Change of Plans

by A goose with time to waste

While tailing his target, the Adept Slayer has to question a few things. And Copen doesn't much like the answers he comes up with. Even so, that shouldn't change anything, musn't change anything. But who's to say he can't fake a redemption? Unfortunately both his allies and foes take it far too well for his comfort.

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Author notes:

Copen's disguise is bassically Ypsilon's sprite. Fanged Mask, Red armor and all that.
Mytyl wears her magical girl outfit.
G7 is a cancelled antagonist faction composed of foreigner nations working together to take down Sumeragi.
This is a semi Gunvolt 2.5 So Gunvolt and Kirin are here for a reason, though Copen doesn't know why that is.
If I missed anything you feel I should mention here, lemme know. That said, I hope you enjoy reading this.

---

In hindsight it took Copen an awfully long time to realize it.

Looking back on it, he could understand why, there were plenty of things that, on the job, he couldn't afford to notice. Ask too many questions, and it got you the wrong sort of attention. Be too slow in your methods, and your job could be tracked down. He was much more of a planner than a thinker that way which is a mindset his training specifically cultivated.

Entry points, and how many guards, and defenses-weaknesses-find-catch-kill. Not what if. Not should I really. It'd served him in the past, that focus. Before it even had a tinge of righteousness behind it, but that's no longer a luxury he can shell out for ever since the reveal that yes, not every adept in the world is evil.

No, that didn't stop him from continuing his crusade regardless. And yes, he knows what it says about him to choose revenge over family. But still, someone has to fight the good fight and if that person has to become something worse than a man, a pure force of violence, it could only be him.

Of course, that didn't change the fact that the target he's chasing right now is just a kid.

Not like it was hard to figure out, not when they were that short, with that skinny, unfinished look on the limbs. That gaudy costume only a real fan of magical girls would wear firmly places them in their early teenage years, at best: Mytyl herself should be in that stage as well by now.

Don't think about it.

It wasn't his preference, as far as he allowed himself to have them. But his job demands he gets rid of any adept he sees, and how old or what their hobby is just didn't factor into that equation-couldn't factor into the equation. It's the girl's own fault really, for flying so blatantly in the sky.

So he turned his mind to things he could do something about, like mobilizing the rest of his own team when the time comes. Lola and the other drones are currently busy dealing with the 'smaller' details of his inevitable takeover once his sponsor tries to back stab him in the HQ. Still he keeps his eyes firmly planted on his target and made sure he stays out of her eyesight. The kid seemed to be leading him back somewhere in particular, and he has no intention of coming across Gunvolt's adept club all in his lonesome. Just marking down the location for a future ambush should suffice.

But that wasn't a distraction for very long; he got a rather viciously gleeful acknowledgment from his 'temporary' superiors (Those being a faction called G7 consisting of several outer countries out to take down Sumeragi and adepts once and for all. Just so they can rule over the world instead) that he didn't care for, but still made a show of obedience before all that was left in the day was stalking this kid, which wasn't exactly hard. Every now and then, the kid would send panicked glances over her shoulder or up at the azure rooftops, but she clearly had no idea how to spot a tail. She was probably too young to know much of anything useful, honestly. Even so, the color of her wi-

Stop thinking about it.

But that meant that by the thirty-minute mark, he had lost most of the adrenaline of a good chase and was edging well into boredom.

"Where are you even going?" Copen grumbled quietly to himself as the kid took a turn in a weird direction, the modulator in his mask turning it into a satisfying menacing growl. About the only satisfaction he was getting right now, since apparently the new muse was planning on leading him across the whole damn city before morning.

He could make a few guesses on the destination just from the direction they were heading; as the roads were getting wider and trees appear in the distance, it was obvious that they were heading to the 'let's have a mansion just out of town, surrounded by nature, so we can have our vacations here or hide our bastards children here' type of the neighborhood. Part of him was tempted to just strike her down here and there since there are less and less hiding places the further they go, but he refuses to rush things, not after all this. If he got cocky and lost the opportunity to strike his main obstacles in one fell swoop, he didn't doubt the fact that they would become immense thorns in his sides.

It was a little strange, though. If these new adepts were hiding out in Japan like this, then why was this one out here all alone? G7's report of their battle at the Amaterasu Radio Tower had put her solidly with Gunvolt's new pack and very much in need of the protection Sumeragi offered them (Even if it's at the cost of them never being able to live a normal peaceful life now that they know).

So what was urgent enough for the girl to fly so boldly out in the night and thus make an obvious target out of herself? Actually, on that note, why the hell was she looming over his memorial? They had only glanced off each other just the once, that quick clash in the sewers, so how di-?

Copen stopped dead.

(And here was the flip side of it, the risk of missing the obvious in that tunnel-vision focus. But now he'd bumped the first domino entirely by accident and they were cascading in all directions, a chilling wave of realization.)

A kid. She was just a kid.

A kid who'd come into this with no obvious plan or training. A kid who wears a familiar bell into her very familiar silver hair. A kid who spins and flies around like everything around her is part of some Saturday cartoon show with the excitement of someone who's been bed-bound for years and is now heavily compensating for it. A kid who has a staff that literally has a deactivated lola pod at the top of it. A kid who flies with butterfly wings that are azure and crimson on opposite sides.

A kid who visits the grave of her older brother who she doesn't remember, but clearly knows she must have loved at some point. Who'd been confiding some words to him in the hopes that wherever he is, he might hear them, only to be ambushed by the slayer the moment she's done.

"Oh, no," Copen breathed, and there was nothing satisfying in the Slayer's rasping now.

He bolted forward again, all subtlety lost, springing up along the edge of the building; he frantically scanned the streets below, looking for the familiar figure as he caught up lost ground. His gut was cold and clenching tight, his heart racing, frantic in a way he hadn't felt in months.

He could be wrong. He could maybe be wrong, just his long-stifled guilty conscience lashing out again to make things difficult.

Please, please, please be wrong-

There.

The kid had tired herself out early on, leaving her moving between a slow float and an occasional quick jump, so she hadn't gotten all that far ahead. Copen stalked along the edge, leaping from one building to the next unthinkingly as he peered down at the kid, searching.

It could be. It could be, so easily. She was small and skinny, quick on her feet, wearing stupid little shoes and a dress the way Mytyl would have liked if she could. She'd been talking to his gravestone, was Copen really going to sit there and pretend that there was another answer, that he hadn't tried to kill his own-

No.

Copen's breath was rasping in his throat, his pulse rushing in his ears as he teetered on the edge. If he was wrong, if he stepped in now and it wasn't Mytyl, if he fucked up this hunt on nothing more than a hunch, there would be no hiding that failure from the others. And in the current climate of things, failure was a thin, dangerous line to tread near.

But if he was right.

If he was right and he didn't do something…

"God damn it," he hissed, something the old him would have glared disapprovingly at him for if they weren't busy chocking on their own lungs like he feels he might himself. Even now he wishes desperately to just start the whole night over, to go back and kick his own ass for even shooting in her general direction if it really is here. And if not then the person responsible for her regaining her muse powers, because why the hell doesn't she have the common sense to even wear a mask?

Seriously, she is NOTwearing a mask.

She's been facing terrorists and crazed adepts with her name and face plain for everyone to see!

Which means her identity could easily be searched, and whose results would obviously show that she is Mytyl Kamizono. The only survivor of three tragic incidents that killed all of her direct relatives.

And even if Sumeragi cut those things off the web, that doesn't change the fact that she's now working for them. Which means they're aware of her and will use her as much as they can get away with for the rest of her entire life. Which means all of Sumeragi's enemies have her now in sight.

Copen stared down at the distant figure, frozen, familiar ice leaching into his veins. Then his stupid, useless brain caught up with the rest of him as the image of her mentor flashes to his mind.

GODDAMIT GUNVOLT!

The silent outcry done, Copen launched himself down off the edge. Then springs down to the nearest streetlight before dropping quietly to the ground as he slowly came at her from behind.

There were witnesses, between the late-night pedestrians and the ever-present traffic, but people these days knew better than to jump into fights with adepts. They'd leave well enough alone. The kid had seemed to have a sixth sense for dodging his attacks earlier, using the same movements Gunvolt used in their prior encounters. But maybe if Copen was fast enough…

He sprang forward, quick and quiet without his jetboots- the kid's steps stuttered slightly as her head came up, like she'd pinged some kind of danger, but hadn't placed where. It was still enough of an opening; Copen seized her around the middle, pinning her arms to her sides and hauled her up off the ground.

"No!" Mytyl shrieked, and it was, it was Mytyl, her unmistakably voice cracking higher in terror as she fought to get loose. Copen almost instinctively slammed her head against the hard floor for that alone. But he'd carried more than one flailing figure in his time, and the panicked kicks and bucking weren't enough to stop him from launching them back up to the rooftops, leaving startled shouts echoing from the streets behind them.

Copen rocketed them to the top without losing his balance, but he stumbled over the edge to the roof, almost sending them both tumbling as Mytyl trashed, far stronger than a girl her size should've been. Right, adept, some powers included the increase of their physical aptitudes of all damn things.

