Hey guys...a very tired Noble Scotsman here with a new chapter of Kampfer!
This chapter was incredibly difficult to write, and I think I delved into far too-much detail and backstory, but still! I'm happy with it, and it will provide a good segway into the main arc of this story, so that's good.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy, aren't too exasperated with me (I think I used that word way too much in this chapter, haha), but without further ado, I present you with the third chapter of Kampfer! Enjoy~
Chapter 3
The wind had faded by the time the sun dropped beneath the horizon, plunging everything into the eerie neon semi-darkness of a big city. Streetlights stood fixedly, their pacing consistent and even, shining light intermittently through the silver car's darkened windows as it wove through the urban labyrinth. From within, a slight figure gazed at the sky, its forehead resting against the cool window, considering the world outside.
It was a new moon tonight.
The figure moved as it was struck by a sudden thought, the stillness that had enveloped the scene within the car suddenly disturbed, the magic broken. Looking over, the figure's eyes met those of her companion's, the violet seeming to emanate from his eyes as he met her gaze, seeking to derive the source of the conflict swelling within her. He reclined elegantly in his seat, effortlessly piloting the sleek German car through the city streets, his gaze straying from the road carelessly, though the car's path never wavered outside of the road's boundaries. The girl had already given up trying to imitate his graceful, relaxed posture and settled into a cross-legged observation of the city outside. A black bracelet dangled on her wrist, reminding her continuously of transformation that had come over her overnight, and her brow furrowed again at the thought.
Had she made the right decision? Everything seemed to be moving too fast…the longer she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that she had made a careless decision. Besides…she knew nothing about this man, nor whether or not he was telling the truth. Was everything a lie…what was real? Who was she…was she not a man? But still…why, then, was he in such a feminine body?
Why had she trusted this man, acted as though she was happy, even relieved? For all she knew he could be taking her somewhere to kill her…or worse.
Had she been wrong, then?
"Hey, kämpfer…" the tall, elegant man said abruptly, his gaze flitting across his companion's face before returning to the road in front of them, "You've turned back into a boy."
The girl glanced down quickly, surprised, and found no trace of the body she had possessed earlier. She was taller, more muscular, and had the sharp definition of a male athlete…her original body. Curious and exasperated at even greater change, he glanced at his companion in despair.
"Is…that normal?"
Carlisle's expressionless face transformed into a smile, and he laughed, the sound reverberating throughout the car pleasantly. "I did say you were a kämpfer…did I not?"
"Ah..." the boy said, remembering their conversation from earlier…or maybe yesterday…time seemed to flow around Carlisle, leaving him untouched and unblemished in the current of time. Still, though, his transformation back into a boy had reassured him somewhat of Carlisle's sincerity – and that his past life had not been a dream after all. "I nearly forgot about being able to change bodies…"
"Are you disappointed, Lance?"
The boy met his gaze evenly, his thoughts clearer than they had been when he was a girl for some reason – he was more rational in this form, not so quick to trust Carlisle and carry out his whims. He briefly entertained the thought that the mentality would be connected to the will to fight before dismissing it, preferring to gather evidence rather than assumptions. "Not particularly, it's more of a relief, honestly. But…now that I'm thinking clearer…"
"…you have some questions," Carlisle finished for him, nodding. "It would be curious for you not to, after all."
"Why do you say that?" Lance asked quizzically. Carlisle smiled at him again, this time somewhat challengingly, seeming to radiate amusement with the proceedings. 'How quaint…' came to Lance's mind and he sighed, disliking the man sitting next to him.
"You have a different personality as a female kämpfer than you do when you're in this form…" Carlisle responded, his eyes twinkling. "…which I'm sure you've already figured out."
Lance sighed, the confirmation of what he had already assumed somewhat depressing. "What a bother…" he muttered, and Carlisle threw back his head again, laughing uproariously.
"You sound like an old man…" he said when the laughter had subsided significantly. "After all, isn't the difference between your two forms what provides the most excitement for you?"
