The most accurate way to describe Clive's pace would be a steady and disheartening trudge, though he had attempted over and over again to try and hum something that would cheer him up, it always came up morose and gloomy, no matter what song he decided to use. The wind had decided to die down for the moment, which he welcomed graciously, but his mood had been on the downturn for hours now, and it didn't seem to be getting any better.
He peered at the ground through his glasses, watching his feet as they took the steps that lead him to his destination, determined by the particular scent in the air. The trail seemed fresher by just a little bit, but he was beyond weary and too depressed to be happy about it. Clive was chewing his lower lip anxiously, probably not a good idea in reflection, seeing he was very close to cutting it open with his fangs, and desperately wondering where all the time went. It was far too late in the day for his liking, why had that train trip taken so long?
Depression. I hate depression… He thought quietly to himself. I was never the depressed one, I was always the cheerful responsible one, at least, that was what the others told me… I remember, it was because of depression that I nearly lost-
Clive froze his chain of thought, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe it would have been better that way, if he had just let himself do the deed eighteen years ago, maybe it would have made them all happy, including himself. Pausing for a very short time, Clive rolled up the sleeve of his coat, looking with regret at the small scar imprinted on his arm, just above his elbow. It was a bullet wound that could never heal.
Pulling his sleeve down again, Clive continued his walk, making a mental note of which direction he was headed. The sniper already had a map drawn up in his head, he knew precisely where he was going, and exactly where Ravendor was fleeing to. It was almost ironic really, the bandit leader must have figured that he would be too afraid or forgetful to follow him, but Clive was more perceptive than Ravendor gave him credit for.
I suppose, looking back, I have changed a lot… A fatigued shrug. But the same seems to go for him as well, he has gotten decidedly more ruthless and sinister since we were last acquainted. That, I know, is my fault. But why did he take Kaitlyn? To get back at me, probably.
I just wish I knew if Kaitlyn was alright. There's more than one of them, bandits, I can tell by the smell of gunpowder and whiskey, but if they hurt her, I'll, I'll…
A shadow crossed his face.
I'll make them regret they ever felt the presence of Boomerang Flash…
A moment of uncertainty, and then he was back to normal. Abashed, Clive shook his head and kept to his march, a little fed up by irritating stickiness of the soles of his boots. That moss fungus was still with him, if not in spirit, then in bodily fluid. He would have to personally scrub the poison off his boots when he had the spare time. Small rocks and stuff were sticking to the bottom, making it hard to walk. Annoyed, Clive lifted one boot and tried to brush the pebbles away, wincing as his hand touched dirt, goo, and…
Something soft.
Curious, Clive pulled the soft thing off and looked at it, many different emotions astir in his eyes all at the same time. Relief, confusion, worry, anger, and many more, for Clive had picked up a valuable clue, one that had, almost humorously, been tracking him instead of the other way around. A small smile arose in him, he must have stepped on it unaware sometime earlier in the day and the poison had held it onto his boots, that must have been it.
Kaitlyn's blue ribbon lay docilely in his hand, both ends of the fabric flapping a bit in the weak breeze.
Folding it over a few times and placing it deep in his coat pocket, next to the beautiful black feather he had picked up, Clive furrowed his brow and immersed himself in solemn thought, scratching his head lightly. This could not have been an accident, Kaitlyn loved those ribbons, the girl wouldn't have just been so careless enough to lose one in the canyon, would she? But then again, certain situations cause people to act in a manner unfamiliar to oneself, he was beginning to learn that principle all too well.
"No," Clive argued, "She is smarter than that, I know it. This is a clue, isn't it, Kaitlyn? Thank you, I know you are trying to help. I will do my best too, I promise I will find you. You can trust me." He felt a little bit foolish for talking to himself like this, but it made him feel better so he couldn't be too crazy, not just yet, at the very least.
While pondering this, something nearly ancient in his brain had sent him a few insinuated messages, telling him to be careful, his senses were picking up something very close by. Slowly, Clive scanned the area, going very still and restricting his breathing to a minimum, just in case the intruder detected prey by their motions. In those situations, the best thing to do was to not move a muscle.
Behind him, some stones rolled, specifying physical motion. Something was standing behind him, and it presumably would not be very friendly. To show that he meant no harm just in case he was mistaken, Clive turned around and raised his hands slightly, staring the monster directly in the face.
