Syx Chapter 7: Heartbreaker
Machine-gun-like thunder cracks split the air as shockwaves pelted the battlefield. Smoke and dust whorled in the minor hurricane blasting out from the epicenter of the maelstrom. Vee and Ahuiateteo soldiers braced themselves against the shocks as they watched from a distance, the less robust of them clinging to vehicles and rubble as they were pelted by debris and surges of choking dust and smoke. At the center of the battlefield were two figures, heat and light flaring as their auras clashed. The muscular Aztec-themed demon rallied, panting, seared slashes criss-crossed his rippling body. His left arm hanging dead at his side, a half-dozen deep gashes and stabs to his shoulder and forearm rendering it useless. Opposite him stood Valentino, panting through an enormous, manic grin. In his four hands his glittering Seraphim Steel kukris. His armored pimp coat was in tatters, bonded kevlar and amarid bi-weave pads shorn like paper, revealing the solid composite plates underneath, also sliced. The armor had done its job, for not one slash from the Bane-Steel teeth had reached Val's carapace.
"GRAAAGH!" Macuilxochitl bellowed as he lunged at his opponent, enormous macuahuitl raised overhead.
"Bitch, please!" Valentino sneered.
The black, bladed club swung down in a gleaming, onyx arc. Val's upper arms snapped up with blinding speed, stopping the blow one-handed, the wind-battered ground cratering as another shockwave blew away what little rubble remained around them. Valentino's blades slipped between the Bane-Steel teeth, locking the club firmly, before twisting out, sending the macuahuitl hurtling straight up into the sky, slicing the tail off a hovering news helicopter and sending it into a fiery death-spin before streaking into the dense smokey clouds overhead. Val's lower arms struck like cobras, slicing the disarmed demon's kneecaps in half. Macuilxochitl bellowed in pain as his legs bowed out from under him, falling into a kneeling posture before his victorious foe. Valentino towered over him, grinning like a shark, blades at the ready.
"Well! That was fun!" Valentino said, lowering his kukris and rolling out his neck and shoulders. "But I'd say that's about all ya got, eh, Big Dick Mick? Yeah, that's right, Micheal, I know who ya are! Macuilxochitl; the Aztec God of drinkin', fuckin', an' generally gettin' a shindig dug! Ya think I didn't see ya gunnin' for my racket with that oh-so-clever mythological reference? But hey, ya gunned for the big dog and got chewed on a bit, no shame in that! So, what say we shake on it and ya work for me now, eh?"
'Micheal' snarled, glaring up at Valentino, his functioning hand squeezing into a trembling fist.
"Welp! I'm bored!" Valentino said, sheathing his blades and turning his back to his fallen adversary and walking off. "Get back to me on my offer, will ya? Imma have lunch. Thinkin'… salmon. Ooh, I worked me up a powerful lust for red salmon."
Micheal reached down to his belt and drew a triangular Bane-Steel dagger. With a thundering bellow, he launched himself at the exposed Overlord, his compromised knees shredding entirely with the exertion. He aimed the knapped, rippled blade, aiming to skewer the arrogant moth-demon's liver. Valentino's hand snapped out just as the spinning macuahuitl plummeted back to the ground, grabbing it by the handle. The demon Overlord spun around in an instant, the bladed warclub raised high over his shoulder like a driver club.
"FORE!"
The air split with a thunderous crack as macuahuitl broke the sound barrier, a vapor cone forming around its leading edge. The Bane-Steel teeth bit into Micheal's shoulder and the bulky club plowed through his rippling body like red meringue. The demon's upper body splattered apart from the impact, his head and the tattered remains of his neck and shoulders launching high into the air as the arm holding his dagger went tumbling across the barren battlefield. The Duel concluded, Valentino cackled and spread his arms wide, green bolts of demonic essence flared up from the corpse and jolted the victorious Overlord, arcs of energy dancing across his frame as his foe's power became his. Valentino sighed in satisfaction before frowning slightly, glancing at the body and then at the macuahuitl in his hands.
"Phew! Sheeeit…" Valentino hissed, waving the club to and fro, testing its weight. "Every time I try a fade, I slice. Gotta work on my follow-through… Eh?"
Micheal's body jittered and stirred, not from death spasms, but from the violently disintegrating flesh and bone lining the cut, before long much of the torso was a hissing, bubbling puddle of effluence. Valentino looked over to where Micheal's head had landed, everything below his upper jaw now a similar mass of frothy soup.
"Heh, gnarly." Valentino scoffed, examining the macuahuitl, the spitting, arcing Bane-Steel teeth. "Ain't my steez, though."
"Boss!" One of his lieutenants cried, running up to him. "You got him, Boss! The Ahuiateteo gang and alla their loot is yours!"
"Tell me somethin' I don't know, baby," said Val, pulling out his Hellphone and taking a selfie with the warclub. "Like where I can get some salmon to eat and slash to smash."
"There's a ritzy seafood joint down on Ose avenue," said the lieutenant, stepping over the steaming puddle that used to be the leader of the defeated gang. "And I'll have some girls ready for you at the base. What about the surviving Ahuiateteo members?"
"Any hotties?"
"About a few."
"About a few, eh?" Valentino paused, swishing the club back and forth. "Fuck it. Recruit 'em all. We need all the hands and holes we can get. When's that ritzy joint close?"
"Uh…" His lieutenant checked his phone. "Shit… 45 minutes. Sorry, Boss!"
"Dammit!" Valentino casually tossed the very heavy, very dangerous war club aside into the fumbling arms of his surprised lieutenant, who only barely managed to grasp the handle and not the bladed haft. "Any portalmancers?"
"All dead, Boss."
"My back-up limo?"
"Uh… on fire."
"Fuck!" Valentino stomped his foot, snarling. "I'm havin' my seafood if it fucking kills ya! Let's go!"
They started forward when a portal flared open in front of them. Out of it rolled an LX600, its doors flew open as Steppenwulf and his crew burst from it, weapons drawn.
"Val, we delivered the message! Red took it! S'all good! We came as fast as we–" Steppenwulf looked about at the devastated landscape, to the remains of the rival gang and their leader. "Maaan… fuck, we missed it."
"Step!" Valentino exclaimed, arms open as a huge smile spread across his face. "My Sinna!"
"Huh?" Steppenwulf said as Valentino lunged forward and grabbed his shoulders.
"Ya always come through for me, Step!" Val crooned, pumping his fist. "Yer a diamond in the rough!"
"Okay?" Steppenwulf said, stunned but starting to smile. "Uh… yeah. Yeah! I'll always come through for you, Boss! So, anyway, Red Nightmare, he–"
"Heythat'scoolshaddup," Valentino said, pointing to the Smilodon demon, snapping his fingers. "You, Toothy-Fucker! Portal us to the seafood joint on Ose avenue, doubletime!"
"Uh…" Pall said, looking to Step, who fixed him with a paint-peeling glare. "Yeah! Sure thing! Right away!"
"Hey, Step," Valentino said, turning back to his henchman, plopping a cigarette in both their mouths and lighting them. "Ya did good. Really. I honestly expected ya to fuck this up because of pride or love or some gay shit like that. In fact, I was kinda countin' on it. I'm gonna hafta call off that hit, now… Remind me to do that, 'kay?"
"Wha–"
"Shaddup." Valentino pointed to the portal to the interior of a fancy restaurant. "I'm starvin'. Why dontcha join me for dinner and tell me how it all went down, yeah? Yer crew can come too."
Steppenwulf blinked in surprise. Dinner? With the Boss?! He did good?! He was a good boy?! His scaly, spiny tail wagged unabashedly. "Y-yes! Yes, Boss! I'll tell you all about it!"
"Groovy. Now c'mon! You like fish? Yeah, you do!"
Valentino led the trio of Sinners and their chattering imp through the portal. The lieutenant stared dumbly for a moment, still holding the five foot long club in his arms. The portal closed with a flash, snapping him out of his stupor. "Uh, so I'll just… yeah. …Man, I was hungry, too…"
The final bell for the day blared, a heavy, grating klaxon split the air. The kids looked up, relief clear on their drawn, tired faces. In Home Ec, the sewing machines stopped their infernal clacking, the workers straightening out their backs and rolling their shoulders and wrists out. In the Shop, the kids ceased their toiling, sorting and trundling off the parts from the stripped vehicles. The untouched Viper sat in the corner, the newly created detailing and tuning crew stepping away from the gleaming hotrod, eyes alight. In the Computer Lab, the small troupe stood up from their salvaged and stolen machines, the 'Donna's various funds successfully laundered, eyes squinting as the lights flickered on. The beggars, performers, and thieves, having long since ceased their street-wandering, sifted through the day's plunder, sorting them by value, their overseers scooping the unsorted booty into a sack before herding the kids out into the hallway. Some two hundred dispossessed Hellborn shuffled down the dark hall of the 'Donna, past the locked doors of the cafeteria, which would not open again until breakfast, regardless of how the bellies growled as they walked by.
Two double-wide doors swung open and the kids filed into the Bunks. Formerly a gymnasium, the long, wide room was filled with row after austere row of metal frames some four meters high, the eponymous bunks. The beds themselves were little more than planks of wood with thin, lumpy mattresses, either salvaged from the street or crudely fashioned by the Home Ec kids. The blankets were coarse and drab, but warm enough when money was too tight to fire up the furnaces, which was often. Few of the kids had proper pillows, most made due with a sack in which they could stuff their ratty clothes and rest their heads on that.
Some of the kids were surprised to see the Carriage House Girls already there. Usually they got in late and wasted little time heading for their nicer, cleaner section of the room, where they had real mattresses and pillows, even curtained areas for privacy; unheard of! Carriage House Girls had luxuries like comfy chairs and actual tables on which to eat their extra meals, smoke their cigarettes, and play their cards and games. No one dared steal from the Carriage House girls, for it was understood that they earned their keep in ways not even the filthiest beggar would envy.
That and the fact that Setty and Syx personally dealt with thieves.
Rule Two of living at the 'Donna: ''Belladonna's kids stick together; we're all we got.'
The staffers, nightwatchers whose job it was to make sure no one was up and about after lights-out, accepted the meager bribes the kids could offer
- picked packs of cigarettes, small bottles of booze, jewelry, that sort of thing - and showed themselves out, the doors swinging shut followed by the clunk of a heavy padlock.
The lights went out with 'clack' and the room was cast into darkness, seedy red light filtering through the high windows from the city, the only source of illumination. A minute or so passed, the lookouts checking to make sure the nightwatchers wouldn't barge back in to wring more pittances from their wards. When the 'all-clear' signal was given, cleverly hidden string-lights flickered on, casting the Bunks in a warm yellow glow. The kids scrambled, setting up their crude tables and boxes, reaching into their various hiding spots and producing their personal gains for the day. Comic books and colored pens, cigarettes and cigars, toys and phones and other swiped goods. Trade and play began immediately as the smaller kids were lowered down the ventilation shafts on sheet-ropes, reappearing minutes later with heavy jugs of moonshine brewed in one of the defunct boiler rooms.
