A/N: Wow, guys, I somehow roped in the first reviews for this story in nearly 8 years. Glad to see some of you folks enjoy this, lol.


SPILLING THE ACID (II)


M ̤̰̞ͩ̿ͯ̀ ̦ ͔̭͔͍ I ͯ ̃ ̧̹̞͂̓ N ̈ ̵̠̪͚̻̭͕ͯ ̦ E ̵̲̙̠͙͖̿͆ͭ͋ ̣.

Justin reeled the girl back before her punch could bisect his face. The saw chain retracted from her fist, disappearing beneath her skin and rippling elsewhere.

"A whore?" the girl (sow?) shouted, jostling around in the tight embrace of his pillory. "Do I go around calling you an insane lunatic? Words hurt, Justin!"

…Had he called her a whore? He…he couldn't remember. The crimson filter was slowly lifting from his vision, and the aftereffects of his actions were settling in. Her angry voice faded into the background as Justin tried to process the torrential whirlwind of events that just transpired. He couldn't think straight. There was a pounding, splitting headache ripping through his mind—far worse than anything he'd experienced in previous fusions with the Clown.

His unyielding faith had always been the anchor which grounded him in the roaring chasm of madness. Religion prevented him from being swept away in the whirlwind. By grasping tightly onto his beliefs, he could allow the madness to rush through soul, amplifying his fervor to the Lord in exchange for the clarity and power of Kishin-sama's blessed wavelength. It was how he maintained control for so long, how he was able to continue operating for DWMA with its staff none the wiser.

But not this time. Justin was unmoored. Ungrounded. Uprooted. The control was slipping through his fingers and his ever-loyal companion was growing unruly, feasting on these unstable emotions that kept rushing in and elongating them in every which direction.

Emotions that had to do with the girl.

He wanted to murder the girl (pig-whore) in front of him. Yes, that he knew for certain. The exact intentions were hazy (she was a T̹̻͋̅̈̀H̢͓̥̣̘͓͔̥͒̈ͮ̂R̴̮̯̽Ḛ̶̘̗ͩͬÀ͓͓̲̮͎̣ͪͯͩ̀Ṱ͙̬ͧ́), yet the emotions spurring them were vividly potent—anger, humiliation, spite, resentment—emotions he wouldn't deign to demonstrate to anyone. Even more new emotions were surfacing, and he struggled to label them as they emerged. What was this foreign feeling churning around in his heart?

He tried to recount everything that took place in the past hour or so. So much had happened so quickly. The (sow) had challenged (H̴̖̹͎̬̳̩̖́̾U̡͉̰̗̣̟̲͍̖̔̀ͬM̢͎̪̠͇̊I̖͚̣ͤ̐̔͜Ĺ͇̥̰̘̩̲͇̟̈́͞Ȋ̛̘̯͔̖͍A̸̭̩̗̹ͧ̊T̨͙͕̥̻͖̖̘͋Ḙ̵͈̯ͥͧͥ̎D̛̮̣͗̈́ͮ) him and Giriko insulted his transformation… There were flashes of the (pig-whore) writhing deliciously beneath him, her contempt towards his faith, and the fleeting clarity of her wavelength—but all that was eclipsed by the seething, boiling rage that coiled deep in the bowels of his soul from witnessing GIRIKO TOUCHING HERTOUCHING WHAT WAS HIS.

Justin sucked in a breath full of air.

JEANNE.

Giriko had touched Jeanne.

Nobody touched Jeanne like that—not even himself.

(He only looked, that's all. At most, he would allow his gaze to guiltily linger on her skin and trace over her features. But he'd never touched her. Never.

He refrained from touching even when he was younger, when the desire to touch was so much stronger since he hadn't yet been inured to the temptations of females.

He wasn't like the other boys.

He had duties.

He had a higher calling.)

Sexuality had never been part of their relationship. They sparred and prayed and protected each other and argued and lived together. She fawned over him, he listened to her talk, she tagged after him, and he dared demonstrate vulnerability in front of her. It was a continuously shifting dynamic fraught with struggle, Ȓ̆͏̭̯̤̺̺̟E̍̂̽͏̺̳͙Š̗̭̭̘̟̜͝Eͫ̋ͮ͏̰͚Ņ̯̳̣̩̘̤̭ͯͮT̢͙͔͇ͬͥͣͤͅM̠͉̏̏ͫ͢E̢̖̹͕̘̬͉̪͑ͬN̸̻̮̰̫̩͔̩̻̓T̡̹͙͚̓̓ͧͣ, acceptance, and connection—and Jeanne was pretty, of course she was pretty, pretty, pretty—but not like that

Justin gasped. He was choking on emotion. The cancerous ball of destructive emotions that kept ricocheting between the pig-wh—Jeanne (that was her name, yes) and Giriko were now occupying the same vessel. He needed to separate them.

"Remove Giriko from your body," he ordered, squeezing her fleshy form into compliance. "Undo your Soul Stigmata, Jeanne."

(The girl named Jeanne would obey, and HE WAS GOING TO SMASH THE CHAINSAW INTO A BLOODY PULP

…and then he'd figure out what to do with her.)

But Jeanne only glared at him and shook her head. "So you can try to kill him again? Not a chance, Justin!"

"Why are you protecting Giriko?" Justin snarled, her defiance stinging more than it should have.

"Because he protected me from you!" she fired back with a metallic gleam streaking her hair.

But why were they protecting each other?

None of this made any sense. This wasn't who they were. Jeanne's and Giriko's actions contradicted everything he understood about their characters and there was a moment where Justin briefly entertained the possibility that the hallucinations were taking ahold of his mind again.

Giriko was a hedonistic degenerate who went through women like liquor bottles and wouldn't stick his cowardly neck out for anyone, not even that wretched spider witch master of his. He was lazy, incompetent, and vulgar with his only redeeming quality being their shared genetic quirk signifying a distant common lineage. Justin couldn't fathom why the chainsaw kept going out of his way to protect Jeanne—until he dropped the revelation that they'd s-slept together. (Did he force her?) The godforsaken heretic was so proud, gloating about his sexual conquest like a blustering buffoon and acting as if he owned her (he didn't) before he was inevitably taken down several pegs—just like how all their prior encounters ended. It was still baffling the lengths Giriko went to risk his neck for her, but at least his gloating shed some light on his actions.

But Jeanne…for Jeanne to reciprocate—for the virtuous, God-fearing Jeanne to actively protect the heretic with her Soul Stigmata was unthinkable. Jeanne, as P̶̯̠̬ͯͫ͛A̷̗̘͆̈́T̯͇̝̹̟͋́H̵̺̳̗̑̔̚Ḙ̖ͫͪ͘T̵͉̳͖̮̮̖͊I͕̜̭̮̰̙͈̿̈́͡C̵̭̻̜̗ͫ, Ẅ̶̻͉́̽Ȩ̞̠̹̥̠̿͛̚A̷̮̤̖͒͑Ḳ̵͕̖͙̻ͫ̑́̐ and insufferably antagonistic as she was—Jeanne was also warm caring lovely utterly dedicated to him. She chased after him, calling his name, seeking him out year after year. Jeanne used to be his meister.

This betrayal felt wrong. Jeanne was loyal to him. Giriko was on his side.

Now they were both working together against him. PROTECTING EACH OTHER FROM HIM.

WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

There were flashes of metal in his peripheral vision and Justin glanced away. Too much.

