[November 30th, 2042]

The breeze had died, replaced by a silence occasionally disrupted by the sound of a car engine and the flickering of distant headlights passing over the abandoned and shattered basketball court. For about thirty seconds, nobody had spoken a word.

It was Bridget who began. “Mr. Clermont,” she said, calling out to him with a loud and clear voice. It sounded more recognizably like her, but Cal could practically taste the cold anger underneath it. “Are you unharmed?”

The question confused him, but he confirmed he was not.

“Good,” Bridget said shortly, and redirected her attention to Roxy. “You. Accursed denizen-”

“My enemies call me Rosalind, actually-”

“-what were you planning to do? What have you done?”

Roxy giggled, in a way that suggested she knew what she would say next wouldn’t be smart but couldn’t help but say it regardless. “What have I done? Just stole a kiss or three, maybe more, who knows? I wouldn’t want to go into details. It might make an inexperienced woman like yourself blush.”

Bridget’s face could have been made from stone. It didn’t fluctuate an inch in emotion, but she did hold up her arm to her side, as if preparing to remove something from a pocket. “Are those your last words?”

Roxy pondered this. “Would you consider yourself a stuck-up involuntary celibate first, or more a morally bankrupt willing puppet of an incestuous, corrupt, violent royal family of freaks and perverts?”

The air shimmered, then screamed, birthing something from non-existence. A thick sword, adorned with jade and mother-of-pearl at the hilt, appeared from literally nowhere at the expanse of air next to Bridget’s hand. Cal didn’t even have time to track the length of the moonlight reflected along the blade with his eyes before Bridget snatched it out of the air and launched forward across the court of splitting earth and wilting weeds. She moved so fast that her profile became an abstraction of color and movement, her long brown hair dancing, the buttons of the uniform glinting, the extremity of the sword moving in an arc of a perfect semi-circle, its tip directed with precise and deadly intent at Roxy’s neck.

There was a sudden flash of blue light that blinded Cal for a moment, and when his eyes readjusted to the dark and electronic glow of the streetlights, Bridget was standing where Roxy had been a half-second before, her sword glowing blue before fading back to sleek steel. On the ground lay a few strands of pure white hair, clear against the dark concrete.

Cal turned his eyes to see where Roxy had ended up. She was at the edge of the court, crouching as if she had just leaped backwards over a dozen feet from where she had been standing. Her expression was somewhere between stunned and flushed, an energy running all throughout her pale body.

“Ho~ly shit…” Roxy gasped, smiling sharply in a way that suggested it was more out of shock than anything else. Her hand was around her neck. “You are… way faster than I expected. I suppose Lizzie didn’t warn me about you for nothing.”

Her red eyes focused on the after-glow of the sword which Bridget held. “An enchantment to slay immortal monsters, huh? Not ideal.”

“Bridget,” said Cal carefully, still pressing his back against the wall. His eyes were wide, seemingly sincerely taken aback for once. “What is this — that sword? What’s going on-”

“Mr. Clermont!” Bridget said harshly into the air, not taking intense her eyes from where Roxy was crouching. Then she seemed to calm down slightly, or at least take account of the situation from his perspective, and spoke with her normal voice. “Mr. Cal. I’m sorry, but I cannot take the time to explain everything right now.”

Bridget held the thick sword out in front of her (it had some runes carved into the steel, he could now see), pointing the tip directly at Roxy. “That thing is an evil-doer, and I must be rid of it, for your own safety and the safety of this city.”

“Yeah, she’s sort of burying the lead there, cutie.” Roxy had stood up, flexing her arms and puffing out her chest. Despite her relative small and lean frame, the movement revealed an undeniable musculature and strength to her body. “I wouldn’t listen to this fascist if I were you. She’s spent her entire life doing royal dick-sucking to replace the fact she doesn’t actually get any. Her perspective isn’t exactly unbiased.”

“Are you through with your taunts, monster?” remarked Bridget coldly, pushing a long strand of brown hair over her ear and tensing her large body. “If so, fall prey to my sword.”

