Disclaimer: Why bother with a disclaimer when the website says "FANFICTION"?
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Moonfang
Gender: Male
Powers: Releasing highly condensed light in a wave that resembles the moon
Known Equipment Used: a facial mask that enhances powers, a large cleaver sword
Time of Activity: Evening - Night
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Flowerbelle
Gender: Female
Powers: Releasing gold-coloured glass structures that counters phenomena
Known Equipment Used: hairpins that release flying figures, a tantō
Time of Activity: Evening - Night, usually appears accompanying Moonfang
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"Hmph." A male with dark hair grunts as he scrolls through his latest mission. Dressed thickly in dark robes, his form blends into the dark rooftop of a small apartment. His device provides a slim inch of lighting, illuminating his snake-like orbs, before he crushes the object under his boots. He doesn't need it anymore.
When the Council has anymore requests, they will take it up to him at their next meeting. Presently he has two criminals to locate and eliminate.
Drawing his cloak firmly closed, he directs his vision towards a high-rise tower and focuses on his energy. Between one breath of air and the next – in a second – he feels the shift of gravity and then feels his heels dig in firmly to the slanted metal roof of a tower. His gloved hands apply a firm grip on the antenna beside him, which blinks red lazily.
The reports from the Council did not give information on the criminals' favourite haunts, though to him, who has always been diligent in his research of powered criminals, it is no matter. Especially of Moonfang and Flowerbelle.
He eyes a dark spot faraway yet even though he was sure there will be firm ground for him to teleport, he does not have nightvision to see properly. He roots through his hood and pulls down an eyepiece that he slips easily into his right eye. Immediately, his field of vision broadens and again he focuses his energy and transports his body towards the intended area.
Teleportation is one power he has honed since childhood and he is quite adept at it. He has long concluded that the two criminals he is after currently is also the same. Powers that usually came by artificially or during adulthood take a longer time to master as the human body is already used to living menially. But powers that come by early have its own dangers as well. Messy things can be expected if a vassal is weak, sickly or somehow cannot handle the stress that comes with a power's extra boost. As such, there are a lot of child deaths... not to mention–
Gritting his teeth, the male shakes away his thoughts. There is no point lingering on the past and what could be.
Casting his gaze about instead, he notes that the streets around him are silent. No doubt the rumours of Moonfang out and about have forced people to stay home.
He has never personally met Moonfang or glimpsed of him. The other powered male is a mystery whose name hangs over the online cult group, Fandom. The slip of his name online will have every member describing his 'dark and handsome magnetism'; such blind fanaticism thoroughly disgusts him. But he had seen pictures and visited a couple of Moonfang's destruction sites. The physical damage caused by Moonfang's blasts could vary from the size of a small car to an entire apartment block. And there is still little known of what else the criminal is capable of if he ever seriously considered levelling the city.
On the other hand, there is Flowerbelle. The name utterly underestimates the powers of the criminal. The Fandom has dubbed this female 'vigilante' – a term they used for powered individuals – a true goddess, and not because of aesthetic reasons. He had glimpses of Flowerbelle but never interfered in her business, nor was ever asked to. On the surface, she is the direct contrast to Moonfang, healing and helping where the male creates chaos, and the Council is often divided in their decisions.
However, whether it is true the two are dispensing vigilante justice, the general citizens deem them, and the rise of vigilantes, a rising threat.
Just as the dark-haired male considers setting up a trap, he catches the sounds of scraping metal. He peers over the edge of the building and sees nine or so churlish figures attempting to climb up to where he is.
This part of the city he has never visited aside for his day-to-day work, so he has little knowledge what trash occupies what corner of this dirty neighbourhood. He surmises that the roof he is standing on must be the hoodlums' hideout, and quickly calculates his options.
He smirks. Hm. What better way to start the night than a little spring cleaning?
