Krillin was clear: #8 was a peaceful guy who hated confrontation.
But it was time to meet him, Sixteen and Eighteen had taken on the task.
Krillin, who had first thought of going to Jingle Village, had preferred to stay and take care of Marron: Eighteen got that.
And Eighteen herself wanted to achieve that goal, to gain the trust of a being who had none in its creator, and consequently also in other creations.
The android would only have garrisoned the meeting, observing the cyborg girl from afar.
The two of them had to be as cautious, as sensitive as possible if they wanted to get close to #8.
Eighteen agreed with Sixteen that his menacing appearance, so different from his demeanour, made another kind of impression.
Again, it was a situation where life did not require physical strength but fortitude. Eighteen pondered this truth as she sat at the table in the only café in Jingle Village.
From Dende's description, Eighteen was to expect an imposing-looking humanoid with scars on his forehead. Some kind of Frankenstein monster.
Eighteen undid the scroll and read on: #8 "Hacchan" (as he called himself; it was Son Goku as a child who suggested that nickname, Krillin had remembered with nostalgia) went down to that café every morning to help tidy up supplies. She wondered if he ever stopped for a hot drink in that perpetually snowy place. If he could do it. He wondered if he really was like her and Seventeen.
#8 was the first of the four infinite energy models, Eighteen was the last.
He was through with delivering a load of closed boxes to the café, Eighteen watched him go.
She followed him, keeping her distance, knowing that he had noticed her. She followed him to a circular-shaped house, similar to that of Son Goku.
Eighteen didn't feel like going to fish him out in there, -# 8.-
He didn't even turn to look at her, he preferred to focus on the front door.
-Hacchan.-
Hearing himself called by that name, Eight turned slowly; Eighteen thought she saw a spark of kindness in his eyes.
For a moment Eight and that unknown girl stood sizing each other up. He looked really impressive, very tall and outstanding with that square skull and the scars, the absence of eyebrows. Then the front door slammed open and that moment of calm was lost.
Eighteen saw a woman appear, she might have been ten years older than her. Her straight, long, ginger hair reminded her of Carly's.
-Stand back,- the woman in the bonnet drew a long pistol and held it firmly.
Could she also shoot like Carly?
Feeling the tension build up # 8 stirred, hoping that the gunwoman would calm down, -Suno…-
Suno was troubled by the apparent calm of the other female a few steps away from her; no one had looked for Hacchan since he had settled down in Jingle Village. Nobody could care about him...apart from the Red Ribbon itself. What if that woman was sent by Doctor Gero, what if she was one of them?
-Hacchan has strength you can't even imagine, but he's too kind, and people sometimes take advantage of him. Doctor Gero, his creator, wanted to throw him away for this; General White wanted to make him his slave!-
Gero had taken more than advantage of Eighteen. She was surprised to hear the name Doctor Gero uttered by a regular human.
Earth was a violent and dangerous place, Suno had had to learn to protect herself. She intended to use the gun if that female didn't disappear. -Hacchan is too good and noble for y'all. Too bad it's not my case.-
The human fired and the bullet ricocheted off the cyborg's shoulder.
Understanding the situation, Hacchan leaned forward to protect Suno and delivered a powerful punch that didn't even graze the blonde-haired android who had come to visit him; she had moved to the doorstep, so quickly that Suno could now watch her closely: she looked real.
She might have been too pretty to be true, if nothing, but she was alive and real indeed.
She couldn't be a Red Ribbon android, she had to be a cyborg.
Hacchan immediately sensed her hybrid nature and defended his home, -Leave me alone, you people. I have my life here at the village ... they accept me here.-
Eighteen understood the will to defend that feeling of acceptance and of being loved even if different, too different from anyone else; she had been extremely lucky.
She took a step toward him, -And it's to protect the life you cherish that you must listen to me.-
The human Suno had already given up on any approach to that woman, both attack and defence.
-I know what it's like; I came a long time after you, I'm # 18.-
Hacchan looked at her, she had sparked his interest,
"Oh my, there's a #18; that's what they look like, so long after me."
/
Hacchan lived with Suno, they took care of each other like brother and sister. She too had met Son Goku and had been the one who (together with the saiyan) had had the bomb removed from Hacchan; a bit like Krillin had done for the twins, only without Shenron.
