The Rebuild of Super Eva Chapter 12: Mischief Night, an evangelion fanfic

Super Eva Episode 12: Mischief Night

There is nothing left for me to do

Rational minds have long since been removed

You're so perfect, I'm so worthless

Party meeting, feel like screaming

Bad citizen, bad citizen

The grime in the air was palpable, coating the denizen's lungs black and cancerous in these downtrodden slums. Whether from the guns, cigarettes, or the factories, the smoke simply couldn't be escaped, hazing the night sky and blotting out the stars. Intermittent barks could be heard, perhaps human, but one could never be too sure. Despite his small frame and dark clothes, stealth was not Shinji's specialty, and he was all but certain that he was being watched. He walked past a highway overpass, regarding the curled up homeless man underneath the no loitering sign with a wan grimace. Some problems couldn't be punched away.

For a simple quiet kid who had grown up amidst the clean rustic calm of a middle class beachside town, the air and grime rubbed his senses and mind raw. But his heart and hand reached out all the same, the young man dropping a modest donation of cash at the nearby man's feet. From there he kept his hood up and trudged onward, a modern parable of the old German folk tales, this youth trudging into a dark forest of scattered glass and worn steel.

Amber street lights flickered over cracked asphalt and detritus, shadows playing at the corner of Shinji's widened eyes. Buoyed by confidence in his training, he trekked onward, but failed in finding anyone else populating the back alleys and streets. Until he heard it, a small whimper around the corner, some figment of his imagination or shaking lips trembling against a captor's hand. The darkness swallowed his form, and then he was everywhere.

Bounding around the corner Shinji immediately saw a woman tossed to the ground, blood dripping down her split lip, while a man dressed in his own dark hoodie stood above her, knife in one hand, purse in the other. He stood a head taller than Shinji but determination and justice filled the lad as he stepped forward with a clenched fist.

"Drop the purse."

The young man spoke with a rough grumble that was almost unintelligible.

"Or I drop-you."

Shinji's voice cracked before the mugger did, the man standing still in as much confusion as defiance. So the aspiring hero swung wide.

The assailant turned around swiftly, but still caught the superhuman teen's blow at a glancing angle.

"UGH!" He was thrown off balance, skittering back to the brick wall. "Better turn the fuck away right now kid."

The glint of his steel danced around his fingers.

"This don't got nothin to do with you."

Shinji instinctively recoiled, despite having faced monsters many orders of magnitude more dangerous than a garden variety purse snatcher-he'd never fought someone with a knife before, certain sentiments and reflexes enduringly mundane and civilian. Still, one had to start somewhere.

"I SAID FUCK OFF!"

The man rushed him, the familiar stench of alcohol staining his haggard breaths. He was quite a bit taller than Shinji, but a few inches didn't make much of a difference when one of the combatants was literally superhuman. The perp stabbed the boy right in the gut, his reflexes unfortunately still needing some work.

"What the fuck?"

The man pulled away his weapon from the tattered bits of shirt, the once shining six inch menace pinging like a bullet off a brick wall. Eyes wide as saucers, the villain gradually realized the depth of his mistake.

But desperation and a series of bad choices had already brought the man this far, so he renewed his attack was a speeding frenzy. Shinji felt the pelt of stabs like the incessant poking of someone rather annoying, no concentration needed whatsoever for the passive wall that shielded his body to guard him still. But ever since he had begun his training in building and stretching that wall, he had also begun to wonder, what would happen if he hit someone part of that wall? Curiosity met necessity as Shinji channeled a modest portion of his aura into the tiniest twinkle of a purple glow on his fist, and rammed it into the man with a light touch, he didn't want to hurt him after all.

People have a lot of misconceptions about guns. Whether it be a sleek silencer turning deafening bangs into mere whispers, or a massive machine gun firing forever with no ill effects, pop culture has done little to assuage these myths. One of the more popular ones being that of some thundering firearm blowing bodies clear across a room. As physics would have it, bullets as projectiles generally pass right through the body, the heavier caliber rounds doing more damage less in the way of their impact and more in the way of a phenomenon known as hydrostatic shock.

Thus, when Shinji thrust his hand forward it struck with the force of a freight train condensed into a bony teenage fist. The sensation for the hero akin to punching jello.