He jumps on top of a humming electric box and crouches lazily as the figures step up one by one. The way they present themselves as they noticed his presence, he sneers, is like pieces of trash displayed on a woodblock. And he is quite certain all of them belong to the scrap pile.
"Cero," he pronounces slowly. A beam of light materializes from his forefinger as he points to the first.
He was not hired by the Council because he is an escapist artist; Teleportation was only one of his minor skills. The cero, a beam of concentrated light, may not be as destructive as Moonfang's but it certainly does its job of disposing trash.
Four minutes and fifteen flashes of green light later, he is certain he has made a fair amount of noise and lightshow to wake the whole neighbourhood. Based on past reports, he knows Moonfang and Flowerbelle will rise to this challenge.
"You bastard! What have you done?!" interrupts a coarse, male voice to his musings.
Just in time. Though the new presence dashes his expectations. He scans his opponent – from the tips of rough orange hair to the bright red cloths tied around bare ankles – with slight distaste. Judging from the other male's gangly stance, voice and fashion, Moonfang is barely an adult.
The trash continues, "Those kids haven't done anything! They're innocent! And you just killed them like it doesn't matter. Powers should be used wisely, bastard!" The dark-haired male raises a brow at Moonfang's annoying tone, again relieving his disappointment that this teen is the one he has been tasked with. Moonfang pauses in his drivel and turns around, looking at an approaching figure. "Ah there you are! I was too late but this megalomaniac's still here. We should fight him together!"
The newcomer steps forward and reveals another teen with the same shade of hair as Moonfang's, but longer. While the latter dons a simple cardboard smiley mask, this girl has on a traditional kitsune mask that partly covers her face, revealing a set of hairpins that sit neatly at her temples which emits a familiar faint gold charm.
He watches Flowerbelle scan over himself with a practised eye, then observes how her eyes widen. He didn't know how this minor traipse could recognise him when Moonfang seems totally oblivious.
"You're the Hero Killer!" The girl exclaims in a small voice that suggests innocence and a soft pride. Nothing like the fear he would expect from seeing him.
"Eh?" Moonfang blinks with disbelief. "This dark little bastard?"
Hero Killer is a name he did not choose, nor would he ever. It was a name that exposes him as a senseless murderer – of which he is not – and it is clearly a name that the Fandom chose for him. The Fandom worships powered people like Moonfang and Flowerbelle who takes justice into their own hands. But for someone like him, who tries to correct their behaviour, he is labelled as the criminal.
"What's your real name?" Flowerbelle asks, surprising him with her boldness.
Narrowing his green orbs, he ponders what to say. In the end he settles with a "Murcielago." – the name chosen by the Council, even though he has no need of it. It's not as if anyone he encounters as this persona will live to meet him again.
"Muru-si-eh-largo?"
"I'm Moonfang!" cut in the boy. "She's Flowerbelle. Nice ta meet ya, bastard. But you're not gonna live long!"
The boy leaps back and fires off a crescent-shaped wave – Moonfang's signature move. Expecting this, his opponent calls up another green light and hardens it around his hand like a glove.
Murcielago smacks away the attack towards the girl, knowing she has the powers to deal with it effectively.
"Heaven Piercer!" A bigger wave approaches him in the shape of swirling mass of blinding light. The cloaked male curses and leaps away while summoning up another cero.
Their attacks clash together and unexpectedly, dispels each other's.
"Tch. You're good." Moonfang grumps. He pauses and puts up a skull-faced mask with red claw marks on the left. It is a mask the dark-haired man immediately compares to the one in his mission report. "But you won't survive this!" Moonfang raises his weapon.
"Hm." Murcielago releases his other hand from his long sleeves and conjures up a beam with viridian flames at the end. He wants to minimize damage, but the brash teen leaves him no choice when a swirling mass of light gathers quickly at the point of Moonfang's blade.
He notes that the light is siphoned from the neighbourhood as streetlamps and billboards rapidly flicker then taper off.