Ĩ͎̙̟̥̳̠̣͗̕ͅḞ͓͍̪͍̳̅ͭ̕ ̯̗̬̮̮̟͒̈͜Ḧ̛̦̫ͧͥ̐E͇̩̰ͣ͡ͅ ̵̰͙̩̳̼͒̄ͤͥK̘͈̩̞̙̭ͦ̓̋́Ḭ̵̞̖͓̙̹͈̊L͈̟͈̯̝̈ͮ̚͟L̴̼̳̗̬̫͇̭͋͐̄̈Ę̞̲͎͛D̡͓̤̫̣͍̲̭̬ͥ͛ ̴̖̺̰̩͙̻̽T̸͖͈̼̯̖͒̆ͫ͊H̠̞͖̫̙̞̜̬̑̊̕E̜̜̞̗̘̩͈͂͡M̞̤̳̗̼̅̎̍͝ ̞͔̅̀Ḭ̟̣̘̳̺̯̓̉̓͞T̥̯̾̽̔͋͢ ͬ̂͏̬͕̥W̟̲͎̖̣͙͌ͣ̾̕O̸͍̞͚̩͍͋̆̈̂Ṵ̶͓̫̝̥̥̚L̨̯̝̹̤̗̄̃ͩD̵̠̥̬̠̤̞͆̿͑ͩ ̸̺̜͔͉ͤŚ̻͎̜̞̙̖̄ͭ͘T̡̥͔̗̘̣̮͕͎̉O̢̹̊̒̋ͅP̼͇̹̭̠̞̍ͪ̂̚͜ ̨̹͉͉̯͚̜̦̑̌Ḩ̫͈͐̎ͯU͓͇͎̇ͨͪ͗͜R͈̹̮͚̭̦͙̔͛͠Ṯ̫̥͙̠͙̻͇̏͘İ͚͔̻ͪ͝Ņ̫̭̩̝͙̱̿̋̈́͛Ģ͉͇͍͑.̹̣̒ͬ̾̾͋͘ ̈ ̵͔ ̳ ̭͉

T-that's right. Kishin-sama granted him the freedom to kill whoever was sinning. These two piggies were sinning, yes?

After all…going against him was a sin, was it not?

Was it not?

(Was it?)

W͙̗͍̮͓̱͋ͯ̎͟H͇̣͙̞ͣͧ͡A̵̝͙̦̣̣̼͔ͦ̃ͬŢ͚͈̘͉̩̬̯͇̃ͩ ͍͚͔̞͓͔̍̎ͪ̇́I̸͇̹̦̰ͨS̺͕̖̲̫̽ͦ̀͞ ̳̝̯̝̞̯͋̀ͬ̾͝S̫͔̼̭͍̐̔͆́I͍͉̹̲̙̲͂̄͜Ń̶̮̜̘̳̤ͯ̽?̥̘̲̫̮̥̟̝̭̼ͬ̓͒̀̕

Inhaling once more, Justin attempted to recenter himself. The Clown may have been a gracious guide for leading him on the right path, yet it had no conception of sin. He needed to rein in his companion of madness before it started casting blind judgment on all, but the haze of emotions clouding his mind made it difficult find a foothold in the whirlwind.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught the frantic movement of Jeanne's (luscious) lips.

"S-Sou—s-stop it—that hurts!"

Justin looked up in time to see a haphazard glint of saw chain dance across Jeanne's shoulder and then zigzag beneath her skin once more, making her wince. His throat grew dry. The chains weren't stabilizing properly in her body. Giriko would kill her, would splatter her guts against the trees—

"Jeanne—" A pendulum blade extended towards her face which twisted suddenly in startled panic.

"Don't touch me!" she yelped, recoiling from his act of concern. As if summoned by her cries, dozens of saw teeth abruptly scissored through her skin and blocked his hand from contacting her cheek.

No. Justin shrunk back, her rejection like a cold slap.

"…You would choose Giriko over me?" he croaked in disbelief, scarcely processing the words slipping from his mouth. "Giriko violated you and yet you would continue to protect him?"

She said she wouldn't give up on him—

so why was she looking at him with such negativity in her eyes?

Her brows furrowed with confusion, her gaze scattered. "What are you talking about? You've hurt me as well!"

"I never touched you like that—" he hissed before breaking off and seething in a voice not his own, "Y̻̠̻̪̙͉̅͛ͥͫ͢Ō͔̮ͩ͘U̅̃ͩͧ͏͇̤̥̺̻ ̢̰͓̈A̵̦̳̻̗̱̒̌̈̈S̱͙̲͇͙͉̼̅̎ͫ͠ͅK̵̰̞̥̭̞̼ͤ̿E̶̝̣̐ͭ̋ͤD̞͇̥̦̤̳̘ͯ͒́́ ̢̣̻̙͋͒̊̓ͅF̱̥̣͕͍̳̥̌̀O̜̙̬̙̰̟ͮͣͭ̊͠R̶̩̞͈̪̪̜̃̔ͅ ̫͇̓͒͛ͫ͠I̙̣͍̯̒̚̕Ṫ͌̎̿҉̼̹̻͙̗͖.̛̞̹̺͎̻̼̫͖̾".

Jeanne's pretty, pretty expression crinkled in hurt, but this time Justin didn't care. He finally identified the foreign emotion in his heart.

This was jealousy.

Disgusting. It was disgusting he felt this way. Jealousy wasn't a word in his lexicon, wasn't an emotion he ever indulged in. Jealousy, no, envy was a sin.

Justin Law did not engage in sin.

Things were becoming clearer now. This was the root of all of all his problems. This sin of envy was crippling his ability to make judgments and he needed to rid himself of it. The Clown was whispering to slaughter the filthy pig-whore for betraying him and Justin found himself faltering under its logic as a fresh wave of energy reinvigorated his flagging resolve. …That's right. Jeanne meant nothing to him. What had he even been doing, reducing himself to competing with a lecherous man-child over some weak woman? He was above all of this nonsense. He'd been above all this since his DWMA days; after all, Giriko was hardly the first male to salivate over her.

His barriers came up again, the broken pieces reassembling itself around the raw pain of her rejection and her hurled her to the side. Jeanne let out a cry when her body hit the ground, now free from his pillory. She staggered to her feet with wobbly legs, jerky instructions tumbling from her mouth as she tried to pacify her new partner.

"Sou—p-please, listen to me—y-you have to resist the pull to r-reconstruct—"

It seemed that her panicked instructions fell on deaf ears, because saw chains continued to appear and disappear from erratic areas on her body with little heed for her safety. Jagged metal reflected off the moonlight as a saw chain ribboned from her abdomen to curl around her collarbone, ripple through her neck, and laced straight over her eyeball.

Jeanne buckled over in dry heaves.

A wry smirk curled on Justin's bloody lips as he loomed over his treacherous meister. He wouldn't be the one to end her. No, she would be executed by her own God-given ability, disemboweled by the heathen she foolishly sought to protect. It would truly be a karmic death. A shame Giriko would most likely survive the ordeal, but that was of little consequence. The heretic could be dealt with later.

"Look at you, Jeanne. You've always been too weak to accomplish anything on your own, so you compensated for it by allowing others to use you." He released a low, throaty chuckle. "Now you'll reap what you sow."

His only response was a tiny whimper.

A hollow beat. The smirk faded off Justin's face and with it, any smattering of satisfaction he may have had. For whatever reason, he couldn't muster up the enthusiasm to indulge in her terror this time around. The fear in her eyes—was this how she felt with him too? He had cut her up too, hadn't he? Carving his weapon form into her flesh.

…No matter.

This battle was over. Relaxing his mind, Justin began to deactivate the Madness Fusion—only to find himself hesitating. He was hurting, and the Clown's murmurs numbed the sharp pain gnawing at his insides. This shadow of a companion was cold comfort, but now was one of the rare times in his short life that the desire to be with someone else outweighed his desire to be alone.

Firing out his chain arms like a grappling hook, Justin swung away, leaving his ex-partner to her gruesome fate.

Oh God.

Oh God.

