Hey everyone, Age here. I wanted to let you know that I haven't been completely idle, even if you can't see the fruits of my labor right now. I've made a good 31 chapter summaries into the first arc and overall story details as a whole. It's going to be pretty huge, actually. A bit bigger than I had anticipated. I'll probably start rolling out actual chapters soon added to this one as the summaries have reached a sufficient point where they don't really need much (or any, really) changing. So, for the sake of clarification, not that it comes up here, Allouette got an 'upgrade' I suppose and has a more adult body in this story. She's a reploid. If Zero's body can be healed from absolute disrepair I imagine consciousness can be transferred. There's a more serious note after the end of the chapter that I want you guys to take to heart, but until then, enjoy!
NEO World of Advent Chapter Four
The sky overhead was clear, barely overcast save for a few stubborn clouds that had not yet evaporated in the sun's heat. Cipher found himself appreciating the crystal blue horIzon, the lazy drift of the white cushions scattered thinly across it - anything but the thick grey handle that led to a large building labeled crudely "THE DOJO." It had been some time since he had been here, the last having held his last major fight with Joan while they were still a couple. The sight of the building gave him conflicting feelings of nostalgia and apprehension. With a sigh, his hand closed over the handle and pushes it forward.
Inside, the Dojo held a sporadic assortment of washed out gymnasium instructors and discount martial arts teachers. A class was going on in the main room, a set of movements repeated over blue plush mats. Cipher found an employee (the counter is unsurprisingly empty) and asked about Room 003. The employee, a human teenager with acne sprawled over his face like an overturned antpile, gave him a quick nod in the right direction before applying a liberal amount of cream to his face.
The Dojo wasn't the largest building in the area, but Cipher felt it could do a bit better with directing people to their right room. Who in their right mind put Room 005 before 003? Despite obvious flaws in architecture and basic numerology, Cipher reached the white door, a clear glass window revealing Joan's tensed form in the middle of a rapid punch. The unfortunate object of abuse, the room's assigned punching bag, swayed violently opposite of Joan before swinging back down to receive another round of punishment.
Joan stopped as soon as she heard the definitive "Click!" of the door opening. Cipher looked around, taking in a few dumbbells and a solitary workbench to the side of the room. The rest was bones-bare; the ragged punching bag seemed to be the room's defining characteristic.
"Hey," Cipher managed lamely before Joan tossed him a pair of boxing gloves.
"Put these on," she told him. "You don't want to hurt your fist just before your match."
Cipher held back a short sigh. "I never said for sure that I was going to do it. There's a lot that needs to be done back at the Shop."
"So?" Joan shrugged. "There's always work to be done. It gets done, with or without us. We can't do everything, you know. This is more important. This is our chance to get out."
By 'out' Cipher knew her to be referring to the constant state of anxiety they found themselves in come every billing. Barely scraping by each month was not an easy way to live. If even a slight hiccup came by, like one of their Family getting sick and insurance not covering everything, it put a further strain on their already tight budgets. The Gran Serena Tournament was, to Joan, their way of escaping the constant cycle of barely avoiding poverty.
"There's no guarantee we'll even place," Cipher contended. "What if we wipe out in the first or second round? Nobody ever remembers fourth place."
"Don't get fourth," Joan told Cipher confidently. "Or third. You can get second, but only to me, understood?"
Cipher shook his head and put on the gloves. "If I decide to go."
"You will," Joan said simply. Why she said it with such confidence, Cipher could not fathom. "Besides, this is a lot more fun than pushing papers, right?"
Cipher had to admit, she had a point there. As much as he enjoyed his neat, orderly corner of the universe, there was something about the wild, unbridled feeling of fulfillment as you beat something senseless. "Fair enough. Stand clear, will you?"
Joan stepped aside, clear of the punching bag's chaotic tendency to fly in any direction a punch sent it. Cipher found a comfortable position and just as he was about to throw the first punch, his communicator rang, unsettling him. Cipher excused himself, giving Joan free range to torment the suspended bag in his absence.
