CHAPTER 50: THE WOLF INSIDE
ME: *screaming and jumping* Guys can you believe it's chapter 50!? This is a landmark chapter! And unlike with "Hung Up on You", it's not the end!
BLISS: We totally have to celebrate!
BRICK: *mutters* I can't believe it.
ME: *ignores him* Okay, so Science provincial exams are over! The English one is on Wednesday, but I'm not too worried.
BLOSSOM: Well, you should still study.
ME: I know, and I have. Meanwhile, I had a few...creative "worries" about this chapter. There's a plot point in here I'm not too sure about, but oh well. Let's just go with the flow!
BUTCH: I wonder what happens this chapter...
ME: Not much Buttercup yet, I'm afraid. There'll be a few important chapters to the plot, but don't worry! Romance is right around the corner!
BUTTERCUP: ...I don't know how to feel about that; especially if it involves me.
ME: *winks* I'm sure you'll all enjoy this chapter to some extent!
BLASTER: Kuku only owns OC's like me and the story itself! Please leave a review!
BANANA: Here's to the continuation of "Call of the Wolves"~ *raises glass*
Chapter 50: The Wolf Inside
"Raymond!" he called, pushing aside a fallen piece of wall that was burning steadily. He looked around wildly, already feeling his wide eyes water. Fire flickered all around him, roaring and consuming everything he'd ever come to consider part of his home. The pain and panic was already settling in. Waves of heat smashed into him whenever he tried to walk, and he was terrified. "Raymond!" he tried again.
He heard a cough and then his brother appeared, struggling to stand up. "Damon, is that you? Where are you?"
"I'm here," Damon said, rushing to his brother's side. Raymond was caught under a large piece of the wall and appeared to be stuck.
"Damon, I'm scared," he whimpered.
"I'll get us out of here, I promise," rasped his brother as he attempted to lift the piece of wall. Damon finally managed to shove it away, breathing heavily as he collapsed beside his brown-haired brother. "Can you walk?"
"I-I think so. But my ankle—"
Damon took one look and knew. Ignoring the twisting feeling in his stomach, he helped his brother up. "It's sprained," he murmured. "Get on my back."
Raymond almost looked like he wanted to protest, but soon he was on his older brother's back. And then the two were running. Running for an exit—any exit.
"We need to find Mom and Dad," Damon panted, already crossing the hallway to his parents' bedroom. "They'll know what to"—he halted in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight that awaited him—"oh no."
His father was hunched over something.
A body.
Their mother's body.
Raymond let out a loud cry that rang in Damon's ears, and he nearly fell over as he stumbled towards his mother, still carrying his now sobbing brother on his back. She was barely recognizable. Heavy burns stretched across her skin and bullet holes punctured her chest. The blood made Damon sick.
"Father," whispered Raymond, eyes wide and wet with tears.
Their father looked up, swallowing hard. He couldn't hide the tears though, his eyes glistening in the flames. "She's dead, my sons. When I came in, the fire was already spreading, and she was on the floor. They killed her, and soon I will be dead too. They're coming for me. You must go and save yourselves; the enemy is out there, ready to kill me. They may not spare you; this is war and they don't plan on showing any mercy."
"Don't say that!" cried Damon, staring at his father like he was insane. This has to be just a bad, bad nightmare. He felt dizzy. "Y-You're a hero. Heroes don't die...right? They win, right? Right?" He couldn't help but remember every hero he'd ever read about. They never lost. So why did his father have to? He was an honourable man of war.
Why would he die?
His father looked away, silent for a few heartbeats. Then he sighed. "Go now," the father urged. The flames were already growing. "Hurry and get out of here. You have to survive and grow. Remember that your mother and I always have loved you both. Damon, take care of Raymond. We loved you."
"I love you too," sobbed Raymond.
"W-We love you too, but—" Damon's eyes were wide and blurred with tears.
"Goodbye," his father whispered.
"No!" his brother wailed, trying to reach for their father...
But then a bullet pierced the glass window and Damon was shoved back. Stumbling backwards, he watched as a rain of bullets stormed down on his father. He watched him collapse. Then a part of the ceiling fell, separating the two boys from their now dead parents.
"Mom, Dad!" Raymond screamed.
"We have to go," Damon gasped, eyeing the ceiling with panic. He tried to turn tail, but feet digging into his sides forced him to stop. He turned to stare at his brother. "Raymond—"
"We're not leaving them!"
"We can't stay here! You heard Dad, they'll kill us too—"
His brother remained adamant. "No! We can't leave. We have to help them."
"They're dead, Raymond! What more can we do!?" cried his older brother in exasperation, tears pricking his eyes.
"I won't be a coward and run away like you!" Then Raymond slammed his legs into his brother's sides, causing Damon to drop him. He scuttled away.
"Stop!" shouted Damon, dark-brown hair flapping into his eyes, making it hard to see. He staggered forward, trying to ignore the lack of air in his lungs. He glanced around, spotting the silhouette of his brother. He started running, trying to catch up.
He lost sight of Raymond briefly, but a scream cut through the air that he recognized as his brother's. He rushed in the direction of the terrified screech, squeezing in between the burning piece of ceiling and wall. He skidded to a stop when he nearly fell, debris scattering below his feet. The floor had given way, and Raymond was dangling from the ledge of a wooden beam right below the floor.
Damon took one glance over the ledge and felt bile rise in his throat. His parents were buried in all the rubble beneath the fallen floor. He could spy a hand sticking out of it all.
"Damon!" screamed Raymond, drawing him back to the present.
Damon dropped down onto his stomach. The floor was incredibly unstable and Raymond was slightly below it, making it difficult to reach him.
"I can't reach your hand!" he cried, panicked; one hand gripped the beam so hard that his knuckles turned white, and the other was desperately clawing at the air, flailing for his brother's fingers.
"Try again!" shouted Damon. "I'm not losing you too!"
Raymond gulped and tried to pull himself up, but the wooden beam gave way. There was a still, terrifying moment as everything became slow motion and the two brothers met eyes. As the beam crumbled, Raymond flashed Damon a wide-eyed, panicked look that screamed "help me". Then time sped up and he began falling to the debris below. There was a terrible crunching sound as he hit the ground.
"Raymond!" screeched Damon, already lurching forward. He stopped himself before he fell too, staring down at his brother's body. Raymond's eyes were closed and his arms and legs were splayed at awkward, unnatural angles. Blood seeped from a cut on his head. Damon swallowed hard. I-Is he dead...? He screamed, crying as a terrible, morbid, blunt thought entered his mind. My seven-year-old brother is dead, and so are my parents. And I'm going to die too.
Before he could contemplate what to do, he felt his sight grow fuzzy. The lack of oxygen was finally getting to him. He lay there for what seemed like forever but was probably only six minutes, until someone's voice filtered into the burning room. "Is anyone still alive here?"
Damon tried to call back, but his throat was already closing up—from both grief and a lack of air. He considered not saying anything and dying with his family, but just before the darkness claimed him, he managed a feeble cry of "I'm here".
Then as the ceiling piece was shoved aside and someone hurried in, calling for him to hold on, Damon lost consciousness.
Buttercup folded her arms and glared at the wall, not sure why she was so frustrated. She and Butch had technically already made up (or at least they were forced to). But maybe that was why she was so pissed off. Knowing that his apology wasn't entirely sincere could've been what was setting her off.
And yet...she hadn't been very sincere either, right? So why was she mad?
Thinking about Butch is messing with my head, she thought, throwing her hands into the air. "I should go outside," she muttered.
Buttercup flew to her bedroom door. When she was out in the hallway, she glanced at Blossom's door. The room was still empty; her sister wouldn't be returning until two days later. She claimed that she needed to make sure Brick was absolutely okay, but Buttercup had a feeling she just wanted to stay with the Ruffs for awhile longer with Brick—no, her boyfriend—actually awake this time.
She flew downstairs and spotted the Professor playing checkers with Bliss. "Hey, guys," she called.
"Hey, BC! Wanna play?" her eager, orange-eyed sister asked, long brown hair down and messy as all heck.
"Nah, I'm heading out."
That caught the Professor's attention. "Where to?" he asked.
"It's not curfew yet," she said defensively.
"I know, but I just want to know where you're going in order to ensure you'll be somewhere safe."
She rolled her eyes. "The park."
"But you could get shot there! The gang members could be there and—"
"Professor, in that case, nowhere is safe. Not even school. And I still go to school, don't I?"
He hesitated, realizing she had a point. "Yes, but that's where the grenade was set off..."*
"I'll be fine, I swear. I'll avoid dark alleys and dark places in general. I'll stay somewhere with lots of people, but avoid the shady-looking ones. Besides, the police are still investigating the scene and I doubt the gangs are going to come back to a place they already fought in. They might be stupid, but they can't be that stupid."
The Professor sighed. "Alright, you can go. But be home before 7:30."