"Not in the least…" Lance said, shaking his head. "In fact, I rather despise my female form. She's too open, emotional, trusting, impulsive, and-"
"Loyal?" Carlisle remarked quietly, his eyes once again on the road, his features serene. Lance didn't answer, and for a long time, silence reigned between them.
"So…which am I, then?" Lance asked after a while, his voice subdued with the stress of the unknown, "Am I Lance, or am I Anastasia?"
Carlisle considered the question for a long moment before responding, his voice even, emotionless, responding with equal sincerity as that expressed in the question asked. "You are you, and nothing will change that, but Anastasia is as much a part of you as your original self is now. If you desire, you may choose to never revert to your female version, though…" he trailed off, smirking as Lance's outline darkened and flickered for a moment, managing to retain his male form as it faded, "…it may require some practice."
Lance nodded, unaware of the change that had nearly come over him. "What will happen to me now…do we need to come with you, or can I return to my old life?"
Carlisle didn't meet his eyes, though Lance made no attempt to either, staring out of his window thoughtfully as he worked to deal with his situation rationally. There was silent recognition of a truth already known as his question was answered.
"I think you know the answer to that."
"I know…" Lance responded, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, leaving his past behind as they sped through the night. It would serve him no longer to have any future but this, to be with and serve this strange, dark man.
It was the only future he had.
His eyes closed, Lance thought about what had happened to him so far. He had died…then he hadn't – Carlisle had saved him. He had then been provided with food and clothing, a safe place to sleep, and above all, been comforted with the promise of a fresh start. Carlisle had been kind, even - never providing a reason for distrust or discomfort – even sitting outside while he slept, the alternative uncomfortable to think about. He had not been made to swear any promises, sign any contract, nor did Carlisle exercise his godly powers in any way against him – barring the necessary conversion to a kämpfer.
On top of that, without Carlisle's favorable intercession, Lance would not be alive, and while he assumed Carlisle had no doubt constructed a fabulous and elaborate cover for his sudden disappearance – why else would he have woken up in Carlisle's house? – he knew that his departure from his family would be infinitely better than his abrupt and unexplained death.
Everything Carlisle had done correlated with his own trail of reasoning…did that make Carlisle right? Either way, though, he had shown Lance incredible reason and kindness, even if what he said was hard to believe.
If he was to be a kämpfer, he would want to be this man's kämpfer.
After another long pause, Lance finally spoke, changing the subject, his course decided. "So, where are we going?"
"I thought we would…take a walk…" Carlisle responded, barely suppressing a smile as he pulled the car over to a brightly-lit sidewalk, stepping out lithely into the busy street and smoothly onto the sidewalk, the neon lights of downtown Phoenix pulsating behind him as he turned to look expectantly into the greyed car. Opening his door and looking around cautiously, Lance joined him.
"Hey…isn't it dangerous to be out like this?" he asked Carlisle tentatively, who winked and walked to the rear of the car, opening the boot fluidly.
"Ah, of course, the kämpfer wishes to be armed."
As Lance walked over to join him, rolling his eyes, a plain black interior typical of a boot could be seen with two swords and their sheaths resting comfortably side by side, seemingly alone in their occupation of the spacious compartment. Lance's eyebrow twitched in exasperation with the openness with which Carlisle carried weapons, though he soon recovered, reasoning that it was normal when in a line of work such as his. Having overcome this next hurdle in serving his savior, Lance was able to fully appreciate the beauty of the weapons he was looking at. One was long and slim, encased in a rich black sheath embossed with scarlet thread, and whose hilt was ornately decorated, the bright, silver metal twisting into beautiful and intricate designs that left the eye lost in the forest of cool metal. The other sword was longer than the other sword, taking up nearly all of the room provided with its considerable length. Its blade was broader, slightly leaf-shaped, and whose hilt had a simple, beautiful cross guard protecting the more ornate, delicate grip and decorated pommel behind. It was encased in a black sheath similar to the other, and as Lance looked at it, the impossibility of wielding such a great, long sword seemed beyond human capabilities, if only for the weight alone – not even considering the strength it would take to use it in the swift, dancing routine of a hand-and-a-half swordsman.