The man collapsed, not even able to hold himself on his arms, rapidly succumbing as the structure of his other organs fought to keep from being jellied. No longer coherent, his blood and spittle ran in equal measure out onto the street.

"HOLY SHIT!" Shinji screamed shrilly as he too dropped to his knees "THAT'S A LOT OF BLOOD!"

Blood that dripped from his fist, drizzling atop a sight that made him sick. Shinji now gripped the woman in panic "CALL AN AMBULANCE QUICK! PLEASE!"

The woman looked as shocked as Shinji, maybe given what she had just seen or because Shinji was asking her to save her attacker. Regardless the woman silently nodded and began dialing away. Shinji returned to the grunting and choking guy, taking the woman's purse he put it under his head so he could breathe easier.

"Do you have anyone I should call?" Shinji rummaged for the man's wallet to find out, his hands instead finding a small parcel before the man's shriek of pain nearly made him drop it. The nausea was pooling at the young man's knees now and he felt the strongest urge to run. This time he did, as fast as he would, hyperventilating as the man's screams were sure to wake the whole slum up.

One step forward and two screaming, agonizing steps back. Whether or not the man was imprisoned, his mugging days sure were over. Bolting down the darkened streets did little to soothe Shinji's hyperventilating chest, but he figured that was also his fault along with the man's mangled pleural cavity. But the night was young and surely the boy could not fuck up any harder than he already had, could he? His answer arrived in the almost derisive meow of a cat, perched high above on a billboard, the ladder extended for some reason.

Shinji looked to his bloodied hand, before trying to rub it off with his ruined sweatshirt, to scrub away what he had just done. For one who had known the weight of a bully's heel on his neck many times, it felt wrong to use such excessive force on anyone that much weaker than him, even towards nobler ends. At the very least he now knew even his developing aura was too much for your average person. When his chest had calmed enough, his mind could follow, realizing that he had mugged the mugger, the small parcel resting in his other hand.

Curiosity again compelled Shinji forward, pushing past the paper of the parcel to find an even smaller plastic bag filled with conspicuous powder, an elegant card beside it.

Drugs. Shinji realized, a pittance more of guilt spilling for the mugger back there. Maybe the drugs made him do it?

He looked at the card, its surface solid black but embellished with a flourish of gold font that simply read: Club 3.

A place to meet perhaps? Or a supplier?

Past self admonishment, Shinji found the fires of purpose once again. Of course it was foolish to try and beat up every mugger in the city, many of them forced desperate by circumstance and exploited by the greater criminal powers that be. If he truly wanted to accomplish something...he would have to go after the bigger fish.

Though Shinji knew little about the Tokyo 3 nightlife, the Club of the same number was easy to find, proving to be quite popular, as evinced by the expensively dressed men and women laughing and gallivanting outside. Shinji himself having switched into a backup outfit as black as his last one, a button up dress shirt and pants capped off by a conspicuous choice of sunglasses at night. A cordon of velvet rope and black suited bouncers kept the crowd to a funnel towards the blaring music and opulence inside, as trendy a front as one could hope to have in this city. Through brief research Shinji knew that the more organized criminal elements had been here since the city's beginnings, and so built into the bedrock and doing a good job doing bad things in plain sight. In several ways of scope and ethics it was easy for Shinji to see them as worse offenders, for any criminal of the slums was hard-pressed towards certain choices with less options.

But tonight Shinji wasn't here for philosophy or sociology, chancing upon and exploiting a lapse in security as a scuffle broke out at the front door, rushing in while he could. Once again he felt a heavy bass bouncing his chest through his ears, entering a scene more restrained than the spectacle at Kaworu's party but far beyond any school dance.

Though his small stature and baby face worked against his intimidation factor, Shinji blended in more or less seamlessly with the drunken crowd. Flashing strobe lights peppering them from above almost justified the sunglasses, and he strode confidently to the bar. Doubtless there were criminal elements watching his movements, and he kept his eyes peeled for anything particularly suspicious. Any mobster worth his salt knew that business had to be carried out behind closed doors, and unless Shinji could somehow bypass the similarly shades-wearing guard stationed at the entrance to the VIP lounge, he doubted he would find anything of import on the dance floor.

Shinji sidled up to the bartender, head bouncing in tandem with the music as he raised his voice "Hey barkeep I'll have a whiskey on the rocks, no olives". As the befuddled bartender struggled to comprehend and somehow fulfill the order Shinji leaned in with an arched brow "How's business tonight? Looking to do more than wet my beak if you know what I mean".

