[Normal POV]
Nadia sighed as she kicked one of the rifles that laid on the sand, walking aimlessly across the beach. Her eyes squinted into the sea, looking nothing but the metallic remains and debris of Sleipnir's fleet. Two hours ago, Valhalla sent an entire army to aid them. It was a shock, but everyone welcomed them nonetheless. Together with their hammerhead called the Submaripper, they pulled the entire fleet into a devastating storm of chaos and destruction until every battleship was dragged down to the bottom of the ocean.
It was definitely a sight to see...
She and Zythid had just accomplished their task of eliminating most of the enemy forces with the turrets they hijacked. Although they weren't expecting shooting electric bubbles at them, it certainly did the job. However, they only had a few moments of fun before they noticed them and began making their way towards them. But before anything could happen, a nine-tailed fox came to the rescue and started ripping Sleipnir's forces apart.
Warriors dressed in blinding white armor emerged from the forest, their mystical beasts following from behind. From that moment on, the tide of the battle shifted tremendously as with the additional support, they proceeded to mow enemy ranks down faster than anyone could speak. It was both glorious and confusing for Nadia, especially when she has no prior knowledge about these hybrid creatures that appeared out of nowhere. She nearly screamed when she encountered a winged snake that slithered across the air in a spine-chilling manner.
But to top everything off, a hammerhead submarine with a hooked beak emerged from the sea that nearly made Nadia's eyes bulge out their sockets. Even more so when that same vessel began circling around the fleet from under the sea, creating a whirlpool as it grew faster and faster until it was able to suck in every battleship and crush it under the pressure of the deep waters. From this, Nadia learned that she's so insignificant compared to those who can literally create natural disasters to destroy their enemy. She's forced to wonder if Dragons are still even a threat to the world.
Two hours have already passed since then and now, all they're doing is cleaning the beach up with the help of Valhalla's warriors/agents. She took a seat on a perched rock in the sand, planting her chin on top of her hands, carefully making sure she didn't accidentally push the mask off, as she contemplated on what the hell is happening to this world where Valhalla's a government agency and guns shoot electric bubbles. Sometimes, she wonders if she detached herself from the world for too long.
Nadia watched the few beasts that stayed and roamed around the beach for some air. It looks so strange to see such creatures that look so abnormal from the animal kingdom, yet she's the only one bothered by this. Some of them were tolerable to look at, albeit she refuses to touch or look at them directly in the eye. While some are so odious to look at, she can't help but linger her gaze longer than the others.
One of them has the eight legs of an arachnid, its thorn-like feet digging under the sand while the upper half of a hairless monkey stood in place of the head. A puff of short, cropped hair ran down its wrinkled head. Its bulbous abdomen shook as it treaded around with its naked and oddly muscular body. It carried around a wooden branch that's the size of an entire stalk. It's a literal spider-monkey with a hint of Tarzan. Nadia wanted nothing to do with it in any shape or form. She doesn't want to disrespect their saviors so she kept her mouth shut, but that didn't help her from turning green in repugnance.
"Gods, why can't there be a hybrid between a koala and a panda?" She muttered to herself. It would much easier to take her eyes away from the other creatures and focus her attention on the cute, little thing—if it does come out the way she expected.
A gut-wrenching scream tore Nadia from her thoughts. The voice was rich in pain and anguish, sending a shiver down her spine as the sound faded away. She whirled her head around to search for the source and found a trio huddling up near the forest. Curiosity has her wrapped in its finger as she stood up from her seat and made her way towards the commotion. But as she walked closer, the sound of other people shouting desperately and whimpers of agony caused her to drag her feet across the sand.
Nadia stopped when she saw an agent lying in the sand with a hole caved in his stomach. Blood continuously streamed down the wound like a river, painting the dunes red with his fluids. Two guys were hastily holding their hands on the puncture wound, muttering calming words to the victim as they tried to stop him from bleeding out.
"Gus! You're going to be alright. Natasha said it's only going to take a second." The man chuckled humorlessly, trying to lift both his and the wounded man's spirits. Tears were streaming down his face and pecking down on his hands that are stained with blood that is as red as his hair.
The other man nodded frantically, panic plastered on his face but he tried to cover it up with a reassuring smile. "Yeah. Told you Natasha can do everything. I mean, she would always knock our asses out if we doubt her." He strained a grin, painfully stretching his facial muscles before turning towards the last person. "Nat, where's the hydro-ethanol?!"
A woman, who Nadia would guess to be the medical agent, fished a syringe from her pack and held it up so she can see the crystal blue liquid inside. "It's here. It's fucking here." She cried back, eyes bloodshot from all the weeping she did a while ago. With a deep breath, she stuck the needle near the wound and pressed it in, allowing the liquid to coat it with a protective layer of icy fragments. Blue and white enveloped the crimson color, creating a sheet of artificial skin over the wound.
"P- please... I w- want to go home..." The wounded man moaned miserably. His skin is pale as a sheet of paper-he's already lost a lot of blood and all three are aware of it, albeit their refusal to believe their own thoughts.
The redhead grabbed the man's trembling hand and pressed it against his chin. "You'll be alright, Gus. We're taking you home after this. I- we can take out for lunch. Remember TGIs?" He smiled sorrowfully.
The response faded in the dying man's lips. A trickle of blood trailed down his lips as his face slowly paled as time passed. Tears struck his eyes, choking on his own spit with the will to live gradually dissolving. Nadia recognized that look in his face; a desperate attempt to believe the words of his friends around him, but his inner soul knew the truth. She knew the truth and it's not a pretty picture to imagine. The man's paling face loosened from a grimace to a contented smile, one that revealed his true feelings.
Nadia looked at the man with pity, brows scrunching up into a small frown as the other two agents wailed in distress. She didn't feel sad like the others—she barely knew the guy other than his name. It may be heartless, but his death only spawned the least of the emotions she had left and even that is a well-accomplished feat. Death always feels indifferent for Nadia, unless if she has caused it and it was underserving. Those times have never escaped her memories and it will continue to plague her, but never affect her outer performance.
"Ma- mama!" Gus cried out; his voice weak and raspy as if he's using every drop of his strength to call out for his mother. Everyone witnessing felt their heart break, with the exception of a platinum-blonde. Even the midnight warrior, Night Fury, stood on the sidelines, trying his best to ignore the deep regret in his heart.
The medic pressed another needle into his skin; this time, it's near his chest. It was the same chemical she injected into his wound, but none of the icy fragments appeared this time. A shallow form of a ripple purled across the man's naked chest. "The pain will decrease, but there's nothing else I can do..." She replied, much to the horror of the two other agents.
"Fuck!" The redhead cursed out, hanging his head in grief. "Damn it..."
The other friend remained silent, but the expression on his face told a thousand stories. Memories of his dying friend replayed all over his head, filling his heart with more guilt and regret than before. His clenched fists hovered over the shallow rises of Gus' chest; his lips drying up as the pale color consumed most of his friend's body. It was too late and they knew that when they saw him lying in the sand, bleeding in a pool of blood.
A few seconds has only passed when they saw the last gust of breath leave his mouth. His chest rose for the last time before lowering to a stop; everyone watched the light disappear in his eyes as they remain open for everyone to see. No tears fell in that moment—just an empty feeling in their heart as another brother's life was taken by unfortunate circumstances. His weapon, the AR-15, laid right next to him with his own blood staining the handle. It would be their last memory of him before they send him out to sea along with the other fallen agents. It would be buried in Fólkvangr Beach, where his legacy would be remembered for generations to come.
Zythid used this opportunity to break this up, as much as it pains him to do. They still have to bring all of their fallen brothers and sisters, along with their weapons to the beach where they will send them off properly, now that the battle is over. They would use this extra time to mourn for the dead before getting ready once again for war. After all, this is just a taste of what's about to come and everyone here can feel it.