"I know." Then she flew out the door and into the open air, enjoying the image of a setting sun. The park wasn't far, and with her super-speed, the flight took only three seconds. She landed, eyeing the area. The place wasn't very crowded, as police tape and policemen still circled the perimeter. Some people wandered around, curious or just too used to going to the park to stop.
Surprisingly, one of those people was Ross.
He was in the playground section, hanging upside down on some monkey bars. His hair fell in his closed eyes, making him look like he was meditating or sleeping.
Buttercup floated toward him and blushed. His shirt was falling due to gravity and revealed his stomach. Temptation took over and she poked him.
His eyes flashed open and he grinned, jumping down from the bars. "Hey, Buttercup. I could tell it was you."
"How?" She blushed.
"By scent," he teased.
"Are you saying I smell?" she shot back.
He laughed. "No, of course not."
"We seem to be running into each other quite often," she remarked.
"I can't help it if you like to go to the same places I do at the same time," he replied, smiling.
"You look like you're in a happy mood."
Ross' smile faded. "I'm not, to be honest. The house is just too suffocating, so I came out."
"What's wrong now?"
He hesitated but as soon as he saw the look that said "don't you dare not tell me", he sighed and explained, "Michael's parents woke up."
"That's great! Or at least, I would've thought that was great. What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "It's not that. It's just—well..." He paused. "Did Banana tell you?"
"Tell me what?" she asked.
"Oh...so she didn't. I was hoping she'd make the choice of telling you," he murmured.
"She and Bunny only got home twenty minutes ago, and they immediately went to her room. They said they were 'working on something'. What isn't she telling me—us?"
Ross couldn't hide his awkward nervousness. "Well...Michael was recently shot and he's not in great condition right now. I told Banana today** but I guess she didn't tell you..."
"What?" Buttercup's eyes widened. "That's awful!"
"Yeah," he sighed back, "his condition's not the best right now, but I'm trying to look on the bright side." He wiped at his eyes. "It's what he would've done for me."
Sitting down on one of the bars, she gazed at the ground. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," he murmured, jumping down from his perch. He landed on a bar below, sitting down right beside Buttercup. Her heartbeat sped up as he said, "I just wish this war was over."
"You and me both," she responded, turning to look at him. She was surprised to see the amount of tears accumulating in his eyes.
He shook his head. "There's just so much carnage..." He rubbed his eyes, looking up at the orange-pink sky. "And this city is so unsuspecting."
"It's always unsuspecting. No matter what evil faces this city, the civilians of Townsville never seem to really notice." She kicked at a stone. "They'll scream and run, but they always come back."
He turned to her. "You always come back."
"I'm a protector of Townsville," Buttercup said after awhile of nothing. She hesitated, before placing a hand on her heart. "And...this place is my home."
"That's why everyone else comes back, isn't it?" Ross turned away. "Because this is their home. I wonder if that's why I came back too, because for the longest time, I didn't have a home."
"Wh-What do you mean?"
"Home is where your family is, right? It's where you can return to again and again, and you can give and receive the love you need to not be alone. I didn't have that."
"You had Shamus," she suggested quietly.
"But only him. We travelled a lot, but I never had a home." His gaze fell. "I became lonely after awhile. I thought that maybe coming back here would help, but it's just...so soon..."
"Ross..."
"I don't know if I'm ready yet." He shuddered. "I can't erase the image of my father's body. It wasn't right. His eyes should've been open. He should've been laughing, smiling, talking. Instead, he was still. He was dead, Buttercup. And I just can't forget."
Buttercup bit her lip, not sure what she could say or do. She'd never seen Ross look so...broken.
"Buttercup," Ross said brokenly, "I miss him so much! And Mom too—I-I hardly knew her. I tried to tell myself it would be okay—that I could manage. But I don't think I ever let myself really grieve for them the way I needed to. All those years—in Africa, and Australia, and Europe—I felt like the farther away that I went, the easier it would be to start life over. And I think Shamus thought that too."
He paused, wiping his eyes again. "And then I thought that it might help to come back here. To start over, where we were all together as a family, with my friends by my side... And yet, it's been so hard!"
"Oh, Ross..." She leaned forward and gave him a hug, feeling awkward but desperately wanting to comfort him. She felt him stiffen, but as soon as she spoke, he relaxed. "I'm sorry. I had no idea what you were going through. I-I guess I just assumed you were always happy and strong and—I don't know—I always let you comfort me but never tried to help you."
He was quiet. "No, you—you've helped me a lot, BC. Thank you." He sniffled, wiping his eyes. "I-I think I'm fine now."
Buttercup pulled back and studied him. He had indeed stopped crying, but he still looked sad. What can I do to help?
"I should go." He got up. "It's getting late."
"Wait," Buttercup called.
He turned to look at her.
She blushed, not sure why she'd called out. "I—uh, if you ever need to talk, I-I'll be right h-here..."
Ross' sadness faded briefly as his lips quirked into a small smile. "Okay. Thanks." He leaned forward and gently left a peck on her forehead. When he pulled back, he winked at her. "You miss me when I'm not here, right?***"
Her eyes widened. "Wha... What?"
"Just teasing," he chuckled. "Thank you, Buttercup—I'll probably take you up on that offer." As soon as he finished saying that, he started walking away.
She watched him go, eyes wide. How did he know...?
He glanced back at her from the corner of his eye and smiled, the memory of her leaving a kiss on his forehead still fresh in his mind... And what she'd said rang in his ears like little chimes: "I miss you, Ross. Please wake up soon."
Meanwhile, from somewhere behind the bushes, a certain man was watching...
He pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hello?"
Static sounded before it connected. A smooth, low voice greeted him. "Hello."
"I seem to have found an emotional weakness in our target and the son of Tyrone, Ross."
"Ah, excellent work, Harry. Keep following him. He and Danes' nephew and niece are key pieces in this war."
"Yessir." Then he hung up and got up to track the boy.
The man looked him up and down, as if he were insane. "Are you sure this is a good time for you to—?"
"What? Fight in a war? It's the perfect time." Brick glanced down at his flaming hands. "I've recovered. I can help lead the team again, and take the burden away from Bandit." His purple-eyed brother had remained home to keep Blossom company. They'd lied, saying that Mojo needed to take Brick to a doctor friend for some help...
Or rather, they hadn't completely lied. The man before Brick right at that moment was in fact a doctor, but he wasn't checking on Brick's condition. He carried a gun, and the two of them were hidden behind trees. The sound of gunshots, running, and screaming pierced the air.
Butch twitched with anticipation beside his brother. "It's been a long time since I got to fight," he muttered. "I wasn't even there when Braker was shot."
"Down boy," muttered the red Ruff. When his brother shot him a look, he added, "I wasn't there either, you know. But we can't let the idea of revenge make us do anything rash."
Butch relaxed. Beside him, Blaster and Boomer shared knowing glances. Mojo loaded his giant, homemade gun. Him waved his claw and pink mist began seeping in around them, swirling around their feet. Brick lifted his arm, took a deep breath, before yelling, "Attack!"
They jumped out from behind the trees, catching the enemies by surprise. The people on their side smirked. While they were battered, they'd been holding out just for this moment—the moment they could call upon the Rowdyruff Boys.
Brick glanced at the setting sun. "We have around two hours," he muttered.
"Then it's cut loose time," Butch snarled.
The man leading their enemies looked around wildly at his men, before lifting his arm. "Don't just stand there, you fools! Get them!"
"It's showtime," Blaster remarked in a stage whisper. He lifted his arms, crossing them in an ex with his hands beside his head, on opposite sides of where they'd usually be. Then he raised his head, yellow eyes flashing as he revealed what he was holding. Eight shurikens with explosive tags attached.
Butch jumped into the air, flying toward one of the enemies and giving them a swift kick to the side. The sheer impact was loud enough that it rang out in the battlefield, and the man was sent flying.
That first move set the war back into chaos as Danes' men clamoured to get to the Rowdyruff Boys. Blaster threw the tags. The explosions threw a lot of people off, causing enough smoke to block their views. Some were even caught in the blasts.
The general in Danes' stead glared down at them, bristling with hatred and rage. "Fire!" he screamed. He was a middle-aged man, with curly black hair and deep, dark-brown eyes. His muscles bulged underneath his crisp uniform.
Brick waved his hand. "Boomer, your turn."
The blue Ruff nodded and jumped in front of Brick, immediately pulling up a glowing blue shield seemingly from the ground. It looked like a bubble. The bullets bounced right off.
Brick turned to face Mojo. "Blaster, give him a lift. Mojo, fire when ready."
"Aye, aye, Captain." Blaster picked the mutant ape up with one hand and floated him up above the battlefield. "Whenever you're ready, Dad."
Mojo released the safety and aimed at the general. "Good luck fighting this one off, Lin." Then he fired.
