The days after a tragedy were always the quietest. The shock of it all had yet to fade, leaving the city in a numb sense of confusion as people stopped living for a time and simply existed. What was there to say? What was there to do? Picking up the pieces of what was left would be to accept it and move on, and no one was ready to do that. The fragility of their lives had been revealed to them, and there was little to do about it but swallow that truth.
Ozpin was used to such things, as sad as it was to say.
"We've had a few calls from the teams of students who were hospitalized after the attack, though thankfully no one passed away. Ms. Scarlatina had been in rough condition, but she made a miraculous recovery according to Ms. Adel's call."
Taking a sip from his mug, he tried to remember what it was like to be moved by tragedy. It was devastating, yes, but the emotionality of it had dried up over the lifetimes he had lived. Now, all he could really see was a devastation of productivity. It would take quite some time for the city to recover, and with the event happening so close to the Vytal Festival, well there was no way that it wouldn't put a hamper on things.
How frustrating.
"Has the Council said anything?"
"Not yet, and I doubt they will until they can hire a few good speech writers to say it for them."
He hummed, sipping on his mug once again as Glynda's ragged appearance was filtered through his mind. She had been out for hours at a time these past few days helping repair the damage, pushing her semblance to its limits in order to help. Her typically impeccably kept hair had several strands loose around her bun, and the carefully maintained curl on the right side of her face was little more than a messy bang now. Her blouse wasn't quite tucked in right, and her skirt was a little lower than usual.
"How cynical of you."
Placing his mug down onto his desk, Ozpin leaned back into his chair and began typing on his keyboard. Opening the first social media he could think of, he enlarged the projection that acted as his screen and began going through it. "Have any of the students reported seeing a robed figure with a scythe standing above the city? One with a skull for a face and glowing crimson eyes?"
Glynda openly scoffed, a sure sign she was well past the point of putting up with his cryptic shenanigans. "A few, but does that really matter right now? Our city was on fire last night, Headmaster. Surely, we should be focusing on how to deal with that before looking into mass delusions."
A logical point through and through, but then, logic was seldom the key to the truth in his experience. Scrolling down the website a bit more, he affixed his loyal companion with a pointed look. "I am not suggesting we divert our attention so that we may chase unicorns, Glynda. I am merely curious as to how such a specific description of this figure came about practically overnight. Indeed, for so many people to see it all during the same period of time, it feels less like a coincidence than one could reasonably assume. Especially when I saw that same figure outside this very window."
It had been a rather shocking moment. Surprising that anything could get to him these days, but life was full of little wonders like that.
"…Do you think it was her?"
Gylnda's already disheveled appearance was made further haggard by a sudden paling of her face, and who could blame her? If Salem could attack any city she desired in such a way as what happened the evening before, then their losing hand was practically forfeit. Of course, that was going off of the basis that this was Salem's doing in the first place. "Despite how odd it feels to say, no. This doesn't feel much like her. It was too flashy, not nearly as subtle as she prefers her schemes to be. And even in the moments where she does choose to reveal her hand, her ego wouldn't allow her to not make herself known to me. This being I saw… they've turned our game of chess into a high-stakes poker game, and it appears that I'm the only one playing fair."
The visage of it alone reminded him of some old fairy tales regarding death, though the details of which were foggy in his memory. He had never put much stock into them, but perhaps that was foolish of him. Besides, it would be hypocritical of him to label something mere fiction when he himself had lived through many fairy tales of his own.
"Is there anything you want to do about it, Sir?"
As always, Glynda was focused on the now. And indeed, so she should be. He had a habit of thinking too far ahead, a consequence of long age. It was nice to have someone remind him to think in the present, especially someone so competent. "At the moment? Nothing much. You were right earlier, Vale needs us more than ever. Please, focus your efforts on that while I deal with whatever it is that seems to be playing us the fool."
He went to sip at his mug again, but paused as he gave Glynda another once over. "And do make sure to get some rest. You're making Qrow look like a king right now."
Her cheeks pinkened slightly, but she nodded all the same and quickly began making whatever plans she needed to make. Honestly, this place would be half in the dirt if it weren't for that woman. He ought to give her some vacation time. No, she'd never use it anyway. Maybe a vibro wand? She hadn't seen anyone since James, and teaching was certainly a stressful career. Yes, that would be a perfect gift. Useful, and highly amusing.
