Red of the Island Fair rode atop Gandu's back as they made their way back to the Beast of Dol's camp. There were few, if any, tents in the guild's allotted space. No, the Beasts of Dol were composed of animals of the multiverse, speaking or otherwise. There were few humanoids here, few of the 'civilized folk' that had cut down their forests, polluted their seas, and poisoned their skies. A few heads turned to watch as they went deeper into the camp. But none challenged Gandu or Red.
They knew where they stood in relation to that pair.
The right hand of the guild was a tall, solid paraceratherium. Mother Lone stood tall and mighty, her trunk-like head rising to watch as Gandu drew close. She already was tensing, powerful muscles cording beneath cracked, gray skin, in case Gandu decided to attack her, to cement a new position within the guild. As was his right.
But no attack came, and so Mother Lone stood high like a tower over the wolf. Gandu gave a bow, and Red of the Island Fair slipped off of his back, also bowing.
“Speak,” Mother Lone said.
“Right hand, I ask of our guildmaster,” Gandu said, “We have enemies to go after.”
“Our guildmaster is out currently,” Mother Lone said, “The meeting is drawing to a close. But he will return soon.”
“He will return now.”
The voice came from behind them. Their guildmates scurried out of the way on paws and hooves as guildmaster Krosa drew forth. The great grizzly bear, roughly the size of a humanoid's house, glowered down at Gandu and Red with his scarred face, his one good eye shining like a fire in the night.
“Speak, Gandu,” the Lord of Animals said, “Speak true, and speak quickly. It has been a blunting day.”
“My king, we have taken insult,” Gandu said, “Two beings, the likes of which I ask for consult.”
“Hnng,” Krosa grunted. He made his way to the center of the campsite, trailed by Mother Lone and Gandu. Red grimaced as she noted how Krosa's shoulders seemed to sag with each step, as though the mental games of the Guildmasters' Moot had been a physical battle.
“Name the guilds,” Krosa said.
“I do not know, I did not see,” Gandu said, “One was a metahuman, if that is key.”
“A metahuman,” Krosa said, “A Child of Imagined Will. They are many and more, in these lands.”
“He knocked Red to the side,” Gandu said, “His lack of shame, he did not hide.”
“And you want me to find him,” Krosa growled.
“Because he has hurt Red of the Island Fair,” Gandu said, “Your favored one, to clear the air.”
“Red is strong, she can take care of herself,” Krosa said, “She is not so weak as to be hurt by a simple fall. It is why she is favored.”
Gandu was quiet as he padded beside the bear, his tail suddenly tucking between his legs. Krosa merely plodded forward, sniffing the air. He turned to Mother Lone.
“How I miss the days of old,” he said, “When we spake with war, not with words.”
“It is their way,” Mother Lone said.
“Hmph,” Krosa said, “It is not. They pretend that speaking, not doing, is their way, or that they have risen over the challenge of beasts. But they have not. They spoke today, debated conflict, spoke of war as though it were separate from all else.”
“A lie,” Mother Lone said.
“Humanoids always lie,” Krosa said, “The Law of InterGuild is strength, and nothing else. Who is strongest decides the law. They would do well to remember that.”
“Guildmaster!” Gandu yapped.
He cowered as Krosa's dented head turned, the bear's snout contorted into a snarl. For a moment, all was still as Krosa glowered over Gandu's comparatively small, gray-furred form.
Then, he relaxed, the shoulders drooping once more. He found his sleeping spot, falling down with an earth quaking thud that turned heads.
“Remember what our saying is,” Krosa said, “If thou hast the strength, thou hast the freedom. Do what you will. Recruit who you can cow. Do not turn to me for your petty skirmishes, wolf. You do ill, looking so weak in front of so many.”
Gandu felt Red tugging at his ear. The wolf turned. Indeed, many of the Beasts of Dol were looking his way. Ekrazu the leopard had her fangs bared. A challenge. Gandu felt anger bubble at his admonishment. Krosa's words spake true. He should not rely on his superiors.
