I can hear it.
That boy's breathing. It's rough. But he hasn't given up yet.
Dany, well… She's composed. Her nose's scrunched up a bit. But she also hasn't given up yet.
As for me…
I'm…
I'm not alone.
"Megan, it's already eight, we're gonna be late."
The girl named Megan Gwynn, with pink hair and literal pixie-like features, woke up from her dream.
She's been having that same dream. Granted, after a few minutes of consciousness, the details of said dream slipped from her memory but every time she sees that in her dreams, Megan just knew she's seen that dream before.
It wasn't a feeling of déjà vu because she knew what that felt like, and Megan was sure that the events in that dream hasn't happened before.
It was a slow day. At least that's how things were like inside Satana Hellstorm's restaurant. Tuesdays were the least eventful day of the week; always has, always will be.
With nothing else to do, Satana decided to stay in her office where it was peaceful and quiet. Actually before a total revamping of the place, this area used to be a place of lustful sin. An area where wanton, earthly desires were sated. A place where any and every perverted dream could come true. Basically, this was a whorehouse, and a high end one too.
It had employed sucubbi; women of unearthly beauty that were from the vampiric strand of demons. According to one of the older tomes from New York's Sanctum, [Vampires] had many variants like the leanan sidhe and (arguably) sirens, but they all had one thing in common: they allured men to their doom.
Sucubbi had the amazing powers of converting sexual energy into magical energy. Tantric activities produced high-quality energies too wholesome to be considered inconsequential. The original owner of the restaurant used that energy to synthesize crystals that contained high concentrations of purified, undiluted magic.
He'd then sell it to the black market to cultists, demons and seedy wizards. The establishment also had the most peculiar set-up–for a magic factory set up by demons. This was one of the few of its kind that didn't totally milk it's victims dry of their total magic (which resulted in death); the employees merely drained them until they were spent and sent them back into the human world. Where they'd return sometime for more.
It was a well-oiled machine that had been almost untouchable, even by Camilla the Elder Vampire that controlled the city. That is until Satana Hellstorm decided to wrestle control this side of the city. With Camilla taking a significant portion of the city, and the owner not having any human business sense, it was very easy for Satana Hellstorm to destroy the reputation of the whorehouse. More and more, the clientele lost interest of the establishment until the demon owner was driven to move his business elsewhere.
To be honest, Satana Hellstorm didn't even seriously manage this place: the only reason why she wanted the place was because this was a place that had a natural doorway between this dimension and the demon dimension where her father's from. It's wasn't called Hell's Kitchen for nothing.
So more often than not, if Satana Hellstorm wanted to wreak some havoc on the populace or return to Hell, she'd just use the special doorway ironically located in the kitchen to go between dimensions.
In any case, Satana Hellstorm lounged on her loveseat that she was able to buy with the restaurant's humble profits.
She was just about to recline further into her chair when she heard a knock on the door.
Mirajane was starting to get used to the routine. A six-day work week that let her earn a barely modest salary. At least in her head, her salary gave a little bit of economic support to Matt (not that he needed it because of his lawyer-level salary but the thought's still there).
Of course, Matt vehemently said that Mirajane didn't need to give money, but to Mirajane it was an issue of pride. She was no freeloader. At least, not anymore.
Also, she was also saving her money for her needs and that long-term plan of returning home.
In any case, the restaurant was also a place where her two… her underli–no that's not right. The restaurant was also where Bob and Ted worked.
Not wanting to be separated from their king, Bob and Ted, after finding out that their king worked such a low-end job, decided to work there with her. Malfala said they didn't need the extra hands and was about to turn them down until Satana Hellstorm decided to hire them: Bob as a new waiter and Ted as part of the cold kitchen staff–because fire happened to be very deadly to vampires. And while Bob and Ted are no longer purely vampires, Mirajane and Seilah agreed that they cannot take that risk of them getting burned.
From a business perspective, they didn't need the extra pair of hands, but Satana didn't mind. More hands meant more work could be done. Though Mirajane suspects her boss was observing how Mirajane's two… er… Bob and Ted behaved.
They're people. My friends! Not my possessions. Mirajane reminded herself. She did that a lot lately, especially when it came to those two.
When Bob and Ted told her that she would receive their earnings, Mirajane told them that they earned that money, and it was theirs to spend. Which they misinterpreted as buying things she'd need and being given gifts left and right – Mirajane didn't want to accept but Bob and Ted were very insistent, and Mirajane didn't want to disappoint them. She also only accepted such gifts on the condition that they save some of their money for themselves.
Her feelings for them weren't romantic, at least that's what Mirajane believed, but it was also not purely professional. It's too soon to be considered friends but they are not mere acquaintances either. Like she cared for them, yes, but...
The voice of Satana Hellstorm from her door's office, broke her line of thought. "Mira, I need you here for a second."
Inside, Mirajane saw two people, one of which was someone she's never seen before.
"Mirajane, I'd like you to meet Orlando Vonderheide."
Seated right across her boss, Mirajane saw a pale-faced man with strong features. Cut cheekbones, pronounced jawline, and dark blonde hair. Dressed in funny-looking slacks, in some odd suit that was so different from Matt's usual suits, he gave off a very sophisticated vibe. He sat in a very relaxed manner, exuding a subtle but pronounced confidence that was so present in–
"Vampire…?"
"Very perceptive, Ms. Strauss." The redhead boss said, reclining on her hair.
The man named Orlando looked at Mirajane; gave her a look that started from her eyes, to her feet and back to her head. It should've been subtle but Mirajane's worked with cattier models from Earthland who hid it better.
