she was getting to know both her allies and her competition. I’m willing to bet the OSIC already knows everyone involved so far. What do we even have?”

“See for yourself.”

Pocket stood up and approached the board. He could see their face turn to concern.

“Maggie McGinnis is participating?”

“You know her?”

“Not really. She’s an engineer that works for my father.”

“Think she’s another one of his patsies?”

“No. She doesn’t like him. In fact, I really don’t think she likes anyone.”

“Any idea why she’s joinin’?”

“If I had to guess? It’s not about the wish, it’s testing her artillery on live subjects before they see combat on the front.”

“Well ain’t that peachy, we get to be target dummies.”

“Courtesy of Fairfax Industries…”

They looked back to the board.

“Ivy Arroyo? Isn’t she the one that drove the mob out of Spanish Harlem?”

“Sure as hell is. Don’t know why she’s the only addition to the blue harlot’s squad. Matter of fact, looks like the yellow bastard’s taking more criminals than she is.”

“Unless we’re missing a lot of information, it looks like he’s taking more people over all… including Jeanne Geist.”

He noted the revulsion in their voice.

“Know of her?”

“Business partner of my father’s. Not really fond of her. Or her arm. She would probably think the same about me if she saw me today.”
They quickly looked to change the subject.
“-I thought the Sinclairs were dead.”

“They are. Share a body ‘cause they soul bonded or some mushy shit. Rumor is they can’t stand each other now. Guess ’Till death do us part’ wasn’t in the prenups.”

Pocket looked as if they wanted to say something but decided against it.

“Don’t hold out on me. We need everything we can get.”

“It’s nothing… just,” they sighed.
“In the dream she gave me, I was wearing a wedding band. I don’t know who I was married to, but I guess in the best case scenario I end up with someone. I can’t imagine spending my life with someone only to end up hating them when it’s over.”

Shiv didn't know the difference between jealousy and envy, but he knew he was feeling one of them right now and didn't understand why.

“Don’t have anyone ya left behind?”

Pocket let out a small laugh, “No. When I reached my teens I was only allowed on dates with girls hand chosen by my father. All of them were daughters of families with political influence. No one I actually liked… And after I left the city I couldn’t justify getting attached to anyone like that. It would just be another way for him to hurt me.”

That explained everything. The kid was so starved of any form of affection that it was no wonder why they had said all that shit about being flirted with and touched. Pocket wasn’t staying here because they felt safer than in the sewers, they were staying here because they liked the amount of attention he was giving them.

He had been making passes at this kid who just wanted to be loved because they had never been loved.

What the fuck was he thinking when he offered to take them with him if the ritual failed?

Worst of all he had already given into them and allowed them to stay here instead of anywhere else.

Whether Pocket knew it or not, they were emotionally attached to him.

And that was fucking dangerous because he felt the same.

Fuck.

“Do I need to ask?”

Shiv snapped back into the moment.
“Huh?”

“The last thing you put under ‘unknown’.”

Shiv looked back to the board and recalled the reason why he wrote it.

“Remember how I didn’t want to tell ya what I found last night?”

“Yeah, you got me drunk so you didn’t have to.”

“I’ll make it up to ya somehow- but ya we’re talkin’ ‘bout Lost Whisper, right?”

“Don’t tell me it’s the guy who escaped.”

“Then I won’t.”

Shiv could see the apprehension on Pocket’s face.
“How does a person even survive something like that?”

“A person doesn’t. Whatever the hell it is now is more machine than man. Luckily it still had the same sensibility as one. Tried to make a deal instead of attacking me on sight.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Shiv sighed, “I was hopin’ you’d forget that part.”

“It’s one of the few things I do remember. For all I know I could have told you every embarrassing detail about my childhood and offered to wash your bike naked.”

He didn’t expect something like that to come out of Pocket. They either really wanted to know what was said by shocking him into it or they were getting more comfortable with him.

“Ya only did one of those things.”

“Well, now I know you’ll be doing it again to get the other.”

“I won’t. I had to carry you out of the damn bar so you’d shut up ‘bout your past.”

Pocket didn’t turn red like they usually did, but he could still tell they were beyond embarrassed.
“…What did I say?”

“Nothing to be ashamed of. Just things that implied ya grew up rich that would’ve attracted attention, like never learning to drive ‘cause ya always had a chauffeur.”

“Anything else?”

“You said you’d spar with me today.”
He’d spare them the other details.

“Of course I did…”

“Ya still up for it?”

“After we eat breakfast and you tell me how you sold me to an escaped con.”
They seemed to keep making light of the situation.

“I didn’t fuckin’ sell ya cause he didn’t have enough to buy ya… He did threaten ya though. Heard the whole ordeal of you tryin’ to hold me back. Really tired of others usin’ you to get to me.”

“What did he actually want?”
Pocket seemed to appreciate the levity but wanted an honest answer.

“Said he knew more about who was on each side than the Tunnel Rats did. Said he’d tell us everything we needed to know if we joined his side.”

“What good is that information if we don’t get to choose?”

“I said the same. He brought up that knowing what we’re up against sooner is better than later.”

“You’re not considering it, are you?”

And just like that there was no booze or flirting to hide behind. He had to be upfront.
“Considerin’ I don’t want to fight him? Yeah. I am.”

Pocket looked over at him with surprise.
“You’re afraid of him?”

“If that’s how ya want to put it.”

“…You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

“Ya told me not to lie to ya anymore. Last time someone tried to take him out he cleared the entire room. Even with a team to back me up I may not have much of a chance.”

“You’re just going to let him get into your head like that?”

He looked to Pocket to find them arms folded with a cocked brow.
“If he offered you exactly what you wanted and intimidated you by threatening me, it sounds like he knew exactly how to push your buttons.”

“It ain’t just that, Pocket. I know what he’s capable of.”

“Yeah. I’ve been in the same position. Giving into it almost got me killed.”

“It ain’t like that. You were a kid with nowhere to go. You didn’t have a choice.”

“And it sounds like you’re not giving yourself one. How do you even know he’s telling the truth?”

“Because if we find out he’s lyin’, we can just join the side he isn’t on… only problem is he didn’t tell me what side he was on…”

“Then that’s what he’s really holding over you. He knows you’re afraid of him and he’s taking advantage of that”.

“Then it’s a good deal. We get more information and I don’t have to worry about him.”

“Do you even know what he’s wishing for? If he’s as scary as you and the OSIC are making him out to be, I don’t even think I want to know what someone like him would do with that amount of power at their disposal.”

“Pocket, neither side exactly has angels on it.”

“But if you’re making him out to be this evil and maniacal then only it can only be the worst of the worst, right?”
They said it like they didn’t exactly believe it.

“You’re acting the same about Wrecker,” he countered.

“That’s because Wrecker represents the interests of my father.”

“That’s true…”

He had been so caught up in his dilemma that he hadn’t stopped to think about why Pocket had run off in the first place.

He had a 50/50 shot at having to fight a living lighting rod, but 100% chance to go against the literal wishes of Maximillian Fairfax. In good conscience, he couldn’t do that to Pocket. Hell, he could hardly do that to himself.

Shiv stood up, erased a name, and replaced it in another category.

Sapphire Flame: Wraith, Mo + Krill, Abrams, Bebop, Viscous, Ivy Arroyo, Shiv

“What are you doing?”

“If the entire reason you’re here is to bring down your daddy then I can’t work with his damn pet and feel good about it.”

Pocket looked at him with complete and utter bewilderment; their deep brown eyes full of something that made him want to hold them and tell them that everything was going to be okay.

“You really want to be on her side?”

“What I want is to be on the opposite side of the person who made your life hell. That blue bitch may be whispering shit I don’t want to hear but by god, she’s picking up less trash than he is. Wouldn’t be surprised if that ugly bastard was on his team too.”

“Shiv, you being scared of something scares me. If you’re really afraid of this guy…”

“Like ya said, I can’t let him get in my head. I can’t let shit like mind games keep me from focusing on what’s important.”

He watched concern fade from Pocket’s face as they turned towards the board and held out their hand.

Shiv stared at it for a few moments before realizing what they wanted.

He handed over the piece of chalk he’d been holding onto, slightly disappointed at the realization that they weren’t reaching for something else.

Pocket erased another name from the ‘Unknown’ section and placed it elsewhere.

Sapphire Flame: Wraith, Mo + Krill, Abrams, Bebop, Viscous, Ivy Arroyo, Shiv, Pocket

---

If a sucker was born every minute then that would explain the Sinclairs’ success. Ever since the maelstrom brought magic to the mainstream, many believed that stage magic would go the way of the dodo.

This, however, was not the case.

Magicians like Harry Houdini had wowed crowds by making elephants disappear and escaping straitjackets underwater without the use of hexes or boons.

What Henry Sinclair quickly understood was that people wanted to be fooled.

What Henry Sinclair never understood is how he was ever fooled into believing he was in love.

“He snores. Do you know how loud it is when you’re sharing a body? Earplugs just make it louder.”

“You say that like you don’t, Savannah.”

“This isn’t about you.”

“It’s a mutual problem.”

“Henry, when have you cared about anyone but yourself?”

“Go to hell Savannah.”

“I would if I could.”

“Well I’m already there.”

Is there something you two wanted?

“Yeah,” Savannah spoke up, “New question. Is there any way you can go back in time to ensure we never met?”

Meddling with the past is dangerous. I suggest you stick to your original wish of passing on. It is better to change the future than change something in the past when it was exactly what you wanted at the time.

“To be fair, I was young and dumb at the time. I think I’d appreciate an entirely different life,” Henry offered.

You think that now, but human emotions quickly change. It may be difficult to conceive, but you two were in love at the time.

“Magicians are masters at illusions. I’m sure everything I felt was one of the same,” Savannah said.

“And that explains why you were so interested in it. You were doing the same.”

“Shut up Henry.”

“I cannot wait to get out of this body.”

“That we can agree on.”

---

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

…being of sound mind and not acting under any duress…

…I devise and bequeath all property to my spouse, Marla Dynamo…

…In the event my body is left in a salvageable state, I leave it to…

Professor Dynamo was drawing a blank. He sat in his office at Columbia University. He could not do this in the house, if Marla knew what he was doing she’d be worried sick and do everything in her power to prevent him from participating in a ritual that, when considering probability, would more than likely lead to his death.

Something wrong, Professor?

He didn’t like the way she intruded on his thoughts like that. When she initially spoke to him, he thought he was going mad until he recalled the reports of New Yorkers being contacted by Elder Gods. It wasn’t madness, but it was both a blessing and curse.

“Nothing, just debating a dilemma that puts my obligation to Science at odds with my personal life… but I supposed that's a predicament all men of science face. Barring the uniqueness of my situation, of course.”

What’s troubling you?

He put down his pen and began to recount his situation to a being that was most likely indifferent to the plight of mortals.

”Legally, my body belongs to Fairfax Industries. I owe a great debt to the owner and to the engineer who made the proper adjustments so I could maintain a sense of normality. Without them, I could never achieve anything remotely close to where I am today.”

Then what’s your predicament?

”I like to leave behind something for my wife to bury.”

The entire reason he agreed to take part in the ritual was to get his body back. No. he wasn’t a fighter. Yes, he was scared as hell. Yes, he was afraid of death but this was something worth dying for.

If Maximillian considers you a friend, I’m sure he’ll see eye to eye with you.

”I’mmmm not so sure about that. As much as I consider him a friend, he’s also a man of science. Leaving this body for future research is almost imperative. With rumors of an eighth Astral Gate opening, it’s only a matter of time before what happened to me happens to someone else. Someone else who could use this body…”

If his engineers made your body, could they do the same for someone else?

”Oh, I’m certain they could.”

Then I fail to see your problem.

”It’s mostly my obligation to him.”

It sounds as if you’re making excuses for him.

”Perhaps I am…”

He picked up his pen and wrote down something that would almost certainly be challenged in a court of law by the best attorneys money could buy.

…In the event my body is left in a salvageable state, I leave it to my spouse…

He hated potentially leaving Marla in a legal predicament. But she was strong. She’d fight for him just as he was fighting for her.

Notes:

Sorry for the wait on this chapter, for some reason I couldn't finish the first section.

I imagine Pocket's dating life in their teens was unspectacular, and after they died, they, like Shiv, had to avoid getting too close to someone else.

Stage magic is apparently still popular in a world where magic undeniably exists. Sinclair's backstory says that Henry was successful with it and Harry Houdini is mentioned in a Headline, meaning he's still a notable figure.

There's nothing in canon that implies Fairfax legally owns Dynamo's current body, I just thought it would be an interesting conflict.
A conversation with McGinnis implies she worked on it, but if Dynamo lost his body in the maelstrom 50 years ago, there's no way she's the one that made the first model. She probably just gave him a few upgrades.
As for who ACTUALLY made it, it was probably someone employed by Fairfax, but we don't know that for sure.

Until next time. I'm making a cover for this thing but don't expect it anytime soon.

Chapter 21: Façade

Summary:

Meeting the competition.
A nosebleed.

“So what do we do now?”

Breakfast was once again at the diner that they ate at a few days ago. The only difference was that this time they were the one with the hangover.

“Same thing we been doin’: figure out who’s with us and who’s against us.”

As much as Pocket distrusted the Sapphire Flame’s patron, they were somewhat glad Shiv had made the decision for the both of them. They didn’t want to oppose Mo and Krill and going against their father’s pet would mean fighting everything their father stood for. Overall, the decision was for the best.

“I guess we should probably tell the Tunnel Rats we’re on their side. Since Jezebels is closed we’re probably going to have to go down there again.”

“Later. I don’t feel like wading through shit two days in a row.”
Shiv grumbled.

“Okay, what about someone else? Abrams left us his card. Any idea where we can find Wraith?”

“One of her casinos. Her favorite one is set up as a tailor somewhere downtown. Don’t know what the point of tracking her down is when the Tunnel Rats are gonna be in contact with her anyway.”

Pocket shrugged.
“I don’t know, I just feel like this is something we should deliver face to face. Besides, we only know what Mo and Krill know. She probably knows a lot more than people who spend the majority of their time underground.”

“You realize she’s gonna ask something from us in return and I still ain’t willin’ to dress up for her.”

“If it’s something that simple, then I’ll do it.”

“And it if ain’t?”

“Then we’ll figure it out.”
Pocket mentally went through all the names they recalled on the board. Even now the amount of people on the opposite team seem to dwarf the size of their own.
“What about Bebop? Any way we could make it over to the Bear Pitt?”

“May wanna bring Mo and Krill with us for that. If they’re as big on gamblin’ as their boys are, they’re probably regular patrons of the ring.”

“Did someone say P A T R O N of the RING?”

A large man suddenly invaded Pocket's side of the booth, crowding them so badly they became pressed against the wall. They had to continuously scoot away with how much he dipped the cushion. Their senses were assaulted with the scent of body odor and a cheap cologne doing an awful job of masking it.

“You’re the Baxter Society guy, right?”

The intruder pointed a powerful finger across the table in Shiv’s direction. Pocket could tell that this guy had no manners, no respect for anyone other than who he was interested in, had the body and the hygiene of a bodybuilder, and was somehow associated with the Bear Pitt.

This was Jacob Lash, and in the five seconds Pocket had been in his presence, he was already living up to his reputation.

Shiv looked completely unimpressed.
“And you’re that asshole nobody likes.”

“So you know me! Good! That’ll save us some time… I’m guessing you didn’t get my gift. A shame. It mentioned it was summoned by the Sapphire Babe, and in hindsight, you taking it out would have been PRETTY helpful.”

“With all due respect, which is none, what the hell are you talking about?”

Shiv seemed to be checking on them with his eyes. Pocket motioned that they were okay despite being pinned between a wall and Lash’s right shoulder.

“I’m talking about that pile of goo that Bebop pulled out of the bay. I told him not to, but he’s just a pile of bolts that no one likes or cares about so he doesn’t listen to people that are smarter than him, which is everyone.”

“You sent Viscous to the Baxter Society?”
Pocket spoke up only to be shushed.

” Q u i e t Junior - adults are talking.”

Shiv didn’t look too pleased at the comment.
“Yeah, we talked to it; It’s harmless.”

“Huh. And here I thought the Baxter Society was supposed to be keeping people safe. You just added another potential hazard for us on the Amber Hand. Unbelievable. Heard it broke into a viewing of South Pacific and got goo all over the seats. Is that really the reputation you want? A society that leaves goo everywhere?”

“Well, if you could direct me to it, I can gladly collect it on the Society’s behalf.”
Shiv was using his ‘I’m a public servant but I hate it’ voice he used on the radio. Pocket would laugh if they weren’t being crushed to death.

“Good. Because it keeps showing up to the Pitt and distracting me.? How am I supposed to kick ass with that thing staring at me from the audience?”

“If it scares ya that much, we’ll be down there tonight.”

“I didn’t say scare. I just don’t like looking at it.”

“Well, we’ll remove the eyesore then. Anything else?”

“Yeah…” Lash leaned in, “I heard you talking about Bebop.”

Shiv chuffed, “So?”

“A little birdie told me that you and some kid have your choice of Patron. Why are you even C O N S I D E R I N G a team that’ll allow Bebop on it? That’s like losing before the game even starts.”

“Didn’t stop you from losin’ to him.”

”Once!”
He scowled.
“That was once!”

“Enough times for me to join the other side.”

Lash’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply in frustration; He calmed down on the exhale and began to try to talk Shiv out of it.

“Look. You’re incredibly handsome. I’m incredibly handsome. It only makes sense we’re on the same team. What’s the Sapphire Babe even got anyway? Some talking animals? A pile of goo? Bebop? There’s a clear winner here.”

“Lash, do ya even know who’s on your team?”

“Don’t need to! The Lash is all the Amber Hand needs to win. It only makes sense for one God to reach out to another.”

Shiv looked to Pocket.
“Well, Pocket, are you convinced?”

“Not really,” Pocket said, still crushed.

“Then it’s a ‘no’ from me too,”
Shiv unapologetically shrugged.

Lash looked to Pocket, then to Shiv, then back to Pocket, then back to Shiv.

”Ooooh okay, I see what’s going on here. You coulda just told me you two were like that. The Lash - has wasted his time.”
Lash stood up, finally giving Pocket room to breathe.

“Like what, Lash?”
There was a dangerous edge to Shiv’s voice.

“U H H Like master and apprentice? You’re really bringing this pipsqueak in there with you?”

That was far from where Pocket thought he was going with that.

Shiv looked completely confused.
“The fuck are-“

Lash addressed Pocket for the second time, “Sorry kid. No greenhorns. If you survive, I’ll consider you as a candidate for a Lashback scholarship.”

Pocket had no idea what that was. Did this guy have some sort of charity? They had never heard of it.
“Uh, okay,” was all Pocket could say.

“I’m sure the Baxter Society is a great way to keep kids like you off the streets,”
He gestured to Pocket’s clothes,
“-but an unseasoned fighter is a liability. You should know that Shiv.”

Shiv didn’t say a word.

”A N Y W A Y, If we’re going to have to fight, then so be it~. Don’t expect me to hold back just because you’ve got an ankle biter with you. It’ll be a shame to mess up a pretty face, but the Lash has to do what the Lash has to do.”
He walked backwards, pointing at both of them.
”See ya on the battlefield, losers!”

His back hit the door of the diner only for it to not give.
He walked into it harder only to meet the same result.
He finally turned around and pulled the door open.
“Later losers!”

Pocket and Shiv stared after him long after he had left.

“…I can see why you described him the way you did,” Pocket said after a while.

“Yep, he’s an asshole.”
He took a sip of his drink.

“Are we actually going to get Viscous tonight?”

“Hell, may as well. Maybe the Tunnel Rats will already be there. Maybe even Bebop.”

“Is he really the only one to ever beat that guy?”

“Unfortunately.”

“He really must hate him then, huh?”

“Kid, you don’t know the half of it.”

---

“Does it have to be so life-like?”

Pocket’s eyes hadn’t left the target dummy since they entered the training ground of the Baxter Society. It was humanoid and had three arrows sticking out of its mouth and eyes.

The courtyard was filled with everything from a shooting range to punching bags.

Pocket truly didn’t remember making any promises to Shiv, but less than three weeks were left until the ritual and they had come to trust him enough to spar with him.

“Dunno. They were here before me. Probably brought in by Wesley. Speaking of…” Shiv pried all three arrows out of the dummy and inspected them.
“-these are his. Probably came in here in the past couple days.”

“Wouldn’t we have seen him?”

“Only if he wanted us to.”
He threw them to the side with a clatter.

“Shiv, do you think you can convince him to join the Sapphire Flame? If he’s still as spry as you say he is, I think we need him.”

“I can try. Something tells me we’ll be seein’ him real soon.”

“And what about Vindicta?”

“That’ll be your job. She already likes you more than me.”

Vindicta said something about moving the last time they saw her. They wondered if they’d be able to find her if she moved elsewhere.

“Now. How’s your aim?”

“Not very good. There’s a reason I went with a volley gun.”

“I thought ya said it’s just what ya got your hands on?”

“I had options. It seemed the most practical.”

“Well then. How well can ya shoot it?”

“I thought we were sparring together? Unless you want me to shoot at you-“

“That wouldn’t end well for ya.”
He sounded completely and utterly serious.