Recognizing Charles's face in the window of the communicator, Cipher pressed the call button, seeing a real-time flustered Charles in its place. "Where were you?!" Charles said. "You won't believe it. I don't believe it. It's amazing!"
"Slow down, slow down," Cipher told him. "What's going on?"
"Cero came by!" Charles remained ecstatic, his words spilling out faster than he can say them comprehensively.
"Cero? You mean the Resistance Kid, Cero?" Cipher clarified.
"YES." Charles took in a deep breath. "He just browsed the Sliders. He seemed really interested in those new ones you designed."
Cipher's breath hitched. "Well? Did he buy anything? Did you get his number?"
"No," Charles said sadly. "He didn't want to buy anything just yet. Still, this is huge!"
"No kidding," Cipher said excitably. "This could be a way into a major sale - to the Resistance! And if Cero starts riding my Sliders…"
"More sales," Charles concluded for him. "An instant celebrity endorsement. We don't even have to put his name on the side if he wants to use it himself."
"Keep me posted if he comes back," Cipher told him.
"Why can't you just come over now?" Charles asked. "If he comes back, it would be better if you were here in person."
"I can't," Cipher said. "I'm at the Dojo with Joan."
"Is that so?" Charles's tone of voice was coy. "How's that going for you?"
"It's not like that," Cipher says exasperatedly. "It's for that tournament everyone keeps going on about. There's a lot of prize money if you win."
"I see." Charles's voice took on a more guarded tone. "Well, be careful, alright?" Cipher gets the feeling he isn't talking about physical injury.
"I will."
Charles took a long breath and told Cipher that he'd take care of the shop for a little while as he gets his business with Joan settled and in order. Cipher thanked him and closed the conversation with a final "Click."
Joan popped her head out upon the closure of the heated conversation. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Cipher said. "You know Ciel and Zero's kid? He stopped by to look at the Sliders earlier apparently."
"Way to go," Joan said. "Celebrity endorsement!"
"That's what Charles said," Cipher said. "It's pretty major. This could mean big business for the shop."
Joan's face fell. "Does this mean you won't be doing the tournament after all? If you have a potential mass order from the Resistance of all places, that might, you know… It's okay if you don't want to."
Cipher shook his head. "The product he was interested I already designed. He was interested in it, but he didn't buy anything - but if I can get the shop's name out there, I won't need a celebrity endorsement. I'll be doing it myself. Work has been slow lately. Like you said, I'm sure they can handle it."
Joan smiled gleefully. "The Gran Serena's going to bring a lot of publicity. Even if you don't win, just having the brand on your uniform or something might bring you the kind of attention you deserve."
Cipher nodded, eyes set on a glorious future inlaid by a fat account balance and a distinct lack of insta-meals. "I'm in."
"Woo!" Joan hugged Cipher tightly, an uncomfortably hot embrace due to her having let off some steam - literally - in the rec room. A quick inspection inside proved his suspicions as the punching bag lay on the ground, smoking.
"You know," Cipher said, "You have an unusually strong oversol for a civilian Advent. You never told me who your reploid parent was."
Joan only responded after finishing the remains of her water bottle, wiping away the sheen of water on her lips as she set it down. "He was made or remade - he never really made it too clear - from one of Neo Arcadia's old Gentle Judges that Zero destroyed a while back. He used to be called Blazin' Flizard or some way too "hip" name for the old geezer." Joan smiles sadly but quickly shakes herself out of her reverie. "I inherited his fire abilities; that's how I can stand such intense heat and use so much firepower."
"That makes sense," Cipher said. "I remember hearing that a few of the Eight Gentle Judges were reconstructed after the war. What happened, er, if you don't mind saying. Someone like that shouldn't have been easy to uh, you know."