Lights Out had begun.
The Bunks stank. Stank of unwashed young bodies at the end of a hard day. Stank of whatever meager food scavenged and smuggled in, reheated on crude stoves cobbled together from various cans nested within one another, and of the dirty fuel they had improvised together to heat them. Stank of cigarettes and moonshine, crassly distilled from whatever scraps the barely nourished children could spare in secret stills in the boiler room.
But it was a good stink.
A stink that meant the day was done and the kids could finally unwind after a long day.
Syx lay in his bunk, sightlessly examining the ceiling high above him. He got the top bunk, after all. He replayed the events of that day in his mind. How he had hesitated, how he had frozen up, how he had almost gotten him and the other kids turned to leather by those stinking Sinners.
How he had disappointed Red.
Why should he care what some stupid Faller thought of him? Syx did his job for the kids, not for some human who fucked up so bad he wound up in the Bad End!
Why should he care?
…Why did he care?
He decided he didn't want to think about it.
Syx cocked his head to the side, filtering through the racket of Lights Out until he found a suitably interesting conversation. Down below, at the foot of his bunk stack, sat three Shop kids - judging from the smell of axlegrease - and one of his buskers, a sheepdog Hellhound by the name of Sol. They were close together, sitting around a makeshift table, playing cards no doubt.
"So, what was that big fuck-off boom we heard earlier?" One of the Shop kids said, muffled by a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. "You were outside. What happened?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah," Sol said, picking up a card. "Carriage House is gone. So's a lotta the neighborhood across from it."
"What? Really?"
"Yeah, we drove past it on the fourth ride out." Sol sipped something, likely some 'shine judging by the hiss and grimace in his voice. "The House is a pile, musta been the shock or whatever. Across the street is worse, like everywhere from Pink Street back got nuked or somethin'. Didn't see how far back, but it looked far. No loss, really. People there're cheapskates."
"I hope it didn't get to Gonzo's," muttered another boy. "Shithead owes me a sub sandwich."
"Well, what happened?" The other Shop Kid said, clearly annoyed at Sol's disinterest. "Like, why did half the neighborhood get leveled?"
"Dunno. Musta been somethin', whatever it was. All the ground and stuff was all melted and glowy."
"Anyone gotta Hellphone to check the news? This is gonna drive me nuts."
"Yeah, hold on a second," said Sol, pockets rustling. "Picked a fresh one today. Was gonna hock it for cigs but the dumb asshole's password was actually '1234'. Lessee here… there it is. Huh. None of the gangs fessed up to it yet, but folk're thinkin' it was a stray weapon or somethin' from the Turf War. Like, a lil nuke or somethin' some asshole fired without lookin'."
"Yeah, that tracks," grunted one of the other boys.
"Assholes."
Silence followed, the sound of cards being picked up and put down circled the table.
"Hey, speaking of the House, what were Setty and her girls doing here when we stepped in?" The Shop kid said, puffing on his cigarette. "They step outta the House before it got turfed?"
"Musta. Didn't look like no one died, and they weren't all scuffed up at all either. 'Spose they'll be workin' outta here now 'til they find a new spot. I don't want any weird old guys usin' our bunks for that!"
"That or they're all workin' corners now," said Sol, slapping his cards down on the table. "Yaniv! Three aces, a two, and a Joker! Beat that!"
A round of grumbles followed as the other obviously didn't have a lower hand. The scores were tallied and the deck reshuffled.
"Wanna hear what I heard?" Another kid said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I heard they ain't workin' no more."
"Who? The girls?"
"Yeah," the conspiracy kid replied. "I hear the services department is done. Over. No Carriage House, no corners, nothin'! I hear they's all gonna get shuffled around to Home Ec, the Shop, Akasishuns–"
"Acquisitions, dumbass!"
"Whatever! Point is, no more Jims or Jameses or whatever."
"Why?" Pondered another Shop kid. "They not makin' enough?"
"Naw, they was makin' plenty. I heard Boss Lady shut it down cuz a new hooer-gang's around and they don't want her in their racket!"
"Heard from who?"
"Tobi. He said he was there when Ixie got cut up."
"Ixie got branded, it was Trell what almost got cut up," said Sol, gulping his drink. "I was there, too. It's the Vees, they're movin' in."
A brief pause.
"Deadass?"
"Yeah, we thought it was some Goldies pullin' the ol' brandin' bluff at first. But no, it's legit."
"Yeah, I heard about that. Figgered it was just a load'a bull. Heh! Did those gangsters really ice Evil Eye and Strokes?"
"Naw! We never saw any Vees," Sol said, his voice lowering to a whisper. "It was Mr. Red Nightmare what killed 'em!"
"Bullshit!" One of the kids scoffed. "That strawberry ice cream-looking' fruit? I know he's 'sposed t'be muscle, but that dude looks like he drives a Prius!"
A round of snickers rose up from the Shop Kids.
"He got us burgers and new gear though," one said. "So he ain't all bad!"
"Yeah, that was cool," said the denier. "Aight. So, why'd Mr. Pink kill Evil Eye and Strokes?"
"Unno," said Sol. "They pissed him off? S'about it, really."
"What? Like how?"
"I didn't see him do Watkins, but the guy's head was on all wrong, like someone tried to twist it off and gave up. As for Strokes, Syx had tied him and Emerson up cuz they tried to bounce. So, Strokes, right, he was tryin' to shout Mr. Nightmare out and Mr. Nightmare just kinda… kicked his whole body off."
Now they were interested.
"Th'fuck does that mean?"
"Like, he kicked him, right? And then his whole, like, body, like… exploded?"
Another pause.
"Kicked him and he exploded?"
"Yeah. Blood and stuff everywhere. His head bounced off the wall. Red had this shiny metal boot what just kinda 'blip!' onto his leg, too. It was super cool."
"Like, a ninja kick or…?"
"Naw. Just, like, a kick, right? Like kickin' a can or somethin'. Splat."
"Huh. Now that you mention it, a lotta the staff look like they're bouta shit themselves when he's around. Figgered he was Boss Lady's boyfriend or somethin'."
"Ewww! Don't make me think of Boss Lady getting boyfriendly! Makes me wanna–"
There was someone else there, now. The conversation died.
"Uh… hey, Dew," said one of the Shop kids, a twinge of nervousness in his voice. "Wanna join in?"
"Yaniv is a baby's game," Dew growled. "Head down southside to the big kids' quarter and play you some finger filet."
"So, why are you here, then?" Sol grumbled, pouring himself another drink. "Wanna baby bandaid for your boo-boos?"
A swift, hard thud rang out followed by a sharp grunt and the sound of a body tumbling to the floor as Sol was laid out.
"The fuck is wrong with you, Dew?!" Sol yelped, attempting to growl but coming off more as a whine.
Dew's feet shifted as he took on a fighting stance. Sol was about the same age, and as a Hellhound, was larger and stronger, but Dew was meaner, harder. Dew was Dew and few kids in the whole 'Donna would step to him when his back was up, which was often.
That's enough of that.
Syx pulled out his steel baton and rapped it sharply against the metal frame of his bunk, making a shrill, gong-like sound. The effect was galvanic, all noise in the area died, all heads stopped and turned, knowing full well what that it meant. Sol shuffled away from Dew who, pathological pugilism notwithstanding, stood down and relaxed his posture. Syx reached out over the bunk and snapped his fingers twice; he knew why Dew was down here with the lowly grifters and basic Shop Kids.
"Zak wants to talk to you," said Dew. "He figures he'll be grabbed before long. He won't talk to anyone else."
"Who wants to talk?" One of the younger Shop Kids whispered.
"Shit, is Zak here?"
"Big Brother Zak's here?!" Sol exclaimed. "Since when?"
"Mr. Nightmare hauled him into the shop early today. He fought some of our kids, I hear. Figgered Red just killed 'im and was done with it."
"You take that back!" Sol snarled. "Big Bro wouldn't attack any of us!"
"Shows what you know," said Dew, a grin clear in his voice. "See this? Zak did that. We found him playin' guard dog for some Fallers. He and his street pals roughed a bunch of us up. They liked doing it, too. Big Bro's a fuckin' Faller pet, grifter, believe it."
"Liar!" Sol roared, rearing up as though to pounce.
Syx rapped his cane against the post yet again, causing everyone in earshot to stop and listen. He rolled out of bed and swiftly descended the ladder, hardly touching any steps. He silently strode through the group, each of them giving him a wide berth. He reached out and touched Dew's shoulder, strolling past him towards the Carriage House section. Dew lingered a moment, no doubt sparing the other kids a mocking sneer, before following after.
"Setty asked me to keep quiet about Zak being here," groused Dew. "Somethin' about not wanting to make a scene, make things harder for him. Fuck her and fuck him. Still though, I didn't go singin'. Just you and those assholes."
"Klk." Syx rolled his useless eyes, even when following orders, Dew couldn't help but thumb his nose; the kid had a problem with authority.
Syx tapped the floor as he strolled through the bunks, less to detect any obstacles and more to alert the kids of his approach. They hurriedly packed up their things and scuttled out of the way, parting around him and Dew as they approached the Carriage House section. Made sense that Zak would hide here, as it was the only place in the bunks with even a bare modicum of privacy. As he approached he zeroed in on a conversation from behind the curtain door barring the CH section from the rest of the bunks. The voices were close together, around a table no doubt. He came to a stop outside their bunks and listened.
"…did you pick, Ixie?"
"Shop," was the reply.
"Ew. Shop? All that noise and, like, grease and grime? That'll, like, ruin your clothes."
"Leni, I don't know if you noticed, but our old job left plenty of stains," said Ixie, sourly. "If I'm getting dirty, I'd like to know it's so I can actually do something after I get outta here."
"That why Dew never got on our crew?" said Leni. "He wanted to polish chassis and grease hitches instead of–"
"Shaddup!" Ixie snapped. "You heard Setty. We don't talk like that no more!"
"Take a chill pill, I meant no ill will, Ix!"
"You guy's notice Setty's been acting weird lately?" A hitherto silent impess, one he recalled was named Sash, said. "Like, she's all… dunno. I wanna say 'happy' but I don't think I've ever seen her happy, so I dunno."
"She's hot for someone~" said Leni, sing-song, snapping open her make-up case.
"She always did make googly eyes at Zak back in the day," said Ixie. "Even back then, I could see it. Always thought she wanted to do grifter work because he was there, since that all dried up after he left."