Lin jumped from his perch, losing his general cap as he did so. "Duck!" he yelled. There was a giant blast as some people screamed.
Brick took a deep breath and turned to Blaster. "Meet Butch in Maneuver 2A."
"Got it." Leaving Mojo on a tree where he could easily fire at people without being disturbed, Blaster flew through the crowd to get to Butch, knocking aside many people. The two zigzagged toward each other, leaving streaks of bright colours behind in their wake. They clasped their hands together.
"Ready?" Butch yelled over the noise, his free hand blocking someone's kick.
"Ready," Blaster called back. His hand started glowing yellow and Butch's flashed green. Blaster's hand crackled like electricity while Butch's was more of a green flame. When they combined the two, they got something even more powerful.
"LET'S GO!" they both shouted at the same time, slamming their hands down into the ground. As soon as they released the power they had managed to build up, the ground cracked and crackling, exploding green-yellow flames ripped through the earth. It hit many enemies, but when they tried to get it to hit Lin...
...Someone blocked it.
When the mystery man lowered the special rod he was holding, he smiled. He wore an aristocratic magenta suit and had long, flaming red hair shoved underneath a matching top hat.
"Jamel?" gasped Boomer.
"Indeed! It's been awhile since I've entered the battlefield, but I'm back~!" he sang. "Did y'all miss me? I've been out doing research for Danes~"
Shit. Brick swallowed hard. This just makes things ten times more complicated. It's been a long time since we faced off against Jamel, and he has a very complex fighting style. Lin is skilled but easy to deal with because he's so by-the-book, but Jamel—he's just as unpredictable as we are.
"Brick, what do we do?" whispered Boomer.
"Working on it," Brick snapped back, his eyes wandering the battlefield. His mind was racing, spinning around different ideas and battle strategies. It was going so well, too... He sighed.
Jamel smirked. "I'm waiting, boys..."
"I'll fight him one-on-one," sneered Butch.
"No. I will." Sampson lowered his gun, taking a deep breath. "He's one of Danes' top men. It'll be better if I face him."
"But I have super—" Butch tried to protest.
"Please," whispered Sampson, eyes never leaving Jamel. He peeled off one glove, revealing a scar on his hand. "He was there when my daughter became comatose."
Butch froze, before dipping his head in respect. "Best of luck then," he murmured.
The man reached for the hilt of a sword at his waist, pulling it out. It was a samurai sword.
Jamel raised an eyebrow. "So that's how it is." He raised his voice: "Do you challenge me, Sampson?"
"I do," he called back. "I seem to recall you saying you were something of a swordsman? May I test that idea?"
"Why not? I have my sword here." Jamel raised his rod, which had a golden ball at the top.
"I wouldn't quite call that a sword, you blockhead!" yelled Butch.
Jamel just smirked, shaking his head. He pressed something and a panel opened near the bottom. A long, thin blade slid out as the rod folded in upon itself until it was just like a hilt (albeit a little long). The golden ball at the top was now at the bottom. While the blade was thin, it was also well-crafted; it looked like it was from medieval England.
"I'd expect nothing less from a gentleman such as yourself," Sampson remarked, reaching for another sword.
"Ah, you fight with two swords, do you? I cannot blame you. Few would stand a chance against my blade. It's top-notch, you know." Jamel grinned, lifting the sword and licking it, his reflection shining.
"Ew, gross." Butch shuddered.
Jamel then held the blade out, his other hand raised. "En guarde, my friend!"
Sampson lunged. The two clashed blades, and Jamel laughed as he took steps backwards, the raised hand slowly lowering until it was behind his back. He easily blocked his opponent's attacks. Sampson growled. He knew Jamel was mocking him.
"You have good form," Jamel remarked as he ducked away from a jab. "I like that you're very focused on me and you're lowered to the ground. Your stance is also wide, which is excellent. However"—here he stuck his own blade forward and caught Sampson's sword—"you forget to keep a good grip on your sword. Do not assume for even a second that you are in control. Because"—here he flipped the sword into the air and removed his hand from his back, catching it. He flashed a sharp-toothed, charming grin—"you are not."
Sampson's eyes widened before he let out a roar, swinging his blade down. Jamel caught it with his own blade.
"Ah, ah, ah," he sang, before pushing Sampson so that his sword was around the man's neck. "You're being careless now."
Sampson glared at him, pulling his arm back before elbowing him. Jamel coughed and released him, staggering backwards. Sampson spun away, lifting his one blade.
"...I see." Jamel's face darkened. "So we are not going to fight entirely fair, it seems. Well, in that case..." He lifted his hand. "GET READY TO FEEL MY WRATH."
Suddenly, a whirling wind surrounded Sampson and his eyes widened. He staggered backwards, before realizing that everything was black. Then he bumped into something and couldn't pull away. Eyes widening, he pulled at the ropes, but he was held fast. He was bound to a wooden cross.
Jamel appeared from the shadows, smiling his creepy Cheshire Cat smile, one hand behind his back again. He had his blade in front, and the tip touched the other sword behind his back. "Welcome to my mind," he called.
Sampson glanced around, watching as the black background started moving. They flapped wings, scattering as crows with bleeding eyes. Their cawing filled his ears.
"What...did you do?" Sampson rasped.
His opponent stepped even closer and lifted the man's chin. "I've done a lot of research in my years, Sampson. And as it turns out, I've learned a new trick."
Sampson spat in his face.
Jamel set his lips in a tight frown as he closed one eye in disgust, pulling away from him to wipe away the saliva. "Thank you for that."
"You're welcome."
"Now it's my turn." Jamel spun around and was suddenly carrying multiple rods, which he threw at Sampson. The man gasped as they pierced his flesh, creating holes that bled almost immediately. "Oh, how morbid," his opponent exclaimed. "It seems that I'm a little messed up in the head!"
"How...am I still alive?" he panted, glaring at Jamel through blurry eyes.
"Because I'm not done playing with you yet." Jamel smirked, doing a sweeping motion with his hand. He revealed his sword. "I can't just let you die yet."
Sampson didn't even have a chance to brace himself before he screamed, feeling the sword rip deep into his torso. Crimson sprayed into the sky, splattering onto Jamel's clothing. It caused the crows to scatter, screeching as they swirled upwards. The sky behind them was blood-red.
Sampson stared down at his wounds. Multiple puncture holes and a nearly cut-in-half body. This had to be unreal. Like a dream—or rather, something else. A trick of the mind. He raised his head. "This isn't real."
Jamel laughed as if he were a five-year-old boy who'd just said something incredibly naïve. "Indeed! It seems you've got it all figured out, my friend. This is, in fact, an illusion." He smiled, spinning the sword in his hand. "And now it's going to get a little more real."
Then he raised both swords and jabbed them forward into Sampson's hands, causing him to scream.
Meanwhile, back outside, Butch was staring at the two men with wide eyes. He didn't know what had happened, but they had become encased in some kind of impenetrable black bubble. He knew because he'd tried to rip it open, but it hadn't worked. "Brick," he yelled.
"I know, I know!" his brother snapped back. "Give me a second!"
They could hear Sampson screaming. Brick winced as he rubbed his temples, trying to think of a way to save their friend. "We need to find a way to smash that bubble; but how? We don't even know what Jamel is doing inside there."
"I know."
Everyone spun around to spy a very, very familiar boy with long red hair that whipped around him in the wind. He wore a fox mask and heavy white robes. One eye was white, while the other was green.
"Vix," Brick greeted. "Since when did y—?"
"Why the fuck do you think we want to hear what you have to say?" Blaster snapped violently, temper flaring.
"Blaster, wait." Brick held his hand out, blocking his brother from being able to attack Vix. He turned back to their former friend. "Tell me; when did you get here?"
"Just a minute ago." Vix glanced at the sky. "I...I took the long way home after our...encounter."
"What? You two talked?" Butch spun around to stare at his red-eyed brother.
Brick ignored him. "So what is Jamel doing in there?" Another scream pierced the air and he winced. "It sounds terrible."
"He's developed an illusion technique that allows him to inflict fake pain on others. However...the pain can get more and more real depending on how much power he puts into it. Jamel has been developing a lot of new techniques, testing out our powers. We don't measure up to you Rowdyruff Boys, but we can try."
"Ah, that reminds me! Boomer, haven't you been developing a recent technique too?" Brick asked, thumping his fist into his palm.
"I uh... Well, I've hardly worked on it since you got amnesia and all—" the blue Ruff tried to say.
"Well, it's now or never. Try and get into that ball. And Vix?" He turned to face him. "Will you help us?"
"I can deactivate the illusion, but I'll need you all to cover for me. I'll get in trouble for helping you," Vix replied.
"So why help us?" demanded Butch.
Vix stared at the ground, brow furrowed. "I-I need your guys' help," he mumbled.
Butch's eyes widened.