"Die?" Joan shrugs casually to let Cipher know that she isn't bothered by talking about it. "I don't really know. There was an accident and both my parents were in the way. I don't know the specifics."
"I'm sorry," Cipher says, feeling ashamed at having brought it up in the first place. "I know it's not something you like talking about."
"Who does?" Joan said. "It doesn't matter though I guess. I'm just going to honor him by pummeling my way into first place. I think that would make him proud, his only daughter winning a fighting competition."
"If anyone would win, it would be you," Cipher said. "I haven't met anyone with a stronger oversol."
"I think mine is strong, yeah," Joan said, "But I think yours might be stronger. Every time you actually get it out it's like fighting an entirely different person."
"My oversol…" Cipher sat down on the bench next to Joan. "It'd be nice to know who my reploid parent even is. Or my human one for that matter. But you know how the city is with Family Heads and heritage tests."
Joan made a face. "It's not the best system, that's for sure. Well, do your best out there too, alright? I'm sure they'd be proud of you as well if you come home with a shiny gold trophy."
"I will. I just wish I could use more of my oversol. It's hard to bring it out at all."
Joan thought for a moment. "What color is it?"
Cipher tensed the skin on his hand, feeling the odd, almost prickly sensation as his skin hardened into a metallic black. A crimson red formed just above the wrist.
"So red and black?" Joan shrugged. "I got nothing. Let's try working on that for now. Maybe it'll give you some answers if you can unlock more of it."
"Sure thing," Cipher said. "How did you unlock your full oversol in the first place?"
"A lot of it is practice," Joan said. "You have to be comfortable with using it, too. Let's try using it in a spar - against me this time, not just a bag. Do what comes naturally."
Cipher nodded, the two making to unfasten the punching bag from the middle of the room, leaving a dangling silver chain in its place. The two of them stood at opposite ends of the now empty room, ready to spring into action at the timer Joan set in motion's beep. A few tense moments passed by and a ringing was heard as Joan bolted into action. She closed the distance between the two of them in a second, a rusty-red fist swinging sparks at Cipher's shoulder.
Cipher ducked, feeling the wave of heat as it passed through the air next to him, willing that small bit of black and red to manifest, his senses heightened to an unnatural degree. It was like everything was just a little bit slower, like he was that little bit faster. Cipher gyrated like a top, sweeping his legs out from under Joan, only to find her jump up, a kick aimed at his chest. It landed, knocking him into the edge of the wall, but Cipher's concentration only sharpened, instantly analyzing the way she moved, how she attacked. Where she would be open, next time.
Cipher moved in closer, carefully taking note of the spreading armor Joan is manifesting and decided to take action before it could spread any further. With a practiced punch, he sent Joan into the defensive, following with another feint by way of a punch directed toward the shoulder that quickly turned into his other fist burying itself in her stomach. Cipher's fist hurts from the retaliation of her oversol, but noticed Joan wince as well. Taking advantage of the momentum, Cipher tried to kick her legs from under her again, but she grinned defiantly.
"Not that again," she warned him, and deflected the kick with a smarting blow of her own. "Come on, Cy," she egged him on, "You're going to have to do better than that."
Cipher felt his vision turn red with a distant anger from the sharp impact that quickly turned into a literal red as his oversol inched up his arm. The room became crystal clear, a primal desire for violence curling at the corners of his lips as he pulled back a punch that Joan blocked, but barely. Her body skidded back, her back now against the wall. Cipher rushed forward, a black fist raised with the determination to win.
Suddenly, his vision went black. Having faced her more than once before, Cipher recognized it as her ash clouding his eyes. Not making the mistake he had before and opening his stance up to clear his eyes, Cipher listened for a sign of movement. There! Cipher's head snaps to the direction of a hastily shuffled bench and made two quick back-steps from that direction while making a quick swipe of his eyes.
The little time it takes to become adjusted to sight again was all Joan needed, however, and a fireball smacks him in the middle, charring his clothes but feeling more like a cannonball than burning fire. It faded quickly but by then Cipher was already on the ground, nursing a vast bruise across his chest through singed clothing.