"I understand that I've been called?" She chose to ignore this man. He also gave off the vibe of a lecherous man with questionable tastes.
"So you're the one who killed Camilla." The man stood and made an effort to come closer to her.
The demons within her surged, claiming that this was a slight to a being like her. She was the possessor of so many demons whose levels were higher than that of a bloodsucker, she must be respected–so they said.
Mirajane tuned them all out.
It would be stupid to believe that taking out one of the key players in underground New York would end with no follow-up. You'd leave a power vacuum that needed to be filled. Maybe this was the consequence of that woman's death?
"I apologize," Mirajane began, "It was never my intention to do such a thing." She will forever regret taking out a life. Always have, always will. Despite that woman being deplorable and her thralls almost being mindless, those were still a people with thoughts, feelings and emotions – skewered they may be. "I didn't know my power would be that… potent."
[Laws of Magic] worked differently here. In Earth Land, people (even those who never manifested their true magic) was said to be surrounded by some sheen of, what most scholars refer to as, [Blessings]. Whether it was given by some primordial god, the very will of Earth Land itself, or even every human being exerting their magic influence around the world, it was globally accepted that all beings had magic that shrouded them like armor.
It was why people like Natsu, Erza, Laxus and Grey were able to use their powers without holding back – magic was supposed to act as a natural buffer against threats. Anyone could survive a magic-powered punch if it's innately within one's being to regulate and excrete magic.
But since Magic was so vastly different here, Mirajane should've had the insight of control her power. Not to mention she even used Seilah's [Macro] to multiply the output of her spell. That was just plain overkill.
Ever since she'd arrived, Mirajane was realizing she was heaps stronger here than her home world. She had forgotten about her S-Class ranking because she had been so used to being around people like Laxus, Erza and Natsu.
But a demon trying to defile [Providence] or the [World's Consciousness] should at least be deterred by the present Magic. Seilah's [Macro] should not be that powerful. Anyone trying to project their personal consciousness into the [World] should be met with the [World] trying to deter that wish. It was like this world did not have a set of rules that governed the cosmos.
Like, in this world, anyone could commit any of the [Magical Taboos] like resurrection of the dead and not be penalized for as long as the caster magic and willpower is sufficient because the [World] doesn't regulate Magic.
Different reality, different [Laws of Magic], maybe. But Mirajane also suspected that Magic in this world was broken.
"Ms. Strauss? Are you listening?" Satana asked, meeting her eyes. "Is everything alright?"
"I… I'm sorry?"
"Orlando here wants to have a private word with you."
"Oh? Why for? If it's because–"
Satana raised a hand, "I don't think I want to know, sorry." She then stood up from her chair and left the room, giving Mirajane an indecipherable look.
Malfala made a beeline to her boss, "Boss, what was that about?"
The redhead shrugged, "I don't want to be part of it."
"But to leave Mirajane alone with…"
"My father told me to stay clear from them not because they're strong but because they're a… source of souls for his dimension."
"So they're really the–"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Satana cut in.
BGM: Horizon in the Middle of Nowhere: It's Time For Debate
watch?v=FdTi-MNUhAE
"Have a seat, Ms. Strauss." The blond man said, motioning on the chair right across his.
Mirajane tilted her head, brows furrowed. But with her demons assurance of her safety, she complied. She took a seat in front of him, her hands relaxed on her lap.
'The first thing to beating a vampire is out-classing him.' a demon within her said.
'Silence is, and will forever be, golden,' another chimed in.
'You are above him.'
No I am not.
'Yes you are. You are alive, not dictated by your baser desires, and is capable of free will. You are better than him. Let him be the first to speak.'
Doesn't make them any lesser of a being.
'Yes, but that doesn't mean that they can intimidate you. You're not below them either.' one said in finality.
A surge of power ran through her spine, 'Maintain eye contact. The battle's already started.'
Mirajane did what was advised and looked closely at the man. Said man in front of her exuded the same confidence, staring at her with a smug look on her face. But… but… it's faltering.
'Remember, with vampires, always out-class them. Outmaneuvering them just makes them nastier.' Seilah told her.
Silence.
Total silence.
It was deafening.
For a moment Mirajane wanted to speak but a lot of those same demons urged her not to. It was just a matter of time before one would break. And that won't be their king.
The surge of power given by one of her demons calmed her nerves, but at the same time very alert to everything around them. It was like she was the predator about to eat her helpless prey.
When Mirajane began to realize that the vampire's legs started to shift in nervousness, her demons told her that she's won.
"How unsightly." The vampire crossed his arms, voice haughty and hard.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Camilla got defeated by such filth."
That made her frown, but not because she was upset, well maybe a little because it hurt being called filth but she was mostly frowning because she felt bad for him. Keeping up with that false bravado is just embarrassing, if she was in his shoes.
"I'm sorry." Also, he was obviously mistaken because she did not kill that woman but she still apologized. She apologized for the damages and the thralls she had accidentally vanquished. She also apologized because she didn't want to fight him because fighting Mirajane was almost exactly like fighting a horde of demons. It's for his benefit.
"Then again, Camilla was one of the weaker ones in the council." He ignored her.
Mirajane was just about to ask why he was wasting her time with all of these mockery when her demons stopped her.
'The battle might've been won, but the war's not over yet!'
…huh?
'He's trying to intimidate you now by throwing a tantrum. That way, you'd drop your guard and start submitting to him. It's the tackiest trick in the book.'
'And not an ineffective one.'
Biting her inner cheek, Mirajane shrugged. "I can't say about her weakness but she was not without strengths either."