The verdict, malicious intruder. Clive would have to fight.
Two things crossed his mind at exactly the same time, two thoughts that would have immediately decided his fate. The first impulse came from his human side, screaming at him to turn around and run away as fast as his legs could carry him, for he was unarmed and could not destroy a best of such magnitude without his trusty ARM present. The other, coming directly via his demon side, sent him an overpowering message to stand his ground and fight, come hell or high water, he would not throw a battle without just cause. The giant crab monstrosity bore down on him, strange protrusions from the defensively plated back twitching sinisterly in the air. His mind muddled itself trying to select the correct course of action, practically gluing Clive's feet to the ground and not letting him budge an inch. He was a sitting duck on the playing field.
Move, blast it! I need to move, move, run away!
Common sense won over and as the monster got within striking distance, his nerves unfroze themselves, allowing Clive to turn tail and flee, scrabbling over the arid rocks to safety. The mandibles of the beast snapped up and open from the plate of shell covering it's face, revealing row upon row of jagged saw-like teeth amid two great barbed pincers. It was like the mouth of an antlion, but this creature was also equipped with one great grabbing claw, capable of shearing a man in half. Unable to properly pace Clive in the regular manner of running, the crab bubbler dropped down over and lumbered after the drifter like a gorilla or grizzly bear, moving slower but reserving much more stamina.
Clive's throat was raw from the ragged breaths he took, stumbling down a slight slope and away from the beast, lurching forward as his already diminishing strength was drained out of his body far too quickly, he was just not in the right kind of shape for such a strain. Every single loose pebble he felt roll under his feet made him lose traction with the ground, making him slip countless times, ever hearing the gurgling bellow of the fiend too close behind him. The only hope he had was to create as much distance as possible between himself and the crustacean, keeping a steady gait only a few yards away. He didn't understand this, why did every single monster left in the wasteland seem to be attracted to his presence? It must be his stupid demon body, it was drawing all kinds of misfortune to add difficulty to his predicament.
Part of the slope gave way and Clive fell, rolling down the hillside and horribly bruising up his right arm, absorbing most of the impact, coated in dirt and dust. Clive rose, coughing on the air and blinking through a slight scratch on his glasses, beating out the gravel stuck to the sleeve of his coat. Only losing a few seconds and recovering very quickly, Clive pushed off again and continued his exodus, the back of his wrist moving to rub a scrape beading blood on the side of his chin. A screech, sounding closer than what Clive had guessed the beast to be pierced his eardrums, a high-pitched tone that could not be made by any docile animal. Risking a look over his shoulder, the sniper fought back panic as the thing was less than six feet away, in a hot ravenous pursuit. With it's raging fury beating it's gradual lack of stamina, Clive's imminent capture was less than a few seconds away.
Realizing that he had listened to the wrong side of his battling dispositions, Clive yanked his mighty gloves back on and reached for his switchblade, the straining muscles in his legs just on the verge of giving out, he could not take much more of this. The land elevated slightly once more, up a tiny hill and acting as a good place to see the surrounding environment. He located sold rocks wedged into the dusty slope, one after the other, hopping up them like a series of stairs and cutting away the time and energy spent if he had slogged up the hill using the regular way. Stumbling on one of the flatter surfaces, Clive groaned as the stress tore a muscle in his leg away from the cartilage, he paused abruptly and clutched at his cramped leg, shaking from the pain.
To his scattered perception, everything rapidly became black and white, a sudden thumping in head screaming at him to stop and listen to his ark sceptre.
Sweat stung his eyes and he had only one impulse driving him, forcing him to keep on running, but despite what his mind told him to do, his soul obeyed the calling of the Guardians, it was a compulsion that could not be resisted. Slowly, he released his cramped leg and stared down at the monster scaling the dusty slope, growing ever closer to catching him. Light reflected off his glasses and he gritted his teeth, hands curling into fists. He smiled cruelly.
Kill it…
How dare it try and attack me… Does it not know what I am…?