As he brings up his beam, Moonfang lunges from his position and brings down his attack. "Take this! Dark Moon Piercer!" The boy yells and the orb of light that travels towards his opponent suddenly disappears.
Snake-like eyes narrow under the hood and he barely has time to bring up his defence. A highly concentrated amount of something crashes full-force onto his arm.
"Heheh! That's a secret move, bastard!"
Murcielago grits his teeth as he feels a horrible burning sensation along his weaponhand, and it takes all his concentration to flare up the green light of his beam. He now understands why he can't see the force pushing against him. "I have to admit that was innovative, boy." He retracts his arm and sends the dark orb flying towards Flowerbelle instead. "But still another pitiful attempt."
He jumps and teleports towards the back of the masked boy, firing off a cero that throws his opponent forward. Landing on the other building, he appears quickly again to the side of the disoriented criminal and slashes at Moonfang's body. Blood sprays from the boy's lips and torso, to his grim satisfaction.
However, it is short-lived as those same wounds begin to quickly disappear. He looks up to the female, who had been a mere spectator before, now has her arm raised, palms forward to form a triangle. There is a determined expression through her mask although her hands seem slightly scraped.
"Are you afraid of me, girl?" He asks, curious as to why she did not participate in the fight but protects the boy.
"No." She answers without hesitation though slightly questioning of his agenda.
Seeing the girl's defences lower, he appears at her back and bats her towards her teammate.
"Look out!" He hears Moonfang yell.
Too late.
"Bala."
The last he sees before red beams of light obscures them completely is Moonfang taking hold of Flowerbelle and putting his back to the attacks.
Tch. He cannot understand the need for sacrifice, but it'll serve his purpose.
When the bala streams stop, he is satisfied to see Moonfang battered and bleeding badly even though his chest still moves. The two criminals seem to clutch together before the female lays him gently on the ground. She braves forward, directing her gaze onto him.
Anger flashes in her eyes as she demands, "Murcielago, why are you doing this? Don't you desire justice for this corrupt city? We're heroes, kami-sama!"
He is impressed with her ability to stand up to him. However, he cannot rationalise her beliefs on the so-called vigilantism.
"You're Japanese, aren't you? Then you should know what happens to a country whose people tried to take matters into their own hands." He proclaims stoically. "They undid everything instead."
"That's different!" Flowerbelle's retort was passionate. "You weren't there; how would you know? The people nearly succeeded if not for the Council intercepting every move.
"Besides," she continued. "Hero Killer – Your actions suggest a purpose to take justice against people like us…who you feel, for some unjustified reason, to have done something wrong. You're just another type of 'hero'! Wouldn't that be ironic, Murcielago?"
Having to be compared to these worthless fools, he snarls in contempt. "Who I feel? You may justify my actions all you want, but I do not answer to you, girl."
Flowerbelle sighs. "Words failed, huh? You arrogant boys…"
"…"
She rolls her eyes and puts out her hands again. But his brows furrow curiously as she spreads one set of fingers over her teammate's body before proceeding forward. The girl unsheathes her tantō and slices the air several times as though to warm up. Then she passes a hand over it, casting a golden glow at the blunt weapon.
"I never thought I'd be meeting you, Hero Killer. It's such an honour to be able to fight you." A thin yet sleek sheet of glass encompasses Flowerbelle's blade and extends forward, transforming the metal piece into a powered weapon. It has a spherical shield formed around the handle to prevent damage to the user's hand, probably.
"Hm…" He replies just as the girl dashes up to him. She jumps and her blade meets the middle of his beam. Upon contact, she smirks and suddenly his beam splits in half.
It is his turn to laugh however as he lets go of his weapon. Like a grenade when released, it explodes. He doesn't expect her to survive it but trusts his instincts to know that she should not be underestimated.
"Still underestimating me?" A female voice questions through the cloud of dust, which still crackles with green energy. "You already know I excel at defence." She emerges with a shield around her entire body, not even the slightest bit scrapped or fatigued.
