WATERS OF NAZARETH

Tendrils, inky, almost sketchy pour from one of the doors of the apartment complex, slithering down its grey walls. Their shape and general makeup resemble an octopus' many limbs, or maybe a squid, with the sucker cups dotting them. Dara squinted at it for a moment, the thing looked like it was a curse, but it didn't feel like one. For lack of a word for it, being around a curse made her skin crawl, made a lump form in her throat. Like smoking some awful, laced shit that made you think you were a rock or a pile of sand. But there was no such feeling here. So… that meant it was a 'shikigami' or whatever the fuck Haoyu called it, the things Jaewon has.

Dara sighed, slapping her face twice. She heard the ambulance sirens blaring right next to their car, overwhelming, and when she glanced over she saw a crumpled, bloodied person being led out, a blanket strewn across their body to obscure the obviously horrific wounds they had received in that cookie-cutter apartment.

"Fuck," Anne huffed out, the fed's face pale, but still stoic. "What the hell happened?"

"My guess is that this was the end result of some sort of failed eviction?" Mikael replied, rubbing his chin. "Certainly makes our job harder."

No shit, idiot, Dara thought to herself. She briefly floated the idea of ditching these two to handle this person. Sure they were her coworkers, as much as the idea of it made Dara's skin crawl, but they were liabilities. Without the ability to see that shikigami, she would have to devote half her time to making sure they don't get impaled or torn apart by its tendrils.

Still, she knew that she'd be out on her ass facing a federal sentence if she didn't play by the rules. So, while Mikael and Anne ran over to the cops stationed nearby, Dara popped open the trunk, and pulled out her suitcase.

She wasn't permitted to bring the shotgun again, unfortunately, but she still had her government-issued, taxpayer-funded Glock 19M by her side, and Dara holstered it at her side with a quick move of her hands. Then, she grabbed handfuls of the gilded metal pellets that lined the foam of the suitcase, shoving it in her pockets, before finally pulling out two pairs of black-rimmed glasses.

"Hey!"

Dara glanced up, looking Mikael dead in the eyes. His brow was furrowed, and his hand rested on top of the black metal of his car's body.

"The fuck you doing back here?" He questioned, lips pulled back in a sneer.

"Getting my shit," Dara said in response, shutting and then holding her suitcase out in front of her. "That my department gave to me."

Mikael looked down at the suitcase, then back at Dara, his eyebrows raised. He made a low humming noise, before moving in closer as she placed it back in the trunk.

"Remember," he said, his eyes wide. "If you try to-"

"Yeah, I know," Dara snapped, stepping back. "I already got it from Haoyu, and his lecture when I got booked stuck the first time I heard it, okay? I got scared straight like everyone wanted."

She handed one pair of glasses to Mikael. He looked down at them, then back at her once more.

"What are these?" He scoffed, nose crinkling.

"Glasses," Dara responded simply, pushing them into his hands. "Please, just humor a poor innocent convict and put them on. You'll see better with them, trust me."

Haoyu was very insistent that any agent from outside the department wear those glasses on their cases. They were apparently enchanted, allowing for those with minimal cursed energy to view curses and techniques. If she was being forced to have them tag along to this fight, she'd at least appreciate them being able to see and not become collateral damage.

"I am not doing that," Mikael insisted, crossing his arms.

"Well, Haoyu ordered you to put them on," Dara said, deadpan.

He took the glasses, cursing as he put them on. He blinked for a moment, as if to adjust his eyes.

"There, are you happy no-" He started, before turning his head slightly to the side, and catching sight of the tendrils flowing from the house. The fed stared, mouth agape at the sight in front of him as Anne ran over, her face growing pale.

"Mikael, what is it?!" She shouted, before Dara quickly handed the second pair to her. She slid them on, and looked over at the building, her eyes wide and face going even paler.

"Sandara, what…?" Mikael finally managed, looking over at her with wide eyes.

"That thing?" Dara responded, looking at her nails. "It's a cursed technique of some kind. My bet is that our perp is using it to skewer anyone who comes near."