His smile could not have become any more depraved. Forgetting all about his pain, Clive stood tall and cracked his knuckles loudly, awaiting the chance for him to strike. He wiped more blood off his chin, the black liquid condensing and going sticky. Like a madman, he walked casually down the hill to the fight that awaited him, his only weapon a short knife that was tinged with rust. He looked unconcerned, like the entire trio of prophets could walk right up to him and he'd obliterate them without a second glance.
Should such a weak creation defeat me, then I am not worthy to exist on this planet…
It has been too long, I must test out my strengths…
His walk broke into a run, he braced his shoulder and slammed his not inconsiderable metallic weight into the plated chest of the creature, waiting until most of the impact was absorbed into it's chest, then ramming his elbow out for a second assault. The monster staggered back a few paces, but did not lose balance and fall down as Clive had hoped. Knowing this was only a minor setback, shadowy electricity ran down his arms and he discharged a Dark Matter Arcana, enveloping the beast in a temporary haze of absolute blackness. It's two pinching claws flailed out of the sides of the dark ball of energy, indicating that whatever was going on within the solidifying shadow was extremely painful.
Grinning at the frantic squeaking noises the crab bubbler was emitting, Clive pulled out his miniature knife and sprinted into the Arcana, assured that the power of the Lust Jaw would protect him from his own spell. Time passed, several sounds of steel scraping against a tough surface escaped the shadow, the sound of something crunching, and finally, a harsh cry of pain.
The Arcana dissipated, showing Clive constricted between the twin pincers of the great crustacean, the tiny right one grabbing his waist, while the huge battle ready left claw was tightly clamped down on his left arm, squeezing all the feeling out of the limb. Clive spat out a word he hadn't said since he was a petulant student, trying with all his might to slip out of the monster's grasp. He was strong, unnaturally strong, but just not strong enough. The fire within his heart faded, the Guardian influence that channelled Boomerang leaving him defenceless. The beast drew Clive closer with it's pincers, mandibles snapping wildly in a frenzy of hunger. The canyon was practically empty of all life, the monster must be starving from the lack of fresh meat. It was happy now, it had all the fresh meat it needed right here.
Though his left hand was slowly being crushed, Clive was lucky enough to be right handed and still bore his little dagger at the ready. He swung it as hard as he could, aiming for a gap in the exoskeleton where a defensive weakness was inherent. He had studied biology before, he knew there was only one other way to destroy armour plated monsters without using the heat/cool principle, and that was to wound it at it's Achilles' heel.
He hit orangey-red tissue instead of a shell, the knife digging into the soft flesh and sending a spurt of clear watery blood into the air. The crab bubbler screeched, bubbling it's own brand of ooze out of the wound in it's neck. Clive's finger's twitched as pain continued to shoot down his spine and left arm, he withdrew the knife and cursed again as the weapon jammed and broke off in the wound, he gripped only a useless handle now. The broken tool slipped between his fingers and a light trickle of blood ran out of the side of his mouth, feeling his own internal organs gradually being crushed.
I can't die yet! I still have important things to do in this world! I won't die yet!
Clive squared his jaw, tossing his head back and feeling the bones in his left arm getting wrung to the breaking point, his body soaked in a cold sweat. He felt himself focussing on something, an intangible thought or impetus, if anything to take his screaming mind off the destruction of his body. He had nobody to rely on, nobody would come and save him, he was alone.
I'm not alone! I have to save Kaitlyn, I have to… bring her back… ugh…
Dark blood was dripping out of the sleeve of his jacket, mixing with the clear and funny-smelling blood that the crab bubbler emitted. Clive's mind went hazy, and with it, a little bit of the pain began to fade away. But the haziness did not scatter his wits, somehow, they brought him closer to cohesion. "Can't… die…" He wheezed, the pressure in his mind increasing as he spoke. "N't... ytt…"
No! I can't! I can't!
An innermost force inside his mind was released, Clive cried a shout of rebellion, hardly noticing the subtle lightening of gravity around his body, his coat and hair floating slightly as he yelled. With all his strength he tried to free his arms, delirious rage silencing his human side and leaving only his darker half to reign supreme. It was an inferno, insurmountable power pushing down on his soul, painless, and yet an agony that he desperately wanted to be free of.