The girl's power is interesting. Attack, defence, healing– epitomized into one single form. He can certainly see the source of her powers, those hairpins that whisper of absolute power. "Your powers are rejection…" he calculates the girl from head to toe. "You like working at the sidelines, however…Yes, this will do well."
Flowerbelle whirls around as he teleports behind her to his intended target. "No!" she shouts when their eyes meet.
"Bestial Release." He only murmurs. Green eyes become yellow with slitted pupils; stubby fingers become spiked with dangerous, black claws. He draws back an arm and–
"STOP! DON'T!"
The frantic yelling ceases as he withdraws his arm, now slick with dark liquid. His furred hands are matted down, oily, and will probably smell tomorrow. He only frowns down at Moonfang's body. The boy's body was nearly healed up but was still too weak to resist. Still, there was a strange sensation running by his arm…
He looks up, expecting a reaction of ultimate despair planted across the criminal's eyes – silver eyes, he notes with some intrigue – only to be met with a picture of a silent storm, and maybe slight annoyance?
No matter.
Still retaining his bestial attributes, he dashes forward and strikes hard against her shield. Flowerbelle winces but he has already rematerialized behind her, striking again. He repeats his movements spontaneously, teleporting to every side of her golden bubble and making progress to break it with his cero and claws. The glassy thing chips away slowly until he can see the exhaustion on his opponent's face.
By appearing again and again around the girl's perimeter, he has stolen away her chances of escape. She eyes him warily and only when a sizeable hole has appeared, she retracts her defence completely. At the time she lifts her weapon, another beam has appeared between his furred hands.
zzztZZZT ––CLASH! ––shwit.
BOOM!
Pulling back up his hood, the green-eyed man walks forward confidently. While the beam has exploded in between them, only his clothing suffers damage. His opponent is not so lucky; the force of the explosion sent her off the roof and into the side of another building.
Flowerbelle's slight frame in the midst of broken concrete tile and glass shards makes his eyes twitch, and not because of worry. She is already healing up quickly, the only visible wound from his vantage point is the bright red flowing from her wrist. He watches with a morbid interest as a beige, fleshy palm emerges on the point he sliced off, then minutely four delicate fingers emerges and a thumb. All the while he notes a lack of pain.
Interesting, indeed.
Distracted with her mystifying capabilities, he notices too late someone coming from his back. A high pitch sound comes away just as he feels the dull-like qualities of time slowing down.
He lands on both hands and feet a few metres to the side. A long familiar pain creeps up along his back and he has to bite back a grunt.
Where he was seconds ago now stands a man. No, a monster. His eyes widened to capture the bestial beauty of the creature before. Flowing, orange hair crowns a horned head. Straight rows of teeth line the bottom of its face, slightly muffled by an overgrowth of violent red fur. The face is porcelain-white and set in painted lines, seemingly contorted in permanent anger. A hole – the one he carved with his own claws upon Moonfang – sits majestically upon its bare, marble chest.
"Hero Killer!" A female voice screams shrilly, breaking him away from his trance. He glares at her. "Get away from him!"
A golden cube suddenly forms around the monster. It roars menacingly and immediately sets both hands – no, claws not unlike his bestial release – on the glassy thing which upon contact, begins to crack and convulse.
"RUN!"
Not a man to evade battle, he hesitantly backs away before teleporting beside the battered girl. He is going to need answers.
They appear soundly a minute late in a street of closed shops and she leads them to a discreet alley. As they are walking, he speaks first.
"What was that?"
"Cursed mask transformation."
"So Moonfang's powers are not inborn…" he contemplates.
"No, they are." She returns, somewhat irritated. "Well, his moon-style attacks are. The mask is an amplifier. But an experiment gone wrong, to call it that."
"Experiment."
She whips around, "Do you have something against science?! You sound so…disdainful."