Though before any of that, he needed to give a certain Grimm Reaper a call. She had known quite a bit about those death myths and her insight would be immensely useful. He could only hope that she wouldn't be too mad at him for ruining her "death".
He also hoped that she enjoyed the irony of it as much as he did.
… … …
It had been more than a week since Velvet had awoken. A week of her being stuck in a hospital room while doctors ran tests on her to both understand just how she had survived and to see if she was fit to be up and about. And while she was still a bit sore in a few places, she felt fit as a fiddle. Whatever it was that Raziel had done in that moment, it had done a bloody alright job of it. There were even some pains that she had from before the accident that were gone.
She shouldn't really be surprised, he was Death. Or as he preferred, "The Good Death". But it was really hard not to feel surprised when the person who had brought her back was so…
"It's really amazing how much food people throw away. I don't even eat anymore, but I couldn't just let all this bread go to waste!"
Odd.
Raziel sat in the chair beside her bed, not in his death form or whatever he called it, but instead in the same ratty old jacket and jeans she had seen when they had first met. He had been visiting her just about every day right after lunch, moments after her team left to help with the relief effort. The first time he had done so had been particularly stressful, as she had no idea that people couldn't perceive him when he was in his death form unless they were close to death. Or had made a deal with him, as the two of them found out.
"You know, I love Thursdays. The baker down on fifth always throws out the rye bread from Tuesday on Thursdays after the lunch hour, 'cause he closes before dinner, and nobody buys bread between lunch and dinner. Well, some people like to feed the ducks after lunch, and they buy bread there. But I don't think you're supposed to feed ducks bread like that. It swells up in their stomachs and they explode, or that's what I heard. Maybe that's why the baker always throws away his bread after lunch? He don't want nobody feeding the ducks with that stuff."
She stared at him, unsure of what to really make of the manifestation of death eating dumpster bread. Sitting up a bit more in her bed, she eyed his rye bread and decided to just focus on that rather than the rest of his story. "Why do you take them from the dumpster, exactly? Why not just buy it?"
The look he fixed on her was enough to almost make her feel like the crazy one, as he swallowed the bread in his mouth and pointed the half-eaten loaf at her. "Have you seen bread prices these days? I ain't loaded Velvy, and they ask for three whole lien for a single loaf! Ain't no bit of bread worth three lien, you kiddin' me? Why if I had that kinda money I'd… well I dunno really. Money's kinda weird like that, ya know? When you don't gots it, it feels like it's everything. But then you have some, and suddenly ya don't know what to do with it. I found a fifty on the street once, completely by chance, and I remember holding onto that fifty for weeks 'cause I had no clue what to do with it. Money's the root of all evil, ya know? And I wasn't sure if using it would make me fall down a dark path of greed or something. I didn't wanna be greedy, that's how you get done in. Did I ever tell you about this guy who-"
Velvet raised up a hand, mind reeling from the fast-talking Valean across from her. She would have to apologize to Coco when she got the chance; city folk really did talk like they had a time limit. "Stop, stop, let me think… okay. Fifty lien? Is… is that a lot of money for you?"
She realized how snobbish it sounded after she said it, and quickly went to correct herself. "N-Not that it isn't, that's all subjective. I just… I didn't realize you were struggling that much."
It wasn't as if she didn't notice that he wasn't exactly well off, his clothes were holding on by a thread after all. However, she hadn't expected him to be as poor as he apparently was. Once again, she cringed a little as she thought about him as being poor. It was an objective statement, but it still felt a bit rude to think.
"Struggling? Nah, I ain't struggling. I got everything I need: food, water, and every now and again I find a good spot to call shelter. Sure, being homeless ain't exactly ideal, but I ain't really need much else. I feel like that's a dangerous rabbit hole, no offense. Always wanting something more and all, that just sounds like a whole lotta misery to me. Maybe that's why money's the root of all evil? The evil ain't anything like murder or what not, but the evil of never being content with life. Huh."
Raziel leaned back in his chair, nodding to himself as he answered his own question. She, on the other hand, found herself even more dumbfounded than before. "Crikey, you're homeless?"
"Most my life actually. Was in a foster home for a bit back when I was a kid, but that place kinda sucked. Nobody really likes orphans, ya know? And there are so many of us, we just sorta flood the system like a poorly timed bloody nose. At this point, I think they just like giving money to randos on the street to take care of us. That would make sense though. The foster people at the home were real pieces of work, either half-drunk or half-high from the time of 9 am to 9 pm. Still, they could really work that belt when they wanted to, but it was either the belt or whatever sort of nonsense they were holding, and the belt was usually a lot softer. Terrible place really, left it as soon as I could."
