blood work? i sure hope it does

The Laughing Jester Inn was a cozy place. Built generations ago by the first humans to settle in the newly cleared Realm of Eldraine and added to as needs arose, it stood five stories tall and was constructed in a way that looked haphazard, but wasn't in any danger of falling over. Primarily constructed of oaken beams and whitewashed stones, the inn stood out among the buildings of the nearby town.

Visitors from the town had been all the inn saw in its inception, although the opening of an omenpath to Thunder Junction had made extraplanar visitors increasingly common. Now among the weary farmers and Syr Gwyn's knights of Locthwain you could find Obscura Operatives, Gruul Anarchomancers, Jeskai Monks, Dawnheart Witches and many more mingling, playing games, drinking, and enjoying entertainment sourced from across the Multiverse.

However today was a special occasion. The elderly innkeeper was telling anyone that would listen that it was his twin grandchildren's twenty third birthday today, and they had promised to come see him to celebrate.

"And a man like me, who's getting on in years, needs to see his family."

No one believed he was getting that old. Despite being nearly seventy he could easily be mistaken for two decades younger due to his youthful energy and very good aging. Even the barmaids, who actually did know, would roll their eyes at his shenanigans.

Freddie took a deep breath before entering, pushing open the door. Lively fiddle, cornett, drums, and theorbo playing wove through the noise of chatter. They entered first. A few people took notice of them dressed as they were in Pre-Invasion Locthwainian formalwear, all purples and golds. Their icy blue eyes swept the crowd.

Victory stepped in behind them, letting the door swing closed. Their prosthetic foot gleamed in the light from the windows and the firelight. They were dressed in a blue blazer over a plaid shirt and short blue pants. Their head had a flat cap in the same blue.

"Fferllydraig! Victoriallyn!" The innkeeper swept over to them and hugged them both at once. Victory was clearly embarrassed by their full first name being used.

"Hi Taid." Freddie said, beaming.

"Oh happy birthday you wonderful children, you!" One final squeeze and they were let go.

"Taid, Victory. Victory, our Taid, Owen Dabloso."

"Good to meet you." Victory's voice was cautious, a very soft Eldrainian tinge to what was essentially a New Capennan accent.

Meanwhile Freddie's accent was slamming even harder into Eldrainian. "We should pop over to the bar for a pint or two. Celebration day!"

Victory smiled awkwardly.

As the day crept into dusk, and the dusk crept into night, patrons came and went. Some wished the twins a happy birthday. Others didn't even acknowledge them. Until a fellow, dressed in in the clothes common on Thunder Junction, stepped in, and zeroed in on the bar. Specifically the twins.

He strode over and Victory felt a thunder pistol poke into their side.

"Come with me. Quiet-like. We don't have to make this messy," the bounty hunter rasped.

Victory slowly stood.

"Good. I appreciate it."

The pistol drifted very slightly.

In a flash, Victory had grabbed him and flipped him over their shoulder onto the bar.

One of the barmaids screamed. Owen ran up to see what was happening. A single shot of the thunder pistol missed Victory and crackled into a support beam. Many of the patrons helped restrain the bounty hunter.

"What are you doing with my grandchild?" Owen demanded.

"They murdered five men. Good men. I simply came to collect the bounty."

Owen raised an eyebrow and glanced to Victory.

"I did. Got arrested for it and went to jail. Wasn't fed and got an infection that turned gangrenous and lost me my foot. So I got out again."

Owen turned his attention back to the hunter. "So you mean to tell me, you want money so bad you'll accept bounties from a government that treats its prisoners like that?"

The hunter remained silent. Owen glanced to the patrons holding his limbs. They nodded, dragged him to the door and bodily threw him into the mud.

"And stay out!"

Owen did keep the thunder pistol though.

Consequences VII

Teeth sinking into flesh. A cry of pain. Blood trailing from claw marks. Fresh bruises. Blood for blood, the lesser sacrificing for the better; these were the two true rules during training. The vampire was weaker, so he was forced to give more.

The hyenafolk growled as he woke from slumber. Another dream focused on their old coworker, the one who managed to get away. The one that he wanted back. He reminded himself to be patient, shook himself out, and rolled off of the table that had served as his medical cot. New membranes stretched across the bone wing frames. The stingers protruding from his lower back were sharper now, just like his claws and his teeth. At least the resurrection magic had brought him back to full fighting fitness despite who he and his spark were now bound to.

