Planet: 0001-C.
Location: Capital City.
Time: Three weeks and four days before [REDACTED], One Week after Resquis Elimination - Standard Earth Time.
[https://i.imgur.com/cvcxnXR.png]
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The aftermath of Resquis Elimination hadn’t been profoundly felt by the general public. Its effects seemed so minor, in fact, that even the military didn’t find the subject something that was too often discussed. Earth’s Inquisition team had found, however, that despite the quiet, they were still swamped by mountains of paperwork. The apparent failure of the mission was overshadowed by the fact that they had all performed well enough to earn themselves a series of distinctions of service.
Kenya and Tobias had both been rewarded with the Distinguished Medal of Valor - first class. Rei, Fox, and Jock, were all given the Crimson Eclipse for exceptional performance against enemies and insurmountable odds. It was
Naofa that was awarded the most prestigious order, after that threeway battle towards the very end of the operation:
The Distinguished Medal of Honour.
Nothing new had happened since the end of the operation - so work around Nexus-Embla continued as normal. Since the formation of the Inquisition team, Nexus-Embla had been designated as the team’s headquarters. Although a lot of them still attended to other duties, a great deal of their meetings and status updates took place within the Nexus - this was mostly down to the fact that the Subunit Commanders and Lieutenant Commanders all held office space within the Nexus. The major leaders within the team all had shared personal offices, with Rei and Fox sharing one, and Naofa and Kenya sharing one. The Lieutenants themselves, shared one large office, split into cubicles.
Privacy was hard to come by.
Tobias was on the verge of a mental breakdown. The constant thunderous thud thud thud thud, from his neighbouring cubicle - belonging to Rank Three Agent Zachary Calsin - had begun to drive him insane. He had tried to ignore the noises with quiet resolve, but he couldn’t help but give in to the constant vibrations.
Tobias threw his earbuds down, peering over the top of their shared cubicle wall. What Zach was doing to cause such a racket had become painfully obvious as he looked. Zachary was sitting back, his right hand on the desk, fingers spread wide. In between each finger he could see a series of small divots in the desk - probably caused by the large combat knife in his left hand. It looked like he was playing Kikiippatsu - the term was the popular OverWatch Native phrase. He thought for a second struggling for the basic translation… close call maybe? He thought. Tobias couldn’t remember exactly where the game came from, but he knew that earth had a similar game called five finger fillet.
“Aaaaaagent ZACHARY!” Tobias yelled.
Zachary stopped mid-movement, looking up at Tobias with a smile, “Whaazzzup L.T?”
Zach could see the veins on the side of Tobias’ head bulging, “You should be using my whole title,” Tobias muttered, before throwing his arms in the air, “what are you even doing! Why aren’t you doing your work?”
Zachary leaned back with a shrug, “I’m bored as hell dude, n’there’s nuffin’ for me to be workin’ on anyway - so I ain’t doin’ nuffin’.”
“Yeah I can see that,” Tobias muttered under his breath again, “We’re supposed to be working on our personal reports. There’s no way you’ve already finished yours, I’m not even half way done with mine!” he squawked.
“Our… what?” Zach asked with a genuinely dumbfounded look.
Tobias stared at him, disbelief across his face, “Your personal report… on Resquis Elimination…” He sighed, “are you telling me that you haven’t even started it yet?”
“Ohhhhh riiiight..” Zach drawled, “Yeah no I haven’t even touched it yet! Got no idea what I should be writing. All that technobabble about ‘estimated ratings’ or whatever gives me a headaaaaache.” Zach gave him a pouty look, still twirling his knife.
“How many times do we have to go through this zach!” Tobias pulled at his face, “The ratings are the easiest part. You just use the calculations for the target’s AuraCell count, and then match it to your observations in battle - from there you give them a rating from C to Double SS.” Tobias groaned into his hands, sliding down the cubicle wall slightly.
“Yeah sure… but why are we estimating those guys?” Zach said, pointing towards a bulletin to the far side of the Office. Tobias could see that it contained names belonging to high profile figures that were marked during the operation.
Tobias sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time today, “If you’d read the Battle-Log like you were told to, you would know that those names belong to the Resquis Student Body, our job here is to provide the Brass with enough information to give each one of them a proper rating, based on our estimates.”
Zach rolled his eyes, but placed his knife down, “Fine! Doesn’t seem too hard I guess.” He shooed Tobias away with one hand, turning on his desktop with the other.
Tobias sat back down, and put his headphones back in. He finally had some peace and quiet.
For about ten minutes, before the thumping started again.
Tobias screamed, flinging himself upwards to look over the cubicle again, Zach had indeed started playing his game once more.
“ZaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAACH!” Tobias yelled. Zach jumped, dropping his knife. Tobias’ mouth began to froth, “Why. Have. You. Stopped. WORKING?” he roared.
“I’m done dude… jeez… take it easy…” Zach murmured sheepishly.
“Done… DONE?” Tobias again shouted, marching into Zach’s cubicle and snatching away his desktop. Zach’s report was barely a page long, totally incoherent, and full of grammatical errors. Not even Tobias himself could save this report. The enraged Lieutenant gave Zach a glare that could kill a cow - Zach just looked more confused.
Tobias screamed.
“Like hell you’re done! This isn’t even close to acceptable!” Tobias said, berating Zach, “I can’t tell you what to write Zach stop looking at me like that. There is no nuance to your estimations! There is no structure! God you’re supposed to use the CURLY HYPHENS to indicate that it’s an estimation!” Tobias said, the list going on and on. When he finally stopped to take a breath, he found that Zach wasn’t even paying attention, instead lighting a cigarette. Tobias snatched it from his mouth,
“What the fuck.” Zach moaned, his fists balled.
“Listen here kid.” Tobias started, poking him in the chest, “We might have the same authority, and be paid the same, but don’t forget that I’m older than you! And that I’m an actual Lieutenant Commander for a squad! Unlike you!” Tobias remonstrated, “I’ve had it up to here with your behaviour! You should be showing me some respec-”
WHACK
Tobias stumbled back, clutching a bloody nose.
Kenya and Jock wandered in, clutching labelled bags - aiming directly for Tobias’ cubicle. They watched Zach leave, clenching a slightly bloody fist.
“HEYYYOOOO TOOOOBIIIII!” Kenya yelled from across the room, “Ittttt’s lunch time! You wanna join us?” He asked as the pair stopped by his cubicle.
Tobias was resting his head in his right hand, murmuring to himself - but he eventually spoke, “No Kenya… I think I’ll pass this time.” Kenya could see that he had a bandage over his nose - spots of coagulated blood dotted the area around his mouth. Probably one of the most intense nose bleeds that Kenya had ever seen.
Jock frowned, “What in the capital happened to you? You been watching something extra frisky or what?” he said with a small giggle. Tobias grumbled, causing Kenya to chuckle as he patted Tobias’ back.
“Well… youuu still look like a feller that needs a break. Come ON! I got your faaavourite from the canteeeeeeEEEeeeen…” Kenya trailed off, jangling a bag of food infront of his face.
Tobias raised his head, his eyes sparkling slightly, “A Deluxe Patty Sandwich with Omooa Cheese…?”
Kenya chuckled, “C’mon we’ll go eat in the mess.”
The Trio made their way down busy hallways and crowded stairwells towards the Nexus’ canteen. Despite the fact that it was Lunch hour, this canteen wasn’t as packed as it usually was. Kenya scanned the room for a good cluster of empty seats - instead finding a pair of familiar faces.
Kenya vaguely waved over in their direction, nudging Tobias’. Jock laughed to himself as Tobias blushed, trying to pick away the blood from around his mouth, brushing his hair down.
Kenya didn’t wait for his party to join him as he sat down, gently body checking the blonde to his right. Tobias’ watched the woman peer at him under her eyelashes with a small smile on her lips - Kenya remained oblivious to the action, she looked away before he could see. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling more openly at Jock and Tobias.
Jock felt the smile was less… he couldn’t place the word, but the smile she gave them was far less fleeting. He watched Naofa’s eyes drift back to Kenya, before looking back down at her food. Her cheeks were stained red.
Tobias’ blushed more deeply as he locked eyes with the second woman, sitting across the table from Kenya.
It was Remi.
Kenya waved for his friends to sit down, “Naaaofa - Remi, care to join us for lunch?” He asked, yawning.
Remi gave him a placid smile that he thought Naofa must have taught her, “I shared my lunch with our friend here,” she waved to Naofa, “but please, eat!” she clasped her hands together enthusiastically.