He knelt down with the two grieving agents and placed his hands on their shoulders. Feeling them stiffen, Zythid knows that they're in no place for battle any time soon. They'll only get themselves killed and quite frankly, Gus wouldn't want them joining him too soon. "I'm sorry for your loss, Damien and Matt. But I believe we should keep going. We have a beach to clean up. Let the others handle his body if you're not comfortable with carrying him. After this, I'm relieving you two of your duty." He said, causing the two to gape at him with widened eyes.
The midnight warrior knows that it's heartless for him to say that, but it's vital for their survival. If he was handling veterans, agents who are used to their line of work and knows how to push those feelings away, then maybe he won't have to do anything. Maybe he just needs to coax them a little and they'll be fine. But these guys are fresh from the academy, barely had any Lunaheim-level missions. If this is how freshly-graduated agents felt, then he could only imagine how the recruits feel right now. Death came faster than a speeding bullet and hit them like a semi-truck, shattering their illusion of reality and brought them to the real world. It's a painful truth, but it's the truth they have to understand.
"B- But sir..." Damien, the redhead, stammered. He couldn't believe what Night Fury is saying. He's worried that because of their incompetence and failure to save their comrade, they're going to be kicked out of Drakos.
Zythid picked up on his worries and quickly reassured him. "Don't worry. You're not fired nor are you being demoted. Your mental health is at risk and by the looks of it, you two are far too exhausted to be rushing into battle. You'll die before you even know it." He replied, eliciting a wince from the two agents.
They were both hesitant to agree but even if they want to refuse, they can't because it was a direct order from a high-ranking officer. Surely, they'll be genuinely fired if they retort or talk back to their superior, especially someone with a reputation such as Night Fury, the agent who doesn't take too kindly to insults and subordination. They don't have to witness it themselves to believe it. Just the image of the midnight warrior alone can force them to believe every single, ruthless rumor about the man.
With a reluctant nod, they cast their lifeless friend one last look. Matt grabbed Gus' rifle from the dirt and with a heavy feeling in their hearts, the two agents walked away despondently. Their heads hung low as they joined the others to return to base, leaving the remaining medics and agents to take care of the scene.
"Grab the body and wrap him up. We'll wait for the choppers to return." Zythid ordered. "Viggo should know by now that we're done. Valhalla isn't that hard to miss."
Nadia watched the agents rush to the body with a bundle of grey linen strips as they began to swathe him with the textile material. Holding him together, they wrapped him with the fossil bands and sealed his flesh from the world. It didn't take long for them to encase the late agent's pale body, leaving him in a mummy-like state with his arms and legs bundled underneath the linen strips. Four agents lifted Gus up and followed the medic to the forest where they'll let him join the rest of his fallen brothers and sisters.
It was a bizarre scene to witness for Nadia. She's so used to unnecessary and terrible deaths around her, she forgot how normal people treat the fallen. Both she and her enemies would leave bodies around, discarding the sanctity of life in the process of survival. Paying respects to the dead is the furthest thing from her mind during this time of her life and she's not ashamed to admit it. Too many have died to her hand that the simplest act of respect to the dead has completely befuddled her for a few seconds. Even now, some part of her still believed that it would be easier to leave them behind, but she kept her mouth shut for personal reasons.
Zythid must've noticed her bewildered peering because the next thing Nadia knew, the midnight warrior stood beside her, but his gaze was facing the other side. The visor kept her from seeing his full expression, but she could get a lot of information from his pursed lips and strained cheeks. His armor clinked against each other as he folded his arms over his chest, staring at the bloody massacre that occurred not too long ago on this very beach.
She craned her neck, sneaking a suspecting glance at the midnight warrior but opted to remain silent. Nadia kept her gaze out to the recovering agents and the memorial weapons, waiting for some type of response—and it seems that whatever she's trying to do worked because the uncomfortableness finally settled in and Zythid couldn't handle the silence for much longer.
Releasing a sigh, the chain-blade wielder bit the bottom of his lip. "It's fucked up, isn't it?" He uttered softly, hoping to keep this conversation inaudible to the rest of the agents. "People are dying left and right... but there's nothing we can do to stop it. It's just the way the world works."
Nadia's eyes flickered to the crimson sand where the late agent Gus used to lie. "I'm used to it. I've been walking on this earth for too long to miss all the bullshit that nearly hit me." She replied, furrowing her brows.
"Pray tell..." Zythid said, pushing an indifferent look on his face
The mercenary shot a mischievous smirk at the midnight warrior, immediately catching on to the trap he's trying to lure her in. "Don't think you can outsmart me into revealing info about myself." She quipped. "Not a bad try, but don't underestimate a professional in this field."
Although his visor concealed his initial reaction, he cursed her for being observant. "I apologize, but to be frank, I still don't trust you, even after all you have done for us. I hope you can understand why." He replied truthfully.
"It's fine." The platinum-blonde dismissed it nonchalantly. "Can't blame ya'll. I don't trust you either but I trust you enough that you won't back down on our deal."
Zythid sent her a firm nod. "I assure you. Such disrespect is not allowed on the doorsteps of Drakos. No harm shall fall upon you or any of your... allies." He stressed out a forceful, polite tone.
Quirking an eyebrow at the sudden shift, Nadia ignored it and didn't bother to question any more of his strangeness. In her head, she boiled it down to strict and explicit rules in their agencies. "Good. And I'll be helping your side just so long as I can step in the front lines to attack Sleipnir." Nadia paused, considering to explain more but held back.
A chuckle wisps through the air. "You know, I thought you remind me of someone I know, but a lot less cold," Zythid said, earning him another frown but noticed an anticipating aura off of her. "He was our top agent and your attitudes are pretty much identical; ruthless and indifferent, but you can't help feel sympathy to people who're suffering."
"For a person who has no idea who I am..." She started, deadpanning from under the mask. "...you make a lot of assumptions about me. Who's to say that I show sympathy? I don't know you guys so I have no reason to care for you. But I'll admit... I pity everyone that doesn't deserve this much suffering."
The midnight warrior stretched a wry smile across his lip. "'Well, at least I know that you're one heartless bitch with a dark past. At least that's what makes you different from him." He mentioned with a sardonic chuckle.
"I could care less what your opinion is on me. In the midst of battle, hesitation will only get you killed. Sympathy leads to hesitation and before you know it, you're in the desolate, cold deserts of Helheim." Nadia said, subconsciously remembering all the multiple moments where she hesitated and felt sympathy for her victims. She's not even sure if he's talking to him at this point, or simply berating herself through this strange conversation.
Zythid chuckled with a little bit of amusement in his voice. "Now, you sound like him. I'm starting to think you know him..." While to anyone else it seemed like a meaningless remark, there was a lingering suspicion as well. The agent assumed that some mercenaries were inspired by Night Fury and the morals he stands by. If he can find confirmation, he can narrow the list down and hopefully, increase his chances of figuring out her identity,
On the other side, Nadia has no idea what he's talking about, but she could see another trap he's setting. She can't give any more than that without revealing a small part of her. There's a reason why both she and Hayden hid their identity. After finding out about the hunt for vigilantes and mercenaries, now's not the time to go parading with their faces exposed. It would be a very big problem if any of the two does and it's slightly worrying to think about-unbeknownst to her, one man has already broken all rules and allowed the slightest slip of his tongue to nearly jeopardize the entire mission.
"Who's the guy?" Nadia decided to ask, just to squash her curiosity for good. She later realized that she had missed a hidden trap that she ignorantly dismissed.
A smirk graced the chapped lips of the midnight warrior, a sign of someone catching a large fish with a successful bait. "Eager to know, aren't we?" He quipped, causing the mercenary to inwardly groan.
'I've been tricked, backstabbed, and quite possibly...' Nadia's thoughts were interrupted when Zythid shocked the air with a wonderful revelation.
"His name is Night Fury, if you're wondering." The agent said, the mischievous tone has completely faded, replaced by a solemn atmosphere that overtook the conversation-one that Nadia didn't fail to notice, but her attention has been grabbed by the two words that stood out in the middle of that declaration.