Arkuan’s footsteps were audible as he prowled through the new base that he and Flair had set up. Wooden floor, wooden walls, wooden roof and ceiling. Suspended in the air through the same magic and architecture that Eldraine’s storm giants used. Hidden from sight with misdirection enchantments stolen from the Obscura and Court of Omission alike. Isolated from the ground so that their quarry wouldn’t be able to use his own abilities to escape.

It also wasn’t hard to get a handful of mooks and minions. There were always people willing to do anything you ask for the right price. Others could be “convinced” through Flair’s practice. The humans – of course they were all human, there were so many of them that it was easier to send them to various planes to handle things themselves – worked in the base on the various dipshit duties that Arkuan couldn’t be bothered to keep track of.

Arkuan knocked on the open door to Flair’s new lab. It was quite similar to her old one in the Realm of Judgment and looked like a Simic doctor’s wet dream. Every operation table had straps to restrain someone that were enchanted to completely block any magic, internal or external. Arkuan had gotten them during the duo’s recent trip to restock as a “gift” for the doctor. Flair herself had gotten him a new machete to make up for the sword that had been left behind when they left the Realm of Judgment.

Flair looked up from her notepad. She grinned too widely. Her scorpion tail flicked around behind her. “Arkuan! Here I was thinking you might actually sleep in today.”

“Not when there are more things to plan.” Arkuan invited himself in and leaned against the wall. “Any clue where the little bastard ran off to yet?”

Flair didn’t have to ask who Arkuan meant. “Can’t get anyone to slip to Torrezon without being immediately pounced on by those bat demons. It’s a shame, I’d love to capture one and study it. Slowly take it apart and all, you know how it is.” She continued writing something that Arkuan didn’t bother trying to read. “He didn’t run off to Towashi or Innistrad again. Good chance he’s hiding somewhere in New Capenna though, that seems like somewhere he’d be.”

Arkuan snorted. “So close to the Realm? I doubt it. He’s a coward at heart.”

“Could always lure him out though.” Flair tapped her pen against the paper a few times. “Not with the younger brother, he’s a bigger threat than our idiot employees can handle. Gotta look out for the old man too. And that wiggly Omenpath guy.”

“Too many people to look out for,” Arkuan snorted. “Though if we worked together on a grab...”

Flair flashed him a grin. Her teeth were as bloodstained as his own. “Aww, so you do like me.” She flipped around her notepad to show him what she had been writing.

Arkuan leaned down and squinted at the paper to make out her horrid handwriting. “...Drugging and paralysis venom that can affect both holy beings and the undead? I’m so glad we’re on the same side. The little bastard won’t know what hit him.”

She snorted. “I mean, he will. It’ll probably be your fist.” She turned the notepad back around to keep writing. “You want first dibs on the stepdad? If not, I’m gonna test a few things on him so we don’t have the bias of everything we’ve already done to Swift.”

“As far as I care, you can make him dance and rearrange his rib cage to play as an instrument while he’s forced to watch. My claim is on Swift.” Arkuan suddenly became aware of how possessive he sounded.

Flair also noticed. “Touchy touchy touchy. You can keep him, you’re just responsible if he breaks out. I’m not making a leash for you to put him on.”

Arkuan snorted, though his thoughts lingered on that for a moment. Maybe not a leash, but something else that would make it clear to Swift that Arkuan was in charge again...the multiverse was full of objects that could keep a mage contained, after all... He shook his head. “Something to pick up next time we restock supplies, then. We need to put someone in the capital to watch the stepdad, see if we can come up with a good time to grab him.”

“I’ll put out a word to our more stealthy mooks,” Flair promised. “Maybe I can remove the blood from one and reanimate them to send... That’ll keep everyone from pouncing on them just for having a pulse.”

Arkuan took that as his cue to leave. As he stalked down the wooden hallway, he slowly grinned.

It was only a matter of time before he and Swift could pick up their “training” once more.

Pain. Searing pain. He couldn’t get free, he couldn’t run. All he felt was pain. Metal and bone and claw and tooth digging into skin. Arkuan towered over him with a sadistic grin, claws dug into his sides, and-

They woke up on the floor. They took a moment to realize that the scream they had heard was their own. They grimaced in pain as they grabbed the old couch and hauled themself back up onto it. The blanket they had been using was kicked down to the arm near where their feet had been.