"This is your blade now," Carlisle said, holding the lighter, narrower sword out to Lance, who took it gingerly in his hands. "It has served me well…as it will serve you."
"Isn't this…Couldn't we get arrested for this?" Lance said, nonetheless belting the elegant sword to his waist – he had an obligation to Carlisle as his kämpfer, after all. Everything would be different now.
"People who do not wish to see something often do not," Carlisle replied, lifting the second sword one-handed and closing the boot smoothly, turning with Lance to stride casually into the mass of people in front of them, the picture of ease…if you could ignore the enormous weapon of destruction he held loosely in one hand. "When it concerns affairs involving us, that truth is even more so. Our attire is also important in their view of us, and something you should keep in mind as my kämpfer."
"Yes, Carlisle," Lance responded, his voice empty of the adoration of Anastasia but filled with the same respect and loyalty that the secretive, powerful man's presence demanded. Looking down, he thought about what Carlisle had said, fingering the clothes he had been lent before leaving the house. He wore a black turtleneck that hung loosely over his purple jeans, complimenting his style perfectly and setting off her best features with a natural, effortless beauty. Aside from the normal clothes, he also wore light shoes and fingerless gloves, both of which were surprisingly well-ventilated and comfortable for the durable material they were made of. Looking over, Lance saw Carlisle was wearing similar things, plus his long black jacket. Even though it was late spring, they were cool, their clothes seeming to absorb the heat assaulting the other pedestrians who walked around them, reflecting it back rebelliously into the hot desert night. Despite himself, Lance found himself appreciating the effortless grace with which Carlisle conducted himself and the soft elegance with which he dressed.
He had surprisingly good taste, for an ancient.
"If you're that attracted to me, you should simply turn into your girl form, Lance…" Carlisle teased gently, his violet eyes dancing alluringly from beneath the cascade of jet-black hair. His gaze flickered for a second and he touched a hand to the bangs which hung low over his face, as if contemplating their existence. "I wonder if I should dye my hair…" he said after a while, continuing to examine his hair as they turned down a surprisingly empty street. "Blonde might work."
"Shut up…" Lance muttered good-heartedly, suppressing a smile. Carlisle was also surprisingly vain, unexpectedly so, and Lance could feel himself opening up to what would be his constant companion for…who knows. "For many years to come," he said softly, allowing a smile to form at the thought of adventuring with this interesting, vain man.
Suddenly, Carlisle stopped, the cessation of his soft footsteps seeming to echo throughout the street as clearly as the crack of a whip. Lance turned immediately, his left hand straying to the pommel of his sword as his grey eyes met the violet of Carlisle's. The street was quiet, quieter than a downtown road like this had a right to be in a busy city such as Phoenix…especially before midnight. Everything was still, and even the buildings, towering above on all sides, seemed to be holding their breath. Lance's eyes sought the passing of a car, the shout of a pedestrian to a friend, even seeking the low vibration of movement.
Nothing.
Something was wrong.
Suddenly, his eyes flew open, and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his head, mouth agape in a silent scream. Carlisle was instantly by his side, his hands soothing, his touch like cool water to the burning agony of his flesh as he endured the trauma.
Lance's head burned, and within seconds it had spread to her whole body, seeming to burn a bloody path throughout her nervous system, setting every cell on fire as the inferno raged within. He attempted to breath, but as he exhaled, his lungs also burst into flame, seeming to seize-up, and fear crept into his mind for the first time. Emotions suddenly rushed into his body and mind, and his eyes opened, narrowing as he bared his teeth, continuing the silent scream. He felt wrath, envy, greed, and pride, and the neutrality of simply serving Carlisle out of a debt – lack of choice – died and was forgotten as the fire consumed it. His hand clutched at his heart, but felt something else instead of his muscled chest – something soft.