His eyes flashed open, and they were a blend of ruby red and ice blue, creating a rich mahogany colour that was full of anger. Every muscle in his body tensed as he screamed, the sound resonating in the wastelands. Many times after that moment, Clive would give more than ample contemplation to the words he uttered back then, they popped into his head and it was the only thing he could say, the only think he could think of.
"Eliminate Scanner!"
All the atoms in the crab bubbler's body were smashed together, gravity ferociously fastened itself to the creature's body, the pressure beyond severe, squeezing everything a thousand times worse than it's treatment to the metal demon, it's shrieking anguishing cry casting a pitch that would shatter glass, had any been present. From each chink in it's protective armour, clear liquid began to pour from every crease, like a soppy sponge being squeezed dry. All in all, the crab bubbler had only a few more moments to live. There was a quick and quiet 'pop', and that was that, the brain in it's head had exploded, settling back into the cranial fluids as many separate pieces.
Air flooded into his lungs again as the pincers released his aching body, waves of transparent energy pulverizing the creature in the midsection and making it squeal like it's entire body was on fire. Clive landed on his knees, arms out and hands wide open, as if he was distributing all the power he had left into the technique. His arms trembled from the damage they sustained, his left hand wet with his own oily blood. He wobbled a bit, eyes sliding closed as more blood dripped off his chin. Like a rag doll, Clive collapsed on his face, falling into a dead faint.
xxx
…And he felt himself standing up again, the air around him decidedly cooler and closer than the environment he believed himself to be in. Clive was indoors, an all encompassing greyish-blue surrounding him from all sides, the walls craggy and shaped into a rough dome, like the inside of a cave. He was in a cave, but the reason for it being so was hidden. The sniper looked down at his hands, clasped around an item that was freezing cold, sharp, and very much alive.
Kuronegaiken… I remember you, I remember your name…
The sword, it looked a little like the one he had fought with during his unsettling dream, the one that so beautifully resembled the darker side of human morality. But this… this was not that sword, it was far too thin, too long, and very, very sharp. The hilt was longer but basically had the same design, all the morbid engravings and everything, it made Clive think that this was the same sword, only modified.
Modified, hmm? I suppose… I guess… It is just like me…
He thought he had seen a weapon of this make before, not so long ago, something a little like the blade Todd always carried around, kept in a wooden sheath he vaguely remembered being called a 'Shirasaya'He blinked a couple of times, completely oblivious to where that word had come from. It sounded foreign, but at the same time, on a level very close to home. Kuronegaikenthe cold sword, the demon sword, his sword. Clive looked around the area, vaguely wondering why he was suddenly somewhere else. He wasn't dreaming again, was he? He was fairly certain he had gotten over that by now.
Both of his hands were firmly clasped over the leather grip of the blade, the weapon stuck out in a battle-ready position, he seemed to be awaiting something. Like the Boomerang dream, Clive was totally unable to move at all unless another force let him, and that guiding force tensed his body, eager for battle. But the strange thing was, and he had no viable explanation for this, his fingers nearly itched to swing that sword, he wanted to fight, he felt that a little rumble would be a fun enough way to pass the time. But he usually did not endorse the use of violence, that niggling feeling hung ominously in the back of his mind, overpowered by a new force that wanted him to fight, and with his sword, Kuronegaikenthat was exactly what he wanted.
(No, no… this is not right. I do not wish to fight…)
He could hear a voice in his head, a tiny, insignificant plea that had no more of an effect on him than the blood splattered all over the dusty ground, seeping into the dirt and rocks, a blotching of dark brown on grey. Clive held his katana at the ready, a sinister smirk planted on his usually kind face. His eyes, as anticipated, were a bright crimson red. He could see his opponent, naught but a few feet away, trembling at the stoic calm he showed to the world, after all he had done. Her long brown plait had come loose somehow in a previous skirmish, and a deep cut to the side of her temple leaked rich blood down into her right eye, the liquid smudged away by the back of a white gloved hand. Virginia Maxwell. Knowing this, Clive did not back down.
Her gloves were beyond ruined, life fluid staining the palm and the back of her hand, her own blood, and the blood of the others he had defeated. She was still standing tall, pretty much unharmed, but tears were running down both her cheeks, her eyes murky from so much emotion that she just could not get out all at once. Her ARMs were drawn, and, he noticed with a complete lack of sane reaction, they were trained directly at his heart. Her hands were shaking, her aim was off. In this duel, she could not possibly win.