Syx found his teeth gritting slightly, recalling back when Zak was still top-dog. He had his share of admirers, sure, but Syx would always find himself perplexingly perturbed when unflappable, stolid Setty would get agreeable and permissive around him. The feelings had been confusing then, but were less so now. Not that this new understanding made him feel any better.
"She dried up, you mean!" Cackled Sash. "Setty's dry like Greed! I'm surprised she don't chafe more!"
"Wanna know what I think?" Leni said. "I think she's dewy for Mr. Nightmare."
A pause hung in the air.
Ixie spoke first. "Yeah, I can see it."
"Setty fallin' for a Faller?" Sash said, incredulously. "Get out!"
"Like, I dunno if you have eyes, Sash, but Mr. Nightmare's a babe!" Leni declared in her endlessly imitated airheaded bleat. "And he talks at us, like, we're people or something? Like, earlier today he, like, asked me what I like to do! So nice!"
"Also, he kinda saved her life from the Vees," Ixie grumbled. "That probably has more to do with it than the babe-factor, Leni."
"By the way, how's Trell?" Sash asked. "He was out of it for a while. He talk to you about what happened?"
"Yeah…" Ixie muttered. "If half of what he says about Mr. Nightmare is true, I'd keep my distance. Ain't no one who's strong enough to slap around Vees got that way by being nice."
"Wait…" Leni paused, one of her infamous 'loading' moments the other kids chuckled at behind her back. "Do you think Mr. Nightmare shut us down because of the Vees?"
The other kids groaned, half-amused as Leni finally crossed the finish line. "Yes, Leni. That tracks."
"So he wasn't just being nice?"
"Doubt it."
Leni paused again, Syx could practically hear the gears creaking in her head. "But… like, Setty likes Mr. Nightmare. She doesn't say it, but I can see it."
"So?"
"So, Setty's, like, way smarter and meaner than any of us!" Leni protested. "She always knows which Johns are trouble and which ones will tip good, right? Cuz she's smart! Setty, like, knows bad guys better than we do and she likes Mr. Nightmare! And he was real nice to me today! He asked me about myself and everything! I think Mr. Nightmare is a good person, kinda."
"Whatever," Ixie scoffed. "You sure you're not sweet on him, Leni?"
The table erupted into laughter and Syx decided he had enough. He pushed through the curtain and stormed up to them. Some part of him felt gratified as they recoiled from him, their eyes on him as he wordlessly communicated his demands.
"Fourth bunk on the left," said Ixie. "Across from Setty's."
Syx set off across the room, pretending not to hear Ixie grumble: "Fuckin' blind fucker needs to get laid…"
Syx smirked internally as Dew's heavy, calloused hand set down on the older but shorter and smaller boy's shoulder. "Hey, Bitchie. Welcome to the Shop. Looking forward to showing you the ropes tomorrow."
"Uh…" Ixie squeaked as Syx turned the corner.
As he approached, he could make out the soft, low-toned words of an older boy. No, a young man. The rhythm and cadence of the voice suggested he was talking to someone young, real young. If Dew was out and about, that could only mean one thing.
"And what's all that we're standing on, Ena?" Zak said, a smile audible in his voice.
"That's all the staff," Ena replied, chipper as always. "They're all dead. Dew likes it when I put that in my drawings, so I always do that!"
Ena was Dew's little sister, his polar opposite in disposition and resident cutie-pie. At eight years old, she'd only been about four when she and Dew first set foot on the 'Donna grounds, which made her the youngest to ever have been accepted. Generally, the 'Donna took 'donations' aged five and up, easier to train and handle. Like most kids at the 'Donna, she and Dew had been orphaned rather than foundlings. Syx sardonically thought that no adult would willingly give their kids over to this shithole, opting instead for… literally anything else. It was only Dew's virtuoso affinity for all things mechanical that persuaded Boss Lady to take on such a young ward. Not that she didn't earn her keep. Ena spent her days in Home Ec, her nimble little fingers and sharp eyes allowing her to quickly and adeptly assemble the cheap clothing, shoes, or whatever gee-gaws that sweatshop was churning out at any given time.
"I love the colors, Ena!" Setty chimed in, even her stern demeanor softened around Ena. "All the different blood colors, very authentic."
"Offentisty is the hallmark of a great artist!" Ena announced, proudly. "Dew says–Oh! Syx!"
Syx realized he'd just sort of been lurking about like a creep. He waved, awkwardly. "Klk."
There was a shuffle and Ena's skinny little arms were wrapped around his waist a second later. "Dew told me how you beat up a buncha creeps today! He said you were really, really cool!"
Syx tilted his head towards where he suspected Zak was; the young man cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Klk."
"I drew you a picture!"
Syx wanted to smile, at least a little, at the fact that she drew something for a blind kid. Bless her heart, she tried.
"Here!" She said, putting a folded piece of paper in his hands. "Open it up!"
He obliged, unfolding the square of paper and holding it out in front of him, an exaggerated look of approval on his face. "Klk."
"Syyyyx~ stop playing around!" Ena giggled, pushing him. "Touch it!"
Syx cocked his head to the side and traced his fingers over the paper, eyebrows raising as he felt indentations on its surface.
"I didn't use a pencil or crayon or anything! I used a dry ballpoint and pressed really, really hard so you could feel the drawing and 'see' it that way!" Ena said, excitedly, shifting back and forth on her feet. "Like all the blind guys can in comics and stuff!"
Syx felt a warm rush build up in his gullet and rush towards his head, his face flushing as a blush flared in his cheeks, his heart fluttering: this kid was too pure.
"Do you like it?"
Syx reached out and tousled her silky hair. "Klk."
Ena giggled again and reached up, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. "Oh! Oh! Syx! You'll never guess who's back!"
"Klk-klk?" He 'asked', already knowing who she was talking about.
"Big Bro Zak is back!"
Zak cleared his throat, shuffling off of what Syx now realized was Setty's bunk, if his mental layout of the Bunks served him well. Something bitter bit at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it. Zak would not be here long, and he knew it, too. Let him say his piece and then be off into Red Nightmare's tender clutches and… released into the wild, he supposed. He squared up and faced his former mentor.
"What are you doing here, Zak?"
"Mr. Nightmare told me to wait for him here."
"You didn't run?"
"He asked me not to, and politely," said Zak, airily; apparently his return to the ol' homestead had restored some of his cavalier confidence. "Not often you meet a Faller who bothers to be polite. Figured I'd return the favor."
Syx grit his teeth. Zak was putting on a show, he could feel it. The young man was scared out of his last wit, but that last particular wit was a strong one: he didn't want to worry the kids, as was ever his goal, even now. Syx soured against himself, for that moment of petty jealousy. Truth of the matter was, no one around here ever called him 'big brother', nor would they after he left. He was a taskmaster, a brute and a tyrant, but he kept his kids safe and fed. Not for a minute would Syx imagine any of the 'Donna kids didn't respect him, but by that hand not one loved him, not like they loved Zak.
"I hear you took over my role after I aged out," said Zak, leaning against a support beam. "Whipped these kids into shape."
"Klk."
Zak sighed and went quiet for a moment. "Thanks, Syx."
Syx blinked behind his glasses, communicating this by cocking his head.
"For looking after them. For making things better for them." Zak paused, sighing, and continued: "And you have. I was too soft, Syx. I wanted them to like me. You never cared about any of that, and that's why I took to you back in the day. You made these kids into what they needed to be to live better. Meals every day. Cigs and booze and comic books? Those were luxuries back when I ran this stable. The 'Donna as it is now? I wouldn't last a second. I was wrong before. You'll be fine out there, however things turn out. I just… didn't have it in me. But you do, and you're putting that grit into every kid here. I'm sorry for what I did, and I'll take what I've earned. I just wanted to let you know, before Mr. Nightmare takes me away."
Syx stood still, grimacing internally. Zak… still cared? In some way, Syx thought, he probably never would stop caring. Syx scolded himself for that moment of pettiness, of bitterness, of jealousy. Zak, after all these years, was still Zak. Could he really let some crazy Faller take his Big Bro?
"We can get you out."
Setty and Zak paused, no doubt shocked. Ena shifted on her feet as she looked back and forth, likely in confusion.
"Syx, are you sure?"
"What are you talking about!?" Setty exclaimed, with a forceful outrage that surprised him. "We can't just let him go! Red wants to talk to him!"
Since when did she call Mr. Nightmare 'Red'? "And what happens after he talks to him? What's 'talking to him' even mean? Zak attacked us. Mr. Nightmare would never let an enemy go."
"What? No! He's not going to kill him!" Setty exclaimed, stepping between them, turning to Zak. "He's not going to kill you! He's just going to ask you some questions, and–"
"Release me to a farm in up-state Wrath?" Zak snorted. "Sorry, kid, I'm with Syx on this one."
Zak stepped around her, walking over to Syx. "Still, are you sure about this? I sure as shit wouldn't want to piss that guy off!"
"He's already pissed at me for not caving your skull in," Syx signed, the ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"He could…" Zak said, as though the answer were obvious. "…Kill you?"
"Red's not gonna kill anyone!" Setty exclaimed, pausing a moment before adding: "Well, he's not gonna kill any of us!He's done nothing but help us since he got here!"
Again, she called him 'Red'. Weird.
"Mr. Nightmare scares me…" Ena mumbled from elsewhere in the bunks, apparently having chafed under the tone shift the conversation had taken and hid. They made their way over to the bunk she was curled up in, her patchwork teddy-bear Scrum crinkling in her arms. "His eyes are like the halls at night. Dark and full of monsters."
A pause passed between the kids, Zak being the first to break it. "Well! I'm sold! Syx?"
"Klk."
The two set off down the hall despite Setty's protests, towards the exit of the Carriage House quarters. Syx signed over his shoulder. "Cover up. We don't want anyone recognizing you and kicking up a fuss."
"What? C'mon, Syx! Two years is a long time, and even I could barely get to know everyone. Doubt more than a dozen'd recognize me!"
"If you say so, Big Bro." Syx smirked and pushed aside a partitioning curtain, crowded around the Carriage House Quarters were dozens, no, scores of kids, a gasp of excitement rippling through them as their suspicions were confirmed.
"BIG BRO!" Exploded like a thunderclap, excited chattering filling the air as kids surged forward in a clamoring wave.
Syx adroitly sidestepped the surge as the kids clustered around their long-lost 'brother', pawing and pulling.
"What're you doin' here?" One kid said.
"You're older!" Exclaimed another. "Yuck!"
"Rikki said Boss Lady ate you! Did she?"
"I like your hair!"