"Mytyl!" he barked as he nearly lost his grip, and with his modulator in the way it was nearly a roar, a menace he hadn't intended. But it did the job for the moment: Mytyl went still, stiff and quivering in his grip. Confusion all too apparent as she stared at him with wide suspicouis eyes.

Copen immediately gets what she is waiting for, and what he has to do if he wants to get anywhere close to a talk with her now. That doesn't mean he likes, or wants to, but he's going to need some iota of trust from her if he still wants to achieve every goal he has in this war, so, with reluctance…

Copen reaches up, and presses a button behind his ear. Causing his crimson tiger-like mask to automatically open and reveal his own unmistakable face. "Mytyl. It's me."

This is the only time her not wearing a mask is a good thing—huh, Copen noted in a far distant part of his brain, even if he still considered her costume trash. Still he could see how she was figuring out the how and why's of his identity in rapid seconds unlike the half-hour it took him. As she just stares at him with a shocked look for a long, long moment.

Then Mytyl shoved at the one hand still holding her, ducking back and away. "Get off me."

Copen lets her go, watching her stumble back to put space between them. This close together, and with a sizable open area of roof around them, Copen would be able to catch her again if she bolted. And Mytyl would fight him less if Copen gave her space, even if the fact that Mytyl thought she would need it made his chest and throat tighten horribly. Even if it is justified.

"Mytyl—" he started again more calmly this time, but Mytyl cuts him off.

"I don't believe you." Mytyl's voice was cracking and strained as she bit off her words. "You tried to kill me."

It was an accusation, no question in it anywhere, the betrayal underneath it all so very clear, and what could Copen even say to that? What kind of words could make this better? It was true, after all.

Mytyl was watching him with all the focus of a hunted rabbit, hunched low and balanced to bolt. Copen lifted a calming hand before remembering his gun too late, winching as Mytyl backed up another step. He thought of sheathing it for a moment, but if it came to another chase, he didn't want to lose time unholstering it before shooting with a greed snatcher for an easy capture.

"I never meant to," he started to say, hating it even as he did. What good had his intentions done either of them? Pathetic, and you know it. He swallowed. "I'm sorry, Mytyl. I didn't...I never would have done any of it if I'd known it was you, I swear. I only-"

"So you'd have been fine killing anyone else?" Mytyl demanded, fierce enough that it was clear that Copen wasn't calming her down at all. Her wings were being pointed straight and stiff and her eyes wild, and she didn't manage to hide the slight tremble in her chin before she clenched her jaw.

Again, it makes his heart ache. "Mytyl…"

"How many people have you killed, then?" Mytyl was watching him like Copen was something vicious that could leap at her any second, and Copen's stomach roiled with nausea. "How-"

"As many as I needed to." Copen snapped back. It came out louder than he'd meant, but he didn't want to be doing this. "Look, why do you think I never told you about any of this? I know this isn't pretty, which is why I made sure only I have to do it. It's not like I kill every-"

"So what, just when you're paid to? Just when you happen to see one? That's when you kill?" Mytyl scoffed, turning her head away, but then she straightened like she'd been stung. "G7. You're working for G7."

Copen stoically eyed her, trying to follow this sudden jump. There was an air of distant horror, revolsion to Mytyl's realization that made Copen's skin prickle up, but of course, Mytyl had been right there in person to see his masked self try to put down Gunvolt, Sumeragi's oh so precious hero, which wasn't the best first impression. And then…

Well, the fact she just happened to be only facing idol like robots was if anything a grand way to foreshadow things, cause who else but him could create such complicated beings in the first place?

"She told you to kill Gv, she told you to kill me, all of us, and you were going to." Mytyl finished the thought for him, and she was watching Copen so damn carefully, every inch of her still balanced on edge. Copen knew exactly what she was waiting for, too, and fuck. God fucking damn it.

He'd never meant for her to end up here. So he's gotta find a way to get her out of this.

"It's not going to happen," he said as firmly as he'd ever said anything, refusing to waver an inch under Mytyl's obvious doubt and denial. "You don't have to believe me right now, not after all of this, but I'm telling you now that there isn't anything she could give me-"

"I'm going to stop them," Mytyl spat, and Copen stopped short, blinking. His sister scowled at him, fierce like a puffed-up kitten and completely unlike how he remembered her, if it wasn't for the fact that panic was clear under her showy hissing and that he remembers that the Mytyl that remains is a literal fusion between two girls, he'd be completely out of his element. "Sumeragi isn't the good guy here, I know that, but I believe in Gv's belief that we can change it from the inside. So letting some foreign army come here and blow everyone to smithereens is something I'll fight against with everyone. And since you're working for them, that only means-"

"That doesn't mean anything." Copen interrupted, not wanting to hear what Mytyl thought he might do. "I don't care what you're after, I'm not going to hurt you."

And it was almost a relief to him to find that he actually meant it, like seeing himself fresh in Mytyl's eyes had put parts of the whole thing in doubt. He'd never bailed on a hunt unprovoked before, but if his choices were G7 or Mytyl? To work for some disposable pawns or amuse his sister's delusions for a bit?

Well, he'd already made it, really; there wasn't room for him to let Mytyl doubt, not anymore. And at the very least, his words made Mytyl pause.

"You're not talking me out of it," Mytyl warned him after a second, but she'd lost that forced certainty now, eyes starting to flicker away as she curled one hand in the hem of her too quady dress-costume-abomination. Still trying to push Copen's buttons, though, to root any lie when all Copen wanted to do was bundle her home and make sure nobody tries to hurt her ever again.

"I'm not trying to," he said, because right at this second he couldn't care less about G7 or his own master plan, as right now, achieving his goal would kill her as well. Maybe it was time to be brutally honest. "If all I cared about was the job, I could have killed you and your friends the moment you all gathered in that tower, all right? AS drives can hold a lot of energy, enough to blow up a whole city block and vaporize you all. Or I could have followed you back wherever you were going first, call for backup and catch you all you with the surprise advantage. But I didn't."

Bringing Mytyl's mind to back to killing wasn't his favorite idea, but it wasn't like Copen could hide it from her at this point. And speaking of hiding, he's going to have a very intense conversation with Nori later if it turns out she knew about Mytyl's activities all along and kept it from him. His words brought a little more of that confident energy, too, made Mytyl look more closely at him, and that was all Copen could do right now: wear away at that fear until he got his own thing under control and know where to put her away later. Without letting her know about the latter part.

Because maybe she does want him back in her life, she wouldn't have visited a graveyard at this god forsaken hour if she'd already moved on after all. She'd be spending time doing who knows, playing monopoly with Gunvolt and co instead. If Copen could just pull on that sentiment, if there was still some remnant of that trust to build on, then maybe, maybe he could salvage this.

"Just talk to me, Mytyl." Copen said, as gentle as he could make it. "Please."

He saw Mytyl waver at his words, hands clenching on her rod as she glanced furtively away and then back again.

"You're the Adept Slayer," Mytyl protested, thought it sounded like she was trying to remind herself more than anything. "I can't just-"

"You're more important," Copen cuts her off, and he could only hope that Mytyl wouldn't realize he was playing part of it up for trust. He took one slow step forward. "Mytyl, let me help."

Mytyl blinked several times, quick and hard, and Copen heard her swallow even with the distance between them. It was a struggle to keep himself still.

"The azure spirits...that G7 are collecting, they're dangerous," Mytyl finally says, voice low and almost pleading, and Copen almost slumped in relief. Got you. "If too many gather, they could destroy the whole city, it'll kill all of us: you, me, Nori, Gunvolt, and someone's got to...I've got to stop it. They can't affect me after all."

She sounded so damn sure of it, too, and all the while puzzle pieces were snapping together in Copen's head. They'd never found the key Sumeragi had been so desperate to hide, but if Mytyl had been right there...and of course she'd fall in with the other adepts, they'd probably found her, but that didn't explain…

"Allright. And your powers?" Copen made sure he didn't sound demanding and took a risk with another pair of very slow steps towards her. Mytyl didn't back away, thank god. "How did you?"

"Xiao gave me a pendant that turned me into a magical girl, turns out it was a glaive with the muse septisomes in it later." Mytyl admitted, the words oddly quiet and tight, not that Copen noticed, as he was more focused on etching the name into his memory so he can track the bastard down later. "Back during the school's trip to the Sakurazaki Shrine, do you know when that was? And that's the only reason I even got into this whole mess, but if I didn't take the call when it happened, then that rampaging monster would have, and I couldn't let that happen, and I didn't...I mean, I couldn't-"

"I understand," Copen cut Mytyl off as her voice started to pitch back into that higher, jittery range. He shifted forward again, moving carefully almost within reach, spreading his arms low in as calming a gesture as he could manage. "Deep breaths, Mytyl, you're allright. None of this is your fault, okay?"

And it wasn't, that was the worst of it: this was Copen's fault, all of it. He didn't dispose of the septisomes himself (Nori's a potential traitor, he'd have to look into that, even if the mere thought breaks a part of his heart he doesn't remember still having.) and left Mytyl floundering all alone for a whole year, and then tried to kill her twice. Twice. At this point, she should be shrieking his head off and flinging herself off the roof to get away; Copen sure as hell hadn't earned anything better.

