TOUCHING GOD
Car shopping.
It has always been the hallmark of societal and economic advancement within a 1900s to 2000s culture. There is no better way to say "I'm here" than to go home with a brand, spanking new, shining car.
That is, unless you've just purchased this new car with a brick.
Robin didn't like the look of the big, heavy rock resting in Leanna's hand. She also didn't really favor the faint look of contemplation within the assassin's eyes. As those blue orbs moved about, it was more than clear was the woman's motives were. Those eyes hungered for something, something special in particular.
Her hand rose suddenly, but Robin stayed it. "What are you doing?"
Leanna glanced down at the car window below. It was a sleekly trimmed thing, running in a nice streamline shape with the rest of the car. Her reflection played subtly on the gleaming blue metal below. A Nissan 350Z. Absently, the Craft user wondered if that was Kathain's preference or Leanna's.
"We need a vehicle."
Robin nodded. "Yes, but why something as conspicuous as this?"
"The owner has wealth. They can afford to lose a car such as this, or insurance will buy them a new one," Leanna coolly rationalized. "And we need a fast means of travel."
For however much Robin hated the thoughts of stealing, Leanna made perfectly logical sense. Still, there felt something intrinsically wrong with the idea of taking this perfect car. Somewhere, there was some poor person who would be coming back to nothing more than a pile of shattered glass and an empty parking space. The girl wished she knew who it was, wished he or she who owned this car was some terrible, vile, corrupt person who didn't deserve the riches they'd been granted. Yet, even then, it still felt horrifically wrong.
Robin reached out suddenly and connected with Leanna's slender wrist as the rock came hurtling down at the window, grabbing her arm sharply. Leanna flashed an inquisitive look, but the Craft user just waved a hand over the door handle, as the lock snapped open suddenly.
"We are going to return this car exactly how we got it."
xxxx
Finally.
Kristo had been waiting for some time for that moment. For many reasons. The first of which was so he could see his enemy, know his enemy. No. Not Solomon or Zaizen. While, in truth, that particular organization didn't strike the shadow walker's fancy, nor their leader for that matter, they were of lower consequence to the warrior. Zaizen would remain but a petty, weak, ignorant excuse for a man for his short lifetime while Kristo and the Thirteen would live again if deemed necessary by the Fates.
No, Kristo had been waiting for years, centuries it seemed, to lay eyes on the other Thirteen. It meant they were so very close to finishing things the right way this time around. Or, at the very least, they, his Thirteen, had come so close as to rile their enemies into such a brazen move.
He had wanted to study his opponents, to understand them and their weaknesses. Kristo had been wanting to lay his own eyes on these intruders and to know them, as intimately as each and every blade and weapon in his arsenal. His eyes remained trained upon them as curiously as ever as they just shifted weight and adjusted themselves, readying for battle. His gaze moved back and forth across them in long, sweeping scans.
The darkness welled within Kristo as a smug sort of satisfaction spread throughout his body. The man loathed this situation, this game of cat and mouse being played with his won brother, but he could not help but anticipate the battle.
His soul had waited many millennia for this day to come.
But Kristo had waited even longer for someone else to stand up as he did, for another soul to put up the same, protective force. He had been waiting for another member of the Thirteen to rise to the occasion as he had time and time before.
The shadows of the night and of the hearts of men began to crawl and move about, as if with their own, unique free will. They reached out for Kristo. Thin tendrils of the growing midnight around them curled about the shadow walker's body, as if in a protective, motherly gesture. Yes, for the night was his dark mother, and he was her dark child. It was as if all darkness in the world amassed around him and within him congealed into one, solid mass, pouring out from him into the universe around. That deep, dark, seething form crept across Kristo's muscles like a living armor.
However, another crawling mass of shadows stepped from the night, from the depths of that tiny room. That sniveling, sneering, teasing form that had taunted him earlier about his brother's whereabouts. It was him. Another shadow walker, another like Kristo. His counterpart.
Sierra just grinned a toothy grin, like some demonic little Cheshire cat. "You know, this looks strangely familiar."
Kristo lashed out first, moving forward with surprising speed. His hand reached into the void as he moved, drawing forth the energy of the night and all the creatures of the Moon's kingdom. His katanna, his weapon of slaughter, rose to meet Kristo's awaiting hand, as if carried atop a cresting wave of dark energy. His hand found the hilt so swiftly, so easily, catching it in an instant and slicing out, through the black of the void and towards his own counterpart.
Kristo had been right to strike out first, for as he parted the ebony wake of night, his counterpart moved just as swiftly, mirroring his moves. However, as this nightling reached into the depths of the abyss, he drew forth a flashing, shining spear, with crawling etchings and patterns on it. The metal of this blade lived, breathed.
