Popstar Comics

Author's Note: Okay, I admit it. This chapter is a month late because I've been doing nothing but playing Fire Emblem Fates during my free time. And I'm constantly reminded that I have to update whenever one of my readers visits my castle (thank you so much, especially you Kaden!). Ahem, that aside, I can't say right now whether or not I'll be able to keep updates consistent. Give me until late April to come to a decision on how regularly I can write these, since the rest of my time has naturally been reserved for school. Anyways, I'd like to thank Aurawarrior13, prowessMaster44, Zulera301, SolarEnergy07, Kinkajou321, flowslikepixels, Light My Crazy Diamond, Dario Flaman, RecklessBaka, Kurocena, and any other guest reviewers for leaving their review/comments from the previous chapter. I believe I replied to everyone already (except for anons obviously), but if not, then let me say now that you have my utmost sincerest thanks for taking the time to leave your thoughts on the story. All that said, here is chapter 6, and it's about damn time too!

Chapter 6: Burning Man

On the night of the day of the robbery, I paid a little visit to Station Square with only one thing on my mind. I wanted to find that Villager and ask him what the hell he was doing stealing from the store, let alone a store that sells comic books. Kids like him were known for being pickpockets, but between food and money I figured comic books would be the last thing they'd be preying on. I shuffled through the plazas, walking my leg without making it look like I was dragging it around like a wounded animal. The bandage that Lucina had put on me kind of helped, but I think I'd be better off just putting more ice on it. At least with my pants covering it, no one would be the wiser.

When we returned to the store, a police cruiser was already on sight. Apparently, someone did call the cops, and multiple people were being questioned on the incident, although I'm fairly certain the only suspect is the one who got away. Due to the robbery, Popstar had to close its doors three hours earlier, and on any normal day I'd be apathetically ecstatic. It goes without saying that both Lucina and I were confronted to give our descriptions on the scenario and the cloaked individual who managed to escape.

"Everything happened so fast," said Lucina. "I heard a crash and Fox yelling, and then I realized that we had been robbed."

The officer who was questioning us wanted specific details on the criminal, and thankfully the pain in my leg made me look more the victim than the store. I didn't recognize the policeman, nor did he to me, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to relinquish everything I knew.

"He was wearing dark clothing and was really short," I had explained. "Probably no taller than five feet."

"And you said you went after him?" the officer asked.

"I did. He got away before I could stop him though. The only thing I could save was this comic."

They had confiscated the issue of Alpha Sapphire, but honestly I doubt they were going to get any information from that. A fingerprint scan would only get them so far in a city with so many Villagers, not to mention that any real thief would have been wearing gloves upon leaving the store. I just wanted the cops to get out of my face. They make me anxious.

Eventually after the questioning we had met up with Fox, and we also got to hear his side of the story. Apparently the criminal had shoved one of the comic racks on him, which explains the crash that I heard when the robbery took place. Those metal casings can be heavy if not handled properly (I should know since I'm the one that sets them up). As soon as Fox went down, the thief took the opportunity to grab what he could and make a break for it. We counted that approximately thirteen issues of Omega Ruby and nine issues of Alpha Sapphire had been stolen (not counting the one that I recovered).

"Damn thing caught my leg," Fox told us. "I couldn't stand so I did the next best thing and called Kuro. Good on you for thinking so fast, man."

Of course, he was referring to the way in which I moved from the back of the store to the front of it in less than three seconds. Not that I told him, but when you've lived on the streets for so long, you tend to pick up a thing or two about being alert.

"I could've stopped him," I said, "but people kept getting in my way."

"You tried your best," Lucina responded. "I'm just glad it didn't get any worse."

At the end of the day, comics were comics. Sure, some were worth more than others, but the thing is these comics that the Villager stole were brand new. Fox even said himself that they were "hot off the presses," meaning that if we needed more we could easily just order some. Issues that ran for a lot of money were typically the ones that went out of print, but with all the hype that Pokémon drives around here, I doubt Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire will die any time soon. This leads me to wonder why though. Why would the Villager steal comic books? And more importantly, why was he trying to run away from me?