The man clicked his tongue but didn't say anything else.
'Obviously put out, I'm sure.'
More silence followed. But at this point, Mirajane likened herself as a tree that did not waver under the stress of tempest winds.
She has always believed in the counsel of her demons because they've rarely been wrong. But what is up with this vampire? Is this what Satana meany by 'private word'— being openly mocked? Did he want to tell her something? Why is this person trying to put her into a corner?
One demon told her that this was because giving in was just like giving him the advantage he needed. Because asking why he was here essentially implied that he was important. And once that's been asked, he'd most likely demand some sort of heavy compensation for Mirajane's actions.
In that case, she'd play the part of the ignorant, for as long as she could, because her biggest trump card was her innocence.
Now that she thought about it: was Mirajane guilty? Yes, for accidentally vanquishing all those vampire thralls. For killing that Elder Vampire, no. It wasn't her, it was that guy named Blade.
If he'd accuse her of vampire genocide, she'd plead guilty and accept punishment. Her conscience dictated it despite Bob and Ted telling her that killing all those thralls was a fate far better than a life of servitude to their progenitor. But if he'd accuse her of murdering that woman, then she'd tell him the truth and deny it. It was that simple. There was no need to being politicked in the middle of her shift. No need to be mocked openly like this. There was no need for him to be this immature. Period.
Mirajane steeled her resolve and stared ahead. Come at me.
The change in her aura made the man look at her in disdain. And it was very blatant.
That doesn't faze me. It can't compare to Irene, Zeref and Acnologia. Besides, she shouldn't be comparing him with the others because it's like comparing an ant to a raging volcano.
When he saw that Mirajane was unaffected, Mirajane felt a stronger aura emanating from him. Tough, hostile and wearying, Mirajane realized what it was: killing intent. Similar to a dark shroud covering this man, all of the people in the building felt it.
Outside, Satana hummed thoughtfully at the power, Malfala twitched from her position, Ted and Bob had the strong urge to run away, and most of the customers there wanted to flee in terror. It was that potent.
Mirajane… well, she was calm.
The demons inside her, however, were livid.
'Did this bloodsucker think they can get away with such childish displays of power?' They wailed. 'Let me face him, my king. Let me show him what power truly means!'
Mirajane didn't want to create a scene so she tried to quell their anger but that made a poor salve for their bruised egos.
The man raised a perfect brow, smiled a predatory grin and said, "Then show me. Show me the power that defeated one of my kind's strongest."
That riled her demons even more. Once again, they begged to be summoned for their king was slighted.
Mirajane was about to tell them off when he answered.
'Let me. I shall face this whelp.'
Mirajane couldn't ignore the request because this demon asked for it. This demon was one of the more… tolerant ones. He doesn't bother with fights and was more often than not very tame, arguing that he was a demon of superior taste. But while this demon boasted his refinement, he was easily one of the most prideful ones out there.
The platinum blonde sighed, "Very well."
Then, power came. Intense. Oceanic. Indomitable.
"So you think you have power?"
"…this is…"
Titanic. Livid. Insipid. Suffocating. If one were to describe it, it would be like crashing face-first into a raging tsunami.
A tear in reality opened above Mirajane but it was no bigger than her head. From the tear out he came.
Outside, all demons froze. This was… this was a very familiar power.
Bob and Ted dropped what they were doing, sensing that their king had used their power. Despite the gripping fear they felt earlier, the power now had Mirajane's fingerprint all over it. They would be useful to their king, one way or another. They have to be.
Outside, somewhere in New York, the Ancient One stopped her lecture in the Kamar Taj and looked over the direction of where the power came from. There was a time in human history where such beings existed.
"This is…"
Agatha Harkness stopped petting her cat and stood up. She's faced something like this before, from a time when Atlantis was the major power in the world.
"This is…"
Johnny Blaze was riding his bike, it was just after having defeated a summoned demon when he felt it. All the demons that he's faced… it's nothing compared to this. It was like all the foes he's faced were a joke because–
"This power is…"
Frigga was mobilizing her troops composed of a small battalion of her most trusted Valkyries, and their einherjar, headed by Brunhilde. It had taken days, but it's almost done. To go alone was suicide because demons are not without their brood. Heimdall was behind her, overseeing everything for this quest. He was about to explain something when he stopped.
"Heimdall, is everything okay?"
Malfala had the sudden desire to kneel before the door in front of her. There was a strong power that commanded her to kneel. It took all of her concentration and power to stop herself from giving into that order. Granted she belonged to the upper echelons of demonkind –she had the Phenex line in her blood, and the blood of the original 74 were said to be very potent which was why she was able to resist the compulsion to some degree– but the aura emitted by the people inside that room was just so suffocating. She looked at her side, and saw that other demons were doing the same but faring worse. Some were even already kneeling on the ground.
It was not a benevolent feeling too, it was… wrong, sharp and demonic. "For a demon to call it demonic…"
She caved, her will power was spent, and she knelt on the ground bowing with her forehead on the floor, "How ironic."
From the tear, a dove appeared. Its plumes were tainted grey with greenish tones on the edges. With a flap of its wings, a wave of magical energy washed over them.
"I must admit, do continue on with displaying that killing intent. It is always so amusing to see shows of power from those who possess so little of it." *1
Whatever killing intent that came from the vampire simply collapsed under the pressure from this bird.
"How pathetic." The voice was hoarse and deep, but much less imposing that earlier. The bird, who cannot possibly create words from a beak, mocked him, "Where is your strength now, vampire?"
"Hnng!" The vampire fell back into his seat and squealed in displeasure.