She was going to die. She was going to die. She was seconds away from lying in a pool of her own entrails.

She shouldn't have done this. Sou didn't know the workings of maintaining a transformation inside of her and was far too agitated from his near-death experience to listen to her instructions. Her body was rippling uncontrollably as he tried to navigate the boundaries of his new dwellings. The image of her internal organs being eviscerated flitted across her mind and her knees gave out.

Jeanne heard a static voice in her head.

'…glad the nubjob's gone now.'

Oh thank Lord, Sou was back online again. The telepathic link that connected them was cutting in and out and she began babbling while he was still on the comms.

"Sou, you need to focus and listen to me. Don't reconstruct. You're trying to revert to a full weapon transformation. Imagine yourself in a permanently deconstructed state—"

'…I gotta say, it's fuckin' weird bein' in a chick's body again…I ain't had to deal with these fatbags in ages…'

To her absolute horror, her hands reached to grope her chest, and she yanked them down with gusto. "Are you listening?!"

'C'mon, lemme cop a feel," was the far too causal drawl. "It ain't as creepy as you think—I was a woman a long time ago, y'know!'

"Sou. FOCUS."

Sou's dismissive scoff sent her heart rate spiking. She could feel her muscles contort against her will, and for a moment, there was a raw fear that a chainsaw would fatally rupture from her stomach or heart—

—and then, nothing.

'Oi, what the hell are ya freakin' out about?' Sou piped up, wholly oblivious to the gravity of the situation. 'Don't get'cha panties in a bunch. I was just explorin'."

"E-Exploring?" she squeaked.

'Your ability's weird. It's like I'm floatin'. Can't say I ever got a chance to experience it firsthand.'

A saw chain snaked curiously over her waist and started vrooming around, causing her to yelp again.

'What's your deal?' he asked, annoyed. 'Your psycho boyfriend's gone now.'

What was her deal?! There was a chainsaw in her body, the absolute nightmare fuel of a concept that was. It was as if someone sewed metal links beneath her skin and dragged it along a haphazard path with some fishing wire. Then suddenly, without any warning at all, a row of chainsaw teeth burst cleanly from the scars on her forearm.

"What are you doing?!" she gasped.

'I get'cha. The holy lunatic cut up your body real bad an' you're still triggered from it, huh? Christ, girl, I ain't gonna hurt ya. Lemme show ya what I can do.'

To punctuate his point, the chain withdrew. All at once, saw chains burst and receded from different limbs one after the other at blinding speed—a rotating belt of chain armor ran diagonally across her cleavage in an X—two loops of chain coiled around her body like tank treads—and she swore she heard the tiny squeal of a motor around her ears as her hair suddenly felt heavy. When Sou finished his demonstration, the chains instantly vanished from her body, leaving nary a trace of his weapon parts on her skin. Jeanne quickly patted herself down. Not a single cut. Mon Dieu.

"That…That's amazing…" she breathed.

Sou snorted, pride thick in his drawl. 'That's the difference between a brat an' a real man.'

Yeah…no kidding. Justin's transformations had always impressed her, especially given his young age—but Sou's abilities were in a completely different caliber. It was clean, seamless, and utterly versatile in the same vein that Justin's were stiff and uninspired. Exchanging blows with her partner confirmed her suspicions that he never learned how to transform anything more than his arms, choosing instead to rely on his astonishing wavelength to secure a victory.

"I can't believe it…" A chain peeked through her upturned palms, vibrating gleefully at her praise. "Sou…is this really your first time? How do you know how to…?"

'You think I dunno know how your dumbass ability works?' There was a hint of bitterness as the chains submerged again. 'Keh…those crusadin' bastards with your stigmata crap was all over the Hussite Wars…'

The Hussite Wars? Was he talking about the crusades in Bohemia nearly 600 years ago? That's right… Sou had lived through that, hadn't he? For all his immaturity and impulsivity, it was easy to forget that Sou was old. No wonder his transformation was so polished; the man had eight centuries of being autonomous under his belt. It was divine intervention. Under the circumstances, any other demon weapon would've mangled her—except for the one weapon with both the capability and experience not to.

Jeanne breathed as relief flooded through her senses. It turned out Sou knew what he was doing, after all. The adrenaline was receding now that she was no longer in mortal danger from Justin or Sou and the grim reality of what just occurred washed over her. Justin left her to die. Every time she thought she could understand and accept Justin, whole new sides, planes, and dimensions of him sprung up and blindsided her. His words always cut deeper than his blades and all of it hurt so much.

She took a breath.

no. Best not to take anything Justin said too personally; it was the madness speaking. That's all it was—that's what all of this was. Madness caused by that clown.

Closing her eyes, she muttered a quick prayer. The Lord was with her, and her resolve wouldn't falter now.

Sou watched silently. '…I gotta hand it to ya: that's a real ballsy move you pulled back there. Thought I was gonna kick the bucket for sure.'

Jeanne peeled open an eye. Honestly, if Sou died, she'd probably be dead too. Although, there was still the unaddressed matter of—

"You didn't have to grab me, you know…" she mumbled hotly. It was his fault Justin called her a pig-whore.

'Hey, the bastard wasn't takin' me seriously. 'sides, it ain't the first time I fondled those knockers,' he remarked, causing a blush to cross her cheeks.

So it was exactly as she thought—groping her breasts was simply a taunt. She'd be positively furious for being reduced to some sort of prize, if it weren't for the shock of watching Justin devolve into a violent rampage at such a juvenile provocation. It wasn't a side of him she'd ever seen before. Could Justin have been jealous?

That was ridiculous. She'd flat-out told him that she lost her virginity studying abroad and his response at the time had been little more than mildly raised eyebrows. Justin's berserk frenzy was just another manifestation of the madness, that's all.

'So fess up. Why didja tell the lunatic you ain't givin' up on 'im or somethin'?' Sou sounded unimpressed. 'What ever happened to attendin' uni and gettin' shitfaced?'

Ah, Sou still remembered that conversation? It was his ham-fisted attempt at a motivational speech urging her to move on with her life.

She exhaled. "…I can't let go of Justin while he's in this state."

'Tch, figures. So what's the plan then?'

Her gaze trailed down at her hands. "I think I can free him from the influence of madness."

'…hold up. Is that what you were tryin' to pull with the sparkly lightshow back there?!" A loud guffaw.

Jeanne felt her skin prickle as Sou yucked it up with a causal disregard of her efforts. What Sou glibly referred to as a 'sparkly lightshow' was the product of countless hours of practice. It was the absolute extent of her wavelength, concentrated and transmitted like a lightning bolt from Miss Marie's teachings.

"It's a lot stronger than it used to be…" she muttered.

'Sure it is! Great, great—this'll be perfect! Listen, I'm lookin' for a rematch with Father Noise, so why don'cha gimme control of your body? Once I'm done wipin' the floor with Justin, you can exorcise the clown outta his knocked-out ass with your little prayers. It's a win-win situation, yeah?'

Jeanne blinked as she rewound his proposition back in her mind, filtering out all the verbal and non-verbal insults to focus on the most pivotal aspect of his words. "Wait, are you saying you want to fight Justin again? After I just saved your life?!"

'Oi, don't give me that! I already saved your ass like four goddamn times but who's countin', right?' was the aggressive reply.

"That's not the point!" she shot back. "Why are you so obsessed with fighting him?"

A snort. 'Girl, didn'cha figure it out yet? Your dumbass partner is my rival. Ain't no way I'm just takin' a loss lyin' down like that. A man's pride is on the line, ya get what I'm sayin'?'

Oh my God. Jeanne rubbed her temples. Rivals. So that was their relationship. It explained why Justin and Sou were trading tense insults back at the church despite seemingly being on the same side. It explained the taunting, too. She marveled over the sheer coincidence of her being separately acquainted with two autonomous weapons who somehow were also acquainted with one another. Truly, the Lord worked in mysterious ways…

'Then it's settled!'