Not for something like this.
Very well.
Ekrazu would be the first to join him on this hunt. The Child of Imagined Will had insulted him. As had the lion-maned mockery who was his rival. Two prey items.
Without another molded word, Gandu pounced. For there were no words to be shared, not for the hunt. All of what was to come would be natural.
***
Kathen held the Dyriptium Karn, rifling through the pages as he walked. Merry buzzed in the back of his head, keeping an eye out for Almogra. They were on the edge of the campgrounds, the forest yawning beside them, dark and foreboding, but with just enough mystery to make it enticing.
“I think we've avoided her,” Merry said, “But you might want to steer clear of the camp for a little while. She's going to be pissed.”
“Probably a good idea,” Kathen said, and he felt a rumble of guilt in his chest, “Man, I'm not going to hear the end of it, am I?”
“Totally,” Merry said, “Just imagine, the latrines you're going to have to clean.”
“You'll be with me, right?”
“Me?” Merry said, “Nah, I've got better things to do.”
“Asshole,” Kathen said, and he found himself chuckling. He didn't care about the consequences. Or that Almogra would be lecturing him for hours when she at least caught him. Or that he would have to endure Valm's disappointed – if proud – glances.
He tried not to remember Antular's words. About going down the river at some point. That things came to an end. That all things die, and that was that.
“Well, maybe that's true,” Kathen said, “But that doesn't mean you can't go down fighting.”
“What was that?” Merry asked.
“Nothing,” Kathen said, “Just talking to myself.”
“Like a weirdo,” Merry said, “Or a... Kate! On your right!”
Kathen spun. No one in front of him, his eyes glanced up--
The metahuman.
Joseph Zheng slammed into Kathen, snarling and biting like a rabid wolf, the two of them tumbling into the ground. Kathen's world was one of pain as he kicked and punched, trying to push the metahuman off of him, finally managing to shove the animal off of him, rolling to his feet. He had scored a good hit on Joseph Zheng's face, a red welt blossoming on the metahuman’s face that would evolve into a black eye in a couple days.
Somehow, Kathen had held onto the book. He grimaced as he glanced down at it.
“You almost broke the book, asshole!” he snarled.
“Then fucking let go!” Joseph Zheng roared. That soul of his roared and sprang forward, a chained beast that Kathen ducked beneath, rushing towards Joseph Zheng proper. The metahuman glared as Kathen made his attack, a solid right to the jaw that left him stumbling back, the soul collapsing away-
No, it was Joseph Zheng's way of returning the eagle back to him, as he raised up his fists and gave a dark smile. Kathen danced around him for a moment, always making sure to keep himself between Joseph Zheng and the book, which he tossed behind him. The Dyriptium of Karn thumped into the grass as Kathen took a deep breath.
Joseph Zheng's soul manifested, hovering over him as though it were an exorcised demon. Its claws crackled, curved like scythes, but then they closed into fists that it raised up in a semblance of a boxer's dance. Clubs, then, cinder blocks affixed to arms like chlorosteel rope. Kathen would need to be slippery.
For a moment, the two squared off against one another, gauging the other's defenses.
Then, Joseph Zheng made the first move, the soul's fists arcing to either side. Kathen rushed into the bird's grasp, feeling the wind whip past his back as the closed talons flew behind him. The eagle's beak struck down, biting and snapping. Kathen spun in time with its movements, noting how the eyes seemed to glare at him, fully open and aware of everything.
Actual eyes.
Kathen closed on Joseph Zheng's organic form, still spinning as he punched at Joseph, who deflected each shot with his upraised arms. He had learned, however, as he raised up a leg to block Kathen's low kick, returning it with a solid left hook in return. Kathen’s vision danced as the fist connected with the side of his head, and he stumbled back.
No more going for the legs. This boxer wasn't stupid-
Joseph Zheng’s next shot was from the eagle, which backhanded Kathen, fist colliding with his stomach and bodily throwing him through the air. Kathen landed, hard, wheezing and sputtering. He grimaced as he pulled himself to his feet.