“I’ll take your word for it. Do you just want to see me with a gun again?”

“I wanna see how well you handle it.”

As weird as Shiv was when it came to violence, asking to see Pocket actually use a gun was within reason. There was no need to use it yesterday so he was probably dying to watch them shoot something.

Pocket reached for their gun they had brought from downstairs after they had changed into an undershirt and the standard Baxter Society sweat pants that were kept on site for training purposes; It wasn’t exactly flashy but it was something they could move in. They had the cloak on in case Shiv wanted to see that in action again, but they couldn’t bring themself to take the case. They planned on using it during the ritual but they weren’t ready to tell Shiv about it.

They trusted Shiv with their life, but something in them didn’t want him to know about it just yet.

Even loaded, the weight felt comfortable in their hand. They almost never had to use it but it was familiar enough that pulling the trigger would feel like muscle memory.

“So am I shooting at this thing?” they gestured to the dummy.

“Yep. I’ll keep it still for now then we’ll figure out how well you can hit a moving target.”

“This thing can run?”

“It can do a whole lot more than that. Now,”
Shiv walked around behind them,
“Take your ti-“

Pocket unloaded the gun into the thing’s head. The fire rate was slow, something they had never noticed before, but they supposed it didn’t matter when unloading eleven rounds into someone’s skull. They kept their arm slightly bent and left forward to minimize the recoil until the trigger went click.

They looked to Shiv,
“That good enough?”

Shiv looked impressed.
“Where was that when we got jumped?”

“I didn’t have a gun on me at the time. Besides, those were people; This thing isn’t.”

“You’re gonna have to get used to the idea.”

“I know…”

As much as they sparred, trained, shot dummies, and did whatever they could to prepare, nothing could ready them for taking a life.

“…Shiv, does it ever get easier?”

“As long as they’re in your way it does. Ends justify the means and in your case, you got a helluva lot on the line. Ya gotta keep that in mind.”

“And if I can’t bring myself to do it?”

“I’d do for ya, but they ain’t gonna hesitate. Remember what I said ‘bout how ya looked?”

“Yeah…”

Last night’s dream had brought it to the forefront of their mind. They looked like prey and so far everyone they had seen on the Amber Hand side looked stronger than them. They would have to rely on being quicker and a better shot.

“Shiv, I-“

“THINK FAST!”

Something went flying in their direction; They swiftly side stepped it and avoided it completely.

Whatever Shiv just threw bounced off the dummy behind them and onto the ground. Only when Pocket saw what it was did it make complete sense: a rubber knife.

This slightly concerned Pocket, “You’re not actually bringing a knife to a gun fight, right?”

“No, I’m takin’ a gun to a gun fight. The knives just make ‘em bleed more.”

“I don’t think-“

With their concentration elsewhere, another struck their bicep and bounced to the ground.

“See? You’re bleedin’.”

They most definitely were not. It looked as if the thing could barely cut butter.
“Wouldn’t that only be effective if you hit a major artery?”

“It’ll be effective no matter where I hit because bein’ stabbed hurts like hell. If they bleed more than usual, then they’ll die twice as fast. Catch.”

Pocket side stepped another one he threw in their direction.
“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only one doing something like this. What’s the point of-“

Another came. Then another.

Pocket rolled forward dodging at least three more and took cover behind a pillar supporting the roof of a nearby walkway.

“How many of those do you have?”

Pocket stuck their head out only to see another flying towards them and had to duck back into cover.

“Enough!” He sounded almost giddy, “You gone stop me or just gone hide?”

If this were anyone else, Pocket would be seriously concerned, but this was normal and completely in character for Shiv.

In a fluid motion, they tugged on the sleeve of their cloak, tearing it from their body and let it glide forward.

Before Shiv could react he could feel all seven barrels of Pocket’s gun on the back of his head.

Shiv laughed, sounding ecstatic.
“What’s stopping ya from pulling that trigger?”

Pocket was flabbergasted.
“Because I don’t want to blow your head off? It’s also emp-“

Their feet went out from under them and a strike to their wrist made them drop their gun. Shiv was on top of them before they even hit the ground.

Pocket was now holding back Shiv attempting to drive a knife through their chest. Despite the fact they knew it was all fake, the intensity of the situation made it feel dire and real.

Despite using both hands to hold back his wrist, Shiv was still stronger. Pocket realized this wasn’t going to stop until they treated this situation as seriously as he did.They may not be enjoying this as much as him, but they’d do their damnedest to give an authentic reaction.

Knowing it would hurt, Pocket reared back and head butted Shiv in the nose as hard they could. An explosion of pain followed with the expectation of him to fall back.

Shiv wasn’t even phased. In fact his grin seemed to widen. The absurdity and throbbing in their head made them drop all defenses and allowed the rubber blade to fold against their chest like paper.

“You’re dead kid.”

Pocket blinked through the pain, disregarding everything else about the situation, including the smug satisfaction on Shiv’s face.

“I told ya this wouldn’t end well for ya.”

“You’re bleeding…”

Shiv leaned back on his knees and put a hand to his face. Blood began to trickle out of his nose and onto the back of his hand. To Pocket, it seemed like blood should have started coming out immediately, instead, it seemed like his body delayed the reaction somehow.

He laughed, “That’s what I like to see!”

“Your own blood?”

“You fightin’ back! Don’t it feel good?”

Pocket could barely see straight,
“I’ve felt better.”

“That’s ‘cause ya bashed your head into me. Not sure why ya didn’t just kick me in the jewels.”

”Thought this would hurt more.”

“So ya considered it. Shows where your mind goes,” he twirled the fake knife between his fingers. “Did ya just wanna beat Lash to the punch?”

Their throbbing mind recalled that Lash said something about messing up Shiv’s pretty face. It was odd hearing the compliment addressed to someone else after hearing it all week.

“I didn’t even think about that...”

“Sure ya didn’t,” Shiv stood up and more blood started to pour out of his nose.
“Alright, ‘nuff fer tuhday,” he wheezed through holding his nostrils shut.

He sounded like he was in the same amount of pain Pocket was in. A reasonable amount of pain to feel when someone bashed their skull against yours.

Pocket uneasily sat up, stars clouding their vision. They started to feel horrible doing him like that.

“God, I’m sor-“

Shiv had already stumbled inside by the time they got to their feet. In their stupor, they stepped on something that rolled under their foot and almost tripped them.

They looked down to find the discarded arrows taken from the dummy’s head. Even with their aching mind, Pocket decided that if Shiv wasn’t going to give them answers, then maybe someone else would.

Notes:

This chapter’s shorter than usual because I tried to finish it before I went out of town (I failed in this regard but felt it was still wrapped up nicely.)

From Ivy’s leaked VN, we know one of Wraith’s casinos is in the back of a tailor’s (which mirrors a practice gangsters did in real life)

We know from a conversation from Krill and Bebop that Mo and Krill regularly bet on him and are pretty upset when Bebop says he won’t have to fight after completing the ritual.

Lash knows Pocket’s an adult. He says shit like “Let’s take out baby boy” and “come back when you hit puberty” in-game.

Lashback is Lash’s charity for kids that kinda suck.

Speaking of, Lash is incredibly homoerotic towards Shiv and calls him a pretty face and incredibly handsome.

Owls are birds of prey and Talon’s a hunter so I imagine if he doesn't want to be seen, he won’t be seen.

Shiv deferred that damage.

Until next time, stop nerfing Pocket.

Chapter 22: Blow for Blow

Summary:

Stadium lights.
A quick fight.
A new friend.
A shot not taken.

For an abandoned warehouse, the parking lot was anything but. The lights on the inside were bright enough to make Pocket think the Bear Pit was an open secret that even the police knew about but found it too personally lucrative to ever successfully shut down.

Had New York always been this dangerous or were they just too sheltered to realize how bad things really were?

“Ya know they’re not gonna put ya in the ring, right?”

Shiv caught up to them and Pocket could see nothing but the bandage over his nose. They still felt terrible about it and had apologized ad nauseam but Shiv wouldn’t hear it. It was the exact reaction he wanted.

“I know, but that’s not going to stop an angry drunk who just bet on the wrong guy from thinking I looked at him funny.”

“If that happens, ya know I’m here. Hell, ya just proved to me you ain’t exactly a pushover. Takin’ someone out may be good team buildin’.”

Shiv looked so proud when recalling it. Pocket wondered if it was even possible for them to get on his bad side.

“I think you and I have been in enough fights for one day.”

“No such thing.”

“You’re not going to go out of your way to get into one, right?”

“We’ll see where the night takes us.”

Pocket already knew that tonight wouldn’t end well.

---

Inside the warehouse was pure pandemonium.

The noise of the two men in the ring colliding with each other was drowned out by the screaming crowd. A sea of people surrounded beneath it and wooden risers were filled to the brim with even more. The place smelt of sweat, blood, smoke, and every other dirty filth associated with something this illegal and of this caliber.

“Anything you didn’t expect?”
Shiv’s words were almost drowned out by the din of spectators but Pocket could easily hear the amusement in his words.

“Didn’t expect this to draw in that many people...”

“People will always be drawn to two things: sex and violence. This just fulfills the latter half.”

“I’d hate to see the two come together.”

Shiv mumbled something they couldn’t hear.

Pocket scanned the crowd for any signs of Viscous. They assumed, given his appearance, that he would stand out.

Each and every face in the bleachers was human, Ixian, a mole person with opera glasses, or some other humanoid that was distinctly not made of goo.

They turned back to Shiv only to find his attention enveloped by the ring. A bell indicating the end of the match rang out as one of the men was declared the winner by knockout. The victor, black and blue, while his opponent on the ground looked only slightly worse for wear.

“I just don’t see the appeal of this…”
Only about an hour ago they had gotten out of a fight with zero stakes and hated every second of it.

Shiv was grinning from ear to ear at the spectacle.
“Maybe you’ll like this next one better.”

“I doubt that. I’m going to look on the other side.”

Shiv reached over and stopped Pocket by taking hold of their good wrist, clearly mindful of yesterday’s mistake.
“Just wait.”

Pocket did.

They moved through the crowd to get a better view of the ring. The stage was cleared and the blood was wiped as the announcer spoke into a derelict microphone.

“IN THIS CORNER… STRAIGHT FROM THE SCRAPYARD… WEIGHING IN AT TWO TONNES-“

Pocket looked to Shiv,
“I thought you said you couldn’t fight because of your weight class?”

“They make an exception for him.”

“-BEEEEBOOOOOP!”

The crowd went wild as the golem appeared on stage.

Pocket could see why Shiv had called him scrap golem; almost none of his parts went together. His head was small, his feet didn’t match, and one hand ended in what looked like naval mine. Even the legs of his ragged pants were uneven. Lash was a huge man and the fact that a robot made of junk beat him was unbelievable to Pocket.

They were too distracted by the robot’s appearance and a familiar female voice unenthusiastically boo-ing him to even pay attention to his opponent’s details.

Pocket turned back to Shiv to see if he was serious about this, but he was still watching the stage with a huge smile on his face.

Pocket’s attention was brought back to the ring by a loud whooshing sound. They looked up to see that Bebop’s hand had extended from him like a grappling hook and grabbed his opponent.

In a complete, fluid motion, Bebop’s hand reeled the man in, let go, and he used his other mace-like hand to perform a swift uppercut to send the man flying back up and crashing to the floor. The man was out cold.

The crowd exploded into applause and cheers as the match had ended as quickly as it had begun.

”Bebop is very good at hurting people.”

Pocket looked immediately to his left to find Viscous standing there.

“Viscous, where have you been?”
That’s all they could ask. They hadn’t seen him in days.

”Around New York. There’s so much to do! I’ve been all over the city and seen things I would never see in the Deep!”

Lash did say he was found at a performance of South Pacific.

“How did you end up here?”

”The Patron of the Sapphire Flame told me to come here. I’m learning violence. Punching people is a lot more effective than I thought it would be.”

Pocket looked to Shiv.

Shiv shrugged,
“Viscous, if ya wanna stay with us at the Baxter Society, ya more than welcome to.”

”What happened to your nose? Did someone fist you?”

“Nah, I ain’t ever been on the receivin’ end of a fistin’. Someone bashed their head into mine.”

”I would have never thought of that. Everyday I learn a new way to hurt people.”

Pocket wasn’t sure how they felt about exposing such a gentle creature to brutality but unfortunately it was a necessary evil if they wanted to win.
“If it means anything, we’ve both decided to join the Sapphire Flame.”

”Oh good! That means when we win, you can stop being sad!”

They could feel Shiv’s eyes bore into them at the remark.

”You look less sad than before. Perhaps the idea of having your wish granted is making you less sad. Having it granted will do away with it completely.”

For five years they lived with the idea that they’d never be able to stop their father from tearing the world apart. It wasn’t until they heard about the patrons that they believed they actually had a chance of stopping him.
“Yeah… maybe I will.”

Shiv took it upon himself to break the awkward situation.
“Ya wanna go meet with Bebop before we leave?”

“I think you’ll be able to speak his language better. I’m gonna go talk with Mo and Krill.”

“They’re here?”

“If I’m right, they are.”

After practically shoving through the crowd, Pocket and Viscous made their way up to the mole person with the opera glasses.

“…Mo?”

They put down the glasses and looked at Pocket. Mo nodded, confirming his identity.

“Is Krill-“

As if on cue, Krill came bounding over over the heads of several spectators, his primate body gracefully moving from scalp to scalp all while keeping a bucket of popcorn upright until he landed on Mo’s back.

“Pocket. I see you’ve ditched Shiv. Good.”
He settled comfortably onto Mo.
“We were beginning to worry about his influence on you… eh… who’s the goo?”

”I’m Viscous. I’m here to learn how to cause pain and suffering to enemies of the Sapphire Flame!”

“I already like this one better.”

Pocket sighed,
“No, Shiv and I didn’t br- I mean Shiv and I are still to- I mean Shiv and I are still working together. He just went to talk to Bebop.”

“Oh. Well. Good.”
Krill sounded unamused.

Mo snorted.

“What does Bebop have to do with anything?”
Krill was quick to change the subject.

“We’re joining the Sapphire Flame. Both of us.”

Any response either of them could make was cut off by the crowd erupting into a chorus of boos and someone strong arming the mic away from the announcer.

Jacob Lash had taken the stage.

“Calm down everyone… I know you came to see me, BUTTTTT, I have a little issue that needs to be resolved first…”

Pocket could feel something was off. They didn’t like where this was going.

“Listen up, folks. See that blob of hair gel in red pants over there? That's the big bad wolf of the Baxter Society.“

A spotlight fell somewhere on the crowd around the ring. Pocket couldn’t see Shiv in the sea of people but they could almost feel his rage from this far away.

“Shiv managed to get on Lash’s bad side? Thrilling, but overall unsurprising… Mo, we bet on Lash, right?”
Krill almost whispered that last part.

Mo nodded.

“Despite being the top dog, he’s too scared to take on the Lash. Guess that makes me scarier than all the monsters in the world combined! But I'm sure you all knew that!”

The same female voice that boo’d Bebop emphatically agreed over the silence that overtook the arena.

Pocket had no idea what Lash was talking about. Shiv never disagreed to fight him. In fact, it was Lash that wanted them to be on the same side.

Another voice came from the direction of the spotlight. Pocket couldn’t tell what was said, but it was unmistakably Shiv.

“Ohohoho~ You hear that folks? He won’t do it! Earlier today he told me he was going to be in the Summoning Ritual A G A I N S T yours truly! I guess he can only fight when there are no rules! Then again, it wasn’t even him that made that decision, it was-“

Pocket didn’t need to hear more. They needed to get to him and they needed to get him now.
They threw out their cloak and teleported to the beam of light in the crowd and pushed through to get him.

When they got there, his vial was glowing bright red.

Pocket gently took hold of Shiv’s upper arm.
”Shiv we need t-“

”Oh would you look at that! There they are now! I’m gonna be honest, being whipped like that? Not a good look for you or the Society. Especially if it’s by some kid you’r-“

”Lemme go Pocket,” Shiv spat between closed teeth; his gaze never leaving the stage.

“No, stop letting him get to you!”
Pocket was extremely firm. This was the same type of manipulation that the thing in the sewer had used against him; The same type that Pocket knew all too well.

“You two are just too cute together. Tell ya what: you both can fight me. How does that sound folks?”

There was cheering all around. Pocket knew it wasn’t for the two of them, but just to see Jacob Lash lose.

“GO FUCK YOURSELF LASH AND FIGHT ME ALONE!”
Shiv had almost broken free from Pocket’s grip.

“Shiv, he doesn’t want that, he’s just tryi-“

”Then C O M E O N up HEYAH then! Are you really gonna let that brat hold you back?”

Shiv finally jerked free of Pocket’s hold and marched towards the stage.

“That’s what I like to se- What the hell is that?”

A green puddle had appeared in the center of the ring.

Before Lash could do anything, a giant fist of goo rose from the floor and collided with his lower jaw. The cry of pain he made reverberated through the entire building.

Lash’s large body hit the floor with a resounding thud and he moved no more.

The crowd was shocked into silence. Even Shiv had stopped dead in his tracks as the light from his vial faded.

Pocket looked behind them to see Viscous standing behind with his hand shoved into the ground. He immediately stood up and withdrew his hand.

”I think I did the right thing.”

The crowd exploded with applause.

---

“Gotta ‘mit, don’t usually stick ‘round after a row, but I’m sure glad I did! Was a riot seen’ Lash put in ‘is place by someone else for once.”

Growing up in the Fairfax household, Pocket had been around robots their entire life. Their primary function was to fulfill the needs of their creators, very few had personalities of their own, and they were all well constructed with state of the art technology; Bebop wasn’t like any of them. They could see why Shiv had used the word ‘golem’ because he was closer to a person than any sort of machine.

“Well, Mo and I put down fifty dollars that was supposed to go to Wraith, but I suppose it was worth it for Lash to get what was coming to him. Hopefully…”

Mo nodded.

After Lash had been dealt with, the place had practically cleared out. Bebop had waited behind just to congratulate Viscous. Shiv had left the building to smoke and Pocket hadn’t seen him since.

”I learned that punching people is a good way to make them stop talking.”

“And it’s a good thing ya did. Won’t ’umble ‘im, but it’ll make ‘im shut up for a few days.”
Bebop spoke like he knew Lash better than anyone.

“Do you think he’ll single us out during the ritual?”
From the earlier encounter, Pocket could tell that Lash’s gravitas wasn’t just limited to inside the ring. If his ego was as fragile as it was made out to be, there was a very good chance that he’d be bearing down on all of them.

“Nah, ‘e may be sore, but ‘ell be after me for the most part. If ‘e gives ya trouble, just give me a holla. ‘E’s got a one track mind, he has, and most of the time it’s on me.”

That may have been true but that didn’t erase the fact that he had just singled Shiv out.

“Pocket,” Krill began, assessing their discomfort, “if you’re still worried about Shiv’s lack of… well, everything really, the offer to stay is still open.”

Mo nodded.

“No. He’s done so much for me that I can’t just abandon him.”

“Not even after that?”
Krill looked skeptical.
“If Viscous hadn’t intervened I’m afraid someone would have ended up in a body bag. Or worse.”

Mo nodded.

”Before that could have happened I would have put them both in The Cube.”

“Wazzat?” Bebop asked.

”A wonderful creation beyond imagination.”

They all stared at him.

“…Anywho, just be careful Pocket. And if he does get himself killed, our door is always open.”

Mo nodded.

“Thank you. I don’t think that’ll be necessary though.”
Pocket turned to Viscous.
“Do you still want to stay with us?”

”I very much do. Maybe I can learn how to use weapons next. I hear they hurt even more than punching!”

“Do you remember how to get there?”

”I sure do. I’ll go there right now.”

Vicious’s body suddenly inflated three times its normal size into a large, spherical shape. He took off like a large ball, goo wobbling with enough force to shake the ground. Rolling out the door and out of sight, several car alarms went off in the parking lot and distant tire screeches could be heard all the way from the road.

They all stared after him.

---

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

Pocket found Shiv leaning against his bike on a pile of cigarette butts.

“Surprised ya still want to come with me after that.”

“Is that why you were waiting on me?”

“Who said I was?”

“You usually don’t smoke that much.”

Shiv cracked a smile with one between his teeth.
“Maybe I was waitin’ on you tell me goodbye.”

“I still would have went with you, my stuff’s still in the bunker.”

“Wouldn’t want to leave those familiars behind. They deserve better than me.”

“What?”
Pocket didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Ya frogs? I heard ‘em the day ya came in.”

The frogs in the case weren’t familiars. They were so much more than that.

This should have been the point where they told him, but…

“It’s hard to think of them that way. They don’t get out much.”

“Considerin’ I haven’t seen ‘em, I believe that. Just surprised they haven’t suffocated in there yet.”

He would. Just not yet.

“…Shiv, I don’t want you beating yourself up over what happened in there. It’s going to take a lot more than that to push me away.”

“That’s the thing: ya didn’t calm me down this time. Next time it may be towards you.”

“The reason I didn’t is because he knew exactly how to get under your skin, just like the guy in the sewer. It’s like you said: they’re using me to get to you. You didn’t push me away until he tried to fight both of us. He insulted you, called you weak, called you a coward, and none of that worked until he got to me. He was poking you in every direction until he could hit a nerve, and eventually, he did.”