Their body ached. Especially the stumps where their arm and leg had been. They disconnected their prosthetics and removed the anchors so they could rub the spots and work some healing magic in to try desperately to soothe the pain. Their hunger curled in the pit of their stomach and whimpered. It could smell the Halo-free vampires nearby and it was hungry.

“Swift?”

They flinched at the woman’s voice saying one of their names. It took them a moment to remember who they were around. “Hey Umi.”

The other vampire kept a firm grip on her cane as she pushed off from the wall to approach them. “I heard your scream. Are you okay?”

I’m fine- They caught themself before they lied. Umi deserved honesty. “I was...stuck in a memory,” they admitted slowly. “Woke up on the floor. But I’m not harmed and I wasn’t attacked.” They reattached the anchors for their prosthetics and sunk their magic into it. The pieces of their right arm and left leg returned to their normal positions. Their magic took the place of the joints and granted them more mobility than a flesh-and-blood arm or leg. “Sorry for waking you up.”

Umi snorted quietly. “As if I wasn’t already awake from my own stress. I’ve been working on restoring Maestros records and trying to keep it from vanishing from fae bullshit so much” – she yawned for a moment and then kept speaking – “that I think I might be going mad.”

Swift wondered if they could convince Lazaro to adopt Umi. The two were very similar, and Umi could do with a paternal figure. Swift couldn’t be that figure themself. They also yawned before they responded. “Well, that makes two of us.” They rubbed their face. They weren’t likely to get back to sleep, not with their hunger still whimpering. “How about we make some tea?”

Umi nodded and got up to head over to the small kitchen area. She retrieved her kettle and filled it with water, then put it on to heat it up. She began quietly digging through the cupboards to get clean cups, sugar, and tea leaves.

Swift took a few more minutes to calm themself down so they weren’t reflexively breathing again. Then they stood up and joined Umi in the kitchen. They reached up to get the cups down since they were taller than Umi even without wearing heels.

The actual process of making tea was simple and required a bit of waiting, but the two vampires returned to the couch and sat down so they could both drink it. It wasn’t enough to silence Swift’s hunger since it wasn’t blood, but they tried to ignore that. They tried to soothe themself as they slowly drank the tea.

They were safe. They were free. They were away from the Honorable Judge. They weren’t under Her control. Arkuan and Flair were gone for good.

Right?

“So who are you two, the greeters- Whoa!”

The Riveteers viashino leapt back, narrowly dodging two halberd swings from the furious door guards. She breathed a blast of green fire towards the pair, but one of them stepped forward, twirling her weapon to dissipate the flames even as she spoke:

“We’re not just greeters, Ognis,” hissed the more serious of the two elves. “We’re valuable security for the Cabaretti.”

“Oh, come on, Elizabeth. At best, you’re bouncers.”

“I don’t think regular bouncers carry polearms,” snickered the guard standing further back.

“So, fancy bouncers then, Kendall?”

Elizabeth and Kendall took one step in unison toward Ognis, then seemed to deflate, sighing at the claim. Elizabeth stepped back into line with her partner and leaned casually on her weapon, despite the recent violence.

“Yeah, but come on. The other families all get…”

“Enforcers,” Kendall listed aloud. “Agents. Heavies! And as you so eloquently put, we get…”

Ognis began to snicker, but quickly caught herself. “Wait. So, you’re just mad about what I call you?”

“Not just you. We’re a laughingstock to the entire city…Er, as an organized crime force, anyway. We work hard to maintain our reputation as socialites and-”

“Yeah, whatever. Look, far be it from me to advise an enemy, but…Who cares what I think? You guys put belt to ass all the time!”

“True,” Elizabeth sighed. “However, appearances are-”

Suddenly, a man tumbled out through the entrance next door. A hulking, muscular elf followed him out, brandishing a gilded cane and an angry scowl.

“And stay out of Gambol’s!” growled the bouncer.

“See?” Ognis laughed. “So, ‘bouncer’ or not, you’re mean. So quit cryin about it!”

Elizabeth and Kendall exchanged brief nods, before turning to the man next door. “Thank you!” they exclaimed in unison.

The other guard merely arched an eyebrow at the pair, before shrugging and returning to his post.

