Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This first chapter/placeholder is where I link last year's KOFtober!: You can find it here- https://ao3-rd-18.onrender.com/works/34254508

No, I didn't finish it, and I likely won't get to this year; sometimes the inspiration doesn't hit, other times it's a time factor. But in any case, I'll have fun visiting some works. 

These will average, I'd say, 500-1200 words, but they could be +/- a hundred or so, depending; I don't really put any sort of upper or lower limits on them. I will probably plug a few author's notes, as a lot of these prompts will surround things that go on in the sorta 'timeline' I've been writing in, so relationships and the like will be mentioned. (Anyone who knows my usual jam knows how I run, but for those who don't, I'll have some notes on that.) I am pre-empting the rating as 'Mature' for now, since I might end up touching on mature topics or sexy times, but this could go down to Teen by the end if I don't. (I don't see it going to Explicit.) They will also be edited minimally. I'll of course proofread them and do basic grammatical checks, but they aren't going to be super fine-tuned. They're shorts-sometimes might even reach drabble size, depending. NOT every chapter will have the same rating, mind you-some (probably most) prompts are just G-rated, but I need to kinda rate it as a whole. 

Characters that are likely mostly involved will be the usual (Adel, Whip, Duo Lon, Leona, the Ikaris, Shen, Ash, Iori, Athena, the K'-Dash Crew occasionally, and so on.) I may get to branch out to some others; we'll see! This is that time where I might end up with random bits of inspiration that drives me to hit up someone else for it. I will try to insert author's notes when appropriate to explain a relationship or two if necessary for new readers. 

In any case, I hope you enjoy this year's set of prompts, however many I get done! 

Chapter Text

“C’mon. I took you to a mall. I thought you’d like it better.” 

K’ sighed deeply, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I guess.”

Whip tucked a bit of her hair behind her ears, one hand in the pocket of her own military-style jacket. She was otherwise dressed fairly casually. “We still have plenty of time here.” 

“I like how everyone all took off all at once,” K’ snorted. “You’d think it’s a conspiracy.”

“To make you hold a conversation?” she quipped. 

“Apparently.” 

Shaking her head, they continued through the New York mall. Having come to the US for a short bit on business, K’, Kula, and Maxima had also managed to make it over to see the Ikari crew, mostly for Maxima to discuss a few odds and ends with Heidern, and Seth, as well, who had also showed up. Given the two siblings didn’t get to see each other more than once a month at best, due to business and travel-it was more like once every six to eight weeks-Whip insisted on taking K’ out to lunch while the rest milled around. 

Maxima, Seth, and Heidern were at some buffet next door to the mall where they could sit in a corner and quietly discuss things, while Kula, who had also insisted K’ spend some time with his big sister since they’d be leaving in the evening, was busily hitting up Adel’s wallet; he was always generous with his money with the bunch when they’d run into each other.

Stopping at a small donut place-it had a few seats around to sit around-she looked up. 

“Remember one of the first times we went out again?” she asked. 

“Kinda.” 

“One of these places was nearby.” 

He took a whiff. Indeed, the smell of the glaze and fresh donuts came back to him. He had his memories from when they had all escaped and reunited, and in an attempt to get to know one another again-since they didn’t have memories from before -they had decided to wander around a strip mall. 

“That’s right. Smelled good. We didn’t go, though. I think we went to a diner, instead.”

“It’s been…four years?”

“Something like that.” 

“Hmm. Maybe more like…three and a half,” she said, rubbing her chin. She had been separated from the syndicate for longer than he had been, having joined up with the unit rather quickly. 

“Well, wanna get something, or just stand here like idiots?”

She laughed, looking over at him. “Let’s go. I’m buying.” 

“I hope so. You’re the rich one these days.”

Snorting more laughter at that, she walked up to the counter, looking around. “What do you want?”

“Whatever. As long as it comes with coffee. And better remember to get Kula something, too.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling gently at that. “I’ll…just get a box.” She knew Adel’s appetite, even though she was pretty sure the other two were eating their way across the other side of the mall at the moment. 

K’ plopped into the seat, fiddling with a sugar packet that was in the middle of the table. It didn’t take long for Whip to get back with a box of donuts-all of them glazed, with different sorts of filling from jam to creme-and two large cups of coffee. She handed one to K’ before putting a little sugar into her own. 

He sipped his immediately, preferring it black. Popping the box open, he yanked one out. “Thanks,” he muttered. 

“That’s the fourth time you said that to me this year,” she chuckled. 

“I’m feeling generous.”

“You guys alright?”

“Always are.” He grabbed a donut, not caring what was inside. “What about you?” 

“Of course.”

“Well, we got all that stuff out of the way,” K’ said, sticking the donut on the napkin in front of him. He knew he’d probably have to eat it before the copious amounts of oil in the thing soaked through. “You guys doing anything fun?”

“We always seem to get into some kind of adventure every other month. At least.”

“Don’t you just sit around and…I dunno, watch TV?”

“I don’t think I’ve watched TV in ages.” She looked at him, selecting a raspberry-filled donut. “There’s nothing really on. We lay around sometimes, sure, but we prefer music.”

“Snoozing on the couch with the TV on is great,” he said. “I’m surprised you don’t. Your guy probably has a giant one. I’d love to fall asleep in front of that.” 

“The guest room is always open,” she said, raising her eyebrow. She had tried to convince him numerous times to come stay the night on the giant airship, but he somehow always ended up somewhere else. 

“I know, I know,” he said. He sighed. 

“I notice you tend to get a little distant when I mention that.”

“Don’t wanna intrude. That’s all.”

“You know you won’t be.” She patted his shoulder. “You never do. Adel asks me all the time if you’re gonna come over. You’re family. You’re always welcome.”

“I…feel weird, I guess,” he said sheepishly. “You have this…nice life now. You like the military structure. You’ve had this good dude you ended up with who I know cares about you. We run around all the time.”

“And?” she said, patting his arm. “I know that’s your guys' life. I know I can’t change what you guys like. I know you’ve been getting better with settling, at least.”

“Yeah. We stick around three places now.”

“That’s great,” she said, smiling warmly. 

“We narrowed it down. South Town. London. Ontario.” 

“London?” she said. “That’s so close to Germany.” The Ikaris worked out of Europe often, and Germany was a common stop for them, given the military base there. Plus, that was the area that the Sky Noah tended to be docked more often than not. “C’mon, K’. You’re running out of excuses.” She raised her eyebrow, though kept a gentle smirk on her face. 

He rubbed his hair, taking another bite of his donut. “Alright, then,” he said. “Can’t come this week, but maybe in a couple. And this time…I will.”

“We can even come pick you guys up.” 

“In the fortress?”

She grinned before taking a bite. 

“K’!!” they heard a voice yell behind them. Turning around, he saw a happy Kula with a bag of something or other, with Adel walking with her, his one arm holding several other bags from the opposite end of the mall. Likely food, they figured. 

“Aww, are you guys done already? I just started getting him to talk,” Whip said, ruffling his hair. 

“Thank god,” he said, looking at Kula and patting her shoulder. “What did you manage to weasel out of him?”

This made her chuckle. “We went around a lot of places with junk food. And an art store.”

The white-haired man handed Kula one of the raspberry-filled donuts nonchalantly. She grabbed it and touched his shoulder gently. 

"We can go back," Adel smirked, walking over to Whip to push a lock of hair behind her ears, causing her to lean into his hand for a moment. "Let you guys catch up."

K' rolled his eyes at the ever-so-slight and subtle public display of affection and snorted. "It's cool. We were-"

"That'd be great!" Whip interrupted. "We rarely get to catch up before something drags him away. It seems every time we start to chat, we run out of time."

He tried to reach out for Kula's arm, almost like he wanted to go with those two instead, though she just laughed and rubbed his hair as well. 

Adel gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and chuckled, absently checking something in the pocket of his long jacket. "Alright, have fun."

“What were you looking at?” Kula asked him.

“I saw a music store nearby that I wanted to check out. In fact, I might message Duo Lon to see if he’s looking for anything.”

Hearing them as they walked off, Whip laughed and grinned at her little brother, who was clearly not getting out of this one. One could tell, however, that he was trying his best when it came to his big sister. 

She took another sip of coffee before checking her watch. 

“So, you were saying?”

Chapter Text

Shen blinked, seeing another absinthe bottle drain away. 

I sometimes forget he’s almost immune to this stuff, he thought to himself. 

Duo Lon looked at the bottle before once again digging his hardened nails into the glass. Hizoku trained to eventually become immune to poisons and venoms of all types-some could even conjure it up in their own bodies, like his clan mate Lin and his younger half-sister, Xiao Lon. Duo Lon himself could, as well, though this was not his specialty.

He shared the immunity, though, but there were times where he wished he did not, since being able to forget everything for a bit would be really nice right now. 

His father’s horrible betrayal-not that he even wanted to call the man ‘Father’ anymore-and his subsequent drive to hunt him down and kill him, was hot on his mind. The usually-more like always-placid, calm and collected assassin smashed a man’s face in and nearly crushed his spine in a bar earlier in what started as a minor altercation, and it took Shen-usually the one starting these things happily-to pull him away, saving the man’s life. He was left there gurgling blood from his mouth and nose all over the floor and would likely be hospitalized for quite a while, but he was alive.

Given the assassin’s power, this was miraculous. 

Looking over at the balcony’s wall where the tall, long-haired man’s leg was propped up, Shen could still see the ghastly remnants of blood on his large boot. He had seen Duo Lon spattered in blood before-and those men had all ended up dead-but that had been an instance of life and death. Eerie and disturbing, but understandable. But he had never even seen his friend get angry, let alone lose himself like that to the point where the floor near the table where everything took place was covered in blood and teeth. 

Duo Lon had broken down after they had left in a nearby alleyway, spilling everything that had happened to his friend, leaving a stunned Shen to look on in disbelief. They went to the docks to drink afterward and had gotten some food before Shen took him back to his house, so he would not have to be alone with his thoughts tonight. 

He dropped the mangled bottle in the trash as he sat, staring blankly out over the city. Shen shook his head. 

“That’s your second bottle tonight,” he said. 

“It has finally started to make me mellow.” 