Her fingers flew off her forehead. "No—I didn't consent to any of this! Why do you have to use my body in the first place?!"

'It's 'cos I'm rusty battlin' as a woman,' Sou stated bluntly. 'There's all these bits an' pieces on a woman's body I gotta re-accustom myself to.'

That made absolutely no sense—wait, no, no, yes it did. That's right, Sou had occupied multiple bodies throughout history in order to protect his master from harm. The details were hazy, just something about enchanting and golems. But that still didn't explain why Sou was so insistent on fighting right now. It wasn't as if they could even win. They'd stand a fair chance against Justin normally—she had enough familiarity with her partner's fighting style and Sou had demonstrated his transformation prowess—but there was little hope to defeat Justin while he was fused with that clownish monstrosity. Not to mention there was something seemingly off about Sou, something she couldn't quite sense until his soul was literally next to hers.

"Let's take a rain check on that one," she finally said. "We'll have plenty of opportunities to use my Soul Stigmata if you really feel the urge to test out a woman's body."

Sou paused. 'Nah, it's now or never!'

A saw chain erupted from each of her legs, putting an sharp end to the debate.

"Wait, what—?!"

Her limbs flexed, and she tensed to counter the spasms, but to no avail. Against her own will, her body began jerking forward like a mannequin on strings, putting one foot right ahead of the other with saw chains punching circular wedges into the dirt.

"Stop it!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing—!"

'Shit, will ya quit resistin' me?' Sou raged. 'LEMME TAKE OVER.'

Absolutely not! It was her body. She wasn't accustomed to being controlled like a puppet. Justin had never been this forceful with her body; she was the one who led. He was in the backseat, observing the flow of battle and feeling her movements that eventually became his own. But Sou clearly had no intention of sitting anywhere but the driver's seat with his grip firmly on the steering wheel. He was metaphorically kicking her in the side of her head, hammering her nerves with his shouting, invectives and bloodlust dialed up to eleven.

'I KNOW WHAT I'M DOIN'!' he bellowed, his accusatory voice stabbing her brain. 'C'MON, C'MON, GIVE IT UP—"

She couldn't function like this—she couldn't function like this. Finally, Jeanne caved into the harassment, her body going momentarily limp before a new life was breathed into her. The expression on her face wasn't her own; it was far too relaxed with hooded eyes and a toothy smirk.

'Sou…' she mumbled sourly. 'You're too impatient.'

"Girl. You do not know just how long I've been waitin'…" Giriko drawled in her voice.

Man, he didn'tthink he'd wake up today to bump into some girl he once fucked, get nearly iced by her jealous virgin boyfriend, and then actually BECOME the girl. Her Soul Stigmata was some absolutely crazy shit. The whole thing was a weird-as-fuck experience, sorta like perpetually floating in space. He could feel her organs and skin and senses while being keenly aware he wasn't the only one occupying this body.

So this was the little crutch Justin leaned on to perfect his autonomy. Credit oughta be given where credit's due—it was a damn creative use for one of Arachne's failed experiments. He'd seen scores of folks throughout the centuries harness her stigmata ability for a buncha religious reasons: rituals, sacrifices, and shitty holy warfare, but this, this he could approve of—a demon weapon using a meister as a meat-puppet.

There was that cosmic shit happening again here, stars converging and all, but now it was in his favor. This little serendipity was just too good to pass up: a rematch with the priest while in a woman's body oughta be a nice warm-up for what was gonna come. Thanks for listening to his prayers, not Christian God.

With Joan's (yup, nailed it) face twisted into a deranged grin, Giriko swiveled a probing eye down at his new temporary body. Time for him to get reacquainted with the female anatomy.

First things first—

'…SOU, WHY?'

"HEY, LAY OFF ME—I TOLD YA I HAD TITS BEFORE, ALRIGHT?!" Giriko yelled back with a hand glued to each boob. He wasn't being skeevy; this was for SCIENCE. And MACHINATIONS. These sensations were gonna be permanent pretty soon so he might as well get a head start on familiarizing himself with 'em now.

He let Joan do her huffy 'Oh my God' thing while he gave her ta-tas a thorough pat-down. Was it always this hard maneuvering around with 'em heavy fatbags dangling from the chest? It'd been a long-ass time since he was last a woman. No doubt he definitely favored male descendants; having a dick made navigating through society a breeze, especially the farther back he went in history.

And speaking of schlongs—

'STOPPPPPP!' she wailed.

"Look, girl," Giriko drawled while she bucked against her hand inching towards her skirt, "You gotta know the equipment you're dealin' with if you wanna win a fight, y'know?"

'WE'RE NOT FIGHTING JUSTIN!'

"C'mon, lemme take this baby out for a spin. Just a quickie, yeah? Promise I won't hurt ya. Unlike your demented partner, I know how to treat a woman right,' he crooned, abandoning the skirt to deal with the phantom boner situation later.

'NO.'

"But you're always itchin' to battle with Justin, ain't ya? Just think of it as another sparrin' session—an' this time you can fight 'im with his blades!" He unspooled a saw chain from her leg, admiring the tone and definition of her thighs. Oh, the girl got some real muscle under the skirt. "Kickboxing's your style, ain't it? Good, good, we'll be real compatible then."

With hands planted on her waist, Giriko whipped a wavelength-infused axe kick at a nearby boulder, slashing the rock clean in half. Not bad. Not bad at all. These legs were no stranger to high kicks. Joan watched the whole thing in awe, the protests suddenly stuck in her throat from the sight of her body pulling that trick.

'…Even so, it's still reckless to have an unnecessary fight,' she said unconvincingly, unable to keep the breathlessness outta her tone. 'My body is already pretty injured.'

Oh, yeah, her body was injured? WELL, HIS CRUSHED WINDPIPE WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A WORD WITH HER—

After another sec of ogling, the chick sobered up. 'Sou, we need to have a serious talk. There's something you need to know…'

Giriko rolled her green eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'll try not to flash your innocent little partner." No promises—he kicked just a wee bit higher than she did.

'Wait, what, NO—'

The dumb broad began griping again, so Giriko tugged at the rope start that emerged from her bare thigh and waited for the putter of the motor to gear up—instantly silencing her once more. It was little feats like these which always left her mesmerized. The chick musta got some sorta weapon transformation fetish or something.

"Relax an' enjoy the ride!"

Before she could nag further, Giriko took off and zoomed towards the direction he last saw Justin heading in. Sucked that neither of 'em could sense souls, but it turned out a ginormous tree-swinging guillotine wasn't exactly difficult to track down, what with the trail of snapped branches and trunks nursing telltale gashes being a dead giveaway and all.

Joan was quiet, just sorta absorbing the experience of sawlegging. After some time, the her voice piped up in their mental link, apparently having mulled things over.

'Sou, listen to me. I know this'll sound strange…but I think there's something wrong with your soul.'

"Shit, girl, I thought you could barely sense souls." She bitched about that quite a bit.

'Not normally, no. But I think I have a better grasp of your soul since it's literally next to mine. It was the same way with Justin.'

"Yeah? Was it always filled with clown dicks an' molestable boys?" He relented from her whaling him over the head. "Jeez, jeez, sorry…"

'I meant what I said. Your soul is an odd shape…it feels rather tight…maybe a bit smaller?'

"Bein' nearly beheaded does a real number on your nerves. Shrinkage is normal when you're scared shitless."

'That's not what I meant!' Joan sounded exasperated outta her mind. 'Look—just… f I had to describe it…it feels like you might blow up at any moment.'

A heavy pause followed her statement.