"I have to do this," Mytyl blurted, the words spilling out abruptly like she couldn't hold them back. "There isn't anyone else but me and two others that can touch them without going mad, I have to do this, but I don't...I don't know what I'm doing, my powers or the azure spirits, and I can't-"

"That's ok." Copen finally broke at the strain in Mytyl's voice, closing the last of the distance to take her by the shoulders, hands as loose as he could keep them. "What did I say? Deep breaths, Mytyl. We'll work this out...what can't the Kamizono twins do, huh?" a sappy gesture, he knows.

Mytyl's mouth snapped shut at the touch, but instead of fully flinching away she just ducked her head slightly, shoulders shuddering from the breath she sucked in. Copen slowly wrapped an arm around her, leaning into her like he used to do before. Mytyl only resisted for a split second before she slumped into the hug, pressing hard against Copen's front with a tightness that was once again surprisingly strong for someone her size.

He mumbled something unintelligible; Copen just tightened his arms and hummed acknowledgment instead of asking after it, his thoughts racing. Mytyl clearly still wanted to trust him, even after everything that'd happened. Which meant that it'd take a bit of careful handling, but Copen could probably get her back to the manor and pull the full story out of her there. If Copen just gave her a sympathetic ear until she wore down, she'd probably go out like a light, and Copen could finally handle whatever actually needed handling himself.

But just as he opened his mouth to start, his earpiece chirped.

Which meant it wasn't Lola or anyone he could trust, because every single one of the pods has obtained the terrible habit of just hacking into his comm to say what they want instead of waiting for him to pick up the call like a normal person. So whoever it actually is, has terrible timing.

Mytyl seemed to feel him tense, pulling back to look up at him warily. Copen stared back at her for a long moment, trying to piece together how long ago he'd called G7 to update his status, how long it might have taken them to decide that his current radio silence means he's acting suspicious.

"Hide your face," Copen hissed at Mytyl, re-equipping his own, and Mytyl's eyes flared wide before she obeyed, or well tried to, by cupping both of her hands over her face, which doesn't help.

Whatever it had to do for now, Copen's HUD said the signal wasn't coming from Yggdra—small mercies—but that didn't do much to calm his mood. He accepted the call and growled, "What, Duneyrr?"

"Well, we've been closing on your signal for ten minutes now." Duneyrr's voice was syrupy with fake concern. "You didn't get stuck, did you? Not following just one adept after all?"

"No," Copen snapped back at her. He grabbed Mytyl's arm and pulled her along towards the edge, relieved at the lack of resistance his sis put up. Believable stories were tumbling together and falling apart in his mind ; he paused on the edge of the rooftop, scanning the skyline as he lied, "I got a tracker on her, I don't need to follow every step-"

He'd been expecting to see Duneyrr's exaggerated silhouette first, which made it even more unpleasant when the giant battle armor of Dainn thudded down on the roof behind them, the onyx scorpion-like exoskeleton clicking as it realigned it's diamond shredding claws on the roof. His half blade, half sniper riffle, scorpion tail swished in excitement, huge yellow eyes finding Mytyl first; he let out a barking laugh, derisive. "A tiny baby butterfly." And he's already looking down on her.

Copen saw Mytyl puffing up again, all the easily-riled pride of a teenager despite the deep shit they were in, and he shoved the little idiot behind his back without a thought. It was a move that gave far too much of the situation away, but he couldn't regret it, not while Duneyrr was already soaring down across the opposite edge with her snowy eight-legged moth like-armor that made her look a bit too similar to a certain super villain from an arachnid hero comic book, the only exception being that A) her armor looked more like a comfy cloak and B) she could fly and shoot projectiles with it.

As for the people inside the mechs, well, their appearances didn't matter at all to him. In fact, he could barely remember them and had no intent to do so, after all, who cares about the soon to be dead?

She paused to take them all in, like a hunting owl in her wide goggles and drifting movements. Ready to leap at any weakness she sees. Copen knows that out of the two, she's the greater risk.

"A tracker, you said?" Duneyrr asked Copen pleasantly, looking past him to Mytyl, and the slayer's options were narrowing by the second.

Think. Think think, think; there's a way out, there's always a way out—

He could still spin this, if he was quick and very, very lucky. She didn't know that until you said it, or maybe I was trying to get her to trust me. It didn't matter how he got results, after all, as long as he got them. But even if they believed him to be the type to fool young girls playing hero, he'd still have to find a way to get Mytyl away from them afterwards, and Mytyl was breathing quick and heavy behind him, probably half a second from running for it. Or worse, fighting the two.

No. The two before them know what she's capable off and just like him before he knew who she really is, have full intent to kill her. He could lie to them still, but Duneyrr wasn't stupid. And if Mytyl believed him, and he said something that shattered the tiny bit of trust he'd managed to salvage…

Guess we're doing this this, then. Even if it's a bit sooner than I'd like.

No point in wasting time; his flash-bang attack were the quickest to trigger. Maybe not the most useful against this crowd, but better than just shooting them with photon lasers that wouldn't harm them that much or using greed snatchers that would do nothing to them since they're not adepts. All he needed was a bit more space anyway, so he snatched two grenades of his shield and whipped them across the roof before spinning to grab Mytyl (making sure his claws don't rip into her skin) and drag her over the edge of the roof.

He only caught the bare edges of the light and noise as they plummeted, not daring to look back. Duneyrr had started to dodge the second he'd moved, having clearly already suspected something, and the effects wouldn't disorient either of them for long. Mytyl had the sense not to fight him, at least, though she was yelling something unintelligible into the wind as Copen dropped them straight down towards the street.

He twisted briefly to launch a third canister behind them—and yep, there was Duneyrr again, wings smashing through windows and walls as she scurried after them, looking like a grotesque, overgrown moth herself. He managed to explode it right in her face, but although she shouted and balked for a moment in her pursuit, he knew he was only pissing her off.

But he made it down to the ground, scattering pedestrians like pigeons as he hit the pavement. He shoved Mytyl out ahead of him, sending the kid stumbling further along as Copen skidded to a stop.

"Go," he ordered, spinning to set himself up as the obvious target. "Get back to your friends."

"What—? You can't—" Mytyl yelped, turning back.

Copen snarled at her, his mask drawing it out into a piercing pitch that made Mytyl wince back the same way Gunvolt always had. Of all the times to argue. "I got this. Now get going, I'll catch up."

He only just managed to avoid calling Mytyl by name, and he didn't have time to deal with the oddly stricken look in her eyes, because there was Dainn. He'd taken longer to get down from the roof, but he'd caught up now, trampling over cars and bulling past fleeing civilians. Copen could only wave Mytyl off with a flash of claws. "I'll find you, just go."

Then he darted away as one of Duneyrr ' s feathers plunged down right where he'd been standing, the end replaced with a poisonous dart that pierced through the stone floor . From there he had to focus on the fight, dodging and skipping around and away from her grasping reach lest she'd try to grapple his shield away and give her partner an opportunity to inflict a heavy blow on him .

"Slayer, I'm disappointed," Duneyrr told him, her voice grating on his nerves. "It only takes one pathetic girl to turn your head? I expected better."

Copen triggered his shield, turning part of it into a bow so it can fire exploding arrows up at her—nothing too slow, unfortunately that didn't make them all that effective as she whipped them away with a fling of her wings. The sudden gust protecting her. This is why he despised G7 tech, as even when he made sure to never make his own technology too easy to copy or counter, they still managed to put some things in place through observation and inspiration like the thieves they are.

Still, it was enough to make her reel back when smoke filled the air after, coughing and gagging for breath. He crouched to leap up at her and bash her with his shield, but then he saw Dainn scuttle by in his peripheral. It was a clumsy, last-second switch, but his instincts screamed for it, and Copen pounced straight into him instead.

Dainn hadn't been aiming for him, after all. That could only mean he'd found a better target.

And yep, there was Mytyl, still standing in the street with her hands half raised when the rest of the people on the block were in full retreat behind her.

For fuck's sake.

"Move!" he roared at Mytyl as he sank his shield deeper into Scorpion's shoulders. It's outer edge adorned with crimson hard light that's melting through his opponent's armor slowly but surely.

He lost track of the girl again as Dainn bucked wildly, his sword-tail missing Copen's head by inches. There was no choice except to roll off again; the slayer hooked his shield-saber to take as much flesh with him as he could, smiling grimly at Scorpion's bellow of pain. Just in time too, because Duneyrr was back in the fight, lips parted in a grimace and the skin of her face mottled red in patches. (Burn wounds from the smoke, cause heat goes up too)

Copen prided himself on his speed, but neither of his foes were slow themselves. He couldn't get close enough to heavily strike one without giving the other a chance to interject, and they kept cutting off his escape, forcing him to fling more and more ex-weapons to buy himself space. Duneyrr almost managed to snag his ankle once, but he kicked her off with a grunt and a jet-kick before she could take him off his feet.

They roiled out into the street's intersection, Copen leaping over and around cars while the others just went through or above, smashing past the traffic jam that had formed. Copen heard screaming and caught the flash of bodies as drivers scrambled from their cars, but it was only background noise as he struggled to find the right opening, hoping against hope that Mytyl had finally gone.