"This… this can't be real," Anne said, her voice high and warbly. "These have to be some sort of nanotech, holograms…"

"I don't care if you don't believe it, just don't take it off," Dara replied, rolling her eyes. "Doctors orders."

She sighed, kicking the dirt. Part of her was jittery at the thought that she shocked those annoying uppity feds enough that they could barely string a sentence together, even if they were trying to find ways not to believe her. Serves them right, the fucking freak-os.

"Anywhooo, my idea is that we need to starve him out, basically. No one goes up there until he's at the bottom of his cursed energy reserves and has to disable that thing to save up."

"How long would that take?" Mikael asked, rubbing his chin.

"Well, how long's this standoff been going on for?" Dara asked, looking over at Anne.

"Since six this morning."

"So, he's probably been using it mostly non-stop for about five hours now. He'll probably reach his limit in about an hour."

Dara leaned against the car, resting with her elbows up. She looked over at the apartment, tendrils waving in the wind.

"He sees us, the police cars and ambulances in front of his place, and knows he's looking down the barrel," she continued. "Probably thinkin' like a trapped animal. 'Cause normally most of the people trying to get him can't see his technique, he thinks he can just have it out all day to kill anyone approaching, that they won't even see him before he's skewering them."

"But, what if he summons that thing again?" Mikael exclaimed.

"Oh, I'll just destroy it," Dara said, smiling. "And, you can see it now, so you can avoid its attacks, in theory."

Anne laughed, high and incoherent, but said nothing further. Silently, she pulled a carton of Malboros and lit one with a red Zippo.

Dara ended up being wrong about the timeframe. It took a mere twenty minutes for the shikigami to be completely disabled, disappearing in a puff of smoke. It was enough time for her to straighten up her jacket, tuck her shirt into her pants, and tighten her tie.

If she was gonna fight this guy, which was probably likely, she at the very least wanted to look cool doing it. Like John Wick. Rambo. Gunkata. Swagger...

"Let's move," Dara called out, and watched Anne stomp out her second cigarette, smouldering against the heel of her shoe. "Our perp's probably exhausted by now."

The three agents took the back way up, a metal fire escape. Dara walked with small, gentle steps, trying to avoid making noise. That'd be a bitch, to be given away by one wrong move…

She could feel the buzzing and jittering of electronics all around her, gears, and fans moving. It was her element. All the modern world was her element, actually. Her stage. Dara had to fight to prevent her smile from blooming across her face.

Finally, they managed to get onto the third-floor balcony, without any incident, and they stood in front of the entrance. The door had long been blown out of its hinges by the first cast of his shikigami, and what remained of the entrance was torn concrete, nails, glass and metal screws thrown across the floor. The interior itself was barely liveable, she imagined even without the use of his technique it'd look fucking disgusting in here, cans, plastic bags, and tissues littering the concrete floor. There was a low humming inside the apartment, and she could hear some sort of video blaring, evangelical shit about God or some bullshit. She wasn't paying attention, searching for any sign of the perp.

Of course, she hadn't been informed of any details about this loser, so she had no clue what to look for. Fuck these Counter-Terrorism dickheads, she hoped to god that this was the last time she ever had to play nice with them.

"Mr. Evans?" Anne called out, and Dara looked over at her for a moment, eyes raised. Her voice was uncharacteristically high and almost saccharine sounding. "Are you alright in there?"

Mr. Evans, huh.

There was silence. The three merely stood on the balcony, as a cool wind began to blow. Dara's ponytail slapped against her neck, and she moved to walk inside before Mikael stopped her with one hand, shaking his head.

"It's alright, you can come out now," Anne continued, her face completely level and emotionless despite her cheery voice. "Let's just talk-"

"I can sense you."

A man's high, wavering voice called out. Dara couldn't see anyone, but she assumed this was the 'Evans' guy.