"Now," Another flap, another wave of magic, "tell me: why are you here?"
The door opened and Bob and Ted came in. They expected a full blown battle, especially when they heard from Satana Hellstorm that their king was speaking to a member of the Elder Vampire Council–an organization that stood the test of time.
They were shocked to find that inside, there was no on-going battle. In fact, Orlando the Merciless was cowering in fear. Their master…
"What is that?" Bob pointed at the bird, that couldn't simply be a bird, floating above Mirajane.
It was like being underwater. The sheer weight exerted by his king's power made everything sluggish. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, but since Bob and Ted weren't human anymore, it only slowed their journey to their king.
"Tell me," another flap, another wave of magic, "what is your purpose?"
The cowering vampire was shaking in fear, now curled up into a ball on the ground. "A message!" he exclaimed, "I bear a message from the Council!"
"And this message?" Mirajane spoke for the first time since summoning this bird. What this Council was, Mirajane didn't bother. She was more interested with what they wanted to say.
"That you are invited to become a member of the Council!"
"I am not a vampire." Mirajane said simply. The bird above her settled on her shoulder, roosting and at ease, now that the bloodsucker was no longer playing games.
"That doesn't matter to the Council. You defeated someone who holds a seat, so by rules of conquest, you should occupy that space that you've now left unoccupied."
The bird's that sounded like a trill and a gurgle, "You overestimate your existence, vampire."
Orlando reached into his pocket and showed her an old, bronze pocket watch. "They also said to give you this."
Mirajane tilted her head and stared at it. "Curious."
Bob and Ted were already behind her, standing behind like squires to a knight. Whatever power they felt similar to their king's power, and once that power recognized Bob and Ted, the heavy pressure was gone. There was no need to be worried anymore, but that doesn't mean they should leave her alone.
Mirajane stood up from her seat and walked over to the vampire. "Why this?"
Before he could answer, there was a pulling sensation that came from the ground followed by what felt like being sucked into a small, narrow tube.
Satana stared at an empty room. That last spell broke through every last ward of the restaurant.
Then everything outside got rowdy: normal people were inside the restaurant now. They were taking photos of her non-human employees and patrons. One even boldly asked if this was a restaurant for mutants, which did not sit well with a few of the non-humans there.
Before things could escalate further, Satana casted a wide-area spell that knocked most of the people unconscious. She then reestablished the cloaking and protective wards of the establishment before ordering one of her people to close up the shop, making sure to dump the unconscious people just outside their front door.
Forty minutes later, Satana returned to her office. The appearance of such a titanic demon didn't just weakened the wards, it destroyed it. In fact, every pulse of magic that demon released was like making a boulder run through a wet paper towel. And so by the time the trap laid by the vampire was activated, the wards in place that banned such things were no longer there to stop it.
Teleportation Magic was not an ordinary magic, but it was not too unique either. Mirajane has been subjected to it a couple of times, especially with Mest "Doranbolt" Gryder.
So while she reprimanded herself for getting caught unaware of such a now-obvious trap, she did not panic. Unlike Bob and Ted.
The three of them reappeared in the middle of a circular amphitheater with ceilings Mirajane could swear reached the sky. It was wide, illuminated by dimly lit torches and cold.
Mirajane, with reflexes honed by battle, landed with a roll on the ground. She then heard three thuds behind her.
Bob and Ted flopped on the ground while the vampire named Orlando was still in shock but had wiped away the shock that was there earlier.
Slowly, Mirajane studied the room. It was an indoor amphitheater, yes, but it had shiny opal-like floors, dark wood furnishings, emerald drapes and a small podium in the middle. It screamed flashy and gaudy, as if intimidating those unworthy to leave such an area.
The bird roosting on her shoulder didn't bother looking up, assuring her that her safety was guaranteed because of its presence. That did not mean Mirajane had to let her guard down: they were not alone.
Figures were seated all across the room.
"Took you long enough, Orlando." A tiny, shrill-y yet child-like voice taunted.
Mirajane counted: there were nine of them. Scattered too far apart from each other, save from the three old men who were seated together.
"Yeah, and what gives? Quit acting so pathetic!" Agreed another voice.
The vampire in question merely jumped away from Mirajane's brood and decided to take a seat in the area with the highest concentration of…
"Vampires." Bob said, standing up and dusting his pants.
"Not just any vampire," Ted agreed, already standing behind their king. "Elder Vampires."
"And don't you forget it!" The child-like voice exclaimed, a wave of killing intent enveloping the room.
"You really should learn how to respect your betters." One of them taunted, adding his killing intent into the mix.
Bob and Ted, Mirajane could tell, started to fidget. Then again, this amount of killing intent should've made any normal person unconscious by now.
The bird on her shoulder made a thoughtful sound. Before telepathically saying, 'They are unworthy.'
All of them?
The bird tilted its head, checked up on everyone, before roosting again. 'Except for that cloaked one seated by the edge, it's all child's play.'
Mirajane's eyes traveled to the person indicated by her demon. Yes. That one posed a serious threat. Almost on-par with one of Mirajane's stronger demons, with reserves almost as big as Lucy's. And if that person decided to join a scuffle with these vampires, Mirajane would have to get serious.
Considering how vampires liked to show off power, not unlike a demon, she found it odd that the cloaked person didn't really have that much presence in this… coven?
"We are the Council of Elder Vampires." One of them, the one seated dead on the center of the amphitheater, said. His voice was clear and crisp, properly modulated, and in the haughtiest manner ever. Mirajane actually thought he was using magic to amplify his voice. "And you stand before your betters, girl."