Oh.

Well.

…Huh.

Guess the cat was outta the bag now.

Giriko's short-lived chipper mood instantly evaporated, leaving behind a foul, bubbling sludge in its wake. So even a chick with shitty Soul Perception could recognize he was on the brink of imploding—man, how bad did it get? Tch, figures. The need to vent was how he got caught up in this drama in the first place, the reason why he tracked down the so-called 'guest' when Gopher reported the girl's intrusion to Noah. A fight was what he'd been searching for, maybe a taste of slaughter to stave off his bubbling bloodlust before it boiled over.

"…and? What's it to you?" he growled at her.

'Will you be alright?'

Yeah, he was fine. Perfectly fine. Not downright murderous or nothing. Not desperately trying to keep his shit together and hold out for a few more…days? Hours? It'd all been a blur since Baba Yaga castle and liquor wasn't exactly known for helping ya keep track the passage of time.

"Fuckin' clean bill of health. What's it to you, huh?"

The girl sounded concerned. '…Sou. What happened?'

Shit. This whole topic was veering into uncomfortable territory and he wasn't hankering to get into the weeds with the details. His chest was tightening up again just thinking about it.

"Whaddya think this is, a friggin' therapy session? You think I'm gonna spill my guts to ya?" he snapped. "All you need to know is I'm probably gonna explode if I don't fight."

'My God, listen to yourself—you were nearly decapitated the last time you fought him! Justin isn't going to hold back just because you're in my body, so quit risking your life over some stupid rivalry!'

OI, it wasn't just some dick-waving rivalry. No, there was something about the kid that just rubbed him the wrong way. More than the smarm. More than the two-faced disloyalty.

"Look, girl, I know what I'm fuckin' doing. You…" he scoffed. "…you need to quit underestimatin' me, tch."

'cause she was, wasn't she? Behind all that fake kindness and concern, the girl probably thought he was a dumbass who couldn't do nothing right. Yeah, he messed up. So what? Everybody made mistakes. But acting like the shitbag priest was too dangerous to handle pissed the hell outta him. Could the chick actually sense the killing intent practically dripping outta his orifices? His murderous wavelength was a downright formidable beast, only overshadowed by the rusty hinges of his old, rundown meat-bag and fuck all lax demeanor. Ain't no way he'd lose to some roided out pipsqueak on an acid trip in this new rental body, not when he was fucking eyeballs deep in centuries-old bloodlust.

The girl sighed like she was talking to a child. 'I'm not underestimating you,' she said patiently. 'Just remember my body doesn't have your strength. We're bound to lose if we engage Justin head on.'

Giriko stared at the distant outline of the church as he processed this new revelation. Hn, physical strength didn't mean jack-shit when it came to raw wavelength power. Problem was, Joan wasn't like one of his children: he couldn't just overwhelm her consciousness with his own. They were two souls sharing one body and he had to respect the container. Goddammit. Not being able to fight at 100% put a slight damper in his plans.

"So…what?" he finally probed. "You got any other nifty tricks hidin' up your skirt? Can you compel 'im with the power of Christ or somethin'? C'mon, c'mon, I'm all ears."

The girl was real quiet for a while before finally offering a reply. 'Apart from using my body, the only other way I could help Justin fight was by resonating.'

He squinted. Resonating…?

BWHAHAHAHAHA

—through the fog of smoke and deafening music, the Clown's voice buzzed in Justin's mind.

D̈́͏̺͍̗̰̘̳O̡̯͖͒̊̒ ̨̱̭̭͙̮̋͂Y̦̣͚̍͝Ó͈͎̦̺̭̔͡ͅỤ̶̪̝͂ ̣̘̪̩̻̱̟̮ͥ̽͟Ḫ̡̹̩̳͉̖̟̌̂͊Ȩ̝̻̺̥̟̞̼̙̾͂͌̆A̷̲̞͎̻̮̗̰͒͗R̝͙͙̓͜ͅ ̟̦̩ͪ̚͟Ț̳̙̲̮̙̒̇̈́ͮ͠H̻̺̯̹̗̯͎̪̾ͩ͂͡A̴̝̭̰͉̲ͮ́̄͌T̟̮̙̗̣̟̟̙͐͢?̢͔̥͓͓̱͎ͬ̾ͪ

"Hear what?" he droned.

L̥̻̐ͬ̌͑͘A̖̣̳͔͍̳̖̯̚͝U͓̲̻͓͐ͣ͐͞ͅG̣͈̱͍̤͇͕͇̏ͭ̈ͥ͞H̩̥̋ͣ̅͟T̨͔͚̠̫̞̂Ȅ͚͙̫ͣ͟R̢̥̮͋ͦ̎̚.͎̫͙̝̯̲ͦ̀́

What kind of question was this? Of course he couldn't hear anything—

—oh man, WHAT A DOWNRIGHT FUCKING RIOT. He hadn't cracked up like that in ages.

…Soul Resonance. Tch. Right.

He'd almost forgot she was a former DWMA cunt.

You know, it ain't like he gave that much of a crap Joan's general interests conflicted with his own. She wanted to haul the priest back to their crappy school by his clerical collar? Pfft, sure, no skin off his back. Justin was an ally in name only and the holy fucker's affiliations didn't mean two shits to Giriko as long as he didn't interfere in his revenge.

But performing Soul Resonance, the linchpin to the skull-faced dictator's whole operation? Fuck that shit hard. The technique was the dog leash that weak-ass meisters used to keep their little pet weapons obedient and heeling. He didn't need to fucking resonate to be jaw-droppingly effective. Maybe Justin did at one point, but he sure as hell didn't now. Hell, nobody in their deranged little motley crew needed help to fight: the lip-biting chucklenuts got his kicks off squawking his master's name and Noah used BREW to summon pokemon or chuck library fines at enemies or whatever. The whole idea was a damn insult to his pride, and Giriko sorta understood why the priest wanted to off her so badly.

The girl was huffing. 'Don't write it off so quickly—resonating provides a lot more offensive strength than you think! It also enhances other abilities as well—'

"Don'cha also got issues with your shitty wavelength?! And resonatin' with weapons?!" he growled. She bitched about all 'em stuff too. Tch, the kinds of things he put up with for a good incubator…

'You're the only other weapon I am able to resonate with—'

"That," Giriko suddenly snarled, "was a fuckin' one-time deal."

Only to demonstrate a point about her freaky abilities and to get her to quit fucking moping. It was a legit miracle their wavelengths even matched at all. Probably 'cause circumstances were different back then. He had a goddamn ton of restraint as 'Sou'. The timing probably helped too; he was always much more relaxed after a good come.

…Hm. Yeah. That gotta be it.

But shit, he wouldn't've bothered trying in the first place if he knew it'd come back to bite him in the ass.

The chick continued babbling about resonance and wavelengths and freaking divine providence till Giriko shushed her mumbo-jumbo by pointing up ahead. There was the unmistakable outline of a guillotine swinging along at a leisurely pace. Prick probably thought he was outta the woods. Boy, was Justin gonna be in for a rude awakening. With the girl silenced again, Giriko stealthily vroomed up to clownfucker and then—BLAM—landed a solid kick to the back of his helmet, sending the bastard barreling through the woods like a missile. OH MAN, WATCH HIM GO!

After flying airborne for a good hundred feet, Guillotine-face eventually skidded to a stop with his mouth full of dirt. There was a bit of flailing before he propped himself up and furiously swung his head around for answers. Luckily, the twerp didn't hafta look far 'cause the perpetrator screeched to a halt right in front of him, plaid skirt billowing and totally flashing the fucker in the process. Justin's lips parted.

"Jeanne," he whispered, till he noticed the not-quite-sane grin on her face, the frenzied gleam in her eyes, and the hunched over posture she never adopted. "…GIRIKO."