“Yeah… I guess I really need to work on that. It’s not like ya can’t defend yaself.”
He pointed to the bandage on his nose.

“I mean I can’t really blame you… he is an asshole after all.”

Shiv blew out a laugh along with a puff of smoke. He dropped the cigarette and turned towards Pocket.

Whatever he was about to do, he stopped and stomped out the butt beneath him.

“Let’s get outta here.”

“…Okay.”

For the briefest of moments, Pocket could swear he was staring at their lips.

Notes:

Much like Shiv, I had to hold myself back during that last part.

I have no idea how much Bebop weighs but he’s got to be heavy as hell, his footsteps are too loud not to be.
The Bebop design described here isn’t the one that’s currently used in-game but the one in Geist’s VN and in his main portrait (The one that’s currently used is from Neon Prime and has a weird beak thing going on.)

This is my headcanon about how Viscous learned about punching.

Mo using opera glasses at the Bear Pitt is liberally taken from the fan comic “Jacob Lash is an Asshole: The Full Fancomic” written by u/vdjvsunsyhstb or @ziz4030 on Discord.

Mo and Krill canonically owe Wraith $50.

Until next time, I’m still coping about Pocket’s hair. God help me…

Chapter 23: Sequestered

Summary:

Settling in.
Eavesdropping.
A talk.
Searching.
Another talk.

“Are you going to be okay down here?”

”Technically, I don’t sleep like humans do, but it’s nice to be considered human enough to have my own room.”

Pocket had shown Viscous to a room across from theirs. They wouldn’t have minded sharing a room, but they didn’t know how the spirits would react to someone else spending that much time around them. They knew Viscous was the furthest thing from a threat, but the souls were unpredictable.

“I’m right across the hall if you need anything. Shiv usually comes by early in the morning.”

”What do you two do together?”

What didn’t they do together? The past week felt like an entire year and only a few days at the same time.

“Right now we’re trying to figure out who else is on our side. If we do that, we’ll be more cohesive as a team.”

”I hope I can help. Do you know how to hurt people too?”

Pocket laughed, “Yes Viscous, I know how to hurt people.”

”Does Shiv?”

“Yeah, and he can do it a lot better than I can.”

Pocket recalled how he unloaded a shotgun into two men without even hesitating.

Before he had taken Pocket in, Shiv had tried to scare them. It never worked. For whatever reason, they weren’t afraid of him.

The scars on his chest told a story of a killer. Before the Baxter Society, Shiv was undoubtedly someone who would turn them in to their father, dead or alive, without question. Now, Shiv was a completely different person.The only problem was that Pocket didn’t know how different he really was.

They were going to change that.

“I’m going to go to bed. Do you need anything?”

”No. I’ll be in The Cube.”

“…Okay?”

With a loud squeak, goo expanded around Viscous’s form until a large, green cube enveloped him, standing where he previously stood. As adept as Viscous had become at controlling his protoplasmic body, Pocket shouldn’t have been surprised at the sight of a giant cube, but still, it was cause for concern.

“…Viscous?”

”Yes?”
His thoughts were still in their head without a hint of distress.

“Is everything okay?”

”Everything is okay when you’re in The Cube! You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll be sure to do that later…”

They left the room, leaving the anemone in peace.

---

They had lied about going to bed.

Instead of going to their room, they made their way upstairs to the same training ground where they nailed Shiv in the forehead earlier in the day.

There was no guarantee the old man would be there tonight but they would keep trying until they saw him - or until he let them see him - if Shiv were to be believed.

Even with the building empty they felt the need to be quiet, when they got outside, they were completely vindicated.

“-have a choice.”

The sound of Shiv’s exasperated voice made Pocket ease the door shut behind them.
As silently as they could, they got low and positioned themselves behind a pillar supporting the walkway to the entrance. For the second time that day, Shiv had them cowering behind one.

“Is that what you keep telling yourself?”

Another voice, the same one that told them they wouldn’t find what they were looking for.

This was Grey Talon.

“I ain’t tellin’ myself nothin’ that ain’t true. You woulda done the same.”

“Have you forgotten that I attempted to stop you?”

Pocket recalled that the old man had left Shiv’s office in complete frustration. They assumed this was an extension of that argument.

“Hard to forget when you pitched a fit over it. Thought someone like you would act your age.”

“When you stop letting your instincts drive you like a hormonal teenager then you can speak to me about acting your age.”

Talon had a point. Shiv had no self control. In the past week Pocket has seen his vial light up more than they would have liked. By now they knew it was linked to his aggression but it didn’t seem to do anything to contain it.

“It…”
Shiv grunted in frustration.
“It ain’t about that.”

“So I suppose the way you look at them is just my imagination?”

Pocket then realized the elder meant the other connotation of hormonal. This conversation was about more than just the ritual.

“You been spyin’ on us this whole time? I thought you were done with that shit!”

“I was until you painted a target on your back by calling out Hathorne on the radio.”

“We’ve been over this, told ya I could handle it myself!”

“Is that why you let one of them live?”
There was no anger in it, only an edge to drive the point home.

When Shiv said Grey Talon didn’t want to be seen, he meant it. If he knew about the encounter in the woods then that meant he was doing more than just nightly visits.

“If ya saw that ya should know I took out four of ‘em.”

“Three. Vindicta took out the fourth. I have no doubt the two of you would have taken out all of them if you weren’t distracted.”

“Don’t even imply what I think you’re implying…”
Something in Shiv’s voice made Pocket wonder if his vial was beginning to glow.

“If you hadn’t made that third kill personal you wou-“

“Don’t you fuckin’ lecture me on makin’ things personal!”

“Hathorne made it personal. You made it personal the moment you decided to take them in.”
The old man was taking no quarter to Shiv’s anger. It was obvious he had dealt with this many times before and had either grown used to it or it never phased him in the first place; Pocket felt it was almost definitely the latter.

“Ya understand that’s Maximillian fucking Fairfax’s kid, right? I know you don’t care ‘bout the outcome of all this, but those of us plannin’ on livin’ would love to see him go.”

“Is that something you initially told yourself or an excuse you came up with later?”

“Wesley… I didn’t do this shit on purpose. I promise.”
Shiv sounded defeated.

Even though he had shown inklings of it beforehand, Shiv either would not or could not get angry with him. Whatever Shiv’s feelings were for Pocket, Pocket could tell it couldn’t amount to the respect he held for his elder.

A moment of silence fell over the yard until Talon spoke up again.
“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that I almost don’t trust myself alone with them… Bad enough that I tried to get them to stay anywhere but here…”

Trust himself alone with them? Pocket wasn’t expecting that. Most of their time was spent alone in the building together. And trust himself not to do what? Attack them? Try to sleep with them like Vindicta suggested? Sure, he had begged Pocket up and down to spar with him but he twisted their arm over it. As far as making a move, he hadn’t tried anything of the sort.

“Do they know?”

“Nah, but they ain’t dumb. They know somethin’s up - and before you gimme hell for not warnin’ ‘em, when I said I tried to get rid of ‘em, I really fuckin’ tried.”

“What’s keeping them around?”

“It’s ‘cause I showed ‘em too much attention. The kid had no idea what affection even was growin’ up in a house full of monsters so they’re lookin’ for someone who’ll show it to ‘em. Got too close to me and now they’re sure they can fix me when they don’t even know what’s broken…. Not to mention they got drunk and went on about how safe I made ‘em feel. How am I supposed to send ‘em away after that?”

No idea what affection was? Not only had Shiv lied to them about how they acted while drunk, he was still operating under the assumption that they needed his pity; they had told him time and time again that they didn’t need that.

What was he trying to do? Be the father they never had? Didn’t he have his own kid for that?

The conversation continued but they had heard enough. They quietly slipped back inside the building and went back to their room. They didn’t need this.

---

He was completely caught off guard when he heard an ever-so-slight door creak. His head jolted around to see light from inside the building being quickly snuffed out by the closing door.

He thought he was still smelling their lingering scent from sparring out here earlier, not that he was actually smelling them currently. He began to worry if having his nose busted was fucking up his sense of smell.

Didn’t matter. Pocket had heard everything.

“Shit. Wesley I gotta-“

“What exactly do they know about you?”

The question caught him like a snare. For a guy that didn’t talk much, Wesley was in no hurry to end the conversation.

“‘Nough to trust me…. I told them everything they asked about… ‘Cept for the obvious .”

“And how much do you know about them?”

A lot. He knew Pocket’s name, their living conditions, their past, their fears, their wish, about their family, how they almost died…
His face sank into his open palms.
“Fucking hell… Yeah, I made passes at ‘em, but didn’t mean anythin’ by it. I didn’t figure they wanted something like that with me.”

“Did you?”

The thing inside of him did; That was obvious enough. But him?

He had sworn off relationships for a good reason. A one-night stand was the bare minimum and a drive home on the bike if he liked them enough. It wasn’t because he didn’t want more, it was for the safety of everyone else.

Pocket had come to him and pleaded for his help; already making themself vulnerable, already marking themself as prey.

The thing inside of him instantly took to them, and if he wasn’t lying to himself, he listened to it.

There was a primal instinct to protect them and there was enough sympathy to take them in; the beast wanted Pocket and he wanted Fairfax dead.

Over time, he’d grown to like Pocket. They were more just a pretty face.
They were intelligent, surefooted, and had more of a spine than most hunters did; the type of person you’d take home to your mama. All of that combined with their birthright to millions, it was like an exiled royalty showed up at his doorstep.

All the more reason for Sapphire Bitch to tempt him into becoming a king.

Maybe he was just building them up in their head because of how lonely he’d been.

Maybe it was the beast making them more appealing than they actually were.

There was only one thing he was sure of:

“I’m not good enough for ‘em, Wes. Don’t matter what I want.”

Talon crossed his arms and looked off into nowhere in particular.
“Is that what you thought about her?”

“Nah. We were the right kind of people for each other. Pocket’s a damn Fairfax.”

“A word you hate.”

“Gonna have a different meanin’ in a few years.”

“And you don’t want to be part of reshaping it?”

“I am part of reshaping it. After that, it’s gonna mean charity balls and yacht clubs again, just for a better cause. I don’t belong in neither.”

“I recall you having the same attitude towards the Baxter Society.”

“That may win me favor with some of the upper crust, but that don’t mean they’ll want me around.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

Shiv stopped and looked at him funny,
“For someone who doesn’t want me to participate in the ritual you sure seem to want me to do it for them.”

“I’ve come to terms with it. I’d rather not lose another son, but at least you’re risking your life willingly. Nathan didn’t get that choice…”

He was wondering when that would come up. Ever since the old man had lost everything it had consumed his every thought. He couldn’t blame him for his path of self destruction because that’s exactly what he saved him from. The only problem was there was no saving Wesley from his own; he would avenge his family or die trying.

“Are you just saying this ‘cause you don’t think you’ll live to see the outcome?”

“Yes. Very few things are left to bring me peace; one of them is that you’ll at least remain happy.”

“I may not make it out either. If you don’t, odds are stacked against me.”

“Then at least you’ll die defending what you believe in. I believe your friend is doing the same.”

“Still ain’t figured out what to wish for.”

“You’re not getting rid of it?”
It did sound like that came as a surprise.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“If you’re going to keep it, at least learn to clean up after yourself.”

“Waddaya mean?”

“Your fifth man had an accident on the way back home. I hope that doesn’t happen again.”

“…Cut his brakes?”

“Not that they can prove that.”

Shiv grinned,
“God, you’re fuckin’ crazy, ya know that?”

A rare smile crossed the elder’s face,
“I never claimed to be anything else.”

---

He couldn’t find Pocket.

He went directly into their room with the intention to explain himself only to find it empty. He figured they had to be somewhere else in the building because he heard the soft croaking of frogs. He didn’t know how they could live in there, but they had lasted a week. Pocket wasn’t lying when they said they didn’t get out much, or they were just taking them out when no one was around. Either way, it was still weird. He was confused as to why they were in a glowing suitcase he had never seen before but he knew Pocket was no stranger to the occult.

He let it be and went to Viscous’s room.

“Viscous, have ya see-“

A large, green cube sat in the center of the room.

“…Viscous?”

”Yes?”

The voice was still inside his head but Shiv could tell that Viscous had to be in the room.

“You in there?”

”If you mean inside The Cube, then yes.”

Shiv had seen a lot of weird shit over the years. Viscous wasn’t the weirdest, but he was pretty close.

“Right… Have ya seen Pocket?”

”They said they were going to bed but then they came back and said something else.”

“Which was?”

”They said if Shiv came looking for them to tell him that they’d be in their room.”

“Well they ain’t in there.”

“They seemed upset. Maybe they’re hiding from you.”

“Maybe they are…”
Pocket probably just told Viscous that to throw him off. They were likely somewhere upstairs in a meeting room or the library not wanting to be bothered.

”You sound upset too. Would you like to be in The Cube instead?”

“I’ll have to pass.”

”Are you sure? It’s warm.”

“Maybe another time.”

”Since you two aren’t getting along, maybe you should spend time in it together.”

Being pressed up against Pocket in a tight space sounded ideal but they probably wouldn’t be up for that anytime soon.

“I’ll have to ask them.”

”Okay. Have fun playing hide and seek!”

That wasn’t what he had in mind at all.

---

They heard Shiv enter the room again.

Either he didn’t get the message or didn’t care that they wanted to be left alone.

What was he even doing in the room anyway? Waiting for them to get back? It didn’t sound like he was rummaging around so at least he respected their privacy.

The second they thought that, they felt the case being moved from off the bed

The spirits didn’t care for that. The croaking around them became more frantic as the ghosts were disturbed from their rest.

Pocket peeked out of the case, finding they'd been moved to the floor. In the small field of vision allotted, they could see Shiv sitting on the edge of the bed. Without ceremony, they watched Shiv take the pillow off the bed and bring it to his face.

What.

Without thinking, Pocket exploded out of the satchel, stumbling out in a panic about five feet away from where Shiv was sitting.
“What the hell are you doing?”

“The hell are you doin’?!”
Shiv jumped in surprise.

“I asked you first.”
Pocket wasn’t in the mood to lay bare all the secrets of the case at that moment.

Shiv, still looking rattled, sighed and put the pillow back.
“I was lookin’ for ya.”

“By smelling my fucking bedsheets? What the fuck is-“

“Ya fucked up my sense of smell earlier when you nailed me in nose. Was just makin’ sure I could still use it. Mind ya, I wasn’t gonna come in and intrude on ya, I was just gonna make sure ya were okay.”
Shiv said this evenly, as if he was explaining something completely normal.

Pocket looked at him with disbelief.
“…You can smell me? That’s how you’ve been finding me?”

“Yeah, but it ain’t just you I can sniff out. Don’t go thinkin’ you’re special.”

“That’s how you smelled that guy in the sewer.”
It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. It wasn’t pleasant either.”

This wasn’t a weird fetish thing; he was telling the truth.

“How?”

“Ya really wanna know?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on with you for the past week. Yes, I want to know.”

Shiv sighed,
“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

“Simply put, I got somethin’ inside me that uhh… don’t make me human. It ain’t me but at the same time, it is.”

Lots of people weren’t human, especially in New York. For this to be a sensitive subject, it had to be something dangerous.

“You’re saying you’re a monster?”

“I am and I ain’t.”

“Is this the real reason why you tried to scare me off? Because you don’t trust yourself around me?”

“It’s got an animalistic nature to it. Been callin’ it ‘The Beast’ for the longest. It’s jealous, mean, and angry as hell. It also likes you. A lot. It has for a while.”

“That’s what Vindicta was talking about? What does it want to do, eat me?”

“Nah, it’s a protective thing. It’s territorial.”

“I’m not your territory.”

“I know you ain’t. It thinks of you that way though.”

This was all starting to make sense. Shiv was trying to push them away to protect them.

“Why don’t you trust yourself alone with me?”

“‘Cause ya seen how I am when I get angry. If ya do something to piss it off it may take it personally.”

“You’d think it’d kill me?”

“No, but I’d think it’d hurt ya.”

From what Pocket had seen, they didn’t think that was the case.
“Shiv, I don’t think it wants to hurt me, I think it wants to protect me.”

“No, that’s what I want. That’s why I don’t trust it around you.”

“Maybe it wants the same thing. I don’t think it would do any harm to something that it clearly cares for. Almost every time I’ve seen you get angry, it’s never been towards me, it’s almost always been about me. ”

Shiv didn’t seem to care for that response but made no further objections.
“There’s no way I can get rid of ya, is there?”

“Not unless you kill me.”

Shiv laughed,
“Don’t think that’s gonna happen…”

“Neither do I.”

Shiv seemed calmer,
“You gonna tell me about that suitcase now?”

So they did.

Notes:

Like I said in a previous chapter, I’m not going to get into the specifics of the case until we get more information.
That said, the spirits inside seem to have emotions, Pocket says something like “You shouldn’t have made the spirits mad” during Barrage.

Apparently some sea anemones do something a lot like sleep. They’ll curl up and not unfurl until morning.

Pocket doesn’t know Shiv’s kid is dead.

I assumed Yacht Clubs were something modern, but apparently the New York Yacht Club was founded in the 1880’s.

Talon’s completely indifferent to if he dies or not, he straight up says up in a kill streak line.
Also, we know his son’s name was Nathan from a conversation he has with Haze.

“Brake lines don’t cut themselves” is an actual Talon line. He’s so cool, I wish old people were real.

Until next time, Pocket finally knows what green is.

P.S.
OH MY GOD POCKET FINALLY GOT LINES.

Just want to say I’m very happy with the way I’ve characterized Pocket in this fic. I feel like it’s very in line with how they’ve been expanded upon.

Also chapters 1-7 have little crappy illustrations I made. I’ll probably do one for every chapter.

Chapter 24: Against the Tide

Summary:

Coming around.
An unwanted visitor.
Guilt by association.

“So what exactly is it that you eat?”

Growing up, the Fairfax mansion had a large aquarium with plenty of tropical fish from both this plane and Ixia. Their father may not have cared for Ixians, but he’d make an exception for anything he found suitable to act as a window dressing. Inside were several anemones to live symbiotically with clownfish and several species from South Ixia. It was up to the staff to feed them, so Pocket had no idea what they ate. They weren’t pets; they were nothing more than a flashy display of wealth.

”Don’t worry about me. I can provide my own food.”

Viscous took out a large, wooden crate from under the bed; it was packed to the brim with cans of sardines.

“Where did you get those?”

“I found them in the back of a truck. They were just sitting with lots of other crates, but I only needed this one!”

“Viscous I think th-“

Viscous held out a sardine by the tail and dropped it into his face goo. From the depths of his body, tiny tentacles rose and wrapped around the small fish and pulled it into themselves. The tentacles submerged back within him and disappeared along with their meal.

”You were saying?”

“Nevermind.”

They weren’t exactly in the mood to teach a sea creature economics anyway.
“Are you going to be okay with eating those for the rest of the month?”

”Oh yes. Usually I have to wait for food to come by. Up here on the surface, you can go and grab it yourself! Humans really do everything figured out.”

Life was probably easier when you didn’t have to hunt for your food but they doubted that was the only reason Viscous had come up.

“Viscous, what are you wishing for?”

“To stop the Adversary from taking over The Deep.”

Pocket didn’t know what two of the words were referring to,

“The Deep, is that where you’re from?”

“Yes. And if I don’t stop the Adversary from overtaking it, it will only be a matter of time before he takes everything else!”

They never expected to hear Viscous this serious.

“What is he?”

”He’s scary. Scarier than Slork. The only way I could ever think of defeating him is with the help of the Patrons. Luckily, the Sapphire Flame reached out to me and now I have a chance of saving everyone!”

When Pocket heard from the Sapphire Flame, it said it could feel them the moment they stepped foot into the city. If the Patrons were incapable of lying, then that must have meant that Viscous’s psychic abilities were a lot more powerful than they originally thought. It also meant the situation Viscous was in was extremely dire.

Much like the sheriff, Viscous’s wish seemed to be completely selfless. He was putting himself on the line for the good of others.

…But wasn’t that what they were doing, too?

Glad you’re finally seeing things that way, Pocket.

It was the Sapphire Flame again.

“Viscous, can you hear that?”

“Yes, but I’ll pretend not to.”
Viscous sat back on the bed and emptied the entire can into his face.

I’m only speaking to you at the moment. I’m glad that you and Shiv have decided to fight on my behalf. Much like Viscous, you’re saving your own world. You’re putting a stop to your father’s legacy and starting your own. The name Fairfax will have a whole new meaning, all because of you.

A legacy. That was what the Amber Hand had said this one would tempt them with.

That was what their father in their nightmare had held over their head. There, they had denounced their family name so easily. Even when they were awake, it was so easy to do. Adopting the name ‘Pocket’ was as simple as changing the sheets on a bed; now that the ritual was coming around, they would have to lie in it.

“It’s more than just about the personal gratification of putting a stop to my father.”

And the world will thank you for it. You’re the only one who can take him down. It’s one of the reasons Shiv took you in.

“From what I understand it was a lot more than that.”

You sate the Beast inside of him, Pocket. He could recognize that the moment he laid eyes on you. There are great things ahead for the both of you. Together, you’ll bring about a new dynasty of hope.