"There's no point in telling Dedede since he's bound to find out sooner or later," said Fox. "In any case, the store's closed for the day."

Fox locked up, but the police stuck around for a little while longer. If they got everything they needed from me, I was perfectly fine with getting the heck out of here. With Fox and Lucina being from the east end, he gave her a ride home, and he had also asked me if I wanted to be dropped off at my place.

"I can walk it," I said. "My leg is fine."

But in reality I wanted to say something along the lines of refusing to let these two anywhere near the vicinity of my home.

"You should really come with us, Kuro," said Lucina seriously. "You're hurt bad."

"I already told you I'm fine," I remember saying to her, and I also remember demonstrating just how fine I was by hopping around on the sidewalk and falling over on my side miserably. "I, ugh, have to stop by a couple places on my way home anyway."

"You sure?" asked Fox.

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. Besides…" I flutter my black wings. "I can always fly home if it gets bad."

That seems to convince them despite the fact that I can't actually fly. They don't need to know that either though. No one does.

"Okay, well, have a good weekend then. See you next week."

"Bye."

And now here I am in Station Square, hobbling around like an old man with a stick up his ass. It wasn't so much my leg, but my ankle, which stung like needles every time I bent it back or forwards. I must have landed on it somehow during my encounter with the Villager, yet another reason why I was so keen on finding him. I needed to pay him back for the deed.

As per usual, Station Square was bustling with downtown activity, amplified even more due to the fact that it was a Friday night. The main strip was walkable as most people were either loitering in groups or occupying themselves with the shops and booths. I had to decline a smoothie from the DK Bros. this time, although the thought occurred to me that putting the smoothie on my shin might have helped in the healing process. Other vendors I passed by I tried to ignore, despite them trying to wave or get my attention. Unlike the other nights, I was here for a business, and I wasn't about to let that reason slip by me unnoticed.

I scanned the plaza, looking for any sign of the pickpocketing Villager kids. They all shared a similar shape, being short with somewhat large heads. The tricky part was picking them out from other members of the crowds, since Villagers were always known for being masters of disguise. They could fit with a flock of school kids easily, or even pass as innocent children by merely standing next to adults. These were all valid techniques in the art of pickpocketing, but apparently they were passed that now and moved on to bigger things like vandalism and stealing. Talk about a drastic change.

Further down the square is a circle of people, all crowding around what appeared to be a street performance. There were cheers coupled with the explosive display of flames and lightning shooting straight up in the air. Some folks were sitting on the ground watching the show, while others had cameras and phones out taking footage of the whole thing. From my personal experience, I'd say that if you've seen one light show, you've seen them all. This specific group I especially prefer to avoid, and in my opinion I have very good reason to do so. Normally it wouldn't be a big deal, but like I said before, tonight I just didn't have time for—

"Well, look who it is! Is that Kuro I see?"

One of the performers calls out to me as I pass by, yet I remain unwavering in my steps.

"It is indeed!" sings the other performer, a woman this time. "There's no better victim—I mean, volunteer—than sweet little Kuro!"

"Kuro! Come on over here!" the male one calls out. "We could really use your help!"

"Why… Why now…" I find myself muttering, and I continue to press forward pretending not to hear them.

"Come on everyone!" calls the female. "Let's get Kuro in on the fun! Kuro! Kuro! Kuro!"

They're all cheering my name like a bunch of mindless animals, and with deep regret I end up turning an eye towards them. Hesitantly, I decide to join them if not for the fact that I just wanted them to shut up.

"Alright, alright," I say, waltzing through the crowd towards the clearing in the middle. The people break away, most of them cheering and glad that I complied with their obnoxious demands. What I'm met with in the center are two robed magicians and their cartoony caravan.

"Would you look at that!" says the male magician. "We actually got him to join us!"

"Well what do you expect?" sings the female. "He's a featherbrain!"