"You bummed a smoke off me two years ago, so…"
Syx sighed and shook his head, almost smiling. Listening to the sounds of Zak attempting to address each of them while struggling under the increasing number of smaller kids crawling over him made his earlier envy distinctly absurd. He'd take respect over love any day if it meant avoiding scenes like this.
Syx grit his teeth as a shrill whistle sliced through the air like a stiletto, sharp and painful to his sensitive ears: the lookout's alarm. All the kids stopped and listened.
A tap on a bedpost: adults approaching.
Tap-tap: two.
What followed was a series of whistles, some short, others slightly longer: ".-. . -"
"Kabby," whispered Dew. "That means…"
".-. . -.."
"Too late," Zak whispered to Syx. "Thanks anyway…"
"Can't believe I almost forgot that gutter-rat," said Red as they walked down the hallway, rubbing the bridge of his flattened snout, trying to ease the persistent pressure headache building in his forehead. "Thanks for reminding me, Kabby."
"Figured I'd spare you explaining to Boss Lady why you left a handsome young incubus alone with a bunch of nubile young girls and boys for a night."
"You have a talent for making me regret talking to you." Red sighed in a sharp, short huff. "God, will this day just end already?"
"Still edgy about Syx falling through?"
"Well, that doesn't help…" Grumbled Red, annoyed. "Explaining the Carriage House went poorer than anticipated. I replaced the staff I killed and salvaged some muscle for the expansion, what more does she want?"
"Pretty sure she was more miffed about the entire building being destroyed, Red. Prolly wanted to rent the rooms or some shit."
"Oh, please! That was an accident. Besides, she has no way of proving I even can do that sort of thing. Word on the street says it was a stray nuke from the War, I told her as much and she seemed to accept that…" Red paused, turning to Kabby. "Do you think she suspects it was me?"
"I would," said Kabby, shrugging. "If I sent my geas'd nuke-on-legs to fire my scumbag employees, that is."
"I am not a–!" Red exclaimed, affronted. "Solido and I had an argument. It got… heated."
"Who won?"
Red rubbed his forehead, the little tattoo-face-thing residing there. "Not the Carriage House."
Kabby snickered at his maniac boss. "If Boss Lady wasn't gonna let you go before… Ha!"
"Whatever. Maybe we can teach the kids construction, practice rebuilding the House and make a racket out of that…" Red rubbed his temples, the pressure was not going away. "Oh, and she even got on my case about not murdering the whoremongers! Seems like I can't get anything right today!"
"Blame her for having pattern recognition, Red! You've greased every ratfuck sunnuvabitch you've met so far." Kabby chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll level with you, I'm a little surprised you didn't paint the inside of that place with Papa Red's Authentic Italian Meat Sauce!"
"Oh, don't you start!" Red said, donning a winging, sing-song tone. " 'Red! Stop killing my employees!' 'Red, don't butcher people in front of children!' 'Red, not on the carpet!' 'Red, the janitors are going on strike!' And now you both get on my case for not eviscerating degenerates in front of the kids? I can't win!"
"I don't sound like that…" Kabby grumbled, crossing his arms. "Anyway, I think what's got Boss Lady so miffed is that she has to shell out backpay for all the scumbags you didn't kill."
Red shook his head, lip curling. "I'm still amazed that backpay is a thing Down Here…"
"It's more like a deal, right?" Kabby said, shrugging. "They hire you, you sign, they fire you, they wire you backpay so you don't come back to rob the place and burn it to the ground."
"Understandable," said Red, pondering this for a moment. "I assume it's null and void if the employer doesn't pay."
"Yeah."
"If Her Ladyship is the cheapskate I know she is, we can expect a visit from Gowan…" Red said, smirking. "Actually…"
"What?"
"Nothing," said Red, nodding towards something up ahead. "We're here. Get in character."
The approached the doors to the Bunks. The doors were heavy, steel plated with no windows, heavy bars and padlocks on the outside. Had Red not known the ease with which the kids could leave the Bunks, he would have surmised this was to prevent escape. His lip curled over his fangs. Two guards sat on buckets in front of the doors, cards in their hands as they sat about a pile of bills, loose change, and packs of cigarettes. They looked up as they approached, puffing on their smokes as they got to their feet
"Hold up," said one of the guards, a rather robustly built bearded troll-like Sinner, a heavy-looking billy club dangling from his hip. "No adults in the Bunks after Lights Out."
"Open the door."
"Sorry, Red. No word from Ma, no-go," said the bearded troll, shaking his head. "This is our job, we gotta do it."
Red cocked his head to the side, gleaning from future timelines that this peon would actually try to resist if he moved for the Bunks. He made a mental note of the fool's character and attempted further negotiation.
"Open the door," he repeated. "Now."
The other guard, a rangier, some manner of pointy-eared simian Sinner, strolled up, clearing his throat. "Hey, now. Cool off, Bangarang, Mr. Nightmare is clearly here on some important business. Anythin' we can help ya with, sir?"
"Open the door."
The monkey-man chuckled and shook his head, shrugging apologetically. "Sorry, big fella. No can do. Rules is rules, yeah? Though if'n ya, say, theoretically, maybe… dropped a coupla hunnit $ouls somewhere, why, we'd be more'n happy to help ya… find it?"
"Sidewalk," the troll-demon grunted, lip curling. "The fuck?"
"Bang, shaddup!" Sidewalk hissed, grabbing Bangarang by the shoulder and turning them away from Red and Kabby, whispering. "I'm tryna get a good thing goin' here! No more Carriage House means no more Gowan. No more Gowan means no more backdoor passes. No more backdoor passes means we can start sellin' Bunk passes! Y'see?"
"Sidewalk…" Bangarang grimace, backing away from him. "The fuck."
Red turned to Kabby, pointing to Sidewalk, eyebrow arched.
Kabby sighed patiently and nodded in approval.
"Oh for–really? Don't gimme that look!" Sidewalk sighed, rolling his eyes. "Always this shit with ya, Bang! Y'wouldn't know a racket if it twatted that big stupid head of yers!"
Bangarang hissed in disgust, shaking his head. "I can't believe you, man! Skimmin' the kids is one thing, but this?"
"This is the difference between us, Bang!" Sidewalk geckered, jabbing his crinkled monkey finger at the troll. "A true hustler sees a hustle and gets hustlin', don't mean he gotta like what it is! Think of it this way, if'n we don't someone else w–"
A huge hand clad in shimmering Seraphim Steel shot out and grabbed Sidewalk's ovoid simian skull, almost encasing it. The fingers flexed and, with a crunching, melon-like pop, crushed the demon's skull. Bangarang flinched as hot chunky gore splattered across his face. The bearded troll demon stood, transfixed, blood and viscera dripped down down his beard. Red released his grip with a bear-trap snap, Sidewalk's remains crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Red turned to him, eyes glowing radioactive green.
"Um, you've got a little, uh…" Red leaned over, pointing to his own face and then to Bangarang's. "Right here."
Bangarang, still reeling, reached up and grabbed at his beard, staring down at the warm, wet thing in the palm of his hand: an eyeball. He squeaked in a manner truly unbefitting a demon of his stature and appearance and flung it away. Red's other, metal-clad hand settled on his shoulder, prompting him to look up to the taller sea-demon.
"Open the door." Red smiled serenely, nodding to the entrance to the bunks. "Please."
Bangarang squeaked and nodded furiously, streaking over to the door and grabbing the padlock, attempting to fish out the key from the keyring with badly shaking hands. Again, that huge, taloned hand set down on his shoulder. Bangarang slowly turned around, his tawny, mottled face pale and drawn. Red reached down and snapped his fingers at the padlock, a flash of light and gunshot crack echoed in the hallway and the padlock fell to the floor in smoking, glowing pieces.
"You know what?" Red said, patting Bangarang on the shoulder. "I think I heard a noise down the hall. Why don't you go check it out?"
Bangarang nodded like a bobblehead and scrabbled down the hallway, huffing and puffing in terror.
"I like him." Red turned to Kabby. "He has integrity."
"Hope his has a spare pair of underwear!" Kabby snickered as he knelt next to Sidewalk's corpse an began rifling through his pockets, stuffing bills and jewelery and smokes into his own. The imp cooed as he produced a set of car keys, jangling them to Red. "Not that I'm expecting much from this bottomfeeder, but wheels are wheels."
"This place, I swear." Red sighed and shook his head. "I do it so much, it starting to take the fun out of killing scumbags."
Kabby scoffed and rose to his feet. "No it's not."
Red smirked and chuckled, gresturing to the body. "No, it isn't. Get rid of that, will you?"
"Sure thing!" Kabby's form glowed as he summoned forth his Stand. "[Bridge Over Troubled Water]!"
A glowing, ghostlike quiver burst into existence, floating before the imp. In it were roughly a score of foot-long blue plumbata arrayed in a circle around a single red one.
"You don't have to say it every time," said Red.
"I know," Kabby replied, grinning toothily as he pulled out the red plumbata and touched it to the corpse. "I just like saying it! Boop~!"
Sidewalk's stinking carcass vanished in a flash, now in some far-flung part of Hell, where a blue dart had been set down.
Red leaned over and counted the darts in the quiver. "I see a few are missing. So, you've gone and secured the necessary locations?"
"Yep!" Kabby replied. "Now all I gotta do is poke the cars with this red dart, and they poof off to all my contacts, lose their trackers and tags, then come right back here, clean as a whistle and ready for sale! No gas, no hassle, no tracking."
"Good man." Red reached out and grabbed the door handle before pausing, a frown creasing his face. "Hm."
"What's wrong?" Kabby said, despite knowing. Red got this sheen to his eyes when he did his timeline trick; they were normal one moment, and kinda glazed the next, as though he'd been reading for a while. "Bad visions?"
"The children know we're coming, naturally," said Red, confusion spreading across his features. "They will resist when I try to take the cast-off."
Kabby pondered this for a moment. Red wouldn't be troubled physically by a bunch of kids, something else was bothering him. "And? I know this stuff is confusing for you, Red, but I think now's the time to put your foot down."
Red turned to him, curious.
"Kids need a firm hand, y'know?" Kabby shook his head. "What am I saying? Of course you don't. Anyway, kids need to understand you ain't like Belladonna or her cronies, sure. Know you got more than a belt in your hand. But if they think all you got is burgers and pizza, they'll try and walk all over you! Now, I'm not saying you go in there swinging, but you gotta show 'em that even though you ain't a captor, you're still their boss!"
"Oh, I've already devised a suitably formidable entrance," he said, airily. "The effect will be immediate and utter submission."
"Oh."
"No, what confuses me is…" Red paused, eying up Kabby. "Earlier today, I determined the Carriage House staff worth keeping based on future timelines where the children intervened when I, well…"
"Papa Red's Authentic Italian Meat Sauce'd em?"