Virginia's voice mirrored her eyes, barely holding back an emotional breakdown. "You don't want to do this," She whispered, every syllable trembling, "Please, Clive. Stand down. I don't want to hurt you, please… Stop this now…" She was standing over a body, the body of a young male android. Blood poured from every bare patch of pale skin, his body was bruised from a great impact, violet eyes shut to the world. He barely breathed, and his silvery white hair was awash with streaks of blood. Gallows was a little further off, distinctly less bloody than his unfortunate friend, but in the abnormal position he was sprawled in, one could easily guess he had lost a very vital fight. However, they were both still alive.
Gripping Kuronegaiken tighter and feeling a tender sort of electricity run up his arms, a reassuring sensation that connected him completely with his weapon, Clive merely laughed nastily at the girl, shaking his head as if he had been told a rather humorous joke. "How mistaken you are, Virginia. I have every desire to finish this little duel, I seriously hope you can offer me a greater challenge than these," With the slight flick of the tip of the sword's point, he motioned to Jet and Gallows, "… Individuals." Removing one hand from the grip, he drew back his sword-arm and ran his finger down the edge of the blade, light enough not to draw any blood. It was far too stained with that liquid already, the frosty metal seeming to revel in the fleeting warmth, like a vampire, or a stealer of souls.
How boring, she will probably not live up to my expectations… But, I can derive a little fun from the attempt, oh yes…
She took a trembling step back, fingers still on the hairline of the trigger, but Clive knew that she would be too torn by her friendship to act when she should. Clive sneered, that foolish belief would cost her dearly. "Why are you doing this?" She practically sobbed, "We don't want to hurt you, please don't make us hurt you…" Her heel met with a rounded stone, she nearly tripped over it but reduced the movement to a sullen jerk, looking away from Jet's horribly beaten body.
(Virginia, I'm sorry. I cannot stop it, I'm sorry…)
Clive cut the air experimentally, pleased that this new sword was neither heavy nor cumbersome, traits that had hindered the handling of the old Guardian blade. The motion of the supernatural metal created an ephemeral arc of blue light in front of him, trailing the katana like it's passing shadow. Blood fell off the keen tip, a little bead of human life-force that was no more than energy to be returned to the planet. That was what it did, sinking into the earth. Clive momentarily closed his scarlet eyes, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, sighing once to relieve any inner conflict, and lunged for her, weapon ready to perform a slashing uppercut that would slit her throat unquestionably.
Virginia stood paralysed, staring at the demon without time or inclination to move, a final few tears running down her cheeks, Jet's eyes slid closed for the very last time only inches away, her sob was like the breaking of a feather, soft, yet not entirely silent. Clive could not stop his movement, nor did he want to, the sword flew closer, a nanosecond in eternity freezing the dark blade to her neck, holding the concept in the fabric of time before letting go, the sob became a wounded cry, cut short by the flash of a blade…
xxx
He woke up with a start, his loud yell of horror echoing across the rocky wilderness. Clive clamped one hand over his wrist, the one hand that had held the sword and shuddered, the dregs of his dream still clinging firmly to his mind. He was lying over the corpse of the destroyed crab bubbler, the critical shock from the expenditure of his energy must have caused him to black out for a short while. Feeling a crushing weight on his back, Clive wearily pushed away the oversized claw pinning him down and staggered away from the loathsome corpse, hugging his twisted arm to his body. It was not broken or dislocated, but it still ached from all the pressure the crustacean had placed upon it, underneath the sleeve of his coat, his skin was a tender red marred with light bruises.
"What did I do? I'm sorry…" He murmured to the dead monster, regretting ever having lost his temper. He initially meant to escape from it, but he had been slowed down, and something else had taken over, it had become so easy to simply fight without using any deep thought, it felt better to fight, like a release that he sorely needed. The mandibles and oozing mouth were slack now, a lengthy time had passed since this creature had passed away. Judging from the smell, Clive guessed that it must have been an hour at the most.
For some obscure reason, he had totally forgotten about his dream.
