OP1: "Raining" by Art Of Dying


Chapter 2: "Details"


The rest of the day proceeded normally for Danny, Marina, and Violet, though there was a noticeable drop in tension across the school with the absence of Josiah, who hadn't returned to school after walking away from his duel with Mike. This brought a rare sense of relief to the rest of the student body. Mike's sudden return had spread across the school populace like wildfire, with the story reaching the ears of students who'd missed the confrontation and even the teachers and other staff.

Danny was especially enthused as he and Violet entered their last class of the day, History, after parting ways with Marina in the hallway. The two senior friends paced their way to the back of the classroom to make undetectable conversation so they wouldn't be called out by Mr. Carnell.

"Man, has this been the best day ever or what?" Danny whispered to Violet as they sat down at their desk. "Ms. Avers extended the deadline to our metaphysical poetry presentation, the vending machine in the cafeteria finally has barbecue chips, and to top it all off, my best friend's back in town and alive!"

"Heh, yeah..." Violet breathed, only half-focused on Danny's words.

She couldn't stop replaying the events from that morning over in her head: how Mike had returned out of nowhere after two years, defeated Josiah, and then just walked away again. To her, the time had felt fleeting, as though it had been some kind of vivid dream.

But she'd already pinched herself enough to know that it had been no dream. She almost wished that it had, as she still couldn't wrap her head around how cold Mike had acted towards Josiah. She had felt it from the moment she'd laid eyes on him again: that something deep inside of him had changed drastically. As though he'd been broken and then put back together as this darker, colder version of himself with no remorse. And the thought of that scared her—the idea that the boy she'd loved for so many years was gone.

Then there were the apparent bullet holes in the back of his duster, which didn't help to ease her mind. She couldn't even begin to fathom what kind of things Mike might have been through if those holes really came from where she thought they had. And the revolver-shape of the duel disk he'd used only pushed that idea closer to reality.

"Violet... hey, Violet?"

Danny's whispers finally found their way to her, snapping her out of her thoughts as she shook her head. "Sorry," she said with an apologetic glance. "I just..."

Her voice trailed off, but Danny gave her an assuring nod. "Nah, it's fine," he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Believe me, I get it. I mean, he was gone for a whole two years. To know that he's actually back, and alive... it's been a lot for me to process too."

You're not the one who's been in love with him your whole life. That's what she wanted to shoot back at him, but she restrained herself from doing so as his hand slipped from her shoulder, leaving her to return to her thoughts.

The mystery of Mike's experiences over the last two years aside, one other question crossed her mind that she hadn't dared to revisit since the earliest days after his disappearance: what had driven him to disappear in the first place?

Could it have had something to do with the accident that happened all those years ago...? she wondered, a grim expression overtaking her face as the memory of that day flashed in her mind.

The day Mike's parents had died.

"Miss Alyssum... Miss Alyssum!"

Danny gave her a nudge to bring her back to her senses, the sudden jolt from reality startling her as she finally answered her teacher's attendance call: "Oh, uh; here!"

She glanced up at her English teacher: he was wearing a casual sports jacket over a white dress shirt, along with pants that no one could tell if they were jeans, dress pants, or some kind of odd crossover of the two. He stood around 6'0", and his black hair was its usual stringy mess.

"Well, welcome back to Earth," Mr. Carnell said. "Let's try and keep our heads out of the clouds, Miss Alyssum."

He gave her a look that she figured meant there would be extra homework tonight, leaving her to let out a defeated sigh as Mr. Carnell continued his attendance check.


The elevator door to the school's fourth floor sounded a loud ding before the two doors parted to let the blonde man in the black duster exit.

Mike glanced down the unoccupied hallway: nothing but walls decorated with canvas paintings and framed pictures, as well as other works of art that Dexterity High alumni had left behind. The pieces were spread in-between different office doors, all of which belonged to administrative staff members of the school that no students could enter without permission.

But the door he was looking for was at the end of the hall to the left: a wooden door with the same green frame he remembered, with a gold-rimmed sign on the door that read in bold capitals: "PRINCIPAL."

He approached this door, stopping in front of it before rapping his knuckles against it three times.

"Yes? Who is it?" came a familiar voice from inside that Mike hadn't heard in a long time.

"It's me, Dr. Crawford," Mike replied, knowing the man behind the door would recognize his voice.

