The morning after Maka confronted him, the morning after she'd dragged him home to take out the last vestiges of her frustration with him on his dick, Soul woke up with her on his chest, feeling rested for the first time in ages, wanting nothing more than to wake her up the same way he'd put her to sleep. But as he watched her sleeping so peacefully, he decided he'd much rather take care of her. It was a Saturday, he wasn't exhausted, and they had the whole day ahead of them. He wanted to make her breakfast. She deserved a good breakfast. God knew she hadn't gotten one from him in far too long.
As he slid her off to the side, she moaned her protest, reaching for him. It was adorable, and his urge to wake her up right almost overtook his urge to care for her, but he reminded himself they had time for that later, and grunted out, "Goin' to the bathroom, be back," which earned a sleepy hum as she burrowed further into the covers. She must be exhausted, too, to be sleeping in like this-Maka rarely slept in-and he felt a deep pang of guilt that he had contributed to it, to her worry and her sleeplessness. Would only keep contributing to it.
Well, maybe breakfast couldn't make up that, but it was a start.
Forty minutes later, a piping hot plate of crepes with strawberries and whipped cream was laid out on a tray, along with tea and juice. He padded back to their room in his boxers (he had no intention of actually getting dressed today), and as he pushed open the door, watched as she sat up blearily and yawned, blinking his way.
"Soul? Is that…?" She looked up at the tray sleepily.
"Yup, crepes and strawberries, your favorite." He grinned down at her as he placed the tray in her lap.
"What's the occasion?" she said with another yawn.
"Aside from me fucking up royally with the whole Eater thing, you mean?" he asked. "Just you. Bein' fucking amazing."
She smiled up at him as she took her first bite, and Soul smiled back. Honesty felt good, it turned out, and the weight that had been lifted from him was almost palpable. Too bad there was still another three hundred pound gorilla sitting on his chest, holding him down.
He moved to leave and she grabbed his arm, mouth full but eyes inquisitive.
"Gonna get my breakfast and join you, be right back."
Maka nodded, smile widening, and he went and took up the other tray with his identical breakfast and returned to the room. They ate together in companionable silence, and after the last weeks of overextension and exhaustion and secrecy, it felt so domestic, so normal, that he just wanted to stay that way forever, forget about Eater and the Grigori, about Black Star and Kid, about fucking Arachnophobia.
They couldn't, she'd never let them, but fuck did Soul wish they could.
When she was done, she moved to place her tray on the nightstand, but he took it from her instead, juggling both trays and their remaining contents to bring them back to the kitchen.
"I'll take care of clean up," he called over his shoulder as he went, not wanting her to have to lift a finger, wanting to make her morning as perfect as she deserved it to be, as perfect as she deserved every damned morning to be. But as he moved to the sink to take care of washing the pile up of dishes, he felt something warm pressed against his back, felt strong arms encircle his waist, felt hot breath against his neck as she whispered, "Come back to bed. Was hoping you'd show me why you called yourself Eater."
He couldn't help the shiver of anticipation, or the growing girth within his boxers as she led him back to their room. Well, there was more than one way to ensure a perfect morning. In their case, they ensured it several times and again in the shower before finally deigning to wear clothes or do anything that didn't involve their bed.
Even when they did, Soul would much rather have stayed there, but Maka insisted they should probably do something other than each other, and much as he didn't agree, he did listen.
They went to lunch together at their favorite little cafe, took a walk through the market district, then took a drive through the desert on his bike, just spending time together in a way they hadn't done in weeks, in months even. It almost felt like their old life, back in New York, when she hadn't been the Meister or the Grigori, and he hadn't been the Weapon or the unemployed loser or Eater, when they had just lived life. He missed that, and he wondered if she missed it, too, but even if she did, she was still Maka, so she would keep doing what was right over anything else, her own personal happiness included. It was part of what he loved so damn much about her, though sometimes, how he hated it.
That night, they both went to babysit Black Star, who sported a sickeningly knowing smirk for at least half the night as he looked between Eater and the Grigori. Perhaps the vibe between them had changed, but how could it be helped? There was a huge difference for Maka between that annoying asshole who kept stalking her and her boyfriend of four years who wanted to protect her, and suddenly, the tension that had long existed between the two self styled heroes had vanished to be replaced by an easy camaraderie. If even a dense idiot like Black Star could catch on to that, well, who cared what he thought anyway?