"Yes, that." Red turned to Kabby fully, truly confounded. "Why would the children intervene at all? In that place, with those people? Why protect your enemies? What purpose does it serve?"
Kabby sighed, his tone wistful. "In a situation like these poor little shits are in, you cling to anything that might keep you afloat. Those staff you recovered, maybe they weren't outright cruel, maybe they didn't hit so much, or maybe they didn't hit so hard, who knows? Point is, these kids are looking for something to hold onto, to keep their heads above water, even if it's a floating turd."
"And the boy in there? Is he just another floating turd they're clinging to?"
Kabby shook his head, nodding at the door. "That boy in there? He's one of them, Red. These kids, they got a saying: Belladonna's kids stick together; we're all we got."
Kabby saw something shift in Red's face, his expression becoming slack, his gaze distant. For a small, interminable instant, breif enough Kabby would wonder later if he just imagined it; Red's green, horrible eyes softened, flickered fuschia, all under a glaze of tears. Kabby opened his mouth to speak–
–The Bunk doors were open, the sound of a clamor being silenced emanating from within. The alley between the nearest row of bunks was choked with kids, many of them clustered together down the way around a single figure, the cast-away. All of the kids were facing the door, each one of them glaring at him, eyes dead-set and determined as they put their bodies between the perceived threat and their former mentor. At that moment Kabby could feel the steely resolve radiating off these kids, their resilience and strength. Each one of these kids looked willing to throw down with a Sinner to protect one of their own. How hard would they fight for a savior? What kind of powers could that blasted arrow draw out of such fertile ground?
The kids paused, no doubt expecting someone else and not the old, ratty imp standing before them. They were silent, tightening their ranks, mouths curling into gap-toothed little snarls. The ones closest to Zak huddled even closer, Syx among them. Zak looked somewhere between touched and resigned; he'd expected this, and wanted to avoid it. His face fell as and enormous hand settled on his shoulder. A silent gasp rippled through the kids as they turned around to see the immense, towering form of Red Nightmare as he loomed over their protectorate. Kabby could practically feel the atmosphere of defiance and tenacity bleed from the room, like a balloon deflating. Even Syx looked shocked, the normally stoic teen recoiling as though he'd touched something red hot, evidently unaccustomed to being snuck up on. With the subtlest of pushes, Red led Zak out of the Bunks, the crowd of pugnacious ringscrapers parting around them, pressing into each other like cowering pups. Immediate and utter submission.
Just like Red predicted.
The kids knew that resistance was futile.
The former 'Donna kid - if there ever could be such a thing - walked without cajoling, stoically marching to his fate, trying not to meet the pleading, defeated stares of the children. They stepped out into the hall, the door closing behind them. Kabby looked through the narrowing sliver between the heavy steel panels, seeing Syx slumped forward, hand to his face as his mouth curled into a bitter snarl. Setty was at his side, her hand on his shoulder as she leaned in, whispering something in his ear. The doors shut with a dull 'click' that might as well have been the thundering boom of a crypt door closing. Kabby sighed and shook his head before following after Red and his captive.
Syx sat atop the parapet of the 'Donna, drinking in the ambient sounds and smells of the neighborhood. The city was, as always, loud and smelly. Fetid piles of uncollected garbage mixed with vehicle exhaust. The gurgle of beater cars and the rumble of tricked-out, overclocked hot rods. Screams of pain and snarls of hatred. Creative curses, grumbles of irritation, and the defeated sobs of wretched victims. More recently, the clack and clatter of rubble shifting as former occupants and looters rifled through debris for belongings or valuables to hock. Apparently there had been some kind of conflagration earlier that day. Not that he hadn't noticed the earth-shaking explosion, but that it had happened so close to the 'Donna and had claimed the Carriage House would have raised his eyebrow at any other time. Interesting stuff like that, true chaos, rarely touched down out here, in the poorer neighborhoods. Not that anyone around here was averse to such carnage, merely those with the means to inflict it did so in places that mattered. But Syx didn't care, not right now.
He had failed.
He had failed to impress Mr. Nightmare, and he had failed to protect Zak. He had failed spectacularly and publicly, all the 'Donna kids watching as he flinched away from the Sinner like a startled cat. He didn't even know he was there until he reached out and took what was his. At that moment Syx couldn't even consider intervening, resisting, and even if he could speak, he wouldn't have said a word. None of them did, none of them could. Just like always, a Sinner waltzed in, took what was theirs, and left, wordlessly daring them to try, just try, and do something about it. And just like always, no one did. There was nothing they could do. They were just kids. Just orphans. Just Hellborn. Like when the Fallen fell eons ago, like with the Sinners that came later, they could only cower and acquiesce or be crushed like the vermin they were.
Powerless.
He felt powerless.
He was powerless.
He was snapped from his bitter contemplations as a delicate, feminine hand lit upon his shoulder. It was Setty. Once again he jumped, and once again he cursed himself; she'd never been able to sneak up on him, no matter how hard - or how often - she tried. He could always hear her, smell her, before she got even close. He'd been so taken up in his self-pitying mope-fest that he'd lost grasp of the one thing, the one damned thing, that made him remotely useful. Was that what happened back in the Bunks, when Red Nightmare seemingly appeared next to him? Was he finally losing his edge? Did he ever have an edge? Or was he just a pathetic, crippled imp after all? Anger and resentment bubbled up in him, bitter and acid at the back of his throat like vomit. He wanted to slap her hand away and hiss. An instinct he indulged.
Then, something strange happened.
He swatted her hand away, or tried to, anyway, but felt nothing. No hand or wrist, just empty air. But her hand was still there, resting on his shoulder. Did he seriously just miss?! He tried again. And again. His crisp swats soon became frustrated pawing. His hand still remained, despite his own clawing at where he felt it, touching nothing. What the fuck was going on?!
"I'm detecting some hostility," said Setty, the wry amusement in her voice infuriating. "All that back there rattled you pretty good, huh?"
Syx snarled, his useless vocal chords good for that at least. He moved to hop off the parapet and storm away. Was that why she'd invited him up here? To mock him to his face?!
Her other hand shot out, grabbing his other shoulder. "Syx, wait–"
He tried to grab her wrist, to twist it until she let go, but once again it was like he was pawing at air. How could this be?! He felt her grip tighten–no, solidify. It was as though her flesh had become as hard and unyielding as steel. She effortlessly picked him up off the parapet, holding him up off his feet as though he were a misbehaving toddler. Thoroughly spooked now, he kicked out with all his might, hooves slashing at the air where her torso and face should have been.
"Syx."
His tail joined the party, streaking for the source of her voice, seeking to wrap around her throat.
"Syx. Stop."
He pulled out his baton and pressed the button on the tip. CO2 hissed as the tip launched out, but like everything else, hit nothing.
"Will you just…" She growled, throwing him to the ground. "Calm down!?"
Syx was on his feet in an instant, hissing. All his frustration and anger mixed with this newfound confusion - and more than a little fear - to form a potent feral rage. His imp blood boiled as the rage took hold, his Wrathian heritage flaring within him. He lunged at this thing, this phantom, pretending to be his best friend. What was it? A Sinner? Something else? Had it done something to Setty? Had it hurt her? Where was she?!
"Syx…" 'Setty' said, now sounding a little unnerved. "Hey, man, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have–WHOA!"
He swung his cane overhead at the sound of the voice, hitting nothing, as he expected, overextending and pulling into a roll before springing to his feet and spinning about, steel cane in hand. He swung it like a bat, hoping to catch the thing off guard and maybe brain it. But it must have seen him coming, because his swing hit nothing, just like before. He followed his momentum through with a bone-cracking spin-kick.
"Wow!" The thing chuckled. "Sweet moves! If Red thinks you're weak, he's a bigger idiot than I thought!"
Syx hissed and swung, gasping silently when a hand, solid as before, caught his, holding it in a firm but not crushing grasp.
"Alright, imp-boy. You wanna dust-up?" The phantom said, so infuriatingly close to Setty in tone and inflection, he dimly wondered through the haze of bloodlust if it actually was Setty. "I'm your fuckin' huckleberry."
Syx brought his cane up between her legs, hitting something with a hard, metallic clang, the vibrations racing painfully up his arm; the thing was armored.
"A-1 box-shot, Syx! Low blow, I like it!" It cheered (or jeered?) and let his hand go. "I'll pretend that hurt, okay? Owww! My poor kitty!"
Bastard! Syx swung the cane down, whacking the thing atop its apparently armored head, once again producing a metallic 'clang'. He drew back, viper-fast, and struck her across the faceplate, 'Setty' obligingly recoiling. He dug the tip of the cane into the tarmac and leapt forward, planting both feet on her chest in a powerful double-kick. The Imposter faux-stumbled backward, Syx's tail lashing out and grabbing its ankle, yanking with all his might.
"WhoAAH!" It cried out, giggling. "I'm detecting some hostility!"
Syx arched his eyebrow as he listened for the impact, hearing none. A finger tapped his left shoulder, prompting him to jab the point of the cane up and over his right. Sure enough, the phantom had been looming over his shoulder, the point stabbing into its face, the lack of movement upon impact suggesting he hit an eye-hole. Despite this, the point stopped as surely as any of the prior strikes.
"ACK!" 'Setty' exclaimed, flinching back. "Bastard! That scared me! Phew! Good thing [Titanium] isn't just a suit of armor…"
Syx paused, standing down. Titanium? What's this asshole talking about?
She giggled. "Thinking with the big head again, Blinky?"
Blinky? No one had called him Blinky in years! Syx gaped, lowering the cane completely. "Setty?"
She laughed out loud at this, her characteristic bitter cackle. "If this is how you react when a pretty girl asks you out on a date, I'd hate to see what you'd do with a blowjob!" She said, still cackling, which geared down into a pur. "Or maybe I'd love it~"
"Is it really you?"
He felt the air in front of him move as she pushed through it, her feet apparently not touching the ground. He raised his hands instinctively but she grabbed his wrists and, with strength he could not hope to match, held his arms open before planting a warm, delicate kiss on his thin lips. Her lips were full, warm, and soft in a way he'd never suspected, never really thought about, but now they sparked a new, different heat in his veins. He could feel the warmth of her skin near his, radiating like a lamp. Her smell flooded his nostrils, that cheap, tacky perfume she wore mixed with the reek of old and new cigarettes. But under all that was her scent, her natural scent, her authentic 'Setty' smell that made his heart race normally, but at this moment caused it to thud with fast, heavy beats like a ceremonial drum. On instinct, his snake-like tongue flicked out to taste the air, catching a lap of her lipstick on his lips, a familiar, waxy flavor twinged with tobacco residue. It was a flavor he'd recognize anywhere, from the few times in their history where he'd shared a glass with her.