“Maaaan,” Roxy whistled, “you really are mad, aren’t you? Goddamn, it wasn’t just the kiss, was it? Did you call dibs or something? Or are you grooming him so he can be one of your princess’ paramours later when she gets bored of screwing her cousin or brother or whatever?”

The arch of Roxy’s smile fell into a horizontal line, and her voice took on a more serious aspect. “Honestly, isn’t your reaction a little overblown, here? There’s not a scratch on him, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Ms. Bridget,” said Cal tentatively, trying to shift his position so he would appear in her field of view. “Can we hold on, just for a moment? I want to explain-”

“Mr. Cal, I’m sorry,” Bridget repeated. Her eyes appeared to be drawn in his direction, though she seemed to be making a conscious effort not to look at him directly. “I typically appreciate your input and thoughts, but in this situation, I think it would be best for you to remain quiet-”

“Besides, you can’t call dibs,” Roxy had moved closer, glowering at Bridget, her large boots making loud steps on the ground. “I already did. Whatever. Dibs times infinity plus one. Beat it, homewrecker.”

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“You too!” Cal rounded on Roxy, his confusion turning into indignation. “Stop antagonizing her. Can we all just stop before someone gets hurt-”

“She tried to cut my head off!” Roxy growled, her voice animalistic and rough as she stalked forward towards Bridget. “For what, vapid pride?”

Bridget finally looked at Cal. Her brown eyes betrayed a little tenderness and desperation — a silent plea for him to understand. “Mr. Cal, you cannot reason with this thing-”

Something red whipped through the air too fast for Cal to track, and suddenly Bridget was clutching her hand in pain as her sword clattered and slid across the concrete out of reach.

“No more sword, so no more tricks,” Roxy said with a satisfied grin, stepping in front of Bridget. She adjusted the bra strap that had fallen off the shoulder blade in the commotion and pulled one of the fishnet stockings back over her knee. “Now, we can talk a little more calmly and- Ugh!”

Bridget hadn’t let Roxy’s sarcastic quip come to an end. The Maiden of Dornlathe has pulled back her arm, made a fist, and with all the power in her large and muscled body rammed the fist into Roxy’s navel.

“What the- you bitch!” snarled Roxy, doubling over as she began to spit a mixture of saliva and blood. “How the fuck are you so strong, you shouldn’t be able to-”

Roxy again didn’t have to finish her thought, as the heel of Bridget’s brown boot extended off the ground in a swinging motion and collided directly with her cheek. The foot hit with such power that Roxy’s entire body followed the motion, slamming into the concrete with remarkable force. Roxy didn’t even have time to react to what had just happened before the air screamed again, and again, a sword appeared in Bridget’s hands, shimmering blue against the dark sky, swinging downward, swinging with deadly intent.

And stopping.

“Please move, Mr. Cal.” Bridget said, her voice colder than it had ever been before, her eyes glaring at the young man who had stepped between the swinging sword and the prone body of the white-haired girl lying on the ground, massaging her cheek. “Please move, right now.”

“No,” said Cal simply, meeting her stare with his dark, emotionless eyes. He didn’t remember moving but wasn’t surprised to find himself standing still, the blue blade of Bridget’s sword paused an inch from his face.

Bridget took a deep breath, as if trying not to shout. “Why must you always be so-” She stopped, took another breath. “Why? You do know I am acting in your best interest — and will always do so. Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Cal blinked, as if the question was absurd. “If I don’t, you’ll kill her, won’t you? She hasn’t done anything wrong that I know of. So I can’t let you do that.”

Roxy snorted from where she lay on the ground, wiping her mouth with her wrist to dispel the saliva that had congealed there.

Bridget gritted her teeth, her brown eyes flashing with anger. “She is dangerous, a dangerous type of existence-”

“One that has done nothing to deserve to be killed, from what I know-”

“That is the problem, what you know is not everything that must be considered, Mr. Cal. I know these creatures… she… she is dangerous-”

“I can’t stand by and let you kill her when she hasn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she has tried to help me. Don’t claim it’s for my sake either, as if I would have wanted something like that. I’ve never seen you like this, Ms. Bridget.”