From the way Pocket saw things, there were two possible outcomes: win or die. Sure, they had thought at length about how they would handle the company if they were to win, but they never really considered how Shiv would fit into it. When they initially returned to New York, that card had never been in their deck.

He said something about continuing to hunt monsters while Pocket made a difference from up high, and while they didn’t doubt he would continue to do that, they just didn’t know if he planned on keeping in contact with them.

Shiv had brought up the idea of going on the run if they lost… but what if they didn’t?

Shiv, or rather the thing inside Shiv, was attached to them; thought of them as a possession. As of right now they were seeing each other every day.

What would happen when this was over?

Would Shiv have to come by every month? Every week? Move in with them when he wasn’t on the road? If they took over their father’s mansion, space would be far from an issue. Maybe they’d even get rid of that old aquarium just to make more…

This was all well and good, but Shiv wasn’t one for the high life. Even in the Baxter Society he stuck out like a sore thumb and resented every facet of high society that came with it.

What would it look like if the two of them lived together?
Shiv wouldn’t care, and they feared that would entice the press to paint them both in the worst light possible.

In their mind’s eye, they could picture Shiv making it all worse on purpose just to get a laugh out of it.

Dear god this was a disaster waiting to happen.

“…I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

There was no response.

They sighed and looked at Viscous.
“If you somehow-“

His face was floating with at least five more small fish. He held out the can to Pocket.
”Did you want some? I have plenty to go around.”

“Uh, no thank you. I’m going to see if Shiv is here yet.”

”Okay. I may take a while to join you; I don’t know how to use the stairs yet.”

“But you got down here just fine?”

”Going down is the easy part.”

---

When Shiv was halfway to the building, it started to rain. Hard.

He had to slow down because raindrops at high velocity on the bike felt like fucking bullets. Unfortunately, this made his commute slower and gave the oncoming storm all the more opportunity to ruin his hair.

When he got to the parking lot, he tented his jacket over his head in an attempt to salvage what he was sure was already destroyed.

Whatever. Maybe it was time for a break anyway. After the chaos of yesterday he was almost sure Pocket would welcome it.

They could stay in, figure out their wishes, or… he wondered if Pocket knew how to dance.

If they did, it was probably fancy ballroom shit.

Eh, it’d be a good starting point. Swing wasn’t that much different anyway.

He was so enamored by his daydream that he didn’t notice the unfamiliar vehicle parked nearby.

When he opened the door, Pocket’s scent immediately hit him. Maybe his sense of smell wasn’t so fucked after all.

The second smell was unfamiliar, musty and unpleasant. It wasn’t any hunter he’d ever been in contact with, or at least not one he could remember.

He wiped his feet and shook whatever excess water he could and followed the direction from which both scents wafted.

He stopped himself from turning the corner when he heard that motherfucker’s condescending voice.

“-call when the Baxter Society was first established. It was only a few years after the maelstrom and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Finally someone was doing something about all the things that went bump in the night. They were quite inspiring. I would even go as far as to say they were one of the inspirations for my cause… It’s a shame how things had to turn out.”

For some fucking reason, Johnathan fucking Hathorne was in the fucking building and had made it inside without being shot full of fucking arrows.

Wesley wasn’t fully to blame though; he knew he wouldn’t do it here. It would be just another murder they could have on Shiv.

Besides, Wesley would take his time with it; he couldn’t do that here.

“Are you one of them, child?”

“No. I’m just staying at one of their safe houses while someone is hunting something that’s hunting me.”

Pocket said it so sincerely. They must have become a natural at lying while on the lam. He once told them they would’ve made a great con and he stood by it. If he could have met Pocket before he met Wesley, things would be a lot different; going towards a mutually assured destruction, but at least it’d be more fun than preparing for a blood ritual.

“What hunts you?”

“A vampire. Once you let them in, you can’t really get rid of them.”

“Parasites, all of them. It’s fortunate they can’t walk in the glory of God’s daylight, but days like this ought to give you pause. Do you trust the hunter assigned to you to keep you safe while you’re here?”

Shiv chanced to peek over the side of the wall he was hiding behind; the shit weather had ruined hair and made the gesture less conspicuous. He could see that Hathorne was, thankfully, facing away from him. Pocket was standing there so casually as if this interaction didn’t bother them at all. Their hand was shoved into the pocket of their cloak, which was probably the only reason this conversation was happening. Hathorne wouldn’t converse with someone who was so obviously marked by magic.

If none of their attackers made it back alive, odds were no one knew what Pocket looked like. That nag was in here before she died but she had no reason to notice or mention them to anyone else because the knife thing was pretty much the highlight of the entire encounter. At least to him.

The moment he glanced over, Pocket made eye contact with him.

He asked with his eyes if they needed help; they told him they didn’t.

He slunk back and continued to listen.

To Hathorne, Pocket wasn’t his partner in crime; they were someone burdened by the supernatural and the Baxter Society hadn’t dealt with the problem yet.

To Hathorne, they were a potential recruit.

The only reason that didn’t piss him right the fuck off is because he knew Pocket was intelligent enough to realize that before he even considered it.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Pocket answered.

“I see… you have heard of my organization, yes?”

“I know that my designated hunter spoke pretty ill of it on the radio last week.”

“Ah, you were assigned Mister Shiv… is that his real name?”

“He hasn’t given me anything else to call him.”

Once again, another asshole was using Pocket against him; only this time it was for information.

“What do you think of him? Is he as boisterous and crude as he was on the broadcast?”

“Well, he always tells me he’s the best at what he does, asks if I’m afraid of him, tells me how pretty my face is, and last night he came into the place I’m staying at and I caught him sniffing my bedsheets.”

“You poor, poor thing…”

Shiv had to hold a hand over his mouth to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

“I’ve only been here a week and he’s already put me on the back of his motorcycle, drove me somewhere into the woods, and tried to make me get into a stream with him. Naked.”

“He sounds like an absolute animal… If you’re looking for a solution without-“

That was his cue.

“Stop tryin’ to steal my clients, Hathorne.”
Shiv strode around the corner, still soaked from the rain.
“If they didn’t want to be here, they wouldn’t stick around.”

This was the first time he saw the old man up close. He was younger than Wesley, but the wart on his face and the decorative cane he wielded aged him up by forty years, making him at least a hundred in Shiv’s eyes.

Thinly veiled disgust crossed the man’s features while attempting to smile.
“Mister Shiv, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
He held out a hand for him to shake.

“No ya ain’t.”

Hathorne cleared his throat and returned his hand in defeat to fold atop his cane.
“Your client was just telling me all about the arrangement you two have.”

“I’m sure they’ve been tellin’ ya good things?”
He looked pointedly at Pocket.

“I left out the part where you pressured me into getting drunk.”
Pocket remained completely nonchalant in recounting this.

“What about the time I took ya down to the sewers and had to find ya after ya ran off?”

“I forgot to mention that, along with the instance when we went to an illegal boxing ring and almost ended up fighting in i-“

“Mister Shiv!”

The old man exclaimed, interrupting Pocket.
“Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”

Shiv looked to Pocket.

Pocket nodded.

Shiv sighed,
“Alright, we can go to my office, but make it quick, I gotta go check on the goo creature after this.”

“Goo creature?”
The old man sputtered.

“Yeah it lives near their room. Let’s get this over with.”

Hathorne’s eyes widened but said nothing as he followed.

---

It was a long time before either of them spoke. Hathorne sat across from him just staring with a disapproving look.

Shiv got so tired of waiting that he took the knife from the sheath on his chest and began to idly spin it between his fingers. He noticed that it had become somewhat dull and would need sharpening later on; something he neglected ever since it had made contact with another man’s jugular. Normally, he would have straightened that out right away, but the past week was anything but normal.

“Do you believe in God, Mister Shiv?”

Shiv stopped what he was doing.
“Ya can talk again. I thought you were over there havin’ a stroke.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t answer it ‘cause I thought it was dumb.”

“You believe having faith in a higher power is ‘dumb’?”

“Faith is puttin’ trust in somethin’ that ain’t earned it yet.”

“You believe that God has to earn the right for His existence to be acknowledged?”

“Never said that.”
He held the blade up to the light, noted once more that he’d have to sharpen it later and returned it to its sheath.

“So what are you saying then?”

“Look, Martin Luther, I know you ain’t here to list off your ninety-nine problems about me, so let’s cut to the chase: Ya sent five men to do me in and ya almost got an innocent bystander killed in the process. If that's your idea of savin’ humanity, I don’t want to be shamed over whether or not I believe in the eye in the sky.”
He was heated, but he wasn’t angry. Not yet anyway.

Hathorne’s face lit up, the first sign of life the bag of bones had shown since entering the room.
“I’m surprised someone like you is aware of the Protestant reformation. Were you raised Catholic?”

“That’s none of ya fuckin’ business. Glazin’ over the fuckin’ atrocities ya commit with bullshit don’t work on me.”

“Mister Shi-“

“Shiv. S’just Shiv,” he wasn’t going to take anymore feigned pleasantries.

“Shiv…” Hathorne spat out the word like a bad taste.
“I never intended for those men to harm anyone. I simply wished to speak with you,”

“That’s what ya doin’ right now and there ain’t no fuckin’ guns involved. Ya realize you got ‘nough manpower to stop me or do ya have someone holdin’ the kid at gunpoint out there?”

“Mis- Shiv.”
He caught himself yet still said the name with disdain.
“Unlike you, I have no interest in harming your client.”

That almost lightened his mood.
“If I wanted to hurt them, they’d be black, blue, and every shade of red. Hurtin’ them is the last thing I want.”

“From what they’ve told me, you’ve threatened them, bragged to them relentlessly, harassed them in multiple ways, and dragged them to where they shouldn’t be, especially when they have the undead hunting them.”

“And from what they’ve told me they don’t mind bein’ ‘round me. If they didn’t, they could have easily asked for another hunter and reported me to a higher up.”
He was almost smug when he said this.

Pocket could have found any other hunter in the Baxter Society but luck and fate had sent them to Shiv. They could have walked out of his office if they doubted even for a second he’d rat them out, but they took a chance on him; something he hoped they’d never regret. Hell, he even begged Pocket to stay elsewhere but they refused him at every turn. Despite how worried he was about getting close to them, he was glad they decided to stay. He didn’t know why that was so damn hard to admit to himself; whether it be for their safety or to satisfy his need to stay socially isolated from anyone he could potentially give a damn about.

Hathorne looked at him like a speck of dirt on a clean shirt.
“So you’ve made them too afraid to stray from your side. That’s far from something to take pride in.”

“And waddaya do to people who try to leave you? I’m sure you got more than a few defectors.”

“Those dedicated to our organization hardly ever leave it. I don’t have to resort to threats to keep them around.”

“Probably ‘cause they’ve seen what happens to people you don’t like.”

“I’m well aware of your stance on us. You referred to us as ‘terrorists’ for the entire city to hear. You verbally assaulted poor Elizabeth and that joke of a police captain encouraged it. No wonder you were never arrested…”
An exaggerated sadness that a blind man could see through came over him.
“Now four of my men are missing and another one is dead.”

“Ya gonna sit here and accuse me of a murder I’ve already been cleared of while tryin’ to get to confess to another? Is that where ya were goin’ with the whole capital ‘G - o - d’ ya tried to start out with?”

“We’ve lost so many in these past few months alone… if you could just tell me where they are so they can be brought home to their families, I-“

“Nah. Ya don’t get to play that. This holier than thou bullshit ain’t gonna work when I know what ya do to entire families just ‘cause they look different from ya.”
The rage he knew would come was now here.
“Ya asked me earlier if I believe in God? I do. I just don’t think much of ‘im when He allows men like you to exist.”

Hathorne stood up, cane slammed on the floor,
"Where are my men, Shiv?"

"Let's just say I gave 'em a good Christian burial. I think God'll forgive me for it."

"Sin is only forgiven when you take responsibility for it. Guilt is the thing that drives you towards Him; if you feel none, then you won't be forgiven."

"Is it Him or you that won't forgive me? I'd hate to conflate the two 'cause it seems like ya do it all the time."

The old man’s withered hand clenched at his side but quickly released.
“I tried to talk to you. I tried to be civil. The only thing I’ve learned is that you killed my men, terrorized your clients, and are unable to have sympathy for the victims’ families. You are no better than the monsters you claim to hunt and I pity anyone who comes to you for aid.”

“I can’t feel sorry for anyone who joins you willingly. I killed men who chased me through traffic, came armed, and threatened to blow my client’s head off; a client who is free to leave at any time they choose.”

Hathorne looked down his nose at him.
“We’ll see about that.”

As soon as he turned away from the desk a knife flew past his left ear, taking a few strands of hair with it, and embedded itself in the door in front of him.

“Touch the kid and the next one won’t miss.”

Hathorne froze for a moment and then steadied himself. A grumble came from his throat but no words were said.

He straightened his tie and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Shiv listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall and watched him leave the building from the window. His eyes never left him from the moment he stepped out into the rain and the dark vehicle he entered the back of drove off.

The moment it was out of sight he stepped out of his office to look for Pocket. A glance down the hall showed no sign of them. Before he moved to go downstairs he looked back at his office and that’s when he caught the glow from the suitcase on the floor next to the doorframe.

“He’s gone.”

The latches came undone on their own and the suitcase erupted with loud ribbeting.

Pocket stepped out.
“I heard everything. I didn’t mean to speak to him, I wen-“

Shiv’s hands fell on their shoulders and looked them in the eye with an eerily serious weight.
“Pack your shit right now. You ain’t stayin’ here.”

“…Where do you want me to go?”

They already knew the answer.

Notes:

Some sea anemones paralyze smaller sea creatures and then pull them in with their tentacles. Small fish are part of their diet, so I thought it'd be cute for Vicious to eat anchovies.

Denizens of the deep know Fathom's true name, so Viscous knows him as Slork.

As noted earlier, the Sapphire Flame intros are all about making a name for yourself and Pocket wants to change the meaning of the name Fairfax so...

Viscous canonically has trouble with stairs.

Apparently, rain on a motorcycle hurts like hell; this is something I've heard second hand.
(It also rained really hard in New York on September 29, 1949)

Headcanon, but Shiv was probably raised Southern Baptist. With the supernatural being real in-universe, discounting the existence of a Christian God doesn't seem reasonable but, with the shit Shiv's seen, he has plenty of reason to believe that He's no longer listening.

Until next time, I don't know what to put here.

P.S.
Chapters 1-17 (with the exception of 14) now have images as chapter headers. I draw them whenever I feel like it so they’re not consistently added. I’ll just indicate at the end of every new chapter if I’ve added anymore between updates.

Chapter 25: Where the Heart is

Summary:

A realization.
Acclimation.

“Is there even enough room for both of us?”

When Pocket tried to picture where Shiv lived, it was far from the lap of luxury. It wasn’t that they thought he lived in squalor, but if his office was any indication of how he kept his living space, then it probably wasn’t too impressive.

It was such a weird dichotomy. Shiv took care of his appearance, his bike, his guns, and his blades, but his office was completely defaced. It was like he cared about the things that made him human. Things that made him Shiv. His surroundings were nothing more than a lair for the beast within.

“I ain’t moving ya into my place. There’s a brownstone the society uses as a safehouse. It’s got an upstairs and downstairs apartment. There’s plenty of room for you and Viscous. It’s got two bedrooms, a den, an enclosed backyard, and hell of a lot more privacy than here.”

If they were being honest, a private residence was more than welcome at this point. They didn’t mind the bunker but living in a public building opened them up to too many prying eyes.

Even now Shiv had sequestered Viscous and them away into a private meeting room.

“Sounds good to me. How are the neighbors?”

“Far enough to keep to themselves and close enough to see any commotion. If ya scream loud enough, ya guaranteed to have the entire neighborhood call the cops.”

“Sounds like something you’ve tried.”

“Not yet. If we do, hopefully the circumstances won’t exactly be dire ones.”

They looked to Viscous,
“Does this arrangement sound alright with you?”

”I don’t mind. As long as there’s space for The Cube, I’ll be happy.”

There were a lot of things Pocket needed to ask Shiv about. They needed to know how this would affect the thing inside of him, but they could wait until Viscous left the room.

“What about your bike? Spotting us in public and following us is one thing, but having that thing parked on the street would be like having a target painted on the side of the building.”

“This ain’t about hidin’, it’s about keepin’ ya safe. Hathorne made it clear he wasn’t giving up on you. When they come, I need to be there.”

”It must be strange to be wanted by someone you don’t like. When someone gets mad at me for gooing them, I just move along.”

Neither of them wanted to address that.

“What happens if they come in while you’re on another ‘date’?” Pocket asked.

That was what Shiv had called drinking himself to sleep. The last time he had touched the stuff he paced himself but there was always the possibility he could be lured into a false sense of security.

“Well sweetheart, if you want to keep my liquor cabinet upstairs, you can make sure I won’t drink without you.”

“I’m serious.”
They weren’t about to let themself be smitten when something as serious as this was on the line.

“I am too. If you think it’ll hinder your safety then I won’t touch a drop.”
There was sincerity in his promise.
“‘Side’s, drinkin’ alone ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
The half smirk revealed his intentions.

“Find another drinking buddy because I’m not letting you do that again.”

“Shit, Pocket, it was just a joke. I ain’t ever seen someone get tore up like that over one glass in a long ass time.”
He put his hands up to show his innocence.

“Sorry, I just don’t know why you would do something as serious as moving us and act so unserious about everything else.”

“‘Cause I want them to come. I couldn’t do shit about the last batch because there’s no way in fuck that pig Murphy would believe me when he already fingered me for another one. With no witnesses, it was my word against Hathorne’s influence. “

“I guess I would have trouble believing you were the victim in the situation…”

“And considerin’ Dicta took out one the same way she did that nag, that would just stack the case further against me. Of course, they wouldn’t find the rifle, but I didn’t feel like dealin’ with all that red tape. If they come for us in the city then there’s plenty of pryin’ eyes to tell ‘em exactly how it went down.”

“This is assuming they don’t just kill us.”

“They ain’t gonna kill ya. Even if they see ya arm like that they’ll think I’m ya magic dealer or some shit and hold you hostage until you swear it off.”

“You say that but the day their representative looked at me like I was scum when she came in here. That’s the reason I knew I had to hide it from him.”

Hiding it was something they normally did, but when it came to these people they had to be more than careful.

“I was wonderin’ if she’d seen you. Doubt she said anything to anyone; if she did, that’d be even more reason for them to sink their claws in you.”

Pocket tried to imagine what they would do to them if they did.

What would they even do? Pray over them? Try to exorcise the magic out of their hand? If they were wholeheartedly against the use of magic then that meant mind or memory altering hexes weren’t possibilities, and, to Pocket, that unnerved them more than if they were.

”If they know you don’t want to be there, why would they try to keep you there?”

“‘Cause they’re a damn cult, Viscous. They have only one way of livin’ and want everyone else to do the same.”

Viscous sat there for a moment.
”…A ‘cult?’ You mean like the one that worships the Sapphire Flame?”

“The difference between them is that the Sapphire flame ain’t built on hate. Only thing they want to do is bring her to the other side, meanwhile, the Friends want anything that isn’t human dead in the ground.”

”You mean like you and me?”

“Yeah Viscous, like you and me…”

Shiv didn’t even deny what he was. Pocket had the feeling he had never told Viscous about any of this and Viscous could, whether through the use of his powers or his shared beastial instincts, simply tell.

Pocket spoke up,
“Viscous, do you mind if I speak to Shiv alone?”

”No. I’ll go pack my things.”

“Do you need anything to put your crate in?” They asked even though they knew the answer would be nothing short of strange.

”No, the goo will hold it just fine.”

He then scampered out of the meeting room.

Shiv raised a brow.
“Do I need to ask?”

“He stole a crate of anchovies from the back of a truck.”

“Well shit, and here I thought he would go and consider them his friends.”

Shiv seemed to visibly relax more. Pocket assumed it was because the discussion of Hathorne had ceased.
“Anemones aren’t filter feeders, they’re predators, which is pretty impressive for something without a brain.”

“Two things we have in common I guess.”

“That’s the most humble thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Shiv sprawled out, rocking back and forth in the swiveling chair.

“Shit Pocket, I shoulda done this the second we got outta the sewers. I knew the longer we stuck around here the more liable he was to show up.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t leave here as a pin cushion full of arrows.”

“Even if Wesley was hanging around he wouldn’t do it here.”

“If Hathorne has a habit of making himself this vulnerable, why go through the ritual to get to him?”

“He don’t make a habit of it. I don’t think that’s what’s stoppin’ him though. I haven’t exactly asked about the details of what he’s wishin’ for, but I know it ain’t gonna be pretty, and the uglier it is, the gladder I’ll be.”

That led them to another question.
“You’re planning on using yours to get rid of it, right?”

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it.”
He sounded so self assured.

Pocket was confused,
“What else do you have to wish for?”

“Other things,” he said dismissively.

“So you want me to move in with you, trust you even though you have a primal attraction to me, and go through a blood ritual with you only to not get rid of the thing that’s making it difficult to be around you. Weird choice.”

“It’s not gonna matter when it’s over,” he shrugged.

“So I’m never going to see you again after next month?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then how is this going to work? Are you going to come see me every time you’re in town?”

“Would ya miss me that much?”