The Flight Of The Dea Praxidike

I stood in the cavern with a lit torch. Warm orange, red, and purple light flickered and bounced off of the brown, grey, and black stones. Another mortal had died. Another mortal needed to be guided down. The same thing, over again, just like it had been when I first took up this position.

I had often read what my sister brought back from other planes. Legal codes, music theory, biographies of people who had lived and died far from where I would ever reach even if I did planeswalk using the family spark. Things that used to exist. But it was in the stories she brought of other planes’ divines that I found the term “psychopomp”, which I supposed was the closest word to describe my duties.

I met the soul of the dead. Thankfully, unlike the last time, this one was a Thyrsian. The centaur was cradling her arm, as though expecting it to still be broken. She was faded and washed out as all newly-dead souls were. I kept my torch raised in my right hand and offered my left to her. She took my hand after a moment when she realized where she was. Together, we set off further down into the cave and towards the House of Endings.

“I give you leave to rest…That means you’re still under arrest, Miss Courtney.”

“Oh, come now, Lady Deveau! Even after my heartfelt performance?”

Silence fell over the concert hall as the last of the audience filed out the doors. This left exactly one spectator - an armored angel - staring down the performer onstage. The silence also served as the seraph’s response.

“Oh, very well. Away with you!” With a theatrical flourish, Courtney flung her dance partner of a life-sized wooden puppet offstage, behind the curtain. She then held her arms akimbo and sighed, “I still don’t see what exactly I’ve done.”

“Unsettled the good people of this town,” Deveau droned as she took the stage.

“Yes, yes. But art is supposed to disturb the-”

“That’s not important.”

“Hmph!” Courtney turned up her nose at the claim. “How very uninspired of you!”

“Just face the…”

Just as Deveau reached out to apprehend the culprit, Courtney took one step to the side. Against her will, Deveau followed suit, her arms now frozen in place to parallel the performer. Though this did little to stop her scowl.

“You dare ensorcel me!”

Courtney shrugged. “I’m not hurting you, am I? And besides, I’m going away forever anyway, right?”

“It wasn’t for-!” was all Deveau managed, before Courtney’s magic sent her pirouetting away. She spun several times and stopped with surprising grace, especially considering she was fighting the magic at every turn, albeit much to the conductor’s chagrin.

“No, no, no!” Courtney impatiently stamped one foot on the ground. “You’re too tense! This is a dance, not a fight!”

“…Not a fight?” Deveau growled, though surprise flickered across her features upon hearing this.

“Oh, please. I can’t beat you. I simply wish to have one last dance before I go.”

“I don’t dance.”

Courtney flashed a wicked grin. “For tonight only! You do…! And who knows? You might enjoy it!”

Deveau rolled her eyes. Against her will she rejoined the dance. Although, now, her movements were noticeably more relaxed.

[It’s not every day Puppeteer gets to buff an angel! Maybe not by much, but still!]

"Sir Epoch!"

The library was nearly empty when Renaissance arrived. As expected, they found Othello Epoch in his office, half-hidden behind a pile of books. He greeted them with a flick of his tail, not bothering to lift his head.

"I see you have returned to the city in one piece, my student." His voice was deep and foreboding, but Ren could hear a low purr behind it that told them the old sphinx was happy to hear their voice again. "Your expedition to the surface. How did it go?"

"Well enough," they said with a grin, pulling a chair up next to him. "Only a few near-death experiences. Almost got eaten by a hydragator, at one point!"

"Indeed? It must not have found you very appetizing, then."

Ren scoffed, rolling their eyes, but the smile stayed on their face. "Nah, I was just too hard for it to catch. Plus, I stole the thing it was using as bait, so I think that made it realize I wasn't worth it."

A reminder for all Maestros agents - the annual service in honor of Lord Xander will be held this year at the newly-opened Memorial Museum in the upper Mezzio. Attendance, while not mandatory, is highly encouraged. Food and drinks will be provided.

not all loyal characters have a dog motif and that’s okay sometimes they just have a soul of a head accountant helping their boss w embezzlement you know

“It’s no use, Lady Sigarda! We can’t do a blasted thing with your…with those two in the air!”

Sigarda, last of the archangels, raised her scythe, blocking a crushing blow. A purple tendril recoiled from the strike, retracting back towards the winged amalgamation of her sisters, hovering above her.

“We need to fall back!”

“Go! I will cover your…” Sigarda trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder. “Angstrom. What are you doing with that thing.”