It is a disparagement against powers, he want to say. A disparagement against those who have grown up with uncommon powers and have come to know the abuse constantly directed towards them. But he keeps his lips shut, instead feeling around the wound on his back. So much like those lashes in the past…
"Regardless, he must die." He says instead. "You will too, when your use is no longer needed."
"Use?" Flowerbelle throws her arms up in indignation. "I'm just a tool to you, yeah?"
He keeps silent.
"Look, heroes are doing good!" She stops walking to face him down. "What you did, killing a group of helpless kids, who have struggled their way through life since they were born, is just wrong! How can face that yourself and accuse us heroes as something you are – a villain!"
An explosion sounds off somewhere close by. He has been hearing it for the last few minutes, closing in on their location.
He stares her down and grits his teeth. "Is that what your friend is doing?" He snarls. "Being a hero by destroying the peace around the city?"
"It's not like he has a choice now! You 'killed' him, remember?!" She mocks then swiftly quiets, looking into the distant night sky. His confusion must have shown through quite visible and she explains. "The curse works when it thinks the user is in danger. From what he told me, this has happened two times. The first was planned, the second not so much. It must have been a really bad day judging by his tone. I think it could be when he broke free from whatever he was comissioned to do."
"Comissioned…who."
"The Council." She replies shortly.
"Lie."
"Not the one here, of course."
Flowerbelle mutters under her breath something along the lines of 'god knows what they're doing here. economy is so bad. morale is so low and crippling'. When he narrows his eyes, she hastily elaborates. "Eastern China, I think. Well... He once tried Chinese on me."
"Right." He could only respond disbelievingly. What does that have to do with their situation here? The Councils around the world work independently even though they have been lumped together with the same name. "And you justify your 'heroic' deeds as justice against those who wronged him? Or you? I find this naïve and so unbelievably humorous. Perhaps I truly overestimated you two."
As he speaks, he stares downwards at Flowerbelle coolly, not even bothering to tilt his head.
"Bala." He mouthes indistinctly. A red beam promptly shoots forward and sends the masked girl flying back, hitting a metal bin loudly. She looks at him with something akin to betrayal and he merely snorts. "You're just a job to me, girl."
Her eyes confused, then widen with realisation. "You work for the Council, huh? I should have known."
"With. Not 'for'." He interrupts strictly. "I'm not a mercenary. The Council ensures the peace of this city and I keep with it. Nothing else."
"I was right! You're just another hero." The girl continues to fight her argument. He just sighs. This is no time to butting heads with a child who probably grew up in the slums and therefore grew up despising figures of authority. His lips curl; he didn't want to think of how similar they were. Instead he thinks of how short the night has gotten and that he still has a rampaging 'hero' to take care of, thank you very much.
"I have a word of advice, girl. Get your head out of the clouds and quit being discriminate." He snaps. "You think you're a hero? Have you actually considered the opinions of the real world? Don't even talk about the Fandom. Those minorities who cheer you on? They're most likely the same disillusioned, brainless trash as you. Those are fools shielded by their techs and wealth; they understand nothing about powers."
Not caring for a reply, he draws away. After fighting against her and evaluating her skills, he knows there isn't a single chance she could die easily. And he is certain Flowerbelle has no backbone for shedding blood. So he glides away, boots scuffling across the rubbish-strewn alleyway, until–
"Yeah right, Murcielago." Flowerbelle's voice spits hoarsely from behind, whether to stop from laughing or crying hysterically. "You really make me think! Hmm, minorities: who are they? Why, the Council only has ten figures each! I think you've got your facts mixed up?! And yet you bow down to them instead of serving justice for the people? Whoops, you really are twisted!" A pause accompanied by soft heaving. "And the Fandom is not dumb or -or 'shielded'; they have new ideas and are the ones being re–!"
ROAR!