“No, but I’m wondering if you will.”
Pocket was on the brink of losing their cool.
“I don’t know how your… thing works. You didn’t exactly go into much detail last night.”

Pocket felt like they talked more about the case than they did about him; talking about their literal baggage.

“Well, what do you wanna know?”

“You said it’s jealous and possessive. What happens when you don’t see me for a while?”

“Don’t know,” he said plainly.

“You don’t know?”

“Pocket, I fought hard to get ya away from me so ya wouldn’t have to find out. Ya remember how I said I probably couldn’t leave ya alone if I tried? I meant that.”

“So would you have left me alone?”

“I sure as hell would have done my best.”
Shiv was talking like he had no frame of reference for any of this. If he was never obsessed with anyone else, then it would make sense. It would be new and unknown; something unpredictable. Something to figure out together.

“Am I the only person you’ve ever been this attached to?”

“No.” His answer was earnest.

“Then how can you be so unsure of how you’ll react?”

“‘Cause there ain’t no way for me to see them again.”

Suddenly it all made sense.
The baby photo. The bourbon. The isolation. The one-night stands. The unwillingness to get attached.

Their demeanor softened.
“Shiv… I didn’t know.”

“I know ya didn’t. Just know the same won’t happen to you.”

They felt stupid.
They should have known that Shiv was concerned for their well being for a reason beyond just being a job. From what they could tell, it had ended in tragedy but it wasn’t their place to ask how. Not yet.

“That paint a clearer picture in ya head?”

“Yeah. It does.” Pocket answered meekly.

Whoever it was meant a lot to him, so much so the two of them had a child together. Whatever happened to both of them was enough for him to ensure that he would never find himself in that position again.
Pocket had come along and ruined everything.

Shiv shifted, obviously uncomfortable,
“Knowin’ what you know now… ya still want to hang around?”

“Why would that stop me?”

“You know exactly why.”

“…Do you feel that way about me? ”

“If I did, you’d know.”

“Shiv, you can't just kee-“

The heavy footsteps of Viscous returned to the room. He was now wearing dark glasses, a cap, and some of the tackiest khaki shorts Pocket had ever seen. In the middle of his goo body, a wooden crate freely floated within him. The sight startled them so much they completely forgot what they were talking about.

“Viscous, what the hell are you wearin?”
Shiv asked before they could.

”Clothes!”

“We can see that, but why the new style?”

”If I’m going to live in a home like a person, I may as well start looking like one. Since I’m not from around here, I figured I’d dress like someone seeing the sights. You can tell because they always have a camera on them!”

Shiv laughed,
“Well I ain’t from around here either but I guess ya could give me a run for my money. Right Pocket?”

“Huh? Yeah I guess…”

Shiv seemed to understand why they were distracted .

Viscous didn’t.

”What’s the matter? Is it obvious the shorts say ‘L’ when they should read ‘XL’? That’s what someone in the store told me. I don’t know what it means, but I don’t know how to get the ‘X’,”

They were never meant to live in the sewers. No matter how welcoming Mo and Krill were, they never felt like they belonged and staying in the city was asking too much and would risk both of them. The streets in and around New York were mean and the shitty apartments were just a place to lay their head.

Living in the Baxter Society was a just means to an end, and in a way, living in a safehouse was too, but the idea felt different.

“Nothing, just thinking about the change of scenery.”

Oddly enough, they were optimistic.

---

Both the upstairs and downstairs apartments were fully furnished, unfortunately for Shiv, the one downstairs was used for storage.

It being a safehouse for the Baxter Society meant there was more than enough weaponry and food to survive for a while, but whoever had used this place last had left the former scattered all over the place downstairs.

The counters in the kitchen had three disassembled crossbows and the bed was covered in off-brand Monster Rounds.

When he opened up the closet, he barely caught a box filled with vials of holy water that had been wedged on the top shelf and held in place by the door. Saving it was a relief but the mood was quickly spoiled by the dozen stakes that came rolling off after it, each bouncing off his head as they fell.

Yeah, that was enough for now. He wondered if Pocket and Viscous were faring any better than him.

Screw it, he was one clutter away from losing it, he’d go check on them.

He headed up to the main building. The moment he reached the front room he found Viscous sitting on the couch.

“Ya settled in already?”
He noticed the crate was no longer within his belly goo.

There was no response.

“Uh… You okay?”

”I’m not in the body right now.”

“You- huh?”

The goo maintained its bloated, humanoid shape, yet it remained still.

He went over and poked it. His finger sank inside the upper bicep of the left arm. It was thick and warm. He quickly withdrew in disgust and wiped it on the shorts the empty shell was wearing.

“Then, uh… where are ya?”

”The bathtub. It reminds me of home.”

The bathroom door was wide open and the sound of running water caught his attention.

Viscous was quickly becoming number one on his ‘Weird Shit I’ve Seen’ list.

“How’d you get in there?”

”Very carefully.”

He pictured the plant-thing inching along the floor from the living room to the bathroom and then decided he didn’t want to imagine that anymore.

“…Just don’t run the water for too long, I gotta pay for that shit.”

”Okay!”

He went up another flight of stairs to look for Pocket before he went insane.

The uppermost floor of the building was dedicated to a decently sized bedroom. He could see Pocket had already settled in by the few clothes in the closet and the toothbrush settled on the sink through the open bathroom door: the few items Pocket had to their name that wasn’t even theirs to begin with.

The green glow of their suitcase sat on the bed, the soft ribbeting of frogs coming from within.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spied Pocket through glass doors smoking on the balcony.

Cigarette in hand and elbow resting atop of the guardrail, they reminded him of her.

She never smoked inside. She said it would yellow the walls and the smell would never come out. He always told her that he didn’t care because her scent was so strong that nothing could spoil it. She would always say that was sweet, but she was the one who didn’t want the place smelling like tobacco.

The balcony was her favorite place to do it. He’d always come home to find her leaning against the skyline and he made a point to always greet her with his arms around her waist. That was back when he had two of them to do so. Two of them to feel her warmth with.

He watched Pocket for longer than he probably should have; long enough to watch them put out the one they were smoking and light up another.

He figured he had sufficiently creeped on them and went to join them. He slid open the glass door and knocked to announce himself.
“Never figured you for a chain smoker.”

Pocket didn’t bother turning around.

“Only when I get antsy.”

“You must do it a lot then.”

“I used to. With no budget you can only allocate so much towards non essentials.”

“So where’d you get the money for them?”

Pocket hesitated, their eyes drifting away for a moment. If Shiv didn't know any better he'd think they were coming up with a lie.
"I... didn't. I rolled a bunch of half finished butts into a single one. It wasn’t worth the effort.”

He walked over to join them leaning on the guardrail.
“And here I thought you said you’d be lookin’ forward to a change of scenery. What’s got you all wound up?”

“That.”

Pocket didn’t bother pointing or nodding. He followed their line of sight and instantly saw what was troubling them.

Due fate and poor architectural choices, they had clear line of site to the fucking eyesore that was Fairfax Headquarters.

“…If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he can see us down here.”

Pocket didn’t feign laughter.
“You know that’s not the point…”

He did.
“You want to take downstairs? It’s cluttered to hell and back but if we get Viscous back in the goo-“

“No. It’s fine. This isn’t anything new.”

“Ya ain’t actin’ like that’s the case.”

“I’ve kept my head down for five years and after I finally have a place to call home again I have to look up to see that.”
They gestured with their cigarette so hard ash flew from the filter.
“I guess I really can’t escape him looming over me. I could have gone anywhere in the world and I’d still have to see that name everywhere. My name.”

He hated to see them like this. Pocket didn’t deserve to learn the hard way that running from the past was a race you couldn’t win. Memories and karma always caught up with you no matter how fast you ran.

“Pocket… you and I both know that hidin’ from who you used to be ain't a battle you can win.”

“Shiv you made it into the Baxter Society with a rap sheet. I’d say anything that comes up is just a minor inconvenience.”

“You forgettin’ the murder they tried to pin on me?”

“No, I just…” they slumped over the rail in defeat.
“I just wish my name stood for something else.”

“Then let’s fuckin’ make it stand for something else.”
Shiv was determined to get his point across.
“A month from now, that corner office ain’t gonna be your daddy’s no more. Is it gonna be hell garnin’ a new reputation? Fuck yes. Ain’t nobody gonna forget the crimes of Fairfax but it's long overdue for new blood.”

“It’s the same blood.”

“Ya ain’t ya daddy. That’s good ‘nough for most people. What you do will win over the rest of ‘em.”

Pocket finally turned to look at him, their deep brown eyes shining in the setting sun. For a moment he thought his heartstrings were being pulled out of his chest.

“Are you going to help me with that?”

He probably would jump off this balcony if Pocket asked him to.
“If that’s what ya want.”

“From the way you were talking earlier it sounds like you need to be around me.”

“‘Need’ is a very strong word for it.”
A need so shameful he couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

He didn’t want to think about the absolute mess he became after losing her. If Wesley had never found him, he would be long gone by now, either mentally or literally. The Baxter Society had given him purpose again; a reason to keep his nose clean.

Pocket was a new endeavor all together. A baby wasn’t in their future but circumstances had put them both in a life and death situation and things were moving too fast for either of them to keep up.

Too fast for a relationship that didn’t exist.

“…We’ll see where it goes.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“It’s the best one I got.” Shiv shrugged.

Pocket turned back to the horizon, looking unsatisfied with the answer but not wanting to press this issue.

He looked at them, willing to try anything to cheer them up.
“You sure ya don’t want downstairs?”

“I’m sure. Besides, I have to get used to it, right?”

He swore a corner of their mouth almost twitched into a smile.
He could tell just, if for just the moment, he had put them in a place where they felt safe. He knew because they called it a home.

“Now, I’m gonna make sure Viscous don’t flood the bathroom.”

“What is he doing?”

“Tryin’ to feel more at home.”

Notes:

This chapter took forever, not because of the size, but because of what went into it.

Brownstones usually have apartments in the main buildings and smaller one downstairs. They’re not *that* small though; I stayed in one in Brooklyn that was comfortable enough to fit four people. They’re nice little home.

Pocket NOW knows that Shiv’s wife and child are dead.

Viscous’s look is based off the leaked model floating around. I don’t know if it’s going to be a skin or his official look, but he’s going to ‘look’ like this in the fic until we get confirmation otherwise.

Yes I know Viscous isn’t a plant, Shiv still thinks that for whatever reason.

Until next time, where is the Pocket redesign? Like come on.

P.S. 18 and 19 have pictures now.

Chapter 26: Aegis

Summary:

Situational awareness.
A song.
A quiet library.

Pocket flipped to the October page of the unused calendar in the living room and was greeted by an illustration of a jackalope next to a jack-o-lantern.

”What’s that?” Viscous asked, pointing to it.

“It’s a calendar. It helps us keep track of days and important things. Starting today, we have twenty days left until the ritual.”

They circled the 21st with a marker they found that it was quickly drying out.

”Does a day end when the sun goes down?”

“Sort of.”

”In the Deep, we don’t have the sun. I always wondered why I saw less surface dwellers when the lights went out because that’s how I’m used to living.”

“Well they say nothing good happens after dark,” Shiv said from the kitchenette, pouring his morning coffee.
“Good little boys and girls know to stay inside.”

“I thought it was ‘after 2 AM’?”

“Not in my line of work.”

Pocket rolled their eyes.
“I’m sure it’s just as dangerous in the daytime.”

“It is,” he punctuated with a sip of his coffee.

Pocket turned their attention back to the calendar.
“As much as I like staying here, having a blackboard was pretty convenient for collecting information.”

“If we need one, I've got one back at my apartment. It’s small, though.”

“Why do you ha-“
They realized the answer before they even asked the question.
“That’s okay. A notebook or something will do. It’ll just be harder to get Viscous on the same page as us.”

”I can’t read.”

Pocket assumed as much, pictures would probably be better to convey information to him, but Shiv would probably make them as crude and vulgar as possible.

“We’ll figure something out, but before we do, did the Sapphire Flame ever tell you anything about your team?”

”Only that was full of determined individuals who have flames of ambition that burn brighter than their souls!”

“Well hell, that could be anyone,” Shiv mused as he turned on the radio.

"-Nother victim of the killer known as ‘The Troubadour’ has been confirmed by local authorities. The victim was found near Central Park Zoo and has yet to be identified. Sheriff Holliday, a law enforcement officer from Illinois who’s hot on the killer’s trail and working in tandem with the NYPD, was reached for comment but only responded by-"

Shiv dropped his mug of coffee on the counter and went immediately to the coat rack to pick up his jacket.
“I’ll be back”.

“Where are you going?”

“Out. Stay here.”

“Sh-“

The door shut behind him before they could finish the sentence.

”Other than to sleep, I think this is the first time he’s left your side.”

No, it wasn't... was it?

Pocket mentally ran through everything they did since meeting Shiv and…

He was right. Two days ago when Viscous asked what they did together, the thought had crossed their mind, but they didn’t mean it literally; now they realized that really was the case.

They had always been in the same building together, and now that they lived together, that was probably always going to be true.

Now, after hearing about the Sheriff on the radio, he had taken off like a bat out of hell.

The sheriff, whom they knew would be on the opposite side of the ritual…

“SHIV!?”

Pocket rushed out the door and came to a sudden stop on the edge of the sidewalk. Shiv’s motorcycle was missing from its parking space and the roaring of its engine was fading down the street.

---

She didn’t think he would strike again before the ritual, but, as always, he had outsmarted her.

The victim was a zookeeper at the Central Park Zoo and had been killed while leaving work… at least that’s what they could tell from what was left of them.

By process of elimination, they discerned that they were one of the keepers in charge of aviaries. This was either by coincidence or a cruel joke; Holliday knew it was the latter.

After the press had departed and that was left on the scene were several dozen chalk outlines; she knew where she had to go.

On the East side, just past the entrance, several cages held birds from all over the world.

Heading past all the colorful plumages her attention settled on something far less exotic: Corvus brachyrhynchos - American Crow.

Holliday didn’t know why a zoo would want crows, but she didn’t care. She was more concerned about the silver glint on the ground that shone in the morning sun.

Corvids, both crows and ravens and alike, were known to collect shiny objects, but if these were caged birds then there was no way they could have taken it from somewhere else; something or someone had put it there.

Taking a stick from the ground, she stuck it through the bars of the enclosure and stretched her arm out as far as it would go. For what felt like an eternity with her cheek pressed against the cold metal, she poked and prodded until the tip caught on the object buried in the straw lining the bottom.

Steadily, she pulled it towards herself until she could grasp it with her fingers and draw it through the cage.

It was silver and cylindrical in shape with a cleft note engraved on the side. This was his and it was meant for her.

She studied it and immediately gleaned that there was a cap that could easily be screwed off. She twisted it and inside a small scroll of paper came out into her palm as she shook it.

She already knew what it was before she opened it; a song written in messy ink.

A song just for her.

In the game we play
You are the hunter
You are the prey

You gift me their life
I gift you their death
Our fun ever rife

Away did I roam
You followed me close
Far, far from home

Now you want an end
Leaving me alone
Your wrong to mend

Your guilt weighing heft
Now ask yourself this
Without me, what’s left?

She crumpled it and threw it down. She didn’t need this.

It wasn’t a secret she was in town, but he knew about her joining the ritual to get rid of him.

The last of the note echoed through her mind as stood in front of the crime scene once more.

What was left?

Her thoughts were too loud and she heard someone call from behind her.
“For the last time, leave me alone or I’m going to have to bring you in for disturbing the pea-“

She turned around, not to see the asshole that was harassing her earlier but the Baxter Society guy with the over the top hair.

“Press houndin’ ya?”

He stood at a fair distance behind the police tape. She could tell that he wasn’t here like the other lookie-loos trying to see the Troubadour’s latest victim and, hopefully, he wasn’t here to sexually harass her like that other bastard who showed up.

“No, just some guy who was out sunbathing in the park who followed me around because he was more interested in me than the crime scene.”

“Sounds like an asshole.”

“He was an asshole. What do you need?”

“I didn’t know ya came in with Murphy until the kid told me about ya. If woulda knew you were huntin’ the Troubadour I woulda talked to ya then.”

“So the Baxter Society does know about the Troubadour. Any particular reason why none of you have taken responsibility when there’s a killer on the loose?”

Serial killer or not, the Troubadour was a monster in every sense of the word. The Baxter Society was supposed to protect the public from things exactly like him.

“We got our hands full with worse. I can’t speak for everyone but just know there’s a reason for it.”

Her fists balled at her sides; heat rising to her face.
“Is that why you wanted to talk to me? You came all the way here just to give some half-assed excuse to why you’re letting innocent people die?”

“No, I’m here because I wanna help ya.”
He sounded genuine, but she had her doubts.

“You just said you had bigger problems. Problems like housing some pretty, young thing in trouble with vampires? I’m sure there’s a real important reason you’re draggin’ that out.”

“It ain’t a vampire problem. If it was something that simple, I would’ve taken care of it already.”
He was self assured in his statement.
“The kid’s got someone after ‘em. Someone you and I can’t touch. The only thing I can do is keep ‘em safe until the ritual starts.”

“You really expect me to believe they came to you over the police? You may not be a criminal anymore, but they’d have to be extremely desperate to come to you.”

“They’re desperate enough to take part in a blood ritual, and from the sound of it, you’re in the same boat.”

“…So they told you that too, huh? I guess they were interrogating me as much as I was them…”
She should have known that wasn’t something to share with a complete stranger; in the moment, though, it felt like the right thing to do.

“Don’t really appreciate ya going after my client to get to me. ‘Specially when you’re far away from home.”
He seemed disappointed rather than angry.

Her head dropped and she reached under the fur of her jacket to rub the back of her neck.

“I guess this is the part where you bargain with me? I keep an eye on them during the ritual and you help me hunt him down afterward? I appreciate the offer but I’m not gonna need help if the ritual goes as planned.”

“Aha, no. I’ll be the one lookin’ after ‘em.”
It seemed as if he took offense to the suggestion.
“I’m just sayin’ with me helpin’ ya, ya ain’t gonna need to show up.”

Her brow furrowed but clarity quickly overcame confusion.
“We’re not on the same side, are we?”

“No. We ain’t. Ya got my sympathy ‘cause you’re doin’ a good thing. Everyone he did in deserves retribution and I don’t wanna stand in the way of it.”

She didn’t know what to say other than:
“Then don’t. I get it, that kid’s a doll, but this is more important than whatever you two do behind closed doors.”

“You’re doin’ a lot of assumin’, Sheriff. I’m not askin’ for their safety.”

He was completely serious. She almost laughed.

“Okay, tough guy. I get you’re a ‘big scary biker’ and I’m supposed to be afraid of you, but I’m not. Even if I was, saving lives would outweigh my fear of someone wishing for a lifetime supply of hair products.”

She looked up and found him grinning with a smugness that reminded her of her second husband.

“Well, Sheriff, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
He turned on the heel of his gaudy boots and began to walk away.

She wanted to lasso him back just so he’d take her seriously.
“I’m not gonna go easy on you, Shiv!”

He didn’t bother stopping, he just waved her off.
“Didn’t ask ya to.”

“That goes for your friend as well!”

“You can surely try!”

She didn’t bother calling after him again. She knew, at least partially, what she was up against.

Now it was time to see who was on her side.

---

Wyoming, nicknamed the ‘The Cowboy State’, joined the union on July 10, 1890. It ranks 10th among the 52 U.S. states in terms of total area (97,813 mi² or 253,335 km²).

The 23rd Volume of the 14th edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica was located so high on the shelf that the average person would need a ladder to reach it; Djinn Ambassador, Nashala Dion, could easily levitate it to herself in her confined state.

Encased in a pink glow, the book floated across the Rose Main Reading Room of the New York Public Library and made its way to the only occupied table.

That same pink glow loaded the gun of her bodyguard that was aimed at the person sitting across from him.

“Is this how the Djinn normally greet folk?”

Paradox sat with one leg on the chair and the other dangling playfully above the floor, an unbecoming posture for meeting with a foreign dignitary.

“It’s the most civil greeting I can offer for someone of your kind,”
Mirage spared no sympathy for Paradox and their ilk.

“Please, if I wanted your genie, I would have already had her.”

“And that’s precisely why you’re still alive. Talk.”

“Hard to do that when there’s a gun between u-“

She reached out a gloved hand out in an attempt to push down the barrel but was met with him pulling back the hammer.

“Is that any way to treat a teammate?”

He was nonplussed,
“Our goals may align but our morals do not.”

“You say that like I’m a bad guy.”

“I would consider anyone who steals for other means beyond survival a ‘bad guy.’”

She sighed longingly and rested her helmeted head on her palm.
“If you think that about me you’re definitely not going to like the rest of the team.”

He suppressed a sigh of his own, one of exasperation.
“I’m… aware of some of them.”

“So you think I’m as bad as someone thrown in Lost Whisper or a hundred year old succubus?”

“I do.”

“So why do you trust us?”

“I don’t.”

She laughed,
"So why even get involved?"

"I'm not the one who was called upon."

Paradox looked at the glowing pink bottle seated beside him. In the dream-like haze that showed through, she could make a small figure making a shrugging gesture.

“Seems like your boss has more sense than you.”

“Nashala’s wisdom is always practical, but that doesn’t mean I always agree with it.”