It really was her!
He realized he'd been staring like an idiot for a few seconds now, his mouth agape. He closed it with a 'clop', clearing his throat. Setty got warmer, and warmer still. A blush? Was Setty blushing?
"U-uh…" She said, all her pomp and boisterousness deflating like a party balloon with equally amusing flatulence. "S-sorry, uh, about–I mean, I was just thinking, maybe, y-you'd need me to–like, you can't s-see me and–"
"Klk," he replied, wanting to smirk mockingly but doubted he looked any less flustered. "It worked. I believe you. Sorry I attacked, I just…" His hands paused, struggling to find a sign for what he felt. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Oh, this?" The smile in her voice returned, full-force, as air blasted away from her in a warm wave, pebbly tarmac gritting as her feet left it, her voice now raising several feet over his head. "This… is my Stand, [Titanium]!"
Syx gawped as he jabbed his palm with two fingers. "Stand?"
"Yeah!" She said, chuckling. "That's what Red calls it, anyway. He says it's a 'manifestation of my fighting spirit' and an 'externalization of my soul's will to' yadda yadda yadda. It's a fuckin' super-power, Syx! With [Titanium], I can float in the air, like I'm doing right now, and I can move right through solid matter, or have it move through me!"
"I noticed."
Setty giggled at this, a tinkly, delicate sound he still wasn't quite used to coming out of her. "That's not all, either. It looks like a really gay suit of armor, but I'm pretty much indestructible in this bad-boy! And I'm super strong, I don't know how strong, but I can punch a hole in a manhole cover like it's paper! And fast, too! Like, it's weird, when I concentrate it's like everything's moving in super-duper slow-mo, but I'm not. I bet, like, I could catch a bullet or some anime shit like that!"
Syx stood in silence, staring. "Red?"
"Oh…" He heard her feet crunch on the roof. "Right… Red's kinda, sorta, maybe the guy who gave it to me?"
Syx continued to stare.
"What?" Setty said, defensively. "Syx! C'mon, he's not like the others! He's trying to take the place over!"
"Yeah, no shit," Syx signed, frowning. "That's going great, by the way. Idiot got himself Dealt with."
"That's why he needs our help!" Setty insisted, grabbing Syx by the shoulders. "You and me, we can help him! Don't you want to tear this shithole down and put that bitch in her place?"
"Of course I do! But this is some weird, sketchy shit you've gotten us into, Setty! Red's just like the rest of them!" Syx signed, pushing her hands away. "A Faller. Who cares if he gave you this power? He doesn't care about you! He doesn't care about any of us! You think he'll keep a bunch of ringscraper brats around after he takes this place over? If we're lucky, all he'll do is kick us out on the street!"
"You're wrong, Syx. Red's different, I can feel it," said Setty. "He's crazier than a shithouse rat, but he's not like them! With my Stand, with my [Titanium], I bet I can even grind Fallers into mush! And he wants to give us all one, Syx! Every kid at the 'Donna! He's not just gonna stop at this shithole or even this neighborhood. Red's raising an army, Syx, and he'll need lieutenants. You and me… what do you say?"
Syx paused. This… this was a lot to process. A lot to consider. "My power… My Stand… Will it be like yours?"
"Dunno," said Setty, shrugging audibly. "Red says they're different for every person since, like, every person is different. Who knows? Maybe your power will be even cooler than mine!"
The blind imp rubbed his chin in contemplation; he still had his reservations.
"Hey," said Setty. "Catch."
Syx lamely held his arms out despite knowing he had little chance of actually catching anything. A hot, stinging pain flared in his chest as something sharp stuck in his chest, causing him to loose a pained, formless grunt. He reached up and felt the thing sticking in him, it was metallic, heavy, with a long wooden shaft. An arrow?
"Setty! What the fuck?!"
He could only hear her shift on her feet, arms no doubt crossed over her chest as a smirk pulled at the side of her mouth. "Pull it out. It's not in that deep."
She was right. In fact, it only seemed to be just barely breaking the skin, and yet it was stuck to him like a magnet. He grabbed the shaft and pulled. And pulled. He found himself unable to dislodge it, even with both hands! What was going on?!
"I can't help you with this one, Syx," said Setty, airily, her lighter flicking as she lit a cigarette. "You gotta pull it out yourself. Those are the rules… I think."
'You think?!' Syx thought, incredulously, yanking on the obstinate arrow penetrating him. He struggled some more, the pain became biting, searing, as though the thing's barbs were buried deep in his flesh. The more he pulled, the more it resisted, the more it hurt. He had to get it out!
"This isn't something you can muscle, Syx!" Setty declared. "You have to want it! You can't pull it out, you have to willit out! You have to beat it down and kick it the fuck out, Syx! C'mon! You can do it! You're the toughest, hardest kid here! That arrow's not stronger than you! Nothing is! You reach deep down into that well of 'fuck you!' and you tell it to…"
Syx grit his teeth, feeling something well up from within him and buzz in his skin like an electric fever. The arrow hurt, but this new sensation was unbearable, irresistible, like all his rage and frustration and pride and joy was bursting out from within him in a single unstoppable wave. Building and building before…
"Get fucked!" Setty cried.
It crested.
Syx roared soundlessly and ripped the arrow from his chest, feeling all that surging tumult burst forth in a shrieking pulse of energy. Something sizzled and crackled like electricity, but also not. The air around him felt thick, greasy, and hot, thrumming like a steady pulse. He tossed the arrow to the ground, patting where it had pierced him; the wound had vanished, leaving only a tingly parasthesic feeling, barely detectable electric shocks pricked his his sensitive fingertips.
"What…" he signed, turning to Setty. "What now? Did it work?"
"Uh… I think? You got it out?" Setty said, picking the arrow up off the ground. "When I got mine I just sorta… uh oh…"
"Uh-oh?"
Setty cleared her throat, obviously embarrassed. "Called it out?"
Syx stared at her for a moment, scowling. "With words? Can I even use this bullshit?!"
"Hey, now, don't worry!" Setty said, placatingly. "It's a magic fucking arrow! You being mute shouldn't matter!"
"Shouldn't?"
Setty sighed, flicking the arrowhead with [Titanium]'s plated fingers, producing a musical 'ting'. "…Maybe I shoulda–"
"–Asked Red–"
"Yes, Setty," said a deep, masculine voice behind her, his words singing and flanging with fury. "Y̶̘͆o̸̳̒u̸͍̅ ̷̪͘ŗ̴͝è̵ͅa̷̞͆ḽ̷̈́l̶͉͝y̶̶̛̬͇͆s̶̤̑h̵̻̽o̴̖̾ṳ̴͝l̶̩͆ḋ̷͖ ̴̟̔h̷̦̍a̷̩͠v̷̬͐e̴̛̼.̷͎."
Red glowered down at the pair, his expression placid but his mind whirling.
Betrayal.
Setty had betrayed him.
He had given her hope. Given her her Stand. Torn down that blight of a building and extended his hand to her, set her up to carve her vengeance upon a world that had crushed her like a bug. And she had betrayed him. Some bubbling, frothing part of him wanted to wipe the slate clean. To start anew. To scour these ungrateful brats from his–
Oh, but there was Solido again, pecking away at the fringes of his consciousness. There was a time when he would deal with traitors as he wished! When he would–
'That was Diavolo. That was his way,' said That Voice. 'And you're better than him, aren't you?'
Red paused. That was a fair point. Diavolo, that misshapen excuse for a consciousness, that malignant, barely coherent tumor upon his soul. It was a testament to his inherent greatness that even such a base facet of himself had brought all of Italy to heel. Diavolo ruled through fear, demanded subservience, but inspired no loyalty, no devotion. It took but a little cajoling to get his capos to rebel, to betray him, and ultimately spelled his downfall. It was Diavolo who was unworthy, Diavolo who the arrow rejected, and Red snarlingly conceded that it was likely no small part of the lunatic's contribution to his being that caused the arrow's own reaction to him. It wouldn't do to indulge that part of himself, not if he wanted to claim his rightful place as the King of Hell.
So, Setty would live another day.
A different approach would be needed.
"R-Red…" Setty stammered, gawping up at him before glancing down to the arrow in her hand. "Uh, I-I can explain! Syx, he–"
"Silence," Red growled. "You stole from me, Setty. I put my trust in you! I set you up to lead the 'Donna to greatness! I gave you your Stand! And this is how you repay me?"
His hand shot out in an instant, his gauntlet gleaming, and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her almost off her feet.
"Ow!" Setty cried, trying in vain to resist. "Red! Stoppit! You're hurting me!"
"Good!" He roared, dragging her off her feet, snarling in her face. "And if you're lucky, that's all I'll do! Do you have any idea what you've done?! Giving this fool a Stand now, before we're ready, you've put the whole operation in jeopardy! You're lucky I don't–"
Syx's steel cane streaked out, smashing into the back of Red's skull, barely shifting his rose tentacle-hair. Red glanced at Syx, who had adopted a fighting stance, brandishing the cane like a samurai with a katana, a furious snarl on the pup's face. The towering Sinner sneered. "Oh, please."
Red held out his hand and flicked, compressing the air into a concentrated shockwave that sent the imp tumbling several meters backwards on the tarmac.
"Syx!" Setty cried, trying but quite unable to phase through Red's immovable grasp.
"Get back to the Bunks, Syx," growled Red as he turned towards the roof access door, hauling the struggling girl along with him. "If you tell anyone about what's happened here, you're done."
Syx collected himself up off the roof, a low, reedy growl emanating from his malformed vocal chords. With apparently great effort, he coughed out a series of low, guttural sounds. "D-doo… doo… doo doo doo!"
Red felt a tingle fill the air, the imp's aura flared to life in swirling flames of green and purple. The pebbled tarmac shuddered, the grit dancing as reverberations pulsed through it. The little imp pup's paws balled into trembling fists.
"What?"
A low bass note thrummed as a flash of light and energy burst from the boy as a towering, glowing shape manifested behind him, roaring: "[Heartbreaker]!"
It resembled a ball-and-socket armature, thin metallic frames connected with shiny spheres at the joints. It was similar in layout to its user, with long digitigrade legs terminating in sharp, metallic hooves, and a long skeletal tail with a heart-shaped blade at the tip. Its bare, mechanical frame was wreathed in a shimmer not unlike heat haze above a hot stove, making it appear mirage-like. Its head was a single large sphere with four jagged metallic plates intersecting on the front, forming a rough, scar-like 'X' across its 'face'.
The boy and his Stand pointed imperiously at Red, his Stand's voice ringing out, strong and stentorian and surprisingly deep. "LET HER GO!"
"Whoa…" Setty whispered, wondrously. "Syx?"