Naofa pulled over a second tray from a small pile of plates. Kenya could see that she had a helping of the canteen's special extra spicy curry. She smiled again as she looked at him although this one was more reserved, “I got seconds! Youuuuu wanna share?”
“No Naofa, I do not want to eat that toxic waste you call food.” Kenya said, rubbing his eyes. He could feel the heat from here. Naofa pouted, shoving a spoonful of the curry into her mouth.
Remi looked past a smiling Jock to the young man behind him, locking eyes with Tobias’. His blush only intensified.
Tobias tried to speak as he noticed that she continued to stare at him, “M… Ma’am.”
She seemed peppy as she asked, “Lieutenant Jackson right?” she rested her chin on her clasped hands.
“Ah Yes! I mean - shit - no not shit, ah fuck - sorry! Affirmative Ma’am” Tobias stumbled again, standing up straight and placing his hands behind his back.
Remi chuckled to herself, standing.
“You know I was wondering when I would get to meet you outside of missions.” She stepped closer to him, inspecting him up and down.
“I… I uh…” Tobias continued to fumble - He was an even deeper shade of red. Jock and Kenya shared a chuckle - Naofa continuing to shovel food into her mouth.
Remi finally looked him in the eye, noting his flushed face, she didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed, “Forgive my… Intrusive behaviour - I just heard soooo much about you from wings over here after the raid and I..” She seemed to relax slightly, smiling, “You are much taller than I thought you’d be - considering the way she described you…”
“Des… Described me…?” Tobias repeated. His eyes slowly drifted towards Naofa. She continued to stare into her food, casually ignoring the situation.
Remi giggled this time, earnestly, “Yeah sh-” She looked down as her pocket began to beep, her casual demeanour dropped for a second, before she collected herself, “Ah! What am I doing! I need to leave right now if I wanna get back to the border region on time!” She stopped turning to Naofa, “We’re still on for dinner at your place right?”
Naofa looked up, “Yah, If you can get ahold of Sera or Rei on your waaaay out I would appreciate it - like pass along the invitation to them.” She said with a yawn.
Remi nodded, finally leaving the room.
Both Kenya and Tobias looked to Naofa as Jock sat down.
“Described me?”, “Dinner?” they said in unison.
Naofa ate another spoonful of curry, “Oh… Y’know… Just what Jock told me.” She looked up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with Tobias.
“No need to thank me.” Jock tutted, splitting his chopsticks. Tobias opened the bag with his sandwich in it, pulling the food out and eating as he grumbled away.
Kenya glanced over at Jock’s cup of… Omooa milk? He could see that the man was pouring a packet of powdery substance into it, ‘Must be the supplements Fox recommended to him’ Kenya thought. He remembered Jock mentioning that he wanted to change his diet plan - now that he was in a more important role as Naofa’s second.
Kenya looked back towards Naofa, studying her for a moment as she ate her curry. He tapped a finger on the table, “How do you stomach food like that? It has no flavour, it's all heat dude!”
“I mwean… I dwunwoow It twastes pwretty good to me,” she said, a mouth full of food. She swallowed “here, how abbbout youuuu…” she waited for him to take a bite out of his Yakisoba, before shoving her spoon with a big heaping lump of curry on it into his mouth, “try some!”
Kenya retched, clawing at his throat, “WILL. YOU. STOP. DOING. THAT. TO. ME.” He yelled.
Jock and Tobias laughed, Naofa placing the spoon back in her mouth. Tobias and Kenya didn’t seem to notice, but Jock could see that Naofa’s mind was… preoccupied - the jokes and hazing were just a clever way to cover up what she was thinking. He must have looked at her for a second too long, because Naofa looked up at him, and gave him a vacant smile that he knew was meant to calm his nerves - take his mind off of whatever he thought was wrong with her. But he was aware of her constant misdirections, and he knew that she had been struggling with the revelation that the God of her people was real, and fighting for the opposite side - that she had been forced to fight his… heralds, he remembered the conversation she’d had with the taller male herald when their weapons had clashed in the foyer. She wouldn’t tell what exactly it was that was bothering her, or why it bothered her so much, but he wanted to hear about it. He hated seeing her like this.
Jock sighed, “Lott’sa new faces,” he waved his hand in the air as Tobias gave him a confused look, "The bulletin in the office I mean.”
“Yeah… God. The Battle-Log that Kirsk gave us was bullshit. A list of supposed names and blurry images from helmet cams.” Kenya took another swig of his drink as he glared at Naofa. The heat was almost unbearable.
“Zhar and I have been filling out the reports on a good chunk of the student body,” Tobias said absently, stroking his chin, “We were uhh… looking into that Jacob kid? Or whatever his name was,” he turned to Naofa, “you encountered him in the final hours right?”
Naofa took another bite of her curry, seeming to have not heard the question.
Tobias flicked a bit of bread at her head. Naofa yelped, looking up, “Huh? Jacob?” She thought for a moment, her wings twitching with the effort it took to remember, “yeah… little pain in the ass jumped in to save War the moment Rei and I had him pinned down.”
“Fox said that the kid wasn’t that strong - Must’ve gotten lucky to be able to catch you off guard.” Tobias said, taking another bite out of his second sandwich.
Kenya scoffed, “If Fox can beat someone - I’m almost certain that a Mincheeta could too.”
Naofa let her head rest on the table, and groaned, “I should be even MORE embarrassed in that case.”
The three men laughed, although it was cut short as Jock cleared his throat.
“There were… Other new faces - the ones not on the bulletin. Y’know.” Jock clasped his hands together, rubbing them, “Like those… so called ‘Heralds’ for instance…” He looked to Naofa, he could see apprehension dancing in her eyes, “They must have been a tough fight - I know Dorian certainly learned to respect the bow again.”
Naofa didn’t elaborate as she Mmmm’d in agreement. It had been one of the hardest fights she had ever had to take part in. She’d almost, almost, had to reach for the trump card towards the end. She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. She could scent it on them both that they were Fae. The man fought using ancient martial techniques that only the royal family ever learnt, and that woman used a bow made of wood from the world tree, in the centre of the capital city - but she knew her entire family tree, the entire history of her planet and civilization - Equinox, The Sky Cardinal, The Butcher, whatever they wanted to call him, was supposed to be nothing more than an urban legend designed to explain the Fae royalties often abstract connection to extradimensional spaces. Naofa bunched up her hair in her right hand pulling on it slightly as she leaned against the table. Her grip tightened on the spoon. She hated the fact that she didn’t know anything.
Jock tapped his finger on the table, “There was also that… Butcher,” he said, whispering the name as if saying it out loud would summon him here, “Or whatever the Brass kept calling hi-”
Naofa gripped her spoon so tightly that it bent - the metal folding in on itself. Kenya could see what looked like… cosmic dust, trailing around her hand. Her eyes were… totally vacant, glazed - yet somehow stuck in a state of fury.
She twitched, coming back to life - she looked down at the spoon and let go of it.
It promptly turned to ash as it hit the table, wisps of cosmic dust trailing from the pile.
She blinked, her mind fully returning. She gave her friends an apologetic glance, before blowing away the ash - scattering it.
The Frenchman decided not to push it anymore, instead letting Kenya change the subject. The boy’s face seemed… contemplative, if only for a moment.
“You told Remi to try and find Sera and Rei on her way out right?” Kenya prompted.
Naofa seemed to perk up a little, the tips of her pointed ears reddening, “Yeah! I’m uh… inviting all my friends over for dinner…” She looked to the trio, apprehension across her features, “I wanted to invite you guys myself… I mean like, I know you guys like to eat out but and stuff but y’know I was hoping that uh you would uh come over toooo my place andmaybehavedinnerwithmeandmyotherfriendsandstuff.” Naofa bumbled her way through the invitation, looking down at the table for the last parts.
Jock nodded, “Who else is going?”
Naofa sighed, twirling her hair around a finger, “Well it’s at,” she paused, “one of my houses, so obviously me. Remi said she’d come early - and help me and Sera out with prep - if we can catch Sera before she leaves for the fleet again. Dorian is bringing some of the available notches, I’ve already spoken to Zhar and Zach - and they said they would ambush Rei with Remi and get him to come, and that if Sera’s coming Rei’ll probably show up anyway. You guys now, and maybe Fish if I can get ahold of him. ” She let go of her hair, looking at them.