The guy was dressed like a bad joke, but the underhanded way he addressed the bartender brought to mind some of Togusa's boys that rolled in from time to time. They must've been recruiting young.

"You got the cash for that kind of entertainment?"

He was probably some little prick drunk on testosterone and the power of Daddy's money, though the bartender imagined he himself looked about as awkward around that age. He decided against trying to card the kid, he didn't want him screaming in his ear asking if he knew who he was. Tossing out the beginnings of the nonsensical order, the man uncapped a light beer from the cooler and handed it to him.

"Talk to Nandaba over there, tell him I sent ya. Take it ease."

"Thanks for the heads up" Shinji took the drink in hand and left a modest tip, fighting a grimace as he took a swig. Even among the strobing dark din it wasn't hard to find the one called Nandaba.

The bouncers at the front had been the typical fare, grim, bullshit proof monoliths. The man ahead though was all smiles, taller than even his cohorts and long limbed, his shaved head crested with a rooster red mohawk, his nose pierced with silver. The rest of his aesthetic cut a hard contrast, his suit pressed in deep pitch black, a picture of refinement from the fine green tie to the precision placed white handkerchief in his front pocket, the expensive watch on his wrist, the shoes made from poor dead reptile on his feet.

The man seemed distracted by the women he had on each arm but Shinji noted the green eyes behind the breezy look and body language. Eyes of quiet fire working the crowd, and gauging Shinji as he approached. Shinji nodded to the two women briefly, darkness and glasses doing well to hide his nerves "Evening, Mr. Nandaba? I was told you might be able to point me towards something a little more...enthralling than song and dance? Fine establishment that this place is and all."

Crinkled brows were exchanged, the unsung cry of Who the fuck is this guy? hanging in the air like bad breath. Nandaba came forward, his swagger pushing aside the onlookers.

"Yeah guy, I don't know you, and if I don't see any green..." He rubbed the tips of his fingers together. "Then this is gonna be a real short conversation."

One of the snootier women beside him scoffed into her cocktail.

"He's a real shorty ain't he? Doesn't look a day over 17!"

"I'll say, probably Togusa's kid, I heard he's in high school or something." Her faux blonde counterpart joined in the cajoling.

An uncharacteristic chill ran down Nandaba's spine, the Togusa clan was nothing to fuck with, and denying the leader's son entry into VIP would be a major disrespect, possibly even tipping the delicate balance they had in place between the families. The boy sure fit the bill, those guys were always rolling around in black suits and shades, saying that a funeral always followed wherever they went. Nandaba himself never saw the kid, but heard stories about how he traveled alone, his name enough for protection.

"That true? Are you Kei Togusa's boy?" He gulped, stepping forward calmly.

Behind his sunglasses Shinji was just as skittish, lying one's way into a gangster's den tended to do that, but whoever this Kei Togusa was, he seemed important enough to be a way in. "Why yes. Though if I had to prove it to you, there might be bit of a mess, wouldn't there?" Shinji said, naive tone cutting quiet in cold authority as he drew close to the man, inspired by his real father.

The kid was ice cold, and even if he couldn't see his eyes it felt like he was staring into his soul. Bereft of any excuses and not willing to incur his father's wrath, Nandaba stepped aside.

"My apologies, sir. Please, make yourself at home."

He gestured into the walkway, pulling away the velvet rope. Shinji strutted forward, head straight forward despite an internal feeling of elation at pulling it off so easily. Who knew the best disguise was pretending to be important? The interior of the lounge was cast in purple light, champagne flowing freely as pills traded hands and grainy white lines were snrrrted off of stripper's asses. A real upper-crust vacation. The boy made his way to an empty booth, whereupon a topless woman came wheeling in a pristine bottle chilled in ice.

"Mr. Togusa, the owner sends his regards, and a gift."

Shinji's wide eyes followed the sway of the woman's bosom as he extended a wildly shaking hand towards the bottle and took it.

"T-t-thanks."

Having never touched anything harder than liquor or wanted anything more than liquor Shinji was the proverbial sheep amongst wolves, his vanilla sensibilities overwhelmed. This place was a distribution point, little doubt about that, but now he didn't know what his plan was on shutting it down.

The woman eyed the Togusa boy warily, smelling the mixture of cold dread and arousal that separated the virgins from the men.