Sighing, he patted his friend’s tattooed arm. “I wish I could help you.” He wasn’t used to being the ‘shoulder’ in these situations, but he was trying. 

At that, Duo Lon spared him a small smile. “You have,” he said. “It…doesn’t take away my need for vengeance, but you have."

“I wouldn’t expect it to.”

Sighing, he packed his pipe and allowed everything to play through his head again; from the discovery to the rest of the clan shunning him, thinking he was as tainted as that bastard. It made him angry all over again, causing him to imagine him turning his years of training onto him for what he had done. At this point, he wasn’t even sure he cared to find out why, though he went back and forth on that. 

Seeing his friend stare out over the city skyline, Shen rubbed his hair and tried to think of what to say. He noticed Duo Lon looking back at him after his pipe was lit. 

“Have you never felt the need for vengeance?” he asked the brawler.

“Of course,” he said. “Getting cheated, attempts on my life-I go after ‘em and beat ‘em up and they run with their tails tucked up their asses. That one time where I dropped my guard…” he trailed off. 

Duo Lon knew that he spoke of the time he followed him and killed his assailants, as Shen had been surprised, which didn’t happen often. “The feeling burns,” he said. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt.” He looked at him. “That man earlier,” he said. “It’s like I saw him there. Ron. I was lost to sense.”

“I…think it can do that,” he said. “I know what it’s like to wanna set something right…but…at this level, I…” he rubbed his hair again, trying to find the words. “Even the guys who try to take a shot at me, I get pissed, find ‘em, kick their asses and leave it at that.” He rubbed his neck. “I don’t let ‘em get away with it, but…I…just never had to deal with anything like this.”

The assassin exhaled, the smoke coming from his mouth and nose. He opened and closed one large hand; the deadly nails dull in the moonlight. He clenched his fist suddenly, hard enough that Shen could see the sinew stand out on his arm. 

“I’m sitting here, thinking I should be out there right now trying to find him. Doing anything I can. Killing anyone who tries to hide him.” 

Shen winced at that; there was something terrible about the man's soft voice uttering such a threat. “Don’t…don’t let it overtake you.” One part of him didn’t want to think of the carnage the man could leave behind if he flew off the handle, but importantly, he didn’t want his friend to lose himself. 

He sighed deeply. “I…just need to make it right.” His father’s betrayal was still an open wound, and he would probably need time to just come to grips with it. “I don’t even know if I want to try to find the rest of my family first…or him.” 

“I guess…whatever you feel is right?” He dug another cigarette out of his pocket to light it. He had smoked through a whole lot tonight-likewise, Duo Lon, who mostly smoked a pipe after dinner or something, and not even every day, had smoked several in this time. “I don’t…even remember any family of mine,” he said. “So, I dunno what it’s like. And…I dunno. I never remembered enough to know if they ever did anything like that. I was…never really close to ‘em.” He turned toward him. “Fuck, man, I wish I could help more. I feel useless.”

At that, the assassin cocked his head to the side. “I told you, you have,” he said, his voice more laid back. “After tonight, I was ready to go on a rampage.” Truth be told, he still sort of was, but he was able to be more measured about things and direct it to the person involved. 

Shen chuckled softly at that, reaching down to grab another bottle of booze, some sort of bourbon, by the look. He took a swig of it first before handing it to him.

“Here. You need this a lot more than me,” he said, already well past the buzzed side.

Drinking off about a sixth of the bottle in one go, he swallowed and nodded. “If it’s any consolation, I have a buzz right now.”

This caused the brawler to laugh. “Well, ain’t that something,” he said, watching the man as he blew out some more of his pipe smoke. Getting serious again for a moment, he put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey now, tho. I gotta ask you. Or tell you. Promise me you ain’t gonna let yourself go insane over this. As bad as it is.”

Duo Lon shook his head. “I won’t. I…have some…things to work through.” 

“Who else is gonna get me out of trouble?” he said. “I need you and your weird superpowers and shit here.” He suddenly drew his arm back and threw a punch, causing the assassin to snatch his fist instinctively, holding it there. 

He smiled softly at this. “I’ll be alright,” he said. “Thank you.” The grabbed fist turned into a hand clasp for a moment as they pulled together in some sort of a hug for a moment.

“Crash on my couch,” he said as he sat back. “Then worry about whatever you’re doing.”

“Yes,” he said. He sat back again, staring quietly out over the city as he took another pull of the bottle before handing it back, smoking a little more of his long pipe as the night drew on. 

Chapter Text

Rubbing his arm, the shaggy blue-haired man got up from the threadbare couch that he slept on in the warehouse that he had taken for his home, stumbling over to the cabinet off to the side where he kept some of his drugs. Ripping his goggles off and setting them aside, he pushed the fresh fall of hair from his face. 

Certain drugs, liberated from NESTS, which bought him somewhat of a relief. 

Krohnen’s old parts had long ago been cut away-the really corrupt, nasty, bionetic shit-but it had been replaced with metal, and a lot of it, along with some nanomachines. His body, to hold the extra cyber parts, had to be reinforced with even more metal, leaving him maybe, at best, half human anymore. He wondered if it was even that-after enough bone and muscle grafts, nanomachine-cell replacements, and metal shoved into you instead of joints just to be able to hold your new body together from the force it could exert, you just lost track. Sure, it made him powerful as all hell, but it stripped his humanity in the process. 

It took getting used to. Splitting headaches could hit now and again as his body adapted to the stuff, blood pressure shooting so high it made him want to drill a hole in himself to relieve it. He was good with it all, but he’d make mistakes-he could easily squeeze things too hard and crush them without realizing it, sometimes doing this to a wrench if he was surprised or something. 

No. I can hold it off this time. I can resist this...

He tried. Gritting his teeth, he tried his damndest to focus, but the rage began to overtake him, pure adrenaline rushing through his veins, probably because his body thought it was being attacked.

Another hole landed in the cement wall of the warehouse, as he sent his fist through it with a scream. 

Fuck. There we go again. Of course I can't resist the urge to break something.

The blood still pounding in his ears, he snarled; he went over to dig through the box of syringes, as if he didn’t find something now, he was going to end up going out and taking this rage out on some people in an underground ring somewhere. And when high-tech metal hit unaugmented flesh, things didn't turn out good, to say the very least. He was quite feared in the underworld as a result. 

It was usual when he went after the scientists-they were free game-but tonight, he was trying to stay calm. For once, he was trying to see if he could fight the urge to go turn his rage onto living bodies. He didn’t want to give people a reason to keep believing he was incapable of self-control. Not that he cared…but he almost wanted to try to control himself out of spite at this point; to show he wasn’t the lunatic rage ball that he was often perceived as. 

Finally finding a syringe, he ripped the top off and depressed the stuff into some of the flesh that remained on his leg; he didn’t know what it was, but within a few moments, he started to mellow out slightly…and then a little bit more. The rage he was feeling for now turned to anger instead, which mellowed to…annoyance, which seemed to be his limit, unless his close partner was around, which wasn’t the case tonight. 

Tossing the syringe in the trash can off to the side, the cyborg-that was what he was anymore, he knew that, not that he was ever really human-went back over to his couch to rub his head after he hit the lights again. Pulling a cigarette out of the crumpled pack he kept nearby and lighting it, his cybereye adjusting quickly to the flash of flame against the dim light of the warehouse. He stuffed it into his pocket, absently staring at the red pip of the cigarette against the darkness as the serum did its duty. 

Chapter Text

“What, no punch?” Whip flashed Ralf a cheeky grin as they walked out of the private dining hall to the tables that were set up with vast quantities of food. 

“Naaah. This is a family holiday, after all.” 

As per usual, when the Ikari unit was Stateside during the month of November, they would enjoy a holiday dinner with the unit, despite not really celebrating it. While it was something that the entire unit did, the closest bunch-Heidern, Whip, Ralf, Clark, and Leona-would have their own time in a private room, usually in the barracks. They would take from the same big tables as everyone else, of course. This wasn't a regular occurrence, but this was one of those times where it lined up for them. 

Some folks went home for the holidays-Commander Heidern was very kind with making sure people got to take some time off, even trying to accommodate the soldiers during the harder times the best he could-but not everyone had family anymore or had family who were scattered around. 

Since these five were as good as a family as anything, it was enough for them. 

“Say, where’s your brother and Blondie?”

“Blondie is away on business,” she chuckled. “He tried, but he had to be away. They don’t really get time off this time of year, so it's business as usual this weekend. As for K’, they’re all in Ontario and couldn’t make it here on time. I am pretty sure K’ is happy right now having a break, since they had just ended up traveling a whole lot.” 

Leona smiled slightly at this. “He’d probably just hide anyway.”

“He comes to Christmas, at least,” Clark mentioned.

“He makes exceptions.”

The group were all dressed rather casually; Heidern even had his hat off and was mostly far more relaxed looking than normal. He looked forward to this time of year these days-while he didn’t for a while, after he had started to see his close-knit group as family, it had changed for him. 

The smells of the holiday food hit them hard when they walked into the dining hall, which housed about twenty or so soldiers. Not as many as usual, but these were the ones who stuck behind for their reasons. They had appetizers at their places and the drinks had already started to go around.

The smells set their mouths to watering, but also gave them feelings of familiarity; even the younger soldiers, who had good memories of these times with the unit. 

Piling their plates with the good stuff-the turkey, ham, gravy, stuffing, bread, sweet potatoes (of course, a favorite of everyone), mashed potatoes, mixed side vegetables and everything else, they headed back into the room while also fetching a bottle of wine. Heidern took the time to pour everyone a glass as they arranged themselves. Even Ralf, who was more of a beer guy, had some wine on the holiday. 

“What are we clanking glasses to this year?” he asked as he lifted it. “Victory? Food?”

Clark rubbed his hair. “I dunno. I’m bad at this.”

Leona looked around the table at the other four and held up her glass.

“Family,” she said softly.

“That works for me,” Whip said with a smile.

“Same.”

“Hell yeah!” 

Heidern simply stood, a small smile tugging at a corner of his own mouth. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “To family.”

Chapter Text

Sniffing around the table, the panther once again tried his hand at snatching one of his favorite foods. Or, it should be said, several of his favorite foods. 

“Gwan…” Adel said, noticing the panther slyly trying to nose his way onto the table to snatch one of the big breakfast sausages. “You had yours.”