"We don't have time for this. We'll take about this later. Vix, Boomer; go up to that ball and do your thing!" commanded Brick.
Boomer did as he was told, grabbing hold of Vix and dragging him upwards. "You have any fancy technique that can hide us or cloak us in invisibility or do I need to hide in the shadows?"
"Sorry. My Eye's already been overworked and I need all the energy I can to stop this illusion. Just keep to the shadows."
Boomer grunted as he floated them toward the shade. He approached the ball slowly, which seemed to be emitting purple-red light. "Is it solid?"
"Probably." Vix jumped and landed on the ball. "Yeah, it's solid. Pretty damn strong, too."
"Fuck," Boomer muttered as he also landed.
Vix glanced at him in surprise. "Since when did you swear?"
"Dude, I'm not seven anymore." Boomer knocked on the black mass. "Of course I swear."
"...Right." Vix turned away, looking nostalgic again.
"Okay." Boomer took a deep breath. "I need to get inside. This technique is—well, I don't know if I can get both of us inside."
"That's fine. Just try and get in."
Boomer did as he was told, sitting down cross-legged with his eyes closed, like he was meditating. He called upon his energy, causing ripples in the pool of powers, trying to fish out his strongest energies. It took awhile, but soon he was glowing blue. Then after two dozen seconds, his eyes flashed open. They were a blue-white.
Vix stared at his former friend. "Boomer..."
He didn't answer, instead pushing his hand onto the giant ball. His glow began seeping into the solid ball, and Vix watched with amazement as Boomer's concentration deepened and his brow furrowed. The result was his hand going through the ball! After awhile, Boomer managed to completely float inside, just like a ghost.
Meanwhile, inside, Boomer spotted Jamel and Sampson. Jamel was seated with legs crossed and a smirk playing at his lips, eyes shut. Sampson had collapsed against the ball's walls, panting, sweating, and screaming in pain. Boomer felt sick. He landed softly, feeling for a pulse. Sampson's not close to death yet; thank God, he thought. He glanced around. How do I stop this thing?
Then he got an idea. Floating back upwards, he applied the same power as before, but this time he used even more pressure. A yell erupted from his mouth and he was worried Jamel would hear—which he did but couldn't do anything about—before the wall cracked! Soon a big chunk of the ball gave way, fizzling out to reveal Vix's shocked face. "Get—inside," wheezed Boomer.
Vix clambered inside before jumping down. "You break the rest of this weird ball-thingy! I'm going to help save Sampson."
Boomer nodded, although it felt weird taking orders from someone who was once a friend. He started pressing his hands to the wall and adding pressure.
Meanwhile, Vix sat down in front of Sampson and forced open one of his eyes. He looked into it with his special Eye, letting the powers take over. Wisps of white stretched out like growing stems with blooming flowers. Soon their eyes "connected" and Vix was inside Sampson's head. He immediately made the illusion of a black wall and ducked behind it, peeking out to see Jamel and Sampson. Sampson was chained to a cross, covered in wounds, and Jamel was carrying various weapons. Vix felt sick. He definitely preferred Jamel over the likes of Maxim or Coal, but even Jamel could take things too far.
He shut his own eyes and tried to concentrate, twisting the illusions to his own image. Jamel became tied to a cross. Sampson's wounds disappeared. The world became less dark. It was now white, and the door hiding Vix turned white as well. Still water swirled around their feet.
"What?" gasped Jamel, tugging at his wrist. He looked around in confusion.
"Looks...like you messed up," panted Sampson, staggering upwards. He picked up both of his swords. "Now it's my turn."
"I did not mess up! Someone is messing with my illusion—" growled Jamel, but he didn't even finish as Sampson plunged a sword into his chest. He let out a bloodcurdling screech.
"FOR MY DAUGHTER!" yelled Sampson, twisting the blade. Jamel continued to scream.
Vix winced and released the illusion. He spun around to see Boomer, whose eyes were wide. "Boomer, get me out of here! Now!"
Boomer smashed his fist into the walls one last time and the ball collapsed. He grabbed Vix and dove out into the shadows as Jamel and Sampson began falling to the ground...
"Catch him!" both Lin and Brick yelled.
Blaster flew into the air and grabbed Sampson, while one of Lin's men managed to grab Jamel. Butch turned to Brick. "Permission to attack Lin, Leader Boy?" he yelled.
"Permission granted!" Brick called back.
Butch flew into the air, a dark-green streak lighting up the sky behind him. Lin looked up and curled his lips back into a snarl, grabbing hold of his weapon, which was an ancient blade from China. They clashed, Butch's blow being blocked by Lin's weapon. "Not bad for a pawn," smirked the green Ruff.
Lin's eyes flamed and he slashed at Butch, swinging his arm outward. "How dare you call me a 'pawn'! I am a highly-respected general!"
Butch dodged, landing on the grass with two hands. He did a spin and kicked Lin twice in the face. "That's your title, but your position is little more than a pawn. Danes can easily dispose of you."
His opponent let out an angry roar and lunged, hitting Butch across the face. The blow sent Butch sprawling face-first into the grass. Lin pointed his blade at the boy's neck. "I can easily dispose of you as well, monster."
Butch was silent for a moment, before smirking. "Aren't we all monsters?" Then he grabbed ahold of the weapon and swung Lin into a tree, before blasting into the air.. He held his hands out and let his energy accumulate. "Eat this, monster!"
Then he fired.
A giant explosion sounded, causing the tree to snap in half. Lin fell to the ground, and his soldiers stopped fighting. "Retreat!" one of them yelled, running toward Lin. They picked him up and started running.
"Yeah, run away! Run away like the cowards you are!" Butch called after them, cupping his hands around his mouth.
Jamel's eyes flashed open when he heard that. He looked back at the Ruffs as he was carried away, lips curled back in an angry snarl. Butch stuck the middle finger up at him before turning away, prompted by Boomer's nudge in his side. Brick was hunched over Sampson, checking for a pulse. "He's alive," he finally announced.
Vix appeared out of the shadows. "Of course he is. Jamel wanted to torture him, not kill him." He glanced at the fleeing army that was on his side, before sighing. "I should be following them."
Brick didn't look up. "And yet you aren't. Tell me, Vix, what do you want? You said you needed our help. With what?"
Blaster folded his arms and glared at the older teen. "This better be good," he growled, "or else."
"I do need your help." Vix sighed, gulping down his pride. "It's... It's Christie."
"What's wrong with her?" Now Blaster snapped to attention. "What happened to her?"
Butch gave his brother a weird look. He and Blaster were both quite distrustful of Vix, but the yellow Ruff's hostility had seemed to vanish at the mention of Christie's name. Why is that? Isn't she Danes' niece? He couldn't help but ask himself.
Vix's eyes were wide as he gazed at his old friends, trying to figure out how to break the news to them. "She's been kidnapped."
"Ross, how have your battles been going?" Danes leaned forward expectantly, clasping his hands together with narrowed eyes.
"Fine, sir," Ross reported. He set down his gun and inwardly winced. He hated carrying it around, but war made it almost a necessity. The gun was as much a part of him as his sharp teeth were. "Out of the ten battles I've had, I've won eight of them. I've also made sure that some of the men on Damon's side can no longer fight back. I secured our land when they invaded, and managed to protect one of our bases."
"Good. This is why you are a prodigy, Ross." Danes stood up. "Well done."
Ross glanced at his friends. Darkai dipped his head. DJ smiled reassuringly. Sidney offered a weak smile. As he ran his eyes over his friends, his gaze rested on the empty space that Michael would've been standing in. And beside his spot—Sydney.
Her tan hair was swept back in a high ponytail, and she wore a red scarf around her neck. She also had on camouflage cargo pants and a dark-green crop top. While Sydney's parents were total hippies, they realized that the war was going to be a part of their daily lives. They were nurses and weapon manufacturers. Sydney, on the other hand, was very much so a soldier. She was good at healing, but she was even better with a gun.
As soon as they met eyes, she turned away, eyes downcast. Ross looked away as well. The past still lingered in the back of their minds like a ghost.
Ross approached his friends, who'd all already given their reports. Darkai had won twelve out of fourteen battles. DJ had won six out of seven. Sidney was mostly a behind-the-scenes kind of guy, but he'd won two out of two fights. "Guys," he said.
"Yo." DJ have him a salute. "Star Child."
"I am not, okay? I'm just...good at what I do."
"Total star child," DJ repeated, smirking.
Darkai grunted. "The war is getting more and more intense. We'll have to wait for Lin to come back to hear more."
Just as they said that, the door slammed open and Lin appeared. "We lost," he announced, looking frustrated.
Danes stood up. "How so?"
"The Rowdyruff Boys were there. They messed us up."
Danes glanced at Ross and his friends. Ross shrank back. The large man turned back to Lin. "Very well. You are dismissed."
