I thank Scarlet Warhawk for taking the time to help me write this chapter. I think if we keep working together this story will proceed the way only talented fanfiction authors can dream their stories will be made.

XXX

Ian, through the haze of pain and spent adrenaline, wondered vaguely who these boys were, and if Lord Death was the one who sent them. The Meister carried about himself an air of tired amusement, but his stance–lazy though it was–radiated a kind of confidence born of practiced ease. The sword he carried, which Ian assumed was his partner's weapon form, appeared more odd than intimidating, however. The bast*rd sword's long, sharp blade was enough to give pause to any potential opponents, sure, but the three-handed handle made the whole thing just seem unbalanced and comical. These thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the werewolf let loose another enraged howl, moving forward menacingly as it flexed it's claws menacingly. Flashing forward, the white-haired boy began spinning the sword slowly, before swinging it wildly in a upwards diagonal slash. Tilting slightly to avoid the strike, the werewolf lashed out, only to find it's claws closing on empty air. It blinked, then swiped downwards to it's right, just barely managing to bat away the blade as it stabbed towards it's chest. The Meister and weapon leaped backwards, pausing as the voice of the latter echoed from the sword.

~"Blanc! Let's finish this!"~ the weapon urged, a visible grin spanning his boyish face. Blanc chuckled, swaying gently from side to side as he broke into a run.

"Right, then," he replied, using his sword as a counterweight to fling himself up into the air, spinning lazily. Ian watched in awe as a soft white glow began to envelop the pair, growing brighter and brighter as they neared the zenith of their jump. The glow became a pulse, rippling through the white-haired boy and into the sword, bouncing back and forth, growing with each exchange. Two voices became one, and the sword shone brilliantly.

~"SOUL RESONANCE!"~ they cried, and the light became to strong to look at. The shockwaves from their fusion were so strong at that distance that Ian had to shield his face from the force. There was a sound like a great exhale, and then the light began to fade. Blinking to help restore his vision, the religious boy made out the figures of his and Ali's rescuers. standing next to the slumped form of the werewolf. Now that his heart had calmed and the stress of the moment had dispersed, Ian could now see the two boys more clearly. The younger one–the meister–had white hair that was mostly straight and framed his face but curled up in a few odd places. The boy was swaying back and forth a bit, and his sleepy eyes made him look like he was about to pass out. The other boy was taller, with messy brown hair, a band-aid on his cheek and few bumps and scrapes here and there. Combined with his daredevil grin, wild eyes, wrapped hands and confident posture he seemed to be designed perfectly as what parents would call a 'bad example'. His brown aviator jacket was too large and he wore a red shirt that read '01' in blocky numbers.

"Hey, kid," he called out upon spotting Ian. "Pretty good mess you got yourselves into." Ian nodded mutely, and tried to answer, but suddenly his entire body exploded in pain. He gasped and felt the world blur, then go dark.

Ian went from a battle to a vision he had no control over. He saw flashes of colour, heard strains of conversation, felt jolts of motion stop and start. It was all too much. Dizzy, he closed his eyes. Then, all the sounds blended into one. He was lying on the ground, the crackling hiss of fire filling his ears. Blinking, the meister pushed himself to his knees. All he could see was ash and fire. Everywhere he looked was the red glow of hungry flames. And there–standing before him–was an apparition. Darkness wreathed it's form, and it's clawed hands tensed and scrabbled. It's eyes were the worst part–the crimson gaze of a demon–full of blood and hellfire. But it could not reach him, because locking it to the ground was a web of chains that glowed with a faint light.

"Yeah, he's a real nasty piece of work, inn'it he?" Ian whirled around to face the speaker of the lazy, mocking drawl. It was a teenaged boy, leaning against a charred tree on the fringes of the clearing of fire. He was several years older than Ian was, sporting curly blond hair, a roguish smirk affixed to his face, and a wispy goatee curling from his chin. He was wearing dark jeans and a purple button-up top with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows, and his eyes glinted with a dull violet spark. "Yeah, never did much like him. Always with the burning and the killing and never any time for fun." Ian glanced nervously between the newcomer and the...thing.

"Who are you?" he asked fearfully. The teenager chuckled.

"Tell ya what. I'll take ya somewhere nicer then this dump-" he kicked at the blackened wood, which crumbled at the strike. "-and then I'll tell ya." He snapped his fingers and the wall of flame parted, leading off into a black void. The unnamed person started off, then looked over his shoulder at Ian. "You coming?"

Ian took one look back at the creature, then hurried to follow the stranger. They walked in darkness for a few moments, before the blackness melted away to reveal a grimy alleyway, complete with graffiti, tattered posters, and cruddy gas lamps at irregular intervals.