Whip chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve already eaten a ton. Along with your own breakfast.”

The panther did not relent; attempting to reach a large paw out, his owner blocked it with his own hand. 

“Gwan!” he laughed. Breakfast at the Sky Noah had two constants: the ability to order anything they wanted on demand, and Gwan attempting to come to take it. 

Not relenting-the sausage smelled so close-he continued his single-minded push toward the prize tray. It was all of his favorites. Sausage, bacon, and crepes. 

“How did that panther become so obsessed with breakfast food?” Whip laughed, trying to push the beast down, which only worked for a moment. 

“You’ve seen him,” he said. “Ever since he was a cub, the kitchens would sort of spoil him. Then, admittedly…”

“Yeah, we kinda spoiled him too, didn’t we?”

“Rose, as well. She never said no to him.”  Pushing again as he hurriedly tried to eat his plate, the panther slid underneath, quickly trying to prowl to the other side where he stood, paws on the table again as he just about reached the tray.

“I have never seen a big cat want people food this much in my life.”

The cat’s ears folded down as he started to get a bit of a dejected look on his face, attempting to swat the tray toward himself, but Adel had put it back too far. Obsession was the right word; often this cat would not stop until he was satiated with a bit of breakfast sausage or bacon. 

“You do not give up, do you,” Adel said, trying to fake annoyance. “Fine. You win. Here. Don’t beg us again.” He took a couple of things off of the plate for them to finish and slid him the rest. 

Whip looked at him with an eyebrow raised as she hastily protected the rest of the honey crepes, lest the big cat decide to set his sights on them next. 

The panther dove in happily, a heavy purr coming from his chest. 

He had won this all-important battle, this time.

Chapter Text

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

“Do you believe in things being set out in front of you?”

Duo Lon looked over at Leona, rubbing his chin. “You mean like destiny?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. 

“I…don’t know,” he said. He looked out over the horizon as the two sat on top of the building. “I think, perhaps, yes.” 

The pair had decided to go take a bit of a walk while waiting for their friends to get finished their business, and instead of sitting inside-due to it being a rather nice, chilly early evening-they had decided to go toward the top of a building in a less-traveled part of the city. They both enjoyed sitting up high and looking out over things. 

“I want to say I don’t believe in it,” the blue-haired soldier replied. “But there are times where it sort of…pokes at me. Reminding me it exists.”

“I…know what you mean. I have had my life laid out before me since I was a youth. Born to a clan of assassins which my father ended up the leader of but a scant few years after I was born. I knew what I was to be-a killer, and then likely taking over the clan. Which I still plan on doing.”

Leona pat the assassin’s hand as she adjusted her bomber jacket. Both of them were dressed fairly casually, with Leona in her bomber and cargos and Duo Lon opting for his leather jacket over a sleeveless shirt, which he hardly wore to tournaments. Smiling sadly over at him, she sighed. “I just remembered being told I couldn’t escape my destiny. I…very faintly remember my father’s words.”

“What were they?”

This actually caused the sad smile to spread, a mix of grief, but also fondness. “Destiny can eat shit.”

Duo Lon actually chuckled at this. “I think he’s right.”

“I notice with you,” she started, tracing a finger absently down his hand, over what seemed to be a scar. “That you choose to do what you do. You may have been born into being who you are…destined to lead your clan. But you seem to want it.”

“I do,” he said, unhesitatingly. “I have always felt this.” He rubbed his chin as he adjusted his long braid, the heavy weight at the end draped over his legs. “Growing up, I knew what I wanted…but I never thought I’d be doing it this way.” 

Anyone that knew Duo Lon well knew he had his father targeted for his crimes against the clan; he was going to kill him with his own hands, using the same skills that were granted from the clan itself. Ron had long been in hiding, however-no one knew if it was because he feared his son or was looking to gain even more power. 

Or both.

“It's sort of funny how our situations seem...almost reversed."

“You choose to not follow yours,” he said. “I choose to follow mine. Either way, I think we both have chosen.”

“I feel better about it,” she said. “I used to doubt that my choice mattered. It feels different now. I don’t care what he told me back then. After my first tournament.”

He smiled softly at her, touching her under the chin gently with his nail, which made her smirk. She always liked that. “While I never knew him…just going by what you told me, you have picked up a bit from your father,” he said. 

“I guess I did.” Her expression was soft; while she was still waiting to find out exactly where he was-if he was around or not-she felt like her life was going in a way that she wished it. “You broke away.”

“Similar, yet different.”

After a few moments of silence, she turned back toward him, taking his large hand again in hers. 

“Hmm. I'll say that...destiny or no…I think I might be a bit thirsty.”

The assassin chuckled at this. “Ready to go to our usual place?” The pair had a heavy metal bar they frequented that was down an alley. It was dark and had booths they could hide nicely in, as well as decent drinks and food. It was also rarely crowded, which suited them. 

“Yeah.” 

The two stood, taking one more look over the city. 

“Thank you,” he said, looking down at the soldier. 

“For what?”

“Our discussions.”

“They make me feel better, too.”

Sliding their arms around each other a moment, they held one another briefly before Leona pulled the assassin toward her for a quick kiss, which he obliged. Breaking, Duo Lon peered down the side and smiled. 

“Are we jumping?” he said, eying the fire escape. This was usual for them, whenever they’d hang out up high. 

She only flashed him a soft smile as she would, before backflipping off and landing lightly on the top. He quickly followed, opting to jump off the wall instead. The two usually somber types found a lot of fun in this, for some reason. 

Upon reaching the ground, the pair wandered off through the alleys toward their favorite place; the discussions they had, as always, reassured them that they had chosen the right paths for themselves.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you want to go through with it?” the tall, white-haired man asked. He reached a hand out to stroke the head of his massive lion, its mane luxurious. The lion was not completely…normal, but much like lots of things that came from the syndicate, he was enhanced in many ways. 

“I have severed all ties with the clan. No doubt permanently,” the other man said coldly. 

Turning in his chair, the white-haired man looked the strange person up and down. In his mid to late thirties, around six feet tall and slightly gaunt, the pale-more like pallid-man stood in his black robes, his equally black eyes as cold as flint. His jet-black hair was long-exceedingly so-coming down toward his knees and braided. Gray and black robes hung loosely on his body. He did not look frail, per se, but he looked like someone who had put a lot of themselves into their abilities and said abilities may have started to eat at them, for lack of a better term. 

“Why did you take it so far?”

“To show I would not be returning. Their ways are…old.”

He sat back, crossing one leg over the other as he stroked Glaugan’s head. The big cat rumbled, though his red eyes stayed fixed on the man across from them. 

“Yet your clansmen will come after you.” 

“And with the power I get from you, coupled with my own, I should surpass them.” He paused. “At least, the ones not of my blood.”

“You abandoned your children.”

“Any who wish are welcome to follow.” 

“How do I know you will not betray us?” the man called Zero asked plainly. 

“Because I have cut my own ties,” Ron replied. “And I do not fear a typical clanmate.” While he technically didn’t fear any of them, his children-especially the third son-could…possibly cause problems. “Besides. You are an entire syndicate.”

“This is true.” He wasn’t sure where Misty and Igniz found this one. Strange, he was-part of an ancient clan of assassins who apparently had great power. From what he had heard, he grew tired of not being able to push higher, seemingly reaching his bodily limits. He was a fairly good judge of someone; from what he could tell, his abilities-tied to necromancy-were actually turning his own body. 

It could be that he wished for some sort of augmentations to help stop, or at least slow this, possibly while allowing him to amplify them. 

“I am aware of what I am asking,” Ron said, stepping forward. Glaugan eyed him warily and growled; silenced by a single hand, he sat calmly by his master. The dark ninja paid the beast no mind, or at least pretended not to. “But I am ready. My body has gone through far worse.” 

Hizoku-ones specialized in the death realm, anyway-went two ways. While undeath was inevitable after a long time of practicing such things, they either grew strong, like a vampire or revenant-or they began to falter, the energies becoming too much for the body to handle. His third son, he could already tell, would likely grow strong…he could see it already. 

But his own body, he knew, was at risk. He could slow down and take his time…but he was already touched by the madness of the other world. He needed more. He could either go fast, risking himself falling apart…or he could supplement his body with what was needed. His clan didn’t understand. He tried to push some new training methods, but they deemed them too dangerous. 

They simply didn't know how to evolve. 

After a moment of silence, Zero stood, walking over to him. The mask hung around the lower half of Ron’s face; his slightly blue-tinted lips and cool skin told him that the man was likely half living, half dead as it was. 

This man has little humanity left in him. He may be a perfect recipient of the augmentations. Igniz and Misty may have been right. He didn't trust the man completely yet, but he felt there was perhaps...something there. 

“Follow me, then, Ron,” he said. 

Turning, he walked off to the metal doors that hissed open as he pressed a button; he turned for a moment to motion to Glaugan, and the lion followed. 

Ron-who had already irrevocably walked out of his old life-looked around the room for a moment, pulled his mask back up over his face, and walked into his new one.

Chapter Text

“Alright. So... look, I remember you mentioned first seeing a city when you were…ten? Are you, uhh…allowed to mention that?” Shen scratched his head as he fiddled with the tile in his hand. 

The assassin chuckled one, smiling slightly at him. “Yes, I can.” The Hizoku had…secrets. Some of them were so intensely secret that just knowing them meant your life, and Duo Lon followed the edicts of his clan rather strictly. “That’s not a problem.” 

“Where…the hell did you live before that?”

“A small village. Before I left to train.”

“Okay…so…walk me through what you can.” The brawler shook his head, still getting to know his strange yet deadly friend-he considered him that now, given he saved his life in a rather frightening way-and he knew that he couldn’t ask too much. 

Duo Lon reached out to take a drink of absinthe as he placed another tile on the table in his living room. He rented a small apartment in Shanghai where he would stay if he was there on business-it was more discreet than having to rent hotel rooms. “We live and train in one of the main villages for some time. Then we go off to train in less accommodating places. Living in cabins, even tents…sometimes finding our way in the wilderness.”

“Sounds…harsh. Jeeze.” 

He shrugged. “Anyway…when we turn somewhere around ten to twelve-depends on the training-we usually get introduced to a big city. Shanghai was the first one that I saw. I was around ten. It’s tradition.”