But checking left his attention split, and he knew better, or should have. All it took was one second of distraction when he realized he couldn't see his sis anymore and Duneyrr swatted him out of a jump, slamming him back against the nearest car. Hardly a tap under normal circumstances, but Dainn took immediate advantage, springing down nearly on top of him, and Copen was left on the defense, just barely wrenching out of the way as their claws slashed down once, twice—

"Hey—!"

The Wolf-mech reeled back, clawing at his own face. Copen skittered back out of his reach, confused for a long moment. There was something, no, some things azure plastered all over Scorpion's eyes, some things angry and distracting that ignored his foe's desperate pulling.

Just as Copen recognized it properly, a flash of red and blue flew by, leaving behind a trail of butterflies before dropping clumsily behind the trunk of the car next to him.

"Are you okay?" Mytyl called to him like she wasn't spiking Copen's pulse through the roof just by being there.

"M—" He bit down on the name and the urge to grab Mytyl and shake her hard as he rolled over the top of the car to avoid Duneyrr' next lashing projectile. "I told you to go."

"I'm not leaving you," Mytyl snapped back at him, and for all that she was wide-eyed and nearly cowering behind the car, it was very clear that she meant it.

It might have been touching, even encouraging, except that it was ruining the plan. But Copen didn't have time to smack or talk sense into her now. Duneyrr was almost on top of them, bearing down from her skyward position with a feral kind of focus, and Copen sprang out from his temporary hiding spot to draw her eye.

"Finish Dainn, then, he's reliant on melee attacks and has only one ranged option. Abuse that." he barked back at Mytyl, catching the stunned look it got him in response as he turned away. Had she been expecting him to refuse? Mytyl clearly wasn't going to leave or even get out of the way, so she might as well help. Safely, anyway, and Copen hurried to correct, "You got good aim and plenty of ranged options, no?, just pin him down with something and don't let him get close!"

He had to pay attention to his own opponent after that, switching to firing lasers at Duneyrr instead. About as useful as a BB gun versus an elephant on the whole, but he knew one or two cracks in her armor had sunk in by the way she jerked, and it kept her coming for him. All he needed now was one more opening to use yet another ex-weapon that will permanently put her down.

Meanwhile he saw Mytyl dart out into her foe's melee range a second later and oh, that wasn't a good feeling, that seizing of his insides. But Dainn was still staggering half-blind in the street; Mytyl swung her rod against his head hard enough to make him flinch with one hand, followed by her plastering some nasty right swing across Dainn's cheek, launching the man right off his feet. That did kind of calm Copen's nerves, but only until Mytyl closed the distance for another blow.

"Watch the tail," Copen called over, feeling ridiculously like one of those hovering parents at the edge of a kiddie sports game. But Mytyl seemed to be trying to wrap more butterflies around Dainn's face since it worked before, as if the man before her is some video-game boss and she figured out what weapon slash special attack she can abuse to put them into a constant pain loop for an easy win. "Don't get cocky, just take him down quick." he can really hurt her, if she isn't careful.

Mytyl listened, at least, bouncing from the street onto a car and then up to a streetlight, sticking upside a lamp in a pose like a ballerina. She started to flicker in various colors as her septima level started to strangely rise, before releasing several energy balls in the shape of musical notes at Dainn's back from there, a surprisingly good hit on a fast-moving target, and then launched forwards to full-body plough into their side, toppling the wolf over.

Which was when Duneyrr lost patience with the admittedly obvious game of keep-away they'd been playing and just picked up a car with two extra limbs, flinging it in Mytyl' direction.

Copen didn't even have time to shout a warning, but as soon as she let it go, Mytyl stiffened and then bolted, bounding out of the way with room to spare. The car bounced and rolled through the intersection with a terrific amount of noise, crashing to a halt further in the jam of vehicles still in the street. The last few drivers that hadn't already abandoned their cars scrambled out and bolted down the street, apparently not eager to be in the next projectile.

Copen paid them no mind, busy worming his way past Duneyrr's remaining arms and attention, but he needn't have worried; Mytyl was already flying away with her dual colored wings. Copen darted towards her, Duneyrr hot on his heels.

"Not good, not good, not good," he heard Mytyl chanting breathlessly to herself, and then Copen managed to get in front of her and redirect her.

He was only slightly surprised now when Mytyl understood and immediately corrected her flight, changing direction and just barely skimming over the street as she followed Copen's path across the traffic jam towards the frantic crowd still roiling further down the street.

"Are we running away?" Mytyl called to him, making an impressive, twisting flip in the air as a certain moth tossed another car at them. The wind of its passage tugged hard at Copen's red cape, a near miss. "We can't just leave, what about all these people—?"

Copen was putting together the least amount of words it would take to explain that they were the only reason danger was here at all when he saw Mytyl twist and grab one of his shoulders. Her strength yanked him off his feet right as a white-hot flare of pain shot lit up his entire left arm

Mytyl caught him, but clumsily, Copen's weight toppling both of them over the side of the car she'd dropped to stand on. Copen could distantly recognize the dying echo of a gunshot, unsure if the ringing in his ears was from the noise or the pain as his brain caught up with the wound, waves of boiling lava searing through his arm down to his bones.

He gasped there on the ground for a stunned moment, clamping his claws down over the wound—a straight line across his bicep, deep but clean. Mytyl's hands were rooted in the front of his suit, her voice high and wavering through noises that hardly sounded like words.

A flash of movement and he grabbed Mytyl with his good arm, gritting his teeth and rolling them both away as Duneyrr' arms smashed down where they'd been lying. He shot another arrow in her direction before he tucked his wounded arm close to his chest and dragged Mytyl into a stumbling run.

There was no real thought anymore, no strategy, just move move move. But then he caught of a flash of the one responsible for his wound and couldn't help but gape for a moment:

With two guns still raised and tracking their movements from a roof above was a woman in a dark-blue-black armor, with golden highlights around their chest, shoulders, head, and legs. Their face is covered by a mask with glowing golden eyes that allows their long sun-blonde hair to hang down from behind their head. A green energy blade extends from the back of the right hand, ready to drop one of their guns to parry away any shot that comes their way. The technology of the suit also allows her to easily jump huge distances and move so fast that one can see after-images.

"Yggdra," Copen spat her name out as he kept dodging behind cars, trying desperately to throw off the shots without wasting his shield cause he knows her guns could potentially break it if it takes too many hits, which would leave him without any ex-weapons or solid barrier to hide behind.

"Traitor." the masked girl responds with a heavily modulated voice, and continues shooting, her bullets easily piercing through most of the cars and making them explode. Forcing Copen to jump out of cover again but then Mytyl yanked against his grip, moving against him to curve her body around one of the sheltering cars. An extremely dumb tactic, as again, the shots pierce through.

Copen lunged back after her in disbelief, hooking claws into the back of her clothes, but Mytyl dug her feet in like a disobedient puppy, suddenly immovable despite the enemies bearing on them as she—

—creates a beehive like barrier around them, which reflects every feather, bullet and other projectile that's shot their way in the forms of azure feathers that home right back, forcing their foes to cease fire and dodge their reflected shots. Copen stared at the chaos and then lunged forwards, ready to make use off the opportunity he now has while all foes are distracted.

Though it once revolted me
I call upon its thunderous voice
to speak of a sinful creed
SPARK STELLAR!

He didn't put only one ex-weapon into Overdrive, most of the time- ruined the mystique and was a great way to force the frequency of it's maintenance to skyrocket, but right now, right here, there was one ex-weapon he was the most familiar with and knew how to use to it's maximum potential.

And right now, he couldn't give less of a damn about how his shield was shining a blue iX instead of his iconic red. As all three enemies realized what he's about to do and tried to stop it, he fired.

And he hit, he was pretty sure, even with his left arm fucked up. There wasn't much time or space for his enemies to dodge a massive conical beam of electricity coming their way twice in a row, and even if they managed to dodge one or two shots, the lightning bolts that smash down from the heavens right after with no warning whatsoever most definitely inflicted heavy damage on them.

Duneyrr fell from the sky with a howl, flailing wildly as she fell until she hit the road spine first and stopped moving. Dainn was forced to his knees, sparks flaring all around his body, unable to move.

As for the masked leader of G7's invasion unit, seeing how his vision whited out after a second, a sudden pain flaring up from his arm as he's flung back to land hard on his side. It's safe to say she somehow saw a pattern in the chaotic attack, danced through it like it was nothing and hit him back for the trouble.

Then something was puling him up. Copen stumbled to his feet under Mytyl's tugs, moving on autopilot despite the way his whole body wanted to lock up tight.

But there was nowhere left to go. Yggdra was closing in, energy blade raised, and Mytyl had brought them up on the sidewalk, backing up against the building behind them. And while Copen's instinct was to climb and jump up and way, Duneyrr was soon back on her feet – or arms, as it were. She was visibly swaying and bleeding, red blooming and spattered over her suit, the skin of her face cracked and bleeding from everything Copen had thrown at her, but she was still up, spitting blood as she returned to the sky to loom over their heads.

Copen shoved Mytyl behind his back again in case she tried to grab for her, breathing past his lightheadedness and searching for another opening, but Dainn was already staggering back into play to the left. There were scorch-marks on his armor and exoskeleton, but his beady eyes were fixed on them as he blocked that avenue of escape. Yggdra mirrored him on the right, her guns put down as she kept clenching her blade instead. She was always faster with the latter anyway.