Ha ha, very funny; it's about as funny as the first dozen times I've heard it. Apparently, it was new to the crowd.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Rob and Robin, Station Square's most renowned and enigmatic street performers. The do magic acts, party favors, and play instruments from time to time. All you have to do is drop a dollar or two in their basket. If you want to stay for multiple acts, it'll be an extra dollar on top of that, plus fifteen percent interest for each of the following acts. But hey, at least autographs are free.

As you may have guessed, Rob is the male and Robin is the female, although there really is no way to tell one from the other apart from their hairstyle and voice. Both of them prance with a feminine grace, of not for the baggy black robes they constantly wore. I never knew if they were siblings or a couple; hell, they could be both and it wouldn't make a difference. These two magicians were more twins than Pit and myself were, but seriously with the way they spoke they might as well have been two heads on the same body. I knew them kind of well, if knowing them well means being a guy who happens to pass by them every night when he's out on the town. Even I get them mixed up sometimes, so always make sure you remember: Rob is the male, and Robin is the female. Also, they can be kind of touchy, but that's not really worth getting into right now. You'll see what I mean.

"Okay, what do you want?" I say without trying to sound impatient. It didn't come out that way, that's for sure.

"We can see you're a busy man," replies Rob.

"As we all are," echoes Robin.

"As I am," says Rob to his partner in a correcting tone. "You are not."

"I could be," says Robin. "It wouldn't be hard."

"It would be easy for someone like me, for I am a he."

"She could be a he if one wishes it to be."

I roll my eyes at their playful banter. Yes, their conversations usually went like this.

"She cannot be a he, for he cannot be a she," says Rob.

"He can if he wants," replied Robin. "It would be fairly easy."

"Can it?" Rob spares me a glance, followed by Robin who also does the same. And by glance, I mean they narrow their eyes at me while rubbing the bottom of their chins as if they were deviously scheming something. "Yes I could see that. But regardless of whether or not he is she or she is he, anyone can be a volunteer for this act!"

"Anyone indeed!" sings Robin as she breaks away from her partner. "Which is why we have chosen he!"

They point to me and the audience claps, for what reason I have no idea.

"We have a very special magic trick for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen," says Rob. "Before we get to that though we'd like to hear a word from our volunteer!"

"Kuro!" says Robin. "Please introduce yourself to our captive audience!"

A spotlight from nowhere shines in my eyes and I'm forced to flinch from the sudden burst of light. To say that I am a stranger to this bizarre situation would be a lie however, since I have acted as a volunteer on this show before (four times as a matter of fact). These two magicians especially like performing their most dangerous tricks on me for reasons that they themselves would be reluctant to admit.

"Ugh, I'm Kuro," I say. "I'm…"

"He's an angel if you didn't already know," says Robin for me. "He's not very outspoken about it, but if you ask me I think those wings speak for themselves!"

"Fun fact!" chimes Rob. "Kuro has a twin brother who looks almost exactly like him, except with brown hair. That's a double dose of angel fever for any of you ladies out there!"

I hate that his comment gets more cheers from the crowd. Also, I don't know how these people know about Pit since it's not like I ever talk about him on a regular basis. I've been in this area for years though so who knows how or when it came up in the first place.

"Tonight we will be performing one of the most dangerous acts in the history of magic acts!" says Robin.

"That's right!" continues Rob, waltzing over to a large box-shaped object in the middle of the square. He wheels it over to me and pulls the drape off of it, revealing a purple storage box with bright stars painted all over it. "Tonight, we perform the Burning Man!"

The crowd gasps, yet I remain indifferent. As scary as the trick sounds, I've actually done it a few times before with them. Basically what happens is I climb into the box, they cover it up, and then they light it on fire. They let it burn for about a minute before dousing the flames. Now, most people would expect that after the box is set aflame, I would just rise out of the box unscathed. Instead, when the box is opened again, my body will be gone. Where will I disappear to?

With any luck, somewhere far, far from here.

"Is everyone excited?" asks Robin. "Let me hear how excited you are!"

The gasping crowd soon turns into the cheering crowd, and then the cheering crowd soon becomes the chanting crowd. There's a drumroll from somewhere as both Rob and Robin kick some stairs out from under the box, allowing me to step up and into the soft casket to lie down. The crowd chants are more creepy to me than anything though with their constant, "Burn. Burn. Burn."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say they wanted me to die.