“You were on the younger side.” 

“I learned quickly,” he said, placing another tile. “A few of us were there. One of the masters took us. We learned to memorize streets and alleys, mostly. Had to find our way around.”

“Did you get lost?”

He chuckled. “Somewhat willingly. We were pretty young, and prone to getting into a little bit of trouble. I think they would also use it as a bit of a test of character…but no one was immune to the temptations at that age.”

“Did you get money?”

“We were given a small amount to make sure we could get food and drink, yes.”

“So…what happened?” 

“Nothing too much,” he said. “But despite being one of the…better behaved ones, even I could not resist the allure of candy when we found that one back-alley store.”

Shen snorted laughter. “You guys probably…didn’t get much of that.”

“No. We would get treats on special occasions only. Traditional holidays and the like.”

“I guess you went on a sugar bender?”

“One of the others who was the oldest in our group, almost thirteen-he was known to be a bit of a troublemaker-got an idea to raid one of the shops after we were out of sight. After several bottles of soda and piles of candy…well, we were certainly hyper.”

“I guess you couldn’t hide it,” Shen laughed. 

“Oh, no. Not at all,” he replied, chuckling himself. “Well…I almost did. Our master knew, though.” 

Shen rubbed his scruffy chin and took a swig of beer as he fumbled with a tile. “They had to know you guys would run rampant.”

“They did,” he said plainly. “It was part of the training.”

“Self-control.”

He nodded, deftly flipping a tile over his fingers, his deadly nails tapping lightly on the table occasionally. “They knew that we’d slip up the first time.”

“What sorts of…punishment did you get?”

“Not as bad as you’d think. Mostly having to drive our hands into gravel buckets for considerably longer than we normally would.”

“Goddamn, they had you on gravel that young?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Christ, no wonder why you can shove your hand through…” he trailed off, rubbing his hair again. “Ahh, let’s keep this one pleasant.”

The assassin nodded, taking another drink as he placed another tile. He took his pipe and filled it as he looked over the table, planning another move. “Admittedly, I began to somewhat like the trips, despite being quite solitary. We would usually go about twice a year after that, and when we were teenagers, once every three months or so.” 

“When was the first time they let you guys go on your own?”

“I was fifteen. Usually, we were between sixteen and eighteen.” 

“Heh, gifted, ain’t you?”

Duo Lon, not wanting the conversation to take a…turn, simply nodded. “Perhaps.” 

“Well…thanks for…letting me…be curious?” he asked, chuckling. “I didn’t know you had traditions like that.”

He nodded. “One of the nicer ones, I will say.” He emptied his glass of absinthe. 

“Say…I couldn’t ask you how you drink that stuff like you do, can I?”

Duo Lon simply gave him a look-his eyebrow raised-as he placed a tile on the table. 

“Ahh. Right,” he gulped, snorting laughter. 

Chapter Text

Arriving back at the Sky Noah-Ralf and Clark having dropped her off this time-Whip made her way up the stairs, only to be greeted by Henrik, Adel Bernstein's long-time and trusted head butler. 

"Hello, Seirah," he said politely. He offered to take the light jacket she had started to slide off. 

"Hi, Henrik," she replied, still getting to know the staff somewhat. The pair had been dating for a few weeks now, navigating a new relationship. Both of them had been quite happy; having been fairly lonely in their lives, they had found some solace in another person for the first time. It was fairly new and exciting for them. 

"Adel is in the engine room," he said. "Take the elevator to the bottom."

"Oh! Okay. I remember where that is."

"May I take your luggage to his room?"

"Please do, thanks."

Whip was still getting to know the Sky Noah. It was a marvel of technology, almost futuristic in its design. It was massive-four hundred meters long, wider than an ocean liner and multiple stories in height-though the living areas were designated to only a handful of floors, the rest of the airship's bulk devoted to either maintenance or the piloting area. He had taken her on a tour of the place, which took quite a long time. His own giant room was mid-deck, and she had limited time down in these lower quarters. 

The elevator reaching the bottom quickly, it came to a stop as the doors opened quietly; looking around, and it was like one ended up being transported to some sort of science-fiction movie. The Ikari unit had all sorts of high-tech stuff; Heidern owned his own fleet, after all, and they had all sorts of cutting-edge technology available to them. The Sky Noah was almost something so high-tech that NESTS would have it, and they were known for their space stations. Heidern and Adel had discussed the tech of the place before when Heidern had first started to examine things when the Bernstein children had come up on their radar for the first time, and it was apparently something right on par with something NESTS could have developed. 

But unlike that place, the Sky Noah was very warm and inviting these days, especially to Seirah. 

She made her way down one hallway, noticing the various doors leading to other sorts of computer rooms and the like. Nodding to one of the crew who recognized her, she eventually got to the engine room, where she overheard Adel speaking to one of his staff in German. 

Standing by the edge, she let him finish talking, as they seemed to be going over something fairly technical. Adel knew how to fly the ship, though he had admitted the actual assembly of the thing was beyond him. He preferred letting more skilled pilots handle it, though to be completely fair, the thing had such a high-tech autopilot it could fly itself, even through adverse conditions. 

Sliding her overshirt off and slinging it over her arm-wearing a dark brown tank top underneath, she waited patiently, smiling softly as he turned to see her. His face lit up and he waved, quickly finishing up his discussion and patting the engineer on the shoulder as he walked past. 

"Seirah," he grinned, pushing back a fall of his shaggy hair. 

"Hey, you," she replied, walking up to him as he slid his arms over her. Her own went around, enjoying the feel of his large body again near her. The two had lived relatively touch-starved lives, so took advantage of their newfound relationship. They were not an overly touchy couple-they didn't do a lot of public displays of affection beyond simple handholding or a brief hug and kiss, but right now, it was just the two of them and they hadn't seen for a week. 

Kissing deeply for a moment, they broke as he pushed a bit of hair behind her ears. "How have you been?"

"Great! A little bored, if anything. Just mostly recon duties this week. I'm off for a few days though."

"Going to stay?"

"I hope so." 

Grinning, they separated slowly as he checked a few more of the high-tech computer screens, using the touch aspect to them. 

"Just taking care of a few more things here. Got a few upgrades."

"I still can't get over this place. I thought Heidern's fleet was high tech."

"I'm still learning how to use it all," he said, puzzling over a couple of things before just deciding to leave it to the engineers. "But I remember I used to come down here as a kid and pretend I was somewhere in the future."

Whip smiled at that, imagining the scene in her head. "What's the power source?"

"Some sort of high-tech fusion engine. I can take you to see it sometime. It's behind a lot of security, but I can get you in, of course."

Looking at a weird gadget on the wall that seemed to be spinning, she thought for a moment. "Are there any rooms that even your staff can't get to?"

"Some staff. Henrik and the high-level staff are all authorized. Some of the other everyday staff aren't. Henrik vets the staff well, but it's for security reasons. Most floors are fine, but certain rooms require special clearance. The very bottom floor is the family and certain staff only. I have taken a certain Commander there once, however." She had seen it as well-but not even the other Ikaris had been privy to see that, as it held the advanced weapons defense system.

She grinned at that. "Oh, I get you. It's the same with the fleet, of course. I doubt the cook is allowed in the weapons bay."

"Check this out," he said, flipping on a sort of machine that projected a 3-D hologram in the middle of a large circle. "This gives us a real-time scan of everything." He hit another button, and the ship lit up mostly green, with a few spots of blue. "Everything is fine. The blue parts are going through maintenance."

"This is crazy," she grinned, checking it out. "I'm guessing yellow, red, and orange are all present." 

"Yep. The usual." He showed her a few more of the things; closer views of certain parts of the ship. 

"Say," she said after a few more moments of checking over the holograms, "People usually don't get authorized so fast here, do they?"

He smirked slyly and raised an eyebrow. "Nope." A slightly rough hand reached over and brushed down her back as she went to lean into him a few more moments, her own hands starting to wander. A flutter appeared in her stomach, which had happened just a little more often lately. 

As she broke off to go check out something else in the room before her hands started taking a guided tour of something else, she suddenly felt a nudging by her leg. 

"Are you allowed down here?" she asked the small cub who had started to bat her boot with his soft paw. 

"Speaking of unauthorized visitors," Adel chuckled, walking over after closing what he was doing on a computer. "Gwan, who let you down here?" he said, scooping the small panther cub up in his hand as he yelled defiantly, seemingly attempting to growl, flailing his paws around. Adel nuzzled him, showing the little fellow who, indeed, was boss. 

"He's not supposed to be here, I take it?"

"Usually not. I'm guessing he snuck down behind one of the engineers." 

"Seems like something you'd do, eh?" Whip reached over to scratch the cub, who seemed to let go of his more indignant nature and leaned into her hand. Adel handed him to her as she held the fellow, resting her head on his. 

Adel went over to finish up the final bits of whatever he was he was doing-some strange lights glowing in the process-before nodded, satisfied. "Alright. It's done. Leaving the rest to them. Just had to recalibrate something. Hope I did it right. They'll check it over, but I gotta learn how to use all of this stuff at least almost on par with them." 

The two walked out-Gwan still in Whip's arms-as he spoke to two engineers for a moment, before they nodded and disappeared back into the futuristic-looking room, the doors behind them hissing shut. 

"You'll need to take me down here again to show me more."

"Anytime." He slid his hand up massaging her firm shoulder blades with one hand as they made their way back to the elevator. Getting on, he hit the button for the floor with his room.

"Up to your room?"

"Definitely. I'll get some snacks sent up." He reached over to scratch Gwan, who licked his hand with a rough tongue. 

She leaned in against him for a moment as they rode up silently and quickly, a free hand sliding down his hard abdomen. A few moments later, the elevator dinged, and the door opened as they got off. 

"We bringing this guy with us?" she asked. 

"He can come in for now. We'll chase him out when we want the place to ourselves later."

The soldier smirked at that as the two disappeared into his room as he made a call down to the kitchens. 

Chapter Text

“Christ! It’s like they just keep throwing them at us!” Ralf readjusted the trusty assault rifle he had strapped to his arm. It was good to keep his other arm free for chucking grenades…or punching enemies.