'Night Fury? Hayden?!' The platinum-blonde exclaimed in her head as every lingering mystery point connected like a giant spiderweb of revelations. 'I remember Sage calling him Night Fury, but I didn't put too much thought into it. Gods, and here I find out he's actually the top agent of one of the most prestigious agencies in the world. Damn it, Hayden. I thought we were in the same level.'
Fortunately, the mask hid the surprise on Nadia's face. She tried to keep her body as relaxed as possible, as to not give off any suspicious signs that can be picked up by the observant midnight warrior. "Night Fury? I thought you're Night Fury?" She questioned stiffly. She can't exactly keep quiet either because it would appear very suspicious. Plus, she can kill two birds with one stone by seeking out the answer to her question after eavesdropping around some of the wandering agents who were lazing around.
Zythid pressed his lips into a thin line, slightly considering to tell her the truth but later buried that thought. If she isn't revealing anything about herself, then he won't as well. "There's two of us. He's just the better one." He decided to say, which technically isn't a lie but it's far away from the truth. He doesn't deserve the name of Night Fury when his skills are far too inferior to the legendary agent. The only reason why he was chosen is because of their similar personality, fighting style, and physical built. Any person who knows the real one well could tell the difference between the two—not that the mercenary needs to know about that.
Meanwhile, the platinum-blonde has already formed a conclusion just through those simple words. Although it may be a reach, she guessed that the Night Fury name is nothing more than a mantle to be earned in Drakos; a title bestowed upon chosen agents who performed splendidly in the field. Hayden might not even be the original and the possibility is endless, but she can't rely everything on that one assumption, even though it made a lot of sense.
Nadia was about to respond with another witty remark that would hopefully irk the midnight warrior when another voice butted in. "Night Fury!" a feminine voice shouted, grabbing the attention of both individuals.
An exasperated sigh escaped said man's lips, mumbling along the lines of 'gods, just strike me down'. For a moment, Nadia could see the resemblance he has with Hayden's personality, but it varies from time to time. She could tell that this guy is a lot more serious than the sarcastic auburn and not as smart as his fellow counterpart, not to insult either's intelligence. He's basically Hayden if you removed the lighthearted and witty personality while leaving the brooding attitude.
A female agent walked up to the lean agent, casting a wary look at the masked mercenary before relaying the news. "We received a signal from the downtown division that the defense system in headquarters opened fire. Mr. Grimborn speculated that we must've accidentally allowed a few critters to slip past us." She informed in a grave tone.
Zythid gritted his teeth and sneered at no one in particular. When he thought things couldn't get any worse, one of the worst scenarios they could've imagined might be possible. "Fucking—fine, rally Ratatoskr and Veðrfölnir Squadrons. Tell them to meet me in the city." He instructed, receiving a nod from the woman before she took off to carry out her orders. The midnight warrior turned to Nadia and shoved a gloved finger at her face. "You—you're staying here along with the twins to protect the convoy. You're heading to the downtown division. Eretson will handle it once he gets up so all you need to do is defend them."
"Why are you ordering me as if I'm one of your government agents?" She scoffed back.
Through the visor, a heated glare burned across the tempered glass. "Because we have a deal. In exchange for the help, you'll assist me as well. I'm not asking you to lay your life down for a bunch of strangers. I'm asking you to kill the fuckers that we're able to sneak in and would try to attack you. Is that better?" Zythid replied sardonically, not even giving the mercenary the chance to respond before craning his head towards the dunes.
"Tristan! Racquel! Come here!" His voice rang out across the beach and two lanky individuals perked up from the crowd of mystical Valhalla beasts. Their long, flaxen locks dangled across their faces as they leapt over the winged creatures and jogged towards the higher-ranking officer, not that it mattered to the two troublemakers. They made the habit of treating everyone as their equal, and by that sentiment, they thought it would be fair to prank and mess with every person in their sight. Even the chief had to suffer a douse of red paint on his face, but everyone thought he was lucky enough to receive the merciful side of the brazen twins.
Dragging along a pile of weapons in a bag while wearing a bandolier full of grenades, the Thorston twins stopped in front of them with a pair of vexatious grins. The male twin dropped his ragged bag to stroke his non-existent beard. "So, my dear Night Fury. How may we be of service this evening?" Tristan bowed dramatically, speaking in a Posh accent that accentuated his raspy voice.
A fist brought itself down on the lanky male, nearly knocking him over. "Idiot! It's already morning!" Racquel argued. It's another Thorston banter that almost everyone's familiar with except for Nadia, who simply raised an eyebrow at the scene. The hit was a strong one, but she has to commend the guy for withstanding it with little effort.
"I see nothing but stars." Tristan slurred as he stumbled upward. But then in a flash, he sobered up and flashed a grin like a Cheshire Cat. "So in conclusion, it's still evening. Ha! Beat that butt elf!"
Racquel dropped her back and slammed her elbow against her brother's ribcage, causing the male to burst out in a gasp. "Why don't I make you see more stars, muttonhead?" She growled out. Nadia's brows rose further to her hairline while Zythid held his head with his palm, breathing out a piqued sigh.
What no one expected though was for Tristan to slip a .45 pistol and blast his own flesh and blood in the chest. Everyone froze as they watched the female twin flew across the sand and flopped limply on the cold dunes. Smoke wisped out of the barrel of the gun, a maniacal grin decorating the blond lunatic. No one made a sound or any movement; even Zythid failed to process it in his head.
Nadia whipped her head around and found numerous agents simply staring at the ludicrous scene with bulging eyeballs. 'Looks like this isn't part of the norm...' She thought nervously. The gunshot rang across the entire beach, dragging unnecessary attention but no one can blame them for gaping indecorously.
However, before anyone could register the first-degree murder that occurred in front of them, Racquel sat up abruptly with an impassive expression. Everyone held their breaths at the newly-revived blonde as a new set of information just dropped on top of the pile of nonsense they've already been storing in their head. After a few seconds, the expression morphed into one of mere irritation. Not even shock nor anger rose to her face at the fact that her brother just shot her in point-blank range, which should instantly kill Racquel.
The blonde zombie hopped to her feet and marched towards her brother, who kept the same grin on his face just moments ago when he fired that gun at his sister. With her fist balled up, Racquel delivered a nasty haymaker at Tristan's jaw, probably dislocating his jaw in the process and knocking the gun out of his hand. The male twin flailed across the sand while cradling his jaw as Racquel loomed over him with a simple glare, huffing in frustration.
"Dumbass. Next time you pull that thing on me, tell me next time, would ya?" There was not even a trace of loathing in her voice. She sounded like a mother scolding her son after breaking an expensive jar.
Tristan pushed his jaw back to its place with a sweet crack. "Sorry, sis. Couldn't help it. Plus, at least now we know that .45s don't work on SD-armor." He flashed her a smirk, which Racquel returned with one of her own.
Nobody could question the crazy sequence that just happened because words couldn't explain the emotions that they were feeling. Sound became foreign to them as they stood there, stiff and shocked to their toes, while the twins bickered casually as if nothing happened. Not even Nadia could come up with a witty remark about it. She's just as surprised as the people around her—and she's seen some crazy stuff but things just rose to another level.
The platinum-blonde turned to the gaping Zythid, his mouth hanging. "So, these are the guys I'm defending the convoy with?" It wasn't even an insult to anyone. It was a genuine question asked by a nervous woman who fears the possibility of being with a pair of lunatics who shoot themselves for fun.
Zythid snapped out his shock and gulped. "Uh-yeah..." He sighed out.
"Can I break the deal-"
"No."
"Damn it..."