Unfortunately, that new camaraderie didn't prevent Soul from getting his ass kicked by both of them at Halo. Since the night was eerily quiet, eerily devoid of criminal activity, they didn't end up having to leave the apartment once, which meant that he got his ass kicked many times over. Well, he'd take that. Fuck of a lot better than getting his ass kicked by some villain asshole for real, fuck of a lot better than watching her do the same.
They ordered in pizza, set out snacks, and when Soul refused to remove the helmet, Maka touched his arm lightly, told him it was okay, Star was a friend, Star would never betray them. He didn't believe in Star, but he believed in her, so he listened, and the blue haired assassin grinned like an idiot.
"I fucking knew it! Your Eater here and your 'eater' at home were the same asshole!" he exclaimed triumphantly with an eyebrow waggle that had Maka going scarlet and punching him in the arm. Soul only rolled his eyes in response.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm Soul." He narrowed his eyes then. "But how do you know who I am?"
"She showed me a picture, like, duh dude." Star rolled his own eyes to the heavens in an exaggerated motion and Maka laughed.
"Anyway." She smiled between them fondly, and she looked so damned happy that Soul actually felt happy himself. "It's pizza time! We even got half with anchovies for your disgusting ass." She made a face at Soul and he grinned at her stupidly as she stuck out her tongue like they were fourteen instead of twenty-four.
Pizza was good. Everything was good. He wished everything could stay this good, her snuggled against him on the couch, pizza, videogames, fucking normalcy. Hell, Black Star was even growing on him!
Of course, it wouldn't last, couldn't. Didn't. The next night they would stage the assassination, and after that? Well, it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose.
Their part in the assassination wasn't really much to speak of. Black Star would show up at Kid's, Kid would play dead, Black Star would run, and they would be too late to chase him down. Most of the work was being done by others-faking an autopsy, hiding Kid, spreading the word. Still, Soul was anxious, and if the way Maka was periodically biting her lip was any indication, so was she. Part of him wanted to occupy her mouth with his own, break the tension, but he couldn't exactly take off his helmet as they openly, intentionally patrolled the side of the city away from Kid's mansion, so he settled for grabbing her hand briefly to squeeze it as they landed on a tall building, looking out into the clouded night. It was dark, quiet, ominous-the perfect night for an assassination.
Maka sighed, worrying her lip again with her teeth beneath the edge of her mask.
"It'll be fine, you know," Soul ventured. "Kid and Black Star are both gonna be fine. It's a good plan-it'll work."
"Thought you didn't trust Black Star," she said as she glanced sideways at him.
His answering shrug was more casual than he felt, his words more comfort than truth. "I don't, but you do, and I trust you. Besides, Star's alright. Kind of an ass, but not a total bastard. Well, at least, not outside of a video game."
"I told you he grows on you." Maka actually smiled.
"Like a fucking cancer," he said, mock grumbling. She just laughed, smacking his arm playfully.
"Hey, that's my bro you're talking about."
"Your what now?" He choked.
"Well, okay, not literally, but we grew up together-saying my friend seems too small. Blake is like the brother I never had and never wanted, but who shoved his way in anyway. I don't know how else to describe it. He's just-family." Her voice was soft, contemplative.
"Nah, I get it. It's nice. Wish I had family like that-" He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth because he'd always been tight lipped about that part of his past and he could see the old questions in her eyes. "But seriously, if he's so important, why'd you never talk about him or this friend of his they've got? You knew her too, right?"
Maka sighed, and though Soul could see in her eyes how much she wanted to pursue the first part, she didn't. "Yeah, Tsubaki was my best friend in high school, but when we all graduated, they both decided to take time off. Blake and Tsu left the city to find out about his family, and I just-I don't know, I didn't know when or if I'd ever see them again, he was so determined. And I was so hurt, because Tsu was my friend, and Blake was my friend. I was the person who brought them together, but then, Tsubaki thought she could help him because she was Japanese and Blake's birth family was from Japan, and suddenly, the two people in my life I thought I could count on to be there just weren't. It was too hard to talk about them, really talk about them. I mean, remember those stories I told about my goofy neighbor? I know I never gave his name-but that was Blake. I'm sorry, I wasn't keeping it from you, I swear I-"
She was cut off by an alert on her wrist, at the same time as the corner of his own vision within the helmet flashed red. The AI droned in Ox's voice that Kyle Mortimer's body was just found in his mansion, that police were on the scene, and they both sprang into action. This was their cue.