"He's here somewhere." Clark adjusted his own gun, checking the loads. "We'll get him."

Ralf and Clark had cut through about three hundred legions of soldiers…or so they figured. The last tank they had commandeered had long been damaged to the point of uselessness, and the pair had to at this point conserve what ammo they had left, relying on mostly just beating the enemies down with their bare hands.

"Damn straight. We came all this goddamn way."

"Kawasaki's still alive. He's gotta be."

"He won't die that easily. Commander said as much. He's known him too long."

"Fuck! Look out!!"

The pair adjusted their ARs and pointed toward the stream of soldiers that ran out, emptying almost what was left of them into the crowd. The few that were left were greeted with Ralf's patented metal-coated gloves that would spark when he hit other steel, and Clark's deadly grappling maneuvers.

Pulling themselves out of the carnage, they checked their loads.

"Two shots each," Ralf said. 

"None here. Two grenades."

The friends looked at each other, Ralf pulling one round from his gun and handing it to Clark, as the other handed him one of his grenades. 

Readjusting themselves, they looked into the room, knowing it was likely it.

"Do or die now, friend."

"Roger, Captain.”

Ralf looked at him and laughed. “It’s Ralf right now. Worry about the technical shit back at the base.” 

Clark grinned back, smacking his fist against his and joining him in the run for the door, running in and plowing over the odd straggler with their bare hands, their meager ammunition being saved for what might be needed inside. 

The red carpet in the massive compound almost looked ominous…as did the corpse sitting at the desk at the end of it. 

Halting in their path after smashing two more enemy soldiers back a dozen yards, they shook their heads, looking at one another. 

“The hell…”

“...Is this?”

The corpse didn’t move; it was uniformed, even decorated with metals. They had no idea how he had died, given the shape of it was fairly old. 

“We are gonna have fun reporting this one,” Ralf said. 

“Wait…what’s this?”

The back wall of the gigantic room began to light up-screens lighting up one by one, until they were faced with a skull-like visage at the end. Turrets around the room began to aim.

“A fucking supercomputer?” Ralf yelled, nonplussed. 

“Looks like it.” Clark grabbed his grenade, judging the distance between them and the back, which was quite far. “You think you can dodge?”

“We’ve been dodging more than a few turrets this entire time, buddy,” he grinned, grabbing his own grenade. 

“Let’s go!” 

Chapter Text

Iori placed his half-empty wineglass on the table and pushed up out of his recliner; walking over to the other side of his apartment, he looked over his bass collection. Over at the side, Athena was lounging on the bed, one of the kittens who prowled around the house snuggled up on her as she flipped through a magazine. A cold autumn rain pounded on the window, making her quite content to be inside. 

He had three basses here at his apartment; he owned one more that he kept at the studio. One was his classic, traditional four-string, painted dark red; he used this for a variety of music, from jazz to rock, and from pop to metal. Iori was well-versed on a variety of music, and both listened to and played such, depending on his mood. 

The second was also four-string, but fretless. This one he liked for his jazz in particular. He was able to glide over the strings and give it a smooth tone that suited the music. It was done up in a dark, natural wood finish. His third bass was a big six-string; this one was painted in a glossy black with steel and silver embellishments, and he liked it in particular for his heavier music, given the deep, rumbling sound he could get out of the beast and its intimidating appearance. Besides his bands, he would do session work-both studio and live-for other acts from time to time. 

At the moment, he was in the mood to just fiddle with anything, so he picked the dark red four-string, plugging it in and leaning back into his favorite chair with it, his leg slung over the side. He lit a cigarette, tossing the lighter to the side as he began to play. 

Athena smiled silently and watched him, scratching the small, purring kitten behind the ears. The mother cat was in the corner, her other two kittens near her; the small cat had been a stray that Iori had taken to feeding. He just let her stay whenever she wanted, but when she had gotten pregnant, she decided to have her kittens in the corner of his apartment. The fighter had taken that as a sign that he had been adopted and set up a bed for the family.

Looking around as he noodled with the instrument, he mused how his apartment had gone through some positive changes the past several months. Before, it wasn't dirty, it was cluttered, dark, and given the bare minimum of upkeep. He had since, due to some mood improvements, gotten a few more lights (some colored a relaxing blue-purple), a few more shelves, and a few other odds and ends. It was still on the darker side, but it looked generally more welcoming, cozy, and less...foreboding than it was before. 

“What is that?” she asked, enjoying the smooth tone of the rumbling instrument as she always did when she visited. 

“Just some random practice,” he said softly, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He wore only his leather trousers at the moment, and to be frank, cut quite the attractive figure there leaning back as he played. He kept the amp fairly low, as he didn’t want to disturb the cats-neighbors, he didn’t have to worry much about in his rather sparsely populated building. 

“Do you just make these up on the fly?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes they’re older song ideas. Other times they’re from other bits I’ve done before.” 

"Have any gigs coming up?"

He thought for a moment. "In about a month? Been a little busy with other things to gig lately."

She knew that he meant things tied to the tournament. "Let me know. I'd like to go again." 

He smiled softly at her, puffing the cigarette once as his long fingers slid over the strings, the instrument skillfully rumbling. "You have any?"

"A few dates later on in the fall. Closer to winter."

As he played, he felt tiny needles clawing into his trouser leg as he looked down, a fake annoyed expression on his face. "I'm practicing."

The black kitten-the biggest of the three, though he was still just a little fluffball-was busily climbing his leg as he made his way onto Iori's lap, snuggling in under his arm.

Athena laughed. "Look at him. He knows where his dad is."

"He knows his dad is trying to practice," he grumped as he stuck the cigarette in the ashtray as he reached down to scratch the kitten's head, the purr coming out almost immediately.

He went back to playing, this time a bit of a rock bassline as Athena smiled at the sight, laying back on the bed with the other little furball on her, who had taken to kneading its paws into her. He looked over and smiled softly at the sight before going back, the music being barely noticeable through the closed window of his apartment. 

Chapter Text

Rubbing his eyes, Ralf picked himself up from the grayish, rocky ground. Shaking the weird feeling off of him, he looked over at his friend, also picking himself up. The plane they were on was nowhere to be found-it clearly wasn’t a crash, as there was no wreckage. It was just…gone. 

“Buddy! You alright?” he said, fixing the red bandana on his head. Despite Ralf outranking Clark, when they were together, they usually referred to each other casually. Ralf was a good mission leader, but he was also fairly laid back, not particularly strict about titles and the like. 

“Yeah.” Clark adjusted the bandolier on his shoulder, resting his arms over his knees a second. Their hair was fairly disheveled, and they had a few cuts and scrapes around, but nothing too terrible.

“The hell’s the plane?” Ralf looked around, completely confused.

“More importantly…where the hell are we?”

Taking a moment to get their bearings, they seemed to be in a little bit of a wasteland…though somewhere in the distance, they could see a sort of gathering of buildings, and further on down, there seemed to be a bit of a city or some such thing there, as well. Closer to them, they saw a singular building, perhaps a kilometer or so away…maybe two, but it was hard to judge from the gray, rocky wasteland. 

“Radio back. See if we can get coordinates.” 

Fumbling with his radio, Clark tried to tune in…and got nothing but static. 

“Are you there?” he asked. Listening back…nothing.

“Man, we must be far away.” The shaggy-haired man shook his head, trying his own. “Nothing.” Deciding to check his compass, he blinked as he saw the hands going haywire. “Uhh…is yours workin’?”

Clark looked at it, before checking his own; it was the same problem. Moreover, their watches seemed to be flashing all 0’s, as if something had gone weird with the electronics. Clicking them quickly, he looked at the sky. 

“Is it just me, or does the sky look…weird to you?”

“Yeah! Like…the color’s off.” He touched the dirt, which seemed like normal dirt, at least. “It looks like…mountains near a desert...without the mountains. And it’s not all that hot. Also…look down there.” He pulled out his binoculars, adjusting them enough to see down near the city-looking thing in the distance. “That’s…greenery. What sort of area has that much foliage this close to a wasteland?”

“Kinda cloudy out,” Clark said, looking around before breathing in. “Stuff…feels off. Like…”

“We’re dreamin’ or something?” he pinched himself, shaking his head. “What do you got?”

“Canteen, some rations, my knife, my sidearm.”

“Same.” Standing, he scanned the horizon, and decided the small outpost looking thing would be their best bet. “Alright, let’s move. We gotta find out where we are. I’ve been to a lot of places, but I’ve never seen this country before.” 

“Maybe we’re in the middle of Australia or somethin’?”

“I thought that…but…it ain’t hot enough.”

“Could be winter.”

“Nah. Not the right time of year.” He jiggled his watch. “Not like my watch is tellin’ me anything.”

Moving ahead somewhat cautiously-even Ralf wasn’t rushing headlong in, given they had little in the way of protection here besides an odd large rock, and were confused to even where they were at-they didn’t see any vehicles or anything around, but they grew closer to the outpost, which, at a glance, looked to be some sort of gas station or roadside tavern…if there had been a road. There was a wind that blew, and while it felt like…wind, the sky continued to look strange. The clouds, while grayish, sort of looked different than the clouds they were used to. 

Looking at each other, they shrugged and moved on. Eventually, after some time, they arrived at the place, where they heard some noises coming from it. 

Clark rubbed his somewhat disheveled blond hair and folded his arms for a moment. 

“Is that a…tavern?”

“Looks like it. Way out of what looks to be the city there,” he said, pointing way down on the horizon, where there indeed seemed to be a larger settlement. 

“Guess we go in and find out where we are?”

“Yeah. Hey, check it out. A couple of dudes are walking in.”

“...Huh. Why are they wearing cloaks?”

The pair looked at each other again, before checking their equipment again. Deciding to press on to see where exactly they ended up and why their electronics were going haywire, the sign out front did seem to have some sort of neon sign. 

“Hey, check it out. Electricity. They get power out here, at least.” 

“What’s the sign say?”

“...Dunno. Can’t read it.”

“I thought I was the only one and that I was hallucinating or something.”

“Also is it just me…or is it weird this place is made mostly of stone? I’ve been to a few far-off taverns and stations, and they aren’t…made of stone like this.” Ralf tapped the wall. 

Reaching the door, they pushed their way in…

…Only to be greeted by the strangest looking bunch of… something or other they had ever seen staring at them. 