But no, he couldn't let that be the deciding hit. Kathen blinked as he re-centered himself. He couldn't win in a straight-up brawl, not like this. Joseph Zheng's eagle was already making for another strike, a fist rocketing towards him. It didn't need sharpened claws to break him.
But Kathen waltzed with the blow, moving in time with the shot as it rocketed past him. With a flip, he was running along the soul's arm, climbing it, using it as nothing more than a foothold as he jumped to the level of the eagle's eye.
His kick was strong. His kick was true. It slammed directly into the soul's oculars, and Joseph Zheng let out a sudden roar of pain, all momentum lost, one of the eagle's great, taloned hands coming up to clutch its wounded eye.
Kathen hit the ground running, grabbing the Dyriptium of Karn and taking off.
***
There was, Joseph realized, levels of iced pain that reverberated back from his soul. Many strikes to his soul were delayed, the longest thundering back to his body a few seconds after the actual blow had struck the eagle.
But not the eye. That had been instant. Overwhelming. Like a brain freeze intensified into a blizzard, his entire body shook and numbed from the agony. He was aware, distantly, that the lion-haired man was running off, the Dyriptium of Karn in hand. He was disappearing into the forest, leaving InterGuild behind entirely.
There wasn't any time to think. Joseph stumbled forward after him.
The forest swallowed him completely. Joseph found himself panicking a bit, the way that all of the light disappeared completely, leaving him in utter, stark-raving darkness. He went a few steps forward, before murmuring a “Fuck this,” and lighting his hand up, caking it in an azure claw. Cobalt light danced around him as he walked, striping the trees and painting them blue. Many of them were oaks, but in between he could see bookshelves, the contents having long ago been scavenged away, leaving lonely, empty racks. This place hardly felt natural. But according to anyone and everyone, it was.
The multiverse was weird.
The pain receding to a more manageable level, Joseph began to jog. He could see the lion-haired man's footprints stamping into the soft, muddy dirt. They snaked deeper and deeper into the wood. Perhaps he had a ship that would take him off-plane. Maybe he was just panicking, unsure of what direction to go. But Joseph could track him, no matter where he went.
He needed that book.
So he went on.
***
The place became darker as Kathen went, and he cursed himself for not bringing any night vision contacts with him. Merry was his guide as he ventured into the wood, and the AI made sure to keep him in the areas that had been mapped out by past explorers. Nonetheless, his footsteps became more uncertain, and he found himself stumbling on occasion, tripping over the roots of the trees 'round.
“Merry,” Kathen said, “I think that's far enough.”
“I think so, too,” Merry said, “Okay, let's take a moment to stop.”
He relaxed, reaching out and feeling for an oak, which he then slumped against, his heart still hammering. Exhaustion settled into his bones as the adrenaline's rush turned into a quiet pump, a warning in the back of his mind of any danger. Metahumans were tricky bastards. Relentless, too. There was no doubt that Joseph Zheng would be coming after him.
“Merry,” he said, “Keep up a sensor sweep around me, yeah?”
“Duh,” Merry said, “No one's around you. No one here but us.”
“God, that's what I like to hear,” he found himself slumping down, “That was... a lot.”
“Reminds me of that metahuman terrorist you fought on Randaya III, remember that?”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“The one who could re-direct plasma?”
“That you ended up just running him down with a shuttle, yeah.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Kathen said. He closed his eyes, “I try not to. Please don't bring stuff like that up.”
“Oh. Sorry, Kate.”
“It's fine, just...” he took a shaky breath, “I don't like fighting metahumans, you know?”
Old Scar's words played in his head.
“So people like us, we can't afford to slip up, or rest on our laurels. We have to be at our best, our most ruthless, our most tenacious, at all times. If you slip even once, you're finished. That's it. The galaxy's a dangerous place, the multiverse even more so.”