"You did really well," Joan said happily. "I had to use most of my oversol that time." She fetched him a new pair of clothes, an unfortunate necessity whenever they planned on sparring with each other in earnest. "Tell me, what's it like when you use your oversol?"
"What's it like?" Cipher thought for a moment. "It's like the world gets slower. Things become easier to see, patterns start opening up where they weren't there before. It's more than just my fist becoming stronger."
"That's what I thought," Joan said. "For me, it's not that so much as feeling this kind of hot tingly thing and I can shape heat how I want to. Whoever your reploid parent is must have had a lot of technical skill but not much elemental affinity is my guess."
Cipher nodded, throwing on a new shirt, tossing the old one like a ball in the wastebasket nearby. "Whatever it is, it's addictive. You feel like a whole different person when you're in oversol. Power is one heck of a drug, I guess."
Joan leaned against the wall she was pushed against in their fight. "Let's hope it's something you can handle. A lot of Advents can't handle the rush. Sometimes their minds or bodies break under the pressure. A lot of more powerful Advents have to go through special training for it. I hear the Top 4 had to train really hard so their bodies could withstand their oversols."
Cipher put his hand to his chin, cupping it as he thought. "I wonder if I have to be mentally ready for it first. Physically, I'm in shape, but I don't get into fights that often, you know? When we fought a part of me was on survival mode. If I can control that, maybe I can use more of my oversol."
"It's worth a shot," Joan said. "There might be some studies done on the subject, but I wouldn't really count any of them as a guarantee to be helpful. Advents haven't been around long enough to really have a solid study done on it yet."
"Yeah," Cipher agreed. "Well, whatever gets it to work, I'm going to figure it out. Come the start of the tournament, I'll be ready."
Joan beamed. "That's the spirit! There is one teensy little caveat though…"
"What?" Cipher prepared himself for the news.
"You have to pony up a registration fee," Joan explained. "You know, to help pay for the winnings. Blazin' Flizard left some sort of fund that I can tap into to pay for it, but you may be on your own. Unless you find someone to sponsor you, which I recommend more."
Cipher groaned. "Who in the world would sponsor a random Advent from a shop nobody has ever even heard of?"
"Well," Joan said, pulling up a list from her communicator, "I've made a list." Cipher looks it over, feeling an odd sensation of warmth for his old friend as he recognizes the thought that she had put into it. "There's a few retired generals in the area, but if you said Cero came by your shop, Neige might be worth a try. She's an old friend of the Resistance and is usually willing to help Advents like us out. If you tell her you know Cero she might be even more willing to help."
"Thanks Jo," Cipher said. "I'll give it a shot." Cipher stored the list digitally inside his own communicator and Joan made a brief lurching movement before stopping awkwardly.
"This is usually when we'd hug and see each other off," Joan said distantly.
Cipher gives her a quick embrace, but not the long ones they used to reserve only for each other. "We're still friends, you know," he says. "That never changed."
"Yeah," Joan said, a slight smile returning to her face. "Right." She slung her pack over her shoulder. "Well, I'll see you later alright? Try not to let the younger kids drive you insane."
"I make no promises," Cipher said with a grin. The two of them leave the room and wave each other goodbye as they take off on their respective Sliders. Cipher remembered the feeling of her touch as they hugged, a sort of heaviness in his heart remembering longer, lingering touches and the more intimate feel of her lips. He hardly remembered making the trip back to his home at all before he found himself at the gates.
Cipher flashed a quick card that let him into the small apartment complex he had reserved, for the most part, for his Family. Those few residents that weren't a part of it made due with being neighbors to a large and rambunctious group of children. Inside the complex, Shirley was supervising the younger kids as they splashed around in the pool. The sky was already dark, the sun making its final vestigial effects on the dusky sky before it descended into true night.