There was a distant gathering of the more reckless spectators creeping back into view beyond him, but they were too far away to use as a distraction. Copen could hear the distant wail of police sirens in the air now too. They wouldn't be getting any cars down this wrecked street easily, though, and they weren't what Copen would consider 'helpful,' anyway.

Then there were more important things to focus on as Yggdra kept approaching them, one hand raised so the others kept their distance as she came closer and closer with every slow step.

He still had his gun, though he held it confidently down by his side as he let the others take the lead. Copen hadn't ever seen her waste time with such gestures, but he must've managed to really piss her off if she's making the effort of wanting to kill him personally. Wonderful.

Copen flicked his eyes over each of them, unable to stop hoping for a weak spot, however unlikely. But he wasn't in the habit of lying to himself about the odds, and he didn't like where this was going, at all.

But then, this had never really been about him.

"Mytyl," he breathed. He felt her hands tighten where they were clenched in his cape. "I need you to stop arguing and run."

Not exactly great odds for Mytyl now either, but she was small and deceptively quick. If she was sharp about it, Copen could cause one last ruckus and Mytyl could maybe slip past. She hadn't been the one betraying his contract anyway, or doing most of the damage. She probably wasn't even the prime target for the moment.

Except, of course, Mytyl wasn't letting go.

"I told you, I'm not leaving you," she whispered, her voice trembling, but grip rock hard.

She'd thought Copen had been about to kill her ten minutes ago; why was she being this stubborn now? If she'd just gone the first time…

"Mytyl, they will kill you—"

"They'll kill you," Mytyl hissed back. "I'm not doing it, I'm not losing you again."

"Slayer," Yggdra said, and there was no more time to talk about it. G7's personal bloodhound was watching him with narrowed eyes, staring down his nose like she was about to scold a dog that had pissed on the rug, and while Copen knew that look promised pain, his first instinctive urge was to rip her face off for it.

There was nothing he could say, at this point. No amount of explanations or justification would be good enough, and any truth he gave G7 would absolutely be turned against him—or anyone they could connect to him. So he kept his mouth shut, claws back despite his throbbing arm to keep Mytyl tucked in behind him as much as the kid would allow. He refused to flinch back a single millimeter when the masked warrior's eyes narrowed at his silence.

"All this for one girl," Duneyrr spat, and Copen took vicious pleasure in the rasp of her voice, the struggle and wheeze in each of her breaths as she coiled fingers tentacles up over her head. Her eyes were wide and cold behind her goggles as she spoke sidelong to her boss. "This wasn't planned, or he wouldn't have called us in. Something's changed. Make the little one squeal, and I expect we'll learn what."

Copen glared at her, even knowing that his slight bristle was more than enough to give away the truth in her words, but Yggdra just glanced once past him in Mytyl's direction before turning her eyes back to Copen.

"His reasons don't matter," she said, implacable, lip curling as she raised her gun, finger ready on the trigger and aimed clearly at his head for a fatal shot, and—

A lightning-fast blur of white yanked it out of her hands, whipping the gun past Copen's side to where Mytyl was leaning out despite his best efforts, her rod had increased in length and knocked the weapon out of Yggdra's palm. But instead of turning it right back on them when she caught it, the way Copen absolutely would have done, Mytyl just held it awkwardly by the barrel as she said, shakily, "Don't—"

But Duneyrr had lashed out almost as soon as Mytyl had caught the gun, talons flying right for her. Copen struck the first limb aside, claws refusing to find purchase on the rubbery surface, and then there were just too many damn arms to track, slapping his hobbled defense aside to pick him up and toss him against the building behind him with searing, bone-rattling force.

Copen managed to land on his feet, but Yggdra had wisely followed right on the tail of Duneyrr's opening, hitting him immediately with a rapid sword stab to the gut that stole the rest of the air from his body by melting one of his lungs...if his body hadn't moved away before he could think of dodging that is. Still she followed right behind, initiating, one, two, three slashes from three respective sides, forcing him to dodge and block with a rapid scaling pressure as more of her blows manage to graze and pierce right through his prevasion. The dance only stopped when he back flips.

So she could meet him in mid-air and slam him back to the ground, hard.

And so Copen dropped, hard, only just catching himself before his face hit the ground, gagging as he fought for breath. Somewhere to the side, he could still hear pieces of Mytyl's voice, a high, wavering yowl in his ears, no and stop digging into Copen like knives as he saw flashes of her own fight by the projectiles writhing past the masked sword woman's bulk.

He shoved up again, every ounce of focus locked on that voice, but Yggdra kicked him in the ribs before he'd made it halfway there, knocking him back and ignoring the claws Copen raked into her leg in return. Copen immediately forced himself halfway upright, the pain almost galvanizing now, but Yggdra just kicked him again, knocking him back against the wall with suit-enhanced strength.

It left him somewhat propped up, but Copen's vision was swimming, his lungs struggling to open again. He heard something off to the side, a sharp, buzzing snap and a high, short cry, but his foe was already winding up to swing down at his head and Copen threw his arm up, bracing—

And suddenly Mytyl was there, stopping the swing in its tracks.

Copen stared up at her, rattled enough that it took him a long second to understand what he was seeing. Mytyl had two hands braced to Yggdra's hand and wrist, and even though both of her hands barely covered it, even though his feet had skidded a little on the pavement, knocking back into Copen's legs, she'd stepped in front of a punch that Copen had seen smash through concrete and stopped it dead.

"I said," Mytyl gritted out, "no."

Then she lit up, a blue-rainbow crackling wave rolling over her skin. Copen had to squint against the familiar brightness of Anthem, his skin prickling like static in the proximity of such power. Mytyl was electric, wearing a shroud of wild, azure lightning, and it snapped from her hands and into Yggdra, freezing every lithe muscle up into an arched, unnatural pose due to electrocution.

Mytyls used that against her, swinging the girl almost comically through the air by her arm before flinging her. It sent her smashing into Dainn head-on, cutting off her lunge and sending them both bowling back out into the street. Copen will never get used to that disproportional strength in her.

Copen stumbled up to his feet as Mytyl charged recklessly after them. He almost tripped over Duneyrr, sprawled out over the street like a puppet from cut strings. Had Mytyl gotten him first? Must have. Copen knew he was gaping stupidly under his mask, but stopping didn't feel like a priority.

Well, that's new. Why the hell hadn't she used that before? Was it a new move?

But Mytyl wasn't the only one who was deceptively fast for her size. Yggdra might have drawn back to let her men take the lead, but Mytyl hurtled almost directly past her, and apparently that was enough to entice her to lunge. Mytyl seemed to catch the movement, dodging the first slash, but the second attack (By twirling her blade so the flat end spins upwards with the momentum of the first attack, thus getting two for one.) caught her right in the face, lifting her off his feet with the force of the blow.

Copen didn't remember making any kind of decision—just the sight of that hit blazing through him like wildfire, and then he was already moving.

Yggdra was quick enough to get an arm slashed instead of her throat, but Copen had come up with his second set of claws at the same time. He landed that hit, managing to dig them deep into the bulky, armored expanse of her abdomen and rip it to shreds. Claws barely entering the skin.

It gave under his claws, a tearing resistance that shivered hot through Copen's skin, but Yggdra, despite her pained bellow, was not the sort of woman who fell that easily. And where Copen would usually have been light enough to slash and dart away, he was woozy enough to stumble on the release.

He managed to dodge her first two swings and then took a kick right to the chest. He was sure he felt ribs cracking as he hit the ground again, Yggdra following too easily as he scrambled back. And Copen knew from long experience—from watching her execute a servant who failed a task just a few weeks before—that this was not a position he wanted to be in, not when she could shift her weight alongside gravity to lift her blade all the way up and then smash it down to cut him in half.

Getting up would take too long, so he fired a photon to her exposed navel and then took the distraction it bought him, twisting to activate his boot's flames against the Yggdra's legs. It didn't bring her down, but it did make her wobble with another short grunt of pain as her skin burned. Just in time too, as the vertical slash she had been about to smash down on him wobbled too, glancing close to Copen's shoulder and hitting the ground instead of landing with the full force to kill him.

This is taking way too long, he realizes. Even if he and Mytyl are giving these guys a good fight, the fact that they're outnumbered and even more could come their way was a prime sign that he should retreat from this fight lest he'd meet his end here. Knowing what to do, Copen gritted his teeth and stood up. His shield creating a purple bow with an eye-like gem in the middle of it.

"Close your eyes!" he yelled as the only warning, before a purple flash covered the surroundings. Encasing all of his opponents, save Mytyl, who listened, inside a barrier of stone.

"We're leaving now." he firmly says as he glances around for any more foes, but the only ones present are still immobile. There as a distant rumble in his ears though...voices, both low and raised, from the distant gathering of the spectators that he'd managed to forget about in the excitement. It looked like they'd at least managed to avoid killing any of the drivers or bystanders, but the intersection around them was a mess of smashed, thrown, and abandoned cars, and the buildings surrounding it hadn't made it through unscathed either.

More worrisome than the people, were the flashes of phone lights that he could see coming from them. People were recording and taking pictures of the fight, and while he's tempted to shoot an emp their way to destroy the phones. Such an act could still harm innocent people and give his sister a very good reason to throw down the fragile trust she has in him down the garbage bins.