After things have calmed down in Fólkvangr Beach, Valhalla descended from the sky to meet the battle-worn agents of Drakos. However, not even their exhaustion was able to stop them from gaping at the majestic beasts as they flew down along with their riders standing on their bodies. Most of the warriors climbed down the creatures, donning a blinding, transcendental armor that's as bright as the moon shining from the gradually brightening sky. Some remained in the hair, hovering above their comrades to keep an eye out for any stray rats that managed to escape the barrage of chaos they ensured upon Sleipnir.
Shatter's eyes followed the chief of Valhalla as she hopped down from her giant owl, caressing the bird's brown feathers while swinging her hooked staff behind her. It's no secret that both agencies have an interesting alliance, but it would be a lie if Shatter said that he expected the native organization's help, especially by using their most powerful weapons against a mere fraction of the forces that the enemy owns. While he's grateful that they came to their aid, he can't help but imagine the damage they could've dealt against the main fleet of the enemy.
Valhalla's chief turned to her warriors and lowered her hand to settle them. "Take this time to scan the battlefield. Help Drakos with their fallen and make sure we didn't leave any bastards alive." She ordered.
"Yes, chief!" The Æsir warriors chorused before flickering away to join the rest of the agents who were picking up the pieces of the battle.
Meanwhile, a petite frizzy blonde stood in the sidelines beside a tall auburn, who's equipped with a reptilian-inspired mask and a mangled set of black garments-with the scarf around his neck somehow the only piece of fabric surviving the battle in one piece. Strips of his duffle coat dangled on his sleeves and chest, the pant legs of his tactical trousers were ripped and burnt. Multiple holes riddled the surface of his inner shirt with some connected to a few wounds that Hayden had patched up himself.
Camilla wasn't faring any better, even with the bits of armor she had attached to the vital parts of her body. Her ripped jeans have been torn into a pair of shredded booty shorts, which she didn't mind at first but the lingering leers that she sensed behind her prompted her to wrap her bloodied drawstring jacket around her waist to conceal her plump bottom. She silently applauded herself for remembering to don a combat shirt made out of pure silicon carbide sheets instead of the stupid tank tops she would always forget to take off whenever she would take on a mission.
Both angels of death peered over to the conversation that's occurring between the chiefs of Drakos and Valhalla. The auburn is especially curious about the latter, his emerald eyes narrowing through the slits of his mask. "Is... that really my mother?" He whispered to the crinkly blonde.
"Yeah. Hard to believe?" She asked, not taking her eyes off of the two powerful forms of the chiefs. While one may be physically stronger and bigger, one should not underestimate the prowess of Valka Haddock, master of the mystical beasts and leader of a renowned army of Æsir warriors.
Hayden could only nod dumbly. "I mean—I know I have a mother or else I wouldn't be in this world. But... the leader of a government agency? What the hell?" He exclaimed quietly, more to himself than at the blonde.
Camilla shot him a deadpanned stare. "Have you forgotten that your wife is also a government agent? With the second-highest rank, if I may add?"
"Touché."
Although his supposed mother is standing just a mere 10 feet away from him, the native mask threw him off and he began wondering how the woman who brought him to this world would look like. Would they be identical to the point where it might become freaky? Or would they have a massive difference in appearance and the only thing they resemble is blood. To be honest, he never thought about the prospect of having parents until now. It never once came to his mind but subconsciously, he always knew that he must've had a family somewhere but he never entertained the idea for more than a few sparing moments.
However, all doubts he had about being related were thrown out of the window when the woman felt her hands over her thorny mask and slipped it off her face, allowing a familiar shade of red and brown locks to fall over her shoulders like a magnificent waterfall. Her prominent cheekbones stood out like a sore thumb, just like the cerulean lake that glimmered against the moonlight. A few wrinkles near her eyes and the short portions of her braid showed her age, but neither did anything to lessen her beauty.
As soon as he saw a glimpse of her face, the buried memories hidden deep in his mind allowed a wave of nostalgia to wash over him. He remembered the same woman lifting him up effortlessly, allowing him to dangle in the air while she cooed softly at him. The high-pitched giggle that seemed to have escaped his mouth when she tickled the side of his belly. He also remembered the enraged screams of the woman and another male whose size is comparable to a minivan. He remembered her hunched form, casting a sad smile at him before walking away and leaving him wailing, thrashing, and weeping for his mother to come back.
The empty feeling he felt as he watched the sequence of events flashed in his head was filled with unbridled rage, the anger of a young boy whose mother had abandoned him stained his vision with red and purple. Desperation flooded his heart with questions that a son would ask. Albeit the seething fervor running across his body, not a single flicker of emotion flashed across his face. His reasons for this newfound anger seem lost to him, but he found himself caring less and less at it grew stronger. It didn't help that the mask prevented anyone from seeing the unrestrained fury in his eyes, especially the wild blonde who noticed her companion's silence after a short while.
"Hey, what's with you?" Camilla nudged the taller vigilante, but it's almost as if Hayden couldn't feel her. "Hayden! You alright?"
Instead of answering, a dark and ugly shadow held the auburn's wrist and guided him to the hilt of his sword. Unaware of his actions, he curled his fingers around the grip and tightened them so hard that both the handle and his knuckles cracked upon the pressure. An ear-piercing screech tore through the air when Hayden dragged his sword out and accidentally scraping it against the platinum plates near his chest. Camilla had to cover his ears at the sound, along with the rest of the people who are within earshot.
Fortunately, the same sound brought Hayden out of his thoughts and his emotions bubbled back down his stomach. However, it's already too late when both chief's gazes shifted towards the stiff form of the auburn vigilante. But they were not alone. Anyone who has working ears was able to hear the awful, deafening shriek and their eyes quickly followed the source of the sound. The former pirate beside him shot the man an annoyed look, oblivious to the stares of the crowd.
Out of all the gazes on him, Hayden was able to single out one who mattered to him the most as of right now. Her blue eyes unknowingly locked with his and her brows rose upon recognizing the famous curved sword that the Demon Killer always used. "Is that who I think it is?" She gasped silently.
Shatter furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not sure what you mean..." He nervously replied, unsure of how to answer the question. Although he refused to believe it, a subconscious section of his mind told him that it's true. He had managed to see a glimpse of his face and after that scuffle with General Hofferson, he's slowly inching towards a conclusion he's afraid to reach. Plus, Boggs' reaction during the entire thing certainly rose some questions, even if he couldn't hear most of the conversation.
Curiosity latched onto the older woman as she began taking careful steps towards the frozen auburn. Before Hayden knew it, she stood right in front of him with a stern gaze. For a frightening second, he nearly thought she recognized him as her son. Anxiety shook him to his core but it all fell short when Valka's gaze softened slightly.
"Hi, you must be the Demon Killer..." She said casually, eliciting multiple gasps and hitched breaths-including the chief of Drakos. The vigilante remained silent so Valka continued. "I recognize your sword. I'm surprised to see you here but I'm grateful. It seems that no one here realizes that you're the Demon Killer so I apologize. I'll make sure they won't lay a finger on you."
This one-sided conversation threw Hayden in a loop. It was so casual and light-hearted, he almost forgot that she just lead an army and destroyed an entire fleet within an hour. He finds it oddly hurtful that his mother unknowingly called her son a demon but he could understand why. He already figured out that his identity is tightly sealed and he has to give the woman props for recognizing him just by the weapon. However, he's still confused as to why his mother is talking to him like they know each other, even with masks on.
"Um, d- do we know each o- other?" Hayden hated stuttering, especially when he's supposed to appear as this cold-blooded vigilante. But he can't help but feel uneasiness grip his heart and force him to speak in broken words.
Valka's eyes lit up. "Oh, no. We never officially met but you did promise my agency that you'd stop wandering around our territory with your fangs out in exchange for our... assistance."
Another memory triggered itself in Hayden's head, except this time he's not as confused. He remembered walking down the streets of San Diego when he had encountered a strange animal. At first, he thought it was just an ordinary stray cat that would usually hang around the murky corners of the city. But when it emerged out of the shadows with nine, cotton ball tails weaving across the air, Hayden freaked out. The golden fur of the fox glowed like a ball of burning hot gas in an ocean of darkness and the auburn's emerald eyes nearly shattered upon witnessing the phosphorescing canine.