They were across the city and at the mansion in a matter of minutes, over the police lines, eyeing the blood stain on the floor. The scene was gruesome, far more gruesome than anything he ever would have done even when he was the resident bastard. He stole things; he didn't hurt people.
The Grigori talked to a cop for a moment while Soul fought the bile rising into his throat at the sight of the gore, reminding himself repeatedly that it wasn't real to keep from losing his dinner, a very bad prospect in the confines of his helmet. Thankfully, Maka finished up and they sped off in the direction Black Star had taken as if in a frantic search. They didn't find him-that was the point. They did meet him back at his apartment though, and instead of entering covered up and in secret, they changed into plain clothes and arrived bearing takeout, as if they had planned to meet as friends, as if Black Star were angling for an alibi. Arachnophobia had to buy this fully for it to work-which meant it had to look flawlessly real.
This time it was Thai food and Halo and far more tense, because now was the critical point. Now was when they started guessing, and guessing was dangerous.
Yes, Soul and Maka were there for plausibility, but they were also there as backup, in case Arachnophobia acted more quickly than anticipated. Kid believed that they would likely wait a few days to strike, set up a false meeting point to give up Tsubaki, then take out Black Star there, but that wasn't guaranteed and they weren't taking chances.
Three nights passed in much the same way: tensely. Each night one of them babysat Star in plain clothes while the other patrolled, assuming Arachnophobia was watching closely now. In the day, the assassin stuck to crowded venues where an attack would draw far too much notice.
Three nights had passed and Soul was exhausted again, not sleeping at night, not sleeping in the day, the Tech and his unused powers leaving him completely drained. As they left school, Maka was eying him with concern, but he assured her he was fine, just tired. They both knew that was true-didn't mean it erased the crease of worry from her brow, and the guilt gnawed at his soul. He ignored it. This was the critical phase, and he'd be damned if he wasn't ready with everything he had to keep her safe.
It was his night to stay with Star again and he'd fallen asleep on the assassin's couch, too spent to even hold a controller properly, when he awoke with a start to the loud blaring of "Turn Down for What," nearly falling off the couch at the intrusion of terrible. Soul shot up, blinked, wiped the drool from his face with the back of his hand, and was about to tell the asshole to never sully his ears with that shit again when he noticed Star on a cell phone, mouth an angry line.
"Well, can I talk to her, then?" His voice was tight with carefully contained rage, and Soul knew instantly what was happening. "Yeah, she'd better be. Hurry up, I don't have all night, peasant."
Another pause, then. "Tsu," the assassin breathed. "You're okay, right? They haven't hurt you, right?" Then after a moment. "Yes-no-good. Yes. I know, I-I love you, too. It's gonna be okay, I promise. You wouldn't be in this mess if I weren't such a fuck up, but I'm making it right."
After a final short pause he added, " Yeah, I know, I'll-hey! Put her back!" he practically screamed at the end. Then, a minute later. "I know, I'll be there. I did your dirty work-you guys watch the news, the asshole's dead-no way I'm not getting Tsu back. Yeah. Yeah. Alright."
As he lowered the phone from his ear he muttered, "Yeah, fuck you too, buddy," before raising his free hand to rub one temple, his brow furrowed, tense.
Soul felt a massive pang of empathy for the guy as he watched, feeling like a creep for intruding on such a clearly painful and private moment. While Star had mentioned in passing that Tsu was his girl, Soul hadn't realized that the assassin was in love with this woman-had been too busy worrying about his past with Maka or the bullshit they faced-but as it clicked into place, everything made more sense, and he suddenly felt like a heel. This poor asshole had the woman he loved torn away from him and he was doing what he had to survive. If it were Soul, if it were Maka they'd taken, he would already have burned the city to the ground to get her back.
This guy was going through hell and this was the first time he really let it show.
"Hey, uh, Star," Soul stammered awkwardly. "We're gonna get her back."
Black Star looked up and nodded, face still grim. "Yeah, man, I know."
"So they set up a meeting point?" Soul asked.
"Yeah," the assassin said slowly. "Business district, tomorrow at midnight. Some old warehouse yard." He aimed his eyes heavenward. "So fucking cliche. Not at all fitting for the arrival of a big star like me, but I'll make it work."