Red glanced down at her and then back at the lad, a wry smile spreading across his cruel features: he had an idea. He looked down to Setty, who met his gaze with wide, pleading eyes and winked, smiling as a look of uncertain comprehension spread across her face.
He turned back to Syx. "Make me."
Syx couldn't quite comprehend what was happening, what this new sensation was. He could… see? Not quite. His world, normally one of complete darkness, had expanded to a sphere some twelve meters across with him at its center and blackness beyond. He could see the roof of the 'Donna, the rooms beneath it, the people in those rooms, the support beams and wires and scuttling vermin with the walls. He could even sense the individual grains upon the pebbly tarmac and the ancient, fraying glue holding the sheets to the concrete. The dust in the air. The smoke of Setty's dropped cigarette. But it wasn't sight, not as he understood it from his dim recollections of sight from before… It happened. It was more like a moving picture at the center of his mind, images were formed from sensation, from changes in density and composition and texture, forming borders that were both crude and nauseating in detail. There was no color, only borders and void forming a silvery image in his mind.
It should have been overwhelming, crippling, and indeed would have been, were it not for one thing: Red Nightmare had Setty and he was hurting her, threatening her. Just another Faller trying to take what was his, to beat him down and humiliate him. The Gift of Wrath, that flaming imp rage, surged from within him. Thinking was out of the equation, something to worry about later. His instinct to crush his enemy and protect his family exploded within him, bringing with it something beyond knowledge, a pure form of understanding of this new ability.
He would crush his enemy, obliterate him and smear his very atoms into the stinking tar paper like jam!
Syx manifested his Stand within his body, using its immense strength to launch himself at his target at incredible speeds. Red Nightmare stood there, smiling, the hand grasping Setty's wrist was a vanta-black void in Syx's perception, a curious detail completely ignored to the imp's furious mind. All he could see was the Sinner's face and his need to smash it! He automatically knew that his Stand - which for some reason registered as [DooDooDooDooDoo Heartbreaker] or [D5H] in his mind - could only reach about two meters from his own body, but he also knew that would be enough.
He closed the distance and unleashed his fury, [D5H]'s mechanical arms a blur as it loosed a primal cry. "ATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA!"
Red Nightmare's free hand shot up, his open palm intercepting every strike as explosive cracks filled the air like overlapping machinegun fire, the shockwaves of the impacts sending dirt and grit tumbling away from them.
"Hm," grunted the Sinner. "Decently strong and fast."
Red's melon-sized fist thudded into Syx's gut, sending the boy tumbling backwards. Syx didn't so much as grunt and pulled into a backwards somersault, shooting to his feet, his Stand shimmering as it superimposed itself over his body.
"Oh? Faster than I thought," said Red, shaking out his smarting hand. "And very durable."
Syx snarled and streaked forward, closing the distance in an instant and aiming a blistering roundhouse to Red's knee. "ATAAA!"
The Sinner intercepted it with his shin. "Sweeping the leg, good."
[D5H] pulled back before unleashing a blistering rush of snap-kicks. "ATATATATATATATATATATA!"
"Very good." Red countered with his own. "Dictate the pace."
"SHUT UP!" Syx roared through his Stand. "DIE!"
[D5H] broke into another roundhouse, prompting Red to intercept likewise. When the Sinner did, he slashed out with his long, blade-like tail, seeking to sever the tendon at his enemy's ankle.
"Unconventional, I like it!" Red's hopped off the ground only to stomp back down, pinning the Stand's tail. "But you're not wowing me."
The Sinner reached down and grabbed the base of the Stand's tail, hurling it and its user high into the air.
"Syx!" He heard Setty cry out. "What're you doing, you psycho?!"
"He's almost there, Setty," Red replied. "He just needs a little push. Or toss, in this case."
Syx tumbled through the air, his newfound senses useless as he hurtled from the ground. Where was he? How high? The ground had left the range of his 'sight', he was careening through the air, helpless. Syx wrestled his fury, his rage, back under control. He'd need more than that to get out of this. He held out his arms and legs, counter rotating as he would in the free-fall. His painful months of trial-and-error while teaching himself to navigate after losing his sight had taught him many things, one of which was recollection of motion and calculating his relative position and momentum based on his last moment of stability. He steadied himself mid-air, countering his spin, until he was no longer tumbling along his trajectory. He felt his upward momentum cease as gravity took over, pulling him back down, he twisted in mid-air like a cat so that his feet were facing down. He instantly knew that he was too high, falling too fast, to withstand the impact, but also knew just as certainly that his Stand could materialize within him and absorb the punishment.
'But what if it didn't have to?' he thought to himself. 'What if this thing's more than just some ghost that punches shit?'
His thoughts flashed to his new sense, this picture in his mind. Seeing things, tiny things, big things, inside and out, all at once in the center of his mind. He remembered being told by one of the smart kids in the Computer Lab that sight was just light bouncing off the surroundings and getting detected by retinas and interpreted by the brain. That everyone who saw anything was really just seeing it as it was a millisecond ago due to lag. That's why Royalty were so powerful, why Sinners could rise up to rival them, because they weren't limited by their 'hardware' as she called it. Sinners and Royals, she explained, could interpret this data faster, sure, but could also push their souls out of their bodies and sense other things. Things like magic, things like souls, but also more omnipresent things, like the flow of time, the fabric of space, and…
'Gravity!'
Syx focused on the sphere in his mind, noting that even with his newfound speed of thought there was no lag, no transmission of data on pulses of light. He couldn't see through things, he could see inside them, because what he was seeing was already inside. And outside. And all around. What he was seeing was gravity, or rather, the gravitational field within his Stand's range. And if he could see gravity, why not…?
Syx sensed the roof, six meters and closing fast. He hadn't prepared [D5H] to break his fall, but he wouldn't need to. All he needed to do was… flip. The sphere shifted, the grit and gravel of the roof shot up off the ground, peppering him as his descent slowed, his momentum bleeding off as the inverted gravity pulled his roof-bound form counter to his trajectory at a constant of 9.8m/s squared. Syx's hooves set down on the ground with a muted gritty crunch.
"Holy shit," Setty muttered from somewhere outside his range, in the darkness.
"Well done, Syx my boy!" Red called out, a smile audible in his voice. "But if you want your girlfriend back, you'll have to do better!"
With that, the Faller sonuvabitch leapt from the roof, hauling a squawking Setty with him. Syx scrambled over to the parapet in time to hear Red set down in the yard.
"Join me on the playground, bud!" Red called up, the smile in his voice curdling into a mocking sneer. "Let's have some real fun~"
Red grinned as the imp boy used his Stand to launch himself high into the air, using his newly discovered ability to pull himself forward in a flat arc before plummeting down, his Stand absorbing the impact and leaving hoofprints in the asphalt.
The charming bluster of an overconfident young man with a new toy.
Not too overconfident, though, as Syx was very pointedly keeping his distance, some 6 meters away, apparently having learned his lesson from their first scrap. If Red had to guess, Syx's [Heartbreaker] was a close-range - two meters at most - high-powered Stand broadly equivalent in strength and speed to the likes of Bruno Bucciarati's [Sticky Fingers], possibly even Jean Pierre Polnareff's [Silver Chariot]. Though he lacked their experience and skill, making his use of it sloppy and unfocused. Not that it mattered, for even they were well beneath Red Nightmare. Still, that trick he pulled to slow his fall before, and direct his movement through the air just now, that bore considering. What could it be? And now, Syx was calm, focused, and much more dangerous. Ferocity and rage got one far in a fist fight, but when Stands were involved, it always paid to keep one's head and think strategically… and, he reminded himself, not to underestimate your enemy.
"Red, stop it!" Setty hissed. "He's figured it out, and he's not backing down! He's not weak, like you thought, so call this off!"
"Not yet," Red whispered back. "He's so close."
"Close to whAAAH!" Setty cried out as Red pulled her off the ground by her arm.
"Well?" Red said, dangling her in front of him. "Come and get her, tiger!"
"Hiding behind a girl," Syx growled through his [D5H]. "There really isn't any low you Faller trash won't sink to, is there?"
"Oh? Oh! Shoot, sorry!" Red held her out to the side, still dangling. "This better? I didn't mean it like that. This is between us guys, right, Syx?"
"That's right," Syx said, starting to walk around Red, very pointedly not getting closer, rather tracing some sort of invisible perimeter. "Once I squash you flat, Setty and I will gut every Sinner in this shithole. Then, we'll head out. Take over this whole fucking neighborhood! Who knows, with that fancy arrow of yours, maybe we can whip up an army and kick you lousy fucking humans out of our city once and for all!"
"Big talk, little man~" cooed Red, liking what he was hearing: this kid had vision! "But you're gonna have to get a little closer if you want to squish me."
"No," said Syx, [D5H] leaning forward over his shoulder. "Not really."
The four jagged interlocking plates on [D5H]'s face snapped open, revealing a trio of concentric circles. Red smirked, the blind imp's Stand had an eye for a fa–what was happening? The outermost circle glowed purple and the Stand's aura flared, the plates arched with energy as the air around them rippled. A purple haze cast over Red, he looked around to see it on the ground around him and all the way over to Syx and beyond, a circle slightly less than 6 meters in radius. He looked over at Setty to see that she had been spared the effect. In fact, it only seemed to reach halfway along his arm. Red recalled how carefully the boy had been keeping his distance…
'A ranged attack?!'
[D5H]'s outer ring flared. "ATA!"
Red flinched as the air surged downwards as though he were standing under an overachieving ceiling fan. His suit, himself, everything became heavier. Much heavier. Syx himself appeared to be unaffected as dust thudded into the ground, candy wrappers crushed flat as empty pop cans buckled under the pressure. No. Not pressure. He wasn't being crushed down, he was being pulled down! Gravity! Gravity itself was pulling down harder by a factor of at least five. No! Ten! Ten times the normal gravitational force!
But only ten.
"Gravity!" Red called out, chuckling. "You can manipulate gravity!? Oh! That's so cool!"
Syx flinched at Red's glee, obviously not the reaction he was expecting.
"Let me guess," said Red, pointing at Setty, or rather the arm holding her, his suit marking the border between normal and Syx's influence. "That's your range. I'd say ~pchoo~ six meter radius? That's not bad! But, if that's the hardest you can stomp, boy… well, I guess Imp City'll have to wait to be free of us smelly Fallers, huh?"
"Fucker…" Syx growled, snarling. "Try this on for size! ATA!"