"This is nicer?" Ian asked disbelievingly, to which his guide responded with a genuinely-surprised sounding "Huh. So you aren't a complete tool all the time." Ian was about to retort when he realized what he'd said. Usually he was so careful to remain polite and composed... The stranger lead Ian through a back door. Immediately, Ian was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensation. It was a nightclub–he realized–as he saw scantily-clad men and women serving drinks to a wide range of customers, all under a dulling haze of alcohol and the thrumming background of the music. The older teen lead Ian through the crowd to a booth where they sat opposite each other.

"So who are you?" Ian asked as the other person waved a server over and took a drink for himself.

"Oh, you know," the man began casually. "A little bit of this, a WHOLE lot of that... but mostly-" He winked. "You can just call me Raz." Ian's eyes widened.

"W-wait," he stammered. "You're the one that took over my body! You were the one that-"

"Saved your life?" Raz offered quizzically, raising an eyebrow as he took a drink. "And your partner's?" He sighed melodramatically. "Jeez, not even a thank you." He shook his head. "Kids these days." Ian was angry, though.

"No, I'm not going to thank you!" he shouted, pounding the table. "You almost...did...things to Ali!" His face was red now–both from anger and embarrassment. Raz just folded his hands behind his head and leaned back.

"Kid, I'll be straight with you," he said, voice suddenly serious. "That time, I did it because I owed you. You got me a ticket outta Hell. But I paid that debt–me getting handsy with your girl doesn't change that." He leaned closer, smirking confidently. "So now, I've got a new deal for you."

Ian regarded the perverted soul warily. "What do you mean? And Ali's not 'my girl!'" Raz laughed. "Could'a fooled me. But come on, kid, did you think you were really that weak, despite constantly being put in hazardous situations? No, that's not how it works. You see, when we latched onto your body, your soul fought back. Souls grow from conflict, and yours has been in a constant state of turmoil since our arrival. Eventually, after a few years, things settled down, with your soul attaching to ours. Thing is, all that power that conflict generated went to each of US, not you. So while each of us has a supply of immense power, you were left with jack shit. And, to make matters worse for ya..." Raz grinned wryly. "...you're fighting for all of us, so whenever you try and get stronger, your power only increases at one-fourth of the speed it should." Ian's clenched fist trembled and he forced back tears.

"S-so it's hopeless?" he whispered. "I'll never be able to fight alongside Ali..." He was stopped when he caught sight of Raz's sly smile.

"Not at all. See, the thing is, we can each let you use that power...for a price." Ian's gaze shot up.

"What would that involve?"

Raz shrugged. "Well, that's the thing, really. I don't know much about the third guy, and I don't even know if our friend from the fire can talk, but I'm a reasonable guy, so I'll make this simple. I'll give you access to my power whenever you want it, but there's something you've got to do for me."

"And what's that."

Raz frowned and leaned in close, expression deadly serious. "I need you to get laid."

"WHAT!?" Ian exploded. "I'm not going to do something like that!" Raz heaved a sigh.

"Fine, fine. But at least get yourself a girlfriend. I mean COME ON. I refuse to die a virgin by proxy in my second life, so you'd better man up already." Ian's face looked like a tomato.

"I'll... I'll see," he consented begrudgingly. "Now tell me how to use your power!"

Raz scratched his head and withdrew something from one of his pockets, setting it down on the table. It was a ring, inlaid with a purple stone. "There you go," he said. Just picture yourself putting on the ring and it'll appear on your finger. And with it, you'll have access to my power. Now, while you do that, you'll find your speed and strength increase to just above-human levels, so about average for a meister of your level. While it's active, you'll become a bit more enthusiastic, as well as develop a–shall we say–healthy interest in the female body. However, there's something else we need to address. You can't use your weapon, can you?" Ian shook his head regretfully. "Thought as much. Okay, so here's the thing. You want Ali as your weapon, right?" A nod from the religious boy. "Then for each of us, you'll have to synch with her a different way. For me, to activate your link, you first have to see her as a girl."

Ian was confused. "Wha-what does THAT mean?"

Raz sighed. "What do you think of her as a person?"

"W-well, she's strong and fast, and she's nice deep down, even if she doesn't show it."

"Alright, now what do you think of her as a girl?"

"I...ummm... well she's... not quite Maka or Tsubaki... but she's nobody else, either. She's just Ali."

"So you're not attracted to her at all? You don't see anything there that you just wish belonged to you? Everything that makes her special?"

"I-I-I..."

"Just keep that in mind. And I'd advise finding that out soon. The others might take notice of our arrangement, and I'm not giving any more freebies, so if one of us is triggered, you won't be able to control it. Now run along, kid. You need to be waking up now."

Ian woke up so fast his heart felt like it was shot! He gasped, clutching his chest until the burning sensation died down. As his breathing settled, he looked around the room. He was back in Melinda's house, laying on a bed. The brown-haired weapon from before was sitting at a table along with Blanc and Melinda. The pale boy was napping with his head resting on his arms. Ali was leaning against the wall by the window where her body language screamed 'conflicted.' Ian heard Raz's words echo in his mind as he watched her.