Then, as abruptly as it had started, it ended, and Carlisle slowly withdrew his hand, aware of his survival. From his position curled-up on the ground, Lance looked at his body, groaning mentally as he saw what had happened to him.
He was a girl once again, once again Anastasia.
Carlisle stood up from where he knelt beside her, stepping over her still-limp form wordlessly towards the center of the road. Looking up from where she lay, Anastasia saw a figure standing in front of them, her arms wreathed in flames, and for a split-second she wondered why the white bracelet dangling from her wrist had not burned up yet. As it registered in her recovering mind, she went to jump to her feet, only managing to sit up, though, wincing as though physically injured.
White kämpfer.
As Anastasia looked at the other kämpfer, she felt a strange emotion welling-up inside of her, increasing exponentially until she felt she could take no more. She wanted to fight. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be worthy to be Carlisle's kämpfer.
She wanted to kill, and the sword at her side seemed to pulsate, mirroring her desires as it felt the presence of a white kämpfer.
"You!" she cried, pointing at Carlisle judiciously, her voice trembling with fury, "You will pay for what you've done in this city! You'll pay for killing them!"
"Hmm…" Carlisle said casually, intentionally angering the other kämpfer, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You killed them!" the girl shrieked, shooting fire into the night angrily, the flames dying before they could rise above the tops of the buildings, their light reflecting dangerously in the darkened business windows on every side. "You killed my friends, and now I'll kill you!"
"You'll have to be a little more specific than that," Carlisle replied loosely, amusement creeping into his voice as Anastasia held back a giggle. "I kill many people's friends, after all."
"Die!" the girl screamed, charging at Carlisle and Anastasia, her limbs trailing fire as she sought to destroy them. Carlisle effortlessly avoided to one side, but Anastasia's eyes flashed and she stood up, throwing her whole momentum from rising behind a punch as she connected with the crazed white kämpfer, sending her flying through the air to land on a car twenty feet away.
"Ah~…that felt good…" Anastasia said passionately as her remaining weakness flooded away, her eyes glowing a brilliant, crimson red as she bared her teeth in a smile at her attacker. Her eyes no longer were simply red, they literally glowed with power, blazing brilliantly as she looked towards her enemy, her personality changing as much as her eyes. Her body seemed to glow with a black aura, and she reached to her side for the rapier, drawing it out in one, smooth motion as she stalked towards her prey.
"Wh…Who the hell is she…?" the white kämpfer coughed, sitting up from the dented car, "she's a demon…Satan!"
"That girl," a voice from beside her responded, "is my kämpfer. I won't tolerate anyone bullying her." Looking beside her, the white kämpfer saw the tall, beautiful man leaning casually against the hood of the car, holding a large, dangerous-looking hand-and-a-half greatsword casually in one hand. His cool violet eyes bored into her soul, and she shriveled at the disdain she saw in them. "Especially from scum like you."
"Bullying?" the white kämpfer said weakly, breaking into an exasperated laugh. "Are you kidding m-" she never got to finish her sentence, though, as Carlisle swung his sword - still sheathed - suddenly, sending her flying into the air to come crashing down into the middle of the street. As the white kämpfer struggled to her feet once more, she saw in a darkened reflection the two demons closing in on either side of her, beginning to circle in the same direction. Desperately, she procured two fireballs, holding them in either hand as she leveled them towards her attackers.
"Right then," Carlisle said, holding his sheathed sword loosely in one hand as he circled, resting it on one shoulder. "Lesson number one," he held up one finger on his opposite hand. "As you can clearly see, kämpfers are not immortal, nor are they indestructible."
"Yes, Carlisle," Anastasia nodded, her naked blade dancing in the fires that glowed in her enemy's hands. The white kämpfer lobbed two fireballs at Carlisle, but he simply stepped out of the way of one and pierced the other with his sheathed sword, the fire dissipating like harmless smoke around him as he lowered the tip to the ground, leaning on it like a walking stick.