Those dark boots had halted, and a strange eeriness befell the duo after the interruption. Suddenly, a massive black orb is surging down. Flowerbelle attempts to alert the man – now most likely a temporary partner – but he has already noticed the shadow around him and disappeared. She collects her energy and puts up a thick shield, but it was not needed as a strong arm grabs her and she is relocated.
They first appear on a relatively small apartment roof before settling down on the balcony of a museum several blocks away. Pillars of smoke billow from the area they previously were and many other places. Further away, the sounds of fire rescue services seem to draw near.
Unnoticed to the girl beside him, Murcielago frowns with slight annoyance. The rescue services won't be on time, as usual. Incompetent.
"Incompetent," echoes Flowerbelle in a whisper. Green eyes widen in surprise but quickly regain their indifferent calm. "This is why we with our powers should take responsibilities."
A silence burrows between them even though the girl beside him is tense. He feels her desire to help out but is probably uncertain of the methods.
"And yet powers instigate such despair and destruction." He opens simply and points to a large crater where the smoke has begun parting from. "That…is my cause."
Flowerbelle sighs loudly after another moment of silence and spectating the course of rampage that the possessed Moonfang has taken. "We can't just sit here and do nothing! I get you're not exactly happy with Moonfang and I right now, but I think we're both more biased that we let on. We viewed each other as villains of this -this city. No, this mess. We each had our own ideas of justice, argued and fought over it. But maybe we're more alike than we thought." Brushing her arms nervously, she eyes him. "We still don't trust each other. That's fine. But for this night, let's call a truce?"
Eyes darkly hooded, he nods once.
"One hour."
"Alright." And they shake on it.
Searching for Moonfang was simple. Restraining the angry and confused monster, not so much. Restoring the boy to "normal" took a hell lot of time. It wasn't all done in order, either.
That night made news of the month, not that a columnist was ever needed. Signboards all over the city were already tuned in, blaring the faces – more like silhouettes – of the "three powered humans hitting the skies for a rowdy night".
The Council was not too happy about it (they weren't too happy about the destruction and assignment loss either anyway) and he was forced to withdraw from his duty as Murcielago for a few months. Murcielago as an identity is not supposed to be public knowledge, much less a "vigilante". He nearly blanches when he passes by his new label on the streets.
After the truce they pulled, Flowerbelle and Moonfang agreed to meet up with him for coffee. In turn, he would not send them in to the Council, but he has a request he wants fulfilled. The idea took root in his mind after the argument in the alleyway and he wants to take advantage of the knowledge Flowerbelle spilled.
Eastern China experimenting on powers? Bad economy? The mounting influence of the Fandom?
While it isn't encouraged to poke around other countries' affairs, he is sure there is something worthwhile with this new intel provided. Flowerbelle, Moonfang and himself aren't necessarily friends, but confidently, associates of the same goals.
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Heroes? Villains? He sips his drink, reading another report he withdrew from the archives about recent powered attacks. The involving case derives from this country's jurisdiction; So, no, he wasn't exactly assigned these files. He runs through the document again, squinting between lines.
It's in English, of course. But maybe because of the bickering in the seats before him or because of the raging snowstorm outside, he finds himself unfocused. They are currently in Western China, permissed by his own Council superiors. Overall, WC is colder, more populated and noisier than his city. It isn't by any means rich, unlike the Eastern sect, but it was at least English-dominant.
"So?" The orange-haired boy in front of him asks, paused in the middle of his and Flowerbelle's argument about who pays the bill.
He looks back down into the glow of his device before crushing it, then shrugs.
Nevermind, it's just us.
A/N: Long time no update *waves shyly*
Sorry, my creativity dried up like a zombie fish ever since mid-last year. I've been stuck on how RftH should go, so I just try and try to write shorter stories in the mean time, but fail anyway because I'm more of a descriptionist than I thought. Then I bounced over to other fandoms like Zootopia, Inuyasha and recently, Naruto... Ah well, luckily the jackpot winner is Bleach!
Reviews and criticisms much appreciated ;)