The second circle on [D5H]'s face flared to life. The hazy, purple circle shrank by a factor of three, now barely over three and a half meters in diameter. The effect was immediate, air within the affected area rushed downward at speeds that would shame the most violent tornado on earth! As the air was accelerated downwards it lashed at the asphalt, compressing under its own weight before blasting outwards in a shrieking maelstrom. Red grit his teeth as he withstood the immense gravity, postulating from the effects and the reduced area affected, [D5H] could project an intense gravitational field anywhere within its range, but the increased intensity negatively correlated to the area influenced. Some quick math suggested that the area of effect was now one-tenth that of the first. He looked down, the ground upon which he stood was slowly but surely sinking into the ground as though under an immense hydraulic press. This confirmed his suspicions: Syx was now subjecting him to a sustained gravitational force of one hundred times normal gravity!
"That's more like it! Now, if you're done warming up, show me what you can really do…" Red called out, fully aware that his voice would not reach the boy's ears, but also aware the challenge had been understood. "…Boy."
Syx obliged.
His every muscle, his every nerve, was tingling with electric fire. It was similar to having a limb fall asleep crossed with running a marathon, his very life energy burning as he pushed himself to his limit. He felt the spiritual power surging out of him and into his Stand as he tried to crush the Sinner like a shitty, grinning beercan! But the fucker just. Wouldn't. Go. Splat!
He could sense him, standing there in a column of dark, streaming gravity. The force that Syx was subjecting him to pulled him into the asphalt like wet mud, but the fucking smirking Sinner just stood there like it was unusually heavy rain! Red's mouth moved, his words lost to wind and gravity, but Syx understood. He wanted more. Syx smirked as he opened up his last channel, that one remaining inch he had left in him. [D5H]'s final circle, its pupil, flared as the 4 jagged metal antenna focused and transformed his will into gravity. The area of effect narrowed to a paltry 1m2 and Syx let fly. One thousand times gravity! Let's see how Red Nightmare liked–
–Syx was tumbling backwards on a shockwave. Dozens of tons of air had been accelerated downwards at greater than bullet speeds in one second, gasses compressing and disassociating before bursting outwards in a searing-hot pressure wave. Syx heaved and panted on the ground, unable to sit up but could still see the damage. Setty, as he expected, was unharmed, her [Titanium] had activated to protect her from what was, essentially, a point-blank explosion that would make a heavy artillery shell blush. She stood before a hole, no, a crater in the courtyard. It was several meters wide and deep, the sides of it were fused and shiny black glass, at its center a deep, seemingly bottomless pit. A hole somewhat over a meter across, its edges were clean, asphalt, rock, and fill had been melted and crushed together by the immense force punching deep into the earth. Syx smiled, no, he grinned.
"Got you, you f-fucker…" [D5H] said for him, even his punch-ghost was spent. "Sh-showed you… I'll show 'em all!"
"That's what I like to hear!" Red cheered from behind him.
Syx loosed a reedy squawk - his closest approximation of a scream - and recoiled. Useless questions whirled in his mind. Questions like: How did he survive? When did he get back there? What's he so happy about? Why isn't Setty wearing a bra? …Wait, are they naturally that perk–?
His exhausted, frazzled train of thought derailed as Red Nightmare scooped him up off the ground and held him out at arm's length like a puppy, grinning like the absolutely terrifying lunatic that he was. "YOU DID IT, SYX! YOU PASSED! GOOD LAD!"
Syx warbled in terror and summoned [D5H]. The spent Stand punched the Sinner in his grinning upturned face as hard as it could. Red's head snapped to the right, then to the left, and then withstood a few earnest jabs to the snout and chin. Each time his grin widened, his eyes alight with glee despite the dark blood trailing from one nostril, staining his sharp shark teeth.
Red loosed a hair-raising cackle. "That's what I've been waiting for! That's what it's all about!"
"Alright, that's enough," came a familiar voice. "And keep your voice down. He's mute, not deaf."
Syx felt a hand wrap around his ankle and, with the most peculiar sensation of static cling, pull him through and out of Red Nightmare's clutches. Setty carefully and cautiously set Syx on the ground, holding him by the shoulders. "You okay, man?"
"Yeah," Syx said, through [D5H]. "Just a little, uh, like… what the fuck is going on?"
Setty sighed and shook her head. "I wasn't bullshitting before, Syx! Red's building an army here, and we, you and me, we're gonna be his, I dunno, lieutenants or something. Look, he gave me my powers about a week ago and asked me who else around here had the stuff. I told him you were the best man for the job, right? But after today, he got it in his head you didn't, but I knew you did, so I…" She paused, turning to Syx. "What? Is something wrong? You gonna be sick or something?"
Syx gawped at Setty: this was the first time he'd ever actually seen her face. He'd heard, of course, about how she was the best-looking, hottest, 'most purdiest' girl in all the 'Donna. But he'd never actually understood what that meant before. Her proportions were perfect, smooth and lithe where flab might be, round and full where there might have been unsightly bone or sinew. Every part of her bled flawlessly into the next, from her smallest aspect to the whole and back again, adding and bolstering, a fractal of perfection. A golden ratio, set within itself, within itself. But none of that held a candle to her face. A subtle, pointed chin drew the gaze to her full, pouty lips, those lips he felt on his not too long ago. Those lips that, when they touched his, felt as though they lit some dusty, unused lightbulb in his soul. Completed a dead circuit. And even they only led up to the rest of her face, to her flawless complexion, her full smooth cheeks held up and contrasted by strong, proud cheekbones. All this served to frame her eyes. By Satan! Her eyes! They were–
"Hey!" Setty barked, snapping her fingers, those lips pulling into an adorable frown. "Hell to Syx! You in there?"
"Yes," said Syx, closing his mouth as his Stand spoke for him. "It's just that, uh…"
"Yeah?" Setty said as she lit another cigarette. "Sup?"
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Her stern expression dropped like a stone, her sultry almond-eyes snapping open wide as her mouth hung slightly open in shock, her lit cigarette clinging to her full, dark lips. "Whuh?"
It occurred to Syx that he had actually just said that out fucking loud, a thought his oblivious Stand obligingly voiced. "Oh, fuck, did I just say that out?"
"Awuh." Setty said, still gripped by shock.
"I didn't mean it! Wait, no, fuck! Yes, I did! You're very pretty I've never seen anyone so pretty but then again I haven't seen anyone in oh my Satan shut up shut up shut up!" Syx clapped his hands to his face and turned away from her, quite uselessly as he could still see her exquisite gravity image in the center of his mind. "Fuck."
"That's my cue, then," said Red, patting Setty on the shoulder. "Thank you, Setty, but Syx and I are going to have a little chat. Guy talk. You understand."
"Buh?"
He pat her gently on the back. "Shoo-shoo."
"Yuh…"
She shuffled off and stared down the hole at the pit of the crater, something Syx very much wanted to jump in right now. Red stepped over to Syx, setting a friendly hand on his shoulder. About a minute ago, tolerating this Faller's filthy touch would have made him sick, but so much had happened since then and he just didn't have the energy to care. "Syx, I want to apologize."
Syx blinked; a Sinner apologizing? "Oh yeah?"
Red nodded gravely. "Oh yeah. Not about all that back there. That was a test, and you passed."
He perked up. "I did?"
"You did, and with flying colors! I was wrong about you, Syx." Red knelt down so they were face to face, not that such a thing meant a damn to Syx's gravity sense, but the gesture was clear. "Syx, you are an intelligent, resourceful young man, a natural leader and a responsible mentor to the other children. I had such high hopes for you, but when you hesitated today, I… perhaps made a hasty judgment of your character, and I apologize for that. I thought you were weak, when you didn't take the final blow today, I figured you didn't have the right stuff to be my right hand man. But you do! I saw it in you just now! The willpower to master your Stand! The stubbornness to never give up! The dedication to seeing your enemy crushed before you! The sheer killing intent to push yourself to the limit to destroy your foe!"
"You're…" Syx said, digesting the info. "…Happy that I tried to kill you?"
"Overjoyed." Red's smile widened, somehow. "I need people like you and Setty. Fierce, strong, goal-oriented young people who will do anything and everything it takes to achieve their goals. People who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty or put themselves in danger for their dreams. For a time, I thought I would be the arbiter of who was worthy of the arrow's gift, but now, I can see that I was wrong… well, partially."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" His annoyingly filterless [D5H] said.
Red only chuckled, patting Syx on the shoulder. "Syx, I want you and Setty to be my lieutenants, my capos. We're going to go far, you and me. Once we free me from Her Ladyship's Deal, we'll take over the 'Donna. Then, the neighborhood. Then… who knows? But before any of that, we'll need soldiers. Warriors and assassins, sure, but also logisticians and technicians. We'll need talented, intelligent people. I was wrong about you, Syx, but Setty never gave up hope. You and her, you know the kids here, know them in a way I perhaps never will. My first mission for you and Setty wil be to head out into the 'Donna and assess the population. Make a list, check it twice, and give it to me. Stand-Users come in all shapes and sizes, even animals can accept the gift, but one factor is necessary for success: willpower."
"Willpower?"
Red nodded gravely. "A Stand is a manifestation of a person's spirit, their essence, their soul. The arrow draws this part out of them, crafts it into an entity, and sets it loose. If they do not have the willpower, the sense of self necessary to control it, it will kill them or worse. Pick wisely and carefully. Can I trust you to do that, Syx?"
"I don't recall agreeing to be your lackey, Red," Syx sneered, crossing his arms. "Working for you or working for Boss Lady, I'd just be another Faller's dog! What's stopping me from hitting the streets and making my own way with this power?"
"Nothing." Red stood aside, gesturing to what Syx assumed was the main gate. "There's the door."
Syx was a little caught off guard. It was only partially bluster, but now that he thought about it, the more it appealed to him. Out there, he wouldn't be just another ringscraper anymore. He'd be Syx, the guy who could crush even Sinners into paste!
But…
"Setty…" Syx turned to Red. "She's with you?"
Red nodded. "She is."
"She trusts you?"
"She does."
"So, you're serious about all that shit?" Syx said. "About giving all the kids powers? About taking over the 'Donna? Killing Boss Lady?"
"Just the first three goals on a long, long list, my boy," said Red. "You want to see the kids freed and safe? You want to see your people empowered? The Sinners kicked from your city?"
Syx grit his teeth. "Yes."
"Consider it done," Red hissed. "Together, we'll bring Hell itself to its knees."
"Why are you doing any of this?" Syx said, curious despite his caution. "Helping us, I mean? If that arrow of yours can do this with anyone, why bother with a bunch of useless orphans?"
"Because…" Red leaned in, whispering: "Belladonna's kids stick together; we're all we got."
Syx looked up to Red, his face silently asking the question not even his pathologically blunt Stand dared to. Red's smile vanished, replaced with a sad, grim look, and nodded. Syx returned the nod and extended his hand. Red took it and they shook, both of them looking off towards the monolithic gray bulk of the 'Donna. There was no turning back now.