It had been a bad day for him and during that time, he's been a little jumpy. So when he saw the glowing fox, his hand automatically dove for his sword and sheathed it in all of its glory, only for a kunai to zip past the air and deflect his strike before he could harm the strange creature. A shadow had descended from one of the buildings and landed gracefully next to the canine, who immediately scurried to the mysterious figure's arms to cuddle. The fox's illuminance was able to bring light onto the form of the shadow, allowing the dark colors of the person's shirt to flicker every once in a while. Although he's dressed like a civilian, his eyes told a different and more violent story.
Before he could even react, Hayden sensed two more figures flashing to the ground with the same form. He turned around and he saw two people, one man, and one woman, neither dressed in an intimidating or authoritative manner. But just like the man cuddling with the nine-tailed fox, their eyes were drawn like a hawk's. Hayden hadn't doubted his ability to rip through a situation like that, so he raised his sword to meet them. However, the man behind him rose and managed to calm the sitch down with a few words.
He had forgotten that the man told him that he was part of a government agency and apparently, they had been looking for him ever since they learned that he was in the city. Hayden also completely allowed the request that they offered about leaving this city alone to them in exchange for future assistance, to slip his mind. He never really took the chance to use the offer, even when he agreed. He was just glad to escape the scene without causing trouble and left before he could register the agent's words... until now.
"O- oh... I guess I must've forgotten." He bumbled. Even when he finally gained back his composure, he can't seem to forget that this woman is his mother.
On the other hand, Valka wordlessly analyzed the vigilante's movements and structure, scrutinizing him until she came to the conclusion that the Demon Killer is not who she thought he would be. From her perspective, he acts like a nervous adolescent in the process of late puberty. If there wasn't a substantial amount of evidence, then she would've never thought that this man is a mass murderer with psychopathic tendencies. However, she's glad she thought wrong. She would take a clumsy teen over a cold-blooded killer any time of the day.
"Well, it doesn't matter. You honored your promise, albeit it may be unintentional." She smiled warmly, which Hayden couldn't help but return underneath his mask. "You still haven't asked for our assistance. Is there anything you need?"
Hayden wanted to just run away and go back to his brooding days of hunting for criminals and living with stolen cash. The sudden revelation is overwhelming his thoughts and it's starting to hurt his head. It took everything in his body to plant his feet in the sand while avoiding the chief of Valhalla's expecting gaze. But then, a thought passed in his head and his brows rose along with the figurative lightbulb flickering on the top of his head. Although it probably won't be accepted, it's worth the try.
A cold demeanor adopted itself onto Hayden's aura. The sudden shift of the atmosphere sent a shiver down Valka's spine, but she managed to keep her calm composure. "I'd like you to help me take down Sleipnir." He replied firmly.
The chief of Valhalla blinked. "Sleipnir?"
"Yes. Those fucking bastards who just attacked. I have a personal grudge against their leader and I'm going to need your help to fend off their army." Hayden clenched his teeth, the image of the bane of his existence flashing across his vision. "I'll be out of your hairs once I kill that snake."
Valka could hear the hatred in his voice. It reminded her a lot of someone, the former bearer of the midnight warrior's name. A man built from fury and anguish that she later found out to be her son. Back when she was oblivious about his identity, she had already sensed his character to be tainted by blood and pain. Her only regret was not acting sooner, even if she didn't know who he was before, then maybe her son didn't have to die. She could only imagine what happened to Demon Killer that forced him to gain this dark persona. When she learned about her son's past, she broke down and wished that no one would have to suffer the same way. But it looks like this cruel world has snatched up another victim.
However, as much as she sympathizes with the vigilante, his request is practically a suicide mission. They had already used their most powerful weapons and even if they hadn't they aren't sure if that would be enough to eliminate the large force that she knows learned to be a group called Sleipnir—a fitting name after word got out about their conquest to destroy the eight major regions and powerhouses in the world. If they managed to conjure up this big of a threat, she can't imagine how powerful the army the group brought to achieve their goal.
She hated to break her promise, especially to a person who honored him. But Valka also has to consider the lives of her own agents, along with her beasts. She won't allow them to lay their lives just because of a deal she made. She'll have to let the man down and she knows that it won't be easy. She would gladly lay her own life down in exchange for the lives of thousands of warriors and animals. Her only regret is not improving her cooking skills despite Stoick's numerous food poisoning incidents.
But before she could refuse, the towering form of the chief of Drakos loomed over the both of them-and Camilla as well, who was standing beside them the entire time but was ignored. His rugged figure that's been splattered with blood and sand only added to his intimidation factor. "Mr. Demon Killer..." He greeted respectfully, pushing his real identity to the side now. He would rather not cause an outburst between the two agencies. The determination to treat this predicament as a normal business talk between a dangerous vigilante and a chief of a highly-respected organization burned deeply to the roots of his core. "I apologize for eavesdropping but I can't help but hear that you are familiar with our mysterious enemy."
Hayden stared at the man's bristly face. "Yes. They're an old organization called Sleipnir. Sadly, I only know a small margin than what you already know. However, I'm familiar with them because they've been my goal for the past year. Is there a problem with that?" He said coolly, expecting the bear of a man to treat him with the respect that's similar to one of an ant.
"No. In fact, I'd like to accept your offer if that can be extended to Drakos. And maybe a few more agencies that's willing to help." He replied, shocking Hayden. "If you contain knowledge about our enemy, then it's worth taking notice of it. We'll be glad to offer our assistance as well."
To say that the auburn expected this would be a flat-out lie. In reality, he wasn't even sure if the chief of Valhalla—a.k.a, his supposed mother—would accept his request. It's a nerve-wracking decision and he expects nothing but honesty from the choice, whether they approve or not. Now, he's being offered a substantial amount of help from government agencies, no less—organizations who are supposed to hunt him down. But albeit their relationship might be a little wobbly, his lust for Sage's head overpowered his doubts.
"I accept. I'll be nothing more than an informant to you and I'll follow you into battle, just as long as you give me the chance to kill their leader with my bare hands." He replied monotonously.
Both Shatter and Valka nodded. "We accept as well. But please be patient with us. We still have to send our respects for the fallen and meet up with the rest of the agencies." The chief of Drakos said, while the other chief nodded in agreement. Now that she knows that she'll not be alone, she's on board with the request. She also wishes to eliminate this threat and she hopes that it would succeed, now that they have a reliable informant and possibly multiple agencies behind their back.
Hayden hummed in acknowledgment. "No problem. I'll be near if you need me." He said. The chiefs bid their farewells and left the auburn alone-or so he thought. Once the powerful figures left the scene, someone's fist crashed onto his shoulder, causing him to let out a humiliating yelp. He rubbed the sore spot, glaring at the smirking blonde responsible. "What was that?" He exclaimed.
"Look at you! Making big decisions on your own! It's about time you put on your big boy pants and act like a true kindergarten teacher." Camilla grinned mirthfully, obviously amused by the irked twitching coming from the auburn.
An exasperated sigh left Hayden's lips. "Please. I was shaking from the inside. You tell me that's my mother and the next, I'm asking her to help me take on Sleipnir. Odin, this development is too fast for me to catch on." He lightly tapped the mask with his fist, mumbling incoherent complaints about the author's brazen excitement.
Meanwhile, a lone woman was able to witness the entire interaction. Most of her gaze was locked onto the tall auburn, studying each and every hair on his body with her sapphire-blue eyes—not that she can see them under his black garments that would've nearly concealed every inch of his body if it weren't for the battle. She's been watching him for a while and during that time, she considered the words of her friend. The conversation between him and the chiefs was enough to convince her and she felt slightly guilty for her past actions.