The cathar chuckled awkwardly, hefting the somewhat corrupted kitten he held in his arms. “Oh. This? It’s my cat.”

“It’s an enemy.”

“What? No! Or, at least, he’s still my cat. Look. Such an adorable face! It’s just the tail that’s…turned. And he hasn’t attacked me. Just…nipped me.”

“Get rid of it.”

“Well. It’s like I said. We can’t do anything.”

“Throw it to the side!”

“Throw! No, ma’am! Not a good idea to so anger either a cat or an Eldrazi, I think! Oh, and, whenever I try…”

Angstrom began to place his cat on the ground. But Brisela loosed an ear-piercing shriek, freezing both cathar and kitten with fear.

“See? I don’t think your…”

“My sisters.” Sigarda’s eyes flicked upward in exasperation.

“Right. I don’t think they want me leaving a loyal pet behind!”

“They do not ‘think’ at all, anymore!”

“That seems a little rude…”

“Hmph. Perhaps you should offer your pet to them, then.”

“Oh…all right. Hey, you two! Present for you!”

Oblivious to Sigarda’s sarcasm, Angstrom stepped past the angel and gently placed his cat on the ground. But again Brisela screeched, sending the beast back to Angstrom’s arms, much to his disbelief.

“Not amenable to cats…or gift-giving? Then truly nothing remains of them.”

“Yes. It is a grim…” Sigarda blinked, briefly interrupting the golden glow of her eyes. “That was what convinced you, rather than-” was all she managed, before she was forced to block another titanic blow.

Angstrom yelped in fear and ran. In his arms, his kitten purred obliviously, corrupted tail playfully swishing.

[I wish more folks ran Brisela in commander, or heck, just meld in general! Such a cool concept! Oh, also, merry Christmas!]

Memories

Adayn couldn't sleep. As the days in Torrezon began to creep longer, he was supposedly going to feel better.

Supposedly.

Right now, he was looking through the cabinets for the third time that night. The same things were there, various unopened jars of pickled vegetables, a few bags of dried beans.

Valentina had a meeting. She was always having meetings, leaving Adayn alone.

Alone.

They were alone. They would always be left alone.

No. No, that was wrong!

Wasn't it?

Adayn's mind was already drifting, having trouble grasping reason. Their breathing quickened. Vision began to fade.

Their 23rd birthday. A party in a small hamlet they were currently living near, out in the Moorland. Whiskey and sodas all around. A pleasant night.

Abruptly it turned cold. The party went quiet. A mob of ghouls shuffled out of the mist. The farmers gathered up together, but the alcohol was playing against them.

It was a slaughter.

Adayn had only lived by playing dead underneath the tent that collapsed overtop of the party.

They couldn't stay.

It was the Travails. Adayn lived on a small farm out towards the Geier Reaches. The whisperings were in the back of their mind. "Join Us."

They grabbed their pitchfork, and carefully made their way outside, greeted by a horrifying sight. Amalgams of farmer and animal, screaming shrilly, incomprehensibly. "Join Us."

It was a slaughter. 

Their community destroyed by their own hand.

They couldn't stay.

It was less than a year prior. They lived on the farm they would come to call their own.

The moth door was opened.

They were begging, pleading with the party about to investigate the door. "Don't go. Don't leave me."

"We'll be back in a jiffy," their most recent partner had said. The door closed.

There was a scream.

It was a slaughter.

Everyone they knew consumed by the House.

They couldn't stay.

Valentina came home from the barracks in the wee hours of the morning. Adayn was collapsed on a heap on the kitchen floor, a broken jar of pickled radish next to them.

Spaghetti Night

Divider (singular) by @jasper-graphics

Gesserith, age 16.

The clanking of plates against the table meant only one thing: dinner. A bowl of spaghetti was set in the center of the table. A plate of garlic bread passed through Gesserith’s hands to his mother, which passed to his father. “So Dad,” Gesserith started, grabbing a few meatballs, “long day? You seem a little rough.”

“Boy, was it ever. Lots of repos today. Lots of idiots not understanding rates when they sign. Be better than them, Gesserith. Read what you sign for.” Eric poked at the garlic bread. “A little burnt.”

“It happens sometimes,” Serana replied. “You know how the oven acts up.”

Eric grunted. “Of course. So, Gess, you had that test recently, right? You get a grade back?”