He remembered every word. Hung onto them, as he hung onto every piece of wisdom Old Scar extolled. He liked to think he had given it his best, back there. He had hung on, and given Joseph Zheng a fair shot to the eye that he wouldn't soon forget.
But he could not forget the dull pain in his stomach from that eagle’s attack.
“So, um,” Merry said, “Are we just going to sit out here?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Kathen said. He squinted, trying to make out the Dyriptium of Karn in the darkness. It felt heavy. Solid. As sure as life itself.
“Because we could always head back,” Merry said.
“No, the sooner we head back, the sooner Almogra finds me, and tears me a new one,” Kathen said, “Look, I did everything I needed to do here. I don't mind waiting out the rest of InterGuild in the woods. I'll be like a hermit.”
“I mean, it's InterGuild, Kate,” Merry said, “You don't have to go to it for just one thing. You can make new contacts. Learn new things. Maybe buy yourself a cool plasma rifle, or something.”
“I know,” Kathen said.
“Almogra probably isn't going to put you in time out for the rest of the event,” Merry said, “She'll yell at you, sure, and then go on about duty and responsibility, and then tomorrow you can go out and do whatever.”
“I know,” Kathen said, “But I don't-”
“If you say 'I don't care,' I'm going to shut down your cerebrum.”
Kathen snorted.
“So that's that, then,” Kathen said, “I have the book. That's all I need.”
“And you're sure what's in there will save Antular?”
Kathen sighed. Felt his heart fall for a few moments at the what-ifs and worst case scenarios and the nightmares of a grayer future.
“God,” he said, “I hope so.”
***
The footprints became more unsteady as Joseph went, as though the lion-haired man had begun to stumble here and there. At some parts, he would loop around, creating a muddy patchwork that Joseph had to puzzle out, though he would inevitably pick up the trail once more, and continue forth.
As he got closer, he realized just how obvious it was he was following his rival. Even if only his soul's hand was manifested, its light was still enough that he shone like an azure sun, a bright spot in the otherwise dark glare of the forest.
He let the light cease, extinguishing it as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was much harder to see now. His eyes were accustomed to the bright blue of the soul, not the absolute night of the forest. He couldn't even see his hand in front of his face.
He would need to be careful, now. Pursue his target using as little light as possible, so as to not reveal his position.
He waited for his eyes to adjust, but even with that, it was still far too dark out.
So Joseph did something he had practiced a bit recently. He gritted his teeth as he slowly choked out the circuit as it ran, feeling it become tighter and more constrained as it grew smaller and smaller, a metaphorical squeezing of the tube that his soul racketed around when it was charging up power. For larger parts of the soul, like the claws or the head, it had become simple. As easy as relaxing or clenching a muscle.
This specific, though, this direct? This small little sliver? Joseph's entire body shook with the effort, every muscle tensing and burning cold as he unleashed the eyes, which clouded over his own like a pair of contact lenses. The light was so intense that he needed to shut his human eyes, for it was like staring at the sun. But he could see through the soul's, and his vision sharpened the darkness, cast it in a more subtle glow.
The lion-haired man would still be able to see him coming. But perhaps not as soon. A fair trade-off, he supposed.
He crept in the shadows, a flightless hawk chasing its prey in the thickets.
***
“Kathen,” Merry said, “Wake up.”
He had dozed. But he could afford to. Kathen blearily opened his eyes, his head pounding a bit.
“Trouble?” he said.
“Not yet,” Merry said, “But we're not alone.”
Indeed, fireflies had begun to meander around him, balls of soft light that glowed in the night like miniature stars. Kathen slowly drew to his feet, watching them curl and float in the air lazily, as though they were drunk. He reached out a nervous hand, drawing one in, its thin legs tickling his palm, its abdomen glowing and flashing.
“I be careful, I were you,” a voice said beside him.
Kathen turned. The voice's owner came from another firefly, this one the size of a large dog, keeping his own light extinguished as he slowly drew closed, his carapace shiny in the dim light that his brethren created around him. In his front legs he held a walking stick, from which hung a sack full of books, two large and heavy-looking tomes together with a bundle of magazines.