Rumors had always circulated of weapons that had their own souls, their own hearts and lives of their own. As Kristo's katanna connected with that vile spear with a sharp rasping of metal on metal, the shadow walker drew so very close to the spearhead, Kristo could almost hear the whispers of the very steel the thing had been crafted from. The warrior allowed their secrets to pour into him, listening to their ancient, hissed song, admiring the skill of the blade's forge.
Meanwhile, Amon made his own move. His target became the temptress, Sierra. His hands reached out instinctively for her throat, finding purchase at the fabric of her shirt collar. However, a quick fist punched suddenly at Amon's cheek. However, the former hunter, to his own surprise, felt the shock wave of energy and slight wind from off his tight fist. He tucked out of the way, dragging sharply on whatever cloth his hand clutched.
"What the?" The enraged warrior of the Other Thirteen bellowed as Amon swirled around, before striking the other soundly in the jaw and knocking him back.
"Cute parlor trick," Sierra's voice teased haughtily.
Amon glared down at her, trying to ignore the Other Thirteen who dared stand up and go after his compatriot. "Where is he?" When Sierra just smiled a twisted, crooked grin, Amon gave her a fierce shake. "Where is he?"
There came a moment of strange realization that Amon had never so harshly attacked anyone to protect any other person, other than himself. There had been the attack on Solomon, both attacks on Solomon. However, really, Amon had never felt such deep rage directed at another person in order to save something. The hunter had never followed his instincts so greatly. Normally, Amon judged things cautiously, rationally, acting on sound contemplation as opposed to emotion. My, how times had changed.
And, yet, he also found himself surprised at the lack of concern when one of the Other Thirteen lunged forward towards him. Instead, he trusted, falling back and away from Sierra with a shallow exhalation. Feathers burst in front of him as Brett leapt into this new comer, sending the interloper crashing to the ground.
Sierra just cackled to herself, getting to her feet. "This is all fun, now. But we have what we want."
"No."
It came as a deep grunt from Kristo. It bellowed harshly from his lips in anger and rage, blurted suddenly and curtly. He whipped around, breaking away from the other shadow walker's engagement, and slamming towards Sierra, his blade slashing through the air.
While the other shadow walker moved to follow Kristo in that tight space, Amon rose up, bringing up his hand in a swift and elegant motion, trusting his actions, his instincts. A wave of energy emitted forth from him, sending his enemy staggering back, but only momentarily as a wave of shadows sprang forward at Amon. The dark crest fell upon him, beating down upon the former hunter as a storm swell, burying the man and throwing him to the ground.
His energy crested out.
Kristo pounced upon Sierra, but the woman only found this so much more to her own delight and amusement. "This is almost the way I had wanted my last encounter to go."
"Where is he?" the assassin growled the words like an animal.
"What encounter?" Amon belted it out as he ducked out of the way from a dark sweep of shadow and night, hurtling towards his head. "Tell us, Oracle."
Brett's eyes went wide as Kristo took Sierra by the neck and smashed her head down upon the ground with a thump. An Oracle. One of the three. There had always been three. There would always be three. Much as there had always been the Thirteen. They were the Fates, the Sisters Three, the Weird Sisters, the Furies, the Kindly Ones, the Nornin. They were Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld. No, not the busty beauties from Ah! My Goddess. These were powerful beings within the universe. Urd, the Past, the eldest of the three, the past, keeper of the well at the base of the tree of the world. Verdandi, the present. And Skuld, youngest, and most innocent of the three, the Future.
And Kristo had dared lay a hand upon one of them.
"TELL ME!"
Sierra laughed, gurgling up a bubble of spit and blood. "Tell you what? How I made an angel bleed tonight?"
Brett's jaw dropped in a wide O. An angel? One of the Thirteen, it had to be. Only another of the Thirteen would be so described, and would be enough of a threat to draw the attention of this creature before him. It had to be. Brett sent forth a burst of heat and cleansing flame into the world towards the one who dared to come after him, before jumping towards the fallen Oracle.
"What?" he demanded.
But Kristo ignored him, thumping the Oracle's head on the ground again. "Tell me!"
Brett grabbed the shadow walker's arm abruptly, squeezing tight. "Hold!" His glare turned to the woman. "What did you do?"
Sierra spat a wad of blood into Kristo's face. "She fell beneath us, crushed, just like you will be. Mark my words. You will fall like she fell."
"She?" Amon jumped in front of them, swinging his hand out violently, threateningly at the Other Thirteen, sending them dancing back and away from his compatriots, away from the scene there. "Who?"
"The other Oracle."
xxxx
MISCHIEF AFOOT!