“Really,” she leaned in, much more interested.
“What are your thoughts on the great state of Wyoming then?”

“Are you here just to taunt me?”
He was getting annoyed.

“I thought our little chat was going well.”

“It is not.”

“Well I’ll cut to the chase then: I may not want your bottle but everyone else in my organization does.”

That didn’t surprise him. Djinn’s in their resting state were extremely vulnerable, which is why high ranking officials enlisted bodyguards like himself.

“Nashala wouldn’t take too kindly to being put in one of your museums. She’s not as docile as she comes across.”

“You’ll have to tell them that. I’m just the messenger.”
She shrugged, showing her palms as a sign of feigned innocence.

“Do you not consider this a traitorous act? Is it your wish to be free of them?”

“Oh no, I want her as much as the others. I just don’t see how she’ll be useful in the ritual without you.”
She said plainly.
“I gave up my life to serve Paradox. We’re the same, but that doesn’t mean we’re a hive mind. We’ve all got our own goals.”

“Giving up your identity to join a thieves guild isn’t the noble sacrifice you think it is.”

“Neither is giving up your life to serve someone else.”
Her head tilted to the side.
“Dontcha ever think about what you want?”

He did.
“I believe this conversation has run its course.”

"Fine."
She stood to take her leave.
"You should take this as an opportunity to consider what you want, Mirage. Taking bullets for someone who wouldn't do the same should leave you with enough scars to make you second guess your position."

"Would you do the same for your organization?"

She laughed,
"We can outrun bullets."

Notes:

A jackalope is a fictional animal that looks like a rabbit with antlers. It's a pretty lame cryptid.

The majority of the Bermuda Triangle is deep enough to be in the “Midnight Zone” of the ocean, deep enough where sunlight can’t penetrate it; this means Viscous probably hasn't seen the sun.

I am NOT a songwriter or poet, so please excuse the thing Holliday finds. I know the rhyme scheme is off, but I can't really do much better.

Lots of people sunbathe in Central Park, at least, I saw a few groups the few times I've been there; not out of the question for Lash to do the same.

Holliday actually asks Shiv why the Baxter Society isn't hunting the Troubadour and his response is "we got our own problems right now." Not sure if he's talking about the Patrons or if it's setting something up to be explored in lore later on. Either way, I'm keeping it vague.
On that note, in a kill lines, Shiv says that they should have hunted it together or that he'll hunt it for her. I really do feel Shiv would give her a chance to back out if they were opposite sides, but Holliday's too determined to see it through.

Mirage finally makes a physical appearance! He says to Dynamo that he's super impressed with New York's library; I assume he means New York Public Library's main branch. It's a gorgeous building.

In a conversation with Seven, we can tell Mirage isn't really impressed with the idea of Wyoming. But, let's be real, he wouldn't question Nashala.

Until next time, release Pocket's new model already.

P.S.
Chapter 25 has an image now.

Chapter 27: Harsh Reality

Summary:

An explanation.
Gambling.
A slip up.

Pocket couldn’t keep their eyes off the clock. They decided if Shiv wasn’t back within the hour, they’d hail a cab and go looking for him at the zoo.

Fortunately, only a half hour after he left, Pocket heard the growl of his motorcycle. They dashed outside and down the front steps.

They got to him before he even cut the engine.
“Shiv, what did you do?”

There was no blood on him and his reliquary was dull but that was only so much to calm their nerves.

Shiv turned off the ignition and stepped off the bike.
“Calm down. I didn’t stick her if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

“You drove off like a bat out of hell the second you heard her name; combine that with the fact she’s not on our side and your reckless tendencies… Yeah, it was what I was thinking.”

“She’s fine. Now would ya calm down before the neighbors call in a domestic dispute?”

“Not until you tell me what the hell happened. Whatever this was, it was important enough to leave me alone since we first met.”

“I’ve left ya alone plenty of times,” he dismissed the claim.

“No. You haven’t.”

“I left ya alone every night.”

“Other than to sleep.”

“I left ya alone in the sewers.”

“That’s because I ran off.”

“I left ya alone with ‘Dicta.”

“Yeah, because you were gathering incriminating evidence against us. I think that’s a bit of an extreme circumstan-“

“Inside.”
Shiv gestured to the apartment reminding them again they were in a public area.

Pocket let the matter drop for the moment and followed him inside.
As they mounted the stairs, Shiv stopped before them and turned himself into a road block at the top by extending an arm to bar their path.

“I’m sorry for leavin’ ya ‘lone darlin’. If I woulda known ya needed my attention all the time, I wouldn’t have done it.”

It was so exaggerated that Pocket didn’t even bat an eye as they stood on the step below him.

“What happened Shiv?”

He frowned, obviously not getting the reaction he wanted.
“…Do ya know what the Troubadour is?”

“I assumed someone in the Society would be after it.”

“We ain’t. It wreaked havoc in Illinois and that’s why your cowgirl’s here.”

So that’s what she meant by joining the ritual for ‘those who couldn’t make the decision themselves.’

“Why isn’t anyone else trying to stop the Troubadour?”

“‘Cause those who aren’t too afraid to chase it are dealin’ with bigger problems. I offered to help her with it after the ritual’s over but she ain’t havin’ it.”

“Why don’t you just hunt it right now?”

“‘Cause that’s the type of work that follows ya home. And the bigger problems? Those’ll catch up to me eventually.”

Pocket thought about the implications of that; waking up late at night to a murder of crows on the balcony. Each bird merging together, feather by feather, until they created a mesh of flesh that collided into a figure that could easily open the sliding door.

In their mind’s eye, the thing crept into the room with a long, exaggerated stride not unlike that of a bird’s gait; all the while singing a perverse melody that laid bare its intentions.

They shuddered. They had no idea what this thing even looked like but their imagination wasn’t doing them any favors.

“It probably followed her home too… I can’t imagine what could be worse.” Pocket said.

“Maybe it did. Then again, maybe it was just a small town where everybody knew everybody. Not gonna take my chances with either until you’re safe.”

“You think either one would come for me?”

Shiv chuckled, “I don’t like sharin’.”

A smile almost came to their lips.
“What? Are you going to tear me apart too?”

“Only if ya want me t-“

”I need help.”

Viscous’s voice came through both of their minds and their conversation was cut short.

Pocket saw Shiv’s eyes roll as he moved out of their way and towards the living room.

“What’d ya do now, Viscous?”

”The dishes.”

Viscous emerged from the kitchen with several forks and knives protruding from both arms.

Pocket approached him and pulled a fork out, the goo giving little resistance.
“What gave you that idea?”
They doubted the concept existed underwater.

”I heard on the radio. It said that doing the dishes was a way to relax when the soap you use is Fairfax. I don’t know what that is, but I figured it would be relaxing.”

“Well ya should know that Fairfax is an evil company run by one of the worst monsters the surface has ever seen.”

Shiv pulled a knife out of Viscous’s opposite arm and looked to see if it was one of his.

”Sounds scary.”

“Ah-oh, he is scary. Scarier than me.”

Pocket sighed as they pulled the last utensil out of Viscous’s left arm. Maybe it was time to explain to him the situation in a way he could understand.

“Viscous… Fairfax is a company that makes a lot of things. Mostly bad things.”

”Like soap?”

“No, like weapons that hurt people. Innocent people. People that don’t deserve to be hurt. The man in charge is my father and I was supposed to be next in line.”

”But why would you want to be in charge of something that hurts people who don’t deserve it?”

Pocket looked down at one of the butter knives and wiped a smear of green off with their thumb.

“I don’t. Once I took control I wanted to stop making weapons and help people instead… My father didn’t like that. Five years ago he tried to kill me to prevent me from taking it over and I’ve been on the run ever since.”

Viscous nodded in understanding,
”So that’s why you have sad eyes.”

Pocket let out a small laugh,
“Yeah Viscous. That's why I have sad eyes.”

”So the Patron is going to make you less sad. You’re already looking less sad as it is.”

That caught them off guard.
“What do you mean?”

”When I first met you, you looked very sad. Now, you only look kind of sad. I think that’s an improvement.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Pocket put the utensils on the counter and made a mental note to wash them later. They withdrew from the kitchen and went over to the living room to take another look at the notebook containing the rosters of both teams.

“…Shiv, I think we need to visit Wraith again.”

Shiv was behind them almost instantly.
“Y’know the tunnel rats probably already told her where we stand.”
He sounded put off by the idea.

“I know, but the last time we talked she walked away from me without a second thought. If I could get on her good side, maybe we can use her network to figure out who else is playing for our team.”

“Remember how I said that whatever she asked for would be bad?”

“I don’t want to be her pawn either but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to see who we’re up against. The list we have is so uneven that there has to be something we’re missing.”

“Gettin’ on her good side ain’t an easy task. If she don’t respect ya, she’s gonna humiliate ya. I’d much rather run the risk of being her lackey for the day than you doin’ God knows what.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be up to you.”

If Wraith was used to getting what she wanted then Pocket doubted she would compromise. If she wanted them to do something, Shiv probably wouldn’t get the chance to step in and be the hero.

Shiv sighed,
“I ain’t gonna change ya mind, am I?”

“You could just not tell me where her main casino is and go without me.”

“Ya just got done chewin’ me out for leavin’ ya alone. Last thing I want is for ya to be afraid.”

“I’m wasn’t-“
Pocket looked up to see Shiv wearing a big smug grin.

“If ya gonna have a fit without me around, I won’t leave ya again, sweetheart.”
His voice was dripping with feigned sympathy.

He reached to put a hand on their cheek only for Pocket to bush it away.
“I wasn’t worried for me, I was worried for you.”

Shiv immediately dropped the act.
“I told ya I didn’t hurt her.”

“I know. Initially I was only worried about that, but I’m not the only one the Friends are after.”

Shiv’s smile immediately returned,
“Aw, I get it now. You wanted to protect me.”

“No, I was worried about what you would do to them.”

“‘Member what I said ‘bout you not bein’ my only form of self control.”

“Shiv… at this point I think they deserve it.”

Shiv did a double take.
“Who am I talkin’ to right now?”

“I mean, if they’re doing nothing except making our lives miserable, killing others for being different, ruining lives… I mean, aren’t they getting what they deserve?”

Shiv’s smile returned, wider and sincere,
“Where was this attitude a few days ago?”

“I just…”
Pocket collected themselves.
“Before we moved in, the Sapphire Flame spoke to me again, and Shiv, She said the exact same thing you did.”

“Find it hard to believe we think alike.”

“But it was almost exactly what you said about starting a new legacy. We can’t do that if we’re being impeded by terrorists drunk on revenge.”

“They’re doin’ a little more than that…they’re out here killin’ people for lookin’ different.”

“I know, and it’s selfish of me to only start thinking this way when I’m directly affected, but this has to be done. I can’t change the world if I’m dead.”

Shiv step closer to them,
“Ya already involvin’ me in this?”

“Don’t you want to be?”

“I said we’ll see where it goes.”

“That’s where it’s going.”

Shiv smiled at that,
“A lot can happen in three weeks.”

“A lot happened in one.”

”Like finding me.”

“Yeah,” Pocket sighed, “Like finding Viscous.”

---

The alley behind the tailor shop was as seedy as they come. Pocket was wondering how Shiv could feel comfortable parking his bike out in the open like he did.

“They know me here and they sure as hell know not to touch what’s mine.”

“The more you tell me about yourself the less I’m convinced you’ve given up on your old ways.” Pocket commented dryly.

“I’m a reformed man, but I’ll gladly revert if someone takes something that belongs to me,” he said while banging on a door.

Pocket felt as if he was talking about more than just the bike.

A thin slit at eye level in the door opened.

“S’me,” was all Shiv said.

“Plus one,” Pocket added.

”And me,” Viscous said.

“Viscous, how the hell did you get here?”
Shiv didn’t even sound surprised that he caught up with them.

”I rolled.”

A loud thunk of a heavy lock being undone came from the other side of the door.

The well dressed man on the other side held it ajar for the three of them to enter.
“She’s in the back,” was all he offered.

”Thank you friend,” Viscous remarked before wobbling inside in front of them.

Pocket followed suit and was surprised by the amount of games offered in a building that seemed so small from the outside.

Craps, roulette, black jack, poker tables; all usual staples of casinos were immediately apparent.

Though, what really caught their attention was the row of glowing slot machines.

One armed bandits labeled “Sinner’s Sacrifice” touted the taglines of “Pain for gain” and “Bleed to Succeed!” and bleed the patrons they did. Every machine was occupied by someone, all in various stages of exsanguination, with bleeding hands clasped on the spiked arm.

One woman was so pale it looked like she was on the verge of passing out as she once again pulled the lever only for the symbols to show the mismatched pattern of failure once more.

Pocket could only stare.

Shiv’s hand on their shoulder brought them back to the present.

They looked around to find that they had lost sight of Viscous. They were almost worried that he would try one of the death traps but then realized that he didn’t have any blood.

They followed Shiv’s lead to the back of the casino, making their way past gamblers that looked like they came from the highest of high society to the lowest of lows. In here it didn’t matter who you were, everyone bled.

Another man in a tuxedo held open a door at the rear of the room. Shiv stepped in but the guard stepped squarely in front of Pocket when they tried to follow.

“It’s okay Horace, they belong to Shiv,” Wraith’s voice called from within.
“I’m sure he’ll keep an eye on them.”

The man gave Pocket a blank stare punctuated by a flare of his nostrils and finally surrendered by allowing them to pass.

They stepped inside to an office covered in piles of money and souls covering every flat surface. Wraith sat smoking a cigar twice as large as their father used to smoke. Somehow, it didn’t smell half as bad.

“So you two have decided to join the cause. I’m not surprised but I’d thought you’d hold out longer, Shiv. You must really care about your new toy.” Wraith snickered.

“Cut the shit. We both know you wanted me to begin with.”

“I did. Not so for your friend, but you made clear you’re a package deal,” she leered at Pocket. “I suppose this is the part where you ask me for information?”

“What do you stand to gain by withholding it from someone on your side?”
Pocket couldn’t see the logic in it.

“Whatever I want. Besides, you haven’t proven your worth to me yet.”

“What do I have to do?” Pocket was resolute in their stance despite feeling Shiv’s cautious gaze on them.

“I want to know who you are.”
Wraith nonchalantly poured two glasses of whiskey from the bottle on the far side of her desk.

“I already told you who I am. And I don’t drink.”

“You do now.”

She reached under the table and withdrew a dark bottle sealed with a cork. It looked like an old fashioned medicine bottle, but the label displayed a chemical compound recognizable to even a layman chemist.

“What the hell are you doin’ with Truth Serum?” Shiv interjected with an edge as sharp as a knife before Pocket could bring themself to speak.

“Did you forget who I am? The OSIC can keep any substance controlled but they can’t keep it from me.”
Wraith looked condescendingly up at him.
“Why? Afraid of the truth?”

“We’ve already told you the truth,” Pocket interrupted.

“Yeah, if I had a soul for every time I heard that I’d be ten times richer than I already am.”
She gestured with her head to the two chairs across from the desk.
“We doing this or what?”

Shiv opened his mouth but Pocket answered for him.

“Yeah. We are,” they crossed the room and sat down.

“Braver than Shiv. I may actually come to like you.”

“Just don’t get used to telling me what to do,”
Pocket picked a glass and downed it.

It tasted as bad as bourbon but their head was still clear afterwards. They didn’t feel their face heat up and they could still think straight.

“Ask them too much and we’re gonna have trouble,” Shiv didn't sit down but still approached the desk.

“Relax Shiv, this second one isn’t for you.”
She downed the second glass and didn’t so much as grimace.
“Even playing field.”

Shiv grumbled but continued to stand.
“Ya feel okay Pocket?”

They did. Other than the bad taste in their mouth, they didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.
“Yeah,” they assured. “I’m fine.”

“They designed it like that. You’re not supposed to feel anything when someone slips it in your drink.”
Wraith sounded as if she was experienced in the matter.
“Alright, I’ll break the ice: Are you really a Fairfax kid?”

“Yeah. I am. I’m the oldest. I’m the one that has to keep the bloodline going.”
They didn’t even have to think about it, the words just came out.

Oh this was dangerous.

“So you’re the one the city mourned all those years ago. I can’t say much for my side of things. To us, it was just another Fairfax the world wouldn’t have to deal with.”

“I may be a Fairfax but I’m not my father. I can’t ensure I’ll make the world better for criminals, but I’ll make it a better place than he left it. That’s my promise.”

They didn’t like the way they claimed the name, but it was the truth; something they couldn’t avoid right now.

She took a puff of the cigar looking largely disinterested.
“You’re too sad looking to be so positive. I’m surprised Shiv hasn’t tried to dress you up yet.”

“They wouldn’t even let me feed ‘em when they first came to me. I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of offerin’ more than the bare minimum.”
Shiv kept his edge but Pocket sensed a slight defeat in his voice.

“Why do you sound upset about that?”
Pocket didn’t even want to ask that but it came out anyway.

“‘Cause ya been in rags this whole time.”

“Does that embarrass you?”
Again, something they meant to keep to themselves.

Shiv just laughed.
“No it’s ‘cause ya’d look better with somethin’ else on.”

“Can you two get a room?”
Wraith asked it like it was a simple request.

“We already live together,” Pocket answered unwillingly.

“This was your idea,”
Shiv’s tone was less favorable when he spoke to her.

“I know. I can’t help it.”
She innocently shrugged.
“Alright kid, your turn.”

“Who’s joining the Sapphire Flame?”
That was the clear cut question that was impossible to weasel out of.

“Me, Abrams, Mo, Krill, Bebop, that goo thing you adopted, some guy who works for the Municipal Coven, that professor that’s always on the radio-“

“Dynamo?”
Pocket couldn’t hold their words back.

“Why? You know him?”

“N- Yes.”

“Interesting,” she was almost smug about it.

“Just… just keep going,” they didn’t want to keep going.

“You first. How do you know him? You flunk his class before you died?”

“I never went to college. He’s my godfather.”

Fuck.

“Well, that’ll be a horrible reunion,”
It sounded like she wanted to be sarcastic about it but couldn’t.
“If he’s good friends with your dad, I don’t think you’ll get along. I don’t want any infighting on my team.”

“There won’t be. Professor Dynamo is the biggest pushover that ever lived. He was nice to me but purposely I avoided him when I went on the run because I felt like he’d turn me into my father out of some misguided loyalty to him.”

“Damn Pocket, tell us how ya really feel,”
Shiv was obviously trying to make light of the situation.

“Uncomfortable.”
Apparently this stuff worked on rhetorical questions too.
Pocket sighed, wanting this to be over with,
“Just tell me who else is on our side.”

“Some scientist named Kelvin and the bartender at Jezebel’s. That’s all I know.”

“Kelvin?” Pocket asked.

“‘Fern?” Shiv asked, sounding more confused than Pocket did.

“I don’t know anything about a ‘Kelvin’ other than that he’s written a few books. Infernus, on the other hand, is doing it to save Hanks’ bar. I’m glad he is. I miss him.”

She grimaced after the last words left her lips and shoved the cigar back between them.

“Not surprised both of ya used to run together. Way he talked ‘bout his past, I knew ya had to be involved.”

Wraith scoffed and took the cigar out of her mouth.
“He was good at what he did. Who knows? Maybe this’ll be the thing that brings him back. I hope it does,” She swore under her breath.
“Kid, just tell us what you know about this science guy….”

“He’s a scientist that specializes in Astral Gates and writes about his expeditions. I read them all the time when I was a kid.”

“Thought you said ya daddy didn’t like ya readin’ flashy pulp,” Shiv seemed a little too interested in this revelation.

“They were nonfiction accounts written by a scientist. They may have been about grand adventures but they were still rooted in reality. Even if they were embellished, they were real. Still, they were like a fantasy to me…”

“You didn’t get out much, did you kid?”
Wraith piped up.

“No, I was constantly being looked over by an entire household worth of staff until my parents decided to acknowledge my existence. When I got old enough, they tried to make me m-“

Shiv’s hand clamped down over their mouth. They were relieved but they continued their uncontrollable monologue of self pity into the leather of his fingerless glove.

“Let’s avoid makin’ things personal.”
Shiv’s hand released them the moment their mouth stopped moving.

“You were the one asking first. Then again, they’re probably used to you gagging them.”
She raised a sharp brow at Pocket.
“Aren’t you?”

“No,” they responded flatly. They didn’t need the serum to help answer that.
“That’s three questions in a row. It’s my turn.”

“That last one doesn’t count because we both know Shiv can’t keep it in his pants. I don’t care if you two are involved, I just don’t want it holding either of you back.”

“Where do you get off assuming something like that?” Pocket asserted.

“Because it’s exactly what I assume. Why else would he be keeping you around? You really think he cares about this world changing bullshit you’ve been waxing poetic about?”

They saw Shiv shift out of the corner of their eye to say something; They turned their head and silently told him that now was not the time.

Shiv just shrugged and backed off.

“Yeah. I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
They held her gaze. By virtue of the serum, she knew they were telling the truth, they just wanted to drive it home.

She responded with an eyeroll, “Don’t waste my time if you’re not going to ask anything else.”

“You said someone working for the coven was on the team?”

“Yeah. We tracked him down and there’s nothing really special about him. He talked big, but I don’t expect him to last long.”

“Is that what you think about me?”