All throughout his story, her eyes grew wider and wider with every passing word. It almost didn't make sense how someone with such a terrible life could be so… happy all the time. He just seemed to shrug it off, like it was just a single bad day rather than his whole life.
She couldn't wrap her head around it. "That's awful. Are you okay? Do you need any help?"
Her heart went out for him, it really did. Even when she had moved to Atlas when she was younger (back when her parents were together), she had never been in nearly as bad a position as what Raziel was describing. No matter how much the discrimination got to her at times, she had a fairly loving family to return to. And even now, with the two of them separated, she was still close to both of them. To be abused by people who are supposed to take care of you was despicable.
"Help? Nah, why would I need it now? I gots everything I could ever want these days! I ain't hungry no more, don't get cold, don't need to scrounge around for food, I'm in great health, and I got cool death powers! Sure, they come with a bit of responsibility, but that's the price I gotta pay, ya know? With a lotta power comes a lotta responsibility. Don't remember where I read that from, but it sounded pretty good to me. I think it was an old comic from the library or something. Not exactly the kinda place you'd think good advice would come from, but life is full of surprises. Really, I think people don't give comics and stuff enough credit. They can tell some really great lessons, even if a lot of them don't. But then, a lotta people don't give good examples to live by either. Want some rye bread?"
Turning down the dumpster bread, Velvet found herself attempting to look at his life through his perspective. Perhaps it was the experiences that he went through which made him feel so content with what little he had? Because no matter how much she tried, there was no getting over her own perception of his life and how poor it seemed. In spite of it all, he seemed genuinely happy though. And she could never find fault in someone else's happiness.
"Guess you have a point. Though, I do have some questions about the deal we made."
Tossing a ripped off chunk of bread into his mouth, he quickly chewed it up before swallowing and giving her two finger guns. "Shoot, Velvy. I ain't got nothing but time on my hands. Really, it's getting to be kind of a problem. I mean, what am I gonna do all day except snack on mutated souls? Really, this whole death thing is actually kinda boring a lot of the time. Sure, I wasn't exactly a party person back when I was mortal and all, but I think the lack of people is starting to get me-"
It was then that the door flew wide open, and some nervous looking doctor was all but thrown inside by a very satisfied looking Coco.
"Great news, Bun-Bun! After threatening- I mean- convincing the good doctor over here, he caved in and said that you're free to get out of this- huh?"
Velvet froze as Raziel and Coco locked eyes with one another, the fashionista seemingly completely baffled by his presence. In any other circumstance, she would have found Coco's befuddlement to be absolutely hilarious, seeing her quick-witted friend be at a loss for words. Unfortunately, that amusement was overshadowed by the panic of her mind trying to come up with a good explanation as to why Raziel was there and who he even was.
Not that the man in question was of any help.
"Sup, I'm Raziel. Want some rye bread?"
In that moment, she wondered if death was a preferable alternative compared to whatever this nightmare was.
… … …
Coco Adel was a woman of refined taste. Rich, beautiful, smart, beautiful, humble, sexy, and, of course, beautiful. She was the shining light of good taste within her team, and possibly all of Beacon. Whether it be fashion, food, or even people, she was a purveyor of it all. Truly, the ideal modern-day woman.
The man in front of her was none of those things.
His hair was unkempt, long bangs covering his face as the rest of his hair was just sticking out all over the place. His clothes were so torn that she was surprised he knew which holes his arms were supposed to go, and not to mention that they were just so very clearly not sized for him. The shirt and jacket were much too big, even for his admittedly tall frame, and his jeans were stuck on him only because of a rather dedicated belt. It was a miracle that he didn't smell, even more so that he looked to be actually clean.
And, of course, he spoke like he was from the Industrial District.
"-And I ain't trying to say that there's anything wrong with wanting to feed the ducks, I'm just saying that using bread ain't the way to go. That'd be like trying to feed a dog chocolate, ya know? Though ain't it a cruel twist of fate that dogs can't have chocolate? I mean, I've only had chocolate once. Some gal was trying to give her boyfriend a chocolate heart for Valentines but turns out she caught him with his side chick in the middle of the street. She was pretty angry about the whole thing, ended up tossing the chocolate on the ground and running away. Let me tell you, that chocolate was something special, with some weird sweet inner bit and then the occasional bitter one to add a bit of excitement to the whole mix. Like you never knew what you was gonna get. I'm telling ya, it's a real shame dogs can't have the stuff."