For a moment, there was silence behind the wooden door as Mike stood waiting, before the voice spoke again: "Come in."

Mike turned the handle and stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was how different the office looked compared to the last time he'd been in it: new filing cabinets occupied the wall to the right of the door he had walked through, replacing the rusted ones he remembered. Dr. Crawford's desk was a slab of solid marble, held up by smaller filing cabinets that must have held personal items or files. Upon the desk was a large-screen computer with numerous tabs opened on it. A wireless mouse and keyboard lay between their seated owner and the screen. Two other guest chairs sat before the desk.

The afternoon sunlight shone through the large window behind the principal, a shelf across it holding magnolias in a large pot. One could tell the flowers were well-cared for, as they stood tall and proud and full of life. A small watering can sat beside them.

The man named Dr. Crawford sat behind the marble desk in a comfortable-looking office chair. He was dressed in his usual white, collared shirt under a blue sport coat. His legs donned dark jeans, and his feet sported brown slip-on shoes. His handsome face looked bored as he stared at the papers in his hands. His short, bright-blonde hair was neatly parted in the front, and his hazel eyes seemed bigger than they actually were behind his plastic-rimmed glasses. He looked to be in his late forties, and at full height stood around 6'1".

He looked up as Mike closed the door behind him. "So the story is true then," he said with a smile. "Though I thought you'd left after your earlier scuffle with Mr. Sullivan."

Mike smirked back at him. "Word still travels fast around this place."

Dr. Crawford placed his papers down on his desk, looking up to face Mike again as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, I don't suppose this is a casual visit after having been presumed dead for two years?"

"No," Mike confirmed. "I actually had some business I wanted to discuss with you, if you've got a little time."

Dr. Crawford was quiet for a moment before deciding to switch topics: "How about you tell me where you've been the last two years first?"

Mike averted his eyes from Dr. Crawford's at that remark. "I'd rather not."

"I'll talk about whatever business you want to after I get the details," Dr. Crawford compromised, not wanting to let such tantalizing information slip out of his hands.

Mike stood in silence as he met Dr. Crawford's eyes. His resolve was unshakable. There was no way he would get to discuss what he wanted to without first giving him the information he desired.

He scoffed. "Fine," he said, taking a seat in one of the guest chairs. "Where do you want me to start?"

"How about with what caused you to run off in the first place?" Dr. Crawford said, trying to ease into the conversation.

"You ought to know the answer to that already," was Mike's reply. "After all, you're the one who helped me through that hell twelve years ago, remember?"

Dr. Crawford nodded as he recalled all those years prior: before becoming principal of Dexterity High School, he had been a guidance counselor and therapist by trade. Mike, at the age of six, had been one of his patients after what they both referred to as the "accident" that had claimed the lives of his parents. Some years later, Dr. Crawford took up his position as principal of Dexterity High School, with the intention of using his empathetic nature to build a curriculum that he knew would support teenage youths.

He rubbed his temples as the memories of his and Mike's discussions returned. "I suppose you were trying to seek some sort of redemption, then?" he figured. "A way to release yourself from carrying all that blame?"

Mike continued to avert his old therapist's gaze. "Something like that, I guess."

Dr. Crawford pushed aside the papers on his desk, not wanting to be distracted. "I'm assuming you didn't find it."

Mike shook his head. "No, I... I wound up in this place," he said shakily. "A place where a lot of horrible things happened... where I even did a lot of horrible things."

The principal's eyebrows rose. "What sort of things are we talking about?"

But Mike couldn't bring himself to speak of the events he'd lived through over the last two years to his old therapist. Instead, he took the revolver-shaped duel disk from its holster at his side, and placed it on his old therapist's desk. "This is more than just a duel disk, Dr. Crawford."

Dr. Crawford looked from Mike to the device, staring at it long and hard as he realized what Mike meant: it didn't just look like a gun for design. It could, and had, taken lives.

"I see..." Dr. Crawford said, visibly shaken as Mike took the gun back, replacing it in its holster at his side. "So that's a 'no' on the redemption, then."

"Which brings me to why I'm back," Mike confirmed with a nod. "I need to start making things right with myself... a realization I wish I'd made a lot sooner, believe me."