Suno was no stranger to the concept of cyborg and finding herself in front of one was the first thing she had thought when seeing #18, even before being struck by her beauty; now that her fear had diminished Suno couldn't help but look at her pale, very cold eyes, and symmetrical features, -Have all the slain androids returned? And where are they?-
-Eighteen and I are chasing them. We want to involve # 8.-
Suno was still on guard, sitting opposite Sixteen at the table. Hacchan had also noticed him outside his house, and having ascertained that he had come in peace just like #18, he had invited him to come in.
The Capsule Corp. symbol covered that of the Red Ribbon, Hacchan considered it a good sign.
-Why should he be involved?- Suno put on the table a pot of hot broth and a large sliced loaf. She ladled the broth into cups, one for herself and one for Hacchan.
-Hacchan is a cyborg, but fluids like this watery soup are good for him; he needs to hydrate to keep his organic side alive; I guess it's the same for you,- the woman declared, placing the third cup in front of her cyborg host.
-Kami himself has commissioned me to eliminate them. You know my husband Krillin, Hacchan.-
Hacchan and Suno knew Krillin well; had he married a Red Ribbon cyborg, for real?
Eighteen drank her broth discreetly; her stomach rumbled, demanding real nutritious food.
Her appetite was crazy, even more so than when she was pregnant: producing milk non-stop required consistent food intake from her.
Since before Marron's birth, at the Kame House they had assumed that Krillin's wife also had a saiyan percentage, since she could virtually eat the equivalent of her weight, daily.
Yet she, the proud Eighteen, was still ashamed to show herself to the others while she ate; since her comfortable post-conversion diet would still be impracticable for months she had become accustomed to have her meals in nibbles, like a bird. If someone addressed her with words or looks they never surprised her with a full mouth; it embarrassed her that they watched her chew or get her mouth dirty with sauce, it seemed so trivial and so not in keeping with the glacial impression one must have of her!
Eighteen restrained herself as long as she could, remaining impassive in front of that simple but tantalising table, until she had cramps.
"Who cares."
In the end, eating was nothing special; everybody did it, literally everybody, except for Sixteen.
And this Hacchan.
And the others on her blacklist.
Suno and Hacchan watched with surprise #18 bite two slices of bread and swallow them almost whole; they had never seen a Red Ribbon creation feed on anything.
-Ooh, someone's a bit peckish...Our fresh air makes everybody hungry.-
Suno had grown up with that dogma and thought the Northern climate was good for health.
Sixteen intervened with an explanation and Hacchan learnt that #18 was practically a superhuman, an enhanced Earthling. Aside from her infinite energy reactor, not so different from his own, she was nothing more than restructured organic matter.
Eighteen had already embarrassed herself enough; gorging had given her hiccups, she had attracted subdued giggles from Hacchan and Suno.
Perhaps it was best to continue Sixteen's explanation, -Gero modified me this way to be a sort of completion for Cell. And Sixteen,- the cyborg girl hinted at the android -he's indirectly responsible for Cell's defeat.-
Every time Eighteen thought of Cell she felt breaking inside. It was something she could forget in everyday life, because hardly anyone mentioned him, but when it came back to her it was a terrible assault, something that troubled her deeply. She had escaped Cell by a miracle.
It was going to be trauma forever and the only thought that gave strength was that the monster would never return.
Everyone knew Cell, but hardly anyone imagined that he and the cyborgs were related.
Hacchan didn't need much explanation, -Yeah, Son Gohan defeated him, but I didn't know it was thanks to you!-
The oldest cyborg understood definitively that Sixteen and Eighteen were not a threat.
But Suno...
-How can we trust you? #16 is an android through and through and # 18...I can't see you as a real human. Even if you are like Hacchan.-
Hacchan himself, created from a corpse, knew that this next-generation cyborg was still different; the mechanical percentage in her was much lower and she had always been a living girl.
Eighteen did not know how to explain, words would never be enough.
She remembered about some proof of her humanity that would never go away.
-You won't be able to see. But # 8 will,-
Eighteen glanced at Hacchan and lifted her shirt, showing the flat surface of her stomach.
-You're flat, so what?- Suno retorted.
But Hacchan saw what those who didn't have enhanced eyes could not see; the skin of #18's belly was streaked, as if worn out, its weave not uniform.
-My skin stretched not long ago, when I was expecting my baby girl.-
Suno winced, that cyborg had given birth?
-I conceived and gave birth to a daughter, she is almost six months old now. You can see the marks for yourself.-
Hacchan thought for a moment how much he would have liked to meet that little girl, daughter of a creation of the Red Ribbon and of warrior Krillin.
#18 had always been a living organism before, during and after the conversion in cyborg: her heart had never stopped under the knife of Gero.