"Hey there," Cipher greeted them. "Miss me?"
"It's Cy~" some of them shouted to an encore of "Cy is here! Cy is here!"
Shirley smiled fondly at them before giving Cipher her attention. "The rugrats have been wondering when their 'big bro' would be getting home."
"Well I'm here," Cipher said.
"Play with us," a girl named Talia begged him. "Shelley doesn't know any of the games."
"I do too," Shirley protested. "It's just too late. I told you. Half an hour in the pool and then it's bedtime."
"Play!~" They egged the two on.
"You go check with Kent," Cipher suggested to Shirley. "I'll tire them out."
"I hope you don't mind getting wet," Shirley said with a smirk, clasping him on the shoulder before making her way upstairs.
"So what game do you want to play?" Cipher asked, already knowing the answer.
"Hide n' Seek!" seemed to be the general consensus, and thus Cipher spent the next fifteen minutes calling out a phrase with his eyes closed as he lumbered toward the spasmodic shapes floundering around in the shallow end.
Once all the kids, save for the perpetually energetic Ralph were too tired to continue, Cipher rounded them all up and ordered them to dry off after a quick series of showers. Cipher, sopping wet himself, made his way to the room Charles was in charge of, where he was met with a scene of prepubescents pulverizing a shell-shocked Charles with pillows. Feathers were everywhere, giving the distinct impression of a war rather than a simple pillow fight. The feathers seemed to stick to Charles, who appeared slick with some kind of oil.
"Help." Charles zoned in on his greatest chance at salvation and Cipher shook his head wearily as the chaos winded to a respectable level of pandemonium.
"Be nice to your older brother," Cipher reprimanded them. "And what did you do to all these pillows? You know you have to sleep on them, right?"
"Sorry Cipher," the recalcitrant leader of their small coup, Greg said. "We got bored."
"Then find a hobby," Cipher said exasperatedly. "Something that doesn't involve making your room look like mass swan murder."
"Will do," Fabian said with what Cipher suspected was a distinct lack of sincerity.
"What did you do to Charles anyway?" Cipher asked, examining his still-in-shock second in charge. "Is this oil from the shop?"
"Yeah," Greg said abashedly. "Clark took us around to visit earlier so we took a little bit."
"How much is 'a little bit?'" Cipher asked.
"Matt took a whole gallon," Fabian offered to a betrayed gasp from the offending thief.
"You said you wouldn't tell!" Matt's mouth was open with comical outrage.
"Yeah well, Matt's going to show me what else he's 'borrowed' from the shop while you guys get ready to sleep. I mean it. Light's out in fifteen minutes."
Cipher had the resident kleptomaniac of the Family lead him to a hidden stash with an eclectic assortment of odd things nabbed from the shop, including a few documents that would have been sorely missed. Alerting the others, namely Shirley, Brandon, Kent, and whoever else was of sixteen years of age or older, that Matt was a practiced sneak and was not, in any uncertain terms, to be trusted around anything flammable or that could become flammable from the shop, Cipher checked on the girls, who seemed to be perfectly asleep, the lights already off. "Why did that stereotype have to be true," Cipher muttered darkly as he eyed the closed doors of the boys' room, finally arriving at the room he shared with Charles.
Cipher sat down, resting his aching muscles for the first time all day, a truly heavenly experience marred only slightly by the sound of the shower still running and the consequences behind it. "You okay in there?" he called out to Charles, following a steady trail of feathers to the closed bathroom door.
"It won't come off!" Charles' voice took a slightly hysterical tone to it.
Cipher groaned and got to his feet once more. "Hang on," he promised Charles. "I'll get you something that can take it off."
A quick trip to storage and a subsequent trip to the store found Cipher in his bed much later than he had anticipated, but several bottles of oil remover richer for his troubles. He had no doubt that it would play a part in the near future as he sunk into the folds of his bedspread for the first and hopefully last time that night.
He was asleep instantly.