“You…!” Bridget's jaw tightened, and Cal thought her eyes looked a little misty. She seemed to be having trouble getting out a complete sentence, and the sword in her hands shook. “You have no… why are you defending something like her. Do… do you have so little faith in me… I thought- I thought...”

Bridget’s face twisted. “Does it all matter so little to you?”

“Everything… is just the same to me, Bridget. Everything, forever.” Cal said softly, his sharp profile illuminated by the streetlights that hung over the court. “Nothing… is supposed to matter that much…. Please… put the sword down… I don’t want you to harm anyone.”

Bridget’s eyes widened, a complex and hurt emotion swirling within them. She lowered the sword. It vanished into the air. She lowered her arms, hanging them at her side in defeat. She took a step back. She looked at Roxy, who was smirking from her place on the ground, and then she looked at Cal. And whatever was in her eyes died.

“Fine,” she said shortly. “Do what you want, Mr. Cal. It makes no difference to me.”

“Oh ho!” said Roxy. She was now on her knees, still breathing a little hard and wincing. “Better luck next time, Bridget! Looks like I won this round.”

“Roxy,” said Cal tonelessly, still looking at Bridget’s face. “Sorry, could you leave me and Bridget alone? We can finish what we were discussing later.”

Roxy bit her lip, as if dissatisfied by this somehow, but then shrugged. “Whatever, the good part is already over.” She went to the wall and picked up the coat she had discarded, shrugging into it. “See you later cutie. By the by, if some old crone named Delilah shows up asking about me, you haven’t heard a thing, kapische?”

Then Roxy looked at Bridget. “I haven’t heard a ‘thank you’, yet.”

Bridget’s face was expressionless, yet still seemed furious all the same. “What.”

“For the kiss I gave your favorite paramour,” Roxy playfully touched her bottom lip with the tip of a red finger, which was dripping blood ever so slightly. “The saliva, dummy. He’s marked with my scent now. So all the monsters like me leave him alone. Though I can’t promise it’ll keep away all the other bullshit he’s pulling into his orbit.”

Roxy nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied with her words. “Your punch still hurts like a bitch, so I'mma go sleep this off. Toodles, losers. See you later.”

With a hop and a skip, she was around the corner and gone. Cal and Bridget were alone in the court.

There was a horrible silence. Slowly, in one continuous motion, Bridget released all the tension she had been holding in her body, bent her knees, lowered her rear, and sat down on the concrete. She didn’t seem to care whether her uniform was creased or dirtied. In fact, her expression seemed to indicate she was tired of thinking or feeling at all.

“Dammit,” she said to herself, in a clear voice, addressing seemingly nothing at all.

Another minute or so passed before she looked at Cal. “Sit with me, Mr. Cal.”

He did, cross-legged across from her, his rear nestled into an overgrown weed.

Bridget smiled, or tried to smile. “It’s like one of our late-night talks that we have, Mr. Cal, or the ones we have early in the morning, before everyone else was woken up. I really enjoyed those talks, you know. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart… it… really made me feel less lonely.”

Cal studied her. She was resting her head against her bent knees, eyes far away, thinking about those memories that they shared. Her brown hair fell down onto the ground, tangling at the laces of her boots and the cracks in the concrete.

“They meant a lot to me, too,” Cal responded finally.

Bridget smiled, but it wasn’t the warm, patient smile Cal was used to seeing. It was a little bit sad. Even somewhat sardonic. “Oh, Mr. Cal, I really do wonder if that is actually true.” Her brown eyes looked at him as if trying to look deep into his heart. “I’m going to talk for a while now, Mr. Cal, and I would like you to listen to me, as you always do. I’m going to speak as honestly as I’m allowed, without compromising my lady’s situation or secrets. And then I would like you to respond to what I say with honesty in turn. Can you do that?

He felt a strange foreboding that he couldn’t articulate to himself. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good,” Bridget tucked her knees against her breasts, let out a soft, yearning sigh, staring up into the sky — at the moon. “It’s time we really knew one another, Mr. Cal.”