“The children, they like new folk,” the large firefly said, “You let one of 'em poke at you...”
More fireflies began drawing close to Kathen, landing on his shirt, his neck, a few in his hair, where they nestled.
“I see,” Kathen said, “Sorry to bother you.”
“Ah, it be no bother,” the large firefly said, “That's just how it be, an' all. Just glad to have company, an' all.
Kathen chuckled a bit at that. He stretched a bit.
“I see you have a book,” the firefly said, “Which one?”
“Oh, ah,” Kathen looked down at it, “Just an encyclopedia of a squall.”
“Ah, good, ah good,” the firefly said, “Good to have the information. Hope you didn't get it from here.”
“No,” Kathen said, “I bought it at a bookstore,”
“Ah, bad, ah bad,” the firefly said, “Books, they be knowledge. No point sellin' it, an' all. No, more folk ought to be like ol' Haorando, look for the books themselves, search an' sniff an' dream.”
“That's what you do?” Kathen said.
“Ol' Haorando, I be,” the firefly said, “I been searchin' and scourin' this wood for a while now, an' all.”
“That's... Wow,” Kathen said, “You and all your children?”
“Oh, I just call 'em that,” Haorando said, “Brought 'em with me for company, while I go an' hunt for books and sort through the shelves. They like to eat the leaves of the trees, or hunt after aphids.”
“Aphids?” Kathen said.
“Whole lot of 'em,” Haorando said, “They be brought in from off-plane, an' all. By travelin' folk. Guilds, an' all.”
The firefly tilted his head a bit.
“Yous a guild?”
“I am,” Kathen said, “Pagan Chorus, have you heard of them?”
“I hear a lot of guilds,” Haorando said, “In the books. I bet I look, I bet I find you.”
“I would bet,” Kathen said, “Nothing good, I hope.”
“Ah, you seem like a fine sort,” Haorando said, “Some guilds, now, they be bad, act like animals, an' all...”
“Kathen,” Merry whispered, “Behind us.”
Kathen turned.
And there he was, stalking towards him. His eyes glowed blue in the darkness, piercing through the veil of night, looking for all the world like a wolf. Like a demon.
“Best you leave, friend,” Kathen said, “You and yours.”
Haorando turned, looking out towards the approaching Joseph Zheng.
“I hide, I do,” he said, “Be careful with the shelves, I just sorted.”
“Will do,” Kathen said. He drew out his pistol, feeling his heart both fall and become solid at that weight in his hand. If the metahuman meant Haorando harm...
Well, he wouldn't do anything like that. Kathen stepped forward.
***
There was another by the lion-haired man's side. A massive firefly, by the looks of it, clutching a cane in hand and channeling the energy of an old man. Already the firefly was leaving, slowly weaving his way into the darkness. Joseph grimaced. He had wanted this to be an ambush, a sudden assault like when he had tackled the lion-haired man from above. But the firefly had stopped that – he couldn't risk harming him, if he wasn't involved. Or maybe he was one of the guildmates of the lion-haired, and was now tottering away with the Dyriptium of Karn while Joseph was occupied with the coming fight.
But no, the Dyriptium of Karn was still in the lion-haired man's hand. He was walking to the side, surreptitiously placing the book on a shelf behind him, plasma pistol in hand. It was a shiny thing, gleaming in the blue light, freshly polished.
There would be no quarter, then.
Joseph nodded at that. Something danced in the lion-haired man's eyes, as they exchanged quiet communication.
And then Joseph winked out the light. Let the world plunge into black once more. He could see the lion-haired man raise the pistol..
And gasp, as Joseph's soul plunged out of his back, whole and ready, the entire forest flashing in a brilliant blaze of blue. The lion-haired man averted his eyes, the plasma bolt going awry as Joseph charged forward, using the momentary blindness to his advantage. The soul's fist sailed at the lion-haired man, who ducked at the last moment. Cold feedback reverbed from the fist, rushing into Joseph's body as the shelf behind the lion-haired man cracked and fell. The roots of a shelf tree were not deep, not used to the rigors of wear and weather.