So he gave her the signal to follow him instead as he went up a rooftop, jumped from that rooftop to another rooftop and continued that rhythm of transport until he was certain that they are far away enough for a quick break. So he can slump back against a wall, to let his pained, throbbing body catch a breath and also look down so he can get a proper look on the injuries he has gained.

It wasn't a pretty sight. There were visible dent marks on his chest-armor and several plates are outright melting still from the contact they took from his opponent's freaking light saber.

"You're bleeding," Mytyl added once she caught up, voice rasping as she reached to touch his elbow. Copen just shook his head, taking that reaching hand and pulling Mytyl with him at a trot, doing his best to keep them out of sight of any civilians just a few feet below, the roofs are low.

"I'll wrap it later," he promised, tugging Mytyl on when she looked about to protest. "It won't kill me and we have to move. We've got more things to worry around, like Sumeragi coming for me."

Mytyl flinched at that in surprise, but what did she expect? In everything but cause, he's part of a foreign terrorist organization out to destroy Sumeragi. Brother or not, he's still the enemy here.

Now with the program, she stifled any argument and instead asked. "So, where are we going?" And the relief Copen felt from hearing that we was immeasurable, "Do you need to get supplies, or-?"

For all that it matters, he already knew what to normally do in this scenario. Once either G7 has no more use for him or they've decided to throw him down the curb. The first case scenario would be to inform his four battle-pods that it's hijacking time. Upon receiving the order, they would pour a virus into G7's main servers and cause their robots to go berserk. Creating a war zone that would lower their numbers to a manageable level so that he can join in the moment they're done with his own private army (composed of bots as he trusts no man) to steamroll them and set the final events in motion. He'd probably enjoy taking down those Norse myth theme pretenders down a peg.

Finally, He'd defeat Sumeragi's agents, end their dictatorship and take down all adept kind.

In the unlikely scenario that G7 proved to still be useful, well, he wouldn't have minded letting them put their own image of society over Sumeragi's ruins as long as his goals aligned still.

But that didn't happen, as the unthinkable happened, which leaves him with a problem.

A problem that's big enough that he needs to change parts of the 'final events' because, again…

His sister is an adept and working for Sumeragi, and he doesn't want, no, he just cannot kill her.

Well, he can't kill the 50% that is her inside the body of the adept she was always meant to be.

But he can't convince her to join him either. His methods are vile and cruel even if they are necessary and he wouldn't be surprised if she tried to do the same thing to him. To which, he, of course, would say no to as well. Which would only leave conflict as the option that remains.

Unless.

"We need to lay low," Copen answers her, "And the sooner, the better. The place you were headed, is it closer than going back home?"

Mytyl gave him a look, but by the time Copen's brain started to fear she was seeing through him, she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

"Yeah, it's this way." she agreed, waving Copen after her.

It was a new sort of nerve-wracking to watch her hop over the edge of a building to another building, followed by tree to tree as she headed off the main road, but Mytyl flew steadily occasionally shifting to dodge a branch or two, so Copen could only swallow his unease.

They stopped only once, briefly, for Copen to wind a hasty bandage from his belt around his still-bleeding wound, and then they were off again, one last sprint to safety. Copen just set his eyes on Mytyl's back and followed her, counting each breath in and out as keeping up made him feel every hit he'd taken. The trip still took long enough that it was a true relief when Mytyl stopped flying to trot across rooftops instead and Copen could subtly catch his breath.

The backyard of the mansion Mytyl dropped into looked no different than any of the others in the vicinity. The kid was frowning around at it, though, and Copen took the time to descend gently, hopping to the fence before the ground, softening the impact.

"Think it's better if we wait up here," Mytyl finally said, as though Copen had any idea what the alternative was. He just nodded in agreement and let Mytyl tug him into the house.

The lights were all on inside, but Copen couldn't sense any people or movement, not even with his mask's enhancements. He slipped past Mytyl to peer into the living room and up the stairs, but it seemed deserted.

"—a first aid kit in here somewhere, there's gotta be," Mytyl was chattering as Copen gave the closed curtains a careful look. She trotted after Copen to nudge him towards the couch, herding him like a concerned little cat. "Just wait here, lemme go look—"

She was moving much easier than Copen was, but there was still something oddly stiff about Mytyl, her shoulders tight and her movements jerky. Copen settled himself against the arm of the couch instead—if he sat down now, getting up would hurt, and he didn't know this place well enough for that—and then he caught Mytyl's wrist, tugging those jittery movements to a stop.

"Hey," he said, gentle as he could manage, purring instead of growling. The Slayer's mask's tone could only soften so much though; Copen pushed his mask up to the top of his head, needing his own voice for this. "You good, Mytyl?"

"Am I good? You're the one they kept hurting," she almost squawked at him, and then she made a soft, affronted noise as she swung her rod again, changing back to her normal clothes and appearance once the light and music show ended after a few painful seconds to Copen's disbelief.

Though that didn't mean she was unharmed now, far from it.

She had the beginnings of a black eye going, skin puffing up around her eye and cheekbone. She'd either bitten her lip or gotten hit there too, by the swelling, and there were parallel lines of dirty scrapes running down her neck. But Mytyl was frowning up at Copen, stubborn, whole, alive, and he let some tension leak out of his shoulders.

"That sorta fight's a lot to handle on your own," he offered vaguely, waiting to see what it got him, and Mytyl finally stilled entirely, looking up at him with large, serious eyes.

"They were going to kill you," she said. It came out almost uncertain, like she was still working through the thought, and Copen let that settle into his gut, an inescapable weight. He was the reason Mytyl had to confront these sorts of thoughts at all.

"I'm not that easy to kill," he promised, but Mytyl just shook her head.

"You knew they'd kill you," she said, something dark in her eyes, "and you told me to leave anyway."

That's the part that was bothering her? Copen frowned. He could get not wanting to be sidelined or coddled, but Mytyl clearly hadn't been fully sure of how to bring those powers into play, or she'd have done it a lot sooner. She couldn't blame Copen for trying to save her life.

But then, Mytyl had been so determined to save him. Didn't make any sense for her to get herself killed for it, not when Copen had gone into this willingly, and just been trying to kill her minutes before, but that was just how Mytyl is now, isn't she? She'd probably have thought it was all her fault, too, if Copen hadn't gotten out alive.

"I mean, yeah," he finally said, keeping his voice low and a close eye on Mytyl's' face. "My mess to clean, wasn't it? You were only there 'cause of me to start with, so I'd have bought you time as best I could. Guess it's lucky I didn't need to."

The expression on Mytyl's face made her look older than she was, her jaw set with a tight frown.

"Don't do that again," she said, quiet and serious, and Copen hadn't been expecting to hear that sort of statement in relation to something other than his job. Mytyl was almost glaring at him. "I don't want you to die for me. I don't want anyone to die for me."

I've technically died several times, ask Lola, she revived me, a vindictive part of him was tempted to say, but Mytyl looked strung tight as a wire, wound up in whatever this was, and so he bit back the instinct. He'd only wanted to keep her safe, but Mytyl was the sort to want the same in return.

"I can't promise that," he said instead, meeting Mytyl tone for tone. He squeezed Mytyl's wrist when she opened her mouth. "Look, I get it, Mytyl. I do. But I will never let you get hurt like that if there's something I can do about it."

Mytyl closed her mouth, face still pinched and unhappy, but she didn't argue right away. She did turn her wrist in Copen's grip, though, wrapping both her hands around his claws and flattening them out. Copen let her, keeping the sharp tips very carefully lax as Mytyl traced them with her fingers, light and exploratory.

"Were you ever going to come back?" she finally asked, tipping her head back to stare at Copen. "Home, I mean."

Copen couldn't hold under that look, had to turn his head away. No, was the honest answer, he hadn't faked his death for nothing, but that's not the answer she wanted to hear. He'd kind of thought that Mytyl would take more issue with the Adept Slayer thing as a whole than him leaving her life, but it looked like she was taking that bit personally.

"I didn't want to put our family in the middle of it," he dodged, because that part was true, but by the look Mytyl gave him, she heard what Copen wasn't saying anyway. Copen sighed. "I'll be honest, it wasn't something I was proud about, Mytyl. I didn't want—"

I didn't want you to hate me, but the words stuck in his throat. He rearranged them.

"I wanted you to look up to me. To live a peaceful life, knowing that even if you didn't remember anything about me, I and your parents loved you. Like a fresh start." he admitted, looking down at the small hands holding his claws. There was blood drying on her skin, blood that Copen had put there one way or another. It was easier to bring his eyes back to Mytyl's face than to keep looking at that. "I didn't want to lose you, again. As long as I or your powers were there, you'd be in danger."

Mytyl's eyes widened. And if Copen knew her, that look she gave him was enough of a sign that she realized some subtext he himself may not be aware off. How much does she know anyway?

"But you couldn't just stop?" Mytyl demanded, and Copen let himself smile a little at that. Another reason he'd never told her anything, because of course that would be one of the first things she asked. That was exactly how Copen predicted it would all fall apart, once she saw the demon.

At least he had a convenient answer now. One that leads to his new plan C.