Although she still has some doubts, she felt something swell inside his heart that she hasn't felt in a long time; hope. With a deep sigh, she walked over to them and crossed the distance between them. Each of her strides slowed down the nearer she reached the man, dragging her weight down to the point where she felt like she's carrying a boulder the size of a house. She left a trail of heavy footprints dug deep into the sand and she arrived sooner than she hoped for.
Camilla was the first person to notice her and she couldn't contain the shock that spread across her face. "Astrid? What are you..." She trailed off when said blonde held out her hand to silence her, the gaze of a determined general failed to hesitate when Hayden finally turned his eyes to her.
Astrid could see his emerald orbs widen through the slits. To her, it seems that he's still wary of her presence. But she couldn't blame him. She did try to kill after all, even if it was a spur of the moment and a result of her seething emotions. However, she also pities the auburn. If he's this cautious when she's merely five feet away from him, she could only imagine how he would feel later. Astrid, herself, could feel her nerves sparking nervousness throughout her entire body. But she had already come to a decision and her Hofferson blood prompted her to not back down.
"We need to talk..."
Hayden walked for what seems like hours behind the blonde with his head hanging low, his mask remained steadily on his face as they continued their journey to the unknown. The sun had already begun rising from the horizon, basking the forest with a golden, yet leafy glow. It also grew inconsiderably hotter than a few hours ago so he was forced to uncover his mask, popping his lion's mane for all the forest to see, much to Astrid's discomfort.
When she had first walked up to him with a steely gaze and clenched fists, he had thought he would receive another one of those skull-crushing punches. But when he saw the swirl of suppressed emotions in her eyes and the slight tremble in her amble. He forced his reflexive instincts down his throat and widened his eyes when she asked him to talk—well, ordered would be a more proper term. Hayden had every right to refuse but a nagging thought in the back of his head told him to take the 'offer'.
Now, he's following the person who had tried to slice his head off the moment they first met—or as far as he knows, right through the forest. It seems that this dirt path is leading somewhere and for the first time in his life, the thought of reaching his destination sent nervous needles down his spine, riddling him with anxiety. It didn't help that this... Astrid, walked silently with her axe strapped onto her back, ready to be drawn at any time. He'd seen the way she wielded that double-bitted weapon with grace and aggression, not to mention with sharp precision. He had almost become one of the victims of her dangerous throws so it suffices to say that running away is out of the question.
Albeit his fondness towards noiseless walks, he prefers them to be more comfortable and not as unnerving as with the one he's experiencing right now. He wanted nothing more than to barrage the blonde with questions like where are they going and why is she so quiet. The auburn thought it would be better if he strikes up some sort of conversation to fill this excruciating silence, but he found himself speechless and hesitant to talk. After all, there seems to be a lot of history between them, and his inability to recall said history proved to be a problem, leaving him socially inept at the moment.
To ignore the discomfort, Hayden decided to let his emeralds wander around instead of hanging his head low with malaise. He was surprised to see that they were near a fairly large building, around a hundred meters away from where he stands. It seems to be connected to a bigger compound that's out of eyeshot, but he felt himself gazing up to the structure with a hint of nostalgia that he can't comprehend. It's a wonder how he was able to miss this multistory building with a complex design that would catch anyone's eye. Scanning his eyes around once again, he noticed that the cluster of stalks and ripe trees began thinning as he walked forward.
His preoccupation with his thoughts clouded his mind so much that he failed to see the blonde stop, causing him to bump her from behind. Panic threatened to take over Hayden's body as he stumbled backward. He had almost pushed her over and now, the cold silence dropped a hundred degrees lower. Impatience; Hayden noticed this common theme around the blonde and if previous evidence held up, he has about five seconds left before she would toss her blade to her hands and try to lop his head clean off his shoulders.
But it never came. Instead, he was met with a blank gaze and a slight smile, one that held little emotion but Hayden could sense a trace of restrained feelings. "We're here..." She said, her voice as smooth as silk; softer than her usual aggressive tone and violent cries. Although he thought it sounded strange, he didn't feel uncomfortable at all. It almost seemed to have relaxed him, filling him with the warmth that resembles the steaming water from the sauna.
He reluctantly tore his gaze away from her and allowed his gaze to pan across the entire sandy dunes that laid across him for his eyes to see. He allowed his boots to dig into the soft grains on the ground as he swallowed a dry gulp at the scene he's witnessing. It was like he's staring at a strange depiction of a cemetery. Hundreds, if not thousands of weapons were littered across the entire field. Each had their own space to themselves and because of this, the makeshift graveyard stretched farther than he could see. Huge stalks of trees stood in front of the cemetery, concealing it from the outer sea and blending itself with the rest of the forest. A single fence separated them but the gate was left wide open for them to walk through.
Hayden took a step forward and stopped by the first grave that he saw. It was created using a small lump of sand and some sort of sticking agent to form a sizeable hill with the weapon of the fallen leaning against it. It was a simple saber with a blunt edge that somehow survived during the entire time the unknown agent used it and a clump of rust growing from the sides. From what it seems, it's been a long time since someone has visited this specific grave. Because he scanned the rest of the cemetery, he found a few weapons that were swept clean off of rust and glistening against the egg-yolk sun.
"Follow me..." The blonde's voice ripped him out of his stupor and he found himself unconsciously obeying without a second thought.
The auburn followed the former general through the sandy graveyard, passing by more weapons that signify the insurmountable amount of losses the agency had received. The deeper they went, guilt started plaguing the supposed demon's heart. He had already realized that he may have had a hand with a few of the fallen and he slightly wondered which grave laid Camilla's special person, the same one where he finally came to realize how destructive he actually is. Firearms and weapons of every kind stood on top of each grave, ranging from a simple trench knife to an entire bronze-plated cannon. It was amazing to see an entire disarray of equipment to symbolize the dead.
The blonde finally came to a stop and this time, Hayden watched himself and rooted his feet behind her. Since he was born with a taller stature, he was able to look over the woman's head and his eyes laid on a single grave. Its appearance was just like the rest, but its makeshift tombstone stood a little higher than the rest. His gaze slightly widened as he dragged it down towards the cylindrical device that rested on top of the grave. A spark lit up in his emerald orbs, shining with curiosity and visible interest.
He studied the runes carved onto the shaft, jutting out of the iron-bred hilt. The clockworks in his head began clicking the more he scrutinized the bladeless weapon. He didn't even realize that he had leaned forward and brushed against Astrid's shoulder, just to take a closer look. After another inspecting glance, he was able to make out a small mechanical door at where the blade should be. It appears that the button protruding out at the spot on where the thumb and index finger, will lead to the opening of the miniature door. He wondered who could've made such an intricate weapon that for now, has no usefulness whatsoever.
"That's yours, you know..."
Once again, her eerily calm voice crashed against his train of thoughts and his was pulled back into reality. "What?" He whipped his head around, exclaiming breathily in disbelief.
"That's your grave... or—it used to be." The blonde, Astrid, pressed her lips together and released a quiet sigh. "It feels, doesn't it? To stare at your own grave while you're standing out here, healthier than a baby."
Hayden shrugged unenthusiastically, still bothered by the sight of his deathbed. "I wouldn't say healthy. I mean, I got shot a couple of times..." He replied with a sardonic laugh. Although most of the pain has vanished and he was able to cover up the rest of his wounds, it certainly wasn't a treat to perform while having multiple injuries.
"Gods, of all the things you retained. It had to be your sense of humor." The auburn heard Astrid sighed out, but he was able to make out a slight twitch on her lip, almost threatening to curve upward. She turned to him with an impassive mask, allowing blue and green to clash with much vigor. "I have a few questions, and I'm sure you have as well."
Raising a questioning brow, a small frown played across his lips. What made you change your mind? Hours ago, you wanted to mount my head on your wall of trophies."