Dr. Crawford could see the honesty in his old patient's eyes, as well as the regret and self-hatred. He'd seen this look on Mike before: it was the same expression his face had adorned after his parents' death, believing that he'd been the one responsible for the "accident'' that had killed them, causing him to look at himself with resentment.

"If it's not too much to ask..." he asked as he leaned forward in his chair, "where exactly did you end up to seek redemption in such a way?"

"That's a long story I doubt you have the time to listen to," said Mike as his right hand crept to grab the top of his left forearm. "Besides, I'd really prefer to get down to the business I mentioned earlier."

Dr. Crawford eyed Mike's slow-moving hand for a moment before meeting his eyes again. He could tell that he'd already gotten more out of him than he was comfortable with sharing, so he decided it best to leave well enough alone.

"Very well," he said as his fingers folded between each other. "What is it you wanted to discuss?"

"My education," said Mike, earning a raised eyebrow from the principal.

"Your education?" he repeated, making sure that he was hearing Mike right. While he had always been an average student, it was no secret that he'd never cared all that much about his classes.

"Right," Mike confirmed. "I just want to get my diploma as soon as I can. The only thing I learned over the last two years was a little self-defense, but I doubt that's enough to land a real job."

"True enough," Dr. Crawford said. "Unfortunately, though, we're already near the end of our school year here. To continue your education from where you left off now, you wouldn't be able to graduate for another two years."

"Which is why I wanted to ask if there was any way I could fast-track that," Mike suggested. "Like some sort of individualized classes. Anything to help me graduate sooner rather than later."

Dr. Crawford took a moment to contemplate Mike's request. The look in Mike's eyes told him that he was completely serious about his absurd-sounding proposition. No doubt his youth and the long time he'd spent away from regular civilization skewed his understanding of how things usually worked, but at the same time, Mike was no stranger to Dr. Crawford's authority to structure curriculums for students with special needs, providing alternate paths for such students to be able to succeed.

Finally, he let out a sigh before adjusting his glasses. "All right," Dr. Crawford said. "I can't make any promises, but I may be able to set you up with something. But I also can't attest to how long it may take to arrange."

Mike grinned. "I'd appreciate that, Dr. Crawford," he said before standing from his seat. "I knew you were the right person for me to go to."

"Well I just want to see you succeed, Mike," said Dr. Crawford. "As I do for all of my students."

Mike nodded before reaching into his duster, pulling out a small piece of paper from it that he placed on the desk. "This is my current cell phone number, for whenever you need to contact me."

He turned towards the door as he said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be later."

Dr. Crawford grinned as he looked from the paper to Mike. "Going to reunite with your old friends?" he guessed. "Mr. Stark, Miss Livesey, and Miss Alyssum?"

Mike froze as he laid his hand on the door handle when he heard those names. "How have they been?" he asked, a mix of concern and curiosity in his voice.

"It's been a rough road for them since you disappeared." Dr. Crawford admitted. "Mr. Sullivan certainly didn't make things any easier for them, but they've pulled through it."

Mike gave a short chuckle, but then went quiet again before he spoke with a tone that was seldom heard in Mike's voice: passion.

"What about Violet?"

"She was no doubt the most affected by your disappearance," Dr. Crawford replied, a small grin coming to his face. "It might interest you to know that she has your name scribbled on a lot of her school folders."

Mike smiled at that thought. "Thanks again, Dr. Crawford," he said, before walking out of the office and closing the door behind him.

He began pacing back towards the elevator, his footsteps fading out from his ears' perception as he withdrew into his mind, reflecting on the memories that Dr. Crawford's questions had dredged up within him—the "accident," the events of the last two years, and the overwhelming pain that came with both those sets of memories.

He shot a glare at the small spot on his arm that he had grasped at earlier. It was almost funny to him now—how such a small thing had thrust him into a life he never could've imagined living, even in his worst nightmares...


- Two Years Ago -

When Mike regained consciousness, he genuinely thought he had died.

All he could remember was the exhaustion and agony that had overtaken his body before his collapse, and in that moment he'd believed that it was the end. But now he found that his thirst had been quenched, and he felt energized for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

He turned his head to see that he was in an undecorated cabin. He was lying on a simple bed, next to which was a small table with a water bottle and a plate of sliced bread. Nearby was a larger wooden table with three chairs tucked in beneath it. On its surface was a candle, a matchbox, and a small pile of pencils. A large map spanned the length of the table.