"Wait, sir—one of them managed to stop Jamel's new illusion technique," Lin continued.
"What?" This caught Danes' attention. "Who?"
"I am not sure, sir."
Danes frowned. "Hmm... We'll have to look into other techniques then. Jamel."
Lin's men parted way to allow the man to enter. Ross' partner staggered in, looking much worse than he usually did. "Yessir," he panted.
"Do you have the information I asked you to retrieve?"
"Yessir." Jamel passed him some papers. "They'll be quite helpful with your current project, sir."
"Thank you." Danes turned away, looking the papers over. "You may go."
The men trudged out and Ross and his friends followed. Sydney stalked past them, eyes looking anywhere but at them. DJ nudged Ross as they got into the hallway. When he turned to face his friend, he mouthed, "Go talk to her!"
"What? Are you crazy?" Ross mouthed back.
"Just go! I know you like Buttercup now, but just go talk to her!" DJ shoved him, causing him to stumble into Sydney. He didn't even get the chance to protest DJ's command or his assumption about Buttercup. Both his and Sydney's eyes widened as they crashed into a wall.
"H-Hey," stammered Ross, staring down at Sydney, face flushed red.
Her own cheeks were pink, but she hardly looked impressed. "Get...off," she mumbled, averting her gaze.
"O-Oh. Right; sorry." Ross rolled off and awkwardly stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—That is to say, DJ—he...he just—pushed me... C-Can you believe that guy?" He was struggling to form a sentence. He smacked himself mentally.
She stood up and dusted herself off. "Oh, I can believe it, alright." Pausing, she glanced at him, and suddenly she looked a little shy as well. "So..."
He was surprised she hadn't stomped away after their pathetic exchange. "Soooo..." He swallowed. His throat was parched and empty of words. He couldn't think of anything to say!
Sydney crossed her arms, leaning her weight on one leg as she stared at the floor, her back against the wall. "So, did you have something in particular you wanted to talk about? Or rather"—here she nodded at a grinning Deth Jackson, who was waving as he slipped into a room—"did he have anything in particular he wants you to talk about?"
Ross watched as the door clicked shut. "I-I don't know, honestly." He felt so awkward and embarrassed. He would've been happy to crawl into a cave and never come out.
She was quiet, which somehow made things even worse. Ross knew Sydney wasn't the talkative type unless she was with friends, and while he was quite talkative, he wasn't one for acting loud in front of people he wasn't comfortable around. And the past had certainly made it very, very uncomfortable for him to be around Sydney.
"I'm glad you made time to see me," she finally said, "or rather, to talk."
"O-Oh, it's fine." Ross took an awkward step back, bumping into a small table.
"Tell me, how's life? How's your family? I haven't seen them in awhile," Sydney prompted.
"They're good. I'm good too; been busier than ever, y'know? What with this war and everything." Ross tried to sound cheerful, but the best he could do was an uncomfortable chuckle.
She nodded. "Yeah. The war's a lot of work. And it sucks even more for us because we have school..."
"Yeah," he agreed, not sure what else to say. He glanced out the window. "Umm...the weather's nice out." He mentally slapped himself again.
She shrugged. "I guess so. A little too sunny though."
"Oh, right—sensitive skin." Ross sent her a half-smile.
Sydney stared at him for awhile, before looking down. "Your guard's up."
"What? No, no—" he tried to say.
"And I know why." She sighed, lifting her head to look up at the ceiling. "That night's still burned in the back of your mind, right?"
Ross fell silent.
"That Christmas—you gave me roses."
He closed his eyes, not sure how to feel. It was like a wave was crashing into him, and he wanted her to stop before it hurt any more. But there was a large part of him that wanted to hear what she had to say.
"I just—I don't know how to say this, Ross. I know I left those roses there to die. But I'm trying to swallow my pride here and apologize for that night. You didn't deserve that. I know you didn't."
"Sydney, no..."
"I go back to December all the time."
Flashback
"I'm going to do it, guys," Ross breathed, trying to calm down.
"Go for it, buddy." Michael was lounging on the sofa, gazing longingly at the presents underneath the Christmas tree. Ross wasn't sure he was really paying attention, but the support helped boost his confidence.
"Good luck," Sidney piped up, eyes wide.
"Yeah, you're gonna need it," snorted Deth Jackson Jr.
Darkai stood up, having been sitting in the shadows thinking God-knows-what. "Don't mind him," he murmured, "just go ahead and tell her how you feel."
"Easy for you to say, Mr. I'm-All-Muscle-and-Coolness," DJ crowed loudly.
Darkai turned, giving his friend a look that made DJ snap his jaws shut. "Says the boy with a crush on Christie."
At the mention of his sister, Michael snapped out of his stupor over the gifts. "Wait, we were talking about my sister? God, can you believe that she got straight A's again, this year? Mom was furious with me because I got like, three B's. It's not my fault; Mrs. G just happens to hate me for some reason!"
Darkai and DJ exchanged glances. Then Darkai said, "I can believe it."
Michael huffed, before turning to Ross. "I thought you liked Sydney? What's all this about Christie? Why would anyone have a crush on her?"
Deth Jackson smacked his head against the piano he was sitting at, where he'd been practicing Christmas carols earlier.
Ross started to laugh, a little less nervous now.
"What? What's so funny?" Michael demanded.
"...We were talking about Deth," Darkai finally replied, when Ross was too busy laughing to.
"...Oh." Michael glanced at his friend, whose head was still resting on the piano. "Sorry, DJ. I forgot you have a crush on her."
He sighed loudly. "It's fiiiiiiine."
"Anyway, go do your thing," Michael continued, turning to Ross.
"Yeah, man; go talk to Sydney," DJ added, eager to change subjects.
"Talk to me about what?"
Everyone spun around, startled by the new voice (except for Darkai, who remained calm and stoic, as always). "Sydney!" exclaimed Ross, cheeks flushing red.
"Hey, Ross." She glanced around at the group, folding her arms. "What were you lame-o boys saying about me behind my back?"
"Nothing, Sydney," Sidney offered. "We were just—"
"Whatever." Rolling her eyes, Sydney turned around and stalked away. "My friends Sierra and Senna are over. You know how they...feel about you, Sidney. Stay outta our way, okay? I don't want to hear them gushing about you boys."
Ross was quiet.
"Is Sophia around?" Michael asked.
"Why? Why do you want to know?" Sydney spun around to stare at him.
Michael smiled. "Just wondering. I'm sure she wants to talk to Sidney. Also, Danes has a business deal he needs to make with her father, Mr. Carlson."
"Oh." Sydney blushed. "Yeah, she's here."
"Okay, cool." Michael got up. "Come on, Sidney. Let's go find her."
Sidney looked confused and terrified at the idea of talking to someone other than his usual group of friends, but he nodded and got up to follow. Even if Sophia was their friend too, he didn't feel close enough to be really comfortable around her yet.
Ross smiled gratefully at Michael. Not only was he leaving to give him and Sydney some privacy, he was helping Sophia. Ross was quite sure she had a crush on Sidney.
"I need to go too. I recently found a gang's hideout, and I want to explore," Darkai said, getting up as well.
"And I'm done piano practice! I'm gonna go eat some more cake," DJ quickly added, jumping up. He was being helpful, but Ross knew he was also eager to get away from the keys of the piano.
Sydney watched them all leave, eyebrow raised.
"I guess that means we're alone now," Ross offered.
"Yeah. Although, you're going to be alone by yourself because I need to get back to Sierra and Senna." Sydney turned to leave, but Ross bolted upwards.
"Wait," he called.
She stopped, turning to face him. "What?"
"I-I... I got you something."
"It's not Christmas yet." Now she looked amused.
Ross swallowed. "I-I know. This is a different type of present, though."
"Oh? What is it then?" She raised an eyebrow.
Ross took a deep breath, reaching behind him, feeling for plastic tucked behind the pillow on the chair he'd been sitting on. "I got you these." Then he pulled them out.
Sydney's eyes widened. They were red roses, fresh and beautiful and trimmed.
"I know, I know. This is really sudden. But I—"
"Ross, I don't know what to say. I—"
"—I've always l-l-liked you, and—"
"—I didn't know you felt this way—"
"—Christmas just seemed like the perfect time to—"
"—I didn't know you were going to—"
"—Confess," they both finished. Then they fell silent, staring at each other.
As they did that, DJ hovered above in the rafters. He grabbed ahold of some string and lowered it. It was attached to some mistletoe, and now it dangled above them. He tied it to a rafter and silently climbed down. "Guys," he called, "look above you!" The awkward girl and boy both looked up, faces heating up as they spotted the mistletoe. "You gotta kiss!" DJ shouted.
Ross took a step toward Sydney, still holding the roses. She looked down, face red, somehow appearing even more beautiful than usual in the light. When he was right in front of her, he slowly started leaning in, gently lifting her chin up. When their lips met, the kiss lasted two seconds before Sydney shoved him away.