"Missed me, ya shitty Father?" Giriko drawled in her voice, erasing any traces of doubt in Justin's mind. "Really thought ya had me on the ropes, huh? Hate to break it to ya—you only won 'cos my ol' body was all worn out from partyin' too hard. But it looks like it god's will that me an' your meister are so fuckin' compatible, y'know what I mean? We both got a bone to pick with ya so put 'em up, priest-boy. Time for round two!"

The priest drew up threateningly, but was devoid of a comment and instead spent his energy scanning 'em all over like he couldn't trust his eyes. What, was the bastard surprised Giriko adapted so well in the girl's body? After all, Joan had marveled all over it like it was some great big fucking feat. The kid's dumbass helmet sorta tilted down to zero in on her arm with all 'em guillotine scars. Them scars were the one thing she never spoke about so fuck knows what the whole history was, but it seemed like there was some major trauma over Justin mutilating her body in his butchered attempts to transform.

"Yeah, what'cha lookin' at? You lookin' at this?" He raised Joan's guillotine scar-encrusted arm before a saw chain erupted from it with shockingly causal accuracy. "See this, Justin? This is how you enter a woman, nice an' easy—you don't tear up the girl from the inside, givin' her all kinda scars she'll hafta carry for the rest of 'er life." He rotated her arm expressively before shaking it off and the biggest shit-eating grin stretched across her pretty face. "Well, not like you'd know 'bout this anyway seein' as you've never fucked her."

At that, Justin twitched.

'STOP IT! STOP PROVOKING HIM!' hollered the girl, all fire and fury over some man-to-boy taunting.

CHRIST, WOMAN, LET HIM HAVE HIS FUN—FUCK, HE EARNED IT. Nearly got snuffed out protecting her French ass, tch!

(Okay, okay, maybe he was partly responsible for that—maybe he shouldn't've taunted the twerp for being a limp-dicked virgin who couldn't even sex up his marshmallow-titty meister—

but

COME ON

ZERO ACCOUNTABILITY LIFESTYLE, YEAH?)

Justin's aura slowly mutated at the taunt, some pent-up, brewing lust bubbling beneath the surface.

C'mon, c'mon, get mad. Strike down on 'em with great vengeance and furious anger. Justin's expression was unreadable behind the faceplate, but Giriko would hedge his bets on the priest still nursing a jealousy hard-on. Ain't no motherfucker goes that raving loony over some chick they didn't care about. He couldn't wait any longer. He just wanted a quickie. Just one more scuffle before the big shindig, a final battle with the first rival he'd had in a few centuries. This'll probably the last time he'll ever see the loony fucker, so blow up and give him a good show already—

And Justin just sighed.

"…Jeanne," the priest uttered, bypassing his rival entirely. "Why did you return? I left you for dead. You could've used my ignorance of your fate to escape with your life."

FFFFFFF—WHAT THE FUCKING HELL. Was this cocky fucker just gonna flat-out ignore him like that?! A colorful retort formed on her lips, but Giriko couldn't spit it out.

'Let me talk to him,' the broad in question demanded. What? Hell no. This was between him and Justin. Plus, shit always got worse when these two yakked it up.

"Jeanne," the blond pressed, refusing to engage with him—WHY WAS HE BEING IGNORED GRRRR

—but blonde #2 was also struggling against his control over her body, and Giriko didn't have the gall to deal with both of 'em, so he conceded with a grumble. His hackles were still up, though. Douchepope had already proven himself to be majorly unstable around the chick and Giriko wasn't ready to let his ride get scuffed up before he got a chance to take the baby for a spin.

With the mania fading in her green eyes, Joan was back at the helm. "I meant what I said before—I'm not giving up on you, Justin," she whispered in her dogged loyalty. "That's why I'm here."

(Jesus Christ.)

The priest musta shared the same headspace as Giriko 'cause his bored neutrality broke into a strained grimace. "Why? Even after everything that's happened, why would you go to such lengths to reach me?"

"…You know the answer already," she murmured, looking like she'll blow away with a stiff breeze.

(Jesus fucking Chriiiiiiiiist.)

Justin's aura mutated even further as he started putting all the pieces together. "Are you going to call me your little brother again? Was I your friend? Or is the reason why you won't give up on me because we were partners?" he spat out with pure venom as if the word gutted his mom or something. "…It is, isn't it?"

Nailed it, motherfucker, now will you back off from the girl and focus on the real threat in front of ya? But seeing his ex-meister shrink into herself like she had no confidence only fed into Justin's self-righteous, autonomous rage.

"Partners. What nonsense is this? We spent a single year together, and then I spent the next four alone. Were you there when I partook in my first mission as a Death Scythe? What about the first time I eliminated a witch? Were we partners then?"

"Of course not," she snapped tiredly. "It wasn't what you wanted!"

"It wasn't what I needed," Justin hissed, his vehemence both vexing yet far too relatable. "I've gotten so far in life without you or anyone else and you insult me to suggest otherwise." The priest towered over her, all piss and vinegar. "I don't want your help. I don't want you in my life. YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE COME BACK. WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE, JEANNE? GO HOME."

The ugliest of silences.

…sweet shit, somebody buy this kid a coupla extra feet so he could shoot himself in it. Crap like this was exactly why these two shouldn't even be trading looks at each other 'cause now the girl was frigging crying. Giriko shot the dipshit bible-thumper a nasty glare from inside her body. SEE WHAT HE MADE HER DO, HUH?

"You're such an asshole…" she mewled, the understatement of the century. Asshole? If she gave him back control, he could do a helluva lot better than just asshole.

He was ready for Justin to swap insults in another round of aloof asshole patty-cake, but it seemed like the douchebag was actually tuning into her emotions for once if the guilty slouch he suddenly eased into was anything to go by. Justin just sorta hung his head, his moralizing fury melting into a muted shame Giriko'd never seen grace the priest's face before.

Several moments of weeping passed before the guillotine started shuffling towards her and had the damn balls to look confused when the girl backpedaled into a defensive stance, angry tears shining through her raised fists. The kid mustn't've gotten message 'cause he kept moseying in on closer till Giriko sent saw chains lacing through her knuckles, revving warningly to back the fuck off. The sight of the demon weapon disarmed him and his whole threatening demeanor collapsed, slumping.

"…I'm sorry."

Yeah, yeah. Too little, too late. The girl faltered at the apology, but had enough self-respect to immediately harden back up. She fisted her eyes dry with her untorn sleeve, trying her damnedest to maintain a shred of dignity.

"I won't be spoken to like that," she whispered fiercely, glaring up at the ex-Death Scythe. "I gave you all I had, Justin Law, and you will not speak to me in that manner."

Justin just stared at her shoes like a whipped dog, limber frame tilting in the wind. "…Sorry."

Giriko felt another crack in her resolve. Tch…

Rattle rattle. The priest slunk towards 'em till they were close enough to see the trail of dried blood caking his neck and hear the bassline of his shitty techno music. Too near and too unstable, this was a scenario ripe for disaster. Giriko coursed another length of chain through her body for protection, only to have 'em bump up against an invisible wall. Joan wasn't letting it break through her skin. With a flex of a wrist, the saw teeth on her knuckles also withdrew, leaving her totally defenseless. For the love of…why, girl?!

A chain arm suddenly looped around the girl's back and pulled her into some deranged parody of a hug, firing every alarm bell in Giriko's head. Hnngh, did she have a death wish or something? Joan quivered against the embrace, feeling the literal hollowness of the kid's chest. Pressed up against the priest's mozzetta confirmed something he'd already suspected: Justin was barely human in this form—all wood and metal, just a buncha frames and chains and blades tethered together by the Clown's madness. The kid was a complete freakshow fucked up by insanity—so why was the girl getting so close to him?