As he took in the unfamiliar surroundings, the only door swung open, allowing entry to a man with wispy, jet-black hair with a few streaks of silver, and a van dyke of the same color scheme. Wrinkles were scattered across his brows and under his dark eyes. His main piece of attire was a long black duster, which hung over a black shirt and pants, a brown belt, and a holster carrying a revolver around his waist. He stood at about 6'1".

"So, you're alive," the man said through an accent that Mike didn't recognize. "Good. My treating you was not for nothing after all."

Mike sat up, still trying to focus his eyes. He couldn't help but sound anxious as he asked, "Where am I?"

The old man turned his back to him. "Come. I'll show you."

Mike's raised his eyebrows as the man stepped back through the door. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to follow the stranger or not, but considering the man had claimed to have saved his life, he couldn't figure any reason not to trust him for the time being.

With his mind made up, he stood and followed the man through the door. As he stepped outside, he had to shield his eyes from the sun's brilliance for a moment before his eyes adjusted, and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of his environment:

He'd walked out onto a wooden deck that overlooked a small, western-style town that he'd only seen the likes of in old movies. A wide, sandy road was the pathway between numerous wooden buildings. Many of the people walking around were dressed in clothes appropriate for the setting: men wore variants of outfits consisting of button-up shirts, frilled vests, and cowboy hats, whilst some women were dressed up similarly, others being gussied up in prairie dresses and bonnets.

The ambient sounds of horses, goats, and cows intermingled with the people's overlapping voices as Mike stared out at them, while the older man whom he'd followed moved to stand beside him. "Welcome to Frontier Haven."

Mike stood in paralyzed silence. All he could think of to do was blink, hoping that when he reopened his eyes, he'd find that he was hallucinating—that he was back in County Dame, which had been briefly replaced with a Hollywood movie set for an award-winning western thriller. But he found this was not the case when he opened his eyes again: he really was standing before an old western town.

"I imagine this must be a lot to take in," said the scraggly-haired man, his gaze back on Mike. "Not many settlements like this still exist in the world today."

Mike slowly turned to meet the old stranger's eyes again. "Just what is this place...?"

The man walked past Mike, moving to the other side of the wooden deck to look to the other side of the town. "A place of purgatory," he finally said. "Where the evil of the world comes to die."

At these words, Mike felt uncomfortable. Was he supposed to be the "evil of the world" that had to die? He couldn't understand why, as he'd never done anything remotely malicious in his life.

"Who are you?" Mike asked, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore.

The man turned to meet Mike's eyes once more. "Ah, my apologies," he said. "In my age, I sometimes forget even the most common of courtesies. You can call me Samael."

"Right... okay then, Samael," Mike said, starting to gain some confidence back, "how about you tell me what it is that I'm doing here?"

Samael's face turned grim before he moved his right hand towards the left sleeve of his duster as he said, "Tell me, young man... do you know what this is?"

Mike's eyes followed the man's hand as it pulled his sleeve up, revealing beneath it something that sent a shock through him: it was the exact same X-shaped scar that was branded on his own left arm—the one that had willed him to walk the path that had led him here.

"W-what the...?" Mike stammered in disbelief. "That's the same scar I have...?!"

"This is no ordinary scar," Samael corrected him. "It's called the Mark of Death. And I used mine to draw you here."

Mike glanced down to where his own "Mark" was concealed beneath his sleeve before glancing back to Samael. "So you're the one who caused that burning," he figured. "And why it hurt less the more I walked in this direction."

"That's right." Samael pulled his sleeve down again. "You're perceptive."

"But why me? What's so special about me that you brought me all the way out here?"

"Nothing," Samael said, bringing confusion to Mike's face. "When my Mark draws out other Mark-bearers like yourself, it's always at random. I've managed to call on others who have traveled across the world to come here before."

Mike's eyes widened. "Wait... there are other people like us with this thing?"

"Naturally," said Samael. "In fact, every person in this town's population bears one. And a great majority of them I summoned here with my Mark as well."

Mike turned his gaze back to the town and its citizens. So all these people also bore the same "Mark of Death" on their arms too? But what was the point of gathering so many people with the same mark on their arms in one place like this...?

"I digress."