“No, I think Shiv will do something stupid to keep you alive that’ll get you both killed.”

Again, they saw Shiv shift in the corner of their vision but he ultimately said nothing.

“Would you send someone to stop me from participating?”
That was a concern they had for a while.

“No, because if I wanted that, I’d have to send some of my best men to take down Shiv and I’m not willing to risk them when you’re going to end up dead either way.”

“You really have that little faith in me?”

“Yeah.”

She took a long, drawn out puff.
“By the way, that was four. Can you use a gun?”

“Yes, I brought my own. It’s a volley gun.”

“Daddy’s business is paying off. You using that cloak as well?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m assuming you’re not leaving Shiv’s side?”

“I never want to leave his side again.”

Oh fuck.

They didn’t know why or what just came out of their mouth but it was definitely something they had not planned on saying. Ever.

They looked up to find her smirking.

“Well. How ‘bout that.”

“We gotta a lotta people after us, Wraith. That does not mean other than us lookin’ out for each other.”
Shiv was obviously in no mood to entertain whatever theatrics she had in mind.

“Well, is i-“

“S’there a reason ya keep tryin’ to paint us like that?”

“Yeah, it’s blackmail in case you both manage to survive-FUCK!”
Her fist came sharply down on her desk, making a pile of soul orbs of shake.

Pocket stood,
“You can’t make my life worse than it already is, Wraith. Even if we end up winning, you’d never be able to match what my father did to me.”

She tossed the cigar aside, the remnants barely a stub.
“It isn’t personal, I just like to plan for my future, and if that future involves you being one of the most powerful people in the city, I need insurance.”

“What the hell are you even using your wish for if not insurance?”

“To f-“
All four of her hands, both real and mechanical, went over her mouth. It was strange seeing someone so powerful be so vulnerable.

One by one, each of her limbs unfurled and posture relaxed.
“We’ve talked enough. It’ll wear off in an hour or two, so I’d stay away from the poker table. In the meantime, Shiv, if you want to know if they’re hiding anything, you can do it without using your knives.”

Pocket looked to see that Shiv was leaning on the wall the entire time.
He boosted himself off to stand up,
“Don’t need it. Unlike you, people trust me.”

They were already leaving the room when she spoke up.
“Well kid, do you?”

“With my life.”
It was the first time they had thought about it, but it was nice to know it was more than just lying to themself.

It was the truth.

---

A light rain had started when they headed out.
Pocket expected Shiv to attempt to cover his hair, but his jacket stayed on.

“You’re not going to salvage the hair?”

“S’not gonna matter once we get on the road. But uh, I wanna talk to ya ‘bout what ya said in there.”

Shiv stopped walking, making it clear he probably wasn’t going to let them go without a discussion.

“What’s there to talk about? I meant everything I said. She made sure of that.”

“I meant the ‘leavin’ ya side’ bit. I know ya didn’t mean it literally but ya looked like ya confessed to still wettin’ the bed.”

“I didn’t mean it literally. It’s like I said earlier, you have no self control.”

“Ya keep sayin’ that shit like you’re the only thing keepin’ me together. Don’t tell me ya still think that?”

“You’ve told me enough times to hammer it home. I’m just… The entire ritual has me on edge more than I’d like to admit. I’m still not that comfortable going out in public but you helped with that. I don’t feel like I have to cower down when I speak to anyone.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is you making enough of a scene that someone will notice.”

They didn’t want to say that. They didn’t want to think that. They didn’t want Shiv to know that.

Shiv just laughed,
“Ya think I’m gonna do something newsworthy?”

“Yes.”

Shiv went to respond but cut himself off. He huffed and replaced his original statement with, “Well, I guess things are going to have to get more boring around here. I guess that would suit you better.”
He almost sounded like a kicked puppy.

“Shiv, being around you is anything but boring. Almost everything that’s happened to us hasn’t been our fault. If things keep going the way they do, our luck’s going to run out. We just don’t need to tempt fate.”

“Pocket, I already moved us out of a public building and everywhere we’ve been to talk to people has been pretty covert. Whatcha want me to do? Get us glamours?”

“No. I-“

“Is this all cause I ran out on ya?”

“Yeah.”

Shiv’s mood seemed to lighten.
“I can’t be ‘round all the time darlin’. Eventually one of us is gonna need a shower and that-“

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I don’t expect to be attached to your hip so we spend every waking moment together, I just… let me know if you do something as extreme as confronting a cop, okay?”

Shiv just smiled and nodded as he began to leave the alley again.

“Is that a reasonable enough request?”
Pocket called after him.

“You know you had me worried ya were losin’ ya independence. I’m glad ya not. It’s one of the things I like about ya.”

“…Is there anything you don’t like about me?”

He turned around, grin still wide,
“The fact you won’t-“

The heavy door burst open behind them. The two of them turned back to see Viscous being thrown out into the alley by two men.
Viscous landed on his behind, his goo body shaking with the impact.

”Owch.”

As quickly as it opened, it shut again; heavy locks scraping into place on the other side.

Shiv sighed,
“Whadya do now Viscous?”

”They said I used ‘telepathy’ while playing the game ‘poker’. I didn’t know how to play but kept winning. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to do that.”
Viscous shakily rose to his feet.
”I also bothered someone without legs. I didn’t mean to, I’ve just never seen a surface dweller without them.”

“Who were they?” Pocket asked.

The door opened once more, and a female gorgon in black sunglasses was thrown beside Viscous

”Her.”

Shiv looked with disdain, voice flat.
“Hello again, Vyper.”

“You!”
Her tail slipped out from underneath her twice as she uprighted herself, glasses askew.
“You need to put that goo-thing of yours on a leash. First, it ruins Lash’s fight, and now it gets me kicked out of Wraith’s casino.”

“Ya got kicked out because ya tried to rob the place a couple months back.”

“They wouldn’t have known it was me if it weren’t for your goo-guy comin’ over to me. The first words outta his mouth was that we were enemies.”

”I don’t speak with my mouth.”

Shiv looked to Viscous,
“Viscous is there a reason why you told this peach of a lady you were her enemy?”
He didn’t sound sincere in the slightest.

”She’s on the Amber Hand’s side. That makes us enemies! It’s nice to make new friends, but having enemies is what makes you human.”

Vyper tsk’d, “If having enemies made you human I’d sprout legs and wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout sheddin’ no more.”
After a resounding silence.
“…point is a lot of people don’t like me.”

”I like you.”

“Thanks, goo-guy, I’ll be sure to remember that when me and Lash are kicking your ass.”
She almost said it fondly.

“You know I’ll be there too, right?”
Shiv interjected.

“You ain’t got nothing on me, Shiv. I’m not afraid of you or that kid you’re totin’ ‘round, and neither is Lash.”

“Vyper, does Lash even know you’re on his team?”

“Not yet. He will. Soon.”
After another silence.

“Look, he's the only one I trust. You should see some of the pieces of work the Orange Guy dragged in. There’s a cop, this skeleton guy, this cat lady that’s an absolute snob-“

“What did you just say?”
Pocket spoke up.

“This hoity-toity two-dollar word elitist who acts like she’s the friggin’ Queen of England when she’s just another hit man who does sloppy work… I want her cat, though. It’s a good cat.”
She almost whispered that last part.
“Why, you know her?”

“She tried to kill me.”

They could feel Shiv’s eyes boring into them.

“See? I told ya she did sloppy work! I knew you had a bounty on ya kid… how much is it worth by the way?”

“Goodbye Vyper.”
Shiv said without much decorum and took Pocket by the wrist, guiding them out of the alley. His urge was gentle.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me!”
She yelled after them,
“I’m sorry, I’m just nosey! ‘Sides I know I could do a better job than her anyway.”

”What’s a bounty?”
They heard Viscous ask as they walked away.

“It’s when someone wants something so bad they pay ya for it.”
Vyper humored.

”It must be nice to feel wanted.”

Pocket could swear they heard Shiv growl under his breath.

Notes:

After rereading things, I realized that Pocket and Shiv have not separated until the last chapter. Felt it was necessary to address that.

Methinks meknows what Shiv was talking about when he said there were worse things than the Troubadour now. This shit ain't gonna be pretty.

No idea how the Troubadour functions, so Pocket's little imagination was just a fun little writing exercise.

I have no idea if the Sinner's Sacrifice machines belong to Wraith or not, but a lot of people seem to think they are.

We know love potions and other stereotypical magical items exist in-universe, so why not truth serum?

Wonder what Pocket meant by "keeping the bloodline going"?

Pocket expresses multiple times that they don't trust Dynamo because of how close he is with their father.

Infernus and Wraith used to work together. I don't know if they were romantically involved, but it's pretty clear she misses his company.

A kill line reveals Pocket read Kelvin's books when they were younger.

Until next time, vote Doorman.

P.S.
OH MY GOD THIS UPDATE. The revelation that Pocket had a fiancée that didn't give shit about them changes a lot. I've already went back and made several references to her in the fic.

The fact that Pocket's arm is no longer corrupt is gonna change a lot of things for the FOH. I'll have to think of another reason why the group would be distrustful of them. HOWEVER, I do think their model is unfinished, so I’m going to remove references to it but it won’t be mentioned anymore.
UPDATE: I looked at Pocket's model. They have no facebones. It's not done. It stays.

Also, Shiv and Vindicta have never met so that's gonna change too. Nothing major, just dialogue.

Chapter 28: Today, Tommorrow, and Yesterday

Summary:

A welcomed guest.
An old friend.
An old flame.

Disbelief twisted on Shiv’s face, “You said ya didn’t remember who it was.”

“I lied. The way you reacted to it made me think that you'd go out of your way to go after her.”

They didn’t know if the serum was still in their system or not but they couldn’t get around this. It seemed like he already knew exactly who Calico was.

“If she’s on the Amber Hand’s side, I don’t have to.”

“You know Wraith said you were going to do something that was going to get us both killed?”

“Pfft, ya think I’m afraid of some pussy cat?” Shiv smirked.

“No, I don’t think you’re afraid of anything, but going out of your way during the ritual to kill-“

“Who said I was going to go out of my way? Pretty sure the other side ain’t gonna leave alive anyhow.”

They didn’t like that line of thinking. Just because it was life and death didn’t mean everyone had to die.

“How do you even know who she is?”

They knew Shiv used to be a criminal but they doubted they ran in the same groups. Calico was a high class assassin; Shiv, they could almost assuredly say, was not.

“Ex-Baxter Society. Accordin’ to Wesley, she was good at what she did. Real good. That’s high praise comin’ from the old man. Hell, bein’ mentioned at all is high praise from someone as tight lipped as him.”

“So why’d she quit?”

“Saw more green in another pasture. More money in takin’ people’s lives than savin’ ’em. With clientele like your daddy, probably pays better than she could’ve imagined.”

“Yeah. It probably does…”

The bullet she put in them was less than an inch away from their heart. Thinking about it brought forth a phantom pain from within their chest. The bounty on their life was probably the only time their father thought they were worth anything.

It must have shown on their face, as Shiv sighed and continued.
“I don’t know what the price is for doin’ away with ya own, but whatever it is, I’d double it to get mine back.”

Silence hung over the living room like a dark cloud as they both seemed to have nothing more to say.

Divine intervention dissolved it with a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Pocket immediately stood up from the couch. It was an excuse to leave the awkward silence behind.
“It’s probably Viscous anyway.”

“Since when the hell does Viscous knock?”

“He saw you do it earlier.”
Pocket didn’t really care if that was the case or not, they needed a way out.

“Check the peephole,” Shiv cautioned.

“Fine.”

Pocket made their way down the stairs and looked out the peephole..

In the setting sun, they saw a tall and slender man dressed in a bellhop uniform looking down and checking the time on a pocket watch. He looked horribly out of place without the backdrop of a hotel.

The pulled away,
“Shiv? Did you order a singing telegram?”

“What the hell is that?”
Shiv came into view at the top of the stairs.

Pocket opened the door and was greeted by a perfectly practiced smile and overtly polite voice. Pocket didn’t know who this man was, but if his icy blue eyes were anything to go by, he wasn’t a man at all.

“Good evening. I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but I’m looking for a-“
A card fell from something that appeared and disappeared so quickly that Pocket couldn’t even tell what it was.
He began,
“An Arin Fairfax, a ‘Viscous’, and-“

“Ain’t nobody here by those names.”
Shiv was immediately beside them in the doorframe, voice full of angry suspicion.

“My mistake.”

The man dropped the card, falling into the same sort of object that it came out of; this time, Pocket could see what it was: a freely floating small door.

Another one appeared and dropped a different card in his hand.
“Ah, I believe the correct names should be Pocket, Viscous, and-“

“Who the hell are you, what the hell are you, and what the hell do you want?”
Shiv’s tone was dangerous. Pocket felt at any moment he’d push them out of the way and jump whatever this thing was.

He dropped the card for it to disappear into another logic defying doorway.

With a slight bow introduced himself.
“Where are my manners? I am The Doorman, here on behalf of City Mother. She recommended that I become acquainted with all of my teammates before She calls us forth, though, I’d be lying if it was less for Her and more for my own curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, slick. You gotta actual name?”
Shiv didn’t sound impressed at all.

“The Doorman,” The Doorman repeated.

“An actual name,” Shiv repeated.

”The Doorman,” The Doorman repeated once more.
“It’s customary for my kind to go through several titles throughout their lives. As a matter of fact, I believe the being I know to be ‘City Mother’ is now calling Herself ‘Ambition’s Spark.’”

“Your kind? The hell is-“

“You’re another Elder God?”
Pocket asked incredulously.

“‘Elder’ isn’t the word I’d use,” he remarked.

Shiv and Pocket shared a look.

“C’mon in,” Shiv said, speaking for both of them.

“I’d be delighted.” The Doorman grinned and entered.

---

The Doorman spoke of his previous reign, how his stay in this dimension was supposed to have been a short one, and his decision to stick around.

"Serving mortals provides a great insight into their nature; meanwhile, slaughtering them just leaves quite the mess.” He said while inspecting the white fingertips of his glove for any blemishes.

“Ya know she’s gonna ask us to do exactly that?” Shiv raised a brow.

“Ah~, but it will be in service of the rest of you.”

The Doorman spoke of what he knew and what he didn’t know. He knew about both of their situations and what they’d been through ever since the radio broadcast. Shiv was worried that this thing masquerading as a man knew about everything before that, too, but kept those concerns to himself for now.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how the ritual will pan out; nor do I know if any additions to either side have been made since this morning. When other gods are involved, things get rather murky.”

“What do you mean by 'since this morning?”'
Pocket asked.

“I mean someone else has joined our side. You’ll find out who within the next few hours,” The Doorman smiled.

Shiv wanted to kick him out right then and there but he knew these god-types were never straight forward. It was all too much for Shiv. When he had heard everything useful he excused himself to step out for a smoke.

The night air was crisp and he felt a chill down to his bones. He braved it and sat down on the front steps, appreciating the current emptiness of the street.

Before he could light up the cigarette, a gloved hand offered him a light.

“You’re being hunted,” the Doorman said, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He had somehow gotten out of the building without using the door.
“And I don’t just mean by the Friends of Humanity.”

“I know,” Shiv said, accepting his offer.

“You know, you could stay at the Baroness. I doubt he could find you within our corridors and violence is not permitted on the premises. One of our couple’s suites happens to be vacant and I’m sure your friend from the Deep would feel right at home in our indoor pool.”

“No thanks.”

”It’s temperature controlled~”

“Look ‘Doorman’, as long as he’s out there, he’s gonna be huntin’ me. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.”

He took a drag off his cigarette and let out a breath that was shakier than intended.
“I felt him comin’ a while ago. Just so happened to have an excuse to get us out of a public building.”

The Doorman hummed in understanding.
“Several years ago the Baxter Society helped us with some of our more… unruly guests. I had the pleasure of meeting your mentor and I must say that he’s a man of solid resolve. It’s only fitting that both of you share the same qualities.”

“That’s a hell of a way to say we’re both stubborn.”

“I suppose it comes with the territory.”
The Doorman then sighed, dropping the lighter into another small door that disappeared from view.
“If you ever change your mind, the Baroness always has a room waiting for you. And since we’re all on the same side, I’ll even throw in two complimentary drinks.”

“Gonna need a hell of a lot more than that...”

“Then I’ll make it three.”

A fully-sized free standing door appeared in the middle of the street and The Doorman made his way to it.
“I wish you and Pocket the best of luck, Shiv. I do hope to see you both when we’re called forth, if not sooner. You and Pocket make a lovely couple.”

“We ain’t together.”

“Oh. Well, as I said, when other gods get involved things get murky…”
The Doorman faltered.
“Anyway, I’ll hope to see you very soon.”
With that, The Doorman bowed, took the door, and the door vanished from sight.

Shiv was left alone in the night.

That's when the whistling started.

Fear and dread got him to his feet and launched him through the door behind him.

He bolted all thirteen locks that came with the security of a Baxter Society safehouse.

He waited for the door to buckle under the force that was inevitably going to be thrown against it. Eventually, there would b-

”What are you doing?”

He almost jumped out of his skin. He turned around to see Viscous standing on the stair above him.

“Viscous, how’d the hell ya get inside?!”

”Someone opened a door for me.”

“Right… Could ya do me a favor?”

”Yes.”

“Never, and I mean never let anyone into this house. If anyone asks, ya get me or Pocket to let them in. Don’t even open the door for ‘em.”

”Even if they seem nice?”

“Yeah. S’bout safety.”

”Okay!”

Viscous waddled off without question.

Shiv sighed in relief. The plant wasn’t asking questions and Pocket was probably up in their bedroom. Maybe the night would pass without-

”Now, how’d ya know I was gonna sweet talk that pile o’ molasses ya got in there?”

His stomach dropped. The voice on the other side of the door was one he hadn’t heard in years but was as familiar as his own. He hated everything about it.

“Get outta here!”
It was said through a growl. The anger he felt was insurmountable.

”Aw, c’mon on now, Shiv. S’that anyway tah treat an old friend?”

There was a fondness to the tone that made him feel sick.

”Here I was tinkin’ we could catch up. Shoot tha shit for a while… I know ya didn’t move in tah one of Wesley’s ol’ diggs witout buyin’ the dramshop outta they bourbon, did ya? Ya not gone let me in for a drink?”

“I said get outta here.”
It was almost a hiss.

”Ya not even gonna gimme that goo ting to make up for yo lack of hospitality? T’ain’t much in terms of nutrition… but it’d be fun to play with. Might be hard tah clean up, but ya know that’s how I like it,” a chuckle followed.

He didn’t respond.

“Aw come on now, don’t be like that. You and I both know that it don’t mean that much to ya. Naw, what ya really like is that pretty lil’ ting upstairs. I ain’t seen ‘em up close yet, but I can tell they a real looker, just like yo’ last one… Only problem is I don’t smell ya on ‘em. Now, why would you of all people not claim somethin’ like that? The longer you wait, the worse s’gone hurt when someone else takes ‘em fo’ theyself.”

He ground his teeth. Lash, Hathorne, Murphy, and the thing in the sewer had all used Pocket against him, but hearing it this from him hurt the most. He could back it up.

”Matter o’fact, there’s someone up there tryin’ to stake they claim right now. I’d hurry if I was you.”

“The hell you on about?” He snarled.

”That’s what gets ya to respon’? Ya must be real sweet on ‘em. Ya thinkin’ of poppin’ another question? S’gone be too late. Ya too focused on me to smell that perfume coverin’ up ‘er rot up there.”

“What are you…?”

This was a weird taunt even by his standards. Even if he was trying to get him to go check on Pocket, that would do nothing to further his goal of getting inside.

”Don’t tell me that muzzle Wesley put on ya stops up ya nose.”

He inhaled deeply and understood instantly.

There was another one upstairs.

He needed a stake of his own.

He undid all the locks and braced himself to meet the face he dreaded to see.

“Drift-“

There was nothing on the other side except for the night air. It felt even colder now.

He exhaled in relief and exhaustion, swearing under his breath.

Without wasting another second, he dashed to the downstairs apartment, hoping to kill at least one of these things.

---

”Arin~.”

Pocket heard it the second they came upstairs. They looked around the room and saw no one else. They assumed it must have been their imagination or that one of the patrons had taken to calling them by their real name.

“Hello?”
They asked the empty room.

“Arin!”

There it was again, louder and in a voice they finally recognized.
They looked to the balcony for the source and saw a figure backlit by the glow of the city and the light of the moon; the only light she could ever know.

Pocket sighed and walked over to the balcony. They opened the door and made damn sure they didn’t cross the threshold.

“What do you want Mina?”
Their voice was full of irritation.

“It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other. Aren’t you just happy enough to kiss me?!”

“If five years is forever for you now, I’d hate to see what you think in a thousand.”

“Arin, what are you talking about? Why are you acting so weird? Come here!”
She extended the arm that wasn’t holding a useless umbrella, her fingers tips that ending just shy of the doorframe.

“Mina, my father ordered the hit on me. Even if you married me you wouldn’t get the Fairfax name because I’ve already shed it.”

“I don’t care about that! I missed you! Now shut up and come here!”

Her hand didn’t move.

They were going to have to spell this out for her.

“Mina, I know you’re a vampire. I read the article where you talked about it. You said your Spring line wouldn’t have pastels in it because they don’t go with black.