Startled, Ross stumbled backwards, eyes flashing open as he fell down. The roses flopped down beside him, losing some of their beauty as they crashed to the floor, losing petals and flattening buds. Ross stared up at Sydney in shock.
"I-I can't," she stammered, eyes wide and wet.
"Wait, no! Don't cry," Ross cried, jumping up. He tripped and almost fell over again.
"Uh-oh." DJ slowly backed out of the room.
"I-I'm not crying!" she exclaimed, slapping his hand away. "D-Don't touch me. Just don't..."
"Sydney..."
"Ross, you know I like Michael. I just—I can't like you, you're like a friend more than anything else. We play sports together. We play pranks together. We play video games together. We don't kiss or hug or cuddle!"
"I just...I just wanted to try," he whispered, feeling his heart break. "I have feelings for you, Sydney. Can't you give me a chance? We can still do all of those things—"
"No—i-it'd be different. It wouldn't be the same. And I can't just...I can't just forget how I feel about M-Michael."
"So you're saying you can't even try?"
"I'm sorry, Ross," she murmured, tears in her eyes. "I'm not sure we can do it. I'm not sure we can be in a-a relationship. It would change everything, and I just don't feel that way. I'm so sorry, Ross. We can still be friends, but anything more wouldn't work out."
"You're not even giving us a chance," he replied weakly.
"I don't think I can," she whispered back.
His face expressed shock and hurt, and all he could feel was brokenness. "Y-You're really not going to—?"
She shook her head. "I can't. I'm sorry. You'll always be my friend. I"—here she paused, a tear sliding down her cheek. She closed her eyes and turned away—"Goodbye, Ross."
He watched her leave. He could see the roses from the corner of his eye, and the very vision of them made him feel even worse. He almost screamed. Ross felt empty inside. He gripped his shirt.
He hadn't wanted to cry. But tears stung his eyes anyway.
She'd broken his heart.
And it was going to take a long time to sew up that ripped heart and put those fragile pieces back together.
End Flashback
"I know what I said back then, but I"—Sydney paused, looking down—"If it were me now, I would've been willing to—to give us a chance."
"Sydney..."
"I messed up big-time, Ross. I'm sorry. I hurt you, and I just—"
"I know."
She froze, staring at him. "What...?"
"I know. I was awake that time you visited me and said the same things," Ross murmured.
Her eyes stretched wide as her cheeks turned red. "You...You were?"
He nodded. "You said you might've said yes if things were different. If you weren't so...'foolish'. You said you weren't sure what you would've said if I confessed again, but you wanted to thank me and apologize."***
"I—yes," she finally said. "So you already know."
He nodded.
She stared at the floor. "I'm just so sorry, Ross. I know I've said this so many times, but I was pretty awful back then. I-I still have some feelings for Michael, but maybe the current me would've been more willing to give you a chance. You were always so nice to me, but then my stupid, stupid reply to your confession ruined everything. I-I thought us dating each other would change everything. And yet we fell apart anyway, but I was always too scared to patch things up with you. I hadn't seen you in so long, and it was always so awkward; your guard was always up and I just... I didn't know what to say...
"Thinking back to it now, I wasn't a very nice person. I know I'm still a little rough around the edges, but I made a lot of stupid mistakes back then. Shooting down your confession so soon was one of those mistakes. I was always so rude, and even though I couldn't help it, that doesn't excuse my behaviour. I still act like that now, but I try to less now. And the current me really wishes things were different back then. I might've given us a chance, even though I'm not entirely sure what I would say if you confessed to me now. I mean, I—"
"Sydney, stop talking," he said quietly.
She froze, staring at him with wide eyes. "Ross...?"
"What are you trying to say?" he finally asked, feeling years of built-up hurt slowly leaking out. "You're not even sure what you'd say if I confessed again. And I'm not confessing right now. That's all in the past. And there's someone else I might currently like." He swallowed hard. "The basic line is, I know you're sorry. You've apologized before."
"But I really mean it with all my heart this time," she cried, eyes wide. She could feel her heart tearing just a little. "I really regret what I did—"
"I forgive you," he interrupted.
"No, you don't! You don't sound like it, and we don't talk any—"
"Sydney," Ross stated, "it's over. It's already been done; it's in the past. It's fine, okay? I'm not confessing right now, and you said so yourself: you're not sure what you'd say if I confessed again, and you might still like Michael. So let's just leave it at that, alright?"
"But I can't just leave it at that! This freedom is nothing but missing your friendship," she said sadly. "I'm always wishing I realized what I had when were still friends. I always go back to that night, and always think of what I could've done differently. I go back there all the time, Ross."
Ross sighed. "Save your breath, Sydney. You said you weren't sure if you loved me. You broke my heart that night. Tell me; what can you do to make it right? If you really feel that way, then it'll always end up the same, Sydney. I guess it's better we ended it before any of us got hurt further."
Sydney felt it again; her heart breaking just a little bit more. "I could've told the truth, Ross. I'm being hurt a lot more," she whispered.
But he was gone already, and all that was left was empty silence.
"What do you want from me?" She struggled against her chains, glaring at the man before her—her captor. He wore a hooded robe like Raymond did, but this man was different. Everything from his aura to his tone was different from the man that had healed her parents.
He smiled, showing off his sharp teeth. He was sitting at the table sipping some freshly brewed tea, and he leaned back to study her. "Oh, the usual. Use you as bait or something." He giggled, airy and easygoing. "Sorry about the chains."
"Let me go! I will not succumb to being a damsel-in-distress or some bullshit! Once I get free, I will rip your throat out and shove it back down your mouth—"
"Oh my." He set down his teacup, frowning. "Pretty girls like you shouldn't swear. It's not befitting."
"Fuck that! FUCK YOU!" she screamed back.
His lips tightened as he suddenly seemed stiff and dark. He stood up and crossed the room toward her, causing her to stop her struggling. She stared up at him, secretly terrified—but she tried to hide it by holding her chin up high. "Your manners are certainly lacking," he remarked ominously.
She gritted her teeth and drew her lips back. "I have manners. I just don't use them on bastards who try to kidnap me."
"...I see. And you consider me as such a bastard?"
"Yes." She glared at him, spitting onto his floor. "You disgust me."
"My, my, my." He tilted his head to one side and placed two fingers beneath her chin. She twitched and he smirked.
"What do you want? Let me go."
"You're quite rude to me, aren't you? All because you think I'm a 'bastard', am I correct?"
"I do."
He frowned, giving her chin a harsh tug. She almost cried out at the pain, and the sudden yank caused the chains to scrape harshly against her skin. She managed to hold it in as he replied, "Oh, that's okay. I don't mind. If you knew who I really was, you'd probably hate me even more, so this is fine."
Panting, she glanced upwards, gaze fixed into a death glare. "I don't doubt you," she hissed.
"Neither do I." He stomped down on the spit on the floor, twisting his boot. Then he leaned in closer, long brown hair falling out from under his hood. "Christie, let me get something straight with you. Your life is not valuable to me. So if you keep pissing me off and die by mysterious means, I won't care. I only need you to get to Vix."
She had been fixated on flashing her disgust at him through her eyes, but now she stiffened at Vix's name. "What are you going to do to him?"
"We are just going to talk."
She yelled, "If you hurt a single red hair on his head, then I'll—"
"You'll what? I thought you didn't care for him," he replied casually. "Unless you do and you're just very bad at expressing it? All I ever see you do is hurt him. He deserves better than you."
Christie froze, dropping her gaze as her face reddened. He has a point. She wanted to hit herself. Her messy blond hair fell around her in waves, covering half of her bruised and blushing face. She didn't reply.
"Ah, so I'm not wrong. You do not care for him after all." The mystery man sounded amused, which she hated.
She still didn't give him the honour of a response. And in truth, Christie had no idea what to say. She'd burst because the mention of Vix's name had overwhelmed her with emotions. But...why? Her captor spoke the truth. I haven't always been the best to Vix.
"Ahh, that's better. Peace and quiet~" He turned around, before flashing her a charming smile. "That's what you should be; silent and obedient." He paused. "Vix is coming for you, you know. Coming to this cabin to try and 'save' you, even though he probably knows it's a trap. See how he cares for you? And all you've ever done is break him down. You're quite ungrateful, young lady." His smile faded as his voice darkened. "Hurt Vix's heart again and you'll have to start worrying about your own heart." Then he was back at the table, sitting down and sipping tea.
Tears welled up in her turquoise eyes but she didn't grace him with a response, gaze glued to the floor. Oh, Vix. Why are you doing this for me? She squeezed her eyes shut. Why, after all these years? You're in danger. And I don't want that for you. You've been through so much already... I said I don't need a bodyguard, but apparently I do. I can't even protect myself; how am I supposed to protect you when you arrive? Please, promise me...stay alive.