It was amazing.
#18 had given life, she could feed, she had taken off her coat because she had felt hot, she had left her saliva on the rim of the cup.
-Are you the only one of us like that? The only one of your kind?-
-No.-
/
Eighteen and Sixteen could be satisfied, #8 seemed to be on their side. It would have been stupid not to be, since the new threat concerned him too.
-If there is a copy of Doctor Gero, I hope no one else takes him...This time it's my turn,- Eighteen snarled, clearly audible to Sixteen despite being in flight at high speed muffled every sound. Sixteen sensed that Eighteen had wanted to kill Gero for a long time, even if for one reason or another she hadn't gone through with it.
To be precise, Eighteen had wanted to kill him with her own hands since the time when, three years earlier, she had realised that the old man had touched her with tampons every month, in the menstrual period.
-The encounter with #8 must be reported to Seventeen. He knows nothing about it.-
The android was right, in his impassiveness he always understood everything; Eighteen knew how her brother hated falling from the sky, it was perhaps the thing he hated most of all. When she and Krillin had not informed him of their wedding he had felt excluded from the life of his twin sister; when he felt trifled with he could become dangerous.
-Yes, Sixteen, we have to tell him. I'll see him and our mother as soon as we find a date.-
Kate had warned the twins of her intentions, to invite them over to her house to celebrate their twenty-third birthday. It was since meeting Ronan that Eighteen hadn't met with Seventeen at home. She
would find a moment to talk to him about Hacchan.
/
But before Eighteen even turned twenty-three, she had something urgent to do. She had chosen a Central City boutique on purpose so that her maid of honour could be there.
Waiting for Sara, sitting indoors in the shopping centre, Eighteen listened absently to Bulma.
-I don't understand what Yamcha is doing here. Are you Carly's poor replacement?-
-Who is that?-
-Eighteen's third bridesmaid, come on!-
Bulma rubbed her forehead, already tired of keeping up with him.
Yamcha didn't know this bridesmaid, -I just wanted to come along, I'm curious…-
-He kept being annoying,- the bride to be commented, looking at the time on her phone.
-These are women's things, you blockhead!...But in the end it is the bride's decision.-
Chi-Chi, Son Goku's widow, thought that times had really changed: when it was her turn to choose her wedding dress she hadn't brought a crowd with her.
Chi-Chi would have been a simple guest to the ceremony but at Krillin's suggestion, Eighteen had wanted to invite her to the dress hunt. Since Goku had died she had been quite alone, caught between the house and another son. Goten was a couple of years old now, that girls' day out would do her good.
Eighteen found it hard to look into her eyes: even if Chi-Chi had not shown herself hostile to her, Eighteen knew that Gero had planned for her to destroy that woman's family. The awareness had a bitter aftertaste, even now.
She had also stolen her clothes...
Yamcha had come to the Star of the Centre flying, following the bride to be; Bulma and Chi-Chi by a Capsule Corp. aircraft; Sara was yet to arrive, she would come during her break; Carly hadn't made it, but she would have participated in the try-ons via video call.
Sara arrived out of breath at the boutique, on the third level of the shopping centre; the group was already seated in an elegant boudoir, Lazuli must have been in the dressing room.
Sara caught a piece of the conversation of bridesmaid Bulma, the one with the natural blue hair.
-...That's right, Chi-Chi, the lingerie isn't the most important part; that's to be saved for the bedroom.-
Sara knew it, it was useless to spend the day picking a lace thong from one's crack, or even getting vaginosis from uncomfortable underwear
-They're always too drunk to appreciate…-
-Or too stupid,- sighed the attractive black-haired lady, Chi-Chi. -On our wedding night, when I appeared to him in black lingerie, he said 'why did you dress up as a witch?'-
Yamcha burst out laughing, Goku was still Goku. If he thought marriage was food, then…
Bulma went online in the bridesmaids' group chat and called Carly.
Eighteen soon came out in a dressing gown and slippers with the boutique's logo, going to meet the woman who would assist her in her choice.
-It'll be a July beach wedding. I don't want bulky things, but it must be a proper dress.-
The clerk showed her some pieces, -Oh, on the beach, very trendy. Peplum styles will do, like this one. I see you rocking this Aphrodite-like style.-
-Yes, a neckline like this suits you, you have nice strong shoulders,- Chichi looked at her.
"I think she needs something royal ; this will do," Carly commented too, with nods from Bulma and Yamcha.