"Well, given what I just did to my last employer, it ain't exactly a scene I'll be welcome back in anytime soon," Copen pointed out, and Mytyl blinked, clearly surprised. Had she not realized just how public it'd gotten?

Copen looked her over, only debating for a moment. He could see where this whole magical girl, defender of justice! thing was probably going, could follow the progression Mytyl's infuriating selflessness would take it down to even if she hadn't said it outright. And part of Copen wanted to sit her down and forbid it, but the other half knew that would never work.

So if he wants to get out ahead of thisand draw Mytyl's attention away...

"Suppose it happened at a good time too, if you're working with Gunvolt," he said like he was musing, and not like he was tempted to assault the latter and this so-called 'Xiao' the moment he makes eye contact with them for endangering her. "Makes you a bit less vulnerable since you're not working alone."

Mytyl opened her mouth, closed it with a frown, and then finally said, "Wait, you mean...you'd help? If I was gonna do the...the superhero thing?"

You're already too deep to quit, even if you wanted to. He doesn't say, instead...

"Well, yeah," Copen scoffed, ignoring the way his stomach still dropped at the confirmation. "You seen the crazies in this city? I'm not letting you run off without backup. Might give you a little less trouble if they know have to deal with the Slayer, too now."

He did his very best in that moment to pretend he wasn't standing there in a suit that's meant to intimidate and kill people like her, trying not to let Mytyl's obvious surprise get to him. Of course the kid had reason to doubt.

Mytyl's eyes were still flicking carefully on his face, but she seemed more startled than anything, and there was the slightest hint of hope starting to shine that made Copen heart twitch in pain.

"You'd really change sides like that? To help me?" Mytyl asked, and while Copen wrinkled his nose at the thought of helping Sumeragi to be even remotely heroic, there was only one answer.

"Might as well do some good with it, if it's that or give it up." Wait, no, that sounded like he was only doing it because he thought he'd be bored or something. Copen leaned down to catch Mytyl' eyes, needing this part to be clear. "Look, I haven't always done the right thing, I know that. But I said you were more important than this, and I meant it. So let me prove it to you."

She's not. But he can only hope she believes it anyway. He has full intent to use her trust and her friends to make his own goal easier to obtain, after which he'd break her heart to make sure she won't be a victim of the next step. If that requires locking her up somewhere, then so be it.

Mytyl stared up at him, intent and searching, and Copen could only hope he'd said enough, done enough to be believed, to earn a second chance. If Mytyl leaned more towards their father's way of doing things...

But finally, Mytyl's shoulder slumped and she nodded. "Okay. I don't...I don't like what you've been doing, but if you really mean that you'll stop, that you'll help instead—"

"I mean it," Copen lied, grabbing hold of that tentative acceptance with both hands, and he didn't think he was imagining his relief mirrored in the slope of Mytyl's shoulders, the loosening of his face.

Thank God. That could have gone so, so much worse

And it will eventually, he is going to inevitably ruin this. Because he's selfish.

Mytyl opened her mouth like she was going to respond and then jerked to look at the back door, her whole body tensing. Copen didn't know what she'd heard, but he yanked his mask back down on reflex and started to shove upright. Mytyl caught at his claws again, though, pressing the sharp tips in towards his gut and pushing him hurriedly back against the couch arm.

"No, wait. They're my friends," Mytyl insisted, and Copen could pick out the murmur of voices now. Friends had to mean adepts, but Mytyl leaned on him a little harder when he tugged on his hands again, shooting him a pleading look. "Don't start a fight, please?"

Copen probably wouldn't win any fights like this anyway, though he didn't think it was unreasonable to want his hands free just in case. But the back door was already opening, and in walked Gunvolt, the Azure Striker.

Copen stopped and stared at him, kind of morbidly fascinated. The adept had turned his head to talk behind him as a small crowd of bodies followed him in, but it was the same profile, different costume with a Sumeragi logo, and a voice that sounded a bit older, rattling on, "—I mean, yeah, we gotta plan it both ways just in case, but I'm telling you, he'll—"

The crowd behind him, mostly undisguised, all focused on Copen as soon as they walked in, stopping just inside the kitchen. Gunvolt seemed to pick up on the tension a few seconds after everyone else, swinging around to blink at Copen and Mytyl in the sudden silence.

"Mytyl," he said brightly, before finally seeming to register Copen's presence. One hand came up in front of his side, holding onto his iconic dart gun, brow furrowing as he drew up sharply. "Uh, Mytyl—?"

It was mildly satisfying to watch him freeze, even if Copen really would have liked to be somewhere else entirely. He did his part, though, standing very still under Mytyl's half-hearted hold as the kid shifted uncomfortably under the attention.

"Hi, everyone," Mytyl chirped, falsely bright. Then she slumped back out of the awkward cheerfulness when everyone just stared at her. "Uh...I can explain."

"Just turn on the news," Copen grumbled under his breath, because he wasn't in the mood for hours of explanation and doubt when there would already be video evidence to pave the way. Mytyl twisted back to look at him immediately, her speed almost making Copen jump.

"The—? Wait, you think we're on the news?" Mytyl demanded like she thought Copen might be making it up, and Copen could only blink back at her, honestly confused by her confusion. Mytyl seemed to sense his incredulity and hunched back down, pouting slightly. "What? I'm not used to this stuff, how am I supposed to know?"

"That many people out on the street? Using flashy moves?" Copen pointed out dryly, and Mytyl's pout was starting to take on a distinctly sheepish edge.

"Someone wanna share with the class?" Gunvolt butted in, eyes flicking back and forth between them, hand no longer onto his weapon, how foolish, and Mytyl spun back to face him.

"We got in a huge fight," she announced like it was something to celebrate, finally letting go of Copen's claws. Copen resisted the urge to press one hand to his face as Mytyl seemed to realize the issue with that and backtracked. "Not with each other, obviously. With like Dainn, Du-something, a whole bunch of G7 agents and all three of them were super tough!"

Technically it had been with each other too, but Copen wasn't about to argue his role in the matter. Gunvolt's eyebrows were only climbing higher by the second, his alarm clear, and the adepts behind him were exchanging long looks. Mytyl didn't seem to notice; she'd pulled out his phone, head ducking back as she flicked her thumb across it.

"Oh wow, yeah, it did get recorded," she admitted, still sounding kind of surprised. "You guys didn't get the advisory to avoid the area or anything?"

"No trans-dimensional cell service, remember?" a girl with brown and pink hair said with a sharp shrug. Copen immediately recognizes her as the melee-user of the group, records have shown she possesses a septima that allows her to seal those of others. Though that doesn't explain at all how she is capable of summoning other effects with her talisman, the most notable of which is creating her own muse with the appearance of Lumen. Oh, and she just casually mentioned dimensions.

"And I've found it easier to keep the news off, these last few days." It was another woman's voice, an unknown variant until she stepped out from behind the pack. A Sakurazaki, if the golden accessories attached to her pink sleeveless jacket are emblems of her status—and since his scanners don't detect any septima within her. Her role must be that of moral support, or something.

The way Gunvolt winced though, when he saw the long bandage on her right arm, implied an untold story though. Not one Copen really cared about though, as what would the context bring?

"Right," Mytyl said, looking a little like she regretted asking before she darted forward to shove her phone into Gunvolt's hands.

The other adepts (One kid with blue hair and green clothes, the other some teenager with blue clothes and spiky orange hair) immediately crowded in around her to look. Copen could hear tiny narration and, even more distantly, some familiar noises from the fight, but he didn't pay too much attention to it. He watched Mytyl instead, who fidgeted in place for a few moments and then sidestepped over to look at the owner of the house.

"'Scuse me, Mrs. Quinn, but have you got a first aid kit I could use?" Mytyl was asking, and Copen rolled his eyes at the ceiling. He usually saw his father's influence those times she channeled her bloodline, but he was feeling Nori's etiquette lessons real strong here tonight.

"Of course," she agreed immediately, but she was visibly looking Mytyl over, and Gunvolt's head popped back up.

"Wait, how bad are you hurt?" Gunvolt sounded alarmed, which Copen could grudgingly appreciate until Mytyl, the traitor, pointed right at him.

"I'm fine, but he got shot and stabbed," Mytyl reported. Copen glared when all the attention turned back his way, several of the adepts glancing rapidly between him and whatever video Mytyl had given them. And now they'd all know there was a weak spot to hit. Great.

"I got grazed," he corrected and would have crossed his arms except for the knowledge of how painful it would be. Mytyl glared back at him.

"That counts as getting hurt," she insisted, and the little monster could cross her arms easily enough.

"He's right," Quinn agreed unexpectedly, giving Copen a closer look that made him bristle before she moved out of sight, further into the kitchen. Her voice still came back loud and clear as she added, "And you might as well take care of it before it gets worse. Being stoic about it does no one any good."

Copen blinked after her, a bit miffed, then noticed Mytyl giving him a pointed look and scowled at her. Mytyl just rolled her eyes and wandered back over to stand next to him. Brat.

"Ah, geez," Gunvolt said, and he looked like he was wincing slightly when Copen glanced back at him. His eyes were back on the phone in his hands. "Mytyl, that was right in the face, are you sure you're— Oh. Oh, okay, that looked...painful. You both got a bit whaled on there, huh?"