"She's been kidnapped."
Blaster was the first one to react after a long moment of shocked silence. "What?" he demanded.
"It's true. She phoned me and I heard her running and then..." He trailed off.
Butch glanced between Blaster and Vix. "Okay, but that's still your problem. What does it have to do with us?"
"Christie is in danger! I need your help," he hissed. "And keep your voice down."
"What the hell is going on?" Butch's voice rose instead. "Why are you being so sneaky?"
"Look, the kidnapper told me not to ask for help, but I need it!" Vix shot back.
"The kidnapper's right. Or go talk to Danes," growled the green Ruff.
Vix leaned in until they were inches from one another, eyes narrowed. "I can't! He'd kill me. I'm her bodyguard, but I wasn't there to protect her because I had a different mission to do."
"Well, it's your fault. You need to fix it," Butch retorted.
"I helped you!" exclaimed Vix.
Butch turned to Brick. "Leader Boy, it's your call."
Brick frowned. "Did this happen after you attacked me?"
"Wait, what!? He attacked you today!?" Butch shouted.
Vix winced. "It was a mission!"
"He was just checking on my condition." Brick smirked, looking somewhat amused despite the situation. He raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you, Vix?"
"...Right," the older teen muttered.
Butch glared at him. "So? What's your call?"
"I say we help him," Brick finally replied.
"I knew it! We're not—wait, what?" The green Rowdyruff Boy turned to stare at his brother.
"We help him," he repeated, "after all, he helped us."
"Yes, but—can we even trust him?"
"Guys, please. Christie is a valuable asset to Danes. If he loses her too, he's going to go on a merciless rampage. Saving her will benefit the both of us," Vix said.
"That settles it. We're going to help him," Brick stated. "Where did the kidnapper tell you to go?"
Vix hesitated. "He said he'll be in Damon's cabin. When I asked how he knew Damon, he said they go way back."
Brick frowned. "Sounds fishy. And if it has to do with Damon, then all the more reason to check it out."
Blaster floated into the air. "I'm not arguing."
"Why? I thought you didn't like Danes or Vix either!" Butch exclaimed.
"You want to find out what this has to do with Damon, don't you? Besides, Christie's...not all that bad." Blaster shot Vix a glare. "And it's his fault she's in danger. We better help her before the consequences of Vix's actions affect her."
Vix let out a low growl, but he didn't make a move to attack. "A deal's a deal. No one's going to fight anyone."
"Correct." Brick started flying. "Come on, Vix. Keep up."
Boomer slowed down. "Do you want me to carry you? Sorry my brothers are being so—so..."
"—Hostile?" finished the older teen. "It's fine. I'm not exactly in their good books. And don't worry about me. If you guys keep up the pace, I'll be fine with keeping up." He glanced at the sun, which was pretty much gone by this point. The sky had darkened into a dark-blue, with red lingering near the bottom where the sun was still visible by just a little bit.
It didn't take them long to fly and run in awkward silence to Damon's cabin. They stopped at the end of the forest, where there was a field, and at the end Damon's cabin loomed above.
"It's been a long time since I came here," Vix whispered, eyes wide. "How is it still standing like that? It's burnt, but it looks like you can still live in it. How?"
The Rowdyruff Boys exchanged glances. None of them were really sure. They'd never asked themselves that question.
"Come on. We gotta sneak inside." Brick made a move to walk forward, but Vix stopped him.
"I'll call on you guys when I need your help," the redhead murmured. "He told me to come alone, remember? Christie will be in danger if he finds out you're all here."
Brick paused, before nodding and backing down. He seems to care a lot about this Christie girl, he thought.
Vix crept forward, avoiding any of Danes' men. This time there were only two guards, probably because the war was wearing Danes' ranks thin. The teenage soldier stopped in front of the cabin door, scrunching his nose up at the powerful stench of rotting wood. The door looked like it would fall apart in his hands.
"Over here~" a voice whispered.
Vix spun around, but none of the guards had noticed him yet. Taking a deep breath, he followed the whisper toward a broken window.
"Come in," the voice cooed.
He did as he was told, swinging himself upward and clambering in. He landed awkwardly near a shelf, and all of a sudden he was hit with the strong stench of burnt and rotting wood. He could smell tea as well. The other thing that hit him was the giant wave of nostalgia, which caused him to nearly stumble. He could see flickers of memories manifesting in the kitchen. He could smell cookies and other food that wasn't there. He could see images of Damon and him and the Rowdyruff Boys...
Vix stumbled into the counter, holding his head in his hands as he panted, staring at the floor. His eyes were wide. "No, no... Not now..."
"Feeling nostalgic?" the voice cut in, sounding amused and singsongy.
He forced himself to lift his head, looking around wildly. Memories still blocked his view though. They looked so real; he wanted to reach out and touch them...
But then he heard something else.
It was a clanking sound, accompanied by shuffling and muffled cries. It was coming from somewhere nearby. "Christie?" he gasped, shaking his head and snapping out of his stupor. He started running, trying to find her. "Christie!"
He found her in the shadows, still in the kitchen, near a certain bookshelf... She was tugging at her chains, eyes wide as she struggled, trying to get close to him.
"Christie? My God," he murmured, feeling dizzy. The sight of her chained up was surreal.
She lurched forward, the white handkerchief tied around her mouth slipping. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to save you—"
"It's not safe! You have to get out of here!" she cried, eyes wild and panicked.
"I can't; not without you!" he protested.
"Vix, watch out! Behind you!" she gasped.
He turned his head quickly, but all he saw was a flash of brown before he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. "You disobeyed me," the person breathed.
"Wh-What? No, no I didn't—I-I came alone—" Vix was having trouble processing what was going on.
"Don't lie to me, Vix!" the man spat, his grip tightening to the point of hurting. "All I wanted to do was talk. But no, you had to complicate things. Didn't I teach you not to keep secrets from me? I'm very disappointed in you, Vix."
When he finally let go, Vix spun around to face him. The man wore a robe like Raymond, but he seemed different, somehow. His aura just radiated anger. "Who the hell are you?" he panted.
"That's not important right now." The man turned to Christie, whose eyes widened as he lifted a knife. "You broke your promise."
"No, wait—!" Vix's eyes stretched wide.
He slashed down, slicing through Christie's side. She let out a scream, from both pain and fear, turning her terrified gaze toward Vix.
"Stop! Don't hurt her!" he shouted. "If you're mad at me, then stab me instead!"
The man paused after picking the knife up, lowering it. "Are you telling me that your life is worth less than this girl's?"
Vix fell silent, staring at his feet. Then he took a deep breath and looked up. "In my current situation, yes. I'm just a soldier to Danes. But she's his niece. She's a keystone in this war."
"Oh, Vix. You're worth so much more than you'll ever know." The man seemed soft for just a moment, before he suddenly raised the knife again. "We can't have you feeling that way! When she's gone, you'll be worth more than h—"
"No!" Vix grabbed the man's arm. "Don't you get it? We can't harm her! You'll set off a chain reaction!"
"Don't be foolish," he replied.
"You're the one being foolish! You can't do this! Danes will go batshit crazy—"
"No, my boy. You're the one being foolish." The man lifted his face just enough to smile wickedly. "Because of course I realize this, which is exactly why I'm doing this."
Vix's eyes widened as he realized that this man wanted the war to go crazy. He glanced at Christie, whose eyes were wide and wet. She looked so scared. When he turned back, the man had swung his arm.
Everything seemed to slow down as the knife sped through the air, aiming for Christie.
Without much time to do anything, Vix jumped in and let out a cry as the blade stabbed right through his hand. He felt his eyes water as he staggered to the side, staring at the knife that was stuck in his skin. The sight was so surreal. It hurt, and yet at the same time it didn't. It was like his hand was too numb to really feel it. For a moment, he didn't do anything. Then he ripped it out and his already tired eye went to healing.
Christie was staring at him, shocked, as was the man. "...I hurt you," the stranger finally said.
"Of fucking course you did!" Vix's voice rose an octave with each passing word. "You stabbed a knife into my hand!"
The man fell silent for awhile, before he said, "I'm sorry, Vix. But you shouldn't have interfered."
He glared at him. "Forget it, you psycho." Raising his voice, he shouted, "Rowdyruff Boys, help please!"
The unknown man spun to face the window, where someone leaped through and slammed their foot into his face. He stumbled back, grabbing onto his hood to keep it from falling from his face. The kicker was Butch, and he was grinning, bent over with one arm reaching for the other arm, which was dangling at the floor. "Yo," he greeted.
The man pulled himself upwards, still gripping the hood. "Hello, boys."
"Mind me asking who you are?" Brick replied evenly, folding his arms. His back was straight and his eyes narrowed.
The man smirked, before he started to laugh. "Oh, the whole family's here. Isn't that just great?"