"And now… Lights!" shouts Rob. A spotlight shines as the lid to the box seals over me and I'm concealed in blackness. I fold in my arms and wait for the grand finale.

"Here we go!" I hear Robin say. Both of the magicians take a few steps back from my box. I anticipate them conjuring their infamous pyrotechnics from their fingertips. The crowd starts the countdown.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Arcfire!"

The box is set ablaze, a shimmering burst of heat rocketing towards the sky. I hear some fireworks shoot off in conjunction with the people in the crowd's "Ohhing" and "Ahhing." There's a little boy asking his mom why they lit the weird angel boy on fire, followed by her hushing him to stop talking and enjoy the show.

Despite the size of the fire, my casket is completely safe, but accidents have been known to happen with the magician twins before. There was one occasion about a year ago where they had invited a young woman to place herself inside of a box, where they would then perform the classic act of cutting her in half. It turned out that they had mixed their "magic saw" with a real one, but thankfully they caught themselves before it was too late. Ever since then, Rob and Robin have always made sure to ask volunteers to sign a contract saying that if anything were to happen to their would-be assistants, they were not responsible for any injuries, damaged properties, or lost items.

Of course, I never had to sign any contract. But that's not because I didn't want to, no—it's because I didn't have to.

Let me tell you something about angels. It's a little known fact, but the thing that sets us apart from humans actually has nothing to do with the wings on our backs, nor does it relate to our quick reflexes and agility. The difference is buried somewhere much deeper, somewhere much closer to the heart.

Basically, angels can't die. They just can't (trust me, I've tried, and you may take that however you wish). You can throw us off the tallest building in the world, and while normal humans would simply go splat, we just pick ourselves off and dust off the sandals like a tumble on the playground. You can stab us, shoot us, heck, you can shove a nuke up my ass for all I care and I still won't go anywhere. We are immortal, and although it may sound like a blessing, in actuality it's more like a curse, especially since Pit and I are the only two angels I know of in this world. Doomed to walk among man, we live the life of a mortal. It's a wonder how the Robin twins ever figured that out about me, but I take it that Ashley dropped them a hint or two at some point in order to mess with me. Ever since they found out about that, I've been their prime volunteer on this show, since liability means nothing when you harm a man who cannot be killed.

"I think I smell something burning," says Rob with a grin.

"It's the casket, you twit," replies Robin equally. "Have you been sleeping this whole time?"

"I just woke up. The smoke must have got in my lungs."

"Go back to bed then. I'll wake you when dinner is ready!"

Their nonsense continues on, and for a moment I feel as though the crowd is genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. Granted, I've been in worse situations before. There were several occasions in the past where I've been held at gunpoint for reasons that I may or may not be put to blame. Those were fun times as well, but take it from me; getting shot in the ribs is not something worth experiencing. Neither is being burned alive as my wings tend to shrivel up faster than a peach in the summer sun. I may be immortal, but I still feel pain as much as the next guy, and I'd even argue that pain between angels and the human heart are practically equivalent.

One may ask at this point how someone might go about killing an angel if they are supposedly immune to death's cold kiss. There is exactly one exception to this rule, and honestly I doubt I'll ever have to resort to it in my lifetime. In order for an angel to die, he must willingly give up his own life in order to save the life of someone else. Now obviously, this would imply giving up a life so that a human can live, which to me makes no sense since all humans are born to die. Prolonging the inevitable is just stupid, not to mention the fact that there's barely anyone on this planet whose life is worth saving anyways. Therefore, the purpose of that exception is pointless, and I'll be damned if I ever meet the god who came up with that rule for us. That day will never come, which means that this right now is my life. This me, right here, in this burning casket, is the person that I'll forever be so long as I continue to walk the earth. Hello, my name is Kuro, and I couldn't care less how your day is going.

"I'd say we let him roast for long enough!" I hear Robin say. "Why don't we open this up to see how he's doing?"