Eighteen was modestly of the same opinion; she touched enthusiastically the billowing fabric of that dress, she couldn't wait to try it on.
The clerk helped her in the mirror-less dressing room.
-Oh, my. This dress was made for you...if you want, close your eyes and I'll take you outside.-
Eighteen wanted to give herself that surprise. Avoiding holding hands, as she oriented herself perfectly even with her eyes closed, she appeared to the amazed group.
-Oh, Lazuli! What an angel.-
-You look charming.-
-Statuary. Beautiful.-
-Lucky bastard …-
-This is off the rack, but you wouldn't even need to have it altered by the tailor,- concluded the clerk.
Eighteen wasn't sure, but she finally opened her eyes.
It felt special to see herself in a wedding dress, something unique, a new feeling that made her heart jump and tears rise. It was her, just as beautiful as she had never seen herself. A dress worthy of another change in her life, a life she would never have had it not for three important people: she was thankful that Krillin, Kate and Seventeen weren't there. She wanted to leave them breathless, she wanted them to feel that same wonder on the day of the ceremony.
Eighteen gazed flirtatiously; the plunging neckline did justice to her breasts, rounded from motherhood, the straps that tied directly on the collarbones and the pleated skirt made her look like an ancient sculpture.
Looking closer, Eighteen noticed that the fabric of the dress and the way it fell very closely resembled her blue bridesmaid dress.
The memory of herself in the blue dress was dangerously linked to that of the great haemorrhage, of the life of her little Marron hanging by a thread...
Thinking of her baby girl, Eighteen felt her chest swell; luckily she hadn't taken off her bra and nursing pads.
Eighteen had to give up that dress, as much as she loved it, as much as she loved herself in it.
-Lazuli...for all of us it's absolutely yes,- Sara said, moved, on behalf of all.
Everyone could see that it had been love at first sight with the first dress she had tried on. Normally the clerk lady would have advised her to evaluate others as well, but the tears of a future bride were always the clue: they did not shudder before every beautiful dress, but only before the one.
Eighteen didn't let anyone read on her face a reason that perhaps only Sara would understand; she walked on, dress still on, toward the clothes hanger.
No one expected her to decline that grand peplum.
-What is this?- The cyborg girl took an embroidered top and a wide skirt, princely and voluminous, pinned to the same hanger.
-Ah, it's a two-piece ensemble. You can mix and match, very trendy.-
The idea was interesting: Eighteen wanted to try the skirt with another top, the boho style was not for her.
The lady brought her many different tops, chirping praises, -Like the peplum, you could walk out of here with sample sizes, they fit you like gloves. And with your height you can afford whatever style you want.-
Eighteen was still troubled by the overlap of that painful memory. She thought about it for a moment, not knowing exactly what in that sentence had bothered her. Perhaps it was the fact that another woman had judged her body or that she too, as a girl (albeit in a contained way), had fallen into the social trap of never feeling thin enough, adequate enough.
She was determined to find an answer that was satisfactory but also suitable for keeping the person who was to sell her the dress.
Eighteen cut the lady off in one breath, -If you really understood how design, or even just clothes in general work you'd know that no, no body or height can afford everything. I just have the body that has been fashionable for decades now, I am therefore favored by fashion houses who insist on serving up all cuts and lengths made for this,- she ran his hand along her body, -when in reality the average woman is quite different from me.-
She closed that sentence, said at high speed and in an annoyed tone on purpose to confuse her interlocutor, with a look that did not admit replies.
The clerk limited herself to a polite smile, pretending nothing happened.
Bulma saw Carly smile from her screen.
"That's my Lazuli," the maid of honour thought proudly.
Eighteen also looked spectacular in that two-piece ensemble, even in the pantsuit that she tried on just out of curiosity. But no other dress had given her a spark: they were just beautiful clothes on a beautiful woman.
When the call with Carly ended, Yamcha whispered a confidence to the women, -That bridesmaid, Carla, is pretty…-
-Yamcha! No!- Bulma warned him.
-Forget it!- Sara echoed, almost in unison. Sara remembered her, she had been Lapis's girlfriend for an eternity.
-She's her brother's girl,- even Chi-Chi proclaimed, pointing to Eighteen; she had only glimpsed #17 once, at the Kame House, but she remembered his unfriendly air.
-If you want to keep your head on your shoulders…-
Yamcha remembered that Eighteen had a brother, as cyborg as she was: he had also seen him, despotic stance and blue upturned eyes.
Perhaps it would have been better for him to keep remembering that despotic stance, and super reinforced body; especially in the presence of that yummy bridesmaid, all boobs and smiles.