Gesserith spun his pasta on his fork. “Yeah…”

“And so you got…?” Eric turned to face him. Gesserith just took another bite, barely glancing back. “Answer me, Gesserith. What did you get?”

He swallowed hard. “C plus.”

Eric put his fork down. “A C plus? With all that studying? Surely you must’ve just missed something? Another page?”

“No, I did it all. History just isn’t my strong suit. I tried my best.”

Eric’s face hardened. “Your best? Then why wasn’t there an A on your paper? Why did you get a C+? Hmm?”

Gesserith stabbed his plate. “I told you. I’m not good at history. I got an A on my math exam last week. My writing class’s group project is coming along. I am doing FINE.”

Eric tapped the table with the end of his fork. “Well clearly, you’re not. You should be doing better than that.” He took another crunchy bite of the garlic bread. “When I was your age-”

“-you had all As and your teachers loved you and you were top of the class and everyone fell to their knees when you walked by, I know.”

Eric stared at him. “Watch your tone, Gesserith.”

“Gesserith, that was rude, apologize.” Serana finally piped in.

“Sorry,” he whimpered.

“What did you say?” Eric taunted.

“I said sorry. Listen closer next time.”

“Boy-”

Serana cut them off. “That’s enough, you two. Now eat.” They both simmered down and all that followed for a few minutes was the clattering of silverware. “So. Gesserith. What about that band you went to go see, the… what was the name… The Violet Vanishers? That sounded fun!”

Gess smiled. “Yeah, it was a good time. We all got some soda and sat down and just enjoyed the music. Gwin even got called onstage to sing one of their hits. You should’ve seen the look on his face.” He snickered. “Oh, I wish I got a video of it.”

“So THAT’S why you got a C+! You were out with your friends again, that’s right. I knew they were dragging you down. See, I always told you, you have to look out for yourself-“

“I wasn’t their fault,” he interrupted. “It’s like I said. I’m just not good at history.”

“Bullshit.” Eric hit the table with a fist. “You’re grounded until your history grade improves. And if I hear you talking about any of your friends, let alone that little Irina you always hang around with-”

“She is just a friend, dammit! Why won’t you understand that?! I’ve known her for years and she is JUST A FRIEND!”

“DON’T YOU LIE TO ME!” Eric was shouting now.

Gesserith accelerated with him. “Have I been lying to you about her for the past ten years? Have my grades really changed that much? No, you just have your head so far up your own ass that you refuse to see it!”

“Eric, Gesserith, both of you, just sit-”

“NO!” Eric turned and stared her down with a fury in his eyes. “He hasn’t learned his lesson yet. So I’ve got to do something about it since you keep babying him.”

Gesserith rolled his eyes as he stood up. He whispered a little too loudly, “Great, can’t even finish dinner this time…”

Eric undid his belt, whipping around. “The fuck did you say? You talking back to me again?”

Gesserith sighed. “You gonna do the same thing again? Maybe go for the leg this time, that’ll spice it up.”

Eric wound up. “Why you little—” Gesserith saw the arm raise before he felt the sharp pain to his eye. “You need to learn­­—” the right arm “—to make yourself—” the torso “—better than—” the same eye “—all of them!” the same eye. Gesserith fell back, clutching the now swollen part of his face. “Am I getting through to you? You worthless excuse for a son?” He curled the belt around his hand.

Serana dashed in. “ERIC! What have I told you?! You need to stop! Put down the belt!”

“Don’t you tell me what I need to do to make sure he succeeds! Or else you’re next!” He pointed right at her chest.

Gesserith stood up. “Don’t you talk to her like that. Don’t you talk to Mom like that.”

A strike to the stomach came before any verbal response, followed by one to the shoulder. “Fine. The hard way it is.” He wound up before bringing the metal buckle down on Gesserith’s head.

Gesserith grabbed it, and ripped it down to his side. He still cradled his eye. “Gonna… have to try harder… than that…” He threw the belt away.

Eric rolled his shoulders. “I’ll show you harder, you worthless little- hurgh!” He staggered back as Gesserith threw a punch right to his stomach. “So that’s how it’s gonna be. Alright then.” Eric jabbed at Gesserith, finding a hit before being parried. Gesserith responded with a jab and a cross, both getting blocked by a Brokers shield. “Can’t even fight like a Broker. After ALL THE TIME I put into you.”