"What is it with vampires and shows of power?" Mirajane sighed, losing her cool. "You interrupt me during my shift, not tell me why you interrupted my work, waste my time by playing useless games, drag me into this place, and you have the audacity to call yourself better than me?"
The bird perched on her shoulder finally decided to fly. 'Show them hell.'
"Halphas, let's show them true power."
"So you're telling me that you now have prophetic dreams?" Megan Gwynn's roommate, Sofia Mantega, asked during lunch when Megan finally decided to spill. "Then again we're in a mutant academy, so that doesn't seem far off."
"It doesn't seem to fit with her aesthetic though." Her other friend, Laurie Collin, replied. "I mean, you seeing the future? That's kind of hard to believe."
And you know what, Megan agreed with that assessment. She was barely a competent mutant. Her powers were not exceptional–extraordinary yes but exceptional, she 'aint. Even with precognition as her mutant powers, she won't be exceptional. Sure it was rare, but it's not unheard of. And that is so off-brand for her.
Her powers were… childish. Her 'pixie dust' made others hallucinate that was more in line to an illusion rather than a drug. She was not as athletic as, say, Laura–
"Why'd you even compare yourself with that She-Terminator?" Sofia said, not out of spite but in disbelief because Laura was Wolverine's protégé and comparing yourself to her was just… no.
"My wings," she fluttered her iridescent butterfly wings, "at best can be used to glide. Not fly, at least not yet, they tell me. Which makes them just barely useful."
Sofia stirred her smoothie with her straw, "Well, at least you've got your assessment on dot."
"But that doesn't mean you're not without strong points, Meg." Laurie said supportively. "I mean you're athletic. You've got those gymnastic moves that you do during our Danger Room classes."
"Yeah, and that field awareness thing you do with your teammates whenever we do drills and stuff is just spot on."
"Thanks," Megan knew what they were trying to say, and felt appreciated by her friends, but like her friends said, precognition was just something so not-Megan.
"As far as I'm concerned, I don't think you've developed a second mutation." The blue-furred instructor told her when she went on their weekly check-ups. "But psychic and psionic powers are not my field of expertise."
Megan tilted her head, "Really?" Because basically Hank McCoy was telling her that the resident egghead was unable to explain what was happening to her. "Who could I approach then?"
"Well, it is possible, Ms. Gwynn and there are some precedence of psychic and psionic mutants developing precognitive abilities."
"…but?" Megan could feel it coming.
The bald man placed a hand over his chin, pensively, "But considering the nature of your powers…"
"It's impossible?"
"High unlikely," The headmaster corrected.
That still doesn't answer her question.
"Some answers take more effort to get, Ms. Gwynn."
"You–"
"I didn't read your mind, Ms. Gwynn."
"But–"
"Telepathy isn't the only way to read others, Ms. Gwynn." Charles Xavier told her cryptically. As always.
"I think what he did was cold read you," Laurie explained. She then went on to a tangent and explained what cold read was and that she knew about it because she's been binging this TV show about grifters and stuff.
For all of Laurie's shyness, once you've gotten her out of that shell, she's surprisingly but not unpleasantly a motor mouth.
Megan tuned out her friend when she began to gush over one of the cast members. Its night time and tomorrow was a Saturday so there were no classes tomorrow. Megan and Laurie were settling down from their busy day, which usually comprised of nights with Netflix and bags upon bags of junk food. Sofia, her real roommate, was missing in action. But who was she kidding? Sofia was probably having some time with that Jullian Keller guy.
When Megan held the remote in her hands, she felt it.
Air, or something in it, was abuzz. Excited. Her pointed ears felt acute. Sensitive to all sensations. Sound had taste, it smelled cold, and sight was bitter. It hurt too, all over – like fire was freezing over.
But then, her ears adjusted. Her body, twitching at first, got its composure back, and then she realized that she and her friend were not alone.
Kids were by the door, Laurie's head hovered at the corner of her eye, and she was staring at the red specs of Professor Scott Summers.
She then realized three things. That she had a crazy clay face mask. That she was thankfully in her pajamas. And that she didn't have any bra on. Oh, and she was on the ground.
Is that sweat? Am I sweating?
What the fu–
Two days later, Megan had a new nickname: Seizure Girl Megan.
Ted looked on as his king literally grew out scales from her skin. Tough-looking, shiny and in a cold, cobalt blue color, Ted can only stand in shock at the sheer weight of Mirajane's presence. It multiplied at least tenfold.
Her aura alone made all the killing intent directed at them to falter. Such was the presence of a demon in a sea of vampires.
"So," Mirajane said, [Satan Soul: Halpas] complete, "you were telling me something about this council?"
Mirajane made an effort to walk towards the podium but Ted was already behind her, mouth close to her ear. The girl looked ready to disagree but Ted insisted.
Bob, having an idea what they were talking about, decided to do his part. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an unoccupied seat nearby and made a quick dash for it.
A few seconds later, Mirajane sat in front of these people, with Bob and Ted standing protectively behind her. Like squires to a knight. No: a king and his knights.
'You are not a criminal, nor are you in a trial. Do not play into their games, my King, and act like the person who will not bend to their wills.' Bob whispered.
With Mirajane's transformation, the two men were able to get their wits straight and act as an extension to their king's greatness—Mirajane will never bend for some lowly creature.
Unfurling her wings that pointed upwards, Mirajane crossed her legs. She studied the group in front of her. Nine leader-type people of varying shapes, sizes, power levels and skin colors.