Samael's voice snapped Mike back to reality as he said, "I'm sure there's no end to your questions, but for right now, it's time for your test.

"And I believe your proctor," he said as he looked out into the town again, "should be arriving just about... now."

Mike turned his head to look where Samael had: walking towards them was a man wearing a tattered, dark-red cape, held together in the front with two buckles. The fabric with said buckles wrapped around his shoulders, and from beneath that fabric his cape protruded. His shirt and pants were each black, as well as his fingerless gloves; all of which were also decorated with various buckles and zippers. His feet adorned dark-brown boots that matched the holster around his waist not unlike the one that Samael wore, also carrying a revolver.

The man's long, unattended hair was raven-colored, and held up with a red cloth band. His piercing crimson eyes made Mike feel uneasy without even needing to lock with his own, and his face bore a brooding scowl that he sensed didn't leave his face often. There was no way to tell the man's age, but at full height he had to have been at least 6'3".

The man stepped onto the cabin deck and Mike felt panic rise through his chest. The caped stranger's presence was enough to make his blood run cold. Thoughts wouldn't form. He had to get away. He couldn't. His body had frozen, unable to break from the dread which rooted him to the floor.

Samael, meanwhile, looked to the man with a casual smile. "Good morning Aeron." He greeted him like an old friend.

"Samael," Aeron acknowledged with a nod. His voice was deep, dark, and gravelly. So much so that it sent shivers down Mike's spine.

Samael, with his attention still focused on Aeron, gestured towards Mike with his hand. "This young man is our newest citizen. Teach him what he needs to know."

"Understood."

Samael grinned at him before turning to Mike one more time. "Aeron here will explain more to you," he said with a pat on his shoulder. "Listen and learn well."

And with that, Samael gave Aeron one last nod before turning to enter the small cabin they had exited minutes before. Aeron, meanwhile, turned to Mike with a look of disinterest.

"You," he said. "Follow me."

With that, Aeron began walking back in the direction he'd come. Mike's mind raced in the millisecond he had to make a choice: he could either go along and follow the one person whose presence alone was nearly enough to make him soil himself, or he could try to make a break for it.

But he quickly realized that option B wasn't that good of a choice. For one thing, he had no idea where he was, so it was more likely that he would end up lost in the desert again before dying of exhaustion For another, he had a feeling that the man named Aeron would chase after him, and that he wouldn't be afraid to use the revolver he'd seen in his holster.

It was clear to Mike that there was no choice for him if he wanted at least a chance to live. So with a nervous gulp, Mike found his strength and followed Aeron into the town.


- Present Day -

Dexterity High's last bell rang, signaling the school day's end as students emerged from their classrooms, proceeding down the halls and stairs to venture home.

Danny and Violet met up with Marina on the second floor, where she had exited her last class of the day. "So, who's with me to go out and try to find Mike?" Danny asked the girls, trying to make himself heard over the crowd of students flooding the hallway.

"Like we were going to do anything else?" was Marina's response, before folding her arms in thought. "But where would we even start looking for him?"

Danny pursed his lips, before he and Marina both turned to Violet, who recalled Mike's words from earlier that morning:

"Well, actually," she said, "when I grabbed him earlier, he said that he would meet us over at the usual spot after school."

Both Danny's and Marina's eyes lit up as they exchanged glances. "Well, why didn't you say so sooner?!" Danny said. "Let's get a move on!"


The friends' "usual spot", as they called it, was an abandoned construction site in the northwestern sector of the city. The area, ridden with leftover building materials, foundation pits and the like, was enclosed within a tall chain link fence with numerous "DO NOT ENTER" signs scattered along it. It was why Mike had picked it for their hangout spot when in the first place: no one could bother them if they were hiding where they weren't supposed to be in the first place. But after his disappearance, the remaining three had found themselves convening there less and less, until they had just stopped altogether.

"What was this place even supposed to be, anyway?" Marina pondered as they snuck through the side gate to the site, looking behind them to ensure no one saw them.

"If I'm remembering right," Danny replied, "I think it was gonna be a middle school branch for Dexterity High around twenty years ago. But there was an incident where most of the construction crew got crushed trying to unload cement pipes, so they initially postponed the project. But the city didn't want to continue building a school for kids where people had died, so they abandoned the project."