It was Tobias that spoke next, “No Fox?”
Naofa give him a, ‘the fuck’, look - before saying, “Fox is a bastard that will never step foot in any of my homes.” She huffed.
Kenya rolled his eyes, “Which house is it? The one over in District 9?”
Naofa grinned, “No! That place is so boring and gloomy I could never have my friends there…”
Kenya gave her a look.
“Well,” she began, “we, as in us four, will be staying in my official residency in the City of the Forlorn back on Micrea - you guys are gonna come spend a week off with me and explore the area first, and then we’re gonna take a second week to go out of town, to my more… out of the way home, to relax properly - because I’ll probably still have official stuff to do during the first week, so that’s more for you than it is for me. We’re only staying in my ‘official’ home for appearances though - the actual dinner will be at the end of the second week before we leave - that’ll be when our friends join us - I thought my dockside town house might be a nice place to eat at this time of year so that’s where we’re gonna go!” Naofa rambled, as if all of these things were completely normal.
Kenya chuckled to himself, but she continued;
“Now, I’ve managed to find out that we’re gonna have a mandatory training session next week - it’ll last the whole week, and usually we don’t have those unless something big is coming up, so instead of putting in any leave forms now, I’ve just drafted them. I’m not sure when whatever is coming up is actually gonna come up, but once everything is all said and done, we’re gonna take a break from all this madness.”
She beamed at them, an idle thumb running along the back of her hand.
Kenya supposed there was no room to argue with her.
As the sun set on the lonely capital planet, Rank One Agent Zhar Kronicus had just finished his personal report. Zhar tapped at the burn scars on his face, getting up from his cubicle with a black raincoat in hand - grabbed from the wall. He took a second to look around.
The room was completely dark - so much so that when he turned around, he was genuinely surprised to see that one of the cubicles was still lit up.
Zhar rolled his eyes at the thought that it might be Rank Three Agent Calsin using his Desktop PDA to play video games again - but when he approached the cubicle, he could see that it was Commander Jock, his bleary eyes glued to the screen. He turned around to face Zhar - blinking slowly.
“Commander…?” Zhar said, his tone uncertain.
Jock blinked again, “Don’t mind me Zhar - I’ll lock up, don’t worry.” He said with a yawn. He turned back towards the monitor. Zhar could see that he was looking into… some sort of alien religion? He could see tabs with words like, “Butcher,” and “Forge Master,” and “Sky Cardinal,” but Jock leaned forward, obscuring the monitor.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Agent?” Jock frowned, “The last thing I want is a new stalker.” he grumbled.
Zhar held his hands up, backing away towards the door. He exited the office, but he could hear Jock murmuring something in French.
Tomorrow would be a new day, but it would be a while before our Curious Commander would see the sunlight.
[https://i.imgur.com/mA3AY5I.png]
Location: Outside celestial system 569C-δ, Interstellar space.
Time: One week post Resquis Elimination - Standard Earth Time.
[https://i.imgur.com/TvNURVR.png]
Aaron awoke from his nap, the sudden vibration shaking him enough to rouse him from his slumber. Aaron rolled out of his bed, looking around the cargo hold that held his sleeping pod.
Aaron peered out of a nearby window, sighing as he realised where he was. It was a short trip to the bridge, he needed to speak to the pilots about the procedures needed to dock with the ship above them. Each pilot wore a boilersuit, and a cyan armband - signifying their membership in Famine’s division.
Aaron grumbled to himself, “I hate their tractor beams - they’re so janky.” He rubbed his chin as he beheld the colossal warship in front of them. It was several miles long, its distinctive dagger-like shape similar to that of some of The 5th army’s cruisers and battleships. Although this ship was far more streamlined. The 5th army tended to force their ships into a monochromatic colour scheme, so this ship was the complete opposite, composed of colours from all across the spectrum - the main ones being grey and blue.
He always forgot that it was so heavily armed. He wouldn’t be able to count the rows of weapons of six sets of hands.
The Pilot looked up at Aaron from his seat, “I heard that Overseer Famine has plans to touch up the tractor beams - says it’ll make the Novice Cruiser a real terror in space.”
Aaron didn’t bother responding properly, simply saying hmmmmm.
Aaron had made the trip in a small, unassuming, medical frigate. It was caught in the larger ship's tractor beams - being reeled into one of the many hangers along its hull. Aaron tapped at his forehead. They still didn’t have a proper base of operations, although the idea that they should centralise a highly sought after rebellious cell was problematic. If they were caught, their position cracked, it would set them back by years.
So for the time being, they’d be nomads. Travelling the infinite cosmos in their dreadnought sized vessel
Aaron pushed off, heading back to the cargo hold. The walk was short, and brisk. He was excited to finally be back aboard The Novice.
He looked over the cargo being moved when they had docked. It was this frigate that had the supplies stolen from Station-9. They had split off from the Novice Cruiser, trying to cover their tracks.
It took Aaron maybe an hour to make sure it was all categorised properly, pushed off into the right places. Aaron peered up at an overhead walkway in the main cargo bay of the Novice, watching Colonel Odessa sprinting across it - waving his arms frantically towards Aaron. His face seemed bright, happy, even from this distance.
Odessa came sprinting out of an open doorway, a crowbar in hand. He was aiming for one of the larger crates.
Aaron moved faster than Odessa could track - standing between him and the Cargo, “What’s the big rush buddy.” He said, a saccharine smile across his lips.
Odessa began to fidget, “Aaaaaron I’ve been waiting for weeks! Months even! To get my hands on this stuff,” he exclaimed. He shoulder barged Aaron out of the way, slamming the crowbar down into the seam along the hovering crates lid.
Aaron got a whiff of what was inside, instantly realising what it was.
“Tobacco?” Aaron said, confused.
“Not just ANY tobacco Aaron. It’s Premium Grade Tobacco. Only grown and harvested in the deepest parts of Sector A - God it’s so much better than the OverWatch labelled stuff!” Odessa giggled to himself as he took a bent wooden smoking pipe out of his pocket. He began to quickly scoop the shredded tobacco leaves into the pipe.
Aaron grabbed one of his arms, “Slow down dude,” Odessa yanked his arm away, “how’d you even know it was in this crate?”
“Oh - As soon as I heard that Director Jeremiah was gonna hit Station-9, I very politely asked Nox if he could tryyyyy and find a crate of this stuff! He grabbed a bunch of stuff for everyone actually.” He chimed. He began lighting the pipe, smoke puffing out of his mouth. Aaron coughed.
Odessa sighed, finally seeming relaxed, “You have to try this stuff Aaron!”
Aaron shook his head, leaving Odessa behind in the cargo hold to smoke his Tobacco.
Instead of having to learn about what other contraband that the rest of the team had decided to ask their godly friend to grab, he decided to make his way down into the bowels of the ship - aiming for the barracks.
He’d forgotten how long it took to really get around inside of the ship. He was walking for about half an hour, before he realised he was close.
The canteen was up ahead, he could smell what must have been the dinner rush. The canteen in this ship was smaller than the ones you might find inside standard OverWatch vessels, but it was decently furnished.
[https://i.imgur.com/ln0Pn3P.png]
Aaron spared a glance for it as he passed the cramped doorframe. The room was more of a glorified kitchen. Sparse chairs, and ramshackle tables - It was a cobbled together, mismatched room.
Over by the bunker, he could see a man’s back - ruffling through cabinets. He sighed, entering the room. He recognised the back of the man's head.
“Pestilence.” Aaron said.
Pestilence jumped, slamming his head against the top of the cabinet, “Owie… Hey Aaron.”
Aaron peered past him, “What’cha lookin’ for.”
Pestilence waved a bottle of pills in Aaron’s face, it was Addellin - the miracle drug. OverWatch claimed that it could cure every common disease, no matter the strain
Aaron gave him a squinted glance, “Is this for… a new project?”
Pestilence chortled, “No no, it’s for my daughter - she’s not used to space travel the same way we are.”
“Ahhhh, Cosmic Illness - I haven’t had it in years.” Aaron chuckled.
He followed Aaron out of the canteen, following him towards the barracks, “Besides,” he began, “even if I was using it for a new project, I wouldn’t be doing it on a ship.” He elbowed Aaron in the ribs, causing the man to chuckle again.
“You always been such a nut for this stuff? I can’t imagine knowing what you know is a small accomplishment.” Aaron said, eyeing him from the side.