She sat quietly, nodding along as they enjoyed a brief snack at her favorite coffee spot. Despite being the one under interrogation, this Raziel guy was somehow the most relaxed of the three of them, with Velvet staring at her espresso with a defeated look in her eyes. Coco had no idea why Bun-Bun was like that. Despite her initial distrust of the guy, he was honestly the least dangerous person she'd ever met.
For example. "I can't imagine life on the streets was easy. Have you ever gotten into any fights?"
Taking a sip of her white mocha latte with extra whip cream and skim milk, she felt not an ounce of surprise spike in her as he grimaced slightly and leaned back. "Yeah, though that's just how it be sometimes. If ya don't know how to defend yourself, then you ain't gonna last long. Though when I was younger and foolish, I used to do pit fighting to make a quick buck. Was real dumb of me, as any of those guys coulda beat me harder than life. Hated every moment of it too. There's something about using violence for profit that just don't sit right with me. What's the point of being strong if you're just gonna bully others, ya know? I knew a few guys like that, like to throw their weight around like they were hot shit. I'll tell ya now, each and every one of them ended up either getting shot up or put in the box."
Okay, maybe a little surprise hit her. But that was mostly because she thought pit fighting was just a movie thing, like cars exploding or rich people getting in trouble for their actions. But regardless, she wasn't too thrown off by it either way. She knew that people did what they needed to do to survive, and she wasn't about to throw shade just because someone did it a little less than legally. Her parents were filthy rich, and she doubted a single lien of that had been earned through fair means.
Honestly, she almost wished that he was lying about hating it. At least then she could find an obvious flaw in his personality, but she couldn't sense a single lie from him so far. And she knew liars, a perk of having politicians for family members. He definitely wasn't one, or if he was then he was so good that she couldn't even sniff him out for it.
Judging by the fact he had offered her dumpster bread in his opening introduction, she was going to assume the former.
Giving another sip to her drink, Coco turned her gaze between him and Bun-Bun as the gears in her head turned. This guy was Coco's complete opposite in every way, and yet somehow had managed to worm his way into Bun-Bun's heart. She'd be insulted if she didn't already know that her teammate was into degenerate stuff like handholding and cuddling. This trash wearing teddy bear of a guy was probably right up her alley.
Not that Bun-Bun would ever admit to it. So, alas, it fell to her once more.
"So, Razzy-boy, what kind of girl are you into? Brunette? Blonde? Human? Faunus? Ass? Boobs? Bunny maybe?"
Bun-Bun's head shot up at that last bit, eyes wide as she realized exactly what Coco was up to. "Wait, Raziel, you don't have to-"
"Well, if I'm gonna be honest, there's just something about girls who are just straight up psycho that get me going. Ya know what I'm saying?"
Velvet choked on her own words, grabbing her drink and chugging it down as she fought to get rid of her coughs. Coco, however, just leaned forward as a gleam came to her eye. "A fellow psychosexual then. What kind are you about? Stalker? Obsessive? Violent? All of the above? Something else?"
He put a hand to his chin, stroking it as he thought long and hard about his answer. "To be honest, I think my only cutoff point is any chick who finds massacres fun. I might be down with murder if it's just a once in a while sort of thing, but I don't know how I'd feel about a girl who tries to murder other people. It'd be great if it was just an us thing, ya know? If anyone's gonna see that passion, I'd want it to be me."
Coco slammed her hand on the table, a grin on her face as she finally found a kindred spirit in the unlikeliest of places. "I know, right? And that feeling of when a girl is just willing to do anything to have you, oh my! Such passion, such energy! The murderous ones are just the best too! Any girl willing to kill to have you is a keeper. There's just no truer love."
"Oh gods, there's two of them now."
Coco ignored Bun-Bun as the silly girl waved over a waiter and put in another order, instead finishing her drink as she began to tell her new friend her romantic woes. "It's a shame that women tend to hide their inner crazy, an even bigger one that so many of them are so sane. I had gotten into the fashion industry as a side gig hoping to meet some unhinged queens, but unfortunately the majority of gays in fashion are men. I've only met one heart stealer so far, but she was the light of my life until she got put into the asylum. I can only imagine what those grippy socks are doing now."