The first one to take note was the one near the entrance. Her cloak didn't say much about her appearance but she's to be the most noteworthy because of having so much power. It's like looking into a reservoir of magical energy. Consequently, this was the person whom her demons were most wary off. In fact, only a few demons within her could confidently say that they can stand toe-to-toe with her. Oddly enough, while being the most powerful of the bunch, this person appeared to be the most docile one among them.
The one with the shrill voice came from a girl whose age appeared similar to Wendy's. Almost as tall as Wendy too. Blonde hair tied into pigtails and in the frilliest and lacy-est clothes, she looked more like a maid or someone who liked to dressed like one. Her face which cruelly leered at her from afar earlier was replaced a dumbfounded look. She crossed her arms in defiance and seemed to be trying to emulate a kicked kitten who was trying to fight back.
An old lady, with greying hair tied in a neat bun, sat on the top end corner, three masked vampires standing behind her. Dressed in a very elaborate gown, she held an ornate feather fan and was using it to hide her face. Mirajane can see that her eyes darted between her and the exit, as if wanting to not be here.
There was a man who looked like he was in his thirties with olive skin and a scar running down from his forehead, to his eye-patched left eye and into his ear. He sat nervously, left leg shaking subtly. He wore a tux that complimented his curly hair but his brass knuckles don't go along with the entire aesthetic.
There was Orlando too, but he cowered behind the seated figures of three old men with varying degrees of baldness. And varying degrees of discomfort. One of them was actually shaking harder that the one with the brass knuckles.
And finally, to top it all off, there was what looked like the leader of the group – the same guy who, a few seconds ago, was telling Mirajane that they were her betters. But unlike his people, he was the person who looked the most composed. Light blond hair, strong features, a lean physique and the palest of complexion, he literally embodies the stereotypical qualities of a vampire from all those literature Matt has given to her.
"Join us," he said, smiling a charming smile. Ted once said that vampires, through time, would be able to hide their fangs. This guy hid it pretty well because showed a very perfect set of white teeth.
"Huh?"
"Having defeated one of our own, you are now entitled to occupy the seat that was supposed to have been hers."
"But I'm human." Mirajane repeated the second time around.
The leader, charming as ever, smiled, "That can be… rectified." Two fangs began to protrude from his teeth.
Mirajane didn't flinch. "No."
That shocked the man, "Excuse me?"
"I said no." Mirajane smiled, "I was not the one who vanquished that woman."
"What are you saying?" The child-like vampire asked.
"While it was true that I had a hand in attacking that woman's base, it wasn't me who gave the killing blow."
One of the three balding men looked at Orlando, "And you didn't verify this?"
Mirajane sighed, "He didn't." He was more focused on intimidating me, was what she wanted to say but didn't.
The leader exuded his killing intent and directed it to Orlando, "You!"
Mirajane felt bad for the vampire but at this point, he could only blame himself. "So, does that mean I get to leave now?"
That made the leader stop in his tracks, "You don't want to join us?"
"No."
The olive-skinned vampire stood up, "We have resources, and funds, and better security that those two," He pointed at Bob and Ted, "and your people over at New York can ever provide."
That did not sit well with Mirajane. Because that would mean that these were one of the people who have been observing her. And not just her, because the olive-skinned vampire basically confirmed that they have been observing not just Mirajane but also the people around her. From Matt, to Jessica and Luke, probably even all of the people she worked with.
"That's some aura," Ted whispered noticing that all of the vampires around were now visibly shaking. Even the leader.
Mirajane ignored him and stood up, "I've had enough of this." She turned to her two subordinates, "Bob, Ted, let's go."
"B-but," the leader stuttered, "You can't just leave!"
Mirajane directed her glare at her, rooting him in place, "I have been very lenient with you people. You come while I'm working, waste my time by intimidating me, drag me into this place, belittle me right from the start, and now you want me to become a part of your little group?"
Mirajane raised a hand and prepared a spell. "Tell me, why should I join the very same people who, earlier, were so desperately trying to intimidate me?"
The Ancient One was using all of the scrying tools available. "This is bad." To think that person was able to summon an Earl-class demon. If she was able to control him, that was well and good, but chances are this person could not.
And this demon, most records explicitly state, has been vanquished before. In fact, one of its legendary plumes said to contain enough magic power to destroy a city, was sealed inside the vaults of Kamar Taj.
Click!
The Ancient One exhaled, one of the scrying tools was able to locate the [Anomaly].
The powerful being went over to the tool to see its readings before stopping dead on her tracks.
Karl Mordo wondered why the Ancient One stopped, "Is everything alright, master?"
"She's with the Council of Vampires." All sorts of scenario came into her mind. The scariest thought to have ever come into her mind was the fact that demon might've sought an audience with them to recruit vampires into his brood, because that was not impossible. It's happened before. The Ancient One looked at Karl Mordo, "Quickly, we must mobilize our team!"
Mirajane just wanted to turn the tables and make these vampires leave her alone and yet now, she was an audience between two factions.
"Boy, you should know your betters." Two factions. Vampire against vampire.
How did it even come into this? One moment, Mirajane just wanted to shoot a magical beam that would hopefully scare the assembled group of vampires and the next, the mysterious cloaked figure started moving and stood in front of the assembled group.
"I think that's enough, Ms. Strauss. You've made yourself very clear." The cloaked figure spoke in a sure but airy tone.
Removing the hood of the cloak, Mirajane was staring at a woman with smooth chocolate skin. Her face was flawless, not unlike one of the people plastered in billboards, and she had the most intricate design Mirajane's ever seen on her face. It was drawn using black, white and red ink. To someone like Mirajane, that the design served not just as a signal of her cultural identity, it also contained power. Together, with her shocking white hair and deep blue eyes, Mirajane can confidently say that this woman was considered a [Beauty].