Pestilence shrugged, “It’s always been my little hyperfixation - I suppose I didn’t really expect to make a career out of it but, y’know. The study of change, language of physics, you get it.”
This hallway was way too long, Aaron realised, and they still had a ways to go before they got to where he was trying to go. So he continued the conversation.
“I feel like you’ve said that to me before…” Aaron thought aloud - before changing the subject, “You know, come to think of it, how did a human from earth end up in the four horsemen. Can’t imagine what it took to get put on death’s radar.”
Pestilence went quiet for a moment, “Let’s… just say that it was luck - that I stumbled upon the Five-A.” Aaron looked at him, he could feel it in his bones - he was hiding something, but they had reached Pestilence's personal barracks before he had a chance to push him, “Well,” he continued, “It certainly beats teaching chemistry to high schoolers.” He chuckled.
Pestilence opened the door to his room; Aaron could see a little girl, no older than eight years old, sitting on a cot - a PDA in her hands. She was drawing all over it.
She looked up to her dad, beaming, “Daddy!” she exclaimed, rushing out of the bed and encompassing him with her tiny arms, embracing him.
“Feelin’ better already, sweety?” Pestilence laughed. The little girl nodded her head.
“Well maybe it's best to keep the pills regardless,” Aaron winked at the little girl - he inhaled, speaking again “Where are the others, by the way?”
“Famine’s down by one of the hangers, B-12 maybe, he said he was gonna set up a workshop. Death… who know’s where that things crawled off to. I did see War walking towards one of the training centres,” He said, picking up his daughter.
Aaron nodded, waving at the little girl as he left.
He paused, considering his next move. He eventually began to move towards the training centre. He knew that Nox had recently started looking into setting up the Resistance with a proper training regiment, based on the ones he used to run. Something about wanting to compare their power to his. Aaron grumbled at the thought - ‘how on earth can any of us compare to the might of a god’ he thought.
It was a short walk, at least compared to the journey from the cargo hold. He eventually wound up in the training halls.
Aaron peered into one from the door, spotting a large red haired figure standing in the centre. Nox’s size always left him baffled - he’d never seen anyone that genuinely stood at eight feet tall. War circled him with animalistic intent. He could see, even from the door, that War was gripping his hammer as if it would fly off if he let go. Nox had a lazy smile across his face. He couldn’t hear them, but something Nox said prompted War to launch himself forward - the dust along the floor shifted, forming a small cloud as he flew through the air.
Nox’s grace is probably what surprised him the most. He dodged and evaded, swing after swing after swing, but he never once moved from that central spot. He simply pivoted on one foot, hands clasped behind his back, ducking and twisting around each blow. Nox moved with practised ease, aeons of warfare evident in every movement.
Aaron walked along the side lines, his eyes never once leaving the melee. He could hear Nox give out a good belly laugh as he shoulder checked War - forcing him to fall over onto his ass.
War bellowed, leaping from the floor directly into the air. Aaron watched Nox get low, a grin across his mouth.
War brought down the hammer as if to kill Nox where he stood - roaring the whole way.
Nox simply shifted, the hammer striking the floor by his foot - the entire ship probably felt that one. Nox lifted his leg up, placing his foot down onto the hammer's head as War attempted to move it.
Nox sighed to himself, yawning almost simultaneously, “I’ve had my fair share of experience using War Hammer’s, and your movements are decent. But they’re unrefined. You swing it as if to strike a boulder. I understand you haven’t had access to the weapon for long - so in our downtime, I’m going to let Cassian teach you a thing or two about how to properly wield it. Strength training though, that’s where you should start in the meantime. Maybe you’ll actually come close to hitting me if you keep your training up.”
War let out an audibly vocoded scoff, “With all due respect your son hates me, I doubt he’ll agree to it,” War growled, “It’s all bullmooa shit, you act as if I would be able to hit you anyway, my mortal merit only goes so far. I mean,” he sighed, “I suppose it would be wise to train under the son of a God.” The word came out… forced. War slammed down onto the bench, causing the entire thing to fold.
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Nox scratched his chin, smirking, “Yeah… You’re right - but it would still make sense y’know? It wasn’t like I actu-”
Aaron watched Nox’s body move, the man reacted with photonic speed to something that he couldn’t quite make out. He didn’t even stop speaking, his arm raised up beside his head blocking a particularly ferocious kick,
“-ally expected you to be able to hit me.” Nox looked up to the form suspended in the air, before moving even faster than he had initially reacted, grabbing the leg and slamming the entire person into the ground.
Aaron blinked, most of that he had just guessed at. It happened too fast for him to really make out. Although, something told him that this was nothing compared to Nox’s actual full power.
Ace pulled himself out of the crater Nox had left him in, rubbing dust from his clothes.
Nox looked down at the white haired boy, “That was pretty sneaky. You’re fast Ace, sure, but you probably would have been more successful if you had worked with War - instead of trying to use him as a distraction. I don’t have to train you to fight the way I do, I think Death probably has that one covered, but you need to learn to change your mindset,” Nox pointed over at the slightly bent bench, “go sit down, we’re gonna take a very short break - and then I want to see you work in tandem.”
Aaron must have entered towards the end of the first half of their session.
He finally made it over to the set of benches they were sitting at, saying, “You know - if these rooms weren’t made of a material that absorbed vibrations and sound, the entire ship probably would have tilted with the force you used to throw him.”
Aaron sat down. He noticed that Nox had gone quiet after he spoke - he was looking him over, a contemplative look on his face.
“I see ‘Loki’ finally deigned join us. I assume you’ll not be sparring with us today?” Nox asked, his arms crossed across his chest.
Aaron grimaced, “I’ll pass.”
Nox could sense the distrust in Aaron’s words. He knew the boy didn’t like him for some reason. His soft contemplative look turned into a sour frown.
Nox inhaled to speak but stopped. Ace could see his entire body twitch, his foot finally leaving that centre spot on the floor as he turned to face the uppermost right hand corner of the room - his stance was open, ready. The movement seemed reflexive, preemptive. He could see the air around him shift, his palm open to the air - arm extended.
Then came the voice.
“YEAH!” It said, “Why don’t you get yourself a REAL-” Nox’s open palm collided with a balled fist - the force of the blow pushed Nox an inch or two into the ground - the shockwaves strong enough that all three of the seated men fell backwards, Nox sour frown became a vicious scowl, a loud shout rumbling through the room, “-DANCE PARTNER!”
Nox slammed the man down, hopping back a couple paces to see Takashi flexing his hand - his knuckles were bright red.
Nox’s form fell away into a purple smog as he began to run forward, before gathering at Takashi’s feet - reassembling Nox directly in front of him.
The yellow eyed man smiled, his mouth opening to speak - but Nox moved faster.
In an instant, the wine haired god's forehead collided with Takashi’s nose. Takashi was knocked onto his ass - but it seemed like it was more from the shock of Nox slamming his head into his face than from the actual blow itself.
Takashi waved his arms up frantically as Nox loomed over him, a fist raised, “ENOUGH ENOUGH ENOUGH!” Takashi belted, “I’M SORRY!”
“That does not count as a hit you slimy little bastard. You do not get to catch me off guard!” Nox grumbled, “Dickhead.”
Nox and Takashi looked at each other for a moment, before laughing. Nox extended a hand
Aaron got up, pulling Ace with him - Takashi was laughing about the fact that ‘warfare is about playing dirty anyway’, Aaron walked over to them, his arms crossed.
“Nox.” Aaron said, tugging on the man’s sleeve - “If you two fought, all out, who would win, and why.”
Nox blinked, looking towards Takashi. The man shrugged.
“Why are you asking us that?” Takashi said, wiping away blue tinted blood from his nose.
“Well - we don’t even know what you are Takashi, and I just watched you punch an actual deity with a prominent religion hard enough that he sunk into the ground.” Aaron crossed his arms, “So before we even get to the first question - what are you Takashi.”
Takashi looked to Nox - the man shrugged the same way Takashi had.
“I am a… Herald of sorts. For a Goddess that exists in a realm intentionally very far from this one. I am an extension of her power and will, to a degree.” Takashi said.
“So not a…” He waved in Nox’s direction, “deity?” Aaron asked.
“No…?” Takashi sighed, “I’m not like… A God. I don’t have a religion or actual followers. I am part of a religion… I guess? I suppose I am on Nox’s level, for the most part.”
Aaron gave him a confused look, “For the most part..?”