The chatter-which was definitely not any language they recognized-had stopped suddenly, with the cloaked bartender staring holes through them with his red, glowing eyes. 

A strange looking, stocky…alien thing with a single red eye turned and blinked, looking over at the multi-armed fellow next to him. They said some words in a language that once again, Ralf and Clark did not understand. 

Some more of these…beings started to stand, only arranging themselves off to the side, folding various…appendages.

“Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“This ain’t a dream, is it?”

“Nope.”

“Where the hell are we?”

“Ask…them I guess?”

Deciding to give it a go, Ralf stood forward, with some of the strange, red and green colored beings taking defensive stances. Raising his hand, he decided to try English first. Ralf and Clark could get around in several languages, but it was clear that whatever they were speaking…it was nothing from any language family they were familiar with. 

“Hi,” he started. “Would you mind letting us know where we are? We’re…kinda unfamiliar with this place.”

Mumbling and murmurs came through the crowd, some of them almost chattering. Three of the larger beings stepped up, muttering something in their strange language, until the hooded, red-eyed bartender-if that’s what he was-said something to them before stepping somewhat to the front. Glasses clanked as the beings picked up the glasses with strange appendages that resembled hands. 

"You speak the Old Language," he said in a strange, rumbling voice.

Taking a moment to parse the sentence, Ralf blinked. 

"The…old language?"

"You wish to stay?" the being said. "Then, you fight." 

"Uhh, we…just wanna know where we are."

One of the burlier alien like things-this one had four arms-stepped forward. 

"You fight. We talk."

Clark eyed Ralf for a moment, speaking low, careful not to move his mouth.

"We're not getting out of this without a fight, are we?

"Doesn't look like it." At that, Ralf cracked his knuckles, crashing his steel plated fists together.

Clark cracked his knuckles, loosening his arms up. He took his tell-tale stance.

Two of the beings stepped forward, and faced the pair; the four-armed one and the stocky one with one eye.

"Beat us, old one, and you may speak."

"Who the hell are you callin' old?" growled Ralf, who was still only just shy of thirty. 

The four-armed fellow charged at Ralf, swinging with his left side, as the big man slid to the side, meeting it with a huge fist to the jaw, sending him careening backward and into a wall. 

Audible muttering was heard around, and even the bartender stepped back from this; clearly this wasn’t something that happened often. 

As Ralf rushed forward to continue his assault, dropkicking the being where he stood, Clark had gotten the one-eyed opponent into a sort of clutch hold and started to turn, trying to figure out what affected it. 

If someone had seen this from afar, you’d have think these two ended up barging into strange bars from another land-or time-and fought weird aliens every Tuesday with the way they were staying cool about this. It was one of the reasons these pair were turning out to be Heidern’s best already-their ability to stay cool in some of the more extreme-or even ridiculous-situations.

Somehow, they had not completely destroyed the place, though they noticed that it was set up rather roomy; given they seemed to fight often and at the drop of a hat, it may well have been for a reason. Some of the beings-smaller fellows, in a similar red and green color-simply stood off to the side as they fought. 

Ralf dodged one more hit and came back with a massive fist, sending the four-eyed, four-armed being into the wall, where it slumped down. Meanwhile, Clark had gotten the other into a grapple, hoisting him up and dropping him, rolling once and rendering him unconscious with an elbow. 

They almost weren’t ready for a couple others to jump in, but looking at each other, they shrugged and went after them, as well. 

The murmurs grew louder into cheers-or growls-as the fight went on; they seemed to be surprised that the pair were able to beat down the first two, and they knew that the others that had jumped in had lost bets on the fight. The bartender seemed to pick up a sort of communicator to contact someone at this point, Ralf and Clark dodging blows and sending fists, knees, elbows and feet home into the whatever-they-were. 

“We drinking after this?” Ralf said, tackling one to the floor. 

“I think so!” Clark greeted one with a Frankensteiner. They didn’t think much about whatever alcohol this place was serving…if it even was alcohol. 

As they beat down the last strange being, the door swung open and a booming, strange voice filled the room; it first spoke the language they did not understand. As it did so, the remaining beings sort of scattered back toward the bar, laying off of them. The others held their heads or-whatever they had, rolling off to the side of they were still conscious. They acted somewhat like this other being was someone that they respected. 

A tall, wide being with pale skin, no hair, small horns-one of them on its chin, almost like a beard-and a strange visage stepped in; possibly eight or nine feet tall or so. It was dressed in green armor, looking around at everyone there, until its gaze went on Ralf and Clark. 

After a few moments-n a voice slightly clearer than the bartender's-it spoke English toward them in a strange, rumbling accent. 

“I am Zada. I have been expecting you.”

Chapter Text

22X CE, Wei Kingdom

The tall young man stood at the door of the barracks, peeking in. The cool wind whipped the black robes about his body, the high neck of the outfit covering some old scars around it. Well, somewhat old-at only twenty-two, he received these at eighteen, when he was nearly garroted-yet he managed to turn the ties and slay his would-be assailant with his own hands. 

He was currently waiting to see someone rather important, having been called away from his evening training. 

Ji Xiu was a rather handsome fellow-standing just around six feet tall, he was quite over the average soldier, with long, black hair worn to his knees and braided, and besides the scar on his neck and fingers-from where he tore the garrote away-he was fairly unblemished around the face. His eyes were gray and on the lighter side, and coupled with his somewhat pale skin, gave him a bit of an eerie and intimidating appearance. 

His occupation these days would be known basically as ‘soldier’, though he started as a craftsman, creating weapons as his family did. Or at least started his training-being the youngest of his family, he knew his elder brothers would have gone into the trade and his eldest the head, and a life in a workshop started to somewhat chafe the more adventurous, and even somewhat hot-tempered, young man. After some thought, he was drawn to the field of battle at around sixteen, answering a call to join the military and putting said temper and scrappy nature to good use. Oddly enough, being a soldier helped gain him temperance and patience, even more than his craft had. 

And he was good. Very good, in fact, to where he started being used by the armies of Wei for more elite missions within the first two or so years of his career. Able to use a variety of weapons-or even only his bare hands which he had started to prefer, growing his nails long in the process-he was moved higher up the ranks quickly. His skill in weaponscraft had him develop a heavy blade to put on the end of his long hair, which he could use almost as a fifth limb in combat, quickly making a name for himself as a sort of wraithlike being who would appear, strike hard, and leave. He kept his unit small and closer-knit, feeling like it made for a better, more cohesive, whole. 

Alas, in making said name, he became enough of a nuisance to the enemy that they tried to have him and said unit assassinated; he survived, however, taking out the assassin before he could take out even more than two men. He had managed to force his fingers from under the garrote, tear it away, and send his hand-strengthened by driving it day in and day out in gravel-through the opponent’s throat. He took out the rest of the man’s partners, with the final tally of him having lost about three men to poison, and the six or so attackers being wiped out. 

It was after this that he had decided that not only up-front battles, but also stealth, was useful, as were other slightly darker arts, if one would. Namely the poisons that had taken out his other men. He did not abide by acts of wantonly using them on water supplies or any such things, but he found it useful on specific weapons or for subterfuge. The next four years was spent honing his skills both on the field and in the shadows, and he started to even pass some of his knowledge along to the closest and most trusted members of his unit. 

Today was different for Ji Xiu, however. He rarely ended up interrupted from his evening training, but given he was, he figured whatever it was, was important. He recognized the men who had come for him as guards who were often at whatever barracks they were near. 

The person who had sent for him was none other than Sima Yi, who he was fighting under. He was very curious about what he had to say or what he wanted from him, even a bit surprised, given he had higher-ranked and more decorated generals that he often relied on. Either way, he was ready enough. 

After a few more moments, a man came out, bowing, and waving him in. 

“This way,” he said. 

Stepping in, there weren’t too many there-a couple of other soldiers, scribes, and tacticians were about, but they paid him no mind. He was waved to the back of the wooden structure, where he was sent into the back room, with the man nodding to the man standing at the end of the room.

Sima Yi was there with another, familiar looking man with a lean, athletic and muscular build-who stood nearly twenty or so centimeters taller-and he nodded toward the other soldier. 

“Thank you,” he said, nodding. “You may leave us.”

The tactician's familiar robes hung on his body and his usual hat was worn on his head. He looked none worse for the wear, despite there having been a battle earlier in the day. 

After the soldier shut the door behind him, the other man turned around to greet him as well. Ji Xiu was a few centimeters taller than Sima Yi himself, and once the taller man-who had hair as long as his own-turned, he recognized him right away as Zhang He, a very trusted general and fierce warrior for Wei. Despite his flamboyant, over the top mannerisms and predisposition to noticing beauty in everything, even turning a bloody battle into a dance, his huge claws were feared on the battlefield, and while he had never met the man, he knew of his impressive string of victories. Both men were older than he; Sima Yi was only two years older-he was rather young to become such a skilled tactician-and Zhang He was seven, nearly thirty. Sima Yi was dressed in his fine, blue, white and purple robes, the fan, wires, and slim sword he would use if he took the battlefield off to the side, clearly non threatening. 

However, the fact that Zhang He wore his massive claws was not lost on him; the man did not have them brandished-his hands were folded across his front-but the message was there of why he stood by. Sima Yi was not a slouch in combat if necessary, but prided himself on his intellect, preferring to lead. Zhang He was one of his highly trusted generals, not only versatile and cunning, but would oft be right down on the front lines at the same time. A prudent person would also note Zhang He’s usual lack of armor-indeed, today he only wore his rather elaborate looking shoulder piece on his upper body-and the fact he had very few scars and put the two together. One did not reach nearly thirty on the front lines with nary a mark without a frightening level of skill. 

Not that Ji Xiu had any plans or even thoughts of striking out against Sima Yi, but he recognized that if he or anyone did, they would be gutted, if not torn in two, before they knew what hit them. 

“My lord Sima," he said with a bow. "What do you wish of me?"

“Ji Xiu,” he said. “It is said they call you the wraith.”

“I do not know what they call me, but I simply fight.” 

The other man walked forward, checking some scrolls on the desk. “Your victories have been…impressive. And you seem to have brought…other skills to the field, as well.”