"In behalf of vampirekind, I deeply and sincerely apologize with what you've been through." These were the smooth words that came out from her luscious lips. It was dignified, respectful and the most sincere thing she's heard all day.
"I understand that I should not think that all vampires are the same through the actions of a very select few," Mirajane said, equally mindful of her words, "and I will do no such thing, but it worries me that your kind is represented by such…" Mirajane thought of a better word, until one of her demons urged her to be frank, "deplorable people. If it wasn't me, I can only imagine the scandal they could've created."
"Hey!" The child-like vampire yelled. "Who do you think you are?"
That made the woman in front of Mirajane to frown. Slowly, she turned to the child-like vampire and said, "The adults are talking. Know your place."
"Ooh…" The child-like vampire hummed cutely, "What makes you say that I'm not an adult? I'm the third oldest person here! I'm older than you!"
"Just shut up, Elizabeth," Orlando yelled, still cowering, but this time behind their leader.
"I'm older than you too, you brat! How old are you? Around 200, right? I'm 200 years older than you!" She yelled proudly.
"Age is not a measure of wisdom, nor is it a measure of maturity." The chocolate-skinned woman spoke.
"Wisdom and maturity!" Elizabeth scoffed. "In all the years I've lived, those are the things small-minded people tend to spout when I've placed them into a corner and eliminated their seniority card. I'm older than you and that's that."
The woman sighed, "If age is really that important than you," she removed her cloak and revealed a tight body dressed in earth-tone cloths and animal pelts. "I'm essentially the oldest person here, right now."
Elizabeth crossed her arms. "That's impossible, no one is older than our Lord Alexander Vossen," she pointed at the leader of the council. "He's 600 years old!"
That earned a soft laugh from the woman. "600 years old?! How amusing."
She replaced her smile with that of a predatory grin. Mirajane had equipped Halphas so there's no need to be worried, but when this woman started to pulsate power, Mirajane would exhaust all of her power just to take this woman down.
"I'm more than twenty times that age!" And then she summoned a portal.
"Master," Karl Mordo began after rounding up the few handful of strong individuals who would storm the vampire's stronghold. "I have met one of the members of this Vampire Council, the one who controlled New York, but there was nothing that remarkable about her." There is nothing for you to be worried about. Was what he wanted to say but couldn't articulate properly due to the fear of upsetting her.
"Are they someone we should be wary of?" Stephen Strange asked, trailing behind the two.
The Ancient One looked thoughtful, "It's not the current members of the Vampire Council I'm worried about." She stopped and turned to the two, "It's who's in their stronghold that I'm more worried about."
"Huh?" Karl Mordo wanted to smack the newbie. "Who's there?"
"The forgotten daughter of a previous Sorceress Supreme."
"Ayesha," The first person who stepped out from the portal greeted. "What's the summons for?"
"God, she's beautiful." Mirajane heard Bob whisper. The woman that appeared from the portal was indeed beautiful. More beautiful than Ayesha, the woman who summoned the portal. Silky black hair that reached her waist; smooth, honey-colored skin; the pinkest of lips; the most alluring eyes; and, with a figure that rivaled Jenny Realight; Mirajane understood Bob's little slip. Not to mention she was dressed quite… exotically. Mirajane's not going to elaborate further.
"I've made contact with the [Anomaly]." Ayesha looked apologetic, "I'm sorry, Ynna."
"The [Anomaly]?" The girl called Ynna looked at Mirajane, "You look… much nicer that I'd expected." She studied her for a second before three more portals appeared before them.
"Oh," a masculine voice came out from the portal. "It's been so long since I've been summoned here." A man stepped out from the portal followed by four other people. Said four other people stood behind the man not unlike how Bob and Ted were to Mirajane. "What's the issue now?"
Ynna turned a heel and turned to the man, "Dongfang Long, Ayesha's unfortunately made contact with the [Anomaly]."
Mirajane studied the man. He was dressed in clothes not unlike the clothes worn by that actor… Bruce Lee in his movies. Mirajane remembered how Danny used Bruce Lee's movies to ease their group into explaining what the Iron Fist was to her, and to his comrades at [Heroes for Hire]. While not taller than Mirajane, this man had the bushiest of brows, the strongest of jawlines, and fiercest of gazes. He also exuded a very strong aura, stronger than both Ayesha and Ynna combined.
"Hmm, the [Anomaly]?" He turned to Mirajane, started at her eyes for a moment before saying, "Let's fight each other sometime, okay?"
"A fight?" From another portal, two young kids appeared. "We wanna see that!" They couldn't be older than five, but Mirajane could feel their power. Vampires tended to become stronger with age. This was why no one had questioned the validity of Ayesha's claim because of her raw power. They appeared to be twins, a male and a female. They had pale skin, blonde hair and the blood ruby eyes.
"Ella, Hary, behave." Ynna reprimanded them.
"We're sorry." The two kids looked apologetic.
The final person to arrive was… Mirajane tried to look at him but can't seem to figure it out. It was definitely human, but Mirajane couldn't look at his face without forgetting his features. He wore clothes, but Mirajane could swear the clothes he wore changed every few seconds.
Despite this… well, this final person, if Mirajane decided to fight, could only be fought by her strongest demon. The [Demon Conglomerate], her strongest demon that can only be maintained for only a few seconds.
Even Sitri said that fighting this vampire would be hard for him. Impossible, Mirajane thought but Sitri's just too prideful to admit that.