'...to activate your link, you first have to see her as a girl.'

His thoughts were interrupted as Melinda spoke up.

" Finally awake now aren't we? You should know watching you writhe in pain was harder then the renovations I made weeks ago." Melinda said.

"So-sorry about that..." Ian answered, sitting up slowly. His head still hurt some, but he seemed mostly fine. Spotting the brown-haired weapon, he spoke up. "Um... not to sound ungrateful, but who are you two?" The wild-looking boy turned to face him.

"I'm Blake Hazard and this dope is Blanc Alviéa; we're students at Shibusen. Two years above you guys, I think." Ian frowned. He could believe that for Blake, but Blanc looked even younger up close. He was just taller than Ali!

"Both of you?" he asked, to which the bast*rd sword cracked a knowing grin.

"Don't be fooled; Blanc is stronger than he looks." Said boy chose that moment to let out a light snore.

"Okay..." Ian accepted. "But why are you here?"

Blake shrugged. "Emergency sub-deployment orders from the big man himself. Not sure about the details, but something happened to interfere with your mission here that pushed the danger level above what you guys are ready for."

Ian blinked. What on earth could that mean?

Ali, on the other hand, growled and pushed off the wall, glaring at Ian. "I could have been strong enough if I wasn't saddled with this guy," she declared spitefully. "He STILL can't even use my weapon form for crying out loud!" Ian was hurt. Maybe that was what brought on his next words, spoken so softly that they were barely audible.

"Maybe if you ever trusted me enough to hold it, we'd be there by now."

Silence. Ali looked stunned. Then she looked mad.

"How dare you-!"

"He's right." Everyone stopped to turn and look at Blake, who was sitting back in his chair with eyes closed and arms crossed.

The girl gritted her teeth and jabbed a finger in his direction. "You stay out of this!" she snarled.

Blake shook his head and fixed her with a hard stare. "No. In fact," he continued. "The way I see it, you're the one that's holding both of you back–acting like such a child."
Ali whipped out a kunai. "You take that back right now," she growled menacingly. Blake just frowned.

"A weapon relying a weapon before her partner? Now THAT is a sign of weakness."

That was the last push. Ali snapped and charged at the older weapon, yelling as she swung her knife forwards. Ian could barely follow what transpired next. One moment Ali was inches from stabbing Blake in the gut; the next second the brown-haired boy's arm lashed out, twisting her wrist painfully until she dropped the knife. She was spun around, then a something slammed into her still-healing back hard enough to drive her up against the wall and pin her there. She wheezed as the air was driven from her lungs–would've screamed if she could muster the breath. Ian jumped to his feet and cried out in alarm but then she heard Blake speaking in low, dangerous tones.
"Count yourself lucky," he hissed in her ear. "That I'm giving you a chance to correct your mistakes. If I didn't think you two have a chance to somehow pull your dysfunctional asses together, that punch would have gone THROUGH your spine and come out the other side. Are we clear?" Ali could barely think, let alone reply. The pressure increased and she let out a little choking gasp. "I said, 'are we clear?'" Ian was yelling at Blake to please, please let her go and that she didn't mean it. Melinda was looking on with growing concern, looking torn between letting Blake act and stepping in.

"Blake." It was Blanc's voice–calm and collected. The pale meister had awoken, and was looking up at the scene playing out before him. Blake growled and released Ali, who crumpled to the floor like a fallen house of cards, gasping in air desperately.

"I'm going into town."

"I'll come with you," Melinda said, rising from her seat. Blake glanced back and shrugged.

"Sure. How about you, Blanc?" The white-haired boy glanced at Ian, who was lifting an unconscious Ali onto the bed.

"I'll...be right there."

"Alright."

As the two left the room, Blanc pulled himself up and strode over to Ian.

"Listen," he sighed, smiling wearily. "Don't take any of what she said to heart; she was really beating herself up earlier thinking you'd gone and gotten yourself seriously hurt." Ian started, gaze snapping to watch the shorter meister. "If you ask me, she's afraid of you dying on her, so she's pushing you both to get stronger while also pushing you away."

The religious boy was floored. "Th-then why didn't she just say that!?" he asked Blanc in frustration.

"Why do you think?"

Ian groaned. "I don't know... Urgh, all the girls in Shibusen are weird!"

"Ah. You've met Liz, Patty, Maka, and Tsubaki, haven't you?"

"Y-yes. How did you know?"

"...ah..."

"Yes."

"...Oh, Blanc?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me what your time was like in Shibusen?"

Blanc's expression soured. "What's there to tell? I don't spend much time there."

"O-oh? But I thought you were a student?"

"I am."

"Then what-"

"Ian," Blanc cut him off. "Let's just say that Blake and I are not very well liked around there."