That's my cue to exit this sweaty coffin, and I do so without hesitation. A lever under my right hand reveals a compartment beneath me, while the bed I'm in tilts my feet towards the ground. What follows this is essentially a miniature slide that sends me shooting down an open manhole that my burning box was strategically placed above. The skirt around the bottom of the box shields my escape, and in less than five seconds, I'm climbing back up to the surface some twenty feet away from the main event.

I pull myself up from behind the magicians' caravan, the crowd chatting and watching as Rob douses the flames with a bucket of water. I spare a glance at the scene just as the remaining steam dissipates in the air, noticing that the little boy from before is leaning forward with his mouth agape. Boy, is he in for a surprise.

"The lights are on!" sings Rob.

"The stage is set!" echoes Robin.

"And the angel speaks no more!" they both say in unison.

They strike a pose as the lid to the casket slams open from a gale force, black feathers mixed with colorful party favors shooting up in the air from within. The audience cheers, while some of them remain in awe of how they were able to pull such a cunning trick off. Where did Kuro go?

"I don't know, sweetie," says the mom to her kid. "Didn't you like the show?"

"Did he melt?" the boy kept asking her.

Heh. That would be a painful one to go through for sure.

"Thank you all so much for coming!" says Rob, his partner closing up the lid and wheeling the casket back to the caravan. "We hope to see you all tomorrow night for another spectacular show!"

He pulls some rose petals out of his sleeve and showers the crowd with them. I admit, I still can't figure out how he does that.

As expected, some people decide to stick around to receive autographs and whatnot, but I know at this point that I've overstayed my welcome. They'll be wondering where I came from if I show my face around here tomorrow.

I unceremoniously make my escape, shuffling through a pack of bushes to cut across to the nearest clearing. The mindless chatter from before is merely humming in my ears, but I tune all things out when I recognize a certain oval-headed child wearing nothing but a grungy cowl and licking an ice cream cone. He's standing there among a few other Villagers, watching a street performer pulling off some tricky moves with a hacky-sack. My feet suddenly move on their own, transitioning from a jog to an all-out gallop as I head straight for the thief from earlier today. I almost collapse in a near instant however, as a striking pain shoots up my leg due to the incident from before.

His keen sense of hearing immediately picks up on my clumsy footsteps, and before I know it the Villager has tossed his ice cream, shoving away from his group in an attempt to escape. I can already feel my head throbbing from the sprint, but not one thing causes me to take my eyes off that kid. I call out to him.

Signs and faces ablur, the only color I see is that of the Villager's brown cowl. I can almost reach out and grab him, but the little snitch is faster on his feet than I am. I really had to give it to him, although the way he kept on scurrying simply disgusted me. Like a cockroach ducking for cover from a sudden burst of light.

By sheer dumb luck, the Villager stumbles forward and falls flat on his face. It's by some sort of miracle that I manage to stop without running him over, but it doesn't take me long to realize that his fall was not just a fluke; someone had tripped him.

"You owe me one," says the innocent voice of Ashley, retracting her twig of a leg. She has a smug smirk on her face as she speaks, appearing from the shadows like a phantom.

"I could've got him," I say to her, but that sentence is all I can spare before I've grabbed the kid by his collar and lifted him two feet off the ground. He's trembling in my grasp, and for a moment I'm not sure what to say to him. I just bare my fangs.

"K-Kuro!" he cries. "L-let me explain!"

"Quiet," I snarl. "You better have a good reason for backstabbing me, or I'll slam you so hard you'll have concrete for teeth."

"Nothing to see here, folks," I hear Ashley say, shooing random onlookers away from us. "Just some business between old acquaintances. Go on. Scram!"

"W-well, it's a funny story actually," the Villager says, sweating buckets as he tries to come up with an explanation.

"Spill it." I shake him up a bit, but not too much. His eyes are practically spinning at this point.

"Gah! Please, just put me down! I promise I won't run away again!"

"You better not." I drop him on his feet.

"You gotta believe me when I say that I was set up," the Villager pleads. "I didn't want for any of this to happen!"