/
Long distance relationships could mean satisfaction and ardor, but also heartache. In order to be with Defiance Elliott had accepted that condition with his eyes closed, but how heavy it was now to know that, for example, they could not be together on her birthday.
He couldn't travel to the South and Defiance, for her part, was caught in her job.
They agreed that on January 30th they would call in the afternoon.
Waiting for 4.30 pm sharp sitting at the bar,
Elliott tried to shy away when he saw Joel and Bronwyn come in.
Joel also hailed from Verny and Elliott had always been a classmate of his. When he had found out that Joel too worked in the RNP, Elliott was grateful that it wasn't as a paleontologist: it would be excruciating to cross paths with him often.
He, along with other factors, had marked the beginning of his insecurity: from primary school on it was no exception that Joel and other tough guys were waiting for him outside school to have fun at his expenses. They called him "Tub of lard", "Fatso", "Porker" and other derogatory nicknames.
Without permission, Joel sat down at Elliott's table and eyed his snack.
-Hey Elliott, what are you having here? Third lunch or pre-first dinner?-
-Bad Wi-Fi. I came here to make a call. And you?-
Joel glanced at his watch, -At 5 pm I have a meeting with all my colleagues; for the biennial competition, you know. Who do you have to call?-
Maybe that would be his chance ...
-My girlfriend.-
-Wtf?- Bronwyn, who had been waiting for Joel by the door, only came over to taunt Elliott. -And where did you get a girl? Assuming she's living and human…-
Elliott let that slip, -I met her at the end of the year. When I went to Monster Island.-
-Look, dumpsters you make out with when drunk on New Year's Eve don't count,- Joel added.
Elliott had no photos with Defiance and she had no social media accounts, but absence may be the best presence and being the daughter of famous people, when Elliott typed Defiance De Villiers, Bronwyn and Elliott saw the search engine suggest results:
Defiance De Villiers mir
height
birthday
monster island
single
royal navy
parents
Her photos were all over the Internet.
-Yikes! Look here, Bronwyn. What a hottie,- Joel gasped.
-No way this is your girlfriend!- Bronwyn grunted.
-And not only is she hot, she's also filthy rich,- Joel showed his cell phone to the botanist. -What did Porker here do to fuck her? She's the daughter of Charles De Villiers.-
Unlike the boys, Bronwyn didn't have the faintest idea of who that Charles was.
"You know you're famous when you have an infobox on the internet ..."
Reading that box with a haughty grimace, Bronwyn realised that she knew very well who the mother of this Defiance was, -Everyone stop...Rikki Lang?-
Bronwyn clicked on the hyperlink, going to Mrs. De Villiers's Wikipedia page. She approached Elliott with narrow eyes, -I mean, are you banging Rikki Lang's daughter?-
-Defiance and I are together but okay…-
-Whose daughter?- This time it was Joel who didn't know who Bronwyn was talking about.
-A model. This is her when she was young,- Bronwyn searched for pictures and Joel was delighted to see colour and black&white portraits of a beautiful girl with fussy cheekbones and large dark eyes.
Joel was almost dazed, watching videos of the same girl parading on catwalks.
-She was big in the '80s and' 90s, now a little less, she retired and must be in her fifties.-
Elliott was not aware of the Major's wife. He read the introduction of her Wikipedia page:
Rikki De Villiers, nee Erica Alix Lang is a South City-based landowner, socialite, environmentalist, philanthropist and former model. She belongs to the Lang and De Villiers families by birth and by marriage.
All those foreign house names confused Elliott.
"Dunno, in the end how many names and surnames does this blessed lady have?"
Looking at the photo on the page, he didn't know why something about her face looked familiar to him; she didn't look much like her daughter, although the two women had in common being 10s.
Bronwyn thought that snotty Southerner would dump Fatso as soon as someone handsome and rich came around.
But Joel, responding to who knows what ancestral brotherly stimulus, couldn't help but be proud of Elliott: the guy he had always thought hopeless had picked up a beauty queen, loaded, with a big name to top it off.
-Respect, bro...oh, I have to go.-
He snapped his fingers and Bronwyn immediately followed him out of the bar.
After seeing this, Elliott felt relieved for his friend, "Lillian, thank goodness; you deserve better. "
And that was how Elliott finally got rid of his bully, the guy who had mocked and shamed him forever.
Joel never scoffed at him again.