Nox waved his hand in front of Takashi’s face as he was about to speak, “It’s not particularly important - but to answer your initial question Aaron, chances I would win if we went all out. Although as we are now, it’s much closer - Takashi would probably be able to beat me hand to hand.”
Aaron nodded - “I want to start a proper training programme for War’s troops, as well as our more elite soldiers, If you wouldn’t mind heading that up Nox.”
“Sure…” Nox led Aaron away, their hushed discussion covered by an approaching War - his port was glowing a sickly shade of yellow.
Similar to my eyes, Takashi thought to himself.
“Why are you even on this ship Takashi. It’s supposed to be Resistance personnel only.” War growled, his viewport shifting to red, to yellow, to red, back to yellow.
“Your Director invited me onboard so that we had a safe place to plan how it is that we’re gonna approach my old friend…” Takashi replied with a frown - leaving a long enough pause for Aaron to take over - having walked back from his conversation with Nox.
Aaron sighed, “We’ve been talking about our first steps. We’re thinking about setting down roots, setting up a proper base. Takashi is here to… act as consultation.”
Nox grumbled under his breath about how ‘I’m the one that always planned our hidden bases, why are we consulting Takashi on anything’, earning a little giggle from the man in question.
“Regardless,” Takashi said, “that’s why I’m here - so if you have a problem with it, feel free to take it up with your Director! I only came down here to have fun anyway.”
“We’re not sparring for the sake of entertainment, Izumi. Ace and I only agreed to spar with Equinox to evaluate our skills, and necessitate the changes.” War threw his hands in the air as he objected, walking over towards his warhammer.
Takashi yawned, but he could see that Nox understood War’s sentiment. Nox was far older than he, and had fought in wars far more brutal than this one. They may have both been veterans of war, but Takashi could sense that something deeper roamed War’s mind, so he asked;
“I heard you were with the 5th, before this all started,” he said nonchalantly, “how come you ended up changing your mind?” Takashi said.
For a moment, War’s port glowed a familiar yellow - before returning to a more stagnant purple, “My species… OverWatch feared us, like they feared the Fae,” he looked to Nox, continuing, “unlike the Fae however, we were never given an opportunity. Never awarded the chance to join as a separate entity - all we got was subjugation, colonisation, rage and death.” War paused for a moment.
“We never had a princess to talk our way out of it. We were… tribalistic, so maybe that was the problem. We weren’t as advanced as them, so they thought it would be easier to just break us down. We were a warrior species, but… we found beauty in art, in jewellery…” War’s fists clenched, his words passionate, embolden by sorrow and hate, “so what did those bastards do? They clipped our wings! We would decorate our horns, the centre of our cultural pride, with what we made - so what did those BASTARDS do? They cut them off. Each and every horn, butchered and ground down into a fine DUST!” War punched the floor - finally creating room for him to heft his hammer onto his shoulder.
Nox bit the inside of his cheek, Aaron raised an eyebrow at the man.
Nox tapped his forefinger against his thumb, “The Empire of OverWatch would do the same thing to lesser species. Early in their reign, hundreds of years before the Great Civil War, they tried a similar tactic with the Fae. I had a hand in their evolution, initially, but OverWatch effectively devolved the entire species. They began to… call to me, and eventually I answered. It’s a long, convoluted story that maybe will get told another time - but it ended up being what drew the uh… first leaders of the Council to me.” Nox raised a hand, power drifting between his fingers, “But, as far as I understand - the Fae aren’t a separate entity, they’re more of a devolved power in a greater union. OverWatch didn’t fear them - they were going to take the entire system by force, subjugate it, yes, for its resources. That Princess got in their way, I… was here for her speeches in the Cosmic Senate. I think her passion spoke to one of their Administrators, I couldn’t get the details,” Nox sighed, “It is unlucky that your people never had someone like her - what she accomplished is a miracle, a fluke - but she never won their freedom, just their lives.”
War turned to face Nox, “She saved her people's identities. We were folded, corrupted, and changed, but the Fae - as sparse as they are in the army - remain true.”
Nox nodded.
“So… your species remains subjugated out of fear?” Takashi cocked an eyebrow.
War tensed, a growl deep in his throat, “You talk as if it would have been an easy task to REBEL against an intergalactic empire. We were demotivated over generations! There was no fight left in us, a once proud warrior race reduced to nothing more than menial slave labour. What did we have to fight for?” War threw his hammer down, “You need to buck up Takashi, this whole ‘I am above this conflict’ shtick is getting old. What happens if they attack somewhere, someone, you want to protect? Will you abandon your oaths once more? Leave them to fend for themselves? Your actions are pathetic! Nox is a complete outsider just like you. He could choose to only defend what matters to him, he could have gone to Micrea, sat there and waited for the war to come to his shores - but no! He chose to fight. He chose to fight! Just like he did back then - Just like the stories say!”
War was seething, his breathing uneven.
“You are a COWARD, Takashi Izumi.”
The Room went silent, Takashi staring directly into War’s viewport. Aaron could see Nox’s eyelids fluttering beneath his cloth, as if he was looking between the two with worry.
Takashi sniffed, “We all have our demons.”
The God turned, walking out of the room. Nox stared after him.
Nox crossed his arms, sighing into the air - If the trio could see them now, he knew they would be disappointed. Not that he cared about their opinion.
He turned towards the remaining men, “Alright fuckers, time for round two.”
[https://i.imgur.com/mA3AY5I.png]
Planet: 4004-B.
Location: Facility 9B.
Time: Two Weeks and one day before [REDACTED].
[https://i.imgur.com/Sk1fKQ8.png]
The week had flown by fast for Earth’s Inquisition Team. Kirsk had sent out the call. They were to report to 4004-B for mandatory training. Surprisingly, it was to be held in conjunction with the OverWatch Intelligence and Special Combats Bureau. Kirsk hadn’t provided them with much information - although Naofa had, again, somehow known about the training in advance. Kenya seemed unusually annoyed about the fact that the training was to be held with the OWISCB. Naofa, on the other hand, repeatedly told him that it made sense for everyone to train with the OWISCB, as they have the most gruelling regimes. Kenya's only rebuttal had been that it was all for show, and while - yes - when they actually got down to the training part, it would definitely mean something, but she was biassed - and was purposely ignoring the fact that all they ever did was show off for the recruits. They’d argued over it seven times, before they’d even made it to the camp - causing Tobias no end of headaches over the hours that each argument lasted.
4004-B was one of the larger planets that housed some OverWatch’s many training and enlistment facilities - commonly dubbed ‘boot camps’ - this one in particular held many fond, and many not so fond, memories for our winged friend.
The planet sat relatively close to the planet's star, although still remaining in the habitable zone, crafting a rather tropical environment. The sandy semi-water-world took its toll on the inquisition team, Tobias most of all. The pale man came from a world that didn’t exhibit this type of heat. He was happy to learn however, that Fox - as well as Zhar and Zach - suffered much like he did. Even Rei, a cyborg built to withstand the harshest conditions, had his processor overheat a few times. Much to Tobias’ ire, both Naofa and Kenya adapted quickly, with Naofa citing not only her training on this planet, but her wings; Something about how they helped her release heat.
The first day was consequently a slog. Although the actual training didn’t start until the second day, they were forced to - in typical boot camp fashion - unload all of their belongings, items, and other such cargo themselves.
Naofa and her most immediate chain of command moved the quickest out of all of the Inquisition team, working with practised ease. Kenya was surprised to see that Naofa’s Chief Medical Officer, Sera Jelastock, was joining them. She hadn’t been on the dropships when they made their descent from the fleet stationed in low atmo.
He was even more surprised when he realised that Rei, hidden off to the side of a dropship, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Kenya took a second to commit her look to memory.
Sera’s burnt orange hair was worn in a tight braid down her back. Today she wore no official uniform, instead wearing a simple dual-coloured band around her upper left arm, signifying her status as a medic. He knew that Medics wore these regardless, to show that they weren’t a threat, and weren’t to be attacked. In place of her uniform, she wore a loose white T-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. Like Naofa, she opted out of wearing shoes - her white socks dirtied by the ground.
She looked remarkably similar to Dorian, he realised. The same pale freckled skin, the same upturned mouth. Her nose, while slightly smaller than Dorian’s, was the same shape. Although hers seemed… slightly skew-whiff, as if it had been broken repeatedly and left unhealed.
She shared Dorian and Naofa’s pointed ears - the only other remarkable similarity to Naofa was a peeking scar that he could see trailing from the top of her chest, below her neck, downward. He wondered if Dorian bore one also. It would have been hidden by his clothes.