"Mr. Evans-"

"Not you! Shut the fuck up, bitch!" he snapped, and Dara saw a ghastly pale hand slam against a desk through one of the doorways in the apartment. The light in the room flickered for a moment, before

"The girl next to you… I can feel her…"

Dara felt her lips curl, and crossed her arms close to her chest. She could snark back at him, but she had a feeling that the feds would report her for that. So she said nothing, and let this creep ramble on.

"You… I've never felt this much cursed energy from one person before… It's almost overwhelming… How is it possible…?!"

"'Cause of my Philly swag, bitch," Dara whispered to herself, and Mikael shook his head violently, teeth bared in a grimace and making an 'x' motion with his arms.

"What school are you from?" 'Evans' demanded. "Which one did you go to?"

School? Like those sorcerer charter schools James told them about? What does she say? She could lie, make up one on the spot and risk really pissing this idiot off and risk him having replenished his cursed energy and instantly losing both feds. Or, she could be honest and risk that as well. Lose-lose.

She chose the latter.

"Well," she replied, amplifying her voice. "I went to public school. Ben Franklin High."

Once more, there was silence. Then, 'Evans' spoke once more.

"That's not possible," he said, Dara barely able to hear it. "How…?"

There was the sound of a chair slamming against the wall, causing the building to shake. The man in the other room began to pace, and Dara could see flashes of his ghastly white skin, long greasy dark hair, and grey sweatpants and raggedy brown shirt. He also began to ramble, and Dara couldn't make a word of it before he spoke louder once more.

"Then, you're a curse user, correct?"

Again, another lose-lose question from this freak, which was probably his specialty. Haoyu had tried to explain the difference between the terms, but she always got caught up in the cringe morality of it. If you broke jujutsu's magic rules, you were a curse user. This dude was probably a curse user, with him using cursed energy against normal people, a big no-no and very bad, she guessed. But then again, Dara had used her own cursed energy to disable locks, alarms, and melting security cameras, which she imagined the contact with liquid metal could injure someone. Also, she used her technique to steal from others, even though they were rich, so by that logic, wouldn't she also be a curse user?

"Uh, maybe," Dara responded, scratching her chin.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" Anne hissed, her eyes wide and wild. "Are you insane?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know the fucking answer!" Dara whispered back, rubbing her eyes.

"I thought so," 'Evans' replied, stopping his pacing. "No sorcerer like you would be from a public school."

Fuck you too, you greasy-haired bitch! Elitist dickbag, look where that attitude got you in life. Living in a house covered in your own refuse in the middle of fucking nowhere, about to get busted by the feds! At least she and her squadron had the sense to use their crimes to get rich and enjoy the finer things in life or give to others. But what are you fucking doing with your life, watching sermons on your computer and being behind on rent?!

He turned, staring dead at Dara as she stood in the doorway. His blue eyes were swollen, with dark purple bags under them, making him look sickly.

"Then, I can kill you, right?" He said, his eyes wide and movements jittery. "Since you're nothing but a low-life curse user, and I'm a sorcerer…"

Great… Instinctively, Dara felt her hand snake down to her pocket, grabbing a handful of metal pellets.

"What about the guy you got earlier?" Dara replied, tilting her head, eyes widening slightly and lip curled. "He wasn't a sorcerer. Doesn't that make you more of a curse user than I am?"

Instead of getting angry, 'Evans' just laughed, his smile looking warped and stretched.

"Those people, if they don't have a technique, they're useless," He crowed, stepping closer. "Not cognizant of the wonders this world has to offer. Why would I be dirtied by putting one of them out of their misery?"

Anne scoffed, and unholstered her firearm, holding it to her side. Mikael did the same, both of them standing out of sight of the hallway. It wasn't any use, that dude could probably 'sense' them too or whatever.

"And besides, even if I were to be punished for that…"

'Evans' held one hand up, as if preparing for something.

"I would be forgiven… As long as I kill with His blessing, I will always be a sorcerer…"

chapter title is from waters of nazareth by justice

can the phillies pleassse start winning again.