His hairs stood up on its ends like a beacon. This was wrong.

"I'm sorry, Jeanne." It was the most Justin would allow himself to say—but it was enough.

Her willpower folded like a steamed towel and she was in tears again, her fingers scrunching up into fists that were beaten into the wooden frame of his shoulder. The unholy bastard allowed her to use him as an outlet for her bottled up emotions, not resisting as her tears splattered all over his precious Kishin pendant.

"You can't say things like that to me…" she sobbed. "Not after all we've been through…"

The priest didn't have it in him to reply except to draw the chain arm tighter around her back, sending all kinds of uncomfortable feelings crawling in the pit of Giriko's stomach.

This was fucking wrong. These two lovebirds were in their own little closed, private world and he was a voyeur intruding on something intimate. He didn't wanna see this—didn't wanna see his rival act all sentimental—didn't wanna see the girl getting vulnerable with the prick who kept hurting her.

The winds were changing, an imperceptible shift in emotions and tones that could only be sensed once you've lived for as long as he had. Giriko tried activating his weapon transformation once more, but the girl actively suppressed the saw teeth from emerging. He needed to respect the fucking goddamn container. Brum. Brum. Brum.

When the chain arm reeled back, the girl peered up, still drunk on her sadness.

"Justin…" she hiccupped.

Her psychotic partner hovered over her. A drooped pendulum blade raised to her face, and the girl was crazy enough to let the sharp metal dip in and wipe away her tears with a surprising gentleness. After what felt like an eternity, the priest pressed his trembling hand against her cheek and looked vindicated when she didn't recoil from his touch.

"Thank you for everything," Justin said, and as he drew away his hand, the magic was finally broken. "You should've given up on me when you had the chance."

There was creaking wood and a click—and the next thing they knew, the girl was locked in a lunette and staring up at the cold, imposing steel of a guillotine blade. A blue glow immediately shimmered against the edge, no prayer necessary.

"Goodbye, Jeanne."

And it fell.

BRRRRRRR. Ain't nobody woulda ever guessed the guillotine blade would get repelled by the multiple chainsaws her flowing hair transformed into. HE KNEW HOW TO FIGHT IN A WOMAN'S BODY, GODDAMMIT! With a whip of her head, the saw hair blades lashed out at the priest who managed to dodge by the width of a gnat's dick and had no choice but to release his prisoner to avoid another skewering.

'WHY'D YOU LET 'IM GET CLOSE, HUH?!' Giriko mentally roared at the girl as he dragged her body away. 'YOU NEARLY GOT US BOTH KILLED!'

An angry sob was his only response. Of all the goddamn reckless things she coulda done—WHY?! Why let Justin get close?! Giriko saw the ending to that little conjugal visit coming from a mile away. All that sappy wind up? Yeah, that was Justin letting go. Fucking hell, at least one of 'em was moving on with their teenage lives.

'Just stay there an' lemme handle it.' Just go and cry. It's all she was good for, anyway.

Shoving the weeping chick into a metaphorical corner, Giriko geared his attention to the executioner who was stoically assessing 'em from a safe distance. Now he couldn't sense nothing radiating from the kid—no sorrow, no jealousy, no rage. This was even worse than the batshit crazy cackling—Justin was calm.

"You backstabbing little prick," he growled through her gritted teeth. "WHAT WAS ALL THAT FOREPLAY ABOUT, HUH?!"

"If you truly care for Jeanne, you'll stop resisting," the priest intoned.

Before Giriko could give Justin a piece of his mind, a razor-sharp blade wove through the trees like a metal snake, gunning for 'em at top speed. He twisted outta the way, only to play into the bastard's blade-y hand as one of his carcan-pillory things snuck up from behind and snatched the girl's wrist—NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN

In a blink of the eye, her other wrist got eaten up by a second trap. Another glowing guillotine blade materialized between Justin's arms, and he had no final words to offer before it launched other than,

"Silver Gun—"

OH, HELL NO. Giriko lashed a leg straight into the air, hitching up her skirt around her waist, and met the priest's signature attack with his own, pink clashing with blue. "WAVE OF SLAUGHTER!"

Justin sighed. "—Radiant."

DÉJÀ MOTHERFUCKING VU. The intensity of Justin's wavelength ramped up by tenfold, shearing through his murderous wavelength with a ray of blinding radiance just like it did on those snowy Alaskan peaks. The flying fuck could the nutjob still pull off this kinda attack?! RADIANT? The bastard's wavelength was as black as his own. With their movements restrained, Justin's soul started slicing through the girl's body and Giriko barely managed to backflip outta range before she became shredded cheese. The blast obliterated the row of trees behind 'em.

Giriko turned an eye to these shitty carcan fuckers, hastily snapping open one of the damn pillories by whirling a saw chain over her wrist. But before he could free the other wrist, Joan's body was suddenly hauled high in the air and then slammed straight down into the dirt, knocking the wind right outta 'em. Oomph.

With the coldest efficiency, the holy lunatic catapulted the girl into the ground a bunch more times till there was no longer movement on her end. Those attacks hurt like a motherfucker. The bastard wasn't holding back one bit, was he?! The priest hoisted her cut up body by the wrist to gauge her condition with a little rattle, his jester helmet tilting in disappointment when he saw that her bones were saved by cushiony chain armor.

"You're allowing her to suffer," Justin uttered like he wasn't the psycho causing the fucking suffering. "Why don't you save your cowardly neck and grant her the dignity of a swift death?"

The attacks paused for several seconds, and it dawned upon Giriko that the son of a bitch was actually giving him time to escape from her body. Was Justin serious? Did this jackass think he'd just turn tail and let the girl die like that?! JUST HOW LITTLE DID JUSTIN THINK OF HIM?!

"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" he barked. "WHY D'YA WANNA KILL 'ER SO BADLY, HUH?!"

"She's holding me back," was the simple reply.

As if beckoned by the call of that generic-ass answer, a tearless Joan was by his side again, having pulled herself outta her own stupor.

'This brat still thinks I'm holding him back?' she echoed in a strangely hollow voice. 'I'm so done with this crap. Resonate with me, Sou. We're driving Justin's ass into the ground and ripping that clown out of him.'

Oh, that's real cute—SHUT THE HELL UP. He got enough problems on his hands without Weeping Mcgee trying to inject herself into the situation again. The girl grabbed at the fringes of his soul, but he angrily shrugged it off. Ain't the goddamn time to humor her little fantasies.

But the girl tried again. 'Sou. You need my help.'

"GIVE IT UP ALREADY! IT AIN'T GONNA WORK EVEN IF I WAS WILLIN' AND I AIN'T WILLIN'!" he yelled to Joan at a stone-faced Justin 'cause screw these goddamn telepathic links.

More grabbing. 'SOU, PLEASE!'

"Have it your way," Justin said.

"WILL YA FUCK OFF?!" he bellowed at both of 'em.

With a sweep of the arm, the priest fanned out a massive straight blade from his left sleeve that extended all the way from wrist to bicep. Crap, what the holy fuckery was this?! The slab of metal immediately slashed towards 'em, and Giriko wrapped a whirring loop of saw chain around her leg in the nick of time before they were bisected. Saw chain and guillotine blade crossed with a familiar CLANG that sent her light body jangling all over the place in a flurry of sparks.

Without much fanfare, the prick started hacking away at his ex-meister with all the grace of a butcher chopping a dangling carcass. It took every ounce of Giriko's limited concentration to keep 'em from becoming mincemeat which wasn't helped by Joan's screams of bloody murder in their shared mental space—SHUT UP, GIRL. He suddenly stopped the chain so that the bastard's blade got wedged in his saw teeth and immediately inverted the chain to throw the priest off-balance. Reverse rotation nabbed him the chance to swipe open the shitty-ass pillory, finally freeing Joan's body from the bondage and putting her back on solid ground.