Zhang He stepped forward, smiling. “You have both strength and grace,” he said. “Your units barely take a loss. Striking either from the front, or from the shadows. While the shadows are not where I prefer to dwell, there are benefits.”

“Some battles are easier won from them,” the soldier replied. 

Sima Yi nodded. “Indeed. This is why I have called for you.” He sat in the chair, steepling his hands under his chin as Zhang He stood by. “There are certain situations that call for certain tools, and while I have several skilled warriors at my disposal…” he said, eyeing his general next to him, “Not everyone is equally suited toward certain scenarios."

“I make no qualms about the shadows not being for me,” Zhang He said. “While there is beauty in it, I am one for the light, in the clash of battle.” He flexed one hand, the steel of his claws making a soft scraping sound. 

“You, however, have proven yourself suitable both in the front…and in said shadows,” Sima Yi said. “I have…need of someone who has proven themselves, if you feel you could hand-pick some of your most ideal to join you. Some of these missions may run on the…clandestine side,” he said frankly, though given it was only the three of them in the room, it was fine. Sitting up against and stroking his chin, he looked directly at Ji Xiu. “I will give you some time to consider.”

“Is this an offer, or a demand?” the soldier asked.

This caused Sima Yi to chuckle. “I like your tact,” he said. “It is an offer. If you do not accept, you can walk out of here and continue being the solider you have been, no questions asked.” He paused. “Though I would very much like my offer to stay between us.” His eyes glanced over at Zhang He ever so briefly and back toward the soldier. 

“Of course,” he said, reading his intent. “And I accept.” He was a good judge of character and knew Sima Yi was speaking true. He was not forcing him; his decorated general and bodyguard being there was a deterrent more than a straight threat.

The high general nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Pick your chosen men, though they may stay at your camp. We can meet again here on the morrow to discuss the manner of things. I shall have tea, as well, this time.” 

“I told my lord that he should have had some now,” Zhang He said, chuckling. “As a sort of offering. He wished for this to be fairly quiet for this time, however.” 

“Be here early,” Sima Yi continued, “Before the sun rises. Unless you need more time.”

“I believe I know which of my men I am choosing,” Ji Xiu replied. “I do not know which will accept the offer, but I will only say what needs saying.” 

“I believe you.” The tactician stood, bowing, as the soldier returned. Zhang He did, as well, the metal of his claws scraping in the relative silence of the room. 

“By your leave, my lord,” he said. “I will return to my camp.”

“Yes. I will see you soon.” He stood, folding his arms behind his back as he stood to glance out the small window in the back, with Zhang He stepping forward to lead Ji Xiu out himself. 

The general looked at him before he opened the door, smiling. He lifted a clawed hand, his long, sharp nails also visible. “I look forward to working with you. You and your men will be working alongside my own unit…being the shadow to its light.”

Ji Xiu bowed his head, smiling back at the taller man. “I hope to not disappoint.”

“If the stories are true about you, you won’t.” At that, he opened the door, letting him out. 

He was silent going back to his camp, sort of surprised that all of this came to be; however, he had work to do tonight, and people to speak to. There were three men in particular that he was considering speaking to at first, all which came from different parts of the Wei kingdom, but all of them with similar loyalties. From there, they would decide together on the others-just a few-to be a part of this shadowy group.

None of them knew that the group would grow, form sects, and continue on for centuries, developing new and even forbidden powers...but no one can really predict the future, after all. 

Chapter Text

Starting in her sleep, the soldier shot upright, panting. Pushing back her long hair, the tall figure next to her stirred, one of his eyes opening. 

"S... sorry," Leona said quietly. "Dream."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Duo Lon said, rubbing her back lightly.  "Was it about..."

"Yeah."  She rubbed her head, looking at the assassin sadly. "Why?" she asked. 

He shook his head, touching her face lightly. She leaned into it before moving to press her head into his scarred chest. It felt softer than anything at the moment. 

"I sometimes still ask why."

He shrugged. "I wish I know. Neither of us particularly believe in fate or destiny...other than that..."

Leona snorted, shaking her head as she looked up at him. "Bad luck, I suppose."

He smiled ever so softly, a large hand stroking her hair. "I sometimes wish it was different. Other times, I deal with what I got."

The soldier looked up at him, nodding knowingly. "Yeah. Same."

He laid back, putting one arm behind his head as he propped up against the pillow; neither had clothes on, as they had been sleeping after their night. She stayed laying on his chest, tracing over one of the deeper scars there. He glanced down at her after a few moments. 

"What does it feel like?" he asked. "Mine is sort of...perhaps pangs of longing when I see something now and then. Like a family walking. Especially if there are a lot of kids."

"Yes! That's it," she said. "I know what you mean." She looked up from tracing around him. "It usually...just passes eventually."

"Same here. It simply comes and goes. I have gotten used to it."

Leona nodded, resting back on him as she felt his hand go back into her hair.  "It does make me want to try to do more now. So I don't feel that regret later."

"I know what you mean. My own regret is not being there to stop Ron. So... I will try to make up for that."

"I'm still searching for...him. He wasn't at that one coordinate...but I know he's out there."

"You'll find him." He ran a finger down her face. 

She traced her own down his hard abdomen, glancing outside. "I think I'm stuck awake now."

"Me too." He glanced outside as well, sitting up slightly. "Want to go for a walk?"

"Maybe." She curled up a little closer to him. "In a while."

The two lay back silently, though managing to comfort one another without words. 

Chapter Text

The crew-all in costume-were getting ready for a Halloween party on the base. 

A million bottles of alcohol were lined up in the kitchen, which would be used by Ralf and Clark to, of course, make some of their special punch later on-they even had a bunch of dry ice to put in it this time to get the tell-tale smoking effect. 

Given the crew was all together in the barracks this year-they were States-side, currently-they had decided to go for a Halloween party, particularly since they had some newer members, sort of just around college age who still enjoyed the holiday-along with some older members who did, too, of course. They would be having their Christmas party in London again this year, of course, but Halloween parties were rarer. It had probably been about five or so years since they’d had one. 

Currently, Ralf and Clark were working with a couple of Jack-o-Lanterns, getting ready for the night; and they were in costume…dressed like one another this year. 

“You guys couldn’t think of anything more…creative?” Whip chuckled. She had to admit, though, that their choice of costume was almost adorable. Ralf wearing Clark’s sunglasses and hat-as well as his tell-tale blue accents-stood out on him, and Clark wore the red bandanna well, though you could see he wished he had his sunglasses about now. 

“Says the witch.” Ralf laughed, the pair getting their various knives ready for the pumpkins. 

“I think her witch outfit looks good,” Adel spoke up, touching her back as she stuck her tongue out at the big soldier. Her outfit was a rather sexy variant of one; she did not often dress like this. She would wear a short tank top from time to time, but often with just a pair of jeans, and a military jacket over that. But this time she had decided to go for a bit more of a slinky style; the half-shirt, tall boots, and a shorter skirt along with the witch hat and a little bit of eyeliner, given she often didn’t wear makeup. 

“Thank you,” she said, adjusting the front of Adel’s cape, which framed a shirtless torso. Fake blood ran down the front, and his false, pointy teeth were actually quite realistic looking and not even made of plastic, but of movie-grade enamel that he applied. He otherwise wore his tall, lace-up boots and leather trousers-also not common for him-and had some darker makeup around his eyes, giving them a touch of a hollow look. She patted his bare chest with a smirk. 

The cape-without-a-shirt getup had been Whip’s suggestion, and he decided to go along with it. Just for fun. The blood gave him somewhat of a feral look, rather than an ‘elegant vampire.'

“Personally, I think it’s cool that Leona dressed up.” 

Having stepped into the room, the soldier adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses she had worn for her costume. It wasn’t at all creepy or overly sexy, but the somewhat-safari trainer looking outfit, complete with the wide-brimmed hat and the pointer, gave her somewhat of an instructor look, while still keeping her somewhat in costume. The shorts she wore with the outfit weren’t far off from the ones she’d wear sometimes, but the shirt she wore over her halter was worn somewhat open and tied around the waist. 

She smiled softly at the comment and nodded. “I found something that worked.” She had a pumpkin in her hands which she placed down, before going over to a candy dish to see if it was filled up. 

“How much time do we have?” Adel asked. 

“Still a couple of hours. Hopefully the other two will be here soon, though.” Whip got her own knives ready. She didn’t use her combat knives for this but did have a selection of three different kitchen knives. 

Adel scratched his head. “I never carved one of these.”

Whip chuckled. “It’s okay. I did my first with the unit, too. It wasn’t for a party, we just carved one for the window a couple years ago. Just follow whatever design you want.” 

“I’ll try.” He shoved some chocolate into his mouth, already enjoying the candy. He noticed Ralf and Clark pouring out early shots before they started to carve over in the corner, and chuckled. Ralf looked over. 

“You want one, Blondie?”

“Sure.” 

He poured off another…and then two more, motioning for Whip and Leona to take some as well. 

Leona smiled softly, walking over. “I guess I can have an early one.”

Whip grinned and grabbed hers. “Happy Halloween, everyone!” 

The five tossed them back, letting the booze hit them nicely as it went down. It was a pretty good quality bourbon, by the taste-nothing fancy, but very drinkable. 

Going back around, Whip pulled out a small knife and waved Adel over. “I’ll take you through this,” she said. “I’m pretty sure you’re a bright enough fellow that you’ll pick it up in seconds.” She tapped his forehead.

As the two of them started working while Leona placed a couple more out, Clark heard something behind him-seemingly the door opening.

“I think someone’s here,” he said, swapping to his smaller knife to make a more detailed, fine design in the jack-o-lantern.

When Ralf turned around, he came face to face with a being ever so slightly taller than him; only this being was stripped to his waist, his torso bare save for a beaded necklace and the open remnants of a tattered, sleeveless robe that looked like it had long rotted off, save for a few threads and bits. He had sunken eyes, a terrifying visage that included long, sharp and bloodied teeth, incredibly long hair and nails, and what seemed to be blood and dirt smeared all over his body-the nails seemingly caked in said old blood. Horrifyingly realistic-looking scars stood out on his skin as well, that looked all too familiar-and his eyes were a milky white, as if glazed over by death. The hair-reaching the floor in its tell-tale braid-had an old-looking weight in the end, seemingly made of iron and rusted. 