A small replay of a memory appeared in her head and as soon as she blinked, it disappeared. Even she seemed confused towards this somewhat serendipitous turn of events. Neither were no longer at each other's throat, albeit it being a little bit one-sided. She's glad that things has calmed down... for now. It'll certainly help with the upcoming conversations. Conflict, even if it's justified, will only cause more problems in the future and if she wants to persevere through this... troubling predicament, then she'll have to make amends and treat him as a fellow fighter, not as her deceased lover.
"I saw something that made me change my mind. We'll get to that later on. So, let's take turns..."
The emerald-eyed vigilante gestured to her with a small wave. "You go first. It's the least I can do." He said, earning him a stiff nod.
Astrid breathed heavily. She had thought that the conversation would become easier in an environment she's comfortable in. But now, she came to regret her actions. This only spawned a new weight on her shoulders as her eyes flickered back and forth from the grave of her husband to the physical form of her lover. She couldn't help but think that they are two different people, one being a shell of who she once loved and still loves and the other being the remnants of her husband. When in reality, both are the same person, only that there are some complications holding them back.
Although it would be hard to accept, Astrid believes she can do it. "I... was informed that you had lost your memories. I guess I should've asked some questions first before I tried to kill you." She muttered slowly, rubbing her arm sheepishly.
"You think?" came the sarcastic reply of Hayden.
The blonde agent wanted to glare at him, but she was able to suppress her temper. "Sorry about that. But my point is—how did it happen? Is there any way you can get those memories back? Can you remember anything from your... past? And if you do, what are they?"
"That's four questions, but I'll bite." Hayden couldn't help but snark back, much to Astrid's chagrin. But she had to admit that his testy remarks almost made up for the awkwardness. "To answer your questions, I have no idea how it works. All I know that the Sleipnir's leader had a hand on this... plight. I haven't found a proper way to recover them by command. But over the years, I just have these strange flashes that come into my head and I believe that those were fragments of my past memories. But almost none of them were good memories. From what I heard and... seen, I was already a dangerous assassin before I took up the 'mantle' as the Demon Killer."
Both slightly cringed at the blatant use of Hayden's persona, but Astrid recovered quickly. "D- did you see me in any of them?" It was genuine question from a reasonable standpoint, seeing how she's still technically his wife, but the hot red tint of embarrassment managed to sneak up her cheeks.
The auburn raised an interested eyebrow. He was about to let the woman down-no matter how much he didn't want to because that cute act of curiosity nearly overdosed him with sugar—but then he remembered something. A flashback erupted in his mind and took him weeks back in lightspeed to the brothel in the desolate land of Iceland. Specifically, on top of the nameless woman he was about to have unknowingly infidelitous coitus with. Ignoring the bouncing embonpoints and the violent thrusts of his wrists, he focused his mind towards the moment where he was met with an apparition of a woman, someone who had similar features to the one right in front.
"Oh shit! I can't believe I forgot about that!" He exclaimed loudly, earning her a befuddled blink form the blonde. As another memory wished itself back into Hayden's head, he let out a breathless gasp. "It was you all along and I was too dumb to remember!" Hayden whipped his gaze back at her with a crooked grin that seemed all too familiar for Astrid to handle. "I remember you—kinda, when I was with Nadia, she's another one like me."
Astrid's eye twitched. "She?" The blonde repeated, an acidic-green monster slowly making its way up her heart, but Hayden was too invested in his thoughts to notice.
"I don't know when it happened! But I clearly remember seeing you in her. I also saw you—or should I say your remnant, back in that brothel!" He gestured wildly with his hands, an old habit that has yet to die.
"Brothel?" Another vein nearly snapped upon the clenching pressure Astrid has put on herself, while the man in question seems oblivious to the woman's bubbling pace towards wrath.
"Yeah. I saw an illusion of you. I just noticed how beautiful you looked when you're not scowling at me all the time. Actually, if it weren't for you... or your apparition, I probably would've made a big mistake and went all the way with that woman."
Now, Astrid is in a dilemma. She can't figure out whether she should get mad at him for all the near-immoral actions he did as her husband or be glad that none of them were able to continue. She should also pat herself on the back because apparently, she was the main reason as to why those incidents were cut short before any trouble could go further. In the end, she settled with a reluctant sigh of understanding because at the end of the day, neither is at fault. Even if Hayden had slept with another woman, both sides will end up in a stalemate since both have justifiable reasons. She's just glad that nothing happened because after hearing that, she's more motivated to bring back the old Hayden so she could beat the shit out of him.
The troubled blonde placed a hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose as she huffed in frustration. "While I can't say I'm happy to hear that's all you remember of me, I'm at least glad that you were able to remember me in some way. Although, it'll make me happier if I can at least give you one punch." Astrid mumbled the last part, but this is the only time Hayden had to curse his keen hearing. He instantly paled upon the thought of receiving another one of those deadly strikes that he's sure could blow an unsuspecting man's head clean off his shoulders.
"W- well, now that I was able to answer your questions..." Hayden said, shooting the blonde a short playful glare before continuing. "I have one for you. When did this..." He anxiously gestured to the both of them, much to their embarrassment and perturbation. "...all happened?"
It was a simple question, with a loaded answer-loaded with lots of backstories and morbid details that she would rather not dwell on. Astrid can't figure out what worse; being rejected and discarded like wet tissue or forgetting millions of memories that were once held precious by both. Now that she thought about it, she figured out which one she would rather have. "It's a long story and there is only so much I can tell you. But if you're asking about our commitment to each other, then I'm going to have to disappoint you because our marriage had been a spur of the moment and we barely had 10 minutes before I lost you again... well, I thought I did." She let out a humorless chuckle. "You're standing right here so technically, we've been married for six whole years."
The rueful smile on her face nearly made Hayden crack another grin, if it weren't for her heavy words. Who knew that all this time, he had a family to go back to; a wife that he's been unknowingly neglecting. Guilt rose in his chest and Hayden almost had to clutch his heart at the sudden weight it brought down. Apologizing would not be enough to redeem himself, even if he does it for the rest of his life. He had placed a near insuperable burden on her shoulders while he ran around the world, spouting nothing but hate and violence when he could've just go home to his family; to live with them and bask from the love that he once thought he had never experienced.
"And yet another to kill that bitch..." Hayden muttered to himself. He looked back at his forgotten wife and was surprised to see a flicker of concern towards the dark tone in his voice. "I'm sorry. I- I just hate that I can't do anything. If it weren't for that snake, then maybe we wouldn't have to wallow ourselves in pity and vengeance."
Astrid has no idea who this 'snake' or 'bitch' is, but if that person happens to be responsible for his lost memories—she pretty much is certain that it is—then she might share the same anger that's radiating out of her husband. "Don't apologize. We're both victims here and nobody's at fault. If we can't find a way to get your memories back any faster, then there's nothing we can do but wait."
The response came in the form of a sigh. "I figured that out but I've been a sitting duck for years. I don't know how long it'll take. By the time I remember it all, you probably would've found someone new—"
"NO!" The blonde cried out unconsciously, accidentally letting her emotions lash out upon hearing and thinking about that dreadful thought. Once she realized what she did, a hot blush of shame colored her cheeks and she retracted while clearing her throat, hoping that the outburst did nothing to Hayden's view of her. "I mean... I would never do that. I- I'm still married to you and I intent to honor our commitment. Can't say the same for you though."
Astrid cursed her instinctive defenses. Whenever she feels cornered or embarrassed, somehow the top reaction her mind will always come up with is a physical strike to the solar plexus or a personal insult that reaches the roots of her 'opponent'. Hayden could sense that she didn't really mean it, but the guilt welled up in his chest once again and prompt him to visibly cringe at the thought.
Thinking of the need to change the subject, the auburn's eyes flickered Flash-like across his surroundings to find a distraction to take the awkward atmosphere away. Fortunately, he found one and it came to the form of the intricate bladeless hilt. "H- hey, you said th- that's mine. Do you mind explaining it?" Hayden said, hoping to sound normal but failing horribly.