Gesserith finally put his arms up in a combat stance. “I’ve had enough of you. Get out. Get out! Right now!” A right hook, two jabs, uppercut. All of them hitting, though barely. “Get the fuck out of our home!”

Serana stood in between them. “That’s enough! Both of you! Please just stop fighting like this!” A quick backhand put her down on her back.

“SHUT IT, BITCH! I AM TRYING TO TEACH OUR SON A LESSO- WOA!” Eric went down to the ground as Gesserith tackled him with full force. Before he was able to cry out again, his face was met with a flurry of punches, one after another without mercy. Gesserith straddled him, refusing to get off. He laid into him, blood starting to come from his eye. As he took a moment to breath, he was shoved back off as both of them came back up. “It’s time. It’s about time. I finally got rid of you. Got your ass on the streets. Get out of my sight!” He wiped the blood from his face before charging Gesserith.

Gesserith brought his foot back. He prepared his arms. And as Eric’s fist flew by Gesserith’s torso, his arm was grabbed. Gesserith placed another hand right under Eric’s armpit. And, using the momentum, he flung his father over his body, and right into the floor beneath them. The air was knocked out of him. Gesserith didn’t show mercy. He dropped down again. And this time, Gesserith landed a blow right to Eric’s throat. Eric responded by rolling over, coughing and hacking up blood. But in a turn of pure instinct, Eric pushed himself up and off the wall, flinging himself back for a final strike. Gesserith, eyes wide open, conjured a shield of his own, perfectly parrying the flying strike. He dashed forward off of the opening, finally putting Eric down with a flurry of blows.

Eric’s body hit the ground, looking up at his son. Gesserith looked back with one eye, no mercy showing. And then, a slow grin creeped across Eric’s face. “Heh. Heh. Heh. There’s that shield. I knew I did something right. Maybe you’re good for something after all.” He slowly pushed himself up, turning around and walking out the door.

The moment the door closed, Gesserith ran over to his mom, carefully checking her for any injuries. Before he got very far, Serana grazed her hand across his face. She pulled him close. “Gesserith…” They both stayed there and cried together for a long time.

Gesserith was eating a sandwich, and Serana was sitting on the couch watching the news. A bandage now covered his slightly-less-swollen black eye. A knock came from the door. “Mom, go get it, I’m eating.”

“Yeah, and I’m watching TV, I’m not getting up.”

He shook his head as he put his sandwich down. “Fine.” He stretched as he got up and walked over to the door. He opened it. “…get out. Go hom- go anywhere else but here. I never want to see you again.”

“Gesserith, please, I’m sorry. I know I went a little overboard, but please, just let me in.”

“I will beat you again. Do not fucking test me, GET AWAY!”

Eric peeked his head in. “Serana, tell him that it’ll get better. Please, honey, you know this isn’t what I’m like, please, just-”

Gess slammed the door shut. Fervent knocking followed. Gesserith, face unmoving, opened the door, and with a single fluid motion, struck Eric clean in the nose, kicked him back on the ground, and closed the door behind him, locking it. “If I see him again,” he warned his mother, “by the Five, I will kill him. I will not hesitate.”

Serana turned off the TV and went over to him. “Gesserith, no, do not. He is your father. You don’t need to kill anyone. Do anything but that. I know him, he wasn’t like this before-”

“Before what? Before me? Before you two got married? He’s been like this my whole damn life. I don’t care what he was like. He’s never changed. People like him never do.”

Serana grabbed her son’s shoulder. “Gesserith, I fucking mean it, you will not kill him. He has done horrible things but he doesn’t deserve death. If I ever hear you do something like that… I don’t know what I’ll do. But you will feel it. So I’m gonna say it again. Eric. Lives.” She stared right through his eyes, into his soul.

Gesserith stood tall, heaving under his breath. Then he started shaking, then crying. “Okay. Okay. He lives. I promise. I promise.” He hugged his mother, both of them barely making it over to the couch before he fell over, emotions overcoming him.

Lessons.

The detective stood at the corner of the street. A new case had been handed up, some Maestros serial killer whose been getting big for their britches. "The next Scarlet Angel," whispered tones claimed, which is what bothered her onto the case. See this one face-to-face, then do what needed to be done. She needed the spell to finish pinpointing the next turn of fate, the next murder that would be occurring. For now, her mind drifted into memory, towards the first briefings as a detective...