"I'm losing my patience," I say unenthusiastically. "Tell me why you stole the comic books."

"Look, if you want the comic books, you can have the comic books! These things are more trouble than they're worth!"

He empties his backpack, dropping the stolen Pokémon issues all over the ground. I don't even look at them, and as he realizes this, he starts to sink into the dirt under the shadow of my glare.

"I ought to turn you in, you good-for-nothing rat," I say. "You made me think you had nothing to do with the break-ins."

"Y-you can't turn me in!" the Villager replies. "I was just doing an odd job for someone! And I got paid! Come on, Kuro, you know what it's like living on the streets."

True, but that didn't excuse his crime, especially against me. Sure, there was a time in my life where I was once considered a criminal, but I didn't go around stealing comics from a bookstore. I planned my heists, specifically targeting snooty businessmen and pompous rich folks who would sooner wipe their own asses with a five dollar bill than drop a quarter at a church. I didn't just do it for myself; I was doing the world a favor.

"That doesn't change the fact that you interfered with my business," I say.

"I swear I didn't know you were working there! I was just told to steal some comics."

"Who hired you?" Ashley asks. "And you better not lie, or else Kuro here will beat you to a pulp and string you out on a clothes line!"

I frown at her, but she responds with a cutesy grin as if her making my threats for me is a thing we do all the time.

"I'm sworn to secrecy," the Villager says seriously. "To be honest, I don't even know who it is. I got a letter yesterday that told me what I had to do, and when I got home this afternoon I found eighty Bells stuffed in my mailbox. Now I've got these comics that I don't know what to do with."

His explanation is suspicious, yet there isn't a name I know of that would fall under the title of "Anonymous Robbery Orchestrator." Thinking about it, it kind of made the situation even more complex. If the Villager was just a hired hand, then was the person who hired him just after the comic books? Was it to spite Popstar or one of its employees? Or perhaps it a way to get my attention?

"Do you have the letter?" I ask, and almost immediately the Villager fishes a note out of his pocket and hands it to me.

The paper is worn, kind of brown, and the writing is in black ink. Ashley scoots closer to me to get a better look, but I ignore her. I can't decipher the owner of the handwriting, and just as my luck would have it, the note isn't even signed:

"There is a new comic book store that opened on Fourside Avenue earlier this month. Run by there and take some off the shelf for me. I'll make it worth your while…"

Oddly enough, there is no mention of shoplifting, and had the Villager had any money on him, the writer of this message might of expected him to just purchase the books like any regular customer.

"I don't buy it," says Ashley. "I say we torture him to get the real truth."

"This doesn't concern you," I reply to her automatically. "Don't you have someone else to bother right now?"

"Are you saying you don't want me here?"

"…Yes."

She wraps her arms around my own. "I'll stay then."

"That's the only evidence I got," the Villager states quickly. "I'm sorry Kuro, but I wish there was more I could give you. Do you believe me at least?"

Oh, I believe him alright, but that doesn't mean that I trust him. He broke whatever bond we had the minute he set foot in Popstar today.

"I'm holding on to this," I say, folding the note into my jeans.

"Oh yes! By all means go ahead! Heck, take the comics too." He gets on the ground and scoops the books into a stack, and rather hastily at that.

"You've gotten soft, Kuro," Ashley mutters distastefully. "I think you've had your head stuck in those books a little too long now."

Her comment irritates me beyond anything she's said this night, and without another word I break apart from her and swipe the comics back from the Villager.

"I've barely touched any of this garbage these people are calling entertainment," I scoff. "And I already told you that the job is just a means to an end. That's all it is and all it ever will be."

"Then why don't you just quit already?" Her question is genuine, and she doesn't appear at all fazed by my reaction.

I want to. Holy crap, do I want to. This job is turning out to be more trouble than it's worth, especially after what happened today. I'm not one to get involved, but the Villager appearing in the store to steal stuff inadvertently did get me involved. And to think I was going to be up and out of here a week ago. How much longer am I going to stall?