"Wait, are you serious?" Marina asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah," said Danny. "And there've even been rumors about unusual sounds and paranormal voices being heard around here at night too."

At this, Marina's expression turned to a deadpan. "Really? Ghosts?" she asked incredulously. "Who in their right mind actually believes in ghosts?"

"Hey, I always have!" Danny retorted. "I thought that was why we all agreed with Mike about leaving by six o'clock?"

"I always thought that was just his set curfew by the nun at the orphanage or something," Marina said.

While the two started bickering about the existence of ghosts, Violet silently followed suit as her racing thoughts blocked out her friends' voices. She couldn't help but feel apprehensive about seeing Mike again, with the thought of how much he might've changed gnawing away at her.

But the thoughts quickly left her head as the sight of the rusted-over trailer came into view, and the three of them paced up the concrete steps to enter their old hideaway. It looked exactly the same as it had the last time they'd been there: along the left wall was a wide table beneath a window; to the right, a few scattered chairs. Against the adjacent wall was a couch, and to the right was a counter with a sink and a small television, the screen of which had been smashed out by Danny on a dare from Mike. It had been a break space for the construction workers on their last fateful job, and had since served as the four friends' hangout space starting the elder three's freshman year. And as they stepped back inside it, they felt as though they were reuniting with yet another old friend.

Everyone settled themselves in their old spots: Danny sat on one of the chairs, kicking his feet up on one of the other chairs. Marina took the last chair and sat at the table, where she started taking out the contents of her bag. Violet sat on the couch, where she and Mike had always used to sit together.

As they waited, Danny kept his eyes trained on the window, expecting to see their old friend at any given moment. Marina kept herself busy by studying her notes for an upcoming test. Violet tried to keep her mind empty of all the concerning thoughts she'd been struggling with since that morning. She should have been happy: the boy she'd loved her whole life was finally back, yet she couldn't help but fear for the worst.

"There, I see him! He's here!"

Marina looked up while Violet's eyes lit up at Danny's proclamation, before she jumped from the couch to the trailer door and swung it open.

Sure enough, there he was: pacing towards the trailer, his long hair obscuring his eyes from Violet's sight.

The others gathered behind Violet as Mike stopped before the trailer, and they beamed when they saw that he was smiling.

"There you are, man of the hour!" Danny shouted happily as he pushed past Violet, jumping the trailer's stairs and throwing his arms around Mike's neck, catching him in a bear hug that nearly toppled them both over.

"Y'know," Mike choked out, "I'm still not the biggest fan of hugs."

Danny immediately released his grip around Mike as he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry dude, couldn't help it."

The girls were next to step out from the trailer to join them, with Marina being the first to say, "Hope you didn't have any trouble finding this place again."

"Nah, it was right where I remembered," Mike replied, before looking to Violet.

At his glance, she blushed for only a moment, before quickly regaining the color in her face as she met his eyes. "I'm really glad you're finally home."

"I'm really glad to be home, believe me," Mike replied, his tone towards her somewhat different than it was with the others.

No one but Violet noticed this, and she broke the eye contact as she looked to the ground. Little did she know that Mike finally had something of an understanding of what was running through her mind after learning what she liked to scribble on her folders.

"Lemme tell ya, you've missed a hell of a lot over the last couple years!" Danny's voice cut into these thoughts as he draped his arm across Mike's shoulders, practically dragging him into the trailer as the girls followed suit. "Man, where do I start?!"


The three friends spent the next couple of hours filling Mike in about everything they could think of that had happened since his departure, from major global events to simple school activities. Marina often chimed in to mention something that made Danny look like a laughingstock, bringing numerous irksome looks to his face as he repeatedly told her to shut up, to which she repeatedly made faces at him. All the while, Mike listened intently to the stories, reacting when it was warranted.

"And then today, you showed up outta nowhere and finally gave Josiah a long-overdue ass-whooping!" Danny concluded, bringing their long set of stories to a close.

Mike nodded with a grin as he looked to each of his friends in turn. "I guess I really did miss out on quite a lot."

"You really did," said Marina. "To quote the opening line of A Tale of Two Cities: 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.'"

Danny looked at her with knit eyebrows. "Oy, what're ya tryna do, overshadow my storytelling with Charles Dickens?"

"No, I'm saying those may have been some of our 'best times,' but they were also our 'worst times' because Mike was missing from them," she explained.