He squinted over at Copen in almost exactly the same way that their host had; Copen eyed him back, trying to gauge his intent. He'd expected a lot more questions and accusations by now.

"You sure you weren't followed?" the pink-haired adept asked. Whose name he would've known by now if he hadn't attacked her the moment she tried to introduce herself way, way back.

"Pretty sure," Mytyl agreed, stepping on Copens foot when he bristled again, answering for both of them. "I took 'em down and everything, and the cops were probably busy with that, so…"

The blue haired boy nodded approvingly, but before anyone else could respond, Quinn's voice called out from the kitchen again. "Come in here, both of you. I'd rather not have to get blood out of the furniture again."

Walking in there would bring Copen far closer to this crowd of adepts than he preferred to go. But the living room wasn't much better, and Mytyl was already shoving at his hip, so Copen levered himself out of his slouch with a sigh, giving in.

"Pushy," he grumbled softly at Mytyl as they moved, but Mytyl just raised her eyebrows and then gave him a bright, winning smile, apparently happy enough as long as Copen was listening.

The kitchen was a big room, but it felt even smaller with all of those adepts in it. The proximity made Copen's neck prickle, but the adepts at least left some space as they finished watching the video before wandering in after him. Quinn, too, had the sense to just lay the kit out on the table and leave him to it with a pointed look, moving back to the counter and pulling down mugs. Copen, well and truly surrounded at this point, gave up and let himself drop into a chair, flicking his cape to the side and tugging the supplies over.

Unwrapping the quick dressing from his wound now that it had dried some was a pain in every sense of the word, made slower by the low-burning urge to keep an eye on all the people in the room. It wasn't helpful that they were all watching him too, though they didn't seem nearly as wary. Well, he wouldn't be either, with their advantage of numbers.

But that didn't explain why one of them shoved a dampened towel at him while he was picking at the bandages, or why Quinn slid one of the cups of coffee his way. Gunvolt was just chatting away with Mytyl too, where Copen had really expected an actual confrontation by now.

"—did a good job with it there, really good. Just keep in mind that you won't always be able to count on that shock, now that everyone's seen you have it," he was saying, which was sound enough advice, and Mytyl' expression was still open, so it couldn't have been entirely unwelcome. "And there's some it just won't work with. Gotta make sure you practice the basics too."

"That's when Anthem comes in," Mytyl piped up, and Copen paused to stare at her. Right, he'd forgotten about that. Damn, talk about luck of the draw on septimas. Mytyl was already cracking under Gunvolt's look. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll work on it, I promise. But we've already taken out the big bads, you can't tell me I can't come with you after that."

Oh, hold on.

"And where are you going now?" he demanded. Mytyl jerked at the interruption, looking briefly shifty before shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. Copen's pulse kicked up a tiny bit in automatic response.

"I told you, I'm going to retrieve the azure spirits," Mytyl said, her chin coming up, but she was eyeing the other adepts more than Copen as she said it. They were only giving each other small shrugs and nods, though, which seemed to relax Mytyl enough that she looked back at Copen and added, "Soon as Xiao's done with the container, anyway. With you out of G7, it'll be real quick too. I shouldn't be gone long—"

"You're not going to be gone at all," Copen growled, seeing exactly what she was trying to do, "or if you are, I'm going with you."

Mytyl blinked at him like that wasn't exactly what she'd expected, but then she was frowning between Copen and the medical supplies on the table, and Copen pointed a threatening claw at her "Girl, you say one more word about my arm—"

"I don't need a chaperone," Mytyl groaned, sounding every inch a teenager in that moment, and Copen might've flicked her across the forehead if Gunvolt hadn't stepped in.

"Back-up's never a bad thing, Mytyl," he said, and Copen honestly hadn't been expecting support from that quarter. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head in the slightest question. Gunvolt seemed to understand, but only shrugged at him. "Hey, I figure you already went to out of your way for her once. Not like you can turn back to G7's side after that."

Which was true, but also naive enough that Copen was tempted to call bs. Before remembering that he was the one that tried the most to make him change sides, so maybe he still is that naive, after all.

Unfortunately, Gunvolt seemed to take his silence as an invitation, dropping to sit across the table from him. "Though, I gotta ask, why did you decide to help now? No offense, but she's been around us for a while now and you haven't even tried once to talk to her before."

None of your business would have been Copen's preferred answer, but Mytyl made a startled noise in his throat.

"Oh, did I not—?" Mytyl said, blinking, and then before Copen could stop her: "He didn't know."

"You—?" Gunvolt jerked back around, eyes flicking over Copen's mask like he'd be able to tell if he was lying. "You really didn't know? I mean, not that I'm judging. But wasn't it obvious?"

"Really?" Copen asked back rhetorically, but continued when met with silence, letting out a sigh first. "I didn't know, maybe I refused to see the signs, but until today, I didn't know."

Mytyl's brow furrowed. "Refused to see the signs?"

"Denial is a thing," Copen grumbled, but his heart wasn't really in it at this point. He poked his mask to make sure it wouldn't fall off as he removes his armor. Not that there's a point in wearing it now, seeing how 2 people in the room already know his identity. If anything that makes him wonder why Gunvolt hasn't told the others about it beforehand. Especially Mytyl, did he stay quiet to protect her?

Small hands tangled with his in the next second—Mytyl, her shoulders hunched and looking the slightest bit guilty as she helped Copen tug the ripped edges of his suit out of the way.

Well, Copen never had been very good at staying mad at her anyway. And between the two of them, he hardly had the right.

"It's fine, Mytyl," he said softly, touching the back of Mytyl' hands for a moment. "Your gaudy disguise managed to fool me of all people, think of it like a compliment."

"G-gaudy?" Mytyl' eyes darted over his face and then her shoulders dropped a tiny bit, the pinched look around her eyes relaxing as she looked insulted. "Shows how much you know about fashion."

"Good choice!" a cheery voice piped up between Copen's knees, and he flinched hard, claws coming up automatically. The blue haired boy was staring up at him, so small and sneaky he hadn't noticed him approach. "You know what they say, a family that fights crime together—"

"Xiao, give them some space." The punk haired adept wandered by to tug boy pig away—with good timing, since Copen had been very tempted to kick him since he heard the name. But the brown and pink haired adept had perched herself on the table next to his chair while he'd been distracted and was looking narrowly between him and Mytyl.

"I guess I can see it," she said slowly, as if she'd really rather not, and then made a face at Mytyl. "Oh, thanks a lot, now I might feel bad when I hit him after he betrays us."

Was that a joke? It was, wasn't it? Copen deciphered after a tense moment, because nothing about her posture was threatening despite the words.

"Sorry?" Mytyl offered with laughter in her voice.

Copen on the other hand wasn't laughing. There was nothing he liked about this atmosphere, it was too carefree, too friendly, as if they thought of him as their newest recruit rather than someone that could and would shred them apart the moment he has a chance to do so. Copen very diplomatically refrained from saying anything despite the opportunity to snark back. Gunvolt had this weird small smile on his face when Copen noticed him glancing around at the rest of them. And by weird, he meant it had the energy of someone passively watching the show, trying to ingrain every detail of it now, so that when the time comes that it's gone. He'll at least still have the memories of it. And that's weird, outright bizarre even, as if he's not projecting then how did the guy mature so fast?

And the punk adept seemed to be having some sort of argument with Xiao about the bright orange coffee mug he has.

This only made Copen's guard go up, as again. It felt like they were too comfortable, like they were trying to lure him into letting his guard down in turn, but Copen was aware enough to admit that he couldn't see what that would get them. And Mytyl was happy and relaxed here; for that, Copen could give them the benefit of the doubt. He eyed the medkit grumpily, already anticipating the sting of cleaning the wound out.

Quinn almost managed to startle him by appearing at his elbow, holding out a bottle of pills—generic, low-grade stuff, when he took a closer look, which he supposed made more sense than anything stronger if there was still more to do tonight. This didn't seem like the sort of group to poison him in front of his sister either, so he nodded to her as politely as he could manage and swallowed a few down with the quickly cooling coffee.

"Give it three months, and I expect they'll have found a way to collect their versions of Mytyl and you, if it's possible," she told him quietly, sounding very mildly entertained, and Copen almost swallowed his next mouthful wrong because of the bizarre sentence. She smiled slightly at his cough, one eyebrow ticking up. "You're part of the team now. Congratulations."

Whatever that meant, she managed to make it sound almost ominous. Copen looked at her and then at the adepts now animatedly chatting throughout the small kitchen, bright costumes and obnoxious optimism. And then to Mytyl, standing just as bright and optimistic as the rest, ill-fitting dress and bruised face not hiding the spark that had never left her eyes.

He's really going to regret ruining this, won't he?

"Happy to be here," Copen said dryly, and toasted her briefly with his coffee before draining the last of it down. Now just contending himself with sitting still and waiting for the inevitable call Lola and the others will give him the moment they catch up with the news. A shame he can't just message them himself lest he'd look like he's trying to do something extremely suspicious.

Which means he has to contend himself with something else in the meantime…

His eyes naturally dart towards Xiao, and he knows what his next step will be once he's done patching himself up.

That boy has some things to answer for.