Thankful for the subject change, she adopted a somber smile at the nostalgic weapon. "Yeah. It's your famous flaming sword with more or less uses than a Swiss Army knife, the Inferno. When you were an agent-you do know about that, right?" After receiving a hesitant nod, she continued. "You were called Night Fury, one of the best assassins and agents in the entire world. You wielded that thing like Thor's hammer against the Jötunns during a storm. Just looking at it gives me PTSD from when you beat the shit out of me when I was your recruit."
Hayden perked up an eyebrow at that. "When you were my recruit? So... I was your trainer of some sort?"
"By trainer, you mean beating every piece of knowledge needed to become an agent into my head in the most brutal fashion; physically, mentally, and probably spiritually. You practically ripped my soul out, ate it, and then spat it out as a hardened spirit with the guts to kill." Astrid deadpanned.
The blood drained out of Hayden's face as another cringe rippled across his body. "Uh, is it too late now to say sorry?" He offered with a forced smile, only to receive a blank stare. "I mean, I couldn't have been that cruel, right?" No change in expression. "...right...?"
"You challenged me to a spar every other day just to bully me to the floor. I broke more bones in two years than in my entire life, and that includes now! Granted, you lessened your rancor during the first year, but you still never pulled your punches. While I'm glad I was able to learn from that and become a great agent, I can't really thank you after that time you hit me so hard, my body left my soul."
If his guilt was a volcano, then it's nearly overflowing and threatening to erupt. Hayden couldn't believe how cruel he was. Even now when he practically kills people without a twinge of mercy, he can't fathom how insane he had to be to try and bury her, especially when she was a recruit! If only he could beat the shit out of his past self for allowing the suffering to continue and probably seek joy into bullying newbies. But from the way Astrid describe him, he could see his similarities with his former person.
"Damn, how the hell did we marry?" Hayden exclaimed breathlessly.
Miraculously, Astrid waved it off with a nonchalant shrug. "Don't worry. It's in the past and we already talked about it, so no need to dwell in such things. Besides, at least you weren't that biased to only beat the shit out of me. You also harshly pounded the same treatment to my fellow teammates." She dismissed her own words with a scoff, which Hayden obviously didn't fail to miss.
"I did that to others?" He gaped, unable to form a proper sentence.
"Yup. You were cruel, alright. But that somehow made us into better agents and I'm happy to say that I was able to get you back with this very axe." Astrid gestured to her trusty weapon with a bright smile that nearly blinded the auburn vigilante at the amount of pride and affection she exalted. He was slightly disappointed that it wasn't aimed at him but he pushed that thought away quickly. "If I'm going to be honest, without the extensive knowledge and skills you had as Night Fury, I can probably pummel you to the sand."
Now, Hayden might be a modest man when it comes to abilities-to an extent—but nearly every person has their pride and nobody would take it kindly if someone had insulted them. This also applies to the infamous Demon Killer, who has a noticeable reputation in the streets and is known to be a ruthless yet skillful killer. While he disagrees a lot with what people would like to talk about him, he holds himself pretty high and is quite confident about his skills. Wife or not, he's going to defend his pride using his own abilities.
"Oh, is that so? Why not test that out?" The moment those words left his lips, he immediately realized that he has fallen in the trap of a person he once thought was a witch. But judging by that callous smirk on her lips, he had some second thoughts on whether or not it's true.
But by sheer luck from the gods, something else took their attention and it came in the form of a handheld transceiver. They bore tore their gazes from each other, much to the auburn's relief. He couldn't understand why her stare could feel so unnerving—no matter how beautiful her eyes are. But for now, he's glad that he won't be able to see it for a while.
Astrid slipped the transceiver out of her pocket and snapped the antenna up. "General Hadd—I mean, Agent Haddock here. What's the status?" She ignored the wide stare from Hayden and turned away to hide her faint blush.
"Astrid, it's Camilla. I'm sorry but you need to break your little reunion with lover demon for now. Headquarters is still locked and Toothless won't respond!"
"Did you try just waiting it out? You know how that useless A.I. wants to mess with you." To be candid, Astrid just wants to return to the conversation with Hayden. She's finally warming up to him and their banter isn't that far from their old teasing back when they were in highschool. Although flirting will still be off the table, she wants to reconnect with him as fast as possible. The desperation from the lonely six years she had to endure finally came back to slap her on the ass. Now only if she could get Hayden to do the same—Hofferson, focus!
"No, Viggo was able to receive a signal from inside and all the recordings from the camera showed the entire place trashed. Someone had got in without us noticing. However, we found two hot signatures still inside." Camilla retorted, the worry audible in the blonde's voice. Astrid frowned at this but allowed her to continue. "Their energy levels are too high to be human and the building only allows certain people. Astrid, they're Dragons. There's no denying that. But do you remember where Ezra is?"
Once Camilla's words registered in Astrid's head, panic and fear seized her heart with both hands and nearly succeeded in crushing it. All the blood drained from cheeks as the instinct of a mother finally overtook the agent's mindset. "Oh, gods. Please no." The tremble in her voice made her appear so weak, but she couldn't find the energy to care. Her daughter-she prays to every god she's wrong-is in that building right now with possibly, another Dragon trapped there with her. How could she have been so stupid to not assume that Ezra could've been still in the building when they left?!
Astrid can't waste a single second, even if it's to show concern about her daughter. But memories just flashed in her head and she saw all the beautiful moments she shared with her daughter, albeit it being restricted and cut short most of the time. She remembered teaching Ezra how to kick a football for the first time, which led her to attending her very first match and to witnessing her daughter's first goal. She remembered Ezra holding her little brother, Noah, in her arms as they relished in the basking tranquility. Astrid holds so much memories and she intends to make more, just to make up for her negligence and absence as a parent.
Hayden watched as the purple beast known as fear clawed its way up Astrid's face. But before he could question it, the blonde spun and hurled her hands towards his collar to bring his face near her. "Hayden! You have to help me. Ezra might die! My daughter—our daughter! Please!" The amount of emotions spilling out of her right now, rivalled the one when she first saw his face and tried to kill him. Although he has no idea about the child he apparently have, he could see the fear in Astrid's eyes and voice. She obviously cares for her and she's desperate to keep her safe, even at the cost of their reunion.
Either he's finally getting his memories back or her worry for her kid somehow transferred to him. Hayden found the same fear clutching chest as Astrid's trembling gaze could barely hold any contact with his. He rarely feels this type of emotion and hers was ten times as worse than he had ever felt. She needed energy; a power to help her—and he found himself needing one too. The auburn's emerald eyes fixated itself to the bladeless hilt on his grave. He could feel it drawing him in, as if to ask him to take up his former forgotten mantle once again. Energy flooded his body, lighting a spark at every nerve in his body. Whispers of his past seductively visited his ear and for the first time, temptation seemed to be pulling him to the right direction
Fingers twitching, he lunged forward and snatched the decorated handle with a quick swipe. Once he held the cylindrical device in his hand, wisps of purple light began seeping into his scarred skin. Instinctively, his fingers smoothly curled around the handle as his eyes wandered up and down the iron-bred hilt, inspecting the familiar runes that he could somehow see himself carving on the surface. That's when he realized that he had created this magnificent weapon and just like that, a newfound determination sparked an outrage in Hayden's heart.
He turned a steely gaze towards Astrid's fearful ones. The blazing inferno in his eyes managed to melt away the worry in the blonde's heart for a split second. She could almost see the same fire Night Fury had, in his eyes and it brought her back to eight years ago when she was a simple recruit with basic knowledge and training. Staring into the demon's eyes, recruit or general, sent a shiver down her spine—every time. But even then, instead of fear spreading across her heart, the willpower he wordlessly voice through merely his gaze instantly caught both her eyes and heart. Now, she wonders whether or not Hayden Haddock, the holder of the name Night Fury and the love of her life, is back.
With a sigh, the same man uttered the words his past self couldn't fathom of saying—in a exasperated manner. "Let's go rescue our daughter..."