Soul just nodded and let him have his delusion of grandeur in peace as he texted Maka. He filled her in on the details, and suddenly, the real party was about to start.
The only problem was that they had to keep the operation to themselves. With Arachnophobia so widespread, so insidious within the city, Kid couldn't tell who was infected, so using any branch of law enforcement for back up could blow everything. No, it had to be Black Star, Maka, and Soul alone, and with only the three of them, it could prove difficult to deal with whatever Arachnophobia sent their way. The only thing that made the plan less uncertain was Kid's contacts. One of them had caught wind that the organization was sending its best assassin, a mystery man that even the contacts had never seen, but who was rumored to be highly effective. Even still, it was one man. One man against the Grigori, Eater, and the self proclaimed god Black Star who were all expecting him wouldn't stand a chance.
Or at least, that was the hope.
So much could go wrong, though, and the thought had Soul's stomach back in knots. But then, that's why he was here, wasn't it? It's not like he really gave a shit about the big picture-he was just here to keep Maka safe, and surely he could see to that much. Yet, as he perched alone on a building overlooking the warehouse park, the image of Maka's childhood friend on the phone, of the fear and anger on his face and in his voice, came to him unbidden. He shouldn't care, he really shouldn't, but he did anyway, and it was irritating. Since when did he care about anything but Maka? Then again-Maka cared, and maybe that was enough.
Whatever. He could keep her safe and get shit done. Fuck it.
He spotted movement where Black Star stood near a lamppost by one of the warehouses, leaned up against the wall casually, arms crossed over his chest. Soul could hear the assassin's faint breathing, his helmet broadcasting the sound from the man's small ear piece. Maka would be hearing the same thing in her own earpiece, perched on a different building across the park, waiting for the time to strike.
As a tall figure stepped into the lamplight, Soul knew that time was soon. The newcomer moved silently, yet his steps were casual, languid.
"You're one of the spider assholes?" he heard Star say in his ear, watched as he straightened in the distance to face the man.
"Something like that," the man said smoothly.
"Where's Tsu?" There was suspicion in Blake's voice, and Soul was pretty sure it wasn't all feigned inspite of the fact they had expected this. Actually, Soul was a little surprised the man was even bothering to show himself so brazenly and talk at all-they had figured he would simply attack, and were counting on Black Star's own skills to keep him alive long enough for them to intervene. The flak jacket he was wearing under his clothes probably wouldn't hurt, though Soul didn't really see a gun on the guy. Yet.
"She couldn't make it." The man sounded almost regretful, but of course, he must be reading something in his voice that wasn't there. "It's just you and me." Soul watched as the Arachnophobia agent pulled something long and slender from the odd case at his side-a sword. "I am sorry it's come to this, but we must all of us make our choices. Defend yourself."
Damn, this dude was announcing his intentions and giving his opponent a fighting chance. What the hell kind of assassin was he? Either he was cocky as fuck or stupid as fuck; probably both.
Black Star drew his own sword, a sinister looking black katana, and with a flash, the two master swordsmen began their waltz, the signal that Soul would soon need to intervene. It was mesmerizing, to watch them dance beneath the harsh electric light in the distance. His own fighting had always relied on his powers, on imperviousness and brute force. This was like watching poetry, like music writ large, the two skilled fighters weaving around and through each other. He couldn't tell if they managed to cut, but he suspected not-there was too much skill between them. Still, it was only a matter of time.
He heard Blake hiss in pain and knew he should act, willing himself up and forward, willing the Tech to hurl him into the fight. Soul flew high and fast, then hurtled down towards the fray, saw the Grigori streaking towards them from the other side. He stopped a bare dozen feet from the action and shot his anti gravity beam towards the the man fighting Black Star. This close up, Soul could see his long blonde hair, his passive concentration, his fluid motions. The assassin didn't even glance at his new attacker, yet somehow dodged the beam in the last second, shifting to the left even as he blocked an attack from Star. He failed to block the energy attack from Maka, however, hissing in pain himself and staggering backwards before whirling around to put Black Star between himself and the Grigori.
Then the Arachnophobia assassin's hand shot to his side, then swords began to fly, and all hell broke loose.
It was all Soul could do to dodge the swords flying towards him, whipping through the air at breakneck speed. He shot up out of the fray to catch his breath, watched Maka get nicked by a blade and then do the same, watched Star knock aside several blades only to be sliced in the arm by the one he couldn't block.