But what a woman she had been. Long blonde hair, perfect for getting messy whenever she had an episode. Not to mention her strong arms, perfectly capable of pinning her down and just letting Coco have it while the woman held a knife to her throat. Never had she been abused so right. Maybe she should give Yuno a call again? See if she'd gotten out yet or if conjugal visits were allowed.
"I feel ya. Knew this chick once who was a real stalker type, ya know? Loved following me around with her camera all the time, even though she knew I was homeless. She was a looker too, older than me by a year or two and with some really cared for brown hair. Her parents didn't like her hanging out with some Vacuan looking dude and kept her from seeing me. Last I heard she was taken in for questioning after her parents' death. A real shame she did that to her own family. Sure, they may have meddled, but they were only looking after her and all."
Coco hummed quietly to herself, feeling her fellow psychosexual's pain. A nice crazy girl was hard to find, and all too often they were crazy without being hot too. Just where was a psychosexual going to find a hot and batshit insane girl in this part of Vale?
"Your Neapolitan, Miss."
The waiter's voice brought her attention to Velvet, who was currently doing her best to ignore their conversation and enjoy her ice cream. The gears once again began turning, and she cherry picked a bit of Raziel's story in order to satiate her not-evil plan. "You know who else is brunette and likes cameras? Velvet over here, don't you Bun-Bun?"
Her teammates' ears shot up, face turning a light shade of red as she all but stabbed her spoon in Coco's direction with an annoyed glare. "Oi, don't you dare do any of what that evil brain of yours is thinking!"
Raziel, the simple lad that he was, just blinked as he titled his head, seemingly remembering something. "Ya know, she did kick me in the face once. And she has threatened to hit me several times."
"That was a high stress environment! You can't hold me accountable!"
Coco once more gave the two of them a series of looks, hands rubbing together with glee as she found herself a new pet project to obsess over.
Because what were friends for, if not for meddling?
"Coco, stop with that evil face!"
… … …
Power. That was all Cinder Fall saw as she looked over Vale from her penthouse.
Any lesser person would perhaps see buildings, or people, or perhaps even culture or corruption. But she was no lesser person. When she looked upon the city, she saw opportunity wrapped up like a present. It was one of the more unique things about Vale. Its incredible diversity led itself wonderfully to hosting a plethora of opportunity, whether it be economic, political, or otherwise. Sure, it may not excel at any one thing, but being a Jack of All Trades was a quality in of itself.
Of course, the opportunity she saw was one covered in fire and death.
She cut into her steak, the sharpened knife rending the meat in two as the juicy redness within leaked over her plate like spilled viscera. She had cooked it herself, not trusting any of her servants to do the job properly. Perhaps one could call it a misuse of her maiden powers, using them to cook a steak, but what was the point of power if you didn't indulge in it?
Holding her fork up to her face, Cinder eyed the bloody red meat with a lick of her lips. Blue steak was one of her personal favorites, leaving a nice crispy char on the outside while still leaving the flavorful juices within. Though borderline raw, she couldn't help but enjoy the delicacy with all the enthusiasm of a snake lunging at a defenseless mouse.
A bit on the nose, the metaphor was, but she loved it.
Lifting her fork to her mouth, she wrapped her lips around the cold steel and used her tongue to pull the meat from its captor. She rolled the large chunk around her mouth, pressing it against the inside of her cheek as she used her mouth to squeeze the meat against her teeth. The flavor of the steak washed over her tongue, and she let out a satisfied moan at the sensation.
It was then that something unusual happened.
The leg of her chair snapped, sending her tumbling to the floor as she inhaled out of surprise. Her shoulder hit the ground just as the steak bit was lodged inside of her throat, sending her into a panic as she attempted to spit it out. She pounded on her chest and forced herself to gag as she attempted to get the steak out, but each attempt seemed to meet an unknown resistance as she lay there, vision slowly going dark.
"That would have been quite the humiliating death, for someone so ambitious."
She then spat out the steak, watching as it froze in the air right before it hit the ground. Whipping her head towards where the voice had come from, her eyes widened as she came face to face with what could only be described as…
Death.
"What are you?"
Death looked down at her, crimson eyes glowing as the specter manifested a scythe made of bone into its skeletal hand. "You mortals always ask the same thing, yet we both know what I am. Don't we?"