The book was there. Joseph took note of that as he slid the soul along his arm, the eagle continuing to batter and swing at the lion-haired man. Joseph, meanwhile, ran to grab the book.
The lion-haired man was bobbing and weaving, acting like a river against a stone, flowing around each blow, his entire body a wave of motion that reminded Joseph of Contort. But he wasn't collapsing his body like Contort was, wasn't cheating his way out of a shot. He knew of a boxer's primary punches, knew how to bend around them, how to anticipate them. He was well-trained.
Joseph's hand brushed against the Dyriptium of Karn.
And the lion-haired man pounced, ducking under a swipe and rushing towards Joseph proper, practically leaping as he rammed a knee into Joseph's ribs. Joseph gasped, arms flailing out to block the next few strikes, pain racking up and down his side. The two of them stumbled for a moment as they tripped over the fallen remains of the bookshelf, falling to the ground once more.
Joseph's soul hung over them as they tussled, a phantom. Its great arms reached down and grabbed hold of the lion-haired man, tossing him away. The lion-haired man hit the ground hard, though he rolled and jumped back up to his feet.
Joseph stood up, book in hand. It had been damaged a bit by the fall, by their wrestling, a few pages bent backwards, the back cover revealing an awful crack. He grimaced as he looked down at it, before looking back up at the lion-haired man.
Who remained standing, dancing in place, his legs like whips as they shifted back and forth. His face was set in a determined glare, one that Joseph returned. His side hurt – that knee had done a lot of damage, probably a broken rib. Bruised, at the very least. But his breathing was fine, if painful. He could work through that.
The man still had his gun. He hadn't had a chance to use it in their fight, but it was still a factor. If it hit the soul, Joseph would be fine. His soul had withstood plasma fire before. Even now, he shifted the way he carried himself, letting the soul engulf him, its great arms moving in front of him in a shield wall.
***
Kathen had broken Joseph Zheng's ribs. Or bruised them, at the very least. Whatever the case, the metahuman was carrying himself differently. Breathing slower and deeper to help alleviate the potential symptoms, if it came to that. This metahuman was smart.
And he wasn't giving in. Kathen grimaced. Usually most people would tap out after a shot like that. But no, Joseph Zheng's soul was putting its great arms around him, protecting him. Probably could deflect plasma bolts, the way the soul blanketed him with complete confidence.
No plasma, then. No pistols, unless he got in really close, practically point-blank. And at that point, this fight would be a fatal one.
But then, with metahumans, it was always fatal. They went for the throat, because that was all they knew.
Kathen whipped forward, dancing a bit as the soul rose up to meet him. He dodged past the first swipe, noting how calculated it was, how precise, for as soon as it was extended the arm pulled back as though on a leash. Joseph was lucky – he only had to use the soul's arms, if he felt anything at all using them. Kathen tumbled, twisted, leaped, and jumped. All of his classes as a gymnast, all of those lessons with Ivandorav, came rushing back to him at once as he dodged each shot, getting closer and closer to Joseph Zheng with each pass.
Until he was in range. At this point, Joseph was moving back, his steps careful and controlled, his entire face contorted in pain from his broken rib. He could only move his organic form so much, though, his soul doing the most of the work. But its arms were long, and as Kathen closed Joseph Zheng was finding that he wouldn't have time to adapt to the shorter range.
Kathen pointed his pistol.
The soul collapsed as Joseph charged forward suddenly. The false, azure day disappeared. Kathen's world was black, only lighting for a second with the heavy dun of his plasma pistol's muzzle flash, the searing ball of green trailing off into the wood.
A trap.
For a moment, all was dark, as realization of what Joseph Zheng had just done hit Kathen like a hammer.
He had control of the light.