/
John had gathered all his park rangers in a hall. He looked at his people, from the youngest to his peers. Some were talking to each other, laughing, others were on their cell phones.
Especially looking at those who had shared with him more than forty years of service, John wondered why during all that time they had never been top ranger, or even chief ranger material.
John still planned to make his successor the second youngest, his priceless Lillian.
Before Lillian, Fabien had been appointed at top ranger; Fabien had held that position for six years before Lillian had entered the scene.
Their profession was still one that required experience, Fabien had had to turn forty to become top notch.
Yet the last two top rangers, little more than kids, had shown John that more than years of service, it counted with how much brains (and even elbow grease) one did the job: either it was two exceptions in a row, or he he was too old and no longer understood how the world worked.
-Ok rangers, as you know our biennial competition, the challenge of the five swamps, is happening this year. Now, the newest among us know nothing about it, but it is simply a training. The swamps are similar-looking grounds in which we must move as confident as frogs or herons. It's just grass and water and trees, yet they change every time, because they're cursed.-
John heard soft laughter rise from the ranks; of course, it was not known if the marshes were really cursed, it was just a rumor.
Obviously they wouldn't all take on the challenge at the same time, or there would be no more rangers to...range the RNP.
-I will divide you into six groups, the first will start on February 9th. For a week, you will have to give your best in a place unfamiliar, especially for new ones. Now I want to invite the last top ranger to have performed the test to talk about it. Come here Lillian.-
-I aced it,- she whispered to Brent before standing up and joining John.
-The five swamps are a test of life in the great outdoors, not a competition,- the former top ranger put a special emphasis on the last three words.
-Yeh, everything is a competition for her,- Joel muttered.
-There are no scores and ratings and no, that's not how the top ranger is chosen,- Lillian carried on, -it's like a personal evaluation: each of us will understand what our gaps are. It's not boy scout stuff, it's not easy and I'm the first to say it: it was designed to put you to the test. You will sleep rough, if you don't know how to make a fire you will have to eat your food raw. But in the end nobody ever died in the swamps, here we have a certain standard of efficiency.-
Brent should have felt excited, that was closer to how people lived in the time of the Vikings, without all the comforts, but the prospect of facing days and days in the middle of nowhere frightened him.
Lillian had measured herself with that trial shortly after she was hired; she still remembered the sense of anxiety she had felt in that uninhabited micro-region where it was so easy to get lost, between lagoons and mists.
John joined the conversation again, -And in these special circumstances, you will all be entitled to a weapon.-
The room came alive with joyful exclamations.
-Huh, look at what one has to do for a shotgun. The fuckin' boy scout.-
Joel pretended not to hear Seventeen, seated between him and Brent.
He'd already had a fight with the new top ranger, who had literally hung him from a pine tree. Joel had hung on that branch for hours, until he was able to wiggle free from his jacket and get out. He understood that picking a fight with Seventeen was inconvenient and dangerous, but sometimes he just couldn't resist, -Shut up and suck it, bropunzel.-
Joel just had time to finish his joke; with a slam, his forehead painfully met the table at which he was sitting.
He didn't immediately understand what had happened, but he cursed aloud holding his bruised head; the whole room stared at him.
Brent had got a little startled when he had seen Seventeen simply touch Joel's back and give him a glorious blow. However, he knew that Joel was the one always looking for trouble, -Forget him Sev, it's not worth it.-
-What's going on? How come one can't get to make a speech without it ending up in a fight?-
Lillian frowned, looked Seventeen straight in the face; he shrugged.
Many of those present shook their heads. Some looked up at the foreign boy, the youngest ranger in the whole North; many others, given his penchant for making them obsolete, either didn't stand him or feared him.
Joel kept mumbling, dabbing his bloody forehead, -You got serious behavioural problems, psycho.-
Seventeen replied with a devilish half-smile, raising his black eyebrows, -Shush. Shut up.-
He moved Joel with a hand, walking towards the hall exit.
John was forced to end the meeting. He caught his top ranger outside before he slipped away.
-Seventeen, woe to you. My tolerance has a limit.-
With him, John often felt like a parent yelling at a rebellious teenager. -And the hell with the shotgun. Forget about it, with your skills I'm sure you won't suffer. Let's see if you stop believing you can do whatever you please here.-
Seventeen was stunned, contrary to his expectations: he didn't care about John's sermons or about having reminded Joel who the boss was, but firearms, heck!
He had also had a similar argument with Leni, a year before. He knew he didn't need weapons, but they were fun games.
And everyone in there was working hard to deny him a weapon.