Tobias, a hovering crate pushed along in front of him, approached Kenya, an amused if not befuddled expression on his face, “Y’know… for a medic she’s pretty fucking buff.”
Kenya hefted a smaller box onto his shoulder, following the boy’s eyes back to Sera with a smile, “It’s even funnier if you think about the fact that all of her ‘firepower’ is magical.”
Tobias nodded, “Fae are weird. Naofa is about as lean as a beanst-” Kenya huffed, “-alk but I’ve seen her lift some pretty heavy shit.”
“She works out like four times a day,” Kenya said, “you’ll see during the no limits bouts we have towards the end of the second day. Naofa really likes to show off.”
Tobias sighed, “Sargon save me from supernaturally powerful aliens and their extraordinary abilities.”
Tobias began to walk towards the facility - he wondered what the week would bring.
[https://i.imgur.com/mA3AY5I.png]
The first day went by fast - the slow rising sun heralding the arrival of the second. As per OWISCB tradition, the second day of training was split into two distinct halves. The first six or so hours belonged to sparring matches, although they were heavily regulated, and only a singular fighting style was permitted: ‘Special Combat’. Nobody really knew why it had become the patron fighting style for the OWISCB, or its true origins, but Naofa had read somewhere that it had been through enough iterations since its inception that its use nearly always guaranteed that, regardless of whom you were fighting, you would be on equal footing. Naofa abhorred the fighting style, but it was popular enough that it had earned a spot within the OWISCB’s name.
Naofa stopped at the precipice of the large tunnel that she had begrudgingly traversed to get into the main ‘Training Amphitheatre’. It was truly massive. A large circular bed of sand surrounded by maybe two dozen rows of seats - although a thick energy barrier separated the two. She looked around, yawning to herself. The area that the Amphitheatre sat in was something similar to a large crater - the rising walls of rock and stone gave space for unusual fauna, and fungal growth. She looked up beyond the end of the tunnel, towards the still lazy sky - towards the reds and oranges that coloured its body - and inhaled deeply. It wasn’t especially early in the morning, it was maybe noon, but she’d always loved that this planet felt like a fresh morning for so long.
She hated this part of training because she always fucking lost.
Naofa lifted a large wooden staff, crafted similarly to a sword, from its divet on the tunnel wall, her eyes shifting to the man to her right. He appeared physically older than Naofa. His dark brown hair somewhat covering hardened amber eyes - bags visible beneath them. His face was soft, almost pudgy. His nose large, his eyebrows bushy. Like Naofa, he wore a specialised black robe, his own wooden staff already in hand.
Naofa tapped idly at her sides, towards where she could feel the slight weight of the sensors. They were all over the robe - allowing the judge to accurately call who hit who. It was exceptionally important for bouts like this, when fighting could become so hastened that it was hard to follow with the naked eye.
The man looked towards Naofa, before speaking - “Ready to lose again Niro?”
Naofa ground her teeth, “I only lose because there’s so many rules! We both know that in an actual fight I would kick your ass.”
He chuckled, clapping her on the shoulder, “What a shame that this isn’t an actual fight then.”
“You know it’s silly,” she grumbled, “it’s the same thing every year.” Naofa tapped her staff against her forehead.
The man smiled to himself as a painfully loud klaxon sounded, telling them that it was time to walk out onto the sand, “Come Naofa, let us see if you have improved any.”
She could faintly hear the sound of the tannoy announcing their ranks - names were unimportant in these matches, apparently.
As they walked out, Naofa remembered what it had felt like to see so many chairs filled during the bouts. She could see that maybe two thirds of them weren’t actually filled, but it was still a lot of people. It wasn’t every day that you could come watch some of OverWatch’s best fighters… fight. Part of her had expected it, she realised, although she could feel somewhere deep in her gut that a fair few of these people had actually come to watch her lose.
She quickly picked out the small section of seats that her friends, and closest colleagues, had taken up. Even though they were so close, the barrier of energy somewhat distorted their forms. It was in part unavoidable, due to the nature of the barrier, but she had always enjoyed the fact that she couldn’t see out into the crowd. It helped her steer her nerves.
Naofa and her opponent took up positions opposite each other as they finally reached the centre of the sand bed. The older man first bowed to her, as a sign of respect towards his opponent, and then to the Instructor - who sat off to the side in a large raised chair - who waved him on. Naofa mimicked the action, before locking eyes with the man in front of her.
The Instructor spoke, “I expect you to both abide by the duelling conventions in place, and respect each other's right to forfeit the match at any point, for any reason. I would like verbal confirmation from both of you.”
Naofa spread her feet - one slightly behind the other - bringing her ‘sword’ down to rest along her right leg, both hands on the hilt, one arm across the chest. A traditional ready stance. “I understand.” She said.
The older man followed suit, although his sword was pointed straight forward, the point resting just above where her head would be from where he was standing.
“I understand.” He said.
Naofa grimaced at his stance, she’d lost before they’d even begun.
The Instructor looked to both of them, before raising a flag, “BEGIN!”
[https://i.imgur.com/lAooWzL.png]
Jock watched more and more people spill into the Amphitheatre from his front row seat, his entire body twisted around. Kenya, who sat to his left, was really treating this like a show - he shoved his hand into a bucket of popcorn that sat between himself and Tobias, munching on it happily.
Tobias looked around, “When did the OWISCB turn these matches into a sporting event?”
“This is a ‘new-gen’ thing,” Kenya said, “It’s the same with the no holds barred bouts that we have after these - it actually used to be much shorter…” Kenya struggled for a second, “like… the training week thingy.”
Jock turned back to Kenya, “So what changed?”
Kenya tapped his chest, while simultaneously pointing at Naofa, and spoke with a mouthful of popcorn, “Pweople like wus i guess,” he swallowed, “An old academy partner once told me that the newer generation of OverWatch officers have statistically higher AC counts, and far more… exaggerated powers than in latter years.”
Kenya ate another handful of popcorn before continuing, “So they instituted a bunch of changes based on, like, our tendency to show off more than the old guard, considering their lack of powers,” he yawned, “although, the no holds barred matches started here at this camp - they sorta just… expanded over time.”
Jock nodded to himself thoughtfully, “I’d heard - but I was never on rotation close enough to ever justify coming to watch a sparring session. This one is closed off right?”
It was Tobias that nodded, “Yeah - but the entire population of the camp is here.”
Kenya cut in, “No - not the entire camp. Just us ‘visitors’ and some of the teachers. The rest’ve the population should be here for the next half.”
“Yeah bu-” Jock started.
Tobias smacked the side of both of their heads gently, cutting the conversation short.
The Klaxon sounded.
A voice came over the tannoy, echoing around them - it was monotone, robotic, “This is bout - Thirty-Nine of Forty. First Class Agent Versus First Class Agent. Duelists - please step onto the field.”
They all watched with bated breath as they stepped out onto the sand, each step more suspenseful than the last.
Kenya leaned forward, watching Naofa take stance - they both knew she wouldn’t win this, she never did. He was surprised, at the very least, to see her taking it seriously this year.
The Instructor spoke to them briefly, before shouting, “BEGIN!”
The start of the fight was a slog. It took Naofa a while to find her rhythm - she was already down six points by the time she had even managed to land her first blow.
She could see the smirk across his face, the soft crinkle above his eyes that told her he was enjoying this fight. It told her that he thought she couldn’t win.
And that pissed her off.
She would give them the show they all wanted.
Naofa was motion given physical form. She was the wind and the sky and the stars above - she was relentless, every muscle in her body ever fibre of her being pushed and pulled in the same direction. Every swipe of her staff was lethal, every breath she took pushed her further and further.
But it still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Naofa brought her staff up above her head, blocking a particularly disastrous slam downward from her adversary. His form was the essence of perfection - she just couldn’t keep up. She bounced back, sand spraying as her feet moved.
Naofa got low, the force of her movement allowing her to duck under his swipe by a hair. She charged forward, swiping upwards from her hip.
It was deflected, forcing her off balance.
She growled, using the momentum of his deflection to bring her staff downward in a single brutal motion. His eyes flared, and she had managed to catch him off guard, even if just for a second.
Her staff slammed into his shoulder, pushing him down to a knee.
Naofa backed up, returning to the base of her stance - the staff across her hip, pointing down towards her heels.