"My last paycheck," I say. "I still haven't gotten it thanks to this bozo." I shake my head towards the Villager whose eyes fall to the ground. "I'm going to walk in Monday morning, take my pay, and say goodbye to this trash heap." I pause, if only to make sure that this was the plan that I was truly going to stick with. "That ought to teach Pit not to mess with me again."

My response generates a giggle from Ashley. Recall that Ashley, although appearing as a sweet and innocent little girl on the outside, is actually a devious twenty-something year old on the inside. She tries to play it coy whenever she's around other men, but I'm immune to her tricks since I've known her for so long. Regardless, she often pretends to be my partner in crime despite the fact that I've always been a lone wolf.

"That's the Kuro I know and love," she says. "I can't wait for you to be done with this lame comic stuff so that we can go on some more adventures together."

"Are you two…" the Villager mutters curiously. "…dating?"

"No," I immediately respond, while Ashley utters a definite, "Yes!"

"It's none of your business," I snap at the Villager. "Just get out of my face before I report you. And if I ever catch you near me again during the day, I'll make you regret ever setting foot in this town."

The scamp makes no hesitation to leave, but he's only able to take a few steps before tripping over his own two feet. His face skids the pavement again, although honestly he couldn't look any worse than he already did. Without saying anything, he quickly picks himself up and vanishes into the passing crowds.

"I gave him a little parting gift," says Ashley with a grin. She pulls her wand out from behind her and bops it against her hip. "Just a bad luck curse. That kid will be eating rocks for another month or so."

I had to hand it to her that was pretty funny, but also unusually cruel. At the end of the day, the Villager did return to the comic books, but what he mentioned still baffles me. If he wasn't the one behind the robbery, then who was? And if the comic books had no value to the thief anyway, then what was the point?

"This is going to be a weird one to explain when I go back on Monday," I say, taking a step to resume my nightly run on Station Square. As expected, Ashley tags along like a lost puppy dog.

"Or you could just not say anything about it," she replies. "What those guys don't know won't hurt them, right?"

"True, but I have these now." I motion to the comics under my arm. "And I already have enough paper weights at home between Pit's religion books."

She smirks. "You should bring Pit with you one of these nights. I miss himmm."

She's doing that thing again where I know she's plotting something devilish in that demented mind of hers. Rest assured, I have no intention of hanging around Pit in public at any point in the near future.

"If you keep your hands to yourself then I'll think about it," I say flatly, but she messes with me by making groping gestures in the air with her hands.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Kind of…"

There is a reason why Ashley is so obsessed with me and my brother. Would you guess that the reason has to do with us being angels? No, actually, it has more to do with us just being immortal. She finds it to be a major turn-on, if that makes any kind of sense. That's why she can be clingy at times and also somewhat territorial on occasion.

She's just happy knowing there aren't any other girls in my life.

"So you gonna hang around here for a little longer?" she asks me.

"I don't know," I reply. "I already got what I came for though."

"Aw, come onnn. It's Friday! Let's go party… or eat something! At least try to look like you're enjoying yourself for once in your life."

As much as I hate to admit it, she has a point. Before I started working, I was always out on the town. I used to be carefree, mischievous, and all around a complete badass. I've been more laidback recently, stoic, mostly indifferent to everything going on around me. It's not the life I wanted, but it's the life I must lead to counter that of Pit. He's happy-go-lucky, he's caring, and he's annoying as shit. And I must do my best to be the opposite of that.

Eh, I guess another hour wouldn't kill me.

"Alright fine, but you're buying," I say to her as a smirk slithers across my lips.

Author's Note: Well, I say we learned something very interesting about Kuro and Pit this chapter. As some reviewers have asked, I would like to verify right now that Kuro and Pit are indeed angels, just as most of the other characters in this story represent their original Smash Bros. counterparts. So Fox is most certainly an anthropomorphic Fox, and Dedede is in fact a large penguin wearing a king's robe. For all intents and purposes, you can assume that this story takes place in a world very similar to our own. As for how close I plan on drawing those lines, I suppose I'll have to keep writing before I can come to any definite conclusion. Thanks everyone who has read up to here so far, and I'll catch you in the next update!