Her arm finally dropped.
“Oh-h, well, that was supposed to… be a surprise! We can be together. Forever! Just uh… Just let me in.”
After a second.
“Please.”

Pocket shook their head,
“You know, it’s kinda fitting. You were always a cold bloodsucker on the inside; now you have an excuse to be one on the outside.”

“And you were always an ungrateful brat. It’s kinda fitting that you ended with nothing.”
Her façade dropped. This was the Mina they knew.

“What are you doing here, Mina? If it’s to kill me, could you at least wait for three weeks? I’ll probably be dead anyway.”

“I know dipshit, that’s why I want you dead again! If anyone deserves to kill you, it’s me!”

They stood with their arms crossed, unfazed by her pouting.
“I’m not letting you in.”

“I don’t need to be let in, you jerk! I just have to wait until your guard’s down,” she added smugly.

“You know this is a Baxter Society safehouse right? There’s plenty of things to keep you away.”

“Wow, you don’t even have a place to live anymore? And here I was wondering why you looked like gutter trash. You can only survive on the charity of others.”

“That’s rich coming from a parasite.”

“Pfft, you’re calling me that when you have one downstairs? You’re such a hypocrite, Arin. You always were. All you did was complain about your parents when you lived off their dime.”

Pocket rolled their eyes,
“He’s not a parasite, Mina. I’m paying him to be here.”

”Oh, so you let him suck you. Here I thought it would be the other way around.”

“I’m not paying him with sex.”
That didn’t come out as angry as they wanted it to.
“I’m not in a position to form one of those relationships right now. I never was.”

“YOU COULD HAVE HAD ONE WITH ME!”
She yelled and stamped her foot. Her voice cracked and sounded as if she might cry. She always hated not getting her way.

Pocket didn’t even know if vampires could cry.

“I hate you Arin! You could have just given me your name! You didn’t have to touch me! We could have just… just made something up about the lack of kids. Or I could’ve worn a fat suit for nine months and bought one!”

“I don’t think you can-“

“You can! Fae takes them as collateral all the time! You can just buy them!”

Losing her ticket to the highlife had shattered her hopes and dreams. Years of anger had festered within her, so much so, she obsessed over the thoughts of how she could have made her life with Arin work out."

Meanwhile, Pocket hardly thought of her at all. Hell, they thought she had moved on. Dying and returning to life had changed their perspective on things, but that apparently wasn’t the case for everyone.

“Mina… we would have been miserable together. I know you wanted into that life, but it’s not what it’s cracked up to be. I tried to tell you that.”

“So what? You’re glad you died before the wedding?”

“I’m not glad any of this happened, but that’s all in the past. Now, you have forever to find someone who’ll make you happy.”

“YOU WOULD HAVE MADE ME HAPPY!”
Her teeth gnashed as she lunged forward, discarding the umbrella she held, hitting the invisible barrier that prevented her entry.

It was like watching someone hit a wall.

Realizing the futility of her actions, her rage turned to sadness once more. Her fists half-heartedly on the non-existent boundary.

“…You ruined my life, Arin. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go…”

“I know you’re used to getting your way, Mina, but this is how things are. You have to accept that for once in your life.”
They could only look on with pity.

Her expression twisted from a frown to a grimace.
“You know what…”
In a huff, she picked up her umbrella and briskly stood again.
“I’ll make you pay for this! I’m going to become Viscount of New York, then you’ll be sorry! My first decree will be for your head on a platter!”

Pocket laughed,
“You’re going to become Viscount? I think there’s probably an age requirement you don’t quite meet.”

The Vampire Nation wasn’t something they were particularly familiar with, but they knew most Viscounts were old. Ancient, even.

“Maybe so. But with the help of the Sapphire Flame, I’m sure they’ll make an exception. New blood is exactly what this city needs, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You’re with the Sapphire Flame?”

“Yes. What? I know you’re afraid of strong, powerful women, but y-“

“Pocket, duck!”

Without even looking behind, they did as Shiv said instantly.

Something flew over their head and crashed in front of them with the shatter of glass.

Mina screamed.

They stood back and saw smoke rising off of her.

“THIS IS A BRAND NEW OUTFIT, YOU DICK!”

Pocket was brought out of their stupor by Shiv grabbing their waist and throwing them out of the way.

By time they looked back to the balcony a swarm of crimson bats had filled the air.

“Goddamn it…”
Shiv stood forlorn on the balcony, stake in hand, as he watched the swarm retreat into the night sky.
“I fucking hate these things.”

He immediately turned to Pocket,
“She getcha?”

Pocket picked themselves up,
“No. I didn’t cross the door.”

“You got lucky, some of the old ones can hypnotize ya right across the threshold.”

“Believe me, she isn’t smart enough for that.”

“Sounds like ya got to know ‘er.”

“More than I ever wanted to.”
They stepped closer to the balcony and saw the ground covered in glass.
“What did you hit her with?”

“Holy water. Downstairs is full of it. Woulda brought a crossbow to finish the job but the damn things ain’t put together. So much for it bein’ a safehouse.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. She doesn’t scare me.”

“Who the fuck was that? I knew ya hung around bloodsucking leeches ‘fore you died, but I never thought it was actual ones.”

“She didn’t used to be, at least not literally.”
There’s no way they were going to lie about this. The serum may have worn off hours ago but they wanted to be honest.
“That uh… that was my ex-fiancée.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

“Ya told me you weren’t attached to anyone.”
He didn’t sound angry but disappointed.

“I did. I also told you all my romantic relationships were with girls my father wanted me to be with.”

“Any reason ya didn’t bring ‘er up?”

“Because I thought she moved on with her life. She’s undead by choice. And If I’m to believe her, she’s wishing to be Viscount…”

“Sounds like something we gotta stop.”

“We can’t, she’s on our side.”

“I heard. Can’t make it to the ritual with a stake holdin’ ‘er down, now can she?”

“Vampires are a protected class, Shiv. I’m sure you know that.”

“Sure, but if I can prove she’s huntin’ ya, I got all the justification I need. Ya done told ya cowgirl you had a vampire problem, right?”

“I did, but, Shiv, she’s not a being that’s several hundred years old. She has a family. One to account for where she's been when she’s supposedly been stalking me.”

If Pocket had to guess, it was probably her parents who arranged for her to be turned in the first place.

“She’s not a feral vampire; she’s just a sad girl who never got over me.”

“Ya tellin’ me she liked ya?”

“She liked that she would have been a Fairfax. She liked me too, but the name was what she was after. I was just the spoils of war.”

Shiv cracked a smile, “Sounds like some pretty good spoils to me.”

“I think she realized that somewhere along the way. Not that she’d admit it.”

“Well if she does come ‘round to admit it, she ain’t gone get the chance.”
Shiv finally stepped inside,
“Can’t have two ‘em out to getcha at once.”

“I doubt she’ll come back. Even if she does, I’m not afraid of her. The Friends are what we should be focusing on.”

“Huh?”
Shiv seemed like he was caught off guard.
“Yeah, well, they don’t know where we live yet.”

“Yet,” Pocket reiterated.

They found it odd he was treating the Friends like an afterthought when they were the reason they went even further into hiding.

“Anywho, get some sleep. I’ll clean up that glass in the morning. If she comes back, scream really loud.”

“Will do.”

They watched him retreat down the stairs and out of sight.

While preparing for bed they wondered what terrible thing the universe would throw them next.

Notes:

I don't know if Calico was Talon's protégé, but he speaks highly of her, even though he is disappointed she became a killer.

If The Doorman uses his ult on himself, we find out that he's a "fledgling god". He also talks about that killing mortal is "easier than he remembers." I think he's supposed to be an expy of Nyarlathotep. He also calls Amber Hand "The Amber King" (Hastur) and Sapphire Flame "City Mother" (possibly Yhagni).
I also think The Adversary is Cthulhu, but that's for a different time.

Drifter calls Shiv "an old friend". Full disclosure, I think he killed Shiv's family and turned him. He also says that Shiv is "wearing a muzzle", which I think is his reliquary. If Shiv IS a vampire that may cause complications and a lot of rewriting but I'll only do that once we get concrete details.

Mina....
I feel bad for Mina. I don't think Pocket loved her, mostly because of her insufferable personality, but because they couldn't. There were lines for the Patrons that called Pocket "He" Valve had the VAs go back and change them to call them "They" so I really DO think they're making overtly queer.

I don't hate her and I don't think Pocket does either. She may annoy them, and they may have a few choice words about her, but I think they're going to feel pity more than anger.

Until next time, please get Victor to stop walking at me.

P.S.
Chapter 27 has an image now.

Also, they removed the lines about Wraith's dad, so I have to go rewrite that.

Chapter 29: Tales of Yore

Summary:

Errands.
A storybook.
An angry customer.
A deal.

“Ya hair’s growing in real nice like.”

At this point, Shiv complimenting them at every turn was a given, but Pocket agreed. They had finally gotten rid of their stubble, but noticed they had neglected their undercut for so long that it had grown to a decent length

For whatever reason, they decided to keep it; probably because maintaining it was less important than everything else… and the fact Shiv would have liked it at any length. They weren’t surprised when he said that.

“I don't plan on growing it longer than this, so don't get the idea I could style it like yours,” Pocket said, marking October 2nd off the calendar. They had to do it twice because the ink was drier than yesterday.
“We really need new markers. On top of that, we probably need to teach Viscous how to use a gun… and maybe invest in a blackboard.”

”I can’t read.”

“We already know that,” Shiv said, slightly annoyed.

”I just wanted to remind you in case you forgot.”

Shiv huffed, “Gotta ask Pocket, what’s your one with gettin’ all this down on a board?”

“Because I want to see it all in front of us. It’s quintessential to do a risk analysis. Having your strengths and weaknesses-“
They stopped themselves. They were starting to sound like their father.
“Because I want to draw pretty pictures, Shiv,” they deadpanned.

“Well, why don’t you and Viscous have a day out together so you can draw your pretty pictures?” Shiv said almost sweetly but with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Why? You got another cop to visit?”

“I’d never visit one willingly. Your cowgirl was a one-time thing.”

Pocket wished he would stop calling her that.

“Nah, I’m going somewhere else. And before ya ask, it’s not dangerous.”

Pocket wanted to ask, but decided not to. Shiv’s business was his own.
“Alright. Just don’t get in a fight.”

“I never promised that much…”

---

Once upon a time, there was a knight. His valor and chivalry were spoken of in every corner of the land. His will was as steadfast as the mountains that surrounded the kingdom, and his bow was as swift as the wind.
His name had become legend.

The Legendary Knight was a fabled hero. There was no feat he could not accomplish and no dragon he could not slay.
Except for one.

The Unslayable Dragon haunted him for years, chasing it from kingdom to kingdom, and all over the world. Each battle ended in a stalemate, often leaving both of them injured. The dragon would retreat to nearby caves to pull arrows from its hide while the knight would look to his guild to lick his wounds.

Pocket looked over from the shelf. They had found a bookstore a few blocks away. Luckily, they had exactly what they needed in terms of markers and a small chalkboard.

They looked for something light to read while Viscous had insisted on watching the redheaded employee do a reading. Even though the story was obviously for children, they could see why it was captivating; every major detail was punctuated by bright green illusions of the characters. Biblomancy was an impressive skill but at the end of the day it was nothing more than a light show, and everyone loved a light show.

…The Beggar pleaded with the knight, for the dragon had killed his family and left him with a terrible curse: If he were ever to anger, he too would become a dragon.

”Oh dear!”
Viscous exclaimed from his seated position.

Seeing the tragedy that befell him, the knight took pity.

“Having power does not a monster make; what you do with it does.”

Upon saying these words, the knight bestowed upon him a charm to keep the monster inside him at bay.

With this newfound power, the knight took the Beggar back to his guild and, with his authority, decreed that the Beggar be knighted if the Beggar could prove himself.

”That’s good!”
Viscous said.

- But not everyone agreed. Many in the guild saw the Beggar as a disaster waiting to happen.

”That’s bad.”

Even so, the Beggar used his power to slay beasts much fiercer than he. Still - he was never fully welcome and feared he would never see knighthood.

Pocket would have stopped listening here, but the next words sank the hook deeper.

-All the while, in a nearby Kingdom, a tyrannical king had his eldest daughter killed.

Pocket’s hand that was skimming the spines of books dropped.

What the hell did she just say?

-The eldest daughter was due to inherit the kingdom. The king did not like that, for you see, each of his daughters had long, flowing blonde hair like their father, however the eldest had the dark locks as rich as the night sky. This was not the image the king wanted to present.

That wasn’t what they expected but they were glad that it wasn’t.

-HOWEVER, little did the king or her would-be-assassin know that when she was thrown from the tower, she landed safely on a passing wagon full of hay.

Not how they survived, but they didn’t like where this was going.

Fortunately for her, the wagon she fell in happened to be in the process of being stolen by two thieves with hearts of gold… well, if the price was right. Fortunately for them, the princess had a sizable purse on her. With their help and employment, they helped smuggle her out of the kingdom. For days, the lost princess wandered the forest, forced to live on the lam away from the eyes of the subjects of her father.

“Poor lamb,” Viscous lamented.

Then, in the middle of the night, the Beggar, out hunting, found the lost princess. Rather, they found each other.

They really didn’t like where this was going.

---

“With the curse broken, the tyrant dealt with, and the lost princess taking her rightful place on the throne, the Beggar not only proved his worth to the guild, but to himself, teaching us that sometimes the worst monsters aren’t monsters at all. The Beggar soon became a knight of legend, much like the one before him, and soon, a king to replace the tyrant he overthrew, for he and the princess, now queen, were wed soon after the ordeal.”

Paige conjured a suit of armor and a female figure, ballroom dancing, to signify the happy ending.

“And they lived happily ever after. The end.”

The apparitions faded as she closed the book.

The children clapped. The goo thing cheered.

”I really enjoyed that!”

She emphatically thanked the crowd, relieved that the kids seemed to like it. After being unable to write anything in preparation for today's reading, she tentatively decided to add tropes to some of the rather compelling backgrounds the Ambition's Spark told her about last night.

As the crowd dispersed, she made her way over to the register, where someone was already waiting.

They had a bundle of markers, a small blackboard, and a book written by Kelvin.

“Oh, a Kelvin fan?” Paige perked up, “This was the last book he wrote before his final expedition! Well, I say ‘final’, because he kind of ‘died’, buuuut I heard he got better!”

“I also heard he’s participating in the ritual coming up soon,” they said, opening their wallet.

Of all the vague tales the Patron told her, his was the easiest to assign to a person she knew. As a best-selling author, Kelvin had given his account of his Arctic expedition that began with adventure and ended in him losing his life, crew, and memories. When she was told the story of a potential teammate that had every element above, it was hard not to make the connection.

‎‎Something made her pause. As far as she knew, Kelvin hadn’t made any public statements about participating in the ritual as of yet.

“Oh, really,” she tried to suavely edge into the conversation.
“Where’d you hear that?”

“From someone else participating.”
They laid down exact change on the counter.

“Oh. That’s nice. Scary. But nice. I bet it’s exciting to potentially have a wish granted… but also terrifying to put your life on the line for a death game in which you have a 50/50 shot of experiencing a miracle or dying violently in the streets of New York.”
Paige calmed herself.
“I’m sure your friend will do great though!”

“She’s not my friend.”

”Oh. I’m sure she’ll do badly then!”
She took the change into the register and placed their purchases into a bag.

”I’m also on the Sapphire Flame side!”

She looked up to see the goo thing standing next to the customer behind the desk.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do great!”

”Me too! I’m really good at punching people!”

“I think the Deep will appreciate that,” she said assuredly.

“How did you know he’s from the Deep?”
The customer interjected.

Crap.

“Um, well, he looks like he is. Look at him! That goo probably isn’t just for show!”

”It isn’t,” the goo thing happily added.

“Then it’s probably to equalize the pressure he isn’t used to!” She nodded, yes, that was exactly how she knew.

“How did you really know?”
They looked unimpressed by the explanation.

“Well…”

Paige looked around and saw that the shop was empty. It seemed that the children and parents had only come in to listen without purchasing anything.

“One sec,”
She ran to the front of the shop and conjured freestanding letters to read ‘BE BACK IN 5 MINUTES’ from a note she had written long ago.

With her parents out and no other patrons, she was now alone.

She went to the desk and nervously wrung her hands.

“Look. Ambition’s Spark, the Sapphire Flame, whatever you want to call Her… She came to me last night and made me an offer. I didn’t want to join, but then she told me all these vague stories about everyone She already recruited and… well..”
She sighed and stood up straight.
“I liked what I heard. These were people I wanted to help. Even if I don’t get what I want… You must have been told something similar, right? How else would you have known about Kelvin?”

Her human customer now looked suspicious.
“‘Vague’, huh? How did you know he was from the Deep? You still haven’t answered that?”
They seemed to be getting heated about this.

“Because one was about someone from an Underwater Kingdom. Not very many places fit that description. I-I guessed!”

“And your ‘lost princess’? Did you come up with that yourself?”

She felt embarrassed.
“I know. I felt bad about it, but I took enough creative liberties to make it my own, didn’t I? It wasn’t even a princess; Ambition’s Spark just called them an ‘heir’, and their story ended with the two thieves smuggling them out of the kingdom. I just made them end up with the Beggar because I thought they would have good chemistry an-“

“You don’t even know who the stories belong to?”

She didn’t understand why they even cared this much.

“No… The only ones I recognized were Kelvin and someone I think might be Ivy Arroyo. Other than that, I think they might just be ordinary people who need all the help they can get.”

“Then they’re not your stories to tell,” they blurted out in anger.

She now understood why.

Paige faltered for a moment.
“…Were you the princess?”

“I’m not a princess. And I’m definitely not yours.”

They snatched the bag from the counter and quickly left.

The goo thing stared after them and then looked back at her.

”I’m sorry. They just like people knowing who they are.”

Now, since she knew that the story hadn’t ended, she had a pretty good idea who they were.
“Unfortunately, I think I do know who they are…”

”Can you teach me to read?”

“Huh?”
She looked to the creature.

”I can’t read. Can you teach me how?”

She smiled at that, almost forgetting the scene that had just transpired.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do.”

”Yaaay!”

---

Shiv parked his motorcycle on the street, hopped the white picket fence, and made his way across the manicured lawn to the front door.

He didn’t even get the chance to knock before the door opened.

“Where’s the missus?” He asked.

“Out. What do you want, Shiv?”
Wesley stood in the doorway to deny his way in; neither of them wanted to bring work home, but it had forced its way through for both of them.

“He knows where I am.”

Wesley sighed, “It was only a matter of time.”

Hunting the Drifter was supposed to be the Baxter Society’s job, but just because Wesley was retired didn’t mean he was free of the Drifter’s claws.

“He try to bother you yet?”

“Unless he did it, then no.”

Shiv let out a grim laugh.
“F’he did, he’d let you know.”

“If he did, then I’ve wasted my time.”

“May not be who you’re after, but you sure as hell made the world a better place.”

“That isn’t something I care about… not anymore….”

Shiv sighed and kicked a stray pebble off the porch.
“Could ya take the damn compliment? Some of us plan on stickin’ around.”

The old man sighed, closing his eyes to utter,
“Whatever side he takes, I’ll take the other.”

Shiv looked up and over at his mentor, unsure of what he heard.
“Ya think he’s here for that?”

“He could have come for you at any time. I don’t see any other explanation of why he’s here at this moment.”
He opened his eyes just to resume his glower.
“Unless he somehow knew you had another mate in mind.”

“Ya ain’t gotta say it like that…”
There was no denying Shiv felt lust for Pocket, but phrasing it like that made him feel like an animal.
“…At any rate, he may end up on my side. Patrons don’t seem to care about who we are on the outside. Besides, I know I wanted to spar with ya, but I don’t want to kill ya. You still got a few good years that I'm not keen on takin’ away.”

“My last act on earth may be ridding it of Hawthorne, but getting rid of another monster in the process would bring me another form of peace.”

Shiv cracked a smile and extended an arm to lean on a post supporting the porch,“Now, how the hell ain’t that making the world a better place?”

“It isn’t what he’ll do, it’s about what he did.”

Shiv didn’t want to think about that. Not in the vivid detail he remembered.
His arm dropped, and he stood up straight.
“… You don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna.”

“I wasn’t offering, I’m telling you what I’m going to do.”
The old man didn’t even offer as much as a smile.

“Well, I know it ain’t for me, but thank ya anyway.”
Shiv extended a hand for the elder to shake.

Talon did not acknowledge it.
“We’re done here.”
He stepped back in and closed the door behind him.

Shiv stood there for a moment and then made a sharp wave at the closed door.
“Good talk.”

He promptly turned around and got the hell out of there before someone called the cops on him for looking out of place in such a nice neighborhood.

On the ride home, he wondered how he would explain this to Pocket or if the situation would explain itself.

Notes:

While Pocket "looks" like their in-game model now, please remember they still have their hand corrupted; it will stay like that until we get confirmation that it's gone forever.

Again, I think Drifter killed Shiv's family.

We know Talon's wife is alive because Doorman gives him hell for not thinking about her when he's so determined to die.

Until next time, try to survive matchmaking.

P.S. Chapter 24 has an image now, meaning every chapter except 14 has one.