She was sweating, her lungs heaving against her chest with the effort it took to breathe. The ageing man dusted off his shoulder, that smirk having never left his face. He looked about as winded as she did. Her hands trembled as she tightened her grip on her weapon.
One more minute. All she had to do was last one more minute.
Naofa got low once more, switching her stance.
She had originally been using Sun Stance - it focused on defensive motions, wide broad strokes, using the majority of the weapon to cover your body. In reality, the idea of using stances was pretty stupid - outdated even. You wouldn’t ever be able to use a single stance in battle, it would probably get you killed. It was more about the concept, the focus being on the fact that it promoted a certain mindset.
The matches were different though. You weren’t really allowed to mix and match the stances, at least not to the degree of using moves from each stance in a single sequence.
So she would try a different approach.
If she couldn’t defend herself, she would simply smash him into the fucking ground.
Naofa held her staff in a single hand, pointed backwards. It was stupidly impractical, but it was part of the stance.
Moon stance was all about heavy lunges and smashing motions. You would become the tide, and erode your enemy. Wash them away under the weight of your blows.
The man’s eyebrow turned upwards, his smirk fading slightly.
He knew she was faster than he was - he wouldn’t be able to block them all.
He shifted, his own staff resting across his hip - he had adopted the Sun Stance.
Naofa tensed her legs before leaping the fifteen feet between them, her entire body twisted in the air as she used the momentum to again smash her staff down upon him.
He brought his up, barely deflecting the blow - but she was already moving.
Her feet were barely on the ground for more than a second before she lunged again, this time it was a flurry of blows. She would throw so many attacks at him that the bastard would think he was surrounded.
He shifted under the weight of each attack, his staff moving with impeccable speed.
She would just have to go faster.
Naofa picked up the pace - her body protesting at the strain she was putting it under.
SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM.
Again and again, he met her blows with a cold indifference, only two of those attacks had landed.
Naofa screamed, the noise a shrill ‘AAAAAAHHH’.
She could hear the gentle dripping of her blood, her nails having dug straight through her flesh - with the way they had been moving, the entire arena would be covered in it.
The man stood with an infuriating calm, his breathing even and controlled. He pointed the tip of his staff at her, his intent clearly written across his body.
He must have been counting his points, this would be the ‘killing’ blow.
Naofa once more got low.
She inhaled, preparing to move but he was somehow faster - he had somehow, Naofa thought to herself with no small amount of irony, managed to anticipate her next move, and had acted accordingly.
She found herself ass in the sand - the tip of his staff pressed into the hollow of her neck. Her own staff discarded across the arena, removed from her grasp in two smooth motions.
She hadn’t even lasted the minute.
In fact, the entire match was over within two.
The Instructor raised his hands, his stoic face belying what she knew was excitement, “Scores are Ten to Two!” He waved his hand in the older man's direction, “We have a winner!”
The man muttered a silent, it was a good try, Naofa, it really was, as they joined each other in the middle of the field.
The crowd erupted with foreseen applause as the onsite medic, Sera, ran out to tend to Naofa’s bleeding hands. The man walked off to talk to the instructor.
The fire haired woman approached Naofa with an amused smile, causing her angelic friend to groan.
“Not a fucking word Sera,” she flicked blood at her, “Not one, or two, or three, or even four words. Don’t even breathe at me.”
The blood splashed against her pale skin, before evaporating into a green mist.
Sera giggled, her voice light and airy - so different from Naofa’s - “I wouldn’t have to say anything at all if you hadn’t cut yourself on a smooth piece of wood Lex.”
Naofa turned her palms over, showing her the cuts along the bottom of her palm, “I actually did these with my fingernails.”
Sera was in her medical uniform today - a sleek white uniform against the yellow sand, that two tone band replaced by the large red cross with a diagonal gap across the middle on her back - the standard symbol of the Union of Medicine. It suited her, the buttons along the front were polished to perfection.
“That’s still self induced,” Sera ran her thumb across the first set of cuts - Naofa could feel the warmth of her Aura Cells knitting her flesh back together with a satisfying hiss, forcing new cells and skin to grow in place of the old one, as to avoid a scar, “and you’re still an idiot.”
Naofa nudged her into motion, walking towards the exit tunnel, “You won’t be saying that when we get into the next batch of fights in an hour.”
Naofa grinned with fiendish delight, much to the dismay of her friend.
The next fight concluded with almost the same degree of speed - ending in a draw.
[https://i.imgur.com/mA3AY5I.png]
There was an hour's break between the two sections of the day, it was mid-afternoon by the time the no holds barred fights had started. Naofa sat in the crowd having changed into her usual outfit during the break - mulling over the listings for who would be fighting who.
Both Kenya and Jock were leaning over her shoulder as she quietly read the names out, “Rank One Agent Juji Isoyama is up against Rank Two Agent Toshi Hirose next - Third Class Agent Harmona Catlow just fought Naval Command Captain Agares Hawkins,” Naofa rubbed at her chin, her hair still up in a tight bun, wisps drifting down around her eyes.
Jock grunted, “A lot of these match ups seem wildly unfair - pitting rank ones against threes.”
“That’s just the way it is,” Naofa shrugged, “y’gotta prove yourself somehow y’know?”
“It’s strange, is all I mean.” Jock said.
Kenya clicked his tongue, “That’s just the way they roll in the OWISCB.”
Naofa yawned, “I can’t find my name, or any of yours, so it looks like we’re gonna be a later match,” she smiled, “lucky us I guess - gives me time to rest.”
Kenya pushed his hand forward, scrolling down the list - “Where ammmmmmmmm I, whereeeeeeeee ammmm Ieeeeeee.”
Naofa swatted at his hands, causing him to yelp - Jock side eyed them disapprovingly.
The Frenchman tapped the screen with his pointer finger, “You’re here, and you’re up against…” Jock trailed off, sighing to himself.
Naofa’s grin couldn’t be contained, “Youuu’re up against lillll olllll meeee.”
Kenya gulped, breathing in deeply, “Oh boy.”
The sand was a mess by the time Naofa and Kenya had taken up their positions.
The fights that had come before them were brutal, it had drawn more of a crowd than either one of them had realised would be able to attend, considering today was a major training day around the entire camp.
Naofa had watched Darius beat into Teyaki with a reckless strength that she had only seen on the most desperate of battlefields just before her own fight had been announced - Kenya had mused to her that he must be trying to impress one of the watching higher-ups. It was one of the many ways you could be promoted in the bureau.
While the Naval Marines trained in a separate facility, Jock and Tobias had been granted an exemption by the acting instructor, Admiral Kirsk, so that they could watch them fight. Naofa had quickly written up the order before her fight with Kenya had begun - sending a lower grunt to go deliver it to the Main Site Instructor.
As the pair reached their chosen starting positions, the Instructor spoke once more, his voice ringing out over the tannoy, “This is our last no holds bout of the day - concluding today’s training. We will see First Class Agent Naofa Niro fight Lieutenant Commander Kenya. Remember, these fights are to show you how our active duty servicemen and women fight on the field. You would do well to take notes, and learn from them.”
Naofa sighed to herself - huffing slightly. She knew he was speaking for the effect of the recruits in the audience, but it really did bore her to no end.
Kenya dug his feet into the sand slightly, his bare toes sinking - his voice came over the radio in her ear, “You ready wings? ‘Cause I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Naofa spread her wings out fully, golden light like wisps of smoke and mist trailing from her arms - coalescing around her head in the form of an ever shifting halo. “Oh absolutely Kenya, I can’t wait for you to lay your hands on me.”
There was a moment's pause before he spoke, “That was weird dude.”
She simply giggled.
The Instructor inhaled, before screaming once more, “BEGIN!”
Naofa immediately rocketed into the air, the blast of wind from her wings leaving a sizable divet in the sand. As she moved, she left a shimmering afterimage. She never really used this ability in real fights, it was kinda useless - a very small part of her control over light - but she giggled to herself at the idea that people would like it.
Kenya’s voice buzzed in her ear a moment later, “That is not fair.”
She steadied as her beating wings held her aloft, looking down at him with a lazy smile.
Kenya groaned, slamming a foot forward into the sand. He brought his hands together violently, jamming them together in a grinding motion. Veins of ebony began to spread across his arms, his face, his forehead and eyes. Naofa continued to hang in the air, a faint buzzing surrounded her body - it was like staring at a 3D screen without the glasses.