"Are you alright, sir?" Her tone was dark but formal, a sultry coil commanding his attention. "Please, do not hesitate to ask for any comforts we might provide to you."

He was a bit too jumpy for her liking, were it not for his young age she figured he might just be strung out on cocaine. But he had also come alone, without any sort of entourage or posse, perhaps suggesting a need for privacy. Even with the sunglasses on, she knew the feeling of having eyes on her, and this boy seemed to be trying his damndest to look anywhere but her direction. Perhaps he preferred the company of men?

Shinji could feel his uneasiness bleeding over to her, and he didn't want to create a scene-at least only with the gangsters. "I'm fine, thank you" he said with a nod as he took a swig directly from the bottle and laid back into the chair.

"Of course, sir." Truthfully she was fine either way, still confused as to the boy's true motives. Stepping out and into the hallway, she bumped into one of the bouncers. "Call up the Chief, let him know Togusa's son stopped by for a drink."

The man nodded, and spoke into his earpiece.

"Boss? You see the guy that just walked into VIP?"

Above, in a lavish office, a man regarded a set of monitors displaying security feeds throughout the club, one of them focusing on the sweaty boy sitting alone in a booth.

"Yes I did, it seems he doesn't have a taste for our hospitality. Let him stew for a while, then tell him to come on up and see me. Have a drink in his father's name."

The bouncer nodded. "Understood."

Shinji drank and stewed flummoxed on just what to do when one of the many muscled goons dropped an invitation from the boss in his lap.

"The boss is here?" Shinji slowly tilted his head to the exit, considering running again. Whatever ruse had existed was sure to end here, because someone as far up as whoever this boss was, was sure to know who the real son of Togusa was. But if he really wanted to learn more or do some good..."Well what was he waiting for!? Let's drink!" Shinji enthused, only feeling a little buzzed but playing it up for effect as he was led away.

The pair of musclebound men traded odd looks. First, the kid stumbled not wanting any drinks or women, and now he was all gung-ho? They shrugged, merely walking in step behind the shouting boy. The plexiglass and neon gave way to tasteful oak and baroque architecture, a neo-classical hallway leading to a thick set of double doors. Echoes of Scarface aside, it was clear that this was meant to be secreted away from even the VIP guests, where dirty money flowed like so much alcohol below.

"Ah, good evening my boy!" A voice greeted him as soon as the doors opened, a portly man smiling from behind a gray haze of cigar smoke. "Please, have a seat."

Through the sunglasses and wide gulf of the room Shinji was a cipher-until he started smiling as he came forward, acting just a little sauced. "Good evening, good evening, good evening! I want to thank you so much for your kind generosity, truly, truly, this is a fine place you got here. My father will hear of only the best I assure you."

"Good, good." The man's Chesire grin rolled off his wrinkled face. "I trust you've been having a pleasant evening? I'm always happy to entertain a member of the venerable Togusa clan."

Trick question, of course, not that Shinji knew. Shiro Tanbata had not survived in this business for so long by being an unobservant fool. The real Kei Togusa was a star athlete currently abroad in an exchange program, having had his father tell him this but a few weeks ago. Whoever this impostor was had made a fool of his security team, who would be heavily reprimanded after they made this punk talk.

"Our families have always been close, no? Tell me, how is your father these days?"

Beneath the table, his finger slipped over a button, and men began lining up outside of the door with guns drawn. Patrons and employees alike were hushed and hurried out, knowing that something, very likely not good, was brewing.

"Oh yeah, yeah, the bestest buds. Dad's busy as usual, a regular work ostrich, head deep in there, nowhere else." Shinji sold that line better, pulling on some personal experience for the performance, before dropping both sunglasses and pretense as he leaned a serious look forward past blue eyes.
"I'll be frank, criminal, you shut your drug trade down and I'll let you walk out of here." Shinji took a breath before tilting his head slightly as he tried to crack his neck. "Or if you say no you can crawl."

"We'll see who's crawling, GET HIM!" The doors opened and gunfire rained down on the boy, his own supposed guards bringing out their pistols. Now kids, if you remembered what we said earlier about guns, you'll know they don't just blow people around rooms willy-nilly. Still, all the momentum's gotta go somewhere, and thus Shinji's body jerked and danced like a cheap puppet on strings with the impact of each round, the steaming hot brass tinkling off of his skin in gnarled lumps. His shirt torn to shreds and as the sunglasses exploded in his eyes, making him stumble around the room. A few seconds passed and the barrage was over, the men calmly reloading their guns.