That hit a deep spot in each of the gathered friends' spirits. Not only had what she'd said been poetic, but it was ultimately true. Mike had been the one who'd brought them all together in the first place—the glue that bound them all to be as close as they were today.

After a moment of silence, Danny leaned further against his chair as he looked to Mike. "All right, well enough about us!" he said with a grin. "Your turn to talk! What've you been up to all this time?"

At this question, Mike's expression turned dark, which set off an alarm in Violet's mind. Whatever he seemed to have endured over the last two years, the look on his face told her that it might've affected him about as badly as she had feared.

But to her surprise, he said, "I'm sorry... but I'd rather not tell you what I've been through."

"Oh, c'mon!" Danny protested as he leaned forward in his chair. "We just spilled our guts covering the last two years of OUR lives for you, but you won't do it for us?!"

"It's not about how much I have to tell," Mike said. "It's about what I have to tell."

Only now did Danny seem to realize the shift Mike's tone had taken, noticing the grim look on his face. Violet could tell by his expression that he was beginning to see that whatever Mike had to tell was probably more than they could handle. And more to the point, it seemed like Mike had barely been able to handle it himself.

Danny calmed himself down with a long exhale, followed by a short pause. "Okay, fine... if you won't give us the story, then I'll just have to EARN the story!"

Confusion spread across Violet's and Marina's faces as Danny stood up, pointing a challenging finger at Mike. "Whattaya say to a duel? If I win, you gotta spill the beans about what you've been up to. But if you win, then I'll let it go!"

"Danny!" Marina snapped as she shot him a look. "You can't force him to tell you if he doesn't want to!"

But Danny ignored Marina's words, instead keeping his gaze fixed on his best friend, confident that Mike would accept his challenge. Violet glanced from Danny to Mike anxiously, as the latter stared back to his standing friend with crossed arms. There was no way to predict how Mike would react to anything now, and all she could do was hold her breath as they awaited Mike's answer.

Finally, Mike closed his eyes and huffed. "Fine. Not like you'll win, anyway."

Marina shook her head as Violet gave a small sigh of relief, glad that Mike seemed to remain undeterred in accepting any challenge. Danny slapped his knee excitedly as he cried, "All right, that's what I like to hear! Let's get this duel on the road, then!"

"Uh, Danny?" Violet said with an amused smirk. "How exactly do you plan on dueling him without your deck or duel disk?"

Danny's ecstatic expression stuck to his face for only a moment more before he crashed to the floor, remembering why Josiah had resolved to beating him physically earlier.

Marina only rolled her eyes before pulling out her phone to check the time, to which her eyebrows rose as she saw what it was. "Perhaps you'd rather save your duel for another time anyway," she suggested as she looked to her friends. "It's a little past six."

"Ah, damn it!" Danny leapt up from the floor and looked to Mike one more time. "Well fine! We'll just have to throw down after school tomorrow, then!"

With that, he exited the trailer and bounded for the fence's gate as he called back to his friends, "Later, everyone!" before launching down the sidewalk on his skateboard.

Marina heaved a sigh as she and the others followed suit, stepping out from the trailer. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said to Mike and Violet before beginning her walk home as well.

Mike watched as she too passed through the gate, before he felt Violet tap him on his shoulder. He turned to face her as she said, "Hey, if you can, find some way to contact me tonight, all right?"

Before he could reply, she took off in a sprint after the others, leaving him to stand there, wondering what she could possibly want to talk about when they'd just spent the last couple hours covering nearly everything.

But he didn't linger on it. Right now, his top priority was to find somewhere he could sleep for the night. So with that thought in mind, he proceeded through the site's gate and began his trek back into the city.


ED1: "Behind Blue Eyes" by Limp Bizkit


Author's Notes

And that's a wrap on Chapter 2. Just a quick slice-o-life entry to get some exposition in, push the plot along. Little bit of insight into Mike's history as an orphan, and the official start of the Frontier Haven saga in the flashbacks. By the way, Samael's name is pronounced "SAM-eye-el." Oh, and don't worry: the dueling action will return next chapter, with Mike and Danny squaring off in the obligatory best-friend matchup.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and be sure to drop some feedback! I'll see you in Chapter 3, and stay awesome.


REMASTERED ON: 9/24/2020