"This is an esteemed hall for Elder Vampires!" One of the older, balding men exclaimed, breaking the conversation between the new arrivals. "Get out of here! You are not welcome!"
"Elder Vampires, you say?" Ynna choked, like someone told her the funniest joke.
"Since when was this place for Elder Vampires?" the beautiful woman was still beautiful, but her serene beauty turned scary.
"Ayesha of Balobedu, according to the records, had only one child. But that's only because her tribesmen only really cared about who will continue their bloodline."
"So does that mean that Ayesha didn't just have one child?"
"They were close, mother and daughters, and sister to sister," The Ancient One said. "At least that's what my master told me once."
"So then what happened?"
"The [Election] for the next Sorcerer Supreme happened."
"As you can see, Ms. Strauss, our Council seems to be having some… internal strife." Ayesha told the platinum blonde.
On another side of the room, Ynna was only exerting her force in the room, but all the other Elder Vampires were already close to catatonic. "So, again, back on the topic of your betters? What was that about you being superior to us?"
"In behalf of this Council," Ayesha said, snapping a finger. "I apologize for the inconvenience and you are now free to go." A portal opened in front of Mirajane. "Use this portal to get back home. I mean, you are an employee of Satan's daughter, am I correct?"
Satan's daughter? Well, it was a dead giveaway but Mirajane believed that Satana was named ironically be her parents. Apparently, Mirajane was wrong.
Mirajane nodded politely and was supposed to enter but Bob and Ted stopped her, "My King, wait."
Bob ran passed her and said, "Let me check it first." He then passed into the portal. A second later he appeared from the portal. "It's safe; the portal leads to New York."
Satana Hellstorm was surprised to find Mirajane back into her office. A full hour hasn't passed yet but she's back.
"I'm back, boss."
"Oh yeah?"
Mirajane nodded, "How long was I out?"
"A little under an hour." Malfala said, appearing behind the platinum blonde, "It got kind of crazy when you left."
"What happened?"
"Um," Malfala tried to look for the words, "You kind of destroyed the wards placed on this area."
Mirajane frowned, "I did? I'm so sorry for that. To you too boss, I didn't realize I could do such a thing."
Satana merely waved a hand dismissively, "It's been taken care of, Ms. Strauss, just get back to your shift."
The boy was running.
It was a day after that episode. He doesn't know how that (those?) happened but it did. Whenever he was stressed, either by distress or eustress, something happened. Windows cracked, light bulbs short-circuited, and anything within his vicinity moved.
It was especially prevalent during times when people he cared for got upset or in the process of getting hurt. It was sort of like Harry Potter whenever he was stressed.
Googling these things led him to a page over at Xavier Institute. With mutant written in bold letters. But he wasn't a mutant. His mom and dad were doctors, they'd know about it through science alone. He tried to ask about this offhandedly to his parents but they simply told him that only Uncle Tom who was good with a gun during hunting season was the most unexplainable thing they have in their family.
To put it simply, Billy Kaplan was anything but extraordinary. And he liked it that way.
He came from a comfortable family, but an ordinary family nonetheless. He dabbled in ordinary hobbies and was somewhat considered a nerd by his peers. He liked ordinary things and did ordinary things. In fact, the only thing different from him was his sexuality. But his parents and most of his peers (especially his close friends) have come to terms with it.
To say that Billy Kaplan was basic was an understatement, but considering everything that's happened with the world, basic is good.
The Chitauri invasion years ago was crazy, Thor and Hulk appearing in New York on an almost regular basis is even crazier. Billy Kaplan being a mutant, that's the craziest of them all–almost to the point of lunacy.
Then again, humanity's view of mutantkind was definitely better than before. In fact a known mutant represented the Avengers, and she brought positive influence for mutantkind. The Scarlet Witch was a mutant whose powers were akin to magic, but she's a mutant nonetheless. And Billy Kaplan liked her just like how Little Monsters were to their Lady Gaga. You could summarize it as Billy Kaplan's belief that mutants were also people.
But suspecting that he himself was a mutant was an entirely different matter. He was normal, ordinary, basic damnit and he liked himself that way. All of the things happening around him, that only happened to shonen protagonists and he's already failing at that key point of being a protagonist and that's not by being gay: he lived in the real world. Granted the real world had monsters and metahumans but Billy's always thought of himself as an almost inconsequential character that was, at best, a high school, slice-of-life minor character.
He wasn't built for all that train up and 'power up' tropes. He was normal.
And yet… John Kesler still hasn't woken up from his coma. There were people sympathetic to Billy's plight but he couldn't handle the stares. They were his peers, and he was generally liked, if not insignificant, to the school population. So on the second day, where everyone looked at him like he was… different made him flashback to the time when he was outed by John Kesler.
He remembered the stares, the feeling, the shame of not having control over your own life.
So he did he natural thing his mind thought of: he ran.
Unless the world was conspiring to make Billy a protagonist of a seinen series, or a deconstruction type of story then he's out of explanations. 'Dear God, please don't let me be a seinen protagonist!' They're the worst in his opinion: all in the name of nuance, seinen protagonist are often the worst people with barely endearing traits.
Maybe it's because seinen wasn't his demographic yet, but that thought made being a mutant even worse. If he were reading a manga about his own life, he sure as hell would hate it.
'Where am I getting at anyway?' Billy Kaplan stopped running, out of breath, 'Where am I anyway?'
He was standing in front of the most peculiar restaurant.
END CHAPTER
Notes: *1 = verbatim from my favorite fanfic in this site: The Crimson Lord's "A Demon Among Devils". The quote is located at the end of chapter 15. Check it out, it's arguable the best highschool dxd fanfic out there.