"Boss, I thought you said we were gonna make him talk?" One of the men asked.

"Fuck it, that's what he gets for being a wise ass and making threats in my house!"

The men argued amongst themselves, not really paying attention to the boy until he began groaning and picking himself off the floor.

"Hey guys, I think you missed!" Shinji's confident retort was slammed back into his mouth by the butt of a shotgun, its double barrels leveling at his wide eyes on the floor, hands flying up in defensive reflex with a yelp and glint of violet light. For any normal person it would have been a futile effort, but here the shot ricocheted off his glowing palms, and through boss Tanbata's nearby knees.

The boss fell with a shrill yell, hands clasping red and wet at his rent knees, his men watching awestruck. Shinji was no less surprised as he looked to his glowing palms. His training splashing around in that waterfall was beginning to pay off.

Was that a ricochet or deflection? Maybe if I could shape my aur-

The thought bounced away in his head as a high-caliber round sent it reeling, Tanbata's head lieutenant the first to recover from the stupor, slipping a fresh magazine into his pistol, and unloading again into the boy's back. "Super" spies were rare, but not unheard of. If someone decided to send a beefed up assassin after them, they were definitely a force to be reckoned with.

Soon the young man was swimming in spent ammunition, but still breathed, a wild swing of his fist clipping another goon in the ankle with a loud pop, the man joining his boss writhing on the floor.

"Fuck it, dogpile him!" Another shouted and rushed forward, tackling and keeping Shinji to the ground, trying to rein him in. Though hesitant, the others soon joined in, pinning the boy and preventing his arms from moving.

Blind sided and bull rushed Shinji lacked the time to gather or use his aura, his glowing fist useless without room to swing it. He squirmed under their grasp, even his growing strength futile against a coordinated group of muscle and anger.

So Shinji was left only with words, spitting back some defiant anger of his own.

"Do your worst, no really. Do it. But after you're done can you let me go? I'd like to be on my way just before sunrise."

"You talk a lot for a fucking dead man!" His captors held tight, not letting him move a muscle. "It might take all night, but we will find a way to make you bleed, boy."

He motioned for someone to get a doc for the old man, and began coordinating the men to escort Shinji out.

"I don't see why we gotta move him." Another member popped up, twirling around a butterfly knife and poking ineffectually at the boy's eyeballs. "We coulda just as easily broke him right then and there on the floor."

Yellowed teeth flashed in the light, his breath tarred Shinji's senses, doing more damage than anything else so far.

"Whaddya say boys, why don't we shove a grenade where the sun don't shine and call it a day? His bosses must not give a shit about him if it was a suicide run. Might as well give him what he came for."

"We'll take care of you, you mother, your father, anybody you ever wanted to keep safe. Shoulda stayed home tonight, little man."

"Well, if you knew who my father was you would wish I was some mob brat's son." Indestructible as he was so far, Shinji was not eager to experiment with any untried means of vulnerability with this crowd. Or just as worse, he could be bound and shuttled away in some box somewhere for who knows how long.

"So what's the plan?" The men used heaps of zip ties, belts, and even bits of spare chain to restrain the boy, the haphazard accessories giving him the air of a JRPG protagonist as opposed to a prisoner, before moving him down the back stairs like a piece of furniture. "Super or not, everybody's gotta breathe."

Nandaba, having learned of the situation when they brought the boy down, pointed to a large brick of cement and a length of chain.

Shit. Shinji gulped, squirming and fighting his bonds and captors harder than before but to little avail.

"Let him sleep with the fishes, just get rid of him." Shaking his head, the mohawked man tried to come to grips with the boy's motives. "So I got no clue who you're working for and I don't really wanna know, best I can think of is that you're just some fuck playing vigilante cause nobody in this town is fucking stupid enough to pull a stunt like this. All you had to do... all you had to do was come in, have a few beers, maybe get your dick wet, and we'd all be straight. But you hadda come after us. Damn shame, but no hard feelings."