No wonder this asshole was their best assassin-he had just gone from a fluid fighter to a fucking whirlwind of multi bladed death. Fuck this. This had to end now.
Exchanging a glance with Maka, they both dove down fast, hurtling towards the tall instrument of death who continued to threaten Star. Maka shot energy again, which the assassin just managed to dodge, but Soul hurled his anti gravity beam and that he couldn't quite dodge. Suddenly, he was trapped, Soul stopping his descent just shy of the ground and raising his captive above them, hopefully out of range. His case of swords seemed empty now, but he clutched one in his fist defiantly, his eyes narrowed towards the one who had managed to entrap him.
The man would be a fool to be rid of his last defense, but still, Soul was wary.
"Drop the weapon or I will smash your ass into the concrete," Eater growled out, his voice sounding far too calm filtered by the helmet. Soul could see the red soaking Maka's shoulder even from the distance, and his vision was going as red as her blood. He wanted to kill the fucker, choke him, maim him, hurl him against the pavement into a bloody pulp, a mangled mass of unrecognizable flesh. His fist clenched with the urge.
The Grigori flew over towards him and, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder and squeezing, looked up at their new captive. "No one is going to hurt you-you must know that's not what I do. If you drop your weapon and cooperate, I can ensure your safety."
"And who's going to ensure Angela's?" The man's voice was flat, defeated. Angela? What was this guy-
Maka took in a sharp breath next to him, her mind clearly working faster than his own. "They took someone you care for?" she asked. The man didn't answer, didn't drop his weapon, but he looked pained for the barest instant before his features smoothed.
"You can't help her if you're dead, moron." Black Star glared up at the man hovering above them within Soul's beam. "Drop the fucking sword, peasant, before I cut it out of your damned hand."
"Black Star!" the Grigori hissed, glaring his way before returning her eyes to the man above them. "Look, we can help you-but you have to cooperate, and that starts with dropping the sword. I promise you-whoever this Angela is, we'll do everything we can to make sure she's safe, but we can't do that if you keep fighting us. Please?" Her voice was so imploring, so raw and honest that Soul wanted to hold her. He could tell, could feel that she was reading something in this man that hurt her. "Please," she added softly. "Let me help you."
And then the sword was on the ground with a clang. And then the man was letting himself be restrained. And then they were whisking him off to where Kid lay hidden. Soul wasn't sure if that had all been too easy or far too hard, but whichever the case, something in him bound up in Maka felt bruised and raw as he held her hand, as she watched the man they had captured with wide, sympathetic eyes.
The assassin betrayed no emotion as he sat at a metal table in a bare room, hands and legs cuffed to a metal chair, but he must have been a feeling something for Maka to be so affected. Soul didn't have long to contemplate it as the door finally opened and Kid walked in, looking meticulous in his dark suit even with his oddly striped hair. He strode to the table, gazing down at the man who sat there calmly. To his own credit, the other man didn't gape, though the flash of shock on his face was unmistakable.
"Kyle Mortimer," he said flatly. "So it was all a set up. What could you hope to gain?"
Kid shrugged, straightened his black suit. "Truth."
The man smiled bitterly. "The truth is rarely what it seems, and even less often does it serve real purpose. What truth would you have of me, Deathbringer?"
The ADA ignored the underworld nickname, earned from too many cases won, too many hardened criminal sent to a life behind bars. "Your name would be a good start, I think," Kid offered casually, finally sliding out the chair opposite the other man and sitting down gracefully.
"Mifune," the man said, voice emotionless, and at that, even the unflappable Kid took in a sharp breath.
The ADA had clearly heard the name. Soul sure as fuck had. Mifune was legendary as muscle for hire, a man who it was rumored could get any job done without the mess of a kill. Word was he wouldn't kill. Yet here he was, executing people at Arachnophobia's whim.
This Angela must mean a lot to him-Arachnophobia clearly had a knack for exploiting weakness, for using people's affection to manipulate and control. For using the love that could be, should be a strength against them. There was a time when he had feared exactly that, had feared to get close, to love, had feared the weakness of it, and he felt his anger rise that these assholes were making his oldest, darkest nightmares into truth. Soul suddenly wanted to tear the whole lot of them apart.