Realizing that he still needed a few minutes to sit down, Clive collapsed on the ground a few feet away from the monster, the afternoon aging faster than he had ever wished to dread. Looking at his hands, he had done something with them, an ability he thought only the deceased prophets could perform, an eliminate scanner. That constricting feeling at his command, it was like he was controlling invisible forces that had crushed the very life out of his opponent. The clear juices that had run out of the crab bubbler had trickled into the sand and long evaporated, if he tried that move on a human, no, he'd hate to see the results.
I am running out of time. He thought despairingly, I have no chance at catching up with them now, I have wasted far too much time on pointless endeavors, the sun will set soon… and then what? I know. I know what will happen to me, to my body, but what can I do? I don't want to become a monster again…
Clive thought hard, a hand on his chin. There was really no way he could stop it, none that he knew, it would eventually happen and remove the small fragments of sanity he had managed to salvage from his last transformation. "Maybe…" He muttered, "Maybe it will not be so bad now that I am aware of what shall occur, maybe I can prevent… the killing…"
And maybe pigs will fly. He argued softly with himself, brushing some green hair behind his ear. I think I need to think logically about this, yes, it is what Catherine would have told me to do. I doubt there is anyone out here in this canyon that I cold harm, even if I had any inclination to do so, I would still have difficulty finding them. I cannot hurt people if there are no people to hurt.
He smiled, feeling a little bit better. Looking over at the corpse of the monster, he had another little idea that was both environmentally friendly and beneficial for both himself and the land. "I killed all those people for the simple fact that I would not allow myself to eat anything at all. In that… unnatural form, it almost drove me crazy. What I realize at last is, if I sate that desire now before the night falls, perhaps I will be less inclined to do something… uncivilized."
Getting up from his short rest, Clive searched the crustacean over for a certain chink in it's armour, near the right claw, he dug into that area and pulled out the broken end of his now useless switchblade, slicked with clear runny gunk. He wiped away the slime on his coat and set the short blade between his teeth, needing both his hands free for what he was about to do next. Autumn in the canyon meant that there were innumerable dried and dead bushes dotted all over the wilderness, Clive found one after a few seconds of searching and wrapped his hands around the bunches of dead stems, tearing the deceased plant out by it's roots.
Dusting the clumps of dirt off the trailing parts of the plant, Clive returned to his original spot and drew a small circle in the dirt using the tip of his broken blade, no bigger than the size of a small garbage can lid. Satisfied with this, he scratched out a star shape in the middle, five points making contact with the outside ring and existing in perfect symmetry. He dumped the dead weeds onto the star and pocketed his blade again, holding out both his hands for a conjuring of energy. He did not have a flint, but he certainly had enough tinder, he could improvise, thanks to the Guardians.
"Cremate!"
The pentagram's purpose was important. After finding out how powerful his Arcana seemed to have become after a day's worth of existing as a demon, Clive didn't want to take any chances on summoning more than he should, and so he used the star and circle as a kind of special space to contain the firepower. It was another curious thing Gallows had shown him once. After all, he didn't want cause any unnecessary bushfires, not that there was anything worthy to burn, anyway. Obediently, the licking flames clung to the dead bush and refused to escape the drawn circle, simmering down and burning brightly.
I can only stop here for a little while, I have to keep going, no matter what…
The crab bubbler would simply rot away into the sand if nothing was done about disposing of the beast, it's fate to be picked apart by scavengers and other monsters, until only it's pitiful exoskeleton remained. But Clive had a better idea, it was the reason he had built the fire there in the first place. Using both his mighty gloves and his exceptional strength, Clive set one foot against the creature's right shoulder, grabbing it's smaller claw and wrenching it upward, listening to the bitter snap as bone and sinew was separated from the shoulder socket. The monster made no reaction, it was truly dead.
The metal demon talked to himself quietly as he hauled the limb back over to the fire, having no-one else to talk to. "A friend once told me," He said to the wind and the sky, "That before the Yggdrasil accident, one could fish all the time in the oceans of the world. I think… I used to do that when I was younger, though I never learnt how to swim." He sat down near the fire, the long crab claw in his lap, "From what I recall, a crustacean is supposed to be quite a delicacy. It would be better if I had some things to add to it, maybe some salt or spice, but I cannot complain, I guess."
After a little bit of preparation with the sharp edge of a knife and some campfire cooking, Clive had seafood for dinner, one that he honestly did deserve.