Brick creased his brow. "What...?" He glanced at Vix, who shrugged.
"You boys, and Vix, and—" Here the man stopped talking for a moment. "Anyway, that's not important right now."
"You're fucking right it's not. I want to beat the living shit out of you right now," snarled Blaster.
Christie looked relieved. "Blaster...!"
He nodded at her. "I see you're wearing my jacket."
She nodded, but couldn't say anything because Butch yelled, "Wait; the fuck? Why does she have your jacket!?"
"It's not anything like that, you dirty-minded creep," Blaster retorted, face red.
Butch glared at his brother.
"Less being mad at each other; more being mad at him!" Brick reminded them, gesturing at the stranger before them.
"I'm going to pop a cap on yo ass," Butch announced, rolling his sleeves up, "because I am mega-pissed right now."
The man sighed, "I don't want to fight any of you, but if this is how it has to be, then so be it, I suppose."
As Blaster and Butch lunged, Brick turned back to Vix. He spotted the knife and bleeding hand and raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
Vix grunted back, "He stabbed me. Or, I mean, he was going to stab Christie and I jumped in the way." His eye flashed white and he winced as a drop of blood dripped down his cheek. "Fuck."
"Looks painful." Brick couldn't tear his gaze away.
"Yeah. What sucks even more is my Eye is acting slower from being overworked so I can't fight right now."
"...Sorry about that."
He raised an eyebrow. "What for?"
"Sorry about pretty much setting you on fire earlier today," Brick muttered awkwardly, "which made your Eye go into overdrive."
"Oh...it's fine." Now his companion looked awkward too. He glanced down at the knife he was holding. "Let's, uh, go help Christie."
"Oh, right." Brick followed his once-upon-a-time friend to the teenage girl, who was still trying to get out of her chains.
"Hey," Vix greeted, crouching down.
"Hey." Christie stopped struggling and watched as he started sawing at the chains with the knife in his hand.
"You... You were worried about me, weren't you?" Despite his current condition, Vix smirked weakly at her.
She blushed. "What...? No, I wasn't!"
He chuckled. "Don't lie to me, Christie."
She rolled her eyes, huffing. "Whatever."
"There! That's one chain done," Vix announced. He started on the other one. When that one was cut as well, he grinned, spinning the knife around in his hand. "There we go. Better?"
"Better," she murmured, giving him a smile. "Thanks."
"...Are you okay...?" Vix asked.
There was a second of awkward silence before she recovered with narrowed eyes and a huff, "Took you guys long enough."
"...You'll be fine," he chuckled. "If you started acting any nicer, I'd be concerned."
Brick glanced at her while the older teen turned away. She was blushing. He raised an eyebrow.
Meanwhile, Butch was throwing his fists at the man, who blocked his attacks fairly easily. When he applied more power though, he managed to do more damage. Blaster was also causing their opponent a lot of pain—mostly with powerful kicks and punches. Butch swung his leg into the man's side. There was a tremor in the air before he flew into a shelf, and some plates came crashing to the floor.
"Oh dear, look at all that property damage," the man sighed, glancing around. He spotted some silverware and reached for it, picking up knives and forks. He turned back to them and grinned. "Now it's my turn." Before they could prepare themselves, he started throwing the utensils.
"Whoa!" cried Butch, dodging a glinting knife that was flying his way. He didn't manage to avoid all of them though. Some of the knives and forks slashed his skin and caused him to grunt in pain. Blaster was in the same situation, dodging what he could and taking what he couldn't.
Blaster managed to get closer and grab the man's arm, but that proved futile because he just swung his arm down. A butter-knife managed to slice through Blaster's arm. He let out a painful hiss.
Butch rushed forward and punched the man in the face. He grabbed the green Ruff's collar and pulled him forward to keep balance, practically choking his opponent at the same time. As Butch struggled to breathe, Blaster punched him in the stomach. This caused him to drop Butch. He landed on the floor and kneed the man also in the stomach.
Their opponent fell down. His weakness didn't last long though, because the next thing he did was trip them with a low kick. As Butch and Blaster fell to the ground, the man jumped on top of them, holding them down with a knife pressed to each of their necks. He grinned. "I win," he boasted.
"I...wouldn't be so sure," panted Butch.
"Huh?" He looked up and the only thing he saw was a fist rushing to meet his face, before he was sent spiralling into the air and crashing into a wall.
Christie stood there, panting with her fist still out. She'd hit him so hard there was even some blood on her knuckles.
"That was quite a hit," he announced after awhile, wiping his mouth. He pulled himself upward and chuckled. "You have a good arm, Christie."
"That was for chaining me up, you sick bastard," she spat.
"Hmm. Seems like you still hate me." He smirked. "With good reason to."
"Yes," she confirmed, eyes narrowed. "And while I agreed with what you said about me hating you even after you revealed to me who you are, I am now curious. Just who the hell are you?"
"...That is not important."
"I think it is," Brick stated, floating to land beside Christie.
He said nothing.
"I want to know too," added Vix, stepping forward.
The man turned to gaze at him. "Even you, huh, Vix...?"
He nodded.
The man sighed. "Very well. But none of you will like this."
"We don't care. We just want to know," Christie snapped. "I already don't like you."
All of a sudden, he grinned, a laugh obviously tickling his lips. "Indeed. But first, tell me, what are your views on the war currently raging on?"
"What does this have to do with anything?" demanded Christie.
"Just tell me," he said, chuckling, "amuse me, please."
"Fine." Glaring at him, she folded her arms. "I think it's necessary. I want revenge on those who hurt my family and friends, like Damon."
He started actually laughing.
"Well, I still think Damon could be innocent. This entire war is pointless. It's just violence and bloodshed for things that happened in the past." Brick folded his arms. "Revenge solves nothing, Christie."
At this point he was cackling.
She snorted. "What do you know, anyway?"
The man ignored them and turned to Vix, smiling and talking in between laughs. "And you, my boy?"
He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I-I don't know. It's so stupid, but I guess it's also necessary. It's sort of the only way the two sides can settle anything at this point."
He started cackling even harder.
"How could you think that?" cried Christie, stomping toward him. "You're supposed to be loyal to our cause!"
Brick floated over to join them as well. "Why are you so obsessed with revenge, Christie? There's other ways to solve problems. I was evil once so I know what it's like to feel immense hatred, but—"
"SHUT UP! You don't know what I've been through—!" She grabbed the knife from Vix's hand and tried to slash Brick, when all of a sudden—
—The stranger swept in and blocked the blow, still giggling.
"Wha—!?" she gasped, eyes wide. Everyone else gasped in shock.
"Hee hee~ It's been ages since I've laughed so hard!" He grinned. "In my humble opinion, losing such a young and amusing yet pure boy would be a loss for this corrupted world."
Christie stared at him like he was a freak in a circus.
"Wouldn't you agree with me, hmm," he continued, "my little wolves?" Then he swung his arm back and Christie jumped back. He opened his cloak to reveal more knives. Christie's eyes widened and he smirked, before he started throwing the utensils.
She leaped into the air, bumping into the ceiling as she dodged knives. "Ugh!" she cried when one of them lodged itself loosely in her leg.
"Christie!" gasped Vix, eyes wide. He turned to stare at the man, who was sighing.
"What would happen," he mused, smiling as he slowly lifted the hood from his cloak, "if such naïve yet pure ideologies would disappear from this cold, corrupted world?"
Vix felt his head start spinning when he saw brown hair and some burn scars.
"And ahhh," sighed the man, "how sad would it be..." He ran his fingers through his bangs, lifting them upwards and revealing shining, chocolate-brown eyes. He glanced at Vix and smiled, before looking up at the ceiling where Christie lingered on a counter, holding her leg. "...If laughter vanished from this place."
The man was Damon.
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 41!)
**(A/N: Reference to chapter 49!)
***(A/N: Reference to chapter 47!)
ME: So there you have it. The landmark chapter that is chapter 50.
BRICK: *mutters* Can't believe you made it this far.
ME: Ignoring the obvious insult, I actually have to agree. I can't believe it either! But it's all thanks to you guys. And hopefully this story will go on for awhile longer and get wrapped up all nice and tidy!
BLOSSOM: That'd be nice.
ME: Yeah~ I doubt it'll surpass "Hung Up on You" in popularity, but it's been doing pretty well surpassing it in chapters and words! *laughs* Thanks for sticking with me!
BRICK: I don't know if that's anything to be proud of...
BUBBLES: Well, read on, everybody! I'd like to say thanks for reading HUOY too, since I starred in it.
BUTTERCUP: Just you wait, Bubbles! We can surpass you!
ME: In plot and words, at least—which you've already done.
BUTCH: And maybe even reviews!
BRAKER: And so a rivalry is born~ By the way, when do I wake up?
ME: *coughs violently* Never mind that yet! Please just leave a review!
BRAKER: Hey w—