"I would say I'm surprised a man with your reputation would kill for Arachnophobia, but I've long since ceased to be shocked by the depths of human depravity," Kid said, his voice betraying as little emotion as the man before him.
Mifune let out a deep sigh, the first crack in his armor since they'd arrived. His eyes moved past Kid to settle on Maka. "You said you would help, Grigori. Was this a ploy, or did you mean it?"
"I meant it," she said quietly, and Kid turned to her sharply.
"You had no right, no authority to-"
"They've been using him, Mr. Mortimer, just as they used Blake." She turned to him, standing far taller than her five foot six inches should possibly allow. "They have someone he cares for. You said yourself how odd it is that the legendary Mifune should stoop so low."
Kid's own armor cracked then as he let out a breath and straightened his suit jacket methodically when there was nothing to straighten. "Right." His eyes were settled on a wall. "So. This gives us yet another hostage to worry about, and likely, no real-"
"What did you hope to gain by my capture?" Mifune spoke suddenly, his gaze settling on Kid, intense.
"Information about their operations, mostly. Perhaps an idea of where they might currently be holding some of their prisoners. I've been able to find out much, but not that. I had hoped a true insider might help me more, but you are in a similar position to Black Star."
"Then your aim is to rescue the ones they hold?" Mifune pushed.
"No-" Kid began, but this time Black Star, who had been almost eerily silent the whole time for a man who usually couldn't shut up, put in.
"Yes. We're gonna get Tsu back. Who's Angela?"
The man shifted his brown eyed gaze to Blake contemplatively before finally nodding slightly. "She's my daughter."
Oh. Oh fuck.
"How-how old is she?" Maka asked softly, and Soul noticed the slightly defeated slump appear in their captives once rigid shoulders.
"She just turned eight a few weeks ago. I-missed her birthday."
Eater clenched his fist, gritted his teeth. Using a child? Fuckers. Dirty mother fuckers.
"We're gonna get her back, man. We're gonna get them all back." Black Star's voice was tight and low and Soul could hardly believe it was the same man who had screamed "Yahooo!" as he pummeled him at Halo.
"If you're serious, if you really want your friend back-if you really mean to help me-then you should do it tonight," Mifune said, looking around to each figure in the room before settling his eyes back on Kid.
"Tonight?" Kid furrowed his brow.
"Yes," Mifune said calmly. "Their quarterly gathering is this evening. Hundreds will arrive, robed, masked. It will be easy to slip in unnoticed. I have long thought to exploit such a gathering, but without knowing where they were keeping Angela at any given time, there was too much risk for myself alone, too much concern I would stumble and she would be harmed for the error, but with more-"
"No." Kid shook his head thoughtfully. "My contacts said nothing of this, this can't-"
"When did you last speak with them?" Mifune cut him off.
"Two days ago, but-"
"Members are informed only hours before the gatherings occur as a precaution. I only discovered it myself because one of the guards was an overloud fool," the man said, voice smooth. "If you truly are serious about retrieving hostages, tonight, now, is the time. The gathering has begun, but people will arrive at all hours. What time is it?"
"12:45," Kid said flatly.
"The official meeting will occur at 2. If we decide now, we can arrive just before when the crowds will be thickest, when security will be concentrated around the meeting itself, and strike. There are three locations where prisoners are regularly held within the complex; I've been able to discover this much in my months under their thumb." Kid nodded his agreement to what Soul could only assume were things he already was aware of as Mifune continued. "There are enough of us to hit them all simultaneously and flee. If your goal is truly freeing the prisoners, it can be accomplished. And if you are able to do that-I have gathered information that could be of use to you if you mean to pursue them in the courts, and I offer my testimony, provided you grant me immunity."
Kid seemed to consider this, and Soul was torn as the seconds stretched. What this man had spoken of was fucking suicide, and no way did he want Maka anywhere near that shitstorm, but the thought of a child so small, so fragile in their clutches tore at his heart. Maka would never stay away, no matter what Kid decided. Better for him to agree, to offer support.
After a bare half a minute that felt far longer, Kyle Mortimer stood tall, looked down at the assassin Mifune, and nodded gravely. "Alright. We will need to firm up the plan, and quickly, but I believe I can provide the support you need."
And that was that. Tonight, they would infiltrate Arachnophobia. As the plans commenced, as the impossibility of the task they faced settled in his bones, Soul thought longingly of strawberry crepes and wished he could have stayed in that morning forever.