"Lesson two," Carlisle continued, holding up two fingers, angling them insultingly at the white kämpfer. "A kämpfer is not restricted to using weapons only of its type, or using weapons at all, in fact. A kämpfer's whole body is a weapon and, by extension, anything that they touch is also considered a valid weapon."
"Yes, Carlisle," Anastasia said, suddenly dashing forwards to engage the distraught white kämpfer. As they met, the white kämpfer shooting flames out of her hands, Anastasia ducked down, sweeping her opponent's legs out from beneath her and following up with her knee, knocking the breath out of the other kämpfer. Standing up immediately after crippling her opponent, she finished with a palm-strike that sent the white kämpfer flying into a nearby building, shattering the glass as she went flying into the darkened room beyond. After a few moments she emerged, limping and with glass still-impaled, silvery energy pouring like blood from her wounds as she attempted to flee. Suddenly, she dived sideways with her remaining strength, some animalistic reaction kicking-in, just barely avoiding the lunge Anastasia had conducted with the rapier, receiving a deep gash along one arm. She fell to the ground, screaming in pain as the rapier Anastasia held glowed a silvery light, seeming to absorb the energy bleeding out of her defeated opponent.
"This is a special white kämpfer-killing blade…" Carlisle informed the two kämpfers quietly, walking to where Anastasia looked eagerly at him with her burning, beautiful scarlet eyes, her opponent held motionless on the ground at sword point. "As for your mistakes…your unfortunate affiliation with the Moderators has labeled you for…eradication...my deepest sympathies," he continued, beginning to draw his blade, the blade flashing as it caught the city lights.
Suddenly, he paused, turning to look behind him as a solitary motorcycle drove past, followed by a sea of other cars and pedestrians, the music of a living city returning to the battle scene and reminding the participants of reality. As he turned back to the white kämpfer, he saw that she had vanished, Anastasia having followed his gaze to the resurrection of the city. Sighing, he re-sheathed the small amount of blade he had already drawn, and Anastasia followed suit, brushing dirt off of her jeans as she looked around eagerly, nerves still running high from the fight.
"Did I do well, Carlisle?" Anastasia asked him earnestly as they began walking again, following some invisible trail left by the kämpfer which only Carlisle could follow.
"Yes, you did," he replied, not surprised with the change that had come over Anastasia, "for your first time, that was excellent. You channeled your killing intent well, though you require a lot of refinement. There will be plenty of time for that later, though."
"Whatever you say, Carlisle," she responded. Again, the tall, lean man smirked at the polar differences between the male and female mentalities of the black kämpfer. He would look forward to the internal struggle his charge would have within himself after this event was over.
"Carlisle…" Anastasia warned quietly, stirring him from his thoughts. They had been walking for a while now, and he raised his gaze to meet that of a girl crouching behind a corner in front of them, a gun leveled at the couple. They appeared to be in an alley of some sorts, and he sighed, the feeling of back-alley criminality returning to him once more. Anastasia's hand crept towards the hilt of her rapier and she kept her eyes leveled at the threat in front of them, appraising the skill of her next opponent. "Should I kill her for you?" she asked, her voice even quieter than before. Carlisle shook his head, appraising the girl in front of them, noticing especially the green bracelet on her wrist, and smirked.
"She's not a threat," he said, allowing his voice to carry over to the green kämpfer, addressing his next question to her. "Why are you here?"
"I should ask you the same-"she replied before suddenly throwing herself fully behind the corner as she saw something behind them, calling a warning as she ducked to safety. "Hit the deck!"