Shinji had no funny repartie now, instead a pale look of concession on his face. Nandaba was right. At this moment Shinji felt less like a hero and more a stupid boy, fear and self admonishment lacing his body. The breath that he was certain he still needed beginning to race as he was loaded into the backseat of a black SUV, Nandaba sat on his right with another man at his left.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You fucking idiot. Life gives you super powers and you fuck even that up. Survive some Angels and get done in by gangsters. Fucking loser.

The fact that it might be by drowning no less of a cruel revelation that perhaps he hadn't changed at all since that beachside town, because then as now, he needed someone to save him. But she wasn't here. And the heroes of this city, Asuka, Rei and Misato slept.

The hardened gangsters shifted uncomfortably as their mysterious super attacker began to cry, one of them opening a window and lighting a cigarette.

The smoke soon wafted Shinji's way, carrying with it a memory and a voice just as smoky.

I won't always be around to take care of shitheads for ya, Shinji. So you can't just run away all the time or turn the other cheek like it's all sweet. It's okay to fight for yourself, just gotta think you can win. And hey, if you get into all that mopey "Woe is me" shit, just 'member: if nobody else got you, then I got you!

A different kind of shame now found Shinji, as he remembered why he had come to this city, why he had accepted and stepped into this world of heroes and monsters. Because more than trying to save and impress just the world, he still wanted to save and impress one person. So he had to be his own hero until he could do all that.

The young man's breath steadied with his mind, that last and most potent weapon only shackled by the self.

You can do this. Breathe. Think.

Through the open window Shinji could feel the rush of air, they were moving plenty fast now, on the highway no doubt, and with that speed...they had covered Shinji with all belts except a seat belt.

Nandaba sat up a little straighter as the kid's eyes finally opened, an unnerving and sudden calm in them past the stilled tears, a gentle tone on his polite smile.

"Hey Nandaba, buckle up."

Shinji reached for the aura in his gut and the sensation he had when standing against Ramiel's beam. Resolve focused his candle flame of energy into a tight baseball sized sphere, before he dropped it into his feet and towards the floor of the SUV. The SUV groaned for a second, before suddenly jolting to a stop as its forward momentum bucked hard against the human break in the backseat, a sudden concert of physics flipping the SUV like a coin high into the air.

The gangsters screamed while Shinji was tossed out the back window, skipping along the highway like a stone. While his eyes and world spun, Shinji heard the large crash of metal and glass as the SUV landed on its roof down the road. A car crash was a terrible experience, but at least one somewhat prepared for when an Angel shunted you halfway across the country, Shinji getting up at a woozy stumble. Hearing the groans of the gangsters in the SUV Shinji wasted no time in removing his bonds, instead rushing off into the rising light of early morning as fast as he could.

The night had hardly gone as expected, but that he could shuffle away into a new day was victory enough. His powers were growing, now he just needed to keep working on the rest of him.

I have seen the light, and it's so beautiful that I can't even cry

I'm not a liar, I'm not a liar, I'm not a liar

I have seen the light, and it's so beautiful that I can't even cry

I'm not a liar, I'm not a liar, I'm not a liar

I've seen it

I've seen it

Song: Bad Citizen - Hey Geronimo

"It's Misato again! Finally! Good thing royalties are strong and Yebisu is cheap!"

"Anyways! We're back next episode with conspiracy! Dancing! Romance! DRAMA! Tokyo 3 becomes a battleground once again but this time it's a fight for Shinji's heart! So join us-what's that Rei? Is that so? Huh! Oooooo this should be interesting!"

"So join us next week!"

"And wear a mask!"

(Imagine Wind: A new episode, a new year, and a whole year since the last one. But what a year it was. Suffice and sad to say that a year spent with more time indoors nevertheless meant more obligations, struggles and distractions to tackle than before. So sincerest apologies for the delay, and much thanks for anyone who waited. My good friend and I agreed that we could not let Anno get 4.0 out before we finished a new episode! Ha ha. Said this before but we will hit a more steady schedule with these releases. I do hope that everyone has been able to find what calm and happiness they could in these crazy times. And if not keep fighting and holding on for better days, we are getting there.)

(Mines: I legit forgot the handle I used for before logging in cause it's been so long lol. Nevertheless, I decided that now is as good a time as any to hop back on this horse. It's now coming on six years since the bones of this story were laid in place, and revisiting it and adapting it into fic format brought back a lot of memories of what a ride it's been since then. Hopefully, we can keep that momentum going, and if you're still reading, I appreciate ya.)