He had control of it, and could snuff it out-
And Joseph Zheng tackled him, a full on bear hug that sent Kathen slamming into the ground. Before Kathen could react, before he could begin biting, and kicking, and kneeing, the world lit up once more. He saw Joseph Zheng's face in the blue glow of the eagle's fist, a defiant look on his face.
And then the fist came rocketing down. Once. Twice.
Kathen blacked out after the third strike.
***
The lion-haired man had a chin, that was for sure. The soul was easily stronger than Joseph, its fists like wrecking balls. Joseph stopped after the third strike, seeing the lights dim in the lion-haired man's eyes.
With a wheeze, Joseph rolled over, breathing heavily. Weariness ate into his bones, and he took the chance to simply lie there, feeling the cool grass against the back of his head, the palms of his hands, pricking the nape of his neck. His breathing came out ragged and hollow, but it was good at least.
“K-Kathen?”
There was a light voice beside him. Joseph turned his head. Materializing out of the lion-haired man's head was a hologram – or at least, Joseph thought it was a hologram. A multi-armed,, spider-like creature. Bright green. She skittered over the lion-haired man's form, a worried look on her face.
“K-Kate?”
There was panic in her voice. Joseph’s heart dropped.
“Is...” Joseph's voice was a whisper, “Is he alright?”
The hologram turned to him, a dark look on her face.
“No, he's not alright, you izat. You've broken his nose! He's got welts all over his face, oh dear...”
“Is he,” Joseph found himself panicking a bit, “Is he alive?”
The hologram blinked, then looked down at the lion-haired man's form.
“Yes, he's alive,” she said, “He'll be... okay. I think.”
“I've got,” Joseph sat up, wincing a bit at his rib, “Medical attention, does he need that?”
“Do you have any first aid?” the hologram asked.
“I don't, but I can get help,” Joseph said.
“...No,” the hologram said, “I'll send up an emergency beacon. Our guildmates will be able to attend to him.”
“Right,” Joseph said, “Okay.”
He looked at the lion-haired man's – Kathen's – face.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You'd better be.”
“Really, I am.”
The hologram stopped, glancing up to him. She studied his face for a long time.
“What's your deal?” she asked.
“Sorry?”
“Your deal,” the hologram said, “You just broke another man's face in, all over a book, and the first thing you do when you come to is ask if he needs help. Ask if you killed him.”
“I'm not a monster,” Joseph said, “I need the book to get home. That's it. I...”
He sighed as he rose to his feet, rubbing his hand against his ribs. Yes, definitely broken.
“The first time I went meta,” he said to the hologram, “The first time I went on a job as a full metahuman, I killed someone. My soul has claws, and they... They sliced right through, you know?”
He saw the hologram wince.
“Ever since then, I prefer to use fists,” Joseph said, “So I don't cut. I don't tear. Keep it all internal, if that could help.”
“So what you're saying is, Kate should be lucky you didn't slice him to bits.”
“I'm saying,” Joseph said, “Is... I don't like to do shit like that, alright? Killing people, I mean. It gives me bad dreams.”
He sighed.
“Look,” he said, “Tell this... Kathen, that I'm sorry. That it had to go down like that. If he wants, he can contact my guild for his medical bill, or something. Amber Foundation.”
The hologram gave a hesitant nod.
“That's... noble, of you,” she said, “Others would have left.”
“Well, I'm not 'others,'” Joseph replied.
“He was going to kill you.”
Joseph felt a shiver go up his spine at that.
“I know,” he said, “You don't just take out a pistol like that. There's...”
Urash's words came back to him. About the Law of InterGuild. Strength vs. Strength, where only the strong ruled.
“There's skin in the game for you guys, isn't there? And that means if I want the book, there's skin in it for me, too.”
He looked at the Dyriptium of Karn. There was a bit more damage to it, after that tackle. Hopefully Bulg would accept that.
“I'll be seeing you,” Joseph said, “...Stay safe, alright?”
The hologram was quiet. After another awkward, pained moment, Joseph turned and began stumbling out of the forest, his soul arcing over him to light the way.