Carlisle felt heat on his back and he turned faster than the eye could follow, deflecting the fireball aimed at them at the last possible second. It exploded, throwing fire everywhere and engulfing the alley with smoke and heat, and when it cleared, Carlisle saw that Anastasia had already drawn her rapier - only a fraction of a second behind he himself would have done, though he had no reason to draw his weapon. Anastasia stepped forward to finish her fight from before but Carlisle positioned the sword in front of her, holding her back. Instead, he created a fireball of his own, his a dark violet-borderline black color, and sent it streaking towards the enemy they had just been fighting. Then, turning, he and Anastasia walked to join the mysterious girl who had called out the warning, deflecting fireballs as they went, Carlisle even going far enough to lob some he caught on his sheath back at the attacker.
When the two rounded the corner, they saw the green kämpfer crouching down, having just countered an attack by another white kämpfer. Anastasia noticed she held a gun, and her own hands twitched unconsciously for some reason, as though her own would materialize for the battle in place of the sword. Not for the first time, she wondered what type of kämpfer she was, but was knocked out of her reverie by the commanding tone the new kämpfer addressed Carlisle with.
"I'll draw mine out; her movement will cause the other White to come out. We'll kill them both," she said quickly, and Carlisle nodded, responding jadedly as Anastasia narrowed her eyes in dislike for the girl in front of her.
"Fine…"
The green kämpfer turned away and began firing, and Carlisle faced the opposite direction as a series of fireballs barraged their small group. He turned, winking at Anastasia, and deflected the first fireball as he began to run, deflecting the second fireball slightly – enough to not hit his temporary ally or Anastasia – and jumped on the wall, running fast enough to stay on the side of the buildings. The fireballs began to come faster now, the white kämpfer desperate, and he slipped to the ground as a horizontal wall of fire approached him, slipping under it effortlessly, the fire dissipating long before it reached the others behind him. Finally drawing his sword, he lunged, impaling the white kämpfer on his sword, her feet off the ground with the ferocity of his assault, a trail of dust settling behind him along the path he had sprinted. Stepping back, he grabbed the kämpfer's clothes and freed his sword, tossing the body against the wall, a dejected shell of a tool that had seen the end of its usefulness. In the blink of an eye, he had returned to Anastasia's side, and he addressed the green kämpfer, the second white kämpfer already having been disposed of.
"It's over," he stated, amused, his amusement increasing as he saw the green kämpfer frown.
"No shit," she said, disbelief in her voice.
"Hey," Carlisle replied, ignoring her tone as Anastasia bristled. She hadn't yet sated her lust for blood yet, and he knew continuing was dangerous to this girl's health. "You're heading for that place too…aren't you?"
"How do you mean?" she asked, confused. "If you mean I'm leaving this place to go elsewhere, I cannot leave for two weeks. I'm graduating this year, so I'd like to take finals and do that, plus I need to tell my college to give me a year. If you tell me where to go, I can meet you there. Part of being 19, man. Sorry."
"Give her a break, Carlisle," Anastasia said with what must have been enormous self-control, rolling her eyes - she would have lots to say about this later, apparently. She and Carlisle exchanged a smirk and he turned dismissively away, waving a hand over his shoulder carelessly as he left.
"Give her your phone number, Anastasia…" he said, his violet eyes meeting those of the green kämpfer's briefly, appraising her worth. Smirking again, he turned away. "I'll see you again in two weeks, midori kämpfer."
Anastasia handed the girl a note with her number on it – Lance's number – and ran after Carlisle. Falling into step beside him, her emotions settled into contentment, and she smiled.
"So, where to next?" she asked casually, suppressing the excitement of further adventures with Carlisle as they stopped, Carlisle turning to the west as he thought about her question, smiling as contently as her.
His task was finally completed.
Like Lance, he was free.
"To Japan."
Oh my goodness I'm so glad that's finally over. This chapter has caused me more worry and stress than any other story I've written...well, on Fanfiction, at any rate.
It's probably horrible...aha...
Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, though, so maybe it was worth it - maybe not, haha.
Rate and review, bitte schön!
Danke schön! Chapter 4 will be out soon!
bitte schön