He could see the elaborate tattoos on the arm underneath the mix of what seemed to be paint, dirt, and blood, as it reached straight out for him...

“Holy fuck!” the big man yelled, stumbling back. “Clark! Adel! We uhh…got something…!"

"Gah!" Whip shouted as she turned, rather startled herself. 

Leona, off to the side, started chuckling at the groups' somewhat surprised reactions.

Duo Lon looked around, his strange sort of undead makeup-which also seemed to use bits of earth and nature mixed in-looking terrifyingly realistic. He laughed softly. 

“Hello,” he said quietly. 

“Jeeze!” Adel said, grinning. “Look at you. Did you like…actually bury yourself or something?”

The assassin only shrugged. 

“Those are some cool contacts,” Whip said, peering at his eyes.

For a moment, they flashed back to their normal red color before going back to white. “I have my ways.”

Ralf and Clark only blinked, looking at one another for a moment before they got back to carving their pumpkins. Ralf laughed as he did so.

"I gotta say, you'd win any contest." 

Leona took a pumpkin herself, looking over at her rather creepy partner before eyeing a large one next to it. 

“Remember the first party?” she said softly. 

Duo Lon smiled, walking over and grabbing the large, round vegetable. “I remember it well.”

“Want to…” she started. 

Without hesitating, he reached a clawed hand out to make a circular swipe across the top of one. 

“Yes.”

Leona lifted her hand, allowing her super-heated chi to surround it. 

As the two of them went at their pumpkins with their own hands, Adel and Whip’s looked fairly nice at this point. Ralf and Clark seemed to be experts at this. 

“By the way, my brother should be calling at some point tonight,” she said. “They’re having their own little party. K’ told me that Christmas was definitely on, and he’d do New Year, but that meant Halloween was out.”

“Two-party limit, eh?”

She laughed. “Yep. It’s okay though-we had lunch a couple of weeks ago. And we saw at the mall not long before that, when you were there.”

“That’s right. Actually getting kinda social.”

“For him, yes.”

Ralf finished with a rather intricate design-he was surprisingly deft for such a large, aggressive fighter-and glanced up at Leona and Duo Lon seemingly re-enacting their little talent exhibition from the one party the summer before last. 

“...Damn. You guys actually are making real shapes.”

Duo Lon looked over, a smile on the corner of his lips. Due to his current costume, the smile looked a lot more disturbing than it should have. 

After a few more moments, a knock appeared at the door. 

“Hm?” Whip said, wiping her hands off with a towel and coming to open it. At the door stood a tall, rather built fellow, wearing a jumpsuit, with dark makeup around his eyes, a bit of a pallid look, fake blood scattered all about and carrying a large, bloodied hatchet, as if he were some sort of movie-killer. His familiar, shaggy blond hair stood out on his head.

“This the right spot?” he tried to ask menacingly.

“Shen!” she grinned, giving him a hug. 

“Awww, what, no fear?” 

“From you?” She ruffled his hair. 

“Your friend here took care of that.”

“Pfft. Of course he did,” said the brawler, walking in and greeting everyone else with some combination of a handshake and/or a bear hug. “What are we doin?”

“Doing these first. We always put a few around the barracks. Then, we make the punch. And then start drinking it.” 

“Yeah, we tried it the other way around one year,” Ralf chuckled. “Didn’t work so well.”

“Couldn’t cut things right, or injuries?”

“Yes.”

Adel snorted, cutting out a bit more of the face, which ended up looking pretty decent in the end. 

Shen wandered over to where the punch would be forming-it was in a simple large tub this time, to be ladled out normally-and picked up bags of candy. 

“You guys put candy in this?”

“Yeah! We do it every year. Mostly just throw it right in.”

Clark finished embellishing his angry yet goofy looking jack-o-lantern before rubbing his chin and adjusting the bandana. He was more used to his hat, but at least he still had something on his head. 

"The kids of the soldiers often come too, early on," Clark said. "They get some candy and such before going wherever it is they go."

"I always thought that was nice," Whip said.

"Aww. That is cool." Adel smiled at that, which he would whenever he heard about some of Heidern's habits.

"You know the commander."

After a couple more things were finished, Shen happily shoving a handful of the candy that was going into the booze into his mouth before going to check out Duo Lon’s and Leona's freeform creations, Whip's laptop, which was off to the side, buzzed.

"Hm?" Adel asked, glancing at it.

"I know who that is," she grinned, walking over to take what she knew was a video call. As soon as it popped up, there was a happy Kula looking into the camera, wearing what seemed to be cat ears and an oversized hoodie. Next to her was K’, whose fur-collared outfit and furry ears was clearly in some attempt to get him into a werewolf outfit; he, too, had pointy teeth, and a little bit of dark makeup under his eyes. It looked like if it hadn’t been for the other two, he would be sleeping right now. 

“Hey, Seirah! Happy Halloween!” Kula grinned. In the back, Maxima, who seemed to be dressed like a sort of movie-cyborg with some of his mechanical parts showing, ducked down and waved. 

“Hey,” K’ muttered. 

“Hey guys! Where are you, anyway?” she asked. 

"Ontario," he answered. "Been fairly calm lately." 

"That's great," she said. “We arrived Stateside a few days ago. Going back to Europe after the weekend.” She pushed some hair behind her ears. “Say, is it just me, or are you all wearing something?”

“If you call what Kula did dressing up,” K’ muttered. She wasn’t wearing a huge costume herself-Maxima’s was fairly light, too-but K’ had definitely been pushed to put a few extra pieces on.

This caused Kula to laugh. “You need to have some fun.”

K’ snorted in response. “I ate some candy.” 

“Have any plans tonight?” Adel ducked in, waving. 

“Hey!” Kula grinned. “We are going to a little thing, yeah. At a restaurant.”

“Yeah. Very little.” K’ was able to be talked into this, only barely. 

“Well, anyway, thanks for the call,” Whip said. “Nice to hear from you, little brother,” she teased. “Tell Maxima and Kula not to eat all the candy.”

“They can have it.”

“C’mon, K’,” Kula teased. “You liked those caramel chocolate bars.”

“They were alright.” 

“You ate six,” Maxima pointed out. 

“Alright, I think it’s time to let them get back to their party,” K’ said quickly as he started to get up, his ‘werewolf’ costume also apparently coming with a tail. 

Adel laughed as he stood up. “I’m going back to see what’s going on with the punch. You guys take care.”

“Yeah, we ought to get back to everything,” Whip said. “I think the other soldiers are going to be showing up soon. We’ll catch up again. We can meet up at a diner or something.” 

“That’ll work,” K’ agreed. He didn’t mind the small, personal meetings with his big sister. “Tell Heidern we say hi.”

“Happy Halloween, guys!” Kula said, waving as they signed off. 

Standing back up, Whip stretched, Adel raising an eyebrow at her costume before shaking his head. She gave him a quick pat on the rear as she walked back over, Ralf having carried the finished pumpkins out already. 

Duo Lon and Leona, meanwhile, had finished their ‘hand-made’ Jack-o-Lanterns, both of which looked both creepy and rather exceptionally cut up. 

Shen was busily stabbing at his before looking over and shaking his head. 

“Show-offs,” he chuckled. After he managed a goofy-looking face that he was content with, he went over to go check out the making of the punch; after having seen them make it at the summer party, he was quite interested in watching the process again.

As the group prepared to head into the larger barracks where the party would be taking place, the door opened, with Heidern stepping in. As they turned, they saw his rather elegant and high-class looking vampire outfit, complete with the high-necked, ruffled shirt and red-and-black tailcoat. 

“Hey!” Adel grinned. “Man, yours is so much fancier.”

The commander chuckled, looking around. He noticed Ralf and Clark dressed like each other and shook his head. 

“We’ll probably be starting in the next hour or so,” he said. “Everything looks good.” He checked out the rest of the costumes and smiled. “I would ask our undead friend over there to be careful walking up behind anyone.”

Duo Lon smirked ever so slightly, chuckling. Leona adjusted the glasses on her face, not used to wearing them. 

“My brother said hello,” Whip said, filling a candy dish.

“Tell him the same the next time you see him. I’d say I’m surprised he’s not here, but that would be a lie,” the commander chuckled. 

“Hey, we have him for Christmas and New Year's these days, at least.”

This is true.” He took a couple of the filled dishes, nodding to everyone as he stepped out. 

“Alright, guys, is everyone ready?” Ralf and Clark said, holding up two of the alcohol bottles. 

“Let’s do this!”

The sounds of copious amounts of alcohol being poured into the sink punctuated the crew sitting around and chatting, unwrapping some early candy as they waited for the boozy creation to finish so they could look forward to yet another fun evening together.

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I gotta say this was even more fun this year than last year, since I think I had improved quite a bit in terms of writing between then and now! 

I was fairly happy that I managed to get something for all the prompts, even if sometimes I ended up linking something else instead, which I'll go over here in this list, just to give a full collection. The story links were done on my Writerperson78 Twitter account, but are of course all located here in my profile!

1st: Siblings

2nd: Vengeance

3rd: Fury

4th: Holiday Trip(Linked 14 Nights)

5th: Family Dinner

6th: Awkward (Linked Company Party)

7th: Despair (Linked Tainted Bloodlines)

8th: Obsession

9th: Destiny

10th: Duality (Linked Fire & Ice from 2021 Koftober)

11th: Grief (Linked Forbidden Knowledge)

12th: Love (Contentment, Whip's Standalone Birthday Story)

13th: Evil

14th: Sci-Fi

15th: Memories (Linked Fond Memories)

16th: Business (Linked A Show of Strength)

17th: Pets (Linked Coming Home)

18th: Tradition

19th: Final Boss

20th: AU (Linked Twisted Justice)

21st: Horror (Linked The Other Side)

22nd: Music

23rd: Training (Linked The Wailing Underworld)

24th: Dystopian Future

25th/28th: Past Era/Unlikely Crossover Combined

26th: Regret

27th: Comfort (Linked Solitude)

28th: See Above

29th: Monster (Linked Beast from 2021 Koftober)

31st: Halloween

Anyway, super glad for anyone who dropped in to read. Hope you enjoyed these, and we'll see what's up next year!