Justin was undeterred. The empty pillory drew back and snapped its jaws goadingly, ready for one more round. If that wasn't bad enough, a second blade fanned out from his other limb so that the motherfucker was now dual wielding giant guillotine arm cleavers. JESUS CHRIST ON A POGO STICK, THIS CLOWN JUST KEPT PULLING NEW BULLSHIT OUTTA HIS BAG OF CARNIVAL TRICKS, HUH!

And another pillory snuck outta his priestly sleeve.

SHIT. MOTHERFUCKING WHY.

'Sou! There's no way you can fight against all of this!'

GIRL, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

"Remember, you've nobody to blame but yourself, Giriko."

FUCK OFF, YOU HYPOCRITCAL SHITBAG PRIEST.

Ugh. His chest—no—his soul was tightening up again from all this negative emotion. There was anger like there always was, impotent built-up anger at the world that festered like rotting garbage, but without something or someone to direct it at, he was just pissing into the wind. Giriko was so fucking angry at everything—at the girl for being a naïve twat and at the priest for being a backstabbing, abusive lunatic who refused to take him seriously even after all the shit that's happened. He was twice the autonomous weapon Justin would ever be and straight up twiddled his meister's tits—yet the priest still wouldn't spare him a second glance. Why? What was the bastard trying to say, huh? HUH? It made him feel an emotion he couldn't articulate and pissed the ever-loving shit outta him, but even his anger towards Justin was nothing special—just another kinda impotent rage he couldn't properly channel into something productive.

'SOU!'

And worst of all—THE GIRL WAS NOT SHUTTING UP.

TRYING TO REACH HIM.

TRYING TO RESONATE WITH HIS PITCH-BLACK SOUL.

Nah, y'know what?

FINE.

TAKE IT.

Giriko rammed his soul wavelength—a chaotic clusterfuck of screeching chains and carnage—right at her, drowning the idealistic twat in nearly a millennia's worth of vicious bloodlust.

The priest lunged towards 'em and Giriko didn't even bother trying to dodge the massive blades cutting through the air. The range of this shit was way too wide so here you go, Justin, here—have SAW CHAINS FOR DAYS.

"Is this what you wanted, huh? IS THIS WHAT YA WANTED SO FUCKIN' BADLY?!" Giriko yelled half at her ass, half at her demented partner. Goddammit, he was being double-teamed by these religious blonds!

Inside, the girl was trying to match his wavelength like before, trying to envelope it with her altruistic love, but it wasn't gonna work. They'd only been able to resonate back when he could still scrabble together the energy to slide on a cheery, ass-kissing smile and don the 'Sou' alias, his patience fueled solely by the hope of Arachne's eventual return. That was gone now. There was no stable part to latch onto no more, nothing to use as a foothold to anchor herself to in this howling whirlwind of emotions. The only thing left in his soul was frustration, inadequacy, and heartache nestled in a bed of dark, rotting rage

Joan's determination turned into grief. 'Sou, I didn't know. I didn't realize that Arachne…'

No. NO. FUCK THAT. He didn't want her fucking pity. If this was some saint shit, alms for the needy, then she could take her shitty charity and shove it right up her Catholic cunt—

But Joan reached out with her soul again, gazing at him with her innocent green eyes, and Giriko crumbled.

'I'm sorry for your loss,' she murmured, all teary-eyed for him (and these were different from the tears she shed for Justin; there was no anger in these ones, just love and empathy). 'I know how much Arachne meant to you…'

Suddenly, his throat was obstructed with emotion. Shit. Why? The girl didn't say nothing special, just a buncha empty clichés and hollow condolences buffered by fake kindness. But nobody else ever said anything to him, not one of the inhabitants in this den of psychopaths. Not the tiniest bit of acknowledgment—even from Justin. The rest of 'em folks from Arachnophobia were dead.

(He never really got a chance to grieve.)

Giriko swallowed the hard lump lodged in his gullet and retreated behind his walls—his angry, defensive façade pulling up over the hurt. Ain't no way he was gonna break down from these fucking pansy-ass emotions. Real men didn't cry. He didn't got time to cry.

FUCK—

Fine—if fucking resonating is what it took, then he'll swallow his damn pride and resonate with the chick. Hell—he'll fucking resonate with her better than her double-crossing, clown-fucking psychotic nutjob of a partner ever did. Refusing to be outdone by Justin motherfucking Law, Giriko scrounged through the smear of hazy memories to dig up the handful of happy ones he'd ever experienced in his existence shredded across 30 shitty boring lifetimes. He focused on 'em to curb his bloodthirsty rage, leveling his soul till the girl could find something to latch onto. He felt the warmth and tenderness of her healing wavelength, some real fucking Mother Teresa purity shit. She could take so much fucking abuse. That was her real strength, wasn't it? Putting up with shitty assholes like him and Justin.

Something hit with a satisfying click and their wavelengths were in sync. It felt right somehow. He knew the next part—her crown of thorns creeping over his chains. Joan was wincing from the waves of wanton bloodlust and his deep-rooted desire to slaughter, to maim, to violate, to tie guts into pretty bows and paint the walls bright red (did she know him, did she really know him?)—but the dumb girl was forgiving him…

Giriko gritted his teeth.

(he wasn't a good person)

(he didn't deserve this)

(and she was naïve for thinking that he did)—

—and they were resonating. It was for real this time. Her thorns, no, her thick-ass brambles encircled his raging soul, too dense and sturdy for the saw chains to shear through. This goddamn beast of a woman was able to contain his 800 years' worth of bloodlust. Her healing wavelength enveloped him in a cocoon of safety and he felt the crushing pressure on his soul let up ever so little. The girl was metaphorically embracing him with her soft arms wrapped around his neck, her chin nestled into the crook of his shoulder, and her tits smashed up against his back. She was warm. So warm. Just like his láska.

'I've got you, Giriko.'

And Giriko released a breath he'd been holding in for 30 lifetimes.

Fuck. This was Soul Resonance?! He was practically vibrating with energy. The clarity was a high he couldn't put into words. Oh man, OH MAN—HIS WAVELENGTH NEVER FELT SO GODDAMN POWERFUL BEFORE.

YO, COKE'S GOT NOTHING ON THIS.

The priest geared back, recognizing a shift in his ex-partner's body, in her soul, and in Giriko's soul. "What's going on?"

"Hey, Father. I'm with ya on the reliance thing. We don't need no fuckin' partners, amirite?" There was a glint in the girl's eye as Giriko passed on some wisdom to this young whippersnapper. "But lemme tell you somethin', kid—bein' by yourself for too long can get real lonely, y'know."

And Justin's stoic mask sorta cracked. The seam of his lips parted, drawing back to reveal a gritted snarl, and his composed demeanor started falling apart, tiny trembles growing into shudders and then full-on tremors till he was shaking uncontrollably—and they were right back where they started

"I'LL EXECUTE YOU BOTH!" he snarled, suddenly spewing a dozen chains from his priestly sleeves and going into full medieval jester jellyfish mode once again.

Yeaaah, the motherfucker was still jealous. Justin was just a kid, after all. A snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears brat playing a grown-up's role in an adult world.

'Are you ready?' he heard the girl say.

'Yeah—let's beat this brat an' drag his ass back to your shitty school.'

Her body squatted onto the balls of her feet, the slight white of her underwear peeking out between her haunches from the unseemly pose, causing the priest to growl in confused, enraged annoyance. Chainsaw blades appeared on both soles, grinding into the dirt.

"Brace yourself, Justin—time for round two. What does she always say? I'm gonna kick your ass."