Cinder hurried to her feet, backpedaling until her back hit the window of her penthouse. "M-My mistress will not stand for this! Veiled specter, I demand you leave me be! I have yet to die, you have no place here!"
"You're reminding me of my… other, so to speak. So worried about not interfering with mortal lives, and yet too weak to stop me. Are you like him? Too weak to stop me?"
She gnashed her teeth, glaring at the reaper before her with a wavering but still present confidence. "You speak to Salem's right-hand woman, you fiend. Treat me with the respect I deserve or prepare to feel her wrath."
Death tilted its head, its distinctly feminine form contrasted against the sheer terror its mere presence exuded. "Ah yes, the wretched immortal. I had sensed that disturbance to life and was wholly unimpressed. But you seem to cling to the idea that she can save you, so allow me to rip that idea straight from your damn head."
Something pushed Cinder right through the window, and for the briefest of moments, she felt panic hit her before the sudden arrival of the ground alerted her to the fact that something was amiss. She stood up once more, eyes widening as she turned her head to see the nightmare which lay before her.
Buildings sat around her in a circle, decayed and tilted as a blue haze covered everything. The ground was a mix of cracked concrete and barren dirt, dead trees scattering all around the central stage which she seemed to stand in. The air stank of rotting flesh, and within the sky was a swirling vortex which seemed to lead to true and total oblivion.
"I wonder what your queen can do here?"
Her head shot towards Death, her rational mind having long since taken a backseat as her fight or flight response kicked in. Sprinting towards Death, she formed two blades in either of her hands and leapt up to try and slash at it while she could.
It was then that a hand snatched her out of the air.
The bony hand holding her entire body squeezed tightly, enough that she could feel her bones crack under the pressure as she was lifted up to the face of the now colossal Death. She stared into one of Death's massive eyes, which seemed to span eternity in every direction, and felt her bravado finally slip away as Death's bone-chilling voice pierced her soul.
"Look at what you've made me do. You've forced me to touch your filthy fucking flesh. I should just crush you and devour your shit soul right now."
Cinder paled and began squirming in Death's grip as she began to beg to the being. "N-No, please, I'll do anything!"
The vast crimson expanse of Death's gaze remained fixed on her, unmoving even as the grip around her body loosened. "Yes, I imagine you will. After all, worthless little parasites such as yourself will do anything for a taste of power."
Death dropped her, and Cinder suddenly found herself back on her penthouse floor. Turning her body to where she could feel the specter, she stared with wide eyes as Death raised its scythe above her head. "You will continue your little escapades within Mountain Glenn and finish your plans for this shithole of a city. In exchange, you will experience the power of one befitting a title as a Servant of Death, so long as you vow to satiate my unending hunger. You will do that, or you will die right here and leave a lasting legacy no more significant than that of a fucking worm. Understood?"
"Y-Yes."
Her mouth went dry as she saw a wicked glint of amusement enter Death's eyes, its arms rearing back as its scythe gleamed.
"Good."
Cinder then screamed. She screamed for minutes, hours, or perhaps even days as Death claimed and defiled her soul. She screamed and she screamed and she screamed.
But her fate had long been sealed.
… … …
I've really just leaned into Raziel being a stereotypical Brooklynite at this point. If you don't know what that sounds like, just think Harley Quinn. It's an interesting voice to write, if not absolutely the biggest pain in the ass to edit because my spellcheck fucking melts at how ass the grammar is. I might leave that to be a something that is only seen when in other people's perspective. Both because of the fact that a lot of people don't notice their own accents most of the time, and also to spare myself the grief of editing that and forcing my brain to think in a Brooklyn accent. Plus with Velvet being Aussie (her accent is anyway, and yes that is a canon thing just google her voice), I was giving myself mental whiplash switching between the two accents with every other sentence.
Anyway, this was a bit of a light chapter. No Raziel PoV but instead a few other characters and some setup for future events. I don't typically like doing that sort of thing, cause the last thing I need is to have so many plot threads that it becomes a fucking plot spaghetti. So be certain that most plot points I introduce explicitly like that are going to be relevant in the near future rather than far future, cause that's a pain in the ass. Also I made Coco psychosexual because I thought it was funny. Deal with it.
This has been A Decent Hoonter, and please Waifu Catalog Interactive Discord mods or whatever, please give my heritage idea a shot, it's pretty decent I swear!