Kenya threw his hands forward with a rage like a tempest. The ground split apart in several places, shimmering towers of sharpened adamant gunning for Naofa. Every muscle in Kenya's body tensed as he threw every ounce of his will power into the strike.
Each one rocketed at her with an innate hunger. Naofa rolled her eyes, her lips parting into a saccharine smile.
She flew up, and up, and up, and up, soaring higher and higher. The spiralling pillars followed her, each one snaking and twisting into the sky like the head of a serpent. The wisping light across Naofa’s body condensed as she inhaled deeply. The faint halo that had at first hovered atop her head, solidified and slid down to cover her eyes. The form of the halo changed, the front holding three vertical bars, the middle taller than the rest.
She placed her thumb into her mouth up to the first knuckle, biting down hard. She began to scrape at it with her teeth, each bite more animalistic than the last. She tore and chewed all the way down to the bone. Blood snaked down her arm as she moved her mouth to the other side of her right hand, taking her pinkie between her two sharpened canines. She twisted, tearing the entire finger off with a spray of blood. She laughed into the air as it coated her dress, coated her face. She held her hand out, willing the blood across her body back towards her hand. It travelled against gravity like a series of lazy rivers, collecting around her wounds in the form of floating blobs. Some of the blood, Naofa willed to replace the missing flesh - giving her new digits a murky, watery, every shifting appearance.
Naofa finally stopped moving upwards when she was a good mile above the arena. The tendrils still followed her, although slowly. Kenya could only control so much at a time, she had put this distance between them on purpose, knowing that he would either have to combine all of those pillars into a single entity to throw her way, or attempt to control multiple at once - even if their ascent would be much slower.
Naofa’s smile became feral. A slashing smile who’s corners reached her eyes.
She raised the pointer finger of her left hand to her mouth, stuffing the entire thing in - all the way down to the knuckle. Naofa’s face scrunched up with the effort it took to cleave into her hand. She could feel the bone crunch beneath the force of her jaw, each individual layer snapping and breaking. She could feel her knuckle pop. She began to wind her head back and forth, pulling and pulling against the remaining connective tissue.
With one final sickening gurgling wrench, she tore out that entire section of her hand.
Kenya’s eyes were keen enough to spot the tiny droplets of blood that had miraculously managed to land back in the arena, sinking into the sand like a gentle rainfall. He sighed with no small amount of annoyance. If she was tearing into herself up there it meant she was going to be a headache.
The boy clasped one hand in the other, squeezing slightly. The ebony across his body pulsed with their renewed orders, and he could see that his pillars had begun to slam into one another - forming a singular spire of pulsating dark, mimicking the echoing beats of his heart. Kenya smiled, despite himself.
It was her voice this time that crawled into his ears, “This is your grand plan Kenya? Here - let me meet you halfway.”
Kenya looked up, eyes locking onto Naofa’s fuzzy form. Her wings stopped flapping, and she began to fall, faster and faster. He took off running towards his tower, still growing as if to pierce the heavens. He would reach her one way or another.
Naofa’s throat became hoarse with her laughter, each breath snatched away by the wind. It gathered in her ears, in her eyes and lungs. Faster and faster she approached the tower - more and more did her light grow.
She threw her hand out as it came within two hundred feet, the light of her body forming a familiar spear that she gripped with passionate might. By the fifty foot mark, she spread out her wings as hard as she could, slowing her descent enough to be able to open her eyes again. She marked Kenya’s position on the tower - about half way up - and tucked her wings back in, returning to her headfirst freefall.
With her spear positioned in front of her, Naofa inhaled once more - drawing in as many AuraCells as she could from the air around her. This place wasn’t as richly populated as Earth was, but there were still enough around her to turn her body into a bonfire of light - shifting and swaying like a pale white flame.
There were three heartbeats, between Naofa drawing in those AuraCells, and the tip of her spear colliding with the tip of the tower.
There were three heartbeats more, before the entire Arena was blinded by the brilliant eruption of light that shook the air around them - like a second sun right before their eyes.
Naofa roared in the momentary stalemate between her spear and Kenya’s tower - but she heaved, and heaved, and heaved, and eventually won, cleaving the tower in two as she fell. It continued to split as she moved, the cut becoming less clean as she was forced towards the outer edges by its girth.
Yet Kenya didn’t stop moving. Within a second of her continued falling, he was upon her - hand outstretched towards her throat - eyes wide with amusement and surprise. She tried to reorient her body, moving just enough that it was her wrist that he caught - instead of her throat.
Naofa could hear the crowd cheering as he caught her. The scent and sounds of the arena still seemed so far away, in this little moment just below the clouds. He had planned this almost perfectly, every inch of his body had moved with a precision that she hadn’t truly expected - something that she just barely begrudgingly admitted to herself.
In the end though, She would always out manoeuvre him.
The blood that coated her right hand, and made up for the missing flesh fell away into tiny globules, each one amorphous in nature. She opened her palm, the blood slamming into it, slamming into one another - and taking the form of a small dagger. He had caught her left hand - she had initially planned on using the blood from the wounds on this hand to bind him. She supposed she would have to act far more drastically.
Kenya kicked against the tower, throwing them in a spinning arc outwards - one hand still on Naofa’s wrist. There was a momentary struggle as they plummeted, although it was quickly given up on when Kenya pulled her wrist over his shoulder - holding her body close to his.
Naofa whispered into his ear against the wind, the sound happy - almost giggly, “I told you I was gonna enjoy this.”
Kenya glanced sideways at her - her own eye just barely visible through the fluttering of her hair, “You always get weird during these things Naofa.”
Naofa put her knee between them, pushing against his body enough to wrench her wrist back into view. With another maniacal laugh, she slammed her forehead into his nose, his gurgling ‘ugh’ seemingly enough to allow her to pry her other wrist free.
With the blood dagger, she slashed at her bound appendage, cutting it off at the elbow.
Kenya actually screamed, as Naofa slammed both of her feet into his stomach - sending him sprawling away from her as she caught herself with beating wings. He spun towards the ground, unable to right himself in the air as she had.
But it was the chains of blood, springing from the floor and binding his body, that truly brought him down to Terra-Firma. He slammed into the ground with a thud that Naofa thought was painfully satisfying.
Naofa gently alighted atop his stomach, leaning down and bringing her knees up to her own chest. The blood spurting out of her severed arm dripped to a halt as she yawned. She placed the dagger into the sand, grabbing her severed limb - she eyed her handiwork with a small grin - it was a clean cut, so they would probably be able to reattach it again without much issue. Her control over the blood should help - but she knew, just like last time, it would be a while before that arm was at full capacity.
Kenya struggled against the chains, but Naofa placed the tip of her dagger against the indent of his throat - staring down at him with what he thought she might have thought was a loving smile. She waved at him with her severed arm, her head cocked to the side.
“You lose Ken.”
The sound of the amphitheatre’s klaxon buzzed into everyone’s ears, signifying the end of the intense brawl. Many of the onlookers cheered over the sight, as it seemed everyone had been on the edge of their seats. Yet there were a few among the crowd that gave them disapproving looks, as if the choice of fighting style was incredibly unprecedented, as well as an unprofessional conduct from Naofa’s magic from obtaining blood through self harm.
The Instructor walked up to both contenders, just as Naofa helped Kenya up on his feet, “Good fighting, both of you.” he amended, patting Kenya’s shoulder to cheer the boy up. As the crowd dialled down, just as Naofa reattached her severed limb, the Instructor grabbed everyone’s attention.
“What you’ve witnessed is a combat most unprecedented, yet incredible to a great deal. Many of you have yet to experience what it’s like to be in the field, and many feel confident enough to enter the battlefield with their knowledge in Special Combats.” he voiced, placing his hands now behind his back, “Remember two things, the first is that Special Combat does NOT guarantee a secure victory for you - it guarantees an equal advantage against your opponent. Keep in mind that using Special Combats means you were at a disadvantage to begin with, therefore it is up to use your wits to overcome that last bit of disadvantage. The second thing I want you to remember,” he waved his hand out towards the pair behind him, “is that this brawl should serve as a demonstration on how one can overcome the odds with or without Special Combats. And as we saw, the most common way of doing so, is a form of self sacrifice. As we end our training, that is what I want every one of you to expect when entering combat from here on out.”
The Instructor’s closing statement, as well as the overall sparring match, had indeed placed the arts of combat into a new perspective for everyone. The question now; is how many would be capable of adapting it for what’s to come? They’d all find out, soon enough.